#one graduates this year so he’ll be gone

[confusedhazel]

me when i know two actual sociopaths that go to my school and i see them everyday and i have to keep the violent urges to myself

[wandasfifthwife]

your jealousy is showing (on me)✩‧₊˚

—> hockey player/coach!wanda x afab!reader

tw || SMUT MDNI, top wanda x bottom reader, dom/sub dynamics, established relationship, jealous wanda, exhibition (janitor closet), marking/impact play (hickeys, bruises, thigh spanking), fingering (r receiving), r gets hit on but is oblivious, tyler mention!, reader is said to be wearing a dress, person who hits on r sees the two of them, not proofread!

a/n || in such a slut for this woman. so sorry if my writing is nastier than coconut, idk how I feel about it haha but I hope you enjoy bc this made me hot and bothered tbh

series m.list ✩ ══╡˚2.3k words˚╞══ ✩ wanda m.list

Practice has been going well, better even. There’s been an increase in number since people started to find out that wanda has experience on the ice as a player on a professional team. The stands have become packed, families and friends taking up every corner, a completely contrast from before. You remember the days when you first came with your nephew, sitting and having a seven feet distance from another person. Tyler’s since graduated from wanda’s class, now attending another with a different coach.

It was a sad day for him, hugging your girlfriend tight and exclaiming how he wishes to have her as a coach for every class. She had laughed, resting a hand on his back and reassured him that she’ll attend his other classes. She even went as far as to mention private classes, saying they can spend time together on the ice. A smile had come upon your face as you watched the two interact, thankful your nephew is able to have such a wonderful relation with his coach, your girlfriend.

Since then you’ve been attending his classes with Wanda. You can’t help yourself, curling a hand through her arm to hold her close. You complain that it’s the cold, but you both know it’s a shit excuse. Regardless, she’s never going to turn you down, if anything she’s pulling you tighter and pressing a kiss to your head.

“He’s improved a lot. Lately he’s been practicing outside his house with some friends on the street.”

“That’s probably the only reason why he’s able to skate in a straight row now. Do you think he’ll continue to play?”

“I think so. It’s all he talks about, but of course we can’t say definitive terms. He could fall out of love with it in a year and choose like baseball.”

“If he were to choose another sport it’d be football, not baseball. His favorite part of hockey is running into others, he forgets there’s an actual game going on.”

You stifle a laugh, “he’s trying.”

He proved Wanda’s words to be correct because the next second he’s slamming into one of the team members, pummeling the two into the wall. The coach had come to talk to you after, seeking you where you stood by the concession stand. You had a hand on Wanda’s arm, informing her of where you’ll be.

You were paying for the snack, thanking the person behind the counter. He had stood behind you just out of your line of sight, so just enough that you ran into him when turning around. His shirt smelled of sweat and his cologne, a lot of his cologne, so much so it overwhelmed you.

“Hey, you’re tyler’s mom, right?”

“No, just his aunt.”

“My bad. Sorry that was terribly rude of me, I was going to say you look good for your age.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

“Of course,” he flashes a smile, leaning onto one of the tables beside him, “I’ve notice how often you come, it’s great that you’re supporting him like this. Most kid’s don’t have such a supportive aunt.”

“I try. My brother and his wife are busy, so I take over. He’s means well but he’s still a young teen.”

“Yes. He’s nothing new. A lot of teens enjoy the physical aspect to the game, it’s normal for them to be competitive even with each other.”

A few minutes have gone by, enough time for concern to begin swirling through Wanda’s mind. She’s relieved to see you’ve not gone missing and that you’re all in one piece, standing only a few feet from her.

“That’s my coach,” Tyler starts, seeing how Wanda’s attention was directed at the tow of you.

“I know,” she deadpans, turning her attention back on your nephew, “finish untying your shoes.”

“I know,” he mimics, tone lowering to frustrate her further.

You’re walking back over with a grin plastered on your face. Tyler’s already grabbing at the drink you got, pulling it from your hands to open it already.

“Just talked with your new coach, Tyler. It seems you have a track record with finding amazing coaches.”

Already Wanda didn’t like him. She kept quiet about her disdain, knowing how important it was to you that Tyler doesn’t come to contact with a terrible one as you had.

It grew difficult. Each practice he always seemed to find you, drawing out a long conversation with you. Usually it’s fine, as a coach herself she understands the important of keeping up with the families, but this was excessive. The constant parade of compliments directed at you were unnecessary. He wouldn’t really care to talk to Tyler, and as far as she knew, Wanda didn’t exist around him. He’s either dumb, or he’s choosing to be ignorant towards the intimacy between you two.

What brought her to the edge was when he began to touch you, a hand on your shoulder or the back of your waist. It was in moments where it could’ve been excused; done to either move you out of the way or make sure you don’t trip.

You were sweet, engaging in a conversation he had started yet again down at the end of the bleachers. Wanda had her attention set on Tyler skating around before practice, eyes flickering to where the two of you stood every minute.

“I have a conference this weekend and we’re allowed to bring a plus one. Would you be interested in joining me?”

“Oh. I already have someone that I’m going with. So I won’t be going with you, but I will see you there.”

He looks disappointed, eyes shooting to meet Wanda’s, “I’ll see you there then.”

Wanda doesn’t like that man.

You walk up the stairs all sweet-like, sitting beside her and placing a kiss to her cheek, “when’s that coach award event again?”

“Saturday, 7PM.”

You hum, leaning your head on her shoulder, “you better win an award.”

“If not, I have you.”

An elbow shoves into her side, “you’re such a sap.”

“No, I just love you,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against yours, feeling like she’s won when she catches the coach looking. She had hoped the soft public display of affection would be enough of a sign to back off, but it wasn’t.

The weekend came soon enough. Wanda standing by the door with her keys in hand as she waits for you to join her.

“Beautiful,” she says when you step down, opening the door for you.

“I hope you win one award, that would be amazing.”

“It would look great for my public imagine,”she laughs at the look you give her, “you know I don’t care about that, love.”She gives your thigh a squeeze before backing the car out of her apartment complex.

She should’ve known he’d be stuck to you most of the night. Wanda tries to engage in the conversation, but he tunes her out, keeping his attention on you. Ever so sweet you try to include her, smiling back at her but this time it’s not enough to quell how she’s feeling.

“Hey Micheal, can you go grab her another drink?”

“Wanda, I can’t—“

She shuts you up by pinching at your waist, cutting your sentence off. He looks mildly annoyed, “sure.”Once he’s turned around, she’s guiding you out of the room.

“Wanda there’s only like sixteen minutes until the ceremony—“ your mouth goes numb when you realize where she’s walking you towards. There’s a closet at the end of the hall, tiny and small as its only purpose is to hold supplies for the janitors. Tonight it will be used for another matter.

“That’s enough time,” she says lowly, shutting the door behind her, enclosing the two of you in darkness.

She’s lifting you with her hands under your thighs, dropping you down onto the extra school desk stored away in the room. Her body’s leans into you, hands on either side of your body as she kisses you passionately. They turn messy, trailing from the corner of your lips to end up on the bottom side of your neck. You gasp when she bites down, a hand reaching to push at her chest.

“Wan—wait.”

She doesn’t listen, too focused on making your neck show an array of purple marks. You whine, squirming in her hold as she leaves one after the other, stopping only on areas that you’re sensitive to. She’s severely quiet, attentive to every heavy breath and sound coming from you. You’re weak, arms wrapped around her neck, head pressed into the wall behind you. You’ve completely given up control, neck tilted back to give her more room.

“Oh—” you shiver when she moves towards the spot behind your neck. Your reaction gave her another reason to press her lips against it, nipping at the skin there.

Her ministrations leave you wet, your hips grind down onto the desk below you to try to seek relief. Wanda coos, cold fingers sliding under your dress, finding the wetness between your thighs. You cry out when she thrusts two in, pushing through your tight walls. It’s intoxicating, the wet sounds filling the room, turning you on even more.

“Ah! Wands—you—“

She’s shushing you, lips on yours to keep you quiet. Her fingers are splitting you open, angling perfectly towards the spot that makes your back arch. Her thumb catches onto your clit with each thrust, brushing perfectly to make you see white. You weave your fingers into her hair, moaning into her mouth when she bites at your bottom lip.

You’ve completely forgotten about the event, and most importantly, Michael. You’re clenching onto her finger, arousal covering her hand and dripping onto the wood below you. You choke on a moan when she’s guiding you to lift your left foot onto the desk, the position spreading you open to allow her fingers to push deeper. The bottom of your dress slips up, clothing pooling around your waist. You feel your orgasm build, a series of whimpers spilling from you.

“Fucking say my name when you come,” she demands, holding back moan when she hears your strangled whine after she brought her hand down onto your thigh. The way your cunt squeezes around her fingers then makes her weak.

“Like that?”

She’s cocky, hand coming down harder on that same spot.

“ah! wands please—“

Your body jerks after her fifth slap, mouth dropping open in a silent scream. She nuzzles against your head resting on her shoulder. You relaxed into her hole, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

It was fine until wanda carried you into the bathrooms to clean off and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, easily spotting the splotches painting your neck.

You leaned over the sink to get a better view, eyes snapping between the marks; the one by your ear, another under the strap of your dress, one more at the base of your neck. You weren’t aware of the severity of her actions in the moment, your mind was too busy trying to deal with the fuzziness spreading throughout your body.

“Was that okay,” she asks from where she stands by the entrance.

“Very,” you mumble, looking back to her with a smile.

“Hey, I want to apologize. I knew something was wrong,” you say, grabbing a paper towel from the machine, “he was a jerk to you. Like just earlier he wasn’t letting you get a word in, but I really just thought he was being nice at first.”

“You’re fine, love.”

You wet the towel, rubbing warm water over the cloth to get it wet, “you say that but I still feel bad.”

She crosses the room to grab at your wrist after seeing what you were doing, “why’re you trying to rub the marks off?”

“Because?”

She raises an eyebrow, “because? What?”

“This is your event, I don’t want you to loose your job over me.”

“I won’t,” she tosses the towel away, “I knew what I was doing when I gave you those.”

“But the staff—“

“There’s enough of them screwing around.”

“Oh.”

She huffs, hooking a finger under the hem of your dress, drawing it up your thigh until the red, swollen marks on your thighs from where she was aiming her hand earlier begin to show. You hate how affected you get by the sight of them, thighs squeezing together.

You were only meant to be gone for ten minutes. That was the original goal, but she began to fold with how you were looking at her. Your eyes were dark, locking onto hers from within the mirror. She had you pinned to the counter in seconds, forcing you to watch how easily you melt under her touch.

Footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, getting closer to where the two of you stood. You had begun to push back, mumbles on how she needs to stop so they don’t get caught, but it’s like she knew. You caught on later, realizing it was Micheal by the sound of his voice calling out to you.

“Wanda, he—“

She’s slapping a hand over your mouth, pulling you back against her chest. You look over your shoulder, finding Micheal freeze after entering into the room. Wanda had you in a position only he could dream of. He was like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as he processed what he was looking at. The marks on your body, eyes glossy and faraway even as you look in his direction. The muscles in Wanda’s arm flex as she presses her hand tighter against your mouth. You’re absolutely dripping, excitement pooling from the behavior this man was bringing out of her.

“I was worried… but I see you’re.. okay.”

“I see you’ve met my girlfriend, Micheal?”

series m.list ✩ ══╡˚2.3k words˚╞══ ✩ wanida m.list

[eldritch-thrumming]

watched that new jennifer lawrence comedy on netflix and like. should we make it steddie?

steve’s a rich kid who grew up having to be self sufficient because of his parents traveling constantly for work. he’s basically a mini adult, but because of that, he sees himself as a lot more mature than the rest of the people his age and by the time he’s ready for college, he’s missed out on a lot of the social milestones that young men his age are experiencing. instead of going to prom, he’d hung out around the house with his weird nerdy band geek best friend having marshmallow eating contests and watching bad rom coms. instead of going to graduation parties, the two of them had built a tent in the harringtons massive backyard and gone night swimming before camping out.

enter his parents, who are less worried abt steve coming out of his shell for his own independence and comfort and more worried that he’ll embarrass them at his ivy league in the fall. there’s been a long line of harrington men attending yale and they’ve paid a lot of money to even get steve a spot there, so if he fucks this up, if he doesn’t join the right clubs and make the right friends, they’re worried it’ll all be a waste.

so they put an ad on craig’s list. eddie and his bandmates are trolling the boards, looking for any odd jobs they can find to try and raise the cash they need to record a demo at the local studio. jeff points it out as a joke and, after laughing at the poor pathetic dweeb whose parents think he’s such a dud they’re trying to set him up with a stranger, they scroll on. but later that night, eddie pulls up the page on his own phone while he’s lying in bed. the offered amount is more than enough to pay for their studio time and then some. eddie calls them and sets a meeting.

when he gets to the harringtons beach house, he’s nervous. he’s a townie and townies are rarely invited into the massive homes that line the shoreline. he knows what he looks like and he knows that the rich tourists who infest the beachside towns every summer tend to steer clear of him when they see him around.

but he needs the money and after meeting with the couple, he thinks this kid probably needs all the help he can get and so he decides to meet their son steve.

turns out steve’s a lot more attractive than he’d imagined and he’s only a couple of years younger than eddie is. he’s also a lot more flirty and charismatic than eddie had assumed. turns out, steve doesn’t lack the ability to make friends or get dates, he just really hasn’t been interested in anyone… at least, not until now.

they hit it off almost immediately. eddie’s never had this much fun with anyone he’s ever tried to date before. steve is funny and smart in very specific ways and his best friend, robin, is a riot. eddie’s not sure how steve’s parents don’t see any of that, but then steve tells him all about how he’d grown up basically alone, how he’d had to make a lot of his own fun growing up, how he’d rarely ever even seen his parents between the ages of 11 and 18. they hadn’t even made it to his high school graduation. steve reveals to eddie that he’s not even sure he wants to go to yale at all, that he only agreed because he’s not sure what else to do.

and eddie tells steve about his dad, abt how he’d gone to jail when eddie was 13, on a job with eddie in tow. he tells steve abt how his mom was heartbroken afterwards, would barely get out of bed to even pick him up from school. he tells steve abt the car accident, the flashing lights of the police car that had picked him up one day and taken him to a foster home before wayne had been called down from upstate to come collect him. wayne had moved out onto the island, trying not to disrupt eddie’s life more than he had to, but prices down here were so much higher and he’d had to work all the time. he���d done so much for eddie and eddie is so grateful… he just wants to pay him back anyway he can.

they reveal things to each other no one else knows and suddenly, as the summers coming to a close, eddie realizes that he’s been falling in love this whole time. but before he can tell steve abt the deal, before he can apologize and come clean and confess his feelings, steve has some kind of massive blowout with his dad. and his dad—in all his anger—tells steve the truth. he tells steve how steve is so pathetic that he and his mom had had to buy him a boyfriend.

steve is, obviously and understandably, beyond devastated. he confronts eddie with tears in his eyes, begging eddie to tell him it isn’t true, that his dad was a liar and he’d just known where to hit him hardest. but eddie can’t deny it. that is how all this started.

eddie doesn’t see steve again, not around town, not at any of their usual haunts, and soon the school year is starting. steve, eddie assumes, has moved into his dorm at yale and is, hopefully, making new friends. by the time thanksgiving break comes around, eddie can finally think about steve with only a tiny ache in his chest. he and the band have recorded their first demo, thanks to that harrington money, complete with the saddest love song eddie’s ever written.

and suddenly steve is there in the bar eddie works at, where he’d been taking steve on their nights out all summer. his brown hair looks extra soft and he’s wearing a quarter zip with the yale logo emblazoned over his heart. they stand there and stare at each other for a moment too long before they both try to speak at the same time.

“no, me first,” steve says, and eddie really can’t deny him this. he’s the one who ruined everything, after all. “what you did to me was terrible.” it’s straightforward and factual, but eddie’s face burns. “you hurt me. a lot.” eddie watches as steve swallows. “i told you things i’ve never said out loud.” eddie opens his mouth to speak, but steve powers through. “but now i’m up in connecticut and i’m meeting all these new people. and some of them are great. but i can’t help but compare them to you. everyone i meet, i think of you. and no one is as fun as you, and no one makes me feel as good. no one sees me like you did.”

eddie’s speechless for a moment, mouth dry. he swallows. steve’s looking at him expectantly. “i was always honest abt how i felt about you, stevie. i really was falling in love with you. or… i mean…” eddie pauses, runs a hand through his hair. “i mean, i love you. i am in love you, like, currently. ongoing. probably in perpetuity which, uh, you know. is like, forever or whatever.”

“yeah?” steve asks softly, a small smile curving on his lips. “forever or whatever?”

eddie can feel himself returning that small smile, nodding. “yeah,” he responds, “ no biggie, though.”

steve laughs. “i kind of disagree. cause i don’t know abt you, but i’ve never been loved in perpetuity before. seems pretty big to me.” eddie shrugs as he watches steve close the distance, smiles widening. “i’m pretty sure i love you too, you know.”

“pretty sure?”

“i’m trying to be a little aloof abt it. not reveal my whole hand too soon.” they’re standing chest to chest now, eddie can feel steve’s breath on his face, they’re so close.

“right. makes sense,” eddie murmurs, staring steve’s wet pink mouth. and then they’re kissing.

and they kiss until gareth comes into the bar for the start of his and eddie’s shared shift and turns the club soda spout on them.

they have a lot to talk abt. but thanksgiving break is a whole week long and after that it’s only two weeks until winter break. eddie has a lot of time to make it all up to steve, in any way he can, in perpetuity.

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter thirteen.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: we made it - david hugo

author's note: you guys, it's the last chapter of my baby. kiss with a fist has truly been my labor of love and i'm so happy that everyone adored the story as much as I did when I was first writing it. a big thank you to anyone who has read, liked, reblogged, and commented on kwaf. love you my little pookies 🥹

The rest of seventh year passed by too quickly for your liking. 

The last and final year at Hogwarts proved to be your best year yet, but in ways that you never expected. After the holiday break, you, Harry, and the rest of the Council worked hard to promote interhouse relations. Thanks to Pansy, many events and gatherings were held in which Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins alike mixed and mingled. 

The first inter house quidditch game had gone off without a hitch. Theo was a natural at finding common ground with the other players, making them feel at ease despite the obvious tension between houses. Slowly but surely, ripples of change started to materialize at Hogwarts. 

The Great Hall was no longer separated in pockets of red, green, blue, or yellow. Each table consisted of an array of members from each respective house. The courtyards were the same as your classmates now felt comfortable to venture out of their usual groups to mingle with others. Even the professors marked the change in the classroom. Pairing students from different houses together no longer felt like pulling teeth. 

By the time graduation rolled around, you were confident that the younger years would carry on the work the Council started. You watched with a smile as your fellow classmates hugged one another. A fourth year Slytherin and a fifth year Gryffindor were both teary eyed as they promised to write to one another over the holiday. 

“You did great work, Y/N.” Harry said from beside you. 

“So did you, Potter.” He pushed his glasses up and smiled. “I think we’re leaving a very different Hogwarts than the one we entered during our first year.” 

“I’m glad we got to witness the change before graduating. It’s nice knowing that we’ve taken a step in the right direction.” 

“What’s your plans for the future then, Chosen One?” 

Harry rolled his eyes fondly. “I think…I’d like to travel a bit. See more of the world. Eventually, I’ll probably join Ron and the other Aurors, but for now I’m content taking a gap year.” 

“As you should,” you said with an encouraging smile. 

“Well, not everyone is brilliant enough to be accepted into the most prestigious university in England.” 

“Don’t let Theo hear that. He’d have an absolute fit defending his beloved Cambridge.” 

Harry chuckled. “So you two are doing long distance then?” 

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, your gaze immediately tracked a familiar mop of curly brown hair across the room. Theo was talking animatedly with a few Hufflepuffs and a couple of Ravenclaws, but he looked up the instant he felt your eyes on him. Those watercolour eyes locked onto yours, crinkles forming at the corners as he smiled. That smile—the way it lit up his entire face, his lips curved into a bright, genuine grin that was reserved for you and you alone made your breath catch.

Gods, you loved that smile. 

But not as much as you loved Theo. 

Cheeky tosser that he was, your boyfriend winked in your direction and smirked when he noticed the flush in your cheeks. 

You chuckled. “Yeah, we are. Teddy’s determined to get his license before the year’s end, but in the meantime, he’ll take the train to visit and vice versa.” 

“Theodore Nott on the tube? Now that’s a sight I’d pay to see.” 

A pair of arms circled around your waist. Theo pulled you against him and rested his chin in the crook of your shoulder. “I’ll have you know that I’m a proud owner of a bloody clam card.” 

“It’s called an oyster card, you helpless git.” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. 

Luna chuckled in amusement. “Be nice, Pans. Theo’s actually gotten quite good at taking the tube.” 

Theo nodded before sticking his tongue out at Pansy. “Thank you, Luna.” 

The rest of your friends followed suit. Mattheo had Enzo in a headlock, ruffling his hair as payback for bringing up the upcoming group holiday in Triora. The eight of you would be spending two weeks out in the Italian countryside, but Mattheo was heading there a week earlier than everyone else. He claimed it was due to convenience’s sake since it would be easier to floo from Romania after Charlie got him acquainted with the other interns than going all the way back to London, but you knew the real reason for his early arrival. Mattheo wanted a few days alone with Isabella before everyone teased the absolute bollocks out of them.

Despite all his cockiness and arrogance, Isabella had him completely wrapped around her finger. It was quite entertaining to see Mattheo’s transformation from big, bad Riddle to lovesick puppy Matty. Even better because your boyfriend seemed to be in utter denial about his best friend dating his cousin who was basically like his little sister. 

“I’m only going early so I can claim a room as far away from Theo and Y/N as I can possibly get. I didn’t get a wink of sleep during the last visit. It’s like you two heathens have never heard of a silencing charm.” 

“We’ve heard of them,” you said with a smirk. “But silencing charms take out all the fun, don’t they Teddy?” 

Theo chuckled and kissed the side of your neck. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. Not even a little bit, mate.” 

Mattheo wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Absolute nutters, the pair of you.” 

“Speaking of nutters, where’s Malfoy?” 

The corner of Blaise’s lips curved up into a smile. “Across the room. Talking to his fellow Sorbonne admit.” 

Sure enough, Draco and Hermione seemed to be in a heated conversation by the doors of the Great Hall. As you watched their exchange, you couldn’t help but think that the Sorbonne was not ready for its two newly admitted students of wizarding law. The irony of Granger and Malfoy, previous bitter enemies, studying together in the most romantic city in the world wasn’t entirely lost on you. Harry seemed to be thinking the same thing. Although Potter appeared more apprehensive than anything else. 

“Don’t worry, Draco will play nice,” you said, nudging Harry with your elbow. “And if he doesn’t, well I heard Hermione’s got a mean right hook.” 

The green eyed wizard smiled. “Yeah, she truly does.” 

He perked up as Ron and Ginny called him over. Hermione, seemingly coming to a pause with her conversation with Malfoy, made her way over to her friends as well. Draco gave her an awkward handshake, which made you smirk. His infamous aristocratic charm flew out the window as soon as Granger smiled at him. 

“I’ll see you all later. Don’t be a stranger, Y/N.” 

“Wait, Potter,” Theo called as he fished something out of his pocket. It was the sports coordinator badge that you gifted him for Christmas except it looked shiny and new, unlike the worn and well loved pin that he’d taken to wearing every day. “I suppose Ginny will be needing this now, won’t she?” 

Harry took the pin with a small smile. “Cheers, mate.” 

“That wasn’t the one I gave you for Christmas, was it?” 

Theo shook his head and fished the original badge out of his pocket. “There’s no way I’d part with the best present anyone’s ever gotten me, so I had a new one made. This little guy is staying with me.”

You beamed. “My cute sentimental boyfriend. When did you get so mushy, Nott?” 

He peppered kisses all over your face, making you squeal in delight. “Since a surly little Ravenclaw stole my heart. It’s all your fault, cara mia.” 

You tugged at the front of Theo’s robes, bringing him down to you. “My sincerest apologies, Theodore. However can I make it up to you?” 

“I have a few ideas, darling.” 

Draco groaned in revulsion. “We’re still here, you know. Gods, you two make me sick.”

“Shut it or I’ll sneak purple dye into your shampoo,” you snapped. 

Theo laughed as Draco gasped in horror. “Have I told you how utterly in love I am with you?” 

“Love you too, Teddy. Now about those ideas.” 

Theo smirked as you curled your fingers around his tie and tugged. His arms circled around your waist, pulling you close as your lips met his. As you kissed, you heard Pansy and Draco groan while Mattheo and Enzo dramatically covered their eyes. Blaise shook his head at the boys, but smiled nonetheless. Luna, sweet, shy, demure Luna actually wolf-whistled. 

Once more, you looked around at your circle of friends standing in Hogwarts for the last time while kissing the love of your life and grinned. 

You couldn’t have asked for a better day. 

The autumn leaves littered the sprawling campus, falling like rain in varying shades of red, orange, and gold across the spacious lawn. It felt bittersweet to witness such a visual representation of the changing season, not only in the sense that summer was giving way to fall, but also signaling your transition from Hogwarts graduate to Oxford fresher. 

The past summer had been the perfect send off. You stayed at the vineyard with your friends for two weeks before setting off to explore Rome, Milan, and Venice with Theo. The two of you spent your days visiting museums, eating gelato, and laying out in the Italian sun. Even when you returned to England, Teddy hardly left your side. His nonna insisted on having you over for dinner at least once a week while your parents hosted tea in the back garden, much to nonna’s delight. Her opinion of the dreary English weather hadn’t improved, but she did love chatting with your parents about their occupations in the muggle world. 

As it turned out, nonna was fascinated with your mother’s abrasive personality in and out of the courtroom and adored your father’s love for the arts as well. They talked for hours and hours while you and Theo curled up in the living room watching cheesy romantic comedies. He would never admit it, but you could’ve sworn that you saw him wiping away a few errant tears during Holly’s reunion with cat in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. 

The holiday bliss couldn’t last forever though. One by one, you and Theo said goodbye to your friends. Enzo was the first to leave. You hugged him tightly at the international floo station and shoved a box of chocolate frogs into his hands. A small gesture of thanks for all the treats you’d stolen from him during seventh year. 

“That should be enough to last you for a while.”

“It looks like you ransacked the whole store, Y/N.” 

“Well, I wasn’t sure if New York had a Honeyduke’s. I had to be certain that you were fully stocked."

Enzo grinned as you sniffled a little. "You better write back to us. I just know you’re going to break hearts in the States. Promise that you won’t do the typical Berkshire thing and actually speak to the American girls who fancy you, okay? Trust me, they will fancy you. The accent alone is a guarantee.” 

You were rambling, fussing over Enzo’s scarf. To his credit, he only smiled. “Yes, mum. Don’t miss me too much, I’ll be back for Christmas. Then we can gorge ourselves on chocolate frogs and gossip all about the American girls who fancy me.” 

Draco was next in the queue. You stood in King’s Cross, watching with a little smile as the boys awkwardly hugged one another. Narcissa was absolutely distraught about her only son’s departure, but you wouldn’t have known it by looking at her. As always, the Malfoy matriarch was perfectly prim and polished, but she did hug Draco more tightly than she usually did. She even waved to Hermione, who was boarding the same train to Paris. When it was your turn to say goodbye to Draco, you shook him by the shoulders and narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Don’t mess that up, ferret boy.” 

His gray eyes widened, following your gaze to where Harry, Ron, and the Weasley gang were exchanging hugs with Hermione. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“You and Hermione studying abroad in the most romantic city in the world? That’s not a coincidence. You better snatch her up before Granger makes the whole country of France fall in love with her because trust me, they will. She’s a catch.”

Draco smiled a little. “Yeah, yeah she is.” 

“So?” 

“Don’t mess it up, I’ve got it. Now get your freakishly strong hands off of me, Y/N.” 

Just as you released him, Draco pulled you in for a hug. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “Thank you, for making Theo so happy. You don’t know how much we all appreciate it.” 

You ruffled his perfectly coiffed hair with tears in your eyes and a smile on his face as Malfoy complained about you messing up his beloved platinum blonde locks. 

A week later, you thought you were fully prepared to say goodbye to Mattheo on the same platform, but as soon as you saw him and Theo exchanging a tight hug, you burst into tears.

"Take care of my man," Mattheo said with a wink. "And remember, he may be your boyfriend now, but our bromance is forever."

You wiped away your tears and chuckled hoarsely. "I hate to say it, but I'll miss you Riddle. Try not to get eaten by a Vipertooth, yeah?"

"Being friends with you has oddly prepared me to face the dangers of dragon taming. I'll miss you too, Y/N."

The two of you hugged tightly. Mattheo chuckled as you tugged at his curl, resetting the sentimental moment with a typical brother and sister gesture. He flicked your nose in return before departing for the train. With a cheeky wink, Mattheo waved out the window until he disappeared from view.

When the time came to say goodbye to Pansy and Luna, you were a mess. In true Parkinson fashion, Pansy had rented a private jet to fly them to Brazil. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry, but the minute that you stepped out onto the runway, your eyes betrayed you. 

“I’ll have none of that,” Pansy said, her glossy bob skimming her chin as she gave you a disapproving look. “I will not have your tears staining my brand new pantsuit.” 

“Oh, shut up Pans.” The dark haired witch stiffened as you squeezed her into a hug. After a moment, she sighed in defeat and hugged you back. “I’m going to miss our shopping sprees and trashy reality television binges.”

Pansy chuckled. “I suppose I’ll miss them too. Keep an eye out on the boys for me, will you? Make sure they stay out of trouble?”

Your friend sounded a bit choked up. As strong as she appeared, you knew that it was hard for Pansy to be separated from her friends. They had taken care of each other all these years and she had been the glue that held the group together since they were kids, but it was time for her to have her own adventure now. 

You nodded. “Of course. I’ll send howlers on your behalf if they step out of line.” The two of you hugged for a moment longer. “I’d ask you to take care of Loons, but you already do that. I guess just make sure that my care packages make it through customs. You know how she is about her wotsits.” 

Pansy laughed at that and squeezed you one more time before saying goodbye to Theo and Blaise. The second you turned to Luna, the dam broke entirely. The two of you were in tears as you clung onto each other. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Luna said. “For getting into Oxford. For opening yourself up this year. For standing up for the people you love. You were the first friend I ever made. Everyone else thought I was strange and weird and slightly mental, but you didn’t care. You’re the best person to have in my corner, Y/N. I love you.” 

“You’re not just my friend Loons, you’re family. Thank you for being my voice of reason all these years. I couldn’t have survived the wizarding world if it weren’t for your kindness. I love you too, Luna.” 

If Theo hadn’t been holding you so tightly, you were sure you would’ve collapsed into a sobbing mess when the jet finally took flight. 

Those same arms wrapped around you now, pressing your back against his chest as Teddy rested his chin on your shoulder. He watched the autumn leaves fall outside of your dorm hall and nuzzled closer. 

“You know I love you, cara mia. But did you really have to bring your entire book collection? I almost ate shit on the stairs carrying all those boxes.” 

You chuckled. “You could’ve just used magic, you know.” 

“Well, I wanted you to know that you have a big, strong man who can do anything without the aid of magic. Even moving a whole bloody library all by himself.” 

“Oh good, tell him to come in here then.” Theodore frowned, which made you laugh. You pulled him in by the front of his jumper and pressed your lips against his. “I’m kidding, Teddy. Thank you for helping me move in.” 

Theo hummed against your mouth and smirked. “Hmm, wanna show your appreciation in your brand new dorm? I just laid your mattress out and I’m not opposed to breaking it in.” 

“Lead the way, babe.”

You squealed as Theodore picked you up bridal style. He captured your lips, smiling against the kiss as he nipped at your bottom lip. You snaked your arms around his shoulders, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck while your tongue danced with his. Theo kicked your dorm room open. By some miracle, you were assigned a single unit, which was just as well since Theo would be visiting often and the two of you weren’t exactly quiet when it came to certain activities. 

“Hey! I’d like to get my deposit back, you know.” 

“You shouldn’t have kissed me like that then, diavolina.” He pressed his forehead against yours and kissed your cheek. “As much as I love where this is going, I have something to show you.” 

You raised a brow as he lightly put you down. “Theodore Nott turning down sex? Is this the end of the bloody world?” 

Theo rolled his eyes before smacking your ass. “Don’t be a smartass. Besides, I’m not turning it down. Just postponing. I’ll have you facedown on those pillows in a second, right after the grand reveal. But first, you have to promise not to get mad.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “What did you do, Theodore?” 

“You’ll find out in a second. After your guaranteed promise.” 

“Yes, because every surprise constitutes a cover my ass clause.” Theo pouted and flashed his best puppy dog eyes at you. “Oh, that’s low, Teddy. You know I can’t say no when you do that.” 

Your boyfriend grinned in triumph. “Precisely why I used it. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” 

“Fine, I promise not to get mad. Just show me this surprise of yours.” 

Theo covered your eyes and steered you further into the room. When he placed you right where he wanted you, your boyfriend took a step away from you. 

“Alright, you can open them now.” 

At first, you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to be looking at. The single unit dorm wasn’t anything new. Brick walls, wooden furniture, and a comfortable sized bed. Except the room felt much larger than you remembered. There was definitely more space now with enough room to store a bookcase, desk, and dresser that hadn’t been there before. And then you saw it. 

A fireplace. Not just any fireplace either—it was a fully functioning hearth with emerald green flames, which could only mean one thing. “Theodore Nott, did you install a bloody floo in my dorm?” 

“Well, technically I didn’t install it. Potter helped me get in touch with that Weasley bloke, the head of the Department of Magical Transportation. What was his name? Paul? Patrick?” 

“Percy?” you asked incredulously. 

“Percy, yes. Strange man. Not at all like the rest of his ginger clan. Anyways, he helped arrange this whole thing.” 

“You went and got the ministry involved?” 

Theo pouted. “You promised not to get mad.” 

“I’m not mad. I just—how did you even—when did you even—” 

“The first night we got back from Rome, I tossed and turned in bed all night because I had gotten so used to sleeping next to you that going without seemed like torture. Then I started thinking about how I’d have to endure that for two whole years and I realized that it simply won’t do, so I made a few calls. Bribed a few people. Now you’ve got a floo in your room.” 

“How did you even get the college to agree?” 

“About that…” Theo said sheepishly as he slid his hands into his pockets. “I may or may not have made a very sizable donation.” 

“How sizable?”

“Can money really measure my love for you?” 

“How much did all of this cost, Theodore?” 

“Ten thousand galleons.” 

“Ten thousand galleons!” 

Your boyfriend backed away, which was probably the smartest idea he’s had all morning. “Before you murder me, please know that the money is being put to good use. I worked with the University to set up a scholarship for muggleborn witches and wizards. I know it’s a passion of yours, so I thought, why not kill two birds with one stone? Because of you, the Alessandra and Damiano scholarship will help give other muggleborns an opportunity to study here.” 

You softened. As mad as you were at Theo for spending an absurd amount of money, you couldn’t ignore the fact that it was actually very sweet and thoughtful. Not to mention the fact that the donation probably hadn’t even made a dent in your boyfriend’s account. You supposed this was a better use of his riches than waking up to a very expensive espresso machine in your house, complete with a barista that Theodore had flown out from Milan to show you how to make proper coffee.

“You’re smiling,” Theo noted. “Which means…you’re not mad, right?” 

“I’m not saying that I’m not upset,” you started.

“But?” he asked hopefully. 

“Well, I can’t very well stay mad after such a thoughtful gesture, could I?” 

“So you like it?” 

You sighed, conceding with a nod. “The scholarship means a lot to me, Teddy. More than you know. I’m glad you named it after Alessandra and Damiano. It’s time the wizarding world heard their story.” 

Theo beamed. “I think so, too.” He caressed your cheek with a fond look on his face. “Do you remember what Coletta said when I first snuck you into the Slytherin dorms?” 

How could you forget? “La storia repetia.” 

“History repeats itself,” Theo said. “Alessandra fell in love with Damiano and they changed the world. When I fell in love with you, you changed my world. It’s the least I could do, cara mia.” 

With a grin, you pulled Theo down by the front of his jumper and kissed him. Your lips melded together perfectly like his mouth was crafted for the sole purpose of being kissed by you. A satisfied sigh left your lips at the thought of never having to go without this—without him ever again. 

“So what you’re saying is that we get to cuddle every night?” 

Theo grinned. “To cuddle, to kiss, to fu—“ He yelped when you smacked him on the arm. “To make love,” he corrected with a smirk. “We never have to say goodbye, only good night.” 

“Gods, I love you. You’re perfect.” 

The boyish grin on Theodore’s face made your heart skip a beat. Even after a year, you still felt like a giddy school girl with a massive crush. 

“The floo also connects to your house. I know how homesick you get, so I thought it would be nice to be able to pop in and visit with your mum and dad from time to time.” 

Tears lined your eyes. You didn’t even realize how badly you wanted it until this moment. You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend and squeezed him into a tight hug. He smiled against your hair and kissed the top of your head. 

When you pulled away, there was a little puddle of tears smack dab in the middle of Theo’s jumper. You sniffled as he swiped your happy tears away. “I can’t believe you talked my parents into all of this.” 

“It wasn’t that hard. They adore me, you know.”

Indeed they did. Your mum and dad had definitely fallen victim to the infamous Theodore Nott charm and you couldn’t blame them one bit. He was the perfect boyfriend and it was quite obvious to your parents that he made you ridiculously happy. 

“A little too much.” 

“Don’t blame them, amore mio. I’m just too charming for my own good.” 

“Yes you are,” you conceded with a sigh. Theo chuckled as you kissed the tip of his nose. “Shall we test out my new mattress then?” 

“You know you never have to ask me twice, but first—“ Theo held a finger up and fumbled with his pocket. 

“Another surprise? For Merlin’s sake, you're going to send me into cardiac arrest, Teddy. You're determined to turn me into a whimpering mess, aren't you?” 

“I guarantee you'll be whimpering in a minute. Scout's honor,” he said with a wink. “Although if you’re going to cry again, I’d prefer it if you did it while wearing this.” 

Theo pulled out a familiar locket—Alessandra’s locket. He opened the necklace. The right half of the heart still contained Alessandra and Damiano’s picture, but the left half was a picture of you and Theo. One that his nonna had taken of the both of you over the summer. The two of you were in the vineyard, the sun setting behind you with its golden glow, while you and Theo looked lovingly at each other like you were the only people in the world. 

You smiled, stroking the picture. “I love it, Teddy. But this is a family heirloom. Is nonna okay with me wearing it?” 

“Are you kidding? She was thrilled when I told her. Said you might as well start wearing it now since you’ll be part of the family soon.” 

“Oh?” you asked with a watery smile. “And do I get any say in this?” 

“Only if you say yes.” 

You nodded as Theo clasped the locket around your neck. The necklace sat just above your heart, making your boyfriend smile as he studied you for a moment. 

“My heart wearing my heart. Seems fitting, yeah?” 

“I love you, Teddy. You have my entire heart forever.” 

“I love you too, Y/N. Mind, body, and soul.” 

“Good,” you raised a brow and tugged him closer by the front of his jumper again. “Now if you’re done with your surprises…”

“Does the one in my pants count?”

You groaned. “For Merlin’s sake Thedore, just fucking kiss me already.” 

Theo chuckled at your impatience. “Your wish is my command, diavolina.” 

As Theodore kissed you in the middle of your new dorm in your brand new university, you realized that even as the seasons changed and the leaves turned, some things would still stay the same. 

Theodore Nott would always vex you, challenge you, and make you feel like you’re going out of your godsdamned mind every second of every day. 

There was nothing smart about falling in love with him. 

But for once in your life, you’ve never been so glad to be such a bloody lovestruck idiot. 

Taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe  @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup  @aliensknowmyillusions @cinderellawithashoe @starsval @kalulakunundrum @lucyysthings @siriuslysmoking @purplegirls-posts @unstablereader @lqclercs @whatsupb18 @rikirritated @psychedeliccc @jetblackpayne @clairesjointshurt @ama1a2 @omwtkydttfym @cinderellawithashoe @xeqr @txzii @goldenmagnolias @ilikefictionalmen @xxpeachyxo @dirt-cup-draco @willowecho25518 @shulipp @pompeygirl89 @lame-ferrum @dustbunniess @justdizzie @sopsopsopy @therealallisonspear @sweetwonieee @spacecadet16 @moonsreid @grrbrielew @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @imaginationlover101 @s0kovianwitch @lucy-is-never-logical @unstablereader @ellieslaces @bellarkefandom @shereadsandcries @hrts4pads @loveforlupin

[ivystoryweaver]

March the 9th

Marc Spector x gn!reader 1.4k words, angst, sex is implied, no smut, tw abuse, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Your skin tingles as you struggle you steady your breathing. Pacing the floor for an hour does nothing to calm that fuzzy feeling in the center of you.

He’ll be here soon.

You’ve memorized the pattern on the ceiling over your bed, because you stared at it the entire night, never once slipping into blissful slumber.

Your phone never rings. No emails, no letters, no messages.

But he always shows.

Bouncing on your toes, you smooth your hands down the lines of your body, checking your reflection, which lets you know you look the same as you did five minutes ago.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The first year...

Your family moved onto the Spectors’ street when you were nine years old. You quickly befriended the Spector boys, often playing with them after school and on weekends.

Then, one day, Randall was gone. You were supposed to play with them that day, but you had the flu.

Marc was never the same and you didn’t see much of him, except at school. The Spectors didn’t throw him a birthday party and he didn’t show up at yours either.

So you created a handmade birthday card for him, making a point to cross his path at school. He was absent.

The next year approached, and you realized the Spectors once again would not be throwing a party, so you gave Marc his birthday card on March 8th. He jerked it out of your hand, eyes downcast, muttering, “thanks,” before shuffling away.

You called his name, scampering after him, but he never looked back. The two of you were in middle school now and Marc didn’t seem to have many friends at all. Hopefully he would read the card, which invited him over to hang out.

He did.

On the night of March 9th, he crawled through your bedroom window for the first time. Tears streaked down his cheeks as his body trembled.

“Can I sleep on your floor?” He brokenly whispered.

You had a queen sized bed, so, of course you didn’t let your clearly devastated friend sleep on the hard floor.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he murmured drowsily, once he slid beneath the covers. “Please, they’ll kill me.”

You didn’t understand and he wouldn’t explain. You were only twelve years old. You squeezed his hand and let him rest.

He talked to you after that, only sometimes.

The next March 9th, you gave him another card, with another invitation to come over. He did. Your fingers tangled with his.

Again at fourteen, when, after swiping the tears from his eyes, he kissed you. He kissed you for a long time and you thought you’d never felt anything so magical.

At fifteen, he kissed and touched you all night long. Your heart was his now.

Still, he kept to himself for most of the other 364 days a year.

At sixteen, he climbed into your bed and the two of you lost your virginity. Neither of you had a clue what you were doing - clumsy and wild and sweet. But he kissed you and held you and he tried. You loved him and you had never felt so close to anyone in your life.

He flinched away from your touch several times, so you thought you must be doing something wrong.

It wasn’t until seventeen that you saw his well-hidden bruises and red welts by your bedside lamplight.

“Who did this to you?” Tears streamed down your face as your fingertips traced lovingly around anger and drunkenness unleashed on his beautiful body.

His eyes met yours and you knew. He came to your bed a lot more after that.

Then came eighteen. Three months before graduation. You asked him all the time where he wanted to go to college - where the two of you could go together, but nothing ever came of it. He only answered, “I have to get out.”

March the 9th of year eighteen was the last you saw of Marc Spector for a long time. He didn’t make it to graduation.

He sent you a letter in year nineteen.

‘I’m sorry,’ was all it said.

Year twenty passed. 21, 22, 23…

You graduated college and met someone. But every March the 9th, your fingers would trace his picture, so your "someone" didn't last.

More than a few March 9ths ago, you somehow wished him right back to you. He knocked on your door, shuffling anxiously from foot to foot, swallowing hard and expecting rejection.

You threw your arms around him. “Happy birthday,” you whispered against his cheek before his mouth found yours.

He took you to bed and you knew then that your heart would only ever be his.

It wasn’t enough though. He granted you a half-hearted explanation about danger and old debts and how he was so messed up - he could never bring it all into your life.

You had enough dignity to refrain from begging him.

The next March the 9th was the same. And the next, and the next.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

This year, you’re resolute. It will be the last. It has to be. You can’t do this anymore. He doesn’t love you - not the way you love him. You’ll wish him happy birthday, take him to your bed, but - never again. It hurts too much.

A sharp knock jolts you out of your reverie, sending all the air rushing out of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you steady yourself, giving yourself one final moment to prepare for your last night with Marc.

You reach for the door and find him holding flowers. Irises.

“You like these…right?” Dark eyebrows shift hopefully.

You breathe his name, your heart flaming with adoration. You take the bouquet and wrap your arms around his neck like always, whispering, “Happy birthday,” against his cheek as his lips seek out your own. He tastes you slowly…sweetly, his breath mingling with yours.

You lose your grasp on the irises, forgetting to care as they spill to the floor. Strong arms wind around you as his hands spread across your back, pressing you against the solid warmth of his chest. The kiss goes on and on until you’re dizzy and breathless and hot tears wet your eyes at the thought of never tasting him again.

You fight them back as the two of you finally make it through the front door and he kicks it closed. He takes you to bed and you drown in the essence that is Marc - unearthed secrets, soul-crushing burdens, beautiful desperation and a kind of hungry tenderness. You bury your nose in the crook of his neck, comforted and tormented as you inhale the spicy, sun-kissed scent of him, your lips tasting, committing him to memory.

Saltiness seeps into your mouth and you’re not sure if it’s the slight sheen on his skin as he works his way into you, or the tears slipping down your cheeks.

Your fingers twist through his dark curls as you pull your body flush against his - the heat of your tongue - the twist of your body - the scrape of your fingernails desperately attempting to communicate your need for this man.

He’s been your birthday wish most of your life.

He holds you against him until the calendar turns to the 10th. The sun rises and you realize he’s never stayed this long.

Which will make the speech you’ve planned so much harder. You shuffle to the bathroom while he sleeps, steeling yourself for the heartbreak. As you stare into the mirror, tears burn your eyes and you wonder if you can go through with it. The thought of never seeing him again is crushing, but you can’t go on like this.

Finally, you straighten out your appearance and freshen up, fighting like hell to keep your composure.

Marc is awake, sitting on the edge of your bed in only his boxers. You expect him to be dressed and ready to walk out the door, but as his warm, coffee colored eyes find yours…

He gently smiles.

“Marc?” You whisper, slowly approaching him.

“Come here,” he softly instructs, reaching for you. You sink down beside him, your foreheads touching sweetly as he grips your arms.

“Could…do you think I could stay?”

Tears trickle down. Again. “I don’t know,” you whimper. “I-I can’t-"

“I know.,” he nods, pressing an urgent kiss to your mouth. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

He’s off the bed and reaching for his clothes before you can blink, but you don’t let him get far. “Stay,” you urgently plead. “Stay with me.”

He freezes, eyes wide and hopeful. “F-for tonight, or…”

“Stay,” you repeat, pressing your palms to the heat of his bare chest. “Stay or go. Just decide.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next March the 9th…

“Happy birthday, baby,” you murmur against his lips as he rolls you underneath him.

“Happy anniversary,” he returns, sealing his mouth to yours.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc Spector-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[loveinhawkins]

The Reid family live in the trailer opposite Eddie and Wayne’s. They’re a pleasant bunch, sure, but more importantly, they always give Eddie a freshly cooked burger on the Fourth of July, which he readily accepts—why would he waste his time on overpriced fair food when he could get it on his own doorstep for free?

Tonight’s burger is more than a little on the charred side.

It’s no big deal to Eddie (that’s how he prefers it, really), and he gets that you really have to keep an eye on some of those portable grills—otherwise you’ll end up with incinerated chunks of meat in the blink of an eye. But even so, it’s not like Matthew Reid to be so distracted.

“Wayne got the night off?” Matthew asks.

He keeps glancing over his shoulder towards his home, almost misses Eddie nodding. He puts another singed burger on a bun, then places it on Eddie’s plate.

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “Uh, I’ve got some sparklers kicking around, y’know, if the kid wants to…”

He makes it sound more of a happenstance than it had been: yes, he’s had a decent run of orders from seniors and recent graduates, all wanting to let off some steam at the county fair; money is a damn sight better than it had been.

But the truth is that Eddie had been saving up anyway, would’ve bought the sparklers even if funds were tight.

It’s become a little tradition at this point: making his own annual ‘firework show’ with the Reid’s son.

Eddie’s known Daniel since the kid was six years old—he’s fourteen now, still has a bright-eyed naivety that Eddie hopes Hawkins High doesn’t completely stamp out.

He’s got a shock of blonde curls and a gap tooth, loves swimming so much there’s a running joke in the town that he’s part dolphin, what with the amount of time he spends at the community pool.

When his parents had heard that Eddie was repeating senior year yet again, instead of going for the usual commiserations or ‘helpful advice’ angle, they just quipped that it would be good for their son to see a familiar face at high school.

To be honest, Eddie can’t see Daniel needing a familiar face all that much; he imagines that after the typical first year nerves have come and gone, the kid will settle in quite comfortably, that he’ll be on the swim team by October.

At the mention of sparklers, Matthew’s face falls. He looks back to his trailer again and says, “Ah, m’sorry Eddie, couldn’t get him outta bed. Maybe later?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Eddie leaves him to it—if they were closer, perhaps he could’ve encouraged Daniel outside, made a difference somehow. But he just knows the family with a distant kind of friendliness—a shouted, “Morning!” when he’s running late, or a wave at the end of a long school day, their lives only overlapping briefly.

He goes inside to give Wayne his burger, so when it happens, he almost misses it.

He’s pouring himself a glass of water when he hears Louise Reid shouting indistinctly. She’s not usually one to argue, although Eddie’s noticed that she’s seemed tetchy lately—only yesterday, he’d been woken up by the sound of an almighty row that, as far as he could tell, was just about misplacing a bottle of bleach.

By the time he’s out on his porch, he’s just in time to see the back of Daniel as he heads out of the trailer park. It doesn’t exactly look like he’ll stop for anyone.

Louise is watching him go, her lips a thin line.

“Just let him cool off, darlin’,” Matthew says.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to do with him. That’s—that’s not normal, I don’t know what the hell’s going on in his head—”

”He’s a kid, Lou, he’s just acting up, that’s all. He’ll grow out of it.”

Louise sighs exasperatedly. When she shuts the front door, she does it with such force that it just bounces back open again. Neither she nor her husband fix it.

Eddie reckons that he’ll time it: fifteen minutes, give or take, and Daniel will be back. Ten minutes more, and he’ll have made up with his mom, before sheepishly asking Eddie for a sparkler.

Eddie’s left counting for much longer than fifteen minutes.

Matthew walks down the road leading up to the park’s entrance, over and over again. Comes back and shouts into his trailer, maybe a little frantically, that he can’t find Daniel, that maybe he’s gone to one of his friend’s places.

Eddie hears Louise start up a round of phone calls. A knot forms in his stomach as each one ends the same way. Call me if you hear anything.

It gets darker. Wayne heads out to the woods with Matthew, flashlights in hand, and it reminds Eddie of when they’d done the same not all that long ago, when Will Byers went missing.

The knot in his stomach grows. Tightens.

Wayne returns with a shake of the head. Eddie makes coffee just for something to do.

“They reckon he hitched a ride somewhere.”

Eddie scoffs. “Where the hell’s he gonna go, Wayne? Chicago?”

They drink their coffee on the porch. The Reid’s door is still left open, so when the phone rings again, it sounds as loud as a gunshot.

Someone picks up.

A scream.

“Wayne,” Eddie whispers. He feels suddenly desperate.

Wayne’s face is white. “Stay here, Ed.”

And then he’s running over to the Reid’s.

Eddie shouldn’t get closer. Shouldn’t look. But he does.

He tiptoes across the grass, just close enough so he can see…

Louise is on the floor. She’s clinging onto the wall phone, the cord stretched to breaking point, and Wayne’s talking to her, too softly for Eddie to make out; he gets down on his knees and puts an arm around her.

Her scream turns into wailing, then guttural sobs.

Eddie staggers backwards.

A flashlight being dropped on concrete. Matthew running inside.

“Lou? Lou! Jesus, what’s—”

Eddie looks away.

He goes back home, tries to shut out the noise. No matter how loudly he plays music, he can still hear them.

Eventually Wayne returns; he doesn’t say anything, just switches Eddie’s music off and puts on the radio.

There’s names being read out. Daniel is one of them.

Eddie sits out on the roof that night. He lights a sparkler, thinks about writing Daniel’s name in the sky, and then is immediately furious at himself for the thought. The kid should be here to do it himself.

When he eventually falls asleep, it’s to the memory of a sparkler burning the back of his eyelids.

A few days pass in what feels like one slow blink.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself. He ends up just wandering down town—it’s ghostly quiet here, has been so ever since the mall opened.

It’s overcast, as if the tragedy has made summer die quicker. That doesn’t stop Eddie’s skin from itching.

There’s a small diner near where Radio Shack once existed; it’s a hole in the wall, still somehow in business.

Eddie doesn’t know why he goes in. He hasn’t even brought his wallet.

All he knows is that he’s suddenly inside, and the place is absolutely dead, and the only person sat at a booth is—

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes. “What happened to your face?”

Steve Harrington stares back at him, looks decidedly unimpressed. There’s a basket of fries in front of him, and he’s presumably going for the ‘stoic silence’ route, because he picks up a fry, goes to eat it, and immediately winces. No fucking wonder, too; it’s a miracle he can even try and eat anything through that busted lip.

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, doubt something hot with salt was the best choice, Harrington, considering uh,” he waves a hand in front of his face, “everything.”

Steve frowns. “I just wanted them,” he says, on the edge of petulant, and Eddie wonders if he also ended up here by chance; if his skin is itching, too.

“Hang on,” Eddie says.

At least he has something to do now.

He asks for a cup of ice at the counter, wraps up some cubes inside a bunch of paper towels. He brings it back to Steve, who’s watching him in faint surprise.

“Uh. Thanks, Munson.”

Eddie shrugs.

Steve takes the bundle of towels, pressing them to his lips with a small hiss. He nods for Eddie to sit opposite him.

It’s a whole lot, up close: one of Steve’s eyes is heavily swollen, and along with the busted lip, his face is a mess of fresh bruises that must ache something fierce.

“You can ask,” Steve says, mumbled from talking behind the ice. He sounds resigned, like he’s one step away from adding everyone else does.

“All right.” Eddie crosses his arms. “What happened?”

“I worked at the mall. Broken down elevator.” Steve slams his hand down on the table. “It dropped.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie mutters.

But his mind is already elsewhere.

Steve’s unaffected eye narrows. Shit. He’s on to him.

“What’s eating you, Munson?”

“It’s just…” Eddie sighs, leans forward. “So a fire broke out. Like, after closing? But people were still inside.”

Steve doesn’t blink. “You ever worked in retail? People just hang around for no reason.”

“Sure, but—but—” Eddie feels a sudden urge to tug on his hair in frustration. “But he wouldn’t do that, he’d…”

Steve sets down the paper towels. “Who wouldn’t?” he says quietly.

Eddie tells him.

Steve listens in silence. He shifts in his seat when Eddie’s done and says, almost gently, “It sounds like he went to—”

“No, he hated the mall,” Eddie says vehemently. “Dragged his feet when his folks took him to the opening. He wouldn’t—he’d—I don’t know! All of it, it’s—”

“Crazy,” Steve finishes. He looks down. “Yeah. I know.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it, man. And, like, that family never fought, but the day before it—his mom was biting his head off over, like, losing some bleach or something stupid like—woah, Jesus, you okay?”

Because Steve suddenly looks like he might be sick. He swallows, breathes in and out cautiously.

“I’m fine.”

Eddie pauses. “Okay,” he says, uncertain. When Steve looks a little less pale, he goes on; he can’t stop himself. “I just—what if—did you, um. Did you see him?”

“No,” Steve says slowly. “But Eddie,” he says, and for some reason, he almost sounds like he’s pleading, “he was there.”

“How do you know? How does anyone—you know, like Will Byers, everyone thought… And then he…”

“It’s not always like that,” Steve says, sounds both sad and bitter. “Some people just stay dead.”

It’s a lousy rebuttal, in Eddie’s opinion, but for some reason it hits him anyway, leaves him abruptly exhausted. He runs a hand over his face.

“Yeah.” He steps out of the booth. “See you around, Harrington.”

“Wait.” Steve gets up too, with slow ginger movements. His fries remain untouched. “If I brought my car, I’d have given you a ride home, but…”

“Don’t think you’re in any condition to be driving,” Eddie says.

Steve gives a tiny shrug with one shoulder. “You wanna get the bus?”

“I didn’t bring any money.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get your ticket. I’m just gonna ride all the stops anyway.”

And it’s an unexpectedly comforting thought, that Steve is also at a loss for what to do.

They go to the back of the bus, sit in silence for the first couple of stops. Steve turns from where he’s been looking out the window and says, “Are you still, y’know, doing your thing?”

Eddie’s used to that being a euphemism for “Are you still selling?” But then he sees that Steve is miming a dice being thrown, and he’s momentarily surprised into a half-smile.

“Yeah. Will be, when school starts up again.”

He’d typically be using the summer as time to work on a new campaign, but that had gone out of his head with… everything.

They’re nearly at Forest Hills when Steve speaks again.

“I… I knew him. Not like you did, but I—I used to be a lifeguard, and his butterfly was phenomenal, I’d get the stopwatch out sometimes. There was a group of us, we worked on rotation, we’d call him part—”

“Dolphin,” Eddie says. “Yeah. That’s right.”

He feels his bottom lip threaten to go. Stupid. He rubs the feeling out with the tips of his fingers, digging in harshly.

It’ll be his stop soon. He stands up to make his way to the front, doesn’t expect Steve to rise with him, but he does. His breathing is suspiciously light; Eddie suspects he’s got some broken ribs to go with the pummelled face.

“Eddie,” he says, and even though he’s keeping his balance perfectly well, his hand brushes Eddie’s wrist anyway.

It’s not enough to chase away the itch in Eddie’s skin. But for a fleeting second, it helps. It helps.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “It sucks to lose someone.”

It’s a platitude, but there’s feeling behind it. Weight.

Eddie wants to say that he didn’t lose anyone, that the thought would be a disservice to Daniel’s parents, but…

It’s like Steve’s words give him permission to feel it. Just for now.

“Thanks,” he says tightly. On the last step before he exits, he turns and says, “Rest up, Harrington.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve says. “I’ll be here for hours.”

It’s said like it’s a joke, but Eddie thinks he means it.

Steve’s halfway back to his seat when the bus turns back onto the road, but he manages to wave just before he disappears from view.

Eddie starts the short walk home.

The Reid’s trailer is dark, a For Sale sign placed in front of it. Eddie hadn’t even known they were leaving, must have missed it in the haze of the last few days.

He gets it; if he were in their shoes, he doesn’t know if he could have stayed either. Everything would be a reminder of their son—the places he’d go, where he should be.

But he almost wishes that they were still here, so he could try and stumble his way through telling them Steve Harrington knew your son. He’ll remember him, too.

He doesn’t know if that would’ve been a comfort or not. He doesn’t know.

People come and go. Steve won’t be on that bus forever—he’ll go home eventually. July will become August will become…

Eddie lets himself in and collapses onto his bed. There’s still a prickle of wrongness in his skin, but he can’t untangle it. There’s nothing to make sense of.

He finds one of his journals. There’s some notes he made for a future campaign only last month. Feels like a lifetime ago.

He ignores the remaining unlit sparklers left in a corner of his room. Starts to write.

He can control this world, at least.

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 1)

Summary: Dropping out of college and moving back in with your parents is embarrassing when you live in a small town, where news and rumors spread fast. You have a chance encounter with a man that just moved into town, not realizing your life is about to get a lot more exciting.

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, implied kidnapping, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A/N: It was only a matter of time before I did a vampire au. I wanted to do a twist on Las Plagas where it turns people into vampires, also I was very much inspired by @nexysworld's vampire!Leon bot (which is excellent huehuehue). This fic takes place in the late 1980s, so canon stuff is completely thrown out the window so if that's not your thing, kindly move along.

Oakvale is a fictional town nestled in the heart of New Hampshire's White Mountain region and based heavily on my own experience growing up in small town New England. Shout out to my fellow New Englanders! 🥰

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

Title inspired by Jason performed by The Midnight

Line break Divider by cafekitsune

You stand at the end of the walkway leading up to your childhood home in Oakvale, New Hampshire, holding your luggage in one hand. You take deep breaths, preparing yourself for a nasty welcome home. You can still hear your father’s rage filled voice from your phone call a few days prior. You had decided to drop out of college. You were failing your classes and you couldn’t cope with hectic college life. Your mom, on the other hand, while disappointed in your decision, understood that this was your choice and that you were an adult now.

You had gone to college at the University of Illinois majoring in accounting under your father’s strict guidance in hopes that you would graduate and then run the finances for his car repair business. He was only going to help pay for college if you majored in accounting, so you had agreed begrudgingly. You were terrible at math and hated working with numbers, it was no wonder you were struggling.

You collect your thoughts, exhale loudly and approach the front door, wheeling your luggage behind you. You stand before the front door, giving it a few light knocks. You hear movement inside the house and the sound of your mother yelling down that she is coming. The front door opens and you’re greeted with your mother’s smiling face; a very welcome sight, beating the alternative.

“Sweetheart!” your mom exclaims, wrapping her arms around you, “how was your flight?”

“It was alright, I was able to sleep most of the way,” you reply as your mom leads you into the house. 

You glance into the living room as you walk into the house, seeing your father watching the weather channel. He won’t even look at you or acknowledge you. Your mom sees the distress in your face. She stands in front of you, grasping your arms gently.

“Pay him no mind, sweetie, I’ve given him strict instructions to not talk about college with you. Give him time, he’ll get over it,” your mom lets go, continuing to lead you to your bedroom, “he needs to understand that you are an adult and can make your own decisions. He knew going into this that you hated math, it’s his own fault for pushing you so hard.”

You're comforted by your mother’s words as the two of you reach the precipice of your bedroom. She opens the door for you and you are met with your childhood bedroom, exactly how you left it before you went off to college three years ago: floral bedding, light pastel pink walls, matching white furniture and boy band posters and polaroids of you and your friends attached to the walls. You make a mental note to redecorate, but that can wait until later. 

Later that evening, you join your parents in the dining room for dinner. Your Mother made your favorite: pasta in tomato sauce with kielbasa, squash and zucchini. Despite the fact it was late September, the family garden was still providing fresh vegetables. At first, you all eat in silence; you don’t dare make eye contact with your father. He seems to be too absorbed in the newspaper anyway. After agonizing minutes of silence, your father finally speaks to you for the first time since you came home.

“I got you a job at the gas station, you start Monday.”

You stop mid-bite, looking at your father dumbfounded before glancing at your mother, who smiles at you. He’s referring to the one gas station in town, just on the edge of town leading to the highway.

“Th-Thank you, Dad… that’s very kind of you…” you say before continuing your meal.

All the while, you hear the TV that’s still on in the living room, playing the news, “Fish and Game is still searching for 25 year old Alicia Walker, who hasn’t been seen since Wednesday when she told her family she’d be hiking up Mt. Lafayette--”

“Oh dear… they still haven’t found that hiker, Mick?” your mom says, looking over at your father.

Your father shakes his head in dismay, “nope. Seems to be happening a lot lately, that’s the third hiker in about a month, too.”

“Hikers are going missing?” you chime in before chewing your food.

“Unfortunately. That’s what happens when you go hiking in the Notch unprepared. Promise me you’ll never hike alone,” your father says to you in a stern tone.

“Of course, Dad, I’m not stupid.”

“Good,” your father replies with a nod before he continues eating, “pasta’s delicious Sandi.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The weekend goes by in a flash and, before you know it, it’s Monday; your first day at your new job at the gas station. It’s an easy enough job, just working the cash register as people come in to buy things and get gasoline for their vehicles. What your father had failed to tell you, however, is that he got you the late shift: 6:00pm to midnight. The day shift person, an older woman named Peggy, who also trained you briefly, let you know that police officers often stop in at night to check on things, giving you some comfort. Oakvale wasn’t a bad town by any means, but this gas station was also close to the highway; anyone could come in.

That is made apparent when the chief of police himself stops in around 10:00pm, Chief Robert Dion, but most people in town just call him Chief Bob or just Chief. He was a burly man with a large mustache that he used wax to curl the ends; he almost looks like a cartoon character. His hair and beard are starting to show his old age. You recall he’s a nice man; you smile at him from behind the cash register as he walks through the door.

“Chief Bob! Long time no see!”

“Well, hey there little lady! Mick told me you were working at the gas station now! When did you get back into town?”

“Friday afternoon. I’m… not cut out for college, I guess…” you reply, your tone becoming morose.

“Hey! Don’t get down! Take some time to yourself and try again.” he says, leaning up against the counter on one arm. 

“Thanks Chief. What’s the latest gossip in town? I’m sure I’ve missed a ton in three years.”

“Mostly about those missing hikers. I’m sure you heard--”

The sudden roar of a motorcycle cuts him off as a Harley Davidson motorcycle pulls up to one of the pumps outside before cutting the power. You watch from your peripheral vision as the driver gets off the bike. You draw your attention back to Chief Bob.

“As I was saying… I’m sure you heard about the missing hikers.”

You nod, “yeah, it was on the news when we were having dinner on Friday.”

You hear the electronic chime on the door go off as someone walks in and that’s when your eyes settle on what is quite possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life. Tall, with short blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a leather jacket with worn denim jeans and work boots. Chief Bob moves out of the way to let the man come to the register. Your heart can’t help but race in your chest as your eyes are locked on the man.

“Can I get $5 on pump uh…” the man leans to look out the window at the number of the pump he parked at outside, “four?”

“S-Sure, of course! $5 please,” you reply, kicking yourself internally for stuttering. 

The man pulls his wallet out from his back pocket, setting down a five dollar bill. Your eyes drift to his hands to check to see if he’s wearing a wedding band on his left ring finger; you don’t see one. Shifting your gaze back up, you see that his eyes are suddenly locked on yours; he gives you a playful smirk and winks before he turns to walk out.

“You’re out awfully late,” Chief Bob says to the man as he walks by.

“Had some errands to run. Take care Chief,” the man replies before walking back outside to fill his bike.

Your eyes are once again locked on the man before Chief Bob’s voice draws your attention back, “I think that’s the guy that bought ol’ Archie Mason’s place about a month ago.”

Archie Mason. Now that’s a name you haven’t heard in a while. You knew him as Mr. Mason, a curmudgeon of a man that lived on a dead end road in the woods by himself in town. As kids, you’d dare each other to go to his house, knock on his front door and see who could run the fastest before getting caught. Mr. Mason hated children.

“When did Mr. Mason die?” you ask as you get the $5 bill the handsome man gave you into the cash register. 

“I think… two years ago? The house finally went through probate and was sold. That guy moved in and has been fixing it up ever since. Usually see him at Rocky’s.”

Rocky’s is a hardware store in Oakvale, a popular spot for all the younger and middle aged men in town, right up there with Moe’s bar, which was conveniently right next door to the hardware store. You hear Chief Bob talking to you still, but you can’t focus. Instead, your attention is on the mystery man pumping gas into his motorcycle, your heart all aflutter.

You wake up around 9:30am Wednesday morning, shuffling over to your closet to put on some clothes. Afterwards, you go into the bathroom to fix your hair, brush your teeth and put your makeup on. All the while, you can hear your father hard at work in the garage on someone’s car through the various open windows in the house. You decide to pay him a visit after you get yourself put together.

You go outside, walking over to the adjacent auto repair shop, stopping to glance up at the sign hanging off the building: Mick’s Auto Repair. Every business in town had this unspoken rule that their business had to have their name in it; Mick’s Auto Repair, Rocky’s Hardware, Moe’s Bar and Grille, Sally’s Sew Shop, just to name a few. You continue walking, walking into the shop through the open garage door.

“Hey Dad!” you call out, looking around before seeing your father’s legs sticking out from under the car he’s working on. 

You watch as he rolls out from under the car, his face, clothing and hands covered in oil stains. He looks up at you, his eyes squinting from the sun leaking into the garage. 

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks.

“You didn’t tell me Mr. Mason had died.”

“Oh… yeah… died in his sleep. The old fart was 92. Didn’t really come as a shock to anyone.” your dad replies, rolling himself back under the car.

“Do you know anything about the guy that bought the house?” you continue to pry, crossing your arms as you look down, addressing your father’s feet. 

“Yeah, his name’s Leon, I think. Moved in from D.C. if I heard right. What about him?”

“Oh… nothing… he came into the gas station the other night…” you reply, your voice trailing out as the butterflies stir up in your gut thinking about him.

Leon… that suits him, you think to yourself. 

“Now don’t you go getting any ideas, the last thing you need right now, young lady, is to be distracted by some boy. He’s too old for you anyway-- oh fuck!” your father curses as you hear something snap from under the car, rolling back out with a broken wrench in his hand.

“That’s not good,” you comment, watching as your father shoots you a glare. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh, “can you run over to Rocky’s real quick and get me another one? I’d go but I’m caked in oil. Don’t need Rock yelling at me for tracking oil into his store again. I’ll pay you back.”

“Sure, no problem! I’ll be right back!” you say, heading back into the house to grab your purse from your bedroom. 

You grab the broken wrench from your father so you make sure to get the right one and head out. The hardware store is about a 15 minute walk from your house, so you decide to just walk, enjoying the crisp hair and sun of early fall. Coming upon Rocky’s Hardware, you step inside, a bell hanging off the door ringing as you walk in. 

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t Mick’s little girl! How’s it going, sweetheart?” Rocky says from the cash register. 

Rocky is another older man, medium build with a head full of gray hair and a big, bushy gray mustache.

“Hey Rocky!” you reply as you pull your father’s broken wrench from your purse, “Dad broke another wrench, sent me to get another one for him.”

“Jesus… they don’t make them like they used to, do they? Aisle 6 dear, on the left.” Rocky says, gesturing into the store.

“Thanks Rock,” you say before proceeding to the aisle in question; however, when you turn to walk down the aisle, you stop dead in your tracks.

Leon, the man from the gas station the other night, is standing in the aisle looking at hardware, which is on the opposite side of the tools. You stand there, staring at him like an idiot, your heart pounding in your throat. As if sensing your presence, the man turns to you, giving you that same smirk from the other night.

“You’re that cute girl from the gas station,” he says; it wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

He remembered you. He also called you cute, making your stomach twist in anxiety. 

“Y-Yeah…” you manage to say before working up the courage to walk into the aisle to look at the tools.

Leon’s eyes stay on you as you approach, watching as you draw your attention to the tools.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a hardware store?” he asks playfully, you can hear him smirking as he moves to stand next to you.

“Oh… my Dad broke his wrench. He asked me to get him another one.” you reply, trying desperately not to let your nerves get the better of you as you show Leon the broken wrench. 

“Oh dear! Let’s see…” Leon starts as he looks up at all the different tools, reaching up to grab one of the wrenches hanging off the display, “this one looks like the same wrench, here you go.”

Leon hands you the new wrench, his fingers lightly caressing yours as he pulls his hand away, a gesture that is not missed by you. You feel your cheeks flush as you tuck the broken wrench back into your purse.

“Thank you mister…?”

“The name’s Leon Kennedy. But please, just call me Leon.” he replies, making eye contact with you, “what’s your name?”

You pause for a moment before you practically stutter your name out. You watch as Leon smiles at you, his eyes taking you in as he looks up and down at you.

“That is a lovely name,” he says, the compliment hitting you straight into your core; you feel your panties become slick.

“Th-Thank you… you have a nice name, too.”

Leon gives you a gentle pat on your shoulder, “I gotta go pay for my stuff. Hopefully we can see more of each other, yeah?”

You stare at him in awe for a moment before nodding, “Yes! I… I’d like that, too…”

He gives you a wink before he turns to walk out of the aisle and up to the cash register, where you hear him make small talk with Rocky. You are frozen in place in a desperate attempt to calm yourself down. You wait until you hear the bell on the door ring before you go up to the register to pay for the new wrench. 

You couldn’t get home fast enough, your entire being a bundle of nerves. Once you get home, you walk through the open garage door to give your father the wrench. You find he’s not in the garage, so you walk back into the house, only to find him standing in front of the TV in the living room, watching the news.

“Dad, I got the wrench--” you begin to say as you cut yourself off, seeing there’s a breaking news report playing on the TV, “what’s wrong?”

Your father turns to you, his look is forlorn, “another hiker went missing, they were last seen Monday.”

That night, after getting home from your shift at the gas station, you toss and turn in bed, unable to get comfortable. You can’t get Leon off your mind. Tossing your comforter off you, you lay on your back, propping your legs up and spread them as your right hand dips under the hem of your underwear, your fingers finding your clit to rub slow circles into it.

As you lose yourself to your own pleasure you moan Leon’s name softly, closing your eyes to picture the way his beautiful blue eyes looked up and down your body earlier today, the way his jeans hugged his slender hips. You could almost smell his leather jacket. Your fingers pick up the pace on your clit, causing your hips to buck into your fingers as you chase your high, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning loudly. 

You turn your head towards your windows, slowly opening your eyes, only for your breath to be caught in your throat as you spot a pair of glowing red eyes peering into your window. You watch as the eyes suddenly dart away from the window, thumping sounds quickly following. You quickly pull your hand out from your underwear and practically jump out of bed to your window, throwing it open to look out. You look around, seeing nothing in the darkness. Your bedroom is on the second floor, it couldn’t have been a person. People don’t have glowing red eyes.

You take deep breaths, realizing your thoughts are only psyching yourself out. It was just your imagination in the heat of you getting yourself off, you decide, before you shut your window, locking it. Just in case. You walk back over to your bed, collapsing into it, your arousal having been scared out of you, so you quickly drift off to sleep.

Part 2

[somnambulic-thing]

smoke and cherry pop rocks read on ao3

follow up: in limbo || Hi Sweetheart

Eddie Munson x gn!reader E 18+ with vagina&boobs

3.9k

Summary: You’ve been silently in love with Eddie for years and he’s leaving Hawkins soon. You want one kiss before he does. He gives you more than that.

||no upside-down, angst, fluff, first times, grief, open end, reader has regrets, coming of age (everybody is over 18 though), smut, piv penetration, oral for everybody, lovemarks/bruises, rough sex, sex in public places||

A/N: I hurt myself with this one, but growing pain is what it is. If you like and enjoy this little story, let me know. I’d love to hear from you.

It had been dry the past few weeks. So dry that your feet are kicking up small clouds of dirt where the paved roads of Forest Hills trailer park turn into gravelled paths, making your throat itchy and the inside of your mouth feel just as dry.

You’ve been to the trailer park before but never figured out which trailer was home to Eddie Munson. Had, in fact, avoided finding out. You have a rule when it comes to Eddie and you are about to break it.

The rule was simple enough: Don’t.

Don’t get too close.

Don’t get lost in those eyes, that wit, that kaleidoscope mind.

Don’t let him get too close.

Don’t.

He had been a Senior and you a Sophomore when you created that rule, your crush at first nothing more than a light tickling on the back of your neck and some innocent thoughts about a kiss from those ever-smirking lips. He’d been prickly, snapped at you more than once when he caught you casting not-so-secret glances across hallways until one day, he didn’t. Until one day, he said hi.

And then he had been a Senior and you a Junior and he had given you a ride home, picking you off the street with sweet words and gentle hands after your bike betrayed you and the asphalt scraped the skin off your knees and palm. He walked you to your door to make sure you wouldn’t faint or something even though you clearly felt alright, insisting on taking care of your bike.

“I know what I’m doing. That way I’m sure it won’t give up on you again. Don’t want this to keep me up at night.”

His graduation had been only a few months away that day - or so you‘d thought - and as he stood there, so close, smiling at you, arms crossed over his chest and unable to stand still your whole body had screamed Don’t. He’ll be gone and it will rip you apart.

And then he had been a Senior and so had you and Eddie slipped you pieces of paper during class; little silly drawings to make you smile on days you didn’t feel like it. He held doors for you when you were still half a hallway away and remembered your birthday without you ever telling him the date, singing for you in the school parking lot.

Despite your best efforts to stay away, there had been many and many small moments that had felt like lurking avalanches - a few close calls - but one way or the other, you had walked away unscathed. Right?

You had both graduated three days ago.

Eddie had walked the stage, snatched his diploma and raised two of the happiest middle fingers you had ever seen into the air and bolted like the devil was behind him. You wanted to kiss him. Kiss him so badly. While you still could.

But you didn’t.

Eddie would leave Hawkins soon. He’d found a spot as a roadie, hoisting equipment for a thrash metal band. “Not even a bad one,” he had smirked, radiating excitement. You remember the afternoon he told you about it with painful clarity. He was going to make connections, be a good sport, flex his skills on the guitar whenever an opportunity revealed itself. He had a whole plan.

Eddie would leave soon and you would go to college and so you had said so long tohim with a straight face that felt like it was on fire and that finally was the end of your ordeal. Right?

You already miss him.

So now you’re at the trailer park and your mouth is dry and no matter how much you tell yourself it’s just the dust or the unusual heat or the fact that you had walked here for almost an hour without so much as a sip of water, you knew the real reason was Eddie.

You spot his van first.

And then you spot him. Stretching out on his back on the floor of the small deck in front of the trailer. One arm under his head, his feet bopping to a tune in his mind, tendrils of smoke rising up from his face like ephemeral poems. Golden hour was only minutes away and already the sun tinted everything in this light that had the color of bittersweet memories.

You place your feet carefully, eager to stay unnoticed as long as you can, not ready to leave this limbo yet. He was just beautiful like this; even in inertia, Eddie was a wild thing.

He turns his head at last; you don’t stop, don’t falter even though inside of you everything screams Don’t.

You see him squint, the low and glaring sun behind you shrouding you just a little longer giving you a few more precious seconds to clear your mind, to prepare your words.

Except it doesn’t. He recognizes you anyway.

Over the distance, you hear your name spoken in that voice that had made you jump on your first day in High School; he’d been running late and barged into the wrong classroom. His hair had been shorter, sticking out in every direction like he was electric, made of storm. The voice is deeper now, rougher, but you would recognize it underwater. You hear it in your dreams.

“Hi, Eddie,” says your mouth while your mind says Don’t.

“You, uh, got lost or something?

“No,” you say and come to a halt. With you, you bring your shadow and you cast it over his face. His features relax, the squint disappears and you look down into pitch-black eyes. “I was looking for you.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

“You, like, wanna… buy something green or…?”

“For you.”

Where once sleeves had been on his shirt were now big holes reaching down to his waist, the fabric rolling in slightly at the raw edges where he’d cut along. You can see the pale skin spanning over his ribcage, can see the rise and fall, can see the ink.

Eddie looks at you in silence. You even like the way he doesn’t talk.

Don’t.

He starts to move, eyes fixed on you as he sits up, places his palms on the floor, rings click-clacking softly, cigarette butt coughing bitter tufts of smoke from between his fingers. He pushes himself around in one swift motion, crossing his legs, bare feet covered in dust, and faces you.

Your mouth is dry, is arid, is a desert.

“What do you mean for me?”

DON’T, it screams.

Ah, shut the fuck up, you answer.

“Have you ever heard of anticipatory grief?”

He blinks, fast, tilts his head, tilts the corners of his mouth down.

“Hmm, nope,” he shakes his head, “but I think I… get the gist. Why? You came to ask me this?”

“I came to kiss you.”

“What?”

“That is, if you want me to... To kiss you.”

The cigarette has snuffed out between his fingers and he throws it away into an unseen distance, his eyes searching your face for clues. You give him a smile.

“Are you for— for real?”

You nod.

“You’re not messing with me? Because that would be a fucked up thing to do.”

Your heart rushes the blood through your veins like a torrent, you feel it pool on your cheeks.

“Eddie,” you say the way you always wanted to. Soft and longing. “I had a crush on you for so long…” You close your eyes. “Years... Still have.”

“Shit! I… uh, shit.” You hear only crickets and a lawn mower in the distance and you wonder if he has vanished into thin air. “Could you, like, look at me?”

 It takes effort, but you do.

“You… you never...”

“I know.”

“Why now? Why—“ You can see him think, putting crooked pieces together. “Anticipatory grief?”

“Fuck, you’re clever.”

His head draws back, his brows draw together; it looks like he’s drawing the wrong conclusion. “So you, what? Expected me to be an ass about it? To mess with you?”

“Not all that clever then,” you smirk and Eddie looks confused.

“Well, fuck you, milady,” he says with a tense smile and waves a hand through the air. You want to evaporate, flow through those fingers. “But you’re making no sense to me right now. Help me out?”

“You’re leaving soon.”

“Wait, wait, wait: you said years.”

A laugh is tickling you to let it out, you hold it back and sigh. “I thought for years you’d be leaving soon.”

“Shit,” he almost barks, fingers stilling an itch on his temple. Then he laughs and you do too.

You step closer, leaving only a few feet between you while the laughter is softly running out. And then he breathes in deep into his lungs; holds it holds it holds it. Oh to envy the air so much, it was embarrassing.

“Why now?”

“I don’t know—”

“Bullshit.”

“Eddie…”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

His chest expands again, you see him clenching his fists before he rests his hands on his thighs, ringed fingers splayed wide on black denim.

“Say my name like that—”

“I’m sorry—“

“Answer my question, sweetheart.”

“Don’t do that.”

It’s like a dance somehow, no, not quite, but you’re feeling out of breath and the rhythm is addictive.

“Answer my question…” and then he smiles, pulls his hands to his face, palms pressed together like in prayer, “…sweetheart.”

Asshole, you think losing the fight against a shiver.

“Because,” he says, propping his sharp yaw against his knuckles, “I would have been in on it in a heartbeat. On a date. Or something. Anything, really.”

You say his name like that again and hide your face inside your palms, seeking refuge from your past decisions. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Yeah, fuck that. You started this. I’m just, ahm, levelling the playing field,” he laughs a little bitterly. “T’s not like I won’t think about some if’s and could have been’s now, ya know?”

You can’t look up. You want to ask him if he heard of spontaneous self-combustion before but then he holds the match that sets you on fire.

“I always liked you.”

The groan escaping you is muffled by your palms. “So why did you never say something?”

There is a tap on your shoulder, the sudden touch startling you out of your stupor, and when you come up his warm palms almost feel cool on your heated face.

And Eddie kisses you.

A high-pitched noise escapes your throat, your hands fly to his wrists, holding on like vices because he tastes like smoke and cherry pop rocks and like endless summer skies and the world is spinning as much as his lips are soft and he sighs a little and—

Eddie is kissing you!

You take a step forward, your stomach hits the deck and you wind your fingers through his hair. The roots are damp with sweat and he sighs again when you pull. He opens his mouth to welcome you in, to lick at you with his cherry tongue and steal your breath right from your lungs and—

And then it ends. Time has never passed so fast.

The dissonance of your laboured breathing hangs between you like a chance, a peek, a warning; Eddie won’t let go of your face and you won’t let go of his.

And then he smiles. “Was good?”

You nod. “Too short.”

“Wanna come up here for more?”

Eddie’s laugh echoes through the trailer park as you scramble to climb up the deck. You knock him over, or maybe you don’t, because his hands are already on your arms and pull you with him to the floor. It doesn’t matter one way or the other. What matters is his tongue in your mouth, the hard edge of his teeth against yours and his skin under your wandering fingertips.

The sun is setting.

Eddie is still kissing you when it leaves this day for good.

Wedged between your thighs he now and then whispers little secrets to your skin.

        You are so pretty.

        You smell so good.

      You’re making me so hard.

Eddie’s throat tastes like salt and summer dust; he likes it when you bite him.

      I never said a thing because I thought you wouldn’t want me.

      Because wanting you scares me.

      Because you always were so distant—

      when I came close.

“I’m so stupid,” you confess.

“Not stupid, sweetheart.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know.” He speaks those words into your mouth as if to share the bitterness.

     I’m glad you came.

          I’m glad you’re here.

          I want you to stay.

         I want you to stay.

         I want you to stay. And if it’s only for one night…

Eddie’s room is a mess but his bed is soft. So is the light, illuminating chaos you had imagined countless times before but it’s no match for the chaos inside you. There’s so much you want to say, but so much skin to kiss. You fill the spaces in between.

“Sometimes,” you pant, his lips against your throat, “I sneak into your concerts.”

“I’ve never seen you there,” he says, almost ripping your shirt, sucking on your breasts.

“I love the sound of your voice.”

“You mean that?”

You nod, straddling his thighs, unbuttoning his pants. “I wanna hear you moan.”

Eddie moans for you when you sink down on his cock.

     You feel so good.

            I can’t believe it.

Neither can you. For the day began with a dragging sense of emptiness and now you are so full of him it’s driving you insane. He moans your name while you ride him, while you show him how you feel in a way words can’t.

            You’re so warm.

            So soft.

            I wanna taste your pussy.

The secrets stop as he licks at you with fervour; but not the moans. Eddie is spoiling you with those and you’re spoiling him with praises.

He’s careful with his fingers, almost like he’s scared. You tell him where to touch, how to move and he thanks you with his eyes; shining and wide and full of pride and wonder as you tense around his fingers, twitch under his tongue.

“Fuck me, Eddie, please…”

Eddie is rough. You want him to wreck you.

           I want you to remember this with your whole body.

           I wanna make you breakfast.

           I’m leaving in two weeks. Two weeks. Gimme those two weeks.

“Yeah,” you moan against his neck. “I’ll give you anything.”

“Don’t— don’t do that.”

 “For two weeks,” you shove your hand under his chin, you make him look at you. He’s so deep inside of you it’s hard to think but this is easy: “For two weeks, I’ll give you anything.”

Eddie kisses you; he tastes like you, like you, like you and nothing else. With one hand he pins your wrists above your head and fucks you like there’s no tomorrow.

When he falls asleep on your chest, you whisper little secrets of your own.

                 I’m sorry.

                 I’m so sorry.

                 I’m so in love with you.

Eddie makes you breakfast. His uncle looks happy and confused; he wants you to call him Wayne. Dramatic eyes seem to be a Munson thing. Wayne makes you laugh with stories about Eddie, Eddie makes you laugh with being flustered and shy. When it’s just you and Wayne for a moment, he slips you a picture of a younger Eddie. Hair short, guitar too big for him. You hide it away like a treasure.

You promised each other two weeks so he gives the car shop an early notice to make time.

“But you need the money, Eddie.”

“I can’t buy this with money, sweetheart.”

“But—“

Eddie likes to shut you up with kisses. It’s not fair, you tell him. He doesn’t give a fuck, he tells you.

You have fourteen days and Eddie’s head is in your lap, a guitar on his chest and he plays for you; melody soft and sad, smile sharp and wide under your adoration. Even little quarrels feel like blessings because the make up is so sweet. Later, he takes you downtown where he never lets go of your hand and licks ice cream off your face.

            I wrote this the day you scraped your knees.

            I don’t mind you being stubborn when you kiss me like that.

            You taste better without it.

Twelve days and you wake up in his arms; he keeps you in bed for hours. Soft kisses, roaming hands and never a moment of silence, you and Eddie sharing everything your minds provide, making every second count. In the evening, Eddie takes you to see a movie. He makes you come twice. You walk back to the trailer park, barefooted.

            I still can’t believe you’re here.

            I could listen to your thoughts for hours.

            I want to fuck you in weird places.

Ten days and Eddie rolls a joint for you to share. You smoke on the roof of the trailer, making up silly names for constellations, laughing till your stomachs hurt. Then you fuck him, palms pressed to his chest, keeping him down. You draw it out till the sun comes up behind you, leaving him a mumbling mess, the corrugated metal of the roof leaving bruises on his back. You kiss them all; they are your favorite color.

            I don’t want to leave anymore.

“But I’m leaving too.”

“I know.”

Seven days and Eddie packs you a picnic. It’s mostly junk food and you both feel full and lazy, like turned-over beetles, giggling like children in the high grass at the shore of Lovers Lake. You find clouds that look like dicks and whales and guitars and it’s all a bit of the same, really, and you bully Eddie out of his clothes because the water looks so nice and cool.

            I used to come here with my mother.

            It’s good to leave here laughing.

            I’ll miss your laugh. So much.

Four days and Corroded Coffin play their last show. You are the first row in a crowd of twenty people; you cheer for twenty more. After, you give the band space, watching the end from the sidelines. There are tears, there are hugs, there are stories of days past and promises for those to come. In his van, Eddie falls into your arms and clings to you for twenty minutes. Then he kisses you, pulls you greedily into his lap and almost breaks his window when there’s no condom to be found.

            I didn’t think all of this would be so hard.

            I’m crazy about you.

            It’s not fair.

            I want to make you come with my fingers, please.

Three days and you take Eddie to your house. He needs to see where you live from the inside. Your mother loves him, like you knew she would. He pokes around your room, inspecting everything he can. Sadly, it’s not much; you already started packing. He gets quiet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I hate to see those boxes with your stuff.”

“You wanna sleep at your place?” you caress his cheekbones with your thumbs.

“No.”

Eddie can’t fall asleep. You find him wide awake at three in the morning, staring at boxes and crying silent tears. He hates it that you see them.

“Come on, get dressed. We’re leaving.”

“No.”

“I don’t want you to be upset.”

“Tough shit,” he huffs. “You said you’ll give me anything. Give me this. I wanna feel this.”

So neither of you sleep. The sun comes up when Eddie pushes your face into the mattress, your wrists in his hand on your back. He’s not gentle. You don’t want him to be. He’s everywhere. By noon he kisses the bruises on the back of your thighs. They are his favorite color, he says. He wants to leave the boxes now. So you leave.

      Maybe you were right. Maybe you are stupid.

            I don’t mean it!

            I’m sorry.

            I just want years of this.

Two days and you just stay in bed. Eddie reads to you. Lord of The Rings and he’s doing different voices, and sound effects; narrates the rain, the hooves of pony’s and everything in between with gentle fingertips on the back of your hand. And it makes you cry. Makes you cry so hard that Eddie’s shirt is soaked where he holds you to his shoulder.

“Anticipatory grief. I get it now,” he says into your hair. There is something he doesn’t say. You can feel it, but you don’t ask.

This time when he fucks you, Eddie is nothing but gentle. You almost can’t stand it. You never want him to stop. Keep him inside of you forever.

            I’m in love with you.

            No, I mean it.

            I always liked you, remember?

“I’m in love with you too, Eddie.”

“Say that again.”

Eddie’s van is packed. He’s leaving in two hours.

Your lips are swollen from kissing, biting, sucking his cock and bruises into his skin.

“How can you be so perfect?” you ask him.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t let me leave.”

“Eddie…”

Eddie slides from your arms, slides from his room, out the porch door and flees into the forest behind the trailer.

You look after him, stunned.

Wayne sits on the deck, smoking.

“M’ sorry, kid. Really sorry.”

You know what he means. You’re sorry too.

“If he’s not back in twenty, you go after him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. He’s my boy,” Wayne chuckles. There are tears in his voice.

You find Eddie sitting on a low branch, staring into the distance.

“You found me.”

“You’re leaving.”

“So are you.”

There are some nettles stinging your calves as you walk over, but the look on his face stings more.

It’s like the day you found him two weeks ago: you looking up at him, his eyes brimming with confusion. Except it’s nothing like two weeks ago.

“If this isn’t a pretty fucking case of self-fulfilling prophecy then I don’t know what is.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, brushing hair out of his face.

“You know what I mean.”

Of course, you do. It was you who made that prophecy.

“Do you regret it? That you gave me that kiss?” you ask in fear, a tear fleeing down your cheek.

Eddie kisses it away. “Don’t be stupid.”

Ten minutes and you lean against his van. His arms are crushing you, your nails leave red trails on his back and shoulders. You want him to remember.

“M’ going to miss you,” you sob.

“Gonna miss you too, sweetheart.”

            I’ll call you every day I can.

            I’ll let you know when I’m in the area.

            M’ gonna visit you. I promise.

Eddie kisses you. He tastes like smoke and cherry pop rocks and plain old sadness.

            You made me so happy.

            It’s almost cruel.

            I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.

Your mouth is dry as you watch him drive away, clouds of dirt rising from the dusty tires. Wayne holds you while you sob; he’s crying too. “Stop by for coffee b’fore you leave,” he says and you promise you will as you wave him goodbye.

The sun is low and golden as you start your way home. No. To the place where your boxes are waiting. You feel uprooted.

Two days later and the phone is ringing. You trip over a bag of clothes and bump your knee on the coffee table. You don’t feel the pain.

“Eddie?”

[oh-stars]

Say It

Love is terrifying.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1547 words | CW: N/A | Rating: T

--

Eddie will be home soon. Steve’s stuck on the couch, elbows on knees and chin in his hand, as he watches the door. He’ll be home soon and Steve can’t run away from this conversation anymore. 

It’s been years since the world tried to end, since they fled Hawkins even. A lot has changed for all of them. Nearly all the kids have graduated high school and Dustin’s already out of undergrad. Erica has early acceptance at Harvard, Lucas and Max are at Duke, Mike is at Emerson, Will is at Berkley, and Eleven is working hard to get accepted at Emory for their nursing program. Robin’s working at the Met, Nancy’s at the Times, and Eddie’s been recognized in a tattoo magazine for his work. 

They’re all getting older, growing into their own people and finding their way in life. 

And then there’s Steve. 

He works at a gym as a personal trainer and he’s working with Robin’s partner, Janine, to open up their own gym so that they can make a safe place for everyone, but especially women and other gay people. He has so many ideas, but he knows they aren’t as cool or esteemed as his friends’ career choices. 

No matter how many digs he gets about his choices and being a dumb jock, Steve likes the flexibility and power his career gives him. He feels good about it. 

It helps that it gives him a purpose and reason to keep his body in fighting shape. Just in case. 

Steve looks down at his watch. Ten till. Eddie will be home soon. 

Why is he doing this? He could be doing literally anything else with his night, but now he’s subjecting himself to a potentially miserable and devastating conversation that could end the world as he knows it. 

Jesus, he’s been spending too much time with Robin lately. Catastrophizing every interaction he has, like a single conversation could hold that much weight. 

Except… This one does. If it goes wrong, if Steve missteps and assumes something he shouldn’t, then he risks the entire friend group collapsing in on itself like a dying star. And now he sounds like Dustin, maybe he just needs new, less dramatic friends all together. 

Oh, who is he kidding? He loves these weirdos with everything in him, they make him full, filling all the nooks and crannies of scars and gashes his past has left him with. It’s like they super glued him back together, a porcelain doll made stronger by the care of his friends. 

Steve runs a hand over his hair, scrubbing at his face. Fuck, maybe he’s spent too much time talking with Mike, with all his prose and fancy speak. He’s absorbing way more of his friends than he realizes. 

He glances back down at the watch. Only a minute has passed. 

This feels cruel. 

It’s not even a special occasion. There’s no insistent need as to why he has to talk to Eddie tonight. He just can’t take it anymore. 

Actually, Steve wonders if this is the right move at all. Should he wait until Eddie’s settled in? Ambushing him when he comes home is kind of a dick move. Oh god, he’s gone about this all wrong. He’s for sure going to blow it now. 

He looks down at the folder sitting on the cushion beside him. It’s bold, it’s presumptuous. It’s putting everything he has into one suspicion. 

No, he has to do this. 

They’re at a turning point, at the end of this chapter, and it’s now or never. Steve can either be brave or take the cowardly route and live in this limbo for the rest of his life, potentially ruining the best thing he’s ever had. 

Five more minutes. Eddie will be home in five more minutes. 

Steve’s knee bounces as he takes in a deep, shaky breath. He can do this. He’s got this. It’s just Eddie and the biggest conversation they’ve ever had. 

Or rather… the only conversation they’ve ever had. 

Okay, obviously they’ve talked but it’s rarely anything serious and usually the only serious things they do talk about are Upside Down related. Steve has accepted this, it works for them, but at the same time… If they don’t have this conversation, he may implode from the inside out. 

He just wants to know what they are. 

They’ve lived together for nearly five years, their routines and lives revolve around one another. Everyone they know, treats them like they’re a package deal because they are one. You don’t invite Steve to watch the big game without Eddie tagging along for the snacks or Eddie going to a concert without Steve and his trusty headphones. They’re typically completely in sync. 

But even more than that, Steve’s pretty sure they’ve been dating for six years without saying a goddamn word. 

Steve can’t remember the last time they slept in separate beds – including when Robin sleeps over, all three of them squished into one of the beds. And while they have separate rooms still, Steve can barely distinguish between the two. They go on dates, they cuddle on the couch, they’re always touching one another. 

And the sex! 

God, the sex is so good. Steve’s never had this amazing of a connection with anyone. Eddie treats him with the perfect balance of care, even when they try riskier things there’s always an undercurrent of care and… 

Love. 

Which is why he’s almost certain that this conversation, this first big one, should go well. 

So why is his stomach threatening to revolt against him? 

The door knob turns with three minutes to spare. He kind of wants to scream, to beg for more time, while simultaneously ready to cry with relief. 

Eddie opens the door, drops his bag at his feet and pauses when he sees Steve waiting. “Everything okay?” he asks as he slowly puts his coat up. 

He’s fought monsters. He stood up to his parents. He can do this. 

Steve stands up and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I have something to ask you.” 

Eddie slowly raises one eyebrow, but nods cautiously as he closes the door. “You’re scaring me.”

“I think it's a good thing,” Steve says, motioning to the couch, “but, uh, you have to decide that.” 

“I do?” 

Steve sits back down as Eddie sits at the other end, the folder between them. “Our lease is coming up,” Steve starts, “and George called the other day to see if we wanted to renew.”

“Well duh, why wouldn’t we renew? We’ve got a good set up,” Eddie says, leaning back against the arm of the couch. He crosses an ankle over his knee, fully relaxing now. “So we just need to sign something, right?” 

“What if…” Steve squeezes the back of his neck. “What if we didn’t renew?”

Eddie sits up. “Do you not want to live with me?” 

“I don’t want to live here,” Steve clarifies. He hands over the folder. “I’ve been looking at houses–”

“Houses?” Eddie asks softly. 

Steve winces. “Okay, a house. I’m kind of already in love and I can understand if this isn’t where you saw yourself. But I–” He groans and puts his head in his hands. “I’m butchering this.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

He had a whole speech planned!! Now he’s fumbling over himself and–

Steve jumps up and turns to Eddie. “I can’t keep living like this,” he starts, “where we just keep going without actually saying anything.” He wipes his mouth with one hand as he steadies himself, his other hand on his hip. When he looks back at Eddie, it all clicks back into place. “I love you, Eddie. I don’t care if that ruins everything and you want to move out. I can’t change how I feel and goddammit, Eddie, I love you.” 

Eddie’s mouth falls open as he leans forward. “You love me?” 

“Yes,” Steve says, biting at the inside of his cheek. “So you can see why I can’t keep doing what we’re doing, not without you knowing. We don’t have to consider the houses, I’m okay with renewing,” he says, “but I can’t…” 

“I hear you,” Eddie says carefully, “I do.” 

Steve nods. “Okay.” 

Eddie reaches out and tugs Steve in close, pulling him onto his lap. His hands slide up Steve’s body to cup his face in his hands. “I love you.” 

“You’re not just saying that, right?” 

He shakes his head, pulling Steve in closer. “I’ve loved you for so long, Steve Harrington. I just didn’t want to…”

“Ruin it?” Steve says with a smirk. 

Eddie nods. “I don’t want to lose you,” he adds. 

“You would never have lost me,” Steve whispers. “I can’t live without you.” 

The kiss they share is sweeter than any Steve’s had in his life. It’s simple and chaste, but god does it have Steve soaring. When he pulls away, his hand on Eddie’s face in a mirror of his own, Steve knows why he was so scared to mess up something wonderful, something beautiful by adding extra pressure. He knows it with the same ferocity that he knows Eddie’s feeling the same thing, the way he always did. 

All he had to do was say it.

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind!

Ao3 Link

[sebastianswallows]

A new family — Chapter 1

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: angst, culminating in murder

— WORDCOUNT: 2.1k

— A/N: Following A Different Kind of Key, I got a prompt for breeding kink with Ominis. I decided to combine this with a fic idea I had included in a poll a few months ago, which was that Ominis kills his parents in revenge, and begins to appreciate the dark arts. I don't know yet how many chapters this will have, but get ready for a dark and manipulative Ominis, and smut 💕 Enjoy, my dears!

It wasn’t like Ominis to say Sebastian inspired him. But that was, in a strange twist of events, what ended up happening.

The day Solomon died changed everything between the four friends involved with it. Sebastian and Anne’s uncle was gone, Sebastian was the one who killed him and Anne was left distraught, their fifth-year-friend was there when it all happened, and Ominis was left feeling like the earth was pulled from underneath him, not knowing where he’ll land. During the following days, Anne buried Solomon and ran. He knew where she was, but was sworn to secrecy never to reveal it to anyone, particularly not to Sebastian. It was a difficult request, but Ominis expected it to be made easier by Sebastian’s inevitable indictment for murder, which was bound to come any day now — right?

Their friend, who even witnessed the murder, refused to turn him in. That left the weight of the choice to Ominis, but he was easily swayed. Why lose two friends when he’s already lost one? So he said nothing…

During the months that followed, the weight of all that happened hung over them like a sword, like a noose ready to drop, like a tipping avalanche. Yet nothing happened. They entered the sixth year, and then the seventh. Anne healed from the curse’s influence — it turned out that Rookwood was the real culprit — and Sebastian graduated from Hogwarts — with the commendations of all their professors — and it had almost escaped Ominis how surreal the whole thing was, but sometimes he reminded himself that Sebastian had gotten away with murder.

It was a struggle to push down just how impressed he was. Sebastian had gotten practically everything he wanted: Anne was cured, Solomon was out of the way in a permanent fashion, and their mutual friend, well, she was under Sebastian’s sway now as much as he was under hers. Complicity did that…

It wasn’t fair. His best friend had a brilliant career ahead of him in whatever field he chose, he had every opportunity now to look for his sister again, and his perfidious little friendship was blooming into a romance day by day — meanwhile, what did Ominis have to look forward to? A return to his parents’ clutches and some arranged incestuous marriage, no doubt.

It wasn’t fair. All his other classmates were cheerful to be done with school, optimistic, hopeful, happy. They had jobs and girlfriends and some were even due to marry. And Sebastian, disgustingly, behaved as if nothing had happened in fifth year, as if he wasn’t a murderer.

It wasn’t fair.

Ominis rode in the cabin with his two friends on the train back to London, where Sebastian was excited to go and apply for a position with Borgin and Burkes.

“You know you’d do better in the ministry…” their friend told him, the smile in her voice teasing but sweet.

“Funny,” chuckled Sebastian.

“You’re still afraid of them?” she goaded.

“I think they should be afraid of me,” said Sebastian quietly, leaning toward her over Ominis. “The score is still one-nill last I checked.”

“Yes, but they don’t know that,” she said, leaning toward him too so that they now hovered somewhere around Ominis’ chest.

“And I plan to keep it that way,” said Sebastian.

“Excuse me,” said Ominis, pretending not to know they were there and getting up briskly enough to knock them back.

“Omi—!”

“Hey, watch it!”

He grabbed his wand and went out of cabin, shutting the door behind him. He pretended to go to the restroom, and pretended to use it for the next 15 minutes, and pretended not to hold back tears of jealousy.

Things only got worse once he arrived home. His parents did not exactly welcome him with open arms, although he had excelled in his NEWTs and was among the best students of his year. No, they behaved as if he’d just been done with a silly distraction, that filthy school that took in mudbloods, and his filthy friends from lowborn families, and now his real life started, said his father, and the fun was over.

He lasted two weeks until he murdered them.

He considered doing it in their sleep, but he wanted them awake. It was the evening of the 17th of July, and it rained and hailed all throughout supper. Ominis pretended to retreat early for the night, leaving them all together in the dining room, tired and mellow with firewhisky.

The doors shut on their own as if by a gust of wind. The chandeliers and fireplace were frozen with a spell. And the dining room was plunged into utter darkness.

A decanter was knocked to the floor and his father was cursing, and his mother called out from the top of her lungs for the elves, but Ominis had sent them away. His sister was rambling something about the house being haunted. They were learning now what it was like for him, what it had always been like for him, although he didn’t imagine they could appreciate it. He cast off the disillusionment spell, he didn’t need it anymore, and summoned all their wands to him wordlessly. Disarmed and scared and in the dark, he picked them off one by one.

First, his sister. He surprised himself by not shaking at all as he did it. In fact, he had never been more calm — was this how Sebastian had felt?

Their mother became noticeably quiet when she saw the brief green light and heard a body fall, but it took a while until she found her, feeling around on the floor. She barely said her daughter’s name in anguish before Ominis killed her too.

His father was left, and by then he’d begun to suspect, calling his name and prowling through the pitch black in that lumbering way he did. Ominis allowed him to hear his footsteps coming closer.

���I know it’s you, you little rat,” spat Gaunt Senior, facing him but standing still. “I heard you say it.”

“And you’ll hear it again,” said Ominis coolly, “right before you drop dead.”

“If only your brother were h—”

“Avada kedavra.”

The flash of green enveloped his body as it collapsed to the floor, and then it was gone, and it was dark again.

Not that Ominis noticed a difference. All he knew now was quiet, and peace, and loneliness. He finally had a life work looking forward to.

The first order of business was to get rid of the bodies, which he accomplished by turning them into teacups and finding a place for them in the glass cabinet in the living room. Brushing his finger across one, he thought it felt different from normal porcelain — a bit more rough, less cold, like bone — but their shape and weight were otherwise quite perfect. He smiled as he put them away.

The next issue was what to do with his brother… Marvolo lived somewhere in London, and he had enough friends there already that his absence would be noted. And he would not come back to the Gaunt manor just because Ominis called. Even if he did, he’d inquire as to what happened to their parents.

Which brought him to the last and final point: how to explain their absence.

He spent the next hour packing their wands, their cloaks, a cauldron, a few ingredients, and a sacrificial dagger, and then he went off into the nearby woods. They sometimes went there to perform spells that called for incantations and ritual sacrifice of the local fauna, often not returning until morning, stinking of wet dirt and blood. He could say a spell went wrong, an animal attacked, and there was no trace left of them but a few less-than-savoury items.

It was quite a trek to make all on his own, even levitating the items behind him, which often snagged in the low branches and the weeds. When he thought he was far enough, he planted the cauldron in the middle of a clearing and stuck the dagger in the earth, scattering the other items all around in what might be a convincing pattern should anyone come look.

Morning found him in his bed, alone and dirty, but content.

Ominis smiled and turned on his back, and listened: quiet. No screaming, no fights, no one ordering him around, no threats of violence, no curses, nothing.

It took about twenty minutes for that to start to bother him.

His fingers toyed with the wand which rested on his stomach, and he thought about all the times he’d judged Sebastian for using the Unforgivables. A part of him still found it abhorrent, because Sebastian was never in such a situation as he had been with his family. However bad Solomon was, he wasn’t like the Gaunts. Meanwhile, another part whispered that he should feel ashamed.

“But I don’t,” he said to himself, speaking with nobody else to hear. “I’m not. I’m not sorry.”

And he wasn’t, for many days to come. When the house elves returned from the prolonged shopping trip Ominis had sent them on, he told him the same lie he had prepared — Mister Gaunt had gone with his family in the woods to perform a ritual but hadn’t yet returned, and Ominis was worried, oh but no need for the elves to go, they needed to tend to the house — and went through the coming days just as he normally would, and soon forgot he’d ever had a family at all. And yet the house seemed larger than before, and behind each corner he still suspected some malevolent force, within each sound a muttered curse or insult, and although he knew them to be safely dead, transfigured in the cabinet, he had moments in the night when he thought they had returned to take revenge.

It wore away at him, and he knew he had to resolve it with a change in circumstance: either he moved away, or he made the house livable again. He didn’t consider even for a second to write to his brother Marvolo, but he considered asking for Sebastian to visit together with their friend — until his thoughts settled strictly on her.

On a whim, he wrote to her, and her alone. The owl took a few days to return, and it brought to him a strangely mournful and yet exciting message.

Ominis had inquired about her health — she was well — and her search for work — not so well — and Sebastian.

“It pains me to say this,” she wrote, “but I do not know. Sebastian has been sent to recover something (I know not what) for Mr Burke. Part of his training, he said. As if he weren’t experienced enough in these sorts of things. I told him, as I’m sure you would have as well, that Mr Burke was only going to take advantage of him and gain a dangerous item at no personal cost, and is only using Sebastian’s goodwill and enthusiasm. He did not take it well and has yet to speak to me since. He said I called him ‘naive’, but I did nothing of the sort.”

Ominis chuckled as his wand vocalised the letter. It was blatant she did think Sebastian naive, just as it was blatantly true that he was.

“To be perfectly honest, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since, for various reasons,” she continued, “but I find my worries and upsets dwindle into something perhaps similar to what you felt at Hogwarts when Sebastian would get involved in these sort of reckless things — frustration.”

Ominis’ smile broadened. Her clear longing for Sebastian, her worry for his safety, her shameless affection, did not serve him — but frustration, he could work with. He picked up his dictation quill and a piece of parchment and sat down at his desk to write.

“My dear,” he started, “I am first of all happy to hear you are well and healthy, in spite of everything else seemingly falling apart around you. I am sorry, although not surprised, to hear about the novel way Sebastian has found to make a nuisance of himself. You have my full sympathies.

You have also, if you will not find it too forward, my invitation to join me at my parents’ mansion. I think it would be good for you. It is in a quiet and undisturbed area, close to London but surrounded by ancient woods. Without my family present, as they currently are — and we can discuss this too once you arrive — it is a most calming and comforting place, which sounds like just the sort of thing you need at present. You are welcome to stay for the remainder of the summer. It might help you find some balance in your life, perhaps even give you new energies to pursue employment — or other means of occupying yourself.

Please find the address enclosed.

Yours devotedly,

Ominis

P.S.: If indeed he does return in the interim, make no mention of this to Sebastian.”

[oddinary4bts]

November Sun | jjk

☆summary: whenever he breaks, the november sun shines on him. and jungkook chases you across the sky - but you've gone some place he can't reach you now.

☆pairing: Jungkook x reader (I genuinely don't think the gender is ever mentioned? please let me know if it is so I can adjust this here), mentions-ish of Namjoon x reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, it deals with heavy themes)

☆genre: grief au/funeral au?, exes au, angst

☆warnings: angst, like. Just angst. OC is dead and Jungkook is grieving her. Curses words, very light mentions of sex, flashbacks of moments when jungkook broke. mentions of christianism (the funerals are held in a church), mentions of alcohol, jealousy. Namjoon is a broken man as well

☆word count: 3.7k

☆a/n: I started writing this tonight because I was sad and then just realized I won't have the strength to look back on it ever again so I'm posting it even tho it hasn't been beta-ed, and even tho the person that makes my moodboards is unavailable rn. Idc. It needed to be out of my system, and now it is.

☆a/n pt2: I know this piece is extremely heavy. If you ever need to speak, please reach out to me. My blog is a safe space for every single one of you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

                The church is a tall building. Grand, elegant in its simplicity, though it cuts against the blue sky up above in stark lines, shaped like a prison.

Jungkook thinks life has become a prison a while ago.

It’s a mystery, why your family chose this space for your funeral. You never believed, never practiced. Is it a betrayal to mark your passing in a space that feels so unlike you?

Jungkook thinks it is.

He sighs, chases the heaviness away the same way the clouds chase themselves in the sky up above. He doesn’t know how the sun is shining in the blue expanse of the sky. It’s November, yet the day is warm, the sun is blindingly glowing. It feels like a crime – how can the sun shine in a world deprived of your existence?

Jungkook doesn’t want to know.

Only knows that he’s watched from afar the people that gathered on the front steps. Chatting, heads hung low and shoulders bent forward. He heard sniffles, he heard laughs, and he just waited for everyone to go in to get closer.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he was invited. Why someone from a distant past figured he would need to be here, to share his grief with people that could understand.

Though Jungkook thinks no one can understand.

He remembers you, in all your glory. His first love, when he had been a stupid college kid who didn’t know what he wanted in life. You were two years older, and now... and now one day he’ll be older than you. Because you've stopped aging, you came and went like a moment in time, when he'll still be here for who fucking knows how long.

He chases the thought away with a long inhale, holds the air in knowing that it’s choking him up before he lets it out on a sigh.

You were beautiful. A star that walked the Earth, only to return to the night sky above far too soon. He had loved you dearly, in his own twisted way. Had tried to be what you sought, what you needed, until he had realized he was never going to be enough.

Would you still be alive today, if he had fought harder?

*****

                “I’m not doing this,” you said. “I’m so fucking done with your indecision, with your fear of commitment.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Please, you graduated and now you think you’re so high above me. Get down from the fucking horse, Y/n, it’s not going to bring us anywhere.”

He’d said the words hoping that they would hurt you. And they did: he saw you physically recoil as if he’d punched you. As if the words had been a physical blow, and not just letters of the alphabets shaped into words and sound, into arrows to pierce that beautiful soul of yours.

“Maybe I don’t want us to go somewhere anymore,” you replied after a quiet moment of breaking hearts.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” You sighed, slightly shaking your head as your eyes fell to the floor between you and him. “I know, but I mean it.”

“Please,” was all Jungkook thought to reply.

“You say please all the time,” you told him. “You beg me, and for what? We always circle back to fighting, to hurting each other.” You paused, and though you were avoiding his features he could see you blinking back tears. “Maybe we aren’t supposed to be together at all.”

“Don’t say that,” Jungkook warned. “Don’t you fucking say that. I love you. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“I love you too, Jungkook,” you answered. “I’ve loved you since the first day I met you at that stupid party last year.”

Jungkook felt the tear rolling down his cheek, felt the gravity pulling on his heart until it was shattering on the ground.

“Then why stop now?” he asked. “Give me time, Y/n. I’ll graduate, and I’ll be able to move in with you, and to provide for you and give you everything that you need.”

You sighed heavily, finding courage to finally meet his gaze. At the stark finality shining behind your pupils, Jungkook’s knees weakened. His whole fucking body weakened, ready for the blow.

For the end that was coming for you and him like a car barreling down a dead-end street.

“But I’m tired of waiting,” you answered. “I don’t want to spend my life waiting around for someone.”

“I’m still in college, I just can’t move in with you right now…”

“I know, Jungkook. I know.”

He wanted to fight. Wanted to tell you to stay in his dorm tonight, and to never leave again. But he could tell that you were already gone.

So he steeled himself. Readied himself to let you go even though you were the blood in his veins.

“I’m holding you back, aren’t I?”

You wiped a tear on your cheek, blurring behind those in his gaze. “You are.”

He choked on a sob, hiding his eyes behind his hand as if that would stop the breaking. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you reassured him. “We just aren’t at the same place in life anymore.”

An empty silence surrounded you, so loud Jungkook could hear every beat of his heart in his ears, could feel the walls pressing in.

“I don’t want you to go,” he softly said.

“I know,” you murmured. “I…” You choked on a sob, and it took you a moment before you managed to continue. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed, a sound so devoid of joy he wondered if he’d ever feel happiness again. “Please don’t be. You’re allowed to want more.”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Anger rose up on the horizon of Jungkook’s conscience, and he pushed it away. He refused to be angry at you, refused to put the blame on you when you made it clear that you wanted him to move in so long ago, and he disregarded it without even once thinking about it.

“I’ll find you again,” he promised, voice strained and heavy with emotion. “I’ll graduate and find you.”

You stepped closer to him, gently cupping his cheek. “Go find someone that loves you for what you are, Jungkook.”

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t want you to settle for someone that asks too much for you,” you explained, renewed silver lining your eyes. “Find someone that loves you for who you are, right now.”

“Fuck that,” he choked out, and he pulled you flush against his chest. “Fuck this nonsense. ”

“I’m so sorry,” you cried against him.

“Don’t be,” he reassured you, though he was crying too. “Don’t be. Give me a few years. I’ll have it all figured out in a few years.”

*****

                The priest at the front of the church is going on and on about something that Jungkook doesn’t care to listen to. It’s impersonal, nothing like you, like the vibrant girl he remembers. So he lets his memory guide him to you, where you’re awaiting him. Your lips on his, your hand running through his hair. Your own hair catching in the wind that time you’d gone hiking, and he’d believed being at the top of the mountain with you felt like he had won in life.

Or that time you’d driven on the coast, windows down, screaming the lyrics to a song he can’t listen to anymore. Now the song is haunted by ghosts of a past he never learned to let go, perhaps because for months after the breakup he’d kept the conviction that he’d find his way back to you. He’d believed it the same way he believed the sun would always rise in the morning. A simple truth of nature, that nothing could ever break.

Except a car accident, apparently. Because all it took was a car accident to wipe you off the surface of the Earth, to take your light and shove it into shadows, into darkness and a void so wide he knows he’ll never find you again.

But he’d believed he’d find his way back to you. Never let anyone in after you, for the months and years it took him to graduate because he always knew he’d find his way back to you. You were his silver lining, the finish line at the end of the race. On a November day, just as sunny as today, Jungkook reached that finish line.

He did find you again, only you never knew.

*****

                Jungkook had never felt so light before. Like he had grown wings, like he was soaring in the clouds up above. Though the sun was out, the weather was cold, wind running cold fingers through the lapels of his coat until he found himself shivering as he made his way to the flower store.

He’d get the biggest bouquet for you, and then he’d head to where he knew from a common friend that you lived now. It was Saturday, and he hoped to catch you unaware, to catch you in the middle of cleaning your apartment the same way that you cleaned it back when you were dating.

The image of you, with your hair pulled back in a high ponytail as you danced around instead of sweeping the floor shone in his mind, brighter than the star in the sky above.

He bought the flowers, heart beating fast in his chest. Because it was time. It was finally time to go home, to tell you that he did everything he said he would, that he changed and now had a job that could support what you both wanted. He wanted to ask you out, and in his dreams you had been answering yes every single time since he had decided to go see you.

His heart fluttered as he gently rested the flowers on his passenger seat, careful not to damage them. Memories floated to him, and a smile grew on his lips as he remembered you, screaming out the window that day you had driven along the coast. You had stopped to watch the sunset in the waves, and he’d kissed you stupid on his back seat until every single inch of your skin knew about his love.

He couldn’t wait to create new memories with you.

He drove carefully, enjoying the warmth of the sun now that he was safely hidden from the wind. You actually didn’t live too far from where he did now, and soon enough he parked his car near your building. He got out of the vehicle, almost running to the other side in his excitement to grab the bouquet on the passenger seat. When it was safely tucked in his hand, Jungkook shut the car door, locked it, and started walking to your building.

He didn’t even know which apartment was yours. He believed fate would guide him, and so he crossed the street to your building, trusting the universe for what was to come next.

He heard your laugh before he saw you. Love swelled in his chest, and he wondered if you were laughing because you’d seen him, because you’d known that he’d come back for you.

And then he saw you. The wind was ruffling your hair, which he assumed had prompted the laugh. Your eyes were closed, hands struggling to push the wild strands behind your ears.

You were more beautiful than he remembered. Shone brighter, with the same stuff that stars consisted of. He was struck for a moment, watching you with his bouquet hoping that you’d open your eyes and see him.

The world slowed down to a stop, and time halted, and Jungkook watched you, feeling at home for the first time in years.

The illusion fractured the instant someone else came into view, making him realize that you hadn’t been laughing at the wind. No, perhaps your laughter took root in the dimples gracing the man’s cheeks as he smiled at you, as he pecked your forehead before grabbing your hand.

Jungkook ducked behind a car, clutching the flower bouquet like a lifeline the moment that you turned towards him. Did you hear his heart breaking? Did you hear the mockery in the November sun rays – you’d broken up on a similar day, years ago.

Jungkook couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think around the shattering of his heart, around the blood turning to ice in his veins as he heard you speak to the man – Namjoon, he heard you call him.

He would have rather not known the name.

Still Jungkook drank in the sound of your voice, trying to shape it into the words he was so willing to hear you say today. It didn’t work, and soon enough your voice disappeared, leaving him in a deafening silence of wind and sun and the realization that after all, he had come back too late.

Perhaps he should have known that he'd be too late.

*****

                When Jungkook received the call last week, he’d sat outside in the silence until he thought his eardrums would start bleeding. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t breathed, hadn’t done anything other than to stare at the fading light of the sun.

He wonders, why is it that whenever he breaks, November sun is shining high above? As if the universe takes pleasure in his torment, in undoing him until he barely counts as a human being anymore.

He got pissed out drunk that night. Last time he had been as drunk was when he had found out you were dating someone new, that day he had come to find you.

And now he wonders, if he had approached you that day, would you still be dead today? Would life still have put you on that road with its drunk driver so that you could meet your end?

Or would you be laughing at some dumb comment he’d make, telling him that he’s stupid with eyes so full of love he wouldn’t be able to do anything else but agree with you?

It’s hard to tell. So, he doesn’t try to figure it out – he has an eternity ahead of himself to figure out how to live without you anyway.

Maybe in all his misfortune Jungkook actually had some luck. He’s learned to grieve you a while ago already, and perhaps grieving someone that still lives is harder than grieving someone that’s passed. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he knows anything. Just that, so far back in the past he should have said fuck it and move in with you. It was such a simple request, but he had been too young and dumb, and he’d forever live with the regrets of it.

If someone from your family notices his presence at the funeral, recognizes him from your shared past, they don’t say. Especially not as the end of the ceremony comes before he’s had a chance to really take in the picture of you, smiling, over there next to the urn with your ashes.

You’re ashes now. Everything that made you – your laugh, your smile, the way you carried yourself with that simple elegance – all of it is gone to be replaced with mere ashes.

He doubts they can hold the truth of your essence, but then again he doesn’t think anything can, or anything ever will again.

He blinks away the tears as they come, leaving the ceremony like a whisper in the wind. He doesn’t want to speak to your family, doesn’t want to see them coddling the man that you loved, that survived the accident when he should have been the one to go.

Jealousy and selfishness are ugly, Jungkook realizes. But it’s easier to hate the man that took you away from him, no matter how unknowingly he did it.

And Jungkook tried to hate you once. He tried hard, in the months after that fated November day, when you’d laughed to that man’s joke, smiled when he’d smiled that soft dimpled smile of his. He had tried, because hating you felt like it was the only way he wouldn’t hurt. But he still hurt – he still hurts.

All he’s been able to do in his life since you broke up is hurt, and he highly doubts he’ll ever feel differently again.

Perhaps he’ll grow numb. Perhaps he should have grown numb a while ago.

At least that’s what he’s telling himself days later, when he’s looking at the tombstone they picked out for you. The finality of your name and the dates, the ending, is unnerving. He wishes it was fake, wishes it was a joke, and that he didn’t spend most of his life loving someone that moved on to a new love in just a few years.

It’s been over a decade and he hasn’t moved on even a little bit.

He kicks the ground, mad at the leaves littering the ground where you’re buried, as if they’re sullying you. And as if laughing at him, sun rays pierce through the clouds up above, that dreaded November sun making an appearance when it should stay gone.

He allows himself to cry. To break down, to sit on the ground and curse everything and everyone that’s ever been between you and him. He curses his stupidity, curses the sun and the leaves and the etchings on the stone. He hates everything. Hates himself, hates you, hates the whole fucking universe for taking you away, for not giving him the chance to be with you.

That’s how Namjoon finds him. Jungkook’s tears have receded, and he’s just sitting there, an empty shell that once held love and laughter and your lips on his. He hears the scuffle of Namjoon’s steps, of his cane as he walks up the path.

The man’s features are grave when Jungkook can’t help but glance towards him, sees him ambling up the path with that cane, the only indication that he too was in that car accident. And Jungkook wonders if Namjoon knows about him. If Namjoon knows that he wasn’t the first man whose love for you was a bottomless ocean, one Jungkook has drowned in time and time again since you broke up.

Namjoon remains standing, and Jungkook remains sitting. Like there’s an understanding between them, and silence conveys more than words could. Jungkook doesn’t want to move, and Namjoon clearly doesn’t have anywhere to go.

Jungkook thinks the Earth has revolved around the sun at least once before Namjoon scrapes his throat.

“It’s hard to believe that she’s gone, isn’t it?” he speaks, deep voice carrying the weight of the universe.

Jungkook doesn’t deign reply as his eyes fill with tears, though he refuses to let them out right now.

Especially not in front of the man you loved after him.

“You’re Jungkook, aren’t you?”

The simple sentence makes Jungkook lose it. He hides his face in his hands, his whole soul bleeding out under the November sun.

“She told me about you,” Namjoon continues, and Jungkook is convinced he hears pain, tears and grief laced with Namjoon’s words.

What did you tell him, Jungkook wonders? Did you tell Namjoon that you should have waited for Jungkook, that you should have given him a chance to become what you needed?

“She loved you a lot,” Namjoon adds after a silence, and he chokes on a sob. “She never forgot about you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jungkook asks with that broken voice, raspy with disuse.

He hasn’t been able to speak since you died.

“You deserve to grieve. She loved and loved, and I wish it would have been enough for her to live…”

“Stop,” Jungkook begs. “Please.”

Namjoon falls silent, offering salvation to Jungkook, though Jungkook doesn’t know if he deserves it.

Would he have been able to offer salvation to someone in his position if the situation was reversed? He highly doubts it.

“It’s just…” he trails off when he finds words again. “You got fucking years with her. You got years of loving and-“ it breaks on a sob. “And you were fucking engaged.” Jungkook pulls at his hair. “You were engaged, and all I got was months. Not even a full year.”

“I’m sorry man,” Namjoon answers, voice so broken Jungkook wonders who’s suffering the most.

He doesn’t think it’s himself.

“Was she happy?” Jungkook eventually asks, once he can’t stand the silence hanging around. Once he can’t stand the etchings on the stone, the void in the universe that used to be filled with you.

“I made her as happy as I could,” Namjoon replies truthfully, his voice strained but not as pained anymore. As if he’s reached a conclusion, clarity filling his mind.

Not needing to hear more, Jungkook gets up, dusting himself off.

“Good talk,” he says, fighting against the next onslaught of tears, and then he’s storming off.

Storming away from you, from everything that you meant to him. And maybe the sun rays really are mocking him in that beautiful November sky, because Namjoon says, “I don’t think she ever truly was happy after you, though.”

Jungkook stops, convinced someone just stabbed him right in the heart. He doesn’t think the organ can beat anymore, doesn’t think he can live anymore. He just wants to be dust on the wind, to be forgotten, and to stop fucking feeling all the time.

“She was calling off the engagement,” Namjoon continues. “She…” Jungkook turns, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen such agony as the one that graces Namjoon’s features right now. “She said she shouldn’t get married to me when she still loved another.”

Clouds pass in front of the November sun, and Jungkook remembers the smile on your face whenever you’d catch his gaze. He remembers the way you’d lovingly cupped his cheek even when you were breaking up with him. He still feels the ghost of your fingers on his skin as he holds Namjoon’s broken gaze.

He holds Namjoon’s broken gaze, unable to offer the man salvation. It might make him a monster, might make him selfish and jealous and everything that he finds disgusting about humanity. But Jungkook doesn’t care.

Not when he realizes that perhaps, perhaps he’s the one that you’re waiting for on the other side of the veil, so that you can rest in the eternity of afterlife together.

And perhaps, perhaps there’s some sort of beauty in the thought.

☆☆☆☆☆

I am crying and in pain and I am sending everyone that read this whole thing lots of love and if you need to talk just hit me up bc grief is a bitch and we hate her and I just wish I could take everyone's grief away

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[loveronlineee]

You’re in Trouble (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist

Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: Swearing, threats of violence

Synopsis: As the gang are looking around the boathouse, Y/N joins them on the hunt for Eddie but her angry demeanour makes the others worried of what will happen when they do

Y/N notes: shorter than Eddie

This one was requested by @lily-sinclair-2006​ ! I liked the idea of Y/N being pissed that he may have cheated on her rather than the more important thing, that he might of killed someone lol.  I’m working on The Metal Head and the Material Girl part 2 and it should be out some time this week so look out for that!

Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here!

Wanna request something? Look here!

“What a dump.” Dustin mumbled as the group entered the boat shed. Steve pulled an oar off of the wall and began jabbing at the tarp in the boat. Dustin pulled a face at him.

“What are you doing?” The younger one asked.

“He might be in here.” Steve calmly replied, continuing to jab.

“So take the tarp off!”

“If you’re so brave, you take the tarp off!” The door to the shed burst open, spooking everyone inside. They all turned to see Y/N L/N in the doorway. She gave them an angered confused look.

“Y/N?” Steve questioned, lowering the oar.

“Steve? The fuck are you lot doing here?” The girl looked at each of the group.

“Uh we could ask you the same question?” Steve replied.

“I’m looking for my bitch ass boyfriend that’s what I’m doing.” Y/N explained, walking further into the shed and looking around.

“Oooooooh yeah I totally forgot Eddie had a girlfriend.” Steve said to the group. Dustin gave him a look of disbelief.

“Yeah you couldn’t have remembered that sooner?? It would have been real helpful to know that the person we’re looking for is dating someone!!!”

“Alright alright I’m sorry! She graduated two years ago, haven’t seen her since so she slipped my mind! Uh no offence Y/N.” Steve put a hand up in Y/N’s direction as she continued to look around.

“None taken Harrington, so you guys found anything?”

“Uh n-no not yet.” Dustin replied. “Uh hi Dustin Henderson, Eddie’s friend. Do you know where he might’ve gone if not here?”

“I went to his trailer the morning after it happened, police wouldn’t let me get too close. Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, didn’t have clue to where he went either. I checked all over my house just in case but he wasn’t there. I went to our old spot in the woods outside the high school, then our one at Lover’s Lake, nothing. And now I’m here.” Y/N sounded more and more annoyed the more places she listed off.

“And I just wanna make sure…” Dustin began. “That you don’t think Eddie did it?”

“Of course he didn’t.” Y/N replied, finding it stupid he’d even ask. “That boy will cry over roadkill we pass on the way to my house ain’t no way in Hell he killed Chrissy Cunningham.”

“And you think he’ll still be alive?” Dustin asked, wanting the confirmation.

“Either he’s dead or I’m gonna kill him myself.” Y/N answered back.

“Hey.” Max called. “Look over here.” Wrappers from different snacks laid about on a table.

“Maybe he heard us?” Robin suggested. “Got spooked and ran?”

“Don’t worry. Steve will get him with his oar.” Dustin said sarcastically.

“I know you think you’re being funny Henderson but considering everyone in the room, apart from Y/N, has nearly died a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the slight-“ Suddenly Eddie jumped out and pushed Steve to the wall. A broken beer bottle to his throat. Everyone immediately panicked trying to calm Eddie down.

“You’re focusing on the wrong person Munson.” Eddie turned at the familiar voice, dropping the bottle. He began walking over to her, a relieved smile appearing.

“Babe-“ Y/N slapped him clean across the face. Everyone fell silent.

“You wanna explain why Chrissy Cunningham was in your trailer?”

“W-What?” Eddie managed to say.

“Chrissy. In your trailer. Late at night. No call from you.”

“I- wh- she was-“ Y/N glared up at him. He sighed, exasperated. He didn’t care that she was mad, he had to say it. “You have no idea how happy I am to see your face after the time I’ve had.” Eddie opened his arms to her.

“I’m waiting for an explanation.” Y/N did not hug him. She stood there with her arms folded. Eddie went limp and gathered his thoughts.

“R-Right right, she was buying from me. Wanted something stronger, we had to go back to mine. That’s it. That’s it I swear.” Eddie looked at Y/N, pleading for her to believe him. She could see in his eyes that he was craving any sort of affection from her. She sighed and placed a hand on his cheek.

“You dummy. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, his arms going around her waist. “I was so fucking worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. I would’ve contacted you, I would’ve but I-I just couldn’t.”

“I know. It’s okay. I’m sorry too.” The couple pulled away.

“Yeah no kidding babe. You really went for it.” He rubbed his cheek, feeling the hot sting from the slap. “So you really thought I cheated on you?”

“Well what was I supposed to think?” Eddie smiled and wrapped himself around her once again, this time making sure he could still see her face. Y/N rested her hands on his chest.

“Y/N I’m lucky you even acknowledge my existence, let alone are my girlfriend. What kinda delusional asshole would I be if I went off with another girl?”

“The worst.” Y/N teased.

“Yeah. I’d be the worst.” He leaned down, to kiss her. Pushing back on her a little, hungry for her affection. He didn’t realise how much he needed this until it was happening. An awkward cough brought the two back to reality.

Ah right. They weren’t alone.

“Okay glad you two lovebirds made up. Now can we please shift our focus back to the important stuff?” Dustin asked.

“Right. Yeah. Sorry Henderson it’s… it’s been a rough day.”

Tag list: @Mikinyi @justaproudslytherpuff @angelicjinwoo @k12baby @spiderman-berries @ruhro7 @justanotherhappyidiot @dontcallmesavvy @kenzi-woycehoski @gh0stm3g @lagataprrr @spencersbookbag @ygrworld @ambernicole90 @alwaysbeenfamous @angelsarecallin @voteforevilthoughts @iameddiemunsonshair @hellf1reclub @phobles-world @isshecleverorisshecrazy @olrjmarvete @b-bella9 @ultraoliviajeromethings-blog  @beatlebeesstuff @korescomaactually @bilesxbilinskixlahey @darkened-writer @nightless @gnkkstarz @cullenswife @killergoddessmm @preciousbabypeter @uselessbutinteresting @frogtits1 @lotus-es @padfootpottah99 @siriuslysmoking @enoumen-t @marrigold-2002 @nightless @the-mysterious-miss-s @olrjmarvete @evie-119 @rand0m—fangirl @felicityofbakerstreet @lotus-es @v0idl1nq @stv-1-ncent @eiviea @iheartcb @grumpyy-bearr @purple-flamingo @eddiessoulmate @violetrainbow412-blog @mcueveryday @marauders3rawh0re @ravenhood2792 @dragonalpha54 @slytherinintj13 @pastel-abyss-x @missscarlettangel @charli123456789 @henhouse-horrors @erikaar @golden-hoax @fairynamjoonie @caramelkatsukis-bitch @sun-faced @somerandomasgardian @helensophie @avobabe87 @s-u-t @superheavymetalunicorn @low-keyyyyy @carliuxima @avarose06 @ticharluv @ijustfndamilldllrsthatsmnefgt @gia-maybank @takemetoneverland420 @notbeforelong @lovepity @falling4uke @emiijemii @chocolatestudentllamabanana @milkiane @montgomery-fucking-gator @girl-in-the-chairs-void @ourheartsofsteel @simp4fictional @sakurarou @nyctophiliiiiaaa @just-that-bi-girl @ieatrocks1 @beautifulrunwaymodelwombat @geeksareunique @chiggennuggie @levylovegood @eddie-swhore @char1389 @chaerwithluv @annikin-im-panicin @mmmxmo @cestlavie03 @selenelouvel @thanatophobiawilldestroyme @unicorntrooper @jmj-1312 @nxrdamp @funn-sizedd @idblamekate @miraakswhore @7myoi @vintageleather @lemongirl5910 @hermie62 @tuskjohnny @madcosss 

[hannahlovesluca]

Graduation

| a/n ; in light of the kyo grad, i wanted to make a special something <3

| warnings ; graduation

Kyo looks down at his desk, feeling guilty about the announcement (not that it was/is his fault). 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now,” he starts, still not looking up and keeping his eyes closed out of fear he’ll tear up, “I discussed it a lot with management, and a lot with Y/N.”

Kyo shows a hint of a smile.

“Out of everyone, they’ve always supported me the most. Y/N was the first I told about graduation, next was Enna, then Luca.”

Kyo finally looks up with his eyes open, his model following him.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, but I want to follow other creative avenues; some of which I cannot complete inside of NIJISANJI EN. Don’t speculate any other reason, as this is primarily why.”

Y/N L/N [NIJISANJI EN] 🔧: WE’LL ALL MISS U KYO 🤟

Kyo lets out a soft chuckle, amused by his co-workers kindness through it all.

“I would like to say, though, don’t think because I went to Y/N that they’re the reason I am taking my leave; they’ve only been supportive. And I really cannot thank them enough.”

Kyo tries to stay as calm and collected as possible, but it was easy to tell that he was falling apart. He loves his friends, he doesn’t want to leave them at all; but it’s what’s right for him. 

And at the end of the day, that trumps all.

He may be leaving, but he won’t be leaving the amazing relationships he’s built up in his almost two years working for NIJISANJI EN as a part of ILUNA.

His efforts will not be forgotten.

No one will replace him.

“My VODs will be staying up, I will still be on the internet available for you,” Kyo chuckles, “so if you want to cancel me while I’m gone, feel free to do so. You have the evidence.”

Kyo starts laughing that beautiful laugh.

Y/N L/N [NIJISANJI EN] 🔧: going in my death note i dont want you to leave

“Bestie, I’m already dead,” Kyo says between short lived laughter, “but I will seriously miss everyone inside this company. You still have to invite me to hangouts, alright? You hear me?”

[ezm-imagines]

maybe it’s inevitable - eddie munson x reader

SUMMARY: You build up the courage to finally ask Eddie on a date! Buuut he thinks you’re just trying to buy drugs. 😬

TAGS: eddie munson x fem!cheerleader!reader,  angst to fluff, Eddie is an idiot who doesn’t believe you’d ask him out, pining, no season spoilees!

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

[ EDDIE’S POV (Part Two) ]

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

Y/N POV

It was just like any other normal day at Hawkins High. You were sitting with Chrissy and all your friends, but yet again staring hopelessly at the Hellfire table. Well, not quite the whole table…

“You’re so gone for him,” Chrissy laughed, her ponytail swishing behind her.

You wish you could argue, but she’s so right.

“I know,” you mumbled.

“So! Ask him out!”

“I don’t know, Chriss. I don’t think he’d agree. He hates cheerleaders.”

“No way! You’re always telling me you think he’s way sweeter than he looks. If he’s so sweet, then he totally wouldn’t judge you like that. Just try it, Y/N! Maybe he’ll give you a chance…”

“I don’t know—“

“Honey, you’re literally the prettiest girl in this whole school. If he doesn’t get over his crap enough to go out with you, then he’s delusional and blind and dumb.”

You gave your friend a small smile.

“So go ask him out already so I don’t have to watch you keep pining across the room for him,” she pushed you slightly. You sighed, but decided maybe she was right.

It was nearing the end of the school year after all, and Eddie and you both were about to graduate. You didn’t have a lot of time. Besides, if it went poorly, that only meant an awkward couple months of avoiding him. You could do this. You took a deep breath and stood up.

“Yes! You got this!” Chrissy cheered.

You rubbed your hands together nervously as you approached his table.

Several other Hellfire members caught your arrival, staring up at you with wide eyes and gaping mouths. You watched them all start whispering to each other frantically. Oh God. You dug your nails into your hand to force yourself not to turn and run.

Just do it just do it just do it.

“Hey!” You gave your best attempt at a smile as you sat down next to Eddie. It was hard to smile when you could feel the lunch you just ate rising back up your stomach from the nerves.

“Hi.” His eyes bore through you, waiting for what you wanted. You looked down at your sleeves. His eyes were your fucking kryptonite. The only way you’d get through this would be to not look at him.

“Uh… you wanna…” you ran your thumb nails together, “maybe… meet up this Saturday?” You manage. There. It’s out. You did it. You look up finally, catching his gaze.

Fifty emotions flicker through Eddie’s brown eyes but the one he settles on is… disappointment?

You felt your heart shatter in your chest.

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

“Oh, we don’t have to,” you say, already trying to back out. Clearly he’s not interested, and you really don’t want his pity.

“No, no, we… can,” he decided, “Uh. My place? … Or we could meet in the—“

“No! Your place is fine! Uh, how’s 6 sound?”

He just nodded, the sad frown not leaving his face.

You nodded back, “Cool. See you then.”

You didn’t even wait for his response before you returned to your table, feeling utterly miserable.

“So! What did he say?!” Chrissy asked, tugging at your hand as you approached the seat. Your desire to vomit only doubled.

“He… he agreed…” you mumbled.

Chrissy frowned, “Then what’s wrong?”

“He doesn’t sound at all interested.”

“What?” Chrissy turned back to his table, but Eddie was already getting up and leaving the lunch room. “How can he not like you, Y/N?”

“He probably likes somebody else. Which is fine, I just… wish he wouldn’t agree to pity me. That’s so much worse than a rejection.”

“Hey,” Chrissy put her hand on your shoulder, “Maybe it’s just an off day for him, you know? Maybe something happened. Go on the date, and maybe it’ll all work out!”

You looked at her, at her blind encouraging optimism, and gave a small smile, “Okay, Chrissy.” You took a deep breath, “I hope you’re right...”

~~~

You stood, shifting your weight back and forth in the grass.

You had dressed up. Weeks before you’d even built the courage to ask Eddie, you’d thought all about how, for your first date, you were gonna wear your newest white sweater with your favorite light blue skirt, matching the color of your manicured nails. You’d felt so pretty when you’d thought about it in your head. You felt stupid now, standing in front of his trailer in your dumb little clothes, hoping that Eddie freaking Munson would think you were pretty. What were you doing?

You knocked on his door anyway, already resigned to this going poorly.

Eddie opened the door to you, and for a moment, you saw his eyes light up.

Your heart surged. Maybe Chrissy was right!

His eyes tracked you up and down for a moment before returning to your face, and his joy left again.

Jesus, he really was in love with someone else then. Maybe you should just turn around and go home…

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey,” you replied, unable to prevent a small smile. He was just so pretty. You couldn’t help it but smile when you saw him. Even if he was never gonna be yours.

“Come on in,” he nodded his head, and you followed him in.

Your eyes feasted on everything around you. It was all soo him. You couldn’t say you knew all that much about it, but it just felt like it fit. Maybe it was worth it to come here just to learn just this much more about him. God, you were so painfully in love with this boy.

“So, what party?” he asked.

“Huh?” your eyes peeled from his decor and towards him.

“What party are you going to tonight?” He repeated. He wasn’t even fucking facing you. He was digging through a drawer. Jesus Christ. This was pathetic of you. A whole new low to your dating life. And you’d dated some really douchey jocks before…

“Uh. No party…?” You answered.

“I’m not gonna show up, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he joked, though there was no humor there.

Who was this guy? You thought you had a good understanding of him, albeit from afar. But here, he seemed nothing like the guy you thought you knew. Or rather, he seemed exactly like the guy everyone else thought he was. You had just thought he was secretly different. Talk about pathetic...

“I’m not lying,” you frowned, “Why would I lie?”

Eddie stopped rummaging through the drawer for a moment to look at you. His eyes drifted down to your outfit again and he frowned, then returning back to his drawer.

You hugged your sweater around you tighter. Jesus, you didn’t think he’d be so judgmental. The jocks were, but you thought that Eddie Munson of all people would be better than that. 

You had been right. He thought your outfit was dumb. He thought you were dumb— not even worth looking at. Or maybe this was just his sick way of being mean to someone who associated with people who were so mean to him. 

You felt your eyes begin to sting with tears. You should just run out the front door and never look back.

But you couldn’t just yet. You wanted answers.

“Am I not good enough for you? Is that it?” you spoke up, willing yourself to channel the anger and not the crushing heartbreak, “Some backwards retribution for what the guys put you through? Or is it someone else?” You brushed away a tear as he turned toward you, hoping he wouldn’t notice you crying.

His eyes were wide with confusion when they met yours.

“Uh,” he replied, completely lost and alarmed, “I was gonna give you a half ounce for $20? That seems fair to me…?”

You blinked, your tears halting immediately, “What?” you asked quietly.

His eyes shifted down to his hands. He was holding a little baggie of weed. His eyes shifted back up to you, “What???”

You laughed a bit, wiping your tears away, “Eddie,” you let out, “Eddie, I’m not here for drugs.”

Eddie cocked his head slightly, confused.

“I was asking…” you laughed more. It wasn’t funny, but you were so fucking relieved that at least some of his behavior had been a misunderstanding, “I was asking you to go on a date with me.”

“You…” he replied slowly, “you were… asking me… on a date…?”

You nodded, nervous butterflies springing back into your chest.

“And… not a date as a way to get drugs?” He questioned.

You shook your head, “I don’t even do drugs, Eddie.”

Eddie set the weed on the dresser and put his other hand up to rub his forehead, “You’re serious?”

You frowned, worry coloring your face as you felt your eyes prickle again, “Um. If it’s… if it’s so ridiculous to you that I’m interested in you, you could just say that. I know your whole M.O. is, like, anti-cheerleader. So, if you don’t want to date me, I can just g—“

“Woah, woah, I never said that.”

You blinked up at him.

“I’m… just trying to process that the queen of Hawkins high is… asking me on a date. You do know who I am, right?”

“Um, well, that is kind of the whole point of going on a date with someone. To learn about who they are…” You teased, hoping this was putting you on lighter ground. He didn’t seem… uninterested at least.

The teasing worked, because suddenly he was blinding you with a grin.

He crossed his arms and squinted at you, grinning wider, “So you LIKE me?”

“Eddie! Answer me!”

“I’m sorry! Sorry! Obviously, obviously I want to date you. I’m not entirely sure what you think you’re getting out of this situation, and I know you’re gonna get sick of me really quick, but if you’re willing to low ball yourself to my—“

“Eddie,” you repeated, putting a hand on your hip.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just shut up,” you told him.

He grinned like a fucking cat, stepping toward you, “See? Told ya you’d get tired of me quickly.”

You scoffed, “Ed—“

He took your face in his hands and kissed you. And oh, god, maybe the constant desire to hurl yourself into a black hole all week was worth it because Jesus Christ his lips were soft and he was holding you like you were precious and like you were his.

You pulled away eventually, breathless and laughing as you leaned your forehead on his.

His face dropped to a look of horror in an instant, and you were back to feeling deeply ill. Oh, fuck, did he not like the kiss? How could it possibly keep getting worse?!?

“Oh my god, I’ve been so rude to you this week!”

You exhaled, relieved that was what he was worked up about.

“It’s okay,” you assured.

“It most certainly is not!”

“Eddie--“

“If anyone else treated the girl I was dating like that and made her cry, I would literally go kick their teeth in.”

You giggled, “As admirable as that is, I prefer your teeth as they are.”

“Okay, then think of something else. Anything. You name it.”

“Go on a real date with me?”

“That’s a reward, not a punishment.”

“Go on a real date with me to the movies and buy my body’s weight worth of popcorn for me?”

He grinned, “Atta girl.”

-------

[ EDDIE’S POV ]

A/N: Hi hi hi hi!!!!!

Please please please comment all ur thoughts below! I’m obsessed with this boy so much let’s talk about himmmmm.

[parkersgarage]

Types of Kisses

only rooster and bob in this because my brain just couldn’t handle having more than two. no warnings, each one is roughly 150 or more.

ROOSTER - a desperate kiss.

The moment he found out he would be a wingman in one of the most dangerous missions he’s flown, his heart plummets. But, all the more grateful for the opportunity, there was a downside to flying this caliber mission. 

Would he make it back home to you? 

You’d heard his bag crash to the floor with a loud thud before the door slammed, curiously peeking out of the kitchen nook to his distraught face. “Bradley? Honey, are you okay?” 

“Kiss me.” He says, wasting no time to answer your question. “Kiss me like it’s the last time you’ll ever see me.” His voice is shaking, breaking at every other word. 

His request fills you with worry. And when he doesn’t say any further, you walk towards him slowly, watching, waiting to see if he’ll do anything. 

When you move to kiss him, arms wrapped around his neck, body flush against his— he pulls you closer. His fingers dig into your skin as if he were to let go– you’d be gone. 

BOB - a long-awaited first kiss.

After three years of knowing you and two years of ridiculous pining, Bob was finally going to make his move. 

He’d practically run into you at his Naval Graduation when he’d seen you. You left him breathless when you’d hug him. Your arms looped tightly around his shoulders as you spewed praises in his ear. 

“I can’t believe you actually came.” He says into your shoulder, arms snug around your middle. “I’m so glad.” 

Disbelief crosses your face as you look at him, “Of course, I came!” You scoff, slapping his shoulder lightly. “How could I not?” 

After hearing your words, all rationality leaves Bob’s mind. He lurches forward to press his lips against yours hastily. A surprised gasp comes from you, and he prays he didn’t ruin what you two had. 

And when your hands reach up to his face to hold him like porcelain, his heart melts. 

[written-beyond-the-grave]

Taking the Mikaelsons to a Concert

IK a bitch was gone, but a bitch is back… sparingly. I been on tumblr doing my shit but ummm I started this shit while in highschool like sophomore year… It’s been a year since I graduated college…. Anyway, fuck it we ball bc someone needs ot get this shit wet first with the Mikaelson’s… shout out to @starlightandfairies @wholoveseggs @klausysworld for holding it down. I love everyones work, y'all be feeding the fandom

If it’s snowin’ I ain’t going… leggo (once again, I write this for niggas. Mwah, to freedom)

So primarily I feel like the Mikaelsons would all be down to going to a concert, I mean Nicki, Doja, Lil Nas X, Mariah the Scientist, Chloe Bailey, Drake, Jhene Aiko, Victoria Monet, the Weekend, Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott--- you get the point. You are the object of their desires and affections so they’ll go…. But what will ensue???

KLAUS

For nosey bitches in the back I got y’all…. This is Klaus finally biting the bullet and taking you to a Nicki concert, the Pink Friday 2 tour!

First, it would take hella time to even get him to go, this man is busy running lives, making hybrids, acting like he a real active party in whatever council shit he bullied his way into in New Orleans, and like running Rebekah’s love life…. He be busy 

He probably feels like he should take you out for something, so he asks you what you want. Anything your heart wants he’ll give it no problem: private helicopter tour of NYC, a week in Brazil, couples massage, hell even go see puffins up in Iceland. But you know what your bitch ass asks for?

To see Onika Tanya Maraj…. As you should

This man is staring at you like “Love… who is that?” And you look at him and tell him “Nicki Minaj, Nicki Lewinski, Nicki the Ninja, Nicki the Boss, Nicki The Harajuku Barbie…. Have you not learned????” And he just stares at you in amusement like ‘it’s no Mozart, you modern women have such…. Vulgar tastes… but I will endorse this, for you my love”

Wait till he gets there AHAHAHAAAAA

You’re pulled up in all your glory, pink everything, sunnies on, gloss on, heels as big as his dick… And you know I don’t think Klaus would ever let you put him in pink spandex. But I think he’ll allow like a shirt of Nicki’s face on him, and like maybe a barbie chain on his neck… He’s a hybrid, he can’t be seen out like this (you def sent photos to the rest of the family of this). 

I feel like Klaus would be chill af with the crowds and shit, until bitches start getting rowdy when Roman comes on stage. I feel like he’ll just be vibing, but mostly looking at you as you lose your shit 

“A 100 MUTHAFUCKA CAN’T TELL ME NOTHING, I BEEZ IN THE TRAP”... bby chill, you’ll sweat that wig off and it’ll slip back. But deadass, it’s like another beast when she comes out and it activates something in you. Like the regular old human that Klaus knew of is gone, and is replaces by a bad bitch that would definitely put her shoe on his neck and he likes that

Funny enough, there is one song that Klaus would know all the words to… Moment for Life-- HEAR MY OUT, DAMN. Ok, the song is about literally getting everything you want and being at a point where no one can touch you or even fathom to be at your height of success or clout. Klaus Mikaelson gets whatever he wants, no one touches him-- or if they do, they won’t live long enough to tell the tale. King shit, so imagine your surprise when you hear this man over everyone else singing along and being into it

Yeah, did that shit. “What I tell 'em hoes? Bow, bow, bow to me, drop down to ya knees” Drake type man…. And towards the end just reminisce of all the people, woman, children, and villages he pillaged to get where he is now… mentally deranged, having a god complex and inferiority complex at the same damn time, and daddy issues while treating his siblings like his own dad LMFAOOOO

Good luck Klaus whores

And then when she starts bringing in old shit like the songs with Sean Kingston or Gyptian…. Oh boy, I know that man is catching a whine as you yell at him “YOU’RE SO PRETTY AND YOU’RE NICE YUH DUN KNO SEH NICKI AS YO WIFE” Ik you bitches telling Klaus exactly that and putting emphasis on wife bc where tf this Icelandic viking silverback think he going????

But as the show goes on, it’s a cute experience between you two as you guys kinda switch roles and you get to be super unhinged and rock out with the other people there and go bar for bar. Like you couldn’t fuck Michael Kors if you was FUCKIN’ Michael Kors

dabs sweat off my forehead

He’s happy to take you home and baby you when you come from the energy drop, but he will be wondering were that energy comes from bc you ain’t putting all that work in when he fucks you soooooo

REBEKAH

Ok so for this one…. Give me a Lil Nas X, Doja Cat, and Rico Nasty ass collab in a concert (bc that’s my dream lineup and y’all can take all my money). I feel like Rebekah needs the girl power and the gays for this so let me cook

I deadass feel you wouldn’t need to convince her of shit, she’d be the one to ask if you wanted to go because she’s heard some of their songs via you jamming in the bathroom and just booked tickets as soon as you said yes. Hey, it’s to make you happy and you deserved to be pampered-- and she’s trying to get in her modern experiences since she was in a box for a long ass time

1st song is Montero, it has to be she definitely wants to fucked out from the jet lag and becoming part of the mile high club-- it’s her thing. Plus she loves the glitter and probably being two glitter gay/bi/whatever floats your boat people that are dressed in matching outfits, but different color combos. Titties are out, and y’all are sprayed down in glitter

Then after that I feel like it would be Rico Nasty coming in hot with “SLAP A BITCH” and I know you and Rebekah felt this song on a spiritual level, so it’s both you screaming in each others faces while she has her arms wrapped around you bc she loves love.

Then it pops off with “STFU” bc a lot fo y’all hoes needs to take a seat and shut the fuck up when big bitches are in the room… anyways, personal issues. A lot of y’all do not need a mic and are not the big titty bitches y’all make yourself out to be… and take the mics away from podcast men, please. I BEG

But anyways, it’s really a whole anthem to all the rock/rap alt girlies out here. Rebekah isn’t used to the music, but she can get buck wild to it, especially when it comes down to Doja and RIco when they interchange with “Swamp Bitches”.... That’s my shit ngl

Nah bc opening a verse with “I WISH DEATH ON ALL YOU BITCHES” was insane… love you Rico <3 That song makes you wanna fight ever bitch in the state that ever did you wrong, every bitch working at goodwill that couldn’t take your brothers army discount bc you wasn’t personally in the army, the wack ass bitch at the post office that didn’t want to work there that day, and that grandma down the block that keep eyeing you and telling you that you ain’t hot shit… she wasn’t even hot shit when Project C hit the neighborhood and niggas were getting sprayed with hoses

Anyways

I truly feel like she’d appreciate the girl time with you, and just to be, and have her shit out and have fun. It’s what she deserves

KOL

THERE IS NO HEAR ME OUT YOU WILL LISTEN: NF

I know I been on the black artists wave, but for the niggas that really be feeling shit NF just knows and I feel like with Kols past of always being the forgotten sibling, not being i the pack of “always and forever”, dying all the fucking time, and getting treated like shit by everyone else unless they need to minute magical thing that’s super important he’s left in the dark

He is the most self-aware sibling out of everyone out this fuck ass family. And I feel for him honestly, being the black sheep, being the outcast. Being able to use your magic when you were a witch and then all of a sudden you can’t do that shit anymore because you’re dumb ass mom wants to make y’all fucking vampires and freaks of nature and then wants to kill you, like it was your fault in the first place? Shit was really whack.

Like he calls his family and siblings out for having a para social relationship that is super into emotional and measurements, and having no boundaries whatsoever, killing other peoples lovers, putting them in coffins just so Klaus doesn’t feel like he’s losing his siblings because he can always take them whenever he goes. But they’re still in a box, they’re not living life they’re not being happy. And that just shows how much class is really his daddy‘s son, even though his dad really isn’t his dad because his mom cheated on, her husband with a werewolf. And Kol clocks all of that.

So I feel that he would really vibe with NF, I really do. Therapy session, intro, hope, all of those songs the whole album really would have him crying in your arms at sometime around midnight when he just came over to listen to some tunes and have a good time, and I feel like you introduce NF to him. He gets hugged, and he knows that NF is speaking about his life someway somehow and it just really hits him and he just cries in your arms for that time

I don’t care how corny you think this man is, this is real music and he writes about things that are real, and that happens to him. The song mansion is legitimately about Kol’s life with being being abandoned and abused by his own family, and his own father, as class was taking most of the beatings, he still had to watch all of that. But being the middle child that he was, he just was overlooked, and that probably speaks as to why he acted out and didn’t get any of attention that he deserves.

And I feel that as Kol gets into a relationship relationship with you, you being his black queen, because I know that man was up in Hady for some reason helping him with the revolution. He just doesn’t give a fuck does what he wants to do so it makes sense why he would be with the black woman because it’s just everything, they are on earthly, they are Wisdom and magic and chest seal combined into a specific human type. And I love this for them, I love this for me.

But anyways, back to the subject at hand. I feel like you, dear reader, would surprise Kol with NF tickets because he’s been wanting to go for a long time, and you guys went dress up any fancy just probably black, cute little combat, boots and things like that. And then just head to the show. But as soon as the show starts, he probably starts off with one of his hard hitters. I’m imagining either therapy session, or mansion to really get the tears going. And it’s really just the two of you standing side-by-side, maybe even hand and hand shouting every single lyric word for word, and just letting out all the shadow work and trauma, that you two have built up over the past couple years, granted Kol is Literally hundreds of years old, and you’re probably someone your 20s or 30s. But trauma is trauma and y’all need to deal with that.

Bc deadass, these lyrics are Kol: “What's my definition of success? Listening to what your heart says. Standing up for what you know is. Right, while everybody else is” because in every single episode, when Kol says not to mess with some dumb shit that causes about to fucking do everyone else ignores him, even Elijah, and they fuck around and find out, and they all of a sudden need help. And then complain like no one told them exactly what the fuck was going to happen in the first place. This man is always right, and he needs people to listen more to him. He’s been listening to what his heart says, he’s been going out and meeting new people and trying to live a life that he would really be proud of. Even though he’s very much unhinged and still acts out because he wants to be king of the world and wants to have some form of control like Klaus has because he knows that he can never get away from Klaus.

And then, when I feel like it’s towards the end of the show, and NF finally drops, hope, I feel like that’s when Kol really starts to let go of things a little bit, and really start listening to lyrics and make a promise to himself with like, maybe fighting against his dark side, a little bit of all the things that he’s known, and then just digging himself a deeper hole. He wants to actually get better for you, and for himself to have a healthy relationship. Because he’s never had that in his life, and you’re just not a play thing to him at all.

“Thirty years of running, thirty years of searching. Thirty years of hurting, thirty years of pain. Thirty years of fearful, thirty years of anger. Thirty years of empty, thirty years of shame. Thirty years of broken, thirty years of anguish…. I’m taking the reins” so it’s really just him taking the reins of his life, and just making it better than whatever it actually was. And I hope that can be therapy, I really do. But this whole concert experience would really just be a gigantic therapy session for Cole, but also having fun with you because there’s no one else that he would let see that vulnerable and that lively and have his whole façade slip down like that besides you.

But he’d be a Drake fan, Travis Scott, and probably XXXtentacion… he’s still a menace, but he’s a healed menace…. well, healing.

ELIJAH

Here is the black womans whore himself… and my man *does the debby ryan* 

I know that Elijah appreciates music in general, that man literally writes his own concertos, plays the piano, plays the violin. He is classically trained. And I expect nothing less. Honestly, he really is him. And he is also still very much worse than Klaus, even though he would like to believe that he is not.

Honestly, I don’t think you would really have to introduce Elijah to rap or hip-hop music. I feel like he would already be in Erykah Badu fan, probably really like the Beastie Boys, was into old school, underground in New York, hip-hop and rap. He was probably there, underground, too, for shits and giggles when he wanted a break. So no, I don’t think you would have to introduce him to hip-hop, maybe to a couple artists and everything. But, that doesn’t need help with that department

I feel like Elijah would definitely be a Kendrick, Lamar, J. Cole fan in the rap game and even Lil Wayne too. But I want to get into some good old Tom foolery before I say my crème de la crème.

With the whole Kendrick, J. Cole and Drake beef, that’s happening, I don’t think that Elijah would ever take any sides. But I do feel like he would definitely keep up with the news, even though you wouldn’t expect them to, with the whole suit and everything.

To start off, I feel like you being the reader would bring up the whole rap beef thing to Elijah. Since two weeks ago, you already brought up the Megan Thee Stallion versus Nicki Minaj rap beef that was happening. And now, this time it is Kendrick versus everyone, fuck the big three it’s just big me nigga BUM

And I feel like it would be brought up during lunch or something since you guys have lunch together, and you’re just giving him the whole play-by-play and then letting him listen to the song. And I feel like you need to play a couple times for him, so he really gets to like listen to lyrics and understand because one thing about it is…. Metro dissed everyone in morse code

NAHHHHH CUZ YALL NOT HEARING HIMMMM BEEP BEEP BOOP NIGGA

Mans said “BUM” with his chest

Like I know, J. Cole was on his bike on his way to the studio. As soon as he heard what Kendrick Lamar said, but then again, he could also not be doing anything because he’s not the type to just be on Rappy just to get some shit going you know?

But anyways, I feel like Elijah would totally indulge in this, and he would write down a whole play-by-play with what everything means because the power money and respect? “Sweetheart, Drake is the money, Jermaine Coke is the respect, and Kendrick is the power….” I can fully foresee that man giving you a dissertation on every single line and lyric and how it is a jab at every single one of them, and the meaning is behind it. You got not only a history professor, but one of the great literary investigators of all time for no reason.

I feel like Elijah is low-key. Also waiting for Drake and J. Cole to respond to what Kendrick said about them. And he’s so messy, for he really is, because he acts all high and mighty but he’s really waiting for the gossip about what people about to say

But moving along from the rat beef, I really do feel like this man would be a Lil Wayne fan because Lil Wayne was setting a standard early in the 2000s and probably even before then about how he really is one of the best rappers out there. Like, no one else was doing it like him and no one else doesn’t like him, and will never do it like him. You would catch yourself humming to a Lil Wayne, and I feel like that man would pick it up instantly, and just go bar for bar on whatever humming note that you were on and it’s amazing, but it seems so out of character for him, but it’s really not.

Because this concert is going to be one hell of a trip because first and foremost he is not going there with a suit on, you’re going to have to get this man to be casual. Which shouldn’t be hard because he loves you, you’re his little chocolate drop, pumpkin. But putting this man in a leather jacket and some jeans and whatever shoes that are comfortable for him to wear at this concert is gonna be one thing. Fighting off other bitches while in the crowd is going to be another thing entirely as well.

But listening to him, actually let lose for the good two hours that you’ll be there at the concert screaming at your lungs, and listening to this man stay on rhythm beat and have actual breath control when he’s going for a speed to is going to be insane in mind melting

Let’s be honest, you wanna fuck this man on the regular basis just because he’s him. But you’re telling me that he’s cultured and he can wrap and knows what the fuck he’s talking about?

Coochie hours have been extended

And it gets even worse when he knows that this turns you on so anytime that you turn back to look at him he’s already looking at you, wrapping the verse with little to no effort and giving you those bad eyes because he just knows. He knows what he’s doing to you and you have no Other choice but to either look away or to hold eye contact because we both know this is gonna end up messy when you guys get back to the Airbnb or hotel room

“I said, "He's so sweet, make her wanna lick the wrapper" So I let her lick the rapper”, and this mans eyes are dead set on you and his gives the lip bite… Yeah yeah… time for me to gooooo