#Carver Library

[giannascorner]

much better screenie of the neighborhood 😋

plus a little bare bones rec center shell

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

DAV: elven gods are trying to destroy the world with a really, really bad blight, there are darkspawn, venatori, antaam, and goddamn archdemons, and the south sounds pretty fucked too--

Me: is Carver okay?

DAV: the world is literally on fire right now

Me: right

Me: but is Carver Hawke okay?

[the-hearth-and-the-wild]

Snow began falling late last night. Wet flakes dropping past windows, snow covering the skylights. We watched for a time, surprised and happy. Glad to be here, and nowhere else.

Raymond Carver, "The Gift" (excerpt)

[saintbuffy]

got some new books at the library today 😈 hehehe

[moonstonemumbles]

blog for moonstone members! moonstone is a dsmp introject source that some of us share, although none of the pieces fit 100% perfectly. i, carver, describe it as a quilt!

tags —

#carver's library or #the vampire rambles - carver/dream tags

#nyx's pantry or #birdsong - nyx/niki tags

#luce's list or #yarn spun - luce/tommy's tags

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝗜𝗿𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲 || 𝗕𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 ||

↳ Part Two

Warnings: Billy fantasizing about the reader,body shamming, Destruction of personal property, male solo (aka Billy touching himself to the thought of the reader )

A/n: Part 3 will have smut / female receiving oral, if ya'll want it

The next time he saw you, it was in the library.

It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what he told himself. He wasn’t exactly the book type, but detention had landed him there after he mouthed off in Mr. Harmon’s class again. Typical shit. What wasn’t typical was you—tucked into the farthest corner by the windows, cross-legged on the carpet with a stack of books beside you, as you tugged your cardigan sleeves over your hands.

You didn’t notice him.That irritated him more than he expected.

Billy had been noticed his whole life—for better or worse. People stared. Whispered. Girls giggled. Guys glared. But you? You were in your own world. A little crease between your brows as you turned a page, your lips mouthing the words as you read. There was a highlighter tucked behind your ear and a thermos beside your backpack that probably had tea in it. Because of course it did.

And it shouldn’t have made his palms itch.

It shouldn’t have made him shift in his seat, adjust himself under the table as he stared at you through the bookshelf.

But it did.

You were the kind of girl no one paid attention to unless they needed help with homework. The kind guys like him ignored. Which, Billy realized now, was their mistake.

Because he saw you.

He saw the way your sweater stretched across your chest when you lent forward. The way your skirt tugged across your thick thighs when you adjusted your position. How flushed your cheeks got when someone complimented you—he remembered now, vaguely, someone from band class had said your shoes were cute and you practically tripped over your own thank you.

You were adorable.

And he wanted you.

Billy didn’t know why this felt different. Normally, girls were a game—fun to chase, easy to forget. But something about your quiet, smart, curvy little self made his chest tighten and his cock throb at the same damn time.

So when you stood up and walked to the front desk—still not sparing him a glance—he stood too.

He didn’t make a scene. Not yet. But he walked by close enough that your scent hit him. Vanilla and something floral. Soft. Sweet. Just like you.

You looked up. Finally.

Your eyes met his.

You blinked.

He smirked.

And when your face grew warm and when you immediately looked away, he bit back a groan and kept walking.

'Oh yeah', he thought, tongue dragging along the inside of his cheek. 'She’s gonna look at me like that again. Over and over.'

By the end of the week, Billy had a new routine.

He started showing up early to school—something no one ever thought they’d see. He lingered near your locker. Made sure he was at whatever vending machine she used. Walked past your study hall window just slow enough for you to notice. Always smirking. Always watching.

He didn’t speak to you yet.

Not really.

But he’d make you wait for it. Build it up. Make you wonder.

Because when Billy Hargrove wanted something, he didn’t just take it.

He made it crave him first.

And from the way your eyes flitted to him and then away like you were guilty of something? Like your breath caught just a little?

Yeah.

You were almost there and then he happened.

Jason Carver.

Jason Carver was a prick.

Everyone knew it—rich boy attitude, that smug grin, always running his mouth like he owned the damn school. And when it came to girls, he was worse. Especially ones who didn’t fit his perfect little cheerleader mold. The ones who were shy. Smart. Soft around the edges. The ones he thought were “easy targets.”

Which is why he started in on you.

It started with little comments in the hallway.

“Careful, nerd herd incoming,” Jason would snicker to his friends when you passed by, hugging your books tighter to your chest.

Or worse—when he caught you dropping something.

“Damn, earthquake or just her thighs?”

Billy had heard that one. From behind you, no less. You hadn’t even flinched—just ducked your head like you were used to it.

That pissed Billy the fuck off.

He knew how to spot cruelty wrapped in a smile. Knew the type that needed a lesson in pain.

And Jason? He was asking for it.

But Billy didn’t do warnings.

He did payback.

That night, Jason’s Camaro sat parked right outside his perfect little suburban home. Pristine. Polished. White paint gleaming under the glow of the porch light like it was proud of itself.

Billy pulled up a few blocks away, boots hitting the pavement with slow, deliberate steps. Smoke curling from his lips as he crushed a cigarette under his heel, pulling a pocketknife from his leather jacket like it was second nature.

No hesitation.

No second thoughts.

Just a slow, deep drag of breath as he crouched down and slashed the tires one by one, the hiss of escaping air sweet as a fucking lullaby.

Then came the fun part.

He stood, eyes gleaming, and ran the tip of his key down the length of the driver’s side door with all the force he could manage. Screeeeech.

He carved one word, nice and deep:

PIG.

Then—just to add a little signature—he flicked the butt of his second cigarette into the open hood vent.

Wasn’t enough to start a fire. But it would reek.

He stepped back, admiring his work with a smirk before turning on his heel, leather jacket whipping behind him as he walked off into the shadows.

The next morning, the whole school was buzzing.

Jason stormed into the parking lot red-faced, screaming bloody murder. “Some psycho keyed my car! Slashed my tires!” he shouted, shoving one of the underclassmen who had gotten too close.

No one had proof.

But Billy?

He showed up late that day, sauntering past Jason with a smirk on his lips and murder in his eyes.

And when he saw you down the hall—soft sweater, shy glance, avoiding everyone’s eyes—he leaned close enough as he passed to murmur just loud enough for you alone:

“No one fucks with what’s mine.”

You blinked up at him, startled.

And Billy? He gave you a wink and walked away like nothing happened, the scent of smoke and leather trailing behind him—leaving your heart racing and Jason Carver with four flat tires and a bruised ego that would never recover.

The next few days were a blur as it finally rolled into Summer, he hadn't expected you to turn up at the pool.

Nor did he expect you to look down right sinful.

It wasn’t supposed to hit him that hard.

You'd been sitting by Hawkins community pool with your legs in the water, laughing nervously at something one of you friends said, adjusting the oversized towel wrapped around your waist like you wanted to disappear into it. But it was too late.

Billy had seen you.

Not just a glance—really seen you

The way that black swimsuit clung to your curves like it was made just for you. The soft swell of your tits just barely covered by the scoop neck. The way your plush thighs pressed together when you sat. That little stretch mark peeking out near your hip when you shifted. Things you'd probably tried to hide. But Billy?

He couldn’t look away.

His drink had gone warm in his hand. His jaw tight. And the second you looked his way—eyes wide, shy, startled like you weren't used to being watched—he felt it. A punch of heat low in his gut.

He left the party ten minutes later.

Now he was in his room, door locked, lights low, that same towel-wrapped image of you burned into the backs of his eyelids.

Billy lay back on his bed, one hand already tugging his belt open, breathing shallow, cock hard and aching beneath his jeans. He wasn’t gentle. He never was.

But this?

This was different.

He let out a low groan as he pulled himself free, already leaking, already picturing you sitting by the pool—wet skin glistening, legs shifting like you were trying to be modest.

Fuck.

His grip tightened, slow at first, dragging his hand over his length as he exhaled through clenched teeth. His mind filled in the blanks. How you'd feel under him. How your breath would hitch when he touched you. How your soft thighs would tremble when he spread them.

You'd be shy about it, he knew. Would probably try to cover up.

But he’d whisper to you. Rough and low.

“No, baby. Let me see you. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

His pace picked up. His hips jerked up off the mattress slightly as he imagined peeling that towel away, revealing everything you tried to hide. Holding you still while he buried his face between you thighs. Making you sob his name while you clutched his hair.

“Jesus…” he growled, jaw tightening, sweat beading on his brow as he pumped harder, faster, fucking into his fist like he could feel you around him.

You'd be warm. Tight. Fucking soaking.

His name would fall from your lips in that breathy voice of yours, that sweet little whimper that would drive him insane.

“Billy…”

That did it.

He came with a low, guttural groan, hot and messy across his stomach, hips stuttering as he rode it out, the image of you etched into the haze of his mind.

He lay there for a moment, chest heaving, skin flushed.

And then he laughed, just once—low and breathless.

Because now?

He was obsessed.

And the next time he saw you?

He wouldn’t just be watching, he was going to let you know how he feels.

[houghtonlib]

Life and death contrasted, or, An essay on woman. [London] : Printed for & sold by Bowles & Carver, [not before 1793]

2020-951.1

Houghton Library, Harvard University

[trensu]

Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants. 

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration. 

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

--

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

--

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

--

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me. 

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it. 

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond. 

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.” 

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

[tremsing82]

I am still so annoyed that Lucien did not meet Bryce!!!

Bryce a red headed tan skinned female who can glow was in Prythian and Lucien a red headed tan skinned male who glows did not get to meet her.

Lucien and Bryce literally look like siblings/twins. They both have a red headed paled skin fire wielding parent and a black haired tan skinned parent. They both have Starborn magic. The star that Bryce wields in CC is compared to a sun constantly. So the Day Court in Prythian has to have Starborn heritage.

And yet all we got from HoFaS is that Bryce is related to fucken Rhys and his Night Court 🙄. Everything has to always be connected to the Night Court and Rhys. And the one mention of the Red Headed Fire Wielders of the South.

I swear Elain and Lucien’s book better bring some Prythian history and lore into the story for the readers due to that one line “The Red Headed Fire Wielders of the South”. Because what that line tells me is that The Autumn Court’s red headed fire wielders (Lady of Autumn specifically) are the OLDEST BLOODLINE in Prythian. The only bloodline older than them is the Starborn/Dusk Court bloodline and that line was branched off through marriages and forgotten through time due to Silene trying to hide her mother’s “legacy”.

I think Autumn Court hides the oldest history books of Prythian in its libraries. We know Eris knows more about Prythian than he has been allowed to say. Cassian interrupted him when he was about to tell Nesta about the Sacred Mountains and the possible Tunnels and open Caverns that are housed within each mountain. Eris knows the lore surrounding Koschei.

“Some say he is Death itself”

A death god that no one else remembers? ����‍♀️ but yet Eris knows his lore and can supply information about this bound entity to a lake to the conversation. Hell Cassian and Feyre knew about the Bone Carvers Brother being confined to a lake on the continent and still was not able to connect the dots to it being Koschei. But Eris after hearing his name once was able to supply information over who or what he might be.

Autumn court fae have an affinity with finding and learning knowledge. Eris with all his Prythian history. Lucien going to day to study any and all ways to break a bargain to try help Feyre. Lucien being an emissary with ties to multiple courts histories and traditions. Bryce learning an ancient fae language and working in museums and libraries around ancient artifacts. Learning how to read ancient murals to see the history in art.

Again I am just so annoyed that Bryce’s time in Prythian was so closely connected to the Night Court when so much of Bryce is Autumn Court coded and she resembles Lucien so heavily. I mean if she can see Ruhn in Rhys, Rhys had to have seen Lucien in Bryce 😪😪😪

[giannascorner]

still at it cause fuck cas...

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Sweet Little Lies

Could you please do an Eddie x reader where Eddie and reader are a couple, but Jason and the cheerleaders bet that they can drive a wedge between them or break them up if a cheerleader hits on Eddie. He doesn't go for it, but the cheerleaders tells reader he did, but it clears up and ends happily?

Request by @somethingvicked ❤️

Mdni. 18+.

Angst with a happy ending 💕

❤️

As usual at the cheerleader/basketball table talk had turned to one of Jason Carver's favourite topics. Eddie Munson.

He was pissed that Eddie had yet again managed to get one up on him and scared the shit out of him during class. Emma was immediately soothing and was thinking up ideas to get back at Eddie for him.

"He's such a freak, we should try and break them up or something. It would serve Eddie right for being such a shit to you" Emma smirks and bats her eyes prettily to Jason who lights up. Chrissy shakes her head in irritation.

"You should leave them both alone. They've done nothing to you" she gives Chloe and Jason a look full of disappointment and leaves the table.

"Ugh, spoilsport. Don't mind what she says, so what do you think? I bet you that I could split them up" Emma asks him and Jason is all for it and they both banter back and forth about what to do. Finally Emma looks triumphant.

"I'll flirt with him and pretend he was flirting back, he probably will though. I mean he's not going to turn me down is he?" She replies confidently, not that she relishes the thought of flirting with Eddie the Freak Munson but if it gets her closer to Jason then she's all for it.

"You're on" they shake hands and both eagerly begin to discuss their plan.

❤️

He's confused when one of the cheerleaders walks up to him, she's all flirty smiles and shit. He's sure she's the one who always bitches behind Chrissy's back and flirts with Jason (Gareth is seriously invested in the drama of it all)

"Oh hey handsome, you're just the person I was looking for" she giggles as she runs a hand up his arm. He promptly steps back suspicious. What the fuck?

"Why are you talking to me?" a brief look of irritation flickers on her face then she smiles, "Oh because I think you're so cute. I've just always been too shy to say" she twirls her hair around her fingers and Eddie sighs.

Once upon a time he'd pinch himself that some pretty cheerleader was flirting with him but now? Now he has you and you're more perfect than any popular girl or any girl in his eyes.

"Right. Well I'm gonna just go" she side steps him before he can leave and still continues her flirting attempts.

"Maybe you and I can talk somewhere private?" She looks at him with a seductive look. Or he thinks that's what it is.

He rolls his eyes and ignores Emily? Emma, whatever her name is. He's not interested in whatever she has to say and finally she gets distracted enough that he makes his exit.

Unfortunately Emma finds him again and is all cutesy and laughs like a hyena at what he's saying (he's trying to get away, not make jokes) but she seems to find him hilarious and he practically high tails it out of her reach.

What a weird fucking day.

❤️

You're trying to cram in some study for your English exam in the library when you're accosted by two of the girls on the cheer team. Both have identical sad looks on their faces.

"Um hi?" what the hell? You've never spoken to these girls in your life.

"Hi I'm Emma. You're dating the fre... You're dating Eddie Munson right?" You nod unsure where she's going with this.

"Yes" she looks solemn and pats your shoulder, what the... Were you in the twilight zone or something?

"Oh honey. I don't know how to say this but he was totally flirting with me yesterday. Like all over me flirting" you're so shocked about what she's saying that you drop your book with a loud thump. What!!

"Eddie wouldn't...I don't know why you're making shit up but..." Emma looks sympathetic but you feel like she's mocking you somehow.

"I know it's hard to believe but he was totally flirting with me. Stacey was there she will tell you" Emma replies smugly and you feel a pit in your stomach. That can't be true? Can it? Eddie wouldn't do that to you but her friend is nodding along with what she says.

No...

Emma sounds so serious and it's making you question things. She smirks smugly at you, "I mean why wouldn't he flirt with me. Sorry to be the one to break the news to you" she doesn't sound sorry at all and smirks as she walks away leaving you with a sinking heart.

❤️

It's been a hell of a day and Eddie just wants to find you and cuddle with his girl. Bad enough with that cheerleader flirting with him yesterday, now today Jason was making weird loaded comments that Eddie doesn't get.

He spots you at your locker and the stress he's feeling lightens. Until he catches the look on your face, you've been crying and when you look at him you're practically burning holes through him.

Eddie is confused why you're so cold. "Princess what's wrong?" you glare at him and he steps back stunned.

"What's wrong? Why don't you ask that pretty cheerleader who you were all over yesterday?" You snap at him and he's seriously confused now. Do you mean that Emma chick? He spent half his time trying to run away from her.

"What?" you wipe your eyes that are full of tears and look up at him heartbroken, that look tears his own heart in two.

"Emma told me and her friend Stacy, why would they say that if it wasn't true?" You murmur sadly but a little bit confused. Eddie gently cups your cheek and you move away still feeling sick to your stomach.

Eddie's face pains and he desperately tries to get you to believe him. "Sweetheart, I'd never ever do that. You're all I want. I don't know what the fuck is going on but I'd never ever do any of that shit to you. I wouldn't cheat either, you know that" he looks so sincere and earnest.

You don't get what's going on either but it's begging to piss you off. It's then you spy Emma and Jason watching you and Eddie arguing with smug smiles and something clicks into place and you realise this must be some stupid plan of theirs.

"What a load of shit. I knew she was being a fake" you seethe and Eddie follows your gaze to Emma and Jason watching the two of you with those stupid grins on their faces, his eyes narrow which wipes the smiles of their faces.

"Should have guessed that the asshole was involved too" you cuddle into Eddie and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm sorry, she was so convincing Eddie" he soothingly rubs your back as you apologise for believing her.

"It's okay princess. Fuck those guys, why don't you go ahead and get a seat for lunch yeah? I gotta track down Dustin, he's helping paint some figures for the campaign" you nod still pissed and throw a fierce glare Emma and Jason's way.

Once you're out of sight Eddie turns in that direction and walks over to the pair of them. Jason is all arrogance even if he does look a tiny bit worried, Emma is resolutely looking anywhere but him.

"Aww Munson. Trouble in paradise?" Jason teases but pales when Eddie steps closer to him seething.

"No thanks to you two dickheads, I'm warning you both, leave my girl out of your stupid schemes. Your stupid plan didn't work so count your blessings otherwise I would have been super pissed" He leaves Jason looking like he might piss himself and Emma babbling to him muttering freak and other shit.

Yeah, no one messed with you.

❤️

After Eddie's warning lunch was a little bit different, Jason was suspiciously quiet as Chrissy wasn't speaking to Jason who wasn't speaking to Emma so all was not well at that table.

Safe to say the plan had spectacularly failed as you and Eddie were happier and more in love than ever.

[arthistoryanimalia]

🦓 #InternationalZebraDay bling:

the iconic Zebra Bracelet designed by David Webb (USA, 1925–75) in 1963!

18K gold, platinum, enamel, diamonds, rubies

This is the first DW piece acquired by the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York for its permanent collection:

"David Webb remains one of the leading twentieth century American jewelers on account of his originality, broad historical and pan-cultural references, pop sensibility, high-quality workshop based craftsmanship, and clientele that furthered the glamor and allure of his designs. The Zebra bracelet became the icon of Webb’s career, worn by none other than Diana Vreeland, on many occasions while serving as the head of the Costume Institute at The Met. The zoomorphic shape conjures both zebra and seahorse, or even a snake biting its own tail, a time-honored symbol of eternity or eternal renewal. The bold black and white straps play into the emerging the Pop and Op Art movements. The unusual choice of a zebra as the leitmotif lightened the seriousness of jewelry, appealing to the large, emerging baby boomer generation who would have questioned the seriousness of their parents’ more conspicuously stately and moneyed accessories."

bonus: the original design sketch!

additional info via https://www.davidwebb.com/products/zebra :

"INTO THE WILD

A zebra never changes its stripes, the saying goes — but who would want it to when the zebra in question is the iconic ruby-eyed David Webb bracelet?

Combining animal motifs and enamel patterns, two signatures of the American jewelry house, the Zebra Bracelet is as striking today as when it first made its appearance in the David Webb workshop in 1963 — and, the following year, within the pages of Vogue shot by Irving Penn.

Now this iconic David Webb Zebra bracelet is the first David Webb design to be acquired by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City for its permanent collection. It debuts front and center in the exhibition "Jewelry for America" which is currently on view in Gallery 773 in the American Wing. Curated by Beth Carver Wees, the exhibition displays 300 years of jewelry in America. David Webb features in this vast history with his innovative enamel animal bracelet that continues to enamour jewelry collectors around the world today.

Diana Vreeland had newly transitioned to Vogue from Harper’s Bazaar, and had been gifted the Zebra bracelet from David Webb himself. Clearly the piece had an impact on Vreeland, because she had internalized the zig-zagging black and white patterns so much that they crept their way into every aspect of the September cover. The graphic and bold striped eyeshadow, the black and white typographic treatment of the word “Vogue” and of course, the edition of the zebra ring by David Webb, a nod to its big sister, the zebra bracelet. Vreeland even wore the ring and bracelet to an evening at the theater with Truman Capote and Nan Kempner.

The Zebra bracelet wasn’t David Webb’s first foray into the animal kingdom — Elizabeth Taylor was already a fan of his emerald and gold Makara bracelet — but it quickly became his most memorable. In 1964, the Zebra Bracelet and the other fierce and fashionable creatures in Webb’s collection helped him win a Coty American Fashion Critics' Award.

Considering how comfortable the glamorous bracelet is in the spotlight, its modest origins can come as a surprise. While many famous and powerful women — the likes of Elizabeth Taylor and Jacqueline Kennedy — have adorned themselves with this bracelet, a book from David Webb’s library, The Big Book of Wild Animals by Felix Sutton, hints to the heart of these friendly beasts.

It’s easy to see why the designer was charmed by the animal. Like those on a wild zebra, the hand enameled stripes on each David Webb Zebra bracelet are unique, an homage to the inimitable Webb woman and a reminder of the dedication to craftsmanship that the brand has continued to maintain for decades. The daring zebra also speaks to the brand’s ethos that jewelry can be wearable art that’s bold, unique, and fun — so much so that it has become the David Webb logo."

[the-hearth-and-the-wild]

"The Window" by Raymond Carver

A storm blew in last night and knocked out the electricity. When I looked through the window, the trees were translucent. Bent and covered with rime. A vast calm lay over the countryside. I knew better. But at that moment I felt I'd never in my life made any false promises, nor committed so much as one indecent act. My thoughts were virtuous. Later on that morning, of course, electricity was restored. The sun moved from behind the clouds, melting the hoarfrost. And things stood as they had before.

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 16: Touch

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes is a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Nyra becomes flustered as Azriel rewrites the meaning of touch for her. After returning from the Battle of Adriata, Azriel recognises his home. 

THE ROMANCE FINALLY FINALLY BEGINS!!!

@feerique always and eternally grateful to you!!✨✨

Word count: 6k (Enjoy!!)

Warnings: feeling tainted after unwanted touch, Az being hot, some very nice touching between Azriel and Nyra (not smutty but very giggleworthy if you know what I mean)

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Nyra woke up in complete darkness. Her upper body had just begun to rise when something pulled her back to her reclining state. Whatever it was, it was placed over her waist. 

She patted whatever that was and identified it as an arm. She made contact with something smooth and it suddenly glowed blue. Her fingers were covering the source of that blue light and she removed them from it and found a scarred hand. Azriel? 

Nyra turned her head to the other side and found a silhouette but the blue light was not enough to illuminate his face properly but it was him. The information that she was with Azriel gave Nyra a sense of relief. She closed her eyes and felt more comfortable with each passing second.

She focused on remembering what had happened. The library, a conversation about Nesta, and running. Two males. Powder. Feeling powerless. 

Nyra had never felt the need to let go of all control before. Not even during her first dinner here when her rage took over.  

And then that male, he’d threatened to violate her. 

She’d frozen. 

And there was a voice from another type of darkness which wasn’t what she was now surrounded by. From thereon, it was a blur. Her power bursting forth, the male letting her go, the smell of something burning, blurry vision, and a sudden sense of safety and comfort. 

And the memory of that male holding her wrist and whispering all of that still made her feel helpless even when she was here. She closed her eyes and even the dark behind her eyelids did not help. Nyra rose again, removing Azriel’s arm from her, and looked around. Something sounded like the faint whistling of the wind. 

Nyra bit her lips, rested her elbows on her thighs, held her head, and tried to find some courage behind the curtain of her hair. She knew she’d failed when the first tear escaped her. And all of it poured and Nyra forced herself to be quiet. 

Tears were fine but she had to be quiet. She’d always cried quietly. 

Nobody had to know. 

Nobody could know. 

Because she was Nyra. 

The emotionally stable and dependable one. 

The older sister. 

The emotional anchor. 

And it didn’t matter if anchors had to drown to give that support. 

Did it? 

Nyra felt strong arms lift her and settle her down somewhere. She felt her hair be tucked away behind her ears. Hands cupped her cheeks and thumbs wiped her tears. And when she met Azriel’s gaze, patience and understanding in them, she’d realised how much she’d been tainted. 

Her wrist seemed to burn where it had been grabbed. Her waist and her back where the male’s other hand had touched her. Something filthier and dirtier than mud or blood or even carcass had tainted her skin—the essence of an unwanted touch. 

And she felt like it would never leave. No matter how many times she bathed, or scrubbed that part of her skin, it would be ingrained into her blood and bones and maybe even her soul. 

Nyra cried silently for a while before she began wailing and he only hugged her tighter. When her cries slowly ended, she pulled herself away and looked at him. Two blue siphons illuminated the space between them as though they were floating. Azriel cupped her cheeks and wiped her tears with his thumbs. He rested his forehead on hers and whispered back. “It’s me.” 

A sob escaped her. 

“I’m here.” His words seemed to invite more sobs. “I’m here.” And Azriel whispered it over and over as Nyra nodded, tears still falling. 

Once her eyes and cheeks hurt and her supply of tears had drained out, she sat quietly. Azriel was still close and she knew he was watching. Waiting. “I-”

“Shh.” He pressed an index finger over her lips. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“You talk only when you want to. Only when you’re ready.” He looked at her kindly. “Understand?” 

She felt like a child and she nodded wordlessly, sniffling through her runny nose. Azriel produced a handkerchief from the dark and made her blow her nose in it. 

“You don’t owe anybody anything. And if anybody presses you, I’ll deal with them.” He took her face in his hands. “All right?” 

All right? How did she already feel like she was being saved? Like everything would be all right? 

“I can’t forget it.” It was a whisper but Azriel heard it like the first decree of the Mother herself. He knew exactly what she was referring to. “And I can’t stop feeling that. . . the way he. . .” 

The icy raging beast within him roared at the mere thought of another male touching his mate. The rational part of him was ready to draw blood. And the part of him that dedicated itself to Nyra overpowered all of it with one objective—to care for her. 

Azriel lifted his hand, palm open for her to give her own. Nyra gave him her hand after a moment of contemplation and then tilted her head in that confused manner which he’d always found adorable. He lifted their hands, wrists now at eye level. The cuts by the marks of nails had healed back into her perfect skin. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist. 

Nyra swallowed. She was acutely aware of his touch, the way his hand held that wrist and the thumb that was caressing her vein. 

“May I touch you?” Under the blue light, Azriel was dangerously beautiful. His gaze was heated in a way that would threaten her consciousness any moment now. 

“You’re already touching me.” Nyra was nervous. She’d seen females fawn over him in Velaris when they’d walked together. She’d even seen males take a second and longer look. That was how attractive he was. 

“Not in the way I intend to.” 

Nyra felt her body rouse at his words. She swallowed her spit and asked. “And how do you intend to touch me?” 

“I intend to make you remember me.” 

Oh, she was probably going to faint. Or maybe she already had and she was dreaming and she would soon faint in her dream. Or she might scream. Because rationality no longer existed. 

She’d just had a bad experience with a male. Shouldn’t she be cursing all males? Be hyper-aware if any of them existed in her vicinity? Refuse physical contact?

But here was Azriel, enticing her with his breathing, his voice, his eyes, and his very existence. He’d always had the ability to draw her attention from the rest of the world. And what he’d said just now, and how he was looking at her—she felt her body react. Stupidly perfect male.

Did Azriel even know what a flaw was because it certainly didn’t seem like it. He’d probably never even heard of words like ‘imperfect’ or ‘flawed’. Why would he when he was anything but? 

Her breasts were heavier than ever. Anticipation churned in her belly, descending and dragging her into madness. Nyra’s thighs clenched. Oh gods, she was getting aroused but she shouldn’t. What if this was just a friendly touch? A friendly touch to only inspect her wrist and maybe give her a hug? Or a hand squeeze? 

And why were his eyes looking at her like a predator? Like he’d devour her if given the chance. 

“May I?” Nyra’s heart nearly shot up to her throat as Azriel asked for consent. Was he asking for a chance to devour her? Gods, she needed to stop reading all those erotic thrillers in the name of horror and stop deluding herself. 

“What exactly-”

“I’m going to kiss your wrist, Nyra.” Azriel heard her breathing grow heavier. This was not the right way. He’d resolved to behave and he couldn’t care for it. Not when she needed to be convinced that she was not tainted. And he needed to be the one to tell her. 

And after an agonising few moments that felt far longer than they actually were, Nyra breathed. “Yes.” 

Azriel lifted her wrist and kissed it. He pressed featherlight kisses on the nerves, the back of her wrist, and ascended to the palm of her hand. 

“Remember me.” His voice was gentle yet unyielding. Azriel was beginning to suck and lick and bite every now and then.

“You see your wrist, you’re going to remember how my touch feels right now.” It was a command. One with no exceptions. 

Nyra blanked out the moment his lips touched her skin. Her body had been ignited, her soul now starving for him. Sense, rationality, mind—she’d lost them all. 

“Do you want me anywhere else?” Azriel’s words made her feel like her head would release steam with how warm she was feeling. Her eyes were wide and she was bashful enough to look away. 

“Nyra?”

“Yes.” 

“Shall we stop here or do you want me anywhere else?” She shut her eyes tightly and the memory of that male grabbing her waist and pulling her against himself came back. She opened her eyes quickly as though she was escaping a nightmare. Her breathing became heavier.

“He grabbed my waist.” Nyra whispered, her gaze still averted. Azriel’s arm circled her waist and grabbed her side. 

“Anything else?” 

“. . . pulled me closer.” Azriel gently tugged at her waist, helping her change her sitting position so that she was now on her knees with her legs on either side of his own. 

“Sit down, love.” Azriel encouraged. “Make yourself comfortable.” Nyra obeyed.

She was hesitant and it was heartbreaking for him to see the aftermath of the library incident. 

Touch should’ve been consensual for her. It should’ve been pleasurable—an opportunity to explore her sexual interests. It shouldn’t have been polluted by unworthy lowlifes. 

“What are we doing?” Nyra was anxious about how this would change everything between them but she was also excited. 

“Only what you’re comfortable with. You tell me and we’ll stop immediately, no questions asked.” And even as Azriel said that, he wanted a chance. Not to simply touch her or help her but to love her too. 

He knew he wasn’t perfect but greed was a flaw and even the flawed wanted to love as much as they wanted to be loved. Because he wanted every bit of the person Nyra was and he wanted her to want him back. He needed her to want him back.

So when Nyra sat herself on his lap, adjusted her legs, and looked up at him, Azriel’s grip on the flesh of her hips tightened. 

He knew this was dangerous and the only reason why he was still doing it was because of his shadows. They were loyal to her and they swore they’d restrain him if he couldn’t, that they’d kill him if he went too far.

The light from his siphons had dimmed and that was good. The sight of her straddling him would have been anything but helpful right now. 

For now, they remained like this. Him holding that wrist with one hand and the other hand wrapped around her waist tightly. 

“Do you need anything else?” Azriel tentatively asked, hoping that she’d say no. 

“No.” She mumbled into his shoulder. It was dangerous to ask anymore. To act on anything else. 

Azriel had no idea how his shadows were hiding his aroused cock while Nyra was directly sitting on it. Probably the same way they enveloped his wings whenever he didn’t need them hovering on his back during missions. 

He caressed her spine firmly and he thought he was doing fine until Nyra moved her face. Their cheeks were now lightly brushing against each other, eyes half closed in desire or fatigue. He could see her lashes, thick and wet from her tears and if there were more light, maybe he could see the redness too. Wet lips were parted and her breath was directly fanning his cheek now. 

“Nyra?” And as if woken from a haze, she quickly met his gaze. She looked like someone caught doing something, wide eyed, and a little fearful. 

“Do you need anything? Water? Food?” Me? He wished he could offer himself. 

Nyra calmed down and looked at their conjoined hands illuminated by a siphon. She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.” 

And he did not know how to respond to her gratitude with anything except honesty. “Always.”

“Do you need the toilet?” Azriel began. “Your cycle is. . .” He trailed away, embarrassed to continue and wary about saying anything that might accidentally offend her.

“Now that you’ve reminded me. . . yes. I need to go.” Upon her words, the shadows unravelled from above, revealing Nyra’s room in the House of Wind. The ceiling came into sight first, and then the crimson walls. Furniture, windows and the balcony and finally, the floors. 

And among their surroundings, Nyra and Azriel saw each other. They were on the bed with Nyra straddling his lap and Azriel’s hands on her hip and wrist. 

“I should. .” Nyra rose and with ease and grace, removed herself from the bed. Azriel wordlessly watched as she head towards her bathing chambers and then stopped. 

“Are you. . .” She paused. “Do you have to. . .” She looked at her hand on the handle of the door. “Will you go and talk to Rhys now? About what. . .” Nyra’s breath hitched as Azriel moved and sat at the edge of the bed. He stood up, sauntered towards her, touched her cheek. 

“Where do you want me?” Nyra wholeheartedly believed that was the perfect time to faint. 

Her head was beginning to spin with the double meaning she’d spotted. And now, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

“Nyra.” He held her cheek firmly.

“Huh?” She was still in a daze. 

“Rhys just contacted me. He wants to meet us all but if you do not want to, we can stay here.”

“Why would you stay here if I don’t want to go?”

“You really think I’m going to stay away after what happened?” Nyra watched his gaze become powerful. It was intense and the air around them was probably vibrating. “I’m going to watch over you. At least for the next few hours.” The back of his fingers gently grazed her cheek. “I need to watch over you.” He brought their foreheads together. 

“This does not entail following me into the bathroom, does it?” Nyra asked with a teasing grin. Azriel blinked and then threw his head back for a laugh. 

Nyra thanked whatever power that governed the world for the success of her attempt at dissipating the romantic or intense or sexual or whatever mood with humour. She would’ve pulled him in for a kiss and much more if he kept looking at her like that. 

“No.” He finally spoke. 

“Okay. Give me five minutes. And then you can freshen up and we can meet everyone.”

“Are you sure?” 

Nyra looked him in the eye. Hesitation, anguish, rage—all the emotions that were hers were reflected in him. And the fact that he understood her feelings and felt what she felt encouraged her. “Yes.”

****

Nesta marched over to her and gathered her in an embrace. Elain was next. Feyre kidnapped Nyra to hold her hand and to stand next to her. 

Rhysand looked at her and placed a hand on her head. His eyes were shut and anguish remained on his face for everyone to see. He opened his eyes and kissed her forehead, all while the twins held each other. Nyra did not understand why there were so many emotions on his face. So much pain and guilt that she’d wondered what her brother-in-law was actually thinking about. 

Once everyone was in the room, the High Lord commenced the meeting. “The priestesses will keep silent about what happened today. And the people of this city won’t learn why Amren is now preparing to hunt. We can’t afford to let the other High Lords know. It would unnerve them—and destabilise the image we’ve worked so hard to create.”

“The attack on Velaris already showed we’re vulnerable.” Mor countered.

“That was a surprise attack, which we handled quickly. Az made sure the information came out portraying us as victors—able to defeat any challenge Hybern throws our way.” 

Nyra wondered when Azriel had the time to do all of that when he was with her for so long. She looked at the shadows near his neck and shoulders and assumed they were working on his behalf. The shadows on her own shoulders were simply playing with her hair and rooting her to reality in a way she needed. 

“We did that today.” Feyre spoke from Nyra’s right. 

“It’s different. The first time, we had the element of surprise to excuse us. This second time. . . it makes us look unprepared. Vulnerable. We can't risk that getting out before the meeting in ten days. So for all appearances, we will remain unruffled as we prepare for war.” 

War was a reality. And Nyra felt fine. Why did she? Had the Cauldron shown so much that war was not more impactful than a quarrel with a neighbour. Her head was beginning to ache. 

“A war where we have no allies beyond Keir, either in Prythian or beyond it.” Mor dimmed, sagging against the cushion.

“The queen might come.” Elain sounded like she was lost in a dream. 

“What queen?” Nesta asked. 

“The queen who was cursed.”

“Cursed by the Cauldron. When it threw its tantrum after you and Nyra.” Feyre looked at Nesta as she spoke and squeezed Nyra’s hand. 

“No. Not that one. The other.” Elain clarified.

“Vassa?” Nyra asked. 

“The queen with the feathers of flame.”

“Show me.” Nyra raised her hand. Elain walked over and took her hand. Nyra saw the image of a woman wailing and screaming and then it was replaced by a firebird, bright and magnificent. 

“Oh, that’s Vassa.”

“How do you recognise a woman you’ve never met before?” Mor asked.

“I wrote a lot of letters. I know enough about the human lands.” Nyra replied coolly.

Nesta paled at the mention of those letters. Nyra had started writing like anything. Letters related to their father’s business. Correspondences with acquaintances. Exchanging information. And some other shady business she had no idea how Nyra got involved in. Most of the servants in their manor had been saved from being trapped in dark things like kidnapping, slavery, and even prostitution. Nesta knew the power of words but the way Nyra wielded them was dangerous. 

“Letters?” Mor asked.

“Oh, she corresponded with a lot of people. Knows a lot of stuff.” Nesta looked Nyra in the eye. “It was a dangerous endeavour.”

“It’s been over a decade since the last time I was in danger because of humans.” Nyra held her gaze unflinchingly. 

Nesta broke the stare, sighing. She rested her elbow on the armrest and supported her cheek with her palm. “As you please, señorita.” 

Nyra chuckled. She looked at Nesta with fond amusement before turning to Azriel. “Vassa. Full name, Vasalisa Marila Beauharnais. Twenty six years old. Queen of Scythia. Golden brown skin. Red hair with gold strands here and there. Same height as Mor. Right now, she is malnourished as I saw from what Elain showed me. Has a birthmark of an irregularly circular shape on her abdomen. Three moles on her face—one near the right eye, one beneath her left ear, one above her left brow right before it arches.”

Silence followed.

“How the hell do you know so much about her?” Feyre asked, astounded.

“I know more.” Nyra raised a brow. “Her armies, they’re horse riders so the cavalry is very impressive. Not much infantry but brutally efficient. Decently skilled artillery. Totalling to twenty seven thousand eight hundred and twenty six personnel. Her political advisors include her father, two of said father’s illegitimate children formally titled as the Viscount of Estea and the Baron of. . why are you looking at me like that?” 

Feyre continued to gape, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “I mean. . .” Feyre was fumbling right now. “I knew you were knowledgeable but about people?”

“I like to be thorough.” She turned to see how Mor and Cassian were also surprised. She looked at Azriel who was smirking. “Isn’t that normal?”

“And when did you think of learning all this?” Cassian asked with genuine curiosity.

“When Elain wanted to buy a horse.” 

“And?” 

“Scythia is known for their horses. They have good breeds of those there.”

“So you decided to learn everything about them before purchasing a horse?” Rhysand mused.

“Yes.” And to Nyra, it was the most obvious thing on the planet. 

And Azriel was so fucking proud of her that he couldn’t help his smirk. There was someone else in the world who appreciated knowing everything, analysing everything. Someone who loved collecting information as much as he did. And Azriel felt like he was going to float, thinking that the Cauldron did pair him up with the person so fucking perfect for him. 

“All right. I’ve got it.” Azriel finally spoke. Nyra nodded at him. 

“And you.” Nyra turned to Elain. “You are definitely seeing something.”

“The Cauldron made you a seer.” Azriel added.

Elain blinked, looking between Nyra and Azriel. She then looked at Mor who confirmed the truth of it with her power. 

“And the curse you mentioned? About Vassa being a firebird? 

“They sold her to some darkness. . . to some sorcerer-lord.” Elain shook her head with shut eyes. “I can never see him. What he is. There is an onyx box that he possesses, more vital than anything. . . save for them. The girls. He keeps other girls—others so like her but she. .  . By day, she is one form, by night, human again.” 

“A bird of burning feathers.” Feyre muttered.

“Firebird by day, woman by night. So she’s held captive by this sorcerer-lord?”

“I don’t know.” Elain’s teary eyes found Nyra. “I hear her screaming. With rage. Utter rage. . .” Elain shuddered as if a cold breeze had kissed her. 

Once Elain had revealed all that she knew about Vassa, Nyra frowned. She was even more anxious as Lucien offered to go find Vassa. The meeting was beginning to end as Rhys began rolling out orders to the Inner Circle. Azriel came by and touched her cheek before winnowing away. 

The next day, Hybern made its grand move in the form of an attack on Adriata.

****

She’d been reading a book on channelling pure energy when Rhys had contacted her mind to mind. Nyra?

Rhys? 

Mind if I borrow some of your power? 

All right. Nyra contemplated something for a second and then asked again. Right now? 

Yes.

Do you know how?

Do you feel our bargain? There was a tug on her right hand. Nyra looked at the tattoo that had appeared back when Rhysand made his promise to her regarding his possible courting and marriage with Feyre. 

Yes. 

From there, you can share. Don’t share too much. I’ll be careful from my side too. And don’t worry. You’ve got this. 

Nyra felt that tattoo of a crescent moon decorated with flora. 

She was now in her island with a bridge in front of her and on the other side, the night sky lay in its vast glory. As she crossed it, Nyra admired the purplish hues in the dark illuminated by countless stars. 

Nyra spotted Rhys standing at the middle of the bridge. He extended a hand and she took it. She sent a wave of her power, slowly releasing it. And another. And another.

“That’s more than enough. Thank you.” Rhys immediately retreated his hand. “I’ll explain when we return.” And his figure vanished from the bridge, indicating that he’d closed the connection from his side. 

Nyra remained on that bridge watching the night sky and wondering why she wanted to cry. She crouched on that bridge and wondered what the grief was. Why the sudden burst of sorrow? 

“He was my brother.” A voice spoke. A little ball of light was floating next to her. It materialised into a young girl whom she had seen in her mind a few times. In the archives when she was sorting them, in the Cauldron when her soul had nearly been ripped away from her body. 

And who are you?

I’m you. And the girl vanished into a silver, glittery mist. 

Nyra looked at the night. She stood up, turned around and walked away. She had reached her own realm, the island when she spotted a thread on her left hand, tied to her ring finger. The thread extended and was slightly scattered but it led to the forest she had once visited. The one with the lake. 

Shadows moved around the forest as an active element, a threat to anyone who dared near the forest. And despite that, when Nyra walked closer, a few shadows swarmed near her and fussed over her like Azriel’s shadows did. 

“Welcome.” They whispered. “Welcome, mistress.”

Nyra raised her hand as the shadows approached her, a habit owing to how much Azriel’s shadows played with her hands and how much she adored them. But then she let her hand drop to her side. 

“I have to go.” She whispered. “Nesta is waiting for me. And we’re waiting for everyone.”

She closed her eyes, remembering the feeling that had taken her away from her island before. She let it wash over her.

Nyra woke up, standing exactly where she’d been. The book remained in her hand with the same page open. Her other hand was suspended in the air and Nyra felt the roar of her thunder echo somewhere far away. Her eyes burned and she let herself travel. 

Turquoise waters with sand so white it could be called snow under the moonlight. But there were too many people, too many screams, too many magical signatures. 

Nyra watched her lightning fracture the sky. She spotted Rhysand standing all alone in between a crowd of enemy soldiers. They’d been misted to blood immediately and with a roar, Rhys channelled her power and slammed the lightning, destroying all the ships with Hybern’s flag. 

She was back in Velaris once again, standing and the open book in her hand. 

Rhys? She went to the island and stood on her side of the bridge. 

Nyra? The High Lord sounded worried. I’m sorry. Did it hurt you? 

It did not. But I saw you wield it. 

Your power is very stubborn. I couldn’t wield it for the first few minutes but then I could, right after I misted the soldiers around me. 

I know. I saw you. From the sky, I think. And Nyra was back to Velaris again. Still communicating with Rhys but she was beginning to feel her body and her surroundings again. She closed the book after inserting a bookmark and went to the balcony.

Is it over? Nyra asked tentatively. She wanted to walk even more and the balconies in the House of Wind were restrictive. A wave of silver glitter followed her hand as she waved it. Steps formed from the balcony into the sky. 

Yes. Rhysand paused. Nyra waited for more. We’re fine. He chuckled through their link. I can feel your worry all the way here. 

I should push you off a balcony. Nyra realised she sounded a bit ironic since she was taking a risk by walking on the sky while relying on a power that was still new to her. The girl who lived in her mind seemed to be unconsciously guiding her use of magic. And so, Nyra began walking mid-air. 

The shadows swooped around her waist, as though ready to catch her if she fell.

Feyre darling may have plans to push me into the Sidra.

Even better. 

Are you still there? Rhysand asked, sounding like he wanted to continue the conversation. 

Yes. Did you know I can walk mid-air?

Sounds rather convenient. 

It is. I’m taking a walk right now. 

You’re planning to fall from a few thousand feet up in the air? Rhys sounded very anxious despite the attempt at a joke.

You could be optimistic. 

I could’ve been if you were trying this with some precaution. Like having one of us with you who can fly. 

Oh look, I haven’t fallen down yet. Nyra was astutely amused.

And if you do, you’ll be greeted by the cold Sidra. Rhys retorted.

If anybody’s falling in there, it’s you. Undoubtedly. And there’s no. . . Nyra stopped speaking to Rhys for a moment. Rhys felt a wave of relief and happiness out of nowhere. 

Nyra?

It’s raining. 

And you’re still in the sky?

Yes. It’s wonderful. And she sounded genuinely happy. Rhysand could feel that through the link.

Rhysand felt her joy but his own feelings were that of worry. Aren’t you cold?

I’ve never been out in the rain. I’ll risk catching a cold for now. 

“Rhys!” Cassian called. The Inner Circle had gathered after the attack and after Feyre had talked to Tarquin, Cassian was coordinating for the Night Court armies to remain posted for a short time till Summer managed to build up their armies and defences.

“Hm?” The High Lord had been looking up at the sky in Summer Court where there was no sign of rain. 

“We need your attention.” 

“Darling, a soundproof barrier, please.” Rhys turned to Feyre. She waved a hand and the air around them changed. 

“I could care really less about what happened here.” Rhysand began. “I did hear what you said, Cass. About three thousand Illyrians with three siphons being posted here for backup for the next twenty days.” 

“And what gathered your attention more than that?” 

“It’s raining in Velaris. And she’s walking in the sky.” Rhys answered with a blooming smile. “She’s starting to be happy.” He looked at Feyre and Azriel in turn. 

Stars sparkled in his eyes and he shut them tightly. “I keep searching for Maia within her.” He felt Feyre touch his arm.

“What has Maia got to do with this?” Mor finally spoke. And it was then that the three Illyrians and Feyre remembered that the bargain between the brothers required all three of them to consent before the Bone Carver’s prophecy was to ever be revealed. 

“What do you say?” Rhysand looked at Cassian and Azriel. 

“We should’ve told you earlier.” Cassian began.

“Told me what?” Mor looked between them. Azriel looked at Cassian and nodded. 

“The Bone Carver prophesied about Maia being reborn.”

“When was this? And why am I getting to know about this now? And why is this relevant now?” Mor’s impatience and confusion were palpable.

“Back when I became a new High Lord. So far, nothing had happened.”

“And what suddenly happened?”

“Maia was my mate.” Azriel quietly spoke. Mor turned to him, shocked out of her mind. “I felt the mating bond as she died.” 

“But Nyra-”

“Is my mate. The bond snapped for me as soon as she was out of the Cauldron.” Azriel watched Mor carefully, knowing how unpredictable explosive she could be.

Mor pressed her fingers to her forehead, eyes tightly closed. “And why didn’t you bother telling me?”

Silence followed. 

“Does Amren know?”

More silence.

“Oh, you fuckwits.”

Rhysand frowned. This was not the reaction he’d been expecting from his cousin. He looked at Feyre who seemed just as clueless. He then turned to Cassian and Azriel who were waiting for Mor to reveal why she’d been reacting the way she did. 

“And what exactly is it. . .” Mor gathered herself. Or so she thought. “That she. . .” She began pacing as much as she could inside the barrier. “Oh, fuck it. I don’t even know what to think.” 

“Take your time.” Cassian gently advised Mor. 

“Sort yourself, Morrigan.” Rhysand began. “I will not have you anywhere near the sisters till you do.” 

“That’s no way to talk to her.” Feyre was as firm as she was calm.

“Her emotional breakdown is going to confuse Nyra and by extension, Nesta. Elain is already confused as it is.” Rhys contended.

“And even then, that tone and your choice of words was a bad call. That is no way to talk to your cousin. Your family.” Feyre reminded. 

“I’ll meet you in the Night Court, High Lord.” Mor spoke coldly despite the tears welling in her eyes. “Feyre.” She turned to the Cursebreaker with a bit more emotion and winnowed away. 

“My sisters are not children.” Feyre began. “In terms of emotional trauma, they’ve been through much more than I ever have. You’re worried for them, I understand that much. But that doesn’t mean you downplay others’ feelings.”

“It’s not a competition, Feyre.” Azriel quietly began. All eyes turned to him. “It’s not a competition of who went through how much. And your sisters are getting there. A bit closer to moving on from whatever the Cauldron did to them.”

Azriel walked over to Feyre. A brother laid his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Nyra will get there. I feel her and she's feels free from worries and inhibitions.” 

“Let’s get this done and go home.” Cassian spoke with a smile so secret and heartfelt that Feyre had wondered if he wanted to return to Nesta as much as Azriel wanted to go to Nyra. 

When all was concluded in the Summer Court within the next nineteen hours, the Inner Circle winnowed directly to the skies above the House of Wind. Rain continued to pour over Velaris, bringing blessings from the skies above. 

Azriel immediately flapped his mighty wings and headed in a direction from where his shadows beckoned. From where the mating bond beckoned. It was lit with serenity and warmth. 

Nyra sat on a glittery platform clearly made from her power. With her eyes closed and face craned to the sun, she thoroughly seemed to be enjoying the rain. 

“You’re back?” She looked at him as he approached. Nyra reached her hand out to him and Azriel took it. Her power floated around him to help him land next to her. 

The shadowsinger stood in front of her, taking in her drenched form. Shadows were already circling her waist. The ones that had been with him floated over to her hands and hair. 

“Do you want to sit down?” Nyra patted the space next to her, the glittery essence visible for him to take his seat mid-air. 

Azriel sat down, still holding her hand. He wanted to hold her left hand, the scarred one. And just as he turned his face to look at the view in front of them, Nyra’s hand found his cheek and turned his face to make eye contact. 

Her gaze travelled to the scar on his cheek. She stood up, came to stand in front of him, and knelt to take and inspect his face in her hands. 

“Did you come straight here? To. . .”

Azriel took her left hand in his right and the other cupped her cheek. He gently tugged her face so that their foreheads would meet and closed his eyes. “I’m home.” 

Yes. 

He was home. He was back in the company of the female he was now absolutely certain he loved. 

He felt the chaos of his mind calm down, the darkness of his past becoming a breathable mist. 

And just when he thought that nothing could make this moment better, Nyra softly pressed her lips to his forehead. “Welcome home, Az.”

And he was hers—mind, body, and soul. 

Amidst the storm that ravaged his life, there was a centre where things were calm. A safe haven where Azriel would find peace—the eye of the storm that he’d recently discovered.

And Nyra was that haven. 

She was safety. 

She was his home. 

She was the eye of the storm. 

And life would never be the same now that he’d discovered all of it. 

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd @myladysapphire @freyagallileaevans @azrielrot @rcarbo1 @i-am-infinite @latinxbipride @moni-cah @fantanbietsson @julsgrace @angel-graces-world-of-chaos

[drmaddict]

The Lovers

Summary: Jason accuses (Y/n) the town witch that she has cast a spell on him. Neither of them would have expected, what was really behind it.

Wordcount: 7.370

"Ah!" I cried out in surprise, when I heard the crack and the dull bang behind me and whirled around. I had expected to see a heavy branch lying on the ground and not... Jason Carver?

"What are you doing here?" I shouted, still slightly tense.

He got to his feet and knocked the leaves off his jacket. "I could ask you that? What are you doing?", he asked angrily, pointing at the basket I was holding.

I looked at him in irritation.

"What kind of voodoo are you going to do, huh?"

I raised an eyebrow. "They're daisies, you moron." I demonstratively held up one of the small flowers. "You can use them to make an ointment for sunburn." I rolled my eyes. "You followed me all the way through this forest to play witch hunting? How long have you been following me?" He was absolutely crazy.

He came up to me. "Long enough to see that these aren't daisies.", he bit out, holding up the second plant in my basket.

"Yes, this is St. John's wort. My cousin has neurodermatitis. The creams from the pharmacy are all too expensive and they don't want anyone else to pay for them, so I make her one from this. It soothes chapped skin." I grabbed the little plant and threw it back into the basket. "And before you ask.", I continued, reaching into the basket. "Mint. For my satanic tea against bloating."

Jason looked at me dully, then shook his head. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm just here collecting some herbs and you're the stalker, who's been following me through the forest for at least fourty minutes.", I hissed.

Jason took a step back. "I know you're one of those weird wiccans."

"Witch."

"You admit it!"

"I'm correcting you.", I said simply.

He furrowed his eyebrows in irritation.

"Wicca is a religion. Most wiccans are witches. Not all witches are wiccans. It's like quadrates and squares." I teased him. "If you're going to hate me, you should at least use the right terms."

He looked at my basket. "Just because you're not doing anything wrong today, doesn't mean you're otherwise innocent."

I sighed. I just wanted my peace and quiet. "Yes, I'm usually sin itself. Can I have my peace now, please?"

"No."

I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "You know what? Do what you want." With that, I turned around and tried to concentrate on the plants. "At least don't trample everything.", I snapped at him and kept walking.

"What is this stuff really for?"

"I just told you."

"You're lying."

"I could pass a lie detector test Carver."

I bent down to grab a small wild garlic plant.

"What's that?" Jason asked, almost angrily.

"Wild garlic.", I explained. "It's simply delicious in food." I threw the plant into the basket. "You're welcome to keep stalking me Jason, but try to be less angry."

"Why?"

"Because I want this", I pointed to my basket, "to have positive energies."

"It's a plant."

"Do you pray for other people's misfortune?"

"No! I'm not."

"Then don't spoil my work, wanting to do something good for the people in my life... Even if it's just to help them with sunburn."

Jason stopped short and looked at me insistently. "How do I know you're not lying?"

I looked at him as calmly as you can look at someone who calls you Satan's bitch. It was his upbringing or the media. How was he supposed to know any better? "Look for Hildegard von Bingen's herbal bible in the library. I know everything about medicinal herbs from her."

"I'm not reading the book of some devil worshipper."

"Hildegard von Bingen was a nun.", I corrected him.

Jason faltered.

"If you don't trust me, maybe you trust one of your people."

He walked slowly backwards. "I'll keep an eye on you.", he said emotionlessly.

"I'll see you at school."

"I'm just saying. Be prepared for something to come up today.", I grumbled to Eddie, poking at my salad.

Eddie shook his head, upset. "He's been stalking you?"

"Yes.", I laughed. "If he hadn't been alone, I would have been really worried."

"He's out of his mind."

"Is that news?"

I didn't know what to expect today. That got me down. Ever since my former friend Melody unintentionally outed me as a witch, I never knew what to expect the next day. She had snooped through my things and found the little pentagram pendant. After the whole school knew about it, even the head teacher called me in and told my parents.

My dad thought I had a chip on my shoulder, but otherwise wasn't interested and my mom... Well, before I explained what I was doing and that the newspapers had no idea, it took a good three hours. Three hours with a lot of tears.

I never spoke to Melody again. Eddie had taken me in with the outsiders and Jason and his gang wanted to see me at the stake.

"We'll keep watch.", Eddie said, looking down the hall.

"My heroes.", I sighed dramatically.

He grinned and bowed exaggeratedly.

I was sitting at one of the tables at the edge of the forest, scribbling listlessly on my piece of paper, when a book banged on the table next to me.

I literally jumped up and stumbled backwards, so frightened, that I toppled over the bench and fell onto my back.

I saw blonde hair and a green and white jacket.

I picked myself up stiffly. "What the hell are you?" I grumbled. "Are you making any noise at all?"

I knocked the grass off my butt and gave Jason a dirty look. He looked back just as crossly.

I looked at the book on the table. Hildegard von Bingen. "You've read it.", I said in surprise.

"Skimmed it."

I looked at his angry face and sighed. "What's wrong now?"

"The herbs might be good, but you're doing something."

I ran a hand over my face. "Jason.", I began humbly. "I'll leave you alone. Can't you do me a favor and do the same to me?"

"No!"

"Why not?" I whined.

He was breathing heavily and turned away in a huff. "Because you did something. You did something to ME. ADMIT IT!"

I faltered. "Jason what are you talking about?"

"Why do I feel this way if you haven't done some witchcraft to me?" he hissed, coming closer and closer to me. I backed up until I bumped into a tree. Jason encircled me with his arms.

"I don't know what you're talking about.", I said almost fearfully. "I don't know what you mean Jason."

"Stop saying that!"

"Say what?"

"MY NAME!"

"Jas-" I bit my lips.

He was breathing heavily. "Undo it."

"I didn't do anything. You're scaring me."

"Undo it!", he growled. He looked at me almost frantically.

"You have to tell me what's wrong or I can't help you, but I didn't do anything."

"Then why do I feel like this?", he whispered angrily.

"How do you feel?", I asked, almost pleadingly. Hoping that he would stay calm.

"How do you feel Jason?"

No sooner had his name crossed my lips than he pressed his mouth to mine. Hard and unyielding. His hands held my head in place and his body pressed against mine. I was so caught off guard, that I just stood there, like a pillar of salt, waiting. Not quite grasping what was happening.

He abruptly disengaged and stumbled back. Tears streamed down his cheeks. "Undo it.", he whispered.

I looked at him in disbelief. Not a word escaped my lips. Not a sound escaped my throat. Until a fuse in my brain clicked into place and I ran away. I ran away as fast as I could, not wasting a single thought on my stuff, which were still lying on the table.

"He's did WHAT?", shouted Eddie angrily.

I sat at the kitchen table of the trailer and looked at the tabletop in disbelief.

"I think I'm going to be sick.", I whimpered. No. I really felt sick. I was sick to my stomach. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom. I made it just in time to take the contents of my stomach to the toilet.

Eddie stumbled after me and held my hair out of my face. He stroked my back reassuringly.

When I was sure nothing more was coming, I dropped onto my butt and felt the tears on my cheeks. I wrap my arms around my legs. Eddie held out a bottle of water to me.

"Take a deep breath.", he mumbled.

"They're going to kill me Eds."

"They won't. We'll keep you safe." He pulled me into his arms. "Nothing's going to happen."

My backpack was gone, of course. What had I expected?

I sat in the library and waited impatiently for Gareth to come. I hid behind my book and tried to stay calm. One of the boys had been keeping an eye on me all day. Just in case.

Jason had been like a madman. He'd gotten it into his head that I'd cast a spell on him. He had kissed me. Jason Carver. The poster boy Jason Carver somehow had... had a crush on me and now thought I'd made him. Jason Carver had a crush on me and he hated himself for it. I was startled when I heard a backpack fall onto the table, but before I even looked up, I saw Jason's back disappearing quickly and my backpack in front of me. I reached for it hesitantly. Slowly pulled open the zipper. Carefully peeked inside. Nothing happened.

"Your backpack is back?"

I winced.

"Since when are you so jumpy?" Gareth grinned.

"Since I'm waiting for the Inquisition.", I grumbled.

POV Jason

How had I let myself get so carried away? How could I have been so stupid? Why hadn't I stayed away from her? I had given her far too much power over me.

My head was buzzing with thoughts as I walked into the theater room as Luke's note told me to.

That little witch. Why had she run away, when this was exactly what she had wanted? That had been her goal. To cast a spell on me. Had she realized that this couldn't be love? Had she perhaps really done nothing - I interrupted the thought immediately. Of course she had done something. I would never think like that about someone, who went against everything I stood for.

The door of the theater room slammed shut loudly. I turned around with a jolt and caught sight of Eddie Munson.

"Ball boy. Glad you got my message."

I looked at the note in my hand. How could I have been so stupid?

"I heard about your little meeting with (Y/n) in the woods.", he continued, walking slowly towards me.

I shouldered my backpack and moved towards the door, but Munson grabbed me firmly by the shoulders and stopped me.

"Not so fast. Where are you going?"

"Let me go!"

"Why is that? I guess it's not so much fun being hassled yourself?"

I pulled my shoulders out of his grip and pushed him away. "That's what she wanted! She started this voodoo.", I hissed. "So tell her to undo it or leave me alone!"

Munson laughed. First in disbelief, then louder, harder, until he seemed almost unable to breathe. "Oh God!", he struggled to breathe. "You really believe that."

"What's so funny?", I shouted angrily.

Munson held his stomach and sat down on one of the folding chairs. "You have a crush and you don't realize it." He wiped a tear from his face.

"I don't-"

"You think you're pretty important, don't you?", he interrupted me, still slightly breathless. "Don't you think she'd have better targets, than some bore with a twist in his panties?"

I turned away angrily and left.

"Bother her again and you can find out how to throw your balls with crutches.", he shouted after me.

I pushed the door open hard and stormed through the corridors.

I don't have a crush on that witch. I don't want anything from her. No matter how many dreams I had in which she lay with me and in which she seduced me with her smile and her scent... Those dreams weren't real. They weren't my dreams. They couldn't be mine.

"Jason." my name fell from her lips like a prayer. She clawed at my back. I kissed her neck, marking it as my own, as I thrust into her again and again. Sometimes faster, sometimes slower. I let her dance on the threshold of pleasure. Never quite gave her what she wanted. I devoured her and she gave herself to me. (Y/n's) eyes were glassy and yet warm. Looked up at me with affection and admiration. Her hands caressed my back. Her legs wrapped around my hips. She moved towards me. We were united. Two bodies and two souls in harmony.

She twitched around me. Her body tensed. She collapsed in waves of excitement. She took me with her and caught me.

The fabric under my cheek was damp. I sat up with a jerk. I was alone. Alone in my room. Just me in my bed. Sweat was sticking to my body. I wiped the saliva from the corner of my mouth in disgust. My shorts were sticking to my crotch. I pulled a face.

Why in God's name did I have to be the target of this witchcraft? Why did these dreams have to feel so good? Why did I feel so safe in them? She was a witch! She was evil. She was not gentle and sweet. I had to remind myself that she had cast a spell on me. I couldn't love her!

Where did that word come from? Why did it want to creep into my head?

I felt tears running down my cheeks. I don't want to have these thoughts!

(Y/n)s POV

The last week I had gotten away with it. None of the jocks had hit on me or hinted at anything. It just made me even more paranoid.

I was waiting for a prank. Some kind of humiliation. I was almost longing for it so I could finally get it over with.

I was walking home when a sadly too familiar car drove up slowly beside me. I didn't look up, stubbornly continued straight ahead.

I heard the side window being rolled down.

"Get in!" Jason said stubbornly.

I walked on silently.

"Get in the car now!"

"No!" I replied stubbornly.

The car came to a halt. A door opened. I quickened my steps.

A hand clutched my upper arm. "I told you to get in.", he hissed.

"But I don't want to.", I spat back.

His grip on my arm became painfully tight. "And I don't want to have these thoughts, so get in."

I tried to pull away, but it didn't help. His hands were on my arms like vices.

"What are you going to do?"

"We're going to church."

I looked at him, perplexed. "Is the pyre ready or what? For fuck's sake, Carver! I don't want anything from you except to be left alone! Even if I could do what you accuse me of, which I can't by the way, why would I want the guy who's been spitting on me for months?"

He looked at me blankly. "We'll go to the church now and talk to the priest."

I realized tears were welling up in my eyes. It was all so absurd. It... It was humiliating. Someone had a crush on me and it was so absurd that it was really happening that he suspected I had bewitched him.

"Now come on!" he ordered, pulling me roughly towards his car.

I stumbled after him.

The drive was silent and tense. I had tried to jump out at a red light, but Jason had immediately had grabbed hold of me.

When we arrived at the church, Jason dragged me up the steps of the building and through the door into the large main room.

I had never been in a church before. My parents weren't believers, so there was never any reason to attend one.

He looked at me insistently.

I remained stubborn. "What? Did you expect me to burst into flames?"

His jaw tightened. "Come on." he growled.

Roughly, he dragged me to a small room and knocked.

Priest Mitchel opened it for us. "Jason. Hello... And you must be (Y/n)."

I nodded hesitantly.

"Can you give us a moment alone Jason?" the priest asked, stepping aside to clear the way into his office.

Jason reluctantly let go of me.

I cautiously stepped into the priest's office. I only knew him by sight, but he always seemed nice and friendly.

"Why don't you sit down for a minute? Would you like some tea?"

"Uh... No. Thanks."

He just nodded and sat down on an exercise ball opposite me. "They don't look particularly professional, but they're good for your back.", he smiled.

I just nodded. "My mom has one too."

He grinned. "Very well." He became more serious. "Jason told me about his situation." I stiffened. "Don't worry. I won't drag you to the torture chamber. But whether you've done anything or not... Jason... Got stuck on that idea and knowing the boy, he's not going to let it go."

I sighed. "So you're not getting out the pitchforks?"

He smiled. "No. Believe it or not. My wife went through a phase like you once."

"And if it's not a phase?"

"Then I pray you stay true to the right path anyway."

I looked thoughtfully at the table in front of me. "And how do I get rid of that witch hunter out there now?" I muttered. "You know him better than I do."

Father Mitchel looked thoughtfully at my bag. "You don't happen to have any herbs with you?"

I looked up irritated. "What? No. I was at school. What do I want with herbs there?" 

"Hm... Well, the tea will have to do then."

He reached into the drawer of his desk and pulled out a packet of fruit tea. Relaxed, he cut open a good six bags and tipped them into a small decorative bowl.

"What are you up to?"

He grinned. "We're breaking a spell for Jason's sake. Under my supervision, of course, so he'll feel more comfortable and confident about it."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Don't you always say you shouldn't lie?"

"Special situations call for special measures."

"You're a strange priest."

"And I'm very proud of that."

Less than five minutes later, I was sitting behind the church in front of a small bowl of fruit tea, trying to remain serious. Jason and Father Mitchel watched me from a safe distance, how I lit a small piece of paper on which my and Jason's names were crossed out.

Normally, you would use two candels with a connected wick to break a love spell, but Jason didn't know that.

I threw the note into the bowl and watched it burn. The tea left a sickeningly sweet smell, but the light breeze made it disappear quickly.

I waited patiently for the flames to recede and then grabbed the ashes to let them blow away with the breeze for show.

Jason watched everything with eagle eyes, but actually seemed a little calmer with Father Mitchel at his side.

I got up from my cross-legged position and lifted the bowl. A pretty little thing.

I put it in Father Mitchel's hand. He nodded at me with a smile. "If you ever think about it, the church is always open to you."

"That... That's very nice. Thank you."

"Well then. Accounting is waiting." He sighed and walked back around the building.

Jason looked at me appraisingly. I let him.

"Can you at least take me home now? I don't have any money for the bus."

He struggled with himself, but then motioned for me to follow him.

The journey was calm. Tense, but calm.

I quickly squeezed out of the car when we arrived at my house. "Thank you. Bye.", I mumbled and disappeared into the house as quickly as I could.

Hopefully, this haunting was finally over.

POV Jason

She kissed me so tenderly. Her arms were wrapped around my neck. Her body was warm as it pressed against mine. I could feel her breasts through both our shirts. I enjoyed her hands in my hair. I stroked her ribs. She giggled slightly. Bit my lower lip playfully. I laughed. I felt bliss. I felt light. Here in this meadow, lying on a scratchy picnic blanket, with her in my arms. She kissed the tip of my nose. She ran her thumb over my cheeks.

"I love you.", I murmured and gently kissed the diamond ring on her ring finger. 

I woke up suddenly. Annoyed, I hit the alarm clock and buried myself under the thick comforter again. Still slightly foggy, I tried to fall back asleep and continue dreaming where I had left off. I wanted to go back to the meadow and (Y/n)-

I stiffened up. No. No. No!

Why another dream like this? I curled up under the blanket and pressed my hands against my forehead. I tried to push these wishes out of my brain.

But she had dissolved the spell. Father Mitchel was there. That couldn't be. It couldn't be.

I wanted to be normal again.

POV (Y/n)

I sat on my favorite table in the woods and looked thoughtfully at my tarot cards. The lovers had been extremely persistent in my last readings. I threw all the cards back on the pile and shuffled them vigorously. That didn't make any sense. I haven't really felt it anyway.

I shuffled and suddenly one of the cards flew out of the pile. I turned it over and sighed in surrender. The fool glared at me maliciously. "All right. I get it.", I growled annoyed and put the cards on the table.

I heard it crack behind me. I quickly jumped up and looked around.

God no.

"Jason?"

He didn't say anything, just sat down at the table. He looked tired. Listlessly, he threw his backpack in front of him and lay down on it. But he kept his eyes on me. His eyes wandered to the cards on the table. Strangely, he didn't react.

I didn't say anything. I didn't move.

"What do you want here?"

He was still looking at the cards and reached for one that had clearly slipped out of the deck. When he threw it back down, annoyed, I saw the lovers again.

"I give up.", he mumbled. His voice was low and raspy.

I hesitantly sat down next to him. "What are you giving up on?"

"It didn't work... The voodoo from yesterday."

How could it? It was just for show. I sighed anyway. I had somehow hoped that maybe it would influence him enough to finally put his mind at rest.

"Go on, then. Do what you want.", he grumbled.

I furrowed my eyebrows in irritation. "What?"

"You wanted me. Go on."

I breathed in and out in a controlled manner to control my anger. "Jason.", I groaned, annoyed.

He looked at me devotedly. I rubbed my hands over my face. "Okay. How about you pray?"

He sat up. "You want me to beg you too?"

I rolled my eyes. "To your god, you idiot."

He faltered. "Why?"

"Can't you ask him what's right and what's not? Ask him for the truth."

He faltered. His eyes screamed with confusion.

"Come on," I groaned and put my cards away. "I'll even clean up."

He sat up straighter. Watched me. "All right.", he murmured. His hands pushed together almost cautiously. He rested his elbows on the tabletop and gave me another quick glance. "No games.", he ordered.

I held my hands up in the air defensively.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his hands. It seemed so... antiquated. The way he sat there mumbling to himself. The way he held his hands. It all looked so ancient.

I went about my own thoughts until I suddenly heard him sobbing.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts. Jason was still in his prayer position but I heard him turn up his nose.

His hands separated and immediately ran over his face. I quickly looked in my backpack and grabbed the small pack of tissues.

"Here." I held them out to him.

He grabbed it without a word and wiped his tears away, blew his nose loudly and then threw it on the table.

"Jason." I was practically whispering. As if every loud noise would destroy the world.

He just shook his head. "You're not supposed to say my name.", he replied just as quietly.

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

He wiped away another tear. Silently, he looked at the tabletop.

"Why do you hate me so much?" I asked.

He grimaced. "I think we both know that the opposite is the problem."

I shook my head. "No, you're conflicted. You hate the... Interest in me."

He sighed and reached for another tissue. "Why do you have to be a witch?"

I smirked. "That's it?"

"You go against everything I believe in.", he pressed out.

I sighed. "How about you pay your debt?"

He looked at me, confused. "What kind of debt?"

"You dragged me to your priest and now you're meeting one of my friends. Don't worry. She's a Christian... And a witch."

He laughed dismissively. "No such thing."

I held out my hand to him. "Let's make a bet, then."

He hesitated. "What bet?"

I thought about it for a moment. "If I win, you stop putting the basketballtaining on the Hellfire meetings."

Jason's jaw tightened. He reached for my hand. "If I win, you come to the service with me. For a month."

"Deal.", I grinned.

"Deal.", he bit back.

"Here?" Jason asked incredulously as he brought the car to a halt.

My friend's house was a simple terraced house. A small front garden with flower beds and a bright yellow façade.

I just nodded. "Yup. This is where she lives." I got out and waited for him to do the same. We walked down the small driveway and Jason eyed the cross on the thermometer next to the door.

It opened and my friend Jannice emerged. She was in her mid-thirties and, as always, a bit over the top.

"(Y/n)!", she shouted happily.

"Hey Jan.", I laughed and let myself be pulled into a hug.

"You haven't been around for far too long. You really need to make me some of that lavender oil again. I've just dried some. You can take it with you right away. Uh! Who have we got here? Let me look at you!" She hugged Jason, who was completely taken by surprise and just stood there.

"I can't believe you're fishing for such a tasty treat. I would have bet on the curly head with the puppy eyes..."

"Jan, we're not a couple.", I quickly interrupted her.

"Oh... Oh well." She brushed one of her wild curls out of her face. "Well, come in."

We entered the house and went into the kitchen, which, as always, smelled wonderfully of all kinds of flowers and herbs.

Jason stopped in the doorway and looked at a small table with a cross and a candle on it. He looked at them closely. The candle was bright pink. Definitely not a candle that was available at the service.

He turned back to us. "(Y/n) says you are a Christian.", he said clumsily, but Jannice just smiled again.

"Yes, that's right."

"And she says you're a... witch."

She put a tin of cookies on the table. "Yes. That's true, too."

Jason looked at her suspiciously. "But that can't work."

Jabnice laughed. "Oh boy. Have a seat. Eat a cookie and then I'll explain everything you want."

Jason still sat stiffly on a chair. "What's in the candle?", he began and Jannice started.

"But there are rules!" Jason huffed.

Jannice nibbled on a cookie. "I live by the rule of being a good person. How many more rules do you need? Treat your fellow human beings with love and helpfulness."

Jason put his coffee cup down firmly on the table. "But then everyone can do what they want!"

"If the law was repealed tomorrow that killing someone was illegal, would you do it?"

"Of course not!"

"And yet there are people who do it despite the law." She poked Jason's chest with her finger. "Because our ethics aren't always governed by rules."

She leaned back in her chair. "Why do you want to understand it, if you're so sure of your religious interpretation?"

Jason faltered.

They were a mismatched pair. So different and yet so similar.

"Jason wants to broaden his horizons a little.", I interjected.

Jannice eyed him. "To broaden your horizons, your heart has to be open."

Jason sighed. "Open heart. I just don't get it!", he huffed.

Jannice put a hand on his shoulder. "Your head doesn't understand or your heart?"

Jason gave her a pained look. "What's the difference?"

She smiled gently at him, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Because your head only tells you what you've learned. Your heart tells you what you've always known."

Jason's eyes sparkled treacherously wet again, but he blinked bravely.

Jannice's gaze showed understanding. "You were never really allowed to ask questions."

Jason shook his head. "There were rules."

She nodded. "Well. I listen to every question. My door is always open."

Jason didn't respond. Just grabbed another lavender cookie.

He stayed silent for a long time on the drive back. "I really want to understand this," he whispered.

Even though I didn't know what had happened to him, I had seen that something inside him had been shaken awake. Something that he had put to sleep was stretching and trying to understand why it hadn't been allowed to go through all those years.

"These things take time," I replied calmly.

Jason nodded. "Should I apologize?"

I grinned. "What does your gut say?"

He shook his head, annoyed. "I thought we were focusing on the heart."

I laughed lightly. "Everyone gets their knowledge from somewhere else."

He was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry." His eyes shot to me very briefly.

I bit my lip. "It's okay."

"And now what?" Eddie asked me as we lay on the roof of the trailer and looked up at the sky.

I shrugged my shoulders, even though he couldn't see that. "I don't know."

He sighed. "Do you think he'll shut up now?"

I had to smile. "I think it's more likely that things are just starting now. You should have seen them." I let the thought slip away and the confusion of the last few days settled over me. "This is all so absurd.", I muttered.

Eddie laughed. "I still can't believe he thought you put a spell on him."

I sighed. "Why wouldn't he? I'm not exactly his typ."

Eddie nudged me. "Of course you're not. They're completely hollow."

I shook my head. A sad smile spread across my face. "Can you play my best girl-friend for a minute?"

"Shall I get the nail polish?"

I punched him lightly.

"Sure.", he grinned.

I closed my eyes in surrender to make it easier. "It was so far-fetched, that he could really have a crush on me, that he thought I'd jinxed him Eddie.... That's... Why is it so far-fetched to have a crush on me?"

He patted my shoulder. "I'm sticking to the fact, that they're hollow."

I continued to gaze at the stars and fell silent. How could you treat someone you had a crush on with such disgust?

"What's going to happen with him now?" Eddie had turned his head towards me and was looking at me questioningly.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, he understood that he thinks you're hot and now what?" He twirled his rings. "Are you going out? Are we still seeing each other? Do I have to find another club witch because you're hanging out with the cool kids now?"

I looked at him, confused. "We're not going out.", I blurted out. "We're just... I don't know. There's a truce?"

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "He fancies you (Y/n).", he said forcefully. "We know that now. How do you feel about him?"

I looked at him dully. "I've never thought about it.", I confessed. "Don't look at me like that! I was waiting for the funeral pyre."

Eddie shook his head in amusement. "I don't believe I'm saying this, but you two seem to be perfect for each other."

I nudged him roughly. "That's not funny!"

"Yes it is."

I pouted.

"So. How do you feel about him? Tell your best friend."

I rubbed my face. "I don't know. He... I mean he hasn't exactly been nice over the last few months." I listened to the rustling of leaves around us. "Can you like someone you're supposed to hate?"

"If we asked Jason, he'd say yes. Come on. What do you think of the Bible boy, non-judgmentally."

I sighed. "It's not that simple.... I mean... I don't know... He seems ambitious?"

"Very romantic." Eddie nodded, playing serious.

I groaned in annoyance. "He's probably quite good looking."

A grin appeared on his face.

"But I don't understand how he can dress like that.", I grumbled

Eddie continued to grin. "I knew you had a thing for Andrew!"

"Andrew?"

"Breakfast Club... Jock Andrew."

I blushed. "Shut up."

Eddie chuckled. "Would the basketball shorts on Jason be more your thing?"

"I told you to shut up."

"Oh, no. I'm going to enjoy this. Besides, he's definitely dreaming about banging you. So you can let it all out."

"He doesn't." I blurted out immediately.

Eddie couldn't stop laughing. "He has a cock and he likes you. He definitely dreams about you two fucking."

I gave him a petulant look. "You really are a catty best friend."

"And I love you very much."

"But... You could curse someone?", Jason asked me hesitantly.

We were sitting at the table in the woods again. As usual, Jason had come to me like a ghost and then started asking questions.

"I could probably try it. No idea if it would even work. Anyway. It's not my thing."

Jason looked very thoughtful as usual. "Why are you so insistent on only doing good?"

His blue eyes looked confused. "You could and you don't think anyone will punish you for it. Why don't you?"

"I never said I wouldn't be punished for it.", I objected.

He played with the zipper on his backpack. "And who's punishing you?"

"Karma.", I said simply. "Everything you send out comes back to you threefold."

"Hm."

He was silent for a moment. Let it sink in. "Okay."

Meanwhile, I sat in my seat and couldn't get the conversation with Eddie out of my head. Somehow the fact that Jason had admitted to having a crush on me had made it real. Did he really dream about me? Did I want him to dream about me? My ego wanted it, but did I want it?

I sighed without realizing it.

Jason looked at me questioningly. I waved him off. He looked thoughtfully at the table again. "Is there a spell to get rid of feelings?", he asked quietly.

I looked at him, irritated. "What?"

He rubbed his forehead. "I don't know which synapse has locked onto you, but we both know that there's no future in this. Apart from the fact that I very much doubt by now that you want anything from me." He stood up angrily. "So please. Do something and set me free."

I felt the anger boiling up inside me. First mixed with shame, then all the clearer and stronger.

"Set you free? I'm sorry that your limbic system isn't playing along with your image planning. I'm sorry that it's so disgusting to have a crush on me that you even have to assume you've been cursed. I'm sorry, Carver", I bit out his name, "that I'm not good enough."

I could feel the heat in my cheeks. "But you could at least have the decency not to throw that in my face every time you see me!"

I grabbed my backpack gruffly, which unfortunately only caused my tarot cards to fall out and scatter across the forest floor.

Jason just looked at me dully. A gust of wind hit me in the back and blew the last card away.

Jason bent down for it and held it out to me unseen.

I tryed hard not to crumple it up. The damn lovers. I breathed in and out in a controlled manner.

"I'm sorry-"

"Save it." I interrupted him immediately. I held my hands in front of me defensively. "Just let it go." I put the card with the others and zipped up the backpack.

The wind picked up, but I paid it no mind. I just kept going, no matter how hard the wind tore at me. How could the weather change so quickly?

"Now wait!" Jason called after me. "You can't walk through the forest in a storm like this. Let me drive you."

"No!"

I felt a hand around my upper arm, yanking me backwards. I heard a loud crack. A rumble of thunder rolled through the forest. The ground vibrated.

Jason had held me protectively against him. It was only when I managed to free myself that I saw his shocked face. When I turned around, I saw it.

A not exactly delicate branch was lying right where I was about to go. That thing would have easily broken every bone in my body.

As soon as I'd gotten over the situation, the wind died down, but only a little.

"Come on," Jason said and pulled me along with him. His hands were firmly on my shoulders and he swiftly escorted me to his car.

I stayed still for the rest of the journey. Jason had thrown his jacket on me because he had decided I would definitely be cold. The radio was switched off because it had started raining halfway and the signal was gone.

I hated that Jason's jacket smelled good. He wasn't supposed to smell good. He wasn't supposed to look good. His stupid upper arms shouldn't be so attractive.

Pouting, I averted my eyes.

"I can't see anything.", Jason grumbled loud enough to drown out the pattering of the rain. I didn't look at him. But then I felt the car stop.

"What are you doing?"

"I can't see five feet far. We have to wait for the rain to stop.", he explained defensively. I groaned in annoyance and rolled my eyes. Great. Still sulking, I crossed my arms and sank further into the seat.

He did the same. His upper arms stretched his shirt. I shook my head to get rid of the thought.

"I'm sorry, but you have to admit that I don't really fit into your life either.", he grumbled at me from the side.

I grit my teeth. "You know what? Maybe things would have been different, if you hadn't spent the last few months making my life a living hell.", I spat at him.

He looked back just as angrily. "And I'm sorry! God knows I'm trying to understand, but I can't change the past!"

"Where did your sudden interest in me come from anyway? Heh? How can you be so divided in your desires?"

His hands were clenched into fists. "Because not everyone can be who they want to be!", he shouted. "Because I can't like everyone! Because I can't just feel the way I want to!", he continued to shout, looking at me angrily. "Do you think I care what you do with your herbs? Do you think I want to be like that? I don't want to! I want to be normal, but I can't!" He breathed heavily and narrowed his eyes. "There were always rules. I was NEVER allowed to question them. I wasn't allowed to play with everyone. I wasn't allowed to be friends with everyone.... And I wasn't allowed to fall in love with everyone." He took a deep breath. "And people look... They talk when you don't do what they expect you to do." He looked stubbornly at the steering wheel. He continued to speak so quietly that I almost didn't hear him over the rain. "I'm not supposed to like you. I do... I do, but I'm not allowed to... Not until I... Before I... Before I've moved away and have a life for myself. Before I can... can be new."

And that's when a light went on. The fool. New. "Those were your cards!", I blurted out before I could hold it back.

"Wh-what?" He looked at me, snapped out of his emotions.

I rummaged for my little notebook. "I've been drawing the same four cards over and over again for weeks.", I explained. "The ten of wands. You suppress your feelings and desires and thus prevent yourself from being happy. The lovers. I probably don't need to explain. Then the tower. Tower moments bring down all walls... And the fool. New beginnings... Those were your cards!"

He looked at me, perplexed. "Okay?"

I looked at him insistently. "You... You can't spend your whole life pretending to be someone else!"

He sighed. "Not my whole... Just until... after college... Until I get a job." He closed his eyes. "That's a long time, but... Not forever."

"And then what? Do you just get up one day and become a different person? Ignore all the connections you've made up to that point?", I asked.

I saw the turmoil on his face. "What else am I supposed to do? If it gets out that I have a crush on someone like you, my father will call an exorcist."

I laughed in disbelief.

"I'm not joking! My father... is strict.", he concluded choppily.

I faltered. "How strict?"

He shook his head. I put a hand on his. He exhaled shakily. A tear rolled down his cheek. He didn't wipe it away. The rain continued to pelt down. Shielding us from the outside world.

"I can only really be me in my dreams.", he said more calmly now. "And now you've just snuck in there." He took a deep breath. Seemed to want to calm himself down.

"What am I doing in your dreams?" I asked cautiously.

"You just make me happy," he confessed. "You're there and give me so much affection. I can let myself go. I can laugh and... and... and I know I've ruined any chance of it really being like that." He roughly wiped the next tear from his face. "It drives me insane to wake up every morning and all of this is gone. I have to put that possibility of happiness behind me every morning and pretend that desire doesn't exist."

So that was him. Jason Carver. Behind the speeches and the facade. Behind the perfection and bravado. Broken. Unhappy. Alone.

"Jason.", I whispered.

He shook his head.

"Jason... I understand." I just said. "And... I think I can forgive you... With a little time."

He wiped more tears from his face. I squeezed his hand. "When you're ready, I'd like to meet the real Jason."

"I don't know when that will be.", he confessed.

"I can be very patient. But do me a favor."

He looked at me questioningly.

"No matter when you show the world, please figure out who you want to be by then."

His breath was shaky. "I'll try."

POV Jason

Seven years later

I sat exhilarated at the table of the small café, looking at my watch for the fifth time in two minutes. She probably wasn't coming. God it had been seven years. Seven years since we graduated. Since we only met rarely and secretly in the woods. Seven years since she had kissed me the last time we met. Seven years that I had thought about that kiss again and again, dreamt about it, longed for it. Seven years in which we had only exchanged letters and I had kept them all.

Seven long years in which so much could happen.

Seven years and now she was suddenly standing in front of me again. Grown up and as radiant as ever.

"Hi." She smiled gently at me.

"Hi." I whispered back in awe.

8 years later

She was lying in my bed. She cuddled up to me. It wasn't a dream. It was real. I smelled the scent of her hair. I felt her body against mine. I felt the warmth of her skin. I heard her steady breathing.

I pulled my arms tighter around her naked body and closed my eyes. It was real. We were both real.

9 years later

"Yes. Yes I do!", she smiled at me and euphorically wrapped her arms around me.

I felt a weight fall from my shoulders. She had said yes.

With nervous hands, I put the ring on her finger.

I immediately pulled her into a kiss, unwilling to let her get away again in the near future.

10 years later

I was lying with her in a meadow. The weather was warm but pleasant. The sun danced through the leaves above us.

We kissed lazily. I ran a hand under her shirt and over her ribs. She giggled. Ticklish as she was. She playfully bit my lip. Then kissed me on the tip of my nose. Stroked my cheek. I kissed the ring on her ring finger. "I love you.", I murmured.

She smiled warmly at me. "I love you.", she replied.

I smiled. "I've dreamt about this before.", I whispered.

"And is it as good as your dreams?"

I felt the warmth and bliss inside me and shook my head. "It's better." I kissed her lips softly. "It's real."

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter XXIII: Bitter Tears and Broken Hearts

masterlist | playlist | prev. | pin | read on ao3 | read bee's diary

songs for this chapter: supercut by lorde, my oldest friend by have mercy, teenagers by hayley williams

chapter tags: dialogue heavy lore drop, you’re welcome!, angst, hurt/comfort (kinda?), mutual pining | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | REMINDER: THIS FIC IS RATED EXPLICIT. 18+ mdni.

a/n: i know it’s cruel to drop a flashback chapter after the events of the previous one… and yet im doing it anyway! ty wife for beta reading these last two chapters i love u

taglist @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r @justalotoffanfiction @bl0ssomanddie @eddiesgirl1944 @longlivedelusion @aliensfeltmyjoy @kissmyacdc

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, my tumblr and ao3 are the only account that feature and contain this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere Reblog to support the author!

—

May, Six Years Ago (four months before the arrest)

Bee:

“Tweety!” Eddie calls you from the end of the hallway, and you wave letting him know you’ve heard him. You take your English notebook from your locker, tossing it into your stuffed backpack. It’s the Friday before finals, the last of your high school career. Unfortunately, you don’t have that same hope for Eddie, who hasn’t once shown the motivation to even try at all in his classes this year.

“Hey,” He leans against the lockers next to yours. Much to your dismay, he’s not even carrying a textbook, let alone his backpack. “You ready?” It’s the end of the day, technically, but the bell has yet to ring signaling the official end of the day. 

“Yeah. Where’s your stuff?” 

“Ah, probably left it in Hellfire. Dustin can grab it for me.” Like it’s nothing. “You got plans tonight?”

“I’m hitting the library later with Robin, our English final is Monday.” You hoist your backpack onto your shoulder and follow Eddie out to his van. “You could come with us. I know for a fact you haven’t even looked at the book since it was assigned a month ago.” 

“Aw, Tweety. It’s like you know me or somethin’.” Eddie jests, nudging your shoulder with his. “I already got stuff planned, though. Chris and I are gonna hit up the shop, see what we can see. You should come.” 

“I have no desire to follow you both down the road of misdemeanors, believe it or not. Have fun, though. Don’t let Chris get you in more trouble than he’s worth.” You tug on the passenger door of his van while Eddie loops around to the driver’s side. 

“Not sure I can make any promises.” Eddie throws the car into drive, and peels out of the Hawkins High student lot.

—

Eddie:

He watches as you hop out of his van, and up the walkway to her house. Once you’re safely inside, he skirts off the curb, tires screeching as he makes his way to the body shop. 

“Ed!” Chris approaches him, wiping the motor oil from his hands with a goofy grin slapped on his face. “You’re never gonna believe what came in, man.” He motions Eddie into the shop, presenting him with the most beautiful machine ever to grace his presence. 

“No fuckin’ way.” He has to resist the urge to slide his hands across the hood. “Whose beauty is this?”

“That’s the best part. It’s Carver’s.”

Though Chris’s eyes are gleaming with a mad sort of eagerness, Eddie feels his heart skip. “Oh, dude, I don’t think I can go in on that with you.”

“C’mon, Ed. It is a ‘64 cherry red convertible. How’re you gonna pass this up?” 

“It’s the chief of police’s car, Chris.” 

“That’s just a bonus.”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me sit on it, man. I gotta go, though. You comin’?”

“Yeah, gotta clock out. What’s the rush?”

“Got invited to a study date, it’s rude to show up late.” He wrings his hands, fidgeting with the metal on his fingers. 

“A date, huh? Who’s the lucky lady? Or man, I don’t judge.”

“I’m not answering that.”

“So I know them, then. Guess I’m comin’ with ya.”

“Chris. Please, just. Let me have this.”

“Lemme think…. Nope!” He tosses the oil stained rag onto the workbench and grabs his duffel. “Cmon, Munson, you’ve got studying to do.”

–

Bee:

You and Robin have been studying the symbolism of every single book you’d read in class this year for three hours.

“I’m tired of this, Robin!” You groan, head in your notebook.

“Well, that’s too damn bad!” Robin slaps your arm with her deck of flashcards. “Now, why is it important to note the lack of authority in Lord of the Flies?”

Before you can muster up the strength to answer, there’s a cacophony of laughter bursting in through the door, followed by a fed up Mrs. Beasly shushing them to no avail.

“There she is!” Eddie and Chris stroll through the tables full of miserable high school seniors, over to where you and Robin sit in the corner, surrounded by books, note paper, and highlighters of every color. 

“Shh!” You and Robin both spit at the boys as they drag empty seats out from the table, Eddie flopping down next to you while Chris sits across from Robin. 

“Sorry!” Eddie whispers, holding his hands up in surrender. “Figured you’d been here long enough, we came to rescue you.”

“We’ll have you know, dingus, that neither Bee nor I need rescuing from you.” Robin bites, flipping a notebook page so hard it rips. “Shit.”

“Of course, you don’t need it, but we figure you might want it anyway.” Chris refutes, snatching her notebook out of her reach.

“Come on, some of us actually care about graduating!” 

“Ouch, Rob.” Eddie clutches his chest in mock offense. “Didn’t know you were so elitist about grades.”

“She’s not elitist, she’s just a nerd.” Chris teases, and Robin’s face goes red with frustration.

“Can you both just leave? Please?” You shove Eddie away from you for emphasis. “We’ll be out in an hour. Just give us that, okay?”

“Ugh, fine! But we’ll be coming for you in exactly sixty minutes. Be ready.” Chris gets up, and looks to Eddie. “C’mon, man.”

“Right, one sec.” Eddie looks back to you. “You promise you’ll come out?”

You nod. “If you leave right now, I will come out with you tonight.”

He holds out his pinky, and you hook it with your own. Finally, he gets up, and follows Chris out of the library.

“Such a pain in the fuckin’ ass.” Robin mumbles, and you snicker.

—

Eddie:

Before he can think better of it, Eddie shoves Chris harder than necessary. “What the fuck, man?”

“What? That obviously wasn’t a date, that was my sister and her weird friend. I saved you from hours of unnecessary boredom! And, they’re gonna come out tonight.”

“Y’know, I am more than capable of making my own decisions about my own free time.”

“Clearly, that’s not true. Now, c’mon, we gotta go get the keg for tonight.”

“How are you gonna get the keg if you’re with me? I’m not twenty-one, remember?”

“Maybe not, but you’ve got two extra arms I could use. Stay in the car, I’ll get it. You’re just gonna have to help me put it in the trunk.” 

“Fuck you, dude. You’re gonna be the reason she never talks to me again one of these days.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you can fuck that up all on your own.”

–

Bee:

You wish, desperately, that you hadn’t agreed to come out. The party is out at Lover’s Lake, and seems to be populated with every single delinquent in Hawkins. Unfortunately for you, this means your brother and Eddie are the center of attention. 

“Hey! You made it!” Chris approaches, red solo cup in hand with Eddie in tow. “You guys wanna drink?”

“Absolutely!” Robin snatches the empty cup from Chris. Before he can argue, he’s being pulled in another direction by one of his cronies, leaving you alone with Eddie.

“How’d you get stuck as the designated driver?” He matches your stride, falling into step as you follow Robin to the keg. 

“Didn’t really feel like waking up with a hangover tomorrow.” You shrug, taking a sip from the water bottle you’d brought with you. Eddie rolls his eyes. “What?”

“It’s senior year, Tweet. You gotta live a little bit.” He takes a swig of his drink and belches. You wrinkle your nose at the display. 

“I can live all I want when I get out of this Hellhole. So can you, Ed. You’re not like my brother, you don’t have to be stuck here forever.” You hadn’t meant to sound so distraught, but the crack in your voice makes you wince. 

“Chris isn’t stuck, Bee. He’s here because he wants to be. There’s nothing wrong with that, either.”

 It’s unbelievable how naive he is. “Why are you defending him? My brother’s a loser, Ed. You know it, too. I don’t get why you like him so much.”

“Can we stop talking about this for a second, please?” Eddie has raised his walls up, not willing to talk about anything that matters. “Just, try to have some fun, okay? For once?”

“Fine.” You snatch his drink from him, and gulp the rest of the lukewarm beer down your throat. “Fun enough for ya?” And before he can respond, you’re stomping off, into the woods, alone, only to stop to refill the cup.

–

“Tweety?!” You hear him before you see him, footsteps getting louder as Eddie ultimately finds you at the picnic table, about a mile away from the party. You’ve downed your second drink, and the trees around you seem to wiggle in the settling sun. You giggle to yourself, shaking with them.

 “Christ, Bee. You’re lucky it’s just me, you could be killed out here alone.” Eddie hikes up the incline, and sits across from you at the splintering table, now a home for the spiders and ants more than a place to sit. “You okay?”

“I’m great!” You say, definitely not great, but excessively intoxicated. You’re not used to drinking, so clearly you haven’t discovered your tolerance. Apparently, it’s pretty low. 

“Right, and I’m definitely buying that. What’s wrong?” He sounds like he cares, but you and Eddie haven’t been close in a long time, so you’re not sure you can trust your judgment of him right now. 

“Well, I’m wasted.” You avert his gaze, talking to your hands. “So don’t expect me to be gentle with you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other day, sweets.”

“My brother sucks. He sucks so badly. And I love him, seriously.” Words are falling out of your mouth before you can think. “His heart is so big and he is so kind, but he is such a reckless person, Ed.” Eddie only stares at you, unblinking while you ramble on. “He’s careless when it comes to his safety. He looks for trouble. I don’t want you going down that path.” You have to press your lips together between sentences to keep from bursting into tears. “I can’t watch you throw your life away.”

“I can take care of myself.” He defends, crossing his arms over his chest, brow furrowed. 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. You know I’m right, Ed. If you feel like hanging out with my moronic brother is the right thing for you, then that’s your choice. But you can’t blame me when all of it finally catches up to you. You can’t expect me to throw my life away, too.”

“Is this because of the library? Look, I wanted to come alone, but–”

“No,” You interrupt, shaking your head. “This isn’t about anything you did. I just know my brother. I know he loves you more than me, and it hurts like hell but I can’t do anything about it.” You’re not even sure you’re making sense, and Eddie isn’t giving you anything to work with. “I know he took my best friend from me, and he doesn’t see any issues with that. So now I’m here in the middle of the woods too drunk to tell that best friend that I am terrified of losing him.” Your voice cracks, and your resolve breaks. You catch your head in your hands as the tears begin to fall.

“Oh, Bee,” Eddie stands from his seat across from you, rushing to your side and wrapping his arms around you. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. You are still my best friend. The most important person in my whole entire universe, okay?” He kisses the crown of your head and pulls you closer, rubbing soothing circles as you cry into his chest while the crickets chirp in the trees.

–

Eddie:

“Go to prom with me.” It’s Monday, and you’ve just finished your first final of the week. You close your locker to see Eddie standing on the other side of it, a small bouquet of white daisies clutched in his shaking hand. He’s wearing a button down black shirt, and his hair is far tamer than usual. “Will ya?”

“What the hell are you doing?” You lean against the lockers, arms crossed with distrust. “Weren’t you the one that said prom was a scam? Built by ‘the man’ to trick kids into thinking we’re destined to have a perfect, fairytale night?”

Eddie only shrugs. “Maybe I am not immune to propaganda.”

“Why are you asking me? After all that shit I said on Friday, I figured I wouldn’t hear from you until you needed me to bail you out of jail.” It’s a mean joke, but you’re too upset to take it back. 

“You wound me.” Eddie pouts, offering the flowers to you. “But if there’s anyone I’d want to spend a miserable night making fun of everyone’s attire and the choice of music with, it’s you.” He gives you a half smile that never fails to make your stomach flutter. 

“Fine. I will go to prom with you. On one condition.”

“Anything you want.” His smile widens.

“You have to participate. No moping, no pranks, no bullshit. You have to lean into the fairytale. Just for one night.”

He groans dramatically, but ultimately decides against arguing with you. “Okay, fine. Deal.” Once again, he offers out his pinky, and you take it with yours. 

“Deal.”

–

Bee:

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror like it’s your job. You’ve been dressed for two hours, with your hair and makeup done as you pace around your bedroom, riddled with anxiety. 

“Can’t believe you convinced Munson to take you to prom.” Chris sits on your bed next to Robin, arms crossed as he watches you pace. “You must’ve hexed him or something.”

“Eddie used to like fun, believe it or not.” Robin spits, getting up to stop you from creating a literal rut in your floor. If anyone’s more sick of Chris than you, it’s Rob.

“He likes fun! Just, a different kind of fun.” Chris chuckles, swinging his legs up onto your bed in Robin’s spot. “You might like it, Bee. You too, Rob.” You roll your eyes, ignoring your brother’s instigation when the doorbell rings. 

“I’ll get it!” Robin scurries out of the room, leaving you alone with your brother. 

“You need to leave Eddie the fuck alone.” You look at Chris behind you in the mirror, and his eyes widen. “You’re gonna get him in fucking trouble, more than you already have.” You adjust the strap of your dress for the seventh time.  

“He’s a man, Bee. He can make his own decisions.” 

“And he’ll keep choosing you.” You turn abruptly to face him, to look him in the eye as you release your anger. “Because he looks up to you, for some reason completely unbeknownst to me. You’ve got him by the balls, and I need you to give my my fucking friend back.” You put as much venom behind your words as you can muster without ruining your lipstick. 

“I have absolutely no control over Eddie. He just likes me more than you. That’s why he hasn’t fuckin’ shown up yet.” You glance at your phone, and the time reads 7:45. He’s late, and you haven’t gotten a single text from him. 

“He’ll be here.” You mumble. “You, however, can get the fuck out.”

“Right, sure.” With that, Chris exits your room, and slams the door to his own. Robin returns with Steve, decked out in a slick black tux, next to her. 

“Sorry, I know I’m not the one you were hoping for.” Steve says sheepishly, but you wave it off. 

“No, but it’s just as nice to see you, Stevie.” You wrap your arms around him, and he hugs you close. “You look really good.”

“And you both look stunning. Can’t believe I’m taking the coolest girls to prom!” 

“Hey, you’re taking me. Bee has her own date.”

“Right, I forgot. Where is Prince Charming, by the way?”

You shake your head. “Pretty sure he stood me up.”

“No he fuckin’ didn’t.” Steve frowns at you. “He’d be the biggest imbecile in the world.”

You shrug. “Stranger things have happened.”

—

Eddie:

He’s been staring at himself in the mirror for the last hour. His navy blue suit is too small, jacket tight around his arms, cuffs not reaching his wrists. He feels stupid, and he’s certain he’ll look just as such standing next to you in a pretty dress. Everything feels wrong, he’s sweating, and he can’t convince himself to leave the house. The corsage he’d bought for you taunts him from his desk top.

He’d also gotten the news today that he wouldn’t be graduating this year. He failed three of his six finals, and had to repeat his senior year. Needless to say, he was not in the mood to party.

“Ed?” Wayne calls from the kitchen. “You almost ready? It’s impolite to keep your date waiting!”

“Wayne, I don’t think I can go.” Eddie mumbles, but Wayne still hears it because his footsteps are already approaching.

“What the hell do you mean?” He stands there, arms crossed in the doorway to Eddie’s room. “You said you had a date and everything!”

“Maybe I lied.”

“Why would you lie?”

“To not seem like such a goddamn loser! This suit is not helping with that, though.” He stretches his arms out in front of him, causing the sleeves to ride up higher on his arms. “I’ll just disappoint her anyway.”

“Then that’s her loss, son. Whoever this girl is, she’d be lucky to go to prom with you.” 

“I don’t think you’d be saying that if you knew who I’m supposed to be taking. Which is why I will not be sharing that information.”

Wayne frowns. “Are you sure you don’t wanna go?”

Eddie sighs, flopping down on his bed. “I can’t. She’s gonna be so mad at me, but I can’t do it.”

“You’re gonna have to make it up to her, then.” Wayne motions for Eddie to get up, and he does. Wrapping his arms around his nephew, he says, “I’m sure she’ll understand, but you should call her.”

—

Bee:

“Bee, please!” The knocking has become insistent. “I’m so sorry, please let me explain!” You’d gone to prom alone. Well, with Rob and Steve. You’d been lucky enough to have fun, despite the ache in your heart every single time a slower song would play. You’d had no one to laugh at the jocks with, no one to pretend to be miserable with. No slow dance partner. Eddie has now been standing outside your house for three hours, wearing a suit a size too small, wilted flowers in his fist. 

“Go away!” You shout from your bedroom window. You’re still in pajamas, the makeup from last night smeared on your cheeks from crying yourself to sleep. “You promised me, Eddie! I have nothing to fucking say to you.” 

“I’ll stand out here ’til you run away to school, baby. You can’t get rid of me.”

“I will literally call the fuckin’ cops.” You practically spit out your window. “Go home.” 

“Call ‘em! I’m not goin’ anywhere until you talk to me!”

You groan, slamming your window closed before rolling back into bed, face shoved in your pillow.

—

Eddie:

He’s about to give up when your front door opens. It’s not you he’s met with though, just your brother with a sour look on his face.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to apologize to your sister.” Eddie fiddles with his hands. “How mad is she?”

“She’s pretty pissed, man. Probably for the better, though. Not like you’d wanna be there anyway.”

Eddie sighs, climbing into the van and slamming his door. “That’s the thing, Chris. I did want to be there. With her. And I fucked it all up.” He cranks the radio down as he speaks, the sappy love ballad fading into background noise. 

“She’ll forgive you, man. You guys are best friends, there’s no way she’d hold that grudge.”

Eddie shrugs sadly. “I don’t think I can take your word for it.”

Chris walks around the van, hopping into the passenger seat before Eddie can object. “Okay, so don’t. Let’s go blow off some of this steam. But first, maybe change you out of this ridiculous attire?”

Despite himself, Eddie chuckles, throwing his van into drive and peeling out of your driveway, taking one last look at your closed bedroom window. 

–

It’s been a week, and Eddie hasn’t made another move to contact you. He’s stared at his messages between you, wondering what he could even say to fix all of this. 

He types and deletes:

> can we talk?

“Ed?” Robin approaches him in the hallway on the last day of school. “Good to know you’re alive. You doin’ alright?” Her kindness is unexpected.

“No, not really. I have to repeat my senior year.” He hands her the slip with the news on it, after finding it in the back of his notebook. 

“Shit, Eddie. That blows, I’m so sorry.” She takes the sheet from him to skim it. “They couldn’t even offer you summer classes?”

He shakes his head. “Apparently they are ‘not confident a retest would make a difference.’” He snatches the paper back, crumpling it before tossing it into his mess of a locker. “On the bright side, though, I have no reason to clean this out.” He slams the locker door before turning back to Robin. “Don’t tell Bee, okay?”

“She’s gonna find out when you’re not walking at graduation. Or Chris will be the one to tell her, and I don’t see how that’s a better option.” 

“I’ll tell her, I just need some time. She hasn’t even looked at me since prom.”

Robin stops walking.“What happened there, by the way? She was really excited to go with you.”

He sighs, staring at his shoes. “I’m a coward. I freaked out, and I couldn’t bring myself to even explain it to her. It’s probably for the best, though. She deserves way more than I can give her.”

“Are you in love with her?”

The question startles him. “What?”

“Are you in love with Bee, Eddie?”

“I– where did that come from?”

“Well, you asked her to prom for one thing.”

“As a friend!” 

“Right, totally. You two are the most platonic people I’ve ever met. That was proven by the way she acted when you stood her up.”

“How did she… what do you mean?”

She sighs. “You can’t tell her I told you, but she was distraught. She hid it really well, but I could tell she missed you. Every time there was a slow song, and especially when they announced the court. It broke my heart to watch her mope.” 

“She’s never gonna forgive me, is she?”

She shrugs. “You won’t know until you try.” 

Eddie shakes his head, confused. “Why would she?”

“Because, dingus, she loves you. You’re her best friend. As much as I’ve been fighting for the title these last four years, you’ve earned it, until recently. She feels like she’s losing you. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, but I’m getting tired of you two tiptoeing around each other.”

It stops him, cold. He’s been distant, he knows that. Mostly because he’d been trying to suffocate the less-than-platonic feelings he’d developed for you since high school started, but also because of your own brother. He’d been swept up in Chris’s chaos, leaving no room for the relief, the calm, you’d brought to him. His eyes stung, the more he thought about it. “Now go fix it, dummy!” Robin shoves him playfully, but still hard enough to make him stumble. “You gotta go tell her something. Clean up this mess you’ve made, yeah?”

Eddie nods, backing away from her, down the hall. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Tell her to call me when she gets home!”

Eddie scoffs before turning heel and jogging down the hall, off to find you.

–

Bee:

“Can we talk?” Eddie’s voice makes you jump. 

“I have nothing to say to you, Eddie.” You’re about to leave Hawkins High for the last time, but you don’t have that sense of excitement you thought you would. You feel empty, and a little lonely.

“Okay, fine. I’ll talk, I just need you to listen to me.” If not for the break in his voice, maybe you could have resisted his begging. “Just let me explain.”

“Fine.” You turn to face him, immediately wishing you hadn’t. His eyes are wet and puffy, like he’d spent the last day of school hiding in the janitor’s closet crying. He leads you to his van, parked in the back of the senior lot, away from everyone else. He opens the back doors, making room for you to sit next to him amongst the old blankets in his trunk. 

“First, I wanna apologize. I am so goddamn sorry about prom, I know nothing I say will be enough of a reason to earn your forgiveness.” You don’t say anything, just twiddle your thumbs in your lap, waiting for him to continue. “I got told that day that I failed senior year. I’m being held back.”

That makes you look at him, your heart sinking. “What?”

“Yeah. Looks like I really am gonna get stuck in Hawkins.”

You shake your head. “No, you won’t. You’ll be okay, Eddie.”

“Not without you, I won’t be. You’re goin’ to New York, right? So I’ve got, like, three months left before you forget about my existence?” He sounds so broken when he speaks, each word a stab to your heart. “And I guess maybe that’s another reason, subconsciously, that I bailed. That was supposed to be our last night as Hawkins High students and instead it was a reminder that I’m getting left behind.”

You twist your body towards him. “Just because I’m leaving the state doesn’t mean I’m leaving you. You are always gonna be a part of my life.”

“Even after I stood you up?” He looks at you with big, hopeful eyes. “Because I’d understand if that was a deal breaker.”

You shake your head. “It’ll take a lot more than standing me up to get rid of me. I just wish you’d called or something.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, I should have.”

You scoot closer to him, wrapping your arms around his midsection, causing him to stiffen slightly before relaxing into your touch. “You are my best friend, regardless. You’re gonna be okay. I’ll be home during the holidays, and I’ll call you to help you study. You can come out to visit me on weekends, if you want. Tons of pretty college girls and boys to make you swoon.”

Eddie chuckles sadly, wrapping his arms around you. “I love you, Bee.”

“I love you too, Ed. Let’s go home.”

—

Eddie: 

He’d meant it. In every sense of the term, he loves you. He’s not sure you’ll interpret it that way, but for now saying it feels like enough. You’re sitting next to him on the couch of his trailer, shoulder to shoulder as the TV flashes with some movie on cable. The window AC unit hums to little avail, the trailer still stuffy from the heat outside. 

He’s focused on your profile, the way your smile twitches when something funny happens on screen. You toss popcorn into your mouth absentmindedly, eyes glued to the television.

“What are you staring at, Munson?” You aren’t even looking at him. “I can feel you staring.”

“What? No I’m not!” He slaps his hands over his eyes. “Can’t see a thing!”

Your giggling makes his heart slam against his ribs. “You’re such an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot, right?”

“Obviously. My own personal, limited edition idiot.”

“One of one sold.” He moves his hands to find you looking at him now, eyes big and sparkly, he could drop dead if he looks too long. “Extremely rare.”

You blush bright red, and Eddie’s sure his own cheeks match. The next words you say are barely audible, but he’ll never forget them. “Guess I just got super lucky.” Before he can react, you plant a kiss on his cheek, and turn back to the movie like nothing happened.

Meanwhile, the feeling of your lips on his skin will be seared into his memory for the foreseeable future.