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halfvalid · 8 months

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kitten

ABOUT

alternate title: the pet name 'kitten' is gross when used by men but it's cute when a woman nami says it

rating: general audiences

characters: live action!nami | fem!reader | live action!roronoa zoro

pairing: live action!nami x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k

description: nami is aware you've got a crush on one of the straw hats, and she's determined to find out who—but she's completely oblivious to the fact that you actually like her.

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, confessions, no use of “y/n”, pet name "kitten", banter, absolutely tooth rotting amounts of fluff, a little bit of (affectionate) zoro slander

author’s note: i interrupt your regularly scheduled zoro fic posts to provide you with a sapphic nami oneshot instead because she is my wife and i love her dearly.

zoro accidentally popped up a bit too much in this because he's always on my mind. my apologies <3

You’d always liked astronomy. The current-world navigation had nothing to do with the stars, really; at least not when it came to the Grand Line. Unnatural magnetic fields and the odd weather was reason enough for that—but celestial navigation wasn’t even often used in any of the four quadrants. Too finicky, people would say; you know the practice had stopped being in use in the Marines years ago.

Nami knew it all, though. She was the only one of the Straw Hats who could read the stars, the sky spreading out as a map that only her eyes could read.

Your interest in it had always been more… artistic. While Nami babbled on about angles and reference points and sextants, you liked to talk about the planets and heavenly bodies blanketing the sky. It was dusk, and the sun was kissing the horizon good night, dull hues of pink and orange spreading alongside the sea with a golden shimmer as it tucked safely away.

You’d been lying out on the main deck for a good few hours, stretched like a cat along a hammock you’d strung up forever ago, when you heard footsteps.

“There you are, kitten,” Nami said with a laugh, and you sat up to appraise her. The evening glow cast fire to her orange hair, a blazing halo surrounding her head and painting her skin over in gold dust. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Hi,” you said with a soft smile. “What for?”

“Well, for one, you missed supper.” Nami gingerly took a seat on the side of your hammock, the canvas cloth rocking from side to side with the motion. “Avoiding your crush again?”

You let out a sigh, half-exasperated as your bottom lip sucked in between your teeth. You nibbled at the flesh there, not responding. Nami had figured out a few weeks ago that you had a crush on one of the other Straw Hats, and she brought it up every so often, although all it did was cause a crease in your brow bone and a flicker of annoyance on your face.

“What, am I not supposed to bring that up?” Nami teased. The light shone in her crystal blue eyes, clear like the sky during midday, not a cloud in sight. “You still haven’t told me who it is.”

“Because you’ll pull something if I do!” you protested. “Don’t try to deny it, you conniving little witch.”

Nami gasped in mock-offense, a hand plastered to her chest. “And destroy your dignity like that? I would never.”

“I don’t trust you,” you answered, and Nami clicked her tongue. “What did Sanji make?”

“Fish. Soup. Rice.”

“You’re so undescriptive,” you said with a wrinkle of your nose. Nami just laughed.

“Not everyone can be as artistic as you, kitten. Come on, everyone left the kitchen already. You don’t have to worry about running into your mystery man.” She winked at the last sentence, and your breath caught. Nami seemed to notice, because she laughed, stepping up from the hammock and grabbing your hand to help you off. “You’re hilarious.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you protested. Nami just gave you a look, and you rolled your eyes, but let her drag you along the ship until you reached the kitchen. “You’re so mean to me,” you said, slumping into the nearest chair available.

“Mhm. Here.” Nami started serving up a plate, loading it full of food before passing it over to you. It was quickly joined by a bowl of soup. “Eat. We’re docking tomorrow, so you should get your energy up. We’re going shopping.”

“Shopping for what?” you asked, bringing the bowl of soup to your lips. Seaweed. “If you say rope and boat parts I’m going to scream.” As much as you liked the pirate life, there was only so much of the technicalities you could take. You weren’t very much a practical soul, lumped in very much with Luffy when it came to your general attitude of your job description. Pirating consisted of adventure and art, in your opinion.

“Rope and boat parts,” Nami said with a straight face. She’d always been the exact opposite, all focused on maps and making sure everything was running smoothly. “Well, only partly. I’ve been sent to go clothes shopping too. And to pick up a few other supplies.” Her eyes sparkled. “You’re coming with me, right? Well, unless you want to join your…”

“Shut up,” you said, making a face at her as you set your bowl down. Nami just laughed.

“Just putting it out there, kitten. I’m sure you might be more interested in going with Usopp to talk to the stevedores. Or Zoro to the local tavern. Or Sanji for the—”

“Nope, nope, and nope. I’m going with you,” you said firmly. There was a whisper of a smile at your lips, but Nami didn’t seem to notice it. “And I still don’t get why I’m a kitten.”

“Because,” Nami answered, propping her elbows on the table as she gazed over at you. “I’m the cat burglar. You’re the kitten.”

“Why isn’t Luffy the kitten?”

“Luffy’s the captain, and I don’t like him as much.” Nami straightened, starting to clean up around the kitchen and load the abandoned dishes from when everyone else had eaten into the sink. You smiled at that. “You don’t like him, do you? I feel like you could do so much better.”

“My lips are sealed,” you answered. Nami gave you a sidelong look.

“That better not be a yes.”

You just shrugged, raising the bowl of soup again and finishing the rest of it before turning to the rice and fish. “Let’s not talk about it. What about you? Any romantic prospects—”

Nami turned so abruptly you almost choked while eating. “I just barely started learning how to make friends. Maybe we wait a few months before we get to that,” she said. You coughed, palm pressed to your lips as you cleared out your airways.

“Okay. Aggressive.”

Nami scowled. “That was not aggressive.”

You pulled a face. “Kinda sounds like you have something to hide, Nami,” you teased, and although you didn’t actually expect her to react, she did. To your surprise, Nami turned away again, the very edges of her face pinkening. You stared at her, heartbeat slowing to a steady thud in your chest. There was a faint taste of panic at the back of your throat, slightly sour and acidic like blood or rust. “Um, what was that?”

“What was what?” Nami asked evenly. Too evenly. You gaped at her back, organs wobbling precariously inside of your chest.

“That—thing.”

“Kitten, if you want me to understand what you’re talking about, you’re going to have to be a little clearer than that,” Nami said smoothly. “Now it’s getting dark. You should get to bed. Last chance to shove yourself with your crewmate of choice.”

“I’m still going with you,” you said stubbornly, shoveling the last of your rice in your mouth before slipping off your chair. You moved around the table, setting your bowl and chopsticks into the sink. “You want me to do them?” you asked, nodding at the dirty dishes that’d piled up. Nami shook her head.

“Go sleep,” she said gently. “I’ll get you in the morning.”

You watched her for a moment, lips twisting before you finally relented. “Night, Nami,” you said, and she turned away. You were safe there for a moment, admiring how the soft backlit glow from the windows etched shadows along her face. She really was beautiful, and your heart thudded fast in your chest.

Nami was the strongest person you knew. The smartest person you knew. The Straw Hats wouldn’t be the same without her, and sometimes you found it funny how she seemed so convinced you had a crush on one of the other members of the crew when it was so obvious that she was your north star.

Ah, well. She’d just have to keep on guessing.

Nami woke you at the crack of dawn, where the hazy rays of the sun just started rising up from the sea shore. You’d traveled to shore while asleep, and everyone was already up and running.

“Luffy left already,” Nami was saying, tying a bandana around her head as you gathered up the rest of the supplies you needed. “And we’ll probably spend the whole day out, so we can get lunch in the village.” She eyed you. “I packed breakfast. Come on.”

You followed her off the ship, savoring the early morning wind along the harbor. The dock men were all already hard at work, milling around the dozens of boats with tools and equipment propped on their shoulders. “Where to first?” you asked.

“Boat parts,” she said, casting you a sympathetic smile. “Some rope, extra sails, some other stuff. After that I’m thinking groceries—I put Sanji in charge of bulk stock this time, so just stuff like soap and necessities—and then clothes.” She grinned. “And some fun stuff.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said. Nami did most of the talking, but you were content to watch her barter, leaning back on your heels as she argued with sellers and eventually left with a satisfied smirk on your face. She hired some of the dock men to carry the ropes and items to the Going Merry, looking her arm in yours and going off to your next stop.

“You know, you’re basically stealing from them like this,” you told her, a smile evident in your voice. “Forty-five thousand berry to thirty thousand. That’s actually terrifying.”

“I said take it or leave it and he took it.” Nami shrugged, but you could see a beam of pride shine through her face. “But enough of that. The market’s up ahead.”

The entire village seemed to have been brought out, because true to Nami’s words, there was a fair going on. Stalls boasting all kinds of wares lined the streets, and you peeked through all of them, even at Nami’s urges to hurry up and focus only on your shopping list. She watched you with a soft smile on her lips, the expressions interlaced with ones of exasperation.

“I should’ve just picked a random man and carted you off with him,” she said with a click of her tongue as you spent far too much time glancing through a stand of knick-knacks and jewelry. “Currently either Zoro or Sanji are my top contenders.”

You barely suppressed a snort, fingers carefully combing through a bowl of baubles. There were various items inside, from earrings missing a sister to pins and little statuettes. “How come?”

“Usopp has Kaya, so I would hope you don’t like him,” Nami said. You raised an eyebrow, glancing up to meet her gaze.

“Kaya’s all the way back in Syrup Village, Nami. She can’t do anything, and who knows when we’ll return there?”

Nami gave you a horrified look. “Kitten, that’s a terrible thing to say.”

You just laughed, dropping your gaze again and picking at the bowl. There was a dull gleam of something at the bottom; it wasn’t gold or brass like anything else there, and was instead a shining, milky white. You dug through the pile, trying to get to it. “You’re such a romantic.”

“Does that mean it is Usopp?”

“I do not confirm nor deny a thing,” you said, finally plucking out what had captured your attention. It was a necklace, the pendant a glittering star on a gold chain. “And I want reasoning.”

“You’re not buying that,” Nami said, gaze flickering down to it before meeting your eyes again. “Zoro because he’s conventionally attractive and Sanji because he can cook.”

You scoffed, studying the necklace. “Those are terrible reasons.”

“I can’t think of any good ones,” Nami protested. “The only thing I can think of are reasons you wouldn’t like any of them. Because they’re all kind of losers and you could do much, much better.” She tilted her head imperceptibly upwards, and you saw a little glimmer in her eye, a reaction that bore uncanny similarity to the one she’d worn the day before. You swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

“You think Zoro’s conventionally attractive?” You turned towards the stand seller, motioning at the necklace. “How much?”

“You’re not buying that,” Nami repeated, shooting you a look. “It’s a waste of perfectly good berry.”

“It’s five hundred at most,” you scoffed, fishing a wad of bills out from your pocket. Nami sighed, but she didn’t argue. “Barely anything. Do you think Zoro’s conventionally attractive?”

Nami looked distracted. “Hm?”

“You said Zoro was conventionally attractive,” you repeated, voice firmer this time. You tried to suppress the little tremble in your cadence as you passed the money to the seller. He counted it and gave you a firm nod. Carefully, you dropped the necklace in your pocket. “Do you think he is?”

“Well—from an objective standpoint—”

You pushed past the swarm of patrons milling around the stands, Nami having to quicken her pace to keep up with you. “Attraction isn’t objective.”

“Kitten.” Nami grabbed your wrist, forcing you to slow down, and you flinched. She tugged you in the direction of another stand, probably something off her list. “Why do you care so much? Am I right? Is he the one you like?”

You wiggled your wrist out of Nami’s grip. “I don’t care, I’m just curious. Because you’ve been blushing for the past half hour and you mentioned Zoro was conventionally attractive. And if you say he’s conventionally attractive that means you think he’s conventionally attractive. So assumedly you are blushing because of—”

It clearly took Nami a moment to unscramble your honestly entirely nonsensical words. “Kitten, I’m trying to figure out whether or not you have a crush on Zoro. You’re not supposed to be trying to figure out if I do. And I have not been blushing.”

You relented, but still couldn’t suppress the pout that threatened your mouth. Your teeth pressed against the flesh of your lower lip, running alongside the skin but not fully biting. “You said Zoro was conven—”

“If I have to hear you say the words conventionally attractive one more time, I swear I will lock you in the hold,” Nami said sharply, and you had to choke back your laugh. “And the reason I said that is because every single time we go out, at least five people turn to stare at his stupid face. Do you not remember that time on Mirror Ball Island? We practically had to fight women off of him.”

“Okay, fine,” you said, a glimpse at her features seemed to support her words. She was as guarded as ever, and clearly irritated, though her vexation didn’t seem as bad as the annoyances she’d hold over the rest of the crew. They never did, really; Luffy always liked to say that you were Nami’s favorite. “I’m hungry. Can we eat?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I neither confirm nor deny anything,” you repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past week. “Restaurant. Please.”

Nami didn’t look away from you, but relented, and the two of you went to the nearest restaurant to have lunch. You were mainly silent during the meal, replaying the conversation from before over and over again in your head. There was a buzz of uncertainty in the pit of your stomach, one that you entirely disliked.

Before you’d been fine with keeping quiet about your crush—you never felt too threatened or upset, under the impression that your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated and that Nami wouldn’t fall for anyone in the near future anyway. And you didn’t mind her guessing between your four male comrades to find the one who’d stolen your heart.

But the reactions and the blushes were a development. And you were starting to think that Nami herself had a mystery beau.

Nami talked about work during the meal, going down her grocery list and checking off the things she’d gotten. You watched her as she glared down at her notebook, pencil caught between two fingers as she scribbled down notes to herself. “You’re not eating,” you said gently.

“Sorry. Distracted,” Nami answered. She shot you a smile, but it quickly fell as she turned back to her notebook. “What about Sanji?”

You suppressed a sigh. “Are you still on about this?”

“Yes,” Nami insisted. She finally shut her notebook, slipping it into the bag hanging off her waist and picking up her chopsticks to return to her soup noodles. “You’d never go hungry with him around, at least.”

“I think you need to raise your standards. I already don’t go hungry with him around, I don’t need to date him for that.”

Nami clicked her tongue, but it was good-natured. “You’re making this so hard for me.”

“I don’t want to talk about myself anymore,” you insisted, setting down your chopsticks. You’d basically finished your bowl already; there were only the final remnants of broth and rice noodles at the bottom, the soup seasoning darker in color; more pungent.

You fiddled with your hands, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach that persisted even as you thought back to what Nami had said about Zoro. Her reasoning had been sound enough, but you still felt vaguely sick, that bitter taste of sour iron at the back of your throat again.

“Are you okay?” Nami’s eyes met yours, and you flinched away. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “I think I’m going to head back to the ship and take a nap. I’m kind of tired.” Before Nami could say anything, you got up, chair scraping along the restaurant floor. “See you later?”

“What? Kitten, wait—” Nami called, but you just swallowed, glancing over your shoulder to shoot her an apologetic look.

The Going Merry was a breath of fresh air as you stepped foot back onto her deck. There were some dockmen milling about, setting material along the deck as Usopp directed them as to where everything went.

You brushed past them to veer towards your hammock, slipping onto it and kicking your legs up along the cloth without pause. Your eyes closed, and you let the sun melt down on your face, the tension in your chest easing as you embraced the beam of the sky.

You stayed there for a while, knowing you were safe as Nami wouldn’t come find you until she’d finished with all her actual tasks. Although this was occasionally irritating if you were in real desire for attention, you appreciated the responsible side of her now. You didn’t have to confront her for a few hours yet, so you spent the time on your hammock, watching the clouds drifting in the sky and picking out the dull stars that shimmered as the sky got darker.

It was just before suppertime when you remembered the necklace you’d bought. Stars were just beginning to materialize, dark blues and purples replacing the cerulean hues that previously blanketed the Earth. You fished the star necklace out of your pocket, peering at the pendant again. It was made of some sort of shimmering stone you didn’t recognize—perhaps opal—that made it glow like an actual star, iridescent when light hit it.

“Hey, kitten.”

You looked up, watching as Nami made her way across the ship deck to where you lay. She looked tired, but still bore a soft smile on her face as she met your gaze. “Hi,” you said, tucking the necklace back into your pocket. Behind her you could see the last of the hired work carrying barrels down to the hold. “Get everything done?”

“Mhm,” Nami said. “Wanna talk about earlier?”

“Not really,” you muttered, the sharp tang of rust dancing at the back of your tongue again. “Sorry about storming out. I felt unwell.”

Nami studied you carefully, arms folding unconsciously over her chest. “I can stop bothering you about your crush, if you want,” she said finally, a gust of a sigh leaving her lips. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, getting up and climbing your legs over the edge so you were sitting on the hammock. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Nami, I swear.”

“You walked out in the middle of a meal, kitten,” Nami said, and you could hear her voice starting to get upset, even as she tried to level her tone. “Clearly I did. Was it because I kept trying to figure it out? Was I right with Zoro? What—”

“It’s not because of that,” you interrupted, trying to keep your voice gentle even as your chest squeezed inward. You were powerless to your muscles; to your heart as it did a pathetic little thump-thump thing inside of you.

“Then why?” Nami leaned forward on her heels, and the setting sun caught her eyes, kaleidoscope blue glittering a thousand different shades like the opal of your necklace. “Just tell me, kitten. So I won’t do it again.”

“It was because of you,” you mumbled, shying away from her gaze. Nami sighed.

“Yes, we established that I did something to upset you already. I’m trying to find out what—”

“You called Zoro attractive and I was jealous,” you blurted, before you could even think to stop the words from falling out of your mouth. Nami froze, and you lifted your eyes up hesitantly to see her reaction.

Her shoulders were all tense, face guarded, eyes blank from their usual expression. “Oh,” she said evenly. There was an ugly purse tightening at her lips, and she fought to keep them in an even line. “So it is Zoro, then. Thank you for telling me.”

She turned away then, her movements abrupt as she started walking. A pulse of panic captured your heart, and you called desperately out to her, volume far too loud in the late hour. You didn’t find yourself caring. “I wasn’t jealous of you!” you cried, and Nami’s entire body went still.

She turned back towards you, so slowly that you found yourself capturing your breath in your throat waiting for her.

“I wasn’t jealous of you,” you repeated once her eyes met yours. “I was jealous of Zoro. Of you thinking he was attractive.” Your fingers fumbled together, trying to find something to occupy themselves with as you choked out the final sentence. “My mystery man is you, Nami. I like you.”

It took a long while for Nami to respond, and the Going Merry rocked as you waited, a soft sway of delay and building panic. There was a shimmer of something in Nami’s eyes, and her lips tugged downwards.

Her voice was hollow when she spoke. “What?”

“I don’t like Zoro or Usopp or Sanji or Luffy, Nami,” you said, hands tightening around each other with every word spilt out from between your lips. “I like you. I like you when you call me kitten. I like you when you complain about me buying things but let me do it anyway. I like you even when you’re teasing me about my crush.” Your voice dropped to a low mumble. “And I was jealous because you thought Zoro was attractive.”

“Oh, kitten,” Nami said, and you glanced up to see her right in front of you, bent over to meet your level sitting down. She reached for your hands, and you let her take them, exhaling as her tender grasp clasped around your palms.

“Nami,” you whispered, horrified to hear how wet your voice sounded. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Nami, you may be the ship’s navigator, but you’re my north star. I like you.”

Kitten, I do not think Zoro is attractive,” Nami said, and you had to choke back startled laughter at that being what she was focusing on. “That is the least of your worries.”

“But—you seemed so annoyed when you thought it was Zoro—don’t you like—”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Nami said, a soft laugh leaving her lips. They were trembling. Her entire body was trembling, even her hands as she cocooned yours in them. “I was annoyed because I thought you liked Zoro. Because—I like you too.”

You swallowed, surprise forcing your jaw to fall slack as you met her gaze. “Really?” you whispered. Nami nodded; she coaxed soft circles into the skin of your hands, a supportive smile edging up her lips.

“I really thought you liked someone else, kitten, I would’ve said something before if—” Nami let out another gentle laugh. “If I knew. It wasn’t until you told me about the crush did I realize. I got a little… too overprotective, and then… well, it wasn’t very platonic at that point.” She ducked her head, hiding her smile, but you slipped one of your hands out of her grasp to push it back up. “God, you’re too good for any of them.”

“I don’t want to talk about how the rest of them suck,” you murmured. “I want to talk about how amazing you are. Oh—and—” You dug your hand in your pocket, pulling out the necklace. “This reminded me of you. I got it for you.”

“Kitten,” Nami breathed, as you unclasped the necklace and carefully put it on her. It swung around her neck before you adjusted it, golden yellow bright against the white of her pale skin. The opal glittered, catching the moonlight that’d steadily glowed brighter from behind you. “Thank you. It’s still a waste of money though.”

“Not for you,” you said, grabbing her hands to squeeze her fingers. “Never for you.” You took in a nervous breath, your chest tightening inside—but it wasn’t all bitter and sour, nothing like the taste of panic.

Nami met you in the middle when you finally leaned up to kiss her, your hand slipping up the side of her face, fingers curling in her orange hair. She smiled when she kissed, soft and carefree for once, that serious facade she always took on melting away in the moment. She kissed softly; tenderly; like the moon shining gentle waves on the East Blue below or the sun in the hazy morning sky casting light across the world.

There were footsteps approaching from behind Nami. You opened your eyes, tilting your gaze up to see Zoro staring down at you both. Nami broke apart from you, glancing over her shoulder. None of you said anything.

“Okay,” Zoro decided, and then walked off. You barely managed to stifle your giggles until he was out of earshot.

“God, he’s such a loser,” Nami said, and then kissed you again.

#opla nami #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #cat burglar nami x reader #opla nami x reader #reader insert #x reader #nami x reader #nami x you #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #kiki writes!

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shadowbriar · 10 months

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Sirius Black - The Lion and The Lamb

Pairing : Sirius Black x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 5.1k Warning : One curse word. I'm so bad at this I don't think there's any other? Synopsis : Sirius' plot of pairing her with Remus has finally come to a success yet he finds it hard to find the joy in their relationship. Notes : Post no 3 for my 1 Year Anniversary Celebration. This story is a little bit all over the place, I'm sorry for that. Don't forget to fill the form here if you'd like to be tagged for my future works. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ Sirius Black's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sofiacblair @when-you-cant-think-of-anything

It is only logical that someone like her, a bright witch with the wittiest mind and cleverest brain, would ever fall for someone who’s equally as brilliant. Someone who excels in his classes, despite the fact that he has a troublesome condition that restrains him from having a full attendance in his classes, is still being appointed as prefect due to his capability and proficient skill set. It’s simple logic, isn’t it? Smart people are attracted to smart people, the same way funny people are attracted to other funny people.

At least, that is the rule Sirius Black is believing in.

For years he has tried to play the matchmaker for Remus and her. ‘Accidentally’ pairing them up for school projects, ‘accidentally’ forgetting their group study session so the two of them would be left alone, and ‘accidentally’ always making her sit next to Remus in every chance presented. Sirius was determined to get them together. He would always argue that they just haven’t noticed the chemistry they have, how everyone in the room could tell that these two are in love with each other. Though James would always deny and say that no one except Sirius would see this so-called chemistry, Sirius has already made it his life mission to make them a couple.

“Truly, I love Padfoot but his antics on pairing us up is starting to get under my skin.” Remus grumbles as he walks with her through Hogsmeade. They were supposed to meet up at the Three Broomstick, her and the rest of the Marauders, but after an hour of waiting, the two knew that this is just another stunt Sirius’ pulled for them “Once we get back to the castle I will make him transform into his animagus form and turn him into a fur hat, I swear it.”

She chuckles, “I’d love to witness that.”

The two continue their walk until Remus halts all of a sudden, stopping his pace with an expression she couldn’t decipher. It was as if he was thinking deeply about something that is struggling to burst forth from his lips. His brows furrow and it’s taking a huge amount of self control in herself to not straighten them with her thumb.

“I have an idea that might make you murder me,” He says to her “But this is worth the shot, at least for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you not tired of this? Of Padfoot always setting us up like this?” Remus questions, his arms now fold in front of his chest “Because I am. We can hardly hangout with the others anymore and don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with you, Love, it’s just that—”

“Sirius,” She cuts, nodding in understanding with a small laughter “I get it. What do you propose?”

Remus shrugs, “Well, since the boy’s so determined to get us together, why don’t we just.. Get together?”

“Get together?” She repeats with a raised brow “As in.. Date each other?”

“Yeah, precisely that.”

She stares at him with appalled eyes. Remus seems adamant with his proposal, his tone is firm and his body language shows 100% certainty, yet her mind still couldn’t process his words properly. The idea of them dating would be as logical as flying pigs. They are the true definition of platonic love. Dating Remus would feel like painting the Black Lake pink with a makeup brush, painful and useless.

Noticing her bewildered expression, Remus proceeds to explain his bid, “Alright, maybe I worded it wrong. I meant to say that maybe we should try to give the impression that we’re dating. I love you Dove, there’s no denying that, but we’re nowhere close to what Padfoot is insinuating and I just can’t live the rest of my school years being his experimental toad.”

“Ah,” She finally nods in understanding. Her facial expressions soften from the explanation, letting out a chuckle now as Remus’ words start to make sense “You still have to define try in this scenario, Rem. What are the rules and what not?”

Remus shrugs once more, “Just act like we’re dating in front of the boys, I guess.”

“Okay, and what does ‘act like we’re dating’ mean?” She questions further, her right hand now resting on her right cheek as she gives the offer a thought “Dating could have a very broad meaning, these days.”

“Hold hands, walk you to your classes, carry your books, you know those little things.”

“And how about the PDAs?”

“Like kissing?” Remus asks. He winces slightly at the thought, not out of disgust but more on the unlikelihood of either of them enjoying such action “We can opt that out. Just tell people we’re not a big fan of public attention for such gestures, they’ll buy it.”

She pursed her lips, brows furrowed now as she truly pondered her options. Sure the fact that Sirius is restless about his mission is irritating her, but is pretend dating really the answer? It feels cruel, knowing that Sirius came from a good heart, but Remus is right. Just how many more years should they suffer through this foolish mischief? If anything it will only grow discomfort between her and Remus and she surely wouldn’t want to lose her friendship with him.

“Should we put a time frame for it then?” She says, trying to help perfect the proposal “Say.. 3 months? Would that be too long? We could just tell people that we didn’t really work out by then.”

“I was going to say until the semester ends, but 3 months seems enough.” Remus nods, holding out his hand “So is that a deal?”

She smiles, taking his hand and shaking it firmly, “Deal.”

—-

The next morning when the pack walks down to the Great Hall, Sirius’ eyes are caught at the sight of his two friends sitting comfortably close to each other, already enjoying their meal and sharing what seems to be the most interesting discussion. James shot him a look, utterly puzzled at the intimacy they were showing. Peter was the only one who could still function and walk to the couple, sitting right in front of them.

“Morning, you two,” Peter greets, his eyes narrowed in an interrogating way “You left pretty early this morning, Moons. Didn’t even hear you go out the door.”

“Yeah, I had to pick her up from her dorm.” Remus shrugs, his tone casual as he rests a hand around her shoulders “You guys are here on time.”

“What is happening?” Sirius asks this time, a disbelief smile decorating his baffled face. He was still standing by the table, the only one who’s not yet seated. His eyes travelled to Remus’ secured hold around her “You two are more comfortable than I last remember.”

“Yeah, well, we decided to give it a go.” She explained with a smile, looking at Remus.

Sirius let out a chuckle, one that doesn’t sound the most sincere as he proceeds to question, his tone was laced with uncertainty, “Give what a go?”

“Dating.” She answers as she turns to him briefly before giving Remus a little peck on the cheeks “We’re dating now.”

Remus, who wasn’t expecting the kiss, turns crimson. It wasn’t the first kiss he’s received on the cheek from her, but getting it under the impression of their romantic affair still caught him off guard. He gave her a look, one that she understood was him being impressed at her act, before pulling her head closer to his shoulder.

Remus’ eyes now travel to Sirius’ who is stupefied, still on his feet after witnessing such action. He doesn’t seem to be joyful, not even the slightest bit happy at the fact that his life mission is now finally achieved. Like someone hit the invisible reset button in the back of his head. Completely at loss of words and understanding of the scene unravelling before his eyes.

“You alright, Pads?” Remus asks with a raised brow.

James had to pull on Sirius’ robe in order to bring the black haired boy back to life. Sirius blinks, evidently trying to digest the new information with a scrunched brow. He finally takes a seat, resting his hand under his chin in an interrogative gesture, “What— When, uh, when did this happen?”

“Yesterday, after our Hogsmeade date.” She answers casually, squeezing herself closer to her ‘boyfriend’ as she continues “We figured.. You’re right. We do have chemistry between us, so we thought— Why not? Right, my Love?”

Remus smirks, seemingly amused at the pet name given, “Right, Darling.”

“Aw, not the pet names.” James fakes a gag “You two are going to beat me and Lils as couple of the year.”

Breakfast continued with so much laughter and bliss that her cheeks were starting to hurt. It feels wonderful to finally share tender and warm moments without having to worry that Remus might feel uncomfortable or that she would have to excuse herself to join her group of friends to run from a plot Sirius would pull on them. After what seems to be forever, the two of them can finally appreciate the platonic love shared in the group.

Yet through the delightful morning they’re spending, she couldn’t help but to notice the half-hearted laughter Sirius would let out or how he would play with his food more than to chime in on James' jokes. He wouldn’t meet eyes with her, as if he has a secret he wants to keep. Something she couldn’t tell what it was nor what it’s about.

—-

Fake dating Remus has been brilliant to say the least. Neither of them now have to feel awkward from each other, nurturing their friendship that was once put to halt when Sirius started his ruse. James and Peter have been more free to ask either of them to hang out too, knowing that Sirius wouldn’t pop out of nowhere and jeopardise the plan to have her paired up with Remus instead. Yet through all these splendid events, she couldn’t help but to notice Sirius’ withdrawal.

He has been more quiet whenever the five of them would hang out, being too busy with his assignments she knows full well he pays no mind about or excusing himself to get some rest. She couldn’t even see him alone, always having something in his schedule that would make him leave her in the hallways.

It would be a lie to say that she doesn’t miss his presence.

“Have you been giving the group more quidditch practice, Potter?” She asks as she plops herself to the sofa, scanning around the Common Room to look for the familiar black haired boy.

James makes a face, “No? We haven’t even done any practice for weeks due to the bad weather.”

A frown blooms on her face. Quidditch practice is Sirius’ most used justification to his pardon and to know that there hasn’t even been one for a while surely baffles her. What could be the reason for Sirius’ absence then?

“Where’s Sirius?” She voiced out “I haven’t seen him for a while now, it’s like he’s avoiding me.”

“Probably feeling undermotivated now that you two are dating. His whole life was devoted to seeing you two as a couple, now that it’s happened, I suppose Padfoot requires some time to recalculate his next life mission.” Peter comments nonchalantly “Perhaps he could finally find one that is actually useful for his future.”

She forces a smile.

A big question mark is still ingrained in her mind. She seems to be the only one to notice Sirius’ withdrawal and is actually bothered by it. Perhaps it was because the boys still see him in their dorm room and spend more classes with him that they could hardly notice the difference. Either way, she knows that she won’t get her answer by asking them about Sirius. She has to ask him herself. However that might be.

—-

Sirius’ palms have been more sweaty nowadays every time she was around. He was sure that one of these days his closest mates will call him out for the strange act he’s been pulling and how he’s committing the grandest sin to have feelings for his best friend’s girlfriend.

In his defence, Sirius never intended to fall for her. He’s always admired her, sure, only a fool would question that, but never has Sirius ever thought that such admiration stemmed from romantic feelings. He always thought and believed that her best pair is Remus, someone who is stable and responsible, unlike him who is impulsive and directionless in life. Someone who would follow wherever the wind would sail his ship to.

No, Sirius will never accept anyone who is less prudent than Remus to be her lover.

But that day in Potion class haunts him like a persisting ghost. How the cauldron of Amortentia smelled like her. A mix of her perfume, her favourite dish that she would always dig in whenever Christmas comes, and that scent of flower they did their Herbology paper on back in third year. There would be no chance that Sirius misinterpreted the scents. What he smelled from the love potion was her, only her.

Now he’s standing feet away from her, trying to cast the patronus charm along with the other students. He could see Remus succeeding in no time, producing a wolf shaped patronus. He could see the mixed emotions Remus had on his face. Proud of his success in conjuring the spell and bitterness over the form of patronus he owned.

He turned his gaze to Lily, a beautiful doe was running around her. James on the other side of the class was screaming in delight when he finally conjured his patronus, a magnificent stag standing by his side. Sirius knew that James would use this to pester on Lily more. People do say that some soulmates may have a connected form of patronus.

Sirius’ lips turned into a smile as he watched her successfully produce her patronus now. A beautiful rottweiler was running around her. What a perfect patronus, Sirius thought. A courageous and loyal animal, the perfect one for her.

Now Sirius tries to cast the spell himself. A couple tries and he finally managed to produce a full patronus, a german shepherd. He lets out a satisfied laughter, watching as his patronus runs around the class, stopping only when it met her patronus.

But Sirius’ patronus soon disappears as his focus dissolves, locking eyes with Remus who watches over the event with a confused look and an intrigued smirk plastered on his face. Sirius swallowed his own saliva in nervousness. Does this mean Remus knows about his growing affection towards his girlfriend?

—-

“I’m calling it, me and Lily are soulmates.” James says happily as he jumps on his bed, resting his arms behind his head as a pillow “Who would’ve thought, right? A stag and a doe. Merlin, we must’ve been made for each other for real.”

“Not really in the mood to talk about patronuses, guys.” Peter snorts, sulking at his still failure in conjuring one.

“Don’t worry, Wormy, your time will come.” Sirius says, patting the boy’s shoulder before heading to his trunk to put his books in “Took me a couple tries to get it too.”

“Right, your german shepherd patronus,” Remus notes, a suspicious smile tugged on his lips “Did you notice that yours were the only one other than her’s in the form of a dog?”

Sirius feigned a confused look, furrowing his brows, “Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, right! Her rottweiler!” James chimed “It was adorable when your patronus came to her’s, Pads. Too bad yours didn’t last too long. You surely need more practice with your spell.”

Sirius only let out a small chuckle, not saying another word as he silently prays that they would drop this topic. It’s uncomfortable enough for him to know that his patronus were fond of hers, adding to the stress of his realisation of her scent from the amortentia. Now to have Remus staring at him with an expression he’s dying to confront yet certainly not ready to face the consequences of, Sirius wonders if pairing her with Remus all these years was a mistake.

—-

“I think we need to call off this ruse.”

“Already?” She asks, putting down her book to meet Remus’ eyes “We’re not even half way through 3 months.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we need to get that long. Even if we break up now, I’m sure Sirius wouldn’t pair us up like he did before.”

She raised an eyebrow, confused, “Why would you think that?”

“Because that git finally realises that he likes you.” Remus says with a confident smirk.

Her eyes nearly popped out of its eye sockets. What Remus said just now is as surprising as hearing that Dumbledore and McGonnagal are holding their wedding this Yule break. Never in a million years would she ever expect such a reason to be uttered by him.

She let out a mocking laughter, dismissing his words, “You’re mental.”

“I’m not,” Remus denies, leaning closer to her to prove his words “That day in Charms class. His patronus came to you. You both had guard dogs as patronus. Why do you think that’s because?”

“Mere coincidence?” She questions, still finding his words to be baffling “We both have dogs as our patronus, so? They’re not even the same breed. You’re making a connection out of nothing.”

“Am I really?” He challenges “I mean, think about it! Don’t you think Sirius has been acting strange ever since we’re dating? And that day in Potion class, I bet you a hundred galleons, he smelled your scent from the amortentia.”

“He does not,” She says firmly, shaking her head in denial “And you don’t even have a hundred galleons, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “My point still stands. Sirius likes you, I’m certain of it.”

She frowns, still finding it hard to digest Remus’ words. It feels like some sick joke he’s trying to have her convinced. There would be no chance in hell that Sirius would like her. Why would he? All these years spent of him trying to get her with Remus, why would he now have feelings for her?

“No.” She says short.

“Why are you so defensive about this?” Remus groans “I’m telling you. We call things off now and I bet Sirius will waste no time and court you.”

“He spent his whole life in Hogwarts trying to pair us up, Remus. Now you say that he has feelings for me? Doesn’t that sound a little bit mad?”

He shrugs, “Maybe he didn’t realise his feelings for you until we did this fake dating.”

“That still sounds absurd.”

“Fine, don’t believe me,” Remus says, holding his hands up in surrender “But I still think we should stop our ruse now. If he really does have feelings for you, I don’t want him to feel like he’s betraying me or anything. I refuse to be the cockblocker between you two.”

She put up her book, closing their conversation with a nod. If Remus thinks that it would be best for them to stop their fake dating now then she would have no issue against it. It wasn’t like she was having the grandest time of her life fake dating him, but there would be no chance that she’s falling for his words, that Sirius secretly holds feelings for her because there’s simply no chance for that to ever happen in this life. No chance.

—-

“You broke up with her?!” Sirius asked, tone rising in disbelief and unexplained anger “Why?!”

“Because,” Remus answers with a shrug “I just don’t think that it was working.”

“So you dumped her?”

“No, it was a mutual agreement.”

Sirius still has his displeased expression on, glaring at Remus. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling this way. A mix of relief and rage at the same time. He was glad that they finally ended their relationship, for whatever reason Sirius isn’t sure he wanted to dig deeper on, but on the other side he can’t help but to worry if she was hurt by Remus’ decision. Even if it was a mutual agreement, who’s to say that she isn’t crying and bawling her eyes out from heartbreak right now?

“I still can’t believe you broke up with her.” Sirius mutters “You two have only been, what, a month together?”

Remus shrugs once more, letting out a tired sigh, “There’s no bad blood between us. She’s fine, I didn’t break her heart if that’s what you’re so riled up on.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, giving him the ‘are you serious’ look.

“What?” Sirius asks, appalled “What’s with that look?”

“Oh, come on, Pads, stop acting oblivious.” Remus says, rolling his eyes “You might fool Prongs and Wormtail but you’ll never fool me, not about this.”

Sirius frowns, folding his arms in front of his chest in defence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Remus glares.

Sirius squared his shoulders, showing his firm stand.

Remus sighs, patting his best friend's shoulder in an attempt to console him, “For what it’s worth, Pads, I’m not angry. If anything, I’m glad that you finally come to your senses and realise the true reason for your dedication in finding her a proper partner. You care for her, in a whole different world than how me or Prongs or Wormtail do. I just hope that you won’t be stupid enough to pull another lark on her.”

Sirius remains quiet, his defensive expression softens a little. It was one thing to realise his feelings for her, one thing to see all the signs scattered around them that he was so blind to see before, but it’s an entirely different thing to have it confronted by Remus. By the one person who he should feel most embarrassed to admit the feelings for. What kind of a friend is he? Has he no shame?

“I’m sorry, Moony.” Sirius begins “I never meant for it to go this way.”

“What are you saying sorry for? I just told you I’m glad about your budding affection for her.” Remus replies with a chuckle “You can throw away the shame or any foul feelings you have for liking her. I’m not angry or disappointed or anything you might think I feel. Matter of fact, if I could give you any advice, I’ll tell you to go and see her now and waste no more time. You’ve been dense for quite too long, it’s time you actually do something about it.”

“Are you sure? You’re not the slightest bit angry at me?”

“Pads, if you ask me one more time, I swear to Merlin I’ll hex you.”

Sirius smiles, genuinely at last. He feels like the heavy burden that has been sitting atop of his chest has been lifted. Like he could finally breathe and think clearly after being so suffocated by all the overthinking he’s done at night. He could feel the energy that used to flow through his veins slowly returning, making his confidence and bold self to be resurrected back to life.

“Moons,” Sirius called, grinning “You don’t happen to know where she is, do you?”

—-

The library was pretty much empty now. Students have either gone back to their dormitory or down at the Great Hall to have their dinners. She too would find herself digging into roasted chicken and mashed potato right now had today been another ordinary day, but no. Today has been everything but ordinary.

Remus’ words echo in her head like a broken record. She knew that Sirius had been acting strange. She’s confident that she was the first to notice this. Even his reaction to their dating news was so out of character. The anticipated grin and jump of joy was never presented, only vacant eyes and forced laughter served by Sirius ever since.

Now she tries to bury the thousand of questions running in her mind by reading some books she knew would do her no good. She’s lost count of how many times she’s reread this one sentence. None of the words seem to enter her brain, lost into thin air as her eyes skimmed through the words.

“Hey.”

Her head was turned in the blink of an eye, neck almost cracked from the sudden force. She stares at the boy standing by her side with a surprised look, smiling faintly, “Sirius, hello.”

“Can I join you?”

“Uh, sure,” She says, heart pounding now “Take a seat.”

Sirius silently does, smiling at her with quite the nervousness. Whatever it is he wanted to say tonight, she knew that it messes with his heartbeat as much as it does to hers.

“Are you busy?” He asks, fidgeting with his fingers “I’d like to steal a little bit of your time if you aren’t.”

“No, I’m not busy.” She says, closing her book. She tidies her hair nervously, trying to compose herself in front of him. Something she’s never felt before, conscious of his appearance in front of Sirius. Lord, just what is happening in her heart, truly?

“I, uh.. I have something to talk to you about.” Sirius begins, his volume getting smaller and smaller that he’s practically whispering now “I heard that you and Remus didn’t work out.”

“Oh, yeah, we didn’t.”

“Are you okay?”

“Grand,” She bobs her head up and down, a little bit too cheerful for someone who’s facing a break up “Me and Remus are still friends, there’s no hard feelings between us. We just didn’t work out.”

“I see.”

She nods again, smiling awkwardly, “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yeah.. I mean, no, not really.” Sirius says, tongue tied over whatever lines he wanted to spill “I just— Well, I— Shit, this is so hard to say but I— Well, the past few days I’ve been thinking and I.. Well.. I suppose I owe you an apology.”

“An apology?” She asks, raising an eyebrow “What for?”

“For trying to pair you and Remus together.” He continues “I.. I realised that I might not have the proper reason for wanting to find you the right partner. I mean, I thought I did but some things that have happened recently have altered my perspective.”

She opens her mouth before closing it again, confused at whatever direction he was going for, “Sirius, I don’t believe that I understand a word you said just now.”

“I know. I’m not making any sense right now.” He says with a chuckle. The laughter was enough to melt the tension between them but once it died down, the heaviness on his shoulders returned that Sirius couldn’t help but to let out a sigh “What I’m trying to say is.. I think.. Well, I used to think that certain people belong to certain people.”

Her brows knit, listening carefully to his words.

“I thought that smart people belong with smart people. I thought that someone as smart as you should be with someone just as smart. I mean, it’s logical isn’t it? The lions belong with the lioness and the lamb belongs with the other lamb.” He continues, rambling “But then you started dating Remus, and that Potion class happened, and Charm class happened, and I began to think.. Could the lion be with the lamb?”

“I— Am I the lion or the lamb?” She asks, furrowing her brows “I’d be offended if you say I’m the lamb.”

Sirius grins, “You’re the lion, of course.”

“Then who’s the lamb? You or Remus?”

“Me,” Sirius answers, biting his inner cheek in nervousness “I’m the lamb.”

Her expression softens, slowly understanding his words.

“I know it was wrong of me to feel this way. You’re dating Remus, for Godric’s sake! I’ve been trying to pair you two for years and now that you two are dating, I can’t even fake happiness for it.” Sirius confesses, smiling pitifully to himself “What a friend, right?”

She takes his hand gently, softly squeezing it in assurance, “We can’t help who we fall in love with, Sirius. I’m sure Remus understands.”

“He does,” Sirius answers “Do you?”

She was quiet now. It all happens too quickly for her. Just a few hours ago she was fake dating Remus, then he told her that Sirius likes her, and now Sirius himself is professing his feelings. Sure there have been moments in her life where she admires Sirius more than she admires Remus or James or Peter, but it was never as strong as how Sirius is portraying right now. Never as clear as the devotion Sirius is offering her right now.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” Sirius says, noticing her mute as rejection “Just say the words and we can put this behind us. Pretend that this never happens.”

“Sirius,” She calls, holding his hand firmer now “I appreciate your honesty and truthfully, I— I don’t have a word to say to you right now.”

Sirius nods, understanding.

“I just.. I need time to digest everything.” She continues “And you’re not making me uncomfortable. If you’d like to dive further into whatever this is we’re feeling right now, I’m willing to give it a go, but I can’t promise you anything right now.”

“Give.. Give it a go?” Sirius asks, hopeful eyes now staring at her “You’re willing to give this a go?”

“I mean, sure. I’ve always wondered what chemistry you always talk about whenever me and Remus were in the same room because to put it frankly, I always thought that it was us who had the chemistry, not me and Remus.” She reasoned, smiling a little at the thought “But like I said, I can’t promise you anything. I can’t promise you that I would be able to return the affection as much as the one you have for me. I’ll try, but I don’t want to give you false promises.”

“That is more than enough.” Sirius says fast, grinning satisfiedly now “Thank you.”

She nods, returning his smile.

Relief was what best describes the two of them now. Sirius kisses the back of her hand gently, showing his grandest gratitude for her understanding and kindness. The same happiness was mirrored on her face, flustered at his gentle gesture. It’s only a matter of time now until the two hand each other their hearts. After all, german shepherds and rottweilers always make cute puppies, don’t they?

#sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #sirius black scenario #sirius black scenarios #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x oc #sirius black x y/n

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storiesbyrhi · 2 years

Text

Siouxsie and the Soulmates

Eddie Munson x Witch!Reader More Eddie fics here

12,968 words

Warnings: Drug use; reference to canon-typical violence; canon-typical trauma; extensive discussion and depiction of scars; no beta

Synopsis: When you roll into Forest Hills Trailer Park, a white cat and daisy lines following you, Eddie Munson is just a little bit obsessed. A soulmate story featuring Eddie back from the Upside Down, a lot of witchy magic, and even more soft love.

Includes the ‘soulmate find what the other has lost’ trope. Post S4, but canon-divergent: Eddie survived, the gang stopped Vecna and saved the day; everything is ‘normal’ in Hawkins.

Author's Note: If you read the sneak peek, some of that section has changed so don’t skip it. Includes Eddie has all the gnarly scars, including facial scarring, for reference click here and here. We love a girl who tries to be mysterious but falls head over heels for Eddie Spaghetti.

There was something really… freaky… about the newest resident of Forest Hills Trailer Park. Eddie Munson was absolutely convinced she was a wizard, witch, whatever. He had no tangible proof. But the circumstantial evidence, your honour, was overwhelming.

Firstly, your small, black VW Bug appeared silently overnight, pulling a small trailer home in what seemed like an impossible feat of automobile engineering. You set up next to the Mayfield’s home, cordoning off your rectangular plot with a black plastic picket fence hammered into the ground. It was short, reaching only your knees, but it laid claim to the land in a way that kept unwanted guests away from the garden.

Secondly, that garden. The trailer sat at the back of the plot, with green grass surrounding it that hadn’t existed before you arrived. Pots of plants framed the land, their flowers and fruit spilling out as if they had been growing in their positions for months. Bees and butterflies had come to Forest Hills, making home in your established greenery.

Thirdly, nobody had seen you. Sometimes the black Bug was there. Sometimes it wasn’t. A few long-term residents of the park had taken it upon themselves to step over the pickets and knock on the trailer door. They received no answer, although the lights inside were on.

Eddie would watch your place as soon as he rolled in, driving his van slowly. He’d sneak looks through the blinds of his trailer and take too long to hang the laundry around the back, close to where he could eavesdrop on the locals gossiping about the mystery of it all.

…

It was near the witching hour, 3:00 am, when Eddie shot up in bed one night, drenched in sweat. The scratching in his nightmare transitioned into real life and he looked around for the source of the sound. Small, frantic scratching. Unfamiliar, persistent scratching.

He followed the noise outside his bedroom and to the door that led to a makeshift deck. He’d only begun to crack it open when a snow white cat darted through, her scratching replaced with happy meows.

“Hi there,” Eddie said to the cat, squatting down and holding a hand out for the creature to smell. The cat rubbed her face on his hand, welcoming any and all pats. “Where’d you come from, huh?”

The cat wore a red glittery collar holding a small tag printed with her name. Siouxsie seemed to be a big Eddie fan; the feeling was mutual. The pair was so engaged in their purring and patting that Eddie didn’t notice you arrive.

“Jesus!” he screamed when he clocked you out the corner of his eyes. He fell backward, spilling through the open bathroom door behind him.

Startled, Siouxsie went running outside. You watched her leap from the deck and cross the gravel road, disappearing under your trailer. Turning back to Eddie, you waited for him to get to his feet. He wore blue and white checked cotton boxer shorts and nothing else.

“What were you doing with my cat?” you asked him, only briefly making eye contact before letting your gaze travel to his sketchy tattoos and D.I.Y. pick necklace. The scars… You couldn’t begin to guess what had caused them, but that was the thing: you usually wouldn’t have to guess at all.

“Uh… She woke me up. Tried to break in,” he answered, his voice cracking with sleep and nerves. And, oh fuck, was he nervous. “Guess she’s a… cat burglar?”

Eddie looked at you, the way that lights from the park backlit you like an angel. You were in a black dress that fell around your feet. The hem was ratty from where it dragged behind you wherever you went. Bracelets and rings and necklaces adorned your body, and your nails were painted Barbie pink.

“She woke you?”

“Yeah… The scratching…” Eddie went to explain, but couldn’t describe how the sound was in his head, then was real. Your expression filled him with dismay; had he said something wrong? It was the joke. He shouldn’t have made the joke. The joke was bad.

He stood still and silent, watching you look him up and down. Suddenly aware of his near nakedness, he blushed hard and felt weird. Nobody had seen his scars like that.

“You just moved here,” he said, needing the quiet to be filled. You cocked your head to the side, taking his sentence as a statement and not a question. He knew the answer. “I’m Eddie,” he introduced, holding a hand out. He looked down at his arm, confused as to why he was being so formal, operating on autopilot.

Eddie watched your hand take his, gently shake and not let go. You said your name, followed by, “Siouxsie likes you. Put a bowl of salt next to your bed to stop the nightmares.”

You were gone then. In the morning, he couldn’t remember watching you walk back to your trailer.

Jesus fucking Christ. You were definitely a witch. And he was obsessed.

…

“What d’ya mean she’s a witch?” Wayne Munson replied, sighing at his nephew’s manic bouncing-off-the-walls energy. He’d just woken up and was getting ready for his night shift at the plant, but Eddie had been waiting all day to talk to him.

“Like, she knows shit she shouldn’t. She can probably see through Siouxsie or something-”

“Who’s Siouxsie?”

“Her cat. She woke me up trying to break in,” Eddie said. “And you should see what she looks like. She’s way too fucking pretty to be here. Like, Arwen pretty,”

“Let me get this straight. A pretty girl has a cat, so she’s a witch?” Wayne asked, picking up his keys. “Thought you didn’t judge a book by its cover?”

“You’re not even listening,” Eddie grumbled. “How’d she get all those plants to grow that fast? Seriously! Look.”

Eddie took his uncle by the shoulders and led him to the door, opening it. Wayne looked across the park’s road at your trailer.

“Ed, buddy, they’re in planters. Planters can be moved. Think maybe you need to cut back on the dope? Less time with your head in the clouds?” Wayne was poking fun, knowing exactly how to annoy Eddie.

Consider Eddie annoyed.

“She’s a witch,”

“Guess you better go ask her to marry you then, huh? Make an honest man out of you. Don’t forget to take the trash out. It’s Thursday. See ya later, bud,” Wayne called, leaving the trailer and making his way to his truck.

Eddie winced at how loud their conversation was. He was sure you could hear everything. As he watched Wayne drive away, he took the chance to steal a look at your trailer.

Siouxsie was sitting in one of the garden beds, looking back at him. Instinctively, Eddie began to wave, before he caught himself. Slapping his hand to his face, he quickly retreated back into his trailer before anyone saw him waving to a goddamn cat and added that to the qualities that made him a certified freak.

…

On Sunday, Eddie found a necklace that didn’t belong to him sitting on his bedside table. He woke up, squinting in the too-early morning light, and reached for his watch. He felt the cool metal before he saw it. As if it had given him an electric shock, his hand jerked back from it and he sat up.

Bedside lamp on, he looked at it. The silver chain, the crescent moon. There was no doubt that it belonged to you. He’d seen it hanging from your neck Thursday morning.

Were you in his room? While he slept? He would have heard you, surely. There would be some other trace of you. The clothes and books scattered around hadn’t been displaced. It was like the necklace had just appeared.

However the fuck it got there, Eddie Munson wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. He pulled on the cleanest clothes he could find and headed out the door.

As soon as he stepped over the black plastic pickets, he felt it. A sudden drop in temperature. A quietness. The air smelt honeysuckle sweet and it felt just a touch harder to breathe, like how it does when the humidity rises.

The grass was cool under Eddie’s bare feet; as he knocked on your door, he wriggled his toes and smiled to himself. You might not answer, he thought. You hadn’t to anyone else. It would be okay if you didn’t. The feeling of the grass was a good enough experience to justify the trip.

Eddie was a split second away from turning around and leaving when you opened the door.

“Did you find my necklace?” you asked, expression open and inquisitive.

Was that what you slept in? Silk and lace, all light and flowy but tight around your curvy belly and thighs. Your hair was messy, bed hair, and when you punctuated your sentence with a yawn, Eddie’s entire body began to shake. It took all his willpower to keep fucking still.

“What?”

“My necklace. I’ve lost it. Did you find it?”

The necklace was burning a hole through his pocket, not immediately observable.

“How did you know?”

You smiled kindly, still overtly amused at his confusion though. When you held your hand out, Eddie had no choice but to give it up.

“Where was it?”

How was he meant to tell you that without sounding insane? While he hesitated, tried to come up with a lie, he felt Siouxsie curl around his legs. He looked down and beamed at her.

“Hi,” Eddie greeted the cat, crouching and holding his hand out to her like he had before. She bypassed the outreached hand to come closer, rub herself against his legs.

“Was it in your bedroom?” you asked.

How did you know that? Eddie wanted to ask if you’d been in his room. Somehow, he knew you hadn’t been. At least, not in the physical form human being sense. Could you astral project? Instead of asking anything, Eddie continued to pat the cat.

“Did the salt work?”

Eddie felt relief. That was an easier question and answer. “Could be a coincidence,” he replied, standing up and looking at you.

“Do you think it is?”

He was shaking his head because focusing on you again meant words were… hard… to… make.

You looked him up and down. “Mmm,” you agreed. “You could test it. Go without it. If you’re a sceptic.”

He wasn’t. Eddie really wasn’t. He didn’t know why he said what he said. He was freaking out.

“Thanks for bringing this back,” you said, and like Siouxsie knew it was a farewell, she jumped up and disappeared inside your trailer.

Eddie stood for a second at your closed door, confused and even more obsessed.

…

Eddie hadn’t seen you all week. He had, however, begun a page in his D&D journal dedicated to documenting occurrences he felt were out of the ordinary and therefore, had something to do with you.

He liked to imagine himself confidently knocking on your door, where you would invite him in. He’d present his evidence and draw his conclusion. You would smile, confess, kiss him and-

Stop, he thought.

But how could he go about his days as if nothing was different? A line of daisies had appeared, mapping a route from his door to your black picket fence. The moon was brighter, shining into his bedroom even when he covered the windows in heavy canvas Corroded Coffin banners. And every single cup of instant coffee or cheap tea tasted sweet before any sugar could be swirled through.

When Eddie woke again at 3:00 am Thursday morning, he thought maybe you’d cast a spell on him. The bowl of salt had rid his sleep of nightmares, but the dreams he was having were just as vivid and just as likely to make him sticky with sweat.

Eddie rolled out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. Two glasses of tap water later, he was standing still, listening.

Scratching. Scratching. A soft meow.

Siouxsie was back at the deck door. Eddie checked for you as he let the cat in. The park was quiet, the night warm, and an uneasy feeling settled in Eddie’s stomach.

“What brings you here?” he asked the cat, watching as she walked circles around the trailer, returning to him and meowing. She went into his room, jumped on the bed, and sniffed the sheets.

Before Siouxsie could settle into a little loaf of white bread, Eddie scooped her up. “Nah, man. You can’t stay here. Let’s get you home.”

When Eddie arrived at your door, his heart was racing. There were no lights on inside and the thought of waking you made him want to die just a little bit. He looked at his armful of cat and started to chew his lip.

“Fuuuuuck,” he said under his breath.

Eddie curled an arm around Siouxsie securely, then knocked on your door. No response. A second knock, louder. He waited, listened to the silence of the park. The abject silence.

Eddie couldn’t hear anything. No buzzing of generators. No trees in the breeze. No mosquitos or birds or people or anything at all. It was as if all the noise in the world had been sucked into a vacuum.

He was going to panic. Red lightening and It doesn’t hurt me, Do you wanna feel how it feels? Razor sharp teeth and empty lungs. Had Eddie been dumb? Had he tumbled into your garden, not seeing a monster in disguise? Maybe you were like Eleven though. You could be good, right? So good.

Jesus fucking Christ, he thought. At least he could hear his thoughts. His internal monologue. And the sound of… bells?

Eddie moved, his body naturally turning to face the noise.

It wasn’t bells. It was the bracelets on your wrist gently clinking against each other as you stepped over the pickets.

“Hi,” you greeted, your voice restoring the rest of the trailer park soundscape. The feeling in Eddie’s stomach was gone and everything seemed normal again. He could almost cry with relief.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

“She woke you again?”

“No… I was awake already,” he assured you, not wanting you to feel guilty.

You approached Eddie, stood in front of him and held your hands out for your cat. When you took Siouxsie, you hugged her close then looked back at Eddie.

In your short life, you had seen a lot. There had been beautiful people before, but none that made you feel the way Eddie did. You knew nothing about him, only spoken a handful of words, and yet, he made you want to scratch at his door like Siouxsie. Of course, you’d never. And judging by the Bambi-eyed expression on his face, you really wouldn’t have to.

“You have beautiful eyes,” you complimented Eddie.

He was taken aback, his mind cycling through the million and one things he thought were beautiful about you.

“And I’m sorry,” you continued. “I’ll talk to her. She’s just worried about you,”

“The cat? Is worried about me?”

“Yeah. She probably has the wrong Thursday though. She’s never been good at keeping track of the days.”

Eddie stared at you in absolute awe. Either you were a witch or you were a couple Crayola’s short of the rainbow. Both versions of you excited him.

“Does that mean there’s gonna be a Thursday where something bad happens?” he asked.

“Maybe. Maybe it’s already happened,” you answered with a shrug.

Eddie was processing, trying to work out if you were just taking the piss. He watched you step around him and open the trailer door. Siouxsie jumped from your arms and padded off to bed. You turned around and looked at Eddie again, smiled softly at him.

“Have you lost anything?”

“What?”

“Have you lost anything?” you repeated.

Eddie shook his head, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Like you lost your necklace?” he asked, to which you nodded. “No. But… There’s these flowers growing…” His sentence trailed off when he realised he was now the one sounding unhinged.

You made a humming sound of approval. “I saw. Almost like a little fairy highway from your door to mine.”

God, there had to be something more than just obsessed because Eddie was dying.

“That’s… weird,” he told you, smiling wide.

“Anything else… weird?” you asked him.

He was sure you knew. Maybe it was a test. Maybe you wanted to know what he noticed. “Coffee tastes sweet. Moon’s brighter. I found a dime bag I didn’t know I had… but I don’t think that one was you,”

“It wasn’t,” you confirmed.

Did that mean the other things were you?

Eddie’s smile was full of wonder and warmth.

“If she comes to you again, she can stay the night, if you want her to,” you said then, turning to step up into your trailer. Before he could stop himself, Eddie was stepping after you. “Goodnight, Eddie.” Hanging from the doorframe, you leaned down to press a light kiss to his forehead.

Eddie’s mouth was too dry to make words come from it and too soon you had closed the door, leaving him alone in the wake of your leave.

…

Saturday morning was cold, frost threatening to burn the tips of leaves and fingers alike. When you woke alone, you realised Siouxsie had spent her second night with Eddie, leaving you no company but your thoughts.

You were young, still learning to master your thoughts. It was why you were in Hawkins, a town built on a pattern of fault lines and far enough away from everything you knew. Somewhere to learn independence, and maybe figure out exactly who you wanted to be. It had history, which meant the promise of earth magic and plenty of energy to work with.

All of that was made easy with Siouxsie at your side, and you already missed her comforting purr and shiny eyes. Maybe you shouldn’t have offered up your only friend to Eddie so easily. For a moment, you thought she had heard your lament, the unmistakable sound of her crying at the trailer door becoming louder.

Putting down your marmalade toast and tea brewed from hand rolled balls of fresh leaves, you opened the door. The cat rubbed her face against your bare legs, then moved across the green grass as if she was going to leave again.

“That all I get?” you asked her, looking up to see where she was trotting off to, lament unheeded.

Eddie was under the hood of his van, switching between kicking at it and mumbling to himself. You watched Siouxsie make a great leap from ground to van rooftop, where she sat staring at you.

Help him, she was saying. He lets me have all the blanket.

Eddie didn’t hear you approach; it was only when he took an exasperated step backwards, growling in frustration, that he saw you standing next to the van. You’d thrown a huge, forest green knitted jumper on. The sleeves were too long and the hem came to your knees. It warmed all of you, even with the cold and wet stones beneath your feet.

Eddie’s expression softened when he saw you. “Hi,” he said, his voice in stark contrast to how it was moments ago.

“Are you okay?” you asked, forgoing a greeting.

“Ah… Yeah. No. Yeah, I am, I mean. My van though… When it’s this cold it has trouble starting. Starter motor, I guess?” He looked back into the engine with no idea what he was doing. Wayne wasn’t home from his night shift, so Eddie had to fix it or else call in sick to work.

After last year, Eddie wasn’t sure what he was going to do. At some point he’d need to study and test for his HSC. Not, yet though. He wasn’t ready.

He didn’t have Hellfire to occupy his time and the other members of Corroded Coffin were still haunting the halls of Hawkins High. He knew he wasn’t really the mindless manual labour type, even Wayne calling him too pretty for it, so he went for what he knew – music.

Eddie was persistent in his approach to getting a job at the only decent record store in the town. He wrote a letter to the owner, demonstrating his musical knowledge and appreciation. He showed up day after day, talking to customers like he already worked there. He promised he’d never arrive at work high and he’d always be on time.

The cold snap causing the oil in his van’s engine to become thicker, therefore, was a fucking disaster. Increased friction. Starter motor working harder, or not working at all, Eddie was running out of options and looking distressed.

“You don’t got a spell that can just like, fix this, do you?” Eddie asked you, half joking and half hoping you really would.

“A spell?” you replied, raising an eyebrow and smirking at his audacity.

“Yeah, fuck, never mind.” Eddie felt dumb. Embarrassed, even.

“I have a car though. If you need a ride,” you offered, glancing up at Siouxsie. She climbed down the front windscreen, jumping from the van and heading back across the road to home, satisfied with your intervention.

“Yes! Holy shit, yes. Thank you!” Eddie exclaimed, jumping on the spot then hugging you. “Fuck. Sorry,” he quickly said, pulling away from you like you burned. He must have seen the confusion on your face. “I, uh, normally ask. Girls. Before I, you know… Touch… them…” Embarrassed, definitely.

“I guess that’s a good policy,” you said to him, shrugging. “I’ll get my keys.”

He had followed you across the road and stood patiently at the passenger door of your black Bug while you retrieved the keys. Eddie noted that you elected to not put on shoes or pants. You noted that he was slightly too tall to look comfortable in your car.

“Where to?” you asked him as you reversed out of your spot and headed for the park’s exit.

“Hawkins Records. It’s Downtown, I can give you directions,” Eddie replied. “You’re saving my ass here. I owe you big time.”

The ride was short, Eddie knew, but an opportunity nonetheless. Since his stunning revelation that after last year, he probably shouldn’t purposefully get involved in more supernatural shit (even if the supernatural shit was a super pretty probably-witch), he had decided to gather more intel. Make an informed decision about if you were dangerous or connected to the Upside Down.

“So, ah, why Hawkins? Surely plenty of other cooler places you could’ve moved to?” he asked, trying his best at sounding casual.

“Have you heard of scrying?” you replied, glancing over at him. Eddie shook his head. “Hold a crystal over a map, let it swing, and it will land of a place of significance.”

Eddie thought for a second. “I really can’t tell if you’re fucking with me,”

“I know you can’t. Next question,” you said, smirking. As if you wouldn’t be able to sense the interrogation begin.

“Do you know anyone here?”

“I know you,”

“Do you know about… all the shit that’s happened here?” Eddie asked.

“I know what the papers say. I know there are still people that think you’re… bad. And, I know, this town is steeped in trauma. I can feel it. It radiates off everything and everyone.”

Eddie was plunged into his memories; it felt like an ice bath.

“Do you want to ask me anything else?” you asked, turning the heat up in the car.

Eddie’s eyes were glassy as he watched you turn the dial. “How did your necklace get in my room?”

“I truly don’t know how that works,” you answered honestly.

“But you didn’t seem… surprised,” Eddie said.

“No. I mean… I can feel it. Can you?”

Could Eddie feel what? Was there some cosmic energy he couldn’t sense? A shift in fate’s plan? Or, was he just meant to be feeling the swelling obsession he was nurturing for you? Could you feel that? Did you know what was in his mind and heart?

“Did you make the flowers grow?”

“No.”

Eddie was dismayed by that. “But… they’re… because of you, or something?” He was getting desperate for any proof. He needed you to admit to something.

“Maybe, Eddie, what you see in me, you’re seeing all around you now too,” you said, although you could see he wasn’t placated by your words. A small sigh, and you offered, “If it makes you feel… comforted… Then, yes. It’s me.”

It didn’t comfort him. But your car smelt like pine needles and there was a peacock feather hanging from your rear view mirror. Your cat slept soundly at his feet during the night. You were in his dreams.

“You don’t have more questions,” you stated. “My turn then?”

Eddie’s face lit up with curiosity.

“How personal can I get?” you asked.

“I’m an open book, baby,” Eddie replied, his charm defence back on.

“You weren’t… here… when you got those scars, were you?”

The question threw him entirely. It wasn’t that it was about the scars; he had predicted that it would be one of the first things you wanted to know about him. It was the implication of your question.

You clocked his breathing hitch and a heaviness settle in his shoulders.

“You almost died,” you, again, stated rather than asked.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Last year.” He laughed then, not joyful but somewhat entertained by what he was about to say. “On a Thursday,”

“Hmm. She’s a very perceptive cat,” you told him. Eddie would have to come back to that one later. “Where were you?”

“How do you know I wasn’t here,”

“I would say something like ‘oh, you won’t believe me,’ but I think you would,” you started. “I can… read you. Anyone. Anybody. Literally, bodies. Your freckles and scars. Anything with a history on this mortal plane. But I can’t read your scars. Not those ones.”

He didn’t know what you meant, not with any certainty. His mind was ticking over at a million miles an hour while he tried to fill in the blanks, come up with explanations he could make himself understand. Maybe you really were like the superhero girl Eleven. Or maybe like the smallest Byers, touched by something and unable to ever shake clean of it. Or maybe he didn’t know anything about witches.

“They called it the Upside Down,” Eddie said, his voice shaky but measured. “It was like the normal world but… bad. It was… decomposing while alive. Had monsters. It was evil,”

“I have a lot of questions, Eddie,” you told him softly. “But not today.”

He looked over at you and almost imploded at your softness. Your knitted jumper and bare legs, unshaved and dotted with strawberry spots. Your specific brand of weirdness, and how it felt like kindness to be around.

“Can I ask you one more?” he ventured. “Are you jealous that Siouxsie loves me so much?”

You laughed, explained that she was prone to short bursts of heavy affection and that she would return to where she truly found safe haven. Eddie looked through your car mixed tapes, then you bid him a farewell as you approached Hawkins Records.

“Do you need me to pick you up after school?” you teased through your open window.

He flipped you the bird and you pretended to catch it like it was a kiss. He grinned.

…

It wasn’t until the sound of plastic to metal startled you, that you realised something was different. You were a few grams heavier than you were the night before. Bold of you, you thought to fate, taking Eddie’s pick from around your neck and holding the chain in your hand.

You weren’t so dumb as to call Eddie to you, but to that necklace… that could be done with minimal magical risk. Sitting at your alter, you centred yourself before creating a circle.

In front of you, true north, you placed a white candle as the gatekeeper. Clockwise, a bowl of salt to keep the nasties at bay, then a rhodozite to cleanse and magnify energy. To your left, a bunch of daisies freshly picked and a small jar of dirt in which one earthworm lived as it always had and always would, never growing, never aging, simply being.

Saying your prayers, you put Eddie’s necklace in the small silver bowl on your alter, followed by a bay leaf on which you wrote his name. Calling him to his lost thing, you lit a small red spell candle, letting it burn quickly. After lighting the bay leaf and watching it go up in flames and turn to ash, you breathed out and closed the circle.

Across town, as he put a display for the new INXS album up, Eddie suddenly brought his hand to his chest, feeling for the necklace he never took off. It was gone. Inside him though, was a strong sensation that he was being pulled. Back home to the trailer park. No. Not home. To you.

All day, Eddie was distracted. He barely bothered to even try and talk customers out of buying George Michael and into buying, “Fuck, man, even The Smiths are better than this.” As soon as his van had been put into park, he was crossing the road and banging on your door.

Inside, you had just begun cooking cranberry and dark chocolate muffins in anticipation of his arrival. When you opened the door, Eddie looked feral, breathless.

“Do you have it?” he asked, pupils dilated.

Leaning down, you put his necklace over his head and watched him hold the pick between his fingers. The mania subsided and he felt normal again.

“Would you like to come in?”

He nodded and followed you into the trailer you called home.

“Holy shit, this is like… What the fuck? This is some sort of… magic, right?” Eddie said, almost spinning on the spot as he tried to calculate how much square footage the trailer should have.

“What do you mean?” you asked playing dumb.

“It shouldn’t be this big in here.” He was looking around… it felt like the inside of your small trailer, the very one that your Bug pulled along, was as big as his own free standing one.

It opened into a small kitchen that was comparable to his, and a living space. Maybe it was the fact that instead of a couch and coffee table, you had a beanbag, a large cushion collection, and a table that looked like its legs got cut off about a foot from the top. Or maybe it was witchcraft.

Eddie invited himself to go through a door that led to your bedroom, again, comparable to his own in size. Through another door was a small bathroom. When he wandered back out, the confusion set deep on his face, you laughed.

“Surely, you’ve seen stranger things, Eddie Munson of Hawkins, Indiana?”

“I mean… Yeah, but… Fuck, I don’t know.” He sat himself down on the beanbag, his long legs folded in front of him. “You’re really a witch, huh?”

“You floated that idea by anyone?” you asked him, leaning with your back to the kitchen bench.

“I live with my uncle,” Eddie said, pointing outside and across the road to his home. “Said I was judging a book by its cover,”

“Are you?”

“No. I’m judging you by all the weird shit that’s happening. This,” and he pointed to the trailer below him. “This is a big one. Fuckin’ Mary Poppins trailer.”

You laughed at the analogy; it was good. Accurate.

“How does it make you feel?” you asked then, watching him carefully.

Eddie felt like he was on fire whenever you looked at him like that. He was scared you could see into his soul. Of course, you couldn’t, but there wasn’t a single thing about watching Eddie that wasn’t fun.

“Honestly?” he said, paused mostly to begin to stitch together a sentence rather than to hear your reply. “Like I could be doing something dumb,”

“Because I could be… from the Upside Down?” you asked.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, but you’re not. That’s gone. Or, at least, the door got closed. Nailed shut. I hope. Doesn’t matter. You’re not from there,”

“I’m not, no. I have never heard of something like it before either,” you told him. He believed you, implicitly. “I don’t want anything from you, Eddie.”

Someone always did. His teachers wanted him to be more productive. His friends wanted him to be their larger-than-life Dungeon Master. His uncle wanted him to be the best he could be, which wasn’t a bad thing but came with its own set of expectations and let downs. Fuck, even his enemies still wanted him to show up outside their parties so they could buy from him.

“Except, maybe, your company,” you added, smiling at him and turning back to the batter you were stirring.

Eddie was blushing and therefore grateful you had turned away. He ran his hand through his hair, then looked around. Sitting under a window that framed his own trailer perfectly, was a record player and your beloved collection.

Eddie crawled over to them and sat cross legged, flicking through the stack, making little snorting and huffing sounds.

“You got something to say to me?” you asked, not turning around.

“Nope. No comments from me.”

Whitney Houston. The Cure. Fleetwood Mac. Depeche Mode. Prince. David Bowie. The Clash. Joan Jett & The Blackhearts. Alice Cooper. The Damned. Patti Smith. Bauhaus. Tom Waits. The Birthday Party. Brian Eno. And of course, Siouxsie and the Banshees.

“You gonna call me cliché, because people in glass houses, Eddie,” you told him, pointing the wooden spoon in your hand at him.

“No… A few surprises. But there is… a lot of black eyeliner in this collection. That’s all I’m saying. A lot of cats in the dark and then she is the darkness kind of thing,” he joked.

“You getting enough oxygen, all the way up there on your high horse?”

Eddie laughed, settling on Joan Jett. He’d always loved the cover of Crimson and Clover. He stood and came to see what you were doing. He ran his finger along the top of the mixing bowl, scooping up some of the batter and tasting it.

“Spicy,” he reviewed.

“Good spicy?”

“Yep. Like… Christmas spices. What’s it for?”

“Muffins,” you answered, handing him the wooden spoon to lick as you used a smaller one to divide the batter evenly into the muffin tray. “For you and your uncle.”

Eddie was quiet as he sucked on the spoon. Then, “Are we meant to bring you somethin’, like a housewarming gift?”

“I don’t know. Are you?” you asked, looking up at him.

He grinned then quickly leaned in and kissed your cheek. “Welcome to the neighbourhood.”

…

Stronger together, you knew how it went. Find a coven. Sisterhood (not cisterhood). Community. All that empowering jazz. At least without one, you had nobody to torment and tease you about how utterly infatuated with Eddie you were.

You could hear the ghosts of covens past. A boy? A mortal metalhead boy had you that ruffled. But, yeah. Yes, he fucking did. Maybe it was that he followed you like a lost puppy while you went hunting for special leaves and sticks. Maybe it was that he now brought over any vaguely interesting rock to ask if it was a crystal. Maybe it was that he was so easy to be around.

Eddie let you put thin braids in his hair and read his palm. He’d gotten all serious about it until you told him it wasn’t actually a specialty of yours. However, you could tell him the basics. The waves in his head line meant he was a progressive thinker. A life line with a clear arc told a story of a vibrant and energetic personality. His heart line was deep and curved.

“It means you invest in relationships. All or nothing. And that you express emotions willingly,” you’d told him, tracing the valleys of his palm. “See how your sun line is close to your fate line? That’s a strange one. It means that your public image is controlled by external forces. Things out of your control,”

“You mean like how the entire town seriously thought I was a cult leader that murdered teenagers in the name of Satan?”

“Yep. That’s it,”

“And it says that? On my hand?”

“I mean, if you believe it, yes,” you answered, never pushing him to feel or think anything other than what was coming naturally to him.

He studied his palm, looked at the lines you’d read. “But this isn’t your thing?”

“No. Not my area of expertise,”

“What is?” he asked.

“I gotta keep you coming over. Don’t want to ruin the mystique by telling you everything,” you said with a casual shrug and a smirk Eddie loved.

He held his hands out to you, you took them and let him thread your fingers through his.

“I’m not here for the mystique,”

“Anymore,” you clarified.

“Right. Anymore,” he agreed.

“Then, why are you here?”

It was an obvious question. Self-serving. You just wanted him to say it. However, as smitten as Eddie was with you, he was still a troublemaker. Someone who would not go quietly into the night, so to speak.

“The baked goods and Siouxsie,” Eddie said.

You pouted and pulled the saddest ever face. Eddie laughed, then yanked you by your hands towards him. He tipped backward, pulling you on top of him. Between the cushions and blankets, it was a soft landing. You let it happen, curling up to him and laying your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“I’m here for you,” Eddie whispered, resting one hand on your back and the other running soft lines through your hair.

You moved, putting your chin on his chest so you could look up at his face. “I’m here for you too.”

…

If you had been asked to place a bet on how long it would take Eddie Munson to kiss you, you would have gone home in debt. It had been a month since you had moved to Hawkins. A month of lost things and mushroom picking and late night reading. Still, Eddie hadn’t braved more than a kiss on the cheek.

There had been afternoons where you fell asleep spooned together on his bed and mornings where he’d woken too early, made his way over to your place to brew tea and cook pancakes. Still, no kiss.

Eddie was sometimes like a caged animal, sometimes like a lost pet. His moods and outlook on the world shifted often and wildly. It was hard to know exactly what was going on in his head, but you were sure he wanted you. Through all his trauma, he was a lover at heart.

The universe spoke to you as well. She said the same thing. One afternoon you took a cat nap on your bed, woke up feeling spaced out, dreamy, to Eddie staring at you.

“What? What’s wrong?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“How… How did you…” but he couldn’t form words. You looked around. You were in Eddie’s room, on his bed. “There’s no way… You didn’t have time…”

He’d walked into his room to collect the dirty dishes, got to the door to leave, stopped as he remembered the stash of water glasses on the other side of the bed, turned back around and you were there. Asleep on his bed. Appeared out of thin air.

For a moment, you just stared at each other.

“Is this real?” Eddie asked, putting his collection of dishes down and kneeling on the bed. You sat up and met his hug. “You feel real,”

“I’m real,” you reassured him.

“You don’t know what’s happened,” he stated, sensing that this wasn’t one of your secret little witchy things you did.

You shook your head and racked your brain for an explanation.

From the kitchen, Wayne yelled, “You forgot what you’re doing in there or what?”

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie said, picking up the dishes and taking them to where Wayne was waiting by the kitchen sink.

As soon as Eddie took his eyes off you, you blinked back to your own bed. It was instant. Painless. So fast that you took a second to realise you’d moved again.

Eddie ran back to his room to find it empty. He left through the door near his bedroom, Siouxsie’s entrance of choice, and walked to yours. You were already opening the door as he approached.

“Did you-” you went to ask.

“Yeah. You were just in my room. What the hell was that?”

No book nor muse could give you answers. There was only one place to turn. You dropped Eddie at work, then found a pay phone on a quiet street. Although you didn’t know if it was entirely possible, you didn’t want them to be able to use the line to find you.

“The universe is restoring things once broken,” the oldest witch you knew said.

“That doesn’t make sense. How does putting me in some boy’s bed restore something broken?”

“Edward. And he’s not some boy to you,”

“Jesus. How do you- Whatever. Am I meant to do anything? Is it going to happen again? Can I stop it?” you asked, not getting stuck on how she knew Eddie.

“Stop it?” she laughed. “Of course it could only be you that asks to stop the universe.”

You said nothing, slightly ashamed that you, even for a moment, thought you knew better than the universe.

“Listen to her. Use your gift. You know what it means.”

She hung up.

You banged your head on the glass door and groaned. Goddamn witches, you thought, everything’s gotta be so goddamn mysterious.

…

It didn’t happen again. Both you and Eddie waited for it, but nothing. When a week went by, you decided it was a one-off kind of thing.

“Maybe it means you should spend more time with me,” Eddie said from the beanbag in your trailer.

Looking up from where you were journaling, spread out on the cushions of your living room, you gave Eddie a look that so clearly said ‘we are together all the time.’ He chuckled and rolled onto the floor to be next to you.

“Your grimoire,” he said, poking the journal.

“Not everything I do is all magic and moonlight, Eddie. Just a normal journal.”

He made a small ‘hmm’ sound and picked up one of the black pens you were using. He positioned himself next to your free arm and began to draw bats to match his. You were going out of your mind; you had never been the type of girl to let anyone mark you in any way, shape, or form. But it was Eddie.

When you closed your journal with a definite snap, Eddie jumped a little. He dropped the pen.

“No. Keep going. I like it,” you told him, handing him a thicker sharpie to work with.

You laid on your back and let Eddie draw all up your arm. Eyes closed, it felt good. Soft. Intimate. When you could tell he was going back over the same lines, you opened your eyes for explanation.

“It will look dumb if you’re entirely covered,” he offered in a hushed tone.

There was a solution to every problem; you took a pen and marked the line on your thigh where your skirt’s hem sat. Then, you bunched the skirt up around your waist, revealing a lot of skin for Eddie to work with.

There was a simple pleasure in watching Eddie try not to look at your underwear but fail miserably. He could contain the grin on his face and you laughed at him.

“Draw me something,” you asked.

He blinked at you a few times, then did the only thing he could think of. In clear letters, at the top of your thigh, he wrote his name and circled it in a heart. He beamed up at you and you reached out to pat his hair.

“Good boy,” you praised, then wriggled down into the cushions and blankets. “More.”

Eddie wasn’t what the world would consider a sublime artist, but he knew his way around a dragon. His sketches were fantasy in nature, and they translated onto your skin remarkably well. As he covered you, he hummed happily, and you continued to play with his hair.

When Eddie ran out of space, he sat up and watched you wake from the totally blissed out altered state you were in.

“Hi,” Eddie whispered, waiting for you to inspect his work.

“I like them,” you told him. “Shame they’ll wash off,”

“I will do this anytime you want. Just say the word, I am here.”

You smiled, felt your skin flush red and your body react to being so close to him. You were all tingles and hot spots. And Eddie, well he was doing his best to angle himself in a way that would hide his own body’s reaction to your bare thighs and underwear. Keep your shit together, Munson, he yelled at himself from inside his skull. Now or never.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes. Please,” you replied, the whininess in your voice obvious to both of you.

Eddie grinned ear to ear, then leaned in and kissed you like it was something he did all day every day. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you into his lap. His hands began to roam, touching his drawings on your legs and the softness of your waist.

You wanted to touch him, hold him like he was holding you, but his scars were deep and he was covered in them. The singular time you’d spoken to him about them was when you’d given him a ride to work, all those mornings ago.

“Eddie,” you said his name into his mouth. He nodded but didn’t break the kiss. “Can I…” You gently placed your hand on his face, over where the scars began. It was those ones – on both cheeks and his left jawline– that made him most self-conscious.

Eddie’s grip on you stayed tight, but his gaze lowered and he licked his lips nervously. You waited for him to speak, not settling for anything less than explicit and voluntary consent.

“I want to tell you about it,” he said. He looked at you with an open expression. You kissed him again, deep and heavy.

“Tell me about it.”

…

Sleep between warm flannel sheets and velvet blankets. Holding cups of hot cocoa. Being kissed, gently, softly, all over. These were the things you wanted for Eddie.

He was a wonder before you knew about 1986. Knowing that he survived quite literal horrors, bitten and bleeding. On the cusp of death then expected to live knowing how it felt to be eaten alive. You wanted to worship at his feet for the rest of your life.

You were a firm believer that all trauma and pain were relative. What could seem like just a bad day to some, could send others to therapy. Yet, you were in awe of how kind and happy Eddie was. Even before the creatures in the Upside Down, the ostracising and villainising, the abandonment and the loneliness… Eddie could be half the person he was and you’d still think he was a miracle.

“You have magic in you,” you told Eddie.

Wrapped up in the softness of your bed, he was happy; it was his happy place. The light filtered in and broke against crystals, prisms of rainbow beams shooting across the space. It always smelled of muffins or incense or sage. Siouxsie was always thrilled to see him and you’d let him add a few vinyls to the stack.

“Magic, huh?”

“Yep,”

“Nah… That’s just like, your love, but in me,” he replied.

“Nope. You have a special brand of magic. It’s earth magic. I can feel it,”

“Can I do anything with this special earth magic?”

You thought on it, watched Eddie stretch and stopped yourself from cooing ‘oh big stretch’ at him like you did with Siouxsie.

“Well, I hear that boys with long hair and earth magic can ask people like me for almost anything, and they just say yes,”

“Oh really?” Eddie laughed. “What if I ask for… a kiss?”

“Your wish is my command,” you replied, wriggling closer to him and kissing him lazily.

“And here,” he said, pointing to the tip of his nose. You giggled and did what he said. “And here.” The top point of his right cheekbone.

It was the hesitation then that made you aware of what he wanted to ask for. The words got caught on their way out, stuck on a branch of self-consciousness.

“Maybe, here?” you asked, then planting a feather-light kiss on his right cheek, over the scar. Eddie nodded before your lips left his skin. “And here?” A kiss to his left cheek, where the scars ran deeper. His breathing hitched, but you could tell by the way he was pulling you closer that he was fine. More than fine.

“I’m gonna say it just one more time. And here?” you said, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck, over the bites.

Eddie’s final wall came down and you traced every line of his body. When the weight of letting you in, letting love touch the part of himself he hated, he cried. He tried his best to wipe the tears away quickly, but nothing got by you unnoticed.

A joke for him, to lighten the mood. You gasped, covered your mouth in faux shock. “Not the nipple!” you said in whispered outrage.

Eddie laughed and the joyful sound broke the tension. It all evaporated into the air, along with any hang-ups he was harbouring about his body, and about if making it out of the Upside Down was worth it at all.

When he had told you about what it was like there and how the scars were formed, he also told you about the pain. Not the pain in the moment, but in the healing.

Some doctors said it was like his skin had been poisoned; it rejected grafts and began to heal twisted, regardless of how perfectly the stitches were placed. Other doctors were more superstitious. They’d seen some fucked up things come through the emergency room doors. They said Eddie had been cursed. There was no medical explanation for why the scarring seemed to get worse the more they tried to heal them. There was no scientific reason for Eddie’s body to refuse medicine and food.

“They still hurt you,” you stated, focussed on his arms, kissing the insides of his elbows.

Eddie nodded after a split second of confusion. “You never told me what you meant,” he said. “About how you can… read? Is that what you said? You can read scars?”

Since you met Eddie, your conversations had been peppered with information about each other. Things that warranted immediate interrogation. Things that probably did, but you each let slide. Then things of major interest you made notes to return to. You had wondered how long it would take Eddie to ask you about it.

“It’s my specialty. Some of us palm read. Some can conjure elements. Talk to the other side. See the future. Endless possibility,” you started. Eddie was listening intently. “Me. I got a bit of a weird one. Only useful in very specific contexts, but you know how it is,”

“No. I really don’t,” Eddie replied with a small laugh. He waited for you to continue.

“So, this freckle here,” you said pointing to the spot on his wrist that was darker than the others. “I can see you. You’re… four, maybe five? It’s summer. You’re walking home eating a popsicle. This freckle got darker that summer.”

Eddie brought his wrist closer, studied it.

“And that teeny tiny scar under your eye. As white and thin as one of Siouxsie’s whiskers. Guitar string snapped when you were seventeen. Sliced right across your face.”

Eddie’s mouth curved into a smile. “You can do that with anything?”

“Anything that…” It was hard to explain. “Changes your body in an unnatural way. Tattoos included,”

“Don’t judge me,” he quickly said.

“Sketchy home jobs. At least you made sure the needle was sanitised,”

“Mmmm. High pain tolerance and I’m smart. Total catch,” Eddie joked.

“You are, actually,” you told him, not letting him linger in self-deprecation. “And if I am being totally honest with you, Eddie Munson, I would like to formally catch you, if I may,”

“Formally?” he repeated, smiling widely and opening his arms in an invitation.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. “Eddie. I love you. I like who I am around you… I tried to be all ‘mysterious witch rolls into town,’ ‘ohhhh leave her alone,’ but, I don’t know. I didn’t see you coming. But now you’re here. Under me. Around me all the time. And I don’t want you to go. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Eddie was breathless, submerged in a sea of your devotion. But he couldn’t fucking help himself. “So, you admit you’re a witch?”

You huffed dramatically and rolled off him, pushing him away playfully.

“I’m sorry!” he yelled. “Come back! I love you too!”

Too late. You were up, off the bed. Eddie ran after you, chasing you until he had you pinned down on top of the piles of pillows in the living space. He tickled until you were begging him to stop, then he kissed you like it was the single reason he refused to die. Maybe it was.

…

“So, you’re saying if I smoked that, it would kill me?”

“Eddie…” you warned.

“I’m serious. Look at all this. We could make a lot of cash if we’re smart about this.”

You pushed him away from your kitchen bench. “Go back over to your fucking rollies and let me work,”

“So serious!” he teased, walking to the cushion thrown he’d built and plonking down.

You were dividing herbs, crystals, and other conduits into small hessian fabric bags. Some were for you, some were gifts, and some were for sale. Eddie, also involved in the distribution of earth magic, was rolling joints ready to sell to first timers. It was second nature to him, something he could do blindfolded, so while he worked, he watched you.

“Can you tell me everything is for?” he asked, making eye contact while his tongue ran along the edge of a paper.

“Well… this is one is for Lucy,” you said, holding up one of your small parcels. “There is angelica herb for the baby’s colic, and valerian to help Lucy sleep. But everything has a twofold purpose. The medicinal and the magical. Angelica helps to protect the home, and valerian is good for romantic energy,”

“Lucy as in, my boss’ wife?”

“Yep. I have a long list of Hawkins clients. Not all of them would own up to it… Like… Mrs Miles has requested fire agate.”

You took the crystal over for Eddie to inspect. “What’s it for? Help her be less of a bitch?”

“It would take a whole lot more than agate for that. This is a positive stone. It helps manifest safety and security and that kind of thing. Depending on how you use it, it can help you be a little braver, and help reflect harm. But that isn’t what she’s using it for,”

“Oh?” Eddie quipped with a grin. “Do tell,”

“She didn’t tell me everything, but she did say it was for her husband. And this is a crystal that we use to fight cravings. Addictions. Less than healthy desires,”

“Oh shit. What do you reckon he’s into?”

“Probably something boring, like the bottle. I don’t know. I do hope it helps though,” you reply.

“Do they deserve your help?” Eddie asked sincerely.

“She’s not the nicest person I’ve met, but who I am to gatekeep magic? It’s bigger than me, you know? I… serve… it? In a way? I don’t know how to explain it.”

You went on to tell Eddie about moonstone and black obsidian, mistletoe and borage leaf.

“And I can’t smoke any of it,”

“Not any of this, no. I mean, you could try, but I think most would either do nothing or do harm. However…” You stood on tippy toes and pulled a jar off the top shelf.

Eddie was at your side quickly, taking the jar and shaking it. “This kind of looks like dope. What is it?”

“Mugwort,”

“That sounds super fucking witchy,” he said with a laugh.

“It’s smokable, but is pretty bitter. Some people say it tastes kind of floral but I don’t get that. It doesn’t give you a high while you’re awake, but it makes your dream suuuuper trippy,”

“People buy it?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “To help lucid dream, mostly.”

Sometimes, you worried that Eddie would get bored if you rambled on about the history of herbs and magic. You didn’t know, but sometimes he worried you would get bored if he rambled on about D&D and Metallica. The truth was not somewhere in the middle, but at the absolute extreme end of it being impossible to bore each other at all.

Eddie was listening, watching, waiting for you to continue.

“The Aztecs made it into incense, because they believed it to be sacred. Native Americans use it for purification. Ancient cultures from everywhere used it to ward off evil spirits. People like me believe it’s connected to lunar energy, which is very strong,”

“The moon?” Eddie asked with genuine curiosity.

“Yeah. Lunar energy is about cycles, things that repeat. We can’t be static; we need to move through life’s cycles, you know?”

He nodded despite not entirely understanding. “Soooooo, can I-”

“No. Maybe if your nightmares stop you can try some,”

“I don’t have the nightmares when I sleep with you,” Eddie argued.

“I know. But I won’t be able to live with the guilt if it fucks you up. So, it’s a hard no.”

Eddie accepted your ruling, shook the jar again and handed it back.

“Tell me more,” he said, once again becoming side tracked from his task by you and your magic.

…

It happened again. While you watched Eddie, who had not gone to sleep in your bed but was beside you when you woke, you thought about it.

The universe is restoring things once broken. Use your gift.

The universe had taken great effort in moving you to Eddie, all those weeks ago. Whatever you’d done between then and now, she wasn’t satisfied. She had moved Eddie to you. A clear message that there was something to be done for him.

He’s not broken, you said to yourself. But he was in pain. Maybe if your medium was scars and bodies, you could do more than just read them.

Eddie’s eyes began to flutter open, focus on you.

Maybe there was something you could do for him. It would take planning. Planning that he could not be privy to; you wouldn’t give him hope where there may be none.

“The fuck?” he mumbled, sleepiness slurring his words.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?”

Eddie sat up and realised what had happened. He looked to you for an answer, but you had none, so all you could offer was a shrug.

“Alright… Well. Hi,” he grinned, moving over to kiss you.

“Hi,” you said into his mouth. “I think, if I take my eyes off you, you’ll go back,” you told him. “That’s what happened with me, right?”

Eddie nodded. “Guess we just have to stay in bed, staring at each other forever,”

“You’ve got to open the store. That’s why you slept at yours last night. Didn’t want to wake me early.”

The smile faded from his face and was replaced with a silly pout. “Fuck. Yeah. First time opening. Huge promotion, you know? Lots of responsibility,” he joked.

All you had to do was raise an eyebrow and Eddie knew what you were thinking. No more self-deprecation. It was good that he liked working at Hawkins Records. It was good the boss was teaching him how to open and close, how to balance the books and bank the cash. It wasn’t to be laughed at or be considered small.

“I love you,” he said then.

“I love you too. I’m gonna let you go now,”

“Fuck, does this hurt?”

“No, baby. If it did, I wouldn’t let it happen to you.”

Before he could reply, you leaned in and kissed him, then rolled over in bed, feeling the weight of his body disappear in an instant, leaving you alone in your trailer once again.

…

The trust in Eddie’s eyes was deep, unwavering. He was laid out in front of you, flat on the floor of your trailer. You’d made him as comfortable as possible. A faux fur blanket was beneath him and Siouxsie was cuddled into his side. Still, being stark naked in the middle of a pentagram of candles was a scary thing.

“Would you be more or less anxious if I, like, talk through this? You could just close your eyes and let your mind wander, or-”

“No. Talk me through it,” Eddie replied.

“Okay. Well, first we need to create our circle.”

Like you had countless times before, a gatekeeper white candle at true north, salt bowl, rhodozite, fresh flowers, and an immortal earthworm. Eddie found a spot on the ceiling to focus on and tried to slow his heart rate.

“You ready? I’m going to cover your scars with this,” you explained, holding up a jar of the homemade concoction. “It has a careful balance of four pain relievers – wormwood, yarrow, St Johns’ Wort, and willow bark. The plants all came from specific places and were grown at specific times. Then, we have chickweed, comfrey, and meadowsweet for healing,”

“It will make the scars go?” Eddie asked. You hadn’t told him what exactly you were doing, just that you wanted to try something.

“No. That would take a different kind of magic, one I don’t have. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with how you look, Eddie. I don’t want to change you. I just want to take your pain away. And I can.”

He nodded, went back to staring at the ceiling and patting Siouxsie.

“The plants were dried, then ground up. They’ve been steeping in chamomile oil for exactly thirty-three days,”

“You’ve been planning this for a while, huh?”

“Yep. This is… kind of the culmination of all my talents. An extension of them, maybe… Anyway. The oil is stabilised with some beeswax,”

“Then you put it all over me,”

“Yep. How’s it feel?” you asked.

“Uh, weird. Cold and warm? And… surprised I don’t have a raging hard on.”

You laughed. “It’s the circle. There’s intention here, and it’s not a sexual one,”

“Huh… I just don’t want you to get offended. Any other situation in which you were putting this gooey shit all over me with this much… attention, I would be creaming my jeans.”

Again, you laughed, shaking your hair and trying to pull yourself back into the right mindset. “Eddie, shut up. I need to focus,”

“Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.”

Eddie remained quiet while you wrapped his arms and legs in red twine. You had him sit up so you could wrap his torso and neck. When panic briefly flashed across his face, you kissed him.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered, continuing the twine up around his head so his cheeks, mouth and nose were covered. You checked he could breathe then laid him back down. “You need to stay still, as much as you can, for thirty-three minutes. I know it’s uncomfortable, but I promise this is gonna work.”

You placed a small black onyx over Eddie’s heart, for protection. Jade in his left hand and smoky quartz in his right. Lastly, gently sitting on his forehead, the master healer – brandberg amethyst.

It was the most still for the longest time Eddie could remember being. He thought it was going to take all his willpower, but it didn’t. Something was happening that he couldn’t describe. He felt awake and alert but far away and light. So light. Like he was floating. It felt as though his body was deep into a dish of edibles, but his mind was calm and on mum-friend duty. It was good.

When he felt the weight of the crystals lift, he opened his eyes. He watched you carefully put them into a bowl of salt water. Next to it was another bowl, one that held the smallest, cutest bonfire.

You began to pull the twine from his legs, feeding it into the fire slowly. When Eddie’s body was free, you extinguished the flames and poured the still-hot ashes into a small glass vial.

Lastly, you used a muslin cloth to wipe the potion from his skin, then closed the circle.

“Alright. You can shower now, and I’ll go bury this,” you told him, picking up the vial.

Eddie remained placid as he nodded and disappeared into your bathroom. Siouxsie took it upon herself to follow him and keep watch until both she and you knew the spell had worked and Eddie was safe.

When you came back in from the cold night, Eddie was sitting on the edge of your bed in pyjama pants. His scars had remained, but were perhaps a lighter shade of pink. They didn’t scream in angry red.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, coming to stand between his legs.

Eddie took hold of your hips and looked up at you. A tear slipped down his face, followed quickly by more. It was only once it was gone that Eddie realised how much pain there had been.

“I… I can’t… feel them. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he cried, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling himself into your belly, hiding his face against your warm body.

…

In numerology, four is a figure of stability, security, and dependability. So, when Eddie finally asked to have his tarot read, you calculated the days since you first met him. It had been four-hundred and forty-four days, a bit over a year, since you had found Siouxsie in the company of Eddie.

Of course, you thought.

Eddie had jumped at the chance to have you read his palm. Nearly weekly, he’d bring his empty mug to you so you could decipher the tea leaves. But his cards? It had been a hard no.

“Can I ask why?” you had said softly.

Eddie shrugged. “Feels like… everything is good right now. I don’t want anything to fuck it up. If I know too much about what’s coming, might do something stupid.”

It was simple logic and you respected his boundary. Sometimes, if the tea leaves said too much, you’d not speak of it all to Eddie.

Months later, when he asked for you to shuffle your deck, you asked him what had changed. Once again, he shrugged.

“Woke up feeling good?” he offered. You were sure it was the number four and the placement of the moon, but just nodded and retrieved the cards from the special place you kept them.

While you were in your bedroom, Eddie lit a joint and gave Siouxsie a little treat. He put Van Morrison’s Moondance record on; it was not his usual thing but it always made you happy, and Crazy Love fed the butterflies in his stomach.

You and Eddie sat opposite each other on the cushions in your living space. Over the sawed-off coffee table, you laid a deep purple silk cloth. When you asked if he wanted a simple three-card spread, or something more complex, he said he was all in.

Swapping the cards for the joint, you let Eddie shuffle while you inhaled deeply.

“We can stop at any time,” you reminded him as he put the deck on the table.

Eddie nodded and waited for further instruction.

“Okay, you’re going to shuffle them again, but this time I want you to think about something. It might be a general question you have or something you wanna know more about. It doesn’t have to be super specific, but try to focus in on a theme.”

He picked up the cards and did what you said. There was something about the image of Eddie sitting cross-legged surrounded by cushions, joint hanging from between his lips, shuffling tarot cards that made you feel a little bit feral with love. You needed to focus though; if he was ever going to let you do this again you needed to channel your energy into reading his.

Once Eddie placed the deck on the table, you pushed it along, spreading them in a line.

“You’re going to pick your cards now. Hold your hand out flat, like this, and see if you can feel anything. The right card might feel warm or like static. It’s okay if they don’t though. The first one is going to represent your preconceived ideas about the theme.”

Eddie held back a smirk as he moved his hand along the line of cards like you’d shown him. He felt a little bit silly, but he was a believer regardless. He knew your magic was real.

“This one,” he said, pushing a card out of the line. You moved it away from the rest.

“Again. This card will represent the present.”

He repeated the process for the unexpected, the near future, and the distant future. Once the five cards were drawn, you put the remaining deck aside. Eddie’s chosen cards were neatly arranged side by side on the table.

“You can turn your first card over.”

The Chariot.

“He looks cool,” Eddie commented.

“He is. This card is about having direction, control, and willpower. It would suggest, whatever it is your thinking about, that you have a sense of real, practical determination about it,” you said, watching Eddie for that flicker of recognition people got when the cards resonated with them.

“Can I tell you the thing?” he asked, to which you nodded. “Been thinking a bit about work. I think they’re gonna open up that second store I told you about. Their kid is nearly one. I don’t what they’re thinking about managers and who’s gonna run the record store, but…”

“But it could be you?” you finished for Eddie, because he felt like saying it out loud might jinx it.

“Yeah,”

“I think it could be too. And, this card is saying that you’ve been working hard and, you know, moving forward. The moons on his armour represent what is coming to be. It has a connection to the Divine will. So, it’s a good headspace to be in,”

“Okay. Yeah, cool. Next one?” Eddie asked. He was getting into it.

As soon as he saw the card, Eddie groaned.

“No! It’s not bad! The Death card is good. Metamorphosis. If we apply it to your theme, then you’re right. There is change happening at work, and it will bring new beginnings,” you told him. He raised his eyebrows. “Come on, Eddie. You know better than anyone that there’s more to dark imagery than like, actual death and doom,”

“Alright. I’ll trust you on that one,”

“Good; trust me. Next one is the unexpected… The Tower,” you read, then began to hum.

“What? Is this one bad? It’s upside down,”

“It is. That changes the meaning. See, the upright Tower means disaster. The lightning and fire, the people jumping or falling. It’s not normally a good omen, but yours is reversed. That symbolises disaster avoided, or just delayed.”

You were speaking slower and more considered, and Eddie clocked it immediately. “Just tell me,”

“Well, no, it’s just… if this is your unexpected thing, it means there probably will be something you have to overcome. The Tower is falling, and you can’t stop it, but seeing it reversed means that you’ll cope and survive and probably be better for it,”

“Right,” Eddie replied, thinking.

You weren’t entirely sure what it meant for Eddie’s future, but that’s the nature of the cards. It was certainly the nature of the unexpected position in the five-card spread.

“So next is the future?” Eddie said, then flipped the card.

“Yep,” you said, then laughed as The Fool was revealed.

“Great. So, I get a burning tower and now I’m a fucking clown?”

“This is a good card, Eddie! I promise. The Fool has a free spirit. He is taking his first steps out into the world. He’s happy and excited,”

“He sounds dumb,” Eddie said deadpan.

“A little. Innocent, definitely. See the cliff? He needs to be maybe just a little bit more aware of his surroundings, but he’ll have help. The dog is his warning sign,”

“We have a cat,”

“Firstly, we? Do we? Secondly, it could be a metaphor. It just means, take to the road light-hearted but heed the warning signs,”

“Alright. I can do that. Last one,”

“That was your near future. This is more long term.”

You held your breath as Eddie turned the card over. If it were up to you, Eddie’s future would be filled with comfort and ease, triumph and beauty. Alas, it wasn’t up to you, it was up to the universe. While you trusted her, she had dealt Eddie a pretty shit hand.

When The World sat face up on the table, you breathed out happily and wiped your eyes, unaware they had started to well with tears.

Eddie looked up at you. “Baby?” he asked concerned.

You sniffed back the tears and smiled at him. “It’s good. Really good. And it makes sense for today, too.”

Eddie grinned, picked up the card and studied it. “There’s a lot going on,”

“Yeah, um,” you started, composing yourself. “The World. Okay. At the heart of her is balance, in all things. But, not at the expense of progress. The World is eternal evolution in movement. And, uh,” you paused, giving Eddie a chance to reign you in if he wanted.

Eddie saw the sparkle in your eyes, the excitement and the innate need to just talk.

“Tell me everything,” he reassured you.

“Well, like, today, you know what today is? We’ve known each other for four-hundred and forty-four days, right, and see here, in the corners. These four guys, they represent Scorpio, Leo, Aquarius and Taurus, from the zodiac, and they in turn can represent so much, like the four corners of the universe, the four elements and seasons, and the four suits of Tarot, four compass points…”

“Everything is coming up fours, huh?”

You were beaming. “Yeah, and if you wanna get all hippie about it, if you pull The World it means there is wholeness in your future, Eddie. Like, alignment of you and everything around you. A sense that you’re connected to something bigger.”

Eddie laughed. “These are some big feelings to have about a job,”

“Maybe. But maybe that stability brings, you know, something more? Fulfillment and achievement. And, maybe the cards have branched away from just your main theme. They have waited a long time to tell you their story, so maybe they’re just peppering in other things too?”

“Ah, I see. So your cards are as tricky as you? Love a bit of mystery?”

“They do. I do,” you replied, looking back down at the table. “This is a really good reading, Eddie. How do you feel, ‘cause I feel… I’m so happy for you,”

“I feel like this is promising me a lot but if I have learnt anything in the past four million four thousand four hundred forty-four point four four days is that I can trust you, my little witch,” Eddie replied, smiling fondly and reaching across the table to boop you on the nose.

“I love you,”

“I love you too. You make me… so fucking happy,” Eddie said, his voice equal parts soft with love and rough with lust.

For a moment, a timeless moment, you and Eddie watched each other. The air was hazy with incense and smelt like choc chip cookies. Siouxsie had departed, off to chase leaves and make friends with mice, leaving the two of you alone.

You crawled around the table and sat in Eddie’s lap. Quickly, immediately, his hands were holding you, travelling under your shirt and up around your back. You buried your head in his neck, kissing over what used to be pain but now was perfect neutrality. His hair curled around your fingers and as you pulled, Eddie felt his scalp tingle and his entire body scream that it needed to be closer to you, closer than it was, closer than humanly possible.

The kissing was desperate, messy, unprecise. As you pulled away, Eddie brought a hand to your mouth to wipe away spit before it escaped. You sucked in his finger, holding it between your front teeth and not letting go. He grinned, all manic and beautiful.

“I need you… in like, so many ways,” he whispered.

“You’ve got me. In every single way, Eddie. Always.”

Lavender and lemon balm. Fairy circles and magic mushrooms. Serpentine and Australian opal. The Sun and the Moon and the stars and everything under and beyond them. Infinitely, Eddie and his sketchy tattoos and pick necklace and his scars. You were obsessed.

End Notes: I poured my soul into this one and it means a lot. I’m usually chill about reblogs but I would really appreciate your support and feedback for this one.

Find me on AO3 here. My Eddie Munson zine is now on sale here.

If you want more witchy fics, here's a rec list.

Taglist of cool people that wanted to read this even before it was finished: @apolixyan @rgbsona @pink-hufflepuff @hocuspocuscrocus @nightless @httpsunflowers @draguta @moon1ightdreams @dreamlandcreations @veiellis @blackwood-asylum @lunarielevesque @pistachoz @munsonsmel0dy @fic-for-readers @wtvbabes

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Stranger Things #Stranger Things Fanfiction

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venusvity · 6 months

Text

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ ... PRE-RELEASE SINGLE - DRAMA!

DRAMA is one of two pre-release singles for VENUS' fourth full studio album. DRAMA will be promoted for TWO WEEKS until the next single is released.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ ... MUSIC VIDEO AESTHETICS.

The DRAMA music video received 45 MILLION VIEWS in 24 hours and would remain number one on the Youtube trending page for 6 days. The video follows the girls through a technicolored cyberspace as they fight against a virus only known as "DRAMA" which is depicted as a dark and rapid-moving shadow.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ ... DRAMA LINE DISTRIBUTION.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ … BAEBI = 28.20 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ … BLISS = 19.26 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ … CHLOE = 49.15 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ … SENA = 17.29 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ … JIAH = 38.12 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ ... PROMOTIONAL HIGHLIGHTS.

The girls were promoting DRAMA consistently for two weeks. For a solid two weeks, the girls were at music shows or other schedules promoting their upcoming album, which they revealed the name of at the end of their promotional period for DRAMA.

The album is called "VENUS VICTRIX" and will have 11 tracks. The creative direction for the album will be handled by long-time VENUS creative director Adrian Reyes. This differs from their last comeback, Burn The Witch, which was fully controlled by Venus themselves. While on Knowing Brothers, Chloe admits the girls experienced a lot of stress from handling all aspects of the album. "It was too much. We would be up until 5 AM almost every night trying to get everything to work, and we agreed that for this album, we want more rest!" which earned laughs from the hosts and from fans alike.

During an episode of "Visting Venus," they had Adrian come on to explain the lore of the album to them in a classroom-like setting with the girls at desks and him at a chalkboard, pointing with a stick and aggressively writing with a red piece of chalk.

"It's basically, like, Venus' Victory. The girls are trapped in a harsh cyber world but manage to break out and transform the landscape into something habitable," Adrian would explain, drawing a loosely thrown-together professor-esque outfit and round specs. Klara, drawing a school uniform and thick-rimmed classes, would raise her hand. "And how will we break out from this world?" "Easy," Adrian starts, pulling down a projector screen that has three big words on it in comic sans font, "Dance, music, and friendship."

The video was a massive hit with fans and had them on the edge of their seats waiting for the album's release.

Though they gave it their all at every performance, it was clear the girls were tired and being overworked. In most vlogs, you'd often see members sleeping on one another during their breaks at music shows or expressing how sore they were from all the performing they were doing. The Venus members, with the exception of Klara, would assure fans they were fine and liked working especially. Klara, however, would go on to post a singular mirror selfie of herself at 3 AM on her Instagram story with the caption, "just got back. can't wait for my powernap before i have to go back lol" but the story was quickly deleted and followed by a video of the maknae laughing and apologizing.

"That was meant for my close friend. My bad, my bad! Stop worrying. I'm just complaining! I swear to God if y'all mass email Flowerbank I'll have a tantrum. Don't worry about me!"

While this moment went viral on stan Twitter, constellations couldn't help but to worry for the girls. However, their worries were seemingly quelled once they got another stage of DRAMA to entertain them.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ ... LOOK BOOK.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ … LEFT 2 RIGHT: BLISS, BAEBI, CHLOE, SENA, AND JIAH

The girls wore wigs during their promotions, concealing their actual hair colors. While sometimes the wigs looked natural, especially Sena and Jiah's, there were times when the wigs looked straight from Party City. Due to their status in the industry, people called this style choice "camp" and praised them for it.

YOU CAN GET YOUR DRAMA PHOTOCARDS HERE!

#╰ * venus : discography ⧽ burn it to the ground .#ficnetfairy #fictional idol group #fictional idol community #kpop fanfic #idol oc #kpop oc #fake kpop oc #kpop au #idol au #kpop addition #idolverse #oc girl group #bts addition #fake kpop girl group #fake kpop idol #oc kpop group #stray kids addition

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ashascoven · 2 days

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☽ ✯ venture x witch! reader pt. 1! ✯ ☾

✯ welcome to my first venture fanfic ever!! ╰(*´︶`*)╯

✯ my venture fixation and endless fanfic reading of them has led me here, hours deep into writing my own...

✯ now that im typing this at 4 am on a school night.. i might have to post this in multiple parts..... 23 pages of fanfic that's still a wip uh oh!!

✯ ahem, i hope theres some fellow venture lovers out there who'll enjoy this! happy reading! :D

☆ FANFIC DEETS! venturexreader ☆

reader is a female who practices witchcraft! i wrote her that way because i also am a witch irl! :,)

VERY lengthy build-up fanfic (LOTS of reading.. i type a lot i think?)

venture is referred to as sloan <3

lifeweaver is besties with the reader, referred to as niran!

everything related to witchcraft here may be exaggerated / inaccurate for fanfic purposes.. but i tried writing it all into an experience > just reading!!

eventual ritual smut....

feel free to hmu, hope u enjoy :D

For every night that the full moon showed her face, the couple would be outside to accompany her. •°. *࿐

They'd bask in her glow to the grounds below, cherishing the energy of grace that she brings with her starry companions and practicing gratitude with her.

Both of them would dance around in the grass with bare feet, laughing away at each other's joys until they're so dizzy that they land into the planet’s arms, hand in hand, heart to heart. 𓆩♡𓆪

Gazing at the shapes of the misty clouds above their heads, they'd point out whichever ones reminded them of each other with giddy smiles on their faces.

Sloan would roll over with that sweet, chipped grin of theirs, facing you and holding your face gently.

Their thumb would run along the corner of your lips, eyes sparkling at how much they could just take you under the skies right now.

“ah, mi cariño, you're so.. beautiful. no crystal in the world could ever compare to your beauty.”

You'd turn to face them, putting your hand above theirs with a blush on your face.

“oh, sloan! you're too kind, my charming agate..”

“anything for the gem that makes my heart race.”

The two lovers would giggle at their silly rock jokes, holding each other close under the night’s gentle breeze.

Never wanting their time together to end, they'd lean into one another, eyes fluttering shut as their lips meet once again.

The natural softness of your lips pressed against theirs sent shockwaves through their body, none that their drill could ever replicate on a battlefield.

You made them feel so warm and loved inside, especially with the way your hands made it to their hair every time you two kissed.

It felt like the world had stopped, and all they could process was how needingly their hands moved all over your body in response, taking their time with each mark, crease, and even speckle of hair.

They loved everything about you after all.. each “flaw” of yours was just another spot that they had the honor of touching and kissing. <3

They'd pull back for a breath, but really it was just to take you in once more.

“you’re so special to me, mi vida, you know that?”

The moon was going to show herself at her fullest tomorrow, but curses, you were dreading her appearance..

“something's brewing.. tomorrow won't be a good day, i can feel it.” You mumbled to yourself, glaring down at the black candle you held with its own silver plate.

The flame that once stood still flickered at your words in response, emitting up to you in what felt like commiseration.

“mm, something's gonna happen, right? go on, you can tell me~..”

You poked your index finger at its flame in a petting motion, watching as the flickering intensified. The shape of the fire leaned away from your touch in shame.

“don't be sorry, it's not your fault.. shh..”

You tilted your head at it and cooed with a comforting tone, holding the candle closer.

The flickering stopped and the size of the once spirited flame dimmed down into a ball of burning light.

Moving your gaze back to the rain outside of the window you stood in front of, you sighed.

“just, please protect them for me, okay? i know you can do it, take this and keep them safe..”

You held the candle steadily in front of your face, careful not to drop it with one hand.

The other hand reached down into the drawer of your altar’s nightstand, pulling out an old, used incense stick.

With the edge of it, you used the dripping wax to draw out a sigil onto the body of the candle, whispering an affirmation in hopes that it reaches the universe in time.

Then, you placed the candle down, thanking it for letting you borrow its energy.

You looked back at your sleeping lover, resting peacefully in the bed you two shared.

They hugged a pillow that you had nudged in place of where you were laying, already drooling all over it. Their hair was a mess and their body already took over most of the bed.

Yeah, they were just in a grey T-shirt and purple boxers with lightning bolts patterned onto them, but god, they were such a sight to take in.

You smiled, before looking back at the window and its altar, your heart feeling a little lighter for the night.

“yeahh.. they'll be alright.”

“moorningg sunshiinee~! (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )”

“mmhh.. whehh..”

“i mean, it IS raining.. but i made you sunny eggs anyway!”

“actually, i dunno if they're.. exactly.. sunny? they're all nice and poached up for you though! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ”

You felt a plate nudge at your side, earning a groan out of you.

“c’mon mi corazon! you gotta eat something!!”

“por favoorr!!! pleaasee wake up, i wanna hug you before i go! (っ´ω`)っ”

“whuh- huh??”

You finally budged at the gloved hands that were lightly shaking at your shoulders, pushing them away.

Squinting at their blurry face, you rubbed your eyes to get a better view of the person in front of you.

“before you.. go? you don't normally leave this early, sloannnn..” You yawned, looking up and down at their work clothes in confusion.

They had a different color jacket on today, but your tired mind didn't think to question it, figuring it was because of their job.

“yeahh I knooww my love, but there's some.. new ruins that my buddies found at work..! r-really important duty calls, and history awaits!”

“here, eat this for me! please?” They grinned, holding the plate in front of you as you sat up.

“mmh, promise me you'll stay safe baby.” You shoved a piece of burnt toast in your mouth without really looking at it.

“of couurrssee, y/n! don't you worry your little pretty head about me, i'll be fiiinee~ (つω`｡)” They sat the plate down next to you, wrapping their arms around you and snuggling their cheek on top of your head.

“mmhmmm, you better be, or i’ll keep every mirror and glass in this house covered when you're dead!” You reached up, playfully smacking the top of their head.

“nooo!! :( how am i gonna talk to you when i’m a cool mummified spirit thennn?ヾ( ￣O￣)ツ"

“no matter how much your ghost bangs on my crystal ball, screaming ‘y/nnn!! mi amooorr.. my priiinceeessss!!! myy woorlldd!!’.. you'll be talking to yourself.”

“baby nooooo :((, pleeaaase don't abandon me like thaatt, really! don't worry about me, i’ll bring back goodies for you n’ everything! (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ” They pecked your lips, holding your face with the cutest puppy eyes ever.

“awwe, fiinnee. i believe in you, sloan.. i won't curse you with being a lonely spirit.. yet. (´-.-`)” You joked, your hands making it on top of theirs.

They rolled their eyes, continuing to make a mess of your face with their honey-coconut chapstick.

You happily absorbed all of their pouty kisses like a crystal soaking up a person’s energy.

You could've sat there and let them kiss you awake forever..

..but unfortunately, the excavator had a job to do.

With one last kiss on your lips, they hurried over to the bedroom’s closet, snatching up a backpack and their signature drill from it, and they waved their way out of the door.

“alright baby, i gotta go now! i love you, i miss you already! (´ ε ` )”

“oh-! i love you more! thanks for the food! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡” You blew them a kiss.

“nonono, thank YOU for leaving those drinks by the window for me! :D” They peeped their head out of the doorway one last time before rushing through the house.

“don't forget to tell the bugs goodby- WHAT.”

“LOVE YOU MOST!! (o^ ^o)ﾉ”

“SLOAN!!????”

“IMSTEPPINGOUTTHEDOORNOW,BYEBABYCAKES!MUAHMUA-”

You watched them scurry down the road from the window, familiar looking jars clutched in their arms with a grin on their face..

They just took your jars of moon water to work.

You've been carefully curing those jars with salt under the moon light for literal years.

What the fuck.

With your palm now on your face, you sighed.

“there's no way they just- okay.”

You pressed your hands together and closed your eyes.

“i won't sacrifice them to the gods in their sleep tonight i won't sacrifice them to the gods in their sleep tonight i won-”

The smell of egg and toast hit your nose, making you look down at your side.

The plate of breakfast was still sitting there.

“oh, hm.” You picked up the fork and sliced an egg open with it, watching how the yolk oozed out slowly, inviting you to enjoy it.

‘chef sloan, huh?’ You raised a brow, bringing a piece of it to your mouth.

‘did they.. try poaching eggs this time? weird, i thought they were in a hurry.. it’s cooked wel-’

You immediately stopped chewing, the slight taste of metallic water failing to compliment the wetness of the actual egg.

You felt your right eye twitch, hoping that the egg wasn't boiled with what you thought it was.

It was then that the adventurous Sloan Cameron was destined to die by the hands of their own lover.

They jogged through the rain in a hurry, abruptly halting at the bus stop they almost just ran past.

They knew you would've gotten onto them for not taking an umbrella, even more for snatching up their water jugs, but they figured they'll make up for it by kissing you all over later.

With their bags strapped on, drill in their hands, and their girlfriend’s jars now burrowed in their pockets, they were amped for their own little mission awaiting them at a site reserved for the Wayfinder society.

See, they weren't actually called for any “important duties” at work, nor were any new ruins discovered.

Rather, they had their own plans for today's solo expedition, and that included secretly taking a trip down an untouched mine.

It was near one of the less active dig sites at their main workplace, hidden under old, giant tires that probably haven't been moved for years.

How did they find it? More like, how didn't they?

Their bus arrived, and they climbed on, paying for themselves and the one other person behind them with a ‘oh, don’t sweat it!’

They casually sat down towards the front of the bus, careful not to bang their filled pockets against anything, and sighed in relief. ( ´ ▽ ` )

Them and their drill both took up four seats, all dripping wet from the rain outside.

Some people gave them looks, but they were oblivious to it, one hand patting their drill while the other held the edge of their seat.

They looked to the front window of the bus with a smile, bopping their head side to side while thinking of you. (b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b

Any worries about being found or getting in trouble for working on a site alone was out of the window; today was a paid day off for workers in the society.

But Sloan? Oh, Sloan Cameron was the most committed and daring worker that the Wayfinders had.

If they weren't invited to anything for the holidays, they'd gladly spend their days putting in more time at work, not caring whether it was even meant to be a work day or not.

If they felt like digging, they could dig that!!!!

No one else at work ever minded anyway, their proven ability to work efficiently and optimistically is what earned their reputation of being reliable enough to be left alone.

Uncovering stories of the past cost them nothing more than physically getting active until they felt like bugging their girlfriend to cuddle them to bed.

..Sloan only ever really took their days off if it meant staying home with their beloved now.

Otherwise? They essentially were paid really well just to do what they love; collecting pretty rocks and bones for their lover, going on fun expeditions for their love of archaeology, and building big muscles in the process.

It was a triple-win in their eyes, they wouldn't have life any other way. No bad day or sudden curse could ever change that..

(TELL ME THEY WOULDN'T CALL IT A TRIPLE WHAMMY!!!!!!)

Oh, how they felt themselves warm up at the thought of their goddess at home, but quickly shook their head, reminding themselves why they were here at this specific site.

To think that such a cave with so many marvelous finds was right under everyone's noses was bizarre to them.

Sloan was so happy that they were the only one to know about it, gushing to themselves about all the crystals they'll bring home for their witchy wife to work with.

They let their mind wander again, imagining the smile you usually have on your face from their grand returns home.

Σ>―(��°ω°〃)♡→ Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→

You'd rush out of your little sanctuary shack that was on the side of the house to the sound of the doorbell, nearly breaking through the wall to wrap yourselves around them, kissing their dirt-covered face without a care in the world.

‘welcome homee babyy, i’ve missed you soo much, muah muah!! how was work? anyone i need to curse today? are you hungry?? thirsty?’

They chuckled to themselves at the thought of your voice, unconsciously rubbing a hand on the side of their face with a ‘shucks.. (ง ื▿ ื)ว..’

They thought about how you'd take quick notice of the extra bag they've come back with, panicking and offering to help them carry their things inside.

Then, they'd shush you, shuffling over to the living room mat to empty said mystery bag, revealing an endless galore of a crystal witch’s dream.

From that point on, you'd probably tackle them down and they'd laugh, laying there to suffer the wrath of your kisses with no complaints.

Their imagination strayed towards admiring you.. how kissable your neck always is, how holdable your waist was… how much they wanted to take in the view of you on top of them and absolutely devour-

Nonono, they had a mission right now, and that was to acquire stones for their magical wife!!! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝

Sloan eagerly lowered themselves down into the tunnel of the cave, rope in one hand and flashlight in the other.

Their mining goggles were on, their backpack was on their back, and their jackets were off, leaving them in a white tank top. The jars they stole borrowed from you were now in the pockets of their pants.

Water and sweat dripped all over their arms and neck from how humid it was, but they were too excited to care.

They quickly scouted the place out like a sailor, the grin on their face growing at the sight of all of the crystals already visible to the surface.

It was like this mine was carved out for them, each colorful gem crying out ‘take me home to your lover!!! (」°ロ°)」 take me home to her!!! (」°ロ°)」’

Oh, did Sloan listen to their pleas alright, setting their bag and jars down near the entrance, instantly getting to work with their handy pickaxe.

They would've used their drill, but they stuck to pickaxes for these types of missions, wanting to bring home actual clusters of gemstones for you and not.. pellets.

Besides, whole rocks would be easier to preserve in water than crumbs, right?

Everytime they brought their pick down to the deposits of stones, the grin on their face widened in joy.. It was probably bright enough to start emitting light in the darkness of the mine.

The sound of the axe hitting the ores was music to their ears, so they kept swinging and chucking each one of your gifts into their bag, not a single worry in the world to bother them.

“ooohh, myy y/nnn! i can't waaiitt to bringg these homee to youuu~!!◝(⁰▿⁰)"

“i can't wait until they get home so i can kick their ass.”

You crossed your arms with a huff, staring in disbelief at the jars of moon water that were, in fact, missing.

Only one jar remained, and it was in the sink, empty.

Your eyes made way to the pan left on the stove, some pieces of egg still floating in the foggy water.

Your right one was probably still twitching, but you were just too distraught to notice.

“is this what i was having those feelings about?”

You clenched your fist, bringing it down to the counter.

“today was feeling off because my own partner decided to.. snatch ALL of my jars on the way to work.. as if that's something they normally do!?”

You looked at your flytrap plant pet that sat nearby, shrugging in a ‘wtf’ kind of way.

One of the plant’s traps closed themselves in response, slightly seeping downwards.

��ugh, i know, right?! it beats me why they'd just.. DO that, ya know?”

Another trap closed themselves, joining the first one in silently chiming in and sagging down.

“see, i really want to trust in sloan, i love them with my entire life! anndd afterlife! but.. also, who the fuck just steals a witch’s water?! not even a burglar would do that!”

“like, i was curing those for years, man! if sloan lets sunlight touch any one of those jars, i'll curse them for eterni-”

Both of the closed traps opened quickly in unison.

“..you're saying i.. shouldn't? curse them?” You raised a brow, a hand now on your hip.

The plant pods closed themselves back, not dipping their heads downwards this time.

“hm. i guuueeess that's true.. i was considering the voodoo doll approach to really teach em’ a lesson but.. you're right.“

“i can just sacrifice them another day.. today can be ass-kicking, tomorrow will be their downfall.”

You finished with a grin, starting to put some plates away as the flytraps reopened their mouths, sitting as if nothing had changed.

After a couple minutes of washing and drying used dishes from the night before, you felt something soft rub against your leg.

“wha- oh my gosh!! hii squuiishhyy!!” You squealed, lifting up the fat, fluffy creature that nudged its head on the back of your calves.

It wasn't exactly a cat.. or a dog..

Actually, it was a raccoon, a big albino one, and he was here to distract you from the bones you had to pick with your partner.

“myyy fluuffyy companionn, how aare youu?? :D”

You snuggled him, rubbing his face against yours.

He kind of just.. didn't react, cutely letting you hold him with a neutral •ᴥ• on his face.

Then, another soft creature rubbed against your ankles.

“aahh, spaaarkkyy!! my other fluffy companion!! what about you? how aree youu doingg todaay?? >:0”

You smiled, lifting it up to rub the other side of your face.

It wasn't a raccoon this time, but a black possum, and he had a white patch of fur in the shape of a star on his back!

He curled himself into your grasp with what seemed like his own little smile :0)

Both of the pets were adopted and well taken care of by you and Sloan.

Your partner found the possum on the way to work one day, insisting they kept him and named him Sparky because of the way his pointy teeth sparkled.

They couldn't stop running their fingers along his teeth for weeks, having to be dragged away by you for the possum to find some peace.

‘look at how razor sharp they are!! do you think his teeth could bite my fingers off?! id pay him with food, then i could get cool omnic prosthetics-’

‘sloan! that'd be-! ..messy actually, if you're gonna get blood everywhere, at least let me hire a vampire first.’

‘mi amor.. :( vampires only really existed centuries ago! how would you even find one for me right now? are you gonna make one of those cool pacts or something??’

‘id sacrifice you to one from the pas- nevermind, ‘cause you'd probaablyy want that, so i’ll just.. pretend to sacrifice you and not actually do it. (っ˘ω˘ς )’

‘nooOOO!!!! >:((((‘

As for the raccoon, you had found him while having a cleansing session in the woods, luring him with fruits and veggies that you had originally brought along for any wandering fae.

(You also made sure to come back later that day with more goodies as an apology to said spirits, leaving them with fruits, nuts, and honey.)

When you brought him home, you named him squishy, simply because he was fat and.. well.. squishy.

Sloan tried to play with his teeth, followed with their failed attempt at getting the two new pets to play a game..

‘y/n, look! they both have the cuuteestt baby hands!! that gives me an idea..’

‘you hold sparky like that ʕ •̀ o •́ ʔ, i’ll hold squishy like.. this! ʕ •̀ ω •́ ʔ we can play rock-paper-scissors! here, this'll be rock..’

And with that, you two now lived with Squishy and Sparky (and other pets being your plants & their bugs too).

A doorbell going off ended up interrupting your moment with your companions, earning a startled jolt from you.

‘oh? who could that- oh my stars-!’

“i forgot niran was coming over! Σ(O_O)”

✯ if you've made it this far, thank you for reading! <33

✯ here is the link to part 2!!, also on my profile.. here are the borders used!

✯ enjoy your day/night, stay hydrated, and keep loving venture <3

#sloan cameron #venture ow2 #venture overwatch #venture x reader #overwatch x reader #overwatch #ow2 #fanfic #fanfiction #save me sloan cameron

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netherworldpost · 2 months

Note

Been following you since the Evil Supply Co days, was very pleased to place my first order from Netherworld Post recently! I love the "hope this fireball finds you failing to save" design so much! A few people in my d&d group are definitely getting that one.

I hope you have an awesome day and something nice happens to you!

I am incredibly honored that so many folks have been following since Evil Supply Co.

It was nearly four years to do the day from when I first emailed friends "What do you think of this business name change?" to flipping the switch to launch.

One thing that hasn't made it through the transition

(I emphasize)

...yet...

...is the stories.

I used to write 3 - 6 very short stories a week. Sometimes a few paragraphs, sometimes longer. Most got posted here -- started here, on Tumblr!

The structures needed work, more connectivity. The genre, the characters and locations, the softness? All remain. But the structures needed work.

This will take time.

Not four years of time (length of shop closure to rebuild).

But they will come back.

I'm rambling. I'm a bit nervous over how all of this is operating. The nerves are not based in evidence -- the roll out has been smooth, the response bigger than expected. Just personality quirk, I suppose.

Back to sense-making.

I'm grateful you're here and that I am able to do all of this.

Phase One (where we are now) is to launch the shop and get the initial orders out the door. The presses are pressing ink to paper, first batch of orders goes out late next week. Continues onwards at a steady pace forever.

Phase Two (rest of the year) will be slowly adding more. Both to the shop for pay and the downloads "pay if you want."

Phase Three (next year, probably) is when I think we'll have stories again. It won't take that long to launch them -- launch will be part of Phase Two -- but I think it'll be next year until I'm at a steady pace.

I'm rambling again. I'll cut this to the end.

The primary availability of stories for Evil Supply Co. was free via social media posts.

I want to keep that availability. I don't trust social media to maintain its presence as it stands in the next several years (I'm looking at 3, 5, 10, 15 years forward).

The zero-cost-to-read prohibited basic structures such as "hm I like Strawberry, this mermaid, I wish to read more about her wacky antics." There simply wasn't funding to build out any of the million ways to do that.

Part of Phase Three is solving that, finding the balance. There are a million options, with strengths and drawbacks and costs. I'll have a better answer for it as the year progresses.

As I say, I am wary of social media (all platforms) direction -- they will continue to exist, I'll continue to use them to their fullest advantage, but they are growing increasingly hostile to independent creators. I don't work for Tumblr, Tumblr doesn't owe me continued access to audiences at the current pace.

Ultimately, I work for the moon and you come to the Post for the things you're interested in -- neither of us work for a social media platform -- and I'm keeping that tightly in mind to ensure I can continue to service your desires + build new things you'll love but didn't know existed yet.

Thank you for being here.

The something nice you hoped for came true in two ways.

Your note and an afternoon pulling together notes on how to independently publish myths and legends and stories and rambles about the Netherworld.

The scale of this equation is...

...significant.

Fortunately. So is my willingness to tackle it. :)

Cheers to you and thank you again for being here.

Long may we sip potions, in the moonlight, while sitting on our folded cloaks, listening to ghosts, telling stories of dryads and mermaids and witches and more, as the jack-o-lanterns surrounding us wile away the hours with their flickering tongues of flame and smoke.

#evil supply co #evil supply co.#evilsupplyco

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try02line · 2 months

Text

The Owl House: Hunters’ Bane

So, this is the cover page of what will be a smol comic inspired by the story written by @randomaccount95 and @migmiger , a sort of AU for the WIttebane lore. I will actually soon enough make a pinned post with all the information about all my projects bcs I have too many going on and I need some order in my life. ANYWAY, more or less the plot goes like this:

Caleb (18) and Philip(13) are two young orphans who live in Gravesfield, and who have a goal in mind, becoming great witch hunters (as per their city tradition)! Unfortunately, Philip is still too young to join the hunts, and as such is forced to stay at home while his brother leaves with the other hunters. Not this night tho, as Philip decides to sneak away and follow his older brother into the forest. What either doesn’t know, is that for the first time they will run into an actually witch! Trying to capture her, the two brothers will accidentally cross a magic portal that takes them to the Boiling Isles. Stranded there with no way home and the mysterious witch no where in sight, the Teo brothers need to survive in this unknown dangerous world until they can find a way home. What they don’t know, is that in the Boiling Isles, there is a practice that is just as popular as witch hunting back at Gravesfield, which is, Human Hunting. From predators to preys, will the two Wittebanes be able to survive and find their way back home?

The story is actually VERY long, I have made just a couple pages for now that I will post in the following days, and I am not too sure if I will continue it. Let me know tho if you’d like for this to become a steady series and get new pages let’s say every week or so :3

You know, making comic pages really makes me gain so much respects (even more than what I already had) for comic artists bcs is SO HARD.

Planning how to make a page, where to put the speech bubbles, the composition, the lineart, not make it boring it takes SO LONG, I would say each page takes me from 2 to 3 hours and a half, which is A LOT

Still, is quite fun, and is good training for different angles and compositions!

This lil project was also partially inspired by the small comics posted by @captainmera which are truly always a pleasure to read and look at, and helps to feed my Wittebane brainrot.

Let me know what you think about this project!

Have a lovely day 🦊

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 7 months

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Thinking about your spooky Feederism post but buckyyyyyyy

Hear me out Bucky’s daily nighttime fall attire is just some cute pumpkin pj pants that are pretty loose and fall low on his waist (bc he’s a slut) but I imagine he’s pretty toned not super muscular but not not muscular yk anyways he does his nightime routine shower pjs watch tv scroll on his phone and it happens by some freak coincidence he eats a pumpkin (or sweet potato) pie at 3 am on the first day of fall anyways from the midnight snacking at the witching hour triggers the seasonal expansion starting slowly when the moon waxing as just him feeling a tiny bit more hungry then it gets worse (better) I’m sure you can expand (get it ) on that idea 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Spooky belly kink

Okay okay okay okay this put an idea in my horny brain. SO. IMAGINE:

Buckle in fuckers, this got out of control. It's long. Warnings for unbeta'd stucky belly kink (Bucky centered, though), magical weight gain, magic, rapid weight gain, stuffing, immobility, etc.

It's early in October, so very early that it's still hot outside. Unfortunately. Seriously, like, Bucky just would like to sleep in his cozy and perfectly hideous Halloween themed pajamas and sip on a hot pumpkin spiced drink, but he can't. It's too damn hot. He will end up a festive puddle if he does.

So, his fuzzy, orange pj pants have gone from comfortably resting around his waist to sitting low on his hips for some ventilation, to... dammit, fine, as he's lounging around the house one early fall evening, waiting for it to cool down so he can sleep, Bucky pulls his fussy, festive pajama pants fully off. Leaving him just in an oversized pumpkin t-shirt and his underwear.

But it's still too fucking hot. He's still sweating. Fuck. This. This is not how fall is supposed to be!

Bucky grumbles and pads into the kitchen of his apartment so he can open the little window over his sink. He unlocks, opens, and then turns his back to it, blatantly ignoring the footsteps he can hear in the alley outside in favor of starting to return to his couch where he can lie (mostly) comfortably and grumble to himself about the heat. The footsteps are fine. People walk out there all the time. Whatever. He's fine, other than maybe melting to death.

As a result of the alley being relatively busy usually and Bucky's back being turned, Bucky doesn't notice the curling, semi-transparent tendril of purple, sparkling magic that reaches in through his now open window. It shivers and curls to the best of an ominous whistle. A whistle coming from someone's mouth outside - whoever is making those footsteps.

With his back turned, he doesn't notice its immediate lightning-like strike against his back, the tendrils wrapping around his sides and over his belly even as he continues to put distance between himself and the window.

By the time Bucky is flopping back down onto the couch, the unseen, unheard lightning is gone. It's absorbed into his lean, muscular frame. His back and sides and belly. His belly-

Now prone, Bucky scratches his tummy through his shirt, feeling a bit of an itch. It's nothing, though. Just the fabric of his shirt pulling against his body hair, probably. Whatever.

Whatever.

It's too fucking hot. It'd ruining his fall. That's all Bucky can think about.

Bucky intermittently complains to himself and scrolls on his phone until it's really time to get to bed. Just in his t-shirt and in his boxers with a light blanket over him, Bucky falls into an easy, blissful sleep, only waking up when...

At about 3 AM, according to the blinding light of his phone (when he takes it off the charger to check, rookie mistake), his belly is rumbling. Loud. Bucky rubs the sleep out of his eyes, frowning before he's even really awake.

God!

He feels hollow!

The moment he's done with his eyes, he blinks and glares down through the darkness at his gut. He had dinner! And he snacked before bed while melting his brain into goo on social media. Why is he so hungry?

So. Hungry.

Bucky just wants to go back to sleep. He tries to have a drink from his bedside water bottle - maybe he's just dehydrated? He rolls over to lay on his stomach. He...

Nope.

He's starving.

It feels like his stomach is trying to gnaw on his spine.

So, with a sigh, he has to push himself out of bed and wander through the darkness of his apartment, one hand on the wall and the other outstretched before him so as to not walk into anything, before eventually reaching the kitchen.

What can he have to settle his stomach before he goes back to sleep? Cereal? Nah. He's not in the mood. He's fresh out of granola bars, so not that either. He polished off the last few slices of leftover pizza for dinner. Maybe-?

Bucky opens the fridge, standing in the illuminated pool, feeling the chill wash over him, staring at the slim pickings aaaand -

Huh?

How-?

When did that get there?

Bucky is shameless with buying himself little treats to get through life, in general, but... he likes to think he would remember if he bought himself an entire fucking pumpkin pie and a canister of whipped cream to go with it. Before he can really investigate, Bucky's tummy growls again. A slice of pumpkin pie does sound really good right now. His mouth is flooded with saliva. With a glass of milk. Fuck. That would hit the spot.

Bucky doesn't really think about the fact that he ran out of milk two days ago and hasn't had time to go to the store yet. He feels dazed. Maybe this is a dream? Maybe he did fall asleep again after chugging water, satisfied enough to sleep but not satisfied enough to really fight the hunger off, so it's seeping into his dreams?

If it is a dream, what's the point of getting a plate and a cup? What's the point in real life anyway? He lives alone! Bucky's belly grumbles once more, this time in agreement with his sluggish thoughts. Suddenly, he can't wait. He can't even spare enough time to get himself a fork. It's just him. Just him and his belly and his dream.

Fuck it.

He digs in. Lifting the whole pie out of the tin and nibbling at the crust. It's mild and sweet. Mmm. He takes a deeper bite. The explosion of flavor takes over his tongue. That's it. Yeah. His eyes slide shut. The creamy pumpkin and dancing spices; the sweetness; the crumbly, delicious crust. Bucky takes bite after bite after bite, barely taking the time to swallow. He wants to fill his entire mouth with the taste and texture of the pie. He stuffs his face until his cheeks puff out like chipmunks.

Bucky swallows a few times to get all of the pie he's eaten down, feeling the chilly, smooth pie slide down his throat and drop into his empty belly. The pie tastes good in his mouth, but it feels even better. He already feels sleepier. He can feel his heartbeat slowing down in his chest. His breathing, too. His eyes are shut, but nevertheless, his eyelids feel heavier.

His belly feels heavier.

Apparently, while he was reveling in the pleasure of this mysterious pie, his body continued to eat. Stuffing his face.

Stuffing. his. face.

Bucky has both hands on the pie and so he can't reach down to explore his tummy. He doesn't even think to do that, though. He's dazed. He's in the process of eating. Eating messily with his hands. There is nothing else. Nothing but eating. He is biting and chewing and swallowing, and his belly is slowly but surely going from painfully empty to heavy. Full. He feels round. He can't touch himself, but he feels bloated. It's meditative.

Stuffing.

The entire pumpkin pie goes down so easily, so smoothly that Bucky doesn't really register that he's just put away an entire pie. He's living in the timeless, foggy, and nonsensical reality of what must be a dream. It's not his fault that he doesn't realize he's run out of food to shove into his hungry mouth until he finds no more filling or crust and instead just his dirty fingers.

Rather than panic over how much he's thoughtlessly consumed or be astonished about his sudden massive stomach capacity, Bucky simply licks his fingers clean with a satisfied, weighty sigh. His left hand, then his right. Then, Bucky licks his lips, too. He blinks slowly. He feels good.

He licks his lips again, savoring the taste of the pie. Moaning over the fact that he doesn't have anymore. Oh, wait-!

Bucky's eyes flick open urgently, his mouth makes a click sound, dry. Mindlessly, he sets the empty pie tin back onto the fridge shelf he found it on. He has whipped cream still! He has a gallon of milk still!

The little logical voice peaking through his dreamy haze and rich satisfaction clouding his midnight reality tells him he can have a taste, just a dollop. The amount that would be put onto a single slice of pie. Reasonable. Not too greedy.

But...

Then Bucky's swollen belly gurgles. It has other plans for him. So, even though Bucky's head tells him he's just going to have a little, his suddenly gluttonous belly overrides it. Big time.

The aerosolized sound of the whipped cream coming from the canister is hypnotizing from the moment he tips his head back, puts the nozzle into his mouth, and presses down, releasing the sweet, silky sugar and cream to the moment the canister squeals. Empty.

Bucky swallows.

Did he swallow at all when he was emptying the whipped cream into his mouth? Did it all pour directly into his gut?

Bucky sets the empty can next to the empty pie tin. The idea of investigating his throbbing, tight, overpacked belly enters his peripherals but... he gets distracted.

Bucky chugs an entire gallon of milk, moaning through it, feeling it flow right into his tummy and slosh around. The crust of the pie absorbs it, expanding. His belly gurgles and grumbles. Bubbles. Bloating. Oh.

Oh.

The whipped cream went in heavy and sweet, and the milk adds to it. It's not as sweet, but it is heavy.

Bucky knows without looking at the label that this is full fat milk. He never buys full fat milk anymore! He must've picked it up by mistake! Oh, well.

He's not going to return it.

He couldn't.

He's done with the gallon.

Oh.

Bucky burps, he hiccups - he sloshes.

Fuck.

The milk container isn't in his hands anymore. He's free to slap his hands down onto his struggling belly. Feeling the way it sloshes and swirls and vibrates with a few more hiccups.

The tightness of his belly is exhilarating. He feels like a drum. The weight of his belly is comforting, familiar but also new. Instinctually, he knows he's safe. Yet, he's never been so thoroughly gorged before. The heat coming from his taut, heavy gut is like his own personal heater soothing him into sleep. And the sounds coming from his globe-like tummy are like a white noise machine. Bucky is practically falling asleep on his feet. He can't open his eyes. He can't move.

He can't move.

"Oooh," Bucky moans, staggering back one step, then two. His hands are flat on his gut, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing away. His entire center of gravity has been thrown off with an entire pie, can of whipped cream, and gallon of milk.

He stands in place, wobbling. Waddling.

Bucky waddles back to bed, arms around his belly to try and keep the burps and hiccups and moans in. He doesn't want to be jostled too much. He might pop. He hardly remembers how he got back into bed, let alone if he closed the door to the fridge. It doesn't matter, though.

The moment Bucky is on his bed, he's out like a light. On his back, weighed down, hot and tight and good, and snoring softly. His hands never leave his belly. He's stuffed it, he's grown it, he's--

And as he's drifting off, he's wishing it was like this all the time. Not just in his dreams. Full. Taut. Swollen. Big.

The next time Bucky drifts into consciousness, it's much later. It's still ungodly early, but... later. There's a light from the full moon drifting into his room. It's not light enough to really wake him up, but enough that he realizes he's...

Heavier.

Bucky realizes, half-awake, that it's harder to breathe now than it was when he was last conscious. Huh? Why? Does he have an oncoming cold? Is he congested? He sniffs. No. So, what?

Bucky attempts to roll over. He doesn't make it, though. Instead, he just groans.

Yeah.

He's, uh, he's -

Heavier. Definitely heavier.

Rounder.

In the limited moonlight, Bucky can juuust make out the way his shirt has filled out with, with a solid, thick belly that's ungodly round.

A faint tickling of, oh, that's right, appears at the very back of his mind, but mostly Bucky is bewildered and awed. The pumpkin face on his shirt is illumated by the light of the full moon, and it's stretched and warped by his body. His belly.

His belly looks like a pumpkin. It would look like a pumpkin even without his festive shirt. It's that large. Heavy. And tight.

Holy shit.

How? What? When?

Bucky lies there, panting, sweating, feeling swollen and sleepy, with his hands on his gut, contemplating his existence for a while longer. What the fuck happened to me? Where did this gut come from?

He's on the cusp of the thought of did I have a midnight snack? And the following, was that dream(?) real? When -

Oh.

"Ohhhh," Bucky moans around his panting breathes, scrambling to lift himself higher on the bed and finding himself unable to do anything. He's too heavy. He's -

Is he growing?

It is harder to breathe.

Yeah.

He's, he's growing.

The face of the pumpkin is stretching, stretching, streeeetching. In the silence of the night, beyond his heavy breaths, the only sound is the complaints of his shirt fabric and the seams.

Under his hands, he's heavier and harder. Oof. He even feels fuller, the larger he grows. Bucky pokes his fingers into his gut, and out comes a deep, brassy belch despite the fact that his fingers don't sink into his belly at all. He's so fucking bloated. It's like he's shoved a basketball up under his shirt. Hard as, as a pumpkin!

And he's as roooooound as a pumpkin, too!

He watches the growth, the swelling, the bulging of his middle as he pants harder and harder. It's... it's... again, he slips into a hypnotic headspace without his knowing. The visual makes him feel sleepy. Hot. Heavy. Weighed down and comfortable. His eyelids droop. And, in no time, with his pumpkin tummy expanding out from his body, over top of him, Bucky is lulled to sleep. A soft, sleepy smile on his face.

Yet, his sleep is no longer dreamless. It's still blissful, but it's colored by visions of being a pumpkin. A huge pumpkin. Prize winning. The kind you see at a county fair being lifted by tractors from the beds of trucks to industrial scales. He's not on a scale in his dream, though. Which is good - he might break it! Instead, he's growing in a pumpkin patch, tethered to the ground by thick, feeding vines, but really, he's stuck in place by the massive weight of his pumpkin belly on top of him. Pinning him. Legs splayed out. Arms splayed out. Tummy growing and growing and growing. Rapidly. Impossibly. Crushing him.

Outside of his dreams, lying back and unconsciously in his bed, Bucky rubs and rubs his gut, obsessed with the taut, hard, spherical surface. He's practically vibrating with warmth. He is still smiling. He's snoring softly under the heft of his gut. His cock has worked itself to throbbing hardness in his underwear but even his physical arousal can't overpower the bliss of his dreams.

He can't shake himself out of the dream -

Growing. Swelling. Widening. Fattening.

Late the next morning, Bucky wakes up disappointingly thin and flat-bellied. He frowns down at himself. The only evidence left of his dreams is the sweat covering his body and the wet spot in his boxers. His shirt... he, his, his shirt might be a little looser than it was yesterday. Stretched. But. He must be misremembering. Also, his tummy, it must be his imagination, but it feels... tender.

As it turns out, Bucky isn't going to have a dreamless night in all of October. Not after that first night, his unconscious mind full of greed and gluttony. Stuffing. Stuffing. Stuffing. Growing. Growing. Growing. Heavier. Heavier. Heavier.

His dreams have him gorge himself, an unending tide of food and lust that can't be satisfied until he physically can no longer reach whatever food has appeared to him in his dream. Or, his dreams are full of nothing but unending growth until he drifts back into consciousness from his sunny, pleasant dish in the cool earth of the pumpkin patch. Rising above the rest of the pumpkins. He's big. He's huge. He's giant. He's impossibly massive. Much more pumpkin belly than man.

His starting size in his dreams climbs throughout the month until when he shuts his eyes, he's so huge that he can hardly move. Crushed by the fantastic, humongous blimp of his belly. He can not describe the way it feels to begin so large and only swell more.

More.

He didn't know their could be more! Bucky moans to himself, thinking about it. More. It's such a good word. How did he never know before? More.

How big could he possibly get?! Bucky craves to know so badly. He starts stealing naps in the middle of the afternoon. He starts hitting snooze more often. He puts candy bars that he's been trying to save for tricker-or-treaters on his nightstand to open and stuff into his waiting, salivating mouth the moment he's unfortunately pulled from his dreams. Big, big, bigger.

Yes.

Bucky won't complain about the shift of his dreams; not the content or the frequency; he can't complain! Especially not when on the Halloween night, with the moon perhaps the fullest he's ever seen it, round and fat and bright, his dreams take him to the fridge again.

He hasn't been back to the fridge since the first night.

Bucky licks his lips, and he rubs his chubby hands together even though it makes him giggle, it's such a cheesy gesture. But. He can't wait to tear into whatever is in his fridge. All of it. He's going to eat all of it. He fantasizes about destroying everything in there and in the pantry and cabinets and everything he has to eat. Every little morsel possible. It's all going down his throat and dropping into his fat, fat belly.

His firm, heavy enough to leave him sweating and gasping, heart thudding, waddle-inducing belly growls. Despite the overfed size of him, he feels starved.

With a jerk, Bucky opens the fridge and groans. He's brought to his knees. All that delicious food. Take-out containers galore. Each heavy and sticky - the sign of good, really good food. There's an entire three pizza boxes in there, too! Each box is full of with a complete, delectable pie. A gallon on chocolate milk. Full fat chocolate milk. Eggnog, too. Unseasonal, but... Bucky doesn't fucking care. It's going to be so thick and rich and good. He'll chug it straight after the milk. Further inspection reveals that in one of the drawers, there's an untouched pumpkin pie. Fuck, yeah. Fuck, yeah! Underneath the pie, there's a container stacked full, so full it almost can't shut, of fudgy brownies. Bucky finds cookies, too. The take-out includes Chinese food and Thai and Italian and -

"God," Bucky moans happily, stroking the parts of his heavy, gravity-defying gut that he can still reach. He hopes he won't be able to reach hardly any of it soon. All this food.

He's going to expand.

He's going to get so fucking fat.

Bucky empties the fridge. Then -

THEN

T H E N because Bucky is a true glutton now, by the end of his month of training, he goes on. He eats more. He finds the cabinets and the top of the fridge equally, fully stocked. The dream melts further from reality at that point, and lightning bolts, friendly, helpful lightning bolds of sparkling, neon purple begin to tangle around packages and bags and dump the contents into Bucky's mouth. All he has to do is stand there, which is a good thing because even the dream can't rescue him from the weight of all his gluttony. This feast has made him fatter than fat. He's engorged. He is massive. So fucking round. His knees shake. He moans and shivers around the candy bars being ripped open by sparkly purple magic to be shoved down his throat. Sticky. Sweet. He's eating them whole. With each bar, he feels the fat on his frame grow. Thicker. Rounder. Heavier. Abruptly, Bucky crashes back onto his monsterous, dimpled ass.

And he wakes up on the kitchen floor. Bathed in moonlight. There is no food in sight, although there is -

There's

All around him, littered are the remains of his feast. Wrappers. Crumbs. Empty containers.

It was real.

But

How?!

Bucky palms his flat, tender belly with a moan. He lets his head drop against the floor rather than craning down to stare at his disappointment of a belly. He wants it to be real so bad. That fat, hard, tight gut. His mouth waters and his appetite roars. Please.

Please!

His cries are heard.

It must be a dream! Right?! That's a thing? Isn't it? Waking up into another dream?

It must be a dream because it hits him all at once. The growth happens as footsteps start to echo through the alley outside Bucky's apartment building.

Step. Step. Step.

Bucky is trying to get himself back to bed to sleep off this weirdness (and maybe have time for another gluttonous dream before he has to go about his day), getting onto his elbows to stand up when BWOOOPH.

Bucky swells.

Sudden.

Hoooly shit.

Heavy and round and hard as the fattest pumpkin in the whole patch.

Bucky is knocked entirely onto his back with a heavy crash. The wooden floorboards creak under his massive frame. Ballooning. He's ballooning. He hasn't stopped yet. Bucky moans ungodly loudly. It's real. It's real! This is everything he wanted! The sensations. The heat. The pleasure. Christ. He wants to be a pumpkin forever.

He's awake! He has to be! It's never felt like this before. It's so real! Every detail is clear and fucking hot as shit. He can't reach his other arm to pinch himself, so he pinches the thick, firm fat of his expanding gut. He pinches as it grows. Bigger. Bigger. He whines with how hard he pinches his blubber. It hurts! He doesn't wake up!

It's real!

And it feels so fucking gooooood.

He's a fucking pumpkin. Ripe. Overripe. He's a whale. Blubbery. Too heavy to swim. He can't move. He's just -

Oh, fuck.

He moans out all the limited air he has in his lungs. Loud. Outrageously turned on. Pulsing and throbbing tightly, hotly. His cock but really his belly. It's pulsing, it's gurgling, moving, sloshing like he really did consume all of that fucking food and all those gallons of thick, fattening milk and Eggnog and juice and his poor tummy has no idea what to do with all the rich calories.

Laughter floats in from the alley outside. It's followed by a voice, deep but sweet, too, "I can make that happen, darling."

Bucky has no time to ask what? What will you make happen? He has no time to even think about thinking. The seductive tone of the voice feels like fingertips against his most sensitive flesh. All of him is sensitive now, plumped. Fattened. Ripened. He would shiver if he could move. If he wasn't so fat that he's immobile. He loves it.

Following the voice, eyes, blue eyes, appear outside his kitchen window.

Bucky should be afraid, but he's not. He's -

He's intrigued.

He's the child lured into the witch's house and fattened for eating. Too stupid and gluttonous to dream of putting up a fight.

"I can make you my fat pumpkin all year around, not just as a Halloween treat," the velvet voice purrs. A hand appears next to the stranger's attractive face. His fingers flick and -

Purple, shimmering magic bolts from his fingers to somehow cradle all, all of Bucky's heavy, massive body.

BWOOOPH

Bucky bloats, packing on at least another hundred pounds.

"Oh!" Bucky moans, fingers scrambling over his rolls, trying to touch himself. He wants to touch himself so badly! Frantically, he nods his head, feeling his chin double and triple, "pl-please! Please! I wanna be-" he groans. "I wanna be your pumpkin!"

"Good," the attractive witch purrs.

"Grow me! Please!" Bucky cries.

The witch does as he pleads, humoring him. "What do you wish to eat, my pumpkin?" he asks as he slithers in through the open window. Standing before him, his cold, electric-sparking hands against his sensitive, taut skin and the underlying blubber.

"Anything!" Bucky whines. "Anything! I just wanna, I wanna be bigger!"

"Ohh, what a greedy pumpkin I have." He slaps his gut, laughing. Bucky ripples like thick jello. Holy shit. His toes curl. "I can't wait to make you bigger." His fingers and sharp nails dig into his tight flesh. "You, pumpkin, can call me Steve."

"Steve," Bucky moans immediately, "g-grow me."

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #stuffing #weight gain #rapid weight gain #magical weight gain #bucky barnes #steve rogers #chubby bucky #stucky #witch steve #human bucky #fat bucky #immobility #tight clothes #magic #plant transformation

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