#i replayed days for the first time since middle school

[paper-mache-stars]

sea salt ice scream is the garlic bread of kingdom hearts

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

i don’t like. the irrationality created by memories

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 1/2

summary: Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 1.3k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blood mention, knife mention, beer mention, Wade's fuckin horny and thirsty y'all, pining, cursing, claws, Wade is looking ✨respectively✨, crude humor and language, slight Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, no smut (yet, sorry)

a/n: AUGH DONT LOOK AT ME (actually please do I cannot hold this in any longer.) currently part one of two parts. posting the first one now as I am currently traveling for work and won't be back until beginning of September and then part two will be out when i either A. Get home or B. Finish it and format it in between running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Please be patient with me! I will not tolerate "whEreS PaRt Two?¿??" when I literally just told you. Hope y'all enjoy one of the many products of my brain rot. More to come in due time ✨

Not beta'd. Written on my phone and edited via gdocs. Post formatted on mobile because I don't wanna use my work computer lmao

Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

The abs are great. More than great, actually. In fact, they're all Wade thinks, dreams, and fantasizes about. All day, everyday, non-fucking-stop. The moment replays over and over in his fucked up noodle brain like a scratched record. He knows muscle memory is a thing, but what about salivatory memory?

Christ. He's gotta get a grip instead of getting hard.

But what about when Logan isn't flexing hard enough to rip his goddamn suit off?

Wade notices Logan becoming more relaxed around the apartment as the days pass. Adjusting to his new life, coming out of the bedroom earlier than he has to on days when he gets a turn to sleep on a real bed. It's Sofa City most of the time– which he really doesn't mind, he almost prefers it most of the time (since it's in clear sight of the front door) but Wade more often than not likes to insist they share his 'much-too-big-for-lil-old-me' twin XL mattress that's seen more stains than sex in the last year alone.

Logan's compromise is he'll take the bed and Wade the couch half the time. Alone. They're still working on the negotiations of said compromise, but the jury– Blind Al– is still out on recess.

Once he's more settled in, Logan learns that it's okay to kick off his boots and put his feet up. It's not often, but enough that Wade silently wishes he'd rest those big meaty calves on his lap instead. He's been needing a new weighted blanket and Adamantium-coated tibias and hairy legs are so in right now.

Logan doesn't know it, but Wade secretly plays 'ohmygodhetotallylookedatme' whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wade oggling at him in his peripherals. Wade can't help it when Broody and the Beast's ribbed white muscle shirt pulls taut against those deliciously plump pecs that he silently prays it'll burst off again. Or he'll rip it off. Or Logan will rip it off. For him.

A boy can dream.

It's especially hard to win at 'OMGHTLAM' when Logan accessorizes– AKA throwing on whatever flannel is in rotation out of the several he finds at the thrift store a few blocks over. Wade feels his throat tighten like his jeans do when Logan wears the forest green one. Really brings out his eyes.

And smile. And lips. And–

It's still summer, so on the hotter days, when sweat glistens on his brow and Wade desperately wishes to be the back of Logan's hand, the tank top comes off. All Logan's sweaty, gloriously muscular body has on is a wonderfully worn-in pair of jeans with the hem of black briefs poking out behind the denim waist.

Do they have AC? Yes. Because Wade would have to plan a funeral for Al if they didn't.

But when she's out and about, he likes to turn it off and let the New York heat wave run its course. Sure, it leaves him sticky and gross, but he'd rather be sticky and gross and hard when he can help it.

Luckily, Blind Al is gone for the whole weekend. Some girls trip or a drug mule job. Same difference.

Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

With the push of a button and a sprinkle of patience, Logan is splayed out on the couch in a matter of hours with a lukewarm beer in hand while fighting his eyelids from dozing off to some random war documentary. Sweat beads on his temples and there's a slight sheen to his skin from his biceps to the lower V pointing down to between his thighs. He chuckles every so often, mumbling things to himself between swigs of beer and shaking his head when the narrator gets something 'wrong.'

Wade busies himself in the kitchen but his eyes are permanently glued to his roommate. He doesn’t miss the way Logan's stomach rises and falls gently, the rock-hard six pack softening into rolling hills of muscle with a layer of dark hair covering as much surface area as immortal-like hormones will allow. Grown out beard, chops, and messy hair really throw the whole look together; very 2000s, if you ask Wade. His pecs look just as soft as a pair of titties, if not softer, and Wade knows it. He'd do anything to lay his perfect little head on Logan's chest. Maybe lick it too, if he's a good boy. 

Logan perks up suddenly from the couch.

Oh God did he say that out loud?

"Wade?"

Wade doesn't hear him. Can't hear him. Half-refuses to hear him, honestly. Daydreaming takes up a whole lotta brain power and this show isn't running itself. Economy, budget cuts, unprecedented times. You know the shtick. 

"Wade."

Nothing but a bead of drool comes out of Wade's mouth. 

Suddenly, there's a crash right behind Wade's head and now he's awake. He whips around to the ale-spattered wall behind him and back to Logan, who's now standing with claws drawn and chest heaving.

Wade swears he's blushing. 

Eyes wide and brow standing up straight like his good little soldier, Wade looks down at the counter before him to find a bloodbath of a scene: one hand's on a knife while the other spews blood all over the yellowed counter tops; there's remnants of a carrot that was finished five minutes ago, followed directly by remnants of fingers cut down to the last fucking knuckle and slice marks beginning down the back of his hand.

Wade holds up his spurting stump, gashed artery doing a spot-on impression of Ol' fucking Faithful.

"Oh. Huh. Thought I smelled something," he says, staring at his now-tingling hand. Baby fingers for the rest of the night were so worth the staring contest with Logan's beautiful body.

"Fuckin' idiot," Logan mutters, sheathing his claws and striding over to the hall closet to grab a towel. Wade's already stopped bleeding, but just because they might be immune to bloodborne pathogens doesn't mean Al is.

"Gah– get back, damn mutt." Logan shoos Dogpool out of the kitchen to prevent her from lapping up her papa's bodily fluids. He throws the towel in Wade's face and goes to grab the bleach out of the cupboard under the sink. Logan learned very quickly where to find it the first time this happened a month or two ago.

"Sorry baby, Mommy's got a boo-boo and Daddy's just trying to help," Wade coos at Dogpool. "You're too good to me, peanut. Someone oughta wife ya up before I do."

Logan responds with a scowl as he tosses the carrots out and tries to keep the counter from staining. "Why th'fuck did you do that?"

"It was time for a new hand. Old one was so last season."

Wade mops up the blood from his arm and wraps the towel onto his head like he's just gotten out of the shower. Holding up his regenerating stump, he poses like a cover model for Vogue.

"Whatcha think, peanut?" He strikes another pose. "Is this doing anything for ya, big boy?"

Logan grunts as he tosses a wad of paper towels into the trash can. He turns to leave the kitchen, eyes flicking to Wade. It's the quickest once over ever, but Wade sees it. Commits it to memory while he pulls a Flashdance in a chair from the kitchen table and follows Logan's denim-clad ass as it sways off to the bathroom. 

"'M gonna go shower. Don't wait up,” Logan calls before shutting the door and locking it. 

Sighing, Wade looks down at his crotch, pants tent pitched higher and tighter than a first-timer on Everest.

Good thing he's ambidextrous.

[losing-it-lately]

I Crumble Completely When You Cry

wc: 2k

eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

angst with a happy ending, best friends to enemies to lovers, regular upside down stuff, inspired by this one line in 505 by the arctic monkeys

You aren't dating him. You aren't friends with him. You both don't "talk". Eddie knows all of these things are true, he knows all of these things form the basis of your's and Eddie's relationship- if it can even be called that. But it's not enough. It's not enough to hold him back from you or to suppress that gnawing pit in his stomach or to stop old habits from coming back from the dead. He shouldn't have said that, but what's worse is he shouldn't have done what he did after.

Eddie remembers everything that happened between you two. Everything that went down exists in perfect clarity as if it replays over and over in his mind. And in a way, it does, he hasn't stopped thinking of what happened between you two ever since. And you haven't either.

Eddie would say that what happened started a month or two into the school year- when you finally got into cheer and had gotten through to the team. Wayne would say that what happened started right after Will Byers had been found. Steve Harrington would say that it started when Will was proclaimed missing, but you had always known that what happened between you and Eddie didn't start that year, but was bound to happen from the first day you had met him.

You had always known Eddie. Ever since he had moved into Hawkins, the small and buzzed boy had been on your radar. More than just your radar actually, you had grown the biggest crush on him. He was tall and lanky and unruly and silly and everything that made you grin in the schoolgirl type of way that you did when you got a new crush. Eddie was sweet and you did as much to look after him as possible. Leaving snacks on his desk when you noticed that he didn't bring lunch often, or conveniently losing a pen in the back of the classroom when he had forgotten one or even stopping close family friends like Steve from picking on him; you had looked out for Eddie as long as you had known him, it was bound to happen even when you got older.

At some point, you assumed that your crush would disappear or die out, and then everything would return to normal, but in the midst of Hawkins Middle School was the annual talent show, which changed it all. Eddie was obviously going to apply with his new band, a small group of tweens that he had collected from grades younger than him. However, as he began filling out the form, he hit a dead end. Eddie needed a name, and he needed one quickly. This was the last day to sign up and the members of the council in charge were clearly fed up with him waiting and stalling with the form. Eddie was freaking out. Him and his friends had done so much practice, and now, when he was practically finished, he could feel it all crumble in front of him. And then you walked by.

"Are you ok, Eddie?" He wasn't, and you were ready to do whatever you could to fix it.

As he explained his problem, you searched through your bag. English had just finished last period, surely you still had your dictionary.

Finally, you lugged out the large hard cover and began searching for a word to compliment 'coffin'; scanning through the 'co' page and reading out words until Eddie got you to stop.

"Corroded Coffin! That's it!" His grin was so bright, you couldn't help but mirror it, and you knew in that moment that you would be taking care of Eddie Munson for as long as you could, no matter what it took.

And that's how you saw it, especially after November of 1984. You had just started cheer, Eddie had started a Dungeons and Dragons Club that you frequented every Thursday and your grades were falling right into place. Life felt perfect in a way, and then Will Byers went missing. And you spent too much time helping Jonathan Byers. And then you got wrapped up into a government conspiracy.

You were in danger. White vans of men circling around you and the kids you looked after, every single communication monitored and the constant threat of something worse than mankind. It was an easy decision- you had to get Eddie away from all of this.

Will may have been back, but gates still opened, and the labs still checked on you, and you had nightmares and scars that you couldn't explain to Eddie without getting him involved. So you did what had to be done. Late December, after having ignored and avoided Eddie for what felt like forever, you cut him off.

It was a second nature to find Eddie in the midst of the trees and shrubbery behind Hawkins high. At his table, playing lazily with the old wooden planks and graffiti-ing more song lyrics and initials onto the bench where he sat. Eddie looked bored and desolate as you made your way towards him. Your nerves were working overtime and your eyes were bloodshot from the many nights without sleep, and while the pep talk from Steve helped, it wasn't enough to stop your hands from fidgeting and smoothing down the top of your uniform. Your uniform needed to be on for this to work, and the only way this would work was if Eddie bought it, if Eddie hated you.

The wind rustled through your hair and the leaves crumbled under you, one making a particularly perfect sound that alerted Eddie of your presence. As soon as he recognised you, a wide grin split on his face, the same one you had always known and the one you were about to begin to miss. You almost returned it too, the reflex being nearly too natural to bypass.

As he got up to hug you for the first time in a while, you began to speak. "I don't think we should be friends anymore," surely, if you were straightforward and neutral, this would be easier for the both of you?

"What?" His voice was small and shocked and soft. "What do you me-"

"I can't be friends with someone like you. You're a freak and I'm changing for the better." Your eyes began to gloss over. You felt dirty and cheap, using things that Eddie had told you during quiet nights over against him. How could the right thing feel so wrong?

"What are you saying," he began to laugh with a dry and quiet disbelief. Something must have been wrong, and in retrospect, Eddie would be able to see that, but for now, the sting of betrayal was enough for him to egg you on.

"You can't keep calling me, or talking to me, or even looking at me, Eddie," the tears were falling now, and your cheer jacket wasn't enough to shield you from that look in Eddie's eyes. It was one of pain and confusion and it was something you had never seen before. "I have a new life now."

And then his eyes changed and what you saw became worse. Frozen over, his eyes had become blank and lifeless, it was as if he couldn't recognise you anymore, and the truth was, you didn't recognise yourself either. But you needed to do this, to protect him.

"Fine. Fuck you," and so you left. You turned your back on Eddie and to him, you never looked back. You walked away all self-righteous and whatever and you broke his heart. Eddie Munson loved you and hated you. That's not true, Eddie Munson loves you, and he has to deal with the fact that you want nothing to do with him. For so long, he was overjoyed with just having your presence as platonic, but he should have prepared for not having it at all.

And you. Walking away with your back turned as if it wasn't harder than fighting those stupid demogorgons. Muffling your own sobs like you had when you were hiding with the kids in a random laboratory in Hawkins Middle School. Running faster to Steve's car once you had reached the Hawkins High Parking lot than you had when being chased by those special agents. Turning away from Eddie was the hardest thing you had ever done, but you had survived it, just barely.

You had made the right decision too. Closing the gate and shutting downs Hawkins Lab was one thing, and then the Russians re-opened the gate and brought out a fleshy nightmare to fight. Finally, it was all over.

The Government monitored you for a few more months, made you sign a massive NDA and transferred the largest sum of money that you had ever seen into your bank account. So you signed up for a job at the Family Video, covered your community college fees and bought a trailer in Forest Hills. You didn't mean to, but now you were living next to Eddie.

It had been years, it must be safe now to make amends. Eddie may not love you like you love him, but at least, you both could be amicable neighbours. You could see him putting out the trash and get a small and courteous smile. It wouldn't be like what you had before, but you could be content. So you baked him some cookies. His favourites had always been the brownie and chocolate chip chunk hybrid you made for his birthday. Your hand had a small burn and you cut yourself when you were cutting the chocolate, but you couldn't feel any of the pain when you saw him take the first bite of the cookie.

And so you did. You baked them and brought a warm batch over to Eddie's. You knocked after Wayne left and waited until a disgruntled Eddie opened the door. His hair was tied up in a bun and his eyes had circles and he wasn't wearing a shirt- he had definitely grown since the last time you had spoken.

"Hey," you started with a developing unease in your voice. How can you do this successfully? "I'm your new neighbour." You offered him the tray of cookies with a small smile as his eyes narrowed down into yours.

After years of ignorance and silence on your end, cookies were the solution. Bitterness and anger took the wheel and Eddie reached for tray and dumped them onto the porch. "You need to leave right now." His voice had hardened into something deep and furious and once again, you were taken back to the late December afternoon. But this time, Eddie noticed your foggy eyes, clouded over with a fresh onslaught of tears.

Your gaze was lowered to the cookies you had spent so long slaving over in the Hawkins heat. Crumbs were on your nice shoes and the chocolate was beginning to melt into the 'welcome home' mat. The trailer was a home for you. You kept falling into your thoughts, waiting for Eddie to slam the door in front of you, fuelled by his disappointment or his distaste or his detest, but it never came. Instead a calloused hand cradled your face.

You used to hold Eddie like this when he would cry, both hands holding up his face so that you could wipe the tears off, but Eddie had just realised that he had never done it back for you. He began to quietly hum and whisper, "sorry". His face had reformed into something less harsh, because under all the anger, he still missed you.

Once your eyes finally met, Eddie remembered what had happened between you, and his hands dropped. He shouldn't have said that or destroyed your cookies or held your face, but old habits die hard. Three or four years and Eddie still couldn't forget you. You cry once, and his whole resolve crumbled. You don't know about the ballads that he's written for you or campaigns in which you still make an appearance. You don't know that Eddie lied to Hellfire, saying he made you leave and you don't know that he moved Hellfire to Fridays to make sure that you could never come back without ditching cheer. You don't know how many times Eddie has thought about you in his arms, your face in his hands and you don't know about all the things he has done for you.

And now, you are so close, Eddie doesn't know what to do. You wipe your eyes. Your cheeks still burn from embarrassment and desire, you want him to hold you so delicately again.

"Can I come inside? I need to tell you about November of 1984." He opens the door wider to make space for you to enter. He needs to tell you that he's been in love with you since longer than that.

send me an ask if you want me to add onto this or make anything clear and reblog if you enjoyed this story! lots of love xxx

[atinylittlepain]

Apothecary - Chapter Two

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

everyone's got something to say about her, and Joel doesn't know what to make of it. when he returns the favor he owes her, he tries to get some answers up in the mountains and away from the wagging tongues of Jackson.

warnings | 18+ angst, mentions of death, spooky-ooky vibes, people being superstitious dickheads

a/n | thank you all for the love on the first part of this series! i just got so excited i couldn't help but write the second part :) keep letting me know what you think, my inbox is always open and i love to hear from you!

.................................

“My son had a cough since he was two years old. She cured it with whatever she keeps bubbling on that stove of hers.”

“I had a rash that just wouldn’t go away. She gave me a balm that cleared it right up. A godsend, really.”

“Wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t nursed me back to health with all those herbs and plants she tends to.” 

“She talks to animals. Calmed a bucking colt with a whisper– I saw it myself!”

“I heard that infected don’t even notice her. Just walk right past her. That ain’t human, if you ask me.”

“That cat of hers spies on people and brings all their secrets back to her. You can’t tell me that’s a normal cat, not with the way it stares at folks.”

“Some of the women say they’ve seen her out in the middle of the night, dancing naked in her backyard whenever it’s a full moon.”

“I don’t know about dancing naked, but I have seen some strange lights coming from her shop on my way home from the Tipsy Bison. Lord knows what she gets up to in there.”

“She curses men. Lures them up into the mountains and puts them under her spell. But they always end up dead.”

“Dead?”

“As a doornail. It ain’t a coincidence that any man that crosses paths with her seems to wind up with one really unlucky patrol shift. Luck’s got nothing to do with it, lemme tell you.” 

Even though Tommy told him to forget about it, Joel’s been doing a bit of recon, asking people around town about her, and every new anecdote only further confuses him. It seems like everyone’s got some sort of opinion about the resident witch.

It has shocked him, really, how openly folks call her that. Even the ones that speak highly of her. He had asked Ellie about what she had heard one day after she came home from her classes at the community school. She had shrugged, a knowing grin on her face

“Well, she sure helped me out, old man. But yeah, my friends say their moms call her a lot worse names than witch. Personally, I think it’s fucking cool. D’you think she can fly around on a broom like in the movies?” Joel had not been particularly amused by that question.

He’s not sure what to make of any of it. Some people call her a saint. Others call her the devil incarnate. But there does seem to be a general consensus that any man that sets her in his sights is doomed to meet a timely demise.

It’s been two weeks since he saw her at the town market, and he hasn’t even caught a glimpse of her since. According to Maria, she’s been busy with a flare-up of some sort of stomach bug in the community, making house calls and – Joel supposes – working her magic. 

He can’t figure out why he even cares. After all, he’s only met the woman once. But he can’t seem to shake her out of his thoughts, replaying their meeting over and over in his head, particularly the moment she had said Sarah’s name with such certainty.

He finds himself rolling all this over in his mind most nights, sitting out on his front porch as the summer sun turns to thick liquid over the mountains. It’s in such a position that he finally sees her again, approaching his house with a tired smile on her face.

“Hey there, stranger.” She walks up the first step to his porch, leaning against the wooden beam as she speaks. He can’t help the way his eyes trail over her, a pair of coveralls like the kind mechanics used to wear pulled distractingly taut around the swell of her hips and a cloth bag slung over her shoulder, the tops of jars and bottles peeking out of it. When his eyes finally slip back up to her face, the quirk of her eyebrows lets him know that she totally clocked him checking her out, and he has to clear his throat, swallowing his embarrassment before he responds.

“Um, hey– hi. I, uh, haven’t seen you around lately.” She tilts her head at him, smile simmering down to a crooked smirk.

“I’ve been a little busy with all the– y’know, vomiting and diarrhea around town. But I think folks are finally out of the woods now.” Joel has to wonder to himself how she can still manage to look pretty while talking about vomiting and diarrhea.

“How exactly do you help– with that?” Her smile broadens.

“For the stuff coming out the top end, peppermint oil mostly. Ginger is king, but I’ve only got so much of it cultivating at the shop. For the problem down below, you just gotta push fluids and tell them it’ll pass.” 

“Can I ask– how do you know this stuff?” 

“Most of what I know comes from my mom. She was a lady of the plants, knew just about everything about anything that grows.” Fondness laces through her words, a soft smile as she tells him this, and he finds himself mirroring her expression.

“Lady of the plants– that’s a new one to me.” 

“Well, it’s better than witch, right?” Joel’s smile falls, but she just laughs.

“So I take it you’ve heard the rumors about me?” He’s not sure how to respond, a thickness settling in his throat and ice prickling the back of his neck. His voice comes out a bit hoarse when he does finally answer.

“Heard a lot of things about you. Not really sure what to believe though.” Her smile screws up at that, eyes crinkling as she looks at him.

“Why don’t you just ask me what you’re wondering then? Get it straight from the source.” She crosses her arms over her chest, the unbuttoned snaps of her coveralls splaying open to reveal the edge of a white tank-top, the suggestion of cleavage drawing Joel’s eyes before he can help it. He swallows hard, eyes darting back up to hers.

“Is it– I mean– are you?”

“Am I what?” She wants to hear him say it, he can tell by the ghosting curve of her lips. The word feels silly coming out of his mouth.

“Are you a– a witch?” Her smile goes practically radioactive at that, big and bright as she throws her head back in a laugh. She looks back at him, her lips pursed, eyes narrowed.

“Oh yeah, certified. Got the black cat to prove it and everything.” As if on cue, Stevie jumps up onto the railing of the porch, making Joel jump in his seat. She stifles a giggle behind her hand, Stevie nuzzling against her arm that’s wrapped around the porch beam. Joel huffs.

“Look, it seems like everyone’s got something to say about you. But I’m not the kind of guy to buy into a bunch of bullshit rumors.” She hums at that.

“Oh, no? What kind of guy are you then, Joel?” 

“The kind that likes to work things out for himself.” 

“Is that what this is? You working me out?” 

“Sure am trying to.” She sucks her teeth, squinting at him.

“And?” Joel sighs.

“And– I’m thinking it’s gonna take me a while to reach any kind of conclusion.” She nods lightly at that, smiling at Stevie as scratches under the cat’s chin.

“Hmm, alright. You let me know when you reach your conclusion then.” A thick blink of silence falls between them, and Joel finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from hers, only breaking when she lets out a sigh.

“I didn’t just come over here to give you a hard time. Was actually hoping to cash in on that favor you owe me.” He sits up a little straighter at that, nodding.

“Alright, when did you wanna go out– I mean– not– go out– like– not like a–” She laughs, silencing his floundering. 

“I know what you meant. And I was thinking the end of this week? Do you have time on Friday?” 

“Uh-huh, yep. That’s my day off.” Her face falls.

“Oh, I don’t wanna take up your day off, I’m–”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m happy to help, really.” Her frown softens into a suggestion of a smile, and she nods.

“Well, alright. Thank you, Joel. You good to meet at the gates that morning?” 

“I’ll be there, darlin. Sounds like a plan.” She grins.

“Until then, Joel.” She turns, hopping down from the porch step, before glancing over her shoulder to look at him.

“Oh, and don’t worry. I’m not gonna curse you. Not yet at least.” It’s so unexpected, he ends up choking on an inhale, but his coughing doesn’t drown out the sound of her laugh as she slinks away from his house. He’s so busy watching her saunter off that he doesn’t notice the cat jumping down from the railing, startling him when she starts twining between his legs. Stevie looks up at him, yellow eyes unblinking, as if she’s expecting something from him. He tentatively leans forward, holding out his open hand which the cat sniffs at before nudging her head into his palm, a low purr vibrating through her body. 

“You gonna go tell her all my secrets, Stevie?” The cat looks up at him, head tilted. A little too human-like for Joel’s taste. She lets out a small mrrp, before going back to twining between his legs, sleek spine arching up into Joel’s hand. Then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she pads off down the steps of his porch and out into the night. 

…

“Rumor has it you’re helping a certain lady out with some work up in the mountains tomorrow.” Joel huffs at his brother’s cocked eyebrow and crooked smirk.  He takes a sharp swig of his drink before responding.

“Owe her a favor, that's all. And before you tell me I’m not gonna come back alive, I’ve already heard that from four other people this week.” That gets a laugh out of Tommy, his eyes glancing around the bar before focusing back on Joel. 

“Nah, you’ll come back alive. It’s the days after when they always end up dead.” 

“You serious?” Tommy shrugs.

“There’s been a couple of guys, sure. But if you ask me, that has more to do with the stories people believe than it does with her. What we believe, we create, brother. The mind is a powerful thing.” He punctuates his words with a tap of his fingers to his temple. Joel grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, wise ass. But you’re telling me there really have been men who’ve–”

“It’s all coincidence, Joel. Like I said, there have been a few guys who started chasing after her. Went up into the mountains with her, y’know, all romantic and shit. And then, well, it seems like every time, only a few days later, they wound up dead. But in every instance, it was a bad patrol shift that got them. S’just coincidence that it happened after they got with her.”

“How many coincidences?” Tommy sighs.

“Four. In the last four years or so.” Joel feels his brows lift at that.

“That’s a lot of fucking coincidences, Tommy.” Tommy shrugs.

“Look, folks always talk about how horrible it is that all these men died. And it is. But no one thinks to mention what that must have done to her. To like someone? Hell, maybe even love someone? And then not only have them taken away from you, but to then be blamed for it too? It’s fucking atrocious, man.” When Tommy finishes speaking, silence falls between them, Joel a bit stunned by the clear compassion Tommy speaks with about her.

“Why d’you even care? Why not join the crowd, huh?” Tommy frowns at that, twirling his liquor in his glass rather than looking at his brother.

“I didn’t tell you this– I mean, why would I? But, Maria had a pretty difficult pregnancy.” He takes a sharp inhale before continuing to speak.

“We weren’t sure if– if the baby– if we were gonna be ok. And she was there for us, through it all.” Joel can see the tears pooling in his brother’s eyes, glinting in the low light of the bar when he finally looks at him.

“I don’t know if we’d have our boy today if it hadn’t been for her. So yeah, I care about her. And I’ll side with her every time. And most folks will too, when push comes to shove. She’s done a lot for this community. But it’s easy to spread poison behind people’s backs. So that’s what they do.” Tommy sits back on his stool, sighing deeply.

“Suppose a lot of the men see her as a challenge, y’know? Steal a cursed kiss and live to tell the tale, or some bullshit like that. And the women see the men pining after her, and they don’t like that one bit. Either way, they talk, way more than they should.” Tommy throws back the last of his drink, wincing at the burn. Joel, meanwhile, is still trying to process everything his brother just told him.

“So should I tell the kid to start planning my funeral, or what?” Tommy laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah, I think you’re too much of a stubborn ass to let a rinky-dink curse sway you. Besides, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Joel squints at his brother.

“Why’s that?” 

“You said you’re just doing a favor for her. She might not even like you enough to curse you, brother.”

…

Joel doesn’t sleep at all that night. His mind works over what Tommy told him again and again, trying to reach some sort of conclusion about everything he’s learned, and coming up short every time. He shuffles out in the early morning light, eyes bleary as he nears the gate. She, however, is chipper as anything, smiling broadly when she sees him.

“Hey there, you ready to go?” He nods, grumbling out a quiet affirmation, and then they’re off.

Most of the morning is spent in silence, hiking up into the mountains. Joel knows that it’s not infected they have to worry about, not out here. But raiders are a whole other story, so he keeps a steady hand on his rifle slung over his shoulder, letting her lead them a few paces ahead of him. 

“You’re quiet this morning.” She glances at him over her shoulder as she speaks, eyebrow lifted.

“I’m thinking.” 

“About?” He huffs, stopping where he stands in the underbrush of the woods. When she realizes he’s no longer following, she turns back around, hands on her hips as she looks at him.

“I just– I wish you’d give me some straight answers here. I’ve heard something different about you from just about everyone in town– and I’m not sure if I believe any of it. Just– please.” Her brow is furrowed, eyes squinted at him as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“What do you want from me, Joel?” He swallows hard, eyes glancing around the thick trees before looking back at her.

“The truth– I want the truth.” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that.” He has to laugh out of frustration at this little game they’re playing, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a low curse before focusing back on her.

“Alright, I’ll be specific. All those men that died. A lot of folks around town are convinced that you had something to do with it. S’that true?” When she speaks, Joel’s taken aback by her tone, her usual lightness replaced by a steeled stoicism.

“I had nothing to do with that. Any of it. The only curse that was on those men was their own goddamn minds buying into the town bullshit.” He’s inclined to believe her, judging by her unwavering gaze and the sure tilt of her chin as she speaks, but there’s still more that he needs to know.

“But you are– different. Aren’t you?” That coaxes a smile out of her, and she steps a bit closer to him.

“Different.” She says the word like a challenge, and he nods, taking his own steps closer to her.

“Is that your conclusion, Joel?” Both of them have their arms crossed over their chests, and they now stand so close that their forearms lightly brush.

“Starting to think I ain’t ever gonna reach a conclusion about you, darlin.” Her eyes crinkle, smile threatening to crook into a full-blown grin.

“Would that be such a bad thing? No conclusion?” It’s like magnets, the way their faces tilt, subtle shifts toward one another until he can feel the light air of her exhale across his mouth. He hums, a low sound in his chest.

“I think I’ll live.” He can practically feel the stretch of her grin at his words.

“I think you will too.” It happens as easily as a tide rolling in, languid in the way their lips slip together. His hands find the sweep of her jaw, pulling her in deeper, her palms splaying over his chest. He’s a little surprised when she swipes her tongue over the curve of his bottom lip, coaxing him open and tangling even closer with him. A woman has never taken charge like this with him, and it’s making his head spin. When she does pull away, he’s only a little embarrassed by the way he chases after her lips, stuttering into some sort of composure when she grins at him.

“For the record, you’re not wrong.” Not entirely sure what she means, he frowns at her, shaking his head. She laughs.

“I am different, Joel.”

“That wasn’t just a lucky guess, was it? About– about Sarah?” Her eyes soften, features dropping into a sad understanding. She slides her palms up from his chest to twine behind his neck. 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

…

“This is lemon balm.” She glances over her shoulder at him from where she’s crouched down, thumbing at a cropping of large, waxy leaves. He’s learned the names of more plants today than he could ever remember, though he still nods when she shows him a new one like he has any clue what it is.

“What do you use that for?” 

“You dry it, and then you can brew tea with it. It’s calming– helps with sleep and stress. Or you can mix it into salve to treat cold sores. Though not many people in Jackson come to me with that problem.” She clips several leaves from the plant, carefully tucking them into her pack and slinging it over her shoulder as she stands back up. 

They’ve been out all day, moving through the woods as she collects various plant snippings, explaining each one to him, how to use it and what its use is. And between them, a silent understanding has settled, even though Joel hasn’t asked anymore questions about her. But he knows that Tommy was right. Whatever she is, she’s a good one.

“We oughta head back soon. Sun’s starting to set.” She nods, wiping her hands off on the front of her jeans, and they easily step into stride with one another. They spend most of the hike back in a comfortable silence. Joel finds himself wanting to say something, ask something more, but always hesitating, mind hazy from the heat of the day, and from the stamped memory of the kiss they shared. Even if it was cursed, he reckons that he wouldn’t mind that.

“Joel? I want to say thank you.” He glances at her walking alongside him, the quick-fading light casting syrupy shadows across her features. He has to blink a few times to keep himself from staring.

“No need for thanks. I was happy to repay the favor.” 

“No, that’s– that’s not what I meant. I mean– thank you for coming out today with me, I appreciate it. But– I wanted to thank you for– thinking for yourself– about me.” That makes him stop in his stride, turning to fully look at her as she does the same. They’ve just crested a hill, the gates of Jackson coming into view, and her eyes keep glancing back toward it, a nervous crease between her brows.

“It’s just– you’re right– I know everyone has something to say about me. And I guess I don’t have too many friends because of it. Most folks make up their minds about me before they even talk to me. So, thank you– for not doing that.” His chest twists at her words, the worried look scrunched across her face. He’d like to take the pain away that’s clear in her expression. And then, that tightness in his chest grows for a different reason, as he realizes that he’s already in far too deep with her. He has to clear his throat to shake away the thickening feeling, tentatively reaching his hand out to her, his fingers skating over the faint dip of her collarbone. He can see her breath catch at his touch, and he revels in it, letting his hand trail down her arm until their fingers are tangling together.

“You shouldn’t have to thank me for that. Whatever may or may not be true about you– no one deserves that. I just– why do you help them– when they treat you the way they do?” She sighs, squeezing his hand in hers, and giving a weak shrug of her shoulders.

“Because it’s what I’m good at. I always wanted to help people– and that’s what I get to do. Even if some of them are fucking dicks about it.” Her crassness catches him off guard, pulling a stuttering laugh from his chest as she grins. But she’s all seriousness again, clearing her throat, her brow pulling down.

“Suppose I should warn you now that they’ll talk about you too– if you stick around me. And I don’t blame you if you don’t want–” He’s heard enough, and does something entirely too bold by closing the distance between them to steal another kiss, her wide eyes meeting his when he pulls away.

“Don’t care what any of ‘em have to say about me, or about you. They can talk all they want, darlin.” He can feel the relief in her sigh. She nods, giving his hand one final squeeze before breaking away, continuing the walk back to town. 

When they get back inside the gates, she offers him a small smile, her hands fidgeting with the straps of her pack.

“Thank you again. I really appreciated your help.” 

“Like I said, it was no–”

“Well, well, well– what do we have here? Looks like she’s got Miller under her spell, boys!” The change in her demeanor is instant, face scrunching up as they both turn to see where the commentary is coming from. Joel recognizes the man, Mason, if he remembers right, and a small group of other guys he knows from past patrol meetings. They’ve all got a similar sneer across their faces, eyes zeroed in on her, and he has to fight the urge to step in front of her to get them to stop looking at her like that.

“Guess we better get another coffin ready, huh? Hate to break it to you, Miller. She may be pretty, but she ain’t nothing but bad news.” Joel’s fists clench at his sides, and as the men break into another howl of laughter, his feet start moving toward them before his brain can catch up. But she’s quick to step in front of him, hands pressing into his chest and eyes fierce.

“Don’t– it’s not worth it.” It’s immediate, the calm that washes over him with her words, though he still glares over her shoulder at the men, whose laughter has only escalated.

“Awww, she got you good, man! Hey, witchy-poo! What kinda magic you got working on Miller to have him so whipped?” And with that, Joel is ready to bash their heads in all over again, though she holds him back with her palms firm against the front of his shirt. 

“Joel, it’s fine. They’re harmless, really.” He glances at the men one more time before finally focusing back on her, huffing as he nods. She gives him what she can of a smile, worry still pressed between her brows. 

“I’ll see you soon, ok?” His hands flex at his sides, wanting more than anything to tuck her under his arm and walk off together, but he settles for another nod, and a whispered acquiescence. She’s gone in a blink, walking off to the hollering of the men behind her. Before he can do something stupid, Joel heads off in the opposite direction toward the Tipsy Bison. He needs a fucking drink.

…

Joel is nursing his second tumbler of whiskey when just about the last person he’d like to see sidles up next to him at the bar. 

“Miller.” Mason sits down on the stool next to him, but Joel keeps his eyes on his swirling glass. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry for giving you a hard time out there. But I’m trying to help you out.” Joel rests his elbows on the bar, glancing briefly at Mason.

“Don’t remember asking for your help, man.” Mason laughs, turning on his stool to fully face Joel, a stupid grin across his face.

“Well then you don’t know her as well as we all do. I meant what I said, y’know. She’s bad news.” Joel’s starting to feel that anger creeping up his throat, angling himself just slightly in Mason’s direction to get a good look at him.

“Son, I’ve heard enough stories this week to have a pretty good idea of just how full of shit you all are. I thought this was a community of decent people, really. But after being told one too many times about some ridiculous curse, I realize you’re nothing but fools and cowards.” Mason laughs again, and Joel’s a blink away from slapping the sound right out of his mouth. 

“I’m not talking about that bullshit curse.” Joel squints at him.

“Come again?” 

“That curse you’re referring to? I agree with you that it’s town nonsense. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” When Joel stays silent, Mason’s mouth stretches into a smile.

“She may not be sending men to their graves, but she ain’t so innocent either. See, she likes to meddle.”

“Meddle?” Mason nods.

“In other people’s business. Sure, she helps folks all the time. But that’s not all she’s doing in that shop of hers.” Joel huffs, getting tired of the way this man seems to be stringing him along.

“Talk plainly, son. It’s getting late.” Mason barks out a laugh, sliding off his stool before laying a hand on Joel’s shoulder, a squinted smile on his face.

“Why don’t you go see what she’s got cooking up in that kitchen of hers in the middle of the night. Because I can tell you right now, it ain’t fucking tea.”

[anurst]

Girl Bradshaw

Summary: a little peek into the early years of your life

Pairing(s): Jake Seresin x F! Bradshaw! Reader

Warning(s): mentions of deceased parents, death of a loved one, fighting, bradley being a dick, daddy issues,

A/n: thank you for all the support on the first part :,) glad you all liked it!

Part 2: Chick

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw

He was a man who was loved by all who met him. He was loved most of all by his family. His best friend, his brother from another mother, Pete, was his counterpart. Someone who'd always have his back, no matter what. His loving wife, Carole, was his high school sweetheart and the love of his life. She just like him was easy to love. She was bright, sweet, a constant ray of love and laughter. There was also their adorable son, Bradley. A boy who loved his dad more than anything. Most of time you'd find him clutching a mini F-14 Tomcat in his hands, a gift from his beloved dad. Everyone who met Nick loved him.

You never got the chance to meet him. Nick died 6 months after you were born. Bradley was 5 at the time. He had 5 years with him, while you had nothing. Bradley had memories, however few he remembered, with him. And you? Nothing. You know who he is, but you don't know him.

Maybe that was the start of the fall of your relationship with Bradley.

Despite never knowing your dad, Carole, always the good mother, showed you pictures of him, told you stories about him, let you watch the old videotapes that he was in.

Oh, how you loved those videotapes as a child. For hours, you'd lay in the living room, eyes glued to the TV that replayed videos of Nick. Some were of him with Carole, their undying love for one another as clear as day. Others were of moments with him and friends. Then there were some of Bradley, his first steps, preschool, birthdays, his little league games. There was only one of you and Nick.

It was the day you were born. Carole was asleep on the hospital bed with Bradley curled up against her side. You were laying in your hospital issued bassinet, your eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling. Nick, the loving father, pointed the camera down at you and cooed.

"Baby, you are beautiful. Just like your mama. You're smaller than your brother was when he born. You're like a baby chick! That's what I'll call you, baby chick. My chick." The camera shifts from you to Nick. He's smiling wide and his eyes are full of love. "I'll always protect you, Chick. I'll always love you."

You stopped watching the videotapes when you got into middle school. They were too much to watch, the heartache was all consuming. Pete around this time had filled in the void that Nick had left. When he wasn't on deployment, he was living in an apartment 10 minutes away from the Bradshaw house.

Although seeing you, Carole, and Bradley caused Pete to relive the worst event of his life, he stayed because of you. Whenever you'd get out of the school and you saw him, you'd smile wide and he'd see Nick. When you'd tell him a story about something that happened, your eyes would light up and he's feel his heart swell with love for you.

Carole never minded Pete stepping in as a father figure for you. He wasn't just Nick's best friend but her's as well. She was grateful that you had someone to look up. She didn't date since she felt that no one would ever live up to Nick, so Pete made life easier. Of course, he wasn't around every day, during those times you'd practically cling to Bradley.

It was late one night when you'd gotten up for some water. Half asleep, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes before stopping. You peeked around the corner to see your mom on the phone, her back turned to you.

"He's talking about joining the Naval Academy, Pete! Please! I can't," Carole let out a shaky breath, "I can't lose him too." Her shoulders were shaking with light sobs and you frowned. Turning around, you tried to walk as slowly as possible back to your room. The floorboard creaked underneath you and you stopped.

"Braidy?" Carole asked, her footsteps rushing towards you. Turning around, you pretended to rub your eyes and smiled at your mom.

"Just had to pee," you whispered. Carole bit her lip before she moved to wrap her arms around you. You let your head rest on her shoulder as you wrapped your arms around her. By this time, you were around the same height.

"I love you, Chick," she whispered softly. She removed her arms from around you and cradled your face. Tears started to pool in her eyes as she kissed your forehead.

"Mama? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. Just tired."

"Where is she!" Bradley yelled, his voice full of panic. The nurse jumped a little at the volume of his voice.

"R-Room 264."

Spitting out an apology, Bradley took off running. His heart was beating out of his chest and could feel bile start to rise in his throat. He stopped when he saw you squatting outside your mom's hospital room. Your body shook and your wails were muffled. "Braidy...?" Bradley whispered, immediately crouching down and wrapping you up in his arms.

You clung to your big brother as you continued to cry. "Bradley...Sh-She's gone..." you sobbed, your hands tightly gripping the back of Bradley's shirt.

"HE PULLED MY PAPERS BRAIDY!" Bradley yelled at you, his face red with anger and sweat starting to form on his forehead. You let out a small whimper at his voice and pushed your hair away from your face.

"I'M SURE HE HAS HIS REASONS, BRADLEY! JUST TALK TO HIM!"

Scoffing, Bradley shook his head and pointed a finger at you. "DID YOU DO THIS? DID YOU TELL HIM TO PULL MY PAPERS?" Shocked, you shook your head.

"NO! BRADLEY JUST TALK TO DAD!"

Silence filled the room as you both took in your own words. Shaking, you brought a hand up to cover your mouth. Tears spilled from your eyes as you wiped him.

"Dad?" Bradley scoffed, his voice full of venom. "That guy's dead to me. And, so are you."

[taglist: @potato-girl99981 @winterrebel04 @caitsymichelle13 @darhk-angel @madkill44 @cherrycola27 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @clockworkballerina@krismdavis @phantomxoxo]

[purpleyoonn]

enchanted

P R O L O G U E 

“I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you.”

summary: The realm under King Min’s rule had been under war for over. thirty years, a war within the inhuman species with origins no one knows. Your presence was brought into awareness when found by the king under the rubble of your home. You are plunged into a world you had only ever seen from the outside, and don’t know how long you can last.

genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, dragon au, 

pairing: Dragon King Yoongi x Human MC

status: ?

warnings: starts in the middle of war, violence, angst, death, supernatural creatures, more to come.

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

The river was freezing when you got up that morning, basket of cloths in hand to wash. It had been your chore for a couple of weeks now, ever since Mela’s body was found at the bottom of the hill. She had been working with you at the manor for a couple of years now, another “stray” taken in by Lord Ahn and his family. She also wasn’t the first to be found, others found at the same dip in the bottom of the hill.

You and a couple of the others had taken on her chores along with the ones you already had, meaning you barely got any sleep lately. Not to mention the nightmares you had. You and your friend Lila had been the ones to find her, body mangled from being pushed down the hill. When you had told the Lord of the manor, he just smiled and told you to get back to work.

It was nearly springtime, meaning the water was going to be getting warmer, and more of your chores would be done outside. You loved the spring, all the flowers blooming and the sounds of the woods to drown out the sound of your mind. Your thoughts were always loud, overthinking and replaying different memories. Your mind never seemed to shut off, always loud and all-encompassing.

You had a hard time keeping still, your mind and body needing to do something. That was why you liked working outside the house whenever you got the chance. Whenever you were inside, you had to be still, someone seen and not heard. That was normal for women, especially those who worked for Lord Ahn.

Mr. Ahn liked looking. His eyes always wandered when he was home. He only employed the girls in the manor, the men working outside. You had once been tasked with cleaning the upper portion of the manor, where the family resided, when you first started working to “pay for your stay”. He watched you the entire time, silent as he did.

You shook your head as you got out the soap from the bottom of the basket, rubbing against the washing board you had rested against the side of the river. You had to be quick, quiet as you worked. The woods were becoming increasingly dangerous over the past couple months. Stories of trolls and ghouls making their travels to the neighboring villages. You didn’t want to alert anyone or anything of your presence.

You had your own stories, your home destroyed by a horde of giants set loose, smashing everything they could. Your parents and sister had been crushed by one of their feet, running from the market. Which is what got you here to the manor, the Lord’s family “happily willing” to take you in.

You didn’t want to think that you could lose another home at the hands of the witches. The Queen had become angry with the kingdom, setting lose her minions on the land, killing and pillaging wherever they could. Reanimated bodies were their favorite thing. The ghouls seemed to be popping up all over the kingdom, and it seemed as though the King or his guards were doing nothing about it.

When you were in school, you remember learning about the Witches, how their Queen was angry with your King, some broken promise, and that since then, she had taken that anger on his realm. Your teacher had tried to drill into your head that your safety was only ensured if you remained silent, something that stuck with you, even to this day.

“Y/n!” You turned your head, seeing Taemin coming to a stop, leaning on his tree to catch his breath. “Are you almost done? Lord Ahn is wanting all of us to come back to the manor. He seems upset.” Your eyes widen in fear, scrambling to gather the half-washed clothes and washing board, getting to your feet.

“Do you have any idea what happened?” You asked your friend as both ran back up the hill and to the manor.

“No. All I heard was that Jeongmin can rushing out of his room with bruises all over her face.” You sigh out, knowing he could be mad at anything. Poor Jeongmin just had to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder if she refused him, even with you and the other girls telling her to go along with it for her own safety.

Lord Ahn was known for his anger; the entire village knew it. No one was to speak of it though, for fear of repercussions on their own families. The word ‘no’ was the one thing none of the servants could say to him, not if they wanted their life to remain in their bodies.

“Well, let’s hurry. We don’t want to give him any more reasons.” You breathe out, picking up your pace with a tight hold on the basket.

When you get to the manor and move through the kitchen, placing your basket on the floor by the door, you both rush to your position in line in the hall, right at the end where your faces could be seen, eyes on the floor.

“Now, it seems to me that some of you…” You listen for the uptick in tone, knowing that Lord Ahn was really upset about something now. “think you can have a relationship within my house.” Oh no…. now you know why Jeongmin was all bruised up. She confessed.

You wince as you could hear her whimper, your body tensing as footsteps move closer to where you were. You knew there had been a couple of relationships going on within the household, particularly the one with Taemin and Yujin. You hoped that they weren’t the relationship he was talking about.

“You all know the rules, that I don’t expect much when you come into my household.” Lord Ahn’s voice had become deeper, darker as he spoke making your breath hitch, trying not to move.

Lord Ahn was now almost in front of you, about to say something else when the sirens from the village square went off, announcing the presence of non-humans. You move forward, ready to run when Lord Ahn catches you, his hand on your chest, keeping you from moving.

“Now, now. Since I’m sure all of you have been keeping these… secrets from me, you can stay here. Keep the house in order, as I’m sure nothing is truly going on.” You gape at the man, watching his smile turn into a dark smirk as his gaze turns to you.

“Min, Jung, help my family to the carriage. Kim, younger Kim, gather all the materials necessary and put them in the boot.” His hand is still on your chest as he barks out the orders, watching from his peripheral as the men he called forward move to do as he said.

“Sir,” You bite out, “What about the women?”

“Well, why don’t you continue your chores?” He squeezed once, before moving away and down the hallway.

Turning around, you watch him, mouth open in shock, the siren still ringing throughout the village. Feeling a hand grasp onto your shoulder, you turn back around, seeing Hana pull you back. Her gaze was soft, knowing how the sirens make you feel.

“Let’s just hope that it’s nothing. Come with me, we can finish the laundry in the sink.” Hana helps you walk forward, everyone else moving back to their chores. Once in the kitchen you pick up the laundry basket form the floor, noticing that the cabinets and pantry have been cleaned out.

“Did they take all of the food?” You ask, concern dripping from your lips as you think about being locked in the house with no food.

“It appears so. But don’t worry, I don’t think they touched the servant’s quarters.” Hana reassures you. You sigh out, moving to the sink where Hana has gotten some water. You empty your basket again, moving the washing board into the sink and then soap bar.

You hear the siren again, this time closer to the manor, swearing you could almost hear some screams mixed in. You chose to follow Hana’s lead, hoping that she was right about everything. You go through the motions, scrubbing the sheets with the soap and brush.

A scream has you dropping the brush from your grasp, the wooden handle making a clang as it hits the floor.

“Stay here.” Hana holds her hand up at you, motioning you to stay where you were. You do so, heart beating fast as you hear another scream cry out. You choose not to listen, moving through the back of the kitchen and down the hall to the servant’s quarters.

From there you can see through the narrow windows used for light. There were people running everywhere, people being pushed to the ground and having chunks bitten out of them by gray, almost see-through creatures.

Ghouls, you thought, eyes widening in horror as you watch a couple ghouls begin to move towards the manor. You look through the room, trying to see if you could find anything to defend yourself with, trying to ignore the screams that came from within the manor.

If these really were ghouls you were dealing with, there was nothing you could do to save anyone.

You could feel your cheeks becoming wet, trying to find a way to get out of the servant’s quarters without going back into the manor, as you still look for something that could create fire. You begin to freak out, flashbacks to the giants and the screams of terror as you hear the screams of now moving closer to where you were.

However, it gets silent quickly, the only noise heard is the sound of your breathing. Holding your hand over your mouth, you try to listen for anything else, only hearing the sound of something dragging across the floor. The crackling of something in the walls also catches your attention. It becomes louder and louder until suddenly; you were on the ground.

Everything seemed to be moving too fast for your mind to catch up with. You couldn’t feel your legs, but you could move them, somewhat. You felt like you had a huge weight on you and you could feel heat licking at your skin. 

As your eyes begin to adjust, you could see the body of the ghoul who was still trying to get to you, and the fire that was now spreading over the rest of the manor, inching your direction.

Your wits come back to you; survival instincts kick in as a loud roar is heard with a gust of wind keeping the fire from reaching you. Despite that, you try all you can to move the pieces of the roof from anchoring your body to the wreckage of the manor before that ghoul can get to you.

It didn’t matter to you that he was also buried under the remnants of the roof, you needed to get away. You blinked hard, rapidly as you tried to remove your tears from obstructing your vision. Using all your might, you tried to push the roof off of you, grunting as you failed again and again.

Another loud roar had you scrambling even faster, trying with all your strength to get out from under the rubble. Before you could get your leg out, the heavy material was yanked off of you, a growl as your bruised legs were visible.

You look up in horror, only to see who you recognize at King Min staring down at you, his eyes red and his fangs visible as he looks at you. Your frozen in place, unable to move as his red eyes pierce your soul and keep you still.

It’s only a couple of seconds before the King lunges for you, making your close your eyes in fear. Arms wrapping around you and picking you up from the rest of the roof and walls of the servant’s quarters.

“Please...” You whimper, not knowing what the King was going to do with you, only for him to place a hand behind your head, pushing so your head was rested against the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

One little word has you blinking away even more tears, a slew of emotions moving through you as you take it in. Your finger gripping tight into his button up shirt, the buttons almost popping loose from how tightly you hold onto it.

King Min moves quickly, walking out of the rubble and into the trees, a clearing by the river coming into the view as he shifts, his wings breaking out from the back of his shirt, the rest of his shirt now loose in your grip as he begins to fly away, to a place unknown to you. You were only focused on what he had growled out when he picked you up.

“Mate.”

[thehollowwriter]

Summary: After the events of Ashes, Finn has an encounter with Blaze, who makes it his business to harass him. (Blaze also projects a lot). Word count: 1603

Warnings: Bullying, fatphobia, name calling, swearing, Blaze is really fucking mean, blood, violence, gore(???)

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Bait

Finn felt like he was spiralling. There was a hole in his heart, a pit in his stomach, a well of sadness that wouldn't go away.

His fight with Azul had been circling in his head for days. Every time he felt he might be over it, the memories sprang up once again as if they were brand new.

At first, Finn was simply hurt. He may have even shed a few tears. But then, after replaying the whole ordeal over and over in his mind, that sharp, fiery feeling of anger settled over him.

How dare Azul? How dare he, after everything Finn has done for him? Stuck with him through thick and thin, chased off his bullies, showered him in compliments, loved him with all his heart, helped him start his stupid lounge... only now, it seemed trivial. Worthless, in Azul's eyes.

The sadness and anger swirled together to create a damning mass of too much emotion. Finn was petty and, if he were to be honest with himself, mean.

Azul was trying to make it up to him. He at least seemed to regret what be said, but Finn wasn't having it. As Azul tried to fix things, Finn found himself talking before he could stop himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Sorry, Mister Ashengrotto, I'm afraid I have clubs with Malleus-senpai today. Oh, don't worry, I'll be sure to tell him to compliment you. Will that satisfy you? I'll even be quiet myself since what I have to say is worthless to you."

"Mister Ashengrotto, I don't have time for art galleries. Vil-senpai is helping me plan a diet. ...Yes, of course I need it. You made that quite clear."

He really wanted to go to that art gallery.

Every time Finn said "Mister Ashengrotto" instead of "Azul," "love"," "My love", "darling" and so on, Azul would flinch and go quiet.

An ugly part of Finn, deep down, took pleasure in that reaction.

The twins, caught in the middle of this whole debacle, flip-flopped between waiting to see what would happen and trying to to solve the issue.

It was a fruitless effort. Finn was unwilling to let things be fixed. He was too angry, hurt too deeply, to allow it.

This, of course, left him in a constant bad mood. If he were as powerful as Malleus, a thunderstorm would have descended upon the school.

Other students avoided him even more than usual, giving him a wide berth. Nobody wanted to risk passing him off further.

Well, nobody except one.

"There you are, pipsqueak."

The sound of that familiar posh, snobbish voice made Finn suck in a breath and tighten his grip on his books. He continued down the hall at a quick pace, ignoring his tormentor the best he could. He was not in the mood for this.

"Hey! I'm talking to you." A large, bony hand gripped his shoulder and forcefully turned him around until he faced a pair of bright yellow eyes.

"For a guy who acts so polite, you're really rude, you know." Said Blaze Dugal with a crooked grin. "You answer and look at someone when they're talking to you. It's basic manners."

He paused.

"Do you know basic manners? You grew up pretty wild."

Finn pried Blaze's hand off his shoulder and glared at his. "I'm afraid I'm not in the mood, Dugal. Go waste your time elsewhere."

"I'm afraid I'm not in the mood, Dugal. Go waste your time elsewhere." Blaze mocked with a laugh, his voice shrill. "Still trying to sound all fancy and clever, I see. All collected, even though your weird, cringy friendship with Azul is toast."

Finn narrowed his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Blaze scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Azul'a got his tentacles in a knot trying to do you favours left and right, and you're acting like a kicked puppy. Anyone with a brain can see it a mile away."

Finn's nostrils flared, but he decided not give Blaze the satisfaction of a response and stepped back to leave. However, he was stopped by the very unwelcome feeling of Blaze draping himself over him

"So, what caused trouble in paradise? What did he say? Did he finally let slip what a parasite you are? Tell you he doesn't actually need you for anything?"

Blaze would always bait Finn like this, hoping to get the reaction he wanted in some way or other.

"Keep spitballing, maybe after the next few hundred guesses you'll hit the target." Finn snapped, immediately failing at ignoring Blaze. He didn't have the patience to act all together.

"Oh, snappy today. So he did say something bad. Was I right, then? Did he finally tell you how little use you actually have?"

Bait. It's bait.

"No."

'"Really? Are you sure?" Blaze asked sweetly. "I wouldn't blame him if he did say that. What do you do, exactly? Gather information? Jade, Floyd, heck, all of you octavinelle freaks do that. Keep staff and customers in line? Anybody in their second year could do that. Take someone's form? Steal a voice? Potions can do that. That creep of a first year in your dorm can do that. Tell me, Finn, why does Azul even keep you around?"

The bait was dangling.

"I don't have to explain anything to you." Finn hissed.

Blaze sighed. "Ah, true. I get it. Really, I do. If I were you, I wouldn't want to think about why someone I admire so greatly even bothered to keep me around, either. Especially of my presence reminds me of the version of him he hates so much."

"Shut up!" Finn snarled, and a nearby window cracked.

Every single time he took that bait, like a stupid little fish.

Blaze pressed his forefingers together and then pressed them against his lips, smiling innocently.

"So that's what he said, then? Finally got honest about how all of this," He reached down and poked Finn's flabby, pudgy stomach for emphasis. "-is nothing but a reminder of everything he hated about himself?"

"I-"

"Oh!" Blaze pulled a face like he had a sudden revalation. "Maybe that's why he keeps you around. As a reminder of what he was. An encouragement to keep counting those calories. He must hate that gross, flabby body of yours."

"He doesn't."

'He doesn't.' Finn assured himself. 'He loves me. He loves me.'

"It must hurt, right? For someone you adore so much, someone you bend over backwards for, because really, Finn, you don't have a spine when it comes to Azul, to be so disgusted by you. For him to think you're ugly."

'No. Azul- Azul loves me. He wouldn't-"

A memory from that awful night sprang forth.

"Do you really think being fat makes you ugly?" Finn asked, his voice so quie Azul almost couldn't hear.

Azul hesitated.

'No, no, no, no. Azul wouldn't think that. Azul doesn't think that. Azul doesn't find him gross or disgusting.

Does he?

"Guess you two aren't as tight as you thought."

For someone with no claws or fangs to speak of, Blaze's grin was awfully predatory.

Finn stomped on his foot and elbowed in him the stomach and the drew back with a yelp. He stumbled back a few steps, angry at first, but then that grin returned, and he laughed.

"Guess I hit a nerve. You aren't gonna come and butcher me, are you?"

"You're not even worth the effort." Finn spat with as much venom as he could muster. "You won. Leave me alone and harass someone else."

"Come on now, that's no fun." Blaze drawled, closing the short distance between them once again and draping his arm over Finn's shoulder.

"You're my favourite person to mess with. That's the highest compliment you'll ever get from me, you know. There's not much about you deserving of compliments. Makes me wonder why Azul let's himself be seen interacting with you. You're a real blow to his reputation. I-"

Blaze was abruptly cut off by Finn suddenly turning his head and biting down on Blaze's arm as hard as possible.

Blaze screamed and frantically ripped his arm away, but that only made it worse.

Blood dripped down his arm onto the floor in thick rivulets, and the spot where his blazer, shirt, and a piece of flesh had been torn off was drenched red.

"Ow ow ow, what the fuck-"

As Blaze screeched in a mix of rage and pain, Finn spat out what was missing from about 3cm of Blaze's arm, and it hit the floor with a wet "splat". The taste of fabric, flesh, and blood was a terrible combination.

"Fuck, you shitty little parasite!" Blaze roared, his eyes bulging. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Finn simply sent a bloody smile his way, turned around, and began walking down the hallway.

"Hey! HEY! GET BACK HERE! I'M GONNA REPORT YOU FOR THIS YOU FUCKING PARASITIC WELP! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

Finn didn't respond. Blaze could complain all he liked (after a hospital visit, of course), but since this hallway had no cameras, he had no proof apart from a bite that could have come from anyone or anything. Finn made sure not to make it look like a circle.

Finn smiled to himself as he wandered to his music class, though Blaze's screams were all the music he needed.

He was finally feeling a bit better.

-End

..........................................

A/N: Ty so much for reading! I'm actually surprised at how mean I managed to make Blaze I'm usually not good at that sort of thing

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @am0nline @1dont-really-know

@kazumify @minteasketches @ramshacklerumble @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @the-banana-0verlord @skriblee-ksk @poisoned-pearls

@quartztwst

[plutoccult]

LET THE LIGHT IN

pairing: jean kirstein x female reader

description: the aftermath of the moment you and jean shared the night before had proven to be more awkward than you wanted it to be, but now you were determined to say how you feel this time around. if only jean would stop avoiding you like the plague, then it would be a whole lot easier for you.

word count: 3.6k

read part one here

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: i genuinely didn’t expect to get any notes when i posted three little words, and i honestly never thought of writing a continuation of it, so thank you to @spicytvna for suggesting it! you really got my brain cooking, and i’m very grateful! thank you for everyone you liked and reblogged it as well! it’s very much appreciated! i honestly struggled with the title as i didn’t want to use the same title just with “part two” on it, and since music is what flows my creativity, i decided to go with a song that i felt represented jean and the reader. shoutout to lana del rey for having a chokehold on me since middle school. you really are that bitch fr. sorry this took quite a bit to get to you guys, but i really wanted to make sure i was giving you all something great. enjoy!!!

neither you or jean could sleep after what happened that night. you were too in your head to finish writing to your father while jean was too embarrassed to say a word to connie about what happened. you were in the same boat the next morning when sasha tried asking if something happened between you two, but your erratic behavior scared her off, so she ran back to connie with no intel to report.

you couldn’t help but mentally beat yourself up over and over about the whole thing. why did you have to freeze up? why couldn’t you just… say how you feel? you knew you loved him, and you finally knew he loved you, but why couldn’t you help but be scared? you were always the kind of person who never wanted to say how you feel first, but when the chance came to where you could say it without rejection, you chicken out.

it replayed in your head on a loop. you got all worked up just by the very thought then would always curse yourself afterwards. you had to do something about it. you had to talk to jean. he had to know you felt the same way as he felt for you. there isn’t anything to be scared of anymore, or so you thought.

every time you saw jean, he always just so happened to be going in the opposite direction as you. whenever you tried to call out for him, he acted like he couldn’t hear you. it was easy to figure out he was ignoring you, and he was doing—in your opinion—quite an awful job at it.

it seemed as if he was just going to easily write off what happened and never speak to you again, but why? you wanted to ask why he can’t give you a chance to speak, but you had your chance the night he spilled his guts. you just weren’t able to spill yours. still, you were on a mission to talk to him someway, somehow. you would do whatever it takes.

as the days passed, you figured you had to find jean in a place where he couldn’t run. you hoped you could get some help from connie as sasha told you how connie (allegedly) said that he would love to finally make the pairing of you and jean happen and work something out. so, you prayed that sasha wasn’t lying to you and found the courage to knock on the door of jean and connie’s room, assuming jean would be somewhere else, continuing to avoid you.

like you expected, connie opened the door. he knew you would come to him, but he wasn’t expecting it not long after sasha relayed his message hardly an hour ago. “y/n!”

“hi. i hope i’m not intruding or anything.” you say politely. you’re almost tempted to peer your head to see if jean is hiding in the room somewhere, but you don’t want to ruin this.

“nah, i was just bumming.” connie assured you, which brought you some relief. “you’re here for jean, aren’t you?”

“isn’t it obvious?” you force a laugh. it was hard to act like you were okay with what happened when you nowhere near weren’t. you were sure jean probably brought your name to shame when he returned to his room that night, but things weren’t always what they seemed.

“um, hello? sash and i been waiting for one of you to stop being a wuss and confess for ages. we essentially knew jean would be the one to do it first, we just didn’t think… uh…” he struggled with his words towards the end. you know exactly what connie was going to say, so you said the words for him and let him off easy.

“that i wouldn’t be able to say it back?”

“yup, basically. but that’s okay, y/n. feelings are scary, i get that.” connie said. “that’s why i’m here to help you properly declare your feelings for jean, and i have the best way to do it.”

“you do?” you raised an eyebrow, feeling unsure about what his idea of the “best” is.

“yeah, i’m feeling like picking a bunch of flowers, maybe an impromptu musical number in front of everyone—” connie began to list what you thought were a bunch of terrible, terrible ideas. this is not what you expected when sasha said connie would help you. it was horrendous, and you had to put a stop to it.

“um, connie, i’m not sure that’s a good idea—” your words were interrupted by a familiar voice, one you could recognize without hesitation. you turn around quickly, it’s exactly who you hoped and prayed to see for days now. finally. “jean!”

jean froze in his tracks as you and connie fall silent and share a look. he’s at a loss for words, unsure how to get himself out of this situation, except for one idea; run.

you didn’t even have a second to think as connie did what you would’ve done for you aka run after him. you couldn’t even believe what was happening right now. all you wanted was a way to fix things with jean, and while he finally entered your presence once more, he bolted as quickly as he arrived. at least the sight of connie apprehending jean and snatching his room key was somewhat entertaining to watch.

“you’re coming with me, buddy!” connie yelled as he had his hold on jean, practically threatening to yank out his arm socket as he dragged him across the floor.

“no!” jean whined, fighting for his life. it was such a childish thing, you thought, hearing him act like this. they argued back and forth like bickering siblings until connie finally got jean back to their room door, and all you could do was stand and watch.

“why not?!”

“b-because!”

“that’s not a reason!”

“because i don’t want to!”

your eyes met connie’s as he threw jean into their room. he was one to be chaotic, but this seemed like a whole new level for you. “hey, y/n, remember that idea i had? well, i have an even better one.”

“what is it?” you ask nervously before connie pushed you into the room with jean, tripping backwards over jean’s leg and falling straight to your ass quicker than you could blink.

“neither of you are leaving until you talk your feelings out. later!” connie said then slammed the door in both of your faces, leaving the two of you speechless.

you quickly get to your feet and reach for the doorknob, realizing it won’t budge on bit. connie locked the door and was the only one with the key. that sneaky son of a bitch locked you two in a room without any escape. well, unless you wanted to jump out a window.

“oh… my… god…” you say to yourself, hoping for jean to say something to you, maybe propose a way on how to get out of here, but he didn’t say a word, he didn’t even dare to look you in the eye, and you couldn’t stand it.

“aren’t you going to say something?” your question comes out desperate. “this is torture, jean!”

“ha, you’re one to talk!” jean scoffed, taking you by surprise. you couldn’t help but wonder what changed his mind so drastically between a few nights ago and now. you know what you didn’t wasn’t the best, but you were trying to make it right, and he wasn’t giving you a chance whatsoever. it was, like you said, torture. perhaps the greatest torture of all, in fact.

“really? this is how you’re going to act?” you ask in disbelief.

“yes, y/n, it is because i’m so embarrassed that even just being in the same room as you makes me wanna rip my heart out.” he said harshly.

you’re left speechless by his words. you wanted to say he didn’t mean it, but you know he did. you embarrassed him. you toyed with his poor heart without meaning to. yes, you did love him, but it almost felt like you were being crucified just for being scared to say it out loud, and you refused to be crucified any longer. whether jean still had feelings for you or not, you couldn’t stand to live like this.

as you failed to respond, you snapped back to reality as you realize jean is trying to force the bedroom window open. you noticed the window earlier, but you seriously didn’t think he would jump to such extreme measures as you didn’t consider it for yourself. from this level, it wouldn’t be easy climbing out either.

“what the hell are you doing?” you question him.

“getting out of here.” jean replied coldly as he focused on opening the window, which he did successfully after a bit of brute force. you really couldn’t believe this.

“you’re gonna climb out a fucking window just to get away from me?” you ask with sadness in your voice. “where’s the jean kirstein that i loved so much?”

jean froze. loved? you knew what you meant when you said it, but jean’s mind raced a mile a minute as he tried figuring out what way you meant those words. it was something he never thought he’d hear, but it only made him wish he wasn’t an impatient little asshole who gave you no chance to say what you wanted to when you were ready for it.

he slowly turned around to meet your gaze, noticing your eyes beginning to well with tears. god, he felt so awful now. “what?”

“you wanna get out of here? i’ll get you out of here. i’m in love with you. i love you. i was too afraid to say it that night, but i’m not afraid to say it now.” you say without faltering, even if this was nowhere near how you wanted this to go. “clearly i messed it all up and you would rather die than breathe in my direction, so there. we said how we felt, now you can get what you want.”

getting out here wasn’t what he wanted. it was those goddamn three little words he craved more than he ever wished for freedom and luxury. that was what he wanted. he knew it all came out so angrily from your lips, but that part didn’t matter to him right now. you loved him. you loved jean kirstein. that alone could mend any bone that dared to break or wash away any bad thought in his brain. you weren’t the one that messed this up, it was him. it was time jean tried to make it right, but he was too late. timing had a thing for never being on either of your sides.

before jean could speak and make this all better, you knock on the door for connie’s attention. “connie? you can let us out now. all feelings have been made very, very clear.”

connie, who could hear everything from the other side of the door, did as you wished and set you free. you look at jean one last time before walking out, the look of teardrops streaming down your face bound to haunt him. he immediately stood up and went after you, grabbing you by the shoulder to stop you. you turn around and face him, wiping away your tears in an attempt to appear strong.

“y/n, i’m sorry.” jean said quickly. there was so much more he could say, but that seemed like the best start, if you gave him the chance to speak, although he knew he didn’t deserve it.

“no, it’s okay.” you insist. “we’re even now, i suppose.”

jean didn’t want to get “even”, but he felt like he had no choice but to watch you walk away. you didn’t mean to hurt each other like this, but you both made it seem so easy. even if the execution came out so simple, the effects were like needles prodding your hearts. you had to find a way to heal your broken hearts somehow.

when you walked back to your room, you found sasha on her way out, assuming she was going to sneak herself some a secret snack before dinnertime. she was shocked to find you coming back like this, and without either of you needing to say a word, she wrapped her arms around you and held you tightly. you melted into her embrace, letting out all the cries you held back from before.

“come on, you should lay down.” sasha said softly. “all that crying is gonna tire you out.”

“okay.” you sniffle. “thank you.”

•••

sasha always knew you so well. it was the best part of being roommates. you fell asleep not long after going into your shared room, and she left you be as she assumed you really needed it. come dinnertime, sasha gently nudged you awake as food was always important in her eyes.

“y/n, hey.” she whispered. “it’s time for dinner. you coming?”

you groan as you open and rub your eyes. dinnertime? you’d rather have loneliness as an appetizer and shame as the main course. you couldn’t face jean so soon. besides, you knew jean always sat with connie and sasha, so where would that leave you? you were better off alone right now. “no, i’d rather not.”

“are you sure? i think some food could heal those wounds.” sasha said, trying her best to convince you to come to the mess hall. you could sense some ulterior motives, one involving a certain horse-faced soldier, so you brushed her off and insisted on not tagging along.

“i just want some time alone, sasha.” you say, pulling your blanket closer to you.

sasha decided to let you off the hook, not wanting to press you too much, but she couldn’t help but worry about you a little. “okay. maybe get some fresh air, alright? for my sake?”

“yeah, okay, i will.” you agree, thinking you won’t really do so, but the thought makes you think it could be a good idea after all.

“good. now… food awaits me.” sasha said before swiftly existing the room, assuming she would run to dinner like her life depended on it. like any other day, her life quite literally did depend on it. for you, however, some alone time was what you needed, but maybe some fresh air will do you some good.

forcing yourself out of bed, you leave the room so you could head to your usual spot, one you’ve shared with friends before in the past, but for tonight, it was meant to be all yours. you always enjoyed sitting on a set of steps on nights like these, with the stars twinkling and moon shining as if it were just for you. the night breeze made you feel safe, like a sign that everything would be okay with time, but when?

unbeknownst to you, when sasha entered the mess hall, jean had expected you to walk in with her. he and connie asked where you were, and sasha—almost acting like your own personal cupid—informed the two about your whereabouts. jean knew this was his opportunity to turn this all around, or at the very least make it known how terrible he felt about the way he acted. but he couldn’t just do it with words, he had to show it too, and jean knew exactly where you could be right now.

funnily enough, the second you were getting ready to go back to your room and lay down for the rest of the night, you found jean standing many feet behind you with a tray of food in one hand and some flowers in the other. you froze in your tracks, shocked to see him here, but also unsure what was going to happen.

“i know sasha said you wanted to be alone, but i, um… thought you’d still be hungry.” he said shyly, a stark contrast compared to earlier.

“and the flowers?” you asked.

“i picked them myself. they’re, uh, apology flowers.” jean replied, handing the flowers to you, which you hesitantly accepted. they were your favorite, of course he knew which ones to pick out. “can i sit? please?”

“um, yeah, sure. i’ll take that food off your hands too.” you say. it was impossible to say no to food, but if jean was going to improve his past behavior, then it’s best you take this chance and hear him out.

you sit back down at the steps and jean followed. he handed you the tray of food, consisting of a potato and some bread, which was all he managed to sneak out successfully. you set the tray down next to you and picked apart at the bread, using it as an excuse to not speak just yet. you’d let him do the talking first.

“i really am sorry, y/n.” he started off with. “i was such an asshole to you. i should’ve been more patient and understanding.”

you quit eating your food and looked at him with a puzzled look on your face. “what? no, i should’ve been honest with you about how i felt. i hurt your feelings, jean.”

“and i hurt yours. like you said earlier, we’re even, right?” jean questioned with a shrug.

“i didn’t want to get even.” you frowned. “i would’ve done it all differently. i wouldn’t have made such a confession so angrily like that.”

and why shouldn’t you? shouldn’t you be able to do what you had planned before it all turned disastrous? jean was more than willing to let you. earlier wasn’t enough. he wanted to hear more on your feelings. yelling in his face how you’re in love with him like it pissed you off wasn’t what he initially wanted. he wanted to hear you say it with that soft voice only so few people hear. just for him and him alone.

“why not have a redo?” he proposed, which you thought was downright crazy. “say how you feel, y/n. in the way you wanted to say it.”

your cheeks were burning red. it seemed like such a good idea in your head until jean actually encouraged it. you were so complicated like that; preferring the thought rather than the actual thing. you had to get better with that, but you didn’t seem ready for that just yet. “wow, this bread really hits different today—”

“y/n.” jean cut you off.

“hey, what happened to being more patient and understanding?” you pouted.

“and what happened to being honest about how you feel?” he was right. why did he have to be right? you hated that so much, but you knew you shouldn’t.

“it’s just…” you sigh. “it feels safer staying a thought in my head rather than spoken out loud.”

even saying that out loud made you uncomfortable. you tried to shy away from jean, but he wouldn’t let you. you couldn’t let yourself shy away either.

“it’s okay, it’s just me. you know how i feel.” he tried to assure you, but you couldn’t help but feel a little unsure. it was that small part in the back of your head that wondered what if his feelings had changed within a matter of days. it was silly, but your mind loved to mess with you in such heinous ways.

“do i?”

“i love you, y/n. that hasn’t changed.” that was exactly what you needed to hear. you couldn’t be afraid of the rejection when he laid his heart out on the line for you once more. it was time you took this head first without fear. no hesitating, no freezing up, no stumbling with your words, none of it. you’re doing this.

“jean, i love you so much it scares the shit out of me.” you say with tears in your eyes. “you’re my best friend, ya know? i can’t lose you. i don’t want either of us to run away. it would kill me.”

jean began to feel himself starting to cry too. this was all he wanted in the greatest way possible, just you saying you loved him with true, genuine meaning. it was what he wished for in the first place, but it was well worth the wait. “i won’t run away. not from this, not from you.”

“i won’t either.” you reply.

“good.” he smiled softly. a gentle stroke of your hair by jean made you want to fold over instantly. he used his thumb to wipe away your tears, which made your heart want to melt.

“is this the part where you kiss me now?” you ask breathlessly.

“do you want me to?” jean asked, waiting for you to say yes.

“yes.” you hurriedly nod.

“that’s all you had to say.” he said before gently placing a kiss on your lips. you liked that he treated you so carefully, like a porcelain doll. you wrap your arms around him as the kiss made your head feel hazy. you both felt comfortable with the feeling.

when you parted away, jean found himself lost in your glowing eyes. your smile made his heart skip a beat and he couldn’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside. he’d be far more than willing to burn if it meant always staying close to you.

“so, how’s that bread—” he said to break the silence. a bad way to do it, you thought as you immediately laughed and shyly buried your head in his shoulder. he pulled himself away and lifted your chin so you’d face him, kissing you once more.

you and jean spent the rest of that night side by side, at some point finding yourselves laid out on the grass as you watched the stars, hoping to find constellations from the ground. you held each other close without wanting to let go, and neither of you intended to. now that those three little words were said, you wouldn’t dare shy away from the light.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[sloanesallow]

The Call of the Void | Chapter 5

Shy girl meets distracted boy. Chaos ensues. This is my "canon" retelling of Siobhan Sloane and Sebastian Sallow's story. (full synopsis here. Chapter summary: A perfectly normal trip to Hogsmeade. Maybe. Definitely not. 4.5k words. Chapter warnings: Awkward Sebastian POV rambling, a lot of blushing, cringy one-liners and oh yeah, a troll. [Ao3] | [Wattpad] [PREVIOUS] | [NEXT]

V: H O G S M E A D E

The following afternoon, Sebastian waits in the Bell Tower as instructed, dressed appropriately with a full belly and a (mostly) rested mind. He can’t help but pace, counting the steps he takes along the marble from one side of the hall to the other, desperately trying to quiet the anxious thoughts bouncing around in his head. 

Despite Professor Weasley’s assurance that Sloane knows about the trip to Hogsmeade, the girl didn’t spare Sebastian one glance that morning in Potions, even when his cauldron accidentally bubbled over and Garreth teased him about being worse than the first years. Not that he can fault her avoidance, considering the outcome of their duel. He’s been replaying what happened in Hecat’s classroom over and over, switching between guilt and annoyance for feeling guilty. But he can’t get Sloane’s stormcloud eyes out of his head, leaving him more perplexed and frustrated than ever. There is no reason for him to be so hung up on someone he barely knows, yet the worrying persists.

“Erm…hello.”

What time is it? Sebastian restlessly taps his fingers against his thigh, wondering what he’ll tell Professor Weasley if Sloane doesn’t show up. Knowing his luck, the Headmistress will blame him and add several more days to his already robust detention schedule. How embarrassing is it to be stood up by the new girl?

“Sebastian Sallow?”

He snaps his head up and spins around to see Sloane standing in front of him with the same distressed expression she’s held since the sorting ceremony. He realizes this is the first time he’s heard her speak, her voice a quiet timbre with just the slightest hint of an accent he can’t quite place. He hides his surprise behind a lopsided grin.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

The crease between Sloane’s eyebrows deepens as she offers no response. Sebastian clears his throat and briefly considers giving up now before he makes an ass of himself again. He’s always appreciated a good challenge, but casting a corporeal Patronus might be easier than breaking through her emotional walls. The silence stretches on as he takes in her appearance, smirking when he notices they are wearing the same dark grey jumper.

“I already have a twin, you know,” he attempts humor again, gesturing to her outfit.

Sloane’s eyes widen and she looks down, nervously plucking at the hem. “Should I change?”

“What?” Sebastian’s concern for the poor girl increases—does she not understand sarcasm? “No, no,” he assures with a strained laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Professor Weasley told me you need supplies, including a new wand,” he keeps talking before the tension turns awkward—if it hasn’t already. “Will this really be your first foray into Hogsmeade?”

“Yes,” she answers, one more word than he expected.

“Well, I shall endeavor to be the best of guides, then,” he says, jovially swinging his arm. Sebastian doesn’t mean to sound so facetious, but he’s never struggled this badly with talking to another person. “Shall we?”

Outside, he continues to watch Sloane in his peripheral, the two silent as they make their way across the castle grounds. What can he say to bring her out of her shell? He briefly considers saying nothing the entire trip to Hogsmeade, but even Sebastian knows it’s impossible for him to stay quiet for long. Kind—that’s what Professor Weasley expects, and so that is what he will strive to be.  

It’s surprisingly busy for the middle of a school day, her gaze turning upward as several students on brooms zip by, headed for the pitch. Even with Headmaster Black’s cancelation, many still wish to practice and play, even if it’s just a friendly skirmish.

“Do you like Quidditch?” he asks before he can remember she is muggleborn and likely has no idea what Quidditch is. On cue, Sloane’s eyebrows crease together in confusion. “Right. Sorry. Well, I won’t bore you with an explanation now, or we’ll never make it to Hogsmeade. Are you at least enjoying learning how to fly?”

Sloane’s cheeks flush with color as she quickly shakes her head. “No.”

“No?” Sebastian repeats, surprised by her quick and firm objection. He isn’t sure he knows any witch or wizard that doesn’t enjoy flying. It’s arguably one of the best parts of having magic. “You aren’t afraid of heights, are you?”

He glances to see her face an even brighter shade of pink. The temptation to tease has him biting the inside of his cheek. Sebastian tugs at his collar and then rolls up his sleeves, cursing Ominis for encouraging (demanding) he wear something presentable when it’s unseasonably warm. As they continue through the north exit, he tries a different approach.

“We share quite a lot of classes, don’t we?” he muses, seven to be exact. On Thursdays, they are practically attached at the hip from Transfiguration in the morning, to Arithmancy and Herbology in the afternoon.

Sloane slowly nods. “Yes.”

“Did you finish the numerology assignment?”

“Yes.”

“What about the essay for Professor Garlick?”

“Yes,” she says again and he can’t stop himself.

“Do you know more than thirteen words?”

Sloane falters, and Sebastian is quick to backpedal. “Sorry, that—” he sighs, wishing he could swallow his own tongue. “That came out wrong. What I mean is…you’re awfully shy, aren’t you?”

“Not by choice,” she replies, solemnly.

It’s rare for Sebastian to be at a loss for words, once again frustrated by how difficult basic conversation with Sloane is proving to be. “Sorry.”

She acknowledges his apology with a wry smile, the silence returning as they walk along the cobblestone. He flicks his eyes back and forth between her and the path until she catches him looking. To his surprise, she asks him a question.

“Do you know why Professor Weasley asked you to accompany me?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer right away, too distracted by the Irish lilt he finally picks up on. It’s barely there, recognizable only when she has more to say—he’ll have to hear it again to be sure. He shrugs, deciding to skirt around the truth. “Likely to keep me out of detention.”

“Oh?”

“Not the most favorable record I keep,” he explains. “It’s never anything nefarious, not really. But I’ve been known to break curfew, and… occasionally sneak into the Restricted Section, or the kitchens.”

“The kitchens?”

“Of course!” Sebastian laughs. “It’s always a smart idea to keep a snack in your pocket, for emergencies.” He pulls a handkerchief-wrapped cookie from his pocket, picking off a piece of lint before breaking it in half. “Want some?”

Sloane hesitates, as if he’s handing her poison, but eventually takes the offering. “Thank you.”

“Have you explored the castle since your arrival?” he asks next, wiping his face of any crumbs as he finishes his half of the cookie.

“Not much,” she answers before elaborating. “I worry about getting lost.”

“I’ve been here five years and I’m still getting turned around by the moving staircases,” he chuckles. “There’s lots of mysteries to discover, if you’ve the time.”

“Like what?”  

Sebastian smirks. “Can’t go around telling you all my secrets, now can I?”

The way she blushes and looks away is endearing—he’s never known anyone so easily flustered. Well, except for Ominis, who is usually annoyed by Sebastian’s antics. At least Sloane isn’t frowning anymore. He studies her profile while she nibbles on her share of the cookie, grey eyes focused on the thick line of trees to their left.

“The Forbidden Forest,” he explains. “Out of bounds to all students.”

Sloane takes a moment to observe the cluster of warning signs placed by the Headmaster and Ministry. “I can see why,” she replies. “What are…Acromantula?”

“Giant spiders.”

“Giant what?”

“Spiders,” Sebastian repeats.

She shudders. “There’s a forest of giant spiders so close to the school?”

“Not only Acromantula,” he says, matter-of-fact. “There are ashwinders, dubogs, thornbacks, trolls, werewolves, a Centaur colony, blood-sucking bugbears, bowtruckles, manticores…not to mention all the poachers…oh, and at least one giant, so I hear—”

He stops when he notices Sloane’s horrified expression. “It’s not all bad…” he tries to reassure. “I’ve yet to spot one, but there are unicorns in the forest, too.”

“You’ve been inside the forest?” she questions, alarmed.

“It’s an excellent location to test one’s defensive abilities,” he shrugs. “I’ve always preferred practicality. Why teach us defensive magic if we aren’t allowed to use it?”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.”

Sebastian does a double take, surprised by her comment. She isn’t vilifying his actions, but there’s something in her tone that has his gut churning almost guility.

You sound like Ominis, is what he almost says. “Perhaps.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as they walk on, Hogsmeade now visible beyond the rolling hills and ruins. It isn’t until a carriage passes by that he speaks up again.

“Thestrals,” he murmurs.

“You can see them?” Sloane asks.

“Unfortunately. I assume Professor Fig told you why?”

When she nods, he’s curious but sympathetic. Some forget the price paid to witness such a creature, but he knows all too well the pain associated with the gift. Perhaps this is why he recognizes the melancholy in her—it is the same sadness he fights every day to suppress.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can offer.

“So am I.”

Wanting nothing more than to chase the somber mood away before it can truly settle in, Sebastian forces a smile. “We’ll need to get you a butterbeer after we’re finished with your errands. Do you like sweets?” Sloane nods again and this time he doesn’t have to fake his reaction. “Good.”

Hogsmeade is bustling with activity, but the chaos is comforting to Sebastian as he takes in the familiar sights and sounds. Sloane looks on in wonder, her wide eyes darting from one building to the next. He softly laughs, wondering if he looked equally awestruck when he first visited the village.

“Careful,” he calls out, grabbing her by the elbow to pull her out of the oncoming path of a few rowdy children. “I’ll be facing a fate worse than detention if you end up trampled.”

Sloane is close enough that he finds himself silently counting the freckles dotting her nose until she pulls away with a renewed blush. His amusement lingers as he gestures toward the entrance to Tomes & Scrolls.

“I’ll be right with you!” Mr. Brown, the proprietor, calls from the back room. Sebastian leisurely browses while Sloane stands nearby, her hands neatly folded as if she’s afraid to touch anything.

“Have you read these?” he asks, fingers tracing over the book spines in the small collection of muggle works. Sloane takes a cautious step closer, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Jane Austen,” she quietly admits, and for the first time, there is a tiny, genuine smile on her lips. The sight momentarily distracts Sebastian, but he eventually pulls one of the books from the shelf—Mansfield Park. Sloane’s smile brightens. “My favorite.”

He smirks, filing the bit of information away with everything else he’s learned about her today. Happiness suits her, makes her golden.

“Ahem!” Mr. Brown interrupts the moment, and Sebastian glances over to see the man glaring in his direction. “I hope you plan on paying for that, Mr. Sallow.”

Sebastian sheepishly digs through his pockets for some coin as he approaches the counter. He hands over a few Knuts, but when Mr. Brown motions for more, he places the last Sickle he has into the man’s hand. 

“Thank you,” he chirps, grinning as he turns his attention to Sloane. “You must be the new fifth year. Professor Weasley already sent an owl with the list of books and spellcraft you need.”

Mr. Brown swishes his wand, summoning several books and scrolls from the shelves into a neat pile for her to take. “This should be everything you need for a successful school year, plus a few extra readings to assist with filling in the gaps in your education.”

Sloane inspects the stack with some apprehension, and Sebastian is about to offer some assistance when she pulls out her wand, concentrating as she carefully casts Evanesco, disappearing the supplies away.

She sighs, visibly relieved by the simple achievement. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Mr. Brown cheerfully replies, his demeanor hardening ever so slightly as he looks at Sebastian again. “Mr. Sallow.”         

Outside, he offers Sloane some encouragement as she continues to twist the wand in her palm. “Good work casting Evanesco, much easier than lugging a pile of books around.”

“It’s the first spell Professor Fig taught me,” she says, nervously. “Though, I’m not always successful in bringing things back.”

“It’ll be easier once you have your own wand,” he suggests, leading the way to their next stop. “Ollivanders will have what you need.”

She hesitates by the door, looking back at him as if to question why he isn’t joining her. “Choosing a wand—rather, a wanding choosing you—is best done in private. I wouldn’t want to be a distraction,” he explains with a coy wink. “In the meantime, I can visit Pippins and the Magic Neep for you, and we can rendevous in the town square. How does that sound?”

“Alright,” Sloane softly agrees before disappearing into the shop.

At first, Mr. Pippins doesn’t believe Sebastian when he says he’s there to collect Sloane’s supplies, only relenting after taking an exuberantly long time to review his ledger for Professor Weasley’s notice. Mr. Teasdale is far more trusting, adding in a few extra dittany seeds for good measure. By the time he makes his way to the town square, Sloane is already there, patiently standing near the large oak tree, head tilted up as she tracks the flight of owls departing the post office. He’s pleased to see her so relaxed, flashing a grin when she notices his arrival.

“So? How’d it go?” he greets. She reveals her new wand, and Sebastian can immediately sense something in her aura has shifted. He inspects the wand—the wood is light in color and looks as if it was plucked from a forest floor. “English Oak?”

“Mr. Ollivander said it has a unicorn hair core and that it was very fitting for a Hufflepuff,” she shrugs a little. “I’m not sure what that means.”

“He’s right,” Sebastian says. “You have a loyal wand. It means another witch or wizard would struggle to use it. You’ll be a force to be reckoned with in no time.”

Sloane smiles and he’s about to suggest they make their way to The Three Broomsticks when a loud rumbling echoes in the distance. Sebastian quickly brandishes his wand, his eyes going wide when a troll suddenly leaps into the town square. He instinctively pulls Sloane from the troll’s path of destruction, adrenaline heating the blood rushing through his veins. A Ministry official and a few shopkeepers attack the troll, redirecting the beast’s attention so it can be lured away from the village. He barely has enough time to catch Sloane’s panicked expression when there’s another crash as a second troll appears from the rubble of a destroyed building.

Sebastian is casting spells before he can fully process the reality of what is happening. A troll in Hogsmeade? It is no ordinary troll, that much he can tell by its glowing red eyes and armor. The beast lunges forward and Sebastian is certain he’s about to have his brain clubbed out of his skull when he sees the faint shimmer of a protective shield. He snaps his gaze to Sloane, the power radiating off of her unrecognizable, almost frightening. She’d managed a wordless shield charm yesterday as well, but this one was stronger. There’s no time for him to ask questions, however, as the troll swings at them again, undeterred.

“Bombarda!” he shouts, diving out of the way as the troll attempts to knock him to the ground.

Sebastian doesn’t like to admit that he’s scared, but this isn’t the kind of fight he’s used to. It’s one thing to duel, or pluck off ankle-biter spiders with sparks, but a troll is a completely different wheelhouse. He shoots off several more firey spells until there’s a sudden chill that sends a shiver down his spine. It’s similar to the sensation he felt the day before when Sloane’s magic slipped past his defenses and seized his heart. He looks over just in time to witness her cast, dark blue tendrils wrapping around the troll’s head before she topples it over with the flick of her wrist. She lifts her arm in a wide arc, effortlessly suspending the hideous creature in midair, its body crashing into the cobblestone a few seconds later.

When the troll ceases to move, Sebastian stares at Sloane, flabbergasted by what he’s just witnessed. Who the hell is this girl? A muggleborn farmgirl who can defeat a troll like a seasoned auror, but not him in a practice duel? He hurries over to where she’s standing in a haze, her body swaying as she struggles to catch her breath. The Ministry official—Officer Singer—returns as well, equally bewildered by the sight of the unconscious troll. 

“Sloane?” He’s cautious, momentarily worried she might fling him into the afterlife next. “Are you alright?” He touches her arm but immediately recoils with a hiss—she’s hot to the touch, whatever magic she possesses burning his palm. Sebastian flexes his hand and shakes off the pain. “How—how in Merlin’s name did you do that?”

“I—” Sloane’s eyes are wide and wild, shaking her head as she stares at her hands. Was she not in control of herself just now? “I don’t know.”

Officer Singer’s eyes narrow in suspicion, but she’s quickly distracted by the distressed villagers to probe any further. Sebastian takes the opportunity to make a swift exit, ignoring the searing heat that continues to radiate off of Sloane as he grasps her arm.

“Let’s go.”

His heart is still racing as they leave the town square, mind swirling with a never-ending list of questions. Sloane’s stoicism is the only thing that prevents him from blurting them out. He aimlessly leads her through the village, many of the inhabitants already flocking to see what the ruckus was all about. He’s wondering how Professor Weasley will find a way to hold him responsible for putting the new girl in danger when Sloane stops mid-stride.

“What is it?”

Sebastian follows her line of sight to where a familiar man is slipping into a nearby alley. What is Victor Rookwood doing in Hogsmeade? It’s no secret that he is the leader of the dark wizard gangs terrorizing the Highlands, and yet, he’s seemingly protected from prosecution by blood status and the galleons he uses to line Ministry officials’ pockets. Sebastian’s curiosity gets the better of him, though he’s relieved when Sloane moves with him to eavesdrop. He huddles close—she’s still warm—and peers over her shoulder.

Rookwood isn’t alone. His second in command, Theophilus Harlow, stands beside another recognizable figure. The leader of the goblin rebellion.  

“Ranrock,” Sebastian growls, balling his hands into fists to temper the flare of anger. 

The conversation isn’t audible, but it doesn’t take a genius to deduce their presence is related to the troll attack, and that something worse is imminent. Ranrock paces as he speaks, and when his head snaps up to where Sebastian and Sloane are standing, she sucks in a sharp breath and ducks out of view. He refrains from commenting on the vice grip of her hand on his forearm as they rush away from the scene. At the end of the street, they glance back to see Rookwood and Harlow exiting the alley, shouting at them to stop.

“This way,” Sebastian directs, silently praying that the men aren’t stupid enough to attack two students in broad daylight, in Hogsmeade. They hastily take refuge inside The Three Broomsticks, where Sirona Ryan greets them with a curious look, the two taking a seat at the end of the counter.

“Sallow? I trust you’ve been staying out of trouble?” she questions, eyebrow raised. “What’s this I hear about a troll attacking the town square?”

“News travels fast, I see,” Sebastian mumbles, shaking his head as if to dismiss the conversation before it can start. Best not to raise suspicions—he doesn’t think Sloane will appreciate the attention, even if she just single-handedly took down a troll. “I’ve simply been escorting my new friend here on her first trip to Hogsmeade.”

“I was wondering why I haven’t seen your face before,” Sirona muses, looking at Sloane. She snaps her head up when she realizes she’s being spoken to. 

“It’s…my first time here,” she says, and Sebastian frowns at the return of her meek, quiet voice. In the span of a few hours, he’s managed to see her blossom and wilt, experience her warmth, only to see it snuffed out.

Sirona is keen enough not to press for more details. “Well then, welcome!” she grins, flashing Sebastian a skeptical glance as she summons two tankards with the swish of her wand. “Butterbeers on me.”

“Thank you,” Sloane politely replies.

“My pleasure,” Sirona nods, keeping a careful watch on the two as they sip their drinks. “Are you sure—”

Whatever question Sirona is about to ask is interrupted as the doors to the pub slam open, Rookwood and Harlow striding in with determination. She rounds the counter to halt their intrusion, and Sebastian can’t help but notice the way Sloane’s grip tightens around her tankard of butterbeer. 

“You two look lost,” Sirona quips. “Would you like directions to the Hog’s Head?”

Rookwood snarls, unamused by her sarcasm. Still, he gestures for Harlow to hold back as the other man reaches for his wand. “No need, Theophilus,” he sneers, moving his hand to point at Sloane instead. “I’m sure the girl will come with us, quietly.”

Sebastian doesn’t hesitate to stand when Sloane does, hiding his alarm—she doesn’t mean to surrender, does she? And what does Rookwood want with Sloane in the first place? Her magic? It’s the only reasonable answer he can come up with at the moment, but it does little to calm his nerves.

When Rookwood dares to advance, Sirona steps to block him, wand in hand. Sebastian does the same, several other patrons standing with their wands at the ready. He senses the spark of Sloane’s magic come to life, wondering if anyone else can feel it too.

The standoff lasts long enough for Rookwood to realize he’s outnumbered. They are slow to depart, his glare lingering on Sloane until Sirona shoves the door shut in their faces. It’s only then that Sloane slumps, eyes closed as she releases a shaky breath.

“I think it’s best you two head back to the castle,” Sirona suggests, more concerned than ever. “Before Rookwood and Harlow decide to come back with reinforcements.”

Sebastian doesn’t protest but patiently waits until Sloane silently signals that she’s ready to leave. For what feels like the hundredth time that day, he is at a loss for words. Anything he could say, any question he thinks to ask just doesn’t seem appropriate, not now, not when Sloane is so visibly shaken by the day’s events.

“Sloane?” It takes a moment for her to glance his way, a crease in her brow he wants to make disappear. Her eyes are glazed over with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t exactly the trip to Hogsmeade I anticipated.”

“It isn’t your fault,” she says with a slight shake of her head.

“It isn’t yours, either.”

She doesn’t look convinced and he has to wonder all over again what she isn’t telling him. Not that he has the right to know, not when they’ve barely known each other for more than a few days if not hours. Her eyes flick back to the ground as they walk the rest of the way back to Hogwarts in silence.

They arrive at the Great Hall in time for dinner, and it looks like Sloane is finally about to say something when Poppy Sweeting comes running up, grasping her friend by the shoulders.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re alright!” she cries out in relief. “Is it true there was a troll attack in Hogsmeade? We were all so worried about you!”

Poppy spares Sebastian a glance that is too quick to discern as either friendly or menacing before the pint-sized girl drags Sloane away to the safety of the Hufflepuff table. He contemplates calling it an early night when his stomach rudely reminds him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

“You look like shite, Sallow,” Imelda greets as Sebastian plops down next to her at the Slytherin table. She scoots to create more distance.

Across from him, Ominis pauses mid-sip of his soup to agree. “You smell it, too. Did you go to Hogsmeade or the Bog?”

“Fuck off,” Sebastian grumbles, rolling his eyes as he hungrily bites into a buttered roll. He can worry about bathing later.

“What happened to your hand?” Imelda asks, unbothered by his foul language.

Sebastian looks at his palm, having almost forgotten the burn of Sloane’s magic. His skin his red and slightly blistered as if he held it over an open flame. “Nothing a little trip to the infirmary can’t fix.”

Ominis scoffs, and Sebastian prepares himself for the inevitable lecture. He loves his friend like a brother, but he’s gotten fairly good at tuning him out and instead glances over Ominis’ shoulder to where Sloane is sitting with her housemates, Poppy and Lenora excitedly yapping as she listens on. He can’t help but feel concerned, dissatisfied with how their first outing ended. Aside from the danger, he rather enjoyed his time with her but doubts Sloane would be willing to do so again. Besides, he has more important things to worry about than a mysterious girl with mysterious powers and a cute—

“Are you even listening to me?” Ominis snaps, breaking Sebastian from his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Oh, for the love of—” Ominis hesitates, his expression slowly shifting from annoyance to something akin to amused curiosity.

“What is it?” Sebastian asks, unsure if he would be alarmed by his friend’s demeanor.

Ominis shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes and is about to return to his mean when he dares to look across the hall again. This time, Sloane’s gaze meets his and he chances a small smile.

She smiles back.

Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated 💛

[heartshapedconchas]

everlong

chapter 1: patrol | ellie williams | 

summary — You knew Ellie Williams. You weren't close with her by any means, but you knew her. You knew that she had been dating Dina for 5 months when you arrived, and you also knew that you were fairly interested in her. One night after a day of patrol together, the two of you talk during a get-together. And not just about the normal trivial things you'd say every now and then to break the almost comfortable silence during patrols. You actually talked.

pairing — ellie williams x reader

warnings — femme-based reader, slight violence? reader is a lesbian, dina & ellie are dating (she doesn’t cheat dw)

word count — 1.8k

author’s note — Hello Hello, I have not written since about middle school so i’m so sorry if this is just horribly written (　ﾟдﾟ) Also I apologize if there are any mistakes/inconsistencies or anything like that. I was raised by an immigrant who’s English wasn’t perfect when he had/taught me so mine isn’t perfect either! So much for Eng being my first language LOL.

7:15 AM. The bright red numbers from your shitty alarm clock burned into your eyes as you decided to actually open them and make an attempt to wake up and start your day. You didn’t just wake up now though, you had been awake for the past hour or so; listening to the sound of Jackson slowly coming to life. Your body is still on its usual sleep-wake cycle from traveling on your own. Before you came across a few people and were welcomed into this community, your sleep wasn’t exactly a priority. Sleep was a luxury, you only got a few hours of sleep so you naturally woke up early even though you didn’t exactly need to. Which of course, was miserable but unfixable so far.

Deciding to actually function, you sit up with a sigh; and internally groan at the feeling of the frigid air compared to the warmth of your bed sheets. “Fuck that,” you mumble to yourself, and wrap one of the blankets around you and stand up. After dressing yourself in the appropriate kind of clothing for the mid-December weather, which was beautiful but fucking miserable, you head out to start your day.

Ellie’s coming with you on your patrol today, which wouldn’t be the first time. You two weren’t usually paired up, but you remember her from a few of your first non-group patrols. Actual conversation never really occurred between the two of you, you said hello when meeting up and all that shit; and talked about how to take out the infected that were in the area. But it was never more than that. Not a big deal though, it didn’t make a huge difference to you. Although, a part of you longed for more. Just a little bit more, even if she just asked you how you were feeling that day or if you had any plans. One time during one of your very first patrols you attempted to shoot and ride at the same time; which evidently failed as you got knocked off by a runner. Ellie took care of the infected that had knocked you off, but she had pulled you to safety before doing that. She was grabbing you by the arm, yanking you behind her. After that, for some reason, you couldn’t stop thinking about her grabbing you. Her touching you. You replayed that moment in your head over and over again, even after arriving back in Jackson that day.

But Ellie had been with Dina for 5 months at that point. You had just gotten there, you didn’t already want to tarnish your image with the idea that you’re going after a taken woman. That would fucking suck. That and the fact that it's just plain wrong. So you just took those feelings and shoved them deep down inside you so they would never see the light of day.                                          

“Hey {name}, you signing in? I grabbed Lady from her stable for you already! ” someone else getting ready for a patrol said as they saw you. “Oh, thank you! And uh yeah, just waiting for Ellie. Have you seen her, she's usually the first one here?”

Almost as if on cue, Ellie walked in. Her face was slightly red, and it looked as if she was frowning; her eyebrows furrowed as she mumbled something to herself that you couldn't hear. “Maybe she’s not a morning person,” you thought to yourself, “maybe we have that in common. God, I hope it doesn’t affect her attitude on this patrol, I really don’t feel like dealing with that shit right now.”

You gave her a small wave and a slight smile, and she gave you a nod of acknowledgment as she grabbed Shimmer from her stable.

“You ready? This shouldn’t take too long, this area never really has any infected.” She handed you a map of the route since you’ve never been on it before, and she didn’t want to deal with you getting lost along the way.

As you saddled your horse you took a quick glance over the route, “Hm, yep. Seems easy enough!”

She gave you a small smile, finally. “Alright, let's go then. I just wanna get it done quickly.” And with that, you mounted your horses and headed for the gate to leave.

 The ride was quiet for the most part, aside from a few comments about the weather or a random animal one of you saw. It was really pretty too, you were kinda upset you had never come along on this route before. No infected to take out and good scenery? It was perfect, completely serene.

There were, however, buildings you had to clear of course. And this one seemed rather large and broken down, it almost looked like some sort of gas station or store like that. All of the entrances were blocked by something so you had to figure out a different point of entry.

“Hey,” Ellie motioned towards an open window with her head, “over here. I’ll boost you up and you can help me get in.”

You silently nodded and jumped off Lady, patting her on the side once before jogging over to said window.

She bends down, links her hands together, and nods up towards the opening, “Okay, up you go.”

Stepping onto her hands, she pushes upwards and you’re able to grab onto the very edge of the window. “Fuck, I think I need a little bit more help—it’s a little too high for me to reach.”

Another touch. This time she grabbed onto your leg to help boost you up more. It wasn’t your lower leg though, it was like—The directly below your ass leg area.

Your breath hitched and you were finally up through the window; standing on what you assumed was some sort of storage unit. After helping Ellie up, you turn on your flashlight and start looking around. There wasn’t much really, you found a few extra bullets and some supplies. Plus an old corpse, which wasn’t too pleasant of course.

“So..” Ellie suddenly interrupted the comfortable silence that you two usually experienced during your patrols, “you coming to that party at the church tonight?” Oh. Oh. That's more than the usual small talk.

“Ah, yeah actually. I planned on at least stopping by if I wasn’t too tired. Why? Did you get ditched by Dina?” You said with a slight laugh.

Ellie bit her lip, almost as if that was partially true, “Mn no, was just wondering.” she shrugged and turned to open another door to see if the room was clear. You raised an eyebrow at her before turning to do the same and see if your room was clear.

It was definitely not clear. As soon as you creaked open the door, a clicker rushed out at you. You stumbled back, grabbing your gun from your leg holster and pointing it at its fungi-overtaken head. But you couldn’t aim steady, so much was happening so fast and you were shaken from being jumped by a fucking clicker.

“{reader}, watch out!” Ellie screamed as she ran towards you and the clicker, who was on top of you now. You were barely able to keep it away from your face, its mouth biting down on air as it failed to reach your skin; loud screeches disorienting you even more.

“Fucking— get it off!” Jesus christ this thing was fucking strong. You weren't weak but you’d have a hard time if you were rushed suddenly like this. Ellie grabbed the clicker off of you and shot it once in the head, and it fell to the floor beside you limply.

“{reader} , {reader} are you okay? You’re not bit are you?!” she said panicked, her voice urgent and unstable; and she kneeled down in front of you so you were face to face. “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine.” but you winced. Your face felt..wet? Reaching up to your left cheek you touched where it felt damp, and when your hand drew back you found your fingertips smeared with blood. Were you bit? Maybe you don’t feel it when it happens, and that's why there’s always that dramatic moment in the cheesy old zombie apocalypse movies where the side character realizes they’ve been bit later on.

“Shit, it’s just a scratch but you’re bleeding pretty heavy,” she paused for a second, “I have stuff in my bag for that, you’ll be fine.” She shrugged her backpack off and rummaged around in it before finding a package of first aid supplies. She grabbed cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide before she began dousing them in the liquid.

“Alright this is gonna sting a bit.” she leaned in close and started cleaning your cheek. You know how when you would fall and hurt your knee when you were a kid? And your parents would pull out the rubbing alcohol and tell you it wasn’t gonna hurt at all. But it actually ended up burning really badly? That’s what it felt like, the stinging making you flinch and almost whine.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” she looked at you with sympathy and continued cleaning, apologizing sweetly every time you would wince or groan. A minute later she was done, and she threw the used cotton balls to the side. “Alright, you’re all done. Feel better?” She got up after pausing to stare at you for merely a second and grabbed her backpack from the floor. “You okay to continue? I wanna get through this as quickly as possible now, I don't want that happening again.” She laughed a little, before reaching out her hand to help you get up.

The two of you finished the patrol, not finding any other infected aside from a few runners that you took down easily.  It started snowing at some point while you were scavenging for supplies in some small building and hurried out of there before it would get any worse. She didn’t ask any more questions as she did before on your way back through the route, she was quiet and almost nervous. She’d glance at you every few minutes or so, and just as quickly as she would look she would turn away from you.

The entire trip back home, you dreaded that party. Pulling your horses into the stable, Ellie hesitated before finally speaking for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

“So uh… you said you are going to the party tonight, right?” She looked almost hopeful as if she’d be disappointed if you said no.

“Oh, yeah!” You smiled, a bit too awkward for your own liking, “Uh.. see you there?”

She smiled and nodded, before handing Shimmer off to the stable handler. As you watched her walk away, you felt that same anxiety bubble up in your stomach again. The same anxiety you felt when you first saw the girl before you were informed that she was in a committed relationship. It almost made you feel sick to your stomach, it was that kind of excited anxiety that made you so giddy you could jump up and down and scream. But you couldn't. "Man I'm delusional" you mumbled to yourself as you followed Ellie's actions and handed Lady off, "She's just being friendly. No need to get excited."

No need to get excited.

Right?

[solarswonderland]

dear hanbin

pairing: gn!reader x s.hanbin

wc: 0.5k

genre: fluff, highschool au

warnings: nothing really, just hopeless kids in love

summary: writing a love letter to him

a/n: ive never written anything like this before, I'm actually pretty proud of it. please lmk if it was alright 😓😓

*y.i: your initials

you were always a pen-and-paper person.

you didn't like typing down reminders or to-do lists, you preferred writing them down. there was just something so special about writing to you. probably the way you'd have to shake your pen occasionally because you ran out of ink. or the satisfaction you gain when you scratch out a completed task.

which is probably why you're standing in front of sung hanbin's locker, holding a carefully sealed envelope, decorated with hearts and small stickers you found stuffed deep in your desk drawers.

sung hanbin was truly not real, you thought. there was no way that man was real. he was just too good to be true. the adorable smile, the way he helps everyone around him, how he never got mad, how generous, smart, and nice he is. not to mention, he is incredibly handsome as well. it's no joke, everyone was in love with him. which is one reason you were always too scared to ever confess.

but if there was one thing you were confident in, it was your writing. you figured, since you can't form proper sentences in front of him, why not pen down your thoughts in the form of a letter instead? and that's exactly what you did.

you made sure no one was watching you and slipped the envelope into his locker. you breathed a sigh of relief and made you way to your next class.

after you were gone, hanbin made his way to his locker after basketball practice. he opened it and was startled to see a blue-colored envelope fall out. he grabbed it off the floor and opened it. he thought it might have been mistakenly placed in his locker, but instead was surprised when he read the first two words.

dear hanbin,

it was addressed to him after all. although he was tired and sweaty from practice, he was curious. he continued reading the letter.

dear hanbin,

my heart is racing with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, there are so many words i've been wanting to say to you for years, and i finally have the chance.

from the moment i met you in middle school, when you lent me your pencil because i forgot mine, i've liked you. who knows, maybe its love?

your smile lights up my darkest days, and you have never once failed to make me laugh. every interaction, no matter how small or big, is etched into my memory, replaying over and over again like a broken record. i've admired your kindness, your intelligence, and the way you effortlessly make everyone around you feel at ease.

i want you to know that my feelings for you have not faded with time, if anything, they've grown stronger.

i understand that this letter might come as a surprise, and let's be honest, life's unpredictable. but i couldn't hold back my feelings any longer than i already have. whether fate leads us down a path of togetherness or friendship, i just needed you to know the truth that has been in my heart for so long.

no matter what your response may be, i'll respect it. no matter where life takes us, know that you'll always hold a special place in my heart.

with love,

y.i ♡

he smiled to himself as he read it. just as he was closing the letter after re-reading it over and over again, he saw some text in the back which made him laugh.

do you like me?

□ yes □ no

no pressure, you don't have to tick anything right now :)

sorry that's kinda creepy isn't it

i should probably stop writing...

he grabbed a pen and ticked the 'yes' option, quietly giggling to himself.

© solarswonderland 2023

[mae-gi-writes]

It’s (just so) awkward | jungkook - part three

No way. We’re too different and he’s so—so black and white. A straight-up yes-or-no kind of guy. And I’m not.”

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

———-

You had been momentarily blinded. A bit distracted.

That was the only reasonable explanation for you feeling as though you had a middle school crush on your high school friend. It should be the only reasonable explanation. There was nothing else that could explain it and you were glad to leave it at that.

That didn’t mean that his words went by unnoticed. That night after your small ice cream escapade had you turning and tossing in bed as you replayed Jungkook’s over and over again in your head like a broken cassette tape. He had every right to be mad at you, after all, for dissing his other good friend. Sara hadn’t done anything but be kind to you. You were the mean one, the asshole.

You couldn’t help it.

Which was why you made it a must to stay away as much as normally possible. And of course, Jungkook noticed. What did he not? It was as clear as day that you were preoccupying yourself on purpose just so that you wouldn’t have to accidentally bump into him or her on campus, ensuring that you knew his timetable by heart so that you could take another transportation slot.

You managed to keep up that small charade, until the Inter-College Sports Olympics came along.

Every university had to take part in the Sports Olympics without fail and since Jungkook had been a naturally good basketball player, had been recruited in playing for the team, along with Changbin and a few other boys from your cohort. You’d had no choice but to accompany a whiny Yoona and an excited Jimin to the games, and maneuvered through the horde of people to get to your assigned seats.

You were busy rustling through your bag for a tissue — your nose was running, no thanks to that stupidly cold weather — when you accidentally bumped into an elbow.

Turning, you started to apologize when the stranger just smiled at you and said, “don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”

“Yeah sorry,” you felt bad for him, he seemed crammed in this tiny seat, “it’s always like this. I don’t understand what’s the big deal with these games.”

“To be honest, neither do I,” the stranger shook his head and grinned. He was gorgeous, you noticed, with a beautifully sculpted nose and dark lashes that framed his brown eyes, full lips that would make any girl jealous, “my name’s Taehyung. I’m majoring in engineering.”

Taehyung, you found, had come all the way from his tiny countryside town in hopes of making it big for the sake of his dying mother who had been attained by cancer last summer. When you’d tried to stumble through a series of condolences, he’d merely shook his head and brushed it off, saying that it was now part of his life and that there was nothing to feel sorry for.

“It’s something that just comes and goes, right?” He shrugged and you wondered whether he was just trying to pretend he was fine, wondered whether he locked himself behind closed doors to cry his heart out, “anyway, is there anyone you’re here for?”

To be honest, you weren’t focusing on the game at all. Rather, what the mysterious young man had to say seemed to be much more interesting, which was how you found yourself deep in discussion until Yoona’s firm grip on your arm brought you back to reality.

“He’s got it! He’s got the ball!”

Indeed, as you squinted to find Jungkook, you spotted the said dark-haired man practically flying through the court, the ball as if made to fit in his palm, before he twisted and soared, tossing it perfectly so that it gently slid into the net. Perfect.

The crowds broke into applause and cheers. You cried out his name and next to you, Taehyung chuckled as he clapped, “you know this guy?”

“We’re close friends since high school.”

The first opening match of the Sports Olympics came to an end with your university winning by twenty points. The crowd erupted with yells and cheers as they swarmed onto the court, players getting bombarded with attention and amidst it all, Sara going over to Jungkook with a grin so wide that you had to look away, for fear of your heart suddenly breaking in two.

“I’m going to wait outside by the car,” you mumble out to Yoona and slipped through the throng of people before she could even call out your name.

The air was crisp and cold outside, a good contrast to the heat permeating your skin. You breathed in, chest aching with some kind of unknown emotion as your palms fisted at your sides.

It was a weird feeling, the one that seemed to spread through your chest like a flame that wouldn’t die down no matter how much logic you poured over it in hopes of getting it to die down.

It licked and burned and hurt. And as you pressed your back against the cool surface of Jimin’s car, you wondered whether there was something that was seriously wrong with you.

This was Jungkook, and Sara was good for him. He deserved that much happiness.

So why couldn’t you just be happy for him?

”Y/N, there you are.”

Freezing, your eyes flew up to see none other than a dishevelled Jungkook still in his basketball jersey, sweat dotting his forehead and lips parted in a soft pucker, flushed with heat.

For a minute, you could only stare at him.

“What—“ the words blocked in your throat, “what are you doing here?”

He did that little nose scrunch that made his face turn decades younger, “I’m allergic to crowded places.”

“right.” You chuckled, “How could I forget?”

He stepped closer to you before leaning against the same vehicle, a soft sigh falling from his lips at the action.

“You played well,” you said in the comfortable silence, “thought you hated contact sports.”

“I do hate contact sports. There are so many germs on that basketball court,” he shuddered with a grimace, “but I had no choice. They didn’t have any players.”

“What a nice sense of duty you have.”

He pulled out his tongue at you in retaliation and you laughed, head thrown back as your eyes scrunched up at the night sky. Jungkook laughed along with you, his gaze holding an expression you couldn’t quite place which made you ask, “What?”

“I haven’t seen you laugh like this in a while,” he said bluntly, “it’s nice.”

“Ah,” that was true. It had been a rough few weeks of trying to come to terms with this newfound feeling about your best friend hat wouldn’t leave you alone. Jungkook had absolutely no idea how wrecked you were for him.

“About our conversation,” Jungkook suddenly spoke up, “you remember, when we spoke about Sara?”

You looked up at him, “yes.”

“Did I hurt your feelings?”

It was no use to lie. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” A pause. Then, “what did I say that hurt your feelings?”

“It was more how you said it. And to be honest, it was partly my fault, I was being mean—“

It was then that you noticed how close he was, so close you felt the warmth of his breath hit your skin and saw the small cracks in his lips. Your eyes flitted up to his, only to see him already gazing back at you with some sort of tenderness that made your insides quiver. Why was he looking at you like that?

“Jungkook?” You murmured out in the silence that fell, admiring the way his moles scattered across his face like stars, “what—“

“There you are!”

Both of you sprung apart like guilty teenagers, not quick enough to have escaped Jimin’s eyes as he stood before the car, “we were looking all over for you!” He didn’t hesitate to throw himself at the taller man, “congrats, bro! You rocked that court!”

“Thanks—“ Jungkook struggled and looked like he was about to be sick, patting Jimin’s back awkwardly as the rest of the group found their way to the cars. You turned away with hot cheeks, glad that it was only Jimin that caught you. You weren’t sure what exactly you’d be doing if Sara had been the one.

The rest of the evening was spent in Yoona’s single condo — paid by her father who was rich enough that he owned all the petrol companies in the country — with drinks and an assortment of snacks at the ready as more and more people piled in. It almost felt like she’d invited the whole cohort, which made you feel slightly uneasy knowing there were people around that you weren’t familiar with.

So you hid out on the terrace, gazing out at the city lights beyond while sipping your drink. It was where Changbin found you a few minutes later.

“Not your style?” He asked as he leaned against the railing.

You pulled a grimace, “yeah I don’t enjoy loud music much,” it was then that you realized he was actually here, “what are you doing here on a Saturday? Aren’t you supposed to be out partying your heart out? Why come to a stupid school party?”

“Believe it or not, your friend Yoona actually invited me,” he cocked his head at you with a small smile, “and to be honest, you and Jungkook have been a very interesting watch these days.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean,” he shrugged before directing his gaze back towards the beautiful city lights in the distance, “so tell me, he’s still very much infatuated with miss ol’ goodie two shoes?”

“I don’t know and it’s none of my business.”

“Uh I disagree,” Changbin brushed his bangs out of his face, “it is very much your business whether you like it or not.”

“Changbin, I’m not here to talk about my love life,” you looked down at the pavement below as you felt your hair cascade across your shoulders, “so please don’t bring it up again, it’s hard enough trying to forget him.”

“Alright, fair enough.” He then reached down before producing two bottles of soju, “want to drink your sorrows away instead?”

That sounded strangely more appealing than anything else. So you agreed and decided to hell with everything.

——

“Jungkook, c’mon. Let’s go.”

The latter groaned, eyes still shut as he leaned against one of Yoona’s million-dollar leather couches. Your friend could say bye bye to her lovely flat value if Jungkook decided to empty the insides of his stomach all over this place.

So you tugged at his arm again, and again, and again, until his eyes managed to peel open.

“Y/N?” His voice was slurred and there was no doubt that he’d been drinking a little too much. Especially for Jungkook.

It was almost adorable. Almost being the key word.

“Come on,” you reached down, tugging at his arm to pull him up as Sara came over with a glass of water.

“Here,” she gave it to Jungkook, who merely shook his head and pushed it away, “don’t wanna,” he grumbled, stumbling towards you in the process.

He was a tall man, and not a lean one at that. It was a challenge to balance him as he threw his entire bodyweight onto you like you were his only source of strength. You noticed, in the corner of your eye, the rest of the party being ushered out by Yoona.

You looked back at Jungkook struggling to stay on his feet, nudged at him to take the drink, “drink it,” you said it like an order, to which he shook his head.

“Drink. It.” You repeated firmly.

“No,” he moaned and did the most surprising thing; buried his face into the crook of your neck. He murmured out like a child, “don’t want to.”

Your body was frozen, unsure what to do with this now clingy man-child hanging off you in front of both his supposed crush (and hopeful girlfriend) and the rest of your friend group.

“Uhm,” you tried to shove him off awkwardly.

No response.

He merely tightened his hold and mumbled some more incoherent things under his breath, “Jungkook, come on. Stop being a baby—“

“You smell good,” his mumble, a brush of his lips against your skin, threw you off guard, caused your heart to go into a mini panic attack.

“Right, uhm— I think we should bring him home. Y/N?” Jimin looked at you pleadingly and you nodded, glad when Changbin took the initiative to call an uber. You didn’t even have time to check whether Sara had been offended by your beat friend’s behaviour since you were all too busy trying to drag the latter’s weight down the stairs.

Thank god for Changbin and Jimin’s help, who even paid the driver in advance as you climbed in and muttered out Jungkook’s flat address. The said young man, currently sprawled across the backseat, seemed to have fallen into a fitful sleep which you hoped wouldn’t last. You needed to get him to his bed, after all. Or at least beyond his front door.

You’d never actually gone into Jungkook’s flat before, so this was a first. He was thankfully awake enough to allow himself to be dragged up the stairs upon arrival, encouraged by your hand wrapped around his waist while his was draped over your neck.

“Jungkook,” you called out to him upon reaching his front door, breathless and sweaty, with your hair sticking to the sides of your face, “key.”

He mumbled, head lolling into the curve of your neck once more. You nudged him, so that he could repeat, “back pocket.”

You fished it out none too gently, careful not to touch anything else and glad he wasn’t sober to see the blush on your face as you managed to unlock his front door.

His flat, you found, was bare without anything too personal. You struggled to turn on the lights in the corner wall, only to be met with white washed walls and white furniture to match, a few black details highlighting the space. A couch sat in the left corner, its cream overlay torn at the edges, and on the right was a tiny kitchenette with an assortment of sauces lined up so neatly you wouldn’t be surprised if Jungkook had measured it out with a ruler.

But this was not the time to think of that. You had a drunk man on your hands, one that seemed overly fond to cuddle you to death.

You managed to find his bedroom — not a hard feat, considering that it was the only door available at the end of the room — and pulled Jungkook along until you practically hauled his body onto his bed.

He curled into his blanket, as though he knew he was now surrounded by comfort, and the sight was surprisingly so tender that it made your heart skip a beat.

You managed to get him some water and was glad when he moved closer to you as you called out his name. Using one hand to tilt his head back, you held the cup to his lips and watches as he took in a few sips.

“Good,” you noted, taking the cup away when he turned his head. You set the cup aside and took a seat at the end of his mattress, “how are you feeling?”

“Like…” he drawled out the words, still influenced by the alcohol, clearly, “—shit.”

“Yeah,” you grimaced, placing two tylenols that you had found digging into his shelves a few moments ago onto his nightstand, “take two of these when you wake up tomorrow.”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Since when do you drink so much?”

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open then, only to meet yours, “I think I went overboard.”

“No shit sherlock.”

A guttural groan fell from his mouth. He turned, fingers clasping your wrist before tugging you to the bed. You stumbled and almost fell smack onto Jungkook’s chest, eyes widening at the reduced proximity as his other arm wrapped around your waist to pull you even closer.

Your skin lit on fire, “J—Jungkook,” you breathed, unsure of how you got into this position, “what—what are you doing?”

But Jungkook seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t answer you in favour of nuzzling into the crook of your neck and throwing a leg over your frame like you were his favourite teddy bear. Your heart almost gave out at the lack of proximity, wishing that you could just roll away without him noticing, but his grip was hard as iron and even as you tried to push his chest away, there was a soft murmur of protest brushing againt your cheek.

“Don’t.”

And then, as though he needed to insist upon this point, he added, “please.”

That was when you felt it. The softest pressure of lips. Against your nape.

You stifled a gasp. Your body tensed beneath his.

You wished your body wasn’t as receptive, wished that you didn’t melt so easily in his hold as euphoria exploded behind your lids.

“Jungkook,” you were breathless as you felt another kiss, “Jungkook, And another. One on your collarbone. One under your jaw, every dot of warmth from his mouth causing fireworks to explode and your skin to warm like you were suddenly thrust right into a campfire.

This was too much. He was too much.

Your hands tightened into fists on instinct, heart leaping to your throat.

He kept on kissing you. Over and over again. All over your skin, as if all the limits suddenly didn’t exist in the cracks of your friendship. His mouth was everywhere; your jaw, your cheek, and now landing right at the corner of your mouth.

That was the moment his eyes fluttered open, meeting your wide ones. His gaze was drugged and hazy, but there was something else swirling there, something you couldn’t place your finger on. And the more you gazed at him, the closer he seemed to get to you until his nose brushed yours tenderly.

Were you going to allow yourself this little bite of heaven? Were you really going to break all the rules just for a few seconds of ecstasy to know how it felt like to kiss Jungkook?

Your sweet, sweet friend that seemed to have stolen your heart and kept it for himself. Your sweet, sweet friend Jungkook, who was looking at you like you were the only star in his sky.

You swallowed thickly, heart clenching at the thought that this would change things forever. You would not be able to get out of this room unscathed and you had to admit the thought scared you. And what about Jungkook? Was he sober enough to understand what he was doing?

“Y/N.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, heart skipping a beat at the dark intensity of his jet black eyes.

You felt a hand trickle along your hip. He squeezed softly, tugged you closer, before his other hand trailed up to grasp the side of your face.

“Jungkook, how drunk on you? On a scale of one to ten,” the words rushed out of you in hopes of breaking the sudden tension that had taken over the room.

He took a ragged breath, “a five.”

“Right. So—uhm, I’ll just go find a water bottle to place by your bed—“

He didn’t give you time. His arm pulled you at the same time that he dove forward before he pressed his lips to yours.

Jungkook kissed you. And you knew that everything was going to change.

NEXT PART

———-

[yanandreckless]

Everybody Likes Kyle 3

Imagine meeting a super hot guy. Like, scaldingly, world-explodingly, chaotically hot. Champion of all hotness. And then imagine that guy invites you over for a homemade dinner the first time you meet. You’re at his place before his TV is even there! He’s rummaging through boxes looking for the spices for those steaks! He ran to a nearby bakery to buy you cheesecake!

And then nothing.

You kept doing that thing cool girls never do, the thing where you replay every single moment of your interaction in your mind looking for things you did wrong. And you found so many, but also none.

Was it the ratty T-shirt and your nest of a messy bun and your bare face? Why would it be that, he saw all that and invited you over anyway. Was it your jokes? The one about a philosopher and a sneeze was always a smash hit everywhere and he did laugh. Was it something else you said? For the love of you, you couldn’t remember that you said anything egregious… because you didn’t remember much of what either of you said at all, because this man has THE biggest biceps you’d ever seen… Cutlery looks like toys in his hands, his thighs are literal tree trunks, he’s…

Well maybe it’s that. Maybe you made him uncomfortable with your staring and thirsting.

The next few days you moped. You didn’t see Kyle but that was because you tried to actively avoid him. He wasn’t a very quiet walker or door shutter so you could hear him leaving his apartment or returning to it, and you mostly worked from home so it wasn’t all that hard to forget how shoes are put on and what trees looked like.

By the time day 12 rolled around (but who’s counting), you ran out of groceries and started feeling like your wallpaper is making your nails itch so you decided to actually go out of your house and shop instead of ordering like you got in the habit of doing.

Your older sister called that morning too, with all her well-meaning but poorly-worded comments:

“Will you have grown another dress size the next time I see you?”

“How do you think you’ll find a social life if all you do is stay at home?”

“Do you want to go to yet another school reunion and say there’s no boyfriend in sight?”

Your sister, dear everyone at home, suffered from a condition you liked to call ass whoop deficiency. She’d say things that should have gotten her a smack or two to people, and never get that smack or two. Not even from you, not since middle school at least.

And it seems that she got even more courageous over the phone; luckily she didn’t call too much, busy with her husband and children.

You wanted to have greasy hair and ketchup stains on your T-shirt on your own terms, not because you were too busy to clean yourself because you had two toddlers. But all that was beside the point.

What totally was the point was the dreaded school reunion. You hated those, you had been to a couple and the last one was already hard, it seemed like almost everyone around you dutifully partnered up and procreated in the looming shadow of the number 30 on their birthday cakes. And now, five years later… it will be so much worse. The occasional pitiful gaze sent your way when you say you’re single will now no longer be occasional. Everyone would be looking at you like you’re some poor specimen with a factory error of some sort. They’d all pull out photos of their kids and not even the fact that the kids were much uglier than their parents believed was comforting to you.

You needed something to say that will get you off the hook. Or you needed to not show up. Maybe invent a business trip you had to go to. After all, you did have your job going for you, it was great, you worked hard to get where you were, and now you had cushy savings well on your way to being enough for a down payment for a house.

But if you didn’t show up, will they all be suspicious? What if everyone else showed up and then only you didn’t, will they realize you lied?

But if you did show up, what could you say? Aside from your career, nothing changed for you, and last time, they didn’t really seem to care about careers, even though universities and jobs had been all the rage to talk about at the reunion prior to that one.

The familiar thump of steps in the hallway makes a lightbulb above your head turn on. He’s far from the perfect husband candidate, you’d be better off asking a neat, powder-blue button-down-wearing average-looking accountant at your company, of which there were many (you sometimes wondered if there was a store producing average-looking accountants companies bought from wholesale); but you didn’t want average… and truth be told, you didn’t want to forget which guy was yours and mistakenly grab someone else’s average dude when it was time to leave. So, before you have the chance to change your mind, you’re knocking on Kyle’s door.

He opens it in a compression shirt and you nearly have a heart attack. Every single muscle outlined beneath that black fabric, gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips, huge chest heaving slightly as he wipes his face with a burgundy towel: “Hey neighbor!” He greets you pleasantly and is patient enough to wait until you pick up your ovaries (or was it jaw?) off the floor. If he notices or if it amuses him, he doesn’t show it. “Hey Kyle, uh… can I come in?” He steps aside silently and you inch into the apartment. He has finished moving in and now it’s boasting his signature macabre decor, all black and gold, with blood red accents. 

There’s a suit of armor that looks like it fits him in the corner and he sees you looking at it and grins: “Do you like it?” “Why do you have a suit of armor?” You sputter before you get the chance to wrap it in a more polite sentence. “Because fur suits are so 2010.” You turn around to look at him in bewilderment, and he chuckles, it’s a deep, yet slightly hissing sound, almost dorky: “I wear it to conventions. Bunch of us do, it’s a hobby.” “Uh… so you have your… armorsona?” He nods, perfectly serious: “The Despoiler, yes.” He points at the huge sword with a bunch of impractical-looking spikes on it and at the even bigger and even less practical… claw-glove on another shelf: “These are his weapons.” You blink, taking it all in, when you notice skulls on spikes protruding from the back of the armor and you point silently, eyebrows raised. “Skulls of my enemies. They’re interchangeable, look.” Kyle bends over (cake cake cake!) and flips open a wooden trunk. He pulls out a few skulls, some of which look non-human. “So they’re fake.” You state dumbly and Kyle looks at you with poorly-concealed amusement: “No, of course this tyranid skull is completely real, what are you accusing the Despoiler of?” He thrusts what looks like a dinosaur skull toward you: “A dinosaur?” Kyle blinks slowly, like he can’t believe what you just said: “My sweet summer child.” He puts the skulls back and closes the trunk, still smiling to himself: “Anyway, would you like anything to drink?” “Do you drink the blood of your enemies, Despoiler?” “I can. Or eat their flesh, but that’s only to see their memories.” “You really thought this through, didn’t you?” You laugh and he tilts his head as he looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. His gaze is oddly warm and it oddly makes you want to fidget and hide and squeal. You can’t remember a man looking at you like that in a long time, if ever. So you clear your throat and opt to look at a painting in a gilded golden frame, depicting what looks like… a galaxy? With a pink, ocular-looking center: “I actually came to ask you if you’d like to attend my high school reunion with me.” “In the armor?” “No, of course not!” You spit out and Kyle’s laughter clues you into the fact that he was joking. “Alright, I’m in.” “Just like that?” You turn to look at him, your bun bobbing in its ratty hair band. “Just like that. Are we married? Expecting? Can I pet your belly as I talk about the ultrasound appointment?” You balk, your mouth gaping and Kyle bends over in laughter. You love his laugh, booming, with an occasional snort and that hissing tea kettle sound when he tries to calm down: “You wouldn’t be asking me if you didn’t want me to play a role. You’d be bringing an actual boyfriend or husband.” Ok, that makes sense. So you decide to lay all your cards on the table: “Husband would be too suspicious because how did we get married without anyone knowing?” “We eloped.” “And how were we in a relationship before that without anyone knowing?” “We met two months ago on a cruise where our ship went through a sea storm and you rescued me… no, I rescued you, and we instantly fell in love. It was fate! We knew we were meant to be together and decided, why wait!” Your shock quickly morphs into enthusiastic amusement. This is fun. 

“And now I’m pregnant?” 

“What do you think people do all night when they’re in a whirlwind of devastating love?” Kyle places one dramatic hand on his chest and the back of the other on his forehead, wiggling his eyebrows too quickly for it to not be funny.

“That’s an insane story. Will anyone buy it?” 

“How would you ever have faked an insane story like that? What, you found some crazy guy to play along?” 

He does have a point. How many people are insane enough to lie about something like that? 

“Alright, let’s do it. We’d have to sync our stories.” You say, realizing that this will be an opportunity to spend time with Kyle.

“And our outfits. What kind of dress will you wear?”

“What makes you think I’ll wear a dress?”

“My gorgeous wife, the moon that guides my sanity and the sun that lights my path, she’d wear dresses. And probably no underwear, but that’s too much to ask of a fake wife, I understand.” 

You don’t regret skipping all the boring accountants one bit. 

[hbyrde36]

No Vacancy

Chapter 6: Guest Relations

WC: 4465 | R: Explicit | CH: 6/12 | AO3 | Now Complete!

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch4 Ch 5

*STEVE*

“Well, I'm sorry you wasted so much of your time on me.” 

Eddie’s words reverberated in Steve’s head as he watched him turn and walk away back down to the beach. 

He wanted to follow, to fight for what he’d seen in the other man’s eyes in the seconds before they’d kissed. He was almost sure now that Eddie liked him back. 

It made the rejection that much more painful.

He spun on his heel and made his way back to the Buckingham alone, replaying the entire thing over and over again in his mind along the way. He was a little angry, a lot hurt, but also so, so fucking confused. 

It just didn’t make any sense. 

In hindsight it was obvious now that Eddie had been jealous when he’d seen him and Danny together the night before. That’s why he was so mad—so flustered— enough to flee the motel at the crack of dawn just to avoid seeing him. And when Steve kissed him, Eddie kissed back. 

Oh god how he had kissed back.

Naively, Steve had thought that was it—it was finally happening!

But no, Eddie pushed him away, literally and figuratively, and now he was left to wonder if he’d somehow misread everything. 

He couldn’t deny that Eddie was, at the very least, physically attracted to him. That much had become abundantly clear in the last few minutes. But maybe that was all it was, and all of Steve’s talk about caring, and being worried, and feelings had freaked him out.

Steve hoped to sneak past the motel's front office and make it to his room without running into anyone, and by anyone he meant Robin, but of course she spotted him through the glass front doors and came running out to greet him, hands waving like he might have somehow missed her. 

He took a deep breath and tried to school his features into something that he hoped looked a little less devastated than he currently felt, but must have failed in his attempt spectacularly because one look at him made her own face fall. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, wringing her hands.

He blew out a long breath, dropped his gaze to the ground as a wry chuckle falling from his lips. He didn’t have the energy to lie to her.  

“Not really.”

“What happened? Did you see Eddie?”

“Yeah,” he whispered softly, looking back up at her with a sad half smile. “Yeah, I saw him.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve knew how much Robin loved him, that she would do anything to make him feel better, but he wasn’t ready for any of that yet. He didn’t want to do this—didn’t want to explain what an idiot he'd been. He just wanted to slink off and hide under a rock somewhere for eight to twelve hours and feel sorry for himself.

Sometime soon he was sure he’d love to sit with her and overanalyze as they drank a few bottles of red wine and had a good cry about it.

But not right now. 

“Not really, if that’s okay. I think I just want to be alone for a while.”

“Of course that’s okay,” She said, stepping into him and wrapping her arms around his waist the way he knew she’d wanted to do since she’d first laid eyes on him.

He hugged her back, breathing her in as the two of them stood in the middle of the parking lot holding each other, uncaring of the world around them. Eventually Steve pulled back, dropping a kiss on her head before they stepped apart. 

“Call me if you change your mind,” She rushed out as he moved to leave. “I have ice cream in the freezer and I can be at your door in two minutes flat.” 

“I will.”

It wasn’t really a lie. He would call her if he changed his mind, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen. 

What he really needed was some sleep. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically drained—thankful that he had another day off tomorrow. The thought reminded him of the conversation they’d had at dinner the other night and he felt like an asshole for not bringing it up sooner.  

“Did you ask Chrissy about tomorrow night yet?”

“No, that’s…” Robin waved a hand dismissively. “It's dumb. I'd rather just forget it.”

“Robin!” He leveled her with an unimpressed look, a little less sharp than usual but he was doing his best. “You have to go talk to her right now—I’m serious.”

“No, I'm serious.” She said, shaking her head. “I’m not gonna ask you to watch the desk after all this.”

“Oh my god, for the last time you didn’t ask, I offered! And it doesn’t matter what’s happened, I can still watch the place. I want to do it, and if you really want to make me feel better you’ll go on the damn date tomorrow, have a great time, and come back to tell me all about it.”

She sighed, a heavy defeated sound. “That’s a cheap shot. Fine, I’ll ask her in the morning.”

“But-”

“Don’t push it, Harrington.”

Steve pulled out all the stops—raised eyebrows, hands on his hips, foot tapping the pavement impatiently.

“Don’t give me that shit,” Robin mumbled under her breath. “Look, the sooner I ask her, the more time I'll have to freak out about the actual date, so I figure, why not put it off as long as possible?”

“But you’re already freaking out.”

Her eyes narrowed, arms crossing over her chest. “Don’t stand there and attack me with logic.”

“Alright, alright. You do what you want. I’ll come down in the afternoon to see how it went and you can show me whatever I need to know to keep the motel afloat in your absence.”

“Not much you need to know to cover for me for two hours, but sure, I’ll see you then.”

Steve smiled at her, or tried to at least, and walked off towards the stairs to the second floor. 

The room was dark when he got in, the sun having set while he spoke to Robin and he hadn’t bothered to leave a light on for himself when he left.

He didn’t bother turning one on now either. 

He stripped down, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor and threw himself into bed, face buried deep in the pillows, and screamed into them until his throat was hoarse and he eventually cried himself to sleep. 

In Steve’s dream someone was playing with his hair, carding their hand through it in the most soothing way. People were always afraid to touch his hair. They assumed he’d be mad at it getting messed up because of the time and effort he put into it every day, but it was one of his favorite comforts. 

He stirred from sleep gradually, confused when the fingers running over his scalp didn’t disappear with the rest of the dream, and blinked his eyes open, surprised to find someone sitting on the edge of his bed.

No, not—someone.

“Eddie?” 

The hand moved from his hair down to caress his cheek, with a touch so gentle it made his eyes sting. He let out a quiet gasp and nuzzled into it without thinking.

“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot, and I'm so sorry.” Eddie said softly.

Steve couldn’t believe what he was seeing, much less what he was hearing. It wasn’t real—it couldn’t be.. 

“Is this a dream?”

Eddie leaned down, resting his forehead against Steve’s as they breathed each other in. Their noses brushed, lips almost touching. 

“No, Steve. Not a dream. I… shit.” Eddie cursed, pulling back “I-I don’t know how to do this.”

The air that surrounded them, so thick with tension, caught in Steve’s throat. “Do what?”

“Talk.”

With that one little word something in Steve snapped. 

Eddie was probably right, until they talked he would have no idea what any of this meant, or what had changed the other man’s mind and brought him, not just back to their room but into Steve's bed, but for once in his goddamn life he didn’t want to talk. He barely wanted to think. 

He just wanted Eddie.

Steve swept his covers aside revealing that he was lying there dressed only in a pair of thin boxers and rested a hand on Eddie’s knee, slowly sliding it up his thigh as he sat up, bringing their faces close together once more. 

“Maybe we don’t have to talk. Not yet.” He said, gaze dipping down to Eddie’s lips as licked across his own.

Eddie groaned, a deep rumbling sound in his chest. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

It probably wasn’t—it definitely wasn’t but Steve was like a man possessed.

“Do you want me?” Steve asked, nails digging in where his fingers still played along Eddie’s thigh.

“Steve.” Eddie whispered his name, making the word sound like a cross between a warning and a prayer.

“Do. You. Want. Me?” Steve asked again, more insistent this time, and released his grip on Eddie's leg to skim up under his t-shirt, fingers brushing over the trail of hair on his lower stomach.

Eddie tensed, sucking in a harsh, shuddering breath. “Of course I fucking want you,” he practically growled, reaching out to grasp Steve by the wrist. Not stopping him or pushing him away, just holding him there. 

“I think I’ve always wanted you.”

The last was said so softly, in such contrast, as if he hadn’t really meant to say it aloud. Steve let the words wash over and through him, not ready to think about what they may or may not mean, before surging forward, at last closing the short distance between them to crash their lips together. 

All that mattered right now was this moment, the feeling of Eddie’s mouth on his, their bodies pressed together, Eddie’s nails scratching lightly down his back. 

Steve tugged roughly on the front of Eddie’s shirt and leaned back, trying to guide the other man down on top of him, but Eddie resisted, breaking the kiss. 

“I’m gonna to get sand all over your bed,” he panted.

Steve sat back up, taking Eddie's earlobe between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make him gasp. 

“Oh?” Steve breathed, letting out a hot puff of air against the other man’s ear, and felt him shiver. “I guess you’ll just have to take your clothes off then.”

Eddie swallowed, audibly. “Jesus Christ.”

Then he was pulling back to stand, and while Steve sat perched on the edge of the bed gazing up at him, Eddie quickly tugged his shirt up and over his head, revealing an expanse of pale chest and torso decorated with intricate black and gray artwork. 

Steve was on his feet in an instant, circling. He’d seen Eddie shirtless before but had never allowed himself to really see and admire him properly 

Tonight, he would look his fill.

Some of the tattoos were familiar, the bats and puppet master pieces on his arm were always on display of course, but set up high on his chest just below his collarbone was a demon skull with dead eyes and tendrils of dark stringy hair flying around its head, and a large terrifyingly realistic black widow spider. Steve could remember catching glimpses of those back when the two men were still in school together, on the rare occasion Eddie would actually show up for gym class and be forced to change in the boys locker room with everyone else. 

The rest was less familiar—a creeping pattern of darkly inked vines and wild roses that began on his right side just under his ribs. They trailed across his back, snaking down and around to the other side of his body over the front of his left hip. The flower buds were all different sizes and in various states of bloom and decay, but it was the bloodied thorns speckled throughout, the only spots of color on Eddie’s body, that grabbed Steve's attention the most. He traced the intricate lines and swirls with his fingertips, following their path along Eddie’s skin to where it eventually disappeared into the waistband of his pants, letting his hand rest lightly on Eddie’s fly. 

Done examining, at least for now, Steve kissed a trail up the column of Eddie's throat as he quickly worked the other man’s belt buckle open, popped the button on his jeans, and dipped his hand in, wrapping his palm around Eddie’s hot, hard length for the very first time. 

Eddie moaned and wound his fingers through the hair on the nape of Steve's neck, gripping it tight and forcing his head back. Steve’s mouth dropped open in surprise, the hint of pain making his entire body flushing with heat. Then Eddie's lips were on his, his tongue forcing its way inside as if he needed to taste him again more than he needed air.

Steve began to slowly stroke Eddie’s cock as best he could inside the confines of his jeans, pulling a whine from his throat that Steve swallowed down greedily. He loved how responsive Eddie was to his touch, yearned to hear what other sounds he might be able to coax out of the man with his efforts, but Eddie didn’t let it go on for long. 

Without breaking their kiss, Eddie forced him back, until the back of Steve’s knees hit the bed, sending him tumbling down to the mattress. Eddie shoved his jeans down to his ankles, kicking out of them in a rush before climbing up onto the bed, cock swinging heavy between his legs, his body hovering over Steve’s. Eddie kissed his mouth once, an almost innocent brushing of lips compared to what they’d been doing so far, but quickly abandoned Steve's mouth to explore the rest of him. 

Eddie kissed, and licked, and bit his way down the length of Steve's body, starting with the delicate skin of his neck, and ending with a scrape of teeth along his hip bone just above the waistband of his boxers. 

Meeting Steve’s eyes as though asking permission—as if Steve would deny him anything—Eddie slipped his fingers into the elastic on either side of Steve’s waist and waited, the patient expression on his face belied only by hunger in his gaze. Steve nodded eagerly and Eddie wasted no time yanking the boxers off and tossing them aside, the last strip of clothing between them, setting Steve’s own achingly hard cock springing free. 

Eddie stared for a moment, something like reverence in his gaze, before returning to his work, sucking a bruise into the skin of his inner thigh, carefully avoiding the one area Steve was most desperate to be touched. 

Steve whined, squirming even as Eddie kept a tight grip on his hips, urging him to remain still. 

It was too much, watching Eddie with his head nestled between his legs, practically worshiping him, but he still wanted more. Steve bucked, and thrashed, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. 

He wanted Eddie to just touch him, already. He needed more, he needed him to–

“Fuck me,” Steve cried out, the words tumbling out of his mouth without his permission, desperate and whoreish even to his own ears. 

Eddie paused his movements, his eyes cast down, lips still pressed to Steve’s skin. “What did you say?”

“Please,” Steve begged, past caring about how he must sound. “Please, I-I need you—need you to fuck me.”

Eddie looked up, wide eyed and mumbling something to himself.

Steve only caught the words “I knew” and “dangerous.” He didn’t know what that meant, and he honestly didn’t care because a second later Eddie wrapped his plush lips around the head of his cock and and sank down, taking Steve’s full length all the way to the back of his throat in one go. 

In the morning he might be embarrassed, worried they'd been overheard, but in the moment Steve moaned, loud and completely unrestrained, heedless of the amount of noise they were making when it felt this good. Eddie hollowed his cheeks, bobbing his head at a slow pace as he smoothed his hands up and down Steve’s calves and thighs. The touch was tender, affectionate, and that feeling of too much and yet not enough came bubbling back up in his chest with a vengeance. 

Steve continued to beg, a chorus of “please, please, please” falling from his lips even as Eddie’s mouth brought him closer and closer to the edge of coming. When he was reduced to a wordlessly babbling, panting mess, Eddie finally pulled off, working him by hand while he grabbed a nearby pillow, sliding it under Steve’s hips. 

Eddie dove back in, but not to take Steve’s cock back into his mouth. He moved lower, and using both hands to pull Steve's ass cheeks apart, spat directly on his hole. 

The feel of it had Steve throwing his head back, mouth slack and wide open as a wanton sound was ripped from his throat that he would swear he'd never made before. His dick twitched and his whole body shuddered with it. He had no idea that being spit on was something he’d be into, but the evidence was damning. He felt hot all over, his skin on fire, and for something that should have been gross, it was anything but.

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to Steve’s knee as he spread the rapidly cooling saliva around the puckered skin of his entrance, before pushing the tip of one finger inside. 

It wasn’t until Eddie had worked the digit in past his knuckle and the slightly cold metal grazed Steve’s rim that he realized Eddie still had his rings on–and fuck, that really did something for him too. Steve whimpered, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood—so desperate to be filled that when Eddie added a second finger, he flung his hands back flat against the headboard, using it as leverage to push himself down, trying to fuck himself on Eddie’s hand harder.

“Easy,” Eddie whispered, pressing lips to his leg again. “Don’t wanna hurt you.” 

He continued to kiss a line down Steve’s inner thigh, all the way to the place he was pumping his fingers in and out of at a torturously slow pace, and ran his tongue along the edge of Steve’s  hole, letting more split trickle down to ease the glide. 

Steve’s eyes rolled back as he felt a third finger work its way inside, shouting when at the same time Eddie took hold of his cock again, licking a wide stripe from the base to the tip before swallowing it down.

While the first two digits had entered him easily, the last had Steve feeling the burning stretch that he craved, and he reveled in it—sinking into the pleasurable pain.

He felt the world around him go quiet in the way it sometimes did when he had really great sex. The whole universe narrowed down to the warmth enveloping him and the fingers inside him, and for just a moment he thought—even if this was only a one time thing, it might just be worth having a broken heart for the rest of his life if he got to have this, here and now, tonight. 

It wasn’t long before Steve felt himself relax, could feel how Eddie was able to plunge in and out of him freely now. He was ready, he was so fucking ready, and he couldn’t stop himself from making high needy sounds to spur the other man on. 

Eddie made soothing noises in return, saying softly, “I know, I know you’ve been so patient. I’ve got you, you’re going to get everything you want, I promise.”

Steve winced a little at the empty feeling as Eddie eased his fingers free, leaning off the side of the bed to reach for their shared nightstand, quickly retrieving a condom and bottle of lube—Steve's judging by the color of the bottle. He sat back on his heels, tearing the packet open with his teeth, never looking away from Steve’s face as he rolled the condom down over himself. 

Steve waited to be told to flip over, or a nudge to his hip, a not-so-subtle indication that it was time for him to turn and assume the usual position, but it never came. Eddie smoothed his hands over Steve’s thighs again, the same loving touch he’d given him before, and then took his own cock in hand, giving it a few lazy strokes before lining himself up with Steve’s entrance. Inch by inch Eddie pushed inside, hiking Steve’s legs up and falling forward, bracketing Steve's body with his hands on either side.

Oh.

Steve fought not to let it show, what he was feeling. He hadn’t expected them to do this face to face. He’d been prepped a similar way before, but found guys usually wanted to fuck him from behind.

It was incredibly intimate like this. Staring into each other's eyes from inches away while Eddie made gentle shallow thrusts felt a lot more like making love than fucking—and that, more than anything, was going to ruin him, Steve was sure, but he couldn't stop it now. Wouldn’t give this up, no matter the cost.

As Eddie finally bottomed out he leaned down, capturing Steve's lips with his own for a moment, and pressed their foreheads together again, just like he had when Steve first woke up. He eased his hips back slowly, only to snap them forward again, hard and fast, punching a shout out of Steve's chest, a sound that Eddie swallowed down as he slotted their mouths back together again. 

They never stopped kissing, even as Eddie pounded into him, harder and faster, nailing that sweet spot inside him with every stroke, until Steve was brought right to the brink.

He was close—so fucking close and Eddie hadn’t laid so much as a finger on his dick since they’d started going at it.

Eddie was close too, Steve could feel it in the way his cock pulsed inside and the rocking of his hips became more and more erratic. 

And then Eddie did break the kiss, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between their bodies and jerk Steve off. It felt amazing, but the relief of finally getting friction on his poor neglected cock, was overshadowed by the loss of Eddie’s lips. He keened, unable to stop the sound from escaping his throat, but before he could even be embarrassed about how needy and clingy he must sound, Eddie was there, feeding at his mouth like a starving man. 

Maybe needy did it for him. 

“Are you close, baby?” Eddie murmured into his mouth, not daring to break their kiss again to ask. 

Baby.

“Yes,” Steve gasped. “So fucking close.”

Eddie kept slamming into him as they panted into each other's mouths, not so much kissing really as sharing breath and rubbing their lips together, but it was enough, and after two final powerful thrusts Steve was coming hard—his vision whiting out as he shot off in hot, thick spurts between them. Eddie followed him over the edge straight after, cock pulsing inside while Steve’s walls clenched down around him. 

Steve never felt Eddie pull out, never noticed him leave as he floated on the high of the most intense release he’d ever felt. The next thing he knew, Eddie was walking back to the bed, a damp rag in his hand to clean them up. 

As Eddie gently swiped the cloth over his chest and stomach Steve came back to himself, and tried not to panic about what happened now. He told himself he’d be fine no matter how things played out. If Eddie climbed back into bed with him to cuddle and sleep it off, then that was great, wonderful, perfect. 

And if instead he got into his own bed, turned over and went to sleep? That was going to have to be okay too. 

When they were as clean as they were going to get without the help of a shower, Eddie threw the washcloth in the direction of the bathroom and crawled back into bed at his side— leaving a deliberate space between them.  

They stared at each other over the chasm of inches and it suddenly hit Steve that Eddie was just as afraid of what came next as he was. 

He saw his own fear and anxiety reflected back at him through big brown eyes—and the tightness in Eddie's body that disappeared when they began fooling around had returned, even worse than before. 

Steve pulled his lip between his teeth, watching as Eddie followed the movement—and he didn’t know who moved first but they crossed that invisible line at the same time, wrapping each other up in a tangle of arms and legs that left him wondering where he ended and Eddie began. Not sure he cared to ever figure it out. 

They laid together, unspeaking, in the quiet dark for a long time, while Eddie stroked his hair and kissed his temple so many times that he lost count. Eventually Steve’s eyes slipped shut, and it would have been all too easy to drift off surrounded with all that comfort, but they still hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room.

Steve forced his eyes open, shifting so he could see Eddie's face clearly. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak, and let out a huge yawn instead, somehow still managing to get the words in the end. “Why did you come back?” 

Eddie smiled sadly, cupping his cheek, tracing what Steve imagined were dark circles under his eyes with his thumb. “You’re tired. We can talk tomorrow.”

Steve wanted to argue but Eddie was right, they were both exhausted. 

“Will you still be here in the morning?”

“Of course. I mean, I do live here, Stevie.”

Steve smiled, pretty sure mild teasing was a good sign.

He settled back down into Eddie’s side, rubbing his cheek against the sparse hair on his chest, accepting that their talk could wait, but he still wanted to be clear.

“You know what I mean. Will you be here, in this bed, with me.”

“I will. I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise.”

“And we’ll talk?” Steve asked, voice gone softer than a whisper as his eyes fell closed again, sleep pulling at him in a way he could no longer fight. 

“Yeah baby,” Eddie replied just as softly, pressing lips to the top of his head. “We'll talk as much as you want.”

Chapter 7

Thanks forever to @penny00dreadful for being the best friend, cheerleader, and beta in the whole fucking world💜

Taglist: @manda-panda-monium @hellion-child @dreamwatch @brbsoulnomming @epiclazershark @estrellami-1 @lokfae @raisedbylibrarians @impala314 @meganwinchester @kacatshi @warlordess @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @garden-of-gay @meela86 @gregre369 @finntheehumaneater

[aphrogeneias]

𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 — 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

summary: you're running out of time, and eddie is the only one who knows what might save you.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: angst. hurt/comfort. reader is close to being vecna'd (or is she?)

author's note: i didn't make any changes to this chapter because honestly, i like it the way it is, and it has a lot of sentimental value to me.

series masterlist

5.

He found you hiding under the bleachers a few days later.

Gareth told him he had seen you walking towards the field right before class started, and something in Eddie's heart squeezed. He knew you weren't the type to skip class — trust him, he would know. Not only because he’d been skipping class expertly since middle school, but because, since he’d met you, his eyes were always looking for you in a crowd, his face lighting up whenever he saw you from a distance, just going about your life.

He didn’t want to admit he was too scared of talking to you at school. Eddie used to tell himself it was for your sake, that you probably wouldn’t want to be associated with the freaks and the geeks, but the truth was that he wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection if you were to pretend you didn’t know him. Not that you would ever do that, knowing you the way that he did, rationally, that was ridiculous to even consider, but he let his insecurities get the best of him anytime he saw you.

That all went out of the window when he rushed to the football field, replaying the last conversation you’d had that weekend. Don’t worry about me, you’d told him, but it was impossible not to, not when he couldn’t stop thinking about you and the sad smile you’d given him, the one that would not reach your once lively eyes.

You were sitting on the ground, legs stretched before you, fiddling with the walkman in your hands. It took you a while to recognize his presence as he walked towards your side, slowly lowering himself to sit beside you. Being by your side had always felt right — as someone who was always struggling with his sense of belonging, he never questioned himself when he was with you.

"Munson." You greeted, resting your headphones around your neck. Your smile looked better that day, a sweet grin that almost made all of his worries melt away. 

Mirroring you, he greeted you by your last name. Unsure of where to begin, he started with what was easiest. "What are you listening to?"

Without saying anything, you handed him your headphones, delicately setting them on his head, brushing his long hair out of the way. Eddie tried to ignore the shiver that rose up his spine after feeling your hand run through his hair, even if briefly, but it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

He did, though, and eventually he recognized the voice singing in his ears from his uncle's old records.

"There's a place

Where I can go

When I feel low

When I feel blue…"

"The Beatles?" He felt his lips stretching in a teasing smile — after all this time, he should have expected it. "Really?"

Sighing, you took your headphones back from his outstretched hand, lingering a little where your fingers touched. Pausing the song, you shook your head in disagreement. "You can make fun of whatever you want, just not my favorite song."

"I just thought you were more of a Stones girl, to be honest."

He watched you breathe out a weak laugh, closing your eyes as you struggled to hide your grin, and shrugged, but didn't say anything else. You looked tired, Eddie realized, like you hadn't slept well the night before.

"That's… your favorite song?" He just wanted to keep you talking, in hopes of getting you to tell him something, anything."

"Yeah, I think it's always been. Since I can remember." There was something personal in the way you told him that, like this was something you hadn't told a lot of people. "My dad used to play this record all the time, their first LP. I still remember how the sun was shining through the curtains of our old house when I heard it for the first time, how our living room looked, the way that I kept asking him to play it again and again. I don't remember much from that time, but I do remember this."

Nodding, he took in your words in silence. Not knowing how to react, he blurted out, "You know, Ozzy likes them too."

"Ozzy… Osbourne? The Prince of Darkness?"

"The Beatles are Ozzy's favorite band too. They were his biggest influence, though I don't know what he saw in them, honestly."

Laughing, you elbowed him lightly in the arm. Eddie realized, then, that he'd keep doing whatever he could to distract you. "That's interesting, to say the least."

When you fell silent again, he felt you playing with the threads falling from the hole on his ripped jeans. Without thinking, he reached for your hand, slowly intertwining your fingers, giving you a chance to pull away if you wanted to.

You didn't. 

"Are you okay?" He asked, voice barely a whisper, searching for your eyes.

"Could be worse." There it was, that sad smile again. "I'll feel better if you stay, though."

"For as long as you want, sweetheart."

"Dustin?"

The sudden static noise coming from the walkie in Dustin's hands beside him startled everyone's already rattled nerves in the car. It was Nancy's voice, "Dustin? Anyone? It's urgent."

"Urgent?" Eddie shifted nervously on his seat as the younger boy responded.

Nancy didn't take long to answer. "Is Eddie with you? Where are you?"

Without thinking, he grabbed the walkie from Dustin's grip, hands trembling slightly, "Wheeler? I'm here, we're on our way. Is she… is she okay? Where is she?"

"Good. You need to hurry, we're going in the house. Tell Steve to run. Over."

As Steve stepped on the pedal, probably breaking more than one of Hawkins' traffic laws, Eddie held onto the promise he made you.

He said he would stay, he should never have left in the first place.