#look I just wasn't expecting a book I read for school to hit me this hard okay

[writer-of-random-things]

On Muddy Trenches & Middle-earth

I recently finished All Quiet on the Western Front for school and my only thoughts are: A) I should have never gotten emotionally attached to a war story, and B) the book made me understand The Lord of the Rings so much more. I know Tolkien stated the the LOTR was never allegorical, and so it may be; but meaning there is. So obviously, I'm going to write about it: how the 'lost generation' is reflected in Middle-earth, the beauty of comradeship, and maybe most importantly, finding hope in the darkest of times.

Paul Baumer, the protagonist of All Quiet, was goaded by his schoolteacher to enlist for WWI only to find out its realities as everything he loves gets destroyed. Although this is very different from Frodo's story, the emotion, the trauma, and the comradeship both of these characters went through is something that will be remarked on time and time again.

When people talk about Tolkien, WWI, and LOTR, they most often draw the connection between the Dead Marshes and No Man's Land. After all, the Dead Marshes are described as such:

"They all lie in pools, pale faces, deep deep under the dark water...grim faces and evil, and noble faces and sad. Many faces proud and fair, and weeds in their silver hair. But all foul, all rotting, all dead."

Meanwhile, No Man's Land in All Quiet is described as:

"Thus we stagger forward, and into our pierced and shattered souls bores the torturing image of brown earth with the greasy sun and the convulsed and dead soldiers who lie there--it can't be helped--who cry and clutch at our legs as we spring away from them."

The land is barren, people are dead. And the protagonist of both stories have to trudge through the wasteland without looking back. Furthermore, All Quiet Chapter 9 has Paul stabbing a French soldier in a fit of panic, only to have to watch him slowly die. Paul laments:

"Comrade, I did not want to kill you...we always see it too late. Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that our mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony--Forgive me, comrade, how could you be my enemy?"

This is quite similar to Sam's reaction when he sees a dead soldier; Tolkien writes,

"It was Sam's first view of battle of Men against Men, and he did not like it much. He was glad he could not see the dead face. He wondered where the man's name was and where he came from; and if he was really evil at heart, or what lies and threats had led him on the long march from home; and if he would rather have stayed there in peace."

The above connection was first brought to my attention in Tolkien in the Twenty-First Century: The Meaning of Middle-Earth Today by Nick Groom, though I selected the quotes myself. Yet that is not all. Before we delve into the beauty of Sam and Frodo's friendship, I want to focus on Chapter 10 of All Quiet, where the soldiers get to guard an abandoned village (with lots of food, no less!) and continue to cook while shells are falling amongst them. They take refuge in a dugout, where they have a feast. Why is this important? Because the dugout is basically a hobbit-hole. A hobbit-hole is cozy, with food and warmth; the ideal of an idyllic home, even if the rest of the world is going to shambles. @moonlightredfern said it best, in a reply to this post. It's a testament to all the cold and miserable days, dreaming of a better time where everything is nice and cozy. It's deciding that the simple joys are worth risking your life for--indeed, that such tiny moments is what makes life worthwhile in the first place.

The same sentiment can be applied to friendship. Tolkien himself said that Sam was "a reflexion of the English soldier, of the privates and batmen in the 1914 war, and recognised as so far superior to myself". Sam's humble origins in the Shire brings into mind a scene of Paul's thoughts when he encounters Russian prisoners:

"They ought to be put to threshing, reaping, and apple picking. They look just as kindly as our own peasants..."

Like the soldiers, Sam could've stayed a gardener for the rest of his life; he comes from the same simple origins they do. Despite all the odds, they both go into battle; more importantly, they both rely on comradeship. And that makes all the difference. For both Paul and Frodo, friendship is what makes their battles bearable. Take Chapter 5 of All Quiet, when Paul is cooking a goose with his friend Kat:

"...we have a more complete communion with one another than even lovers have. We are two men, two minute sparks of life; outside is the night and the circle of death. We sit on the edge of it crouching in danger...in our hearts we are close to one another, and the hour is like the room: flecked over with lights and shadows of our feelings cast by a quiet fire."

Friendship is the flame that keeps out the dark. Gollum only became the creature he was because he was alone while the ring slowly corrupted him. But Frodo had Sam. And Sam would not have grown as much as he did, would not have been a brave as he was, without Frodo. The same is for Paul; when the only thing he has left--his friend Kat--dies, Paul says, "All I know is that Militiaman Stanislaus Katczinsky is dead. Then I know no more." Without friendship, life sparks out. In its fragility, maybe, lies its beauty: that moments and memories between two people are as magnificent as life itself. This connection, in a way, is one of the most important things in both stories.

Finally, I want to touch on my favorite chapter in All Quiet, and its connection to the ending of The Return of the King. In Chapter 7, Paul returns home, only to find out that nothing was the same as it was. Everybody treats war as a glorious thing when Paul has seen what it really is. He feels lost and disconnected:

"I...say over to myself: 'You are at home, you are at home.' But a sense of strangeness cannot leave me, I cannot feel at home amongst these things. There is my mother, there is my sister, there is my case of butterflies, and there the mahogany piano--but I am not myself here. There is a distance, a veil between us."

For refrence, let's just compare this to Frodo's lines near the end of RoTK, shall we?

"But I have been hurt too deeply, Sam. I tried to save Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me."

I don't think I have to explain this much. It speaks to the lost generation of WWI veterans as a whole; after all the pain and torment, battlefields filled not only with blood but also broken dreams, how does one pick up the threads of an old life? It makes sense, then, that both Paul's and Frodo's stories do not have a 'satisfying' ending that readers would like to see. Instead, they portray the reality of trauma and healing--or rather, the absence of it. Yet both tales are not devoid of hope. Paul states that all his experiences would be worthwhile if he could make sure that nobody could experience what he has again:

"A word of command has made these silent figures our enemies; a word of command might transform them into our friends...I am frightened: I dare think this way no more...I will keep them, shut away, until the war is ended. My heart beats fast: this the aim, the great, the sole aim, that I have thought of in the trenches; that I have looked for as the only possibility of experience after this annihilation of human feeling; this is a task that will make life afterward worthy of these hideous years."

In addition, hope has been pervasive throughout the entire LOTR trilogy, even when fear and despair have the upper hand. Hope is not a passive act; it is a decision of will, a choice of a small, unsurprising hobbit that said, "I will take the ring, even if I do not know the way." It is symbolized in Sam carrying Frodo up Mount Doom, of Eowyn and Faramir overcoming their past troubles and finding each other, of a group of people that saved the world because they dared to try.

I think the most important thing to keep in mind when comparing All Quiet on the Western Front and The Lord of the Rings is that they are two works with different purposes, yet their authors lived through similar circumstances. The thematic motifs of friendship, hope, trauma, and violence are still relevant today. Perhaps Paul's hope for the future, as well as the Fellowship's determination to see the quest to be end, can be summarized by the oft-repeated words of Gandalf:

'I wish it need not have happened in my time,' said Frodo. 'So do I,' said Gandalf, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for us to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.'

#lotr #tolkein #tolkien meta #frodo and sam #all quiet on the western front #im westen nichts neues #look I just wasn't expecting a book I read for school to hit me this hard okay #I think this calls for a lotr reread

[lodisama]

AEROKINESIS (x.t)

jealous, frustrated xavier x f!reader

summary: reader is in weathervane, and comes across tyler and they have a conversation. making xavier jealous of how close you two are, it ends to something you never expected tw: tyl*r g*lpin

I breathe heavily, out of breath from my bike ride. I wasn’t in a hurry or anything. I just wanted to get to Weathervane before it rains. And it was starting to get gloomy. I don’t mind the rain, in fact I love it.

I practically escaped as soon as Nevermore’s school hours were done— And I might’ve left my friend alone, confused as to where I am now.

I park my bike next to the cafe’s glass window, making sure it doesn’t fall. I make my way to the glass door, the cold air hitting me. Immediately greeted by the usual barista, Tyler. “Good afternoo… Oh a Nevermore. Hi,” His voice falters when he lifts his face to see me. I don’t respond, given his reaction, instead i just went to a seat, at the very back, next to the window. I was the only one anyway.

I place a book on my table, clearly about to read it. I open it to the page I’m currently on. And that’s all I did, for the next five minutes, I consumed my brain with a book. Till I heard footsteps coming my way, I didn’t turn to it, I just waited for what he would say. “Is that Silvia Plath’s book?” The barista starts off.

“It’s clearly on the cover.” I say, obviously uninterested.

He hums, shifting. “Uh.. What can I get for you then?” He holds a pen and a tiny paper. I finally look up at him, seeing his brown curly locks and skinny body. I don’t think much of it. He did sound rude when he saw me come in. “Ice matcha, and a Banoffee pie. Put the pie on take out.” I listed. He nods writing everything down. “Alright, I’ll be with you in a sec.” He walks away to the kitchen door.

A few minutes later he came back with my order, an iced matcha on his hand, and a paper bag on the other. “Here you go, iced matcha, and your Banofee pie.” He smiles, placing the paper bag on my table. “Thank you.” I responded. I took the iced matcha and started mixing it. He just stayed there silently, looking like he wanted to say something to me. “I’m sorry for, uh—Sounding rude earlier, when you came in.” He points his thumb at the entrance door, stuttering through his words. I smile, finding it funny that he thinks it was a big deal. "Calm down, it's not a big deal." "Oh." Silence once again.

I love silences, if it were bad situations that is. Silence in conversations make me utterly uncomfortable. "Mind if i sit? My shift ends in 5 minutes." I stiffen at his debrief. I gulp, and nod. He smiles at this and he unties his apron. I gaze his actions, feeling somewhat uneasy and awkward. He folded it, and placed it on the table, sitting in front of me afterwards. I had both of my hands clasped under the table, waiting for anything to happen. He made himself comfortable, "So what kind of outcast are you?" He starts off again. "A wolf? Vampire, witch, telekinesis? What?" The curly haired, softly laughed. "Aerokinesis." I bluntly said. He stairs in confusion, waiting for me to explain.

"Never heard of that before," No shit. "I can manipulate wind. I can literally take your breath away." I laugh at my own joke. He did the same. It quickly stopped when my phone rang. Shit I whispered. I immediately grabbed my phone from my uniform pocket, the name caller displayed ‘xavier’. I answered immediately, not minding Tylers awkward stare. “Y/n, where the hell are you?” I was greeted by his furious tone. “Hello to you too Xavier,” I bite my lip, hoping he wasn’t mad, though I can already tell the pot’s boiling aggressively. "I've been looking everywhere for you, don't tell me you're by the lake again." The man sighs. " I'm at weathervane," My calm tone reassures him from his accusations of being by the lake. He wasn't really fond of the lake, due to being traumatized by the many unknown failures in the Poe Cup. He dropped the call when I had said where I was, common thing he does for no reason, though I don't find it rude. It was always one of his traits. I set my phone on the table, now looking at Tyler. His perplexed face made it hard for me to compose my laugh, I clear my throat. The rain started pouring loudly, the town looking dull and grey now.

"Want me to drive you to your creepy school? Looks like the rain's really gonna take its time." He bidded, his emerald eyes glistening with hope.

"Hmm.. I'd rather get wet in the rain, rather than be with a normie. Sorry." I shrugged, truly not sorry. This made him emmitt a chuckle. "Seriously? It's not like I'm the one whose a threat to people with her bizarre "super power". " He joked, causing me to smile. I shake my head "Good one, but I'm powerful as I am." I take a sip of my iced matcha, I accidentally turned my eyes at Tyler, for a good long while. He shakes his head, smiling like an idiot. "You weren't wrong when you said you take peoples breath away. No pun intended."

I huff out a laugh, not entertaining his statement. “I’ve heard that one too often” He shakes his head, looking down at his hands. “Hey, there’s a dance this weakened, do you maybe wanna—“ “She has a date.” I turn my head to Xavier’s tall figure. “Xavier,” I stood up, looking at his figure from head to toe. “You’re soaking wet.” His hair drenched, clothes all drowning in water. “Oh… Uh, my apologies, didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Friend.” I corrected.

“Okay, that’s enough. Let’s go, Y/n.” His voice in a low and serious tone. I mumble a quiet Okay in embarrassment, knowing Tyler was watching all of this happen. I grab my things, including the paper bag with the Banofee pie inside. It was for him.

I take a hold of his hands, letting him drag me wherever he wants. He dragged me outside the cafe, with Tyler all alone to fend off his thoughts. He lead me to my bike, which was next to his, and I didn’t even notice it, or his presence. The rain just kept getting louder, the bike was no use.

Xavier was silent the whole time, though his demeanor was loud enough to speak for him. He noticed I was miserably staring at my bike, not sure what to do since the rain really did everything it could to prevent me from using it.

“Leave it. We can go grab it tomorrow.” He softly said, but his tone was rather harsh. I hummed, non-verbally saying okay. He takes my hand, pulling me close to his body. My face becomes hard like stone, unable to move. My face turning crimson red.

“ ‘Friend’, really?” He practically shouts over the loud noise of the rain.

My head tilts up, perplexed. “What?” I say in the same volume as his words.

“Am I just a friend to you?”

“What do you mean?” His grip on my hand tightens.

A punch of realization hits my senses hard. “I—I’m sorry, I thought—“ I pause each word. What am I supposed to say now? He lowers his head to me. “Have I really not showed you enough? Or do I have to say it to your face?” He whispered. The rain was loud to silence both of our voices, but somehow, I heard him loud and clear.

My eyes flutter, my words tied in a knot. I swallow a limp in my throat. We were inches apart, the hesitation blocking the moment.

His eyes, those eyes— They were on mine, and so are mine. His other hand that wasn’t occupied by our tangled hands, made its way to my cheek. I didn’t even realize that the rain painted itself on my face till he touched them. Caressing it around my cheek to disappear.

Now this type of silence is what I love. Our silence. His lips slowly opened, it closes again. “I… like you, Y/n. You have no idea.” His face softens, as my whole body bursts in the flames. I couldn’t contain my happiness, and I leaned in. Our lips felt like they were made for each other. The warmth of his, and the coldness of mine felt good.

It took him a second to respond, but when he did, another flame was set ablaze. I didn’t think his grip on my hand could get tighter but it did. My free hand held his chest for support as his height was too much for me.

What felt like eternity finally came to an end when he broke the kiss. His warm hand still on my cheek, caressing it once more. “You take my breath away.” When he was the one who says it, it felt right and belonging.

“I like you too Xavier.” I smiled, and so did he.

The hand that was on my cheek, slowly made its way to my hair. He tugs it behind my ear. A kiss on my forehead being the cherry on top.

authors note: this is cringe but i kind of love the idea of tyler just watching this at the window lmao

also 2k on my first post??? thank you so much ohmygod

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #x reader #female reader

[primaviva]

PAIRING: (primary) gwen stacy x fem!reader, (secondary / onsided romance) harry osborn x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: gwen has liked you for a long time, harry knew this. to gwen's surprise, harry actually liked her for much longer, something she only learned when he confessed and asked her to prom. gwen's rejection hit harry hard. you can imagine gwen's shock when, just as she was about to tell you how she felt and ask to be your date, you revealed that you already had a date. harry osborn.

WARNINGS/NOTES: misunderstandings trope like heavy, a lot of cursing, manipulation on harry’s part, angstyyy, suggestive toward the end, jealous n angry gwen vs sassy man harry, white boys doin too much and not proof read

as summer's hot embrace swept across queens, whispers of anticipation filled the air in midtown high.

the arrival of prom.

the streets adorned themselves with vibrant hues of gold and scarlet, echoing the spirit of the season that gripped the hearts of every new yorker. decorative banners danced in the breeze on campus, proudly displaying the school's emblem as a symbol of community pride. the heat and constant air conditioning mingled with the distant sound of a marching band practicing their lively tunes, weaving a tapestry of nostalgia and excitement for all the locals and alumni.

prom, a cherished tradition to no one but the beckoned who peaked in high school. let’s be real here, what teen beside the tryhard kids trying to form the perfect resume for college genuinely cared for homecoming? nah, not one. the only excitement that came from it was being able to get free food, dress cute, some photo ops with your partner, and just hanging out with your friends. you could technically count the performances by the school bands and dance teams but to be honest all the talent was overshadowed by the patriotic midtown chants praising the school for its community and kindness even though you could’ve swore you saw flash thompson trying to beat on some freshman in the hall the other day.

it’s midtown high… mid is in the name. to be quite honest, you weren’t expecting much. you didn’t even have a date in mind, you just knew you’d end up going with your small friend group consisting of your best friend gwen, peter, and harry.

you were brought back to reality when your teacher pulled an ‘i’ll wait’ on some girl in the front who was just as confused as the rest of the class and was simply asking someone else for help.

as the minutes ticked by in the seemingly endless ap english class, the only escape you found was talking gwen during class to keep you sane.

you leaned towards gwen, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "i feel like i’m trapped in a literary prison. is it just me, or does every sentence, as soon as she opens her mouth, sounds like some philosophy subreddit bullshit?"

gwen stifled a giggle, her eyes sparkling with shared amusement. "oh, trust me, it's not just you. i think i've somehow deciphered the hidden meaning behind every comma in this book. it's like we're on a quest for the nonexistent holy grail of english assignments."

you both burst into a fit of laughter, struggling to contain your amusement while keeping a watchful eye on the teacher. the irony of the situation wasn't lost on you— the passionate exploration of language and literature reduced to a burdensome chore.

however, you couldn’t help but feel a pair of jealous eyes on you. the prickling sensation at your neck coming from the back of the class made you turn your head slightly, and you caught a glimpse of harry's eyes fixed on gwen, his expression tinged with jealousy. his lips pressed together in a tight line as he bit down on them, lost in his thoughts to notice that you caught him looking. he seemed almost irritated at you by the way he stared and to your understanding, for no reason. it’s not like you did any sneak shit behind his back or got on his nerves .

caught in the awkwardness of the moment, harry mustered a teasing smile and gave a nod, as if attempting to play off being caught. the nod was like a silent statement from him to you, that he felt the same way you did in the class. bored as hell.

but beneath the facade, the tension simmered, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was brewing beneath the surface. questions swirled in your mind, but for now, you chose to let it go and return your focus to gwen.

"this class single handedly ruined how i’ll read for the rest of my life, and you know how much i love to read edgar allen poe," you whispered, barely able to contain your sarcasm.

gwen leaned closer, her voice barely audible. "i swear, if i have to dissect one more sonnet, my brain cells will start killing themselves."

the bell's sudden ring startled both of you, cutting short your whispered complaints and signaling the end of yet another mundane class. you exchanged a knowing look, relief and mischief dancing in both your eyes.

"finally, damn!" you exclaimed under your breath. "let's get out of here before we start speaking in iambic pentameter."

gwen nodded, her lips curled into a smile. "i can't wait another second."

together, you gathered your belongings, trying to suppress the lingering laughter that threatened to bubble. as you made your way towards the door, the teacher's eyes scanned the room, momentarily pausing on your mischievous glances, but quickly moving on.

you were about to respond to her joke when harry osborn approached you two with a slightly hesitant yet determined stride. his sudden interruption caught both of you off guard.

"hey, gwen," harry began, his voice shaky. "can we talk for a minute?"

your curiosity piqued, but you gave gwen an understanding look and assured gwen that you would wait for her at the lockers, giving her a reassuring smile. with a nod, she followed harry to a quieter corner of the hallway, leaving you to be nosy and wonder what the conversation could be about. time seemed to stretch as you leaned against the lockers, the echoes of passing students fading into the background.

minutes turned into an eternity before gwen finally emerged from the conversation, as she walked toward you, you could sense the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. without a word, she shook her head, her eyes filled with unspoken thoughts.

"what did harry want? some chemistry homework answers that been due since last week?" you asked playfully, trying not to make it seem like you were praying for information.

it’s not like you were jealous of harry or envious of him for talking to gwen, you knew where you two stood. but just the way he looked at you? just rubbed you the wrong way. and you couldn't lie and say the curiosity wasn’t killing you as to why he had to pull gwen away from the public to just ‘talk to her.’

gwen's eyes met yours, looking unusually reserved. she hesitated for a moment before responding, her voice barely above a whisper. "it’s nothing, really. he just asked me a stupid question. don’t worry about it."

you left it at that, not wanting to force her into talking about something that was clearly private. you respected her desire to just move on. still, a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you couldn't resist a teasing remark.

"did he ask you to be his secret prom date?" you quipped, a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

gwen's face turned pale for a moment before her cheeks flushed slightly as she shook her head, a subtle smile gracing her lips. "no, you couldn’t be farther from the truth. i um… i actually have someone in mind."

you felt your cheeks heat up at her comment, but also a gut wrenching feeling in your stomach. could she be talking about you? no, but then again all the moments where your legs brushed together while you sat, the lingering gazes and stolen looks, her hands on your waist when she guided you through a big crowd, just all the times where the lines between best friend and more became blurred.

however, gwen remained silent, her intentions veiled for now.

you two had similar schedules, so it was everyday you two walked to your classes together. as the two of you made your way to study hall, gwen broke the silence, "wanna share headphones while we work?"

her hand brushed against yours, your breath hitching as you became hyper aware of how close gwen was. you could feel her continue to stare into your eyes as she intertwined her hand with yours. a smile bloomed across your face as you nodded in agreement, unaware of someone else glaring at you from a distance. again.

weeks passed since then. before, prom was less than a month away. now? just days.

you still didn’t have a date. part of you wanted to just go along, not having any interest and anyone besides gwen. but another part of you was still holding onto hope, living in the fantasy world of the imaginary scenarios that she’ll ask you out.

there were doubts in your mind if gwen liked you, and even if you liked her. she’s your friend, best friend even. but your friendship with her is so different from the way you both treat your other friends. you don’t let your other friends call you names, sit on their lap while their hands wrap around your waist, stay up on friday nights and fall asleep on the phone, and so much more. it was more than just the physical attraction you had to gwen, it was the chemistry between you two. you admit, gwen is more than fine. to her tall demeanor and athletic body, and not to mention the hair and piercings. but the way she understood you more than anyone else was the biggest turn on of them all. she can read you like the back of her hand. she knows when you’re sad, when something’s bothering you, when you’re overwhelmed and just want someone to run away with even if it’s temporary.

all year it seemed that you both had been running circles around each other. there was just something different about the way she stared straight into your eyes as you talked about something. or the times where you swear you saw her biting down on her lip as she sneakily checked you out before you could catch her and she’d tell you how pretty you are. the times you would ask her to repeat stuff on the phone because you just loved hearing her voice just to fall asleep to it. the time where she noticed you looked at her while she cleaned her drumsticks and she told you it’s rude to stare. the times where she had no problem sneaking into your home from through your window to comfort you after a fight with your parents.

she felt like your other half and that’s what confused you. everyone talked about their best friend like that, but you and gwen didn’t seem like friends. and you can’t tell anymore if that’s good or bad.

it was clear you were attracted to gwen in more ways than one, but you couldn’t help but be in denial because of your fear that if you did pursue something romantic with her you could possibly ruin your friendship forever, and you couldn’t imagine your life without her.

gwen couldn’t imagine her life without you either, harry knew that first hand. which is why he’s on his way to your place right now.

harry osborn mustered up the courage to confess his feelings to gwen, his heart pounding with anticipation. he found her in the hallway, took a deep breath, and poured out his emotions, confessing his affection and asking her to be his date for the upcoming prom.

"hey, gwen," harry began, his voice filled with a mix of nervousness and determination. "i've been meaning to tell you something... i really like you. you're amazing, talented, and so fearless. i’ve admired you for a while. so, i was wondering if you'd go to prom with me?"

gwen listened attentively, a kind smile on her face that slowly dropped as she kept talking. but before harry could catch his breath, she gently interrupted him.

"harry, look, i appreciate you telling me this and you're such an amazing friend," gwen replied, her soft and cautious. "but, i can’t go with you. i’m sorry it’s just… i actually had something on my mind too for a while. i've been wanting to tell (y/n) how i feel about her for a while now and so i thought prom would be the best excuse. i've just been nervous about it because i don’t want ti ruin anything. you understand, right?"

harry's face fell slightly, his disappointment flickering across his features. he tried his best to hide the bitterness he felt, realizing that gwen's heart was set on someone else.

"oh... i see," harry responded, trying to sound nonchalant. "don’t worry, gwen. i get it. i never caught on that you liked our (y/n), that’s my bad. i'm sure you’ll both have an amazing time at the dance when you ask her."

gwen's expression softened, "thank you, harry. i hope this doesn’t make anything too weird or weirder than it needs to be. friends?"

harry forced a smile, masking his envy as best as he could. "of course, gwen. friends always."

but as gwen turned to leave, harry's mind started to spin. thoughts of revenge began to cloud his judgment.

how could gwen stacy reject him? it was all he could think of. ‘she’s just a cop's daughter’ he thought, balling his hands into a fist.

“hey, could you speed it up?” he pressed the driver, quickly apologizing. “sorry i just… the waiting is killin’ me.”

maybe it was the bitterness fueling his need to boost his own ego, but he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the rejection. all his life, harry was given what he wanted without a second thought from his father or the people around him. it seemed that for the first time he couldn’t have what he wanted and didn't know how to act.

that’s what led him here, to the front of your place. harry pushed open the car door, his oxford shoes hitting the pavement.

“wait for us, will you?” he asked the driver but the tone of his voice made it clear that it was an order.

harry : hey sweets

harry : go look outside your window for me sent at 4:53

you were doing your homework when suddenly you felt a vibration against your desk. you turned your head to the side and noticed your phone lighting up. with a sigh wanting to take a break from working, you picked it up and your eyes went wide as you saw who it was who texted you. part of you hoped it was gwen, but no, it was harry.

the message on your lock screen made you cringe as soon as you saw that he had called you ‘sweets.’

“the hell is this boy on now,” you muttered, swiping up to see the full text in messages.

you : tf you mean look out my window… did you take your daddy’s medicine by any chance ?? sent at 4:55

before you even gave him the chance to reply, you walked up to your window and pushed the curtain to the side. looking down, you were met with the sight of harry typing on his phone before looking up at you with a charming smile.

harry : you wanna come down rapunzel?

you let out a scoff, the sides of your mouth twitching into a smile as you made your way downstairs. you unlocked the door, opening it to be met with harry walking up to you and revealing a beautiful bouquet of assorted flowers to you. it looked expensive and it glowed in the sun.

“don’t tell me those are for me,” you spoke in a whisper, voice caught in your throat from how unexpected this all was.

he smiled, putting the bouquet in my hand as the floral aroma filled my senses. “then i won’t, just take them princess.”

harry knew you were getting weirder out by his behavior just by the way your face had this stank look to it. not like you were disgusted by him or anything, but by how confusing this was.

“what?” he asked with a smirk.

“you’re just acting a lil’ strange is all,” you replied slowly, squeezing the bouquet to your chest and sniffing the assortment. “they smell beautiful harry, thank you. but no offense, why are you outside my home dressed like james dean?”

he did a low chuckle as he looked into your eyes. sure, harry was cute though he wasn’t necessarily your type. and while it is really attractive to have someone dress nice for you, call you sweet things, and even come to your home with flowers, it was just weird. it was just weird. why him?

"just walk with me, please?" harry asked, extending his hand towards you.

“and sight see all the power plants?” you mocked, but seeing the pleasing look on his face made you fold. you hesitated, but ultimately took him up on it.

as you took his hand, you felt his grip tighten, pulling you uncomfortably close. "i'm sure there's a beautiful waterfront or some other scenic spot for us to explore," he said, his voice filled with anticipation.

you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, a mix of skepticism and curiosity flickering in your eyes. despite your reservations, you found yourself drawn to him and his intentions.

“you look beautiful today,” he added, still looking forward as the glow of the sky highlighted his face.

you let out a laugh, causing him to glare at you from the corner of his eye.

“oh harry, you’re so charming, thank you,” you teased, voice monotone to poke fun at his advances.

he let out a chuckle as you both approached the waterfront. golden hour was approaching, and the sky was painted a deep orange with yellow highlights and a beauty exuding from it. the clouds were faint and moved slowly to the side, like careful paint strokes to a canvas.

as you released your hand from harry's, you walked toward the ledge, taking in the awe-inspiring scenery. it felt like a moment of pure magic, as if the world had paused to allow you to appreciate the simple pleasures surrounding you. the gentle caress of the warm breeze, the distant echoes of laughter, and the soothing sound of water rippling in the wind created a serene ambiance.

harry initiated the conversation, breaking the silence. "you've never been here before?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

you met his gaze with a sly smile, “nah, i never have time to do stuff like this. im always busy with my own responsibilities so it doesn’t really cross my mind to do a tinder style long walks down the cigarette infested new york streets and visit all the landscapes.”

harry approached you, leaning against the ledge with a smile playing on his lips. he let out a genuine chuckle, appreciating your sense of humor.

"there's the (y/n) i know," he remarked, his tone filled with affection. "always quick with the sarcasm. it's one of the many things that make you so likable. you have this unique and mysterious charm about you.”

you studied him for a moment, a dry laugh escaping your lips. "secret charm?" you quipped, raising an eyebrow. "i've never really made an effort to talk to anyone, so l'd be surprised if i had any secret admirers.”

“well, allow me to introduce you to one of them,” he said as he took your hand in his and gave it a chest kiss.

harry's expression turned softer, and he took your hand in his, placing a gentle kiss on your palm. his eyes held a glimmer of and a hint of seduction.

"i know we haven't always been the closest, but lately, you've been on my mind. a lot," he confessed, bringing your hand to rest against his chest. "i've admired you from afar, and i've been nervous to be around you. you're not just gorgeous, but smart, witty, and so much more. i can't imagine going to prom with anyone else but you. so, would you honor me by being my date?"

your heart skipped a beat with each word he spoke. shock washed over you, and your face revealed a mix of emotions. while you value your friendship with harry, you didn't share the same romantic feelings. you hesitated, searching for the right words to convey your thoughts.

but something about it was off. while his words seemed genuine and soft, his eyes told a different story. they were dark and deceptive, gleaming with an unsettling intensity. it sent a shiver down your spine, making you question his true intentions. the way he stared at you felt predatory, like he was sizing you up, waiting for the opportune moment to strike at his prey. it created an alarming imbalance of power, as if he was counting on something beyond your control.

"harry," you began, your voice gentle but firm. “i’m really sorry for this but i don’t see you that way. i’m flattered but you have to understand… there are other girls that would love to go with you. you’re a heartthrob, y’know? you can get anyone with your appeal. it’s just that i’ve liked gwen for a while and have been waiting for something to happen but-“

“it seems i really can’t get anyone, (y/n),” he spat out in anger. harry's demeanor shifted, his face contorting with anger. he turned slightly away from you, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to regain composure. his tone dripped with bitterness as he spoke. “gwen huh? always gwen, isn’t it?”

“what?” you mouthed in confusion.

"you really think gwen would ever ask you to prom? better yet, you think she likes you?" he sneered, closing the distance between you until your chests almost touched.

“get outta my face, i’m leaving,” you demanded, frustration welling up inside you as you pushed against his chest, trying to create some distance. “harry, fuck off of me.”

but harry's arms held you firmly in place, preventing your escape. his voice took on a mocking tone as he continued to belittle you.

"gwen already has a date. some kid named miles from out of town. she's been talking to him for a while now," he informed you, his words hitting you like a blow. "she doesn't want you, never has. she's just being nice, pretending to be your friend. so i don’t know when or how you tricked yourself into thinking she has any interest in you."

your world seemed to crumble around you, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. your legs grew weak, and you struggled to maintain your composure. tears welled up in your eyes, and you wiped them away, attempting to regain your composure before facing him.

“i know, it’s hard to hear. and she’s a fool for ever letting a girl like you slip away,” he continued, his tone shifting once again. "but you deserve better, (y/n). gwen is a selfish coward who only goes after what she wants with no regard for others. you deserve someone who appreciates you. someone like me. let me show you how you should be treated."

you took a step back, turning away from him, your hand instinctively covering your mouth. the tears flowed freely now, and a sense of disbelief washed over you. had you been deluding yourself all this time? was there truly no spark between you and gwen?

a forced smile played on your lips as you turned to face harry again, your entire demeanor transformed. it was as if a switch had been flipped, and you presented a facade that masked your true emotions.

"i'd love to go with you," you spoke weakly, your voice devoid of its usual strength. though you didn't reciprocate his feelings, you wanted a distraction. maybe he could give you the attention he claimed you deserved.

a wide, unsettling smile spread across harry's face, his expression taking on an eerie quality. it was a smile that sent shivers down your spine, as if there was something unsettling behind it. you couldn't shake off the feeling that his happiness wasn't truly about you saying yes.

"i'm glad," he replied, pulling you closer to his side. "let's get you home."

as you made your way back home with harry, the atmosphere became increasingly tense. the once-pleasant and work filled evening had transformed into an uncomfortable walk home. harry's grip on your arm tightened, his fingers digging into your skin almost painfully.

you attempted to break the silence, hoping to alleviate the mounting unease. "so, what are we gonna wear? have you thought about it?"

harry's response was curt and lacking his usual warmth. "i have a few ideas in mind. we'll figure it out."

you couldn't help but notice the change in his demeanor, his friendly and charismatic personality replaced by something cold and distant. doubts and concerns swirled in your mind, but you couldn't find the energy to voice them. instead, you kept quiet, unsure of how to navigate this unfamiliar territory.

upon reaching your house, you turned to face harry, attempting to gauge his mood. "thanks for walking me home," you told him, your voice laced with uncertainty. "i'll see you at school tomorrow."

harry's eyes bore into yours, his gaze intense and unsettling. "no need to thank me," he replied with a slight sneer. "i'll be seeing a lot more of you from now on."

confusion washed over you as you watched him walk away, his figure disappearing into the night. something was undeniably wrong, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of impending danger. you retreated into your home, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders.

you went into your room and just jumped into your bed and before you knew it your eyes were wet and you blacked out.

it was saturday morning, and the events of the previous night were a blur in your memory. as you rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed, you glanced down at your clothes, and suddenly, it all came rushing back. you had spent the entire night looking over old photos of you and gwen, shedding tears, before finally succumbing to exhaustion and taking a hot shower to soothe your emotions.

your face felt tight and slightly flushed as you made your way to the mirror. you examined your reflection, noticing the lingering redness in your eyes and the puffiness of your cheeks. even your voice seemed affected, carrying a hint of strain from the relentless sobbing that had consumed you.

it wasn't the news itself that hurt you. it was fine if gwen didn't have romantic feelings for you because it’s not like you’re entitled to her. if anything, you found relief in knowing that your friendship could still remain intact. but the way harry had delivered it to you was harsh and blunt, forcing you to confront things you hadn't even considered before.

to realize that gwen may have never seen you in a romantic light, not even once, left you feeling foolish. the most humiliating part was the possibility of misreading every interaction, every gesture, and every shared moment. and to learn from harry of all people that she had someone else all along made you question how long she had been interested in miles without ever mentioning it to you. although you had heard his name mentioned a few times, it had never crossed your mind that gwen had feelings for him. and it definitely didn’t cross your mind that they had been talking as of recently.

your phone began to ring, causing a pang of agony to surge through you. "please, let it be a scam call," you silently pleaded, yearning for a moment of solitude to process your thoughts.

reluctantly, you picked up the phone and turned it around to see the caller's identity. it was gwen. you felt conflicted as your stomach began to turn once again. on one hand, you longed to talk to her, driven by the depth of your feelings. but on the other hand, the internal embarrassment you felt made you want to avoid her at all costs.

summoning your courage, you swiped to answer the call. "hi," you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to conceal any cracks.

there was a brief silence on the other end, and then gwen spoke with concern in her voice. "(y/n), are you okay? i tried texting you last night, but you didn't respond," she questioned.

"oh, um, yeah. i've just been having sleepless nights, so i went to bed early," you explained, attempting to brush off the previous night's emotional turmoil. "sorry bout’ that."

"are you sure everything's alright? it sounds like you've been crying," she pressed, genuine worry coloring her words. "if you need someone to talk to or if you want me to come over, just let me know. i’ll be there.”

"i'm fine. i wasn't crying, i literally just mentioned being tired," you replied, irritation seeping into your tone.

"i just want you to be honest with me. can i still come over? i have something i want to tell you," she mustered the courage to ask.

this was gwen's moment. she had been gathering her strength to speak to you about for so long, and now she was ready to make her request.

"yeah, sure. actually, i have something to tell you too," you added, your voice steadier now.

“okay, great- i mean good. i’ll see you later, okay?” she spoke, her voice cheery but a little nervous.

“see you later,” you replied, repeating it back to her as you hung up.

hours had past and it had only made you more anxious. what did she want to tell you? why wasn’t she here already?

you had already changed your clothes and fixed up your appearance to make yourself more presentable. you made sure to put some concealer under your eyes too to try and draw attention away from the puffiness and fading redness.

the knock at your door gave you a temporary relief from the anxiety of your mind as you went to go open it and greet gwen.

“hey,” she greeted, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you into a hug.

you hesitated for a moment, but you couldn’t resist the need to feel her touch. you wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her closer. there was something so comforting about her touch and gentleness. you both pulled back as gwen stared deeply into your eyes. her hands drifted from the sides of your waist to the small of your back as both your eyes flicked over each other's features.

“are you gonna raid my fridge or wanna go straight to my room?” you asked, teasing her as you broke the unspoken tension between you two.

she giggled as a smirk appeared on her lips. she gave your back a gentle slap, “hey! and no thank you, i actually wanted to come talk to you about something that’s been on my mind,” she confessed.

“oh okay,” you said silently, leading her to your room.

gwen made herself comfortable as she plopped herself on your bed. she manspreaded her legs as she threw her head back against your wall, giving you a glimpse of her faint adam's apple before looking down at you. her hair had gotten longer since she shaved the sides, turning it into more of an undercut now as it framed her face beautifully. it was moments like these you remembered that gwen had equally good looks to match her personality. god, she was so breathtaking. her outfit was an oversized band hoodie that overlapped the tied flannel shirt around your waist, paired with black leggings and her signature teal converse.

"do you always have to take up all the space in my bed?" you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your voice as you placed your hands on your hips.

gwen responded with a playful groan, accompanied by a mischievous look. "oh please, there's plenty of room," she retorted, patting the empty space next to her, inviting you to join.

taking a deep breath, you couldn't resist the playful banter, and you sat down next to her, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"so?" you prompted, your voice filled with anticipation, hoping she would take the lead in the conversation.

gwen's hesitation lingered in the air, her gaze momentarily shifting away as she gathered her thoughts. "i don't know... i've been wanting to tell you this for a while now, and, well, with prom coming up..."

before she could continue, you blurted out your own news, interrupting her. "harry asked me to prom."

the sudden interruption hung in the air, momentarily breaking the flow of the conversation. the nervous smile on gwen's face dropped immediately, and she sat up, her eyes locked onto yours with intensity.

"he what?" she questioned, her voice low and raspy, almost demanding you to repeat yourself.

"harry came here yesterday with flowers and asked me to be his prom date," you explained, sensing gwen's anger starting to simmer.

"(y/n), are you being serious with me right now?" she asked again, slowly rising from the bed as her anger began to surface.

"why the hell would i make any of this up, gwen?" you responded, a touch of frustration in your voice. "he said that he's liked me for a long time and that all he's been thinking about is asking me to prom."

gwen was in shock. anger fueled her thoughts toward harry. could he really be plotting revenge against her like this? was it possible that he would go to such lengths?

"do you think you're the first person he's told that to? he's not what you think," gwen told you firmly, her voice tinged with hurt and anger.

your irritation grew. you couldn't understand why gwen was so angry when she already had a date.

"really? so what is he then?" you questioned, your voice matching her intensity as you stood up to meet her gaze.

"i'll tell you this, he isn't the damn saint you're making him out to be!" gwen exclaimed, her anger palpable. "he's an actor, and if he's got you so hooked with a ten-minute performance, he's probably next in line for an oscar."

you scoffed at her frustration. "you have no business being mad at me for this when you already have your own date. do you want to have your cake and eat it too? because i'm sorry to tell you this, but that's not gonna slide with me. i'm allowed to have fun and talk to whoever i want," you declared, standing your ground.

gwen's eyes furrowed, and she put a hand over her mouth, taking a deep exhale before turning back to you.

"what date? what the hell are you talking about?" she hastily asked.

"don't play with me, gwen. i heard about you and miles. if it's not supposed to be a secret, then why didn't you mention it at all?" you raised your voice, frustration evident.

confusion etched over gwen's face. "did obnoxious osborn tell you this? because it's all bullshit, and he's talking out of his ass. he's literally known for being a heartthrob and making out with random girls in our class under the bleachers. come on, you know better than this," she explained, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and concern.

“i said don’t play with me, i’m not here to listen to you act childish and sound like a psycho tryna rhyme his name with the first words you can think of from a kids vocab book,” you yellee, quicklime calming yourself down.

you took a deep breath, ready to finish this.

"do i know better?" you repeated, stepping closer to her. "you're always disappearing randomly and refusing to open up about it. you act one way and then another, and you give me so many mixed signals that i've had enough of it!"

it felt like everything was falling apart, like a chaotic mess that couldn't be unraveled. after years of friendship, it was collapsing before your eyes like dominoes.

"i can't talk about it, okay? i have my own stuff, and you've never pressed me to tell you anything about that, so i know that’s not the real reason you’re upset," gwen argued back, her voice strained. "the mixed signals are what i came here to talk to you about, (y/n). i... i don't want to be friends with you anymore!" she admitted, her vulnerability showing through.

the room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. you took a couple of steps back, feeling the ground shift beneath you. is this what harry was talking about? no, you knew better than to trust him over gwen. but in this moment of vulnerability, the conflicting information dragged you in two different directions. was it true that she didn't want to be friends with you, as harry had tried to convince you, or did she see it entirely differently?

gwen put her hands over her face, gripping her hair out of frustration. she tried to step forward, reaching a hand out to you, but you refused, holding your ground.

"shit... (y/n), i didn't mean for it to come out like that," she attempted to explain, her voice choked with tears as she realized the intensity of the situation.

"leave," you told her, your voice stern and harsh.

"what? you can't be serious," she pleaded. "you don't seriously choose his word over mine, do you?"

"no! i just- i just can't do this right now, and i need you to leave," you replied, your voice filled with a mix of pain and frustration.

the room fell into an uneasy silence as gwen stared at you, her eyes wide reflecting her disbelief. slowly, she walked past you, tears streaming down her face as she looked down to avoid your gaze, and left without saying another word.

as the door closed behind her, you sank to the floor, feeling a heavy emptiness settle in your chest. the weight of the broken friendship added a weight onto you, and you couldn't help but question whether things could ever be the same again.

"you told her you didn't want to be friends anymore?" peter asked in disbelief as he leaned against a nearby locker, his eyes fixed on gwen.

gwen let out a frustrated sigh as she slammed her locker shut after putting her books inside, resting her back against it. "i didn't mean it like that, peter. i was just caught off guard. and to make matters worse, harry sabotaged everything," she explained, running her hands through her hair in frustration. "i never even saw it coming.

peter stepped beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "you know (y/n), gwen. she's smart and strong. she won't let harry manipulate her, and deep down, i think you know she doesn't have any real interest in him," he reassured her, urging her to have faith in your judgment.

gwen nodded, her eyes closing shut as she palmed her face. "i know, it's just... the thought of her with harry makes me physically sick," she admitted,

the image of you with someone else haunted gwen's thoughts. and knowing the person was harry, who didn’t even love or care for you, made it so much worse. she knew he could never love you the way she does. he was merely using you as a pawn in his little game, and it infuriated her that you were dragged into this one-sided fight.

"speak of the devil," peter muttered, gesturing for gwen to look down the hallway.

her eyes landed on you, engaged in a casual conversation with your friend liz allen. that was normal, but what wasn't normal was harry by your side, holding your hand as you strolled confidently down the hallway together. gwen's heart sank as she felt her tongue press against the inside of her cheek. he noticed her gaze and it only made his smirk grow.

“i'm gonna go with liz. see you later," you said to harry before walking away, leaving him with a warm smile

on his face.

"i'ii catch up with you later, baby," he replied, his tone affectionate as you disappeared into a nearby classroom.

gwen winced at the nickname, her inner cheek now bearing the marks of her biting down on it. she let out a deep sigh, her eyes still fixed on harry as he made his way over to her and peter.

"why the long face? the frown doesn't suit you," he taunted, trying to provoke a reaction from gwen.

and it worked.

gwen's frustration boiled over, and without hesitation, she grabbed harry by the collar and pushed him up against the wall, surprising him with her sudden burst of anger. the unexpected aggression caught harry off guard, eliciting a loud grunt from him.

"gwen, wait!" peter called out, attempting to intervene and calm her down.

“she’s not just some toy you can pick up and play with until you don’t need her anymore. she has nothing to do this with and you're seriously pathetic for going this low by dragging her into this just to get back at me,” gwen asserted.

harry let out a mocking laugh, trying to mask his surprise. he carefully chose his words, well aware that the hallways were empty at this time.

“but toys are meant to be played with by definition,” he said, his voice dripping with coldness. “does it make you mad when you see her with me? when i get to touch her the way you’ve wanted for so long and you couldn’t? you call me pathetic, but you couldn't even gather the courage to tell her how you feel. holding her hand made you shy away like a little girl," he retorted.

gwen yanked him forward before forcefully slamming him back into the wall. her eyes blazed with fierce determination. "you are the embodiment of pathetic, harry. this whole mess started because i don't like you, and guess what? that hasn't changed. you believe yourself to be sophisticated and superior to everyone else, but all you do is push others down to get yourself where you want to go. you disguise it behind the glamor and the clothes but behind it you’re just a lowlife with no real friends. you aren’t entitled to anybody or anything. and i guess since you’ve been spoiled all your life it’s up to me to teach you that no amount of money or charm will buy you dignity.”

taking a deep breath, gwen eased her grip on his collar, releasing him from her hold. “you think life is one big party and people are just trends you can skip over, but mark my words, you’re in for a rude awakening,” she stated.

"and what are you going to do?" he jeered, mocking her. what could she possibly do to free herself from the drama harry has ensnared her in, purely for his own sadistic pleasure of watching her life crumble?

"you'll see. but next time you dare to pull a stunt like this, remember who you're messing with," she warned, giving harry a menacing glare as she walked away, accompanied by peter.

gwen wouldn’t let harry get away with this. to her, this wasn’t about revenge, this was about you. this was about her doing right by you and treating you how you truly deserved to be treated. she was going to make sure you know exactly how she feels.

the day of prom had arrived, and the anticipation weighed heavily on your shoulders. it was evident that harry's focus lay not in the outfits you both wore, but rather in the desire to be seen with you. perhaps he aimed to stoke gwen's jealousy, to make her realize what she couldn't have.

as you slipped into your dress, its flattering silhouette accentuating your figure with an open back and slit, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. the night you once eagerly anticipated now loomed before you with apprehension. the fallout between you and gwen had left a void, and the lack of communication had extended to peter as well. the thought of addressing the situation felt overwhelming, so you chose the path of avoidance, despite knowing deep down that it may not have been the wisest decision.

occasional conversations with peter only served to reinforce your initial doubts about harry. he told you that he was acting sketchy, his fight with gwen, and you also shared with him the things harry had told you in his little speech. you acknowledged the validity of those doubts, but a part of you couldn't help but harbor anger towards gwen. you longed for her to take the initiative, to approach you and express her true feelings. while you understood her struggle with vocalizing emotions, the prolonged silence of unspoken words and the feeling of being strung along intensified the tension between you. it was a painful realization that your feelings for gwen had no sign of fading away soon, yet they seemed to have no chance to blossom into something more either. the stagnation gnawed at your heart.

the internal conflict in your mind tormented you, a battle between your desire for gwen's love and the frustration of her fears.

as you stood in front of the mirror, the anxiety of the night filled the air. the sound of a car pulling up outside your home signaled the arrival of harry, who had graciously offered to be your escort for the evening.

taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage and made your way downstairs to meet harry. as you opened the door, he greeted you with a charming smile, his eyes momentarily flickering up and down your body.

“aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” harry stated as he leaned against your door frame. he wore all black which included his blazer and khaki’s, but instead of a button up he fancied himself in a matching black turtleneck. his shoes were equally dark oxford’s that he sported casually.

“who are you, someone’s grandpa?” you asked as a harsh tease.

all he did was chuckle in response, not sensing your bitterness toward him.

"ready for a night to remember?" harry asked, extending his hand to you.

you hesitated for a moment, torn between your heart and your mind. yet, you were in too deep and it felt all you could do now was seize the opportunity to make the best of your prom. you took harry's hand, allowing him to lead you towards the awaiting car.

stepping inside, you were immediately enveloped in luxury. the plush leather seats and the soft ambiance of the car created an atmosphere of opulence. as the vehicle glided through the city streets, you couldn't help but marvel at the passing lights and how beautiful new york looked transformed by the night sky.

you glanced absentmindedly at the raindrops trickling down the window, seeking solace in the gentle rhythm of the drizzle. it acted as a soothing distraction from the swirling thoughts that occupied your mind, thoughts that revolved around one person in particular— gwen.

harry, perceptive as ever, sensed the weight of your emotions.

"you know you made the right decision," he remarked as he edged closer to you, his voice having an untruthful undertone.

you gave him a glare from the side of your eye before turning to face him.

“why do you say that?” you questioned, growing frustrated with everything.

"well, with gwen, you would've never reached this point," he responded simply.

his words stung, it was a bitter realization, one that left a sour taste in your mouth.

a wry smile played on harry's lips as he reached out to adjust the corsage he had bestowed upon you, an accessory chosen not out of admiration, but as a symbol of his possession over you.

harry sensed your conflicted state and attempted to try and ease you up.

"i may have attended plenty of lavish events in this car since i was young," harry continued, a faint shadow of a smile dancing on his lips. "but tonight... tonight feels different with you."

the words echoed hollowly, devoid of the genuine emotions you had secretly yearned for. they were a stark reminder that beneath the glittering facade, harry's intentions were far from pure. you didn’t respond, instead you chose to nod at his words as you recognized you were near the school.

"here we are, mr. osborn," the driver announced, interrupting the tense atmosphere.

harry's face lit up with a triumphant gleam as he turned toward you, extending his hand. reluctantly, you accepted his hand, stepping out of the car, the light raindrops falling around you like a somber symphony. as you made your way towards the entrance, you steeled yourself, preparing yourself for whatever mess that you knew you were about to get into.

as you stepped into the prom venue, a wave of excitement washed over you. the energy was electrifying, with music bouncing off the walls and vibrant lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room. the once crappy gym had been transformed into a breathtaking space, adorned with elegant decorations that made the room look so enchanting and full of life.

the makeshift dance floor was enticing, its polished surface gleaming invitingly under the soft glow of the overhead chandeliers. couples twirled gracefully, their movements synchronized with the rhythm of the music. laughter filled the air as friends greeted each other and took pictures.

the walls were adorned with cascading drapes and shimmering streamers, creating a whimsical backdrop. tables were meticulously arranged, adorned with centerpieces of flowers and flickering candles, adding a special touch to the scene. everywhere you looked, the place was alive.

the dj stationed at the center of the room skillfully curated a playlist that blended popular hits and timeless classics. the beats throbbed through the speakers, encouraging everyone to take to the dance floor and lose themselves into the night.

as you made your way further into the so-called venue, you caught glimpses of friends and classmates as they passed by. yet, still no sight of gwen.

as the hours ticked by, you found yourself consumed by an unexplainable longing to see her. the mere thought of seeing her again stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you, leaving you restless on the dance floor and yearning for her presence.

throughout the night, you caught fleeting glimpses of her, mere fragments that left you wanting more. your attention was drawn to the distinct elements that composed her captivating image. her hair, cascading in waves, held a hint of mystery, teasing you with its untamed elegance. the sight of her donning a black leather jacket ignited a sense of rebellious allure, adding an edgy touch to her.

your eyes traced the contours of her neck adorned with a black choker, layered with multiple necklaces, each one a reflection of her individuality. beneath the jacket, a pink dress peeked through, its front short and the back long, while a layer of dark purple added on top.

black knee-length tights hugged her legs and as your gaze descended, you couldn't help but notice the black boots that completed her look.

as you swayed to the music, engrossed in conversation with your friends, harry slipped out of your view, claiming he was going to fetch drinks for the two of you. he made his way to the drink table, where an array of drinks and desserts awaited.

with a hint of mischief, harry muttered to gwen, "oh, don't mind me, just getting a drink for me and my girl." he poured two glasses, a calculated move to incite a sense of jealousy, knowing that gwen had been watching your interactions throughout the night, longing to be the one by your side. “enjoying the night, hannah montana?”

gwen, determined not to let harry's words affect her, initially brushed off his comment. however, his persistent needling proved too much to ignore. "wow, that was the funniest thing you've said yet! you deserve some applause for that one," she retorted sarcastically, her hands mockingly clapping for his attempt at humor.

he smirked watching her get riled up as he took it upon himself to stand next to gwen. he moved closer to her side, leaning in to speak softly into her ear. “sad to think that you thought you’d have the last word in this all, gwen. after this it’s off to college. you really messed up your chances. not even just with (y/n), but with me. we could’ve had something, but you only really care about yourself, huh?” he turned around fully, holding his two drinks ready to leave. “this is it. i have the last word.”

that was enough to do it for gwen.

gwen reached her breaking point. the music slowed down, the dj's announcement filling the air, urging everyone to bring their partners to the dance floor. the crowd surged, people jostling for space, with a few girls even approaching harry for a quick dance, eager to bask in his wealth and fuel his ego.

this was her time.

"hey, we need to talk," gwen said, her grip tight as she grabbed your arm. startled, you looked up at her, surprised to see her so close, determination evident in her eyes.

"yeah, we do," you agreed, allowing her to hurriedly guide you both outside, away from prying eyes and the bustling prom.

as you stepped into the open, the light drizzle that had fallen earlier transformed into a gentle rain shower. the lobby glistened with moisture, and a soft breeze rustled through the nearby trees. gwen's hand tightened around yours, helping you stay stable amidst the slippery ground.

"gwen," you called out, tone laced with concern, but she continued walking, leading you to a secluded spot beside the school lobby. "gwen, enough! you need to talk too," you exclaimed, feeling the urgency mounting within you.

she paused, her hand covering her face momentarily, trying to rein in her frustration. "i need to talk? you didn't even let me explain myself last time, and then i saw you here with him," gwen said, her words pouring out rapidly as she fought to control her emotions. "but that's not why i wanted to talk to you now. look, harry asked me to the prom, and i said no... because i had planned to ask you," she revealed.

your eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and realization washing over you. you had suspected harry hadn't been entirely truthful, but the revelation that gwen had intended to ask you left you speechless.

"what?" you mouthed, struggling to find the right words. "so when you came to my house?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling.

"yes! i was going to ask you," gwen affirmed, feeling relief as you finally began to understand. "i love you, (y/n). you've been my best friend, but i've fallen in love with you. i've been losing sleep over it. you're always there for me, understanding in ways i've never experienced before, and it scares me. i didn't want to tell you because i didn't want to risk losing what we have. the thought of you saying no and jeopardizing our friendship stressed me out so much. i would have rather kept my feelings hidden if it meant i could still have you in my life. but now, i just want to face my fears and say, 'screw it,' because i meant every word that i told you when i went to see you. i don't want to be just your friend anymore, i want to be more."

a silence settled between you, interrupted only by the sound of raindrops cascading down gwen's jacket. tears welled up in your eyes as her words pierced through your heart.

"you like me?" you simply asked, your voice almost breaking.

"more than like," she chuckled softly, running a hand through her hair. "you have no idea."

slowly, you closed the distance between you, your fingers fidgeting with the corsage on your wrist. "i like you too, gwen. love, even," you confessed. "i felt so foolish, thinking there might be something between us. part of me believed it was all in my head, and then harry started messing with me, planting doubts that you would never be interested. it hit me hard, and that's why i went with him. i felt trapped, but i also wanted to see your reaction."

gwen's smile grew, and she gently placed her hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "you wanted to see if i'd get jealous?" she inquired, curiosity dancing in her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips.

"yeah, i guess... i felt this thing between us at times, and it made me overthink. i thought that maybe, if you saw me with someone else, you would speak up. and if you didn't, well, it would be a win-win because at least i'd still have a date," you admitted, your voice tinged with regret. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have treated you like this. i just get overwhelmed and scared when i don't think things are gonna work out, so i just avoided it all outta fear."

"don't apologize. both of us got caught up in harry's stupid revenge scheme," gwen said softly, her thumb gently caressing your knuckles.

in the quietude that enveloped you both, you found yourselves staring into each other's eyes. the moonlight filtered through the dark night sky, casting a soft glow upon gwen's features. she looked effortlessly beautiful, her blue eyes sparkling, and her hair framing her face. up close, you noticed the delicate touch of makeup—a rosy red on her lips and smokey eyeshadow with a hint of blue.

before you could fully comprehend your own actions, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss upon her lips. it was too quick for her to kiss back.

her eyes widened in shock and you felt her gasp against your lips. with the unspoken tension broken, there was no more denying the feelings that had been building between the two of you.

suddenly, gwen’s lips crashed against yours as her hands moved to grip your waist and hold you close. she melted into you, a moan escaping her lips as she pressed herself

against you and kissed you hungrily. the electricity between the two of you surrounded you, a silent understanding passing between you that changed the dynamic of friendship was changed forever.

gwen parted her lips away from yours as they brushed up against each other in the small distance.

her eyes softened, her gaze searching yours. "you deserve better," she said, her voice filled with conviction. "and i want to be the one who shows you that."

her hands massaged up and down your torso gently as your arms found their way around her neck. “you are better,” you whispered to her.

it was like you and a magnetism to you that gwen couldn’t fight as your words encouraged her to kiss you again. it was like a switch was flipped inside gwen. she'd never experienced something so electrifying before. feeling your lips against hers was pure passion. her heart raced with excitement as she let herself be swept along in the moment. when your lips met hers and your mouths filled with the taste of the other, gwen felt there was no more room for hesitation now, and the two of you were lost in an incredible kiss that couldn't be stopped.

"you don't need this anymore," gwen's voice came out in a hoarse whisper as she reached for the corsage on your wrist, the one harry had given you. her eyes lingered on the delicate blooms, appreciating their beauty for a fleeting moment. then, in one swift motion, she tore the corsage clean off your hand, her grip firm and unwavering. the force with which she removed it almost stung. gwen flung it far behind you, casting it away.

gwen pushed you lightly into a nearby wall, her hand cupping the back of your head so you wouldn’t get hurt by the impact. she wanted nothing more than to feel you against her, to have your arms wrapped around her as you kissed her again and again. her heart was starting to beat in her chest, and you could feel her breathing quicken.

but still gazing intently into your eyes and keeping her lips inches from your own, gwen briefly backed away. "i think harry's an idiot," she purred, her tone dripping with confidence.

she pulled you close again, her body pressed against yours as if she was trying to collide with you. "he doesn't know anything about you. you're the most amazing, incredible, sweet, adorable..." she paused, her heart racing. "perfect."

a drop of water landed on her nose and slid down her face, causing her to giggle. her radiant smile illuminated the moment, casting a spell of enchantment.

the weight of her words settled upon you, leaving you blissfully captivated. "perfect?" you repeated.

“so perfect, you don’t even have to try,” she replied, her eyes softening as she sees how flustered you get.

gwen leaned in and nibbled your lower lip as she bit the bottom teasingly, just to see how you'd react. "mmm, " she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as she pressed her lips against yours again. you felt her lick on your lower lip as she cocked her head to the side to deepen the kiss. your body trembled as gwen's tongue pressed into your mouth. her hands reached out and drew you closer as she gently slipped past your playful resistance and explored your mouth.

her eyelids drifted shut as your tongue stroked hers. this was heaven for her, and your moans were like music to her ears. she ran her hand through your hair, her fingers gently brushing against the back of your neck as she continued to kiss you deeply and passionately. you could feel her other hand running slowly down your back, her fingertips gently trailing your spine. her kisses grew more frantic, her breathing becoming more rapid. all she wanted was you.

gwen felt your cool, plush thighs clamp around her leg as she slid it up between yours through the opening in your dress. her hands slid down your body, one moving past your legs and coming to rest on your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze as she began to knead at your skin while the other put a firm hand on your hips. you winced at the sensation of her hand rubbing between your thighs as the opposite hand pushed you down onto her leg. in all the excitement, she had pushed herself closer, now grinding against you as she tried to find some sense of relief.

with the rain, the kiss became even sloppier. your mascara started to drip and streak, and you could feel it on your lashes. your and gwen's lipsticks ended up mixing and smearing up against each other as you were both kissing. gwen broke away from your mouth and started laying a trail of kisses down your jaw, leaving faint red lip prints in their wake. her red rose tinted lipstick was now much more faint and messy around her lips.

gwen lowered her mouth to your neck and began lightly sucking and nibbling. you almost went weak in the knees from the stimulating sensation caused by her lips leaving open mouth kisses on the surface of your skin that reached your collarbone and the curve of your breasts.

“(y/n)?” you heard a voice call.

shit, it was harry.

“(y/n), are you out here?” he called out once more.

gwen lifted herself off your neck and straightened herself as she glanced up at you with half-lidded eyes. peering from behind the wall that offered a semblance of concealment, you saw harry discovering the discarded corsage gwen had ripped off your wrist. he knelt down, his gaze fixated on it.

gwen's eyes met yours, a mischievous glint dancing within them. despite your scolding look, she leaned closer to you, undeterred by the risk of being overheard.

"he's going to hear us, gwen," you warned, aware of the potential consequences.

"so?" she replied, a hint of defiance in her voice. "unless you care, because i don't. let him hear."

her audacity caught you off guard, your face flushing as she returned to your neck, this time biting down hard on your skin as you felt the blood rush to the concentrated spots. you were sure they were gonna bruise and turn purple later.

“gwen!” you gasped loud, quickly covering your mouth to muffle her name. she went on, and her unexpected senses caught you off guard.

you made every effort to make sure you weren't too loud for harry to hear, but it was difficult to keep your whines under control.

but gwen knew. when he heard mysterious noises, noticed your discarded corsage, and realized he hadn't seen her go back inside, gwen knew he was aware based on the way she noticed in the corner of her eye how his face twisted. he ultimately stood up and turned around as he headed back inside.

with a soft pop, gwen pulled away from your neck. she stared attentively at you as you were breathing heavily against the wall. it was a gaze that held the power to captivate, like a masterful musician surveying their latest composition. in that moment, you felt like a canvas, waiting to be explored and transformed by her artistic touch.

“perfect and beautiful,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. “i’ve wanted to do that for so long- not the makeout and hickey thing. i mean, don’t get me wrong, i enjoyed it even if it moved a little fast but uh… the kiss part. i wanted to kiss you for a while to see how it felt.”

even though gwen was touching you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear with complete confidence, you grinned at how nervous she had become. wrapping your arms around yourself, you shivered slightly, the rain casting a chill upon you.

“you’re cold? hold on,” gwen's concern was immediate as she swiftly removed her leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders. “here, much better than getting hypothermia.”

you chuckled at her teasing as you felt her cheeks heat up. "thank you," you whispered, hugging her briefly.

she smiled down at you, admiring how you looked in her clothes. "no need to thank me. you look stunning in it," she complimented, a mischievous smirk gracing her lips.

as you emerged from your hiding place, she seized your hand.

“what do we do now?” you asked her.

gwen turned to you, a rebellious glint in her eye. “well, i’m over this prom thing,” she admitted as she pulled you closer, her hand releasing from yours to wrap her arm around your waist and hold you snugly against her side. “wanna get outta here?” she asked.

a smile played on your lips as you nodded in agreement. "yes, let's do it," you replied.

just as you both contemplate your next move, your phone vibrates, signaling a new message.

“don’t tell me it’s him,” she groaned as you nodded, confirming her suspicion.

she extended her hand, silently requesting your phone. "can i?" she asked, her eyes gleaming mischievously.

handing her your phone, you watched as gwen opened the camera app and positioned it in front of both of you. "smile!" she declared, capturing the moment with a click. the picture was you smiling as gwen held you jaw gently, planting a kiss on your cheek.

with the photo now saved on your phone, gwen's mischievous side took over. she swiftly navigated through your messages until she found harry's name. grinning devilishly, she selected his contact and attached the newly taken photo.

"just gonna let him know you won’t be coming back," gwen remarked, her voice full of wicked delight. without hesitation, she composed a short message to accompany the photo, her fingers dancing across the screen.

harry : (y/n) where did you go? you missing out sent at 8:53

you : hey harry, it’s gwen. she’s a little busy right now.

you : me and (y/n) are kinda over this prom night so we decided to do our own thing so i promise you we won’t be missing much. hope you enjoy the photo tho!! sent at 9:00

"there you go," gwen told you as she giggled to herself. "let's see how he likes that."

‘it feels good to be petty’ she thought, handing your phone back. the sky stretched out above, an expanse of darkness that seemed to swallow the world below. it was a canvas painted in shades of ebony and indigo, adorned with the twinkling jewels of distant stars. the rain had dampened her hair, causing it to cling to her forehead in an alluring fashion.

“so, my place? i have food,” she suggests, a smirk forming at the corners of her mouth.

you laughed at how casual it was. you two, ready to go to prom and dressed up, would now rather just go to her house and eat whatever leftovers she had to offer.

"wow, how fancy," you jested, your tone filled with playful sarcasm. "please, take me anywhere but here."

together, you left, leaving behind the glitz and glamor of prom and harry’s drama to finally have the night you and gwen deserved. as you stepped away from the whirlwind of glittering lights and laughter, you felt a wave of comfort wash over you in her presence. for just an instant, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. although you had fully anticipated having the most miserable prom and an even worst summer, you were now fully content. you had gwen, and that was all you could ask her.

she was just glad she could steal you back faster than he took you.

A/N: it’s finally here….😽😽

© 2023 primaviva

#🪽— angel’s series #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy x you #gwen stacy x y/n #gwen stacy #ghost spider x reader #gwen x reader #astv x reader #atsv gwen #ghost spider #astv x you #astv x y/n #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x y/n #spiderverse x reader #astv imagines #gwen stacy angst #astv fanfic #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #spider gwen x reader #spider gwen #across the spiderverse #spiderman astv #spiderman across the spiderverse #astv fluff #gwen stacy imagine #astv gwen #gwen spiderverse #gwen and miles

[anyaeras]

sugar mommy PT. 2 || E.Olsen

Paring || sugar mommy Elizabeth Olsen x y/n

Summary || y/n and Elizabeth both are working to figure out emotions, yet they also take some time to relax and be together.

Warnings || SMUT! ,, Dom/sugar!mommy Elizabeth ,, sub/sugar!baby reader ,, they/them pronouns ,, reader!pussy ,, strap!on sex,, vibrator ,, eating!out ,, overstimulation ,, mommy!kink ,, pet!names ,, praise!kinks ,, slight!ropes ,, legal!agegap

Part one ,, Masterlist ,, discord server

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Times gone by, and y/n's doing well, along with their relationship with Elizabeth, being her sugar baby was pretty much all positives, she was caring and nurturing, yet strict and demanding as she lived up to being in charge yet it kept y/n in line well. Besides the money was needed, to pay for school, and keep going in life, you didn't wanna worry about living paycheck to paycheck, and struggling to keep the lights on, with Elizabeth y/n didn't have to, it was nice.

Y/n was sitting in her English lecture, and it was only 8am, ON A MONDAY! Who the hell wants to be an English lecture at 8 AM on a Monday after a rough Sunday night... not y/n. as they started to daze off y/n was slowly pulled back to reality by the buzzing on their phone which sat in there lap, looking down to see a good morning text from Elizabeth.

"Good morning darling, I'll pick you up from class at 9:30 when it ends. -love Liz" the text from Lizzie made you smile, it was sweet moment like this that drew y/n to the older women more, honestly it was worrying that these real feelings wouldn't be reciprocated and everything would be lost.

"Mx.y/l/n, something to share with the class or are you gonna read from the text book like asked?" The professor, standing at the front of the room called out to y/n causing their face to fade quickly into a light shade of pink.

"Yes, of course sorry" was stuttered out of y/n's mouth quickly fumbling with the textbook to begin reading aloud, which was dreadful to the young college student, public speaking, wasn't really their thing, only adding stress to the missing assignments, and hangover stress they were already carrying for this morning.

"Late night? OOOO who ya texting?" Zack asked in a whisper as the class continued. Getting a nod from y/n yet they ignored the question which went with who they were talking to. I mean y/n did sign the privacy contract.

What felt like forever, the clock that y/n had been staring at this entire time, and finally the clock made it to 9:30 and the lecture hall was dismissed.

Rushing out of the class, y/n made their way to the main parking lot, looking for the black SUV that almost looked shady yet it was still classy to which Elizabeth was driving. Spotting the car quickly making their way to the door pulling on it, causing Elizabeth to jump not expecting it yet still welcoming y/n into the vehicle.

"Do you have ibuprofen?" Y/n asked immediately as a hangover headache was hitting

"I do, did you go out, and party little to hard last night?" Elizabeth asked with a cheeky smirk as she reached into her purse, handing over a small bottle of painkillers.

"So plan is we go back to my place, I'll order us some food, and we have a nice day, just you and me, stress free. How does that sound darling?" Lizzie asked as she shifted the car into drive heading off towards her place, which was definitely uptown.

The ride was alright Elizabeth ended up actually stopping to pick up some Chinese takeout, not before placing large sunglasses on her face, and slipping on a hat, after doing a little research y/n now knew a lot more about the star Elizabeth Olsen, so they realized more on why the older women was so privet. With that Lizzie left y/n in the car for a minute to think about their growing feelings for the older woman.

In the blink of an eye, Elizabeth handed off the food to yourself to hold onto it while she continue driving back to her place, unlike your college apartment, she lives in a beautiful penthouse in Manhattan, it's more relaxing, then hanging out on y/n's twin size bed that's for sure.

"Y/n? You alright? Something seems off" Lizzie asked not once looking away from the road as she pulled in to her buildings car park, fully stop in the car before turning her head.

"Oh yeah I'm fine haha" was the quick response given before hopping out of the car and carrying the food while also following her into the elevator.

Elizabeth was extremely smart. She could tell by body language alone, something was up in y/n's mind, I mean, the older woman could read the younger one like a book.

Elizabeth unlock the penthouse through the elevator, before allowing y/n inside, taking the food from the younger girl to go dishes onto plates before bringing it up to the living room so that they could watch a movie and chill, yet there was definitely a motive in Elizabeth mind.

Lizzie handed a plate of fried rich and sweet-and-sour chicken to y/n before sitting down next to them herself, reaching for the remote, and turning on a film that was unfamiliar to y/n, yet they just kinda went with it.

I didn't take long for y/n to realize why Elizabeth pick this movie, the opening scene was a little steamy, yet pretty damn hot, as they both finished eating and setting the plates on the coffee table, Liz reached over pulling y/n closer into her body.

You started to move around more, from discomfort, but honestly, the movie was quite a turn on, and it didn't help that the beautiful woman you are falling in love with is running her fingers threw your hair, ever now and then she moves her fingers down your back before going back to your hair.

"Y/n you seem to be distracted, you alright" Lizzie chimed in at a random point her voice staying soft yet it was a harsh rip back to reality.

"Yeah yeah I'm fine!"

"Really honey, you seem all bothered?" the other woman was relentless, she knew y/n was turned on and she was interested in pushing y/n to their breaking point.

Elizabeth went with the bolder option, pulling y/n more into her lap before kissing the side of their neck, moving slowly upwards pulling soft airy moans from y/n as Lizzie reached y/n's mouth turning the younger one to face her now as they made out.

Y/n pulled away desperate for air gaining a smirk from Elizabeth before she spoke

"And here I thought that movie didn't effect you, saying you're fine hmm?" The older women teased.

"Is this okay baby?" Elizabeth asked gaining consent before continuing her game.

With the yes coming quickly from y/n lizzie moved her hands down to the waistband of the sweat pants the younger one was wearing, reaching through their folds

"baby you're fucking dripping" was the first thing that came from Elizabeth, as she pulled her fingers back shoving them into y/n mouth.

"Clean them off."

Soon Elizabeth pushed y/n off her lap, standing up, which caused a whine to fall from y/n's lips.

"Mmm why don't you go to the bedroom, I'll be right there" Elizabeth instructed causing y/n to jump up and move to the bedroom, sitting on the bed patiently waiting for the older women.

A small gasp fell out of y/n's mouth as Lizzie came on with a rather large strap around her waste, and a very pretty and lacy lingerie set hugging her body wonderfully.

"You have a staring problem princess" Elizabeth stated strutting closer to the younger one, before hovering over y/n.

"Strip." The demand left no room for argument as y/n stood up and undressed form the comfortable sweatpants and hoodie they had thrown on for their classes this morning.

"Pretty pretty girl, I can't wait to take you" Elizabeth groan out her words as she shoved y/n down onto the bed taking them in as her eyes freely roamed causing y/n to get a little shy and impatient.

"Why don't you tell me what you want baby?" Elizabeth pressed, wanting to get something out of y/n

"You, I want you now" y/n said deprecarla and that was enough to get a rise out of the older women.

The celebrity reached for their tits harshly causing y/n to squeal in reaction to the strong grip, running a pleasurable pain throughout their body, going straight to y/n's core,

"Please mommy just fuck me" y/n cried out causing Lizzie to freeze for a moment, which forced y/n to realize what just came from her mouth.

"I-I'm sorry!" Y/n tried to get an apology out, but was cut off by Elizabeth

"No say it again"

"Mommy?" Y/n question still in a vulnerable position.

"Yes, I like it" Elizabeth stated before going back to messing with y/n's tits, the actresses hands were roaming on their body.

"Now, what do you want from me princess?"

"Fuck me please mommy" y/n complied quickly Lizzie lined up quickly, with a cock a bit bigger then last time, honestly it was a bit worrying.

Lizzie did add lube before hand, yet it was still large, as she slowly started to slip into y/n's core. Slowly bottoming out, the older women could see the bulge in y/n's stomach as Lizzie gave them a quick moment to adjust before trusting harshly. Making y/n yelp out at the quick pleaser rush.

"Goddamn I've been waiting to fuck you" the women groan making her trust quicker, fucking y/n in to mattresses as they let out high pitched moans.

" baby you are so tight, and you are taking my cock so well" Elizabeth pushed out never once's lightening up and by this point y/n was starting to be fucked dumb, they could only respond in incoherent mumbles, letting the older women have their way with them. Y/n was starting to get close when Elizabeth pulled out quickly causing their whole build up to be flushed down the drain, quickly y/n leaned up on their elbows, looking at Lizzie like a sad puppy.

"Aww look at you, so needy, and sad you didn't get off hmm? You know mommy is a little tired maybe you should encourage me to let you cum?" the actress purred and the college student knew what they were asking for and like they y/n was quickly begging. Pulling herself up to her knees before they started

"Please please let me get off. I'll do whatever you want just please fuck me till I cum!" Y/n spilled out as Elizabeth laughed at her, yet also the women shoved y/n back down onto the bed and started railing them once's again, quick and deep causing that same feeling to return to y/n's stomach, Elizabeth was rutting into y/n, the sound of sex mixed with loud moans filled the room.

"Fuck can I cum? Can I cum? Please!" Y/n pushed out fast almost not comprehendible, yet Elizabeth allowed it. With a loud moan y/n let go coating the faux cock with their cum, Elizabeth kept the cock inside the younger one, reaching down to kiss y/n harshly, waiting for them to calm down, before pulling the cock out of y/n.

"I think you can handle one more orgasm don't you?" Lizzie said kinda in a mocking tone as she removed the strap from her own waist and reaches into the nightstand for a vibrator, pulling one out.

Elizabeth moved keep y/n on the bottom, as she placed the vibrator using some rope she threw on the floor earlier to keep the vibrator in place on y/n's clit. Clicking it on, immediately y/n responded with a low moan, still extremely sensitive, their body jerking quickly at first from the overstimulation. While the actress moved to throw her legs over both sides of y/n's face lowering herself.

"Get to work, when I cum so can you"

And like that y/n was eating Elizabeth out quickly, on a mission to make her cum fast, enjoying the sounds of the older women's moans, and the vibration running threw y/n were great motivation, the idea of getting off the hot women above them in return getting to cum themself.

"Fuck fuck y/n so good for mommy" Elizabeth praised feeling y/n's tongue on her clit was enough, for the older women to fold over and let go, her juices all over y/n's face.

Lizzie pulled herself off, quickly making out with y/n tasting herself, as y/n moaned into Lizzie's mouth as they both could still hear the vibrator going, and y/n could still feel it for sure, trying to hold themself together and not cum just yet. Elizabeth slowly pulled away still aware of the vibrator.

"You can let go baby" softly Elizabeth let y/n cum, yet she was still feeling in charge, and was having fun with this. And like that y/n let go with a deep moan, yet Lizzie didn't once even move, the vibrator kept going pushing y/n fully into a dumb mindset of overstimulation.

"You look so pretty, all hot and messy for me" Lizzie let off a small giggle as y/n jerked and squealed trying to pull away, yet Elizabeth held them their.

"Mmm let go one more time for mommy, and then you can be done."

Tears in y/n's eyes as they mumbled some curse words before letting go one more time with a loud high pitch moan.

And like that the vibrator was turned off and pulled away, and everything was done.

"You were so good for me y/n, so good" Elizabeth praised and y/n was clearly dazed.

Cleaning up the room a bit, before Elizabeth went back for y/n pulling the now calmer girl up to her feat, and leading them both into a bath the older women had drawn for the two of them, giving them time to relax now together.

It was moments like this that made Elizabeth question the relationship of sugar mommy, yes, she pays the younger girl, and yes the younger girl attends to her needs, it's just does Lizzie want more, does y/n even like Elizabeth is this just for the money even though she liked supporting the girl financially yet if so, Elizabeth could pay up and go, but no matter how hard she tries it seems like a real relationship with feelings is forming.

Now laying in the bath all the feeling inside Elizabeth mind as y/n laid on top of her, resting her eyes it seemed. Yet all thought stopped when the small

"I love you" slipped from the young college students mouth, and that was enough for the older women.

#marvel #marvel mcu #marvel edits #lgbtqia #writing #lizzie x reader #mommy issues #fanfic #marvel fic #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen x reader #lizzie olsen #sugar mommy #marvel smut #wlw smut #anyaeras #mommy wanda #wanda x reader #actress

[uwurakax]

-> 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃'𝐕𝐄, 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃'𝐕𝐄, 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃'𝐕𝐄 ᥫ᭡

-> 𝒾𝒻 𝒸𝓁𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎'𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝑒? <-

"𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪'𝘮 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘪'𝘮 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴"

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐨)

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝟒.𝟏𝐤

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐬 || 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 || 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞-𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 ||

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧.

ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ x ʜᴀɪᴋʏᴜᴜ ᴀʟʙᴜᴍ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋʟɪꜱᴛ

"ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴅ'ꜱ ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ᴡᴀꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“But, I don't understand?”

Kageyama Tobio had never been good with words. He supposed he never really needed to be. Where he felt most comfortable, on a volleyball court, he didn't need to speak. He read body language over books, and spoke with his eyes instead of his mouth in the heat of a match.

But as he stood in front of you now, the adrenaline mixed with anxiety brought upon an anticipation that was unknown, and a part of him wished he was more adept at the social aspect of your average high schooler. However Kageyama Tobio was not an average high schooler, he was, in the volleyball world, an absolute genius.

The King of the Court.

The stark contrast to the confidence he exuded as an athlete, and the socially awkward guy in front of you had made you laugh. An impressive feat the other team had to overcome, like a whirlwind storm with his ocean blue eyes. Off the court, he was almost normal. An ordinary student who valued practice over studying, with subpar marks to show for it. He was admirable though. He knew what he wanted, for himself, his career. His future.

Up until just a second ago, you thought you were a part of that.

His confession blindsided you. Sent you over a cliff that you had no idea was below you until it was too late and you were free falling. Only brought back by the impact of hitting the despair filled waters below, unable to move, or claw your way through it. You couldn't breathe, or process anything.

You were just… sinking.

“I’m sorry… Y/N”

Kageyama wasn't able to look you in the eye. It had been over 2 years since you had made it official, labelling the two of you as boyfriend and girlfriend. He wasn't sure how he even got with you, or why you of all people wanted to be with him. But you did, and he found himself blessed, wondering how his life got to be this good.

He was skilled athletic, a renowned talent in volleyball with presumed “good looks”, which wasn't an uncommon comment when he passed by the hallways of Karasuno High, and, most importantly, he had you.

The days of you waiting on him and watching his practices. How you never thought of, or complained once, despite his insistence on staying back for ‘just a little bit longer’, which led to you getting home an hour or so after your expected time.

He’s sure your parents berated you for it, and yet, without fail, you never stopped. It was probably why his first impression was never going to end well.

This was the boy who kept their darling, sweet daughter out late. He’s sure after this, you’ll tell them, and they’ll know everything they ever thought about him was true.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me after two years?!”

You gave a lot to the relationship, despite how much you loved Kageyama, being with him was hard. He was always practicing, spending so much time on the court, you wondered how a person could have that much stamina running through them. His mind was always on volleyball, and how to improve, glued to his own ball almost 24/7, watching matches of his peers and champions, he lived and breathed volleyball.

You often wondered if he loved volleyball more than you.

Standing in a secluded corner of your school's courtyard, by the gymnasium building, you didn't have to wonder.

Kageyama Tobio loved volleyball, more than anything.

Your hands were shaking, tightly gripping your high school certificate to try and steady yourself. Of course Kageyama would do this, of all things, at graduation.

He didn't respond, standing awkwardly in front of you while his eyes tried to look anywhere but your own. It even looked like he couldn't bear to look at your face.

A small gust of wind blew, the slight breeze flowing through your hair. At least it was a distraction, to pull you away from your stupor.

“Can you at least say something? Please?” You were desperate, searching in his eyes for anything. Grasping at straws, you just wanted to find something to hold on to, to cling to, to get him to change his mind.

“I’m sorry”

Your last day of high school was arguably, one of the worst days you had ever experienced. Tears shed for a completely different reason.

Kageyama broke your heart that day, and you left him standing by the fence next to the gym. He had chosen.

You didn't bother to look back, turning the corner and never uttering a word.

Kageyama slouched over, his heart heavy as he looked at your retreating figure, disappearing behind the building of the school that now obscured you.

He looked down, his second blazer button unpinned and missing, sitting deep in his trouser pocket. A physical reminder of the second choice he now had to let go of. His future with you in it, now faded into nothingness.

Kageyama turned his heel and began heading into the gym for the last time, with a determination to prove to himself this was the right choice.

He knew throughout high school it was tough, and his goal of being a professional athlete was only going to strain you further. He wouldn’t allow that to happen. You already sacrificed enough for him. He wouldn't let you waste away your best years trying to keep up and chase him.

He’d let you go, because you deserved to be with someone who could give you something better than he could. Someone who could love you the way a man should.

Yes, Kageyama Tobio loved you, but he loved volleyball more.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You had no idea how he did it, but Hinata had convinced you to attend a “gathering” as he called it, at a local restaurant to celebrate his, and the Japanese Olympic Volleyball Team’s, gold medal win. He had practically begged and pleaded, citing that all his past friends and teammates from Karasuno were coming, and you just had to be there to complete it.

It wasn't that you didn't want to, you loved Hinata and he was one of your closest high school friends all those years ago. In fact, you were quite flattered that he was so adamant to have you there, even if you weren't an official member of the Karasuno Volleyball Team. You also hadn't spoken to him in sometime, your friendship being reduced to liking instagram pictures, tweets and the occasional snapchat photo.

The only problem was..

“You're staring” Kiyoko murmured as she drank from her wine glass. Her sleek, black hair cascading straight down her back like a flowing waterfall. It seemed the universe had its favourites. How unfair that she got more beautiful.

You snatched her drink, gulping down whatever liquid was left in the glass. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and held the now empty wine glass back to Kiyoko. Not the classiest you've ever been, but you were beyond the point of caring.

“I’ll be back,” you murmured, turning away from her and heading towards the bathroom. Kiyoko could only sigh as she looked sadly at Kageyama across the room, standing almost ominously in a dark corner of the room against the wall, as he sipped from his glass occasionally.

“Hi Kiyoko,” the raven haired woman turned to find her high school manager successor, Yachi standing beside her.

“Are you okay?” Yachi followed Kiyoko’s gaze to spot the now world renowned volleyball player.

“I’m fine, it's just Y/N,” Kiyoko responded, twirling the bordeaux glass with her slender fingers.

“I see,” Yachi looked down sadly, remembering how close Kageyama and Y/N were all those years ago.

It was hard to believe the two were so in love at one point in their lives with the sorry state they were in. The epitome of lovers to strangers.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Yachi’s timid voice whispered, afraid that someone may overhear.

“Hard to tell,” Kiyoko replied back, placing the glass down on the table next to her.

“I’m sure it hurts her. I know she keeps up with the news regarding him,” with a sigh, Kiyoko turned to Yachi who looked up at the ebony haired woman.

“I know you've seen the articles.” Yachi’s brow's furrowed as her face twisted in melancholy. She was, afterall, a sensitive girl as a teenager, and that trait had never left. Kioyko found it endearing really, how sweet and empathetic her junior was, without even realising.

She was so close with the both of them, and while neither had pressured her, Yachi felt a sense of guilt and betrayal to both Y/N and Kageyama.

However Yachi couldn't help her confusion towards the blue-eyed setter. Being a handsome athlete in his twenties had put him high on the eligible bachelor list, yet he had never really dated exclusively since high school. She couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the stars would align for her two friends to become lovers again. She knew how much they both had cared and loved each other, despite Kageyama’s reservations back then during their relationship. To know the feelings they both had for one another, feelings that were possibly unknown to either. A burden she had to bear as the cost for being close to them.

However if Kageyama had cared as much as Yachi knew, why did the articles paint his supposed ex from years ago, the only ex Kageyama had ever had, as a hurtful heartbreaker, when you had said he was the one who ruined you?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Gripping the edge of the basin of the crystal white sink, you tried to steady your breathing. You desperately wanted to hide away, shielded in the safety of the bathroom.

You thought you would be okay. Thought that you could deal with seeing him for just one night. You didn't want to be selfish, this wasn't about you, but God, was it awful.

You weren't as good as this, weren’t strong enough.

Looking up into the mirror you breathed out, a last ditch effort to form some semblance of clarity and calm. You didn't have to be here for much longer, you could wait. You owed your friends that much, right?

However, seeing Kageyama again, an ex who, all that time ago, was your forever, surfaced feelings that you tried to keep hidden. It was just a teenage love story, one that shouldn't have affected you so.

It wasn't like it wasn't uncommon for high school relationships to end. To feel like child's play in an adult playground.

But it was real, you thought to yourself. Denying it would do a disservice to you, and the girl you used to be. The girl who became the woman you were now. Deep down, this hurdle in life, made you stronger, and you could have almost been thankful for the heartbreak.

Would've, Could've, Should've.

You weren't in your right mind, his piercing gaze falling on you for a moment that you buckled. How unfair that he had this hold on you.

You would have been thankful, for if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be the person you were now, but…

You looked at your reflection, the somber expression under the dark light transported you back the first night you cried over him. It was so easy to fool your parents into thinking your sobs were from the sadness of graduating. Of saying goodbye, which wasn't entirely wrong.

You had aged, not a lot, but no longer did you have that childlike innocence within your eyes. Maturity and a bit of confidence that came with life, with age, had enveloped you. Your clothes were surely different, and you no longer wore your hair the same way, but with the almost pathetic display being cast back at you, you were almost convinced that the one staring back at you was that sad teenage girl who had suffered and grieved over her first love.

That wasn't you anymore.

You twisted the faucet on the sink, the cold water streaming vertically down and into the dark drain. Into nothingness. You were sure there was some kind of metaphor in that, one you were too mentally exhausted to even think about.

You cupped your hands together, letting the cool flow pool in your palms. You watched until it overflowed, the water running down either side of your fingers.

Leaning over the basin, you gently splashed soothingly chilled water on your face, focused on your eyes to be rid of the heat that slowly started to form.

You wouldn't cry tonight, and that was a promise.

You quickly turned off the tap and dabbed away the water with a paper towel, being conscious of the makeup you had spent much too long on.

After deeming yourself ready, you exited the bathroom. Hightailing out to get away, you completely missed the rigid figure you ran into, almost slipping on the smooth flooring. Rough, but warm hands reached out and held you firm on your upper arms.

Stupid heels.

“I’m so sorry!” You squeaked, embarrassed you had been caught leaving the bathroom.

“It's fine, don't worry about it,” you looked up and saw none other than Miya Atsumu holding you in his hands, adorning a smirk on gorgeous face.

You were stunned, one of the best setters you had ever seen play was now here, in front of you, and oh my God he was holding you!

He raised his brow, offering you a signal to continue, or say anything. It would hit you later just how stupid you probably looked to him. Shaking your head out of your stupor, you offered a second apology, pulling away slightly, to which he thankfully let you go, and bowing.

Atsumu could only chuckle and think about how cute it was. He reassured you that ‘it really was fine, and no trouble at all’. He was a lot kinder than he was portrayed, and a lot more handsome.

You expressed your gratitude sincerely, and soon enough you made your back to the crowd, mood a little better than it had been minutes before. It didn't last long, as you felt a hard stare and looking toward its source had soured the little sweetness you managed to find in the short interaction with a certain pretty blond setter.

If looks could kill, you'd surely be 6 feet under.

You could only snarl back, annoyed he had the audacity to look pissed off with you!

As if you were the one who defamed him on news outlets, parading around as if he was the one who was scorned with a love that ‘got away’.

Maybe it wasn't right, but when your ex boyfriend becomes a world renowned volleyball player, you tend to get somewhat invested in their life. It wasn't like you were the only one who caught up on what a previous lover was doing, and it wasn't your fault he was famous, it was too easy. They practically threw him back in your face, the trending pages and news articles. It was hard to miss.

And although you were never named specifically, it wasn't hard to know the relationship experiences that were written in these articles were about you.

All over social media you were slandered, criticised so harshly for the treatment you had supposedly shown him. The reason for why his heart was so guarded. A fortress of steel that many had wanted to conquer in the quest to woo him. To treat him better, and show him what love was all about, his fangirls would spew.

What a load of rubbish.

As if you hadn't given him your best years, been there for him and every game. As if the hours spent wasted on him, had meant nothing.

A second heartbreak.

Kageyama would've never done that to you. At least you never thought he would've. Perhaps you never really knew him at all.

Pulling your phone from your purse, you checked the time.

11:03pm.

You spent enough time here, you thought. It was time to leave. You quickly opened a rideshare app, inputting your details and confirming the booking. You were grateful your driver was only 4 minutes away.

You took a swift glance at the crowd around you, spotting Hinata laughing boisterously with a group full of people you recognised from the Japan Volleyball Team. You smiled fondly, making your way to the door and inconspicuously leaving. You’d apologise to Hinata later for not saying goodbye in person, but you weren't going to disrupt him. He was having a good time, and you knew he’d sense your discomfort. That wasn't fair on him. He shouldn't have to try to appease you both. None of your friends should have to. The issues between you were Kageyama’s and yours alone.

The night air sent a chill through you as you stepped out onto the footpath outside the venue doors, but it also gave you a crisp comfort. It took away the heat of anger that slowly began to build and doused you completely.

You glanced down at your phone again, ignoring the sound of the door opening behind you to check on your driver. They hadn't moved at all.

“Hey..” the low voice from behind you felt magnified in the dead silent street.

No freaking way.

You knew his voice from anywhere. It haunted you in your dreams. Had a power over you that you couldn't explain. Everytime you’d push, he just pulled you back in.

The biggest regret was letting Kageyama Tobio into your heart and having this magnetic force over you.

“What is it?” you didn't dare look back, focusing solely at the device in your hand. You wished you could voice out your disdain, bite back with any snarky comment like you’d imagined if you ever spoke with him again, but you couldn't. It was like your heart and your mind were in two separate planes of existence, and much to your dismay, your heart was slowly closing in at the forefront.

“I’m not sure..” Kageyama could be clueless at times, but he never sounded this uncertain before. You occasionally came across some of his interviews, and for some unknown reason, you never were able to click off. No matter what was said, or questions asked, Kageyama had always spoken with a confidence and self assurance that you truly could believe in what he said. Through the years, this only became more apparent.

The hesitation in his voice was uncharacteristic and off. You slowly turned to face him, really looking at him now and taking him in.

When you pushed, he pulled.

He looked you in the eyes for a moment before looking at the pavement. The faint yellow glow of the streetlamp illuminating the side of his face. It didn't do him justice, but even in the dim light he was stunning.

The years had been good to him, and like a fine wine, he only looked better than he did before. You were sure that would continue, and you felt a slight pang in your heart.

“Is there something you need, Kageyama?” he looked up then, and you thought you saw a moment of hurt flashing within his eyes.

It almost felt good, to inflict even a fraction of pain, and would’ve been proud, if not for the way his surname sounded on your lips.

An awkward silence passed between you, and Kageyama couldn't find the words. He knew this was unfair, and he really wasn't sure why he was now here, with you in front of him. All he knew was that you couldn't leave. Not just yet.

When Hinata told him of the celebration, he had prayed that you would come, and you had. God, he felt like a creep staring at you most of the night, but he couldn't help it. You were more beautiful than he remembered, and if this was the last time he got to see you this close again, then so be it. His last memory of you haunted him; your tear stained cheeks and crying eyes. He had done that to you, and it was selfish of him, but he could see now he made the right choice. You seemed to flourish and do better without him.

He just needed this.

“I’m sorry,” he started, finally gaining the courage to continue.

“I’m sorry for everything.”

You closed your eyes and breathed in. That was the last thing he had ever said to you; I’m sorry.

“I forgave you a long time ago you know” it was almost melancholic. Quiet street, street lights and an ex you couldn't forget.

“Even so, you deserve it. Sincerely,”

“You mean you weren't sincere before?”

“No, I was. It’s just..”

“Just?”

‘I just needed an excuse to see you again’ Kageyama thought.

“Nothing, I’m sorry for ambushing you like this,” You snorted, unable to contain it.

“You're full of apologies tonight?” you questioned.

“I guess I am.”

A new quiet befell, but there was no longer any animosity. It was almost comfortable.

Your phone buzzed, and upon checking, you saw your rideshare driver was coming down the street, a minute away.

“Well, my ride is nearly here, so..” you trailed off, the awkwardness surrounding you once more.

“Did you want a lift? I could drive you home…” You paused, surprised at his offer.

“That's okay, they're nearly here now,”

“Oh, right.” Kageyama looked away, slightly embarrassed.

“Um..” Kageyama stuttered. He needed to do this, before you left.

“Yeah?” you looked up quizzically, wondering what else he may want.

He took a few strides towards you, and you had to fight the urge to step back. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, black object that appeared round.

“Here,” he held it out towards you, unable to look at you. He was thankful for the cover of night to hide the growing red of his cheeks. This was entirely the most selfish thing he had ever done in his life, but he needed to.

“What's this?” you questioned, accepting the item and inspecting it. It looked like a button.

“Just something that was always for you,” he looked at your face to see you staring back.

“I never got the chance to give it to you properly back then. If you want to throw it down the street right now, I won't blame you, but it was always yours.” Kageyama looked longingly at his old button from his high school blazer. He had brought it with him tonight with the intention of giving it to you, but there was never a moment for him to. He may never get this chance again, he wouldn't back away. So when he saw you briskly leave, he knew it was the only time he'd catch you.

You stared at the button, shocked that he had kept it after all this time.

“A-are you sure about this?” you cradled it in your hand, feeling the weight of it on your heart.

“Yeah, I am,” Kageyama smiled.

You looked at the small button that contained so many feelings.

“Thank you,” you heard a car pull over on the curb behind you, and you turned around, recognised the number plate that matched your driver.

“That’s me,” you said, walking to the back side door to get in. Opening in, you glanced back, unsure of how to end the night.

Kageyama’s hands were in his pockets now as he took a couple steps closer.

“Have a good night Y/N,”

You were no longer resentful. The anger had dissipated so quickly, you wondered if you were truly angry with him at all. Filled with the sorrow of what could have been, you ingrained this memory in the back of your mind.

The button smooth in your palm unlocking the remains of love that had been locked away for so long, opening that door slightly for it to seep out.

“Goodnight.. Tobio,”

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #kageyama x reader #kageyama x you #kageyama x y/n #haikyuu x midnights anthology 💕

[spideyanakin]

10 Things I Hate about you - Chapter 3

Eddie Munson x Harrington! reader

Synopsis - A new rule strikes the Harrington household: if Steve wishes to date ever again, his sister needs to find a boyfriend first. As Steve becomes desperate and thinks of everything in his power to set her up, only one guy comes to mind that will take up a challenge such as that: Eddie Munson.

warnings - still season 1 Steve sry and he’s getting worst, underage drinking, angst at it's finnest

word count - 16k

proof read by the amazing @inknopewetrust

series masterlist 🌻

Monday arrived at the pace of a sloth. 

In addition to the “no dating” rule, your parents had put Steve under house arrest for the next three weekends––which quickly backfired on everyone in the house that wasn't him. You never thought you would be grateful that Steve had spent every weekend with his friends. Since middle school, his absence always meant the house was quiet, peaceful, for a short period of time. 

The entire weekend, your family endured Steve's constant complaining over his homework and the fact he was home instead of at Tommy’s or with any other of the popular douchebag boys. It only became intolerable when your mother ordered you to tutor him in order to 'make him shut up.’

It only resulted in you giving him all the answers or him copying your work, and no quiet reprieve was gifted in return. 

You had fought Steve over the TV like the two of you were toddlers. You battled for the last of the leftover cupcakes you had baked with Dustin, and then Steve threw the Monopoly board in your face when you won. He always became too competitive when it came to games. When you suggested a “truce” game of Clue,  he ripped the Mrs. Scarelt card when she had been the murderer you were searching for and not Professor Plum whom he had accused. It got to the point where you were debating drowning yourself in the pool that had just been cleaned from the debris winter had left behind.

"What did you say for the question on scene three?" Barb wondered as she reread through the text in question. Her eyebrows knitted together as she skimmed through the words carefully in an attempt to decipher the man’s prose. 

"About the nurse?" You questioned and placed some of your textbooks into your locker. "I talked about how her role in the play is explicitly for Juliet's happiness, and I tied it in with what Mr. Arnold said about older women in Shakespeare being shown in a different light than the younger ones."

"Oh yeah…” She thought on the analysis,  “that's good," Barb nodded and closed the book and looked blankly at the white cover and red writing. 

"Barb," you spoke her name with a desperate tone as your locker door closed with an echoing bang and your palm met the metal. 

"What?"

"Kill me now…” You groaned dramatically, perhaps with more emotion than she had ever seen you emit before. “I have to walk into class and sit next to Steve." Your words made her chuckle. "It's not funny!" You whined, hitting your forehead against the locker door. "This weekend was hell with him not leaving the house. I did half of his homework for him. Half!" 

"Hey,” Barb stood straighter as she leaned on the locker beside your own. Her books held tightly against her chest, the red-headed girl gave a kind smile and hopeful eyes. “Look on the bright side! You only have a few hours and then the day’s over, you can go home and lock yourself away in your room."

"That long? I might pick up some ideas from the end of the book by then." As if on cue, the bell rang. You wanted to melt in your spot; become a puddle like the glob of spilled soda that threatened student’s pristine shoes right outside the lunchroom. 

But your luck wouldn't have it. You had to sit in your usual seat, in the same boring English classroom, with Steve at your side. 

However, who you hadn’t expected to see, was Eddie sitting next to Gareth as they chatted their spare minutes away. Your eyes went a little wide as you looked at him; your gaze fixed on his head of waves as you passed by his seat and sat a few rows behind and to the side from him. 

Eddie turned around to look at you once he had finished speaking to Gareth, your gaze still fixed on him.

And then he winked. 

You couldn’t fight the way a grin plastered itself onto your face.  

You felt like a madman. As though the events of the last week had changed you completely from the stone-cold bitch everyone was afraid of to a gooey, romantic lead in some cheesy B-film. Eddie Munson winked at you. It shouldn’t have felt like the world had chosen you to be the main character of a romantic subplot of life but it did. He winked, smiling himself as he turned his attention back to Gareth and laughed about something his younger friend said. 

Thinking about that wink, you didn’t realize the look that had stilled on your face as Steve took his spot beside you.

"Did Munson just wink at you?" Steve blinked in disbelief as he put a folder down on his desktop.  

Steve did not know you could smile like that. Steve did not know that you could get flustered like that. Steve did not know that Eddie, the “freak” who had a work ethic so unlike your own yet shared the same interests, could make you feel that way.

"Yes and…?"

"I’ve never seen you speak to him before?" He had to stop the smile that was threatening to spread across his lips. Was his plan working?

"So? Now you watch who I talk to and what I do in your spare time?" You raised an eyebrow.

"No,” He huffed. “I just have never seen you talk with Munson. That’s all."

You shrugged at him to play it off. A part of you wanted Steve to suffer from the “no dating” rule. He was an asshole. Self-centered and mean; a boy who would peak in high school and be stuck selling cars until the end of his days because at some point, Steve decided being the popular kid was his only mission. But you had to stop lying to yourself about what you may want out of life too. 

Maybe it isn’t a date or relationship with Eddie Munson—maybe it is. But if you were going to keep Eddie as a friend if it doesn’t plan out like a fantasy novel, then Steve had to know that if he saw Eddie talk to you, wink at you, or give you a smile, that there was a reason for it. 

You unzipped your pencil case and retrieved a black pen from the bag. 

"We went to The Hideout together last Friday."

"WHAT?" His shriek was a mix of everything Steve was feeling at once. 

Shock that his plan was working and you had actually accepted to go out with Eddie; jealousy that you had gone out and he wasn't able to; surprise that you had sneaked out of the house without him noticing; mad that you hadn't actually been in the house and therefore hadn't fulfilled your duty as his emotional support for house arrest; and seriously pissed off at the fact that if your parents had known you were out, then maybe, just maybe they would have let Steve meet his friends too.

"You're telling me you were on a date while I was on house arrest?"

“Can you please,” you hissed at him, “scream it a little louder so the rest of Hawkins High can hear this conversation?” Your gritted teeth and harsh whisper told him it was indeed a type of date. “It wasn't a date," your whispers were calmer as you eyed the teacher standing up to close the door. "I just went with him to see his band play."

"So, it was a date."

"No––"

"You're dating!" He smiled, jumping up and down in his seat like a kid who had too much sugar. Steve was in high school, not an elementary student. 

"I'm not!” You defended. “Stop… insinuating things! It wasn't just him, his band was there too."

"Hmm," he said as if he wasn't listening. "I totally believe you."

"You should."

"Morning class," Mr. Arnold greeted with the same two words he had been using for years on end. "I hope you all had a good weekend," his eyes lifted to scan the room, stopping when his gaze landed upon the one student he never expected to be here. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Good to see you, Mr. Munson."

"Same here Mr. Arnold," Eddie gave him his best angelic smile.

"Well, I have this for you," Mr. Arnold turned around to take the white book from his desk, placing it in front of Eddie. "We are at Act one, scene four." Eddie took a second to comprehend the system as he flipped through the pages. Plays weren't his thing.

But when Act 1, Scene 4 was written in bold on top of the page, he gave a thumbs up to the older man.

"I will collect your homework, and then we can read together."

"Steve, where's your book?" You whispered as you examined his desk. The homework you had done for him was in the middle, his pencil case resting on the top corner––but no Romeo and Juliet.

"I don't know where I put it," he lied.

"Are you serious?" You already knew how this was going to end. You'd have to share the book for the rest of the semester, and worse, you knew this would lead to Steve happily copying all your homework and ideas for the assessment later on. 

He just shrugged it off as though it were not moot. Those were the facts, you’d just have to accept it as it was because he was the “King of Hawkins High” afterall… Steve Harrington just didn’t fail because he was stupid, he played the long game and that always meant one thing:

Stealing your work. 

~

"Hey! Party at my place on Friday!" Tina cheered as she handed Nancy and Barb a neon orange piece of paper each. ‘Tina's Spring party’ was written in big, black bubble letters with her address at the bottom.

"Y/n didn't get one," Nancy told Tina with an innocent smile with her hand extended to receive another. Tina looked from Nancy to you and back to Nancy as her eyes went blank.

"Oh! I'm sorry!” Tina was not sorry. “That's right," she played dumb as she reluctantly licked the tip of her finger to whisk another paper from the pile she was holding, handing it to Nancy who passed it to you. Taking it with a fake smile, you thanked her before continuing on with the only two girls you’d consider to be friends.

"You didn't have to do that,” you mumbled to Nancy as the paper between the tips of your fingers began to feel like a brick rather than a feather. 

"Are you kidding?" Nancy's eyes went wide. "I wasn't going to let her get away with that."

What? Blatant disregard for your existence? Pure dislike for your perfectly penurious outlook on this thing called life? 

"It's fine, seriously. I won’t go anyways," you looked down at the page, your nose scrunching up at the idea.

"You won't?" Nancy was almost pouting while Barb had already stressed with her eyes that it was nothing but a burden. 

"No… Don't count me in to go to this dumb… mating ritual," you crumpled the paper and threw it in the first trash that crossed your way.

"I don't think I'll go either," Barb shrugged her shoulders. The only way that Barbara Holland would go to a party was with the assurance that Nancy wouldn’t let her pout away in the corner for being a third wheel––but she knew it was going to be her sitting in a corner all evening, making sure Nancy was alright before she would disappear somewhere, or be drunk enough for Barb to leave without her noticing.

"But you have to come with me!" Nancy protested.

"No! You know I don't like parties!"

"But it will be fun!" You scoffed at her, shaking your head at her insistence. 

“Stop bothering, Nance!” You smiled as Barb backed you up. “If she doesn't want to go, then let her stay at home.” 

“I’m sure the new episode of Little house on the Prairie will be much more interesting than this,” you flicked the invitation still sitting between Barb’s hand. 

“Whatever,” Nancy rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to go alone.”

“I’m afraid so,” you pouted, the look on her face making you chuckle.

Eddie watched with a smile on his face as you passed right beside his locker, almost melting at the little smile and wave you gave him when you passed his way. 

Oh, fuck him. His sanity was burning to a crisp along the very path you walked. A simple smile, a tiny, little wave that looked like something out of a stranger danger VHS and he was jittery. The money in his pocket––even if not physically there––weighed it all back to reality. The reminder that the smile was based on a lie bled just as quickly as it skimmed.

“Did you just smile at Munson?” He could hear Nancy squeak as your head turned back around.

“Yeah, and?” Your voice snapped back, but unfortunately, you had disappeared down a different hall before he could snoop on the rest.  

“I heard you went out with my sister last Friday,” Steve’s voice broke Eddie’s day dreaming.

“I did,” Eddie nodded, straightening his back in pride.

“I can’t believe you’ve actually convinced her to go out with you,” Steve chuckled in disbelief before placing a hand in one of the pockets of his jacket. “Here,” Steve stuffed a new fifty dollar bill in Eddie’s hand before he even had the time to protest, “as promised.”

 Steve was still laughing to himself. “Just make sure that I actually know about it this time.”

“Alright,” Eddie stuffed the bill in his pocket without taking a second glance at it.

“Like take her to the movies or something.”

“Noted.”

“Good,” Steve nodded before walking away.

As Eddie watched Steve disappear down the hall you had moments before, the money in his pocket was no longer imaginary. The weight was heavy, it was physically there and jesting him like a foe. Here it was, it cried to him as Shakespearan as an enemy could. A prize.  

And it made him sick thinking that he ever agreed to such a deal. 

But then he remembered your smile, that little wave. In his mind, Eddie could recall the innocence of it. How he felt, and how you felt––but the money kept rolling in. 

~

“Y/n,” Steve jumped on the couch next to you. Your eyes lifted up from the episode of Dallas playing to see his big smile creeping only inches away from you. “You’re coming to the party on Friday, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What do you mean you’re not?” His smile fell. “You have to go!”

“No, I don’t,” you rolled your eyes before looking back at the TV to see a close up of Larry Hagman’s face. 

“But you have to go! You’re the only way I can convince mom and dad to let me go! Pretend I’ll be your… protector or something.”

The fact that had spewed from his lips made you want to chuck him out of a window. 

“My protector?” 

“Yes! Make sure drunk boys don’t cling to you or laugh at you or try anything with you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You mean half of the guy you are when you get drunk? I’m sorry, Steve,” you drawled his name out like he was a child being scolded by a parent, “but I specifically remember the halloween party freshman year where you got so drunk you—” 

“We don’t need to talk about that!” He pointed a finger, cutting you off with the slap of the back of his hand to your shoulder. 

“You are literally those guys! You wouldn’t be protecting me from anything!” 

“Other guys! Not me, just… other guys! And they don’t need to know about me… just how their precious little daughter is going to be looked after by her precious brother.” 

“I’m not going,” you stated definitively. “Convince them yourself.”

“Y/n!” 

“Steeeeve!” you mimicked his whining. 

“Is your brother bothering you again?” Your mother walked into the room when she heard the commotion. It was like a dog answering a silent whistle—she heard it, she came. A motherly instinct, if you will. 

“He is!”

“I’m not!”

She shook her head, pushing the reply as unimportant, not bothering to care about your sibling banter before grabbing a book from the shelves next to the TV.

“Diner’s in five,” she gave both of you pointed looks and you scrambled up off the couch, leaving Steve behind.

As you disappeared behind the doorway, your mothers gaze was kept on your brother. She raised an eyebrow when he simply grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels with a soured expression painted on his face. 

“Steve?”

“Hmm?” He barely looked up.

“Go help your sister set up the table,” Steve’s face fell even further when the words registered.

Chores. Expectations. The rules of the house for every evening since he was old enough to remember them. 

“Oh, right.”

And after ten minutes of fighting Steve over which side of the plate the forks were placed on and which glasses were the ones for water rather than all else, the family sat around the diner table with a meal whisking up into the air and filling each nose with a delicious scent. 

The food was comforting. The stress that you accumulated throughout the day shedding away as you enjoyed the meal. For a second, you pretended you were transported to a time where you and Steve still got along. A time where the two of you had the same interests and he didn’t make every second of your life miserable.

One where he wasn’t the ‘King of Hawkins High’ and you weren’t the sibling who was a little too far on the side of strange. 

“Mom, dad,” Steve lifted his eyes from the potatoes in his plate, “I wanted to ask you something.” Of course he had to quickly ruin the moment. 

Your dream shattered with the sound of his sweet voice.

“What is it?” Your mother brought her glass of sparkling water towards her lips.

“Well… there’s this party on Friday—”

“Don’t even think about it.” Your father’s voice cut him off before he could really begin. 

“But—”

“Steve,” he lamented, “you need to focus on your work! When you show us that your grades are improving, only then will we trust you enough to go out again. It’s simple.”

“But that’s unfair!”

“How is this unfair?” He asked, letting the question hang in the air. When your father didn’t receive a reply, he continued; “Is your sister going?” His eyes landed on you like a target being breached. 

Mayday, mayday! Abandon ship before Steve sinks you with his conniving pea-brained ideas.

“No.” 

For once, Steve had told the truth. 

“Then you won’t go. Take an example from her,” your father pointed at you with his fork. “She has nearly perfect grades and still has a social life––”

“That's a lie,” Steve snorted to himself.

“Your sister is doing fine. She’s proof that you can get good grades too and have a life while doing so.”

“That’s not fair! I want to enjoy my life as a teenager, and she doesn’t!” Your father sighed as he listened to Steve. “You can’t keep me on house arrest forever!”

“No, but––” he stopped mid sentence, the same look that had lit up his features last Monday coming back. This was bad for Steve, you thought to yourself as you watched your father search for the right words. “Not forever.”

“Ok! Then when!?”

“When your sister goes out.”

“WHAT?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “You can take this as a new addition to the dating rule. Forget the house arrest stopping in three weeks, from now on, you follow your sister’s footsteps.” You almost spat your drink onto the ornate tablecloth your mother had set for spring. Oh my god. The three weekend house arrest had turned into this? Steve was just digging himself a bigger hole and it made your evening all the more entertaining.

But that also meant that Steve would make your life a living hell.

“BUT THAT’S SO UNFAIR!”

“It’s not. You’re being too careless with your work, she isn’t. When she goes out, you can too. End of story.”

“DAD! I–– YOU’RE RUINING MY LIFE!” The plates flew as Steve’s fist collided with the table. “UGH!” He stood up, frustration taking the best of him. “I can’t stand another minute of this,” he mumbled, his face red in anger. You could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears as he walked around the table, his feet stomping up the stairs before his bedroom door slammed shut and he made the house rumble with it. 

“Do you plan on going out any time soon?” Your father turned to you.

“Nope,” you spoke, your face half hidden by your glass of water.

“Too bad for your brother then.”

~

“I can’t believe you’re also on house arrest,” Tommy snickered as he watched the soccer scrimmage with Steve. He opened his water bottle, bringing it to his lips as he was still thirsty and sore from ten minutes of light exercise that morning. 

“Shut up, please,” Steve groaned and lifted his head to the sky. “I need to go to this party.”

“Have you thought about trying to have Eddie convince her to go? Maybe he can do it if you can’t. Hell, he’s managed to get this far without being found dead in a ditch.” 

“It’s impossible… even for Eddie Munson,” Steve shook his head as he grabbed his Peanut Butter Kudos bar from his bag––elated Carol had called in sick that morning so he could have it all to himself. “Nothing in this world will get her to that party.”

“Even if you raise him? Pay him double?” Tommy shrugged.

“I could try,” Steve placed the wrapper of the bar between his teeth, taking the other end of it with his fingers to rip it open. “I’m going to have to take from my savings from now on.”

“You mean the savings you promised yourself you wouldn’t touch til you were out of high school?” Tommy’s eyes went wide. “What do you have in there? Like six hundred?” He knew how much the savings he’d been collecting since he was twelve meant to him.

It was a way out. It was an opportunity to take the girl of his dreams on an ice cream date. The money sat idle waiting to be clinched and spent on Steve’s dreams and unrealistic plans of his future––maybe a cute house and six little munchkins that he loved yet despised at the same time. But it was his. He had saved it, he had scoured hot summer days mowing neighbors lawns and shoveling their driveways during freezing winter mornings for something he could call his. 

“Mhm,” Steve hummed an answer.

"I can’t believe you’ve already spent a hundred on this."

“You’re the one telling me to spend more!”

“Yeah! Because you look like a lost puppy and can’t stop complaining.”

"You don't understand! This party is my shot to ask Nancy out. We chat a bit, make out, and boom! She's my girlfriend! So, you’re right… I will pay him double," Steve explained his plan as he scribbled down the amount of money he already spent on Eddie yesterday, right next to the $1 Kit-Kat he swiped. 

"Do you really have to write down everything you spend?" He raised an eyebrow and Steve sighed as he continued his writing.

"Yeah. You'll see when you're broke and I'm not."

"Well I don't spend my money for a stupid cause. Plus, isn’t that just proof that Eddie’s faking it? The fucking world will go up in flames if your sister ever gets her hands on that."

"She won’t and this isn't stupid," Steve dropped his pencil. "It's me trying to get the girl of my dreams.”

"The girl of your dreams?" Tommy gagged. "What kind of drug are you on? Did you let Munson finally convince you into buying from him or something?" 

"You’re hopeless, Tommy." he shook his head as he closed his planner and placed it back into his bag.

"Says the one who gave away a hundred dollars and is about to spend more on a guy just so you can start dating again. Are you sure Munson is even invited to this party?”

Valid question. 

But Steve knew one thing about the parties in Hawkins: they all needed a supplier of something… booze, weed, a little pick-me-up… and he’d be damned if Eddie Munson wasn’t the first person everyone thought of when they needed something that would make Jim Hopper turn red. 

“Doesn't’ hurt to ask…”

~

Eddie was pulling a chaotic stunt in the halls of Hawkins High when Steve noticed him for the first time that day.

Your brother had been losing himself in the maze of hallways that he should have recalled like the back of his hand in an attempt to find Eddie when he didn’t find him at his usual spot in the drama room. After what felt like hours of searching, Steve hadn’t expected to find Eddie sprinting across the empty hallway with one of the big, black clocks from the cafeteria gripped between his hands.

“For your game?” Steve wondered as a breathless Eddie sprinted past him. 

“You bet!” He nodded before disappearing into another hallway, heading straight for the drama room.

“Did Munson just pass by here?” Mrs. Jinkles arrived in front of Steve barely a few seconds later. The older woman was on the verge of sixty, huffing as though she had smoked three packs of cigarettes in a row. 

“He went that way,” Steve pointed in the opposite direction to where Eddie had gone. 

It hadn’t registered in his mind that if it were any other day, under any other circumstance, he would have sold Eddie out just to gain the favor of the teachers––to skip out on assignments, of course.

Steve watched as Mrs. Jinkles rolled her shoulders back and marched in the direction of his finger. He sighed in his own right before making his way toward the drama room. The familiar posters greeted him before he opened the door. 

Eddie was hunched over the clock he had stolen. He had already opened it, its contents spilling onto the already messy table. 

“Harrington,” Eddie did not look up at him, “ if you’re here to tell me to hurry up and get your sister on that date, know that you only asked me yesterday–”

“I’m not here for that,” Steve shook his head before walking towards Eddie, dropping a crisp, new fifty dollar bill beside the clock. 

“That’s to get her to Tina’s party,” he paused. “You’re invited, right?”

“Believe it or not, Harrington, but I do get invited to parties,” he looked from the bill to Steve with a look the latter was all too familiar with. It was the kind where someone more intelligent challenged Steve to see the stupidity of his question.. “I thought you already paid me?”

“Not for the party,” Steve explained. “I need her to go or else I won’t be able to. You’ll need that extra cash for luck because she has a thing against parties that I don’t really understand… somethin’ about ‘radical feminism’ or was it ‘toxic social spheres’?” 

“What?” Eddie snickered.” You’re also on house arrest?” Steve Harrington, the King of Hawkins High, not allowed to date and under house arrest, was paying him to take his sister out so he could magically remove all of these new rules. It felt so much like a popular kid tantrum that he had to laugh.

Eddie felt like a goldfish out of the bowl on many occasions but Steve treating him as though he was a main character in a film he wouldn’t be caught dead watching, a proverbial fish inside of the bowl, was jarring. 

“Kind of,” Steve muttered embarrassed. “You get why I need her to be there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie shook his head, tuning out Steve’s words as he tried to remove a screw from the clock.

“Get her to that party,” Steve pointed a finger at him. 

“I will.”

But Eddie knew he had a challenge. He liked it, the game of it all, yet Eddie enjoyed the chase so much that the money unraveling beside his hand next to the clock felt like a fire ready to set him ablaze.

~

Since the second Steve Harrington had approached Eddie Munson on that fateful day, the boys of Hellfire had seen a change. He watched, perhaps unintentionally, everything you did. The way you sat with friends and scoffed at their perspectives and laughed at their jokes; the headphones you wore were falling apart on the top but you pulled them out every day to listen to a tape he surely would have enjoyed too. 

It was consuming him—you. A jewel in a sea of so much… bland, grainy sand and Oliver had uncovered Eddie’s mission with spite. He hated watching his friend peek over the edge of his locker just to glimpse at you, he sneered at the way Eddie pocketed that change only to act like a fool in love when you passed by without a glance. 

A Pertruchio to a Katherina; the taming of Hawkins very own shrew.

“I think I found a new beat for a song,” Gareth shook Eddie out of his thoughts as his focus broke. The younger man watched from the corner of his eye as Oliver’s expression changed as his gaze lifted off of Eddie and to the discussion.

“Oh, that’s good,” Eddie nodded, taking another pretzel from the plastic bag tucked in his lunch box before letting his gaze fly back to you like a magnet being called home.

“I think it could go well with the lyrics you came up with the other day!” Gareth tried to catch him back, but Eddie was as good as a fish who didn’t like the bait Gareth was throwing.

“Eddie?” Jeff attempted to grab his attention to support Gareth.

“Hm?” The boy in question turned his head to face his friend as if Gareth’s comment had flown over his head and the conversation was no longer important. 

“Are you going to Tina’s party?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded as he chewed on the remnants of the pretzel.

“I don’t get how easily it is for you to get invited,” another boy from the table chimed in. That kid was a freshman and wasn’t ever going to be invited to a party if he continued to hang out with Hellfire but if he sold drugs, that would give incentive to those looking for a fix. 

“It’s a house party, everyone is invited. Just if you haven’t personally received the paper for it, Tina probably doesn’t want you there.” Jeff stated, licking his lips from the previous sip of coke he had just taken. “And Eddie is invited because he deals and that’s cool at parties.”

“Indeed,” Eddie confirmed, his finger tapping a random beat on the table. His reply still felt as though he was far off into space which drew the entire table’s focus to him.

“Is your girlfriend going?” Oliver asked before opening his box of strawberry Nerds only to  pretend like he hadn’t just said something triggering or hadn’t been thinking about it the entire period.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

There. They had Eddie’s full attention.

“Not yet,” Oliver clarified. “But you’re getting paid to become her boyfriend.” The small candies made a big sound similar to a rainstick as Oliver shook the box and a few dropped into his palm.

“Well, I’m also paid to get her to the party so… yeah,” Eddie looked down at his mini pretzels resting at the bottom of his lunchbox. 

They didn’t look as appetizing as they did last week and even the sandwich he’d made in a rush that morning made his stomach turn. The peanut butter oozing from the sides, its slices could have been paper and its contents pencil shavings and Eddie would dislike it all the same. He thought that maybe he could use some of Steve’s money or leftover cash from dealing to buy something from the cafeteria tomorrow to fight the feeling that had sunk in his stomach every lunch period since Steve’s proposal. Maybe Eddie would find whatever was on the lunch menu good enough that he could finally get something in his stomach. 

However, deep down, he knew it wasn’t the food. He knew very well it was the weight he was feeling in the pit of his stomach growing bigger every time his eyes landed on you and he caught himself thinking all the things he shouldn’t have been. 

You looked good that afternoon. Well, you did every afternoon. You were listening to Barb as though she was telling the most intriguing story—which he fathomed could not have been the case yet he was amazed by your enthusiasm. The hard shell you wore wasn’t so hard when people truly looked. 

It was as though he was seeing you for the first time, every time. A new, funny feeling rising within him that made him nervous as the money sat lumped in his jeans. 

“Are you guys going?” Eddie flipped the question around, wishing to give his mind a break from his sulking. 

“Your brother is acting suspicious.” 

On the other side of the cafeteria, where Eddie’s gaze had previously been fixed, Barb couldn’t help voice her worries. It was not a story that Barb had eclipsed your attention with, but a comment. One singular comment that made things feel as though the ground you walked on was ice. 

“What do you mean?” You frowned before bringing your fork full of food up to your lips.

“He asked me stuff about you… like to be a better brother… which Steve has never, ever, put the effort into being.’”

"Steve? Wanting to be a better brother?" The idea made you laugh. “What did he ask?”

“Stuff about you. What you like, what you do on weekends…” You stopped your fork mid flight towards your mouth, both eyebrows raised.

“Why?” You dropped your fork back on your plate and the food splattered like a painting.

“I told you! He said it was to ‘be a better brother.’” 

“Maybe he actually wants to be a better brother,” Nancy chimed in, making your gaze turn to her. A sympathetic smile tugged on your lips.

“Nance, I know you like him but he definitely does not want to put any effort in making my life easier,” you snorted and Nancy suddenly became all flustered when you talked openly about her feelings. “Do you have an idea why he would ask you that?” You turned your attention back towards Barb.

“No,” she shook her head. “But just look out for anything suspicious.”

“That will be hard. Anything Steve does is suspicious.”

“Did you really need to crush on him out of all the boys in Hawkins?” Barb turned her head towards Nancy. The poor girl was hunched over her lunch in embarrassment, focusing all her attention on getting her blush to stomp out as she poked the peas around on her plastic tray..

“I guess my brother is his own kind of special…” You sighed as you moved your own food. “I’ll just have to sleep with both eyes open now… you know, it was getting real hard trying to keep one from closing.”

Barb laughed, Nancy’s blush diminished. Neither of them knew you were able to make a joke out of something that had you on the edge on the inside. 

—

When Tuesday came to an end, the joy that bubbled from your stomach made the day feel less aggravating than it had been. The warm spring air made everyone’s spirits brighter; students laughed as they slid into their cars and people shed their coats and sweaters to celebrate as much sunlight as they possibly could after winter deprived them of it for so long.

You opened your car’s back door, swinging your bag in the backseat before closing it again and checking your watch. Dustin should be there any minute now. 

“Hey.” 

You could have picked that voice out from a crowd––a week ago you wouldn’t have said the same. 

“Hey,” you matched Eddie’s tone and gave a small smile as he approached your car, sliding up to lean against the door you had just shut. “Didn’t expect to see you in class today. I think Mr. Arnold nearly shit his pants..”

“He’d never live it down if he did,” he laughed. “But I said I’d show up, didn’t I?” 

“You did,” you picked at your bracelet in an attempt to distract yourself from the way your heart fluttered at Eddie. Perhaps it was the way he stood confidently against a crowd, or maybe it was the way his eyes made you feel as though you were the only person he could ever focus on––but the feeling made you uneasy because it was new. 

At the same time, you were searching for a distraction to quell the feeling. A group of cheerleaders passed by; all holding the neon orange papers for Tina’s party and grinning like they were the happiest people to ever exist. 

"Are you going?" You leaned opposite him, crossing your arms as you waited for his reply. “To Tina’s party, I mean.” 

"Yeah,” Eddie nodded, “she asked me to deal. Parties are usually where I make the most profit so… can’t pass that up when I’ve got you to impress.” 

You tipped your head to look at your shoes. White, slightly grimey sneakers staring back at you as you fought the heat. All consuming, Eddie Munson was. And he made you feel like jelly when he said stupid, ridiculous things like that. 

“How about you?" You needn’t look at him to see the smile on his face. You could hear the difference in tone. 

You shook your head. Rising to see him again, he was hopeful when your answer was the furthest from it. “No,” you admitted. “Not a party person.” 

“No?” He had a flirtatious inflection to it. “Got a reason?” 

“I find them dumb and pointless. An excuse for all the girls who take sips of church wine to act like complete airheads and get plastered off one can of PBR.”

If he was being honest he couldn’t agree more. He never had the conventional “blast” teens were supposed to have at parties. Eddie only liked them because it made his sales blow. But he remembered he had to convince you to go. You had to go. He wouldn’t step foot on Tina’s lawn without you. 

Neither of you heard the bell that signaled the end of the middle school day. 

Dustin, who had been waddling his way over on the sidewalk that connected the two schools, hadn’t noticed Eddie when he suddenly decided to run his way over and tackle you into a hug.

“Y/n!” The second he and his screaming of your name appeared out of nowhere, Eddie took a step back. A light shock in his eyes when he spotted a pre-teen being so affectionate around you when the girl he knew was far from a “caretaking” type. You didn’t have a little brother? For as long as he could recall, there had only ever been two Harrington siblings: you, and the idiot with the good hair.

A big “oof” escaped your lips before you wrapped your arms around him, tightening the hug as much as he’d allow before letting go.

“How was your weekend?”

“AMAZING! You will never guess what happened! Mike’s campaign is INSANE! There were golden dragons and evil fairies that wanted to steal Will’s wizard staff and the only way we could fight them was with this unknown crystal––” Dustin rambled so fast that you caught none of it but Eddie had. He’d always recognize when someone spoke the language he loved. 

“Campaign?” Eddie’s voice broke off Dustin’s jittery talk. “You play D and D?” He questioned you first as though you had been the one admitting it; grinning from ear to ear at the possibility.

“Sadly, no,” you breathed, your words a bit desperate. “But he does! And he promised to teach me but he’s always busy.”

“Who is this?” Dustin snapped his head from you to Eddie. 

A wave washed over the young boy at that moment. Eddie wasn’t Steve. He wasn’t a guy who tried to ask Nancy out nor was he a cookie-cutter mold of the jocks everyone loved. He was edgy; he was cool with an immediate draw because like Dustin, Eddie didn’t fit a mold. He smelt of cigarette smoke and a cheap cologne––a scent Dustin knew he had to copy because if he could be cool like this guy, maybe others would find him just as intriguing in his grade.  

 “Y/n,” his voice was flat, serious, “why were you hiding your awesome friend from me?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” you giggled at Dustin’s dramatic words, Eddie loved the sound of it. “Dustin, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Dustin, the boy I babysit.” 

Awesome. The kid Eddie had never once seen in his life had called him awesome without speaking a word to him. No one had ever said that about him before. 

Eddie extended his hand like a real adult toward the kid. Dustin took it and with soft, baby-like hands, tried to return a handshake that would impress his awesome new acquaintance. 

“What grade are you in?” Eddie asked. 

“Seventh/”

“Ah,” he nodded in reflection. “Well, hopefully I’ll be out of high school by the time you’re a freshman, but when you do get here, tell whichever awesome Dungeon Master is running hellfire that you know me and they’ll take you without question.”

“Hellfire?” His eyes lit up like spotlights on a stage. It sounded dangerous, cool. Dungeon Master had slipped under his radar because the name was so sick. 

“It’s the name of our party.”

“Wait, Hellfire is a D and D party?” Your own eyes grew wide because truthfully, you hadn’t any idea what in the world it was. You had seen the recruiting posters that the football team defaced but how were you supposed to know what a devil mascot was supposed to represent? 

“Yeah,” Eddie looked as though it were obvious. “What did you think it was?” Eddie crossed his own arms, his expression questioning.

“I don’t know, actually. People say so many different things about it, I really didn’t know.”

“Well, I’ll invite you to a campaign if you want to learn. We play every Friday and sometimes Tuesdays in the drama room when it’s free.” 

“I would love to.” 

Dustin was not sure what he was watching as he looked up at the one person he loved like a sister giving heart eyes to a boy he found to be his new idol. 

“I just have to finish my character sheet.”

“Oh, that’s no problem, I’ll help you.” 

Dustin lifted his gaze from you to Eddie like he would at a tennis match. The interaction brought sparks to his eyes. The two of you liked each other. The heart eyes were mutual; they were nervous and giddy and he had seen Lucas give them to Shelley Windsor from across the lunchroom six weeks ago only to be spurred by her accidentally spilling milk on his favorite t-shirt three days later. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

“Not this Friday because of Tina’s party, but how about the one after? We can go to The Hideout right after, we have a gig then.” The mention of The Hideout made Dustin’s smile even wider.

A date. A real date. 

“Sounds like a date.” 

The word echoed in Eddie’s mind like a beautiful melody. The keys drawing the most beautiful sound that even Motzart was envious but the second a finger slipped and the keys turned sour, the weight of the money sitting in his pocket squandered the joy. 

“Yeah,” he wished he could have replied to it with a full smile and without the lump in his throat or the pit in the bottom of his stomach.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked, titling your head with a hope he had begun the conversation with but ended without. 

“Yeah.”

Eddie nodded as you both said goodbye before walking away to his van on the other end of the parking lot. 

“You all set?” You turned to Dustin, a dumb smile still plastered on his features as he adjusted the straps of his backpack. 

“Mhm,” He hummed yes, walking around the car to access the passenger seat.

“You listened to me,” he spoke again when the door was closed and both seat belts were on.

“What?”

“About meeting people at The Hideout.”

“How––”

“He literally said he played at The Hideout.” You closed your mouth instead of replying, narrowing your eyes. 

“I’m glad you finally found someone,” Dustin grinned, a toothless, adorable grin that could always make you feel happy.

“I didn’t––Eddie isn’t––”

“Oh it’s a date then!” He mimicked your voice, but not in a mocking way. 

“Alright, I did say that,” you rolled your eyes. “But it doesn’t mean he’s my boyfriend or anything.”

“Not yet!”

“Dustin––”

“Y/n, what more can you ask for! He plays D and D which probably makes him a nerd like us! He plays guitar and is in a band, he looks like a rock star and like he’s the coolest person on earth… plus he definitely likes you.”

“I am not having this conversation with you,” you chuckled, turning your eyes back to your steering wheel and finally starting the car. “Eddie is… just… Eddie.” You hadn’t noticed, but even saying his name made you smile. 

“Fine, then I hope you enjoy your date with just Eddie.”

“I will, thank you.”

~

“Boo!”

 Your soul nearly left your body as the quiet solitude of browsing the store’s tape selection was interrupted. Led Zeppelin's cover art shaking as your hand clutched it tightly, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip.

Turning around, you met those big brown eyes and familiar curls that had filled your thoughts every second of every day. 

“You followin’ me, Munson?” You raised an eyebrow, questioning him with a teasing tone. “I swear you’ve been popping up everywhere I have been lately.” 

“Just a coincidence, I guess…” Eddie grinned as he looked at the tape in his own hand. A flustered, small blush painting his cheeks. “I came to get Bark at the Moon,” he showed you the familiar tape. “I accidentally ruined it while cleaning my room. Stepped on it and it cracked into a million little pieces.”

“Eddie Munson cleans his bedroom?” You laughed as he rolled his eyes. “I never would have thought.” 

“Well,” he tapped the tape with his fingers, “I guess I’m just full of surprises then.” 

A small lull passed over the two of you as conversation settled. He looked, like he always did, at you with so much curiosity and fondness that you weren’t sure it could have evolved as quickly as it did. A crush that swallowed him whole, all he wanted to do was be in your presence––for a second, for an hour, for an entire lifetime, Eddie Munson was chasing a high that was brought on by all the wrong reasons. 

“What are you doin’ here?” He questioned, gazing around the store when looking at you reminded him too much of the funds supplying his purchase. “I thought you were babysitting?”

“Just finished actually. This store is on my way home and I can’t keep money in my pockets long when I know there is something I want,” you scanned the shelf again, grabbing the Fleetwood Mac tape that had been on your wishlist forever.

“He seems like a nice kid.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Dustin is the best,” smiling as your eyes fell back to Eddie. “I think the two of you would get along.”

“I’m sure we would. The kid plays D and D for Christ’s sake!” He laughed, walking with you towards the counter to check out. 

Before you could set the tapes down, Eddie put out his hand. 

“Let me see them?” 

You furrowed your brows but let him take them. Eddie may have loved music, but Fleetwood Mac wasn’t a cup of tea he sipped from often, if ever. He’d admit “I’m So Afraid” was sick but only in the comfort of someone who wouldn’t expose him for enjoying something that wasn’t hard metal. 

“Why?” You asked as he piled the ones you had collected on top of his own. He set them on the counter and the man behind it began ringing them up. 

“Eddie––” The protests left your mouth quickly but he shook his head. 

“I wanna get them for you.” 

“What? No!” In an attempt to grab one back, he pushed your hand away from the counter. “I have the money for them. I literally just got paid!” 

“Didn’t say you had no money, sweetheart.” 

The Fleetwood Mac tape rang up to six-fifty. Far too much for him to pay for something like that. 

“You can’t pay for those,” you huffed. “They’re not your tapes.” 

“You ever heard of something called a gift? Or better yet, maybe chivalry? You take a lot of English classes, I think that word has popped up a time or two.”

You looked at him with a flat face but he challenged it as he pulled bills from his pocket. As you gave him a glare, he slid the money across the counter and the guy took it without you tearing your eyes away from Eddie. 

“I can’t let you do that.” 

“Little late for that, sweetheart,” that goddamn name again. He tipped his head to the side, scrunching his nose as your annoyance was built from an unearthed appreciation of his motivations. 

“Let me pay you back,” you breathed out. 

“No.” 

“Eddie, come on.” 

“No!” He laughed as the man handed him the change and pushed the tapes back out toward the two of you. Eddie split the tapes, one for him, two for you, and made for the door. 

“Why did you do that?” You trailed behind him like a puppy. 

“You know, a ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“Th-thank you,” you stumbled on your words as you looked from the tapes that had come back to your hand to Eddie. “But––”

“I just wanted to be nice, give you a gift. Is that so bad?”

“No…. Thank you,” you smiled as the door’s bell had silence, the cars on the road beside the shop filled the air and Eddie halted beside his van that was parked beside your car. 

“I was wondering,” he squinted as the spring sun caught his eye, “would you come to Tina’s party with me?” You really didn’t mean to laugh, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had been adamant that you weren’t going. Parties were not your “thing.” Only when you turned your head to side to watch the almost heartbreaking look in his eyes did you stop.

“I’m sorry,” you sucked in a breath. “I’m not laughing at you. I just… I don’t go to parties,” you shook your head. “The thought of me going makes me laugh.”

“Even if I’ll be at the party?”

“Eddie, Axl Rose could be at that stupid party and I still wouldn’t go.”

“You wouldn’t even do it for Axl!?” Eddie put a hand to his heart as if that had offended him.

“Not even for Axl.”

“Well,” he countered, “how about Kirk?”

“Still no,” you giggled. “All of Metallica could be there and I would be at home watching reruns of that Ewok show or the new episode of Little House on the Prairie instead.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You really think I want to attend a party where everyone just gets drunk and makes out and then people throw up everywhere because they get even more drunk––”

“And high,” he added.

“And high! Plus the music is fucking… awful.”

“Ok, I agree with you,” Eddie nodded in agreement. “Nevermind then. You’re right.” 

“Thank you, I know I’m right,” He liked the confidence he saw. The way you tipped your chin to the sky and your head bobbled. Eddie was disappointed he couldn’t get you to go but he wouldn’t trade seconds with you for anything. 

You walked past his van and opened the door to the front seat of yours.

 “I’ll see you tomorrow?” You didn’t know why it came out as more of a question.

“Yeah,” his car keys jingled in his hand. “See you tomorrow.”

The second you settled into your car, you slipped in the tape and putting the Metallica one that had filled its spot in the empty case. 

You sighed as your hands fell on the wheel; the leather of the material familiar and growing warm under the sun. You watched as Eddie entered his van, giving you a small wave before firing up his engine and driving opposite the direction you were headed. 

Two lives separated by a town yet brought together by simple interests.  

“Pull yourself together,” you sighed, melting in your seat as the first few notes of Rhiannon started playing.

You never felt like this. The ache in your heart, the butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach… These unfamiliar feelings were almost painful as you tried to fight them, trying to run far away from them. You felt like one of those toys you and Steve would fight over as toddlers and ended up splitting in two by pulling too hard. Instead of the forces being two chaotic children, it was your head and your heart.

~

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” Eddie beamed beside you.

He had caught you in the hall as you made your way toward the gym the next day. Persistent is what he was, when you thought of how he pestered in a respectful, yet interested manner. You never had a guy chase after you before––want to spend time with you or treat you like you were the apple of his eye. 

“I told you already,” you fixed your discolored sports bag on your shoulder. “I’m not going, Eddie. No one could convince me to go.”

“But I’ll feel lonely without you.” He gave you sad eyes and fuck, it made you waver for a milisecond. 

“You’ll be fine,” you rolled your eyes instead. “There are plenty of others to talk to or make fun of, I am sure of it.” 

“No, there won’t be. I need you for moral support.”

“Moral support?”

“Yes,” he furiously nodded with conviction. 

“I’m not going.” 

“Please?”

“No,” you shook your head, a smile dancing over your lips as you saw his brown eyes peering at you with want. 

“Fine,” he scoffed. “If I die, it’s your fault.”

“Die? Dramatic much?” You giggled. “You mean to guilt trip me into doing something I don’t want to do? Sounds like a you problem, Eddie.” 

“No. I’m extremely realistic. I will fucking die if you aren’t there to save me.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed, nodding as if you were believing his fallacies. “Totally believe you right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, Y/n,” he shook his head in disbelief. 

“You’ll be fine,” He was making a disparate face, pouting and looking at you like a sad, stray animal. “You never give up, do you?”

“Was that a yes?”

“I’m not going, Eddie,” you said one last time, rolling your eyes before going on your way, heading towards the inside gym that was fitted for volleyball every afternoon. Eddie sighed as he watched you disappear, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

At least he tried.

But then, he went to Steve.

"I tried, she said she won't go."

“Well, will you convince her for another fifty!?” Steve pulled out his wallet and started sifting through the money. Eddie held out his hands and forced Steve’s hands closed, the wallet slamming shut with a force.

“Steve, you’re not an ATM machine! Put your goddamn money away.”

“I know!” Steve frustratingly screeched. “ButI need her to be there!”

“I can try again,” Eddie faltered because he felt deep down, you’d never agree to go. “She really doesn’t want to fucking go to this thing so if I can’t get to her to, that’s not on me.” 

~

Friday ended with no progress for either Steve or Eddie. Convincing you to attend Tina’s party had been a failure––for both of them and truthfully, neither could blame the other for not being successful in their mission. Your mind was fixed. Parties were dumb and stupid and absolutely useless. You had better things to do with your time. 

Like putting on pajamas and watching the new episodes of the last season of Little House or finish reading act 1 of Romeo and Juliet for Monday.

“I don’t understand you,” Steve narrowed his eyes as he watched you from across the room. You were snuggled up on the far end of the couch, eating yogurt while mindlessly watching commercials as you waited for your show to begin.

“What do you mean?” You licked the end of your spoon before dipping it into the carton again.

“Why do you not want to go to this party?” 

“I just don’t want to,” you looked back at the TV. “Why does everyone want me to go?” You muttered to yourself as you took another spoonful of yogurt.

“Why can’t you be normal?”

“Define ‘normal’?”

“Tina’s party is normal. Wanting to go to the party is normal. Having friends who want you to be at the party is normal.”

“Tina’s party is just a pathetic excuse for all the idiots in our school to drink beer and rub up against each other in hopes of distracting themselves from the pathetic emptiness of their meaningless––”

“––Consumer–driven lives. I KNOW!” Steve groaned, tugging at his hair in frustration. “Can you, just for one night, forget that you’re totally wretched and act like we're actually siblings with the same interests?”

“No. I told you parties are–”

“Dumb? Stupid? I got that! Y/n, why can’t you just do this for me?”

“I already do everything for you!” You made frantic movements, pointing at him with your empty spoon. “This time, deal with the consequences of your actions yourself!” You huffed, fully turning your stare back to the TV, silently telling him you were done with the conversation.

“You’re being a bitch!”

“Excuse me?” You snapped your head back to only be met by a serious expression.

“You heard me! You’re being a heinous bitch and ruining my life right now!” He leaned away from the doorframe he had been watching you from. “And then you wonder why you barely can get any friends! Maybe you just say you don’t want to be in a relationship because you know you can’t keep a guy. You’re too mean and selfish!” Your mouth remained wide open as the words escaped him. “You’re just a loser! A freak who knows no one will want her at that stupid party! That’s why you’d rather stay home and watch that dumb ‘house in the fields show.’” 

As if on cue the commercials stopped and the familiar theme song that was normally comforting was ringing through the living room. 

“You just want to make my life miserable because yours is!” Your ears were buzzing, and the pang in your chest that he had started just the week before came back full force.

"FINE!" You screamed over his voice and the noise of the TV. Maybe louder than you expected, but you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts. Your hands were trembling as you grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, bringing quiet to the room. The tension bubbled up like froth on a hot drink once the welcoming melody had gone quiet. 

“I’ll go to your stupid fucking party,” you mumbled the words out as you walked passed him and headed straight up to your room. You struck his shoulder with yours, hard, when you passed him. 

You wiped the stray tear you hadn’t noticed had fallen before changing. Fumbling with your shirts and pants as if you didn’t even know your own closet; shell shocked from the perceptions Steve had expressed. You grabbed your shoes and spotted Eddie’s sweatshirt spread out on your chair. 

You took it without a second thought before flying down the stairs. 

"Where are you going?" Your father appeared in the doorway of the entry hall with a cup of coffee in his hands. It was far too late for one and he’d be up all night working because of it.  

"To a party,” you bit back, your father taking a step back in surprise.

"A party?"

"Yeah, Tina's spring party," you grumbled, not making eye contact with him as he continued asking questions. You loudly dropped your shoes on the floor before sitting down next to them to slip them on.

Steve came not long after with a beaming smile plastered on his face. His hair was even more perfect than before, he was dressed in his version of perfect. The polished rich kid coming out in his baby blue polo tucked into his light brown pants. Steve grabbed his navy jacket from the coat rack by the door. 

“Steve–” your father wanted to deny Steve from leaving the home. 

“That’s the rule right?” Steve turned to the mirror over the shoe rack. “She goes, I go!” He looked at himself one last time before clapping his hands together. "We'll be back by two!" Steve turned back to you just as you were standing back up.

"Is that a new sweater?" He wondered, a grin still plastered on his face as he eyed the black hoodie you were wearing. It looked worn out and smelled funny, suspicion rising in the back of his mind that Eddie Munson had been doing his job after all. 

"It's none of your business," you walked past him and out through the front door to get to your car.

~

The party was everything you expected it to be. 

People making out in every corner, beer keg competitions that your brother jumped on the second you arrived, and awful flirting skills as boys finally got the courage to make their move with a little liquid courage. 

The whole house became a mess of sweaty bodies and spilled drinks topped off with loud, annoying music. Stuffy air from the weed and cigarette smoke mixed with the intoxicating chemical smell of different flavored Teen Spirit deodorants paired with cheap perfume and hairspray.

 It was everything you hated.

You spotted Nancy out of the corner of your eye not ten minutes after you slammed the car door closed. She was wearing a flashy shirt, her hair done differently than how she always wore it. She was admiring Steve the ‘King of the Party’ as he won yet again another round of whatever drinking game currently had his attention.

“Sweet,” you barely stepped into the crowded living room when Tommy’s voice made your entire body tense up. “Looking fresh tonight, Harrington,” he smirked, Carol giggling at his side.

Tommy Hagen never failed in making your skin crawl––no––making it want to completely shed itself from your body and run as far away as it could from Hawkins. He was a creep. A pimpled, doughboy creep that thought he was the shit for being friends with Steve and bagged a girl he thought was hot, Carol. 

“Did Y/n finally decide to make an appearance?” She snickered. 

“Jesus Christ,” you narrowed your eyes as they gathered around you. A pack of wolves on the hunt, a lamb too stubborn to quit centered in their gaze. 

You took a step closer to her, “is that lipstick on your teeth?” 

Her eyes went wide as her hand reached up to her lips. You took this as an opportunity to walk the other way, quickly getting lost in the sea of bodies again.

The hallway was more crowded. A guy with a tray of shots he was desperate not to spill made his way from the kitchen to the living room, lifting the tray towards you.

“You want one?” The range of shots, from blue to bright pink, looked as unappetizing as dirt. You grabbed the one closest to you without even hesitating. A strange green color that made you more motivated to use it as a way to forget you were at the stupid, fucking party.

To forget the whole fiasco Steve had ruined your weekend with.

That you were a bitch. 

That people didn’t want to be your friend. 

That no boy would ever want to date you because you were awful. 

As the sour liquid slid down your throat, you knew it would help you pretend like Steve hadn’t thrown all of your insecurities at your face. Pretend like you hadn’t gone with him just to prove a point. To prove to him that you were welcomed at this party or that you did have friends. 

But maybe it was to prove all of this to yourself.

However, that meant you also needed to forget the pain and the burning feeling in the back of your mind that maybe he was right.

“Hey!” His voice was jovial that he had found you first. 

Eddie saw the shot glass in your hand, the blank, nearly heartless look on your face as the scene around you changed from happy to glum. 

“What are you doing here? I had to hear from dipshit Tommy Hagen that you actually showed up.” He appeared next to you, concern written all over his face.

If Steve was right, you wished Eddie didn’t give you those looks. You wished he didn’t make you feel like you had a friend in him. You wished he didn’t make your heart thump out of its chest like if he were to disappear tomorrow, you’d have to go too. 

“I’m getting trashed, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at parties?” You bit back, your anger from Steve’s scorching rumble mixed with your words. “And Tommy Hagen? He lies… a lot. You’re just on the lucky end that finally a truth came tumbling out of his lips.” 

“Your brother likes to make his presence known too,” Eddie put a hand on your shoulder, smiling to himself when he noticed you were wearing his hoodie.

“Ah,” another guy with a tray of random alcohol filled glasses walked right by you, you snatched one away before turning back to Eddie. “Later.”

And his hand slipped from your shoulder as you walked away from him. 

He felt scorned. 

“Hey!” Eddie called after you. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m off to be ‘normal!’” You made air quotes as you said the word.

Eddie didn’t know why he stood there like an idiot as he watched you disappear into the crowd again. The word normal rang through his mind like poison. You hated normal, he hates normal––and you were both too far into your own worlds to ever be normal. 

He quickly regretted his decision to stand there like a tree when it forced him to spend a half an hour running through the maze of Tina’s house trying to find you again. Eddie felt like he was in a haunted corn maze held outside of Hawkins every Halloween. Instead of having zombies or jump scares at every corner, it was drunk students making the way around the house impossibly hard.

The breath that was stuck in his throat only released when he spotted you at the crossroad between the living room and the dinning room; a glass half full of rum in your hand. You were stumbling your way around. A half an hour later and his hoodie was missing the strings around the neck, your hair was a mess, and the nailpolish was chipping quickly. 

Your expression was a mix between a smile and a frown which Eddie thought to be impossible until he witnessed it on you.

“Hey,” Eddie called out when the music allowed. He attempted to reach for the glass as a way to help you because just looking at you made him realize no one was looking out for you. Drunk, a bit angry, and alone. 

“Y/n, maybe you should give me that––” he reached for the glass again. Eddie’s only thought was to get you away from here and make sure you didn’t swallow one more drop of alcohol. 

“No!” You whined like a toddler. “It’s mine! MINE!” You rattled out of his grip before scrambling out to the other room. Eddie blinked as he watched you run away. For a second, he felt like he was back in his trailer, reading The Lord of the Rings as his mind created the image of Bilbo holding the one ring and calling it his just like you did with the drink. 

“MY MAN!” Steve appeared out of thin air, beaming at him with his brightest smile, pupils blown wide as the drinks had gotten to him as well. Eddie knew Steve wasn’t a smoker but he definitely had a second-hand high. “How did you get her to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Act like a human!” He laughed to himself.

Eddie wanted to protest. To say something about how this wasn’t normal behavior coming from you, and he had a right to be worried. Instead, Steve’s attention was captured by a girl calling his name. Eddie thought he recognised Nancy’s voice over the music but everything was blurred out.

When his gaze turned back around to land on what was going inside the dining room,  his eyes went wide.You were dancing on top of the table, if it wasn’t clear that you were drunk out of your mind, it certainly was now. 

Tommy and the rest of the crowd that had formed around the table were all cheering for you to continue. You threw the empty beer can into the crowd as you continued to dance; Eddie questioned for a second how you had changed drinks so fast before quickly pushing past students to reach you.

“What are you doing!? Get down!” He tried to grab your leg but you swatted his hands away.

“NO!” You screamed, giggling to yourself as you swung your body from side to side.

You wanted to twirl to the beat of the music. Sober you was already not very good at twirls, meaning that drunk you’s sense of balance was completely nonexistent. You tripped on your own feet, making you fall right off the table and luckily for you, right into Eddie’s arms.

If you were sober, you would have felt as though it was straight of a fairytale.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine!” You scoffed, scrambling away from him to stand up. The second you were standing on your own and Eddie removed his hand from your back, you stumbled backwards again. 

“You’re not fine,” his tone became serious, a frown painted his features as he fully took in your state. He could see the way your limbs fell limp and lazy, how your alcohol filled eyes looked around the room. “C’mon,” he grabbed your shoulders to help you move through the crowd.

You made movements to get away from him, making you turn around in his arms and face him. “I don’t need your help,” you whined as you lightly hit his chest, the impact doing absolutely nothing to stop him.

“Yeah, you do,” he looked down at you, trying not to get lost in the galaxy of your eyes as you peered up at him with your drunken glare. “Let’s get you out of here, ok?” He almost whispered, his tone soft and soothing as his thumb rubbed circles on your shoulder.

The air outside was cold; a stark contrast to the oppressing and sauna-like temperature inside the house. The quiet, cool nature felt nice as the music muffled into barely recognizable lyrics when the door closed behind the two of you. 

A few people had taken the party outside. Some smoking on the grass or chatting as they sat on the hood of their cars, enjoying the quieter parts of the evening.

Eddie’s hand secured on your hip as he helped you walk in a straight line towards the other side of the garden to a small patio far off from the noise and commotion the night had to offer.

“This is so patronizing,” you complained as he continued to hold you.

“Leave it to you to use big words when you’re blitzed,” he laughed.

You made a sudden move to walk faster, making you tumble out of his hand and onto the grass, giggling to yourself as you did. 

Eddie grabbed your waist, lifting you back up to sit you down on one of the dark green iron garden chairs, and only when he was sat down next to you that he realized how romantic the scene was.

The table was placed at the center of a wooden pergola, wisteria twisting with its pillars and in between the planks of the ceiling. Everything was so quiet. The party barely a whisper in the vast, beautiful garden. The outdoor lights lit your features just enough for him to see and defined the color of your eyes.

Eddie sighed to himself. In any other circumstance, he would have died to stand there with a girl like you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You giggled as you fully rested your head against the palm of your hand.

“Like what?” Eddie tweaked his head to the side. Maybe he was staring at you for a bit too long.

“Like that!” You pointed out again, smiling to yourself.

“Because you’re pretty,” he knew you wouldn’t remember this, but at that moment, he didn’t care.

You laughed, a sweet sound that dripped from your lips like honey and made Eddie’s heart melt.

“Well, you’re not so bad yourself,” he watched the look in your eyes change as you scanned his features. Drunken you remembering the curve of his nose, to the way his lips hooked into a smile. "You have very pretty eyes, you know? They look a bit like doe,” you blurted out, smiling at him with a gooey grin.

Suddenly you felt all the alcohol begin to surge. The rapid onslaught of nausea confused you, furrowing your brows and causing immediate concern. Before you knew it, you were leaning down, throwing up onto his black converse.

"Jesus!" Eddie abruptly stood up, sighing when he realized no words he could say would change the state you were in. His hand found a way to your hair, gently rubbing your scalp in poor attempts to hold it away from your face as you continued throwing up. 

"Hmm," You groaned once you lifted yourself back up, resting your head against your palm. 

It hadn’t even phased you––what you had just done. 

"I think it's time to take you home," Eddie stood up, chuckling when another protesting groan left your lips. "C'mon, party girl," he hooked his arm around your torso, wrapping your arm over his shoulders. 

“I don’t want to go home,” you said sadly, taking Eddie by surprise when he felt you melt into his embrace; your arms fully wrapping themselves around him.

“I don’t want to go home,” you pleaded again, your tone more desperate as you looked up at him, your chin resting on his torso. “Please, don’t bring me back there.” 

Going home would make your fight with Steve too real and you couldn’t handle that right now. 

Eddie managed to walk you back to his van, patting your knee once he had buckled your seat belt.

“Wait!” You called out when he was about to close the passenger door. “Don’t leave me alone!”

“I’m not leaving you, sweetheart,” the nickname rolling off his lips would have made your heart leap in your chest if your mind wasn’t so fuzzy. “I’m going to get in the car from the other side, ok?”

“Mhm,” your voice fell quiet, your gaze falling down to your hands where you toyed with the sleeves of his hoodie.

When Eddie was in his seat, he felt your eyes on him. With every movement he made, you watched. The way he  lifted his arm to buckle his seatbelt, his hand turning the key to start the van… he saw from the corner of his eye as you viewed him with all your focus. 

“Who’s watching who now?” He smirked as he started the engine, carefully driving through the maze of sloppily parked cars before he was back on the main road.

“I wasn’t,” you turned your gaze away like a cat pretending they hadn’t just pushed a glass off a table, letting your focus be busy with something else from the decor in an old maid’s kitchen.

Eddie chuckled at your reaction. 

“How about we go pick somethin’ up to eat? Get some food in your system so you sober up?”

“Works with me,” you molded in the seat, toying with the hoodie strings that had gone uneven. You closed your eyes as you let yourself get swayed by the vehicle, humming a familiar tune when the silence became too much. 

His breath caught in his throat the second he recognized it.

Eddie knew that song.

In fact he knew it very well––he was the one who wrote it.

He smiled as your angel voice filled the car. Eddie thought he was going to collapse at the thought of someone other than Corroded Coffin members knowing this song. Even better, the thought of you knowing it sent him to paradise.

The bright colors of the fast food restaurant lit up the whole car. The neon 24/7 sign standing tall on top of the square building, Eddie scanned the menu as he broke the van beside the machine.

“What do you want?”

“Fries please,” you murmured, blinking softly at the bright lights.

“Alright,” you closed your eyes at the sound of his voice. Your foggy mind barely understood what else he had ordered beside a fry and a coke.

You were coming in and out of sleep by the time Eddie had parked in a quiet street on the heights of Hawkins. It wasn’t much of a view but it was the prettiest one you had around here. 

“You alright?” He chuckled as he watched you open your eyes again, struggling to blink sleep away.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and before you could fall back asleep Eddie was handing you a coke and your fries. You struggled to remove your seat belt before shifting in your seat and grabbing the food.

“Thank you,” you sighed before taking a sip, the sweet fizzing drink waking you up instantly.

“No problem,” he smiled as he watched you. You seemed like you were in your own little bubble; still very drunk but better than minutes prior.

“I really didn’t take you for a ‘getting absolutely trashed’ type of girl.”

“I’m not,” you mumbled as you chewed on a fry.

“Then why did you do it?” He crossed his arms.

“Because it’s normal,” you spat the word out like venom. “It’s what people expect of me apparently.”

“Since when do you do anything that people expect you to do?” Eddie turned his body to fully face you.

You shrugged before looking down at your food, “since my own brother thinks I'm a terrible person…" 

Ah.

There. 

He had hit the bullseye. Steve had gotten to you. And it seemed like he hadn’t been kind because Eddie saw the way your eyes dimmed at the mention of Steve.

"I don’t think you are,” he shook his head. “But I thought you liked being perceived as mean and scary?"

"I do," you hiccuped, placing the coke in the cupholder of the van’s door. "At least I did until Steve was an ass and called me a bitch and well… he made it known how he feels about me. I’m just a thorn in his side." Eddie could see your eyes starting to water as you stared down at your fries. All the filters that being sober you may have put up came tumbling down with your tears.

It was hard to be vulnerable when you spent years perfecting invulnerability. 

You sniffed and a small sob escaped your lips. Eddie's heart shattered with it. 

"Wh–what I said in the car last time, about feeling confident," you wiped your cheek with the sleeve of the sweatshirt. "I think he took it and crushed the last of it these past few weeks. This tonight… it was just the icing on the goddamn cake."

"Is that why you were so surprised I asked you out?" He didn't know why he said it, but he felt his heart ache as he did. 

You nodded.

And you took his heart in your hands as you did. Smothering it, crushing it with the knowledge he held and nourished that could only harm you more.

"Yeah," your voice came out hoarse. "Most guys are scared of me or just want to be friends with Steve… He’s just so… great. Steve is so perfect. I'm just the loser who scares people off," Eddie frowned at what you said. Watching you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. "It's so stupid," you whispered.

"What do you mean?" He asked, careful with his words.

"Tommy Hagan…" Eddie's frown deepened at the name. "Freshman year," you sniffed as you crossed your arms, "we dated for a month until I realized he only did it to get close to Steve. He was cheating on me with Carol." Eddie's eyes widened. "No one really knows though," you frowned too. "He wanted to keep it a secret and just hang out as friends. Should have known." You sighed, blinking a few times before placing your fries on the side and wiping both your eyes with your sleeves.

"Is that why you started that shell?"

"Yeah," you nodded, your head still feeling dizzy from the alcohol and the tension from the tears.

"Well, he and your brother are assholes."

"Tell me about it," you smiled, turning around so the side of your head rested against the headrest. Your glossy eyes met his as the shallow light from Hawkins eked into the van.

High above the town, in a beat up, poorly kept van that smelt of weed, nothing felt vulnerable in that moment. 

You didn't know if it was the feeling of the alcohol still coursing through your veins, or the way Eddie was looking at you––his doe eyes holding in so much softness and compassion––much more than you had ever felt in years. 

Before you knew it, words left your lips, mumbling into the short silence:

"You're pretty,” the way his features changed as he smiled made you smile too. It's as if his eyes sparkled every time he did, the way he slowly registered the meaning of it when a short laugh tumbled out. Eddie was happy the car was barely lit because a blush had spread its way across his nose.

"And you're drunk."

"Not that drunk" you stated, a tear filled giggle echoing through the space.

“I said it earlier, but you’re pretty too.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, and Eddie liked it ten times better than the frown you had seconds prior.

You sighed before grabbing your coke and taking a new sip, the drink washing the bare minimum of your pain and sadness away. 

You spent the next hour talking about nothing and everything as you finished the rest of your order. The more you spoke the more he could see the tension washing away from you, and the alcohol slowly dissipating from your system.

He could see that by the end, you were trying not to fall asleep on him. The night had already been long and emotional enough that your eyes were closing without your consent.

"C'mon, let's get you home, Harrington."

“Hmm,” you barely had the strength to nod, Eddie smiling when a yawn escaped you, making him yawn just seconds after.

The engine starting broke the quiet of the empty streets, like a familiar melody that was stuck replay until the van would come to a halt. The green dragon proudly standing on the dash nodding his head up and down as the van moved along the road.

The stars were bright, with not a cloud to hide them, and Eddie could see the moon in the distance of the road. It was the perfect setting, and for a fleeting moment he actually imagined what it would be like to be with you. 

Actually be in a relationship with you. With no stupid deals made over a popular rich kid’s tantrum. 

He imagined what it would feel like to hold your hand without the burning reminder that this was never meant to be real; or Imagined what it would feel like to cup your cheek and run his thumb across it before locking your lips into a kiss.

He wondered what it would feel like to have you in his arms, laying across his chest as he read you The Fellowship of the Ring––his favorite of the trilogy.. Reading the pages that were so dear to him until your eyes closed and your breath became shallow. Until you fell into the dream world and escaped the chaotic mess that life could be in this little town.

All the sudden he wanted to dance with you to his favorite ballads, take you on roadtrips that lead to festivals and golden moments where you got to see your favorite artists live. He wanted to see the sparks in your eyes when Axl Rose started singing and Slash took over with his guitar solo; or how you would scream with him when Angus Young and the rest of AC/DC entered the stage and would take you to another planet for the evening. 

But at the end of the day, the money was still buried at the bottom of his jean pocket.

The green bills he swore had morphed into poisonous objects worthy of the worst fantasy villain. Money was Sauron. Money was plaguing the land that wished to be enriched by kindness and goodness and love. Steve’s never-ending funds had become a curse to that sacred land––himself––and now broiled in its controversy, Eddie knew not how to return to normal or understand how good could ever come from something so ridiculous. 

The faces of the founding fathers turned into monsters like the ones he wrote about for his campaigns. 

The familiar forest road that led to your house was more of a reminder that this wasn’t supposed to be real and never would be; that this was just a stupid deal made over a greedy whim.

Eddie was greeted by the same trees that stood tall along the edges and the same fences to define property lines. The van came to a halt at the same spot he had parked in exactly one week prior. Before the headlights turned off with the engine and darkness washed over the scene, he caught a glimpse of the neighbor's cat perched high up at the exact spot he saw him last. His large yellow eyes mocking Eddie before the faint light source coming from your neighbors driveway made him become only but a shadow.

He could barely see your closed eyes and even breaths when he turned to you, yet his heart twisted in his chest again.

Eddie was falling in love and he knew that was bad. Terrible even.

Eddie had taken the deal for money. 

Extra cash to afford things he hadn’t had the privilege to buy in the past. Eddie jumped into the deal with no other thoughts or possible outcomes. He just knew you as that one hot girl who fought anyone who tried to drag her into the neat boxes people created for themselves due to the fear of being different, and never in the entire time that he had passed you in Hawkin’s middle or high school had he labeled you anything more.

Eddie did not take the deal to meet the girl he never even knew could exist. He never knew it actually existed right there in front of him the entire time. He didn’t take the deal to suddenly feel empty at the thought of you not being by his side, or feel doomed at the thought of you knowing the reasons why he came to talk to you on that random Tuesday afternoon. Eddie never expected that the girl the Hellfire club had labeled as ‘hot but aggressive’ would steal his heart.

A heart that was never on the market in the first place. 

A deep sigh escaped Eddie’s lips as he scanned your figure. Trying to remember the most he could in the dim light peering from outside the car’s windows.

You looked like an angel. 

And the butterflies lodged in his stomach went crazy the more he stared. Eddie never wanted to forget the way your hair fell, any attempts to groom it gone with the night’s adventures. You looked so peaceful, with his hoodie comfortably wrapped around you, he had never known someone could look so comfortable in the seat of his shitty van.

What he was feeling was overwhelming. It made him want to throw the money out of the window and scream the ache away. Curse the skies as to why he had never noticed you before.

But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he took a breath and leaned in. He didn’t want to wake you but he didn’t have a choice. The peaceful bubble had to be popped. Sleeping beauty had to be awakened from her curse.

But instead of her prince, it was a messy metalhead teenager who was only sitting beside her because of a deal. A deal Eddie had made with your brother––who hurt you with cutting words he knew not to be true. 

With the  pads of his fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, Eddie delicately reached to move a strand of hair away from your face. 

Maybe the touch was too gentle because it didn’t do anything to wake you. 

“Hey,” his voice was careful, his hand reaching your shoulder and gently rubbing circles on it. 

“Hmm,” you hummed, slightly moving as his hand jostled you carefully. 

“Y/n, we're here,” Eddie gently squeezed your shoulder and this time you made a bigger movement. Your eyes squeezing tightly before you opened them to be met with Eddie’s eyes peering out to you in the darkness. 

“Hmmm,” it was a hum that accompanied a stretch. “ Where are we?” You blinked, rubbing your eyes with the knuckles of your index fingers. 

“At your house.”

“Already?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Already.”

“Okay,” you said it quietly. A world of emotions swept back under the carpet as you stretched your arms and yawned, Eddie admiring each of your movements. 

“I’ll walk you home.”

“What a gentleman,” you smirked tiredly before pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt, already bracing yourself from the cold that would meet you once you opened the door. 

Eddie strutted around the front of the car to get to you. The second he was close you leaned in, stuffing your head in the crook of his neck and groaned in an attempt to voice your frustration. 

“I’m dreading going back,” you mumbled against his shirt. It didn’t take Eddie long to wrap his arms around your shoulders. 

“It will be alright.”

“I hope so…” the thought of seeing Steve at breakfast tomorrow haunted you. 

You didn’t know how long you stayed like this. Leaning into Eddie, your hands around his torso as you tried to ease your pain away. 

You were tired. Really tired, and already felt the hints of the hangover you’d have the next morning. 

That’s probably why you needed his comfort. These odd emotions that came fluttering back started to become comforting. Being in Eddie’s arms made you forget that it was the middle of the night and you were standing in front of his beat up van parked at the crossroad between your home and your neighbor’s. All you could think of was that a sense of comfort you had never gotten the chance to feel before was filling every bit of you. As if just the feeling of his arms around you was enough to make your pain disappear. 

“We should get you home,” of course he had to break the silence. 

You nodded and felt his hands gently rub your back before they fell back at his side. You instantly missed his warmth, the hoodie becoming all you had left of him on you. 

The gravel passage was still the same as Eddie remembered from a week before. Nothing but maybe a few new flowers and leaves scattered on the earth’s floor. He dodged the same branches, passed by the same rose bush he had stolen from until the fence of your house changed from tall, strong wood to soft wires that could bend with barely any force. 

“Thank you,” you turned around to face him. Only the moon lighting up his features through the trees. “For everything,” you looked away, almost ashamed. “I was an idiot tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it… Every teenager has at least one stupid night under their belt,” he smiled.

Time stood still. You didn’t want to go back to the walls that still held Steve’s words. You didn’t want to leave the comfort of the boy standing in front of you. 

You took a step closer, a hand making its way to his cheek. Your thumb gliding through it the same way Eddie had imagined doing to you. 

The touch of your soft hand was almost too much to take in;  the fire that accompanied it burning Eddie like the fires of Mount Doom. 

You were leaning in and he was too despite what his head was telling him; his whole body caving in without his mind’s knowledge––his heart taking over now. 

"Can I kiss you?" There. The dagger had been planted right to his heart. 

His mind jolted to your state of mind. 

His mind jolted to the chill of the early morning. 

His mind jolted to the money that burned a hole through his body. 

"Not tonight, princess," he whispered, hoping you wouldn't catch the strain in his voice as he said it. Hoping that in these three words you wouldn't cause a tumble of emotions to lead you down a worse path in self-love. Eddie did not want you to figure out how conflicted he was feeling, nor did he want you to think Steve was somehow right. 

He watched as your face changed. Confusion written in your eyes before it changed to something he didn’t know how to decipher. 

Your hand fell from his cheek, Eddie instantly felt lost again. 

“Well… I’ll see you later, I guess,” your words were as cold as ice and hard as stone. 

Eddie’s entire being screamed to reach out for you. To climb the fence with you and chase you through the maze of trees until he could fix what he had done and kiss you. 

Kiss you like he had dreamed of only minutes prior.

But life wasn’t as simple. 

And Eddie knew he couldn’t let his heart decide this time because the green paper monsters were still screaming in his pocket.

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#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie munson #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson fan fiction #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson y/n #Eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson angst #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson series #Joseph Quinn #Joseph Quinn x reader #Joseph Quinn x y/n #Joseph Quinn imagine #Joseph Quinn fluff #Joseph Quinn angst #Joseph Quinn x you #Steve Harrington #Stranger things season 4 #st #stranger things season 4 vol 2 #dustin henderson #10 things i hate about you

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

question..? - g. van fleet

a/n: i have no defense for this one gamers, I just thought a quick little blurb like this would be really funny and i hope y’all agree. warnings: nicknames, no use of y/n, fluff, very suggestive behaviors from a few of these guys, cursing, reader has adhd in sams, uhhhh if i missed anything let me know :) summary: you ask your boys the burning question-- the question you don’t know if you can live without the answer to. pairings: jake kiszka x gn!reader, josh kiszka x gn!reader, danny wagner x gn!reader, and sam kiszka x gn!reader word count: 947 now playing: question..? – taylor swift “can i ask you a question?”

"how often do you think about the roman empire?"

the question pretty much haunts you after you saw it on tiktok, because it seems every man in everyone elses life thinks about the roman empire constantly.

so how often does your boy think about the roman empire? you decide to corner him and ask him one night, curious beyond belief.

when you ask jake, it's while he's fiddling with his guitar on the couch, while you read your book, and it's just eating at you.

"hey, jakey?"

he stops playing, turning his attention towards you-- it happens everytime he plays, he's so focused on his guitar until you speak, and then bam-- he's hanging on every word.

"yeah, angel?" what a dreamboat.

"i'm curious about something, and it's been kind of haunting me for a while.." you put your book down as his face becomes more and more concerned. "and i just.. i've got to know.. how often do you think of the roman empire?"

he answers almost immediately.

"at least twice a day."

"what?!"

"yeah, they created so much we use every day. the calender, sewers, aqueducts, roads. plus their mythology is very iconic."

you were not expecting that. but he's so pretty, you just laugh and lean against him.

"you're such a freak."

"you're so mean!" he pouts, "you asked the damn question!"

• • •

 when you ask josh, it's while he's distracted. okay, maybe you're the one making him distracted, because he's kissing your jaw, and your neck, biting and leaving hickeys. he's a man of many talents.

but you're just a teeny tiny out of it, thinking about your question.

"josh, can i ask you somethin?"

"mhm.." he doesn't stop kissing your neck, and he suddenly hits that sweet spot that makes you gasp.

"how -- fuck-- how often do you think about the roman empire?"

he hums again, continuing to kiss your neck and biting your collarbone.

"mhm.."

and you think he's fucking with you, so you push his head away from your neck to get his attention, and it makes him audibly whine.

"that's your answer?"

"uhm.." fuck, he looks good right now.

"you didn't even hear the question!" you laugh, and he takes this as an opportunity to kiss your neck again, and you just sort of melt, so your hand goes to his hair and you decide you can live with that answer until later.

he's just too fine to be mad at. especially when he's using his mouth like this.

• • •

when you ask danny, it's while you're playing with his hair, his insane curly and amazing hair. so while you're running your fingers through his hair, you get curious.

"hey handsome, how often do you think about the roman empire?"

there's a pause.

"baby, what the fuck are you talking about?" he laughs.

"what do you mean?! how often do you think about the roman empire, daniel?"

"like--" he laughs, "like never? i haven't thought about the roman empire since high school."

"were you even thinking about it then?"

"fuck no, i was either getting high with sam in the bathroom or writing song lyrics in the back of the room. i was absolutely thinking about everything that wasn't the roman empire."

he's pretty much the hottest man you've ever seen. and for some reason that answer is just hot. this is a man who was pretty much just floating through life until he became wildly successful and now he's just an attentive, humble, good man.

"well, i appreciate your answer, handsome."

"thanks."

you go back to playing with his hair while he just fiddles with a drum stick he has, twirling it around in his fingers. then he speaks again.

"well, okay, maybe i think about the roman empire like, once a month because jake mentions it all the time--" you laugh, leaning in to kiss his head.

• • •

when you ask sam, it's while he is very much distracted playing with rosie. you love watching them play, and he just has all this nervous energy for no reason, and when rosie senses that, she begins to wear him out.

when he catches you staring at him, he just grins to you, and begins to aggressively pet rosie.

"what is it, sweetheart?" he asked, glancing up to you. you take a moment to think before responding,

"sam, how often do you think about the roman empire?" you ask quizically.

this man looks perplexed. if you thought danny didn't pay attention in high school, sam was so much worse. he once tried to pass a bong off as an art project.

not that you can judge, what, with the horrible adhd that you were diagnosed with in high school.

"the real question is, how often does the roman empire think of me?" he asks, and it makes you laugh so much harder than you thought it would. he is so god damn funny, and you know he loves to make you laugh.

he gets up from his position with rosie and sits next to you, pulling you close to him.

"how often do you think about me?" he flirts. he's so goofy, and it makes you hit him lightly on the chest.

"samuel, we're married."

"yeah, but do you think about me? dream about me? fantasize about me?" he teases, and it makes you get up from your spot and whistle over to rosie.

"c'mon rose, lets go get a drink and let daddy cool off. he's being a sleaze."

"hey! don't talk bad about me to our baby!"

"why don't you go flirt with the roman empire, samuel?"

#daniel wagner x reader #danny gvf #danny wagner x reader #greta van fleet #greta van fleet x you #josh kiszka x reader #greta van fleet x reader #danny wagner gvf #daniel wagner x you #danny wagner x you #josh kiszka gvf #josh kiszka x you #crackfic #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #sam kiszka gvf #sam kiszka x you #sam kiszka x reader #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #sam kiszka fic #gvf fluff #jake kiszka x you #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka gvf

[riordanness]

he isn’t you [p.parker]

1.1K wordcount

requested: no

warnings: slightly abusive/manipulative relationship (not w peter)

[a/n: old writing, proceed with a cringe warning]

I walked with my head down through the crowded hallway of my school, Midtown School of Science and Technology. Kids busted around me, pushing and shoving, kissing and making out, yelling and crying and fighting.

"Hey." Someone touched my arm. My best friend, Peter Parker. His brown eyes searched mine, and he looked worried. I could tell, because whenever he's worried, his forehead crumples and his nose wrinkles, in this really strange, but somehow cute way.

"Hey," I said back, smiling slightly. "You're cute when you're worried."

"What?" Peter looked taken aback. His hand dropped from my arm, and he stared at me blankly.

I laughed. "Never mind. What's up?"

"Oh... Nothing. It's fine." He smiled, but I could tell it was forced. I didn't push it though. Peter and I had been best friends since we were five, and i food read him like a book, so I knew something was wrong. Either way, I wasn't going to force him into saying anything. If he wanted to tell me, he would.

I nodded. "Okay then. I'm looking for Jace... Have you seen him?" Jace was my boyfriend. I didn't think Peter liked him much though, because whenever I brought Jace up in conversation, Peter always tensed up and quickly changed the subject.

"No." Peter shook his head. "How- how's everything going with him? Everything okay? You're happy with him...?"

I smiled. Peter was so sweet. He'd always looked out for me, and did everything he could to help make me feel better.

"Yeah, everything's great," I lied. To tell the truth, everything wasn't great. Recently, Jace had started making me do all of his homework for him, and expecting me to obey his every whim. So far, he hadn't made me do anything utterly terrible, but I still felt a bit uncomfortable with our relationship. It just wasn't what I wanted.

Peter smiled a little. "Okay good. You'd... you'd tell me if anything was wrong, right? You'd let me help?"

I gave him a hug. "Of course, Pete. You're my absolute best friend. Of all time. You're always the one I come to about everything. But it's all just fine at the moment. Nothing to worry about, okay?"

Peter nodded, his lips pursed. I wondered briefly if he could read me as well as I could read him. I hoped not.

"You're still coming to the movies with me tonight, right?" Peter asked.

" 'Course, silly," I smiled, hitting him gently on the arm. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Okay, great..." Peter smiled, a little relieved, and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "See you tonight, then. At six. I'll pick you up."

I nodded, and with that, my best friend of ten years had disapearred into the crowd.

"Hey, baby," a new voice greeted me. This one, I was not happy to hear. I turned, just as an arm snaked its way around my waist.

"Hey, Jace." I forced a smile. Luckily, I was good at that.

"Did you do my homework for me? And get me those candy bars as well?"

I have to bite back a snarky remark, and reached into my backpack. I dug around for a few seconds, and pulled out a crumpled handful of Hershey bars, and an equally crumpled pile of paper sheets.

"Here." I handed the piles to Jace.

"Thank you, baby." Jace's tone was anything but thankful. He looked at me, and something in his expression scared me. "I'm thinking of doing something fun tonight... What do you say? A game of: 'you do exactly what I say for an hour'?"

The excited glint in his eyes made me shrink back in horror. "No!" I managed to force out. My throat was clenching on its own, and that made it hard to speak. I felt nauseous. I was pretty sure people in healthy relationships weren't supposed to feel that.

"I--" I swallowed hard. "We're over, Jace. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry." I pushed past him, and ran.

✨🕸✨🕸✨🕸

That night, at exactly 5:56 P.M., I was sitting on the living room couch in my mum's apartment. I scrolled through my text message chats with Jace on my phone, trying to hold back tears. He wasn't worth my tears, besides, I was about to go hang out with Peter. I needed to get my mind of my boyfriend, I mean, ex-boyfriend.

I turned my phone off, and shoved it under the couch. I didn't want to see it again.

Just then, the doorbell rang. I sprang up quickly to open it, and heard my mum calling out: "Have fun sweetie, and see you later!"

I opened the door, and felt a massive wave of relief wash over me when my eyes met Peter's hazel ones. I couldn't help myself; I just ran right into his arms, not saying a word. I was afraid that if I did, I would start crying all over again.

"Oh, hey," Peter said, a little surprised. He wrapped his arms around me nevertheless. "You look, uh, really nice."

I'd forgotten what I was wearing, so I glanced down. Oh right. Slip-on tan brown flats, which were plain but super cute; a simple red dress, which had thick strap sleeves, and a navy blue cardigan tied around my waist. I'd braided my hair in a single braid down my back.

"Oh, thanks." I flushed. Jace had never really given me compliments, at least not after the initial few weeks of being together. He'd been a perfect boyfriend until a month after he'd asked me out, and then all turned to complete crap.

Peter smiled. "You ready to go?"

I glanced once at the couch, and at my phone which still lay underneath it, and made a quick decsision. "Yeah, I'm ready to go. I don't need anything."

Peter nodded, then he hesitated. "Before we go, actually, y/n, I have to tell you something..."

I frowned slightly. "What is it?" Was he going to say that he never wanted to see me again? Did he hate me? Was being my friend too much work for him? Was I too annoying?

"I love you."

Oh. Well that's not what I was expecting.

"And I know that you have a boyfriend, and that you're really happy with him and I'm just your stupid best friend but I've loved you since I was ten years old and I can keep this secret to myself anymore. Not that it's really a secret, I mean, both Ned and May knows, but it was kinda an accident in Ned's case, I mean --"

I shut him up with a quick kiss, pressing my mouth to his in a smooth gesture, then pulling away. "I don't have a boyfriend anymore, because he was just using me." I refused to let the tears come this time. "And... I love you too, Peter Parker."

I looked at him, and he looked at me, and I knew we understood each other. We always had, somehow.

"Now," I managed a cheeky grin, "how about that date to the movies, Parker?"

#peter parker #mcu #mcu peter parker #fanfic #fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #y/n #peter parker fanfiction #mcu peter parker fanfic #tom holland peter parker

[b0und4gl0ry]

Alright, I can't really elaborate on my girlfriend, Beth, without elaborating on my life in general, and the event that led to my homelessness. so here goes:

Beth used to be one of my friends waay back when I was like 15-16, but I realized she was literally the fucking snobbish rich kid stereotype, so we got distant and eventually just stopped talking.

I just kinda hung out with my other friends, and did school shit for a while.

...

About a month or two after I turned 19. my dad came home, super pissed off about something, I don't remember. He apparently didn't like mom trying to calm him down, got Even more pissed somehow. He went to his bedroom, eventually, he came back out, I barely even registered the fact he was holding a shotgun.

You know what he did.

After, I ran to my room, broke the window, jumped out, and fucking booked it.

I had nowhere to go for who knows how long.

I just kinda existed.

Eventually, after what felt like centuries of fighting for my fucking life, I saw someone familiar.

A lanky calico with well kept fur and brown eyes. It was Beth.

I said hey, she said something, that I very much didn't expect.

She fucking, asked if I was okay

And the entire story spilled out my mouth.

She told me I could stay at her place.

And it turns out, she went on a self improvement journey or some shit, and she's... Not an asshole anymore! Lol. And nearly fucking telepathic with how well she knows how to read people.

We got close, I loved to just hear her talk on and on about something she loved, I loved just hearing her talk about some random things that nobody should find interesting... And I loved her dorky ass too.

And that's the story of how I almost died, And also the story of how I met Beth.

Honestly, if I were you, I would go back to where it happened. Hell, you wouldn't even have to leave your van, just do a driveby of the place, and hit the bricks if some bad shit happens.

- Stace T.

the first chapter of "Casey's Mixtape - Bound For Glory" will be added to this post. Asks specifically for Casey will be unanswered while I write this fanfic. Feel free to ask ooc questions though!

Please, don't expect Shakespeare here...this is my first fanfic. Crit appreciated! Fic below the cut!

Chapter One: "I Can Only Run for So Long - Kitsune"

There's a loud slam on the pavement as Casey Hartley hits the ground, disconnecting the feed to his Tumblr blog due to his phones sudden slam. It scrapes his paws, his knees...

And whatever's left of his pride, as well. All of his followers just got to witness him freak out LIVE, over something so small and harmless! She meant WELL, Casey! And you freaked out like a damn...some kind of...ugh...

He picks up his phone, finding a nice crack in the glass...which just sets him off more

"FUCK- GODDAMNIT!" He yells in a rage, kicking his van door shut with his paw, slamming it with a 'thunk'

He lays back down, covering his face with his hands, facing up at the sky. He groans loudly, his tail bristled.

"...it's...it's not real..." Casey whimpers to himself "...you're in Ohio, remember...?"

And then, he sits up quick, instinctively reaching for his belt in a haze...just to find...nothing there! Just like he said! That...fucking THING...it wasn't real!

And honestly? He wishes it was real, just this once...cause it'd give him, in his mind, something better to cry about.

"Fu-u-uck!" He cries to himself as he flops back down, defeated as usual.

He slowly turns his head upwards to look at the stars above. A vast, deep, black sky with white dots peppering it, like spilled salt on a countertop.

The air is cool, crisp, and clean...a owl hoots off in the distance. then the silence, deafening silence. Maybe a car passing by every so often, but mostly...

Quiet.

He's not sure what to do now. What's the decision to even make? Where is he going?

Sometimes, he even forgets where he is. After a while, every highway looks the same, blending into a blur of black, white, and fluorescent yellow. Moving fast, curving and swirling and moving...like a snake dragging him into eternity.

But he mainly feels...defeated. Like he's hit rock bottom again. No, more like he hit rock bottom and then kept digging.

He looks to the still open door of his van. His sanctuary. Home on the road. A...roam?

Roaming, it's what he's been doing for so long. Driving, eating, sleeping, interesting, and then all again tomorrow, like a snake eating it's tail and spinning in a circle. What's that called...a ouroboros! He thought about getting a tattoo of it once.

He's eating his own tail as we speak. He'll get up and keep driving. Eventually he always does. He's a stubborn ass.

The night continues on. Time will pass, and more trains will come and go. The owl hoots, the crickets chirp. The grass sways, the wind blows.

Casey crawls back to his van, climbing in the main living space, sitting on the dirty floor, littered with monster energy cans and...well, lots of soup cans. Geez, he's let himself go.

His voice cracks and wavers as he speaks, cutting through the quiet like a knife

"I...I give up" Casey wavers to himself, as he slowly inches towards the driver's seat

Casey sits in the driver's seat, the worn fake leather welcoming his form like a warm hug, and he starts the van. He's going back 'home', if it's still there. 

The van slowly rumbles to life, the engine humming beneath him like a purring cat. A quick glance at the clock on the dashboard--2:22 am. It really is late, isn't it? But it doesn't matter. He needs to drive. Go, Casey, go! Do what you're best at!

The van keeps going, the engine humming and the heat kicking in at the flick of a switch. Eventually, the old, cracked, pot-hole infested main road ends, and he finds himself back on the freeway. The stars above, the trees passing by...the silence is almost deafening.

God, the highway...highway 56? 64? Where is Casey Hartley? At this point, even he doesn't know anymore. The numbers on the exits pass by. There's the faint feeling of familiarity, but it's been six months, hasn't it? Has anything changed much? Probably not, right?

A road sign catches his eyes. The I-76. Ohio to Pennsylvania. He was this close to home already? Wasn't he just in Indiana? Wasn't he in Kentucky?? Wasn't he in Tennessee???

The actual 'radio' hasn't worked in a while, and he's too tired to plug in his phone to blast any kind of tune to wake himself up. Death Grips normally wakes him up by now...but...he can't bring himself...

There's a heavy rumble that stirs him awake. Rumble strips! Don't drive off the freeway, Casey! Are you fucking crazy?!

He jerks awake, staring at the road, and gripping a energy drink in his shaking paw and chugging it to stay awake. The artificial taste, which used to be fun and inviting, is now dull to his fried tastebuds.

He's almost back in Pennsylvania, and back to the town that's called home. But is it really home? Has it been the whole time he's been away, or has it become a foreign place? He guesses he'll just sees when he gets there.

The van dings softly. It needs gas. He needs to 'feed his baby' as he so loving calls his humble van. His baby. And babies need food!

And so, he finds a stop after pulling onto a exit ramp, dragging his little baby to a 24-hour Pilot gas station.

There are some lights, some people here and there, a sign about fresh snacks inside, and a small, gas station looking building where an attendant waits. She's a pretty Calico cat. Her name is Beth, as shown on her name-tag.

The attendant is a little tired. But they have a warm smile for him. They even said hello as he pumped some too-expensive gas into the van, letting it run for a bit first before setting the nozzle aside. He finishes, gets back, pays for gas, and decides to peruse the gas station's wares before he moves on.

"Aw shit...they got a Subway?" Casey says to himself. He actually loves subway sandwiches. He has cash to spare, and his stomach roars like a tiger. Yeah, it's dinner time!

He strolls forwards, entering the Subway quickly. The walls are beige, with the all too familiar smell of fresh bread, and the old, mid-2010's art on the walls, the dining benches...

But it's time for the main event, as he walks up to the sandwich making station. There's a short, black cat standing at the counter, and she's prepared for anything Casey throws at her, figuratively and literally, considering customer service work

But, no, Casey is ever so polite. He orders a All-American Club. Hold the tomatoes and most of the sauces...keeping the lettuce and adding extra Parmesan cheese to the order. He also picks up one of those "Sidekicks", specifically the footlong pretzel. Boy's gotta eat!

And, well...he gets a blue raspberry slushee too. That'll wake him up good, mixed with the caffeine in his system.

He pays for his order, his voice softer than usual due to his sleepiness, and he can almost swear the black cat does a double-take when she looks at him, but she doesn't say anything, at least until he gets outside and she scurries up to the kind Beth at the counter.

She probably mistook him for someone else, right?

But no more wondering, he needs to eat. He skitters back to his van, and hops back in the cab, setting up his laptop for a YouTube and Subway session.

He's gonna hate having crumbs everywhere, but...fuck it, it's his van.

He settles in, watching a video of some TF2 gameplay. Deep down, he's still a gamer. He remembers being a Scout main. God, when him and Gregg would play together, it was a troll-fest.

But now he watches Medic gameplay, mainly. Casey likes his voice lines...and design...

Well, nevermind all of that. He's gonna Eat Something.

He props up one of the flip-up doors under his bed that hold his clothes and other things, and is able to use it as a tiny table to place his bounty on. He places it down and unwraps the sandwich first. Now this is some peak home decor. 

Oooh, god, it smells really fucking good. The sandwich...tasty, with the bread and the cheese and the meat and the bacon! Oh, this is a great night.

And the Medic has a wonderful accent. It's soothing, in a way. Almost comforting.

The sandwich is a tasty one, as Casey chews through it like he hasn't ate for days...which may or may not be true. And it's a satisfying size, making eating it a joy, instead of a chore. Casey's got good taste in food, too. Casey is a bit messy, but he's doing just fine...his van, his rules.

It's Casey's mess, his rules. As long as he's comfortable, that's what matters, right? There's nobody around to judge him here, so there's not much that he should worry about. Just good food, good drink, good entertainment.

But after he finishes up his sandwich, and his pretzel, and his smoothie, ends his night with just scrolling around on Pinterest and boogieing out to music.

The more Casey looks, the more he finds, and the more he scrolls through, and...oh dear. Well, he should go to sleep soon, shouldn't he? It's like...2 am...The more Casey looks, the more he finds, and the more he scrolls through, and...oh dear. Well, he should go to sleep soon, shouldn't he? It's like...2 am...

Casey pushes the laptop off of himself, making it land softly on a cushion to charge for tomorrow. Sleep would be lovely right now, and he's got the perfect set up for it.

And slowly, Casey drifts off to sleep, snuggling into his pillow and probably thinking many things to himself.

Sadly, his dreams are never peaceful...Never.

#THE BELOVED ANON SAID #“RETURN TO POSSUM SPRINGS” #LINK THE FIC TO THE BLOG!!! DO IT NOW! #but no to be real I'm glad you have Beth #Stace #I hope y'all get married and have lots of silly moments now! #nitw casey #first fanfic #nitw art #nitw fanart #night in the woods #b4gresponds #b4gtalk #casey'smixtape #constructive critism welcome

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

“I really just need to make an entire breakdown on Medic one of these days 😭” Well, do it. Umm, you coward —I'm so sorry for calling you a coward, Jamison :'(—.

Medic's Past Headcanons (Also Some Archimedes Content!)

————————————————————

No apology needed my friend, I am but a coward 😭

I lied a little bit, I changed my mind on doing a full breakdown, just changed it to some headcanons about his past and meeting Archimedes </3

But no, I've mainly not posted this because I've had other requests and also this one will probably get heavy. I wasn't sure if I wanted to post content with actual angst and upsetting themes.

But I'm here now because looking past all the jokes and my own personal love for doctors. I should also mention, written by an American and a person with know knowledge of the German education system, and medical practices in general!

ALSO, finally writing Medic with his accent and some actual German, please forgive me if you are a native speaker for using a mix of google translate and my very poor German skills 💖

————————————————————

ALSO ALSO mutual appreciation comment! Another thank you for letting me talk about Medic <3

————————————————————

TW: CHILD NEGELECT, SU!C1D@L IDIATIONS, FLUFF AT THE END!

————————————————————

He's been asked about his mother before, his answer has always been,

"Meine mutter? She vas good woman, she... she did her best." Said with a softer tone than anyone has ever heard him speak in.

He's lying. She severely neglected him as child. After his mother fell pregnant, his father left. His mother resented Medic for this, blaming him for his father leaving, refusing to realize how volatile their relationship had been before he was conceived. When Medic was born his mother refused to bond with him, holding him only when others gave her expecting looks. For the first years of his life his mother only tended to his basic needs to keep him from crying, his crying always annoyed her. It never got better with time, she never learned to love him like people had claimed when she started expressing her contempt for him. She would sometimes give him small bits of attention, then she would get a wicked smile on her face as he cried when she stopped paying attention to him for seemingly no reason. Always making him feel like he was responsible for the sudden lack of attention.

————————————————————

His younger years in school is also something he will lie about if asked. (I'm ignoring college because uh, I have no idea what to write for that 😭)

"I vas great, top of my classes, Natürlich. Ich war sehr beliebt."

(Of course. I was very popular)

When he was younger, he was top of his classes. He always excelled at whatever class he was put in, his favorites being science, he obviously loved medical textbooks, along with zoology textbooks, always had one of the other, he'd spend lunches just reading from his books, or hiding in the library, trying to learn everything he could about both. In a way you could say he was popular, but not in the good way. He always had his books on hand, always had the best grades, was always the teachers favorite student, and the other kids hated that. He took his fair share of beatings while he was in school.

————————————————————Medic had never thought about dying, sure he watched patients die, and he knew deep down his mother had died at some point, (He never heard from her after he left his home town, despite his attempts to contact her) but he never thought about the concept of him dying. It hit him like a ton of bricks when he had his first panic attack, and it clicked in his head that he just didn't want to be alive. He couldn't tell you why the switch flipped in his head that made him reach that low, but it did, and it was awful. He almost went insane, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't do anything besides sit in his room and feel years of emotions just hit him out of nowhere. He thought he would die, he wanted to die, dying would be preferable to whatever this was. In the midst of his panic attack, something hit his window with a loud thump. (Aren't I so clever for this transition? lmao 😭)

————————————————————

The day Medic and Archimedes met continues to be one of the best days of his life. A bird had hit his window, pulling him out of whatever spiral he was currently having. Medic just looked at the window for a minute, content to just assume the bird flew off after being dazed a bit. When he heard tiny coos and chirps outside. He pushed it open and saw a little dove huddled in a corner, cooing sadly, shaking as it tried to move its wing but chirping painfully when he moved his wing. Medic put his hand out and tried to scoop up the bird, and the bird ended up attacking his hand. Medic pulled his hand back, a tad shocked, but then tried again. The bird slowly eased up to him once he understood Medic wasn't going to hurt him. Medic took him inside and checked him out. His wing was broken, and it was nothing Medic couldn't fix. He fixed up the birds wing, then decided to get some things to keep the bird comfortable while he recovered. He ended up spoiling him without realizing it. He went to go buy a bird cage and ended up buying the nicest one, the best bird food, and even toys 😭 He came back and set it up all nice for the bird. They bonded pretty quickly after that. However, time passed, and Medic found himself growing attached to the little bird, even naming him, which he knew was a mistake the moment he did so. He knew it was a bad idea, and he did it anyway. After about a month of them living together, Archimedes wing was functional again, Medic enjoyed watching him fly from his cage to the door to great him when he came home from wherever he had gone. But after the third or fourth time, Archimedes greeted him at the door. He knew he was well enough to go back out into the world. That evening, before sunset, Medic opened his window and put Archimedes on the ledge, prompting him to fly off, totally not on the verge of tears, about to experience the worst pain of his life or anything. Archimedes just tilted his head, confused, turned around, and nestled up to Medics arm that he had been propping himself on. Audible sobbing could be heard from his house that night. Medic would later find a way to keep Archimedes to live forever with him, making sure that Archimedes was spoiled to death, and was told each day the value Medic put on their friendship.

"Wir werden für immer zusammen sein, mein Freund, das verspreche ich!"

"Coo"

(It'll be us forever my friend, I promise.)

(I'm counting on it)

————————————————————

Ough, im a sucker for a happy ending 😭or for some reason, I feel like this is super embarrassing, but I' going to ignore that feeling. Sorry for the angst dump, but it had to be done, and I'm sorry it's not very long! I hope you guys like this! Uh, a mini headcanons, then another Medic post, and then some new headcanons are in the works! There is so much Medic content, but I'm not complaining 💖

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 headcanons #team fortress headcanons #tf2 hcs #tf2 medic #medic tf2 #tf2 archimedes

[boredw69]

Only In His Office- Ch. 2 Negan X Reader

Y/n is 19 year old Senior in high school who is particularly quiet but that's only because she always takes the time to write in her notebook filled with.. thoughts about someone imparticular, but its not who you expect it to be…

◇There is a age gap in this book so if you are not ok with that or if it makes you uncomfortable then you do not have to read, it's your choice.◇

Warnings: Sexual themes, Cursing, Age Gap, Sick/Throw up, angst, mentions of drinking, Abuse, (bad writing.. :L )

Word count: 2231

"I have to go.." I whine looking down again.

"If you go now don't you think it would be a little suspicious?" He whispered resting a hand on my shoulder guiding me away from the door.

His touch was comforting.. I had never felt such a wonderful thing, our eyes locked just observing every feature on each others appearance, or maybe I was just so stuck in my own world that I only wanted to stare instead of speak a reply, but what more is there to say... it would be suspicious, he was right.

I bobbed my head slowly, "Ok..."

He moved his hand to his side with a clap. "Well." He spoke shuffling back around to his desk.

He picked up the book and sighed handing it back to me with a smile.

I took it gently bringing it to my chest holding it tightly.

As I looked up he had flopped down into his chair once again, his leg crossed over the other. He raised an eyebrow and gestured to the door.

"Thanks for the chat Miss. L/N. I'll be seeing you in gym tomorrow."

I turned on my heels and slowly left shutting the door behind me. I walked slowly out into the hall my body still stiff and shaky.

I immediately felt nauseous; Bolting toward the bathroom holding back a gag. Barging into the first bathroom stall I seen dropping to my knees and hurling into the nasty toilet.

-

Now sitting in the nurses office as the Nurse took my temperature I felt no better, still hot.. and bothered I suppose.

"Your temperature is pretty high, I'll go get a trash bag and you go to lay down, maybe you need some rest." She says.

I laid down on the plastic sheet covered bed. The uncomfortable paper over the pillow shuffled in my ear but eventually settled as I did.

I heard her laying down the bag next to me along with fanning a blanket over me and allowing it to fall gently.

My eyes stayed closed pretending to sleep as I listened to her every movement, from her sitting in her chair to her typing away on her computer.

I heard her gasp and shuffle around the small office. I listened to the pressing of a new set of keys. She was calling someone.

She laughed as if I wasn't trying to sleep just right next to her, "Hello, I'm sorry I almost forgot to call you up." She paused.

"She came into the office asking for me, she didnt look to good I think I'm going to call her dad to come and pick her up."

'Yea right' I thought to myself mentally rolling my eyes.

She put the phone down only to start calling my dad now.

It ringed and ringed, and-

"Hello. Is this y/n's father?"

I shifted around trying to listen; shocked that he had the time of day to answer.

"Yes, she isn't looking to well she might be sick would you be able to come and pick her up?"

'No... he never has time for anyone.'

"Oh, that sounds good thank you, see you in a bit" I could feel her smile radiating from here.

'huh.'

The phone gently hit the holder again and my ears followed her footsteps to her chair.

I relaxed my body falling into a deep thought.

-

I stretched out opening my mouth to yawn. I felt like I was in a different place; my eyes shot open and I looked around seeing I was in my room.

Was I that worn out that I didn't wake up until I was home...

I closed my eyes once again and shifted to my other side hoping to fall back asleep.

I laid there with my eyes closed for a good 5 minutes before I decided to get up noticing my backpack and notebook on the floor in front of my closet door.

I sighed as I looked at it. How was I supposed to face him tomorrow?

I sat up; my legs dangled from my bed as I stared right in front of me where a poster of a basketball player hung, I hadn't played basketball ball since 6th grade, my favorite coach was replaced by Negan and of course until today I couldn't even be an inch close to him, there is a lot of thoughts rushing through my head, I couldn't catch one if I tried..

"Y/n? Are you awake?" I heard a woman's voice from the kitchen.

Mom?

I stood up making my way down the hall and into the dining room where I peeped through the door to the kitchen.

"Mom!" I smile rushing to hug her.

"How have you been?" She asked while patting my back.

I pressed my lips together and just smiled ear to ear, "good."

She laughed letting go. "I missed you so much sweetheart." She screeched.

"I missed you too!"

I just couldn't stop smiling at her, I hadn't seen her in 6 months, and for me and her that hasn't been our longest apart but it always felt so long...

"Oh god, stop gabbing we have to go" My dad said stumbling into the kitchen with his keys.

I looked over confused.

"For one day Micheal could you be a real father figure!" My mother shouts.

"That's what I'm trying to do Claire! ...y/n go get in the truck."

I looked into my mother's eyes one more time before heading out the front door.

I don't know why my dad has to be like this but I guess I put up with it, either way, it's just nice to see my mom right now..

I flopped down in my dads truck with my hands in my lap.

Not even seconds later he shoved himself into the driver's side and threw a small orange piece of paper onto my lap before starting the car with a grunt.

I looked over at him as I picked up the loose paper off my lap, "What's this?" I question.

He didn't answer he just began to head down the road, so I took it upon myself to read it.

---Dear parent or Guardian your child is eligible for the girl's basketball team and we would love to see them tonight from 6:00 pm to 6:45 for a presentation and tryout sign-up. ---

My eyes widened, I could only hope Negan wasn't the one to be hosting the sign-ups. I licked my chapped lips trying to gain moisture back in my mouth and setting the papers into the dash of the truck.

"So," My father asked, except it sounded more of a 'so you're going to do it if you want to or not', but I still answered.

"I can't. Its not the same as kids basket ball. There's to much pressure."

"Y/n, Thats bullshit! You just gotta get out there and fuckin' do it." he spat gripping the steering wheel. He took a deep breath. "Look. I'm not the best dad ever, but when you were a kid; I could see that passion in your eyes when we would play."

I turned to look out the window watching the town houses pass by.

"You don't have a choice kid. I'm tired of seeing you rot away in your room. I want a daughter to actually be proud of for once."

My heart sank. "wow." I bit down on the inside of my cheek.

The rest of the car ride was silent.

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

I hesitated to step foot into the gym, but I couldn't go back. I bolted up to the top of the bleachers.

I could feel eyes on me. Most of these girls had been playing basket ball all their life, some of them I haven't seen since 3rd Grade.

I sat listening as he and the middle school coach talked about when tryouts were and how they knew we were good for the team. I could barely focus, his words of encouragement seemed to only echo to me. Our eyes caught one another an awkward amount of times before the speech was over.

Once it was I hurried to the door but I quickly realized sitting at the top of the bleachers was a bad idea, I got held up and before I got to the door I felt a firm grip on my arm that flipped me back facing the quart.

I took a deep breath and looked up seeing the face I was hoping to not see for the rest of the night.

I bit my lip, as much as I didn't want to see him, I couldn't help but mentally drool at the sight of his salt and pepper beard and strong jawline. His brown eyes staring down into mine as his figure towered over me. If I didn't stop thinking like this my knees were sure to go weak right here right now.

Before he opened his mouth to speak I interupted. "My dads waiting on me, I'm sorry."

I sprinted for the front desk and filled out the paper as fast as I could, I could still feel him watching me just before I rudely threw the paper at the lady sitting behind the flimsy white table.

I walked calmly out the door and took in a breath of fresh air just as I got into the truck. Finally...

------

Getting home after a encounter like I just had I would've went straight to my room and wrote in my book. But today felt different. I couldn't. I had no desire at all strangely enough.

I sighed audibly, falling stomach first into my bed my head stuffed into my pillow. The memories flooded back into my head..

"fuck.." I whisper yell into the pillow.

I rolled over onto my back and closed my eyes trying my best to remember what happened in his office. Even the slightest touch drove me crazy. I hadn't been that close to him in a setting such as that.. ever.

My hand was getting closer the the rim of my shorts, I rubbed my stomach thinking about what I was about to do...It would never compare to his touch in any way. The way his big hands rested on me, the way they felt, so rough.

My phone began to ring and I jumped up faster than I ever had before. I snatched my phone looking at the contact, it was just my best friend Julien, their in collage now and even though their older than me we still managed to become friends through work.

I picked up the phone, "Hey.." I say trying to mask the feeling I had.

"Hey!! Can you make it to the park tonight.. by.. lets see-" They thought, "10:00 or later"

I bite down on my lip thinking all the trouble I could get in if I did, but then again my Dad doesn't ever stop drinking so, "Yea, sure... Should I bring anything like snacks or a blanket ?"

"Yes, that would be great!" They shout into the phone before hanging up.

I sigh, "okay thennn"

I got up from my bed walking over to my closet and bringing out my backpack and throwing a small blanket folded into the bag before walking out to the front door. My dad was snoring over the basket ball game blaring on the tv. I didn't even bother saying anything.

As I walked I watched my feet the way they glided across the sidewalk, I looked back up, it was getting dark.. "hmm.." I pulled my phone from the back pocket and checked the time.

9:37 pm

I had some time to kill so I skipped over to the convenience store.

A tiny bell chimed as I walked in. I looked around walking into the snack isle. I grabbed some gummy worms and some Doritos then made my way to the drinks grabbing a few different drinks. I stumbled up to the cashier dropping all my things onto the counter for them to ring up.

"It's kinda late don't ya think lil girl" the man said.

I looked up from my bag, "heh- yea.." I shuffled to grab some money and shove the food and drinks into my bag with the blanket.

"Have a good night.. and be safe" the man says to me as I walk quickly out of the store.

'I've never seen him before.. that was really creepy.. I just wanna get to Julien...'

I walked the rest of the way to the park and sat on a bench before ringing them.

"Hey! Are you here yet.. I met this weird guy at the convenience store and I still got goosebumps.!" I say

"Yea! I'm here, come over beside the swings" they reply.

I make my way over to the swings and see them swaying back and forth.

I dropped my bag against the pole and sat in the swing next to them. "It's been awhile" I chuckle.

They look over smiling, "yea.."

The night went on and we ended up watching a movie behind the slides on his laptop, needless to say it made me forget about everything that has been going on lately, and just being with my best friend made me feel 100x better than laying in bed while my dad drunkly yells at the TV.

#angst #negan #the walking dead #negan smith #coach negan #twd #twd story #twd smut #twd lemon #lemon #fluff #coach negan smut #tumblr fyp #1k notes #note this #blaze #trend

[masterwords]

out of these shadows comes the light

Summary: Hotch is particular about getting his hair cut. (autistic!Hotch)

Pairing: Hotch/Haley -> Hotch/Morgan

Words: ~5k

Warnings: implied/referenced past child abuse, violence, self-harm/suicide attempt, internalized ableism, ableism, scars, pain, sex (brief at the end, not explicit), food, divorce...if I missed any please let me know.

Notes: Written because of this ask, and I took it to some pretty intense depths but I love squeezing every single drop out of a backstory every time. I probably could have turned this into a 50k word multi-chapter event, all of the simple ending of getting Derek to cut Hotch's hair. Nothing is ever easy with me. In other news, you can expect updates to each of my on-going big stories this week as I should have a few hours each day to devote to writing for once!

Read under the cut or on AO3 here!

**

Grace Underwood was a young mother. Maybe too young. Twenty-three, fresh out of college, pregnant by the first man who took her to bed. She’d been a good girl, everyone said. All girls private school led her to an all-women’s university. She should have been saved from all of the worldly temptations.

But then there was Edward Hotchner and his roguish charm. His wild blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes told her lies from the moment they met. Lies and temptation that hid all the regret that would come later.

One night. It started out as one wild night, a frat party at Georgetown that she and her friends were invited to. It was a two and a half hour drive so they got a hotel room and decided to stay the weekend in the city. She never saw the hotel room, only Edward’s dorm. After that it became weekends book-ended with long drives for her (he wasn't allowed at her university and she liked the city), and then they were hot and heavy and she was lost in love. He had plans for his future, big plans. She loved him for them.

But those plans didn’t involve a screaming, crying newborn baby while he was studying for the bar. That had been a surprise, and Edward Hotchner hated surprises. Those plans didn’t involve having a toddler digging through his briefcase with high profile case files and sticky peanut butter fingers. And they certainly didn’t involve late nights with a young boy who couldn’t seem to do anything without it being a production.

He pulled his diaper off and shouted “scratchy!” and “owie!”...brand new expensive disposable diapers, thrown away hardly used. Back to the old cloth and safety pins. He would peel his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches apart, fold up the bread with the jelly side and eat it while discarding the peanut butter side. “Ick!” he would shout, because he didn’t have any other words. He wore the peanut butter but he wouldn’t eat it. Cups of milk spilled on the floor. He liked Cheerios but not Chex. If he could speak he would have told them that the Chex hurt his mouth, the corners of the little squares were sharp and he didn’t like it...Cheerios being round were okay. He didn’t have the words to explain all of that yet, so he pushed his bowl away and shook his head no.

“You’re spoiling him,” Grace’s mother would say to her as she cleaned his little hands. “He should eat what you eat.”

“He won’t.”

“He would if he was hungry enough.”

“He won’t.”

She was right, he wouldn’t. He’d gone an alarming number of days refusing to eat, and it had been enough to frighten even his father who finally pulled down the wheat bread and grape jelly from where they’d hidden it in the cupboard above the fridge, somewhere he couldn’t get to, and threw it at her in a huff. The jar of jelly hit the floor with a thud and a pop, deep purple goo oozing around jagged glass at her feet. “Feed the kid for christ sake, Grace! Look at him!”

“I thought you said…”

“I was wrong, dammit. Feed him before we end up in the hospital.”

Aaron ate just the bread greedily until his father got back from the store with a new jar of jelly. A bag of them. All grape. He’d fill the whole damn cupboard with the stuff if he had to.

The arguments over food ceased when his vocabulary grew. He was precocious, learning new words by sitting outside his father’s office door while he met with clients or spoke on the phone. He would play with his little toys, pretend to run his own office, be the one in charge.

“He needs a haircut,” Edward said one day. “Kid looks like a damn hippie.” Aaron was four and his hair was...long. His mother thought it was gorgeous and she was a little overly sentimental about it, her baby’s hair was a special thing. She’d been content just to let it go. There were occasional trims to keep the unruly ends in check but he seemed to like his hair long. He would play with it sometimes, and if he was anxious she would find that he had it in his mouth. He didn’t just suck on it, he seemed to almost chew on it. She was forever walking by and hooking her finger into the lock against his cheek, sliding it out from between his teeth with a gentle smile. Some part of her already knew that cutting it would prove to be a challenge and she wasn’t sure she was up for it. If his aversions to certain fabrics and foods was any indicator, she was going to be in for a fight to get clippers anywhere near him.

She was right. It was a complete disaster that ended up with him in tears, her in tears and the barber telling them not to come back until the kid had learned some damn manners. His haircut happened but not without it becoming a traumatic endeavor for everyone involved.

The long walk home down the old gravel road was fraught with tumultuous thoughts. What was she going to do now? They lived in a small town, there was only one barber...she would have to try to take him to the city or do it herself if Edward thought he needed another cut. But she looked down and Aaron looked so pleased, walking along at a steady clip beside her, rubbing his hand up and down the back of his head against the freshly shaved hair.

“Do you like it hun?”

“Yes!”

They arrived home to a message on the answering machine. It seemed that the barber had second thoughts about his previous stance on the matter and pleaded with her to bring him back when he needed a trim. He had some ideas. “I mighta pulled his hair some, he had some tangles in there and my clippers weren’t in tip top shape.”

Aaron was apprehensive but he was a gentle boy, quiet and forgiving. He didn’t have any friends and people were pretty averse to him in general – that the barber wanted to have him back was enough for Grace. And Aaron was willing to try again because he hated the way the hair felt tickling the back of his neck when it hit that awkward mid-length, and having it short was sweet relief. He also loved the feel of running his hand up his hair against the grain, it was soothing as it brushed his palm.

“I think you should go, ma’am. Let me to it, just the boys.”

She trusted Ernest Brooks. He was a pillar of the community, so she went next door for a cup of coffee and a dozen donuts. She didn’t need a dozen, not in a million years. But if Aaron was good and he got his haircut without all the fuss of the last time, hell, she’d let him eat his way through the whole damn thing as a treat. Well, most of them...she managed to eat three while she sat anxiously waiting for her son to finish.

Mr. Brooks walked Aaron into the donut shop a half hour later crisp and clean and smiling.

“How did you do it?” she asked, flabbergasted. Yeah, she was going to let him eat every single donut left in the box. All eight of them. (She managed to polish off a fourth without even realizing it.)

“A magician never reveals his secrets. Come see me next time, kid.”

She began bringing him in every six months for a trim. It gave her a free morning, and he and Earnest Brooks began a friendship that she couldn’t quite understand. The man was in his sixties, and more than once Edward wondered aloud with a bottle of whiskey open on his desk what the hell a man that age wanted with his son. It wasn’t enough to make him do anything, he had more important things on his plate than policing his odd son’s friends but it was always in the back of his mind. And if it kept Aaron out of his hair, well, all the better.

For both of them.

They played chess and dominoes with some of the other old men who congregated outside of the barber shop. Aaron was little but he was smart, he caught on quick. Ernest called him peculiar, the little intricacies in the way he did things baffled and amused him. No one used the word autistic, not at that time, but they all knew he was operating just a little different than the other kids who hung around and caused trouble. He didn’t seem to take any interest in what they were doing.

Aaron was always different. He wanted to learn everything he could, he wanted to listen to old war stories, to stories about what his little town looked like long before he was born. He wanted to hang out in the barber shop after school and learn how to shave faces and talk like the men talked.

When he would show up with bruises that he couldn’t (or wouldn’t explain), they knew and were furious but there was nothing they could do except give him a soft place to land. His dad was powerful, he had connections that could put anyone in town out of business. “You come work for me,” Ernest had said when Aaron was thirteen and had started to fall in with the wrong crowd. He’d gone from that sweet boy who knew too much and was particular about his haircuts to a sullen teenager who didn’t know how to tell his friends no. He wouldn’t stand up to them, would go along with everything they said because he so desperately wanted to fit in. The overwhelming need to be part of his peer group had finally taken hold.

The problem was, as he got older, the social dynamics at school almost forced it. In a small town like that, if you didn’t fit in, you were ostracized. He was handsome and he was wealthy, he had all the components and what he lacked he learned quickly to fake. He was able to fake his way through a lot of things. Unfortunately, the more things he had to fake in order to fit in, the more he realized how unpalatable he really was on his own and he suffered for it.

The first time he tried to kill himself, he used a straight razor he’d been given by Mr. Brooks when he started developing facial hair. It was a thoughtful gift, the first blade he bought for his shop. Of course, that caused a lot of problems he hadn’t foreseen, being a child still. Mr. Brooks was treated like an accomplice, like he’d encouraged Aaron and while Aaron was hospitalized in an attempt to fix his brain and make him love being alive again, Mr. Brooks was put through the ringer. When Aaron was released, Mr. Brooks wouldn’t speak to him, wouldn’t let him in the shop anymore. He went from cherished friend to liability.

Aaron, in all his teenage glory, rebelled and began causing more trouble. Where he’d once been tethered, the one place he felt like he’d ever belonged was gone from him now and he was left only with darkness. Despair.

He threw a brick through the barber shop window with some of his friends and ran away before the other kids looted the shop. His dad managed to convince the police that he wasn’t involved in the break in, was there for the broken window but left before anyone went inside. He would be liable for repairing the window, of course, and he’d pay for it himself...right before they sent him to boarding school. It was Mr. Brooks who asked for that, knowing how Aaron was. He still believed the kid had a good heart and he wouldn’t rob his store. The brick was a cry for help, it was a child acting on his anger and abandonment, not an intent to steal from him.

Part of the admittance to the school he was sent to was a buzz cut, military style. Aaron panicked beforehand, and when they clipped the plastic gown tight around his neck and began roughly shifting his head forward and back, clipping and buzzing around his ears, he thought he might really have a heart attack. None of his usual calming tricks helped, he was completely beside himself by the time they finished and shoved him back into the line to move on to the next humiliating experience – getting the uniform. Scratchy wool sweater, stiff canvas and khakis, he was in hell.

But he survived it, and when he came home to finish high school at the local public high school and help his mother with his father’s sickness, he was a changed young man. Probably not better, he still suffered from depression and anxiety but he’d become an expert at hiding in plain sight. No one else would get the drop on him.

Meeting Haley had been a blessing...and a curse. When he found out who she was, who her grandfather was, he almost abandoned his pursuit but he couldn’t. He fell in love with her almost instantly. It was infatuation, pure and simple. He woke up thinking about her voice and went to sleep thinking about her smile. His mother told him to ease up, back off, don’t be so intense but Haley didn’t seem to mind. That was the best part. So he did things a little differently and he behaved in a manner that wasn’t exactly congruent with the way other boys his age did...she liked his little quirks.

The other boys his age were assholes. He was...nice. He was kind and thoughtful and he took care of her. She told her mom that he was like a knight in shining armor. Her mother had concerns but didn’t voice them, she trusted her daughter.

It was Haley and Jessica, both interested in psychology, who brought up the notion that he might be autistic one night over a little too much wine. “It makes sense,” Jess said with an authoritative nod, tipping her glass almost far enough to spill it. Somehow her drunkenness didn’t discredit her statement, not in her sister’s eyes. Aaron and his own wine soaked thoughts scoffed. “You check most of the boxes.”

“I do not.”

“No?”

“Jess stop. It’s okay if he doesn’t want to do this right now.”

“He’s never going to want to, sis…”

“That’s up to him. Go get another bottle!”

He eventually looked it up himself and found that he didn't disagree with their assessments as much as he'd originally thought. He didn't care much for the idea that they read him so well, but the fact that they saw all of him and stuck around was enough. He never sought out a diagnosis, and after an initial weekend spent spiraling his way through endless research papers he was content. One more piece of his mind's puzzle clicked into place. They never brought it up again.

Her grandfather sold the shop and gave her his clippers, told her how Aaron likes his hair cut. They hadn’t spoken in years, not since the brick incident, but he still harbored a soft spot for the gangling kid who had grown into a confident young man.

She did it perfectly, and so did Jess. They joked that it was a Brooks family secret, cutting Aaron Hotchner’s hair. Some families passed down recipes, but not them.

He learned how he liked to have his hair cut, and the brand of suits that fit him in a way that felt comfortable and made him feel good. Not just passable but good. Really good. He found a tailor that would cut his suits a little large so the fabric didn’t bunch in his armpits but made him look fashionable enough.

The BAU gave him an outlet he’d never had before. A place where the way his mind processed information was actually helpful, almost like a superpower in some regards. And he loved feeling that way for once in his life, like he was good at something and he didn’t need to pretend so much.

But it pulled him from the safety of his little world with Haley further and further. He developed a deep friendship with Derek Morgan, someone who he never would have imagined in a million years would want to do anything more than punch him in the nose. Steal his lunch money. (And maybe he still did want to do both of those things, friends or not.) He looked at Derek and saw everyone who had ever tried to bully him in that confident way he strode around, but when he got to know him...really know him...he realized that he wasn’t the only person masking. Who pretended to be something they weren’t to make themselves more palatable or to fit people’s perceptions of who they should be. It shifted his perspective about a lot of people, and made him almost cling to Derek.

During his suspension, Haley cut his hair. It had been a while, he’d been playing around with letting it get a little longer, just keeping it trimmed around the nape of his neck but he was tired of that look and something about being able to run his palm over the short fuzzy hair was something he was almost craving. He felt like he’d lose it entirely the longer he went without it. The idea of leaving the BAU, transferring to save his marriage, Gideon going radio silent instead of communicating with him during their joint suspension...he was already on the verge. Barely maintaining so he didn’t frighten Jack with his outbursts. So she shaved his hair short and he smiled more and she was able to believe for a little while longer that their marriage was not a sinking ship.

But he couldn’t manage it. The BAU was pulling him back, and the phone call...the phone call that he’d known was coming...it was too much. He couldn’t cling to her anymore, she’d betrayed him. What else could it be but another man?

Failing to see the irony in the situation, he left her for another man too. Derek called and begged him to come help them, they were drowning and Strauss was killing them all. He couldn’t see another choice. If his transfer hadn’t been put through yet, he was in dereliction of duty. That would be damning to his future...Haley had to see that, right? He wouldn’t get his transfer if he didn’t do his job. That thought spun around like a top in his mind until he felt sick and dizzy. It didn’t matter anyway. In a way, he figured she made the decision for him. Because what was she going to do with this other guy once he transferred? In his experience, once you go down that path you don’t just come back.

And when Haley left him, it was Derek that he confided in. Alone in his big house, neat and tidy, he cried. He didn’t sleep, didn’t eat. For days he existed on nothing but coffee from the office. It wasn’t even that he wasn’t hungry, it was just that he kind of forgot that he needed to stop what he was doing and make time to eat. It seemed unimportant. Fell off his radar entirely.

Derek noticed, though. “Let’s go to lunch. You look like shit.”

“You said you didn’t want to hang out with me. That you just needed me to lead this team.” The sarcasm, which should have been obvious, came laced with a deep sadness that made Derek ache. Did he say that? To Hotch? Who takes everything just a little too literally?

“That’s not how I meant it. Don’t look for reasons to be mad at me, I’m on your side. Now come on, I’m buying.”

Lunch became a standing thing, when they were at Quantico. And when that reached its threshold, it became weekly dinner dates that sort of turned into casual sleepovers. Hotch discovered that he loved to wake up beside Derek, the feel of soft stubble coming in on his usually slick head. On days off he would smile sweetly and ask Derek to put off shaving for a few extra hours so he could enjoy it.

And Derek never called him weird for it. Sometimes he got a little irritated and wanted to shave his head and be on with it, but he was kind. Hotch’s job was stressful, his life had more or less fallen apart, and if he wanted to rub Derek’s head for a little while in bed or on the couch while they watched the morning news and drank their coffee...there were worse things.

Hotch made an appointment with Dave’s barber when he needed his first haircut after Haley left. Dave insisted his guy was the best. A true artist.

It was an unmitigated disaster. The man talked too much and expected responses out of Hotch that were unreasonable in their depth. All Aaron wanted was to sit in silence and have his hair cut. The barber tucked that gown so tight around Aaron’s neck he thought he might choke. Every time he swallowed he could feel it pull tight against his adam’s apple and it made him feel sick.

The worst of it was that though though he brushed the tiny cut hairs off of the back of his neck to clean him up, in the end he only really brushed them down into Aaron’s shirt.

He felt like there were tiny needles in his suit all day. He was miserable and grouchy. He snapped at everyone. It was apparent he was in distress when he even snapped at Garcia.

The next haircut was done begrudgingly by Jessica, just because she couldn’t stand to see him looking so miserable. She came to his apartment, used the clippers Haley had left for him and managed it in exactly the way her grandfather had. He hadn’t felt so good in weeks. He felt confident, felt like himself. And as much as she was certain she was going to find it awkward to be cooped up in his apartment after the divorce...she found it to be the opposite.

So she did it again for him, and again. She was good at it and she did enjoy their short visits. Like old times. She missed him.

But after Foyet, he didn’t want her to see him like that. He couldn’t bear it. And maybe she couldn’t either.

He needed a haircut, he needed it badly. He was maintaining the stubble on his chin with an electric shaver just barely but he knew he’d only mess up his hair so he let it grow. Emily mentioned how long it was getting, told him he was starting to look like a hippie.

Derek liked it, the way it was soft when he was so full of sharp edges now. He was in pain day and night, hardly spoke two words for hours at a time, lost completely in his head or Foyet’s files. The wounds had healed on the outside but the internal damage would take months, and he couldn’t hide it at home.

“Let me cut your hair,” Derek said one night when he noticed Aaron brushing it angrily out of his eyes while he worked through a consult on the dining room table. He didn’t even look up.

“What? No. It’s fine.”

“It is not, and Jessica says you’re particular about it but I think I can handle it.”

“She says I’m particular?” He didn’t like the way that sounded. Maybe he was being overly sensitive but he supposed he was allowed to be a little, in some ways. He was reminded of their joke, that cutting his hair was their family secret. It made him feel like a sideshow suddenly when it never had before.

“She does. You disagree?”

“No. I don’t...it’s just...that’s a little rude don’t you think?”

“She didn’t say it like it was wrong, man, chill out. I just mentioned that you’ve been acting like you wanted a haircut and she said she could show me how you like it done because you’re particular.”

It didn’t sound any different than before but he knew he was prone to being angry now, almost looking for a reason to fight. He didn’t seem to be able to cool down anymore. Every day was a battle against his temper, and his angry inner voice had started to sound an awful lot like his father. But Derek was the last person he wanted to fight with. Derek was the only person he wanted anywhere near him.

“Okay. You can try.”

“Your confidence in me is encouraging.”

Aaron finally looked up at him, really looked at him. “I’m not particular on purpose, Derek. I try not to be.”

“I know. I shave my head every damn day, and I do a good job. I think I can manage.”

He did ask Jessica for some pointers though, while Aaron went out for a morning run to clear his head and blow off some excess energy before allowing Derek to touch his hair. It seemed like a good start. Running was slow and painful, a humiliating experience at times when he had to stop and lean against a tree or sit down on a park bench to catch his breath. The searing pain in his chest was unbearable and he couldn’t tell if that was panic setting in over the idea of Derek cutting his hair and seeing him that way, or if it was Foyet.

It didn’t matter. The pain was there and he had to embrace it, move with it, live with it. He ran home just as fast as he’d started and found his entire dining room set up like a barber shop. His clippers were sitting out beside a towel and Derek had turned The White Album on at a moderate volume, even though he couldn’t stand it. The sound was just enough to drown out the din of the clippers but not enough to be overwhelming.

“You ready?” Derek asked, watching Aaron slip his shoes off at the door and kick them to the side. He looked more on edge than when he left, and when he walked toward the kitchen for his post-run glass of water, he held his palm flat against his sternum like he was holding it in place. “Aaron?”

“I need a minute.”

“Something happen out there?”

“No. I just need a minute.”

Derek knew him well enough now that he didn’t ask him to explain. I need a minute usually just meant he needed to sort himself out, and with his glass of water he headed toward the bedroom to do exactly that. It only took a few minutes before he was coming back down the hall not looking much better but it seemed to be enough. Derek knew he had ways of mitigating things when he got overwhelmed, some of them were healthier than others but he tried not to be too vocal about the ones that he thought seemed harmful. Aaron was a grown man, he knew what he was doing. The look in his eye was changed from wild to something akin to calm. He ran his thumb over the edges of his fingernails as he approached and forced a smile.

“Sorry about that.”

“All good baby. Have a seat, let’s get this goin’. I’m not sure how much more of this album I can take.”

He started by running his fingers through Aaron’s hair. Up the back, over the top, scratching gently at the scalp until Aaron’s muscles seemed to relax. He liked that. He’d always liked his hair being played with. When he finally began cutting, he was gentle. His hand led the way, dancing through the hair with clippers following in hot pursuit. No tangles would meet the blades that way. By the time it was over, Aaron was nearly in a trance. They hadn’t said one single word.

“Shower,” Derek whispered, kissing him on the tip of the ear first and then down his cheek. “Now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. There was a towel around his neck but it didn’t stop all of the renegade bits of hair from settling against his skin. Derek started there, washing the back of his neck first, taking care to remove every little stray hair he could before running his soapy hands over Aaron’s freshly cut hair. Aaron was not only relaxed for the first time in over a week, he was relaxed enough that he let Derek’s kisses turn him on in a way he couldn’t even imagine enjoying again after being under Foyet.

His chest still ached but it wasn’t so bad with Derek’s lips dusting wet new scars, wasn’t so bad with the shower rinsing away the last of the soap and leaving him feeling fresh and clean. His skin tingled and there seemed to be showers of sparks left behind each one of Derek’s kisses.

“I’ll be gentle,” Derek promised and Aaron could only smile.

“Don’t be,” he purred, gripping Derek’s shoulders tight. “Please.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #autistic aaron hotchner #mind the warnings! #fanfiction

[djservo]

cutting it soo close to the wire oopsie but i'm here!! 2023 is out, 2024 is in. also in: your december reading update? did you hit 50 books read? what are your 2024 reading goals, anything that suprised you about your 2023 reading other than falling in love with Dennis Cooper?

I read 12 books last month man it was a blur!!

ok there's just too many for me to indulge in any rambling so I'm gonna try and keep things short n sweet

Nana Vol. 1-3 by Ai Yazawa - I was never really into manga growing up but this is like exactly the type of story and style I wanna wrap myself up in always!! so much fun!! the rumors are true, I love a roommate story!!! I read each one in a single sitting so I wanna pace myself thru the rest of the series so that I don't spoil + finish it all at once </3

Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury - honestly not as fantastical as I was expecting for some reason but it reminded me of Coraline which was fun! I could see Neil Gaiman getting inspo from this (edit: literally just looked it up and yes Gaiman indeed cites him as a direct influence yup yup)

Out of Time by Samira Azzam - something almost Steinbeck-like in these vignettes of everyday life in a very culturally-specific way that I really enjoy. really insightful introduction that mentioned how although most her stories didn't explicitly mention Palestine, they still were recognizable as a Palestinian existence + therefore shaped a sort of Palestinian consciousness for readers that were often blocked from accessing their own culture in academic settings

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison - I can't believe it took me this long to read something by Toni Morrison / that I never read her in any English classes?? like she seems so foundational to the grand scheme of American literature.... ridiculous! so phenomenal and gripping and darker than I expected. not just an engrossing story but also a really intentional and haunting use of language that really sinks you into that world/shifting perspectives

Tasting the Sky: A Palestinian Childhood by Ibtisam Barakat - this is like the only Palestinian book my local library has (shameful!) so I checked it out on a whim and was so surprised at what an amazing memoir this is!!! touching and vibrant and left me so eager to read her follow-up memoir based around her teenage years. I feel like this is a great introduction to Palestinian literature in general bc while it does (obviously) tie in the history and reality of occupation, the amount of love & detail given to the everyday things - merely going to school or playing with her brothers - was so enlightening and relatable

Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris - the first/main story, SantaLand Diaries, is still one of my favorites - I love stories about odd jobs + boy does Sedaris have so many tales to tell about those!! reread this in one sitting before I sent it off to a friend who seems to find herself in a new odd job each year so I figured she'd resonate

Gaza in Crisis and On Palestine by Noam Chomsky & Ilan Pappé, edited by Frank Barat - 2 separate books but I'll talk about them together since they're companion pieces. surprisingly accessible, probably due to the format of essays mixed with interviews. On Palestine echoed a lot of the sentiments of Gaza in Crisis so I'd recommend On Palestine for a sort of "updated" version (and in my opinion, more thorough). a good stepping stone for some of the meatier/more history-dense books on my TBR

Like Water For Chocolate by Laura Esquivel - yknow the thing about recipe bloggers who will intersperse their super personal life story into the recipe? this is like a whole book of that it's kinda iconic... honestly a little juvenile and ridiculous at times but I had a fun + have made hot chocolate every single day since reading this which literally wasn't even one of the recipes included/the title itself comes from like 1 short part towards the end but still... Ms. Esquivel's impact... the movie adaptation was really well done too, captured the magical realism surprisingly well without making things look hokey + Man I just love food in film!!!

Good Sense & the Faithless by Michelle T. Clinton - beautiful sexy thoughtful angry hopeful healing.... I really love her and I'm glad I ended the year with this!!

YES I surpassed by goal which honestly did surprise me bc if you recall I sliced my 50 down to 36 a few months ago because 50 didn't seem feasible at the time, but I guess the lesson is to never underestimate winter reading!! still I'm playing it safe and declaring 40 as my 2024 goal... for now.... a few weeks ago I made a little reading syllabus for the year where each month is a different theme (except for january + august to give myself some time to get the wiggles/impulsive reads out ya know) and I mostly sourced from books I already own or books in my TBR so I'm really excited to have more structure to my reads + actually get through some of the books in my ever-growing TBR!! shameful and embarrassing that it's nearly at 1k books like GOD just READ them, woman!!! I think I'm also surprised at how many graphic novel collections I read (3!) which maybe shouldn't be that surprising bc I always have a good time with graphic novels but I think these particular reads opened the door to a buncha different authors and artists and literary circles which ofc I'm always grateful for! yay reading!!

#asks #cheesehair #reads

[harleyshahas]

Valentine's Day wip

Valentine's Day really wasn't her cup of tea.

Oh, sure she's had her share of admirers, secret and not-so-secret (one Dash Baxter came to mind and Jazz shuddered), but she had never been anyone's special someone on Valentine's Day and that suited Jazz just fine.

In high school she would find cards and chocolate in her locker, the occasional flower taped to the outside. She'd give the flowers to Danny and briefly scan the cards before throwing them away. The chocolate would be saved to share with Danny after school, a pick-me-up after another lonely couples holiday for her brother. While it never bothered her to be single, it certainly bothered Danny. Her little brother's big heart wasn't meant to be alone and while he could content himself to spend the day with either her or his friends, he never had any admirers for himself. At least, not ones without some sort of agenda. It bothered her enough that she resigned herself to stay single until her brother started his first relationship, so she focused on school and later on helping Danny and his friends catch ghosts.

She was happy for him when he started seeing Valerie, even if he didn't share the news with her, but she saw. Danny was an open book to her. She tried not to spend too much time psychoanalyzing him, especially with his... situation, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. She saw before he did that it wouldn't work out, not with how focused Valerie was on catching Phantom. It was a shame, because she thought they actually made a cute couple.

Danny and Sam becoming an item was also a long time coming, but she never liked to wonder whether that was a thing that would actually last. She didn't want to doubt their relationship, she certainly didn't want to doubt her brother, not with his already low self-esteem, but... they were friends first and foremost. Romance had never played a part leading up to a relationship and the pressure from their parents wasn't helping them. She wasn't surprised when they broke up the summer before Danny's first year of college. Luckily she had been home from her own college and armed with ice cream and bad action movies to comfort him as he cried silently on her shoulder.

Her final year of college came with the start of Danny's first and she helped him through the transition with late night phone calls and a multitude of advice for surviving the first year. She always knew her brother was smart, though. It came as no real surprise that he soon started to thrive, even if he was in Wisconsin, even if he was so close to his arch-enemy, but she told herself he could handle it. Her brother was amazing.

So when Valentine's Day rolled around and she called to say hi, she wasn't quite sure what to expect. Would he still be single? Would he have someone this year? Danny was far more socially accepted now that he was away from Amity, it was anyone's guess.

The phone rang a little longer than Danny would normally let it and Jazz rose a brow. She tried not to read too into it, but a slow smile started to split her lips. It was mid-afternoon on a Saturday, Danny didn't have classes and he had to be awake by now. Her hopes were starting to climb.

They completely soared when the line finally connected and Danny's voice hit her ear, sounding just a little too breathy for someone doing anything but what she knew he'd been doing. She laughed loudly into the phone.

"I don't wanna ask, but I'm going to anyway," she said by way of greeting as Danny sputtered on the other side. "Please tell me you're using protection."

"Jazz! Don't do this, please!"

She rose a brow. "Is that a no?"

"Ugh! Yes, we used protection, we're both adults who know better. What are you, mom?"

"I'm just looking out for you!" she teased. "So is this a steady thing or..."

"Or?"

She sighed. "I just... want to make sure you're not just rebounding after Sam. I don't want to pry but you know me. So how long has this been going on?"

Danny was quiet. There was some shuffling in the background, a voice she could barely hear, but sounded vaguely familiar, and Danny eventually let out a heavy breath. "It's... steady, I guess. We haven't... told anyone yet."

"Even Sam or Tucker?" She was rather shocked actually.

"I'm not sure they'd understand..." Danny muttered. "I'm not sure you'd understand."

Jazz pursed her lips. She walked up to the door to her apartment, cradling her phone against her shoulder as she fished her keys out of her purse. "Danny, I haven't understood more than half the stuff you've done since you got your powers," she admitted. She slotted her key into the lock and let herself into her one bedroom apartment, tossing her keys and purse on the kitchen counter. Collapsing on the couch with one arm over her eyes, she finally relaxed for what felt like the first time in days. "You know I support you no matter what, little brother."

"Yeah, I know..."

She smiled. "So who is it? Anyone I know?"

"Um..." she could practically hear the blood rushing to his face. "Kinda?"

Jazz hummed. She turned over all of Danny's friends and acquaintances that she knew of in her head. Sam was in Chicago and Tucker at MIT, so that ruled them out. She couldn't recall Danny mentioning anyone but his roommate and a few classmates over their many phone conversations. He had admitted to her some months back that he found the TA for his astronomy class was really cute and had confided in her that he might be bisexual. But he also said that his roommate was rather annoying when spent too much time with and those classmates had only been partners for various projects. The TA maybe? But, no, Danny said the guy was older and most likely straight if the wedding ring on his finger meant anything.

Her thoughts wondered over to the ghosts she knew of. Some of them were on relatively friendly terms with Danny and even more had developed a sort of antagonistic friendship with him. Madison wasn't nearly as haunted as Amity, but they still had their fair share of specters. Like the Dairy King and the Wisconsin Ghost-

Her brain popped. She threw a hand over her mouth and groaned loudly into the phone. Danny laughed.

"You OK over there, Jazz?"

"Please tell me it's not Vlad," she begged, deadpan.

"Wha-! How did- I mean! It's... not?"

She removed her arm from her eyes and glared at the ceiling. "Ah, yes, that was so convincing."

"How did you even guess that?!"

She sat up, pinching her nose. "He's a hot older man, Danny; you have a thing for hot older men. Not to mention that he's the only other halfa in existence and you two have had some weird chemistry since you were fourteen." She dropped her hand to her lap and looked to her coffee table.

Her heart stopped.

Danny continued to sputter in her ear, ranging from indignant to defensive to insecure, but Jazz couldn't hear him. Her blood rushed in her ears and her face went hot. Her hands grew clammy as a spike of fear shot through her.

Sitting innocently before her lay a bouquet of blue roses tied together with a blue ribbon. Set against them was a heart-shaped box of chocolate. She reached out with a shaky hand, turning the tag and reading her own name in neat, professional script. There was no sender.

"Jazz? Are you even listening to me?"

Jazz released a shaky breath. "Y-yeah, Danny, sorry." She cleared her throat, eyes never leaving the objects on her table. "Listen, l-let me call you back and we can talk about this more. Something just came up."

"Uh-huh. I'm sure it's not just because you're suddenly uncomfortable because I'm apparently dating Vlad."

She gave a short laugh, if only to ease her own sudden nerves at how someone had apparently broken into her home to leave her chocolate and flowers. She couldn't tell Danny that, though. He had enough on his plate and apparently a boyfriend to entertain. Plus it was Valentine's Day. She wasn't going to take this away from him even if she didn't quite understand it. She poked a single rose bud like it might bite her. "You know I trust your judgment, Danny." When nothing happened, she lifted the bouquet to her face, scrutinizing them with narrowed eyes. "If you want to date Vlad, it's not like I can do anything to stop you. I can only ask that you explain it to me when we get some time to do so. I still support you, little brother."

Danny's hesitancy on the other end was palpable and she couldn't help but smile. She raised the roses to her face, smelling their sweetness. Soft petals tickled her cheeks and a pink flush spread over her face. "I guess I'll talk to you later then," he said.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Danny. Go enjoy it," Jazz said.

"You too. Bye, Jazz."

#i know i posted this before #but for the life of me i cannot find it #so im posting it again #pomp pep #pomppep #pompous pep #jazz fenton #danny fenton #danny phantom #implied pomppep #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #wip #harley writes #implied bloobloods

[its-chili]

Mold

I read a strange book once in elementary school about a girl and her cat. Something about ghosts or shadows and a curse I don't particularly remember the name or nature of. I only got about halfway, as those sorts of things tended to freak me out, and I would have rather read I Spy or Ripley's Believe It or Not. But, for some reason or another, I have never been able to get the setting of that book out of my head. It took place in a house that wasn't hers- or at least a house she hadn't lived in for her conscious years. I remember how it was described as this massive organism whose cells and organelles consisted of hallways and bed bugs. How living in its bricked walls was to invoke the experience of being digested, and with every passing day, parts of you would congeal into the furnish. Your flesh would start to peel, needing another coating, while your bones would creak and cry out for oil. I remember the terror that the book instilled in me. 

I don't know when I left or how I got there, but I wake to find myself in front of a house, simultaneously my own and someone else's. 

There is an infinite expanse of blotchy gray-green in every direction, only varying in size but never shape. A skeleton of a picket fence, overgrown with weeds and vines, the only thing separating me from the great beast of brick and mortar. I turn my head to look behind me, expecting to see a road of some sort, but nothing. Nothing but Daisy, my old truck, and her faded mustard skin and bulging blue headlights. I don't remember driving. Where are my keys? I dig a hand into my pocket, rustling around only to pull out some cotton knots and… I want to leave, but Daisy smiles, encouraging me forward. I don't think she knows where to go, either. Or if she is even capable of leaving. Last time I checked, she was on empty, and her left back tire was about to burst like a rubbery piñata 

I turn again. The house remains. Motionless. The exterior has been painted cream. Or white. Or something of the like that maybe once looked pristine and shiny and new but has long since lost its luster. I try to remember a time when it looked shiny and new. It has always looked this way. It has never looked this way.

Despite myself, my feet begin trudging forward, carrying me like an unwilling passenger forced upon a train headed for what could only be certain doom. I feel the strain of weeds tangles against my boots. It feels like ripping sinews. 

The journey takes hours. I appear at the steps in minutes. Where did the railing go? 

Flashes of my grandmother shoot through me. She smiles as she holds out a tray of apple juice and chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. Then she frowns as the tray hits the ground. She's staring at me. Her ankle doesn't look right. 

There is supposed to be a railing. 

I go to open the door- but there isn't a handle. Where did the knob go? Did someone steal it? Who in their right mind would steal a doorknob? Does it have that much value? Or was it the only shiny thing left, and whoever stole it figured that that was the only thing that could possibly give them anything worth the trouble. The urge to run suddenly spikes through my chest. I turn again. Daisy is gone. Everything is gone. It's just the infinite sea of blotchy gray-green.

I hear a creak behind me. The door is open. 

I can't move. Everything in me screams. I want to laugh. I do laugh. I laugh so hard my sides hurt, and tears start to form in my eyes, and I have to bend over and hold onto the railing that isn't there to steady myself. 

I bring a sleeve to my face to wipe away the tears and the blurred lens of my reality, and I almost relish in the salty sensation of the tiny droplets that manage to sneak their way onto my tongue. I relish the soft fabric of my sweater. I don't remember if I have washed this. Do I need to wash this? I smile as I bring my arm back down, only to find myself standing in the middle of my kitchen.

A table carved with indentions and scuff marks sits illuminated by a single golden orb. I can't see past the head of the table. I can picture my father's beaming smile, slightly shaded by a tangle of salt and pepper strands of scruff. I hear my mother's voice whisper a wordless prayer. It resonates with me. I sit at the end. A plate is in front of me, but I don't know what's on it. Mashed potatoes? Squashed Eggplant? Whatever goes into the cafeteria food I had to consume in college so I wouldn't starve? My fingers grip a knife I didn't realize I was holding. The mass does not make a squelching sound. It does not vibrate slightly like rotting jello. It does not stare up at me with one giant, congested, verdant eye whose veins pulsate to the rhythm of my racing heart… It does not roll back to gaze at the other end of the table. It does not focus on the figure at the other end of the table.

At one point in my life, I think in my junior year, my family and I had to temporarily move out of our house because we had discovered a patch of black mold behind my parents' bed. The cleaners knocked out the wall, prepared to place the plagued patches in the trash, and called it a day. The wall came down. 

The bones and organs of my entire house were black.

During that time, my mom had been designing the interior for my uncle's townhome, and thankfully, he let us crash there until the mold was dealt with. My mom's immune system could be compared to a wet Kleenex, as almost every food category was in the danger zone, and she couldn't get nutrients and immune support from just salads and chicken broth alone. I spent that entire summer in that tiny house–having to drive back and forth 30 minutes from there to my job back home to back again to my friend's houses to my grandparents to back- The gas prices always seemed to rise every time I pressed on the pedal. We were given the all-clear at the beginning of August and promptly huddled back into the hovel we had carved in the shape of ourselves…. 

Two years later, my mom started coughing while we watched Sound of Music in her bed. She got sick…very sick. She was ill to a point where fish lips chewed on her eyes, and blue worms wiggled beneath her taut skin. I remember the crystal snake that curled around her arm and off the bed, feeding back into a plastic bag hanging ever halfway empty beside her. I remember the drip. Drip. Drip of it. I was a floor above them, but I could still hear it underneath my covers. I swear I could see the tube sometimes slithering beneath my bed. 

And then, one spring, the drip just… stopped. 

It was sunny outside. 73 degrees. No chance of rain. 

We tore down my parents' room a few months later…and faced a black hole of spores as the wall came down. 

My eyes focus once more, or at least as focused as they can get with the dim lighting. I stare at the "not mashed potatoes" before me. I want to look at the other end of the table. I need to look at the other end. But my body refuses; there's an anvil pressing in my throat, forcing down every syllable and scream and panicked breath, and my hands are clamming up like they've turned into a kid's bad science project. I feel the neurons firing; I can picture myself craning my neck as if my head didn't feel like a sloppily attached bowling ball. But nothing. I am utterly paralyzed. 

The sound of wood scraping against wood echoes in my ears as the shadows shift just out of sight, dancing at the edges of my vision. The floor creaks. Closer. And Closer. Uncomprehendingly heavy and light all at once. And from the darkness, a fragment of a long, wiry appendage slowly begins to-

#lostcore #strangecore #surrealcore #weirdcore #eldritchcore #local cryptid #eldritch horror #cosmic horror #cryptidcore #cryptid #horror #horror story #horror fiction #eldritch fiction #hp lovecraft #mushroom #bone #flesh

[flamingo-writes]

Coffee & Cinnamon — r.l.

Remus Lupin x Fem!Muggle! Reader

Headcanons: In which Remus meets you one day during his summer break and his life is never the same.

Coffee & Cinnamon Masterlist

A/N: this is perhaps too cheesy but I don't care. My cheesy scenarios with Lupin in my head are what keep me functional every day.

It's 1976, Remus John Lupin is 15, currently enjoying his summer break before going back to Hogwarts for his 6th year.

While he liked being back home, spare time, spending time with his parents, and not having to worry about constantly hide his condition, he also finds himself missing his friends.

He writes letters to them back and forth, and now that he's growing older, he goes to London to meet up with his friends and show them around what it's like life as a muggle.

One time, during his many visits to London, he goes into his favourite secondhand bookshop.

He likes that store because books are cheap and he also can take some of his books and exchange them for others he hasn't read yet.

This year, something changed. The usual elderly man who attended the store wasn't there alone. You were there too.

The boy was smitten. Instantly.

The fact that you were friendly and talkative sure helped him, because if you weren't, he wouldn't have brought himself to talk to you.

You spent that afternoon pretty much talking about books the entire time. He forgot to look for books to buy.

He returned a few days later with some books he wanted to trade for others, and once more spent the entire afternoon just talking. This time you two got to know each other better.

Turns out, your grandfather owns and runs the store, and that summer you wanted to make a little bit of money.

The summer went away too fast for his liking. The more time he spent with you, the more he grew feelings for you. You were just perfect!

At least perfect to him.

He told his friends about you. Sirius pointed out right away that you were as nerdy as he was. James said he was happy Remus had found someone he liked who was kind and nice to him compared to the last crush he had on a pretty arrogant girl back in Hogwarts. And Peter said you sounded nice, but he wouldn't be able to keep up with the conversations you and Remus had.

When the time to return to Hogwarts came, Remus asked for your address so you two could keep in touch. He told you he'd be leaving to go to a boarding school, but that he'd like ot keep hearing from you.

While you were happy to become pen pals with him, you never really expected an owl to show up with a letter rather than the mailman.

Letters came and went constantly, and even then, Rem could feel himself fall harder and harder.

Remus however, didn't answer to your questions as to how were you sending an owl.

Truth was, Rem was avoiding all questions regarding what he did at school, the owls, and of course everything related to the magical word.

"Moony, if you intend to eventually ask this girl out, and date her, you know you'll have to eventually bring up...everything...right?" Sirius once said.

But boy, how was he going to bring up all of this to you?

During his Christmas Break, and once back with his parents, Rem returned to the bookstore.

He saw you and his feelings hit him like a train. He didn't have a crush on you. He was actually very much in love with you.

You looked at him and smiled. You went over to him, hugged him, and proceeded to ask him how he'd been. The afternoon went away again talking to him and catching up.

"Doyouwanttogooutwithme?" He blurted out before he left.

You agreed. And your free day you two went out for lunch. You took him to a nice coffee and tea shop. He ordered tea, while you ordered coffee with cinnamon. A very curious mix, thought Remus, but he was intrigued.

You let him have a sip of your cup and liked the taste right away. Especially because this new flavor was attached to the memories of the date with you. In his memory, you tasted like coffee and cinnamon.

Especially after the sweet kiss you left on his cheek when he walked you home. Your lips very briefly brushing the corner of his own.

You smiled at him, wished him a goodnight, and went inside your house.

Boy, how was he going to tell you everything? Would you even believe him? How were you going to react?

From the many questions that popped in his head, none of them questioned whether if he should stick around with you. There was no room for him to question it. He knew he wanted to be with you. After this date, he was convinced, you were the one for him.

And even though Remus was never as determined as James or as stubborn as Sirius, for once he could relate to their impulses of getting what they wanted at any cost.

Wizards and muggles weren't supposed to get involved. But he didn't care.

He wasn't supposed to get too close to anyone because of his condition, but he already had his friends. And somehow he knew in his gut that you too wouldn't mind either.

He wanted to be with you. You became perhaps his biggest ambition, and he thought about how he'd do anything to savor the coffee and cinnamon for the rest of his life.

#remus x you #remus lupin x you #remus imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin #the marauders imagine #the marauders headcanon