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chocoholicannanymous · 9 months ago

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Evil Author Day #3

February 15th is Evil Author Day - you can read more about it on Jilly James’ site, but in short it’s about posting titles or descriptions or parts of stuff that’s not actually ready for posting, the evil part being that there are no promises what so ever that there will be more.

What I’m posting under the EAD-tag either isn’t finished and might never be, or it could be considered finished only I’m not happy with it.

Either way: Enjoy. Or not.

Follows Doesn't Hurt At All, A Little Hurt (Goes A Long Way) and (It Hurts) To Have To Be This Honest With The One You Love.

Posting this one under the EAD-tag as I have never been able to be satisfied with it.

AN: Timelinewise, Kurt goes to London during the first week of April, Adam returns to England first week (or so) of June, and Kurt sends the first email to Adam beginning of August. This takes place about two weeks or so later.

Love Hurts (When You Do it Right)

Part 4 of Doesn't Hurt At All

Kurt picked up his book, read two paragraphs, then put it down again with a sigh. He'd been repeating that process now for close to twenty minutes. He'd also shredded two napkins, rearranged everything on the small table, and finished half a lemonade.

Being early for this meet-up had probably not been one of his brightest ideas.

Then again, it was possible that the meet-up itself wasn't that bright of an idea.

Kurt swallowed, looked at the time, and considered – for at least the tenth time – if it might not be best to cancel. Just...walk away, send Adam an email about being detained, and then never approach the subject again. He could do that, right? After all, it wasn't as if Adam even knew that Kurt was staying in London for the time being – he'd assumed Kurt was on vacation. (Which, admittedly, had been exactly what Kurt had been aiming at. He'd wanted to reduce the pressure on Adam. Maybe he had, but the pressure on himself? Very much present, and very much too much.)

Four minutes until he was supposed to meet Adam for the first time in nearly six months – for the first time since spooking, and refusing to be in a committed relationship. And see how well that worked, with the running back to Blaine and the getting engaged... Kurt ignored the snide inner voice. He'd messed up, and he'd done so repeatedly, and horribly. To leave now would be another mistake, and that's why he was going to stay, no matter how many butterflies seemed to have taken up residence in his stomach.

The seconds ticked by slowly, and a minute past their agreed upon time Kurt's stomach sank. No Adam. Adam, who never was late. Kurt blinked to avoid the tears that wanted to well up, and gave himself a stern talking to. First of all, he didn't really have any reason to be upset – he'd placed himself, and Adam, in this position on his own – and second, well, public transportation could be tricky. Maybe Adam was simply stuck on the Tube?

Either way, he would wait. He'd finish his lemonade, to begin with, and then reassess.

Twenty-four minutes past the hour saw Kurt out of both lemonade and hope. It didn't look like Adam was showing. Still. He'd give it until half past, and then... Then he'd go back to the apartment and cry into a pint of ice cream or something.

(A Long Island Ice Tea or five sounded tempting, but Kurt had learned by now that alcohol acted as a depressant and thus did not make him feel any better. Quite the opposite. Plus, if he drank when already down... Well. “Stupid” was a kind description of his behavior then.)

“Kurt?”

Oh! Kurt looked up, and was met with Adam's kind face. Looks like maybe I won't need that ice cream. At least not quite yet, he amended after taking a second look – it was obvious from the other man's body language that he wasn't entirely comfortable, or happy, with the situation, and it was as if he'd tried to close the shutters of his usually expressive eyes. Maybe I should make that two pints.

Kurt tried to keep his trepidation from being noticed though, choosing to nod and send a small smile the Brit's way.

“Adam. I'm happy to see you.”

And he really was. No matter the outcome of their meeting, Kurt would be happy – and grateful – that he'd gotten to see the other man again. He wanted to know that Adam was fine, that he'd gotten on with his life even after Kurt had screwed things up. In the end, that knowledge meant even more to Kurt than the possibility of losing some of the guilt he carried over his cowardly actions and the end of their relationship.

“Kurt.” There was a standoffish quality to Adam that Kurt had never seen before, not even when mocked by other students, and his heart ached knowing that he deserved it. “I have to say I was surprised to hear from you, and even more so when you asked to meet up. To be quite honest, up until just now I wasn't sure if I should go through with it.”

The confirmation of his suspicions shouldn't hurt so much, but yet it did. It wasn't anything he hadn't expected, or earned for that matter, but the words still made his heart sink even further in his chest.

“Well, while I understand that – and I really do – I'm happy you came. I know I could have tried to apologize through email, but it didn't feel right. I wanted – no, I needed to actually talk to you. And if you never want to see me again, I'll understand. I'm not going to lie, I want us to stay in touch, I really do, but I am going to respect your wishes here.”

It would be hard, yes, but somehow Kurt suspected all things worthwhile were. Also, considering he'd complained about others not being willing to respect his wishes, well. “Do unto others” and all that, right? Treating others the same way he himself wanted to be treated was a good way to live, Kurt knew, and it was time he did. Adam was a really good place to start.

“Not to be rude, but why should we? I was willing to try that, you know, when you got back with your ex, only I couldn't even get you to look at me. I have absolutely no desire to be someone for you to use when trying put yourself back together again. Once was enough. Actually, no – once was one time too many, but. I'm sure you get my point?”

Yeah, he got it. He got it straight into his bruised and battered heart, alright. But. As much as it hurt, Kurt felt he deserved it – and more, considering how he himself had hurt Adam. Still...

“I do. And you're absolutely right, it shouldn't have happened even once, regardless of how it was never my intention. I never meant to use you, never. I do understand how it looks though, I really do.

“And I don't expect you to be there for me again – I don't expect anything from you. I would love it if we could be friends, or even just friendly, but also know exactly how badly I screwed up. So, as I said, if you never want to talk to me again after today, I promise you that I will respect that. If that's what you want, I will do everything in my power to make sure you never have to see me again.”

And he would, no matter how little he wanted to. Because Adam deserved so much, the least of which was respect. Kurt had failed him too many times when it came to that. He refused to do so again.

“I just... I owe you, Adam. So, so much, for all you gave me. And if you want me to repay that by leaving you alone, then I will. But don't you want closure? To be able to let all that crap go? Because I do. I'm trying to get over it, and heal, but honestly? The past has a way of dragging me down, and I would love to be able to cut that loose, and just live.

“And I think that as long as I feel this guilty over what happened with you that's going to be hard. As for you, well, in your shoes? I'd want to know what the hell happened.”

Adam's mouth twisted into an unhappy, sour grimace for a second, then relaxed again.

“But I already know what happened, don't I? You lied to me, and you used me – intentionally or not, there's no other way I can take what you did – and then you went running back to your ex, like it was all a game to you.”

“It wasn't!”

“But that's what it felt like. You were happy to date me for weeks, months even, but god forbid you commit. Instead you went back home and had sex with the guy who cheated on you. Then you didn't tell me about it, not until Santana basically forced you. And yeah, sure, we weren't exclusive, as much as I wanted to be, but Kurt? Not being exclusive didn't mean it didn't hurt. Because unlike you? I was committed.

“Still, I thought 'okay, he's been burned, he doesn't mean to hurt you, it'll be fine, we'll get through this'. Because you promised me I wasn't your rebound, that you wanted to be over him, and that you wanted to try. And so I trusted you. I trusted you, only to have you go back to Ohio only to come back with an engagement ring. You didn't even have the decency to give me a heads-up, Kurt. I had to find out through others. Hell, I wasn't even lucky enough to hear the gossip. Oh no.

“All those stuck-up brats that only stopped outright mocking me to my face because you pulled rank with them? Yeah, they took great pleasure in informing me about your changed relationship status. Telling me how you'd finally decided to 'get rid of the trash' and such.”

Kurt felt sick to his stomach, not just because of his guilt but also because of the hurt and the venom in Adam's voice. He had a good idea of exactly how nasty some of them had been, and how they'd relished in hurting Adam. And it was all his fault. He'd fucked up, and while he'd certainly paid for it, Adam had suffered just as much.

“I could have dealt with you deciding to break things off with me, Kurt. I wouldn't have liked it, no, but I would have accepted it. But that's not what happened. Instead you just threw me aside, showing me less respect than you do than yesterday's paper. Not only did you start dating someone else, after telling me you weren't ready for a relationship, but you started dating the guy who treated you like crap and who you told me you didn't want to go back to. And to top it all off you agreed to marry him?

“And as if all that wasn't enough, you waited until everyone who cared to bully me had had a go before trying to talk to me yourself.

“You owed me better, Kurt. I don't care that we weren't boyfriends, that we were only dating casually, you still owed me more than that. As someone who was both in love with you and trying to be your friend, I deserved more.”

Kurt swallowed down his tears and his shame, because Adam was right. The way Kurt had acted was so beyond okay it was hard for him to understand why Adam hadn't simply just spat him in the face when Kurt had tried to talk to him – both back then and now.

It was, he acknowledged, a testament of exactly how much of a good guy Adam was.

“You're right. You deserved so, so much more, and the way I acted was deplorable. I owe you so much, the least of which is an explanation. It's just hard finding the right words. It's always been. And all of this, it's going to sound like a bunch of excuses, like me trying to shift the blame of my behavior onto others, I realize that. Just, this is the result of hours of therapy. Because yeah, I needed that.

“I've needed it for years.

“When I left for Lima it was only to be there for my dad. I had absolutely no intention of getting back with Blaine – he wasn't even on my radar. I was planning to come back and keep trying the dating thing with you. We were going somewhere, I thought, and I wanted to see where that was. I wanted to see what we could be. Because I looked at you, and I saw sunshine, and I liked that.

“And then I was back, and everything was closing up on me. Blaine was around from day one, everywhere that wasn't the hospital, and sometimes there too. And he was...familiar, I guess. And I know, that's not an excuse, or even a good explanation, but it's the truth.

“And the longer I was there, the harder it was to see past him. Past the memories connected to everywhere I went, past the memories all over my room, because I hadn't had the heart to clear them out. Past everyone telling me we'd been so good together, that we belonged together, that part of being a couple was forgiving each other for mistakes, on and on.

“Add that both Rachel and Santana, the only ones who knew you, kept comparing you and what we had to Blaine and what I had with him, and making it all negative. Not putting you down, just... Making you sound less. Making our relationship sound like a cheap knockoff, and all emotions between us like a pale copy of what love and passion was supposed to be. And I was enough of an idiot to think that they had a point.”

Adam's face closed off and he started standing up, making Kurt panic.

“Being with you didn't hurt!” he blurted out, terrified that Adam wouldn't let him explain. Then he flushed scarlet, as the people at the next table turned and looked at him.

“Adam, please...”

He blinked back tears as Adam sat down again, both grateful for it and terrified it'd be for nothing as Adam looked as close to furious as Kurt had ever seen him.

“What are you talking about, Kurt?”

“Do you know how many guys have been interested in me? The first was so deep in the closet that his response to kissing me – without my consent, by the way – was a death threat.

“The second was Blaine, and he only went for me after he got shot down by who he really wanted, and he wanted to change like 90% of who I was.

“The third was you.

“That's it. That's my romantic history.” Kurt swallowed back a lump of humiliation and old hurt, and continued.

“Between the two of them Blaine and David made love into something twisted. They probably didn't mean to, it just... It happened. My friends... They were always in relationships, but never truly healthy ones. There was always something, you know? Mike and Tina came close, I think, except for how they got together when she was still dating someone else.

“And my brother was going to marry Rachel, only on the day of the wedding instead of taking her to the town hall he took her to the train station and sent her to New York alone. And that's not healthy, that one person feel that they can make that kind of decision about the relationship. Of course, Rachel saying she was going to stay in Lima to marry Finn instead of going to NYADA was hardly healthy either.”

And then there was Kurt's stupid crush on Finn, and how twisted that had made things, and... Well. No need to drag up everything.

“I used to think they'd end up together some way in the end after all, but now... They loved each other, I know they did, but I don't know if they could ever have been healthy together.

“It took me quite a lot of therapy to realize that I'd pretty much told myself that it wasn't love if it didn't hurt. It took even more before I could say that love shouldn't hurt, that if it hurts there's something wrong. It took me months to be able to say that what you and I had was real. That the fact that it didn't hurt proved it was. That it could have been everything – if I'd only let it.”

Kurt hated how his voice broke and wavered, hated that even after all the work he'd put in to become stronger talking about how fucked up he'd been made him feel anything but strong.

“When I told you about what happened at the wedding you acted as if it was okay. The same happened when I wouldn't commit to you. You never pushed for more, never pressured me to do – or be – something else. And I took that as meaning that you didn't really care.

“Stupid, I know. But... It was what I knew. I didn't understand that allowing me to decide for myself was something you did because you cared – because you did like me, and because you liked me, not who you could make me into. I had forgotten what it was like to have my wishes respected, because to be honest no one's done that fully since my mom died.

“I didn't know how to be in a relationship with someone who wouldn't push for me to do as they wanted, not what I needed, who didn't try and make me less so that they could be the one looked up to. Some part of me expected you to take offense at me doing well, or use it to your own advantage. Not because of anything you did, but because it was what I was used to.

“I was fucked up, and I should have found a therapist a long time ago.”

Once he'd started it was as if he'd forgotten to keep things inside, and he just kept talking even though Adam looked at him as if he'd pulled of a mask, revealing himself as an alien. The doors were open, and everything was coming out.

“It wasn't just about romantic love either. My dad was a part of it too. He... I love him, I do, and I don't doubt that he loves me, but sometimes... Sometimes I need more. Sometimes I resent him for not giving me more.

“Dad never said it out loud, but I always knew I wasn't what he'd hoped for in a son. Parts of me, yes, but me as a whole? Never. And that made me feel as if I had to earn his love, and acceptance. It drove me into doing all kinds of things I wasn't really into, in the hope that he'd be happy.

“I learned basic mechanic skills to please dad, I watched shows that made me so bored I wanted to cry, I hid things I loved, I gave up ballet, I tried out for the football team, I tried dating a girl... All so that dad would approve. Not just of my interests, but of me.”

Saying those things hurt, because Kurt really did love his dad, and criticizing him was hard. But, they were all true, and holding back had never helped. Quite the opposite, I'd say.

“After mom died I kind of got into a mindset of doing whatever it took to keep dad – in every way. Turns out, that also meant accepting a marriage proposal because dad thought I should. I remember coming out to him, and how scared I was, because I knew that his love wasn't unconditional. I knew that I was most likely going to disappoint him, and that he might love me less for not continuing to pretend I was 'normal'. And I would have, only I felt like it was killing me. I was scared that I would lose my dad by being honest, but I was even more scared that I would lose the will to live if I wasn't.

“And then when he told me he knew, and continued to tell me he loved me even after, I was so grateful that I ignored all the warning signs. Dad loved – loves – me despite being gay, and having to accept that breaks my heart.”

“Dad hated the idea of me dating in New York, and since I never told him any of the bad things about my relationship with Blaine he thought we had been good. He liked the idea of me only being with one boy – it was the next best thing to me staying single and celibate until I turned 30 or something, you know?

“So when we broke up, and I told him it was because we couldn't do long distance, well, dad never expected us to stay broken up. He figured it was just us being young and that we'd get back together once Blaine was in New York if not before.”

It had been so obvious, or should have been, that this had been the reasoning behind Burt bringing Blaine with him to New York over Christmas. Helping the two of them reconnect. Kurt avoided even thinking about the possibility that his dad would have pushed for him to get back with Blaine even if he'd known the whole truth, but he could tell that Adam was thinking something along those lines.

“For some reason dad thought that me getting married to Blaine was a good idea, and somehow I took that as me having to do just that. As me having to repay dad's acceptance with compliance.”

He choked out the words, feeling as if his life depended on no longer holding them in. And, miracle of all miracles, Adam reached over and rested his hand on Kurt's arm in a gesture of support. Only for a few seconds, but it felt like everything Kurt could ever have asked for.

His next words came out in a whisper.

“Sometimes I wonder if me not telling dad the truth about all the ugliness in my life was because deep down I didn't trust him with it. Didn't trust him to side with me, instead of saying I deserved it for being myself.

“The same goes for the ugliness in my relationship with Blaine. I didn't tell dad, because subconsciously I didn't expect him to take my side. He... Well. Let's just say he doesn't have the best track-record when it comes to taking my side against other guys.

“And when it came down to it, he didn't this time either. When I broke off the engagement my dad immediately sided with Blaine. He didn't even stop to listen to me, or consider my wishes. In the end that was what drove me out of New York. Not Blaine stalking me, or all my friends siding with him, but my dad's failure to support me and trust that I had good reasons for my choice.”

Bringing it up still hurt so much, even after all the therapy he'd had, and Kurt knew that just a month ago he would not have been able to to have this conversation, to lay himself this bare in front of Adam.

Burt Hummel had failed as a dad, utterly and completely, and that hurt more than anything. More than his friends failing him. More than Blaine betraying him. It was almost as painful as losing Finn.

Almost, but not quite, because while it felt like Kurt had lost his dad just as brutally as he'd lost his brother, at least Burt was still alive. The option to mend the fences some day was still there.

“Anyway, that's not an excuse, just like none of it is, but it's part of why I had such a hard time believing fully in you. Having a stranger be that accepting and supportive when my blood couldn't be bothered? It had to be fake. It had to be, because I couldn't deal with what it said about my life if it wasn't. It wasn't fair to you, and you deserved so much better, but that's how it was.”

“I'm not saying we ignore everything that's happened, and just go back to dating like I never went back to Lima and got stupid. Like I didn't hurt you. I know we can't do that. Not only would it be impossible, but it also wouldn't be healthy.” He should know – he had, after all, done exactly that with Blaine. “Too much has happened, and we're not the same. At least, I'm not, and I don't really think you are either.

“But could we start again? Could we try? Because Adam, I know it was my fault, but I'm not ready to lose you. I miss you. I want you in my life. You're one of the best people I've ever met. You're someone I'd be honored to call my friend.”

Kurt almost stopped there, almost allowed fear to keep him quiet. He'd come too far though, and something told him that unless he put all his cards on the table now he'd come to regret it.

“I'm not going to lie. I'd love for us to be more than friends again – would love it if you gave me a chance to love you, because I could. So easily.

“And if you're willing to try, again, if you're willing to trust me with your heart? This time? This time I'm ready. This time I'm free to move on, to commit. It would be just the two of us, no ghosts, if you're willing to give me a chance even though I haven't deserved it.”

Kurt held his breath, impatient for an answer and scared of one at the same time. Seconds ticked by and became a minute, then two and three, and Kurt's heart sank. Maybe he was too late. Maybe he'd misread Adam, again, and all this was just about closure to the other man.

You know you had to try though. Even if nothing comes of it, you hadto. The inner whisper came, as it occasionally did these days, in Finn's voice, and Kurt listened. You had to do this for your sake, because you'd never have been truly free otherwise, but most of all? You needed to do this for him. Either way you'll be fine, little brother. You know you will. You're strong enough to stand on your own if you have to.

He was broken out of his musings by Adam drawing a shaky breath, then speaking, voice a little wavering with emotion.

“Hi. My name is Adam.”

“Hi, Adam. I'm Kurt. It's a pleasure meeting you. I don't want to be too forward, but you seem like a really amazing guy. Would you like to meet up for a cup of tea some day? Maybe catch a movie?”

And as Adam met his smile with one of his own, almost as brilliant as the ones from before, Kurt felt his heart burst with joy and the soft hum of a triumphant melody rise in his soul.

See? I told you you'll be fine. Love doesn't have to hurt, little brother. Not when you do it right. He'll show you, just you see.

~ The End ~

#chocoholic fics #ead #ead 2024 #evil author day #glee #kurt hummel #adam crawford #kadam #doesn't hurt at all 'verse

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theostrophywife · 11 months ago

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green with envy.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

request: omg i need more of theo x reader with a hint of flirty draco

song inspiration: jealous by nick jonas.

author's note: ask and you shall receive. here's draco scheming to make theo jealous, which we all know won't end well. happy new year's my loves. we're staring 2024 off with a bang 😉

“Merlin, they can’t possibly be serious.” Draco muttered in disbelief. “Those two truly aren’t fooling anyone.”

Blaise glanced up from his book, searching for the cause of Malfoy’s offense. The Three Broomsticks was packed, but it wasn’t hard to spot the reason for his friend’s griping. Tucked into a secluded corner of the tavern, you and Theo gravitated towards each other like magnets, leaning into one another, foreheads pressed together, talking and laughing like you were the only people in the world.

It had been this way ever since Blaise could remember.

As always, Theo wore that stupid love-struck expression on his face as he listened to you talk, chuckling softly as you waved your arms around animatedly. You, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to the pining and yearning coming from Nott’s end. Anyone with an ounce of common sense could see that Theo was clearly in love with you, yet you remained blind to his affections.

“They’ve made it very clear that they’re just friends,” Blaise replied, repeating the same tired words that you and Theodore declared over and over again over the course of your friendship.

“And you believe them?”

“Of course not.” Blaise affirmed as he flipped through the pages of his book once more. “But who am I to burst their blissful bubble of ignorance?”

“They’re clearly in denial,” Draco remarked, watching intently as you picked a nonexistent piece of lint off of Theo’s quidditch sweater. “It’s been seven years of this pathetic teetering between will they or won’t they territory. I can’t stomach another day of it, Blaise. Someone needs to do something.”

“Whatever half-arsed plan you’ve cooked up in that ferret brain of yours, I want no part in it.”

Draco tapped his fingers against the wooden table, a familiar smirk curving at his lips. Blaise sighed in exasperation. He knew that look. He hated that look. It usually meant that Malfoy was hatching a scheme that spelled nothing but trouble for Blaise.

“I’m serious, Draco.” Blaise said in a stern voice.

“So am I,” the blonde replied. “Those two need a push and I’m more than willing to provide it for them.”

“I already know that I’m going to regret asking, but what exactly are you planning?”

Draco smirked. Blaise swore to Salazar that there was an evil gleam in his friend’s eyes as he turned over to face him. “I’m going to flirt with Y/N.”

“Are you mental?” Blaise exclaimed. “Nott will send you to an early grave. Did you see what he did to Pucey for trying to chat Y/N up? Poor bastard had to eat his meals through a straw for weeks.”

“Then I guess it’s your job to prevent that from happening, Zabini.”

There were a million protests on Blaise’s lips. Everyone knew that Theo was overprotective of his best friend. It was an unspoken rule that you were off-limits and Blaise had seen first hand the consequences that befell anyone that dared to hit on you. It usually ended with someone in the infirmary and that someone was never Theo.

Draco was well aware of this fact as well, but he seemed to have a death wish. Before Blaise could stop him, Malfoy scooped two glasses of butterbeer from the counter and made his way over to you just as Theo excused himself for a smoke. You looked up just as Draco slipped into the booth, sliding beside you to take up the vacant spot your best friend left.

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N.”

“Hi, Dray.” You greeted the blonde with a smile. “I didn’t know you were here, too.”

“How could you?” He drawled playfully. “Theodore seems content keeping you all to himself.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You could’ve easily just come over to join us.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, darling.” Draco set a mug of ice cold butterbeer down in front of you. “And I brought your favorite.”

“How sweet of you.” You beamed, totally unaware of his schemes as you clinked your glass against his. “Cheers, Draco.”

“Cheers, Y/N.”

The sweetness of the butterbeer lingered on your tongue and the foam rested on your upper lip as you savored the taste. Your tongue peeked out, trying to lick the remnants away. Silver eyes flashed mischievously as he clocked the action, a smirk curling against his lips.

“Here, let me.” Draco brushed his thumb over your upper lip, wiping away the foam with ease. His fingers were soft and featherlight and nothing like the calloused feel of Theo’s hands.

Your best friend had a bad habit of burning his fingertips from the countless blunts and cigarettes he smoked. Despite the fact that you offered to heal them with magic, Theo always refused. He said it made him more manly. Though you rolled your eyes at him, you found that you didn’t really mind his scars and calluses. It only made him that much more endearing. Why you were thinking of Theo while another man was touching you, you had no idea. Or perhaps you did and you were just in deep, deep denial about it.

“Have I lost you, love?”

With a blink, you found yourself staring back at Malfoy. “Sorry, Draco. What were you saying?”

“I asked if you were using a new shampoo,” said your friend. He twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers, using the ends to tickle your cheek. “Your hair smells divine.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes at Draco. “What are you doing, Dray?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re up to something.”

That much was obvious to you. Years of friendship told you just as much. Draco was currently plotting something. Before you could question him further, a shadow loomed over the both of you. When Theo had left for his smoke break, he was carefree and grinning, but now tension colored your best friend’s features. As he glared down at Draco, Theo clenched his jaw and balled his fists at his side.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Malfoy.”

“Teddy, he was just helping me with—“

“Draco doesn’t need to help you with anything.” Theo’s eyes flashed with anger, the blues and greens of his irises turning stormy as his gaze dropped to the lock of hair tangled through Draco’s fingers. “What he needs is to walk away before I break his fucking jaw.”

Draco raised his palms up. “I don’t want any trouble, Nott.”

Despite his statement, you sensed that trouble was exactly what Draco was aiming for. Instead of walking away like he should’ve, Malfoy leaned over and kissed your cheek in parting, which only further incensed Theo. If you hadn’t grabbed hold of the end of his coat, Theo would’ve hurled himself at Draco and punched the cocky smirk off of your friend’s face.

You tugged at Theo and placed yourself between him and Draco, watching as the blonde returned to the table Blaise was currently sitting at. For good measure, he winked at the two of you as though Theo wasn’t already pissed enough as it was.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Theo’s gaze flickered back to you, his eyes darkening as they met yours.

“Why the fuck are you letting him touch you like that?”

The bite in his voice puzzled you. Theo never snapped at you, so you weren’t quite sure how to react. He almost sounded…jealous. Not that Theo had any reason to be. Right?

“What are you on about? Draco was literally just wiping the foam off of my mouth. It’s not a big deal.”

Downplaying the interaction seemed to rile Theo up even further. “Yes it fucking is,” he gritted out. “He’s flirting with you, Y/N. How can you not see that?”

The accusation of Draco Malfoy flirting with you was entirely laughable. Though you were accustomed to Theo’s overzealous tendencies, you usually didn’t mind his overprotectiveness since it deterred creepy guys from making advances towards you. But this was Draco, for Godric’s sake. You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. There was no way in hell he was actually trying to make a move on you.

“You’re being ridiculous, Teddy. Malfoy was not flirting with me.”

“Of course he was! Did you not see the way he looked at you? The bloody git was all over you, playing with your hair, touching your lips. I should his bash his fucking head in for even glancing in your direction.“

The rest of Theo’s rant was incoherent, a mixture between English and Italian curses that drew the attention of those around you. With a grimace, you tugged Theo towards the back of the Three Broomsticks. He continued swearing as you led him away, dead eyes filled with fury as you ushered him into the bathroom.

There was a murderous expression on his face as he spewed threats and curses. You locked the door behind you, sighing as you surveyed the angry boy before you. Knowing Theo, his constant ranting would only fuel the fire of his anger. You needed to calm him down before he made good on his promise to pummel Draco into the ground.

Unfortunately, Theo had already worked himself up to a fit. A frown was evident on his face, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists, the veins on his forearms protruding as violence threatened to spill over. You said his name a few times, but he didn’t seem to hear you. He was too angry to take notice.

While dealing with an angry Theo was by no means a new occurrence for you, it seemed harder to pull him out of it this time. You had never seen him this furious. A small part of you was mad at his overreaction, but another part of you was oddly flattered that he cared so much.

Perhaps it was foolish to do so, but you relished in the fact that such a small action could elicit such a response from him. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve surmised that Theo was acting out of jealousy. His possessive behavior had always given you a strange sort of thrill. It made you feel wanted, it made you feel desired, and that in itself was more dangerous than any drug.

“Theodore.”

Theo paced back and forth, contemplating acts of violence against one of his oldest and closest friends.

“Theo.”

He wondered how much trouble he’d get into for beating Draco into a bloody pulp. Would they suspend him? Theo reckoned it would be worth it.

“Teddy.”

The sight of Draco brushing foam off of your lips flashed through his mind again, playing on a torturous loop. Malfoy didn’t get to touch you like that. No one got to touch you like that. At least not without Theo breaking every bone in their hand.

“Oh for Salazar’s fucking sake.”

You grabbed the front of Theo’s sweater and dragged him down to your level. There was absolutely no thought process behind your actions besides stopping his rant. With your lips pressed firmly against his, you accomplished just that. Theo froze for a second, his eyes fluttering close as you kissed him. The tension left his body, his anger melting away to give room for a different sort of heat to spread through him.

The minute his body language changed, you pulled away. Theo looked down at you, his dead eyes burning with searing passion. You felt his gaze piercing right through you. There was danger lurking within him. Like he was the predator and you were the prey. You’ve never seen him look like that before. Theo looked…feral. Theo looked hungry.

“I’m sorry, Teddy. I was just trying to calm you down—”

You reeled back as Theo cupped your face in his hands and smashed your lips together once more. This time, there was no surprise in the kiss. There was just fervent passion, arduous desire, and mutual destruction between you. Theo didn’t kiss you like he wanted you. He kissed you like he needed you.

As he pinned you against the wall, Theo gripped your hips and pressed his body against yours. The kisses grew sloppy and desperate, the two of you scrabbling for more. You groaned as his erection brushed against your thigh, leaving him the perfect opening to slide his tongue past the seam of your lips. You were vaguely aware of banging into the pictures on the walls, the sound of them clattering to the ground registering somewhere in the back of your mind.

The two of you were like a tornado, knocking decor and toiletries around as you continued to sloppily make out. You were sure that you were making enough noise to alert the whole tavern. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care as Theo bit down on your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth as he set you down on the counter. One hand gripped your throat while the other slipped underneath your skirt.

Theo dragged you closer by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he grinded his hardness against your throbbing core.

“Malfoy couldn’t touch you like this, bella.” The low rasp of his voice sent shivers down your spine. His hold on you was possessive and utterly fucking sexy. Heat rushed between your thighs as his fingers tightened around your throat. “Only I can touch you like this. Do you understand, dolcezza?”

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly. “It’s you, Teddy. Only you.”

Pleased with your response, Theo smirked as he ripped off your tights. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head when he rubbed his hand against your clothed sex. He palmed you through your panties, swearing when he felt how wet you were for him.

“You’re fucking mine,” he growled against your ear while he slid your panties to the side and teased along your folds. Slender fingers curled inside of you, eliciting a filthy moan that echoed through the walls. “This is all for me.”

Watercolour eyes seized the breath from your lungs. The declaration hung in the air with finality. There was no room for question or doubt. Theo was merely stating the truth.

You were his. You always have been.

Theo withdrew his hand, fingers dripping with your arousal. He refused to break eye contact as he stuck them into his mouth, licking each digit clean.

You whimpered, pulling him in by his belt loop. He moaned as you impatiently tugged his jeans down, palming him through his boxers. He felt big. Bigger than you’ve ever had before.

But you wanted it. You wanted him.

“I need you, Theo. Please.”

“I’m yours, Y/N.” Theo panted into your mouth as you released his cock from the constraints of his boxers. “Always.”

You swallowed thickly as you looked down at his impressive size. His cock was hard and throbbing in your hands, precum leaking from the tip. Theo was massive. You had no idea how he was going to fit. Still, the challenge thrilled you.

Spreading your legs open, you bit your lip as Theo positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. He kissed your lips sweetly before pulling back and nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Deep breaths, baby.” You nodded, inhaling and exhaling as he pushed the tip in. “You’re so tight. Gonna let me stretch you wide open, bella?”

Tears pricked at your eyes as he breached your walls, stretching you just between the line of pain and pleasure. “You’re so big, Theo. I don't—I don't know if it’s going to fit.”

“We’ll make it fit, Y/N,” he promised, pushing further in and groaning as your walls hugged tightly around him. “Just like that. You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

Once Theo was fully sheathed inside of you, his movements stilled. He caressed your cheek and pecked your lips. “Can I move, baby?”

“Yes,” you exhaled.

“Good girl.”

You fluttered at his words and Theo cursed as your walls gripped him like a vice. “Fuck, pretty pussy’s squeezing me so tight. You drive me fucking insane, you know that? I get so jealous of anyone who even looks at you.”

“I like when you get jealous,” you admitted, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

Theo flipped you over so that you were facing the mirror. As you gripped the marble countertop, he thrusted sharply inside of you and watched as your face contorted into pleasure. Whispering praises into your ear, Theo picked up the pace. He intertwined your fingers together and placed each palm against the mirror.

“Open your eyes, bella. I want you to watch while I ruin you.”

Your eyes snapped to your reflection, taking in your flushed cheeks and mussed hair. Behind you, Theo fucked into you with a punishing pace. He groaned as he watched himself slide in and out of you, relishing at the perfect fit. It was like you were made for him. As your moans grew louder, Theo stuffed his fingers down your throat and gagged you.

“God, fuck.” Theo hissed, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection. “Harder, baby. You can take it. Let me fuck out my frustrations.”

“You. Belong. To. Me.”

Theo punctuated every word with a thrust, hitting the sweet spot within your walls with each rut.

“I’m yours, Teddy.” You said breathlessly. “All yours.”

He smiled, placing a tender kiss against your neck as his fingers slipped between your legs. Theo rubbed at your clit, urging you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Are you close, principessa? I can feel you squeezing me, milking me dry. Take it all, dolcezza. You’re mine, but I’m yours too.”

“My hands are yours.” Theo squeezed your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples.

“My lips are yours.” He angled your chin towards him, claiming your mouth with open mouthed kisses.

“My cock is yours.” He drove deeper inside of you, making you arch as you cried out his name.

Theo swallowed your moans before capturing your lips with his. “My heart is yours, too.”

“It’s all yours, Y/N.”

Your heart squeezed at his declaration. Nothing had ever sounded more beautiful than Theo pledging every part of himself to you.

“Oh god. Fuck, Theo. Please. I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, bella.”

Stars dotted your vision as the orgasm rocked through your body. Theo kissed your neck, marking his territory, while you squeezed around him. The heat of his touch seared your skin as he held you. If it weren’t for his strong arms wrapped around you, you would’ve collapsed.

“So fucking perfect,” Theo said between pants. “My beautiful girl.”

Your name tumbled off of Theo’s lips as he came. It was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. Coming from the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen.

The two of you slid down to the floor. Theo wrapped an arm around you, cheeks red and hair disheveled. His pretty eyes fluttered open as he traced over the hickies and bruises he’d left on your body, admiring each mark gently. With his brows scrunched with concern, he brushed a thumb over the bite mark on your shoulder.

“Was I too rough?” Theo whispered, kissing over the spot. “Did I hurt you, Y/N?”

You smiled at his gentleness, smoothing at the worry lines creasing his forehead. “No, it was perfect. God, you're fucking hot when you're jealous.”

Theo chuckled, kissing the inside of your wrist. The playfulness in his expression faltered as concern and hesitation bled through. “Did you—I mean, fuck, did you enjoy it? I didn’t—you still want to be my friend, right?”

“No.”

Theo felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He’d fucked it up. The one good thing in his life and he’d fucked it up. You brushed your fingers over his cheekbones, tilting his chin so that you were face to face.

“I want to be so much more than just your friend, Teddy.” The sigh of relief that he released made you grin. You leaned in, giving him a soft peck on the lips. “My heart is yours, too. It’s always been yours.”

The weight of his smile made your heart ache. “Now that you know how I feel, there’s no need to be jealous anymore.”

“Are you kidding? I’m going to be even more insufferable now. I need everyone to know that you’re mine.”

“They already know, Teddy. We were the only ones living in denial.”

“We made it pretty damn obvious, didn’t we?”

“You threatened every guy who dared to even look at me.”

“Please,” Theo started, a smile tugging at his lips. “I saw the dirty looks you gave to the girls who tried to flirt with me.”

You chuckled. “Okay, so maybe we’re both a little…”

“Possessive? Obsessed? Head over heels insane for each other?”

“All of the above.” You declared, tugging at his hand. “Now come on, Teddy. Before someone figures out what we were really doing in here.”

“I think they know, love.” Theo teased. “You were pretty loud.”

“Like you weren’t loud yourself, Nott.”

You rolled your eyes fondly as he helped you up. Theo straightened your skirt and smoothed your hair down, kissing your temple. He reached for the doorknob with one hand and linked his fingers with yours with the other.

Fortunately, there weren’t too many people waiting for the loo. You would’ve been embarrassed to walk out together hand in hand, but Theo made sure that every set of prying eyes quickly found something else to look at. With a cheeky grin, he lifted your knuckles to his lips and placed a lingering kiss upon your skin.

As you walked out into the main hall, a wolf-whistle rang out from one of the tables. Draco raised a toast in your direction while Blaise shook his head.

“Can’t believe that half-arsed plan of yours actually worked,” Zabini said.

Theo furrowed his brows. “What plan?”

“The one where Malfoy flirts with Y/N in an attempt to make you jealous.”

“I knew you were up to something,” you said with narrowed eyes. “What an idiotic plan.”

“Is it idiotic if it worked?”

Theo shook his head in disbelief. “You’re mental, Malfoy. I truly considered tearing you to pieces.”

“You’re welcome,” Draco said with a smirk. “Clearly that jealousy was put to good use.”

The blonde winked at you, making Theo’s fingers tighten around yours. “Oh, Teddy’s going to kill you. This time, I have no plans of stopping him.”

Draco’s silver eyes widened as you released Theo. “Zabini? A little help here?”

“I’d start running if I were you, Malfoy.”

Without hesitation, Draco bolted out the door. You snickered as the blonde disappeared down the snowy street, his platinum blonde head bobbing through the crowd. To his credit, Theo gave him a proper head start.

“I’ll be right back, dolcezza.”

“Don’t be gone too long, Teddy.” Theo smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips. “And try not to hurt Draco too badly, yeah?”

Despite his pout, Theo nodded as you tugged him down for a proper kiss. He smiled against your lips before peppering kisses on your nose and cheeks.

“Fine, but only because you asked nicely, principessa.”

You smiled, watching as Theo chased after Draco. Beside you, Blaise grinned.

“It’s about damn time.”

With a flush, you rolled your eyes at your friend. “Oh shut it, Zabini.”

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar@moonflowersandsparkles

#jealous theo makes me want to chomp on dry wall <3 #theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n

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bogleech · 1 month ago

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ALSO ON STORENVY HERE

ONCE UPON A DARK TIME IN THE TERROR AGES SOME MORON SCARED THE WORLD TO DEATH (GEE THANKS PAL!!!!!!!) BY WRITING A STORY CALLED "THE DAY OF ALL THE BLOOD." THE STORY WAS SO DARK AND GROSS THAT ANYONE WHO READ IT GOT SCARED IN REAL LIFE ALSO.

NOW MANY CENTURIES LATER THE SAME TWISTEFIED AUTHOR IS PUTTING THE STORY IN REAL PAPER YOU CAN TOUCH ALTHOUGH THE STORY IS STILL FAKE (………OR IS IT…………..) ALONG WITH SEVERAL OF THE ORIGINAL RELATED STORIES AND A BUNCH OF BRAND NEW ONES TOO SCARY TO PUT ON THE INTERNET!! ALSo the new stories aren't entirely in caps lock anymore because that got old if they were LOUDER you would get scared so hard you would quite possibly die to death for all time. This small thin paperback prints and ships in time to ruin thanksgiving or maybe christmas!!!!!!!

BRAND NEW STORIES INCLUDE:

THE MOST MURDERED GIRL IN THE WORLD: One day a girl did not listen to her mother, and got murdered by all the murderers in the world at once. The power of almost 100 murders at once transformed her forever…but into what!? The clue is in the title, but you'll never guess. heh heh heh.

THE TRUEST CRIME: one day there was a crime so terrible you will not be able to read what the bad guy did without throwing up your guts at how evil it was. Let's just say it sends 100 MILLION BABIES to prison…and that's only the beginning………

THE BODYLESS DOG: what happens when a dog gets its body cut off and doesn't die!? Well he isn't happy about it I can tell you that much.

VAMPIRE HANDS: this story is about YOU and the time your hands turned into the hands of a vampire. Maybe you think having to keep your hands in tiny coffins all day long doesn't sound so bad but that is only one of the more than one things you have to do when you have vampire hands!!!!!!

THE INVISIBLEST KNIFE: in this story you accidentally kill everyone and everything you care about and even ruin a hot dog completely. Don't worry! There's no such thing as the invisiblest knife! I am looking around right now and I don't see it anywhere. Do you??

WHEN ALL THE STEEL TURNED INTO WORMS (and it was not my fault!!!) this is one of the LONGEST stories (more than two pages!) in the book and is about when one day all the steel in the world became worms that were scared of humans so if you even looked at a car it would fall apart from all the worms running away into the dirt. Again these are descriptions and not the whole stories so this is just one of the things that happens!

THE DAY IT RAINED THE HEADS FROM SPACE: what happens when a really sharp human space probe meets a planet where everyone is the same exact height and always stands in a line on a perfectly flat plane?!?!?!?!?!!?!!?? Well they aren't happy about it I can tell you that much.

THE DOG THAT WAS TOO LONG: you like dogs, do you??? Well sometimes wishes come true but sometimes…sometimes wishes suck and were stupid to make actually. Fool.

THE WEIRD GUY: don't worry, there's no such thing as a weird guy, and if there was, it would not turn out to have been you all along! Pretend you didn't read this massive spoiler.

THE GHOST'S GHOSTS: everyone knows a ghost is twice as scary as a regular person, but what about a ghost's ghost? Obviously that would be twice as scary as a regular ghost. A twisted tale of how the human race is exterminated several hundred times in a row.

DARKNESS MOM: the worst most awful most disgusting scariest monster in the WORLD!! You will TERRIFIED to read about this mom who is TOO TALL and has a GROSS TOO LONG TONGUE and SHARP MONSTER HANDS and if she GETS YOU she will make you be IN TROUBLE all the time for like NO reason!!! NOOOO!!!!!!

THE THINGS THAT DID THE WRONG THINGS: you better not read this secret government list of things that do the wrong stuff!! The secret guys will catch you and you'll have to go to secret jail so you don't go telling everyone about anomanolies such as THE WORST TURTLE (three words, FOOL: spikes on it) or THE CLOCK THAT TELLS TIM (tim is alright though this is not his fault)

THE HALF MURDERER: what if a normal person and a murderer had a baby? It's more likely than you think! Or shall we say…half more likely…mwa ha ha ha

THE REVENGE OF THE DAY OF ALL THE BLOOD: THE LONG FEARED SEQUEL (WARNING: this one is in capitol letters again, it is PULLING NO PUNCHES!)

…………AND MAYBE SOME MORE IF I FEEL LIKE IT! *actually some more are already in it I just might add a couple more than that even

#horror #creepypasta #halloween #halloween 2024

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megwritesriddles · 1 month ago

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Call Me (Anytime!) ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 17 - Sexting/Phone sex. Reader and Mike only ever text about work but they both want to change that. Once they do, things escalate very fast and Mike can only hope to keep his head.

Tags: Sexting, Phone sex, Masturbation (f and m), Dirty talk, Flirting, Coworkers, Friends to lovers, Developing relationship, Not canon complaint (no evil animatronics).

Word count: 2.6k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Your texts are purple, Mike's are blue!! Yes, I switched this around with my Spencer fic because I needed more time on it, sorry!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

PART 2 HERE !!

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You had his number purely for work reasons. To let each other know when you were running late or calling off sick. A mutual agreement, to make sure neither of you came to work one day and had two people’s jobs sprung on you unannounced. A show of worker solidarity. Texts were few and far between, especially because you saw each other almost daily, but mostly because there wasn’t much to talk about.

“Hey, problems with Abby’s sitter, running ten mins late. Cover for me,”

“Off sick today with the flu! Hope you didn’t get it from me yesterday! Cya!”

“I got the flu from you. Now it’s my turn to take a few days off. Thanks,”

“Did you see they are changing our insurance provider?”

“Cheapskates,”

“Tell me about it!”

The conversation was never about anything but work, occasionally you heard a little about his sister Abby, but only if it was in some way related to him needing to miss work. You liked Mike a lot, you had fun working with him. Although your job was to watch the monitors in the office and his to patrol the building, you saw a lot of one another. He stopped by the security office much more than was strictly necessary, but no one was there to chase you up about it. As long as he could still respond to a threat (not that any ever came), you were fine. He was not very talkative, but would still hang around in the doorway of the office, expecting you to speak to him. So you did, and he listened well, whatever it was you landed on. Sometimes you liked to gossip with him since you had no mutual friends and he couldn’t spread the word. He pretended not to care about the drama you provided him with, but would always subtly try to enquire more about it. He didn’t have much going on in his own life. Or rather, he had a whole lot going on, which meant he had time for nothing else. Working nights and taking care of Abby took up all his time, and he’d always been a bit of an introvert, so socialising had fallen to the wayside for several years now. Living vicariously through the stories of your friends' love lives was fun for him, as much as he loathed to admit it. He was grateful for you, that you were kind and willing to talk to him while on shift, even if he was a bad conversationalist. He considered you a friend, perhaps his best one, even though he knew he was far from the same thing to you. He was your coworker, considered a friend if he was very lucky. Unbeknownst to him, you did truly consider him a friend, even if you weren’t quite in the desperate position he was.

Every time you picked up your phone, you debated texting him about something not work-related. You talked about plenty more than just work at work, so why did this seem like such an impossible boundary to cross? You’d always thought he was cute, from the moment you’d started working together and from all the information you’d gleaned from him over time at work, you knew he was a lonely guy. You were sure he would want your friendship and maybe even more than that, but the transition seemed impossible somehow. You wanted him to feel less lonely, whether through friendship or more. So one day, after he texts you something innocuous about getting to work late next week due to Abby’s school play (you found his dedication to his sister very sweet and were always happy to cover for him so he wouldn’t miss important things like this), you bite the bullet. You start small.

“Cute! What’s the play?”

“Robin Hood. Abby’s shy so she only made the sets, but still wants me to come see,”

You’re happy he doesn’t immediately shut you down, but you’re aware he might simply be being polite, or happy to talk about his sister like he always is. You think for a moment then text back, even though you’re sure he assumes the conversation is over now.

“I suppose I’ll have to miss this one :( Hold me a ticket for the next one!”

You immediately wonder if you’ve gone too far, trying to insert yourself into his life, into his future like this. No, you tell yourself, you’re overthinking, he’ll just interpret you as being polite but not serious. It would be fine. It’s a while until he texts back, so long that you assume he isn’t going to and continue about your day.

“Sure thing. What are you up to atm?”

Mike’s heart pounds as he sends the message. He’s not used to carrying a conversation forward like this, but he’s also not used to you talking to him about more than work, he has to take this chance. The fear of rejection consumes him for the next few minutes as he waits. He knows it’s barely anything, that there were a hundred riskier options for what he could have texted you, but he’s still anxious.

“Folding laundry! You?”

Mike immediately wonders what sorts of clothes you might have. You dress very plain for the security job, jeans and hoodies, the occasional t-shirt when it’s a little warmer, but he’s always felt your body looks too good to be dressed like that. You must show it off at least a little, and god, he’d love to see it. He’s occasionally caught sight of lace at your hips when you’ve bent over at work. He imagines you touching those panties while you text him and hates that the thought excites him. He really ought to get out more.

“Watching TV.”

He responds and realises he’s been a little too short with his answer. He racks his brain for something more to say.

“Girl on my show looks like you.”

He adds, although it’s not even true. He has the news on, but he wanted an excuse to say something more, without having to comment on the miserable contents of the news.

“Is she cute? ;)”

You text back, unsure what possessed you to be flirty, you hope to God you can play it off if he reacts poorly, like you’re just messing with him and stroking your own ego. You’d sent it without thinking, the reply popping into your mind and onto your screen in mere seconds. Mike is just as shocked. You can’t really be flirting, can you? He hasn’t flirted in years and was never good at it to begin with. He really doesn’t want to mess this up with you, not only because you work together, but because he genuinely really likes you and he’s hopeful that now things have settled down a bit with Abby, he could maybe try and find some romance. Abby needed a feminine presence in her life, especially as she got older, and, selfishly, Mike wanted to be loved, someone to hold on cold nights. He also really really wanted to get laid. He was only a man, and as much as other concerns had dominated his mind for a long time, you had brought back long-dormant urges. This is the thought that drives him forward as he sends his next text.

“She’s cute. But, she hardly compares to you,”

It’s another big risk, but he wants you so badly that he’s willing to take it. He’s not thinking with his head anymore.

“How so?”

You retort, your heart fluttering a little at his compliment. But you want to be sure of how he feels, you don’t want him to beat around the bush. You need to know that he wants you.

“You’re too beautiful for anyone to compare,”

He responds earnestly. This is it, he’s been transparent, this would be incredibly hard to play off as a joke. If it was a joke it would be a cruel one, so his plausible deniability is gone, his cards are on the table. He waits with bated breath. You take a long time to respond, unsure what to say. Your instinct is to thank him, but it might end the conversation there, you need this to keep going.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course you are, no need to be modest. You could model,”

“Haha! No, I couldn’t model, certainly not runway, but thank you anyway :)”

“Maybe a magazine? Star in a film at least?”

“I could star in your fantasies ;)”

The text takes both of you off-guard, even though you’re the one who wrote it. You had been texting so fast back and forth that you once again hadn’t thought before sending. You nearly send a message back, taking back your words and apologising, but your confidence has inspired Mike’s as well and he shoots back a text while you’re formulating an apology.

“You already do,”

Mike feels hot all over when he sends the text, having to shed his hoodie before he starts properly sweating. As out of his depth as he feels, he’s positive by now that you’re flirting and he can’t lose this chance. He needs you, he needs you to want him too, and he’s finally allowing himself to believe that perhaps you do.

“How often?”

“Every night,”

He can’t understand why he’s being so brazen, he could have easily scared you off by now, but you’re still texting him. He’s not thinking with his head anymore. His words make you excited, to know he thinks of you in this way, and every night is thrilling and arousing. You figure based on his last confession, that you can throw caution to the wind. You want him, he wants you, that much should be clear by now to the both of you.

“Me too! I imagine you fucking me over the security desk,”

Oh my god. Mike’s hands shake violently as he reads the text, he can’t help but let out a strangled moan, incredibly glad he’s alone right now. Has he died and gone to heaven? Are you playing a cruel prank on him? No, you’ve always been too kind and this is a long way to go for a prank. You must want him like you say, the thought makes his head spin and his pants tighten even more. For the first time ever, he can’t wait to go to work.

“Yeah? I think of that too,”

“Shall we? ;)”

“God, yes. I don’t even care if I get fired for it,”

“I won’t tell if you don’t!”

“My lips are sealed,”

God, he wants you so bad. He wishes he could come visit you and stop this agonising waiting game that’s begun, but his car is in the shop and the public transport nearby is virtually non-existent. This has all escalated so quickly, he had only hoped a few minutes ago for a brief non-work related chat, and now you were making plans with him for him to fuck you. He had to be in heaven, there was no other explanation. He was not going to get a single minute of work done next shift, or perhaps ever again. That poor desk doesn’t know what’s coming for it if he can have it his way. He prays you’re willing because he has about a million things he’d like to try with you.

His phone rings and he tenses. He doesn’t know whether to relax or tense further when he realises it’s you calling, but he quickly picks up anyway. As soon as he hears your voice, lower and sultrier than usual, he can’t help but buck his hips into the air slightly.

“Hey Mike,” you whisper seductively. You’re lying back against your pillows, trembling with nerves and excitement.

“Hey… uh… beautiful…” he tries his best to be suave. You giggle softly, but not mockingly at his awkwardness.

“Thinking of me?

“Fuck, you can’t even imagine,” he groans.

“Touching yourself?”

“No, but… good idea… you don’t mind?” he exhales, although he’s already palming himself through his boxers, his jeans having been unzipped sometime a little while ago. He’s lost control of himself. You’re softly running your hand up and down your stomach, warming yourself up, eager to hear more.

“If I was there, I’d do it for you,” you purr, enjoying the choked breath you hear on the other end of the line. He grips himself through the fabric, starting to stroke gently.

“How long have you wanted me like this?” he groans into the receiver, embarrassed knowing he isn’t going to last long, the high of being wanted like this, by you of all people, really getting to him.

“Since we met,” you reply, your voice a little breathy. He can guess why and the thought makes him whimper.

“When I get my hands on you I am gonna worship you,” he promises, his voice low and hoarse, his hand now inside his boxers. “I don’t deserve your attention but God, if I have it, I’ll make sure I don’t lose it, I’ll please you all day and night,” he pants harshly between words and he can hear soft moans from your end that only spur him on. “I want to make you happy,” he groans. He means it in many ways, but right now, you hope you only interpret it as lust, he won’t let his stupid heart ruin this for him right now.

“I wanna make you happy too,” you whimper. The words hit him hard, his eyes squeezing shut and his whole body erupting in pleasure. He throws his head back against the couch, groaning loudly, hearing your moans pick up as a result is unendingly thrilling. He spills all over his hand, thick ropes of his need for you. He gasps for breath and listens intently as you fall apart on the other end. Your moans are like sweet music, and somehow you have his cock swelling again already. He wills it away as you come down from your high, gasping for breath, not wanting to push you too far. He needs this to not be a one-time thing, he needs you in person. In his mind, he pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead, telling you how happy you’ve made him.

“I wish you were here,” he says instead, figuring it’s a little safer. You laugh a little, but it seems more like a laugh of surprise than anything.

“Still? Even though you finished already?” you tease.

“Of course, I… I could never just be done with you like that,” he insists softly, hoping you feel similarly. It seems, now more than ever, that he’s craving love and connection and now he knows that it has to be with you in order to fill what’s missing in his life. You are perfect. He knew it before but he knows it completely now. You are everything. “I care… you know? This wasn’t just a horny thing for me,”

“You seemed pretty horny,”

“You know what I mean!” he protests and you giggle. He laughs too, though he’s still anxious about how you felt about his confession.

“I care too, Mike,” you admit with a soft sigh, rolling onto your side. “I also want you here… Would you spoon me?”

“Of course, I would, gladly,” he promises, inwardly ecstatic that you want his affection. He wants to keep you warm and safe, tucked up against his chest, safe from harm. He imagines kissing your neck and he hears you sigh happily, he wonders if you share his fantasy. “I can’t wait to see you again. I’m so… grateful for all this… that you like me like this,” he hums, slowly tucking himself away and zipping up. He makes a mental note to buy you flowers for when he next sees you, hopefully, accompanied by the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend.

“I’ll see you at work,” you smile, blowing a kiss into the receiver.

“Yeah, see you at work,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

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allthecanadianpolitics · 10 months ago

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Palestinian-Canadian Ahmed Kouta still hasn't been retrieved from Ghazzah by the Canadian authorities. He is still being subjected to collective punishment, to genocide, and to psychological torture such as this. As of February 5th 2024.

Mélanie Joly, Justin Trudeau, and all other ministers responsible for this, you are fucking ghouls. If they weren't Palestinian, they wouldn't been retrieved by now. Its been since fucking NOVEMBER that the government said they would do something about this. No. Palestinians have to spend 122 days under genocide. We are 2 months into the following year. Nothing has changed.

Fuck Canada. Fuck the U.S. Fuck the occupation. We will never forgive these evil entities for what they've done.

#cdnpoli #racism #anti arabism #zionism #zionist occupation of Palestine #Justin Trudeau #Mélanie Joly

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months ago

Note

You smell really good, sensei... Is that cologne or just your natural scent?

The smell I describe here is Crewel’s fragrance from the 2024 TWST Valentine Gifts (which are character-inspired room sprays)!

If he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.

“So you’ve noticed. You have a keen nose on you, pup—and excellent taste, if I do say so myself.”

Crewel proudly adjusted the lapels of his fur coat. A faint wave of fragrances wafted toward you. It was deep and warm, with chords of golden amber weaving through woods and oak moss.

If you closed your eyes, you could imagine yourself hunkering down inside his massive fur coat. How nice it would be, enveloped by the intoxicating essence of him. It beat the chilly drafts that blew through Ramshackle’s musty, mildew-encrusted floorboards.

“You’re absolutely correct, this is cologne. It’s my unique signature fragrance, concocted by yours truly.

“Strong odors, of course, may evoke averse reactions in animals, familiars, and beastmen. That is why I made certain to keep the smell pleasant and light when formulating. A little dab on the pulse points is enough.

“I do forgo fragrance some days for the comfort of our most sensitive noses. What you may be smelling then would be my soap, shampoo, and conditioner. Simple, clean.”

“Wow, Crewel-sensei! You put so much thought into your personal grooming.”

That earned a laugh from him. More a bark than a laugh, sharp and terse.

“Ask yourself this: if an owner cannot take care of himself, how exactly can he be expected to take care of a litter of pups?” He rapped his pointer against an open palm. “The manner in which one presents themselves is crucial for setting the mood. An unkempt coat and a foul odor do not command authority, nor respect.

“Discipline starts with the individual. This is what I wish to instill in you all. With that in mind…”

Crewel looked you over, muttering to himself “Shirt ironed, tie neat, vest free of lint and stray hairs… Hmm, yes. Everything seems to be in order.”

He grinned suddenly, showing off his prominent canines.

“Good boy!! You’re well on your way to being best in show.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Divus Crewel #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Reader #self insert #It’s Raining Crows and Dogs

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sirfrogsworth · 2 months ago

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Grampa's Antique Fan (2015 vs 2024 Edit)

As a young man, after coming home from the Second World War, my grampa got a job as an electrician for Emerson Electric. He didn't work on the actual electrical products. He just maintained the electrical systems that power the tools to make electrical components.

It was a "I heard you need electricity for your electricity" type deals.

The company was founded in 1890 in nearby Ferguson, Missouri by John Wesley Emerson. He was a Union commander in the Civil War and a lawyer and then a judge and then an author and then a historian... so he was clearly qualified to run one of the first electronics companies. (This is currently referred to as the "Law of Elon".)

Emerson (the company, not the dude) specialized in electric motors and was the first to stick their motors in a fan and sell them.

As you can see by the 4 protective fan guard loopies, these were very safe for kids to be around.

I mean, the biggest thing you could shove in there is a baby arm, which is the least important part of a baby. No baby heads were chopped off—which was the bar for consumer safety during that era.

Fans are rated by the volume of air they can push over a period of time and your average box fan can push about 1400 cubic feet per minute or "CFM". When this Emerson (the fan, not the dude) was produced they actually used "CCH" or cubic cubits per hour. Emerson (the dude) loved using odd standards of measurement much to the chagrin of his engineers.

Due to the small surface area, weak angle of attack, and heavy metal blades, this electronic beast could only push a baker's dozen cubic cubits per baker's hour—which was a confusing metric of time because people were very superstitious and they refused to put the 13 on the baker's clocks. They just left a mysterious blank void after the 12 and apparently several people had existential crises during the baker's hour. Some were institutionalized for a rare condition called Time Delirium.

Thankfully Emerson Electric was able to provide the electroshock therapy devices that cured several patients. This was achieved by erasing the memory of the traumatic time delirium events along with a few other unimportant details like what they did last Tuesday and their mother's name and one engineering degree that the guy wasn't even using.

My dad actually got the fan working and let me tell you... that bad boy could really work up a gentle breeze...

...if you stood behind it and blew.

And that fine American-made electric fan motor was just as quiet as a leaf blower on Saturday morning.

Over the last century, Emerson was bought and sold and bought and sold.

And bought and sold and bought and sold.

Was that 7?

Eh, close enough. We'll call it a baker's 7.

They changed their product line countless times over their 130+ years of existence. After fans they pivoted and made electric meat grinders. To this day, no one know what inspired that decision.

Currently, they make radar avionics and are majority-owned by the private equity firm, Blackstone. Which is a totally non-evil sounding name they chose for their company-eating empire. Please ignore that the CEO was one of Trump's policy strategists. This is a non-evil company with a non-evil name run by non-evil people, okay?

Despite Emerson Electric having to settle a baker's gross of lawsuits involving a few lightly scalp'd babies, they maintain a Fortune 500 status and are still headquartered in Ferguson.

They occupy one of the most boring ass buildings ever constructed.

Just rectangles all the way down.

That architect told every angle to get rect.

Of course, I forgot all of this cool history and sold this fan in the estate auction. I suppose it is a good thing I got a nice photograph to help assuage my current feelings of guilt. I mean, it is not baby scalping, time delirium guilt—but I would feel better if I knew my gramp-gramp's fan was in a good home with 0 babies.

#photography #re-edit #some of this stuff is actually true #I have yet to fall asleep and so I wrote this #can you tell I haven't slept?

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darkjediqueen · 9 months ago

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Do-Over-Episode 3-EAD

Title: Untitled Series: Do-Over Fandom(s): 9-1-1 Relationships: Eddie Diaz & Shannon Diaz, Eddie Diaz & Evan Buckley, Tags: Unbeta’d, Time Travel, Series Endgame Buck/Eddie Warnings: Shitty Diaz Parents, Character Bashing, Major Character Death Summary: Eddie keeps trucking to change things for the better. Word Count: 10,657 Notes: I cannot promise that this will look like this when I finally do…

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#Eddie Diaz/Evan Buckley #Evil Author Day 2024

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ultralightpoe · 24 days ago

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Scream Queen - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Part 9 of my halloween event! ENJOYYYYYY!

Warnings: bullying, pig blood, inaccurate carrie bro

Word Count: 3272

Requests: OPEN

~2024 Halloween Event Masterlist

[Thank you for the gif @trishnell ]

ENJOY!

It was always funny how something can be so wrong than the way you thought it, how you could expect one thing and end up with something entirely different. Though in your defense you didn’t have a real view on the world besides what your Momma had told you throughout the years. Any ideas you had were…. terrifying .

Eddie Munson for one.

It was never meant to be a problem, you had spent the first years of your education at home with your Momma as a teacher until that man Benny from the diner reported her though you never understood what the issue was. You knew everything you needed to know, you knew what was a sin and what was the proper way to go. But then you were thrown into Hawkins High Freshman year and that began causing issues with Momma. She grew more and more upset with every passing day.

“They are gonna ruin you.” She would sob, pressing her handmade cross into your back as you tried to stay silent. “You’re never gonna get it. He will never accept you into his realm if you do this. You understand me?!”

So you did your best, because you wanted to be accepted into gods kingdom.

You fasted, you didn’t talk to anyone else, you prayed in between classes and hid your skin from viewing. You did your best.

But that was when Munson became an issue.

It had been after school and you had known better than to dally, you should have gone straight home and started your prayers. But you had been upset about something that had happened during gym, feeling silly and embarrassed from what some of the other girls had said and it left you reeling. So you planted yourself on one of the benches outside the school and tried to calm yourself down.

Like the devil himself stalking after his prey he had shown up, sliding onto the bench beside you easily, smiling like he had no worries at all as you tried not to inhale the scent he was wearing.

“What’s on your mind?” He hummed, leaning his head to the side like a cat. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Do I know you?” You ask even though you knew too much about him already. Eddie, full name Edward. He sold ungodly things by the picnic spot during lunch and often fought Jason Carver.

“Sorry I should introduced myself. Eddie Munson. Pleasure to meet you.” He smiled like it was nothing and held out his hand for you to shake, only for you to ignore it. Turning your head to the side like you weren’t at all interested in the many rings he adorned. “Right. Back to my main question, what’s got the pretty girl looking so glum?”

“Nothing.” You snap out, throat tightening at his words.

“I thought god hated liars…”

“And what would you know about god?” You snap back, finally turning to look at him just in time to see his eyes widen a little with shock before his mouth spreads into a bigger smile.

“I know a lot of thi-” Before he could finish his sentence a loud scream rung out through the air and both of your heads swiveled in the direction so quickly you were sure you felt a pop as you saw your mother rushing to you.

Cutting your hair was a sin, and you had always been terrified to do so but you often brushed your hair when your mother wasn’t looking since you didn’t want her to think you were being too vain. The image of your mother and her wildly long and tangled hair was terrifying, or maybe it was the pure malice in her eyes as she surged forward.

“AWAY FROM THE SATAN WORSHIPER! RIGHT THIS INSTANT!” She wailed, coming to grab your elbow and pull you up harshly.

“Hey hey hey.” The long haired boy jumped up, rushing to grab the wrist that was holding onto your arm. “You can’t do that to her!”

Your mother had no care for his attempt to free your arm as she began reciting an expel evil prayer in latin, shoving him away and dragging you forward.

“Hey, you good?” He tries to ask again, but she pulls you away before you can say anything. And before you could realize she had shoved you in her car and you were pulled away from the school.

She hadn’t let you back at school for a week. And when you were finally allowed back you’re back was sore with the amount of times she had burnt you with her cross. You couldn’t move really, and when you managed to it was just pain.

But this was what you deserved, you knew you should have gone home as soon as school let out.

You were surprised to find the long haired devil worshiper at your locker towards the end of the day, when you had a free period, and you tried wracking your brain with what he could say. Would he make fun of you for what he saw like anyone else would? Would he laugh? Would he grow horns and hiss?

Instead he doesn’t say anything when you walk up, instead he reaches out his hand slowly enough that you can take a second to look at the rings he wore before his palm opened up to reveal a red wrapper that read ‘Kit-Kat’. “Chocolate?”

“I can’t have that.” You shake your head, taking a step back as your mouth waters at the sight. You had nothing but crackers for the past week as a part of your penance, which was right considering you had broken your mothers rules.

“Sure you can.”

“God doesn’t believe in gluttony.”

“Did he tell you that himself?” He whispers, leaning forward a bit with a fake look of astonishment like he was talking to his very own prophet.

“You’re mocking me.”

“I’m not. I also know god says that denying a gift from someone looking to extend to a savior is a form of shutting out a chance to save them.” He moves closer, that kit-kat bar still in between you both. “Come on, save me.”

“Are you saying the candy bar is your way of looking for-”

“Sshh. Just take the candy pretty girl.” He huffs and you can’t help but bite your lip as you snatch it from him. You planned to throw it away the second he turned around but he seemed to be ahead of you as he pulled another bar out and ripped the package open, giving you a look to tell you he’s waiting.

So you rip open your own package and you’re ashamed to admit the first thing you thought of was that it matched his eyes. That thought was quickly taken over the second you tried the chocolate, dissolving into the taste of it as it melted on your tongue.

You got so lost in the flavor that you hadn’t realized that you shut your eyes, so when you opened them you realized he had a large smile on his face. “Good?”

“I have to go.” And you walk away before he can say anything else.

But he doesn’t give up, instead seeing Eddie Munson became a regular occurrence. Every day he would be at your locker, talking to you and coming up with reason after reason to be there. He brought chips, and he brought sandwiches and chocolate. At some point you gave up the futile attempt to deny it all and began talking to him more and more. He showed you books, he showed you music and the world began expanding.

Over time he became the devil worshiper your mother had warned you about, into your friend.

But then came the conversation of prom….. or …. The fight of prom.

For the past two years you had told your mother you were attending after school programs you needed to graduate and she had believed it. You felt wrong for lying to your mother, and you were sure you would be going to hell. But for the past two years you were really spending the afternoons in Eddie Munsons trailer.

The day you fought you had been curled up on his bed, reading one of the novels he had demanded you read as he pretended to catch up on homework when in all reality he was watching you read.

“I can feel your eyes.” You whisper, looking up from the book where he doesn’t even pretend that wasn’t.

“I’m waiting for your reactions. You have the best reactions to the books.”

“You’re such a loser.” You smile, watching him stand up and hop onto the bed making it bounce before he crawled up to lay by you and see what page you were on. You read silently for another 5 minutes as he reads the pages over your shoulder before he sighs out in a manner you knew all too well.

“You have a question for me.”

“No.”

“Then you wouldn’t be sighing in my ear.”

“People say they saw Jason Carver talking to you at lunch today.”

“Where’s the question in that?”

“Was….he?”

“Yes-”

“Did he say something mean to you? I swear to god I will kill him if he -”

“He said that Chrissy wasn’t feeling good, that she would be missing prom. He wanted to know if I’d go with him.”

“I’m sorry…. what ?”

“He asked if I would go with him. He said his parents talked to my mom about going and he thought it would help my chances of being able to go if she knew I was going with someone from the church.” You explain, turning to look at him only for him to stand up from the bed quickly and glare at you.

“Tell me you said no.”

“What?”

“Tell me you said no!” He shouts, hands flying up like he was begging you. “Tell me you are not that stupid!”

Your mouth had flown open during his outburst, but the second the word stupid flies from his mouth it snaps shut as you blink back the immediate tears. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s a prank. You realize that right?”

“Says who?”

“Says anyone with common sense!” He snaps, shaking his head. “You really think Jason Carver is going to go to prom with the Jesus freak? The people who used to laugh at you everytime you walked down the hall? The people who still tease you behind your back?”

“He was trying to be nice!”

“You’re being so stupid! You’re being an idiot!”

“Is it really that hard to believe that he would be nice to me? You just think I’m the laughing stock of the school because of my beliefs right? That’s it?”

“Right, your beliefs.” He scoffs. “Nothing but a whacked out cult.”

“Don’t ever speak to me again.” You seethe, shoving the book you had been reading away and grabbing your shoes.

“No. YOU don’t ever speak to me again.” He snaps back, kicking the book away as he stormed out of his room with you hot on his heels, swinging to the door and pulling it open. “You want to be stupid and fall for this spectacle then be my guest.”

“You want to die alone with no friends then that’s on you!”

“Right, at least i’m not some high school sellout that’s going lose her virginity in the back of a buick. Tell me, do you think your god would approve of that?”

“Don’t ever talk to me again.” You snap once more, walking out his front door only for him to slam the door shut so harshly it shook on it’s hinges.

You couldn’t stop crying the entire walk home.

Nervous wasn’t the right word to describe how you were feeling the night of prom.

Jason Carver had been right, he had convinced your mother that he was godly enough to go to prom with and she would allow it. She had even made you a dress for the evening out of silk fabric.

Over the past few months with Eddie you had gained some weight that he always said was healthy, and though she made comments about it you couldn’t stop the bubble of excitement in your chest at the image of yourself in the mirror. You had filled out the dress nicely, with hips that flared and round cheeks that held your blush.

Your hair was soft, thoroughly brushed. She had made you a sheer slip to cover your shoulders and you had just finished putting the look together when Jason arrived to pick you up. You tried not to think about Eddie the entire ride there, and you tried to pretend you were calm as you walked into the gym with him.

His friends were being nice, they all talked to you with wide smiles. Though they hadn’t spoken to you much before you got a little excited at the fact that they were speaking to you now.

Jason didn’t want to dance much so you sat alongside him at the table, feet tapping to the beat as you imagined what Eddie would have done if he were here. He would have dragged you to the dance floor, made some off beat dance before making a plate of food and joked about spiking the punch.

But he hated these dances, he had never once attended a dance throughout highschool. He claimed that it was all full with sellouts and nothing but a waste of time.

And yet you still wished he was here.

“Ladies and gentleman…. I’m sorry to interrupt but it is time to announce your prom king and queen.” The principal calls through the mic and Jason practically jumps out of the seat, pulling you with him. He kept a grip on your hand the entire time as you both made your way through the crowd to listen in. “After reading the votes we are glad to announce that your Prom King is….. JASON CARVER!”

The crowd around you screams in excitement as he cries out and runs up the stage, and you feel lost for a second, ready to leave before someone stops you.

“And your prom queen made for your prom king is…. “ And the world seems to stop as he calls your name, and once you expect people to sit in silence or boo you’re shocked to see people turn to you in excitement as they cheer. They usher you to the stage and your heart beats through your chest so fast you are sure you might be sick.

The lights are hot on your skin as they hand you flowers, and tears begin falling down your cheeks as they place the crown on your head.

Eddie was wrong.

You think the words as the girl kisses your cheek before making sure the crown is straight.

Eddie was worried about nothing.

The principal squeezes your shoulder before stepping back as he announces that you would stand next to Jason for a photo.

Eddie is going to be proud.

You realize that Jason was standing a little too far from you, but as you move to take a step to him your vision is blocked suddenly as a gooey liquid covers your entire body.

“PIG!” Is the only word you hear, shouted by a large group as your hands fly up in a panic to clear your eyes as you take a deep inhale. The flowers fall to the ground and when you move to dash off you end up tripping over them, your knees hitting the stage floor with a harsh thud, pain shooting through your leg.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Someone asks as you dash through the crowd sobbing, tripping over the heels once you reach the hall. You rip them off, leaving them behind as you flee.

You don’t make it far, for at the main entrance stood none other than Eddie Munson wearing a suit with a small bouquet in his hands, staring at you like the world was ending.

“No.” He whispers, taking a single step forward before it all breaks and you launch yourself at him. Within an instant he has his arms around you, lifting you with ease and spinning you a bit.

He holds you for a minute before setting you down as you cry, grabbing your arm softly to lead you to the van and make an escape. No words are spoken as he drives, and no words are spoken as he helps you inside the house. You walk silently in an attempt not to bother his uncle, only for him to shake his head and point to the empty spot where his uncle's car usually is before leading you to the bathroom.

He leads you to sit on the toilet before leaning to start the water, feeling it with his hand to wait for it to heat up to the right temp while you stared without blinking. Your eyes had tears in them but if you didn’t blink then they wouldn’t keep falling.

“It was a prank.” You croak out, your chest tightening as you can’t fight off the tears anymore. He is quick to slide over and grab your hands softly to pull your attention.

“It was an overdone and cliche prank. Honestly if you ask me they just did you a huge favor.” He scoffs, rubbing at some of the red that was on your hand from when you wiped the red off. “I mean, getting carrie’d? Biggest compliment EVER?”

“Carrie’d?”

“Carrie’d. Stephen King style.” He nods, tapping your chin gently before helping you stand. “Let’s get this off of you.”

“It was homemade.” You explain when his fingers trace down your sides to get to the bottom and lift it over your head.

“You looked great. Very-”

“Piggish?”

“Perfect.” He responds before slipping it off and leading you to the shower. He gives you a minute to sink into the warmth of the water before he returns in just his boxers, reaching in to help run your hair under the water and get the stains out. The water at the drain was nothing but red as he washed, humming a bit to cheer you up.

After 5 washes your hair still has some paint stuck in it but you are feeling a little better, so when he pulls you out of the shower and helps you climb into one of his shirts and boxers you’ve stopped crying. Or maybe you just ran out of tears.

Nonetheless he leads you to his room and you both land on the bed, laying on your sides to stare at each other, he lets you run the pads of your fingers across his face and hair.

“You came to prom…”

“It doesn’t count. Not in the slightest.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “I just had to make sure my girl didn’t end up in the back of a buick.”

“That’s for sellouts.”

“Now you’ve got it.”

“Too cliche?” You ask, coming into the apartment kitchen where Eddie sat on the counter stuffing a sandwich into his face. The second his eyes land on you in the costume he smiles from ear to ear and lets out a firm ‘HELL YEAH!’

“Eddie-”

“Right. Right. No hell.” He nods, hopping off the counter to come closer to you and feeling at the makeup made to look like blood. “Carrie’d. This time in style.”

“Freddie Krueger. This time not a pervert.” You smile back, fixing his hat.

“Ready for your first halloween?”

“You know it.”

[Thank you for the gif @drogonstone ]

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