#WAIT HOW COULD I FORGET HIGGINS AND WILL

[roman-roy-apologist]

uhhh sorry tedbecca shippers… that sucks but uhhh to everyone else: 🥳🥳🥳 YEAHH!!! WOOOO!!! LETS FUCKING GOOOO!!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳 YEAHHH!!! WAHOOOO!!! YIPEE!!!! 🥳🥳🥳

[babybluebex]

Popular, a cheerleader, first time senior and Chrissy’s best friend. But she has a secret that only her best friend knows. She’s had a crush on Eddie Munson since middle school. She’s afraid to tell him, thinking there’s no way he’d be into her. Until one day in the cafeteria, Jason Carver calls Eddie a freak. She confronts him, and punches him in the face, breaking or spraining her hand/wrist. Guess her little secret is out, and she may never be popular again.

ok i have a vivid image in my head and let's see if i can translate it hehe

You tapped the toe of your pristine white sneaker on the linoleum, waiting. Just waiting. Principal Higgins was still talking to Jason, trying to get his side of the story, and you knew that he would certainly listen to Jason over you. You had basically broken Jason's nose, the star of Hawkins High— you didn't feel as if many people would be on your side.

But then, someone appeared in the doorway. You scoffed; "Save it, Munson."

"Easy," Eddie said carefully. He looked a little disheveled, definitely your fault. After you had punched Jason, the lunchroom had basically exploded, and Eddie had hauled you away from Jason with strong arms around your waist. You could remember him saying something about "He's not worth it", but your adrenaline was still running then, and you could hardly remember the moment. "Just making sure you're okay."

You grimaced, looking down to where you were nursing your wrist against your chest. It throbbed like crazy and hurt like nothing else; it hurt worse than that time when your basket didn't catch you after a toss and you went careening towards the floor. You were sure that your wrist was sprained, maybe even worse, and you let fat tears slide down your nose. There goes your senior year cheer season.

"Aw, jeez," Eddie mumbled. "It hurts that bad? I'm sorry, I-I feel like a piece of shit—"

"It's not that," you whimpered, wiping up your tears. "I'm upset because I won't be able to cheer with my wrist like this. I can't throw any tricks, I can't even be on the bottom of the pyramid. I'll have to sit out the entire season!"

Eddie carefully sat down next to you, the leather of his own pristine white sneakers squeaking as he flexed his foot. "Even though you didn't need to," he started. "Thank you for defending me. It means a lot that someone would stand up for me, especially you."

"What does that mean?" you asked.

"Well," Eddie started. "If Jason is the king of Hawkins, and Chrissy is the queen, you're as good as the princess. And the princess of Hawkins standing up against the king to defend some stupid bard, that takes some guts."

You shrugged. "I've watched Jason and those guys tease you since we were freshman," you mumbled. "I just got sick and tired of it. Pick on somebody your own size, y'know?"

"That's noble," Eddie said. "But... I feel like you aren't being truthful with me."

"Huh?" you asked, wrinkling your nose. "How?"

"Well, you remember last year, how we had algebra together?" Eddie asked. "You were placed in the senior-level class, and I was there because I failed it the first time, and I sat behind you. Well, umm... You kinda helped me pass that class, but that's irrelevant, I guess... But I—"

"I knew it!" you exclaimed with a smile. "You cheated off of me!"

"Cheated is a strong word," Eddie said. "I looked at your paper to get an idea of what I was supposed to do. But whatever, doesn't matter, I was looking at your notes one day in class and I saw that you were doodling something, and it was me. And it was perfect, you didn't look back at me once and you had perfectly drawn me."

"So?" you asked. "You're kinda hard to forget."

Eddie looked at you pointedly through his eyelashes, and he sighed. "So, I guess it doesn't matter that I've written songs about you," he said, and your heart jumped in your chest. Had he? What sorta songs? "That I think about you all the time? That, when I was pulling you away from Jason, I almost kissed you?"

You didn't want to hide it anymore. You knew that Chrissy would think you were crazy for liking Eddie— she had told you so, back in freshman year. During a sleepover, she had gotten you to admit your crush on the then-junior Eddie, and she had laughed and said, "Him? He's so weird!" But it didn't matter to you anymore. You liked Eddie, and, after the scene in the lunchroom, you didn't care who knew.

"What kind of songs?" you asked, edging closer to Eddie on the wooden bench.

"Sappy shit," Eddie said. "Not like Motley Crue 'sex and girls' stuff, but good love songs. You ever heard Babe by Styx?" You shook your head, and Eddie tilted his head. "I have the cassette at home, I can bring it to you tomorrow."

"Can you sing it to me?" you asked.

"Now?" Eddie gasped. "Jesus, sweetheart, you're gonna kill me, there are people around!"

"I'm sure you're not that bad of a singer," you rolled your eyes.

Eddie looked around at the small room. There was nobody else there, just a waiting room for Principal Higgins's office, but people were bustling in the hallway outside the room. "I'm not great," Eddie mumbled, reaching over and twisting his fingers nervously in your skirt. "Maybe can I... Um, bring you to my place after school? I can show you the song, and-and play you some that I've written."

"I'd like that," you grinned, and, as the door to the office opened, you leaned over and kissed Eddie's cheek. He immediately went beet red, and his hand drifted up to lovingly touch where your lips had been as he watched you stand and enter the office. "See ya then, Eddie!"

[wlntrsldler]

Hi, I loved “apple pie” so much!! Would you consider doing a part 2 with Jamie’s injury during the game and the reader taking care of him when they get home to Richmond? I feel like it would be so soft 🥹💗

sweet nothing | jamie tartt

based on the song sweet nothing by taylor swift

description: part two to apple pie, but can be read alone!

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (she/her)

warnings: language-- it's ted lasso, what did ya expect?; tooth-rotting fluff! jamie being pookie asf. mention of sex but nothing crazy. mention of his dad.

wc: 1.7K+

Nobody in the owner's box spoke. Jamie was lying on the pitch, arms crossed over his eyes in pain. You could hear Man City fans hollering insults at him in the distance, but all of their noise was drowned out by the thumping of your heart. You forgot how to breathe.

You felt Keeley squeeze your hand, bringing you back to the present. You watched the physios help him off the field. The game continued but you were no longer interested. Instead, you found yourself staring at the boy sitting on the sidelines as he talked to Ted.

"Come on, Jamie," you whispered, biting your thumb anxiously. "You got this, baby."

With a pat on the back, Jamie re-entered the game. You cheered along with Keeley and Rebecca, tears pooling your eyes. You were so proud of him.

The taunts from Man City fans got louder as he walked toward his teammates. Jamie, looked around, rolled his eyes, and stuck his tongue out as he banged on his chest where the AFC Richmond logo was stitched on his kit. You laughed, wiping your eyes, enjoying how confident and full of life your boyfriend seemed to be even after getting injured.

You watched as he masterfully dribbled the ball, dodging three Man City players, before he got in position to kick the ball. The loud whoosh of the football rang throughout the entire arena and before you knew it, all AFC Richmond fans were on their feet cheering for the native Mancunian.

Jamie looked up at the owner's box where he knew you'd be and blew a kiss in your direction. Although you knew he couldn't see you, you blew him a kiss right back. As he was exiting the pitch, he was met with thunderous applause from supporters of his old team.

"That's how good he is," you heard Higgins say from behind you. "Jamie Tartt is a legend."

Your smile widened as you nodded in agreement. The camera crew focused on Jamie's expression as he allowed himself to marvel at the crowd's praise. He no longer had the cocky smile on his face, but rather, his face was relaxed and full of gratitude. This was a homecoming that he deserved.

When the full time was called, the team celebrated on the pitch. Jamie stayed for a bit, but excused himself to come find you. You were waiting for him in front of the locker room entrance, unable to contain your excitement when you saw him.

Briefly forgetting his injury, you ran to him, engulfing him in a hug that made him lose his balance. You peppered kisses all over his face, "I am so proud of you, Jamie Tartt. God, I love you so much."

He tried to laugh to mask the hiss of pain he let out when he put too much pressure on his ankle. You pulled away quickly, suddenly feeling horrible for nearly attacking him. You stepped away from him, "I completely forgot. I'm so sorry, love."

"No," he whined, immediately reaching out for you again. You reluctantly obliged and approached him, much calmer this time around. Jamie sighed in content, leaving light kisses on your neck, "Much better. Don't go too far."

"Jamie, you're hurt," you tutted, threading your fingers through his hair. He hummed in approval, still refusing to let go of you. You placed a kiss on his cheek, forcing him to separate from you to capture your lips in a kiss. You pulled away, "Let's get you to the physios, yeah? Make sure you're all good to go?"

Jamie knew you were right. He did need to get a thorough check-up. He nodded, intertwining his fingers with yours, "Let's go?"

You squeezed his hand gently, letting him lead you away.

Thankfully, Jamie was okay for the most part. The physio told him that he needed to take it easy at least until the next match, but he should be able to participate in light training after two days. Roy grunted in disapproval after hearing the news, but you could tell that he was relieved that Jamie wasn't hurt any more than he was.

The bus ride back to Richmond was rowdy. The boys were absolutely wild over their win-- as they should be, but it also meant that Jamie refused to rest the entire time. You were glad, however, that he remained seated the entire time and didn't put too much pressure on his hurt ankle.

It was nice to be around the boys again. You didn't realize how much of a community, a family, you created in Richmond. Jamie played a big part in that. Before him, you had friends in the industry who were shooting projects in England, but never anybody who's grounded and secured here. You craved stability, at least as much stability as you could get being an actress. You never thought you'd find it here, in Jamie.

"Hi, love," Jamie whispered from beside you. He had a hand on your thigh, "Whatcha thinkin' bout?"

"Just how much I missed all this," you motioned toward the loud, ruckus of the team around the both of you. You turned your head to look at him, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose, "How much I missed you."

"Don't get all sappy on me now, love," Jamie teased, though he wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer, "I'm the one that's hurt here. I'm the only one allowed to be sappy."

You faked a groan, rolling your eyes, "I suppose you're gonna be a big baby for the next few days."

"Oh yeah," he answered too quickly. He chuckled, placing a kiss on the crown of your head, "Gonna get so sick of me. We're gonna lay in bed for two days straight. Doc said I had to take it easy, remember?"

"You know that also means no sex, right?"

He turned to you in horror. He shook his head in disapproval, "Well Doc doesn't know what he's talkin' about anyway. He obviously doesn't know that my proper fit girlfriend hasn't been home in so long and that rest wasn't an option for me when you're only back for a week."

"Knock it off," Roy grumbled from in front of you. "You guys are fucking disgusting."

"Don't worry, grandad. I'll save some lovin' for ya." Jamie made kissy noises as he spoke to Roy, making you laugh uncontrollably in your seat.

By the time you made it back to the facility, the boys were buzzing to celebrate the night out partying-- all of them but Jamie. You were waiting in the car park by his car, thinking that you'd drive it to his place while he celebrated with the team, but you were caught by surprise when he walked out with his bag, looking as cozy as ever.

Dani and Colin waved to him, both excited to spend the night getting wasted with the team. Jamie walked towards you, careful not to put too much pressure on his ankle, and handed you his keys.

"You don't mind driving tonight, do you love?" He asked. "Need to get my ankle sorted before the next game and I don't want to do too much."

"I don't mind at all. I figured I would be drivin'," you replied, unlocking the car. You and Jamie both got in, adjusting the seat a bit so you could drive properly. Before you pulled out of the facility's premises, you turned to Jamie, "Are you not going to celebrate with the boys?"

"Nah," Jamie said, so casually. He buckled his seatbelt, twisting his body to grin at you, "See them lads every fuckin' day. Love 'em, but I love ya more. You're only here for a week so I'm makin' the most out of it."

"Such a romantic," you teased, but his words made your heart flutter. Jamie didn't know the effect he had on you and honestly, even if you tried to explain it to him, he probably wouldn't believe you.

It was already hard for him to believe that you said yes to dating him. Sure, if you had asked him a year ago if he saw himself with the hottest up-and-coming actress, his prick self would've said, "Of course, I'm Jamie fucking Tartt." But now that he's finally allowed himself to be vulnerable and care about people, that facade he once had no longer seemed necessary. With that side of him slowly fading, he'd be lying if he said small parts of his confidence didn't.

That's why he's so fucking lucky that you decided to take a chance on him. You never did anything that made him doubt how much he meant to you. He spent so much of his life trying to figure out who actually loved him and who didn't-- massive thanks to his dad for that one-- that it's so nice to not have to worry about something like that.

You made him feel so fucking loved that sometimes the idea of it overwhelmed him, in a good way of course. All the times he wondered if he was worthy of love seemed so trivial now.

The both of you fell into your comfortable routine as if you hadn't been gone for weeks when you got to Jamie's place. It was like you never left. In between the mundanity of getting ready for bed, you gave each other kisses on the cheek, and hugs from behind, always somehow touching each other or so close to each other.

At the end of the night, you and Jamie were lying in bed, Jamie's head on your chest. You were absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair, letting out a soft chuckle when he sighed happily. A few times throughout the night, he would get a video from one of the boys, pissed drunk, doing something so stupid, that you both could only hope that the paparazzi weren't there to see.

You talked to each other about everything that's happened over the last few weeks-- what restaurants you guys need to try together when Jamie visits you in New York, what new training regimen Roy prescribed Jamie, what Colin and Isaac were bickering about this week. You ended up falling asleep before Jamie because jetlag was finally catching up to you.

Jamie, who became the big spoon after you fell asleep, laid awake, unable to stop himself from smiling. This, he finally allowed himself to admit it, was something he could see himself doing for the rest of his life. With you sleeping soundly next to him, clinging to him like you never want to let go, Jamie lets himself deserve this good, loving life with you.

[itsclydebitches]

A new stupid Ted Lasso drabble? Oh worm? 👀

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

It was too early for this shit.

Roy turned to find Ted staring intently at his computer screen, with Twitter—no fucking wonder he was losing his mind at 7:00am— encroaching on the Richmond desktop. Across from him Beard licked his thumb and deftly flipped a page of The Secret Garden. Had they planned this?

“Yes,” Beard said, not bothering to look up. Ted let out an explosive breath and smiled, like Beard’s promise of worm devotion meant fuck all when they had actual shit to do. Keeley was still waiting on a statement. Rebecca had a small library for them to sign. Higgins— Roy shuddered—wanted to talk finances in half an hour.

Which meant that instead of prepping for any of that in any way, Ted’s gaze crept towards him.

“Fuck no,” Roy barked.

Ted pouted. No, no, if Phoebe couldn’t sway him with doe-eyes at the tender age of six then Ted Bloody Lasso wasn’t going to do it around a fucking mustache. Roy set his teeth against the sliver of an apology trying to force its way out. “You’re a worm,” he said, as if that explained it all. Because dammit, it did.

“What kind of worm?”

Head jerking, Roy schooled his look of betrayal at Trent taking this seriously. He had his glasses off and everything, tap-tap-taping against his mouth as he stared contemplatively up at the ceiling.

“Uhhh...” Ted consulted the digital hellfire, but apparently no answers were offered up. Figures. “I don’t know. Just a worm? Are there a lot of ‘em?”

“Oh yes. Well over twenty-thousand last I checked.”

Roy twitted involuntarily. Twenty-fucking-thousand? And how the hell did Trent know that? Was he the goddamn worm whisperer? Made sense, given what a spineless pest he was.

Not anymore a voice whispered, sounding suspiciously like Ted. Yeah. Fine. He’d changed or what-fucking-ever. Roy growled and resigned himself to a worm lecture as penance.

“Worms are as varied as any species,” Trent was saying, curdling Roy’s stomach with every word. He took his pen out, mindlessly twirling it as he gathered his thoughts. “Silkworms, tapeworms, the humble earthworm. They seem quite simple on the surface and yet they’re a vital part of our ecosystem. Forget the bees; remove the worm and you risk a near total collapse of our agriculture. Ah, and did you know that the leech is a worm? Certainly they’ve been invaluable to the medical community as a natural anticoagulant. Science will always advance, but sometimes all you need is a good old-fashioned blood sucker—”

“Stop,” Roy groaned, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Trent glanced over, one eyebrow raised.

“The point—sorry, my editor is always on my case for ‘overly verbose prose.’ As if she’s one to talk with those emails—the point is that if you were a worm, Ted, you would remain just as valuable a member of society as you are now. Of course we'd still love you. And why shouldn't you remain a part of our lives? I would determine your species and then set about finding a suitable environment for you. One that, hopefully, we would all be able to visit with frequency. However, if you’re a tube-worm I’m afraid you’re, well, shit out of luck, if I’m allowed to be crass. None of us are going anywhere near a hydrothermal vent and that’s even if I knew how to swim. Most land-living species would be doable though.” Trent bit his lower lip, considering. “If you were a worm I’d research everything I could about your nutrition, enrichment, life cycle. Given the magical nature of these events—I assume in this hypothetical you weren’t always a worm, yes?—I would take steps to ensure you were well looked after, should your life extend past mine. Luckily, Amelia already had a fondness for all things creepy and crawly, so I’m sure she’d be thrilled to receive you in the will. In the same vein, I’d use whatever contacts I still possess to connect with the leading researchers in Nematology and Helminthology, see if we couldn't find some way to communicate with you. I have no qualms about you being a worm, Ted, but I would miss our chats.” Trent smiled, a little wistfully, and then shook himself like a man coming out of a dream. “Why do you ask?”

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Roy said, thunking his head down on the keyboard. Whatever these two nerds had going on he needed to bottle it and sell the shit. He'd make a fortune.

Ted let out a strangled noise. “No reason,” he said, clearing his throat. “That’s a mighty kind offer of yours, Trent, and I do appreciate it. Yes, ma'am, I do. I suppose you could say I—”

“Don’t,” Roy growled.

“—wormed my way into your heart?”

And he was done. Nearly tripping himself in his haste to leave the office, Roy unfortunately still saw the high-five Beard gave Ted—complete with a “Booya!”—and the heart eyes Trent was sending his way, fierce as fucking laser beams. Honestly, they were disgusting, the lot of them.

Still, that question was going to haunt him now...

“Wonder if Keeley and Jamie would love me if I was a worm,” Roy muttered, ignoring the look Higgins cast him and the question of where he was off to with their meeting on the horizon. Fuck finances. Worms didn't care about finances.

Roy took a right towards the exit, towards KJPR, and hopefully an answer half as romantic as the dork's.

[alovethatkilled]

The Turners

I wrote this out after episode 13x05 regarding the Turners and what I want to see. I spoke about it to someone else before, but I wanted to share my thoughts here, too. 

I actually wanted to write a fanfic regarding this matter, and it's the reason why you’ll see some dialogue. Who knows, I might bite the bullet and do it if inspiration strikes. This is also a rough draft, as emotions were present while writing this. Anyway, here we go. Please ignore all the grammar mistakes.

I actually WANT them to take her away. I want May to be taken away and be put with a different family. Now, hear me out before any hate gets thrown at me.

I want CTM to show the struggle of Patrick, Shelagh, Tim (if he is home), Angela, Teddy, and other characters close to the Turners.

I know Shelagh’s way to cope is to throw herself into work and to keep busy. Show me how Shelagh is struggling to cope with May being gone so show me her breakdown. Have Patrick, Sister Julienne, Sister Veronica, or even Mrs Higgins try to console Shelagh. That chat that she had with Sister Julienne was so short and knowing it probably took a lot of Shelagh to open up was disappointing so have them open up more or just give the woman a hug Sister Julienne, she needs it!

Have Cyril be the one that takes a crying May away from her parents. Show me how every time one of them sees Cyril afterwards, they look away because even though they know he was doing his job, that doesn’t change the fact that they are still hurt by it.  

I want to see May be put into a different house. I like to see May become withdrawn. The house where she is put up isn’t bad, but it isn’t the best for her. Show me Esther seeing May like that. Show Esther looking at the pictures Shelagh has sent and how happy she looks. Then, have her look at May and realise that May was always with the best family she could have because she has parents and siblings who love her deeply. Although it is painful for Esther because she knows she can’t care for May, she understands that the Turners are giving her child a good life. I want Esther and May to talk, even if it’s briefly, and let her choose what she wants. Then give me a cute moment of Esther teaching May some of her native language. Maybe something silly or teach her to say “I love you”. 

Then, give them a reunion. Have Mrs Williams or Esther return May to the Turners. Not at their house, but somewhere public, like a park. Have them not know that May will return until she does. Have May run from where she was standing and call out “Mummy”, then have Shelagh and Patrick turn around frantically at the sound. Shelagh crouches down just in time for May to barrel her way onto her arms. Secure, Shelagh inhales May’s hair as she did at the Mother House. Patrick suddenly envelops both Shelagh and May into a hug. Then, have May say something silly like “I can’t breathe” they panic, but once they see May laughing, they join her or have May say “I love you” to them in Cantonese/Mandarin. And when Shelagh or Patrick asks what it means, Esther approaches and says, “It means I love you”.

Have Shelagh grab Esther’s hands as she repeats, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” 

Then maybe have the Turners meet Esther and let them talk. This part doesn’t have to be shown, but this talk could be about them trying to communicate more for May. Have Esther ask the Turners to send May to get Cantonese/Mandarin classes so she doesn't forget her roots.

This is one of the most essential parts. I don’t want this to be a one-episode story. I like this to be a multiple-episode situation. Have it be until the last episode of the season/series. Or even if we have to wait, have May return to them during the Christmas episode.

The Turners are a beautiful, loving family. We often see bad things happen to them and they pull through like they always do. It’s their strength to have faith and trust in each other, and it’s what makes them so amazing. In the show, we see couples come and go, but none have been as firm as them (with the exception of The Buckles). They are the longest-lasting couple in the series. Show us why we initially fell in love with them and why we still do ten years later. 

Their 10th anniversary was overlooked, and in the Tuberculosis episode, there was no mention of Shelagh or how that particular case could have affected Patrick and Timothy in the aftermath. It is as if none of these things was crucial or significantly impacted them and their friends in the series. So give this to them. 

Anyway, the rant/mini fanfic (?) is done for now.

If you have your own thoughts on the matter please share them but don't be mean.

[betterbooksandthings]

Romance Book Recommendations

Here is a complete guide to books I would recommend without question to anyone looking to read romance. This was, in fact, the shortest I could get it so have fun!

Straight Sci/Fi Fantasy romance The A.I. Who Loved Me by Alyssa Cole that time i got drunk and saved a demon by kimberly lemming Mating the Huntress by Talia Hibbert

Straight Historical Wild Rain by Beverly Jenkins The Duke who didn't by courtney Milan Unclaimed by Courtney Milan

Trans Historical A Lady for a Duke by Alexis Hall M/F (transfemme) Unmasked by the Marquess by Cat Sebastian M/N Something Spectacular by Alexis Hall N/N

Sapphic Historical

The Perks of Loving a Wallflower by Erica Ridley The Lady’s Guide To Celestial Machanics by Olivia Waite That Could be Enough By Alyssa Cole

Gay Historical The Gentleman's Book of Vices by Jess Everlee The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen by K.J. Charles We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian Tommy Cabot Was Here by Cat Sebastian Slippery Creatures by K.J. Charles Something Fabulous by Alexis Hall It Takes Two to Tumble by Cat sebastian Two Rogues Make a Right by Cat Sebastian

Sapphic Fantasy Romance Walk Between Worlds by Samara Breger The Rogue Crown by A. K. Mulford (third book in a series first two have m/f pairings) A Song of Silver and Gold by Melissa Karibian Can’t spell treason without tea by Rebecca Thorne A Restless Truth by Freya Marske

Trans Fantasy Romance The Demon's Bargain by Katee Robert F/N The Evergreen Heir by A. K. Mulford N/M

Gay Fantasy Romance Socially Orcward by Lisa Henry & Sarah Honey Red Heir by Lisa Henry & Sarah Honey a marvellous light by Freya Marske wolfsong by t.j. klune (series) A Veil of Gods and Kings by Nicole Bailey (series) A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows (read TW) Witchmark by C. L. Polk (series) Reforged by Seth Haddon Frostbite by J Emery A Rival Most Vial by R. K. Ashwick The Magpie Lord by K.J. Charles Bisclavret by K L Noone Human Enough by E.S. Yu From The Dark We Came and Help Wanted by J. Emery

Poly Fantasy Romance Wicked Beauty by Katee Robert Elf Defence by Lisa Henry & Sarah Honey

Sapphic Contemporary Romance D'Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding by Chencia C. Higgins Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail by Ashley Herring Blake Delilah Green Doesn't Care by Ashley Herring Blake Sorry, Bro by Taleen Voskuni How to Find a Princess by Alyssa Cole

M/F Contemporary Romance (Some Bi and Ace) A Merry Little Meet Cute by Julie Murphy, Sierra Simone Scandalized by Ivy Owens A Thorn in the Saddle by Rebekah Weatherspoon The Comeback by Lily Chu Forget Me Not by Julie Soto Knot My Type by Evie Mitchell Get a Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert Take a hint, Dani Brown by Talia Hibbert Act Your Age, Eve Brown by Talia Hibbert Haven by Rebekah Weatherspoon Rafe by Rebekah Weatherspoon Xeni by by Rebekah Weatherspoon Trade Me by Courtney Milan The Romantic Agenda by Claire Kann

Gay Contemporary Romance A Dash of Salt and Pepper by Kosoko Jackson The Missing Page by Cat Sebastian Something Wild & Wonderful by Anita Kelly The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun The Hate Project by Kris Ripper Counterpoint by Anna Zabo Just Like That by Cole Mccade Syncopation by Anna Zabo

Poly Contemporary Romance The Life Revamp by Kris Ripper

[daveyfvckingjacobs]

ok erm i didn’t finish my writing yet but here’s some hcs while u wait

on the rooftop, crutchie and jack are happy to let any of the newsies stay overnight. often they hang out and share stories

jack has drawn every single couple together at least once. like getting a portrait done. most of the newsies actually hate getting this done because it’s a long and tedious process and they have to sit still for a really long time lol

jack is trans. end of story LMFAO

racetrack higgins is also trans. END OF STORY.

crutchie is a very good listener, and that’s why he knows so much random shit that jack tells him about Santa Fe, 90% of which probably isn’t true

jack has most definitely ( but kept secret ) drawn crutchie riding a palomino, ridin in style.

race chose his name *very* wisely. he had a selection at hand and he chose racetrack bc let’s be honest if u could choose a badass newsie name you would want RACETRACK. i know i would

ok bye enjoy my writing is actually based on some of these hcs so you’re welcome

take your time!! I am chill waiting

oh :((( when one of them has a nightmare or is reminded too much about their past, has a bad selling day or is just generally feeling low they get to spend the night without needing to ask. sometimes they just sleep with the quiet, less chaotic comfort of the pair or they’ll chat. whatever the newsie needs

jack drawing all the newsies is one of my fav simpler hcs for him but honestly I’ve never thought about him sitting down the couples that’s so cute I cannot. most of them are horrible fidgets and sometimes he has to resort to memory or drawing while they’re curled up asleep, racing to get it done before they wake up and ruin the pose or get embarrassed

TRANSRACETRANSRACETRANSRACE. I’m always down for all trans hcs, race is my personal fav along with some other gender fuckery of handful of others I love but jack is one I’ve never put any thought into. I am intrigued tell me more I’ll swap you for mine

jack has no idea how to draw someone on a horse. he loves the drawing anyway, even if it’s a little wonky. it’s in his pillowcase so crutchie won’t ever come across it accidentally and it makes the lines a little smudged and blended but he likes the effect. it makes it look old, like some prophecy or foretelling of their dream

the idea of race sitting down and choosing racetrack instead of being dubbed it is so funny for the thought he would put but also sad for the connotations. choosing a new name to fit it? forget his old one? endless possibilities

[edsmcnson]

  When’s the last time anyone heard anything about EDDIE MUNSON? Old friends remember them as WITTY & ENGAGING  but also OVERLY EMOTIVE & EASILY AGITATED, no wonder they’re still known as THE FREAK around town. Today, in 2006, they are 38 and some people say they remind them of the smell of cheap weed and even cheaper cologne; downsizing your passions to fit into an adapted version of your dreams; bite marks on pencils and an abundance of notebooks filled with lyrics that you didn’t have it within yourself to finish; a hopeless inability to adapt.  

THE ROAD TILL NOW.

tw: death mention / injuries / hospital

I: GROUND ZERO / THE IMMEDIATE AFTERMATH.

Spring break 1986 concluded with a bang. quite literally. Or at least, to Eddie Munson personally, something akin to, well, the biggest bang ever imaginable. A cataclysmic event - his own death. How he had managed to narrowly avoid that fate, Eddie still doesn’t know. What he does know is that somehow, by the grace of whatever gods might loom and linger out there, he’d been granted another shot at breathing.

As fun as breathing and not-being-dead was, it quickly turned out that Hawkins, Indiana wasn’t the best place for the recently traumatized to recover. Someone - Steve, he suspected - must’ve dragged him out of the literal hell beneath Hawkins, because when he came to he’d found himself blinded by fluorescent overhead lighting, hooked up to all sorts of machines and, not to forget, chained to the fucking hospital bed.

Despite the less than ideal circumstances of his recovery, Eddie found some solace in the fact that Hopper, although trying to manage and cope with his own losses, did his best to shield him from the press. The reporters outside the hospital were eventually persuaded to leave, thanks to Hopper’s efforts (well-timed threats). Some shady government officials also paid a visit, and after the public’s demand for answers had dwindled, they’d released a statement, clearing Eddie’s name. Apparently, they’d felt guilty enough to throw in a new trailer for him and Wayne, too, so they could have at least some sort of safe haven to retreat to.

Still weak, but with sufficiently healed wounds, Eddie Munson was discharged and suddenly a free man. But make no mistake - free on paper only. Because when he left the hospital, he was suddenly brutally confronted with the fact that, to the average Hawkins resident, he was still 1) the local drug dealing town freak, 2) the leader of a satan worshipping cult and 3) a fucking murderer. In that order. And so the dirty looks continued to burn into his back, the muttered insults followed him in passing, and nothing, I repeat, nothing had changed. Maybe it was all the pent up rage, maybe something just .. .snapped but either way, Eddie powered through and managed to finally graduate on his third try of senior year. He did as promised: walked the stage, flipped off principal Higgins. Only the running like hell part, that would have to wait until everything had properly healed.

The months went by in a blur. When El and Will’s double funeral rolled around, when his gaze followed as the caskets were lowered to the ground, it was .. for lack of better words a pivotal moment . There was nothing left for him here, was there? His uncle would manage fine on his own, especially since he’d been going on regular coffee dates with that sweet librarian. Eddie was more of a nuisance to him, he was sure. And whatever that weird tension between him and Steve had been, left unresolved post-Vecna and awkwardly fizzling out ever since, it’s just … not enough to keep him in Hawkins. So it’s really an easy decision. A week later Eddie’s van, packed with all the Corroded Coffin equipment, leaves Hawkins, without leaving a note, without saying goodbye, and takes the highway to Chicago.

II: CHICAGO, ROBIN AND THE STONY ROAD TO STARDOM.

Eddie Munson was fully aware that he wasn’t going to become a success story overnight, but he was determined to make it happen. Still haunted by his past traumas, he channeled his energy into his writing, playing guitar, and even experimenting with singing. Taking up odd jobs here and there, dabbling in some dealing if need be, to pay rent and put food on the table. The paying rent part got much easer, however, when a familiar face joined him in Chicago: One Robin Buckley.

Robin brought a sort of light and warmth, a breezy carelessnes, a lust for life previously unimaginable, back into his life. His twenties with Robin in Chicago were the best, it seemed the early nineties were made for them. Going out to bars and clubs where Eddie didn’t need to put a bandana in his back pocket for people to know he was interested in men, playing the odd gig here and there, with moderate success in the local scene. Countless hours spent listening to music as they smoked and chatted away into the night. Life was fucking good, man!

Until, for whatever reason, one foggy morning, reality harshly set in. Maybe his frontal lobe had finally finished developing, but Eddie had untangled himself from the arms of last night’s conquest to get up and reevaluate every choice he’d made in his life so far. How he was working two jobs, as a mechanic and at some gay club’s coatcheck, while claiming he was doing music ‘full time’ and that ‘they were gonna make it big, the world just needed to be ready for them!’ The year was 1996. Eddie was pushing thirty. Corroded Coffin was still playing venues akin to the Hideout. If anything, the world had been ready for metal, like, eight years ago. If anything, the world was getting tired of their sound, and everything was moving into the direction of grunge-y tones. And, if anything, Eddie Munson was getting fucking tired of getting his hard work discarded because ’metal’s just not the vibe anymore, man’. Eddie had promised himself to stay true to his dreams, his passions, the plans he’d made for himself. But so many promises made to him had been carelessly broken. It seemed only fitting that he would break his own, too. So, Eddie got up and proposed a new sound. Most of Corroded Coffin dipped immediately, as to be expected, and so he got to work finding a new band. With him as lead guitar and, for the first time, supporting vocals, he joined a newly formed grunge/alternative rock band called ’Bleach & Burn’, performing music inspired by Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Type O Negative and the like. Not his usual scene, but he could get down to their harder sounds.

Bleach &  Burn, to his surprise, generated moderate success and a cult-like following. Suddenly, Eddie found he was able to quit his coatcheck job, able to support himself with just the mechanics and his music. But it was only a matter of time before the world would evolve, move on, repeat the trend cycle and suddenly, just as they were about to sign their first recording contract, the label pulled out last minute with a word of advice: “People are sick of hard rock. Do something a little more … for the everyday crowd. Something for the radio. Trust me, people are gonna go wild if you go a little more tame.”

This marked a turning point, the make or break - Eddie Munson was a lot of things but he’d been determined not to be a sell-out, not to sacrifice his integrity for feeble attempts at fame and success. But now? Seeing his dream slip by his grasp, when he’d been so close? What the fuck was he supposed to do? And so, after much tossing and turning, Eddie Munson, lead guitarist and supporting vocalist of Bleach & Burn, became lead guitarist and lead vocalist of Cornerstone. And so, in the year 2000, at the ripe age of 32, Eddie Munson became Chicago’s biggest sell-out. But, fucking hell, did it pay off!

III. EDDIE MUNSON’s CLAIM TO FAME.

Who knew sacrificing your sound and your dreams could be so lucrative! Their debut album, after reworking their harder sound into a more radio appropriate, alt-indie-rock beat and getting a second lead-vocalist in the talented Alice Phair, hit the shelves not four months after, somehow becoming an instant success. Chicago’s previously best kept secret spread through the nation like wildfire. Cornerstone played their first national tour in 2001, cruising through the country for a solid five months. And suddenly, Eddie was on stage every night in tight jeans and leather jackets while people screamed his lyrics back at him, feeling like a fucking rockstar. Scratch that, feeling a like a fucking god.

Suddenly, he had everything he thought he’d ever wanted and craved. The recognition he’d been waiting his entire life for. Life felt good, once again. - Or was it, really? He’d never aspired for international success, even surprised when his label had told him some little independent radio station in Finland had played their most recent single. But people, no matter how few, were hearing their music, all over the world. People, no matter how few, all over the world were listening to and enjoying the sound of Eddie’s sacrificed musical integrity.

Again, suddenly, a flip seemed to switch, and Eddie pushed two sleeping groupies off him as he waddled to the front of the tour bus to watch the sunrise. He was living his fucking dream. People adored him. Eddie ’the freak’ Munson had turned into Eddie ’can you sign my tits?’ Munson, posters of his face adorning the walls of America’s alternative youth. But if he had everything he’d ever wanted then why was he so fucking miserable? Why did he cringe whenever he heard a song of theirs on the radio, even going as far as skipping the channel, unable to stand hearing it? He loved, lived and breathed music, but whatever sound they had taken on, he hated it. Hated having to pretend something he was not - he did that oftentimes enough when he’d pose with Alice for a staged PDA picture that could be printed in the tabloids. It wasn’t like he was hiding his sexuality by any means - his label had simply … ’kindly advised’ him to maintain an air of mystery around that subject of his personal life.

Truth was, Eddie yearned to go back to his roots, that early 80s melodic metal sound, that had made him happier than every song on his last, what, three albums? He’d even gone to work writing some songs that fit that genre - but they’d never see the light of day. Only posthumously, if anything. Because he knew the second he’d pitch that idea to his bandmates, or god forbid the label, Cornerstone was good as done. How were they ever going to play another authentic show with the knowledge that their band’s lead fucking hated every minute of it? It was ridiculous. And anyway, Eddie shouldn’t complain about what had been handed to him. He’d never even thought he’d make it this far. So really, he was in no place to complain. He should be fucking grateful.

He tries his best to be. Grateful. Goes on tour after tour, even if he’d rather stay home and never leave his room again, even if he’s fucking exhausted. Dutifully just nods and smiles whenever the label suggests another single, another show, another interview - it’s not even like they’re properly ‘famous’ Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t say anything, never does. Even when some so called ‘music journalist’ has recently in a review called them ‘a delightful mix of Nirvana, The Fratellis, Franz Ferdinand and recently emerged newcomers The Arcitc Monkeys’. He’s been told that it’s a smashing review. Eddie feels a lot like smashing that journalist’s face in.

Eddie’s just finished up a tour, and the past few months have catapulted him to the very brink of .. .something. A cord, maybe, that’s coiled all the way up, ready to snap at the next minor inconvenience. The idea of leaving the band is ever present at the back of his head. Leave Cornerstone to Alice, knowing she’d do an amazing job. Better than him, even, he’s sure. They’re not schedulded to play another show for a couple months, and so when Robin stumbles into his arms, showing him the envelope, it’s really a no-brainer. They’re going. Back to Hawkins.

Eddie hasn’t been back since ‘86. Wayne had always insisted to come to Chicago or visit him in Indianapolis whenever he’d play a show there. Eddie hasn’t been back since ‘86 and he hasn’t seen anyone from … back then since ‘86. Hasn’t been keeping in contact much, either. Still, Joyce Byers had been one of the sweetest souls to ever walk this earth, had shown him nothing but kindness the brief times he’d run into her. And some time in Hawkins, away from the bustling city life, away from the music and the shows and the whole fucking business - who knew, maybe a change of scenery would do him good. Eddie’s willing to try about anything to get a brief respite from the life he’s built for himself.

EDDIE’S PINTEREST: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/edsmunson/eddie-munson-2electric-boogaloo

[wily-one24]

100 questions: 15*, 42, 84 *I ask this even though (or because?) I start forgetting my dreams as soon as I wake up.

This is the liminal space between Christmas and New Years, time does not exist. I posted the meme, built a chair, rewired the screen on my security door, had an afternoon nap, then bought some dinner for my kids.

But I am back and ready to answer questions!!

And these are some good ones, @dahllaz.

15. What's the best dream you've had?

This has me thinking, because... what IS the best dream I've had?

When I was younger, I used to have this recurring dream of flying. I mean, maybe not exactly flying... but.. extended leaping? Extended hovering? I would be able to step up off the ground and cover streets worth of distance in the air without touching the ground. Those dreams always left me feeling kinda... free? I always liked them, they were joyous dreams.

Havent' had them in a while though.

Not so pleasant recurring dreams I used to have were losing teeth. Those haven't happened in a while. More recently, I've had ones werein I am choking almost on excess amounts of gum... which is weird, because I don't chew gum. But, in my dreams, I"m just... choking on it.

I don't know.

Lately, I've been having these weird purpose dreams. Like, on a mission dreams.

I end up in a group of random people, a mix of people I know in real life and strangers, and there's something we have to do.

For example, I had one recently were I was in a car with a bunch of people that were, apparently, my ex husband's work mates/subordinates... and we were going to pick him up... but then ended up on some strange errand to drop something off at a university to some university lecturer at night, and going up an elevator in a darkened building to the one floor that was still open... but the building was still fairly busy... and it's hard to explain.

Also, for some reason, a lot of my dreams happen in houses that used to be part of my life, like my grandparents' house when I was young. Or my parents house that I left when I got married.

OOOH.

There was one recently (and by recently, I say a couple of months ago), in which I was at said parents' house (which I left when I got married, but I spent my formative teenage years there) as if I still lived there. There were some extended family members either there or about to be there, there were plans for people to come over.

And I was sitting there naked. Living my life. (as you do in dreams, apparently).

But it wasn't an "omg, I'm naked!" dream, it was very much a "fuck it, I'm naked and if they have a problem with it, they can damn well leave" dream.

Which, probably says a lot about my state of mind right now. I am who I am and I am not ashamed of any part of that. So... take me as I am, or GTFO. Basically.

That was a good dream.

42. Favourite song right now?

Probably no surprise, but "Set Me on Fire" by Missy Higgins, it's on my D5 playlist and I sing it very, very loud. Sometimes on repeat. It's very singable. But I do tend to put a series of four songs on a row from that playlist... which is starting from "I Need An Island", "I'm Alive", "Silence Is Golden", and "Set Me On Fire", which I have termed by "Olivia's State of Mind" songs. I sing to them all. Loudly. But Set Me On Fire just seems to hit a bit more, you know?

84. If you could time travel, would you go to the past or the future?

I can't do both?

Perhaps the future. I would like to see how my sons turn out. There's a good chance that, if all goes well, I may just get to do that anyway. However, let's be real, I am severely chronically ill and I am on the waiting list for a multi-organ transplant. SO MANY things could go wrong. There is no guarantee here. So, that question would be answered, I want to see what their futures look like. Whether they have families, partners, and/or children, what they do with their lives, if they're happy.

I like to think they'll be happy in whichever way they choose to live.

HOWEVER, that said, there are some things I would like to do in the past. At least to know about the past.

I would want to meet my grandparents, they died when I was in my early twenties, but they lived rich lives. I want to meet them when they were younger. I want to shwo them pictures of their great grandchildren.

Plus, there is this huge big family mystery that will never be answered, because my grandparents never spoke of it after one night over fifty years ago. It involved them and their good friends. They never saw them after that night.

But it changed my Nanna, and by the time I was old enough to know her, she was mostly gone psychologically. My pop would never speak of that night or what happened, but she would always be paranoid about the police showing up to take us all away.

It was weird.

I kinda want to know what happened.

[sethnakht]

This made my day — thank you for writing this out and sharing. In your debt! You've sparked fresh memories for me too.

- I'd completely forgotten that Higgins ended up fond of the concertina by the end — going from cursing and chasing Eliza around to stop her playing to patting the instrument and smiling when he runs into it at his mother's house, or something like that.

- I also thought BERLIN upon seeing that lakeside villa. And the cocktails, though that's also a way to situate events in the thirties I suppose — one could have briefly been in a Noël Coward play. I had to wonder if they added the cocktails to make it clearer that Higgins was headlong and losing control, since Gründgens iirc interprets Higgins as rather stiff and doesn't particularly follow the scene directions to throw himself at furniture and nearly break a table and stumble over things (in contrast to Dutch!Higgins, who gets across that restlessness if not the emotional reserve). Now that you mention it, I seem to remember Clara's role at the tea/cocktail at home a little better; in a slight departure from the play, she's not so much drawn to Higgins as disappointed that he doesn't match the mental picture that had been conjured for her. Is that right? She'd imagined him differently, or some such. Did they keep the bit from the play where he tempts her into swearing? I adore the 38 film, but one of my regrets is that it cuts most of Clara's scenes and consequently a vivid illustration of Higgins' disregard for consequences and ability to get up to mischief when left unsupervised.

- I'm cracking up over the post-fight rant to Pickering. Schopenhauer! How could I forget? Of course. LOLOL.

- I agree with your read on Johnny - he seemed more like a Kumpel in her treatment of him than a love interest, if also a sign that she could hold her own and get help against the toffs if needed. He also served to define this Eliza against the one of the play, who seems to have few if any friends, lives alone, and finally claims she could never code switch (does Jugo still have that line about never being able to utter one of those sounds again? I can't remember). I also felt he served to show just how cold Higgins must seem to Eliza — in contrast to Johnny's friendliness, Gründgens radiates a certain amiable but nonetheless icy remove.

- Thank you, thank you, for this breakdown of the final act! So she does pose three options after all. I remember the ring sequence now - she seats herself before a mirror and puts it on, is she talking to herself during that scene too? The structure of the challenge — if she reveals her origins she stands to lose newfound security, if she hides them she's complicit, she melds in with the conforming masses — could have been subtly provocative in the context of when this was made, and I have to wonder how that got in (wouldn't be surprised if it's from Engel, who'd been initially fired by the UFA studio, I think in the 33 purge, for his communist sympathies; I've read in passing that he made several films on the theme of individuals choosing an unconventional path which skirted censorship, but haven't seen those films for myself). I like too that the ending is somewhat ambivalent — in asking her to come back, he's not specifying what that would mean (unlike Dutch!Higgins who overtly suggests marriage, which I personally found very jarring). At the same time, in respecting her preferred form of address (which play!Higgins could never bring himself to do), he's indicating a new basis for the relationship, one where she calls (more of) the shots. I can't help but feel like there's something dialectical going on with the three-four options thing - Engel worked closely with Brecht, who loved to employ Marxian dialectics as a practice of change-making - where the final synthesis at once negates and upholds. But that's a poorly thought-out aside. Wait wait - I can't remember what verb he got wrong, which was it? Was it that he used slang?

You're the best!

got my hands on German Pygmalion from 1935🦫

[sgt-seabass]

I'm fantasizing about Dark!Steve and or Dark!Bucky bring obsessed with a married woman at SHIELD, but when she unexpectedly loses her husband they decide that they waited long enough.

𝒎𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏

pairings — dark!steve x reader x dark!bucky w/c — 4.2k This is a dark fic. 18+ only.

warnings — dark!fic, non-major character death, details of depression and grief, stalking, obsession, dubcon (due to emotional state and gaslighting), unprotected threesome (dp boiiiiiii). a/n — sorry this took me so long to get to, anon. this idea unlocked something in me and i kind of went feral with it hehe. thank you so fucking much to @suchababie for beta-ing this for me. you’re amazing.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream Make her the cutest that I've ever seen Give her two lips like roses and clover And tell her that her lonely nights are over Sandman, I'm so alone Don't have nobody to call my own Please turn on your magic beam Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream ↳ Mr Sandman, SYML

Life was good. Before everything changed.

You met your husband, SHIELD agent Jack Higgins, not long after starting as an assistant secretary for the Avengers. He was sweet and kind, the type to bring you home your favourite flowers every week with a bottle of wine. His touch was as gentle as his personality, always making you feel good as he took you apart with his fingers before he would indulge himself in your warm heat, lovingly embracing his cock with your tight walls.

Your husband was often sent away on lengthy missions with the other Avengers, but luckily whenever Jack was gone, and they were around, Bucky and Steve would keep you company.

As you were in charge of the Avenger's schedule, you often had to teach the two oldies how to access their schedule and emails on their phones and tablets. You could have sworn you'd taught them thousands of times at this point, but while you were missing your husband, you couldn't complain about the companionship and company.

"Sorry doll, I guess you can't teach an old dog new tricks," Bucky said, a light chuckle leaving his lips as you tried to show him how to access his meeting invitations on his schedule.

"One of these days I'm going to have to write you an instruction manual, Bucky." The lightness between you two made the ache in your heart from missing your husband just a little bit lighter.

At your words, there was something in his eyes that changed, the twinkle of excitement going a little darker as his pupils dilated and tone left no room for argument. "No, you know I wouldn't understand it. I need you."

A part of you felt the need to hide as if you were naked before him. You tried not to think anything of it when his gaze flicked down to your diamond wedding ring and back to your face.

He was lonely. You knew Bucky didn't have many friends. You pitied him, so you couldn't help but give him the benefit of the doubt. Plus, he was always caring, bringing you coffees and sweet treats after long days where your feet were aching in your kitten heels.

All the pieces were falling into place. In the weeks before Jack’s mission to Russia with Bucky and Steve, you both had decided it was finally time to start trying for children. Then everything would feel complete. So, both of you decided that you would get on an ovulation schedule and try to conceive within the coming months when he got back.

When you kissed him goodbye at the foot of the Quinjet, your heart was leaping in excitement for his return so the next stage of your life could begin.

But Jack Higgins never returned from Russia.

He died in a Hydra base two days into the mission, blood spilled against the freezing concrete like many others before.

You would never forget the expression on Natasha's face when she came to your desk to take you to a private meeting room. She was the palest you'd ever seen her, thoroughly wrought with bubbling grief as she told you. Your husband had died in the line of duty.

The world stopped that day, the axis stopped spinning, the waves no longer crashing on the beach, the stars no longer shining in the night sky. It was all gone, just as he was.

Tony set you up for life with money, a payout for his death. But you didn't want it. The money couldn't stop the tears that began from the moment you woke to the moment you finally passed out.

The apartment became dull without his light to fill it, and it all went to shit when you didn't bother cleaning up for yourself anymore. Wanda and Vision often dropped by various dishes they had cooked together that went half-eaten as you could barely stomach the food. They noticed and started bringing you more staple, plain dishes that you would eat more of. Natasha and Bruce tried bringing you novels, but they were left unread in a pile by the door. You didn't have the heart to tell them you spent your days staring at your ceiling, but you had a feeling they knew anyway.

Bucky and Steve tried to visit multiple times, but you left the door unanswered as you remained in your bed, an indent where your body lay with each day that passed, the sheets a grim colour from the lack of washing.

You didn't know how long it had been since you'd lost him, you'd stopped checking your phone after a few weeks unless to call his old number and hear his voicemail, but a loud pounding on your door roused you from your afternoon nap, your shirt clinging to your damp skin that was wet with sweat and tears.

As your padded steps reached the door, you could hear the muffled voices of Bucky and Steve, and the peak through the peephole confirmed it. They were both dressed casually. Steve dressed more brightly, with a brown leather jacket and blue shirt, whereas Bucky was in all black, his coat covering his arm and a leather glove concealing his hand.

There was another bang at the door, an audible impatient huff coming from Steve.

"I can smell you from here, dove," Steve called out, catching your attention as you backed away from the door. "You need a fuckin' shower."

"Don’t listen to him. Let us in, please. We just want to help,” Bucky tried, and after a moment of hesitation, your feet moved on their own towards the door.

They just wanted to help, right? Maybe they could make you smile like you used to. You did miss the banter. Slowly, you released the lock on the door to come face-to-face with the two super soldiers for the first time since the funeral.

“Oh dove, you’re a mess,” Steve cooed with pity as he walked in, not waiting for your invitation, Bucky following closely behind.

They both looked around as they took in the mess of the apartment, various photo frames taken down and placed face down on the floor, the dishes in the sink overflowing and dust and dirt on every surface, in desperate need of a clean.

Both men looked at you in awe. They knew it was bad, but not this bad.

“What do you want?” Your words were cold, feeling judged, even though you thought they were here out of care.

“We’ve come to get you out of here. You’re a mess. You need someone, two someone’s, to take care of you,” Bucky spoke softly as if speaking to a child as he approached you.

But with each step he took forward, you took one step back.

There was something off about them. The way they were looking at you like dogs looking at a juicy bone to chew on.

The air was stifling when your back hit the wall.

“Look at her Stevie, she’s all bones. We’re ‘gonna have to feed her well and get her healthy again, can’t have our girl suffering.”

Bucky’s word sealed their intent, and you let out a shocked whimper as he cornered you. You hadn’t been touched in months, hadn’t thought about love, hadn’t found yourself wanting care or comfort. But there was an innate need brewing in your veins that had you inhaling their musky scents as your body wanted nothing more than to be held.

You were lonely and sad, desperately so. A void in your heart begging to be filled.

Disgusted at your body’s response, you sighed out a shaky breath. “Please… Just leave me be.”

“We’ve waited long enough,” Steve’s voice broke through your squeal as Bucky plunged a needle into the side of your neck, the world becoming blurry and tilted as you collapsed into Bucky’s arms.

“Shh, now, you need your rest. I’ve got you, angel.”

When you woke in a rock-hard bed, you recognised the room immediately. You’d been here before. You glanced over at the laptop in the corner of the room, a memory flashing behind your eyes of sitting there with Steve, his cologne invading your senses as you showed him how to properly format an Excel sheet. When you’d sat on the bed, you’d complained how hard it was.

“Never got used to soft beds after the war, dove.”

This was Steve’s bedroom.

The light was beaming in through the floor to ceiling windows of the compound, the air light and comfortable as you sat up in the plush sheets, seeing the birds flying by the window before you focused on yourself. You were in a fresh, oversized t-shirt and boxer shorts, the realisation hitting you quickly. They’d taken you.

They’d drugged you.

A frantic search of your body found no marks or unwanted touches, everything still the same as you’d left it. But you were clean, showered.

With shaky legs, you climbed out of bed, walking out into the main living and dining area, spotting Steve in the kitchen as Bucky leant against the marble countertop. Both of them looked up at your entrance, smiling at you as if nothing had happened.

“You’re up. I knew you weren’t sleeping. Your body really needed it. You were out for over a day.”

You blinked at Bucky’s words, stopping in your tracks.

This was weird. Too domestic.

When you opened your mouth to respond, Steve plated up an omelette, cutting off your words as your stomach rumbled. “I know you can’t take too much flavour, dove. So, I thought an omelette with some vegetables would be nice for you.”

You looked in disbelief between the two of them. “You drugged me. And washed me.”

“You gave us no choice, angel. You were so tired. When I first came back from Hydra, I couldn’t sleep or clean myself either. I took the same drugs you did, and it helped me so much. Can’t you see we just want to take care of you?” Bucky approached, placing his hand on the small of your back as he directed you forward to the dining table, pulling out a chair and having you sit down before he brought the omelette before you.

Pity filled you as you considered Bucky’s history, empathising with him. He’d been through so much hurt, and he wanted to save you from that. They were just taking care of you. You weren’t taking care of yourself, so it made sense, right?

The grumble of your stomach filled the room, and both super soldiers looked at you expectantly.

Hesitantly, you picked up your fork, getting a mouthful of the omelette. You hated to admit it, but it was delicious. Your muscles relaxed a bit from the food, the first proper meal you’d eaten in days.

When you looked up, you were met with the proud gazes of both Avengers, making you squirm uncomfortably as you finished your plate.

“See, I knew you could do it. Don’t you feel better?” Steve moved to stand next to you, squatting down, so he was at eye level. “You’re an absolute dream. Bucky and I,” he stops for a moment with a sigh. “We’re lonely. Everyone treats us different. But you— you treated us with kindness and compassion. And we just want to make you happy. Won’t you let us return the favour for the number of times you rescued us from our sorrow?”

Steve’s face was close to yours now, so close you could feel his warm breath prickle against your skin.

For the first time since your husband’s death, you felt alive. A warmth pooling in your abdomen and heart alight with emotion.

They were lonely, and so were you.

Would it really be so bad to let yourself feel happy after everything?

As if he could sense the swirling emotions in your mind, Steve closed the gap between you two, lips meeting in a chaste kiss that quickly turned passionate.

Steve stood and brought your body up with him with ease, lifting you like you weighed nothing more than a piece of paper as he wrapped your legs around his waist. Bucky came up behind you to place gentle kisses on your neck, his fingers smoothing over your hair, causing tingles to shiver down your spine.

Having not been touched in so long, it felt like heaven, as if you were floating on clouds as Bucky and Steve’s hands roamed under the fabric of your shirt and shorts, caressing every inch of you as you moaned into Steve’s mouth.

You knew this was wrong. That you shouldn’t want this. The whole situation was all wrong. But with each passing moment, your panties became more soaked with your desperate juices, quivering as the pads of Bucky’s fingers, one cold metal and one flesh, began fondling your breasts and teasing your hardening nubs.

With a gasp, you pulled away from Steve’s lips, head tilting back and mouth agape. Steve took the opportunity to attack your neck with kisses and hickeys as Bucky played with your tits, marks littered across your neck and shoulders as he tore your t-shirt in half, throwing the fabric aside.

Bucky’s hands gripped your hips and pulled you against the hard bulge of his crotch that was straining his pants painfully. “Feel what you do to me, Angel?”

You could only whimper in response as he ground against your ass, Steve holding you in the air as you became trapped between the two of them.

One held you while the other stripped, then swapped, passing you like a toy before Bucky tore away your shorts and panties, causing a gasp to fall from your lips as the cool air of the room hit your glistening warm pussy.

Bucky took you this time, holding you by your knees and keeping you suspended in the air as he needily kissed you, pushing his tongue past your lips, completely dominating you as his tongue fucked your mouth.

Steve took the opportunity to grope your ass, spreading your cheeks before giving each a hard slap, your pussy practically dripping on Bucky’s chest at this point. Especially when you could feel the way Bucky’s length pulsated under you with each drag of his tongue against yours.

“So sweet, knew you’d be perfect,” Steve muttered before he left an especially hard bite on your shoulder, canines piercing the skin as you whimpered against Bucky’s tongue, an oddly pleasured pain radiating from your shoulder.

Bucky pulled back to admire the mark, taking in your swollen wet lips, a smirk forming as he seemed proud of his work in beginning to ruin you.

Bucky and Steve shared a look, something going unspoken between them before Bucky started to carry you to Steve’s bedroom, the latter following closely behind.

“M’gonna make you feel good, angel,” Bucky grinned as he threw you down on the bed, your back bouncing against the plush sheets you’d woken in.

“W-Wait—Bucky— Oh.” Your protests died in your throat as Bucky knelt at the foot of the bed, running his tongue up your slit, collecting some of your juices with a hum.

“Shh. Don’t speak, dove. Just feel.”

Within an instant, Bucky’s tongue was back on you, the hot muscle dipping between your petalled folds, swirling around your clit before running it to your sopping entrance.

When you looked down at him, his eyes were as dark as night, like a wolf with his prey as he lapped at your pussy, focusing his attention on your soft bud, your moans bouncing off the walls as your back arched against the bed.

Steve was engrossed in watching you two, hand stroking his hard cock lazily as he basked in the beautiful sight.

As Bucky began to suck on your clit Steve joined in, kneeling next to Bucky so he could slip two fingers into your wet heat.

“Fuck, Buck. She’s so tight,” Steve admonished as his fingers slid against your walls, his digits opening in a scissoring motion, causing a tightness to begin forming in your abdomen, a sensation you hadn’t felt in so long.

Bucky groaned against your clit at the thought of fucking your tight cunt, the vibrations making you mewl and writhe against his tongue, Steve’s fingers beginning to pump into you faster.

“Are you going to cum for us? I knew you would be good, but fuck, you’re such a good girl. Been so long since you’ve been touched. Need you stretched and ready for us.”

Steve’s praise had the coil tightening quickly.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Everything was so intense. As if every touch was igniting a fire in your soul, fuelling you to feel again.

A part of you wasn’t even sure if you’d felt like this when Jack was alive.

Steve’s fingers grazed your g-spot as Bucky kept sucking, and it wasn’t long before they sent you over the edge.

You came with a wail, falling apart beneath the two super soldiers as stars filled your vision, body quaking as your juices soaked Bucky’s face and Steve’s fingers, toes curling as your body rode the wave of bliss.

“Been waitin’ so long for you, angel. Still can’t believe you’re finally ours.”

You should have picked up on the hidden malice of Bucky’s words, but you were distracted as Steve’s fingers pulled out of you, leaving you gasping for more.

“I need to feel you, please.” As you spoke, it was as if you didn’t know yourself. Your mind blank apart from the desperation for sensation to take your pain away.

If they filled you, maybe they’d fill the hole in your heart too.

Bucky quickly picked you up and lay on his back, your back on top of his chest, the heat from his skin radiating against you, warming the cold pain in your soul. You could feel his hard cock poking against your entrance, and it had you writhing against him, needing more. Needing anything. Needing them.

With a smirk, Steve mounted you, positioning himself so his cock lined up with your pussy, giving Bucky a glance before they both began to fill you.

The stretch was inhuman. Bucky’s thick girth pushed along Steve’s long, uncut length, both sinking into your pussy.

Your wail rang in their ears as you desperately clawed at Steve’s chest as they just went deeper and deeper, far more than you ever thought possible.

Red pain and yellow pleasure swirled together in the mixing pot and left your body ignited with an orange ember, your surroundings no more than a buzz as it was all replaced with the two super soldiers filling you to their hilts.

“Fuck Stevie, she’s fucking clenchin’ so hard, a perfect fit,” Bucky growled, hands gripping your hips as he so desperately wanted to start fucking up into you. He knew with each second that passed, your need grew. You needed this as much as they did.

“I know, Buck. Fuck. Tightest cunt I’ve ever had.” Steve took in your dazed expression as he kept one hand over Bucky’s at your hip, the other cupping your cheek so your hazy eyes focused on him. “You’re doing so good, dove. We’re going to start moving. I promise you’ll love it.”

Steve was right. As they started rocking in rhythm together, their heavy cocks dragging against your walls, it felt so fucking good.

Steve and Bucky were a drug, and you were addicted.

Bucky held you tight as his hips started snapping up faster, Steve following suit shortly after, as if they were in competition with each other.

All you could focus on was the blazing heat between your legs as they fucked you. Their sounds and muttered praises mixed with their brutal pace had you pliant in Bucky’s hold.

It was all too much, yet not enough at the same time as you were surrounded by the feral grunts of Steve and Bucky, the fullness making your brain hazy as if on cloud nine.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt another orgasm beginning to build, but a rough grip on your chin had your eyes opening to meet Steve’s deep cerulean orbs. “I can feel you getting close, dove. You’re going to look at me as you cum.”

You fell over the precipice again, body awash with a shivering pleasure as your gaze kept on Steve, sinking into the depths of the sea that was his stormy gaze.

Both men simultaneously groaned as you fluttered around them, it was almost difficult to move with how tight you were.

For a moment, they stilled to just feel you and the way your cunt gripped them so deliciously, but then Bucky and Steve shared a look again, and something snapped.

They both started rutting their cocks into your abused hole, merciless and erratic, each ridge and vein gliding against your sensitive channel. Strangled noises began coming from you when Bucky gripped your neck from behind, and Steve entwined his fingers in your soft locks, tugging with each unrelenting thrust.

“Fuck, gonna breed this pretty cunt,” Bucky growled as you felt his cock begin to swell alongside Steve’s, warning of their impending release.

“God, you’re going to make me cum—Fuck dove,” Steve rasped as his cock twitched and his seed started to paint your walls, Bucky’s peak following shortly after.

Their hips didn’t stop as they filled you past the brim, milky white cum spilling out past their dicks as they let your pussy milk every last drop.

Out of breath, you all stilled for a moment, the room thick with the smell of sex and your hearts collectively racing.

Both of them slowly pulled out, Bucky gently moving you so you could rest on the bed as your pussy leaked their essence.

“You did so good, we’re going to take care of you, you have nothing to worry about,” Bucky spoke soothingly as he gently stroked your hair, eyes full of endearment as Steve sat on the other side of you, running his fingers over your bare skin with soft coos.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore. We’ve waited so long for you.”

No longer in your lustful haze, you look at Steve with a flustered expression. “What do you mean?”

“We knew the moment we saw you that you were perfect for us. All those years ago.”

Years ago. When you first started working at SHIELD.

Realisation settled deep in your bones like a black rot as you flinched away from them and stood, despite your overused muscles screaming for you to lie down.

Steve and Bucky looked surprisingly calm, both mirroring each other as they slowly sat up, unbothered by your sudden outburst, as if they were enjoying toying with you.

“Years? What—” Uncontrollable tears started welling in your eyes as you frantically looked between them.

A stilted gasp left your lips as the dots started to connect in your mind.

“Can you believe it? Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes want to work with me personally! A solo mission with just the three of us, it’s so exciting, sweetheart.”

Jack’s words rang in your ears as a sob hiccupped from your chest. “Wha— What did you do?”

Steve merely chuckled and shrugged, a cocky smirk on his lips as he got up from the bed, moving to a box kept under his desk, pulling it out for you to see.

They wanted to love you, but they’d have just as much fun tormenting you too until you realised how good they were for you.

With a gulp, you opened the lid of the box, horror piercing through you.

Polaroids. Thousands of them. All of you. Any picture with Jack had aggressive black sharpie marks over his face and body. Alongside them were USBs, hundreds of them.

Taking from the top of the pile, Steve plugged in one of the USBs, letting its contents play on his computer.

A video file opened as it was of your home, your apartment. They’d put cameras in your apartment?

The tears started falling heavier as you saw you and Jack come into the frame, smiling as he twirled you around in his arms, happiness on both your features. “I can’t wait for us to have a baby.”

You could hear Bucky’s jaw clenching at Jack’s words, as if he was going to break his teeth from the pressure.

“We’d waited so long for the right moment. But there was no way we were going to let you have a baby with him. So, we did what we had to do, get rid of the problem.”

The cognisance of what they’d done made you feel as if you were being ripped apart, heart and soul that was finally beginning to heal, covered entirely with a dark ooze emanating from the two men you considered close friends.

They watched as you let out a broken yowl, throwing the polaroids back into the box and darting for the door, but Steve was quick to appear behind you, forearm wrapping around your neck to place you into a headlock.

“That’s enough, dove. We’re done waiting. You’re all ours now. Forever.”

To be updated on when I post please follow @sgt-seabass-library​ and turn on post notifications.

[dadsbongos]

"Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again."

Chapter 8 / Series Masterlist / Previous Chapter

1.3K words

yeah i'm late shut up

~~

MAY 20TH, 1986. TUESDAY. 4:30 PM.

Everybody and anybody could tell you Eddie Munson’s plans for graduation like the lyrics to their favorite song. Not by choice, but because it felt like every week he was ranting about exactly what he was going to do.

He was going to walk across that stage. Look principal Higgins in the eye. Take his diploma. Then, of course, run like hell out of Hawkins High for good.

And who could forget the most important part? He was going to flip Higgins off, just as a final dig.

Well, principal Higgins was standing on stage with a certain man’s diploma - overdue by two years and eager to be given away - clenched in his hand. 

You’re watching from the stands with other seniors. Waiting impatiently for his moment. 

“Edward Munson.”

Principal Higgins holds out the diploma as Eddie stands from the ‘M’ section and storms across the stage. You’re watching with bated breath as he takes the rolled paper with all of his rings on despite his uncle’s insistence he remove them just this once. You’re glad he didn’t though - it wouldn’t be Eddie’s graduation without them, and the tattoos that peek out when his gown sleeve slips down his arm. All of them are very important to this one moment.

You can practically see the fire in his eyes and you’re nearly leaning out of your seat to watch as he flips his sworn enemy Higgins the bird. But then, in true Eddie fashion, he surprises you.

He grips the diploma tight and turns to the rest of the student body and the families that came with them - his dark eyes scanning, scanning, scanning until they come to you. Excitedly, he waves and holds out the diploma; a smile beaming with the strength of a thousand suns.

Naturally, you return the wave and clap for him. The applause for Eddie is scattered, but you realize that he hardly cares as his gaze is solely locked on you.

When it comes time for your speech, the applause is thunderous but you aren’t so foolish as to assume it’s all genuine. 

You wrote two speeches - one while on the phone with Eddie and the other while you were angry. You hold both in your hands as you settle at Higgins’ podium on stage. Laying out the speeches side by side, your eyes flicker to the student body you spent so long feeling ostracized from.

The popular kids who claimed to love you but didn’t know your name, every male academic that took each opportunity to make you look dumb, every teacher that lamented how you didn’t get a magical 100% on each assignment. You were either a pet or the enemy.

Fuck these people.

You turn to the speech you wrote while angry. It was after Jason Carver called you by the name of one of Chrissy’s other friends while asking you to do his math homework. 

The woman Ms. Kelly found for ASL gives you a look as though to ask ‘are you ready?’ and you nod.

You stare down at the paper and clutch it with both hands. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

Deep breath in.

“When I first came to Hawkins High, I was so nervous, I thought I might puke in my gym bag. Throughout my middle school career, I was the weird girl that people could cheat off and I vowed to change that when I became a freshman here. And I was right, everything did change. These past few months were the most fun I’ve had in my life so far and I’m proud to call myself your valedictorian,” your eyes stayed on the printed words but now they flip up to the kids in their seats.

“But don’t get confused, it likely didn’t have anything to actually do with you,” Higgins and Kelly share a wide-eyed stare, both of them daring the other to do something, but you continue, “Most of you think I’m something for trade and that I exist for you to try and get me to do your work."

You laugh sardonically and gesture out to the crowd, "Our golden boy, Jason Carver, and his goonies know all about that,” the silence is nearly deafening and Higgins tries to hand you a speech pre-written by the school from off stage, “My friends know who they are and I’m forever grateful to them, but the rest of you are people I would hate to work with in a silent library let alone the office jobs you’re destined to."

"But above that, I’d like to genuinely thank Eddie Munson,” heads snap to the boy and he’s just staring up at you in shock - doe eyes wide and sweet, “the most kindhearted person I’ve ever met and the person you all decided wasn’t worth the time of day - Eddie deserves his diploma more than 85% of this godforsaken school’s graduates. I hope every single person here who decided that someone as undeniably loving and giving as him was a freak gets rejected when asking for his autograph in the future,” you pick up your speeches and huff, “Have a good summer.”

Eight people clap as you walk off stage. Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington, the three freshmen that follow Eddie around, Eddie Munson himself, Chrissy Cunningham, and Wayne Munson (it’s muted and you wouldn’t even notice if your eyes hadn’t accidentally skipped to him, but he’s definitely clapping). 

Your parents hadn’t bothered coming to the graduation they hung over your head your entire life. You can’t say you’re surprised.

You and Eddie find each other after the tassels are turned and caps are thrown. His hair is windblown and messy and you don’t think it’s ever looked prettier, he takes your hands in his and leans down to kiss your forehead,

“Don’t think there’s ever been a better valedictorian speech,” he guides you out of the roaring crowd of recent graduates to where Wayne is fiddling with his camera.

“Yeah, I think my chances of coming back here to give a presentation or some shit are completely shot,” you take the silent invitation from Eddie and lean into his side as he wraps an arm over your shoulder.

Wayne raises his camera and adjusts the lens. 

“What a tragedy, I know you were really jumping for joy at the idea of coming back here,” Eddie rubs his hand up your arm and theatrically sighs, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Yeah, well…” you look at Eddie, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth before kissing his cheek, “Good job, Eds. I’m really proud of you.”

His face still lights up red every time you show him affection like that, “Honest to God couldn’t do it without you.”

And really, Eddie does hate the nickname ‘Eds’, but when his dear girlfriend calls him it - it sounds like heaven bells. Something he’s easy to fall for and quick to abide by. Anything for you. Only for you.

“Steve’s getting the kids together,” Wayne doesn’t interrupt you two as he takes a picture (wanting a few candids before poses), “to celebrate their first year.”

“Oh my God, were we invited?”

“You wouldn’t believe it, but yes - we were.”

“I’d be so honored,” Eddie leans forward so your foreheads are pressed together, his lips stretched stupidly wide and voice giddy at your presence, “I’ll never get away from those kids, huh?”

“Oh, no chance.”

Wayne later asks you to take pictures of him with his nephew. You don’t think you’ve seen Eddie look so proud as he stands next to his uncle, with the diploma he worked so hard for tightly in his hand. You’re glad you took him up to tutor, and you’d do it again in a heartbeat. A million times over.

Yes, falling for Eddie so fast was scary, but you’re glad it was him. And you’re not scared when he tells you he feels the same.

You two still agree that Romeo & Juliet was stupid, though.

~~

Taglist @homiesexual-or-homosexual @chainsaw-man-inserts @juggernort @efvyqrs 4 u <3

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 70: Patronus

"I'm doomed," Draco hissed at Pansy as they left the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. "The final is in less than a month! How could Higgins spring this on us?"

"Calm down," Pansy said.

"Calm down? Calm down?! Pansy, you recall that I have a dark mark don't you? The final is half of our grade! I'm going to fail."

She shook her head, "You're not going to fail," she informed him calmly. "You'll learn Draco, you have over three weeks."

"But I'm an ex-death eater," he whispered, as though anyone could ever forget. "Death eaters can't cast a patronus, you know that."

"That's not true," a voice behind them piped up, making Draco jump.

"For Circe's sake, Potter, stop sneaking around," he grumbled.

The other boy shrugged, "Sorry," he said unrepentantly, "Couldn't help but overhear what you were saying."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Oh, you just couldn't help it, huh?"

He flicked a careless grin at Draco, his dimple showing, and as always, Draco didn't know quite what to do with that. "I'm just saying that death eaters could cast a patronus."

"How would you know?" Draco asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Snape could cast one, and Merlin knows that you did far less horrific shite than he did," Potter replied as he sauntered past them and into the common room. "I could help you, if you want," he called over his shoulder before walking out of view.

Pansy opened her mouth and he cut her off, "Don't," he said, holding up a hand.

(Read more below the cut)

She cackled, "I bet there's a thing or two he could help you with."

"Why am I friends with you?" he groaned. "I'll figure it out myself," he added with a haughty sniff.

---------

A week and a half passed and Draco was no closer than he'd been the day she'd first assigned this task to them as part of their final. Draco sat in the library, pouring over textbooks that were supposed to help to teach you to cast one but none of them seemed to help.

"Hey," Potter said as he dropped into the chair across from Draco like they were friends or something. He'd been doing it since February and Draco still couldn't understand it. "How are you?"

"Awful," Draco replied with a groan. "I'm going to fail my Defense final and then I'm going to go to prison because passing all of my classes is part of my parole," he said, the words pouring out of his mouth without his consent. "And I never imagined that passing my classes would be a problem, but-"

"Draco," Potter said, his voice calm and unruffled, "Let me help you."

"You can't," he said shaking his head.

Potter tilted his head consideringly, "Maybe not but would it hurt to try? I've taught like over twenty other teens to do it," he added.

Draco bit his lip, what could it really hurt?

"Come on," Potter said, standing up and holding out a hand to pull Draco to his feet. "If it fails you can always come back and read through dusty books some more."

"Fine," he sighed, reaching out and taking Harry's hand, a thrill tingling up his arm at the contact.

Harry didn't let go right away as he started walking and Draco's heart tripped along inside of his chest as he stumbled after him.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked.

He released his hand but gave him a little smile, "we can't very well practice it in the library, can we?"

Then Harry took off running and Draco had no choice but to jog after him, spluttering indignantly. "Why are we running?"

"Because it feels good," Harry replied as he raced down the stairs and outside.

When they reached just the edge of the forest, where there weren't any signs of other students Potter stopped and took off his cloak, enlarged it, and laid down on it.

"What are you doing?"

Harry just patted the cloak beside him.

"Potter," he said, hands on his hips.

The other boy opened his eyes and said, "Trust the process. Come lay down."

With a sigh he laid down on the cloak and stared up at the sun peaking through the branches.

"Relax," Harry whispered, covering Draco's hand with his own.

Somehow, it soothed Draco and made him panic all at once but at least it wasn't the normal kind anxiety, it actually made him feel a weird sort of excited anticipation.

"Think of a happy memory," he murmured, "A really happy one that you can feel all the way down to your toes."

He was quiet, trying to think, "It's been a while since I've been that happy," he confessed.

Harry's hand squeezed his gently and he thought this was probably as happy a moment as any. He focused on the feelings in his body.

"When you're ready," Harry said a few minutes later, "we'll stand up and try to cast. You've already got the mechanics down, it's just about getting the feelings right."

Draco nodded, then pushed himself to his feet.

The other boy stood behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder, "Think of your happy moment," he murmured. "Let it fill you up."

He inhaled, thinking of the way Harry's body felt next to his, of the warmth of his hand, the tingles in the pit of his stomach; and then he cast. "Expecto Patronum," he said, circling his wand.

A thin, silvery mist appeared from the end of his wand and he stared at it in shock, "Did you-?" he started.

"Well done," Harry encouraged. "See. You can do it."

"Can you show me yours once?" he asked. "It would be helpful to see your technique," and while this was the truth, it wasn't the whole truth; mostly Draco was just curious to see Harry's patronus for himself.

Harry nodded slowly, "Just, don't tell anyone."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's changed," Harry replied "and I don't mind you knowing but I don't know quite what it means and I'd rather figure it out before the press catches wind of it."

"You don't have to show me," he ventured.

The other boy shook his head and took a deep breath "Expecto patronum," he said and his wand produced what appeared to be a fox of some sort. "Hermione thinks it's an arctic fox," Harry said as they watched it lope around the clearing.

"It's beautiful," Draco breathed.

"Thanks," Harry said with a little smile. "She tells me it's because I've become more withdrawn, that I had to be more reliant on myself," he shrugged.

"Do you miss your stag?"

He nodded, "It was nice to be connected to my mum and dad, you know? To have something in common with them."

"I'm sorry," Draco said softly.

Harry shrugged, "There must be a bigger reason," he said. "I hope, anyway." His fox dissipated and Harry turned to him, "Let's see yours again."

-------

Over the next two weeks, Draco's patronus charm got stronger, and once he thought he'd caught the glimpse of a what appeared to be a dog's nose, perhaps, but nothing more.

"The final's tomorrow," he told Harry as they laid out under the trees, "And I still haven't been able to conjure it. I'm going to fail."

"What's your happy memory?" Harry asked.

"What's your's?" Draco countered.

Harry hummed thoughtfully, "It changes," he said. "The first time I cast one it was of my mum's voice. I don't even know if it was a real memory of not," he added.

"What about the last one you cast?" Draco asked.

The other boy turned his head to look at Draco, "It was that you were giving me a chance," he confessed softly with a little smile. "Will you tell me yours?" he asked.

Draco bit his lip, "Just this," he whispered finally. "There's something about you that just," he trailed off, searching for the right descriptor, "Thrills me. And it used to be in all the wrong ways, but..." he trailed off feeling a little shy and embarrassed.

"But now it feels a little bit like flying," Harry whispered. "At least that's how it feels for me."

The corner of his mouth tipped up, "Me too."

Harry rolled onto his side, "Can I kiss you?"

Draco nodded up at him and Harry leaned down to press his mouth softly to Draco's, his fingers brushing the hair lightly back from his face.

He reached out and pulled the other boy a little closer, tilting his head to find a better angle. After a minute, he pulled back, "Wait a second," he said as he stood up and set himself up to cast. He let the kiss wash over him again in his memory, filling him up with boundless joy, and the silver mist came out thicker than ever before.

Harry stood up and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck. "Try again," he murmured.

Draco took a deep breath, feeling the heat radiating off of Harry's body. "Expecto Patronum!" he said once more and his patronus burst from the end of his wand.

He stared at it, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing.

Harry's breath caught as he leaned forward, pressing against Draco's back to get a closer look. "I hoped so," he said softly as Draco's little arctic fox trotted around them.

"Expecto Patronum," Harry said and his arctic fox appeared, making a beeline for Draco's.

Draco leaned back against Harry, "What does mean that they're the same?"

"My mum's and dad's were the same animal," he said, "and Snapes was the same as her's."

"What does it mean?" he asked again, he had his suspicions but he needed to hear Harry say it first.

Harry cleared his throat, "Well I don't want speak for you, but I think it means that at the very least, I'm in love with you."

Draco blinked, then turned himself around in Harry arms, "I think I'm in love with you, too," he confessed with a smile.

And this was only the start of the many, many ways that they would spend the rest of their lives making one another happy.

-----------

Thanks so much @oviovs, for the prompt! It's not quite established at the beginning but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Thank you for all of the love and encouragement you leave on my little stories. <3

Day 69: Soaked | Day 71: Return

[magnumdays]

Magnum PI 4.07 -  A New Lease On Death review

The feels today though!!!

Despite the fact that we get ONE Miggy scene and it’s like 30 seconds of flashback!!! (and one phone call) they really made it work. Showing that while Magnum and Higgins tends to be the emotional core (at least that’s how I read it), the writers can give me feels even when Miggy is not the focus. 

I liked the Rick and TC drama. Because it’s so relatable. Sometimes your best friends have crappy friends. How to you deal with that. Also loved Magnum and TC’s talk about this (but more on that later!)

Rick and Robbie being complicated but that bond still being so important. I like that they’re showcasing how things are messier and more without clear cut answers than in previous seasons. Even though Rick is being a bit of a douche when he tells TC “I live in the gray area of real life” that is very much the truth.

Higgy with her dad to got to me more than I thought it would. Because relatable and I admire that she did decide to call. I’ve not been so forgiving but I didn’t have a cool dad who taught me to fight.

Though I really thought we were getting the flashback. I assume this is the episode we would have had it? I don’t think we will have anything other than the picture. Still, I’m glad for Higgy backstory :O. It makes about half my fics no longer fit with canon but I don’t even care! 

Kumu being adorable with her knowledge about ED drugs and making a new (special?) friend. I know my mom is going to be cracking up. Her favorite by far is Kumu and I totally get that because she is the best.

Lia and Gordon being hilarious about “sharing custody” of Magnum by having alternating favor days!!! And her setting Thomas up with the FBI ex, that was a good time! And Gordon being all “I’m going throw up my burrito” about them being cute on the phone was lovely. 

I do actually really like Lia when we have her even if she’s mostly a plot device, in this instance used to get Magnum in touch with a FBI contact and then to further the Higgins MI6 story line. 

Truly appreciate that it was Lia saying she saw Higgins at the morgue (rather than it being Gordon or something) and Magnum instinctively covering for Higgy and saying it probably wasn’t her. Even though alarm bells were going off in his head = love it.

This whole bit was just to make him seriously worried. Because he’s willing to let Juliet have her boundaries and private life and wait it out - but when there are dead people involved? It’s enough to makes it make perfect sense to me that he’s going to start being more suspicious and following her. I mean you can practically hear the gears turning in his mind as he’s trying to puzzle things together at the end of the scene.

As for my favorite scene of the episode, it’s the Magnum + TC conversation. Where Magnum is really just being good friend and checking in. No favors to ask, just Thomas and TC being buddies supporting on another about their confusing BFFs.

In case we don’t say it enough, your the best friend anyone could ever have!

My heart!!!

Let’s not forget .

..You want to know, but you don’t want to push to hard because then her walls go back up- 

TC calling him out on it and Thomas being adorable with the Did I really say her walls? I did, didn’t I? 

So pure (and also perfectly showcasing though he’s running around trying to figure things out for Rick and is being a good friend to them...he’s always got Higgins’ in the back of him mind!)

Yeah, lots of feels and nice moments in this ep. Which you know, makes sense because what was Magnum’s case this week? Didn’t really have one? I mean he was looking all over for the FBI guy in charge but then when he found him? Nothing? I mean he’s going to presumably come back into play next episode (3rd) but still, it’s supposed to be MI6 focused.

Higgins’ case with the woman wanting to help her dad who got scammed and then the scammer died at the hands of his red-lipstick wearing GF, it was kind of fun but it didn’t really make you invest your heart and soul and make you worried Higgy or Kumu was going to be taken out by a old guy with a cane. 

At least I wasn’t feeling-feeling it even if it was cute. There was actually very little action for an action show now that I think about it. No running, no shooting, no car chases or even a hand to hand fights. Other than the last bit of course. I almost wonder if they did that on purpose to make the end explosion more shocking?

Because OMG poor Rick at the end! 

I mean Robbie wasn’t a stand up citizen, possibly not really the best of friend either, but everyone screws up to warring degrees. Rick having made the choice to help and then it exploding (literally) in his face...writers, I hope you know what you’re doing. But it seems at least we’re getting one episode with Rick struggling with Robbies’ death so that’s um, good!?!

(But just look at my poor baby Rick.)

This season really seems to be just about traumatizing and pushing all our babies and I don’t know how I feel about it. 

I’m real annoyed at Thanksgiving break though, because I have seriously high hopes for 4.08... (A Fire in the Ashes: Magnum starts following Higgins to discover what she's been hiding, as she's secretly assigned to infiltrate a group threatening to take down MI-6. Also, Rick struggles after an explosion takes the life of someone important to him.)

And the Christmas episode (4.09) - it’s better be good or else I’ll be so sad! 

[alexromero]

i’m glad i’m not the only one that thinks that this sam/rebecca storyline is not the best of ideas for either character. also i’m not a fan of how many people who want them to get with each other despite the very glaring reasons why they shouldn’t pursue a romantic relationship. age gap (nearly 30 years), power imbalance (boss/employer relationship), and the main reason that neither of the characters would look great to the team or to the general public?? like it is just a scandal waiting to happen.

if this was gender swapped, a lot more people would not be wanting this to happen, and i don’t think people are considering this.

There's a lot here that is being unsaid and turned into one dimensional "woke" rhetoric.

First, there's the idea that Sam is being "infantilized" as a black man by viewers who find this relationship wrong. First of all, it seems like we all want to forget that historically, black men have never been given the chance to be young. Black men as disproportionally seen as "adult" from a very early age, which is what makes this entire scenario so uncomfortable. Sam is still very fucking young. He is only 21 years old and he should be allowed to idealize love. He should be allowed to express love in a young "Romeo and Juliet" kind of way because that's not something that black men on television have been allowed to do. No one is infantilizing Sam because ... he is a kid. He acts like a kid his age should be acting. Have we all forgotten what it was like to be 21?

Second of all, Sam's identify as a black Nigerian boy is important his entire characterization. I think the show has done more than enough highlight this. The colonial implications are there. The show is not shying away from them. I think that by setting this young kid with an 47 year old white, rich, powerful ENGLISH woman, it's fair game to discuss this added layer to the inherent moral problems with the relationship. This is not about "which relationships are opposed and which are not." People voicing concerns over this relationship are not objecting because they're an interracial couple but because the power imbalance is entrenched in the racial historical background of each character. For the love of god, Rebecca is the goddamn owner of the entire team and Sam is just one of its players. Even Ted, who is Rebecca's employee, holds an even higher position of power than all the players, Beard, Nate, Higgins, etc.

To willfully ignore the age, power and just personality gaps in this relationship its to ignore the characterizations of each character. Rebecca comes from a relationship where her husband was 20 years her senior. Where she was emotionally manipulated into doing things she probably didn't want to do. She is also a grown ass adult, who is the owner of the club. She has a responsibility to every single person who works for the club and engaging in this relationship with Sam, especially after what she did for Sam and Dubai Air, is putting everyone else in jeopardy. It's irresponsible and childish. And to be completely honest, it's reductive. It's already been done in season one. Because of her own selfish feelings, she almost sabotaged not just one man's entire life after moving to a new country but that of every single person who works at Richmond. Higgins was threatened by Rupert to help him hide his affairs if he wanted to keep his job that helped keep a roof over his, his wive's and six kids.

There's this intersection about how white people in power, even Rebecca who is usually well intentioned and does care for everyone there, have the luxury to indulge in their "live, love, laugh" soul searching moments but others don't. If everyone finds out what's happening between Sam and Rebecca, Sam could lose all credibility in his attempt at stopping a corrupt government. He could lose his family's respect. He could lose so much more than Rebecca. Sure, she loses the club but she still has the generational wealth she comes from.

My stance is one that comes from a pragmatic point of view and emotional. This relationship just doesn't make sense at all and it seems to only work to "shock" viewers into this season of Empire Strikes Back theme. However, I think it's just shitting on its lead female character and on its prominent black character. It's setting them up for failure. If you can sit there and tell me that age gaps don't matter, than you are truly not paying close attention to what triggered all of this show into motion: Rebecca's marriage.

I am resentful that Ted gets to be the sympathetic character once again and is just this lovable Southern man with anxiety and depression (which is valid.) But I'm gonna y'all to hold him to the same standard that Rebecca will be held at in the upcoming episodes. Because as a grown ass man, he should also take more responsibility for the things that happen because he refuses to take care of himself and listen to the other people in his life.

[bearlyholdingon]

Graduation

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader (no gender mentioned)

Summary: You know how much Eddie has been looking forward to graduating, so you get him a little gift to commemorate the occasion. (1.2k words)

Warnings: just fluff because he deserved better 

AN: hi. I’m not a writer by any means and this is also doubling as my first post so…if it’s bad, please don’t perceive it :) I just have a lot of feelings about this season to work through. 

“This is the dumbest shit ever.” Eddie analyzes himself in the mirror, absent-mindedly staring past his guitar.

“Baby don’t say that,” you smile sweetly, locking eyes with him in the reflection of the glass. 

It was a sunny Friday afternoon in Hawkins, and the two of you were enjoying the last few weeks of school before graduation. At lunch, you had insisted on walking together to the main office and retrieving caps and gowns. He trudged along, murmuring under his breath about how stupid he knew he would look in a tacky green graduation gown. The only way you could get him to shut up about it was to mention that they wouldn’t let him walk without the proper attire, effectively killing his ability to give the finger to Principal Higgins. In exchange for  tagging along, Eddie had made you promise to play hooky for the rest of the day. Those events had led to your current situation, laying in his bed and trying to hold back laughter as his cap struggled to fit over those long brown curls. 

It was an intriguing sight to say the least. You couldn’t help but to wonder about the thoughts that must be going through his head. Eddie had waited two very long years for this moment, and it seemed that his dream of leaving the school- and Hawkins- was finally within reach. The sleeves of the gown were slightly too long, draping over his knuckles so that only the tips of his fingers were visible. Without the vest and jewelry on display, you noticed a drastic change in his appearance. He looked younger…almost more vulnerable. Your eyes traveled slowly, drinking in every small detail that you could while he was distracted. The small freckles dotted along his nose and cheeks, the shine of his metal rings as he struggled to comb through knots of the tassel that had somehow already managed to tangle itself up on the drive over. A curse fumbled past his lips as the grad cap slipped from his head, and you took it as a sign to help. Lifting from the mattress, you gracefully made your way over to his spot in front of the mirror.

“You know, I could always lend you some bobby pins to keep this in place,” you said mockingly, picking it up from the floor.Your words were met with a small snort as the cap was placed back on his head. It was a struggle, seeing as though Eddie towered over you on any given day. A fact that he would not let you forget any time soon. A gentle tap on his shoulder was all it took for him to bend at the knees, giving you a bit more leeway. 

“I just…I don’t know. This doesn’t look like me. It doesn’t feel…like me.” Eddie’s eyes retained their focus on you through the mirror, but you were too busy brushing the stray strands of hair from his face to notice. 

“Eddie, you’ve worked so hard for this. You deserve this. You deserve everything.”

Your hand moves from his hair to his cheek, caressing the soft skin that has turned the slightest shade of pink in response to your reassurance. Eddie takes the opportunity to gently wrap one arm around your waist while the other finds its place on the back of your neck, pulling you into a warm embrace. You can feel the tension in his muscles, but with every second that you let him hold you like that, it begins to melt away. It was a feeling that you knew would always feel novel. Eddie was such a charismatic, confident person and so it shocked you how much he craved validation from the people closest to him. Of course he would never admit to it, but you were always the one that made him feel as though he was doing something good. Something right.

“Speaking of which,” you mumbled against his chest, “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” He let up on his grasp, just enough to glance down at you. The warmth of his eyes was almost enough to make you forget about the task at hand.

“Stay here.” You flashed a bright smile, pecking his lips every so gently before bounding out to the living room where your belongings were. You could hear him shuffling around through his cassette tapes as you took the small jewelry box out from the front pocket of your backpack. It was a miracle that he hadn’t found out about this months ago when you ordered it. Between spending all of your free time with him and being notoriously bad at keeping secrets, you were sure that this surprise would’ve been ruined by now. There had been a few close calls over the past few months, but somehow you had managed. Shoving the box behind your back, you made your way back into Eddie’s room. He was turned away from you, queuing up some music, which now filled the small space. His fingers tapped against the plastic of the cassette player as the beat of “Holy Diver” played out. It was a cute sight; his head gently bobbing side to side in full grad gear. You made sure to take a mental picture before clearing your throat. Eddie turned to face you, wide eyes quickly finding the velvet box in your hand.

“Babe, I thought we said no gifts.” His brows knit in confusion, slightly startled by the surprise. 

“Guess I lied,” you smirk, shrugging your shoulders. 

In a matter of seconds he’s crossing the room and placing his hand on your outstretched forearm. His gaze shifts down at the box and then back to you, almost as if he’s scared to take it out of your hands.

“Come on, open it up. I’ve been waiting for forever to give it to you.” A surge of joy fills you as his face lights up, revealing that notorious smile you’ve grown to love. His hands gingerly take the box from your hands and your breath quickens as he opens it. Eddie’s expression changes from happiness to shock and back again. His pointer finger and thumb dart towards the chunky metal ring, lifting it up into the light to admire it more closely. 

“You got me a class ring?” He questions, inspecting the small ruby centered in the middle of the setting. His voice is practically dripping in awe as he gingerly places the ring on the only free digit on his left hand. 

“You like it?” You ask sheepishly. It was difficult to decide on what design to get him without outright asking. Honestly, you were sure that he would’ve loved any option, but you wanted to make sure that it was personalized to suit him best. The ruby symbolized his love for the Hellfire club, and of course the small ’86 engraving on the band was to commemorate his achievement. 

“I love it,” He gleamed, quickly engulfing you in his arms and lifting you several inches into the air. “I love you. I love you so much.” His lips met the corner of your jaw as you were gently brought back down to the ground. 

“I told you Munson, this is your year.”