#Can you tell what I spent last night doing?

[l4ndonorizz]

first date gone wrong / lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: videoclub - roi

summary: a chaotic first date with Lando Norris—from spilled wine to fire alarms—turns into an unforgettable night, proving that sometimes, disaster leads to the best moments

wc: 1.5k

You had been waiting for this night for what felt like forever. After months of playful banter, lingering looks, and not-so-subtle flirting, Lando had finally asked you out. When he suggested dinner at a trendy new restaurant in the heart of the city, your excitement had skyrocketed. You spent far too long getting ready, agonizing over what to wear, how to do your hair, and if your nerves were showing.

This was Lando Norris, after all. Charming, witty, and undeniably attractive—not to mention one of the most talented drivers in Formula 1. The thought of this date being a disaster hadn’t even crossed your mind.

But perfect was far from how things were turning out.

The first sign of disaster came when Lando texted you, telling you he was running late. Something about getting stuck in traffic after a last-minute sim session. Typical. Still, when he finally showed up, his sheepish grin and casual apology had you forgiving him instantly.

“Sorry, love. I swear, the city just conspires against me,” he said, pulling you into a quick hug before stepping back to give you a once-over. His eyes widened, clearly impressed. “You look...wow.”

Your cheeks heated at the compliment, but before you could respond, the maître d’ cleared his throat, reminding you both that you were, in fact, standing in the entrance of a fancy restaurant, blocking traffic.

Once seated, things seemed to fall into place. The restaurant was beautiful—dimly lit with a warm, inviting atmosphere. The soft glow of candlelight flickered between you, and the background noise of clinking glasses and murmured conversations created the perfect ambiance. Lando, dressed in a casual suit jacket and his signature charm, leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, clearly ready to dive into the night.

“So,” he said, flashing you a grin, “how have I managed to convince you to actually go out with me?”

You rolled your eyes, playing along. “Convince me? More like I was waiting for you to finally get a clue.”

Lando let out a bark of laughter, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Fair point. I guess I’m a bit slow off the line sometimes.”

The conversation flowed easily, as it always did with Lando. He made you laugh without even trying, and before you knew it, you were both swapping stories about your lives, joking about past experiences, and sharing little pieces of yourselves that you hadn’t before. It felt effortless—like you’d been doing this for ages.

That is, until the drinks arrived.

As the waiter set the glasses down, one of them tipped slightly, sending red wine spilling all over your lap. You gasped, pushing your chair back in shock as the cold liquid seeped into your clothes.

“Oh, no,” you muttered, trying to dab at your dress with a napkin.

Lando was instantly on his feet, grabbing napkins and doing his best to help. “I’m so sorry! I’ll—uh, I’ll get them to bring something else. Can we get some towels?” he called out to the waiter, who looked equally mortified.

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was a ridiculous situation—your carefully chosen outfit now stained with wine—but the way Lando was scrambling to fix things made it impossible to be upset. “Well, at least I didn’t wear white.”

Lando grinned, though his eyes were full of guilt. “I swear this never happens…except for that one time I spilled water all over my steering wheel during a stream.”

You chuckled. “You’re not exactly selling yourself here.”

“Stick around. I promise I get better,” he said with a wink, his teasing easing the tension.

Once the wine debacle was resolved, things seemed to settle again. The waiter brought fresh drinks, and you resumed your conversation, laughing about the incident. But as the evening continued, so did the mishaps.

Just as your food arrived, the fire alarm went off. You stared at each other in confusion, until one of the waiters rushed over, explaining that someone in the kitchen had overcooked a dish, and the smoke had set off the alarm. The entire restaurant had to be evacuated.

You and Lando found yourselves standing outside in the chilly night air, arms crossed as you waited for the chaos to die down. The sight of him, bundled up in his jacket with his hair slightly tousled from the wind, was somehow even more charming.

“Well,” Lando said with a wry smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is going well.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Is this part of your plan? To make this the most chaotic date ever?”

Lando grinned sheepishly. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

The restaurant staff eventually got the situation under control, and you were allowed back inside. Your food was still warm, surprisingly, and it looked delicious. For a few blissful moments, it seemed like things were back on track.

Until, of course, Lando knocked over his drink. Again.

The glass tumbled across the table, the contents spilling everywhere. You reached out instinctively, trying to catch it, but it was too late. The drink splashed onto the floor, and in a comedy of errors, the waiter—already flustered from the earlier fire alarm—slipped on the liquid, sending the rest of the meal crashing down with him.

You and Lando sat in stunned silence for a moment before both of you burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Well,” you managed between giggles, “at least the food didn’t end up in my lap this time.”

Lando leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m officially the worst date ever. Like, this is rock bottom.”

You wiped away a tear from laughing so hard and gave him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t know, I think this is pretty unforgettable.”

“Unforgettable in the worst possible way,” he groaned, though you could see the humor returning to his eyes. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you. How about a second date? One where we don’t destroy an entire restaurant?”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “Only if it ends with a McFlurry.”

Lando chuckled, nodding. “Deal.”

By the time you both finally finished the salvaged portions of your meal, the restaurant staff had given up on trying to maintain any semblance of order. You could feel the eyes of the other patrons on you, some clearly entertained by your evening’s chaos, while others just wanted you both out of there before another disaster struck.

When you left the restaurant, the air was cool and crisp, the city buzzing quietly around you. Lando reached for your hand as you walked down the street, his fingers lacing with yours as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“This is turning into the weirdest night,” you said with a laugh, glancing up at him.

He smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “I don’t know. I think it’s one of the best.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Even after everything that went wrong?”

Lando shrugged, his gaze softening. “Yeah. Because I’m with you.”

You rolled your eyes at the cheesiness of his comment, but your heart still skipped a beat. You had to admit—there was something charming about the whole mess of a night. It was chaotic, unpredictable, and far from perfect, but somehow, it felt like exactly what you both needed.

As you continued walking, the conversation turned light again, the easy rhythm between you returning as you joked about the disaster of a date. But there was an undercurrent now—something deeper that hadn’t been there before. The casual touches, the lingering glances—it all felt like more than just playful teasing now.

By the time you reached your car, the energy between you had shifted. Lando stopped, turning to face you, his hand still wrapped around yours.

“Thanks for not running away mid-date,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You smiled, stepping a little closer to him. “Hey, I like a bit of chaos. Keeps things interesting.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. The playful banter from earlier was gone, replaced by something heavier—something that made your heart race.

“I guess…chaos works for us,” Lando murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could respond, Lando closed the distance between you, his hand gently cupping the side of your face as he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But when you kissed him back, the hesitation disappeared, and the kiss deepened, warm and full of the unspoken feelings that had been building between you for months.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there, lost in the moment. His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily.

“Well,” Lando said with a breathless chuckle, “I’d say that was the best part of the night.”

You smiled, your heart still racing. “Yeah. I’d say it was worth all the chaos.”

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: Hey y'all! I hope y'all enjoy, the next one might be submissive Terry idkidk 🫣 kinda hate this one.

Perfect Gentleman. | Aaron Pierre.

Gentle!Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( penetrat!on, oral s3x ( m receiving), extreme language (cursing, sexual references) established relationship, slight daddy kink if you squint. Not proofread!

Summary: terry's been the perfect gentleman, maybe a little too gentle.

swear you can have me, you really one-of-one.

how you so nasty? you really one-of-one.

You eagerly scratched the itch away in your bitten up ankles. The mosquitoes out here in the Black Bayou had torn your exposed ankles up—and this was why camping wasn't your thing. You'd never complain though, any excuse to be with Terry was a good one.

"I told you to wear long socks," he chuckled looking back you and at how you'd scratched the skin on your ankles red, "all that gardenin' you do and you out here with no socks on," he softly lectured as you watched him pitch the tent, at his demand. He was such a gentleman.

You'd been dating Terry for over four months, you've both went on a plethora of dates, had the steamy first kiss, and even spent a night at each others apartment, but you still hadn't fucked yet. Was it you? You knew you had an Oscar worthy performance of your coy-innocent act that Terry ate up all of the time, but you weren't a prude. You couldn't count how many times you'd hinted, and seduced only to be met with more gentleness.

And you loved how patient, protective, and gentle he was with you. He was everything you'd practically asked for when you started dating. A nice man, a sweet man—and you got it, a full blown golden retriever boyfriend. He had so many amazing qualities, he was always on time arriving fifteen minutes early. Something he said was one of the most useful things he learned from his time in the Marine Corps. He was a full blown de-escalator, he never wanted to argue with you, always communicating as calmly as he could before coming to an understanding with you. He was gentle. But maybe he was too gentle? You wanted Terry in the worst ways. It didn't help that he stayed in good shape, gym four times a week, and his infinite morning runs kept him in tip-top shape.

You pouted, squinting your eyes as you looked at Terry from underneath the brim of the Nike bucket hat you'd retrieved from him. Although he was pitching the tent and the sun was currently beating down on him, he decided that, you, sitting in the shade doing nothing, needed the hat more. Such a man.

"You said come comfortable, and I garden in my crocs—that's what I came in!" You defended your reasoning for not wearing the socks that he did tell you to pack last night over a quick FaceTime call, but he did say come comfortable in the same sentence. "These mosquitos are relentless, baby, look at my ankles!" You frowned looking at how red and irritated the skin has gotten there even on your deep brown skin.

Of course Terry stopped his meddling with the tent and came over to assess your so badly injured ankles. He tsk'd softly his big hands cradling both of your ankles gently. Now push them behind my head! you eagerly thought feeling him touch you at all always sent shocks and shivers through your body.

"They eatin' my baby up," he somberly acknowledged rubbing his thumbs where the bites were firmly, "you put bug spray on like I told you?"

You nodded. "Yeah, just go and finish the tent," you dramatically sighed waiting to eagerly scratch at the bites, "I'll just be sitting over here, itchy, getting ate up." At least something was eating you up.

He brought your left ankle up to his lips casually, placing a soft kiss there before setting the both of them back down carefully. You almost moaned, it had been way too long. "stop scratchin' at em, you makin' em worse."

You looked at him, batting your eyelashes at him a dazed nod following right behind. He was so gorgeous, and it didn't help that he was so sweet and treated you like the absolute brat you were. He continued on with his quick work with the tent and you continued on with your sneaky scratching. After it was perfectly pitched, he got you inside as soon as it was done to rub a bit of alcohol on your itchy ankles and making you put on a pair of his socks that were way too big for you.

You frowned looking down at your legs later that night as you both set around the campfire, that you had gotten started. You hadn't forgotten all the survival tips your father had shown you. Terry focused on cooking the fish he and you caught earlier from the pier. He'd cleaned it and dissembled it himself. "These are puttin' a damper on my outfit, so not cute."

Terry chuckled, quickly flipping the searing fish over in the pan. Your eyes flickered over to him. "What?"

"You so country," he commented through a light chuckle, "damper?"

"That's not country!" You defended through a smile. "Everybody says damper!"

"Nobody says damper,"

"Does too!"

"Why you gotta be such a brat? Why you act like that?" He teased playfully, holding his hand out to you only to pull you up from your chair and into his lap. "Hm?" He hummed nuzzling his faced into your neck where he playfully nipped at the skin on your neck, knowing the ticklish effect it had on you.

You laughed hunching your shoulder up to push him away from the area, "stop!" The assault lasted a few more minutes before he reluctantly stopped, only when he seen the tears from your nonstop laughter, and how you cradled your aching stomach when you laughed.

"Brat," he mumbled in between persisting kisses to your lips. You happily returned each one, who were you to deny the brat allegations. They were very true. "Always gotta have yo way."

"You love how bratty I am," you retorted, trailing your own lingering kisses from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck.

"I do," he mumbled out an agreement making you laugh against his neck before continuing on, and you thought maybe, as his hands kneaded the back of your thighs and the undersides of your ass. But all that came undone when he urgently removed you from his lap in light hysterics about almost burning the fish.

The fish.

How could he even think about fish when he had your throbbing pussy in his lap, was he really blind to all this shit? Or was he just not sexually attracted to you? Or was he fucking celibate? The questions brought on a lingering insecurity. The rest of the night you were more distant, quiet, the situation left you a little embarrassed and salty. You'd never had a man be so indifferent to your advances. Or did he even see them as advances? Hell, you didn't know anymore.

Your distance and quiet demeanor didn't go unnoticed either Terry, who constantly made it his mission to see if you were okay and enjoying yourself. You answered the same all the time, yes, which did very little to comfort him—but he also didn't wanna push you into irritation.

"You sure you good, baby?" He asked later that night as you both settled into the cozy tent. You made sure to nestle yourself into your cute, pinky, sleeping bag. It was so you.

"Yeah." You simply answered with a nod, forcing the weak smile. Such a liar. But you weren't gonna admit that the situation left you feeling a little salty. You didn't wanna bring the situation up at all, you'd much rather forget it.

"You sure? You not actin' like yourself, baby. You want me to take you home?" There he went. Being so him. Always being so caring.

"No, I'm fine. It's nothing really, im just..itchy still." You seamlessly lied. Or maybe not. You were still itchy.

Terry decided not to press the issue instead making sure he got as close as possible to you, something he always did when you slept together, he loved being right up under you—you didn't contest to it. Ever. You both gave your good nights, and Terry made sure to turn off the LED lantern lamp you both had in the tent. A soft and easy silence falling over the both of you. Terry's soft breathing, body heat, chirping crickets and the pitch black were enough to lull you to sleep. And they almost did, but damn, you were still itchy.

You brought your knees to your chest, hastily scratching at your extremely itchy ankles, a heavy, draws out sigh from the temporary but almost euphoric relief skipped past your lips.

"Stop scratchin'." Terry's deep voice but through the silence, the raspiness on the edge of his voice attributed to the sleep that had took him in quick. The words halted your actions quickly as you tried to quietly morph into a comfortable position.

"I'm not," you spoke quietly.

"But you were."

His damn hearing. He heard everything.

"Well I wouldn't have been if I was doing something else." Your tone snappy but the suggestiveness fore fronted the sassiness.

"Somethin' else like what?" Terry questioned.

You huffed immediately, sitting up abruptly from your sleeping bag and flickering the lantern on. "Are you really that clueless?" You exclaimed almost, looking at his ever so lost expression. "Terry, are not you sexually attracted to me?"

Terry looked at you as if you'd grown two heads. Like he couldn't understand why you'd ask him such a question, like you didn't know he was a full blown raging man. "Why would you even ask me that, of course im sexually attracted to you, baby."

"You don't act like it," you quietly murmured, "it's like every time I try, you pull back. What is it? I really thought I was obvious enough with everything."

And you were. Terry wasn't ignorant to your advances. But he also wasn't ignorant to your past relationships and the men that you dealt with. Full blown sex addicts a few of them seemed to be, and some of them seemed unable to form a real bond with you without sex. He wanted to prove to you that he actually liked you, that he wanted to get to know you past sex. That he wanted this to last. It'd taken copious amounts of restraint for him to slyly deter away from the advances. Copious amounts.

He wasn't exactly sure how he made it to four months himself, without caving in. Maybe it was his serious he'd gotten about your relationship, maybe it was genuine like for you that made it somewhat easy. He was still a man though, taking care of himself when he was finally away from you.

He said your name slowly, sitting up himself, "im utterly, completely, and deeply sexually attracted to you. But I wanna show you that when it comes to keeping this together, sex is indifferent to me. I don't want you to think we need that shit to connect. I genuinely like you, alot."

"I like you too, but I already knew that Terry," he softly laughed, the weight of the insecurities dropping off your shoulders. You couldn't believe that once again, all this time, the lack of sex was catered to his feelings about you. You were gonna fuck this man so good. So good. "I knew that at the end of the first date when you didn't try to kiss me when you dropped me off." You giggled at the recanting of the memory.

"I wanted you to feel it though."

"And I do feel it," you slinked even closer to him, hand trailing up his thigh, "I feel it so much." You looked up at him, batting your long lashes.

Terry sat there slack mouthed, brows furrowed, his stormy eyes looking down at you with bursting pleasure and astonishment as he watched you suck him down. How the fuck did you get so good at this shit? You'd completely covered his shaft in your saliva, you were loud and sloppy. Just how he liked it. Throat so tight around him, every time you nuzzled him in. You were dazed yourself, tasting him, having him in the back of your throat where you craved him so many times before. You were savoring all of this.

Your hands wrapped themselves around his girthy length, stroking them at a brisk pace, your wet mouth guiding them in their dizzying up and down movements. His grunts and groans of approval only furthered you to please him more. You looked up at him, eyes watery, and soft as you took him down, spit bubbles formed around him, as you nuzzled him in deeper into your mouth. Removing a spit soaked hand, you nuzzled that into your soaked panties, pleasing him, pleased you.

"Sss-shitttt," he drug out through a groan, his strong hand grasping the back of your neck, as he bucked himself up into your mouth, relentlessly fucking your throat. You shut your watery, burning eyes letting him use you how he wanted. "Fuck, eat that dick up baby. You do that shit so good," he slurred through his persisting moans.

That only furthered your arousal, which furthered your efforts. The rough gags and choking from you was almost enough to send him over the edge. Almost. You finally pulled back, giving him a chance to recover and giving yourself a chance to catch your ailing breathing.

You stroke him off, spitting down on his shaft in your hands, eagerly stroking the lubrication in, leaning your head down to suck one of his balls into your mouth; gently. You knew too much. How did you know so much?

"Why you so nasty?" He mumbled grabbing your chin once you were done tending to his balls. "Hm?" He hummed before pressing your wet lips to his own. His kiss rushed, sloppy, and deep. His tongue searched every inch of your mouth, his lips sucking your own into his mouth.

Oh he was nasty like that?

"Move," he knocked your hands away from his still hardened dick, "take that shit off." He comments taking heed to the articles of clothing you still had on, his own hands slithering under the oversized shirt you'd put on for bed.

"But I wanted to make you cum—" you started, wiping your wet mouth with the back of your hand once he eagerly pulled your t-shirt off, nipples immediately pebbling due to the exposure of the cool night air in the tent. You didn't get to finish your sentence before Terry's lips were already latched onto the flesh on your neck, creating red blemishes as he cascaded down your body skillfully.

"You bout to," he mumbled attaching his lips to yours once again, "open up," he tapped your jaw firmly, "lemme see." The firm taps to your jaw ignited the fire and aching need in your belly, a moan slipped past your lips as you opened like he asked.

You watched, dazed, as he spat down into your mouth. Oh, he was nasty.

It was like yin and yang to you. This couldn't be your Terry. Not the Terry that bought you flowers every Sunday and never let you lift a finger Terry. This was a different Terry, nasty Terry. Impatient Terry. Demanding Terry. Just what you wanted.

"Oh my god-uhhhh!" You slurred out through a moan. Terry's vice grip on your locs matched the same vice grip you currently had him in right now. He had you positioned on all fours, one hand on your hip to steady his hard, dizzying strokes. He was fucking you hard, too hard. Too good. Your thighs trembled beneath you, knees threatening to buckle as he slammed into your heated core repeatedly. It's like he knew exactly where that spot was located. "Right there, daddy! Right fucking there," you whimpered, face pressed pathetically on the pallet beneath you.

"I know, i feel that shit," he groaned, sending another hard smack to your ass cheek, the recoil from his pelvis constantly slamming into your ass had him in a complete daze. Four months he kept himself from this, restrained himself from what he knew had to be good. But he didn't expect it feel like this. "Wettin' me right the fuck up—mm mm, keep that shit right there, you better not fuckin' lay down, keep that shit open just like that." He mumbled out into the tent, taking into head your trembling legs. The lewd sounds of your sopping wet pussy, followed by the loud slapping of your skin together filled your tent and your empty head.

"Fuckkkk," you groaned out, managing to sit up in your elbows, acrylics clawing at the covers beneath you, your eyes crossed as you felt his tip kissing a little too deep, "so deep, baby."

"Mhm," he hummed pulling your head back with his tight grip on your hair, his lust filled glare looking right down into your own crossed eyes, "right where i should be. Look at you, takin' this dick like a good girl. This what you wanted right?"

"Yesssss," you managed to fully get out, a series of breath taking moans following. He was giving you exactly what you wanted; hard, rough shit. He was fucking you like he hated you, like he had a point to prove. This shit was only making you delusional did he not understand the type of you he would get now?

"Yeah? Wanted daddy to dig yo' shit out just like this, huh?" He nodded watching you nod in response, your breaths coming out in a series of heavy puffs. "I know you did, can tell by the way you creamin' on my dick."

"Shittt!" You gasped out the exploitive, planting your hands flat against the ground, mustering yo whatever weak energy you had to fuck yourself back against him, working toward your own impending orgasm. "I'm finna cum!" You rushed out.

Terry pulled you back toward his chest, your small frame engulfed in his as you sat promptly in his lap getting impaled in the most delicious way possible. You felt lightheaded, high, and perfect all at once. "Babyyyy, im cummin'!" You whined out.

"Keep tellin' me, do that shit. Lemme feel you cum on my dick," he grunted, the lewd works making you clench around him as they clearly sent you tumbling over the edge. Terry mocking your long, loud and drawn out moans with his own. His lips attacking wherever they could on your exposed neck. His impaling strokes never stopped, even when it was clear you'd completely rode it out. He kept fucking you, sending you into a deep place of overstimulation. When was he ever planning to cum?

"Look at you," he mumbled a smug smirk on his lips, hand firmly holding your slacked jaw in his hand, "dick got you dumb—breathe through that shit, baby." He tapped your jaw, repeatedly. The sight of you alone, plus the constant contracting of your walls around him had earned you a deliciously sounding groan. You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until he spoke up.

Everything was too much. It was too much to focus on. The pleasure, his voice, his kisses. Forgetting to breathe in the middle of your overstimulation was warranted.

Your breaths cane tumbling back to you fast, hard and quick you panted. Body trembling in Terrys grasp, as dared to lean forward feeling another orgasm approaching, but this one felt harder. Body-shattering. It hurt and felt so good at the same time.

"Fuck, ima nut baby," Terry grunted in your ear. "Pussy so good, why yo shit so good like this?" Finally.

"Cum in my pussy, please daddy," was the first and only thing you could get out, not even warning him about your oncoming orgasm. This one cramped everything, the tightness in your stomach didn't subside but seemed to get tighter. Your thighs were numb, but your legs ached. The squeal you let out left your throat raw, and that's why you didn't hear Terry when he finally announced that he was cumming, but you felt him for sure, right where you told him to.

You felt Terry's lips against your jaw, kissing you repeatedly. Telling you how well you did for him, how he couldn't believe he kept himself away from that for four months. How good it was. These were finally the words that lulled you off to a blissful sleep, you'd finally got what you wanted. There you were, fucked out In a tent, with cum leaking out of you. Such a whore. A happy whore.

-

still no tag list! 😭 hope you enjoy this little filler! 💕

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒔 ~

(Past) Rhysand x OC, (Eventual) Azriel x OC Part 2 of Betrayal

Summary: He was out of his mind with grief. Azriel had been through his fair share of trauma. He had seen and done horrific things, but that was always with Adelaide by his side. Now, he didn't know what to do, and he was losing it. Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, grief, Hurt/No Comfort

His limbs ached as he stood up from his chair. He had been sitting there so long that walking felt much harder than it usually did.

He rubbed the haze from his eyes while walking to the door, the incessant knocking making his headache worse.

"Fuck, Az. You look- how do you- do you want me to..." Cassian stood in front of his brother, a man he'd known for 500 years, and didn't recognize the person he saw.

It had been the first time in almost 2 months that Cassian's knocks were answered. He had come to her room, everyday, multiple times a day, to plead with his brother to talk to him, to eat something, to just let Cassian look at him so he could see he was alive.

Azriel said nothing as he turned around and went back to the chair he had been occupying. Cassian closed the door behind him as he took in the room.

It was the same as it had been the day she left. Even though this had been the place Azriel spent most of his days, the Shadowsinger had kept it all the same, only touching her bed that he would sleep in the nights he could stomach it, or the chair he was currently in now.

A mess of papers on the desk brought tears to Cassian's eyes. Adelaide, sweet and caring Adelaide, had been making a list of Solstice gifts for her family when she was called to join some of the Inner Circle on a meeting all those months ago. A meeting that had been a trap for them. A meeting that ended up taking her life.

Azriel cleared his throat when Cassian went to pick up a piece of paper. He had tried to hard to keep her room clean while also not disturbing things from the spot she had put them in.

"Nesta told me that her and Elaine have been leaving you food but it remains untouched."

"Is there a question, brother?" Azriel asked. His voice had always been rough, and he had always been more on the quiet side, but Cassian could tell that because of lack of use, it hurt him to speak.

"Why aren't you eating? How can we get you to? I would do anything, Az." he pleaded.

The spymaster didn't answer.

"Whats the end goal? Believe me, if you want 1,000 years to mourn her, I will be with you every step of the way. I've tried to give you space, but you are killing yourself! You sit in here all day, only coming out when everyone is asleep or gone. What do you need to care about your life again?"

He was met with a distracted look from Azriel.

His brother was never distracted. He was never careless. He hadn't missed a day of training for no reason in hundreds of years. Cassian knew he still trained every once in a while, but Azriel always found times to do it when no one else was around.

Azriel didn't have an answer for Cassian, at least not one he would like.

How could I care for my life when her's is over? he thought. By the desperate look on Cassian's face, he could tell his brother knew the answer.

"I lost her too. I know it was different with the two of you, you were each others'... person, but she was as much my sister as you are my brother. I didn't... I didn't even get to say goodbye." Cassian finally broke at the confession. He hadn't let himself think about it, he had to keep himself together for Azriel. "The last time I talked to her, we where fighting over food. She stole the slice of cake I had saved for myself, I called her an inconvenience and a burden, she called me a spoiled bat who needs to learn to share." He let out a bittersweet laugh at the memory. They were usually at each others' throats, and when they weren't, they were teamed up to annoy someone else in their family. But they loved each other, always were there for one another, except in the end, when it mattered most.

"24 hours later, I was picking out the sarcophagus my sister was going to be laid in. I would have let her have all of my leftovers, all of my desert, if it meant I just got one last conversation with her." Choking up, Cassian sank to the floor, a wave of familiar grief washing over him.

Azriel joined him, crying as he hugged his brother.

The two illyrians, sat like that for a while. Long after their tears had dried, long after the sun had gone down, Cassian finally spoke up.

"Why don't you go see her? Visiting helps me, talking to her even though I know she can't hear is something I do often."

In truth, Azriel hadn't gone to his best friend's mausoleum since the funeral. He couldn't see her like that, couldn't come to terms with it.

These past 6 months had been dark. Everyone was mourning her, many of the people of Velaris included, but none more than Azriel. Part of him had died, laid in the cold marble box that held her body. For the first few months, he had completely disconnected from reality. He went on with his daily routine, he trained, ate, went on missions, did paperwork, slept. But it was as it he was on autopilot, as if the real Azriel had been asleep that whole time.

Two months ago, he woke up. It was sudden, he had gone to his room for the first time in a while to grab some books that had been long overdo at the library, and the priestesses had kindly told him if they didn't get them back he would be banned for life.

Thats when he saw the blanket on the chair by his desk. She had given it to him over a century ago. It was a birthday present, a wool blanket that was enchanted to smell like her always. She had played it off as a self centered gift, so he doesn't forget about his favorite person while away on missions, in front of their friends, but Azriel knew it wasn't that. Adelaide had always been a master gift giver, and she also knew Azriel had trouble sleeping most nights, but he never had any problems falling asleep on the couch next to her after a long night of conversations, wrapped comfortably in her own wool blanket.

He hadn't slept without it till the night she died.

Then, he picked it up, trying to see if the enchantment still worked. And that was all it took for him to wake up. It was awful, every bad feeling he had been too far disassociated to feel hit him at once. He curled up on the floor with the blanket wrapped around his hands and stayed there for days, silent tears never ceasing to fall.

After getting yelled at by Madja, who Nesta had called to knock some sense into him, he got up and went to her room, where he remained most of his days.

He sat in the chair in the corner of the room, only eating to quiet his stomach, and tried as hard as he could to detach himself from the never ending agony that was his life now.

He told Cas he would see her, the general's face lighting up at the news.

He felt guilty, making Cassian so happy for something he knew would later destroy him.

Hours after Cassian had left the room, as the sun came up, Azriel went to his room to grab the blanket he hadn't touched in 2 months. Then he grabbed Truth Teller, wrote his final request, and went to see Adelaide.

The building was large, and beautifully constructed. He would have been happy that she had a resting place deserving of her, but he knew Rhysand only spent that much money and made it this beautiful to try and lighten the guilt he felt.

The Shadowsinger stopped by the entrance, the sarcophagus without a lid placed up on the platform.

Before the funeral, Helion had come to place a enchantment on her body that would keep it preserved.

It had been a show of good will, Adelaide had been head of the Night Court's scholarly texts, education, and research. The two had met to have academic conversations at least once every few months for decades.

But as Azriel looked down at her, it felt like a cruel punishment from Helion.

6 months later, she was still as beautiful as she was the last time he saw her, and she was still just as dead.

This was where he would remain, his final request was to be laid to rest in the same building. He would be adding unnecessary pain onto his loved ones who had suffered so much already, but for the first time in his life, Azriel had decided to put himself in front of his family.

Looking her over one last time, he realized he was now completely numb.

Azriel held the gifted blanket and went to take off the one she currently had. Based off the fact it seemed to have been picked out with meticulous care to match Adelaide's coloring, and her outfit, there was no doubt it had been placed their by Mor.

On her lap, previously being covered by the blanket, laid a large and very old book.

Had one of the scholars she worked with placed it? One of the educators?

Strange marks littered the cover, but no title. Not till he opened the first page did he see what it was.

The Walking Dead

A cruel pick. Who would ever leave such a book with a corpse?

The second page was blank, so was the third, so was the fourth. Thumbing through the book, Azriel just about gave up looking at the blank pages when he finally found one with writing.

It seemed to be a poem, but it was formatted too strangely.

The title at the top read Eternally Intertwined.

A spell.

He almost dropped the book at the realization.

No one had left this book, it had been fate that had given it to him, kept it here waiting for him to stumble upon it.

He knew what he needed to do.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Azkaban

Words: 993

@wolfstarmicrofic

TW: suicidal ideation in a hyperbolic way

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

The first night that Sirius spent at Remus’ cottage after being ordered to ‘lie low’ there wasn’t ideal. Nobody wanted to wake up their ex-boyfriend with their night terrors. Nobody sane, anyway. Sirius wasn’t entirely sure which side of that line he fell on anymore, but when he woke up to Remus holding him to his chest and reminding him where he was, he hated himself.

By the time they moved to Grimmauld Place, it was established that Remus would tell Sirius a story about their time at Hogwarts as he fell asleep. This helped Sirius to remember, but it also helped with the night terrors, which they both suspected were some kind of lingering effect of the dementors.

Remus had his own room at Grimmauld Place, and he usually retreated to it once Sirius had fallen asleep, even though they’d shared a bed for months before that. It helped him to keep things separate. Telling Sirius stories about their teenage selves was hard at times. Remembering James and Lily, remembering Peter and remembering how in love they’d been. He didn’t know how much Sirius remembered of their relationship, but as most of his positive memories were taken, he probably remembered a lot of the last few months and not much else. He mostly stuck to stories about James and Sirius, or the four of them.

“Tell me about us.” Sirius had whispered after a few weeks, as Remus got comfortable next to him. “I know you’ve been avoiding those stories.”

“I didn’t know if you’d want to hear them,” Remus said. “Or what you remember.”

“I remember shouting at you in the shack and there was blood, but I don’t remember why.” Sirius said, “That seems like an important one but I can’t get to most of it. Tell me that one?”

Remus chuckled, knowing the exact memory he meant. “Alright. So, this was about a month after Lily agreed to go out with James.”

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

“Moony!” Sirius sounded frantic as Remus struggled to open his eyes. “Can you hear me?”

“Unfortunately.” Remus groaned. Sirius was shirtless, and covered in blood. He looked up at Sirius, panicked. “The fuck did I do? Are you ok?”

“I can’t stop your shoulder from bleeding. What do I do? James has gone to get Madam Pomfrey but you’re —”

“Oh, it’s mine? Just leave it.” Remus’ eyes shut again, “I’ll sleep it off. It’ll be alright.”

“You can’t sleep off blood loss you unbelievable prick. Wake up!” Sirius shook his uninjured shoulder slightly, pressing his shirt against the wound on the other.

“Sirius.” Remus growled, “Shake me again and you’ll wish you were dealing with the wolf.”

“Sit up!” Sirius ignored him. “You can’t go back to sleep.”

“It’s fine.” Remus’ eyes closed again.

Sirius snapped, “It’s not fucking fine, Remus! Sit up and open your eyes.” Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist and hauled him into a sitting position before reapplying pressure to his shoulder. He felt Remus smile against his shoulder.

“If you wanted to wrap your arms around me, all you had to do is ask, Padfoot.” He said, and Sirius swore that Remus’ teeth grazed his shoulder. “I think all you can do is apply pressure and hope for the best. I’ve got a lot of blood.”

“Moony, I love you, but when you’re not bleeding profusely in my arms, I’m going to be so fucking angry with you. ‘I’ve got a lot of blood’ is not— No, you don’t. You have the same amount of blood as anyone else, you wanker. Sometimes it’s like you don’t value your life.”

Remus, half-conscious as he was, felt very called out. “My life doesn’t have much value, to be fair.”

Sirius inhaled sharply, “No. Because you don’t have people around you that would do anything for you. You’re not a fucking wizard. Your life has no value.” He said sarcastically.

“Didn’t mean it like that, Pads.” He mumbled. “Don’t.”

“Then how did you mean it?” He shouted. He would have walked out if he didn’t know that Remus wouldn’t be able to hold the shirt on his shoulder.

“Well, I love you too, by the way.” Sirius almost dropped the shirt as Remus’ eyes closed again. “When you have no choice but to turn into a monster once a month and repeatedly take chunks out of yourself, you can judge the way I cope with it. I’m in a lot of fucking pain and I just want to sleep. Thank you for helping, as always, I appreciate it. I’m just so tired.”

“No.” Sirius poked his cheek until his eyes opened again. He looked mutinous. “You're going to stay awake. I think I can hear them in the passage. Once you’re patched up, you can sleep.”

“You’re going to make me talk about this later aren’t you?” His eyes almost closed again, but he managed to open them and blink a few times.

“Of course I am.” Sirius could feel his heart pounding in his head.

"You could just focus on the love part, and not the hyperbolically suicidal part, if you wanted.”

“We’ll see.” Sirius tried so hard not to smile. “If you tell me again when I’m not covered in your blood, I’ll think about it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Remus said as Madam Pomfrey burst through the door, followed by James, who took one look at Sirius and almost threw up.

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

“So when I got out of the hospital wing, I couldn’t wait, I pulled you behind a tapestry on the way to Charms and told you I loved you again. You were still pissed off, but I convinced you that I was pretty determined to stay alive.” He looked down at Sirius who was asleep. “You don’t know how much you’ve always helped with that.”

He considered going back to his room, but eventually slipped beneath Sirius’ duvet and curled up against his back, wrapping an arm around his waist.

[madelynraemunson]

HEY MADDY, WHAT’S ON TV? 📺

𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 (…𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬) part 1/2

🥡 steddie x freaky friday fanfiction • RATED: NC-17 🥡

SUMMARY: Dustin’s science experiment goes horribly wrong and his two ‘bickering besties’ have to suffer the consequences.

WORD COUNT: 11.4k words

CONTENTS CONTAIN: (EASTER) EGGS, WHEAT, METAL, PARALLELISMS, A PINCH OF COMEDY, ANGST, AND LOTS OF SWEARING

ALLERGENS: CHEESY, CORN(Y), SHELLFISH (sorry eddie)

author's note: might put this on ao3 idk this one's a big boi.... hey y'all! i’m a little late to the steddie body swap train, but have arrived nonetheless! also i’m so stoked that jamie lee curtis and lindsay lohan are currently working on a freaky friday 2!! one of my fave childhood movies and i can’t believe we’re getting a parte dos :,) also, jake alan = corroded coffin in this AU

🥠

“Jesus Chr— what did you do to my hair?!”

“What did you do to MINE?!”

Perhaps a rewind is necessary. Metaphorically, of course. Time travel’s not real! ;)

      ◄ ◄ ◄  R E W I N D  🎞️

The year is 1989. Camp Knowhere. And since it’s the last year before he ages out of summer camp, Dustin Henderson is determined to 'WOW' everyone with his newest invention.

“They’re kinda like boner pills.”

“Oh...! WOW...?”

It’s not the weirdest thing Steve's heard come out of Dustin's mouth. In fact, he's practically immune to insanity at this point, having been surrounded by hormone-driven teenagers for a month and a half straight.

“Look I know, it sounds crazy,” Dustin pleads. “But imagine being able to walk a mile in someone's shoes just by eating a cookie. They'd be like the Viagras of empathy!"

Again, not the weirdest thing Dustin has said. 

And for as long as Curly keeps hanging out with Eddie Munson, his Other Older Male Friend (O.O.M.F.) constantly like he has been all summer, it certainly won’t be the last.

Being a volunteer camp counselor hasn’t panned out as expected for Steve Harrington. 

For the past six weeks, Dustin has spent most of his time locked in his cabin trying to perfect his new creation. But he's been MIA for so long, Steve hasn’t been able to teach him how to start a fire, pitch a tent, or even pick Dustin's brain about being his guest for Show and Tell. 

Making s’mores. Canoeing. Telling scary stories in the dark. Dustin and Steve are missing out on actual summer activities. The real reason he signed up to be counselor in the first place. 

But you know who has been able to spend time with Dustin?

"Eddie and I spent almost every night trying to come up with good fortunes," Henderson boasts.

Not the counselor, but the Certified Loiterer.

Steve bitterly kisses his teeth. “That’s awesome, man! But hey, speaking of spending—"

"They are so clever too. You gotta hear 'em!"

"I'm sure they are! But now that you're practically finished, I was sorta hoping—"

“AND,” Dustin adds. “if you get a good one you can add ‘in bed’ after for some comic relief.”

Steve crosses his arms as he finds himself fading back into silence.

“You are destined for great adventures…in bed,” Curly smirks, waving a fortune in Steve’s face. “You will be met with great luck this week... in bed. You are a pleasure to have around…in bed.”

“Agh, please tell me one of Harrington’s lays said that,” comes a voice. “Otherwise this interaction is very concerning.”

Dustin gasps. “EDDIE!”

Speaking of The Devil.

Like nails on a chalkboard, in walks Eddie Munson with his fucked up voice, fucked up rep, fucked up hair, and a fucked up sense of humor to match.

“Hey, Henderson,” Eddie gives a curt nod. “Hey, Steve.”

“Munson.”

“I was just telling Steve about my fortune cookies,” says Dustin. “I can’t wait to win people’s hearts over at Show and Tell, along with my spotlight secret weapon.”

“What’s your spotlight secret weapon?” Steve inquires.

“You’re looking at him,” Eddie quips. “I’m Dustin’s music act for his Show and Tell.”

There’s a pang in Steve’s heart that he wishes wasn’t there. All summer, the Retired Cub Scout had been secretly hoping that Dustin would ask him to be his Show and Tell buddy. He had so many survival skills up his sleeve that he wanted the little twerps to know before they age out. 

But the stars had other plans, he supposes.

“My friend’s friend’s dad is a music scout for Cardinal Records,” Dustin explains. “If he shows up and sees Eddie play, Corroded Coffin may have a chance!”

“Yup,” Eddie nods. “We’re performing our new song Take Me Away.”

He hands Steve a piece of crinkled paper from his back pocket, to which Steve reads after clearing the lump marinating in his throat.

“Don’t wanna grow up, I wanna get out. Hey, take me away,” Steve reads.

“Aren’t the lyrics so metal?!” Dustin beams in admiration.

“They’re uh, very edgy…” Steve shrugs.

“And incredibly fitting, when you consider the circumstances. Just wait ‘til you hear Eddie and his band perform it!”

“I think I’ll be busy with camp duties...” Steve grimaces, handing the sheet back over to Eddie. “Sorry.”

“No worries, they will just perform in your garage. They still gotta practice. Been needing another place to do so too."

Steve's eyes widen.

“What?!” he shakes his head. “Absolutely not. When did we agree on this?”

“Uh, beginning of summer?" Dustin points out. "You said you’d be willing to accommodate any of my needs. Especially since my mom’s gone to her spicy book retreat and basically threw away keys to the house.”

Steve now recalls telling Dustin that. But nowhere did it say babysitting his replacement would be in the cards.

"I'm sorry Harrington, I know I'm kinda butting in…" Eddie acknowledges.

Finally, something he and Steve can agree on.

"But we're kinda desperate at the moment, so it would mean the world. You won't even know we're there."

“It’s still no!” Harrington blubbers. “Okay? With the loud music and Eddie’s screaming, I’ll have the Loch Nora book club moms with pitchforks at my door. We have a reputation to uphold.”

“Who’s to say the Loch Nora moms don’t want in on all the angsty fun?” Eddie smirks. “Corroded Coffin’s an acquired taste, but I’m sure your… progressive… neighborhood wouldn’t mind.”

"It's not that," Steve shakes his head. "Even though we’re ‘progressive’, my neighborhood is still very much suburban-families-with-young-kids. They'd call the cops on us, for sure."

But Loch Nora was just a decoy for Steve’s true feelings. If everyone sees how cool Eddie is, they’re going to make him their Comfort Grown Up. Then where would Steve go?

Especially if they caught a glimpse of those big, brown eyes and the way they glisten in the amber sunset. And apparently Dustin’s caught wind of this Munson Magic as well; because not too long after, he’s imitating Eddie, the coercion-via-cuteness factor ramping higher on his part. And how could Steve say no to his lil face?

“Just this one time, Steve?” Dustin begs. “Please, please, pleaaase?”

“Dustin…” Steve shakes his head. 

“Pleaaase,” a pouty Eddie chimes in, slyly gazing up at Steve through his long, batty lashes. “We’ll behave, Stevie. We promise.”

But Harrington is standing his ground. Eddie already stole his best friend away from him. His gig. His spot at the Cool Adults table. Did he want Harrington’s life too?

“NO!” Steve insists. "NO!"

“YEAAAH!” Eddie croaks into the microphone while he seductively strums at his guitar. “YEEEEAAAHHHH!”

Performing in Steve’s garage was a YES-go after all. Especially if free bud has anything to do with it.

"This dude and his band are pretty good," Argyle comments as he takes a long, savoring drag from his hefty blunt. "Corroded Coffin, man. They're gonna be big one day."

"Just wait til you hear his guitar solo," Jonathan adds. "Eddie's been working on it all summer for Dustin’s show.”

The walls of the Harrington household are forced to withstand a migraine-inducing bass while everyone — but Steve —  jams out, losing themselves in a song about wanting to stay young forever.

“Don’t wanna grow up, I want to get out. Hey! Take me away…”

Jealousy festers within the host as he watches, taking in the sight of an awestruck Dustin playing his air guitar alongside Eddie, resonating with the lyrics the way he passionately yells,

“I wanna shout out, ‘take me away…away away away’…”

“Someone take me away,” Harrington’s inner monologue spews.

But it’s not that Steve hates the song, nor is he having a miserable time with everybody. It’s not that he hates Eddie or his stupid raspy voice, or the way he makes the guitar sing with every calculated twiddle of his fingers and every provocative buckling of his knees. In fact, it’s the opposite. Steve just didn’t want to admit that Dustin’s O.O.M.F. — and the other members of Corroded Coffin — were actually… pretty cool. 

And judging by the fact that Eddie was most likely Dustin’s first choice for the talent show, there was a cornier, more ominous second thing that Steve isn’t willing to admit: it’s that the exclusion really hurts him.

“Same old SHIT,” Eddie sings. “Never ends.”

“WHOA!” Harrington exclaims, waving his disapproving hands in the air.

The band stops the song immediately, the negative feedback from the amp plaguing the air while they stare around in confusion.

“What?” Eddie demands.

Any chance there was for Steve to try to humble 'The Freak', he took. And clearly this time around, there was no hesitation.

“You’re not really gonna say the S word when you perform at Show and Tell, are you?”

“The S word?” Munson retorts. “What, is this preschool?”

Ba-dum-tss! goes the drummer.

"Gareth," Eddie scowls.

Gareth Emerson digresses with a sheepish shrug.

“No," Steve shakes his head. "But it’s still a summer camp for kids.”

Eddie chuckles at this. “Come on, Harrington. Don’t act like YOU weren’t cussing up a storm at their age. The kids are all in their rebellious phase anyways. They’re gonna love it.”

Eddie’s known Steve since elementary school. This is the same guy who held swear contests, who cussed because he thought it made him look ‘mature’. The same guy that used to call women “bitches”. The same guy who almost got suspended because he and Tommy H. were yelling out slurs during an assembly, but luckily his superintendent mom was there to pull some strings to simmer it down to one afternoon of detention.

Harrington couldn’t possibly choose now to care about profanities.

“I’d rather you not bend the rules of Camp Knowhere.”

Bend the rules?!

It doesn’t take too long for Eddie to figure out that the issue goes beyond Camp Knowhere. In fact, both of Dustin’s O.O.M.F.s know that. 

 “Why the sudden change of character, Harrington?” Eddie crosses his arms. “Huh? After all these years?”

"All these years, what do you mean all these years?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

Captivated, nosy eyes bounce back and forth between the two as they argue... on and on and on and on.

“This happens every time,” Jonathan hisses to Robin at a low whisper so that they don’t hear. “Do you think they ever get tired of it?”

"I actually don't know what you mean," Steve counters. "And quite frankly, I feel like you don't seem to really know me at all."

“Hey, I’m just following your lead,” Eddie shrugs. “You never took time to get to know ME when we were in school. Unless I had something you and your friends wanted of course.”

“So all of this is MY fault?”

“I never said it was.”

It’s almost ritualistic at this point, the arguing. 

Just then, Gareth starts up again, issuing a theatrical drumroll to ease the tension. It only seems to make it worse, judging by how Eddie and Steve hiss at him immediately.

“GARETH!” “EMERSON!” 

The drummer refrains once more. 

Steve is quick to pick up where they left off. “I can read between the lines.”

“Crazy thing to say for someone who’s paid people to write his book reports.”  

“I’m just…looking out for everyone, okay?” Steve snaps, reverting the conversation back to the kids. “The children might not care, but it may look bad on the counselors. And I like my summer gig, spending time with my best friend. I don’t wanna jeopardize it.”

A self-serving response. Eddie knew to not put it past Harrington.

Regardless, Eddie chooses to comply. Not to give Steve what he wants, but because Dustin's happiness is on the line. And if his best friend is happy and Corroded Coffin gets a record deal, then Eddie wouldn’t have to deal with Steve Harrington or Hawkins much longer. 

The band starts up again and, this time, remains uninterrupted. 

Meanwhile, Steve sulks back in his seat, unable to pinpoint why he felt like the issue wasn’t resolved. But he soon realizes that for as long as Eddie Munson is part of the equation, the problem will remain a constant.

“Same old stuff,” Eddie bitterly corrects himself. “Never ends.”

“Fortune cookie, anyone?”

Two hours feel like days when everyone is stoned. And given that everyone’s too tired (and high) to drive themselves home, a sleepover at Steve’s quickly becomes inevitable. 

“Did we get the same fortune?” Jonathan asks Argyle.

“No, we didn’t,” he shakes his head. “Guess we’re not feeling sorry for each other tonight.”

Dustin chuckles.

“What are we feeling tonight? I’m thinking pizza.”

Leaving everyone else to decide on munchies, Steve and Eddie appoint themselves as the Designated Clean-Up Crew, searching for and rounding up any trash they see laying around.

“So, what are you up to nowadays?” Steve questions. “Since we graduated high school.”

“Oh, same old, same old,” Eddie offers a tense chuckle. “Still in The Biz, but the money’s good. Thankfully this time I’m doing it without my pops around.”

It strikes a nerve in Steve. He’d give anything to have his dad around. 

He also wouldn’t be proud to be in the same position as he was in high school. Didn’t Eddie want to grow as a person?

“That’s amaziiing.” Steve lies.

Uncomfortable now, Eddie clears his throat, shifting his attention back to Steve so that he can eat his own words.

“What about you? What’s The Hair been up to?”

“I work at Family Video and then help out at camp right after.”

“Try bringing that to the career fair,” Eddie scoffs jokingly.

“Sorry?”

“I said great gig you got there,” Munson perjures.

Their gazes meet for a brief, charged moment before quickly averting. 

Eddie watches Steve with both curiosity and disdain. 

This is who his best buddy is seeing on the side? It’s hard for Eddie to think of anything Dustin and Steve could possibly have in common. What would they even talk about? Maybe the new Brook Shields movie, hair gel, and their favorite ice cream flavors, but that’s just about it. And Steve Harrington doesn’t seem like the best influence for Dustin anyways.

Steve’s eyes flicker towards Eddie, trying to hide his scrutiny behind a thinly veiled expression of disinterest. 

He notes the way Eddie’s band tee has seen better days, the sleeves ripped and the print faded, and the way he absolutely reeks of Mary Jane and indistinct rubber from a Spirit Halloween store. If Dustin brought Eddie home to Mrs. Henderson, she’d probably stroke out. 

Just then, a very intoxicated Robin chimes in.

“Duuude, Eddie. It’d be awesome if Coffin got this gig.”

“Oh, I know right?” Eddie lights up immediately. “We’d be out of this rugged town once and for all and living life in the big city.”

The distaste for Eddie only amplifies with that statement. 

All of Steve’s life, he’s had nothing but good experiences in Hawkins. To have a “rough” upbringing, you had to be looking for trouble. Which is something Eddie and his father, Al seemed to have been doing since the beginning of time. 

“What’s so rugged about Hawkins?” Steve challenges Eddie.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Eddie mutters.

“I would, actually,” Steve taps his feet impatiently. “Go on, tell the class, Eddie. What is so rough-and-tough about this part of town?”

Eddie knows Steve is trying to set him up. He thinks for a moment, carefully crafting his words before speaking.

“There’s just…” Eddie says with trepidation. “A lack of equal opportunity to succeed. Always has been. But in the city, opportunity is everywhere. For everyone. Indy would be a perfect, clean slate for us.”

It’s like a sock to the face. 

Lack of opportunity? Eddie is most definitely looking for problems now. If he wouldn’t consider Steve being nice enough to lend him his garage — even when he didn’t like him — an ‘opportunity’ to succeed, then what would he consider?

“I mean, sure. Hawkins has issues like any other city, but I think there are equal opportunities for everyone,” Harrington protests. 

“Very rich coming from you, Suburbia.”

“Uh oh,” Dustin mutters.

Now Steve is pissed. 

Does Munson think that just because Steve lives in a nice house he’s never had problems in his life? With that logic, Eddie isn’t going to get himself very far. It’s very evident now, given where he currently is.

“Why can’t you accept the fact that life comes for others too?!” Steve spits. “Life is also hard for me, you know!”

“Guys…” Dustin starts.

A bitter laugh expels from the pit of Eddie’s stomach.

“Life is hard for you?!” Eddie exclaims. “It’s hard for you? How can life be that hard? Hey, I’m Steve Harrington. My life consists of Daddy’s money, wearing hair pomade to the ceiling and getting rejected by girls!”

“Hey, why don’t we play that one song again!” Jonathan suggests. “You know the take me away, away, away, away, away!”

But Steve and Eddie are way too locked in, committed to tearing each other to bits because the other one started it. Eddie wanted to play that game huh?

“Well all YOU know is complaining about the consequences of your own actions!” Steve spews in return. “Oh look, I’m Eddie Munson, I’m painfully self-unaware, I’m inconsiderate of everyone around me, and I commit petty crimes then wonder why the cops hate me. AND I still live with my uncle – AT MY BIG AGE.”

“YOU STILL LIVE WITH YOUR PARENTS, HOW IS THAT ANY DIFFERENT?”

“AND! You’re as loud as your guitar. NEW-NEW-NEW-NEWWW. How about you evaluate your priorities if you want a good life, Munson? And make sure you at least have some ammo under your belt before coming for me.”

“Wow,” Eddie laughs. “I don’t know anyone more tone deaf. You think my walk of life was a choice?! Not everyone was handed everything on a silver platter, Steve. Not everyone’s lives are perfect like yours!”

“Sweethearts, anybody?!” Robin butts in, desperately waving the candies in the air. “You are what you eat, and everyone in this room is VERY, VERY SWEET!”

But the boys are only getting started. If this is Robin’s version of sweet, she was about to know what sour is real quick.

“You think my life is perfect?! At least you have a father figure.”

“I want you to assess the room we’re in, Harrington,” Eddie implores. “Family must love you a lot if they’re letting you throw parties and use drugs that a loser like me was nice enough to hook you up with.”

“Leave what I do outside of camp out of this! You know, as a counselor I’m not sure I like my kids hanging out with some loitering criminal all the damn time.”

“Not sure I like them hanging out with someone who acts like an overbearing, insufferable parent.”

“At least I have parents.”

Simultaneous gasps fill the room. 

The color drains from Steve’s face when he realizes the damage he’s done. He watches as Eddie seemingly deflates, shrinking himself down at the shoulders, and then sulking in place. A blank stare overcasts his eyes, lips desperately trying not to quiver while in front of an involuntary audience. 

“That was not cool,” Steve breathes. “I’m sorry.”

But Eddie is past the point of forgiveness. And caring. Steve’s already embarrassed the fuck out of him, so what’s Dignity at this point? Steve won. Whatever game he was playing.

“You’re right, Steve,” Eddie nods, bitterly. “You have everything I want. So why can’t you just give me this one thing?”

Steve really fucked up this time. He doesn’t even know why he even said that. It isn’t necessarily a brag that Steve has parents if they aren’t active in his life. Did he really want the last word so badly, he willingly let his anger steer the direction of the conversation? Sure, Eddie has backed off now, but the thick veil of suppressed tears did not make it worth it.

“Here,” Eddie quips as he chucks Dustin’s invention at Steve’s chest. “You win. You want a cookie for it?”

Before leaving the room, Eddie helps himself to one as well. Steve watches ashamed as Eddie storms away, not seeming to care who he bumps into on his way out. With the intention to make amends, Steve darts after Eddie, following him to the bathroom only to have the door slammed in his face.

“Eddie!” Steve knocks. “Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I thought I’d gotten over my anger issues and pettiness, so I don’t know why I said all that. It’s something I need to work on, for sure.”

No response. Steve tries again.

“You guys sound really good…” he musters. “I wish I had the courage to put myself out there like that.”

Steve gently taps the door with two fingers now. 

“Eddie?”

On the other side of the wall, Eddie is angrily wiping away his tears, upset at himself for letting someone who wears women’s hairspray and Tiger Beat cologne get under his skin. 

Giving up now, Steve sighs to himself and turns around to prop his back against the door. And in case Eddie decides to come back out, Steve decides to wait a while longer, reading the fortune from his fortune cookie in the meantime. 

“A journey soon begins, its prize reflected in another’s eyes. When what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back.”

“What could that possibly mean?” Steve thinks to himself as he takes a bite from the cookie. 

And at the same time on the other side, Eddie also cracks open his cookie. A nice little dessert with some kind words are sure to make him feel better. He reads his fortune.

“A journey soon begins, its prize reflected in another’s eyes. When what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back.”

“…in bed,” he adds with a chuckle.

Just then the ground begins to rumble. 

The sudden JOLT causes Eddie to drop his cookie and latch onto the sink for stability. Meanwhile, Former Cub Scout Steve who knows everything about Stop-Drop-and-Roll dives for the nearest piece of furniture, crawling underneath to protect himself from any debris that may fall onto him.

“EVERYONE GET DOWN!”

“JESUS CHRIST!” Eddie yells.

Hawkins doesn’t get many earthquakes. But according to the news, Roane County was due for a big one. This could well be it. 

But as fast as the earthquake happens, it fades away. And next thing Eddie knows, he’s taking deep breaths, gathering his composure before he swings open that door. 

“Shit — Harrington, are you okay?”

Steve scans the room, looking around for any debris that may block his plight towards safety. 

“Yeah I’m fine, thanks Munson,” Steve gulps. He allows Eddie’s firm hand to hoist him up. “Just a bit shaken up. Are you okay?”

Eddie nods his head rapidly. “I’m fine too,” he insists. “I’m just worried about everyone else.”

Running back over to the garage now, a frantic Steve and Eddie call out to their friends to make sure they’re okay. But when they arrive, they’re shocked to see everyone conversing, laughing, and ordering pizza, almost as if nothing had ever happened.

Steve coughs to make his presence known. “Did you guys feel that?”

Everyone turns to them.

“Feel what?” Dustin inquires.

“There was an earthquake.”

“No, there wasn’t?” Robin cocks an eyebrow.

“Yes there was!” Eddie insists in agreement with Steve.

“Are you sure?” “An earthquake?”

“There wasn’t an earthquake.”

“What earthquake?”

“A chicken bake?” Argyle questions, clearly high as shit.

“An earthquake,” Jonathan repeats for him.

“An Earth Cake?!”

“QUAKE!” Jonathan hollers. “EARTHQUAKE!”

“EARTHQUAKE?!” the startled stoner yelps.

“No no no!” everyone yells out, doing their best to contain Argyle’s panic. “No, no, no!”

———

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington. I wish I could hate you.”

Eddie winces as his neck partially kinks, due to the fact that Steve was too short-fused to get him a pillow for tonight.

At least the futon is comfortable. After flopping around like a fish out of water for a few minutes, Eddie finally feels completely relaxed. And as he flips through his mental catalog of Dream Scenarios, the aspiring rockstar begins to drift off to Dreamland, envisioning his guitar solo and jamming out with his favorite herd of sheep.

Meanwhile upstairs, Steve is too emotionally uncomfortable to hit the hay.

“Get a grip, Munson,” Steve grumbles, angry at the thought of the freeloader below him. “If you stopped thinking the world is out to get you, maybe you’d actually see some progress in your life.”

After one last fluffing of his pillow, Steve reaches into his drawer and pops a gummy into his mouth, bracing himself for more Camp Knowhere shenanigans that lie ahead and having to deal with the Freakazoid-With-a-Victim-Complex in the morning. 

12:00 MIDNIGHT

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ [insert creepy, grandfather clock noises here]

8:00 AM

Obnoxious, fluffy duvet covers stir Eddie awake.

Maybe Steve did come with some goodies after all.

Munson begins to execute his morning routine: a gangly-limbed stretch followed by an exaggerated bellow and blissful smacking of his lips.

BONK.

A lamp on the nightstand interrupts his ritual. It is then that Eddie realizes.

He’s in a bedroom. 

“What the—” Munson mutters.

Sitting up slowly now, Eddie takes a moment to assess the room around him.

Trophies and medals. Cologne and hair gel. A work desk with a basketball net over it, and a Tommy Hilfiger pop-up shop in the closet.

He’s in Steve’s room.

But where is Steve?

Curious about the time and day, Eddie instinctively goes to consult his watch that normally rests on his wrist.

It’s not there. 

Eddie then looks at his hands…his palms… Not a single blister, callous or hangnail. Those are not his hands.

“Those aren’t mine…” he thinks to himself.

Eddie then runs some stressed fingers through his hair, only to discover that its length is half of what it was when he fell asleep last night.

“That’s not mine either.”

Eddie shoots up immediately. When he finds himself standing, Eddie notices his food belly is gone, and that six pack abs have taken its place. Eddie then stares down at his feet, which are now exponentially larger. And hairier. And his thighs, now they’re a lot bulkier.

Suddenly Eddie’s hands explore his thighs, grazing his quads shortly before going to grope the two plump mounds of tissue behind him, both cheeks comparably twice the surface area of his palms!

“That’s DEFINITELY not mine.”

Absolutely panicked now, Eddie releases his grip on the butt that isn’t his and dashes out the room.

It appears that he is somehow not in his body. And the only person in Loch Nora with a dump truck for an ass — that Eddie knows of — is Steve Harrington.

But if he's Steve, then where is Eddie’s body?

The couch.

Eddie bolts over to Steve’s living room in search of his corpse. And to his surprise, he does find himself there, the chest that was his – but not his – at the same time rising and depressing as he watches himself sleep. 

“Christ if that’s not Steve in there, then I’m dead,” Eddie thinks to himself. “And quite frankly, I don’t know which one is worse.” 

Eddie clears his throat.

"H-hello? Steve?”

Nothing.

“Steve?” Eddie attempts again. “Hey. Steve. It’s Eddie. Wake up!”

Nothing.

“This is an emergency, Steve. I need you to wake up now, please.”

He gets a good snore out of the entity. Completely frustrated now, Eddie does not hold back.

"This is alarming, Steve! WAKE UP!”

Eddie unearths the bottom half of Steve's…his… body by pushing the blanket aside. When he tugs at his legs, Presumably Steve retaliates, grabbing onto the arms of the sofa to keep him in place.

“EARTH. TO. KING. STEVE!” Eddie screams.

"Whaaat, dude?!" the host in Eddie’s body grumpily demands.

"Aha! So you are Steve!"

"Duh, who the fuck else?" It demands. "Are you still high?"

"If I was, then that would better explain this."

Steve must’ve really done too much last night. Because for a while there, the person who he assumed was Eddie sounded a heck of a lot like him.

"That’s fucking weird," Steve shakes his head, turning over to look at Eddie. "For a second there, you sounded a lot like m—AAAH OH MY GOD!"

Palms clasping his… (well, Eddie’s) mouth now, Steve can only gasp in horror.

"WHO are you?” he demands. “WHAT are you?"

"It's me! It's Eddie!" Eddie gulps. "I'm... I’M INSIDE OF YOU!”

There’s a pause.

“I don't like how I worded that,” he admits.

"Yeah, neither do I..." Steve agrees. Suddenly he squints. "Is that a zit on my forehead?"

He reaches to swat it but Eddie swats him away. Through Steve's gritted teeth, Eddie hisses,

"THAT'S what you're worried about right now? What in the sane hell is happening?!"

“This isn’t the first weird dream I’ve had after taking an edible,” Steve remarks.

“Harrington, this ISN’T a dream. Okay? This is real life.”

“Yeah, okay Munson,” Steve scoffs, finally hoisting himself off of the couch to pace around. “I know a dream when I’m in one. I just gotta… pinch myself or slap myself around and I’ll be awake.”

But Eddie wastes no time.

“OW!” Steve yelps. “You just pinched my nipple!”

“You mean my nipple?”

He does it again.

“OW! Quit it dude, that’s harassment.”

The two make their way over to a mirror in the living room. To test out the impossible, Steve raises his right hand. The mirror shows Eddie doing it. Eddie begins to touch his face. The mirror responds with Steve doing it. 

It’s the confirmation they were too in denial to come to terms with. They somehow switched bodies.

“Oh god, I’m…” Steve stammers. “Wow…”

“Oh…GOD!” Eddie shrieks. He inches closer to the mirror. “I’m like an off-brand George Michael!”

“HURTFUL—”

“Harrington!” Eddie exclaims, turning back around to face himself. “What was the last thing you remember from last night?”

“Uhh,” Steve stammers. “A-all I remember was us arguing during dinner time and going separate ways after. And then there was a big earthquake that everyone insists that they didn’t feel. And then…we all went to bed, and I forgot to get you a pillow.”

“It’s okay, I’m over it,” Eddie pants. “Way bigger issues than a pillow right now.”

“And now we’re here.”

The two frantically pace around the living room. How can something like this possibly happen?

"Okay,” Eddie exhales. “Yesterday we were here with everybody. All of us were seemingly having a good time until we got pretty into it. Then the earthquake happened, we went to bed, and woke up sober… but in different bodies. Is this like…a rare phenomenon…some kind of medical emergency?”

“I don’t know, dude,” Steve shrugs. “This has never happened to me before. There has to be a scientific explanation for this."

Suddenly their two brain cells click.

"Henderson," they utter in unison.

“It was probably Dustin’s Empathy science experiment,” Steve infers. “Although I'm not sure how a fortune cookie would take walking-in-another-person's-shoes so damn LITERAL."

"God, we’re cooked!” Eddie groans. “And we can’t tell anyone but our friends about it or else we’re REALLY gonna end up as test subjects!”

Eddie starts biting his new nails and frantically pacing back and forth. Meanwhile, Steve centers in on his breathing before emotionally responding to the situation in front of him.

“Okay…” Steve exhales. “Let me just gather my thoughts… You’re in my body and I’m in your body.”

“...Right,” Eddie nods, annoyed since they’d already established that. “Does it seem less scary now that you’ve said it out loud?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head.

“Alright, cool,” Eddie shrugs. “Just checking.”

They look at each other, absolutely petrified of the reality that has now sunk in. And before they seek any other forms of help, there was one more final thought the two needed to share alone… one O.O.M.F. (Other Older Male Friend) to another, in the comfort of Steve’s living room.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

[cue panicked guitar rift here 🎸⚡️]

“This is so not cool, man, this is SO not cool!”

Argyle, Jonathan, and Robin are the first ones at the scene. Along with Dustin, of course, who is now evidently spiraling. 

“I need some air,” Dustin sighs. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god.”

The scientist darts outside for a very reasonable and private mental breakdown. Meanwhile in his absence, everyone else attempts to get their Thinking Caps on.

“I mean…” Argyle pants. “It’s one thing to have a funky acid trip, it’s another to have an out-of-body experience…but this is…this is…”

“Freaky,” Jonathan finishes for him.

“It’s FREAKY!” Argyle agrees. “And it’s not like we can go to the cops, I mean, they'd never open their minds to something like this. They'd just ship us to the Kerley County KOOK HOUSE.”

“Or worse,” Eddie gulps. “The Lab.”

The room is drowned with frantic rambling once again as all the young adults talk over each other.

Will this be the new normal? A head-banging Steve and a preppy Eddie? It sounds like pure nightmare fuel. A disaster waiting to happen. And Dustin only programmed his fortune cookies for this… unintentionally. He didn’t program a way to undo it. 

Everyone is running out of ideas. That is until…

“Wait!” Robin exclaims. “What if you guys just…combined?”

The idea is met with retaliation.

“I beg your finest pardon?” “WE WHAT?!”

“Wait!” Eddie exclaims. “No, no, yeah! I get it. What if we… what if we just… RAN… into each other and the force will be great enough to switch us back?”

“Right! Right!” Steve frantically agrees. “Right, the greater the force, the greater the impact, and we’ll be back in our bodies in no time.”

Steve and Eddie are on opposite sides of the room before anyone else can register it. Kicking his foot around like a bull, Eddie warms himself up while Harrington takes deep breaths, grounding himself before the ordeal.

“Are they really about to…” Argyle begins.

“Sh.. sh..” Jonathan stops him.

“I really wanna see how this goes,” Robin adds.

“Okay,” Eddie huffs before he lets out a battle cry. “EN GUARDE!”

“OH GOD!” Steve shrieks.

“AHHHHHH!” 

“AHHHHHH!”

SMACK! PLOP!

Luckily the floor breaks their fall. The commotion grabs the attention of Dustin, who had just finished his meltdown. But at the sight of seeing his two friends attempt to combine, he could feel himself being launched into yet another one. 

“Okay,” Dustin sighs as he walks back in. “What the hell?!”

———

“Language, Dusty!”

The next brainiac to consult on the list is Suzie, Dustin’s girlfriend. Spawning from the Mormon Capital of the world (Salt Lake City, Utah), Little Miss Beauty and Brains is known to have a solution for just about anything. Until now, it seems.

 “I’m sorry for the language, Suzie. I’m just freaking out,” Dustin blubbers. “It’s not every day my best friends switch bodies and I have no idea how to change them back.”

“So let me get this straight…” Suzie sighs. “Steve is inside of Eddie, and Eddie is inside of Steve.”

“Okay, can we please stop wording it like that?!” Eddie pleads.

“Sorry, Steve.”

“I’M EDDIE!”

“Jiminy Cricket, this is so confusing.”

And what a sight for confused eyes it also is.  But as painful as it is to admit, it’s interesting watching “Steve Harrington” stomp at the ground muttering “Jesus H. Christ!” while “Eddie Munson” nitpicks everything about his hair in the mirror.

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” Suzie suggests. “How did this start? What did you use for your ingredients, Dusty Bun?”

“Passionfruit and cohosh,” Dustin answers firmly. “Well-known, NATURAL stimulants of oxytocin.”

“And you said they ate the cookies containing these ingredients?”

“Yes, and they got the same fortune which I programmed for them to feel empathy for each other when it happens. Their bodies should’ve released an immense amount of oxytocin. Instead, they uh well, they switched bodies.”

“Dusty Bun… there is no such thing as an oral oxytocin!”

“Why not?” Steve questions.

“Because it would just get destroyed in the GI tract,” Suzie explains. “Meaning there wouldn’t be any ‘stimulants’ to absorb into the bloodstream.”

“Meaning oxytocin would’ve never been released in the first place,” Eddie’s breath hitches.

“It’s also notorious for being unable to cross the blood-brain barrier,” Suzie adds. “Something always happens before it’s able to. This may as well be that something.”

“But… if it gets destroyed in the stomach…” Dustin wonders. “Then how the hell did Steve and Eddie still end up switching bodies?”

Suzie shoots Dustin a dirty look.

“How the heck…” he corrects himself.

Suzie softens up immediately. “I don’t know. Our Heavenly Father works in mysterious ways. This may have happened for a reason. I’m not sure what it is yet, but I’m sure it serves a Divine purpose.”

“Well, can it SERVE a little faster?” Eddie grumbles. “I’ve got a Show and Tell to practice for and Harrington’s got children to babysit. We obviously can’t do that for each other. People are going to think we’ve gone crazy.”

Suddenly a light bulb goes off in his head.

“Wait. Henderson! Give us a couple more cookies. Maybe if we get the same fortune again, we’ll switch back!”

“NO! No more cookies!” Steve butts in. “Who’s to say you won’t end up inside another person whose body you didn’t wanna be in?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Okay…” Dustin stops him, disgusted at the fact. “Enough.”

“Dustin is right,” Suzie nods. “Enough arguing for now, and no more fortune cookies with matching fortunes until we can find out what’s wrong!”

The boys watch as Suzie walks back towards her desk and returns with some papers and pencils.

“Here. My homework for you two is to write down every little detail there is to know about each other. This includes your day-to-day, your hobbies, and even habits. No one can know what is really going on behind the scenes.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, wait,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t like what you’re implying. We don’t have to… live life as each other… do we?!”

“In the meantime, yes. You do.” Suzie confirms. “And it will be uncomfortable, I’m not going to lie. But what else can we do?”

“Uh, go through all of Dustin’s fortune cookies until we find a pair so Steve and I can ingest THOSE!” Eddie points out.

“Yeah, and there goes BOTH my Show and Tell items!” Dustin hollers.

“Dusty, don’t worry,” Suzie speaks again. “You will get to showcase your friends and fortune cookies at Show and Tell. I’ll be doing my own research to ensure that this happens. This includes talking to some monks, priests, and rabbis. We WILL get to the bottom of this.”

The three leave Suzie’s cabin feeling absolutely defeated. 

Of course this would happen the summer Steve finally got his hair under control. And of course this would happen the moment Eddie has a potential record deal at the palm of his hands. Any other circumstance would have been okay, despite the freakiness factor. This was just shit timing if they ever did see it.

And if Suzie can’t fix it, they’re screwed.

When they get far enough away from the girls' cabins, Steve excuses himself to the nearest water fountain. In contrast, Eddie shows himself to the closest Porta-Potty, the safest place for him to have a conversation he wouldn’t be caught dead having.

“Hey God,” Eddie grumbles. “Me again.”

———

Adapting to each other’s lives certainly wasn’t easy.

It started with switching cars.

Steve’s BMW has sensitive brakes. Eddie’s beloved van, Halen, on the other hand requires more force, more aggression, something Eddie believed Steve would bust his toe doing.

And Eddie can only hope that when Steve is running around town as him, he doesn’t embarrass him all too much. He’s already not off to a good start, with a stupid Thundercats t-shirt on and his hair up in a bun.

“And when you’re outside with the kiddos, make sure they wear sunscreen,” Steve advises him. “You're a camp counselor, after all.”

“Got it.”

“And that an epipen is with you at all times,” Steve adds. “Some of the kids have bee and nut allergies and those reactions can be lethal.”

Make sure this. Make sure that. It’s odd for Eddie to be hearing it all in his own voice. Has Steve always been this annoying?

Eventually Eddie gets tired of it and consults his Walkman, blasting “Take Me Away” through his headphones to drown out Steve’s rambling. Rambling on and on and on and on… on and on and on and on….

“Eddie!” Steve shouts. “Are you listening?”

“Don’t wanna grow up I wanna get out,” Eddie sings. “HEY! Take me away.”

Eddie was listening. In fact he listens and pays attention more than Steve knows. He just doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

“I’m gonna get you a real job,” Steve says to Eddie.

“A real job?” Eddie tuts. “My job is real. I sell real drugs and bring in real money to help my Uncle afford our really real rent.”

“But I’m not gonna be the one doing it.”

“Sure you are. You’re me.”

“Munson, no!”

“Harrington, yes.”

“I’M NOT SELLING KETAMINE TO MINORS, EDDIE.”

“Aw. But you fit the stereotype,” Eddie smirks, rather cheekily. “Now chop chop, Rick’s expecting royalties on said sales.”

“Maybe I can land you a hospitality job. Or maybe a front desk job. Something that comes with benefits. Something practical.”

“A Munson with a normal job in Hawkins?” Eddie can’t believe his ears. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Perhaps there is a silver lining in all of this. 

For the average Hawkins resident, getting a job is no issue. It was never a choice for Eddie. Given his father’s less-than-cookie-cutter reputation – and Eddie being an involuntary extension of him – he couldn’t believe Steve couldn’t grasp that getting a conventional job is hard. And Eddie always thought Harrington needed some humbling. This is the perfect scenario for it.

“Take your feet off your dash,” Steve grumbles. “Steve Harrington doesn’t do that.”

“AyAy, Captain.”

“And stop head-banging in my body, will ya?” Steve begs. “You’ll break a sweat and un-pomade my hair.”

“God, you’re so anal about everything, Steve!” Eddie scoffs. “I feel sorry for those kids, I really do.”

If Eddie’s going to be walking around in Steve’s body, he at least wanted to relax first. But even that was impossible, given that Steve is a talker and alleged goodie-two-shoes-who-discovered-empathy-on-drugs-and-that’s-all-he-preaches-now (with the rules of a mother whose son was allergic to everything but water).

The car ride is more tense and quiet as the two approach Knowhere. Eddie is quick to scurry out when Steve approaches the drop-off curb, a little speech already prepared from the first nerve Harrington managed to get on in the morning.

“Loosen up that manbun,” Eddie commands once he’s out of the car. “You look like the Buddha went thrifting in Chicago. You also need to unclench your asscheeks a bit more if you wanna be me. And to put more fiber in your diet. How’s that for advice?”

SLAM! goes the door. Steve normally would’ve been pissed, but since he’s driving Halen, he’s lenient about it. So he watches Eddie walk away, in a stride that looks like he's constantly got a wedgie, over to the camp and towards the kids he is to watch until Show and Tell Day.

“WEAR SUNSCREEN!” Steve hisses, one last time. “…I don’t play about my skin.”

———

“Hey, Steve!” a group of campers greet Eddie as he makes his way into Knowhere.

God, this is so weird.

“Hey…kiddos?” Eddie greets them in return.

“We’re gonna go diving in the lake, just letting you know.”

“Thanks for the invite,” Eddie tuts. “Sounds like a lot of fun. Just uh, wear sunscreen.”

“Well, we try to invite you but you never wanna come with us.”

“Says who?” Eddie demands. “It’s summer, everyone goes to the lake.”

“Everyone but you,” a kid points out. “You turn us down every time.”

“I do?”

“All the time,” another kid confirms. “You say it ruins your hair.”

"I was...joking," is all Eddie can come up with.

"Really? Because it doesn't sound like you were," another child counters. "You already don't like that the UV rays have the potential to damage your hair cuticles, which aids in your fear of dryness and breakage. Furthermore, swimming in a lake filled with miscellaneous, unidentified bacterium is another concern, apart from the warm water having the potential to dry your hair out even more. Also, at windy temperatures of about 80 degrees, typical for a Hawkins summer, your hair when damp will start to frizz. Which is where your pomade and Farrah Fawcett spray come in handy. And on summer days, you give your hair 32 hours before the next hair wash rotation, to which the cycle starts again. We know the drill, Steve. You've explained it multiple times. And we get it now that you don’t like the lake."

Even the kids think Harrington's insufferable. Eddie can only shake his head in disbelief.

"I'm not who I was a day ago," Eddie shrugs. "...literally."

"Huh?"

"You gonna let me join or what?"

Suddenly, the kids’ eyes begin to light up. Steve Harrington joining them at the lake? It was going to be the most fun day they’ve ever had!

"Sure!" the kids cheer excitedly. "Al-right! Steve is joining our party!"

Eddie smiles to himself, proud of the reaction he got from the eager children. Excited cheers? Smiling faces? Now THAT is how you Camp Counsel.

And now that Eddie thinks about it, he realizes something. He’s spent most of his youth in survival mode that he never got to let loose and have fun. And while he has Steve’s body and physical activity levels, he is certainly NOT about to let that go to waste. Pomade? Eddie thinks to himself. Meet Trash Can.

“Hey guys! Wait for me!” Eddie calls after the campers. “CANNONBALL!"

Meanwhile Steve sets off to find Eddie a job.

A real job.

He tries Hawkins Mart. The roller rink. The movie theater. The coffee shops. Something that involved social interaction and hard work. 

"Hi there," Steve grins politely. "I'm Eddie Munson, and I'd like to apply for a job."

But Hawkins is anything but receptive to it.

"No."

"Nope."

"Sorry."

"Munson, eh? You related to Al Munson?"

"NO!"

Apparently misdemeanors and run-ins with the law make it impossible to land a good gig. It was no wonder now why Eddie stayed where he was comfortable.

Though, it's unconventional.

Steve is just about to lose hope when those looking for help didn't even want him.

But he wasn’t giving up. There has to be something Steve can do to increase Eddie's chances of landing a good job.

Just then, he realizes. 

Maybe it’s not Eddie’s past, but his demeanor. The way he carries himself. If he didn’t dress like a vessel for Satan every single day, this conservative town would probably take him more seriously.

It's one of life's twisted games. Steve didn’t make the rules. And he sure as hell can't change it. 

But there is one thing he can help Eddie do. He can help Eddie play the game. Master it.

And that’s when Steve sees the scissors.

———

So you can say sunscreen is the least of everyone’s worries.

“Jesus Chr— what did you do to my hair?!”

“What did you do to MINE?!”

“I had to let her breathe man,” Eddie explains. “God, Harrington. No wonder you’re always in a mood. Holding your hair up with so much gel, MY HEAD FELT HEAVIER THAN A BOWLING BALL.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve challenges him. “Well your hair was so greasy, I could’ve pat it down with a paper towel like it’s PIZZA.”

The two are at it again, reaching at each other’s hair and then swatting each other away like flies. Suddenly Robin butts into the quarrel, emerging from the kitchen with amusement spread all across her face. 

“Oh…my…god…” she says.

Steve and Eddie simultaneously stop their bickering and pan their gazes over to her. Unable to contain her laughter, Robin releases a hearty chuckle in front of them.

“Holy shit, this is the greatest thing since disposable cameras,” Robin tsks. “On that note, let me go get mine.”

“NO!” both Steve and Eddie refuse.

“This is so humiliating!” Steve whines. “I look like someone literally mopped the floor with me!” 

“You're embarrassed?!” Eddie exclaims as he points to his own, original body. “Whose Peepaw died?! Why am I wearing a grandpa sweater sourced from the crusty back bins of Goodwill?!”

"I thought it'd be fitting attire for your library job that I got you."

"You got me a job at the LIBRARY?!” Eddie shrieks. “Out of all places?"

"No other place would hire you!"

"Can’t say I didn’t warn ya."

“And why does my hair LOOK LIKE THAT?!” Steve demands. “You went into the lake with the kids, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!”

Eddie shakes his head at him, baffled. “God forbid, I – the camp counselor — do camp counselor things! I did exactly what you told me to do.”

“WHERE DID I SAY YOU COULD MESS UP MY HAIR?”

Steve takes a moment to mourn his glorious mane. Meanwhile, Eddie starts brainstorming how he’s going to rob a high end salon for all their hair growth serums. 

Just then, Robin reemerges from the shadows with her camera, panning it directly at the two of them, as if she were some eager journalist fighting for her spot on the front page of National Geographic.

“Say cheese, freaks!”

———

Eddie was having a hard time being Steve.

Being Hawkins’ most desirable male apart from Billy Hargrove was harder than he thought. Because while women worshiped the ground Steve walked on, it was hard for flight-risk teens to take the Pretty Boy seriously.

“Christopher!” Eddie hisses. “I told you to stop domesticating the raccoons, you little shit.”

Living in the trailer park, Eddie’s no stranger to those feral, yet adorable, beady-eyed beauties. And while they were cute, holding your hand, refurbishing your trash, and performing for crackers, there was an unspoken agreement when it came to those kinds of animals: you are to never take them in.

“But it’s for research!” Christopher pleads.

“I wouldn’t care if it was for the Nobel Peace Prize,” Eddie scolds him. He places his angry hands frustratedly on his hips. “Those things can be rabid, violent, and aggressive when you least expect it. Trust me on this. Raccoons are better left alone in the wild. They can’t live with people like us.”

A low, miserable groan furls at the base of the boy’s belly. He kicks at the dirt beneath him.

“Ugh, you ruin all the fun, Steve,” Christopher whines. “Eddie Munson would never treat us like this.”

That statement just about nipped Eddie in the soul. Was this what being a buzzkill is like? Little did Christopher know that it’s actually Eddie scolding him. And that the kids were not only hurting Steve’s feelings but his as well. 

Meanwhile Steve wasn’t having a grand time being Eddie either.

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING BOY?!”

He almost died. Quite literally. And if it hadn’t been for Wayne launching himself across the room to stop it from happening, the odds of he and Eddie ever switching back would’ve gone from unlikely to zero.

“What?!” Steve demands.

“What do you mean, what?!” Wayne demands. “You eat that thing you’re going to wound up in the hospital! Again!”

Steve’s eyes trail down to the delicious shrimp tacos he had bought for takeout from Estrella’s. 

Eddie is deathly allergic to shellfish. And with just a single bite of that shrimp taco, he would be in the back of an ambulance with hives and a closed-up throat. And judging by the fact that Eddie and his uncle didn’t necessarily bring home the ‘big bucks’, an invoice from Hawkins Memorial Hospital wouldn’t be an ideal situation to put him through.

“We’re already two months behind on rent,” Wayne grumbles. “You eat those tacos, kick the bucket, and rack up them bills, I may as well join ya six feet under.”

No tacos, no time and a half at work, and no solution to the problem at hand. No wonder Eddie was always an angsty mess. It definitely showcases in those lyrics too.

———

“Take me away, away, away, AWAY”

A killer guitar solo rips through the Harrington garage as Eddie strums away at the chords. 

In hindsight, it looks like Steve is the rockstar. But the feral energy is unmistakably Munson’s, to which Dustin can’t help but get lost in, dancing along as a one-man-mosh-pit to the brilliance of Corroded Coffin’s discography.

“Same old stuff, it never ends.”

“The song sounds so cool hearing it in Steve’s voice,” Dustin beams. “And I can’t believe you put him in a crop top.”

“It’s like dressing up a Barbie doll,” Eddie jokes as he puts his guitar away. He then turns his torso towards Henderson’s field of view. “Look… Harrington’s an innie.”

Dustin cackles at the sight.

“Hahaha, no way!” he cheers. “I’m an outie.”

“Me too.”

The garage lets out an insulated hum as Steve strides in with the tacos. He cocks an eyebrow, confused at the sight of Dustin and Corroded Coffin comparing navels with each other. 

“What did I just walk into?”

Eddie’s eyes light up at the sight of Steve.

“Ooh, is that Estrella’s I smell?” he inquires.

“All yours,” Steve grumbles. “Found out today that I can’t have shellfish.”

Eddie smirks at the realization.

“But I can,” he sings. “Because I’m Steve Harrington.”

Eddie rushes over to Steve to acquire the food. Steve goes over to greet the rest of the boys and to issue Dustin a long-awaited high five.

“Mmm…” Eddie coos. “Take a good look at these washboard abs, Innie. They’ll be gone for as long as I can have these tacos.”

Steve makes a face. “I can’t believe you put me in a crop top.”

“I can’t believe you cut my hair,” Eddie shrugs.

But he seems to have gotten over the fact. Hair will grow back. There were larger issues at hand today. Like how exactly Eddie is going to perform with Corroded Coffin at Show and Tell.

“Listen,” Eddie wipes his mouth. “Harrington. I have a favor. If worse comes to worst and we can’t switch back on time, I need you to perform as me for Show and Tell.”

“And why exactly would I do that?”

“Because it’s our one shot to make it big.”

“Again, why would I do that?”

“Because you love me,” Eddie sneers.

But his face drops when Steve doesn’t return the energy. 

Nowhere in the fine print did it say ‘Steve Owes Eddie’. So why would Steve bother? It’s a lot for Eddie to ask of someone he’s openly mocked for years. But now that he needs something, suddenly Steve is the coolest person in the world? It doesn’t work like that. 

“Hey…” Eddie begins. “I know you don’t like me, okay? Whatever animosity you have towards me, I hope we can move on from it one day.” 

Steve refuses to meet Eddie’s eyes.

“If you do this for me, I’ll be eternally grateful,” Munson adds. “And maybe just maybe — when Corroded Coffin makes it big and we start touring around the world — I’ll be out of your hair forever. Literally.”

“Seems transactional.” 

It leaves a bad taste in Eddie’s mouth. It was always ‘Terms and Conditions’ with Harrington. Never has he ever considered the other person’s feelings. Never has he ever done anything out of the goodness of his heart. It was always, “What do I get out of it?”. Always some sort of fucked up business move. Just like his father.

“You view everything as a transaction, don’t you?” Eddie scoffs. 

“Why would I do favors for someone who’s done nothing but disrespect me? I value my time and energy. I’m not wasting it on you.” 

“But you can waste it on being a camp counselor, right? The kids aren’t so hot about you anyways, so I don’t know why you keep showing up.”

“Because Dustin is there. Because I’m a good friend. You wouldn’t know sacrifice and loyalty if it hit you in the face.”

“Ah, there it is. The performative activism in plain sight. We all know that this is about Dustin. AAAAlways been that way.”

“Of course my summer is about Dustin,” Steve argues. “You’ve had him all year. Spending every second with him and breathing down his neck.”

“I’M the one spending too much time with him?” Eddie scoffs. “Breathing down his neck?! You’re the one who got a gig to be closer to him.”

“Does it register with you that it’s because I DON’T SEE HIM MUCH AT ALL ANYMORE?” Steve shouts. “He’s always at your stupid D&D games and never wants to hang out with me! You’re taking the spotlight, like you always seem to do!”

“That’s IT!” Dustin barks. “I have HAD it with you two fighting all the time.”

Finally, it’s quiet. And normally the two would be stoked about it, but seeing Dustin on the brink of tears does not make the last word worthwhile at all.

“Not even a life-changing catastrophe will make you guys stop! You’re in each other’s bodies for Christ’s sake and still going at it like cats and dogs.”

Dustin starts back towards the house, kicking at the chords beneath his feet that are blocking his dramatic exit. All Dustin has ever wanted from those two – and quite literally every adult in his life – was co-existence. A notion so easy, yet no one has ever been able to give him that. Not even with his damn empathy cookies.

“It all makes me feel like a failure. Locking myself in my cabin for six weeks to have my fortune cookies yield THESE results? My last year at camp too.”

“Dustin–”

“And if you guys keep this up, then I don’t wanna spend the rest of my summer with either of you. How’s that for compromise?”

“Hey. Buddy…” Steve starts again.

“Henderson!” Eddie calls at the same time.

But it’s already too late. Off Dustin goes, Camp Nowhere notebook in his arms, walkie in his pocket, and car keys jingling furiously around his fingers. Nothing worth displaying at Show and Tell if the grown ups were going to act younger than the campers there. And if Dustin’s anger wasn’t already prominent, the way he backs out of Steve’s driveway is a dead giveaway, judging by the screeching tires and the pop of the engine as he steps on the gas.

“Damn,” Jeff comments. “Taco ‘bout a tough crowd…”

Ba-dum-tss! the drum sounds.

“GARETH!” Steve and Eddie growl.

"Scott Clarke."

Hearing that name nearly gives Eddie whiplash. Especially because it came out of Steve’s mouth.

"Huh?"

Steve repeats himself. "Scott Clarke? Our middle school science teacher?”

Steve is perched at the bottom of the stairs, wading aimlessly around in guilt. Eddie watches as he props himself against the rails of his fancy staircase, almost as if to serenade him with an apology song of sorts. 

"When we were kids, he headed the Hawkins Middle AV Club,” Steve recalls. “Nancy was in it, and so was Mike and so was Sinclair, Baby Byers, and Dustin.”

“Go on…”

“Well…whenever they ran into trouble, Mr. Clarke was always there to help,” Harrington shrugs. “Always been very personable, non-judgmental, and most of all, he’s knowledgeable.”

“Okay…”

 “And with his degree from MIT, he’d be the one most likely able to get us out of this mess,” Steve emphasizes. “Just in time for Show and Tell.”

“What makes you think he’d want to help former students like us?” Eddie demands. “We weren’t in the AV club or anything.”

“Because he cares, Eddie. Current students or not.”

There’s a pause.

“Remember that one time you came into homeroom with a black eye?” Steve reflects. “And Clarke made you stay after class so he could ask if everything was okay at home?”

Attempting to mask the mushy feelings underneath, Eddie simply shrugs. Steve persists.

“Other teachers would have assumed you got in a fight or something. Even if that was the case, none of them cared to look further into it. No one except Mr. Clarke.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie admits, choked up now. “Yeah, I almost forgot about that.”

It actually was a fight that happened that day. Some random kid at school. But there were also times Eddie has gotten in scuffles with his father, typically when Al Munson stumbled home too drunk for his own good and tried laying a hand on either him or Uncle Wayne. And Mr. Clarke, having grown up with Al, knew what he was capable of. Meaning it was his unspoken civil duty to look out for (Munson) Junior.

“And,” Harrington sighs. “I’m kinda really desperate here. I want you to be able to perform at Dustin’s Show and Tell. You and the band have a shot at this. I wholeheartedly believe that. And I don’t have much faith in my ability to perform as you. Neither does Dustin, it seems.”

“Steve…” Eddie begins. 

“And sure, I was upset about not being Henderson’s first choice for a while,” Steve rambles. “But I’ll be okay. The kids can learn survival skills another time. ”

Grateful tears start to form in Eddie’s eyes. He’s never seen this side of Steve before. 

“My hopes and dreams don’t depend on Show and Tell,” Steve mumbles. “And if it means a producer from Cardinal Records is going to be there, then getting Wayne and yourself out of debt does.”

Their eyes meet again.

“I can’t take that away from you.”

Suddenly the rocker feels his knees buckle.

It feels as if Eddie’s soul is about to leave his body. Or Steve’s in this sense. Struggling to keep his composure, the ever-so-rugged Eddie Munson clears his throat.

“…I didn’t think you paid attention to any of that, Steve.”

“I pay attention more than you think,” Steve counters. “And if my observations are right, Mr. Clarke might have the answer.”

Steve shrugs, dangling the keys to Eddie’s van around his fingers. He hula hoops them around as Eddie remains floored, pondering above him.

“Well?” says Steve. “You just gonna stand there and gawk, ‘Harrington’? Come on.”

Perhaps walking and gawking would be more productive. Without further hesitation, Eddie races down the steps and follows closely behind Steve before shutting the door to the house.

“Wipe your feet,” Steve commands as he unlocks the doors to Halen.

“What do you mean wipe my feet?” Eddie snaps. “It’s MY van!”

“Yeah, but I’m the one who’s been driving it,” Steve counters with a glare. “And I’m saying wipe your feet.”

Nonetheless, Eddie sighs and does as he’s told. But he’s not happy about it. 

Never in a million years did he think Steve Harrington would tell him how to run his own van. Nor did he think Harrington would actually end up being a good dude. Both were very humbling experiences. And while King Steve drives them off to Hawkins Middle, willingly blasting Metallica and doing his best to head-bang, Eddie crosses his arms and stares blankly out the passenger side window.

“I’m never eating anything Dustin makes me again.”

———

"So..." Eddie prompts. "Can you fix us?"’

“If it isn’t broken, then do not fix it,” Mr. Clarke advises. 

There was only so much that could be disclosed to their former teacher. Being an educator also meant being a mandated reporter, and it’s without a doubt government officials would bust down the doors of Camp Knowhere and run a freak raid on Dustin’s science experiment had they known the truth. Steve and Eddie had to gloss over practically everything.

“I appreciate and am honored to know you two trust me with your dilemma,” Mr. Clarke nods. “That being said, it is normal for gentlemen your age to go through an identity crisis after experimenting with recreational drugs. It will subside, but only if you don’t fight it.”

A decade can certainly change things. Steve and Eddie never expected their most logic-driven teacher to embrace his heart, dressed in a brown linen robe, as he calmly kept them on standby with soothing, meditative “Ommm”s while they spiraled into desperation in his ‘BACK TO (S)C(H)OOL’ classroom.

“But what is the science behind this?” Steve demands. “Is something happening in the…the… what did Suzie call it? The blood-brain barrier? Why would… Harrington and I both feel like we are living the life of the other person?”

“To question everything is to not know peace,” Mr. Clarke soothes them.

He’s saying this while criss-cross-apple-sauce on his desk, by the way.

“Sometimes, it is best to simply let things be,” the educator warns. “By going against the grain of the water, you are blocking the potential you can reach if you had been in a flow state.”

“Good God, you choose NOW to go on a spiritual retreat?!” Eddie hisses. “When we need science and your genius mind the most?!”

“If not now, then when?” Mr. Clarke mumbles. “If not you, then who?”

For the first time in his life, Eddie feels plagued with academic regret. He wishes he paid attention in Clarke’s class. Meanwhile Steve is considering having a word with his superintendent mother, because no way in hell is some barefoot, most-likely-vegan lunatic about to indoctrinate the future kids of America. 

“If not you… then who?” Clarke repeats. “If there's one thing I learned during my time in research… and mindful meditation…  it's that sometimes the answer is right in front of you. Or within."

Steve and Eddie look at each other.

"The world is full of obvious things," Mr. Clarke says. "...which nobody, by any chance, ever observes. Sherlock Holmes."

Accepting the absolute bust, Steve and Eddie storm out of the door and back down the stairs of their prepubescent alma mater. 

“Son of a bitch,” Eddie curses under his breath. “The damn hippies got to him before we did.”

As the two walk down the stairs, Steve sneaks a few quick glances Eddie’s way. Seeing him upset didn’t necessarily make him feel so hot. The answer is clear: they need to venture beyond a Mormon child and a middle school science teacher. They need to consult the big dogs. 

“We can go to the Indianapolis Science Center,” Steve suggests. “And maybe ask some people there. There’s also the university. If we flag down a professor from the physics or chemistry department, maybe they can offer us some insight. Or…”

“Just give it a rest, Steve,” Eddie surrenders.

“What?” Steve questions. “No! We’ve got to figure this out before Show and Tell. It’s in a couple days.”

“What’s a couple days?” Eddie demands. “We’ve been like this for nearly a week. What makes you think it won’t last another week? Or indefinitely.”

Eddie kicks at an empty carton of orange juice at his feet while Steve watches with an overwhelming sense of guilt. He didn’t want Eddie to give up. Not yet, at least.

“Hey I’m not going to let you blow this shot, Munson,” Steve demands firmly. “I know how much this means to you. This could finally be your ticket out of Hawkins. You guys were meant for the Big City.”

“No,” Eddie disagrees, absentmindedly. 

Eddie’s gaze veers off to the side, a sadness in his eyes so profound that Steve almost starts tearing up as well. 

“All… the answers… point…to no,” Eddie continues. “Can you imagine what the world would be like if everyone followed their dreams? We’d have no one doing the conventional jobs. It's not in my cards, I fear. Maybe I was always meant to stay in Hawkins, being everyone’s weed man and no one’s first choice.”

“Eddie…”

“But thanks for trying though, Harrington. Doesn’t go unnoticed.”

———

To be continued…

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[mayasaurusss]

hello! could you write some headcanons or a one shot about dating lottie in the wilderness??

For sure sweetie. Here you go, enjoy!

I had like six more pharagraps but Tumblr is a coward and didn't let me save them :'(.

Contains: description of wounds, lots and lots of crying, (not my happiest work).

It was at Randy's party that you and Lottie first shared a kiss. With the taste of beer on her tongue, she approached you, intent on finally telling you how she felt. She found you alone, drinking the remaining alcohol from your cup. It was incredibly hard for her to connect her words, which came out more as a string of closely related words than an actual phrase.

You understood what she meant -sort of- and were the first one to ask her about how she felt. For Lottie kissing you was a delight.

But after the party, neither of you made the effort to sit next to each other on the plane. You needed to win nationals, there was no time for unnecessaries feelings.

You were surprised when instead of being greeted with Seattle's skyline, you felt dirt and sand on your skin and a horrible throbbing pain on your side.

Lottie was the first to greet you when you woke up. "The plane has crashed" she says, and she doesn't even try to sugarcoat it. It's the very first thing you hear waking up in your new life.

Her eyes are distant, fear and horror having left behind numbness. It's like she's not even here.

She will stay at your side all day long, tending at your wound periodically until Misty comes.

When night falls she sleeps soundly near you, cradling your weak body in hers.

Hours later, when Taissa discovers a lake, Lottie is the one to help you move. You are leaning on her and she's so careful to move you as best as she can. She's careful, slow and when no one is near, whispers sweet reassurances to you.

The days pass. Everyone tries their best to survive. You can't do anything besides sitting around and checking on your wound, getting redder and redder until a crust forms on it. Then, with a little patience, you can finally help. Both you and Lottie work on the same stuff. If you're gathering herbs, she is too; if you are taking the place of Mari as a cook, she's the one to hand you ingredients.

As time goes on, you can feel something shifting in Lottie's demeanor. She's numb, silent and spends an awful lot of time with Laura Lee.

Your jealousy takes the better of you, and for a while, you don't talk to Lottie. And she doesn't talk to you either. You're left alone with the presence of the trees on your head, until she is the first one to make a move.

She sits next to you, silent. You can feel something in her changing, killing the sweet Lottie you knew. It's then that she tells you about what's bothering her. She sees things.

Your sweet Lottie sees things. Shadows moving in the dark corners of the room, in the darkness that seeps out of the trees, whispers and voices telling her what to do, how to act. She has visions: of death, of fire and frost, of hunger.

For a while you are terrified of Lottie. You don't mean to, really, but what she said to you that afternoon made you wary of her. Who knows what she could do to appease her voices.

So you drift further apart, further and further until autumn comes. It's clear to all of you that death is close. There's no food and the days are cold. So, in the last attempts to make your life worthy, you threw a party. One of those that you went to before the crash, only with no music and homemade alcohol.

At homecoming, you finally try to open your heart to Lottie once more. It's scary, it's sad, but she allows you into her own. The rest of the night is spent laughing, holding her close to you and waiting for death to come. But it doesn't. You wake up hours later, the dust of the earth in your eyes and the sparks of the fire dying next to you.

You had slept for the entirety of the night, oblivious of what happened. No one is interested enough to tell you, and you will come to know it the day after, when Jackie and Shauna fight. Thinking that they had let their hunger run rampant enough to threaten the lives of their friends scares you, but not as much as you thought. Maybe you wished Travis died. Maybe you could finally satiate your hunger.

After Jackie's death, Lottie grows more deranged. You know that she means no harm, but through her delusions, she managed to hold a tool on the entirety of the group. You attend her prayers in the morning, more to fill that hole in her chest than helping yourself. Or maybe, you too need just a little bit of faith.

There is not one day where Lottie isn't near you. She follows you like her shadows follow her, her eyes always on you. It creeps you out sometimes, but you let her. She will randomly go out in the wilderness and come back with herbs and plants she will boil to make you a cup of tea. It's a small gesture, one that you grow to hold dear.

In return, you bring her all the trinkets you find while helping Natalie and Travis hunt. The girl has grown wary of you, annoyed at how you always have to stop to collect some strange sticks, rocks, shells and remains of animals. She had even begun to scream at you once, but you had to endure and bite your tongue.

She will always wait for you with one of her many beverages. Lottie will never tell you that the reason they are uncharacteristically dark is because she let a few drops of her blood in, in an attempt to shield you from whatever the wilderness had in store for you. Maybe it's an attempt on her part to bring herself with you, to make you feel less lonely in that cold hell.

When you eat Jackie, you find Lottie outside in the snow, clinging to where her heart is. She would want nothing more than to wail right now. Her stomach is filled, and she so wished it wasn't.

You take her and kiss her tears away, but nothing will erase her guilt. Both of you cry, hugging each other while snow falls.

Lottie never does anything out of pure malice. Every little thing she does is for the better good, but she knows she's flawed. Somehow, it seems like everything she does is a burden, making people turn against her.

There are moments of happiness even in the most difficult of situations. Sometimes you will walk in the wilderness, letting the snow cling to your boots and cold air fill your lungs. The forest is silent, but you're okay with that. There isn't any need to talk. There's just you and her, embracing each other's company.

You will never forgive yourself for not intervening when Shauna attacks Lottie. You're just too out of it. All you can see is a blur of figures moving, red spilling from them. When you understand that it's Lottie's blood, finally you understand what is happening.

Worry and horror fills you as you fall to the floor, checking Lottie.

Her flesh is red and puffy, blood seeps from cuts near her eyes and brows, flows down her nose and stains her clothes. She doesn't respond to your cries.

You nurse her back to health, regularly checking on her with Misty. Cleaning her wounds, helping her bathe and clothe her as best as you can. Sometimes she'll mumble through her fever, words coming out jagged. She asks you to not let her body go to waste, to eat her if she dies. The mere thought of that makes your skin crawl. You try to reason with her but it's no use, she needs to hear it. So you accept.

The first thing Lottie does when seeing you after waking up is cry. She's not happy to be alive. Maybe she wished for you to consume her so she could finally be at peace, away from this place. But that does not happen. That night, you don't let her go back. As much as she could protest, you don't want to share her to the others yet.

"I am sorry". She doesn't tell you why, but deep down you know the reason. You hug her close, hiding your face onto her neck, "Please...never say anything like that ever again". She falls silent. It takes a moment for her to actually feel the desperation and sadness grow in her heart, but when it does, it breaks her. She almost falls in your arms, hands shaking and tears stinging at her flesh. She wails, like a hurt animal. You embrace her and cry, mourn with her. Words don't come easy, but as you spell them, a small hope flickers in your chest.

"I promise to you, everything will be okay"

[rootedinrevisions]

Breaking an Already Broken Heart

SUMMARY: Struggling with a failing marriage and reeling from Tyler’s betrayal, she confronts him at a bar after learning he had been secretly involved with a mutual friend for years. Already heartbroken from her own relationship problems, the revelation shatters her further. Despite her anger and hurt, she finds herself leaning on Tyler, who, despite being the source of her pain, is also her best friend and the only one who can hold her together.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I said I was going to take a few days away from writing, and I do still plan on taking a lot of time the next four days for my mental health so I can't guarantee when or if there will be any more stuff coming until next week. But writing is almost therapeutic to me so I decided to see if it would help. I couldn't sleep, so I wrote this last night at about 3am, and I wanted to share it.

WARNINGS: Angst. Like the kind that hits you right in the chest and gut.

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

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The bar was one of those unassuming places—the kind of spot where the lights were low, the air was thick with the scent of old wood and spilled beer, and the music was just loud enough to drown out the noise in her head. It was familiar, too familiar. She and Tyler had spent more nights here than she could count, back when things were simple—back when she didn’t know about him and their mutual friend.

Now, it felt different. The weight of the truth sat heavily in her chest as she nursed her drink, trying to push back the sting of betrayal that clawed at her throat. Tyler was beside her, quiet. His presence, usually calming, only added to the turmoil inside her.

He knew she was upset, knew the revelation had rocked her. But Tyler was never one to push. He just waited, like always, his hand resting lightly on the back of her chair, a silent promise that he was still there, still her best friend, despite everything.

She took another sip, the alcohol burning its way down her throat, but it did nothing to dull the ache.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was quieter than she intended, the hurt slipping through despite her efforts to keep it hidden. She didn’t look at him, couldn’t bring herself to.

Tyler shifted in his seat, and she felt his eyes on her. His fingers brushed the small of her back, a touch so familiar, but now it felt different—like a reminder of all the things unsaid between them. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He admitted, his voice low.

She let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to face him. “Well, congrats. You did.”

The weight of her words hung between them. Tyler’s hand remained on her chair, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on the wood, a habit she hadn’t noticed before. His silence frustrated her, but she wasn’t sure what she expected him to say. There wasn’t an apology in the world that would fix this, not when the hurt went so deep.

“I know I messed up,” he said finally, his voice thick with regret. “And I’m sorry. But…” He sighed, shaking his head like he was trying to gather the right words. “I didn’t know it would affect you like this.”

She blinked at him, her frustration rising. “How could it not? You’ve been sleeping with her for years, Tyler. And I’ve been here—your friend, your… whatever we were. I thought I knew you. I thought…” Her voice faltered, breaking as the pain surged forward. “I thought I mattered.”

Tyler’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, without a word, he reached for her drink and set it aside, replacing it with a glass of water. “Drink this,” he said softly.

The weight of everything crashed down on you the second Tyler placed the glass of water in front of her. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about the years of lies that had unraveled in one night, breaking the fragile trust between them. It was the fact that she was already shattered—cracks from her marriage splintering her heart long before the mutual friend threw the truth about her and Tyler into the mix.

She stared at the water, feeling the tears build at the corners of her eyes. Her marriage was hanging by a thread, and she’d spent so long pretending it was salvageable, clinging to the hope that maybe things could still work. But deep down, she knew it was over. Every fight, every cold shoulder from her husband, every too-friendly message between him and "just a friend" had left her feeling small and discarded. 

Her hands curled into fists in her lap. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not,” he said, still calm, still steady. “But you’ll feel like shit if you keep drinking on an empty stomach.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes, but she drank the water anyway. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked out for her, and she hated how much she needed it now. She was angry–angry at him, angry at the situation, angry at herself for still wanting him to be the one who held her together when she felt like she was falling apart.

She had come to Tyler tonight because she needed her best friend—the one person who always made her feel like she wasn’t unraveling at the seams. But now, he had made it worse. He had broken a heart that was already broken.

The silence between the two felt heavier now, suffocating almost. Tyler hadn’t said a word since his confession, but he didn’t have to. She could feel his guilt in the way his hand stayed at the back of her chair, tentative, like he was scared she might pull away completely if he pushed too hard.

“I didn’t need this,” she said, finally breaking the silence, her voice shaking as she struggled to hold back the tears. “Tyler, I’m already dealing with my marriage falling apart. I’m barely holding myself together, and now this? You’ve been lying to me, too.”

He flinched at her words but stayed quiet, his gaze heavy with remorse. She knew he wasn’t one to offer excuses, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. She was unraveling, and the one person she thought she could count on had yanked another thread loose.

“I don’t even know what hurts more,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “The fact that my husband might be cheating on me, or that you—you, of all people—have been sleeping with her behind my back for four years. I don’t even care that you slept with her. I haven’t cared about who you sleep with in years. But you hiding it from me? For this long? It feels like a joke. A really cruel joke.”

She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. If she did, she knew the tears would spill over, and wasn’t ready for that. Not here. Not in front of him.

Tyler shifted beside her, his hand resting more firmly against her back, grounding her. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted to hurt you. I swear I didn’t.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, you did. And the timing couldn’t be worse.” She took a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. “You have no idea how tired I am, Tyler. How exhausted I am from pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

“I know you’re hurting,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry I added to it. If I could take it back, I would.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. “The worst part is, you were the one person I thought would always be there when everything else fell apart. I didn’t expect to lose you too.”

For a moment, the two of them just sat there, the weight of everything unsaid settling between them. His fingers brushed the small of her back again, and this time, the touch felt like an apology. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

"You don't have to lose me too. I still want to be here for you. If you'll let me."

Without thinking, she leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, the need for comfort winning over her anger. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to fix anything anymore.”

Tyler’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer. “You don’t have to fix it all,” he said softly. “Not right now.”

She sat like that for a while, the silence stretching between them, but this time it felt different. Less tense, more familiar, like the years of friendship were still there, holding them together despite the cracks.

When her favorite song came on, Tyler shifted beside her, pulling away just enough to catch her eye. “Dance with me,” he said, offering his hand like he had countless times before.

She stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, unsure whether to accept, but something inside her caved. Maybe it was the alcohol dulling the sharp edges of her anger, or maybe it was the familiarity of his presence, but she let him pull her to her feet.

The music was slow, and before she knew it, his hands were on her waist, and her head was resting against his chest. She hated how safe it felt, how his arms around her made her feel like maybe, for just a second, everything wasn’t falling apart.

As they swayed together, she closed her eyes and let herself speak. “I should hate you, Tyler.”

“I know,” he said, his voice quiet but steady.

“But I can’t,” she confessed, the words barely a whisper.

“I know,” he repeated, his grip tightening around her just a little, like he was trying to hold all the broken pieces of her together.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I’m so hurt,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But I can’t lose you. Not now. I need you, Tyler. You’re the only one who can keep me from falling apart.”

His arms tightened around her, pulling her against him as if he could somehow shield her from everything breaking down around her. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “I’ve always got you.”

And for the rest of the song, he held her close, like he was trying to be the one constant in a life that felt like it was slipping out of control. For now, it was enough. Maybe not tomorrow, and maybe not forever, but for this moment, she let herself lean on him, letting the pain and confusion blur into the background as his arms wrapped around her.

[bitterbutblue]

COUGH COUGH NEEDING IDEAS??

AM I SUMMONED???

anonymous letters from Robin. she never goes out of anonymous since she doesn’t do this often and doesn’t know how you would think.

then the next day she approaches you, asking about what secret letter you have in hand like she didn’t sneak those into your bag herself :3

Bonus if you tell her anonymous letters aren’t really your thing then just never read it LMFAO

Anyways just need to go back to doing work 🤧

~ 🍷

~ omg we're going back to the LOSER ROBIN AGENDA guys .. in my head the most loser coded IN SECRET is robin (mostly because i love her and im very much attracted to loser coded women even though i am one myself)

making this a high school/college au :] ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⤷ she thinks she's being soooo slick

⤷ robin is your typical popular girl- gorgeous looks and incredible smile and the kindest soul you've ever met. every guy thinks they have a chance with her, and she just laughs at them because we all know what she is

⤷ one day, she sits down next to you in the lecture hall for some fucking reason and you're just like. Okay? Um. Wow.

⤷ You did not focus that entire lecture btw u were focusing on trying to act normal and okay and totally not freaking out that your long term crush was sitting next to you in all her glory

⤷ that evening back at your dorm, you found an odd letter in your bag. no sender name, nothing. just a blank envelope.

⤷ lowkey creeped out so you threw it out

⤷the next day however...

You really didn't expect her to sit next to you again- you spent all of last night rationalising to yourself WHY she would choose to sit next to you of all people. The lecture hall had been quite full at that point, maybe that's why she sat next to you? Maybe her friends just didn't want to go to the 9am lecture, that also made sense. Yeah. That's probably why.

Throwing your bag down on the ground as you collapse into the uncomfortable lecture hall chairs, you sigh in exhaustion. These 9am lectures were really starting to get to you and you're struggling to keep your eyes open as you take a drink of your coffee.

"Hey."

You look up tiredly, only to widen your eyes in shock when you see Robin, once again, standing next to you.

"Can I sit here?"

She sounds awfully nervous, barely looking at you and you just nod in confusion and she smiles at you and you want to squeal. She sits down, body tense as she awkwardly pulls out her iPad and whatever else she needs for the lecture. You wonder why she's acting so off.

"Everything okay?"

Robin freezes, a light pink dusting her cheek as she nods awkwardly.

"Splendid. I mean- I meant great, who says splendid anymore... Jesus..."

You just eye her oddly as she turns redder, mumbling awkwardly to herself.

The entire lecture was the most awkward experience of your life. Robin would not stop side eyeing you and a part of you began to panic- did she find out about your crush on her? Is that why she's acting so weird around you? But why the fuck is she still sitting next to you then? Oh god, you need to avoid her forever from now on. The second the lecture ended, you ran out of that damned hall before Robin even had a chance to open her mouth, your bag already packed 5 minutes before the professor even ended. You missed the way she stares dejectedly at you, a crushed look in her eyes.

She thought you read her letter and hated her.

You thought she found out you were in love with her.

Robin refused for you to end things like that though. In the middle of the goddamn fucking night, as you were studying, a knock on your door.

"What the fuck..." You mumble tiredly, throwing down your pen and walking over to the door to check through the peephole whoever the fuck it would be bothering you at night "March, if it's you I-"

The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, throwing open the door frantically.

"Robin!?"

There she stood, eyes red from tears, sniffling as she hugs her jacket close to her body.

"What the fuck- it's almost 12am! What are you doing?"

"If you don't feel the same way, why don't you just tell me!"

"What??"

You take her hand, pulling you into her room and you miss the way her cheeks flush at the contact and her wings flutter slightly as you slam the door shut.

"What are you talking about?"

"If you don't like me that way, you should just tell me instead of hiding like a coward!" She sniffles

What.

You stare at her, eyes wide and mouth agape and in other circumstances, Robin would've probably laughed.

"What?"

"Don't act dense!"

"What are you talking about??"

Robin groans in frustration, angrily wiping her tears away.

"The letter!"

"Huh?"

"The- what? Did you not read it?" Robin's angry gaze falters when she takes in the full extent of your confusion, and you tilt your head to the side like a lost puppy.

"Wh- that was you??"

"You didn't READ IT?"

"Why would I read a letter addressed to no one."

You two just kind of stare at each other, uncomfortable silence filling the room as Robin begins to flush from embarrassment.

"Wait, so why were you acting weird when the lecture ended?"

Now it was your turn to flush from embarrassment.

"Don't change the subject! What was so important about that letter?"

"You're literally changing the subject as we speak- why were you acting so fucking weird?"

You cleared your throat, crossing your arms in frustration as you awkwardly stared to the side.

Fuck it.

"I thought you found out I had a crush on you and that's why you were acting so weird and awkward around me this morning I'm really sorry we never have to talk about this ever again." You say in one breath as you stare down at your shoes, mumbling quietly.

Silence. She's probably going to storm off any minute now, she'll tell everyone you're a weird lesbian freak, and-

You gasp when you feel a tug down on your collar, and before you know it she has her lips on yours and her hand on your cheek. You sort of just stand there at first, frozen and not knowing what to do.

"Oh no, was that too much? I'm sorry-"

"Huh..."

You just stare at her, dazed as you move your hand up to gently touch your lips and Robin practically melts on the spot.

"I like you too, you dumbass. You would've known if you didn't throw the letter away! Why would you throw a letter away, what if it was something important like-"

"Can you kiss me again?"

That managed to shut Robin up as she turns red again, a shy look forming on her face before stepping close to you, tiptoeing slightly as she places a hand on the back of your neck before kissing you softly and in that moment you really regretted throwing the stupid letter away- but hey, she's kissing you and you're smiling like a kid in a candy store. Can't complain.

[ms-snape]

Snape x reader where she's pregnant and he thinks she's cheated but ofc she hasn't and he apologieses. Lots of angst but fluffy ending where they both cry about the fact that they will be becoming parents

Title: How Could You

Warning: Angst, Fluff ending

Words Count: 2600+

Masterlist

---

The chilly October air whistled through the cracks of Hogwarts Castle, making the dimly lit corridors seem even more unwelcoming. Y/n stood alone in the Herbology greenhouse, her hands gently resting on her stomach as she stared out into the stormy night. She had rehearsed this moment countless times in her head, wondering how Severus would react when she told him the news—news that was supposed to bring them joy. Yet now, a knot of anxiety tightened in her chest.

She and Severus had been through so much together. The first wizarding war, the losses, the weight of their responsibilities—each had left a mark on their souls. But this? This was supposed to be the start of something new, a future free from darkness. And yet, as the time approached to tell him, doubt gnawed at her resolve. She wondered if Severus would accept this new life they had created or if the years of bitterness and mistrust would cloud his judgment. She feared the latter.

That night, as she entered their quarters, she found Severus hunched over his desk, his long fingers dancing across the parchment as he graded essays. The warm glow of the fireplace cast long shadows across the room, flickering over his face. He glanced up when she entered, his dark eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to his work.

“Severus,” she began softly, standing by the fire and warming her chilled hands. She wasn’t sure how to approach the subject without overwhelming him.

“Mmm?” he grunted, barely acknowledging her presence. He seemed distracted, irritated even.

She bit her lip. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. The fire crackled in the silence that followed.

Severus set down his quill and folded his hands, his expression unreadable as he turned to her. “What is it?” he asked, his tone clipped.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I’m pregnant, Severus. We’re going to have a child.”

For a moment, the room was suspended in silence. His eyes widened ever so slightly, shock flashing across his features, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by something cold, something dangerous.

"Pregnant?" His voice was quiet, dangerously calm. "And whose child would this be?"

Y/n felt as though the floor had been ripped out from beneath her. Her stomach dropped, and her hands instinctively moved to her belly as if to protect the child from the venom in his words.

“What… what do you mean?” she stammered, her heart racing.

Severus stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as he loomed over her. His expression was dark, his face twisted in suspicion and anger. “You’ve barely spent time with me for the last few months,” he spat. “You expect me to believe that this child is mine? Or is it someone else’s—someone who’s been giving you attention that I apparently have not given you?”

Y/n’s mouth went dry. The implications of his words struck her like a physical blow. “How can you say that? Of course, this is your child!”

He sneered, pacing back and forth in front of her, the shadows casting him in an almost sinister light. "Perhaps it's Lockhart's," he said bitterly, the name dripping with disdain. “He always seems to enjoy your company in the staff room. Smiling, flirting.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Severus, the man she loved, the man who had always been cautious with his emotions, was accusing her of the unthinkable. Her heart ached with disbelief, with pain.

"How dare you?" she whispered, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "I have never been unfaithful to you. This child is yours, Severus. How could you doubt me like this?"

Severus turned his back to her, his hands gripping the edges of his desk. His shoulders were tense, his breathing shallow. "You've given me every reason to doubt," he hissed, his voice shaking with barely contained rage. “I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Y/n’s heart shattered at his words. The weight of his mistrust was unbearable. “I can’t believe you think so little of me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought we were stronger than this.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them was suffocating. Severus remained silent, his back still turned to her. His coldness was more painful than any words he could have spoken.

Unable to stand the sight of him any longer, Y/n turned and left the room, her heart pounding in her chest as she rushed through the castle corridors. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t stop until she reached the sanctuary of her private office in the greenhouses. Once there, she collapsed into a chair, her body trembling as sobs wracked her frame.

The following days passed in a blur of misery. Y/n avoided Severus as much as possible, retreating into her work and isolating herself from the rest of the staff. Her energy waned, her appetite disappeared, and dark circles formed under her eyes as sleepless nights took their toll. She was a shadow of herself, and even her students began to notice the change.

It was Minerva McGonagall who finally intervened. The older woman had always been perceptive, and when Y/n dragged herself into the staffroom one evening, pale and withdrawn, Minerva couldn’t help but notice.

“Y/n, dear,” Minerva said gently, placing a hand on her arm. “You don’t look well. Is everything alright?”

Y/n forced a weak smile, though her voice betrayed her exhaustion. “I’m fine, Minerva. Just… tired.”

But Minerva wasn’t fooled. She guided Y/n to sit down, her eyes filled with concern. “This is more than just tiredness. You’ve been avoiding everyone, even Severus. What’s going on?”

At the mention of Severus, the fragile dam holding back Y/n’s emotions cracked, and before she could stop herself, the tears began to fall. She covered her face with her hands, unable to speak through the sobs that overtook her.

Minerva’s heart softened, and she pulled Y/n into a comforting embrace. “It’s alright, dear. You can tell me.”

Y/n clung to her, the weight of the past few days finally spilling out in broken words. “He thinks… he thinks I cheated,” she managed between sobs. “He doesn’t believe… the baby’s his.”

Minerva’s eyes darkened with anger, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “That man,” she muttered under her breath. “I should’ve known something was wrong.”

Pulling back, she looked Y/n in the eyes and spoke firmly. “You need to take care of yourself, Y/n. Not just for your sake, but for the baby’s. Go to your quarters and rest. I will speak to Severus.”

“But—” Y/n began to protest, but Minerva wouldn’t hear it.

“No buts,” she said sternly. “You need rest. Now go.”

Reluctantly, Y/n nodded, too drained to argue. She made her way back to her quarters, her body aching with exhaustion, and collapsed onto the bed. Sleep claimed her almost instantly.

Meanwhile, Minerva stormed through the dungeons, her robes billowing behind her as she made her way to Severus’s office. She didn’t bother knocking, pushing the door open with enough force to startle him from his desk.

“Minerva,” Severus began, but she cut him off with a glare that could have frozen flames.

“Do not ‘Minerva’ me,” she snapped, her voice icy with anger. “I’ve just spoken to Y/n, and I cannot believe what I’ve heard.”

Severus stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “If you’ve come to lecture me—”

“Oh, I’ve come to do far more than lecture you, Severus Snape,” she said, her voice rising. “How dare you accuse your wife—your pregnant wife—of infidelity? How dare you doubt her loyalty after everything she’s done for you?”

Severus stood, his expression defensive. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly well,” Minerva interrupted. “You’ve let your insecurities and paranoia cloud your judgment, and now you’ve broken her heart.”

Her words hit him like a physical blow. He looked away, his jaw tightening as guilt gnawed at him. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?” Minerva scoffed. “You’ve done enough damage with your thoughtless words. She’s devastated, Severus. You need to make this right.”

For a moment, Severus said nothing, the weight of his actions settling heavily on his shoulders. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “What should I do?”

Minerva’s gaze softened, though her tone remained firm. “Go to her. Apologize. And for Merlin’s sake, show her that you love her.”

---

Severus found Y/n lying in bed, her back to him, her breathing slow and steady. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, unsure of how to approach her. The guilt he had buried over the past few days rose to the surface, and for the first time, he allowed himself to truly see what he had done.

He knelt beside the bed, his heart aching as he gently touched her shoulder. “Y/n,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

She stirred, blinking groggily as she turned to face him. Hergaze met his, and for a moment, they simply stared at one another in silence. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her cheeks pale and hollow from days of stress and exhaustion. Seeing her like this—so broken, so fragile—made Severus’s chest tighten with shame.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though he feared the words would shatter the moment. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/n’s expression didn’t soften. She sat up slowly, clutching the blankets around her. “Sorry for what, Severus?” she asked quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “Sorry for doubting me? Sorry for accusing me of something so awful? Or sorry because you realized you were wrong?”

Severus swallowed hard, his throat constricting as he searched for the right words. He had always been a man of few sentiments, preferring silence to vulnerability, but this moment demanded more. It demanded that he expose his fears, his insecurities, and that was terrifying.

“I… I let my fears get the best of me,” he began, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’ve never been good at trusting people, and I’ve… I’ve never had much reason to believe in happiness. When you told me about the child… I panicked.”

Y/n shook her head, tears filling her eyes once more. “Panicked?” she echoed, her voice quivering. “You didn’t panic, Severus. You accused me of betraying you. You accused me of carrying someone else’s child. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain, you just… shut me out.”

“I know,” he whispered, his own voice breaking as he knelt by the bed. “I know. I was wrong. I let my insecurities poison my mind, and I hurt you in ways I can never take back.” He reached out, but hesitated, unsure if she’d accept his touch.

Her silence was deafening. The weight of her heartbreak lingered in the air between them, thick and suffocating. Severus closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of her pain any longer.

“I’ve spent most of my life in darkness,” he continued, his voice raw with emotion. “And you… you were the light that saved me from it. But I’ve never believed I deserved that light. I’ve always thought it would slip through my fingers eventually, like everything else I’ve cared about. When you told me you were pregnant, all I could think about was how I didn’t deserve it. How I didn’t deserve you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, and she looked away, her hands trembling in her lap. She wasn’t ready to forgive him, not yet. But hearing him speak this way, hearing him admit his vulnerabilities—it chipped away at the wall of resentment that had built up over the past few days.

“I never cheated on you,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the emotions roiling inside her. “I never even thought about it. I love you, Severus. I’ve always loved you. And I thought you knew that.”

Severus nodded, guilt tightening in his chest like a vice. “I know. I should’ve known.”

The silence between them stretched again, but this time it wasn’t quite as suffocating. It felt like the beginning of something fragile, something that could be mended if they were both willing to try.

“I don’t know if I can ever forget what you said,” Y/n admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “But… I want to try.”

Severus’s breath caught in his throat. His dark eyes, once cold and guarded, softened with relief. He reached out again, this time taking her hand in his. His touch was tentative, as though afraid she might pull away, but when she didn’t, a glimmer of hope flickered in his heart.

“I will spend the rest of my life trying to make this right,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know how to be a father, Y/n. I don’t know how to love properly, or how to protect the people I care about without pushing them away. But I want to learn. I want to be better—for you, for our child.”

Y/n stared at him for a long moment, her heart torn between the pain he had caused and the love she still felt for him. Slowly, she brought his hand to her stomach, resting it gently against the small swell there.

“This is your child, Severus,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “Our child.”

Severus’s breath hitched, and he closed his eyes as he felt the warmth beneath his hand, the life growing inside her. It was real. This was real. And he had almost destroyed it with his own insecurities.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, tears brimming in his eyes as he knelt before her. “I’m so sorry.”

For the first time in days, Y/n allowed herself to truly look at him—the man she loved, the man who had saved her in so many ways, but who was also deeply flawed and scarred by his past. She could see the pain in his eyes, the regret etched into every line of his face. And though her heart still ached, she knew that healing was possible.

With a shaky breath, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “We’re going to be parents,” she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Severus let out a ragged breath, and before he could stop them, tears of his own began to fall. He hadn’t cried in years—decades, even—but in that moment, the weight of everything he had almost lost, everything he had taken for granted, came crashing down on him.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “And I will never doubt you again. I swear it.”

Y/n wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close as they both cried—tears of relief, of sorrow, and of hope for the future that lay before them. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, wrapped in each other’s arms, holding on to the fragile thread of their love.

And for the first time in days, Y/n felt a glimmer of peace. It wouldn’t be easy—there would be more arguments, more misunderstandings, and more moments of doubt. But they had each other, and now they had something more.

A family.

And that, Y/n realized, was enough.

The next morning, as the sunlight filtered through the windows, Y/n awoke to find Severus still beside her, his arms wrapped protectively around her. For the first time in days, she felt the tension in her chest loosen. The road ahead was uncertain, but together, they could face it.

And as Severus stirred beside her, his hand instinctively resting on her stomach, Y/n smiled softly to herself.

This was the beginning of something beautiful.

[caraetdeul]

Impulsive Decisions

Kwon Soonyoung a.k.a. Hoshi x fem!reader

His love language is quality time and doing impulsive decisions together.

TW: slight swearing, stressful workload, and not proofread yet but other than that, there's nothing but fluff

A/n: I'm so sorry it took me so long to post another fic. These past few weeks had been very hectic but now that I finally got a few moments to breathe, I could finally come back to writing. That's why this one's a bit shortrr than usual but I've been dying to post something asksjskjs. Anyways, thank you for waiting for me and enjoy reading, caratdeuls!

~Main Masterlist~

“What the hell are you doing?”

The scissors in your hand froze just as it snipped a portion of your bangs. Your eyes zoned in on the reflection of Soonyoung by the left side of the mirror, leaning on his side by the door. You rolled your eyes at the smug look on his face. It wasn’t often that he got to catch you off guard so you know that he’s already gonna try his best to milk this as best as he can.

“Cutting my hair.”

“And do pray tell, why are you cutting your hair at this time of night?”

You sighed, finally turning around to face him, “I’m too stressed and bored to do anything else.”

Soonyoung’s eyes softened. He stepped closer to you, his hands resting on your hips as his eyes finally took note of the dark bags under your eyes and hunched shoulders. Your hands circled around his neck before resting your chin on his chest, tired but loving eyes gazing upon him.

You chuckled quietly, “And besides, I’ve been meaning to cut my hair for so long now. I just needed the right motivation and what’s better motivation than the need to have a break.”

He hummed. There was a lull in the conversation as you watched him take one of his hands off your hip and bring it up to your hair. He narrowed his eyes at you, curiosity and  something else you can’t pinpoint was glinting in his eyes, “Wait a minute, you can cut your own hair?”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve been cutting your hair this whole time?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“Huh.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he lit up with this information. You were taken aback when he suddenly smushed your cheeks with his hands, his whole face just beaming with excitement, “Can you do anything else with your hair? Like, I don’t know, bleach it or something?”

Now, it was your turn to get curious. You scrunched your eyebrows, scanning his face for any sign of where he was going with this question before giving up and slowly nodding your head. You didn’t think it was possible but his smile definitely got wider. And just as you opened your mouth to ask him about it, he bombarded you with kisses all over your face before walking away and out towards the direction of your apartment’s door. You could faintly hear his voice shouting a short “I’ll be back.” before you heard the door slam shut.

It took you a few more minutes of just standing in the middle of your bathroom, trying to comprehend what the hell actually happened. You then shrugged your shoulders before turning back to the mirror to continue your impulsive decision. Your boyfriend was being weird but then again, when was the last time you actually spent time with him without him getting weird all of a sudden? Don’t get it wrong though, he still had his serious moments when the situation deemed it necessary but you’ll be damned if you said that weirdness didn’t run through his veins more than blood did. Looking back at that moment earlier when that cute-as-hell smile on his face showed up that also makes his eyes disappear, all will definitely be damned if you didn’t admit how much you loved that side of his.

  Time passed and you honestly forgot much about what happened. You were done with messing with your hair and were now back to grinding for your research assignment that you’ve been fretting over for the last few hours. You were doing your best but as of now, your “best” is kind of leaning towards doing half-baked content and you just don’t have the energy to do any better. Not when your eyes were already drooping and your body was slowly inching down into a lying position on your couch. Pressing the last few buttons on your keyboard, you exhaled deeply as you let exhaustion finally overwhelm your body.

You didn’t even notice how you were already on the brink of falling asleep. You were only reminded of it when your whole body literally jumped out of the couch from the slam of the apartment door closing.

“What the fuck…” you mutter under your breath. You could hear someone calling out your name but with your brain still muddled from your unplanned nap, the words could only enter one ear and exit straight out of the other. It’s only when you feel someone hugging you from behind the couch did you actually come back to reality.

Blinking very slowly, your eyes did their best to focus on the head, which you now realized was your boyfriend’s, that was resting on your shoulder. He whispered a sorry into your ear once he realized that he had woken you up before kissing your cheek to solidify his apology. The smell of his perfume almost consumed your whole mind and being but the sparkle in his eyes as he waited for you to properly respond to him stopped you from getting any more distracted.

“Yes, babe?” you hummed.

“Will you please help me with something?” he whispered.

Soonyoung probably felt the way your whole demeanor immediately changed with concern over the matter of his question because he quickly backtracked to avoid any miscommunication. He immediately rounded the couch and plopped down beside you before reassuring you, “No, don’t worry. I didn’t do anything bad, I promise.”

“You also said that the last time you asked me that question and now, I can’t even buy anything from the grocery store without sales clerks eyeing me down every single time.”

He gasped dramatically, the palm of his hand splayed out over his chest as he tried to defend himself, “That was not my fault!”

You raised an eyebrow, your arms crossed against your chest. You might be tired but you’re definitely not dumb enough to believe that. And by the looks of it, Soonyoung also knew it.

He sighed dejectedly, raising his hands up in the air in surrender, “Okay, fine. Point taken. But just this once, please listen?”

Those damn puppy eyes will be the death of you one day. Not today, but someday.

“Ugh, fine. What is it?” you grumbled, rolling your eyes with affection when he pumped his fists in the air. He’s such a dork. Your dork.

“Okay, so. I probably didn’t think this through properly and maybe I should’ve actually asked you first before buying it. I mean at first, I thought about you just cutting my hair but then again, I didn’t know if your cutting skills were just catered to you and not really to other people. Or maybe you could only, like, cut hair for women and not for men because it’s a whole different style and I didn’t really want to force you to learn something else when I know how much workload you had been under for the past few da—”

“Babe,” you interrupted chuckling, closing your hands around his, “What do you need?”

But instead of answering, he removed his hands from under yours. Your lips ticked downwards at the loss of contact but before you could react properly, a paper bag was suddenly placed on your hands. You eyed the bag for a bit, unsure if you should open it or not. But you didn’t have to do anything else as Soonyoung opened the bag for you and took out a box of hair dye. He then grabbed your hands with a pout and pleading eyes and held them close between you.

“Will you please dye my hair?”

You blinked once. Twice. Thrice. You know what, it doesn’t matter. You blinked a bunch of times before actually letting the question sink in.

Soonyoung wanted you to dye his hair.

Your boyfriend wanted you to dye his hair.

Your boyfriend who is an idol wanted you to dye his hair that’s been loved not just by you but by a million other people too.

You moved closer until your faces were only inches away before murmuring, “Do you want me to die?”

“W-what?”

“Soons,” you sighed, “You’re an idol. A well-known and beloved star. I can’t dye your hair just like that.”

“Why not?” he pleaded, his whole face falling with confusion and disappointment. Your eyes softened at the pitiful sight but you still can’t find a good reason behind this.

You bit your lip before asking, “Why do you even want me to do it?”

“Well,” he paused, his eyes flitting from your face to the both of your hands that were still holding each other, “I couldn’t let you make impulsive decisions by yourself. I wanted to do it with you.”

Your heart warmed at the thought, a small smile gracing your lips. You breathed deeply, pursing your lips in thought. Maybe you were too easily read or maybe you’ve been with each other for so long now but the sudden flash of anticipation and hope that crossed your boyfriend’s face definitely told you how much he knew you. Because you didn’t even get a word of approval out of your mouth before he jumped out of the couch with a resounding yes. You laughed out loud at the little dance he made as he leaped around the living room in excitement.

“On one condition,” you declared, his body immediately stopping mid-leap before looking at you with raised eyebrows, “There will be no complaints nor regrets after this.”

He scoffed in disbelief, “Do you really think I’ll regret this?”

“Yep.”

“Baby, nothing you do will ever make me regret trusting you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. Freaking hell, how did you get so lucky?

Needless to say, you both spent most of the night dyeing his hair and mimicking the different possible reactions of his fans once he went public with his new hair. You may have slept late but the fun and quality time you spent together was totally worth it. Besides, waking up to comments and tweets from his fans about how jealous they are of your relationship and how well you dyed his hair was definitely the cherry on top.

Taglist: @moonwonuu @belladaises @porridgesblog @sasaapportela @allys-reads @clownprincehoeshi @yoonzzziino @gyuguys

[cliophilyra]

when you're tastin' what he's drinkin' (are you thinkin' 'bout me?)

I went and did a jealous Sal past-saltommy thing. I hope you like it! Thank you to everyone on discord for being awesome 🫶

He’s not really looking at the crowd when he turns away from the bar. He’s got drinks in both hands, raising them over his head because the place is elbow to elbow right now and he’s just focused on getting back to the booth without spilling the beer that took him twenty minutes to get. It’s Friday night, which doesn’t always mean as much in a badge and ladder bar where not everyone gets their weekends at the weekend, but tonight it definitely seems to mean something.

His team are at their usual table. He’ll get the first round like he always does, hang out for an acceptable amount of time then bail so they can complain about the boss if they want to. Sometimes he kind of misses just being one of the team, one of the ones getting to do the complaining, which is ironic after he spent so long chasing this job.

He’s not even the one who notices first. “Sal!” The voice is right by his ear and his head snaps around so fast he’s amazed he doesn’t pull something. Tommy is next to him, holding two beers in his hand as he steps away from the bar. Sal’s eyes widen as he takes him in as best he can in the crush. He looks so good; dark jeans, grey henley with the buttons undone, tight sleeves pushed up, hugging his biceps and forearms. His curls are freer than usual, a little more grey flecked in with the soft brown now. The laugh lines around his eyes are deeper. Something in Sal’s stomach twists just looking at him. His fingers twitch against the cold glass, wanting to reach out.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” he says, aiming for lightness. “Don’t see Harbour in here much.”

“Not with them tonight,” Tommy jerks his thumb back towards a table on the other side of the bar. “I’m with the guys from the 118 would you believe.”

Sal raises his eyebrows. “Oh?” He did not expect that. “Havin’ a reunion? My invite get lost in the mail?” He means it as a joke but he hears the note of bitterness he didn’t mean to show.

(Read more below or on AO3)

Tommy’s gaze slides away from his for a split second, darting over to the table. Sal follows his look and sees Hen and Howie and the new guys he knows only by reputation, laughing amongst themselves.

“Nope, not a reunion. Well not an official one anyway,” Tommy says with a shrug. He looks back at him and Sal catches his glance dart down to his hand and the ring he’s not wearing. “You look good,” Tommy says after a moment and Sal almost laughs out loud. “How’s the 122? Heard you made Captain? Congrats man.”

Sal nods and clears his throat. “Yeah thanks, ‘bout fucking time.” He grins and takes a mouthful of one of the beers in his hands because words are crowding up against his lips and he can’t say any of them. His hand only shakes a bit.

Tommy grins. “It’s good to see you Sal,” he says, a bit softer. He reaches out and claps a hand on his shoulder. The warmth bleeding through his t-shirt takes Sal by surprise. He looks down at Tommy’s big hand on his arm and his throat is suddenly parched despite the beer. For a moment everything in his world zeroes down to that touch and the memory of the last time he felt those rough fingers on his shoulder and sliding up his neck. How he hadn’t known then that it was the last time.

Tommy’s fingers twitch and jump away, as if Sal’s arm is scalding, which is ironic because to him it feels like ice the moment Tommy’s hand leaves his shoulder.

“Yeah you too,” Sal says roughly.

Tommy nods. “You…uh…you guys have a good night,” he says.

Sal nods back and presses his lips into a tight smile, doesn’t trust himself to say anything more.

Tommy smiles back and walks away to the table across the bar. Sal stands frozen in place and watches him go until the crowd swallows him up.

Sal walks back to the table where the rest of the 122 are chatting, telling the same old war stories. He smiles distantly, hands people their drinks, sits down at the edge of the booth and lets the idle chatter wash over him, chasing beer with whiskey and more whiskey and drifting until he’s somewhere he hasn’t been in a long time and all the memories are right there waiting, just under the surface. He’s on his knees in the showers with water running down his face and the salty warmth of Tommy’s cock on his tongue; moaning into Tommy’s mouth in the locker room as he fucks into that huge hand; in a soft bed, leaning over that solid muscular body, his hands gripping thick thighs as he buries his cock inside him and leans forward to bury his tongue in his mouth, moaning against his lips. He can almost feel Tommy’s hands running up his back, digging into his muscles as he pants against his sweat-soaked skin; wrapped around him, holding him against his chest in the warm morning sunlight that spills over his bed. He closes his eyes for a second against the ache in his chest and when he opens them the crowd has miraculously parted like he’s the Moses of drunken firefighters, giving him a clear view right to the table where the 118 sit, and to Tommy with his head thrown back mid-laugh, nose wrinkling in the way that makes Sal smile despite himself.

Sal half rises from his seat, body drawn forward before his brain is even consulted. Tommy has started to get up too, lowering his head as he does so to speak to the man next to him. The other man puts his beer down and looks up. Sal recognises Evan Buckley - who according to the grapevine is second only to Chim in the disaster-prone stakes - just as the kid gives Tommy a blinding smile that lights up his whole face, and then kisses him. On the lips. In public. In a fucking crappy badge and ladder bar on a packed Friday night.

Sal’s whole world grinds to a halt.

Tommy is kissing him back and the rest of the table are hooting at them and Howie is throwing peanuts, but there’s no malice behind their faux-grimaces and teasing eye-rolls. It’s no different to how it would have been back in the day if he’d kissed a woman at the bar. Tommy grins as he pulls back from Buckley’s lips and shakes his head with a laugh as he walks off towards the mens room. Sal mutters something about hitting the head and follows Tommy without even thinking about what he plans to do, driven by fury and a pain like a fire burning a hole through his chest.

He finds him in the corridor that leads to the mens room, leaning against the wall as he waits for the always busy bathroom. The fire door stands open next to him, letting in the warm night air that smells of Jacaranda blossoms and trash cans. Sal walks up to him, grabs his wrist, drags him out into the parking lot and shoves him against a wall.

Tommy stumbles, yelping in surprise. “What the fuck?” He exclaims, yanking his hand back.

Sal grabs his t-shirt instead and crowds against him, until their lips are millimetres apart. He can smell the bitter hoppy scent of the beer on Tommy’s lips. Tommy’s eyes widen. “Do you remember?” Sal asks. “You remember, baby? When you’re stickin’ your tongue down his throat? D’ you taste me?”

“Fuck Sal you’re drunk,” Tommy hisses.

“How ‘bout when you suck him off?” Sal bites out, furious and bitter. The emotions crawling up his spine, down his fingers, tangling around his tongue are nothing he’s ever felt on a conscious level before. Hate and rage and scouring pain. “He taste as good as me? You love his cock as much as you loved mine?” He whispers harshly, “Remember how you used to beg for it? Beg me to make you choke on it?” Tommy’s breath is coming in short pants against his face. “Has he fucked you on that asshole Nash’s desk? Does he make you scream his fuckin’ name Tommy? Make you cum all over yourself? All over him? Does he let you cum on that pretty face? Fill up that pouty little mouth?”

Tommy lets out a groan, eyes flickering closed for a moment, then his hands are on Sal’s arms and he’s shoving him away. Sal stumbles back, head spinning. They stare at each other in silence for a moment, still panting for breath.

“What the fuck are you doing Sal?” Tommy asks after a second. His voice sounds hoarse and Sal is bitterly pleased as he watches Tommy struggle to regain his control. ‘What the fuck was that about?” Tommy’s expression is somewhere between fury and pity and it’s that last one that hurts.

Sal shudders. He doesn’t know what that was about. Doesn’t know what he’s doing. He just wants…he wants but he’s afraid so instead he just hurts and he wants Tommy to hurt too. Wants to know it was…something.

“Fuck!” Sal swears, spinning on his heel, kicking at the gravel under his feet. He knows he fucked up. Again. Another one in a long line of fuck ups. His head is still spinning and he stumbles slightly as he turns again.

“Does he hold you when you’ve had a shit day?” he asks quietly. “Does he make you laugh when you’re bein’ a moody asshole?” He stops, his throat suddenly burns and his chest isn’t working quite right. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “I hope he does.”

Tommy’s face softens and Sal can’t meet his eyes. Tommy pushes away from the wall and walks up to him, runs a thumb over his cheekbone then leans in and wraps his arms around him. Sal chokes against his shoulder and hugs him back, fisting his hands in the back of his shirt.

“Fuck I miss you so much baby,” he says, barely audible.

Tommy sighs and rubs his hand over the back of his head, smoothing his hair. Sal closes his eyes and lets himself feel five years of regret and anger and self-loathing boil over and run down his face. All the blame he has heaped on himself. Telling himself if only. If only. If only he was brave. Not just reckless, daring, heroic - brave where it matters.

“I’m sorry Sal, I’m so sorry sweetheart,” Tommy murmurs and something cracks in Sal’s chest. Some light radiating at the edges. He swallows hard.

“Wasn’t your fault baby,” he says, and he takes a deep breath because he knows that’s true and so is this. “Wasn’t my fault either.”

Tommy nods and squeezes him harder against his chest. “It was never your fault. I just wasn’t…we weren’t there yet.”

“You there now though?”

Tommy laughs, a huff of air against Sal’s shoulder. “I’m think I’m getting there.”

“Good. Got any directions for me?”

Tommy laughs and strokes his head again. Sal smiles and feels…lighter.

[that1geek06]

Hey, could you make a Carlos DeVil x Male Reader (platonic)? The reader is Ben's father and Beast's husband (I'm going to completely ignore that Belle exists) and he kind of adopts Carlos, being a father figure and family that Carlos never had.

OMG YOU GUYS I feel so popular 😍 I love that I have the descendents fandom here rn, but this request, anon I don't even know who belle is, last I checked Ben has two amazing dads who take in Carlos and the story goes smth like this..

-FATHER FIGURE(S)-

Carlos DeVil x Bens Dad!Reader

Warnings: Nonee pure fluff (lmk if I'm wrong tho)

When Ben went to his fathers about letting VK'S into the isle, he never imagined that one of his dads would embrace it so much.

Y/N was the more calm and understanding one of the couple, so while Adam was worried and skeptical about letting them in. Y/N encouraged it, even convincing his husband to go with it.

While the beginning was rough, things slowly started to fall into place, and as Ben and Mals relationship bloomed, his dad Y/N was making one for himself.

When they first met properly it was an accident, Y/N was walking down the long halls of the palace to the library when a small talking dog suddenly ran into his legs.

"I am NOT taking a bath, I hate water, go back to being scared of me and leave me alone." The dog spoke, and Y/N chuckled. Picking up the same animal.

"Your not very good at running away if your just going to run into another person." He said, and the dog groaned at being captured. And after a spilt second, A head of white and black hair comes sprinting around the corner. Only to stop abruptly at the sight of one of the kings holding his pet.

Carlos bows his head, not really knowing what to do. "I-Im sorry your highness! I didn't mean to let him run loose in the castle, he slipped from my hands and-" Carlos was cut off by a laugh.

"You can look up, I'm not mad at all. I needed some entertainment to my boring day." Y/N smiles at the boy. "If I'm not mistaken, you are Carlos correct?"

His eyes widen at that, not expecting the king to address him so nicely. "Yeah, I am." Y/N smiles at that. "Well its nice to meet you, and your dog is..?"

Before Carlos can even answer the dog spoke for himself, "Its dude, and I am NOT taking a bath." Y/N laughs harder. "I'm afraid your wash is inevitable, but perhaps if Carlos is willing, it could be stalled?" He looks up at the teen.

"What do you mean?" Carlos asks.

"I was about to head down to the library, its my favourite place to relax. But it gets lonely as well. Would you care to join me?" Not expecting that answer, Carlos's eyes widened. He thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, it could be fun."

So the two walked to the library together, along with dude. Chatting about anything and everything.

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

That was how it started, and they got closer. The attention of the adult that Carlos got was unlike anything he received. If wasn't the tight lipped smiles like the staff, or the manipulative love like his mother.

No.

Y/N cared. He had genuine interest in Carlos as a whole. He helped with school, teen drama, sports, advice, when he just needed to rant. Carlos could almost say he was like a dad to him.

But as their Visits became more frequent. His friends started to get curious. He doesn't know why but he didn't want to tell them of his relationship with one of the kings.

So any time they would ask, he would blush and mumble some random excuse. Making sure to bring dude with him and bolting out of the dorms.

But they were all to curious now, and one day was the final straw.

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

Today sucked to put it lightly. Carlos spent all week studying for this test, and despite Y/N's advice he stayed up all night too, getting no sleep. And it was all just to fail.

And then during lunch he slipped and spilled mash potatoes and gravy all over himself.

But to top it all off, Chad was unrelenting in targeting him during practice. And it was to much.

On the brink of tears, Carlos storms into the dorm room to change.

The rest of the group was relaxing in the room waiting, looking at Jay to try and find answers to which he just shrugged.

When the over stimulated boy came back out of the bathroom the group immediately began to express their worries.

"What's wrong?" Evie asked.

"Did something happen?" Mal added.

"If you need to talk we are here you know?" Jay said, and the whole group nodded. But without a word Carlos ran out. And dude, knowing where he was going. Jumped out of bed to follow.

All of them being extremely worried for their friend. They followed as well.

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

Y/N was going through some documents when his office doors were burst open. He opens his mouth to chastise the person when he looks up and sees the very distraught boy there. Panting with water eyes.

His eyebrows furrow with concern and he stands, immediately going to him. "Carlos? What's the matter?" Y/N asks, but instead of getting an answer, the teen hugs him tightly, and he cries.

The kings heart clenched at this. He embraces Carlos tightly while gently rubbing his back. "Shhh its alright, just breath."

Soon enough dude comes running in, immediately sitting at their feet, wanting to help comfort the boy as well.

What Y/N wasn't expecting was seeing his friends and even his son staring with wide eyes. But he shoots them a gently smile. One that promises an explanation later.

He makes eye contact with Ben, and as if they had a silent conversation. His son nods and softly closes the door to his office.

Turning his attention back to Carlos, he notices that the boy has calmed down. Unwrapping his arms to wipe his eyes.

"What's going on Carlos?" Y/N asks in a soft voice.

The teens sniffs, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. "Today really sucked and I-... I don't know if I'm cut out for this." He responds quietly.

Y/N smiled sadly. "Well, can I tell you a story?"

Confused, Carlos just nods. And the king took a deep breath before starting.

"You see, A long time ago, there was this boy. He grew up in a small town that had a very fixed mindset. But you see this boy didn't like to be stuck in that mindset. All the people viewed him as weird. His likes and dislikes were so uncommon that many would talk about him behind his back, or so they thought but he heard everything."

Closing his eyes he pauses, before continuing.

"It was like that for most of his life, until he finally found someone else who wasn't like the others, and while it took a lot of warming up. They eventually fell for each other. This other man cared about his interests and didn't reject them. He helped the boy grow and see more of what he liked. And the boy helped the other to become a better person. And just like any cheesy love story, they fell in love."

Y/N chuckles, but Carlos looks intrigued. "..but how is that supposed to help me?"

The adult looks eyes with him, voice as soft as it is serious. "Carlos, as long as you have people who love you for who you are, you can do anything you want. And I know for a fact you have a group right outside those doors that do."

The teen glances back at the doors, nodding softly. But he hesitates, looking back up at Y/N before sheepishly asking a question.

"what...what about you?"

The kings heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and he smiled comfortingly. "Oh I thought it was quite obvious that I care about you."

He watches at Carlos's shoulders visibly relax, before he springs forward into a hug. Y/N laughs as he returns it.

"All always be here for you, your an amazing kid, and I know you'll do good in Auradon."

Carlos felt his heart swell. And he just hugs the man tighter, showing rather than saying how much this meant to him.

How nice it felt to have someone comfort him, not have a caring father figure.

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

AWWWW WE LOVE A FLUFFY ENDING, but anyways I know I died for a while but I swear I'm going to get back on top of things. YOU SHALL NO LONGER BE STARVED OF FICS. But I hope this made your day dream more of a reality anon!! Let me know if there's anything I can do to improve, grab a snack, and happy reading to you goobers 👽

[onemillennialquilter]

It's Tips/Tutorials Thursday!

Here's a great video on seam rippers!

She does a great job describing some different kinds of seam rippers, and she shows 3 methods of using one.

Have a video or post that you find really helpful? Send it my way! Have one you created yourself? Please share!

[clingylilhoneybee]

Bleh

[bylertruther]

"there's no basis or case to be made for will having powers" okay then genuinely please explain any of the following now after watching season four:

why does the upside down look like hawkins and is presumably stuck on the day will arrived despite the fact that vecna was there first and has been residing there this whole time? if vecna was capable of reshaping the world, as he's stated he wants to do, why hasn't he done it in his own world? why is he so intent on seeking out the person for whom time apparently stopped if it's all just coincidence? if will didn't do that and he doesn't have powers, then why didn't time progress or the setting change once the teenagers got there? why was time only influenced by will and will alone if he has no powers whatsoever?

how was will able to call joyce multiple times? the only person we've seen so far be able to do something similar is eleven when she would channel what she heard through the radio. electricity doesn't work in the upside down, so how did will do that? why did it cause a shock and ruin the phone, the same way that the radio went up in flames when eleven did it, if he doesn't have powers?

how did he manage to wake joyce up at one point? (it could've been her imagination, but the show made it pretty clear that joyce had been right about everything the entire time even though everyone thought she was crazy, and will was wearing the same outfit but he looked and sounded distressed + exhausted like he may have been while hiding in his upside down version of the house.)

how was will able to see his mother and guide her with the lights to the place he was hiding?

how was will able to see the letters she wrote on the wall?

how was will able to light up the lights that fast and sometimes simultaneously? especially with the lights that were on the ceiling? the way he communicated with joyce isn't totally similar to the way the teens communicated with the party in season four. he's too short to reach the ceiling and he doesn't have elasti-arms or super speed, so he couldn't have been touching that many lights that fast all by himself with his own hands. if anything, it's more similar to the training exercise brenner had the lab kids do, because they didn't need to touch the lights (obviously) to control them. so, how do you explain that if he has no powers?

how did he acquire true sight before his possession? the doctors thought it was ptsd and all in his head, but just like with joyce, we come to learn that will had been right the entire time. the mind flayer was real and it was coming for them all and eventually it did. how did he know that? how could he have had such knowledge before it ever melded minds and bodies with him? no other powerless human could do that, so how do you explain it?

if will is truly a powerless human being, why did vecna hunt him down? we know that vecna stalks his prey before he strikes. we know that "the monster" followed will from mike's house all the way to the shed where they vanished without a trace. we then saw it stalk will again and eventually possess him. will said that vecna wanted to kill everyone else, but not him. why? we know that vecna doesn't care about people. so what did will have that he wanted so bad? what was it about will that made him more valuable to vecna—a self-perceived god among useless, pitiful, and brutish men—alive than dead? what was it about will, a supposed powerless and normal human boy, that made vecna want to spare him and use him? if he wanted access to the lab, weapons, or tools that could bring down entire nations and rendered millions around the globe defenseless to his attack, then he wouldn't have picked a sweet twelve year old boy who lives a tiny little life in a tiny little town who just wants to hang with his friends and play games. unless... he was the key to achieving his plans? but according to this argument that will is just a normal boy, why is it then that vecna did all of that if will isn't capable of anything?

additionally, we know that gates are opened with a psychic connection. when the psychic connection was made in that shed, will entered the upside down. there, he was hunted for a week. why did the demogorgons kill and eat everyone else, but never will? why did they only carry him to the library aka the source of it all? why didn't they treat him roughly or eat him like they did all of the others? will didn't suffer any serious damage from the upside down, so he couldn't have been "dead" for long when his parents found him. why was it different with him? why did he get special treatment even in hell if he's just a boy?

why does will still sense the creatures of the upside down even after he's been exorcised? how is it that the psychic connection is still there? how is he still able to know what vecna is feeling, the kind of state that he's in, and what it is that he's planned? how does he have this connection still even though he shouldn't if he's Just Some Guy?

if will was just a normal, powerless boy... then why did a self-proclaimed god try so hard to recruit him more than once? why did it hunt only him? why did this god want to kill everyone but him? why did this god deem him more worthy and useful in life and at his side than in death? why did it seek him out and not eleven, a girl who actually has powers, powers that were once stronger than his own even and that he clearly wanted as we saw in s3? why is the upside down stuck on the day will went missing, despite it clearly being inhabited by other creatures that we assume to be more powerful than him? why is will going to be central to season five, the season where it will all come to a close and we'll be learning about the upside down and more, if... he's Just Some Guy that had to brave it for a week and that's it? why did season four (and the show overall, but said outright and explicitly here in 4x09) reiterate that it has always been vecna and that will has always been his victim/in his sights/connected to him? why did vecna choose will byers, who some of you claim to be Just Some Boy, of literally all people on planet fucking earth to achieve his plans?

vecna stalked will. he hunted him. and when his plans were foiled, he tried again. when he couldn't do it his way, he sought to kill eleven so that he could absorb her powers (s3). and now, they're back in each other's heads. the silver cat fed when blue met yellow in the west, but they're back now and we've been told that this is only the beginning. if will is just another powerless human, then what is the point of any of that? how do you explain everything that we've seen? how do you explain the choices these characters have made and continue to make? how do you explain away the connection that they keep drawing our eyes to? the connection that shocked the duffers and made them ask jamie if he'd seen the scripts when he brought it up (that it all goes back to will, how everything and everyone is connected to will)? the connection that they themselves are saying we'll see clearly in season five?

that isn't even scratching the surface of all the obvious instances where they make it clear that will is vecna's narrative foil, because that would make this already gargantuan post thirty miles longer.

they wouldn't have done everything that they've done over the span of multiple seasons now if it was just for nothing.

it doesn't make sense if will is just some normal kid and a random fluke in the master plan. the writers could've had vecna pick anyone. they could have made it so that will's connection was severed or lessened, but they didn't. they could've admitted that will was just a meaningless casualty, but they didn't because he wasn't. it wasn't a random animal that took will, he wasn't possessed for shits and giggles, and he doesn't continue to have that psychic connection for no reason. they don't tell us that nothing is a coincidence and they don't have the characters themselves remind us that they need will just for it to be... nothing.

will knows what's coming, what's happening, and the condition of the person who will do it all. why have him experience all of that, and even be able to in the first place, if he's... powerless? how do you even explain the connection in the first place? no other character, not even the ones cursed by vecna, are able to do what he's done. how is that not considered a power? and how do you write off the hours of content that you've witnessed as nothing?

clearly, at some point you have to realize that something is going on, no? like, you don't even have to take my (one-too-many) word(s) for it. jamie and the duffers themselves have been saying it over and over again. so... honestly, what's not clicking?

[publicuniversalenemy]

just want to assure all my friends and followers that, even though i havent been active in Ages, im still up to the usual: realizing that im more mentally ill than i initially thought, and calling aggressively heterosexual 80s singers faggots <3