#Banded Skip Filter

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 8

[chap seven] | [all chapters here] | [chap nine]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: I am NOT in control of myself when I write, this chapter took on a mind of it's own. I didn't plan for it to go this way, but boy do I love the drama that unfolded anyway. I hope you all suffer just as much as I did lmao~~

wc: 4.9k

Chapter Eight

Instead of your usual midmorning trek to fourth period with Eddie, the two of you - and the rest of the student body - were making your way to the gymnasium for another redundant pep assembly come Monday morning.

Even before you became disenchanted with the superficiality of the popular crowd, you detested assemblies. You actually preferred being in class over being crammed into the gym with a bunch of sweaty teenagers all halfheartedly cheering for the next upcoming sports game or student council election. Even when you were considered an It Girl, even when you were dating Duncan, you still found the whole school spirit thing to be total bullshit. You never cared for the false excitement and encouragement; it was a waste of your time.

This particular pep assembly was thrown together to officially announce the homecoming theme for this year. Why that task required a whole hour of time was beyond you. If past years were anything to go by, then the actual announcements would be wrapped up within fifteen minutes and the remaining time would be wasted on cheerleading routines and jazz band performances.

After ditching the student council some three weeks ago, you cared even less about all this shit than you did before - what interest did you have in celebrating the reveal of some stupid theme inspired by pop music or cheesy dance movies? You’d already decided you sure as shit wouldn’t be attending the school dance, so why was it obligatory for the entire school to attend this assembly in the first place? The heavy-handed force upon students to participate in school activities was something you had never understood, even when you yourself were a part of those groups that lived and breathed school spirit.

As you entered the gymnasium, you stole a glance at Eddie, who appeared just as disinterested as you as his eyes darted around to take in the awaiting student council and their eager smiles. His arm was resting lazily over your shoulder, which you were finally becoming accustomed to, to the point that you would nearly forget it was there sometimes. Hell, you were almost beginning to enjoy having Eddie’s arm there, not that you’d tell him that or even spend a minute wondering why that was.

“I still think we have time to run out of here before anyone notices.” You suggest, drawing a fake look of reprimand from Eddie; he grinned at both your blatant detachment and at your eagerness to skip school for the second time within a week.

“And miss out on everyone acting so impressed by whatever dumb idea they have now? Not a chance.” He teased while guiding you towards the far end of the bleachers. As a pouty scowl crossed your face, Eddie helped you up the steps to take seats just a few rows from the front.

While you impatiently waited for this damn assembly to finally start, Eddie’s friends slowly filtered into the gymnasium as well, each approaching you two with the same apprehension they’d had when they first met you. These guys were still clearly intimidated by you, and you still hadn’t taken the time to open up to them. As Jeff awkwardly shuffled onto the bench in front of you, your knees brushed against his back thanks to just how cramped the bleachers already were; you pulled back from the contact, twisting your body as best you could so that your knees could rest against the side of Eddie’s thigh instead. You didn’t catch the way he smirked to himself about it, content to see that you were shying away from contact with him less and less than you had before.

As the last of the stragglers entered, a trio of freshmen walked towards your group, clearly going for the last few seats in front of you; just as you were nearly prepared to tell them to buzz off and sit elsewhere, Eddie cherrily greeted them with clear recognition. You looked between the boys’ faces with critical puzzlement before turning to Eddie expectantly.

“Don’t tell me you’re friends with freshmen.” You said as if it was a dirty word. Upon seeing the way your brow curved with judgment, Eddie gave you a look of warning, as if silently asking you to please not scare these kids; when you glanced at their faces again, you figured it was too late for that.

The boys awkwardly squeezed into the bleachers, looking back over their shoulders so they could converse with the rest of the losers club that you were now a pseudo-member of. One of the boys accidentally met your watchful gaze, causing him to trip over his words as he quickly wrenched his eyes away. You couldn’t help the slight upturn of your lips - you knew you were always intimidating, but you still found amusement in how people reacted to you.

Your eyes narrowed in realization as you continued to stare at the boy, who clearly was trying to engage in conversation as if he couldn’t tell you were watching him, “You’re Nancy’s brother, aren’t you?”

The whole group looked at you, the freshman in particular seeming wary to speak to you considering your straightforward and cold aura, “You know Nancy?”

You tilted your head at the way he asked the question, which seemed to make him a little more nervous, so you taunted, “Why do you sound so surprised?”

As the Wheeler kid looked as if he were searching for the right response, Eddie gave you a little nudge, to which you gave him a faux look of innocence. The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer before Eddie returned his attention to the younger boys he was clearly attempting to befriend.

“Don’t let her scare you,” he started in a lighthearted tone, similar to the one he’d used with Gareth the week prior. He leaned down towards the group conspiratorially with a funny grin, feigning a dramatic whisper, “fear only makes her stronger.”

The group laughed a little, Eddie seeming to put them at ease; you jabbed your elbow into his ribcage as he straightened back up, sharing an amused look with you. At the same time, the cheerleaders started on some generic, peppy routine out on the basketball court, drawing the crowd’s attention as they shook their pom-poms and called out school chants. As you assessed the cheerleading squad with dispassion, you unconsciously relaxed into Eddie’s side just a little; over your shoulder, Eddie grinned to himself.

Once the cheerleaders wrapped up their set and students began to clap eagerly, the class president, Duncan - the vice president - and a couple more members of the council took to the court. You couldn’t help but sneer as you watched Duncan smile widely, clapping the class president on the shoulder as the crowd began to quiet down. The president - a good friend of Duncan’s named Trent - made a show of hushing everyone, as if whatever he had to say was of the most dire significance.

As you watched them, you found yourself wondering how you had the patience to put up with all of this in the past. Did you ever actually enjoy the false comradery, the sense of importance, the trivial joys of a school dance? Or were you just blindly going along with all of it in order to continue fitting in, to continue maintaining those flimsy friendships?

“Good morning Hawkins High!” Trent started into the microphone in his hand, rousing the crowd for another few moments as Duncan spoke into the second mic.

“We can’t thank you enough for your excitement so far!” You rolled your eyes with pursed lips, sharing a judgmental look with Eddie that caused you both to smile, “Now, I know everyone’s been eagerly awaiting this year’s homecoming, but we’ve got some more exciting news to go over before we announce the theme.”

Eddie tipped his head so that he could talk in your ear, ensuring that you could hear him clearly over Trent and Duncan’s speech, “This was the guy you dated for half a year?’

His taunting led to another jab of your elbow, causing him to cough out in surprise while pulling back to give you an exaggerated wounded look. He leaned back in to continue.

“He’s so… vapid.”

You mirrored Eddie, turning your own head so you could speak in his ear, “Honestly, I think I tuned out at least 80% of his bullshit.”

You could feel his small laugh against your ear, “That’s generous of you.”

“My patience hadn’t entirely run out at that point.” You responded while trying to eye Eddie in your periphery, feeling his hair tickle your cheek, “I guess I was good at pretending.”

“You still are, princess.” Eddie pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, as if to emphasize his point. You were still pretending, after all, just in a different way than before. In the midst of this conversation, how could you have momentarily forgotten that this whole thing with Eddie was a sham?

Righting yourself quickly, you smirked, hoping that Eddie hadn’t detected that singular moment of hesitation and confusion that you suppressed, “Well, you’re much more fun to pretend with.”

You turned your attention to the student council for a brief second as Trent was finally rambling on about the homecoming theme for the year - Footloose, of all things. You could still feel Eddie’s eyes trained on you, and in that moment you weren’t exactly fond of him staring; it caused you to squirm a little in your seat as you feigned total ignorance of his watchful gaze studying you.

“So I am fun?” Eddie teased, drawing your attention back to him, “Careful there, princess, you’re starting to reveal that you aren’t so bad under that icy exterior.”

Despite the roll of your eyes, you grinned at Eddie’s remark, playfully nudging him.

Out on the basketball court, Duncan took over from Trent, and you caught him saying it was time to announce the nominations for homecoming king and queen; the only reason you even spared him another glance was because he listed himself and Amelia, of all people, as the first couple on the docket. Since when were they a couple? That felt like an intentional jab at you, but on the other hand, you figured they didn’t care enough to insult you in this way. Right?

Returning your attention to Eddie, you raised a playful brow, ignoring Duncan’s voice as he droned on, “Don’t start telling people I’m nice, Munson, you’ll ruin my reputation.”

He dipped his head with a devilish, scheming look, “Isn’t that my job? To ruin your reputation?”

As you opened your mouth to give him some smart reply, you suddenly heard yours and Eddie’s names leaving Duncan’s mouth, a confused hush falling over the crowd as only a scatter of people halfheartedly clapped. Your stomach dropped as your eyes widened in realization, Eddie’s expression a mirror of yours. You both slowly looked towards Duncan, meeting his eyes from across the gym; he stared back with a histrionic, false smile, obviously playing innocent for the crowd. But you knew him well enough to recognize the mean, challenging glint in his eyes.

Your eyes slowly scanned the cluster of students on the gym floor - Amelia was now standing with Duncan (and giving you a blatantly supercilious look), Jason Carver stood with his long-time girlfriend Chrissy Cunningham, and star student Todd Stephens was arm-in-arm with Veronica Schneider. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest as realization set in, prompting a look of frustration and dread to befall your face.

Duncan brought the microphone back up to his lips, putting on an all too innocent voice as he held your eyes, “Well, are you two lovebirds going to join us? Come on, don’t leave everyone hanging.”

Duncan put you and Eddie on the ballot for homecoming king and queen.

Anxiety twisted at your gut as you grew hot with anger, your harsh eyes unblinking as you stared Duncan down; and he just looked back with that stupid grin of his. You were never one to feel self-conscious, to feel embarrassed, but in that moment, you recognized just how quickly you’d fallen from grace. Humiliation was not a feeling you’d known before, but in this moment you suddenly felt as if you were drowning in.

And you knew that’s exactly what Duncan wanted.

God, you wanted to give him a piece of your fucking mind. You wanted to march right up to him, jab him in the chest with your manicured finger, and make him wish he hadn’t dared challenge you in front of the entire school. And yet, you were frozen in place, trapped in this imbalanced staring contest with Duncan as he continued to play at innocence.

Beside you, you felt Eddie tense up, his arm having fallen from your shoulder at some point, perhaps in total disbelief. But you couldn’t bring yourself to even look at him, to try to gauge what exactly was going through his head - you were too busy staring at Duncan as if your eyes could possibly cause him harm. Your hands formed into fists of rage, your jaw clenching as you were about ready to just to your feet and decimate Duncan with your words.

But as he’d proven himself to be good at time and time again, Eddie beat you to the punch, raising a hand to his mouth in order to project his words, “You know we’d beat all of you!”

You whipped your gaze to Eddie abruptly, surprise causing some of the tension in your face to mellow out. From this close, you could see the apprehension in Eddie’s eyes, the worry hidden there, but to the rest of the school you were certain he looked as if he was entirely too relaxed and composed about this whole confrontation.

Eddie briefly glanced at you, but quickly returned his gaze to Duncan challenging, “The rest of you wouldn’t stand a chance against us!”

A wave of laughter passed through the crowd of students, but you weren't certain if they were laughing with Eddie or at him. Duncan shared a look with the rest of the homecoming court, smiling mockingly at each of them before returning his attention to the two of you; you wondered if he was truly as confident as he looked.

“You think so?” Duncan called back with contempt, daring Eddie to continue. Without realizing what you were doing, you pressed your hand atop Eddie’s knee as if it were a warning, silently asking him not to egg Duncan on. Despite your impulsive desire to jump to your feet and attack Duncan yourself, you couldn’t picture any possible way for this whole melodrama to turn in your favor.

“I’d bet on it!” Eddie challenged again, managing a rather convincing bold smile. Your chest twisted again, your cheeks growing warm with both rage and edginess.

Duncan made a cocky face, finally looking away from you and Eddie to address the crowd as if this was all just a part of the show, as if you and Eddie had played your part and he was now done with you, “Well, we’ll leave it up to all of you! Voting begins today, so come find the student council during lunch hours to place your votes!”

The crowd seemed to lull back into ease as Duncan and Trent continued onto the next phase of information, acting like the past few minutes hadn’t put even the slightest of dents in the assembly festivities. As excitement began to build back up in the crowd, you sat in a daze, still trying to process this entire fucking thing.

Your hand still rested atop Eddie’s knee, and you must have unconsciously squeezed your fingers a little too roughly into his skin, because you heard Eddie hiss beside you. He grabbed your wrist to remove your hand, drawing your eyes to his; you stared at each other with blatant confusion and upset, and it was muddling your brain, making it impossible to think straight.

“Hey--” Eddie started, but you abruptly wrenched your wrist out of his hand and shot to your feet, shoving past all of Eddie’s friends as you stumbled the most straight path accessible down the bleachers. Although the student council continued to speak exuberantly to the crowd, you could feel the intense stares of so many of your peers following you as you quickly stormed out of a set of double doors.

You marched away from the gymnasium with a vexed shine in your eyes, your face red hot with frustration. You couldn’t believe what Duncan just pulled on you, still couldn’t quite come to terms with how shitty that whole thing was - was the entire student council in on this, too? Did they all share a collective laugh when Duncan suggested this disrespectful prank? Had Janet even attempted to say anything in defense of you?

God, you nearly shouted with rage. You thought walking away from your tormentor would help you calm down, but in some stroke of cruelty being alone with your thoughts only made them worse. The fact that someone you once considered a friend - someone you once dated - would make a joke of you in front of everyone was easily one of the more painful things you had to endure.

With an exacerbated sigh, you stopped your incessant marching, considering this whole fucking situation with gritted teeth - in some twisted way, you had gotten what you wanted. After all, it was you who wanted to become some kind of social pariah, you who wanted to be cast out by everyone you thought you knew.

It sure as shit wasn’t supposed to happen like this though. It’s not as if you were exactly thinking ahead when you decided to become completely detached from everyone, but you had never considered that you’d be treated callously. No, like a fool you had hoped that all the popular kids would simply ignore you and pretend that you had never even existed, moving on with their lives as if they’d never even met you. Evidently, your former friends were far more cruel than you’d given them credit for.

Trying to pull yourself together, you leaned against the nearest wall, massaging your temple with your fingertips while breathing deeply. You were the ice princess, the chick who always got away with being cold and bitchy and rude, but you realized in this moment that your reign was most certainly over. Despite your penchant for opinionated crassness, you had never truly been the type to flare with anger as you had today; but of course it would be Duncan to cause this surge of outrage within you.

And you were stupid enough to let him see just how upset you’d gotten.

You knew you had to get it together, to shove down all this distress and instead put on your usual brave face for the world to see. Next time you saw Duncan, you had to read as calm, cold, and only mildly annoyed - you couldn’t hold onto all this wild-eyed agitation.

As you closed your eyes and rested your head back against the wall, you heard someone approaching, prompting you to sigh through your nose as if that would calm you down. You glanced in the direction of the first steps, your gaze falling on Eddie. Of course, it was Eddie - did you really think it could’ve been anyone else?

His entire being practically radiated concern, his eyes shining with unease, his fist clenched around the strap to your book bag that you abandoned when you ran out. As if approaching a skittish animal, Eddie came to lean against the wall with you, the pair of you standing together in contemplative, frustrated silence.

You could feel your upset rising again, unaccustomed to having a companion at your side in moments of anger. You always loathed the idea of being comforted, of having someone there telling you to relax, telling you that everything would be okay. And perhaps you were simply assuming, but you hoped Eddie wouldn’t try to calm you down - you needed to just let yourself be pissed for a while.

“I can’t believe he fucking did that.” You finally said, voice laced with malice. You shook your head in disbelief, staring at the opposite wall, “He’s even shittier than I thought.”

Eddie hummed in agreement, but said nothing, as if he didn’t know the right words to offer you right now. Good, you’d rather he didn’t say anything right now.

Another beat of silence fell between you two. You watched the wall clock with laser focus as you tried to compose yourself, following the second hand as it ticked rhythmically - you had about ten minutes to get your shit together before everyone filtered out of the gym. You couldn’t let any of them see how pathetic you felt.

After one more tense minute, you felt Eddie’s fingers reach for your own, brushing against your knuckles as if hesitant to grab your hand, unsure of what kind of response he’d get. You flinched away while looking down between you, meeting Eddie’s eyes a moment later; he was clearly trying not to show any kind of hurt at your small rejection.

He pressed his lips together as he briefly considered his words, “Come on, I need a cigarette.”

His fingers skimmed past yours again as if to gauge your reaction; you neither pulled away nor reached for him, so with a look of acceptance on his face, Eddie pushed himself off the wall. A mean part of you wanted to shoot Eddie a nasty look as you began to follow him - in your own selfish way, you found yourself wanting to put some of the blame on him, wanting to act like he was part of the problem. But you refrained from reacting poorly, allowing Eddie to guide you out the doors and around the side of the gym, en route to the football field.

Following just a couple steps behind Eddie, the two of you finally reached the bleachers, ducking under them to hide out from any potential prying eyes. As you rested against one of the posts, Eddie dug out a cigarette and lighter, putting a bit of distance between the two of you as he walked deeper under the bleachers. You crossed your arms tightly in front of you while biting the inside of your cheek with annoyance; you watched closely as Eddie inhaled a deep breath of smoke, his eyes looking anywhere but you.

Unintentionally, Eddie’s lack of eye contact fueled your own upset, and suddenly you found yourself annoyed that he couldn’t even seem to look at you. Instead, he stared off in thought, slowly blowing smoke out between his lips. Wordlessly, he held the cigarette out towards you; any other time, you would have taken it from him without a second thought, but this time, you gave Eddie the cold shoulder, turning your attention away.

He dropped his arm limply back at his side, and you could feel his eyes on you for a moment. With a heavy sigh, Eddie brought the cigarette back to his lips; you wondered if the sigh was thanks to you or this entire situation.

“Don’t let him get to you.” His tone seemed a little unsure, scratchy thanks to the smoke coating his throat. You met eyes, Eddie’s stare conveying his own frustrations while yours was mean. To add fuel to the fire, you twisted your face into a snarky look.

“I think it’s a little late for that, Munson.” You said in a clipped tone as you raised your chin defiantly, catching the brief flash of upset that crossed Eddie’s face at your attitude; clearly, he hadn’t expected you to turn it on him all of a sudden. Admittedly, you hadn’t expected it either, but it leapt out of you without any control.

Eddie took a defensive step towards you, his gaze firm as he took another drag from the cigarette; he seemed at conflict with himself as he responded in as level a tone as he could, “Then get it together and don’t take it out on me.”

As you stared back at him with your characteristic coldness, you could feel all your emotional walls building back up - just as you feared, Eddie was trying to get you to relax, and you were too upset to care if you retaliated with an attitude. Right now, you wanted to be mean just for the sake of it, to push him so he’d stop trying to comfort you. You didn’t need him to pretend to care - this was a fake relationship, you reminded yourself, but that didn’t mean Eddie also had to fake niceties when shit got hard.

Eddie gave you a look of warning, as if somehow he could read your mind, as if he could tell that you were trying to block him out. And you nearly made a face as if to mock his concern, but you managed to refrain, pressing your lips firmly together.

“I already made myself look stupid in front of the entire fucking school, I can’t act like that didn’t happen.” You whined, abruptly spinning on your heel to begin pacing once again, that stupid habit of yours that did nothing to calm you down, “I’m a fucking joke.”

You couldn’t stand the look that crossed Eddie’s face, although you weren’t sure what exactly it meant - there was something akin to pity in his eyes that you didn’t like, “You’re not.”

His response was simple yet stern, and you threw him another snide look a moment before he turned his gaze away yet again. Were you beginning to piss him off? To upset him? That cynical part of you hoped so.

Eddie breathed deeply for another couple of moments as he collected his thoughts, his voice a touch smaller than it was a moment ago, “This is high school, princess - you can’t take everything so seriously.”

Frustration started to well in your chest as you glared at his profile, at his dumb little frown, the way he fussed with the cigarette between his fingers, the slight slump of his shoulders, “Well, I do. All I wanted was for them to forget about me, but instead they’ve decided to make me some kind of a target for their immature bullshit!”

“Welcome to the club!” Eddie rounded on you, abruptly matching your antagonistic tone; his eyes were dark, if not a little wild, and you were nearly taken aback, but instead your glare only deepened. You’d never seen Eddie look angry before, and the rational side of you that was buried extra deep right now decided that you never wanted that anger to be directed at you again.

Edd took a moment to think, laughing without even a trace of humor before he inhaled another deep breath of smoke, his eyes narrowing a little as he continued, “What the hell did you expect? Did you really think you could start hanging around a freak like me and get off scot-free? I know you’re not that naive, so don’t act like you didn’t see it coming.”

You gaped at Eddie’s bluntness, completely unprepared for this show of temper. For only a split second, you could feel yourself getting overwhelmed, but just like every other feeling you had, you shoved that down with a scowl. You two stared harshly at one another, the moment stretching out uncomfortably between you. Eventually, you shook your head with a scoff, turning your back to Eddie.

“Of all the things I could’ve done, I can’t believe I thought coming to you for help was the best option.” You started, speaking coldly through your teeth, “I was stupid to ask you for shit, and you were stupider for agreeing to it.”

The silence that fell over you was thick enough to cut with a knife, the static tension in the air nearly painful. If you weren’t so upset, you may have considered how dramatic and mean you were being, you may have considered that you didn’t have to treat Eddie as if he was the problem; but you were too angry to care.

From behind you, Eddie huffed out a deep, disappointed sigh; you heard the toe of his shoe twist on the gravel as he put out the cigarette he’d clung to like a lifeline. Your posture grew even more taut, arms crossing more aggressively and jaw clenching so hard that you were grinding your teeth.

Eddie began to take slow steps towards you, walking around so that you were forced to face each other again; he hovered mere inches from you, ensuring that you could see his upset with total clarity. His gaze was perturbed and severe, mouth twisted into a frown, shoulders rigid with indignation. He silently held out your long forgotten book bag, barely giving you time to reach for it before he carelessly dropped it into your hand; your grip was virtually nonexistent, and the bag hit the ground with a sad thud.

It was so clear that Eddie wanted to say something, but he held back his words, a calculating and thoughtful look on his face. You stared rigidly at one another, your expression cold and cruel, his hurt and despondent, the both of you waiting for the other to act first.

Finally, Eddie shook his head smally as he looked down at the ground, walking away from you without another word or glance back.

.

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taglist (if you'd like to be added, pls let me know): @a-queen-blr @avalon-wolf @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson

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[x-on-the-calendar-business]

exploring panic!'s a fever you can't sweat out/live in denver boxset

a couple of years ago, i managed to snag this for $150, which is still crazy to me, and it's definitely my favorite thing i've ever owned. i feel like i haven't seen many people detailing the contents of it, and since it's such a cool relic, i wanted to share this beauty with everyone.

it comes with the live in denver dvd (left) and a fever you can't sweat out cd (right). the cover art and discs are SO fucking pretty and cool i'm so obsessed with them. i love how it really feeds into that 20s/30s theme they had going on this era.

then it has these 4 photo cards which are all such beautiful photos. the first one especially is one of my all time favorite panic photos. the b&w filter also fits this era so well.

this is a phenakistiscope. you stand in front of a mirror and spin it around while looking through the cracks so it looks like the girl is dancing (instructions are included on the back).

this is a tour program for the live in denver tour. it includes all the tour dates, as well as a guide to their discography. including pictures of the inside would exceed my image limit, so if anyone wants a post detailing this item, i'd be more than happy to post that!

self explanatory but it's a mask reminiscent of the but it's better if you do music video.

there's this SUPER cool poster that i'd love to hang up on my wall but i'm too scared to in case it ruins it. i'm actually so obsessed with this thing.

this is something else i can't include detailed pictures of due to the image limit, but honestly there isn't a lot of lore or super interesting stuff inside of it. however, i'd still be happy to detail it more in another post.

there's this GORGEOUS notebook that i'm also too scared to actually do anything with. it is actually quite a thick notebook. i looove the detail of the "PANIC!" barely visible in the middle of the pages.

now onto my absolute favorite part of this thing:

these cards for each song on fever are SO fucking cool and i love them so much. they're printed on really nice material too; they don't feel cheap and have this grainy feel to them too (idk how else to describe it) and it works so well. luckily i'm able to post individual pictures of each one.

so the back of all of them have the lyrics printed like that but i won't be able to post pictures of that for each one.

they just all encapsulate the theme of each song perfectly while also fitting so well with the aesthetic that they had this era. like my jaw dropped when i saw these for the first time. (side note: i'm not sure why they numbered intermission as number 12 when it should be 8 based on the album. i also don't know why they skipped introduction since they included intermission).

all in all, this is the coolest piece of merch a band has ever put out imo. like no one is doing it like this anymore. i'd been yearning for it since i was 14 so i'm so glad i was able to find it as such a steal of a price. i'll never shut up about owning it and if you're able to get your hands on it i cannot recommend it enough.

[domm1etae]

Morning Embrace

hongjoong x reader

fluff

832 words

where Hongjoong skips practice just to spend a cozy morning with you

You woke up to the sight of your boyfriend’s (undeniably handsome) face, beaming as he watched you slowly blink awake. With a sleepy yawn, you pulled your hand away from where it had rested on his waist and rubbed at your eye.

“Why are you still here?” you mumbled, squinting at Hongjoong. “Don’t you have practice?”

He simply shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’m sick.” You playfully swatted his arm.

“You need to go to practice, Joong. It’s important,” you chided, though your tone was softened by the affectionate smile he gave you.

Hongjoong leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting out a content sigh. “You’re important too. And they probably already know I’m skipping.” He pulled back slightly to take in the worried frown on your face. “Don’t worry, jagi. I can afford to miss one day just to be with you.” His wide, sincere eyes made it impossible for you to resist, and you found yourself nodding in agreement.

“Okay, you big baby. What do you want to do today?” you asked, expecting him to suggest something fun.

But Hongjoong just sighed again, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair. “This is perfect,” he murmured.

A comfortable silence settled over you both until your stomach growled loudly, breaking the peace. You squirmed in his embrace, but he only tightened his grip, making you groan in frustration.

“Joong,” you whined, drawing out his name. “I’m hungry, let me go.”

He hummed lazily. “…Nope.” His casual refusal was maddening, and you could hardly believe your ears.

“‘Nope?’ You’re really not going to—” You managed to free one hand, the one not trapped between you and Hongjoong, and shoved at his shoulder with all your might. It was almost pitiful how little he budged, his strong arms still wrapped around you like steel bands. He chuckled sleepily at your futile struggle, planting a kiss on your scrunched-up nose.

“I love you, you know that?” Your resistance began to falter. “You’re the most important thing in my life. I love you, I love you, I love you.” You gave up entirely as he started peppering kisses all over your face, each one replacing your irritation with giggles. His last kiss landed on your lips—brief, since it was still morning and you’d both just woken up. He squeezed you tight once more, the blankets wrapping around you both, and kissed the top of your head. Your smile was unstoppable at this point.

Maybe you could stay hungry just a little bit longer.

“Joong,” you murmured, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “We really should get up. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “I won’t get in trouble. I told the guys I might not make it today. I’m all yours.”

“All mine, huh?” you teased, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “Does that mean I get to decide what we do?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his voice full of sincerity. “What do you want to do?”

You pondered for a moment, your gaze drifting toward the window where the morning light was beginning to filter through the curtains. “How about we make breakfast together? I’ll make pancakes, and you can do the bacon.”

Hongjoong’s face lit up at the idea. “Pancakes and bacon? That sounds perfect. But,” he added, a mischievous smile forming on his lips, “only if you promise to let me taste the batter before you cook it.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Fine, but just a little. I know how you are with sweets.”

With a reluctant sigh, Hongjoong finally loosened his grip on you, allowing you to slip out of bed. You stretched, feeling the cool morning air on your skin as you made your way to the kitchen, Hongjoong following closely behind.

As you gathered the ingredients, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. He was already rummaging through the cabinets, looking for the frying pan, his hair still tousled from sleep. The sight of him, so domestic and comfortable in your shared space, made your heart swell with affection.

“Found it!” he exclaimed triumphantly, holding up the pan like it was a trophy. You chuckled, shaking your head at his enthusiasm.

“Good job, captain,” you teased, grabbing a mixing bowl and starting on the pancake batter. Hongjoong joined you at the counter, watching as you mixed the ingredients together.

“You know,” he began, leaning on the counter with a thoughtful expression, “I think we should do this more often.”

“What, make breakfast?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, just… spend mornings like this. Together. Without rushing off to do a million things.”

You paused, looking up at him. His gaze was warm, filled with a kind of sincerity that made your heart flutter. “I’d like that,” you admitted softly.

Hongjoong smiled, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Good, because I’m not planning on letting you go anytime soon.”

You blushed at his words, focusing back on the batter to hide your embarrassment. “You’re too cheesy, you know that?”

“Only for you,” he quipped, earning a playful nudge from you.

With the batter ready and the bacon sizzling on the stove, the two of you moved around the kitchen with an easy rhythm, exchanging jokes and little touches that made the morning feel even more special. It wasn’t long before the smell of pancakes and bacon filled the air, making your stomach growl once again.

“Alright, breakfast is served!” you announced, placing a stack of pancakes on the table as Hongjoong set down the plate of crispy bacon.

The two of you sat down, and as you took the first bite, you couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t just the food that made this moment perfect—it was the company. Hongjoong, with his bright eyes and contagious smile, made everything better.

“This is amazing,” he mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes, making you laugh.

“I’m glad you like it,” you replied, your heart full.

As the morning stretched on, the conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from future plans to silly anecdotes. There was something about this unhurried time together that felt right, like it was exactly where you both were meant to be.

“I love you,” Hongjoong said suddenly, his tone serious despite the playful glint in his eyes.

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his gaze. “I love you too,” you whispered back.

And as you sat there, the sunlight warming the room and your hearts full of love, you realized that these were the moments you’d cherish forever.

[anystalker707]

Do i want to be you or fuck you

Pairing: Sam Monroe x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: sam never had to deal with another alternative person around, so you're giving him a hell of an identity crisis. Tags: kind of enemies to lovers / sam in a crop top / reader leaves lipstick marks on his stomach

MASTER LIST

Sam didn’t know how to deal with that situation because he never had to, but now seeing someone steal his attention didn’t please him. He wondered if he was punk enough, though it was a stupid thought.

Fuck’s sake, though. Sam was the one who would attract attention all around and cause rumors because of his style, and he wondered if he had lost his effect. Black clothes, chains, studs, and alt music were his thing, so he didn’t see why some of his friends were running to you to ask your opinion about the new Slipknot album.

Your makeup, clothes, and accessories were always on fucking point. Sam hoped you wouldn’t notice how he was staring. No, it wasn’t about how beautiful you looked, laughing, chatting with whoever with a can in hand, sometimes dancing lightly to the song of the shitty local band in that stupid venue. It was at your shirt, wondering how the fuck you’d managed to get a tour-limited shirt like that. Of a band he liked. He was sure you didn’t even understand the meaning behind the songs. Your favorite album was probably the main one, and you skipped the underrated songs only because they weren’t that popular. That shirt would probably look better on him, anyway.

“You just came here for nothing? To sulk there?” Josh cut through his thoughts, annoying, as always.

Sam’s gaze met yours, but he quickly averted his eyes to the small stage and the group moshing in front of it, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Shut up.”

“What?”

“Shut up,” Sam scoffed as he shook his head, taking a deeper and faster drag from his cigarette, holding back the cough that tickled the back of his throat as the smoke burned down his throat.

The wall behind Sam dug into his shoulder blades, the faint ache spread through his back from how long he had been standing there. He didn’t like that band—he knew the bassist had been in a class with him in the second year of high-school, but he could barely listen to any instrument aside from the guitar and under the vocalist’s exaggerated vocal fry. The venue wasn’t all that good either. Not like the band would be able to afford one.

Going there seemed like a good opportunity to get high and drink, but the moment Sam saw you, his excitement fizzled away, giving in to that bitter feeling.

“Fuck off,” Sam made sure to say to Josh, ignoring the complaints muffled by the bad cover music while walking off to a spot where you couldn’t see him. He lit another cigarette, watching the glowing red lines trickle closer to the filter with the drag he took. His throat burned, and he became a little more lightheaded, though it didn’t hit so strongly anymore. Maybe he could save some money to go to a real concert next summer. Get good merch.

Even with the dubious background, Sam still got a cup of energy drink with cola and vodka at a stand, only able to take a few sips of it before he lost grip on the cup, even more so given the moisture that accumulated around the cold cup, and it went straight to the ground, spilling some of his drink on his shirt. His cigarette fell right into the puddle. He whipped his head back, scowling. Of course, it had to be you.

“Oh my fucking god,” Sam exhaled sharply, motioning to his ruined shirt—at least the short-sleeved one on top.

You raised your eyebrows as your eyes skimmed him up and down, shaking your head with a soft sigh. “Not my fault that you suddenly stopped walking in the middle of the way. You could’ve at least walked off to the side or something.” Your gaze fell to the cup on the ground. “It wasn’t any good, after all. You wasted money the moment you bought it.”

Sam mirrored your expression mockingly before he looked down at his shirt. He tugged on the hem so that it wouldn’t cling to his skin. “You really suck, y’know that?”

“Just take off the wet shirt, since you got another one under it,” you said as if it were obvious. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but Sam didn’t say anything, only shaking his head and making you sigh. “Come on. Do you want a spare shirt? Or will you keep stinking alcohol and get sticky until you get home?”

As much as Sam wanted to argue, you had a point. He could hear his mother complaining already. Right before he could say anything, your hand was around his wrist to pull him out of the way, away from the risk of having another drink spilled on him, even if not his own.

“I can buy you a shirt from the merch stand as an apology,” you said.

Sam followed your gaze to the shitty merch stand selling ridiculous handmade merchandise. That band definitely needed a new art, and he definitely wasn’t wearing any of that stuff. The sneering air in your words made annoyance boil under his skin, but he did not want to give you the satisfaction of knowing your effect on him.

You laughed. “I’m being serious.”

Well, he wasn’t doing enough of a good job of hiding his annoyance, but again, how could he? Sam took a deep breath. “You’re ruining my night,” he grumbled, tugging his shirt over his head, trying to avoid the wet parts.

“Oh? Me? I didn’t even do anything…” You trailed off, observing his shirt come off to reveal that the undershirt was, in fact, a long-sleeved crop top that stopped a little above his abdomen. It wasn’t even wet, since the drink had only spilled on the bottom half of the shirt, where the crop top did not reach.

Sam held the shirt in his hand, and the words died on his tongue when he noticed you. He gritted his teeth. “Do not look at me like that.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Like what?” But you didn’t even have the shame to look at him in the eyes, continuing to observe the pale skin of his stomach, which contrasted highly with his dark clothes and the happy trail that disappeared into his low waist shorts along with his v-lines. You finally looked him in the eyes, but it was just for a couple of seconds. “Like what?”

Many things ran across his mind, but none of which Sam could actually voice. Looking at you itself was hard. “Come on,” he muttered and cleared his throat. Warmth prickled his cheeks and the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I’d have to take my shirt off.”

“Well,” you exhaled—that look was enough to make his whole body tingle, “you shouldn’t even have chosen to wear it, in the first place. It’s not cold tonight, and your fit looks way better this way.”

When did you step closer? Sam gulped, his eyes scanning your face, the dark eye makeup and that almost black lipstick which he only knew the real color because of how it would reflect a metallic, deep red glint when the light managed to hit it, something that hardly happened, given how it was a gig in such a fucked up venue. He gulped, his fingers tightening around his shirt. How was he supposed to answer that?

Sam looked down for a moment, hoping it would clear his mind enough for him to be able to chain at least two words together coherently. “Well, you should give me your shirt instead, actually.”

You chuckled. “Are you envious of it, or do you want to see me shirtless?”

And he felt like dying inside again, groaning in frustration when your words made his skin heat up once more. Damn it. You were insufferable.

“Either way, it’s a no,” you added. “I—”

“You’re a fucking poser, why’d you have that shirt?”

“I’m not a poser!” You scoffed. “I was there!”

“For the opening band?” When you glared at him in return, Sam felt a certain pride swell in his chest. Now the tables had turned. “Nuh-uh, doesn’t count, my bad. It’s so annoying.”

“How long do you spend analyzing me daily? Do I have to think, ‘how does this affect Sam?’ before I dress up every day?” You crossed your arms over your chest, and part of Sam hated himself for enjoying that annoyed look so much.

Sam shrugged. “You really think you have that much of an impact on my life?”

Your hard look continued despite the deep breath you took, tilting your head. “I mean, you don’t give me many reasons not to think so.”

Raising his eyebrows, Sam hummed in fake amusement. “If I’m being honest, it feels more like it’s the other way around,” he said, his hand moving to play with his belt, and of course, your eyes followed as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. A grin tugged on Sam’s mouth, widening when you let out a string of curses under your breath, and he shrugged, running his fingers along his lower stomach lightly, about to step away when your hand wrapped around his upper arm.

“You can’t just do that and leave me here like this,” you said with a glare.

“Do what?” Sam raised his eyebrows. The upper hand was his, after all, finally. Something stirred inside him with that look. He sighed, playing with one of your necklace pendants, an electric guitar. Fuck, he wanted that. He wanted everything you had, maybe. Everything you were. Having your attention, the closeness, your scent was so good.

“You think you’re hot stuff, right?” You scoffed. Your grip loosened a little, thumb rubbing circles into his arm.

Sam hummed faintly. “I have many reasons to think so,” he said with a shrug, his eyes falling to your lips for a second, and you fucking returned the gaze. How miserable could you be? He bit his lip, a finger hooked on your necklace to pull you closer until your breath fanned over his face. “Though, I might want a little something instead.”

You clicked your tongue. “Ugh, Samuel.” You turned your face right when he leaned in, in a way he ended up pressing his nose to your cheek instead. Should he feel embarrassed or glad about it? He clicked his tongue, squeezing your waist with his free hand.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, babe,” you said, and his skin tingled again.

“I hate you so much.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll hate what I’m about to do, yeah?” You didn’t give him time to breathe a word before you pulled him towards another spot, near the alley, without anyone, only illuminated by a flickering light post and stinking of a piss and drinks mix, and the music felt a little more tolerable now that it was slightly muffled.

Sam felt like complaining and cursing again, but he held himself back when you sat down on a wooden box and held him in front of you, fingers hooked in his belt loops. He looked down the alley, observing nothing in special. “What the fuck are you going to do? I swear— Nngh!” Sam moaned. He immediately whipped his head down, eyes widening when he saw you kiss his exposed stomach. Your lips were warm. They lingered against the skin, then you kissed another spot, then another.

Sam’s skin rose in shivers, and he could feel his blood rushing south. Your breath fanned over his skin; you were leaving lipstick stains everywhere, the dark marks contrasting with his pale skin—it shouldn’t feel that good. He didn’t even know he was so sensitive on his waist, or down his v-lines.

His knees went wobbly, so he held your shoulders tightly, unable to tear his eyes away from you, but it didn’t compare to how weak he felt when your eyes held his gaze, while you tugged his waistband down just a little so that the kiss mark disappeared into his shorts. It felt like your lips were pressed there forever, but it was over too soon. Your lipstick was already faded by the time you pulled away, slightly smudged.

Ground was put under his feet again, and Sam suddenly felt hyper-conscious of everything. “You’re gonna kill me, but I really hope to kill you first.” Sam tugged on your arm so that he could pull you up to your feet and kiss you on the lips, not caring that his shirt fell to the ground while he held firmly onto your hips, managing to pin you to the wall after some wobbly steps. He wasn’t aware of how much he craved you until now. The messy wet kisses made a shiver run down his spine, and his shorts grew even more uncomfortable, feeling way too tight. Your teeth tugged on his lip, and adrenaline rushed through his veins.

You smiled against Sam’s lips, kissing him back with the same enthusiasm. Your hands cupped his neck to pull him closer—he moaned into the kiss and pressed his body flush to yours, and the kiss was only broken because your lungs ached for air.

“Fuck,” Sam breathed as he nuzzled your neck, trying to process the chain of emotions and sensations that you had given him.

A breathless chuckle escaped your lips. The warmth of your body was replaced by the cold night air when you stepped away, looking down at your work on his stomach with a proud grin. It gave you a sense of ownership over Sam. “You look so hot.”

Sam quickly wrapped his arms around your waist again, kissing your neck more. He craved it now. “I’m looking forward to more of it, hm?”

⋆°｡⋆🎧🎸★ 𝖇𝖆𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 ★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆

[static-radio-ao3]

@jegulus-microfic // february 4 // prompt: old // words: 619

Regulus reaches up with a sly grin on his face, hands coming to rest on James' chest and smoothing down the imaginary wrinkles in his white button down.

“I quite like being your trophy husband. All I have to do is stand here and be pretty—”

“And we both know how good you are at that,” James says as he leans down to drag his nose along the column of Regulus’ neck, lips following behind.

Regulus hums, a quiet thing. The scratch of James' five o'clock shadow against the sensitive skin of his neck makes blood rush to his head.

“A pretty, young thing for you to show off to all your old friends.” Regulus resists the urge to throw back his head and give James more space to work. Has to remind himself they're in public, although that has never stopped him before.

James' hands tighten where they're resting on Regulus' waist, fingers splayed possessively, just so everyone knows they can look but can't touch.

One hand slips under the hem of Regulus' shirt, settling on his hip. The feel of the cool wedding band against his skin contact makes him shiver and Regulus relishes in the knowledge that James is his.

“My friends aren't that old,” James says with a huff, pulling back from where he was mouthing at Regulus’ pulse point. There's no heat behind the words, though. Only fond amusement.

“Your friends are probably popping Viagra with their morning multivitamins,” Regulus says as he rolls his eyes.

There's violin music filtering through the room, and waiters with trays filled with Champagne weaving their way through the crowd. Although Regulus must admit that the hors d'oeuvres are excellent. He's snagged a few of a platter before dragging James to a secluded corner.

James leans down, tilting his head just so. Regulus knows he could press their lips together in a kiss if he would just tilt his face up to James. It would be so easy, like a flower to the sun.

“A pretty, young thing with a wicked tongue,” James murmurs, the words brushing over Regulus’ lips. They smell a little like Champagne and something sweet.

“You'd know all about that, huh?” He teases, fingers sliding up from where they were still resting on James' chest to the side of his neck where Regulus knows a hickey is hidden beneath the collar. Light catches on the thin wedding band he's wearing around his ring finger. The sight has heat coiling in his stomach.

Something flashes in James' eye, but it's gone before Regulus has the chance to decipher its meaning. Just as well, because the look is swallowed up by lust. The brown of James' iris disappearing, his pupils dilating as if they can't get enough of Regulus.

And Regulus knows he looks good; a silk shirt in a shade of green so dark it looks almost black, a thin layer of gloss on his lips and his curls mussed just so. It's a miracle they even made it out of the bedroom tonight, let alone the house. But James had insisted on coming, told Regulus they couldn't get away with skipping yet another party.

So they showed up and danced and mingled and Regulus watched as James talked to his friends. He always has a hand tucked into the bend of James' elbow, or one of James' arms around his waist or on his shoulders, a comforting weight.

After another moment of silence, eyes locked on each other, Regulus clears his throat. “I want to dance,” he declares.

“That's fine with me,” James says. “I like showing you off.”

Secretly Regulus thinks that he's the one showing off; James the trophy and Regulus the winner.

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline Sirius Black x fem!reader

You lived out your years at Hogwarts with the company of your best friends, Lily Evans and Alice Fortescue. You fell in love with one of the infamous Marauders, Sirius Black. After school, you married and became Mrs Black, living in a home full of love and life with your faithful husband. Your happy life is cut short when Sirius is wrongfully convicted of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and several muggles, and sent straight to Azkaban without trial. The Ministry thinks you must be connected, but after several days of investigation and questioning, litres of veritaserum thrown down your throat, you're proven innocent. You have maintained his innocence ever since, knowing Sirius would never do something like that. The only person who'll hire you is Albus Dumbledore, and with his help your name is reverted to its maiden and your past is buried deep.

This story follows your life during your time as a professor at Hogwarts when Harry Potter joins the school and everything changes.

FULL of angst but has a happy ending.

No use of Y/N

This fic is mostly a collection of moments and scenes! So a lot of time skips.

p.s. title is from the song "I Love You" by Fontaines D.C. — one of my favourite bands!! would so so recommend checking them out :)

CHAPTER ONE (see full series list here)

1991

You glance at your watch, the hand ticking slowly as it moves to show 9:03 p.m.

Finally, the large wooden door opens and a scrawny young boy pushes forward, huffing tiredly, and less than 20 odd first-year students filter into the astronomy tower.

"Evening, everyone!" You say cheerfully. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws stand awkwardly as they gaze around the room in wonderment.

You feel proud of it. The last astronomy professor had left this room a little...boring, so when you came into employment you spruced it up a little bit. Though there aren't many to write on, each wall is plastered in hand-painted constellations with their names in 5 languages written underneath. You had cast a spell on the floor to conjure up a moon, one that matched the real one's lunar phases. Today, a waxing gibbous.

Telescopes line the edges of the circular room, each pointing high into the sky. You eye your favourite for a moment, the same telescope you'd used during your own years as a student at Hogwarts.

It feels like home in this room.

"Welcome to the Astronomy Tower," you say with a smile. "Here, you'll learn all about the wonders of our universe and its planets, galaxies, stars...everything. Please, find a telescope and stand behind it. We'll start with charting some simple constellations today."

The students obediently line behind a telescope each. Your eyes immediately focus on a young boy, with jet black hair and circular glasses. You lose your train of thought for a moment, feeling as though you're looking at a ghost.

He's the very image of James Potter.

Then, he turns to look at you and his eyes strike you. Green and vibrant, full of youth and gentleness.

Lily.

You feel your breath catch in your throat, but quickly shake your head of the grief and clap you hands, smiling at the students again.

"Astronomy is one of the very few subjects that is present in both the wizarding and the muggle world. That means that there are millions of resources out there for all of you to use, whether it be from a wizarding standpoint or a muggle one! Interesting stuff," you continue. "Now, I want you all to do a small task for me. Look through your telescope — please don't change any lenses just yet — and try and see if you can spot a constellation. Then, using the first page of your book, see if you can figure out which constellation it is. Call me over when you think you have one!"

The students immediately start rooting through their bags for their Astronomy textbooks and you sigh gently, content with your introduction. First-years are always well interested and curious about everything, so Astronomy is a pretty easy subject for them to get into. After all, lots of the first year curriculum is just looking at pretty stars and constellations.

"Professor, I think I have one!" A young Gryffindor girl with bushy brown hair and an excited face says to you, throwing her hand in the air enthusiastically.

You smile, walking over to her. "What's your name, dear?"

"Hermione Granger, professor."

"And what constellation do you think you've found?"

"Aquila, professor," she beams, pointing a finger to the small, 'T' shaped constellation in her book.

You close one eye and look through her telescope, noticing it immediately.

You grin at her. "Well spotted, Miss Granger! Excellent work." You glance at her scarlet and gold tie. "5 points to Gryffindor for being the first one!"

Her face lights up proudly.

"Now, let's see if you can find any of the stars present in it. Any at all, though you may find it difficult to differentiate — "

"The star of Altair, professor!"

Your eyes widen and you chuckle in surprise. "Well, aren't you just making my job a whole lot easier for me? Well done, Miss Granger. Please chart that constellation down on some parchment and continue looking."

In the next few minutes, many students find constellations and are charting them down. One boy seems to be having a particularly difficult time.

"Neville Longbottom, isn't it?" You say as you wander up to him. He jumps at the sound of your voice, knocking his forehead against the edge of his telescope and letting out a small yelp of pain. "Oh, sorry..." You wave your wand gently and his eyebrows raise, bringing a hand to his forehead in surprise.

"Just a small healing spell. For minor, minor injuries," you tell him. "How is your charting going?"

The boy's cheeks go red and his eyes focus on the floor beneath him. "I...haven't been able to find one, professor. I — I thought I had one ages ago, but there were too many stars in it..."

"Let me have a look, Mr Longbottom," you say kindly, bringing your eye up to the lens and grinning. "Well, you most definitely have found one. One I didn't think anyone would find!"

You glance at Neville's face, and he's the picture of shock.

"Pisces, Mr Longbottom. Trust your judgement! Excellent work."

Neville grins, and you step aside, but not before he says something else.

"Uh, professor..."

"Yes?"

"How do...how do you know my name?"

You study his face and smile again. The very picture of Frank Longbottom. With Alice Fortescue's mousy hair.

"I went to school with your parents, Mr Longbottom. You're the spitting image of your father."

Next, the young boy with jet black hair and glasses calls you over. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.

"What one have you found, Mr Potter?"

As he looks at you, green eyes connecting with your own, you try your hardest not to see Lily staring back at you. You try your hardest not to picture your best friend, your honourary sister, a woman of true light in a world full of darkness.

Your heart has felt lonely since her absence. Since James. Since Alice. Since Frank. Since Peter.

You blink.

"Uh, Canis Major, I think?"

You swallow hard. Of course.

"Let me have a look see..." He's right of course, you don't even need to look. You can spot that constellation any night without a telescope. You know it like the back of your hand. "You're dead right, Mr Potter. Brilliant constellation, that is. Canis Major means 'the Great Dog', and it actually contains the brightest star in the night sky visible to our naked eye, Si — "

"Oh, wait, hold on..." Harry says, flicking through his book to find the page on Canis Major. He pauses, eyes skimming down the page. "Uh, Sirius, right?"

You bite your lip, feeling your heart speed up. You take a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Yes, Mr Potter. Sirius."

Your favourite star.

Your favourite person.

Your heart has been broken since his absence.

"Good work." You promptly spin on your heel, heading for your desk as you glance down at your watch. "Alright, everyone. Excellent work today! Now, I won't set anyone any written homework...but if you're truly interested and find you have a little free time, try and see if you can chart any other constellations! Night, everyone."

The students chat animatedly amongst themselves and exit down the spiral stairs, leaving you alone in the room. You sit down at your desk, sighing as you slip a key from your pocket and open one of the drawers. You pull out a small photograph, eyes wandering over the young, elated faces of James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, and yourself.

Graduation day.

One the left, you're standing in the middle of Alice and Lily, arms around them and laughing wholeheartedly. James stands beside Lily, arms around her and Sirius beside him, who's connected with Remus, Peter, and Frank.

You smile weakly. You remember that day, all full of hope and joy. There was some sadness too, sadness to be leaving Hogwarts and ultimately leaving childhood.

Your fingers gently skim over Sirius' face, feeling your heart ache.

What you wouldn't give to go back to that day.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Dear Moony,

I hope you're well! School's started back up again. Been a bit crazy lately, sorry that I haven't written since your last letter. Someone let a troll into the dungeon. Quirrell went mad, fainted in the middle of dinner and set all the students into a panic. It was torture.

Harry's started here. It's hard to look at him sometimes. He's the image of James. It's uncanny. He has Lily's eyes, too. Sometimes I start to feel like I can talk to them through him, even though I know that's mad of me. Neville Longbottom's here too. He's just like his parents. Both in Gryffindor, you'll be happy to know.

Dumbledore's gave me strict instructions not to say a word to Harry about it all. Says it'll be too much for him. He won't be able to understand why I couldn't have raised him instead of the Dursleys. He says that Harry will only start digging around for more information on me if he finds out I'm his godmother. He'd ask about his godfather then. It's too much for a young boy to know that his godfather is in Azkaban.

I wanted to talk to him so bad, Remus. I want to tell him about his parents, show him the photos. I want him to be able to feel at home here, feel like he's got someone here. A part of his family. I know exactly what those Dursleys are like. Petunia always hated James, you know that well enough. I hate that I have to keep this secret for even longer.

I talked to young Neville though. Merlin, he has Alice's clumsiness, that's for sure. Such a sweet lad. He was more than happy to see photos of the two and hear stories about them. I feel like a little bit of the weight that's been hanging over me has been lifted. I even showed him that photo of Alice falling into the Black Lake in 5th Year. If she was of sound mind she'd surely throttle me for that.

I think I need to get out of the castle for a bit. Wanna get a coffee? It's been a while.

I've omitted a few details of the past few weeks so I have something interesting to tell you about next weekend, if you're up for it.

all my love,

You sign the letter, folding up the parchment gently and dropping it in an envelope. You grab your bland wax stamper and press a small circle of black wax over the envelope's seal. You slip it into your pocket and stand up from your bed. Beside you, your black cat, Dubh*, stirs from her sleep and meowls at you.

You give her a loving scratch behind the ears. "Just popping down to the owlery. I'll be back."

On your way down to the owlery, you pass two lanky, identical students with heads full of ginger hair. They haven't noticed you yet. They're peering around the corner at Filch, a suspicious-looking bag in one of their hands.

"Bit late for the two of you to be out, isn't it?" You whisper behind them. They wheel around immediately and their eyes widen in shock.

"Professor! We — uh, we weren't doing anything!" George blurts out.

"Don't you look just lovely tonight, Professor? There is such a...healthy glow about you," Fred remarks suavely and you raise an unamused eyebrow at him.

"I sincerely hope you don't think I'm that thick, Mr Weasley."

"Never, Professor!"

You sigh, shaking your head. "Off to bed, both of you. Quickly, before Filch can catch you. I advise you to keep your pranks within the time you're actually allowed out of bed."

Fred's shoulders slump in disappointment, his want for a good prank evident on his face. George however, is staring at you in surprise.

"No detention?"

Fred immediately smacks his hand over the back of George's head, scowling at him. "Don't give her any ideas!"

"Get going, you two."

They take it this time, quickly scampering down the hallway. You step out from it, into the same one as Filch, who's eyeing you suspiciously.

"Is someone there?"

"Only me, Mr Filch," you answer.

"I thought I heard voices."

"Just me. I was trying to remember a poem I heard recently, it's three pages long. Would you like to hear it?"

Filch's face contorts immediately. "No."

You shrug. "Suit yourself."

You walk past him and out into the cold night air, trying to suppress the smile on your face.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter two here!

*Dubh: pronounced 'duv'. Irish word for 'black'.

→ all types of interaction appreciated ♡

[hippolotamus]

🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️

thank you, lovely! your sentences 💖 (for context Eddie is recalling a time when he was 16 and used his shiny new license to take him the first place he could think of)

The sight of Evan with broad shoulders and muscles had made Eddie’s heart skip in a funny way that he didn’t want to examine too closely. Of course, that hadn’t been the only thing.  Somewhere behind them, behind the wall of people talking and laughing, too busy to pay attention to anything they’re doing, the sounds of the boardwalk filter in to fill their companionable silence. All of the dings and buzzers from the arcade, the trolley patiently beeping to let everyone know it’s coming through, shouts from shop owners offering samples. Eddie closes his eyes and lets all of it wrap around him, like maybe he can take it back to El Paso.  “Oh, hey, I love this one,” Evan says. “What?” Eddie blinks, slow and stupidly as he tries to figure out what his friend is talking about.  “The song!” Evan flicks water at his leg. “The music started.” Eddie listens and realizes Evan’s right. The live band that plays on Friday and Saturday nights has recently started their set. The selection changes through the summer but they always do a variety of fan favorites. Usually stuff that makes people like his parents get all gooey eyed like they’re reliving their youth. He thinks that’s what they’re playing now – my girl or will you love me tomorrow. One of those. “Dance with me.” Evan looks up with a hopeful expression. “How, uh-” Eddie gestures between them, pointing out the incredibly obvious reason the idea won’t work. No matter how much Eddie suddenly finds himself wanting it to. “You’re-” Evan’s face softens, equal hints of amusement and fond understanding. “I’m down here and you’re up there? I don’t have legs? Yeah, Eds, I know all that.” Eddie pulls a face when he gets splashed again. “Jump in.” Evan curls his palms around Eddie’s bare ankles, rubbing his thumb along the knobby bone. “These things have to be good for something.”

tagging a few other folks i remember being into this one @tizniz @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @bi-buckrights @loveyouanyway @spotsandsocks @beyourownanchor6 @monsterrae1 😘

[hetalia-club]

Hetalia characters but it’s what kind of kid in Highschool they would have been. (I’m going off American/Canadian high school types because I am American)((Midwest to be more specific))

America- the jock who took dodge ball way too seriously. Would throw the ball way to hard. He really took all of Gym class way too seriously.

Canada- was the Hockey Meathead. Also took Gym way too seriously. And always had a huge dip in his bottom lip and carried around a clear spit bottle.

England- the “um actually” kid. Would correct the teachers with usually wrong information they learned off of the internet or TV, The teachers hate him.

France- class hottie who always skips class but the teachers have like a weird crush on him so they let him do whatever…

Russia- quiet photography kid spends too much time in the red room some think he’s a serial killer but he just is awkward and shy and doesn’t know how to socialize

China- the kid who draws all day every day. Draws dragons and wolves specifically. Will not pay attention in class. Gets in trouble for drawing all the time. People like him a lot though. He will draw you a sick dragon if you ask nicely.

Italy- similar to France. But he does get in trouble for things because he cannot stop talking to save his life.

Romano- is always in detention for his mouth. Has a reputation as a ‘bad kid’ but it’s actually because he just has no filter. At least twice a week if you are in a class with him you will hear the teacher say “Lovino, go to the principals office” and he’ll be like “the fuck did I do?”

Japan- the foreign exchange student everybody loves. Gets invited to all the parties and has dated most of the popular girls in school.

Prussia- the foreign exchange student nobody likes. Gets no bitches. But does not mind.

Germany- Teachers pet. He is the one who will yell at the class to “stfu! The teacher is talking!” Will remind the teachers there was an assignment due.

Spain- The senior foreign exchange student. One of the most well liked kids in school. New S.O every week. Will most likely be Prom King

Austria- sexual active band kid. (If you know you know)

Norway- the kid who always has his headphones in. Doesn’t want to talk to anyone. will just ignore you if you try.

Finland- major frat boy energy. Goes to every house party and gets trashed. He seems to always know where they are happening even if he wasn’t invited he’s still going to show up.

Sweden- the shy/quiet kid who is friends with the party boy he always gets drug along because Finland says he needs to “socialize more” but he always just sits in the corner and waits for someone he knows who is leaving to take him home.

Denmark- another jock. But he is friends with everybody. Will talk to everyone. Floats around the lunch room and does not have a specific clique.

Iceland- the kid who is always asleep in class. Somehow he is passing everything with straight As but he is never awake. Sometimes he’ll not show up to school for like a week. Straight just vapes in class and somehow never gets caught.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: actor Steve??? Singer Eddie at the grammy's??? Eddie's band winning a Grammy & Eddie proposing to Steve accidentally in his speech???? & Steve crying and nodding yes but he is in tears & can't stand up??? Ok but then at the Oscars Steve actually proposes on stage because he had broken his leg & Eddie helped him on stage. But his proposal is the same as Eddie's because he also asks during his speech & Eddie cries and they get engaged again ❤️❤️❤️❤️

BABYYYYYY!!! NOT ONE, BUT TWO MARRIAGE PROPOSALS?! YES! PLEASE! I love the idea of Steve being prepared to propose to Eddie, has a whole plan, and then Eddie gets so emotional when he wins a Grammy that he does it before Steve gets a chance. Steve CANNOT be outdone, so obviously he does it too. We love love! - Mickala ❤️

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

Somehow, against every odd, Eddie Munson made it.

Corroded Coffin, through hard work and a pinch of luck, were nominated for a Grammy.

They’d spent years climbing their way to the top (hard work) and finally got signed to a huge record deal when an agent saw them opening for a metal band at a festival (pinch of luck).

Their first album broke records in ways that hadn’t been seen since Metallica stepped onto the scene.

Their first tour sold out in minutes.

Their second album had a lot of hype to live up to, and according to the Grammy nomination, it far surpassed the expectations.

He hated that Steve couldn’t walk the carpet with him, but he was happy he was waiting inside with all the significant others of the band.

Probably already drinking wine and champagne. Maybe even shots.

Dammit, Eddie hated walking the carpet.

Steve was a fun drunk, but he was even more fun when he’d only had a couple. His filter shut off, but he wasn’t quite at the point of bitchy. He was silly.

Steve was rarely silly.

Fun, funny, happy.

But never really silly.

Not like Eddie was.

But after a couple drinks? Downright clownish.

Eddie tried to rush through the remaining interviews, and the guys could tell, throwing him shocked looks. Eddie loved the spotlight, so it probably was a little shocking.

When they got inside, they were stopped by just about everyone who lived on planet Earth.

Eddie was ready to grab Steve and run.

Fuck the Grammy.

But he couldn’t do that. This was a possibly once in a lifetime thing. Wayne was watching at home even though he “doesn’t have time to watch those stupid awards.”

If they did win, Eddie had to give a speech, they had to go to afterparties, he had to fuck Steve against the window in their hotel room.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of any of those thoughts. Now wasn’t the time.

He walked into the main room, suddenly overwhelmed by the crowd and the vast expanse of tables and seating and stage area in front of him.

He caught a glimpse of Steve at a table not too far away, laughing at something Jeff’s wife, Amy, was saying. She’d almost skipped tonight, her pregnancy far enough along that getting all dressed up didn’t sound remotely appealing. But then she’d heard Steve was going, and she’d called her sister to alter her dress immediately.

Gareth’s fiancé, Sam, was sitting away from everyone, still not sure of her place in the group. They’d had a bit of a whirlwind romance, and Eddie would be more worried if Sam wasn’t completely head over heels in love with Gareth in high school first. But she’d only just met everyone a month ago, and this was the first public event she attended with everyone. She was visibly nervous.

Grant’s wife, Savannah, was clearly trying to make conversation with everyone.

And Eddie knew that Steve and Amy weren’t purposefully making it harder, but they certainly weren’t making things easy for her.

They were laughing so much, he couldn’t even be sure they were laughing at something.

He sidled up to Steve’s side, plopping down in the empty chair to his right.

“Eddie! Amy’s here!” Steve smacked his arm excitedly.

He was at least three wines in.

“I see that, sweetheart. Hi, Amy.”

“Hey, Eddie. He’s drinking for two,” Amy smiled fondly as Steve took another sip of wine.

“And she’s eating for two!” Steve said as he reached out to touch her belly. “I can’t believe I don’t get to have your babies, Eds.”

Eddie snorted. Amy let out a loud laugh.

“I’m sure we can give it our best shot later tonight,” Eddie whispered in his ear, smirking to himself when he saw Steve shiver.

They all continued chatting, occasionally getting interrupted by guests: producers, musicians, agents, even some kids who were big fans.

When the show started, Steve was drifting. He’d had maybe one too many, and he’d reached the sleepy part of wine drunk a lot sooner than he should’ve. Maybe because he barely slept last night. Maybe because Eddie fucked him in the shower and the couch and the bed, and then woke him up early to fuck him on the counter before he had to leave for an interview with Good Morning America. He was tired.

Eddie was tired too, but he was used to a lot of late nights and early mornings over the last couple of years.

Plus, he was running on so much adrenaline at the thought of winning a Grammy, he was pretty sure he could stay awake for another 12 hours.

Steve’s head rested against Eddie’s shoulder, his hand entangled in Eddie’s.

For seven years, Steve’s been his biggest fan, his person, his everything.

And for three years before that, he was his best friend.

He was there at grungy bars, outdoor festivals in rain or shine, that one fundraising event at the mall that was a total disaster. He was front row at their first opening gig for a Midwest metal band, and front row at their opening gig for Ghost. He was backstage for their first headlining tour, in the studio when they recorded their first and second albums, and on the tour bus when he could miss work.

It only made sense that he was here for this.

He wanted him here for everything.

This wasn’t the first time he’d thought that, probably not even the hundredth. He’d wanted to marry Steve for years.

But Steve was focused on building his own career, and Eddie insisted that he do what he wanted to do no matter what Eddie did with his career.

It meant a lot of time apart, a lot of FaceTiming at weird hours of the day or night because it’s the only time their schedules would sync up, a lot of missing each other.

But they believed in their relationship the same way they believed in each other, and they kept making it work.

He had a ring. He bought it years ago. Wayne had it so Steve wouldn’t find it, but they’d already planned on him taking it with him on his next stop in Hawkins.

He let himself relax a bit. Had a glass of wine, then champagne, and a beer. Their category was almost the last of the night, so they were able to relax for a while.

Steve knew a lot of people in the industry because of his acting career, but he’d made it very clear tonight was about Eddie to anyone who tried to talk to him.

The night was long, longer than Eddie could really handle.

His nerves were through the roof and Steve had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

When their category was announced, Eddie nudged him awake gently.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m either about to be a Grammy winner or get a lot of great sympathy sex from you,” Eddie whispered in his ear as a camera guy settled in front of their table to get their reactions.

Steve was suddenly wide awake, the realization that this could be one of the biggest moments of their lives making him grip Eddie’s hand like a lifeline.

“And the winner for Best Metal Album is…” the announcer paused for dramatic effect. “Corroded Coffin with Reanimate!”

The whole room was cheering, but their table was going wild.

Steve jumped up the moment they said Corroded Coffin, jumping up and down and pulling Eddie up on his feet.

The next minute was a blur as they made their way to the stage, his boys surrounding him and clapping each other on the back excitedly.

They’d all worked hard for this, dealt with endless bullying in high school because their music was different, fought through the struggle of trying to appease bar owners and small town festival organizers with “softer” music so they could get in front of the right people. They spent thousands of dollars they realistically didn’t have to travel to places where metal was more welcome.

They had to take out personal loans to get studio time to record a demo and send it in to every record company they could think of.

Steve gave them 25% of his inheritance to buy their first tour bus because “it’s a good investment, and it’ll save money on hotels and eating out.”

When they got to the stage, Eddie realized that he’d have to speak.

Shit.

He’d kind of prepared a speech, but he also didn’t want to get his hopes up too much so he’d just let it go.

“Uh, wow. Okay. Thank you guys so much!” He started. He could just barely see the faces of everyone at their table, but Steve’s beaming smile was enough. “I didn’t prepare much other than that because I just didn’t think we would win. I know we’re talented and we work hard, but this is the biggest award you can win in the music industry and we still have a long way to go to really feel like we can even be in the same room as most of these talented musicians.”

He was killing it!

“I need to thank these guys up here with me, all the guys who work with us in the studio, everyone who makes tour possible, my Uncle Wayne, who probably is crying but won’t admit it when I talk to him later.” Everyone laughed. “But I have to thank Steve more than anything. I think the guys would agree he’s been the guy there for us through everything. He’s not just my boyfriend, he’s our first and biggest fan. Sorry to all the wives and future wife at our table.” More laughter. “I don’t know where we’d be without him, but I really don’t think I’d be who I am if not for the way he loves me, the way he’s always loved me. Even when it’s hard, even when we go months without being able to see each other, we find ways to make us work. We keep doing the damn thing even when the damn thing is hard. I didn’t plan to do this tonight, and Wayne is gonna kill me, but Stevie, sweetheart, I can’t go another day without knowing. Will you marry me?”

The room erupted into cheers, the guys on stage jumping up and down. He saw the camera guy zooming in on Steve’s reaction as they broadcast it on a screen by the stage.

But Eddie didn’t need the screen. He could see the tears streaming down Steve’s face as he cried, his smile bigger than life as he nodded.

“He said yes!” Jeff yelled.

The crowd cheered louder as Eddie handed the Grammy award to Gareth and ran down the stairs back to his table.

Steve jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around his waist.

Eddie’s hands immediately went to his thighs to support him, and Steve’s hands cupped his face.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Steve sobbed out.

“I can’t believe I haven’t done it earlier,” Eddie responded.

They kissed in front of the hundreds of people here and the possibly millions watching at home.

It was one of the best kisses they’d ever shared. The room around them went quiet, at least to them, as their lips moved against each other passionately, but with a gentleness they rarely had with each other anymore.

They pulled apart after a few more seconds, foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath.

Eddie gently let Steve down, using his thumbs to wipe away some of his tears and giving him a beaming smile.

“Wayne’s got the ring. I have a feeling he’ll be making us come for a visit very soon so I’ll put it on you then,” Eddie whispered.

The rest of the band had trickled back to the table to collect him for post-win interviews backstage, but he couldn’t go without one more kiss.

Steve gave it willingly, always giving love in whatever way he could.

“Okay, I gotta go answer some questions. We’ll be quick,” he said with one more kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“Love you. So proud of you,” Steve said as he pulled away.

“Love you so much!”

—---------------------------------------

Steve’s engagement ring glistened in the spotlight hitting their table at the Oscars.

The Oscars.

Steve Harrington, almost Munson, was sitting at the Oscars because he was nominated for two awards: Best Actor in a Drama and Best Actor in a Comedy.

Eddie was sitting next to him, somehow more nervous here than he was at the Grammys.

His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing up and down since they sat down 20 minutes ago. The other people at the table were luckily good friends and didn’t think anything of his anxiety.

Eddie never got nervous before shows, or interviews, or photoshoots, or even his award shows. But when it came to Steve, he was a nervous wreck.

Before auditions, before appearances, before red carpets. He was on edge whether he was with him or not.

Tonight was no different.

They’d had incredibly busy schedules after the Grammys, only seeing each once over the last three months. But Eddie had told his manager nearly six months ago that he would not miss this for any reason, that Steve supported him at all of his big events, and he wasn’t going to ask permission to support his fiance, he just was.

Except it turned into more of Steve supporting him as the night wore on, the realization that Steve could very well win both categories keeping Eddie strung out.

It was actually a little cute.

The comedy category was first, and he had tough competition. Anytime you’re going against people like Jonah Hill and the people at Disney you have to be ready to lose.

And he did lose. Well, Eddie kept saying “it’s not a loss, it’s just not a win”, which was really the same thing.

But Steve wasn’t as upset as he expected to be. Comedy wasn’t really his forte, he’d only done a handful of comedy movies and shows over the last few years, and none of them were major roles.

It was the drama he cared about.

He’d put his heart and soul into this film. It was regarded as the breakthrough queer film of the year, up for enough awards tonight to be considered an Oscar Sweep.

He never would have gotten here if not for the man next to him, so he could handle his nerves easily.

“Drama is next,” Eddie breathed out, his hand squeezing Steve’s knee.

“I know, baby.”

“What if you win? Oh my god, what if you don’t? No, no. You’ll win. This is your best work. Seriously, don’t know why I would ever think you wouldn’t.”

Steve smirked as the announcer started saying all the nominees’ names.

The camera focused on him was probably capturing a lot of Eddie’s mumbling under his breath, but luckily they weren’t mic’d up so it would be easy to explain away.

“The winner for Best Actor in a Drama…Steve Harrington!”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Steve I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel them. Or my arms. I think I might black out, oh my god,” Eddie immediately turned to him with tears in his eyes.

“Baby, I need you to help me on stage. My leg’s broken, remember?”

And that was a pain in the ass. His last role required some stunts and Steve was an idiot and insisted on trying one for himself. It didn’t go well and he’s lucky it was just a broken leg.

Steve kissed Eddie’s lips softly, quickly, to get him to focus.

“Right! Okay,” Eddie stood up and held his arm out for Steve, who was using a single crutch to get around this evening instead of two. “Off we go!”

Steve giggled, and nodded at people clapping as they passed them on their way to the stage. Eddie was so busy looking ahead, trying to get him to the final destination safely, he missed the announcer making a joke about Steve earning the drama award by breaking his leg.

When they got on stage, Steve stood at the mic while Eddie stood at the side of the stage. He was crying, much like Steve had when he got his Grammy award.

“Sorry for taking my sweet time. As you can see, I thought I was able to do what stunt actors do and forgot that they’re actually very in shape and talented.” The room laughed. “Hey, no laughing, I didn’t win in comedy.” More laughter, louder this time. “I have to thank everyone who worked on this film; It’s truly one of those films that will continue to change lives. It was the most difficult job I have ever had, and I am so grateful for everyone who gave me the chance to prove that I could do it. I’d like to thank all my kiddos, who aren’t kiddos anymore, for all yelling at me in the group chat when I almost turned this down because I didn’t think I could do it. My agent, who goes through a lot of amazing opportunities but always manages to find the perfect one.” Steve looked over at Eddie and let himself finally tear up a little. “And Eddie. Can’t forget that guy. My support, literally.” He saw Eddie snort out a laugh between his tears. “Would not be standing here without him and not just because he had to walk me up here. Every time I thought about giving up, he made me go to one more audition or read one more script. Every time I’ve not gotten an offer I really wanted, he’s been there to remind me that there’s something better coming along. Like this one. I’d been turned down for a show I really wanted the same day I sent in the audition tapes for this role. I cried for hours on the phone with Eddie and he told me, I’ll never forget his exact words, ‘You’re meant for better and better will find you.’ And it did. But the best is you, baby. You’re the better that is at the beginning and end of all my days. I could never work again and I’d still be the happiest guy in the world because you’re mine and you want me just as much as I want you. Eight years ago, I was closeted, telling myself that the way I felt when my best friend hugged me was just because he was my best friend. Now, I’m winning an Oscar for playing a queer man in a deeply moving film about finding love for yourself even when love from others isn’t an option. I’m marrying you, that best friend who probably knew exactly what he was doing when he hugged me. And I know I’m wearing your engagement ring, and we’ve already set a date and picked the cake, but I feel like I should ask. Eddie, you’re the only one who gets me at my best, and you also get me at my worst and still love me anyway. Will you marry me?”

He watched as Eddie’s brain ran through a million options at once, finally settling on joining him at the microphone.

He pulled him against his chest, hand against the back of his head.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, it’s a yes. Fuck, yes,” Eddie sobbed out.

The crowd was cheering, and the cameras were circling around the stage getting every angle of the moment that they could.

“Next time you’re on this stage accepting an award, you’ll be Steve Munson,” Eddie teased.

“It’s got a nice ring to it,” Steve said against his shoulder.

They pulled apart enough to kiss, much like they did at the Grammys: soft, passionate, but slow.

“Do you have a secret ring hiding at Wayne’s too?”

“No, no ring. Just wanted to show the world I love you as much as you love me.”

“Oh, so it’s to show off. Got it,” Eddie poked him in the side, smirking when he laughed. “Get your trophy before they kick us off the stage.”

Steve grabbed his award, waved to the crowd with one final thank you, and let Eddie help him off the stage.

They were getting married in three months, honeymooning in four. They’d just bought their first house together, spent the last seven years renting apartments wherever life took them. They started talking about taking a break after Corroded Coffin’s next tour and Steve’s next movie so they could start a family.

They had so much to look forward to.

But most importantly, they had the backseat of a limo entirely to themselves on the way back to the hotel.

If they left a $500 tip for cleaning after, it was their business.

[metallicaislife]

Birthday Boy

A/N: It is never too early to celebrate Cliff's birthday. Or just celebrate Cliff in general❤️

Requested by: Anon

Genre: 18+ mostly fluff with a smutty ending

Word Count: 1,246

Warnings: oral(m receiving), m x f pairing

The last thing I wanted to do was seem suspicious, like I was plotting something. Even though that is exactly what I was doing. 

Many weeks before Cliff’s birthday in the most nonchalant manor I asked if he had any plans for his birthday. 

“We have a show that night. Afterwards I’ll probably just go home and light a joint.” He shrugged. 

“That sounds like a nice chill birthday.” I replied. 

Cliff and I had been friends for years, and the past few months we’ve been more than friends. No label though, we’re just going with the flow. I still want to absolutely spoil him though. He doesn’t realize how much he truly means to me and the rest of the guys. 

That’s when I cooked up the best plan, and I was thankful the guys were on board to help. I was worried Lars would get too excited and ruin the surprise, but he hasn't, which is a goddamn miracle. 

My first surprise was executed with the help of his parents. Jan called me to tell me he was asleep and Ray brought Cliff’s car keys to me at the front door. I didn’t technically steal his car, I just happened to take it without him knowing. I took it to the gas station and filled it up so it would be full when he went to leave for the Metallimansion in the afternoon. I also popped a new tape he’d been talking about for a while in the cassette player, placing the cover in the glove box. 

My second surprise was going over to the Metallimansion a couple hours before he was due to arrive so I could make breakfast for lunch for him and the guys. I dipped before he arrived so I could keep on schedule to get the party after the show ready. 

While at home gathering the supplies I’d collected my phone rang. 

“Hello?” I answered. 

“Now I know the guys can make something in a jam, but they don’t make pancakes like you do. Why’d you leave?” Cliff’s voice came over the receiver. 

“I was going to stay, but I got called into work. I’m just finishing getting ready to go.” I lied. 

“From this house, someone from work called you here?” He pushed. 

“Yes, Susan has that number for emergencies if she can’t reach me at home.” Not a lie, it just wasn’t the truth in this case. 

“Alright. Well, will you be available tonight? I’m bummed you didn’t get to stay for lunch and I want to spend time with you today.” He said, making my heart skip a beat. 

“Yeah, I’ll be around.” I replied. 

“Good. Thanks for the gas and cassette by the way.” I could hear the grin in his voice. 

“Happy Birthday, Cliff.” I said smiling. 

“See you tonight.” He replied and hung up. I placed the phone on the hook and leaned against the wall with my hand over my heart. That man will be the death of me. 

The rest of the day went by quickly as I got everything in order. It was cheesy, and he might hate it but I decorated the Metallimansion, I had a little bit of help as some of his friends from other bands filtered in. 

His friends and I were just chilling. I checked the time and they would be home soon so we turned the lights off and hid. 

I could hear James, Kirk and Lars enter. 

“Why didn’t anyone flick on the lights?” Cliff asked, he turned the lights on, I jumped out with the few friends of his I had invited. 

“Surprise!” We shouted. 

Cliff stared at us, he began to smile wide, it even reached his eyes. So either he hated it and was pretending not to, or he was actually happy with this. 

“Thank you guys, this really means the world to me.” Cliff beamed. 

“Don’t thank us, it was all her.” Lars said, nodding to me. 

Cliff looked over, our eyes met. I couldn’t begin to describe the look in them. 

“Thank you.” He said again. 

“You mean a lot to us, all of us. Happy birthday Cliff.” I smiled sweetly at him. 

The party was well underway, everyone was chatting. Cliff seemed happy to see his friends. 

I was in the kitchen getting some water when arms snaked around my middle and a chin landed softly on my head. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Cliff asked. 

“It’s your party birthday boy.” I replied. 

“I’ve had my fill. I just wanna spend the rest of the night with you.” He said and nuzzled my head. 

“I gotta clean up.” 

“You've done so much, you planned all this and decorated. Let the guys take it down. Are you really going to deny me my birthday wish?” He said, giving my middle a squeeze. My cheeks heated up. 

“Okay, where to?” I asked 

“Your place.” He answered. 

“Your wish is my command. Let’s go.” I replied. His arms loosened, before I could get far he turned me and pulled me into him placing a tender kiss on my lips. 

“Thank you.” He smiled at me. 

“You’re welcome.” I replied, smiling back at him.

We slipped out the back, the drive to my place was quick. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself as we entered my room.

“Let me thank you properly.” He said as he nipped at my neck.

“Mmm, as nice as that sounds, you're the birthday boy and I want to celebrate your body.” I said. 

“That was so cheesy.” He laughed. 

“Shuddup you love it. Now sit.” I commanded. 

“Yes ma’am.” He said with a grin as he sat on the edge of my bed. I slowly took my clothes off leaving the lingerie set I’d bought for this occasion. Cliff’s eyes widened slightly, then he began to smirk. 

I knelt in front of him and unzipped his jeans. I reached in pulling out his cock rubbing it softly. Cliff groaned as I gave his tip a couple kitten licks. I licked from the base to the top a couple times before taking him in my mouth. He leaned back on his elbows as I began bobbing my head back and forth in a slow sensual manner. 

“Shit. Feels s’good.” He groaned, throwing his head back as his eyes closed. I started to move a bit faster. His hips started to move as he thrust into my mouth. My eyes were glossy as he repeatedly hit the back of my throat. He opened his eyes looking at me. 

“So goddamn beautiful, sucking me so well.” He praised me. He laid back, and his hand gripped my hair as he pushed my head down as far as I could go, he came down my throat. His grip on my hair loosened and I released his cock from my mouth. His chest heaved. I wiped the spit and cum that had dribbled out from my chin. 

“Come here.” He opened his arms. I crawled and laid in his arms. 

“Thank you for the best birthday, babe.” He murmured. 

“You’re welcome. You’re really special to me so I wanted to show you that.” I replied softly. 

“Mm you’re so sweet.” He kissed my forehead. “Can I ask for one more birthday wish?” He asked. 

“Of course.” I replied. 

“Will you let me drown between your thighs now?” He asked with a smirk. I giggled. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

[searchengine9000]

MINORS DO NOT LOOK!

or look at your own risk.

@fragileheartbeats, i got you covered, or atleast somewhat? I tried my best. If i didn't, well, i'll try again!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47000452/chapters/118402783

Does have smut, isn't /reader, but also a lot of the traits that you wanted, with BOTH sides being all Yandere for eachother, with fluff and juicy lore. It's finished, but the author has already planned the sequel.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53940505/chapters/136534723

Daemon Targaryen/self-insertish Rhea Royce,

Not really what you wanted, but i really like this one.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53542741/chapters/135528010

Daemon/Self-insert Alicent

Really good with a possessive Daemon, but slowburn, not yet there even with this many chapters.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42665391/chapters/107174721

Searching, so much SMUT i feel your pain.

But Reader Reincarnation yadda yadda, Yandere Full House.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42974196

Promising..? Aemond/you, one shot. No smut from a quick read through.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50267380

Zhongli/you, one shot

Veeerrrryyy slight yandere. But still there, and no smut.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37551709

Zhongli/you, one shot.

Hinted bad ending.

Also, a general hint, SAGAU, (Self-Aware Genshin Alternative Universe) has a lot of obsessive dark x reader shit. The whole shebang is almost fully obsessive shit. On both AO3 and Tumblr.

General hint 2, from Manhwa i recommend The Way to Protect the Female Leads older Brother search on Ao3. Lots of smut, but some hidden gems. Easy, cuz the whole family of Agriche is MENTAL. Gorgeous art tho.

Hope this helped.

-Signed: SearchEngine9000 & V.

Ps: i skipped some of the fandoms in your tags when searching for what you wanted, i know nothing about bluelock or COD, harry potter skipped cuz it was last and i forgot, Slashers skipped because i forgot it meant the killer-band of guys and not the american name for a yandere, Obey Me you only need to go to settings and place #Smut on your excluding filter on either AO3 or Tumblr and bada-bing bada-boom, and that's already so MANY to look through.

[hellishchrissy]

hello random gareth/el thought: el experimenting with hairstyles and trying them all out on gareth. her favorite look is definitely the pigtails, she just thinks he looks so sweet 💕

that is all

It's a pretty nice Saturday afternoon, one of those first days of spring that actually feel warm on your skin, and the sunshine is no longer accompanied by a cold breeze. Summer of 1989 is fast approaching, its first rays of light filtering in through the windows of Gareth's mother's garage.

He's back from college for spring break, and though there has been many promises made to his mother about the garage getting cleaned, it's as much of a disaster as before – if not worse. Gareth has assured her, over and over, that this time he’d get to it. Instead, the place is a chaotic mess of empty beer bottles, tangled cables and music gear.

And it’s not like Gareth has a chance to focus on playing his drums for an entire week straight when he’s away at college – he’d barely scraped through his midterms, and a dorm room isn’t exactly a place where you haul a drum set with you.

So here he is now, sitting on his worn-down stool, headphones over his ears while trying to nail down the drums of a Metallica song that’s been looping on his Walkman for the last twenty minutes. His dark brows are furrowed in concentration, head bobbing to the beat, a drop of sweat on his forehead as his hands fly over the drums. But every now and then he misses a beat, and quiet curses fall off his lips. He rewinds the tape.

As if the song itself isn’t challenging enough, there’s another distraction making him miss a beat here and there: El’s standing behind him, her slender fingers in his hair as he plays. Her hands are separating his curls with methodical precision, tugging and grazing at his neck in a way that makes it hard to even hear the song blaring in his ears. She’d done this before – probably hundreds of times – but it’s always a distraction. Today, more so than usual. Her cool fingers send jolts down his spine, making it damn near impossible to keep time.

“El,” Gareth murmurs, tearing the headphones off his ears in a hasty movement. He lens back his head so that he can look up at her standing behind his stool. “You’re distracting me.”

El grins when their eyes meet, but her fingers don’t pause their braiding. “But it looks so good, Gare. You could wear your hair like this at the gig next week.”

Gareth snorts, shaking his head against her hands. A grin tugs at his lips. “Babe, I don’t need to look good for a metal crowd. I just need to be able to play the drums.”

Which sure as fuck is impossible right now, with the way her touch is electrifying his veins.

“You can do both,” El teases, fingers still deftly working over the last section of curls.

Gareth lets out little laugh, low and rough. “You’re seriously overestimating my multitasking abilities here.”

El doesn’t respond, but merely gives him the soft, knowing smile she’s perfected during the years, the one that makes Gareth’s chest warm with affection despite the fact that he’s been lucky enough to witness that damn smile for over two years now. For a moment he just sits there, the headphones hanging loosely around his neck, listening on to El’s quiet humming as her fingers twist his curls—

The drumsticks clatter onto the floor.

And before he can even think twice, Gareth shifts on the stool, twisting around enough to snake an arm around the unsuspecting girl’s waist. He pulls her sideways onto his lap, his other arm wrapping around her to steady her some more. A surprised yelp falls from El’s lips as she falls against him, landing with a quiet little thud. Gareth’s left hand settles instinctively on her thigh, holding her steady as she looks up at him with a laugh that lights up her brown eyes.

“Gare, no, you’re all sweaty—“

“And you’re evil,” Gareth murmurs, leaning downwards. El’s wearing an old band t-shirt of his, worn and stretched out from washing, and the sight of it makes his heart skip a little beat.

El grins up a him, her arm making its way around his neck to pull Gareth downwards. “Am I distracting you now?”

A grin mirroring El’s tugs at Gareth’s lips, his heart thumping against his ribs. “You have no idea,” he mutters.

Gareth’s hand moves up and down her thigh in a way that makes El shiver, his ring-clad fingers brushing against the denim of her shorts. It’s something he’s done hundreds of times before, the gesture familiar, comforting and so, so distracting. El’s breath hitches the way it often does when Gareth’s touch is a little too casual; she swats his hand away with a laugh, her gesture playful.

“You’re trying to get the song right, remember?” She says, her voice soft but firm. Her brown eyes narrow.

Gareth groans, over-dramatic. His forehead drops against her shoulder, the softened fabric of her t-shirt brushing against his cheek. “Yeah well, maybe I care about you more than I care about Metallica.”

El grins, shaking her head. She pushes against his chest with her hand. “Don’t even try. You’re obsessed with Metallica.”

“Well, yes, but I’m obsessed with you more,” he says, half-serious, half-teasing, his light eyes twinkling.

His words make El laugh, her body vibrating in Gareth’s arms. Her hands grab the collar of his flannel, pulling him downwards and onto her lips.

Gareth is grinning against her mouth.

El lingers for a bit before pulling back. “Get back to work,” she commands, her fingers giving his brown curls – now already falling out of the untied braids – a playful tug before she hops off his lap.

Gareth’s eyes follow her, and he wipes a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He bends down to pick up the sticks from the floor. “You’re killing me, Hopper.”

“Maybe you’re just getting rusty.”

Gareth laughs, tilting his head back. “Rusty, huh? Sure, babe. That’s what this is.”

El throws her an amused glance over her shoulder. Gareth pulls the headphones over his ears again, rewinding the familiar song on the Walkman. Metallica’s trashing riffs fill his ears, far too loud for his own good. And though he tears his gaze away from El and forces himself to focus on the drums, he can still feel her touch lingering on his skin. Distracting him, her laugh still echoing in his ears, drowning out the song blaring from the headphones.

God help him, he’s gonna fuck up the song again.

[canadiannationalfox]

Murder Drones - Vizzy fanfic - Pink Lemonade Juul

The fairly popular worker drone walked down the hallways away from the science lab, her blonde ponytail swung with each step. She knew the school rules were to not use a cellphone, so she went around the corner to where the cameras had blindspots before she took out her phone. She text to her newest close galpal, "Go 2 the stairs by band class," before she put her phone away, she was lucky she had a spare phone since her favourite pink one was in some cave somewhere like 40 feet down underground since the Cyncident. She heard a notification and pulled her phone back out to see a message from V only reading ;)

She smirked as she saw the little (...) pop up indicating her prom date was texting back.

"K, cya" the words popped up.

Lizzy sauntered down the stairs happily before adjusting the bow on her hat to make sure she looked cute as the bell rang for clas.

V hung upside down from the stairs outside of the band practice room. She greeted snarkily, "There's the bitch of the hour."

"Guilty as charged, Queen Vee," the blonde worker drone student greeted back before she began to gossip, "So like.. what's the deal with you and N and the emo girl?"

V got off the ceiling, and extended her claws as she landed, making marks in the steel floors. She smirked, "I mean, it's something, but I kinda like hanging with you, hey sorry about Doll again."

Lizzy shrugged a little, she was sad that Doll was gone, she shuffled closer to V and rested her head on the disassembly drone girl's shoulder, "Like... it's whatever... I'm just glad you're around, ok?"

The silver haired usually wild girl retracted her claws and gently rubbed the blonde girl's back soothingly. She wasn't super good at being emotionally supportive but, she wanted to be a bit better.

Lizzy took out of her crop top a neon pink vape and took a drag from it before exhaling.

"You know that's really bad for you right?" V interjected.

"Okay, Mom, since when do I have human lungs?" the pink eyed drone clapped back snarkily.

V crossed her arms and responded more seriously, "like, you really want me to cut out your internal filter to show you how bad it is for your components?"

Lizzy held her pink vape like it was a cigarette, taking a strong inhale from it with her internal compressor, rolling her eyes as she asked, "Do you even know how good it tastes?"

V was about to speak when she was suddenly was kissed passionately by Lizzy.

Lizzy broke the passionate kiss and licked her lips slightly before smiling cheekily. She teased to the now blushing V, "It's strawberry lemonade flavour, bitch."

V's right LED eye twitched a little, either it was the nicotine messing with her circuits, the taste was enjoyable or it was kinda hot to kiss Lizzy, or a mix of all of it. She scoffed playfully as she wrapped her injector tail around the bossy popular drone, "You call that a kiss? No, let me show you how it's done!" V put her arms around Lizzy before she kissed Lizzy deeply, their tongues wrapped together as they frenched.

Lizzy pulled V in closer, her arms around the taller drone's hips, she hummed slightly in the kiss.

V's right hand found it's way up to Lizzy's chest and she rested it there, feeling the slight warmth from her gal-pal's core.

They broke their kiss at the sound of hearing someone walking down the stairs.

Lizzy fixed her hat and sat back beside V on the stairs as she took another puff of her vape.

It was Mr Liam, he looked at the two girls and asked, "Shouldn't you two be in biology?"

Lizzy scoffed back as she held her vape once again like a cigarette, "Aren't you supposed to be teaching biology?"

Mr Liam took out a flask from his sweater vest and admitted in his dull, tired voice, "I'm not paid enough to care," before taking a big swig of coolant.

V laughed a little as she remarked, "Look at that, even the teacher is skipping class."

Lizzy groaned, "Now it's not fun, V-girl. Let's get out of here." She stood up before helping V off the steps. She twirled her vape playfully before sticking it into V's mouth. She stuck her tongue out playfully to her disassembly drone crush and giggled, "Come on, let's go somewhere else."

V shrugged as she walked along side Lizzy, she couldn't help but chew a little on the vape.

Lizzy heard this and scolded with a laugh, "If you break my vape, I'm going to get my dad to dock your grades."

V teased back as she handed the vape back, "Gay little bitch say what?"

"What?"

V stuck her tongue out at Lizzy before responding matter-of-factly, "Exaaaactly, now let's go to the band room and hit each other with those boom-wacker sticks."

"lol, weirdo, but let's do it!" Lizzy trilled as she followed V along.

The End

PSA: DO NOT VAPE, ITS BAD FOR YOU, YOU'RE NOT A ROBOT!

[supersaiyanjedi14]

Life Day at the Ale House

For @sabezra-life-day-celebration. A late addition, but my creative juices were frozen this week. But, better late than never!

XX

Ezra pulled his jacket closer around his body as the wind picked up.  Contrary to what some would believe, growing up on the streets had not made him "used" to the winter cold, it had simply knocked into his skull that it was lousy.  Between the frigid temperature, the light dusting of snow starting to fall, and now the stronger wind that decided to start blowing, this quick supply run into town with Sabine had gradually gone from tedious to aggravating.  Though he couldn't see her face beneath the helmet (reminding him that he should really start wearing them in the winter now that he had gotten around to fixing the filters), Ezra could both tell from her posture and feel through the Force that she wasn’t faring much better. Each step she took had the remnants of a shiver to them, traveling down her arms to rattle the boxes and bags they were dragging back to the ship. 

Fortunately, not being used to the cold did not mean that experience hadn’t taught him when to pick up on limits. He called ahead to his Mandalorian companion. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Freezing.” she muttered. “The sooner we get to the speeders, the better.” 

“We’re still...” Ezra paused for a moment before checking his transmitter. What he saw made him curse under his breath. 

“What?” 

“Still eight blocks to go.” 

Sabine swung around, nearly smacking him with her merchandise. “Seriously?!” she snapped, though her clearly chattering teeth made it sound like a shriek. 

“Hey,” Ezra defended, “you were the one who insisted we keep them hidden somewhere and enter on foot.” 

“That was before we had a blizzard to walk thorugh!” 

Ezra was about to snark back with how this was tame compared to what he had seen before, but one look at the sky and the darkening clouds told him to skip it. This weather was bound to get worse in no time, and no amount of seat heating on the speeders would make them any less miserable. 

“Want to wait it out somewhere?” 

“Normally I’d want to get back to the ship quickly,” Sabine chattered, “but this time I’m inclined to agree.” 

“Alright, let’s find-” he cut himself off as his eyes caught a sign. “Ah, here!” 

“Here?” Sabine questioned as she followed his gaze. 

Millar’s Tavern, est. 3230 LY 

“Yeah,” said Ezra, “Transmitter’s more than strong enough to get through this storm. We’ll go inside, warm up, get ahold of Hera, and wait it out.” 

Sabine shrugged and followed his lead. “You know this place?” 

“Yeah, my...” Ezra stopped himself briefly before continuing. “My dad used to stop by here all the time after work.” As much as he had come to trust and rely on the Ghost crew, talking about his parents was still a touchy subject for him. Luckily, Sabine understood and didn’t press the matter. 

- 

The moment they stepped inside, it was like they had been teleported to another planet. in contrast to the bleak dullness of the cold outside, the tavern was full of light and warm color. The wooden tables and booths scattered around were all a rich varnished brown, matching with the bar at the center of the room. Lights shining behind illuminated the bottles and their contents, adding a collection of color to the setting. The room was toasty and warm, a powerful heating unit glowing in what had undoubtedly been a fireplace before the advent of modern technology. The tantalizing smell of food and drink wafted through the air like a summer breeze. Apparently, Ezra hadn’t been the only one intent on this location to escape the cold, as plenty of patrons were crammed around, the atmosphere thick loud talk and laughter. Across from the fireplace, a small band was adding cheerful folk music to the mix, some of the patrons singing along merrily. 

Sabine couldn’t help but smile at the sight. For a planet that was getting as thoroughly picked over by the Empire, the fact that this kind of revelry was still possible never failed to make her happy. Pulling off her helmet, her face was assaulted by the rush of warm air and delicious smells unrestricted by the beskar’s filters. Her momentary trance was broken when she heard alight snicker to her side. 

“What?” she asked. 

Ezra let out a lopsided grin. “Nothing,” he said. “Your cheeks were just redder than your armor for a second. Cold, much?” 

“Oh, ha ha.” Sabine groaned at her partner's antics and stepped inside, marching up to the seating booth. “Table for two.” she said to the purple-skinned Houk behind the monitor. 

“Alrighty, if you’ll just follow-” the hulking alien’s words stopped in his throat when he looked up, for the first time noticing who had stepped up. “Ezra? Little Ezra?” 

Ezra rolled his eyes as he slung his jacket over his arm. “Can you not call me that, Fogar? I’m fifteen for crying out-” 

The old man, Fogar apparently, laughed it off and came around the booth, slapping Ezra around the shoulder with an arm the size of a stabilizer. “Ah, I'm just givin’ ya grief, son! It’s been too long!” His voice was just as lively as the rest of the establishment as he steered Ezra towards a booth near the fire, Sabine following closely. “Yer certainly not that little anymore. Look at ya! More like yer old man than ever!” 

Ezra chuckled, “Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot.” 

‘Okay,’ she thought, ‘this is going good.’ She’d been half-afraid that their age would get them steered somewhere else. 

"And look! Ya even brought yourself a girlfriend here!” 

Sabine nearly tripped over a chair and dropped her helmet with an audible clank. Her face began to heat up with something that had nothing to do with the tavern’s heated air. “Whoa, whoa!” she barked, keeping her voice level despite her embarrassment. “I’m not his-” 

“Ah, sure you’re not,” Fogar replied with sarcasm so thick a lightsaber couldn’t cut it. “That’s just what his dad said when his ma first-” 

“She’s not!” Ezra cut in, himself clearly embarrassed by the older man’s implications though not as successful at hiding it. “it’s not like that. We’re just here to warm up a bit and borrow your booster to get ahold of our ship. The storm’s gonna keep us here a bit.” 

Fogar laughed heartily. “Alright, boy. No need to get embarrassed.” He gestured to a small room cut into the wall. “Comm station’s over there. I’ll tell Mill yer here and get ya the access code. In the meantime, I’ll get ya kids something to bite. It’s on the house.” 

“Oh, no,” Ezra cut in, “You don’t have-” 

“C’mon, ya know Mill won’t force anything out of ya. ‘Sides, Life Day only comes once a year, right?” 

Sabine’s eyes widened a bit as she looked around. She hadn’t even noticed it before, and they’d been so busy as of late that she hadn’t been focusing on the calendar. Sure enough, lights were strung up along the bar and great wreaths of Lothal holly were hung up along the walls. Now paying attention to the band playing off to the side, she now recognized the distinct holiday tunes they were performing. Curiously, she checked her crono. Sure enough, it was only a week from Life Day. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, “I guess it does.” 

- 

“At least the two of you are out of the weather.” Hera said with a look of relief. Millar’s transmitter may not have been anything to write home about by Imperial standards, but it was more than powerful enough to cut through the blizzard that had descended. Hera and Kanan’s images barely even flickered despite the sheering winds and snow outside. 

“I just hope the speeders aren’t damaged.” Ezra groaned as he took a sip of steaming hot cider. “I still remember last time...” 

“Forget about it,” Kanan interrupted. “Anyone would be fool to go out in this. The two of you just stay put for now. If this doesn't blow over within the hour, we’ll come and get you. Use your emergency beacon if anything happens before then.” 

“Got it. Spectre 6 out.” 

Killing the transmission, Ezra reclaimed his mug and returned to the booth. Sabine was thoughtfully chewing on a breaded rycrit strip that Fogar had brought out while tapping her foot to the music. Her musings came to an end when the young Jedi took his seat. 

“Well?” 

“They told us to stay put,” he replied, his fingers spearing a rycrit strip for himself. “They’ll come and get us if this dosen’t blow over in an hour.” 

“Eh, not that I’m complaining,” Sbaine smiled to the festive air around them. “I could get used to this.” Ezra smiled himself and watched as the patrons continued to eat, drink, sing and laugh. “To think we almost forgot all about Life Day.” 

Ezra deflated a bit as the words hit him. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Sabine turned to him, her smile faltering as she noticed his change in attitude. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Ezra sighed. “Well, Life Day’s supposed to be about everyone being together, right? Ever since my parents disappeared, I’ve been on my own. Not really much point in celebrating alone, right?” Ezra wasn’t looking for sympathy points or anything, he was just stating facts. Still, Sabine’s sad look at the remark did make him feel a little guilty for being a downer. 

“Well, you’re not alone now, right?” Sabine scooted over toward him. “You’ve got us now.” 

A smile returned to Ezra’s face. “Yeah, I guess I-” 

“ALRIGHT, PEOPLE!” A loud voice startled the pair as they looked towards the bar. Millar himself, a large middle-aged human with a scruffy gray beard, and come to the forefront, a mug held high in his hand. “Here’s one for all here! Join on in, I promise we won’t throw you out even if it’s bad!” 

“Even if the glass breaks?” 

Laughter filled the room at the remark, including the propriator, his laugh full and boisterous. “That be the one exception, but everything else goes!” He turned to the band. “Hit it, boys!” 

With that, the band began an upbeat tune that reverberated through the building. The patrons began to rise from their seats and stamp their feet to the music. Ezra and Sabine looked at each other, unsure of whether to join in, when Millar began to sing. 

“It's Life Day at the ale house, And the atmosphere is cheery. 

Holly boughs and candles Brighten up the dark and dreary. 

 We sit and crack with glass in hand And celebrate the season. 

We drink to health and happiness, Or any other reason.” 

Millar raised his mug high up, prompting the rest of the establishment to join in. 

“So here's to the company, 

And here's to you and me! 

Oh, merry is the season, boys, 

And merry we will be!” 

 Suddenly, the whole establishment was up on their feet, singing along and stamping their feet in tune with the music. Ezra let out a small laugh at the turn of events, turning to see Sabine had an identical expression on her face. Before either could comment, Fogar, with all his Houk bulk, barreled through the room, continuing to sing as he called out various people in the crowd. 

“There's doctors and there's farmers, There's teachers and there's tailors, 

There's lawyers and there's carpenters, There's soldiers and there's jailers! 

 We join with one another there In revelry and folly. 

The Life Day spirit's high For we shun all melancholy!” 

 “So here's to the company, 

And here's to you and me! 

Oh, merry is the season, boys, 

And merry we will be!” 

 Without even realizing it, Ezra had found himself singing along with the verse, stomping his glass on the table and tapping his feet. He couldn’t help himself, it was infectious. 

“All the fiddlers and the pipers, They've got the rafters ringing, 

With jigs and reels to make you dance And carols for the singing! 

 Goodwill and friendship does abound, There's love and praise aplenty. 

Especially for the one who buys When the glass is empty!” 

 This time, when the bar erupted in chorus, the Loth-rat padawan was right up with them. 

“So here's to the company, 

And here's to you and me! 

Oh, merry is the season, boys, 

And merry we will be, ooh!” 

Above all the noise, Ezra heard a more distinct laugh behind him. Turning, he saw Sabine trying to hold in her giggles as she pushed her drink aside. 

“What?” he asked, a mix of offense and teasing in his voice. 

Sabine just laughed again. “You were all grumpy a second ago, and now you’re up on your feet with this ruckus.” 

“I was not grumpy!” 

“You so were!” 

“Alright, miss Mandalore,” Ezra challenged, “let’s see you do better!” 

Sabine’s face slackened a bit, “Me?” se questioned. “I’m not sure...” 

“C’mon!” 

“But-” 

“C’mon!” 

“Ezra!” 

Despite her protests, Sabine was smiling when Ezra pulled her to her feet, joining in with the excitement as Millar and Fogar began the next verse. 

“Oh well, the landlord said ‘drink up now, For the evening's almost over. 

The night is cold and deep with snow, But the moon will guide the rover. 

 Put on your coats and head for home, And come back when you're able.’ 

Says, "I will not be leaving While there's drink upon the table!"” 

 “So here's to the company, 

And here's to you and me! 

Oh, merry is the season, boys, 

And merry we will be!” 

By now the tavern had erupted into full swing. No longer content with bouncing in place, some were beginning to pair up and dance around the room. Despite himself, Ezra couldn’t help but hoot and holler along with the others as certain couples began to move around, a particularly humorous pairing of an Ithorian and Aqualish catching their attention. Sabine’s own laughter brough him back to her, reminding him of something that had surprised him. Sabine turned out to have a wonderful singing voice. Granted, the bar was kind of low given they were singing in time with a drinking song at a backwater tavern, but he was certain it would have stood out anywhere else. 

Ezra cracked a smile. “Some party, huh?” 

Sabine merely smirked. “Hey, good food, good music, good company. What’s not to like?” 

Ezra chuckled in reply. “I guess there are worse Life Days.” He turned to her questioningly. “THey do anything like this on Mandalore?” 

“Well, we kind of- AH!” 

Before Sabine could answer, a dancing patron bumped her forward- right into Ezra’s arms. Suddenly, the two teenagers found themselves embraced in the middle of an impromptu dance floor. For a moment, Ezra’s face warmed considerably, and Sabine’s expression was telling him just as much was coming from her. The next moment, before either could respond, another swing of dancers came flying in, forcing the pair to move together to avoid being run over. And yet another moment later, they found themselves not only moving away from incoming patrons, but in time with the music. 

‘Am I...am I dancing with Sabine?’ 

Ezra and Sabine didn’t have time to piece together what was happening next, since the song returned in full force. 

“Now the landlord is a fine man, We've come to that conclusion. 

But his old wife, she threw us out And put an end to boozin'.” 

The laughter to the line shook all distracting thoughts from Ezra’s mind, and when he looked at Sabine again, she was shaking off her own laugh and smiling herself. 

“So fare thee well my comrades, All these parting bring such sorrow. 

Well, I count each lonely hour 'Til we meet again tomorrow!” 

 With that, the bar erupted in song again, and Ezra and Sabine were under no illusions about anything. Be it their singing or their dancing. 

“So here's to the company 

And here's to you and me! 

Oh, merry is the season, boys 

And merry we will be!” 

 “So here's to the company 

And here's to you and me! 

Oh, merry is the season, boys 

And merry we will be!” 

With that, the song came to an end, and the tavern erupted in cheers. Tankards were raised, dance partners were hoisted into the air, credit chips were tossed into the hat at the band’s feet. 

And Ezra and Sabine? They were too busy coming down from the sudden high, catching their breath, and laughing at the holiday revelry they had enjoyed. 

- 

As luck would have it, the storm broke soon afterwards. Despite Fogar’s insistence on covering their refreshments, Ezra and Sabine paid and left a generous tip before taking their leave. The snow had fallen considerably in the short hour, but the speeders were still functional enough to get them back to the Ghost without any trouble. Once Kanan and Hera were done fussing over them, the two were quick to make their way to the refresher and their warm bunks. 

“Not that tonight wasn’t fun,” Sabine mused, “but I’m happy to call it a night.” 

Ezra scoffed. “No kidding. Plus, I doubt Zeb’s singing will be anywhere as good.” 

Sabine let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, you have no idea! This one time he tried it and we swore something died around here.” 

“You don’t say?” 

Before Sabine could continue the story, a series of warbles caught her ear. Turning around, a familiar ramshackle orange astromech rolled towards them, his binary holding a questioning tone. 

“Nothing happened, Chopper. Ezra and I just had to wait out the storm.” 

A low, sarcastic beep was the droid’s response. 

“What do you mean, ‘sure you were’?” Ezra retorted. “What’s that supposed-” 

Without warning, something shot out from Chopper’s dome and affixed itself to the ceiling. Momentarily taken aback, Sabine’s hand reached for her blaster, only to turn her attention to whatever Chopper had shot out. A small bundle of leaves with tiny white berries was hanging above her and Ezra’s heads. Her eyes narrowed, then her cheeks started to warm. “Are those...Viscum shrub leaves?” 

“Yeah,” Ezra said hesitantly, “and we’re...under...” His face took on a glare as he whipped around towards Chopper. The droid laughing enthusiastically at his little prank before rolling away. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Ezra called out. “Where do you think you’re going?!” His words were angry and accusatory, but his tone was laced with flusterment, just as much as Sabine herself was feeling. Chopper kept snickering at Ezra’s expense. “Why, you lousy little rust bucket! You can’t just shoot viscum into the ceiling on top of someone! What if they don’t want-” he broke off, turning back to Sabine as he kept stammering, “I mean, not that you don’t want to, but you don’t have to! I’d never make someone-” 

Ezra’s ramble went unfinished. His whole voice died for a moment as a pair of lips pressed themselves into his cheek. Sabine only gave a warm smile before turning back to her room. 

“Happy Life Day, Ezra Bridger.” 

XX

Song I used. It ain't Christmas without the Irish Rovers!

[lilypadlys]

Mushy May Day Eleven - Papa Time

Ship: Copia/Ghouls

Notes: Prompt list by @forlorn-crows. See prompt list here

Word Count:  1177

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Today was just going to be one of those days. Copia sighs to himself running through his mental checklist of the tasks that had to get done. The post tour grace period has long since ended and there is so much to do.

Make sure the altar in the chapel is stocked with incense, candles, and other necessities for mass, taking confession, band practice, and the never ending stacks of paperwork. Add on personal tasks like cleaning out his rats’ cage and tidying his own room and it quickly begins to feel impossible to get done. To top it all off, his physical checklist of the day’s tasks has gone missing so now he’s relying on memory to make sure it all gets done.

“Papa has a busy day today.” He explains to his rats. “But I’ll make sure to clean out your cage this afternoon miei cari.” He bids his rats farwell and heads to the chapel.

On the way in, Copia practically runs into Swiss and Rain on their way out.

“Good morning Papa!” Swiss greets enthusiastically while Rain nods in more sedate greeting.

“Good morning my ghouls. You’re up early.” He adds, mostly to Rain.

The water ghoul shrugs.

“Swiss drug me out of bed. ”

“Hmm, there’s more coffee in the kitchens.”

Even with his mask on Copia can see Rain’s excitement from the way his shoulders perk up. And the way he starts tugging Swiss in that general direction.

“I’ll see you at practice then.” Copia calls after them with a chuckle.

He heads to the altar and opens the cabinets underneath ready to start tallying supplies only to find them fully stocked. The altar itself is also freshly tidied with new candles ready to be lit and fresh roses sitting in a vase on its surface.

“Huh.”

Maybe a sibling or one of the cardinals took care of it after mass last week. At least that's one thing out of the way. Now finding himself with a bit of time before confession, Copia takes the opportunity to light a candle pray in the meditative silence of the empty chapel.

That’s how Mountain finds him a little while later. The earth ghoul silently joins him in prayer for a few minutes before they both rise.

“Hello Papa. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Of course not my ghoul. The chapel is open to all at any time.”

“You’re taking confession today right?”

“That’s right. Was there anything you wanted to discuss?”

“Actually, I know things have started to get really busy for you again. If it helps, would you like me to take over confession duty today?”

“Grazie, that’s very sweet of you. I appreciate it.” Copia gives Mountain’s arm a soft pat.

As siblings start to filter in, Copia heads back to his chambers. Perhaps with the extra time he can give his rats baths as well. To his surprise he finds Cirrus, Cumulus, and Aurora waiting outside his door.

“Hi Papa! I wanted to finally meet your rats!” Aurora chirps and how can Copia say no to that smile nor the chance to show off his babies.

“Haha alright. They’d love to meet you too.”

The four of them head in and Aurora skips to the cage on Copia’s dresser.

“Hi!” She waves a finger at them and they run up to the wire to say hello in little squeaks. “What’s their names?”

As Copia introduces Feta, Cheddar, Gouda, and Brie, Cirrus and Cumulus get the bathroom ready for a rat spa day. The ghoulettes settle into a rhythm of cleaning off and drying each rat. The girls disappear to the bedroom to rat sit while Copia finishes cleaning and resetting the cage. By the time he returns, Aurora has managed to teach the rats a choreographed dance which the four of them watch in delight.

Finally they’re done, the rats back in the cage, and Copia having the distinct sense that his room feels tidier somehow. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it though as it’s time for band practice.

As a group, Copia and the ghoulettes head to the practice rooms. They find the rest of the pack on time and ready to get started, a surprisingly rare occurrence. Aether and Sunshine are even there and things quickly turn into an impromptu jam session. It’s a blast, everyone taking turns as solos on their various instruments and just generally being silly. It’s a mood boost that they all needed and they all feel giddy afterwards.

As they go to pack up, Sunny and Aether duck out, but Phantom approaches Copia.

“Hey Papa. We were wondering if you wanted to join us for movie night tonight?”

“I’d love to!” Copia is quick to agree but then frowns. “Ah, but I have mounds of paperwork waiting for me…”

“Okay, no problem. Feel free to join us if you finish early though.”

The pack heads off to their wing and Copia to his office. He’s been running on a pretty good mood most of the day but the dark cloud of paperwork threatens to dampen it. Until it doesn’t. Copia opens his office door to find the stack of paperwork he knew was waiting for him missing.

“Eh?”

A quick scan of the office reveals the desk to be tidy and organized even though he knows he left it a mess and his papers are nowhere to be found. Wonderful. Now he’s going to have to explain to Sister Imperator that not only is his paperwork not done but also that he lost it.

When he reaches her office however it’s to find her reviewing the offending documents.

“Hello dear. Need something?”

“Eh, uh, hello Sister. It's that…my paperwork?”

“Yes? Two of your ghouls brought it over just now. I must say the pink sparkly pens are an interesting touch,” She holds a page aloft to let him see the neat but very much pink lines of writing. “But everything seems to be in order.”

“Uh, my other pens went missing…”

“Make sure you add some new ones to the supply list then.” Imperator waves him out and Copia finds himself standing outside her office very confused.

At least he can attend movie night after all.

He heads to the ghoul wing to find the pack settling in in the common room. The scent of freshly popped popcorn wafts in from the kitchen and the title menu of The Shining plays on the TV.

The pack makes various chipper noises of greeting and wave him over to the center couch. Dewdrop brings several large bowls of popcorn in. Pretty soon he’s surrounded by his ghouls as they curl up to watch the movie.

“Everyone ready?” Aether asks.

Copia takes the chance to ask, “You all didn’t happen to plan this did you?”

Swiss smiles coyly. “Whatever do you mean Papa?”

The rest of the pack grins freely though, basically giving themselves away.

Copia smiles. “Nothing. Nevermind. I appreciate you all, my ghouls.”

Various expressions of appreciation from the pack are the reply.

[flamboyantly-incompetent]

OoTP, Chapter 6 - Brooms at Christmas

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: none?

Masterlist

Word Count: ~4,100

Note: a soft, friendly chapter for the Christmas season

The last day of term before Christmas holiday trudged on miserably, refusing to end. A few lucky, older students who had no classes on Fridays had been permitted to leave early, filtering out in waves. There was no such luck for fourth year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, as the last class they had to suffer through was possibly the worst imaginable.

You got to Defense Against the Dark Arts early, having skipped breakfast to write your mum. The excitement from the previous DA meeting had worn off, but you still took the opportunity to chat with other students before Umbridge got a chance to dampen the holiday spirit. Colin Creevey had arrived early as well, but his mouth was set into a hard line, suggesting something had already gotten to him.

"Happy Christmas, Colin," you said. "Any plans for the holiday?" He didn't answer, clearly lost in thought. Behind you, Donna, Yvette and Herbert trailed in. "Colin?"

Herbert clapped him on the back on his way to his seat across the aisle from you. "Hey, Creevey. You walk through a ghost on the way here?"

"Huh?"

"Everything ok?"

"You didn't hear?"

Yvette frowned. "Hear what?"

Colin looked around at the otherwise empty room. "All the Weasleys and Harry Potter left yesterday. Ginny's dad's at St. Mungo's."

"What?"

He nodded. "They didn't say much, but it sounds bad. They said he was attacked by something."

"Some thing?"

He nodded again. More people filed into the classroom to take their seats. Colin refused to say any more, which was lucky because Umbridge herself was even earlier than usual, lips pursed like she had an acid pop stuck under her tongue. The horrendous pink bow on top of her head jiggled as she strutted up the aisle to her desk. She didn't make eye contact with anyone, but rather sat down, pulled a compact mirror from her handbag, and began primping her hair.

The bell rang and she stood, face still sour, and said, "Good afternoon, wands away."

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class chanted back, devoid of enthusiasm. Not that anyone had held out any hope since the second week of term.

The corners of her mouth pulled up tightly, apparently satisfied, and she sat back down to keep a watchful eye. "Today we'll be reading chapter seventeen. There will be no need to talk."

Your eyes skimmed the pages absent mindedly, wondering what could have happened to Mr. Weasley. And what Harry Potter had to do with it. Eventually, your thoughts drifted to how you were going to spend break - all your friends were going home for the holiday, so the only person you knew would be staying was Draco Malfoy. You were skeptical as to whether he’d even talk to you, but you were resolved to try. At worst, you might convince Professor Sprout to let you check in on her aquaponics setup while she was gone, or maybe Hagrid would let you hang out with those tiny dragons again.

Mercifully, the bell rang and before Professor Umbridge could say anything, the whole class swept their books into their bags and pockets in unison and fled.

Donna and Yvette were already all packed, so you sat in the almost empty common room by the fire, listening and laughing at the thumping and random curses coming from the boy’s dorm. Ten minutes later, Herbert emerged with a barely closed trunk, the toe of an argyle sock hanging out the bottom. You followed them to the front of the castle where they waited on the great stone steps with a band of other students for the last round of carriages to take them down the path to the Hogwarts Express.

“Are you sure you wanna stay?” Donna asked, “I’m sure my mum would be fine with you coming home with me.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright, I’m looking forward to having so much of the castle to myself. I’m going to see Professor Sprout once you’re all off.”

“You’d better go now, I think her last class ended a while ago,” Yvette said.

The three of them pulled you and each other in for a hug, mumbling holiday wishes into the nearest shoulder. They promised to write and made you swear you would actually get around to it, then you trotted into the castle and up the stairs to Professor Sprout’s office.

“Professor Sprout? Oh!” Warm air wafted out to meet you as the door to her office swung open to reveal your head of house struggling to close a gigantic trunk filled with all her potted plants, giving breathless instructions to Draco Malfoy. They both stopped and looked at you. “Sorry,” you said sheepishly.

“No, no,” Professor Sprout said, turning her back on the trunk, but leaning on it to keep it closed. “I was just telling Mr. Malfoy about an extra credit assignment for over the holiday. I don’t suppose you’re staying for Christmas as well?”

Draco’s expression was unreadable as he waited for your response. “Yeah, I am. I came by to see if you would let me look in on your aquaponics while you were gone. I can look after those too?”

She sighed in relief, the trunk popping open behind her. “Oh, thank heavens. Off you go, back to your places. Now where, aha.” With a wave of her wand, the pots and hanging baskets bobbed out of her trunk and scattered themselves over the room in their typical order; the enchanted watering can came out last, immediately resuming duty. She sat down at her desk, her hair more awry than usual, and gestured at the chair next to Draco. You sat hesitantly. “The puffapods are set to go to seed in about a week, and I think, given how much he’s improved, Mr. Malfoy has proven himself capable to tend to them on his own.” He smiled thinly at the praise. “This is a solo project, though I’m sure Miss Y/L/N would be happy to advise should you get stuck.” She patted the pockets of her robes, muttering quietly, then pulled out the key to her office which she handed to you. “Happy Christmas, don’t kill my koi.” She winked, then shooed you both out the door so she could finish packing.

Without saying a word or even looking at you again, Draco sped back down the stairs and out of sight. You huffed at his retreating frame, but you weren’t quite sure whether you were annoyed with him or yourself for caring. After all, it wasn’t like you really liked him in the first place. Right? What was there to like? To your estimation, he was arrogant, prideful, selfish, and full of derision for just about everything.

You huffed again and stomped off to the common room to mourn your poor choices. A few members of your house were settling in around the fire; Wanda was showing a first year how to knit, and both waved as you passed. Wilbur was basking in enchanted sunlight on your bed, so you flopped onto it next to him and buried your face in his fur.

Sometime just before dinner, you woke up. Wilbur had moved to the foot of the bed, and began purring when he noticed you were awake. You absentmindedly scratched his chin while feeling around under the bed for his treats. The smell of oven-roasted turkey and potatoes lured you out of bed.

Wilbur followed you into the great hall, tail held aloft, hoping to maybe also get some turkey. Draco Malfoy was nowhere to be seen, but Luna Lovegood was sitting alone at the Ravenclaw table, eating dessert first over a pile of books.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked her, holding up your own book - Dragons in the Wild - and grinning widely.

She looked up dreamily from the page and smiled back. “I don’t mind at all, please.” You sat and shooed Wilbur away from the turkey drumstick he had been reaching towards greedily; he sat down on the bench next to you and proceeded to twitch his tail around.

You waited to see if she’d continue reading. When she did not, you asked, “You aren’t going home for Christmas?”

She shook her head. “My father has been busy interviewing a number of goblins in secret for the Quibbler.” She closed her book and you managed to read Lion, Goat, and Dragon - Beast or Experiment Gone Wrong before she set it aside with the others.

“You’re studying chimeras?” you asked, shoveling roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding onto your plate.

Luna smiled happily. “Yes. I hope to meet one someday, and I’d like to be prepared. What’ve you got?”

Chewing, you held up your book silently, so that she could see the title. She smiled wider.

After a rousing conversation, as rousing as a conversation with Luna could be, on rare and interesting magical creatures, proven and suspected, the topic strayed into Care of Magical Creatures. Luna was not yet convinced Hagrid was the best choice to teach the subject.

“I admit, he certainly has a practical approach,” she said, finally getting to the pile of Brussels sprouts on her plate. A pair of ghosts floated past you, singing carols in their ethereal tone. She continued, “But I preferred Grubbly-Plank’s curriculum structure. Professor Hagrid seems to hop from one topic to the next.”

You frowned. That was true. “Sure, I suppose, I guess it’s more about your learning style than anything else.”

Her eyes twinkled. “My point exactly.” She yawned dreamily and began to gather her books. “Well, Y/N, I’d better be off. I’ve been up reading all night. Do let me know if you’d like to have supper again, I do enjoy our conversations. Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas, Luna.”

Wilbur had curled up next to you and fallen asleep with one eye open; you waved a bit of turkey over his nose and he woke right up to snatch it from your hand. You scooped him up into your arms and he began purring.

“C’mon, you. It’s time to pretend to read by the fire and then go to bed.”

Christmas morning came, and you got up before dawn to trudge through the frigid wind to the owlery to send your mum’s gift. You’d also picked up some odds and ends at Zonkos for Julien, which you sent with a separate owl in the hopes your mum wouldn’t notice.

When you arrived at breakfast, Luna was not there, but Draco Malfoy was. He was still refusing to look at you. The decorated trees lining the Great Hall twinkled in the firelight, and the candles floating above you had been adorned with small ringed garlands. You joined Wanda and the first year at the Hufflepuff table, and piled your plate with eggs, sausages, and beans.

The rustle of wings was heard not long after, and far fewer owls than usual glided in to drop Christmas cards and crackers on the students around you. Your mother’s owl, Bertha, passed over you and dropped a package in your lap. You grinned - inside were several wrapped cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, and a couple liquorice whips, as well as a new pair of rain boots.

Then, you made the mistake of glancing across the room to the Slytherin table. Draco, the only Slytherin at the table, was glancing up at the whirlwind of owls hopefully, then, when they all left as quickly as they’d come, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. You rolled your eyes and sighed, then excused yourself and carried the box over. He did not look at you, and you did not look at him, as you sat the box of treats, sans boots, on the table between you and sat down.

You waited a moment, then pushed the box towards him. He waited another moment, then pointed his pointed nose inside.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, unwrapping a cauldron cake. “These are my favorite.”

You grinned and unwrapped one for yourself. “Mine too.”

The corner of his mouth twitched before he sank his teeth into the chocolate. His eyes fluttered. “Wow,” he said, turning over the wrapping, “are these Honeydukes’?”

“No, this is my step-father’s recipe. Good, right?” He nodded in silent satisfaction. “Got anything interesting going on today?”

He gave you a sidelong glance, then dropped the facade. “No, not at all. Why?”

You shrugged. “I was thinking of flying a little. While the snow’s still fresh and pretty. If you’d like to join me.”

He frowned. “I suppose that could be enjoyable.”

“Good.” You took two more cauldron cakes, a pumpkin pastie and a liquorice whip out of the box and pushed them into his hands. “Meet me on the pitch in an hour. And you may want to wear something warmer than this.”

He smirked at you, but nodded and took the baked goods with another quiet, “Thanks,” and left for the Slytherin dormitory.

The fireplaces you passed on the way back to the Hufflepuff common room did nothing to quell the tingling in your fingertips. That had gone much better than expected. You took your own advice and layered a winter coat over two Christmas jumpers, along with a ridiculous wool hat with a bauble and fingerless gloves.

Draco was already on the pitch when you arrived with your Cleansweep 7, wearing a very fashionable tweed coat with large brass buttons. He laughed when he saw your hat.

“What died on your head?”

“The same thing that’ll keep me alive when you freeze to death,” you shot back. “What kind of broom is that anyway?”

“A Nimbus 2001, still the broom with the most class. I think you forgot we were meant to be flying with these broomsticks, not sweeping.”

You grinned and mounted your broom. “Enough talk, now we race. First one around the pitch three times wins!” You took off into the sky, wind biting at your face.

“What?” he said, and leapt onto his broom. He barely caught up to you; his broom sat level to yours in the wind. “That wasn’t fair!” he shouted.

“You’d know all about that wouldn’t you?”

He grumbled and pressed himself deeper into his broom, so he began to pull forward. You swore and did the same, practically giving the broom a very loving embrace, but it worked. You circled the pitch, weaving around the tall seats and taking turns trying to distract each other. At the very end, you won by a hair, only because you’d pointed and shouted, “what is he doing?” when there was no one there. You dismounted your broom, laughing. “Good game. How are you not freezing?”

Draco landed next to you, scowling. “Dragon hide lining, of course. And this was too easy. I demand a rematch.”

“What do you mean?”

“Race me across the lake.”

“We’re not supposed to fly anywhere else on school grounds.”

He pointed to his prefect badge. “Come on, who’s going to catch us?”

You looked around nervously, but he was right. The only sign of life from the castle was the smoke rising from its numerous chimneys, which was always there. Smiling, you prepared to take off without warning again, but he was ready for you this time, and launched himself into the air before you had a chance to react.

Draco flew whooping and hollering across the grounds, staying low to the snow-covered earth, and you followed in a similar fashion. The air stung your eyes and the wind nearly whipped the hat from your head, but then the snow gave way to choppy black water, which turned more and more glassy the further you flew across the lake.

The spray from the water froze to your eyelashes and clothes, and the scene before you made your breath catch. The shore across the lake was perfect, untouched snow before rows and rows of ice encrusted pine trees that sat still even in the wind.

Draco had flown upwards and was doing loops in the sky. You shouted, “Stop showing off! I could still win, you know!”

“Doubtful!” he shouted back before shooting towards the shore.

He beat you, again by a hair, and fell off his broom into the snow, laughing. “Now, that was fun.”

You flopped into the snow next to him, the cold striking a line across the back of your neck. “Only because you won that time. If we were on the same model broom I’d’ve had that one too.”

Draco snorted and sat up. “Big talk for someone who didn’t even make their Quidditch team.”

“I’d have made it just fine if you and your goons hadn’t intruded on our tryouts,” you snapped, remembering in anger his words months ago. You sat up when he didn’t reply. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I don’t think I even wanted to be on the team. You were being kind of an arse then, though.”

He said nothing, but didn’t disagree.

Across the lake, the castle stood still in a kind of quiet that can only be achieved when everything in sight is covered in a foot of sound absorbing snow. No rustle of wind or bird song, only the gentle lap of waves across the stony shore disturbed the peace. The flurries around you became bigger and thicker, until great globs of snow were falling heavily down as far as you could see. They landed on the snow from the day before with perhaps your favorite sound - a soft and continuous, breathy tinkling. You flopped back down onto your back to look up at the grey sky, letting the snow pile itself on your still form.

You wondered how the giant squid was spending its Christmas, and smiled. “Have you seen the giant squid? That lives in the lake?”

“Yes. All the time,” Draco said, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, our common room is right under the lake. There are a few portholes it swims by everyday.”

You sat up again. “What? That’s so cool. We talked about it in Care of Magical Creatures. I had kind of assumed it was a myth.”

He pursed his lips and shook some snow out of his silvery hair. “We should get back across the lake before this snow gets worse.”

“You’re not going to try and convince me to take a stroll through the Forbidden Forest, while we’re at it? There’s no other school rule you’d like to break today?”

“No, not the Forbidden Forest.” He stood up, brushing more snow off his clothes. “You’ll see, come on.”

“Wait.” You sat up. “You do want to break another rule?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

You stood nervously, gripping your broomstick. “Draco…”

“Y/N. It’ll be fun, and we won’t get caught. You’ll like it, I swear.”

Nonplussed, you mounted your broom and followed him wide-eyed back across the lake, wondering what in the world had sparked such sincerity. Inside the castle, Draco led you down staircase after staircase, checking vigilantly around corners. The deeper into the dungeons you went, the more the chill seeped from the stone into your bones. You passed the Potions classroom, and it suddenly dawned on you.

“Draco,” you groaned, stopping in your tracks. He stopped and turned to look at you quizzically. “We’ll get into so much trouble.”

He once again tapped on the prefect badge glistening on his chest.

“You don’t think that’s an abuse of power?”

He rolled his eyes, “An abuse to who? I guarantee the common room is empty, and I’m offering you the chance to see something no one but a Slytherin has ever seen.” He let you consider for a moment. “Isn’t that the least bit tempting?”

“Of course it is.” You crossed your arms. “But if we get caught this was your idea.”

He smirked and led you down another couple hallways, before stopping before an imposing stone door. The frame was made up of dozens of stone carved snakes writhing around each other to form a twisted rope; a snakes head with emeralds for eyes held a great knocker in its fangs. Draco squared his shoulders and said proudly, “Pureblood.”

A note of unease rang through your gut, and the great stone door swung open, ominously quiet. The common room itself was similar in layout to your own, though everything, from the fireplace to the throw pillows, was austere. Cold green light filtered in through the porthole windows along the far wall. As you stepped in, the fireplace ignited into black flame that provided no light.

“See?” Draco said, “Empty.”

You gestured back towards the door. “A bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, “That’s what it’s always been.”

“Hmm,” you conceded. The light from the portholes drew you closer and closer, until you had your nose almost pressed against one to peer out into the murky lake. You could only see about a hundred feet out into the Black Lake until it truly lived up to its name. Scattered kelp stipes swayed gently in the current. You took a sharp breath in, eyes wide.

Draco shifted behind you, checking an ornate pocket watch. “Should be any minute now. C’mon old blighty.” He stepped up to the porthole next to yours and peered out as well.

“Hagrid calls him Squish.”

Draco scoffed and began, “Like I care what that oaf-”

But he was cut off as one by one, the portholes grew dim. Something gargantuan was blocking them. You danced nervously from foot to foot in your spot. At first, it just looked like a black curtain falling over the window; there was no texture to make out, only a sweeping black material spreading from left to right. Then, you took a startled step back as the squid’s giant eye filled the width of the porthole. It winked at you, or maybe blinked? And then as quickly as it came, it moved on. You laughed abruptly and ran to the next porthole to see its eye come and go, then the next, and the next, until finally you watched its epically long tentacles drift past you, and off into deeper reaches of the lake.

Still laughing you turned to Draco. “That was, I mean, he’s bigger than I thought! So cool!” You fell onto a sofa.

Draco, smirking, raised an eyebrow. “So I was right then.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You sighed and leaned back against the tough leather.

He shook his head. “I’ll need you to say it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You were right.”

“How hard was that?”

“Very.”

“Mr. Malfoy. Miss Y/L/N. What a surprise.” The both of you froze. Oh no. You turned slowly. Professor Dumbledore stood just across the room, hands folded lightly in front of him. He didn’t look particularly angry, which surprised you. “I wonder if you’re aware, Y/N, that you are in the wrong common room?”

You stood shakily and tried to sputter out a response, cheeks burning, but Draco interrupted, “We were just watching the squid. Professor. It… was my idea.”

“I see. I’m afraid I’ll still have to dock points from each of you. Ten I think should do, and I trust this won’t happen again?”

“Yes, Professor,” you said.

“No, Professor,” Draco said.

Professor Dumbledore smiled warmly. “I’ll take that to mean the same thing. Come along, Miss Y/L/N, I’ll escort you back to your dormitory. And I’ll expect you both to stay until supper. Yes? Good.”

You followed the headmaster out of the Slytherin common room, but not before turning back to Draco to wave and mouth a quick and silent “Thanks!” He had a hand on his hip and another in his hair, which he removed to wave back weakly. Then the door shut. Professor Dumbledore didn’t speak for a few minutes, seemingly content to accompany you through the maze-like dungeons of the castle.

Finally, he said, “Please understand, I am always pleased when a student makes a friend with another outside their house. However, rules are rules.” He gave you a warm, sidelong smile. He winked.

“Y-yes, Professor. I understand.” You did not. If Professor Snape had been the one to catch you, ten points would’ve been a drop in the bucket of what you’d have lost your house, you were sure of it. Bringing this up seemed unwise.

You both stopped outside the giant round door to the Hufflepuff common room. The headmaster turned towards you and said cheerily, “Happy Christmas, Miss Y/L/N,” before tapping out the rhythm for you. The door eased open, welcoming you back.

“Happy Christmas, Professor.”

Two second years played Wizard’s Chess sprawled out by the fire; they hardly noticed your entrance.

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