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igbylicious · 2 months ago

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whichever way [woosan x reader] epilogue

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, FWB to QPR

ch. summary: together you make a new start.

wc: 2.6k

ch. warnings: no explicit content but there is some conversation about sex, i teared up while writing this; does that count as a warning?

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

a/n²: what a fucking time we live in. take good care ♡

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue

“I think these are the last ones,” Wooyoung says, patting the stack of boxes next to him. “Did we get everything from your side?”

“Yeah, we emptied that out yesterday,” you say. “This… this is it.”

San hums thoughtfully, putting an arm around each of you. “End of an era isn’t it?”

The three of you stand by the doorway to the living area, looking over an empty, forlorn apartment.

Depressingly bare walls, furniture replaced by nostalgia. It doesn’t even look like anyone ever stayed here at all. The only concrete proof of your life here is the kitchen cabinet’s crooked door, busted when San hit his head so hard you’d worried he fractured his skull.

Even now, face to face with the empty room, it feels surreal to leave it all behind. No more paper-thin walls, no clumsily bumping into each other in the cramped kitchenette, no more sneaking through the building’s hallway in the early mornings or late nights.

Suddenly every small inconvenience is filtered through the rose-coloured lens of sentimentality, like they’re something to be treasured. Maybe they are. The little imperfections that brought texture to the flavourful sweetness of everything good.

All three of you take a moment, keenly aware you’re saying goodbye to the space where you collided into them; collided, and then intertwined. There’s a lot here to be grateful for.

Wooyoung is the one to break the spell. He nods his head with a big sigh, like he's bracing himself. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say, matching his sigh. “Just one more thing left to do here, right?”

San and Wooyoung divide the boxes between them; you are already holding a large flower bouquet. It’s time for your final goodbye in this building.

Together, you take the elevator down one floor, then walk over to the apartment placed directly underneath yours. You ring the doorbell, and it does not take long before Mrs Yoon opens the door.

“Oh? Oh! It’s you kids!” The crinkles in her face deepen into a wide smile, and she curiously eyes the boxes. “Today is the big day then, hm?”

San bows his head politely. “We’re officially moved out, yes,” he says, a tinge of red across his cheeks. “Um. Sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused.”

“Nonsense,” she scolds. “No trouble at all, I’m sad to see you go. It’ll be so quiet around here without you!”

The redness on San’s face intensifies but Wooyoung just giggles, immune to Mrs Yoon’s light teasing. “Still, we didn’t want to go without getting you a little something,” Wooyoung says, “a thank you for putting up with us!”

“Ahh, Wooyoungie, you shouldn’t have!” Mrs Yoon coos adoringly over him like he’s her favourite grandson, lovingly pinching his cheeks. She lets out a small gasp of surprise when you hand the flowers over to her. “These are for me? Really?”

“Really,” you say. “It’s the least we could do!”

The bouquet looks comically huge in her tiny arms, almost drowning her in camellias and hydrangeas; but Mrs Yoon just beams with delight, taking a deep whiff of the sweet aromas. Even with the flowers, she still manages to reach for your cheek, patting it in gratitude.

“Wishing you and your friends all the best in your new home, sweetie,” she says warmly. “Feel free to drop by if you’re ever back in the neighbourhood.”

“We will, Mrs Yoon,” you promise, a pleasant glow in your chest at the word ‘friends’. “Thank you for looking out for us.”

The three of you part ways with Mrs Yoon, regretfully declining an invitation to come inside for a cup of tea. Your new home waits for you.

The new apartment is not too far from the old place, just a short ride away. Wooyoung is driving the car that Yunho was gracious enough to lend you, and you’re next to him in the front seat, his hand resting casually on your thigh. San is behind you, leaned forward with his chin on the backrest while he sweetly hums along to some romantic pop-song on the radio.

You bask in the warm glow of sunlight filtering through the window, smiling at San’s smooth voice while your hand rests on top of Wooyoung’s. It’s easy, it’s comfortable. Outside the car, your surroundings slowly grow less and less familiar, though you know that’ll come with time. You look forward to it.

Finally you reach the compex’s underground parking lot where Wooyoung neatly parks Yunho’s car. You unload the boxes, and find the elevators after a brief moment of disorientation.

You’re not on the top floor this time, but this building is taller so you’re still up higher than before. Finally you exit the elevator, and nostalgia is pushed back in favour of excitement as you walk over to your front door. One single door, for all three of you.

(Of course, you practically lived together already anyway, but it still feels different like this. More solid. Words and promises of long-term commitment transformed into tangible fact.)

You type in the freshly memorised code into the keypad, and the door opens.

The apartment is bigger and nicer than your old place; it’d be far too expensive for you alone, but that’s the practical benefit of splitting rent three ways. It’s still a mess, of course, unpacked boxes all over the place, but already you can see glimpses what it’s going to be, the home you’ll make out of this cluttered chaos.

Already there’s a small bustle of friends moving around the place, helping you to settle in. Even Hongjoong took time off, standing in the (significantly larger) kitchenette with a puzzled expression as he goes through one of the boxes.

You make a beeline towards him, and Hongjoong grins as you approach, making a show of groaning in annoyance when you lay a bear-hug on him.

“What kind of highbrow culinary types did you move in with? I don’t even know what half of these are,” he sighs, toying with a basic garlic press as he glances at the wide array of appliances strewn on the kitchen island. “Makes me feel like I’m not adulting right.”

“It’s alright, not all of us can be kitchen princesses. That’s Wooyoung’s purview,” you joke.

Hongjoong snorts. “Is that your way of saying you also don’t know what half of these are?”

“Pff, don’t lump me in with you. I know at least three quarters of them.”

“Wow, impressive! Let me know when you earn your first Michelin Star.”

He grins when you playfully elbow him in the side, and together you unpack the rest of the box, enjoying the bustle of activity around you.

A few people are walking back and forth, sorting out boxes and putting them in the right place. Seonghwa and Yeosang have taken up most of the floorspace to assemble a large bookcase, looking somewhat bamboozled by the instructions. San is setting out Byeol’s things already, even though she’ll stay at his sister’s as a guest until you’re all settled in.

He wrestles with putting her climbing tree back together when a sudden flash of light distracts him; Wooyoung has grabbed his camera. To do a little documenting of the event, he claims.

“Wooyoung-ssi,” Yeosang says pointedly, “aren’t you just avoiding having to do any real work?”

“Come on, it’s important to save some memories of today!” Wooyoung says enthusiastically, utterly undeterred by his oldest friend’s scepticism. Instead he snaps a quick shot of Yeosang instead, who instantly shields his face. This only escalates into Wooyoung trying to take a selfie with Yeosang, which escalates into him trying to land a smooch on Yeosang’s cheek.

You watch their shenanigans with a wide, bright smile, and Hongjoong watches you with a thoughtful expression in turn.

“So…” he says in a slow drawl. “What was that you once told me? That you got nothing ‘involved’ going on with these guys?”

Heat flares up on your face. “Shut up,” you mumble, embarrassed at the reminder of how deeply in denial you used to be. Let’s face it; San and Wooyoung had firmly pulled you into their orbit from the very start.

Hongjoong chuckles and pats your shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you were right about the most important thing.”

You give him a confused look. “?”

His eyes soften, a crooked smile on his face. “That I didn’t have to worry about you.”

You swallow thickly, a sudden lump in your throat at his sincerity. “Yeah? Well don’t think that means you’re off the hook for our irregularly scheduled videocalls,” you joke awkwardly, prodding him in the side again. “It’s not like the guys replaced you or something. I still want my bestie too.”

“Good!” he chuckles. “Anyway, they couldn’t if they tried. I’m pretty irreplaceable.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you laugh, whapping him on the shoulder.

You try to continue unpacking the kitchen supplies; but you soon get distracted when Yunho struggles to carry a gigantic potted plant, and you realise he’s about to set it down in the living area.

“Yunho wait, hang on! That goes outside!”

You abandon Hongjoong to guide Yunho out to the modestly sized balcony.

“Here, here,” you usher him to a corner, where the plant will provide some nice shade and privacy.

Yunho sighs in relief when he can set the heavy pot down, stretching his back with a low groan as he stands upright again. He looks around curiously, looking around the balcony. It’s not much, with just some old garden furniture that Wooyoung’s parents ‘donated’ to you, but the plant makes a good start to cosy it up properly.

“Huh. Hadn’t been out here yet,” he says, putting his hands on the metal railing to lean forward and take in the view. “It’s nice.”

Your eyes get momentarily distracted by how his long fingers curl around the handrail, but then you tear your gaze away and look out over the neighbourhood together. It’s mostly other apartment complexes, but there’s a big park with plenty of greenery and a pond nearby too, next to a busy kids’ playground.

“Yeah,” you agree with a wistful smile. “Really nice.”

You glance at Yunho again. All the initial awkwardness between you has faded by now; San, Wooyoung and him were eager to make up for lost time, so he’s been around quite a bit. You don’t mind. You like Yunho.

(Not just because he has distracting hands. He’s every bit as funny and dependable as your first impression led you to believe. It didn’t take long for you to grow just as fond of Yunho as the guys are.)

“And if you think about it, I got you to thank for it all!” you joke, grinning at Yunho. “Really, if you hadn’t played cupid, I wouldn’t have ended up here.”

Yunho blinks in confusion. “Cupid?”

“Yeah? You set San and Wooyoung up, right? San told me you played matchmaker.”

“……Huh. That is what San thinks I was doing?” He lets out an awkward, breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his head.

“You weren’t?” You frown at Yunho. “But you introduced them, right?”

“Y-Yeah, but— Never mind,” he says, his ears going red. “It’s not important.”

You give him a stubborn look. “Um. No. No, you can’t leave me hanging there. What’s not important?”

Yunho sees the look in your eyes, and after a long moment he gives a slow nod and straightens up. He glances at the open balcony door, but nobody inside is paying you any particular mind.

He leans forward, conspiratorially, dropping his voice low. The secrecy is causing your heart to bump faster in your chest; what the hell happened?

“Okay so, uh. No, I didn’t set them up,” Yunho says. “Sure, I’m really happy that it worked out so well for them, but… no, I just meant to test the waters for a bit, to see if things clicked between us, and then… I could see if they were interest in doing… other stuff together.”

“Stuff?” you ask — but the redness of Yunho’s ears deepens, and a lightbulb turns on in your head. “Wait,” you hiss, lowering your own voice as you lean even closer to him. “You introduced them to have a threesome? And they started dating instead??”

“Basically, yeah!” he chuckles awkwardly. “And really, it’s no big deal, I’m happy to see my friends happy. I saw the way they hit it off, figured I’d give them some space to figure things out. Thought I could always pitch the idea later — well, until Wooyoung told me San wanted to be monogamous.”

“Oh god,” you say, growing more and more aghast as your brain works overtime, linking up all the dots Yunho is throwing at you. “And then San asked you for advice about me.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit it — that one stung!” he laughs, about five percent pained. The last lingering hints of a grudge still holding on.

“I bet it did, fuck I’m so sorry—”

“Not your fault,” Yunho says, patting your shoulder with a reassuring smile.

You puff out a flustered burst of air, and shake off your embarrassment. Yeah, he’s right. This isn’t your fault. “…Is it weird that I’m kind of offended on your behalf?” you say with an awkward grin (god this is all so awkward). “Like, I know San and Wooyoung can be a bit oblivious, especially when they get stuck in each other’s little lovestruck tunnel vision, but seriously? They never realised??”

“Eh,” Yunho shrugs. “It’s on me too, I misjudged. Clearly shouldn’t have taken the subtle approach.”

You snort. “Okay yeah, maybe it’s a little on you too. The subtle approach? For those two?”

“Hey! Whatcha talking about?” San says out of nowhere, poking his head around the doorway like a devil who has belatedly realised someone spoke of him. “Thought I heard my name!”

You freeze instantly and fumble for an answer. “Uuhhhhhhh…”

Wooyoung’s head pokes out from behind San’s broad shoulders. “Hm? Are you guys gossiping about us?”

“Umm…………”

But Yunho just lets out a dry chuckle, unfazed by the interruption. “Yeah, actually,” he says with an easygoing smile. “I was just telling her that I never meant to play matchmaker for you two.”

“You didn’t?” San asks in surprise. “I thought…”

“I know,” Yunho interrupts him, not unkindly. “But no, I was trying to set us for a threesome.”

A deep, deep silence falls that strikes even Wooyoung.

He’s just staring at Yunho wide-eyed, the gears in his head ground to a complete halt. San has gone full crimson in the cheeks, putting Yunho’s faintly red ears to shame.

“What?” Yunho laughs when he sees your surprised face. “You said it yourself; no room for subtlety with these two. It was bound to come out sometime anyway. No time like the present.”

“You know what? Fair,” you say, relaxing back into a laugh of your own.

“W-wait, you what??” San finally stammers out.

Yunho casually leans his side against the balcony railing, shrugging at San. “Is it really that big a surprise, coming from me?”

Wooyoung’s shock has slowly morphed into a thoughtful expression as the gears in his head come back into motion. Keen interest shines in his eyes as he looks back-and-forth from San’s flustered blush to you and Yunho, grinning at each other.

“So uh,” Wooyoung says, mischief creeping into the curve of his crooked smile, “…is having sex together still on the table?”

final notes: yes, i am planning to do a one-shot sequel lol. you are getting that yunwoosan foursome smut scene <3 originally it was part of the epilogue, but i decided it works better as its own, separate thing

but this still is the end of the main series, the story of Woosan & reader coming together, and i am a big ball of emotion over it asdkjdsajk. thankyou for reading my fic, and for all the incredibly kind words i’ve received; this was a very special, personal project to me, and i hope it gave you some good times ♡

#igby’s writing #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez fic #woosan smut #woosan x reader #san smut #san x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez scenarios #san imagines #wooyoung imagines #san scenarios #wooyoung scenarios

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cocteaucherry · 9 months ago

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what to expect when you’re expecting

dad!nanami x f!reader

cws- pregnancy, 18+, talk of sexual situations, Nanami worrying, overall fluff, this is during Nanami’s office era, mood swings, talk of morning sickness

a/n- (in the mood for fluffy jjk dad stuff prepare yourselves these next few weeks

once you and nanami found out you were pregnant you couldn’t fully describe the joy in his tired eyes.

Tears streamed down both your cheeks as he held your stomach delicately with pure love.

The first month was pure study and nanami clinging to you as much as he could before being whisked away to his shitty office job,

When nights came, Nanami sat up with you reading from the cliche book ‘what to expect when you’re expecting’ his glasses perched upon his nose.”

“Ken, how many of these books are you planning to buy?” A giggle came from your throat as Nanami bent the page corner, placing the book down to wrap his arms around your soft belly, “As many as we need for our family.”

month three came and you were sure your baby hated you, you’d wake up with a severe headache and a need to vomit rushing to the bathroom to throw up everywhere in the toilet. It wasn’t too horrid though as your husband rubbed your back holding your hair gently in his free hand,

You felt like sobbing when he found you like this every other morning but he reassured you with soft words and kisses, “Angel, Y’know I’ve seen every part of you? You vomiting is really nothing bad.” He’d hum gripping your hand softly.

Although Nanami kissed the ground you walked on, your mood swings seem to cause a challenge for both you and his love driven mind for you.

You’d cry and lash out at him in seemingly ten seconds, apologizing with more tears thereafter. He vaguely remembered when you broke down in his arms because you forgot yeast for the homemade bread you were making for him that night.

“I ruined everything!” You’d sob into his chest and Nanami stood frigid just softly patting your back, “y/n it’s okay really I’ve been meaning to lay off the bread-“

“Oh, so you wouldn’t have liked it anyway!” Your voice would raise as he cleared his throat, “y/n I didn’t mean it like that-“

month five came and you were showing even more, your shirts becoming involuntarily cropped as you sighed staring at yourself in the mirror. “Ken! Do you think Yaga would be mad at this outfit?” You hummed, rubbing your hand softly over your exposed belly.

“Yaga maybe, I know Gojo would try to make a spectacle.”’

You grinned, “Like, how come she’s allowed to wear crop tops but when I do it?” You said trying your best to impersonate his voice which made Nanami smile softly.

“Exactly.”

month six came and it seemed everyone around you was pestering you about whether your baby was a boy or a girl, and when it came to you and nanami you never really cared.

“Kennn,” you said in a sing-songy voice as you took a break from painting the nursery wall, Nanami sat trying to build the way to a difficult crib, “yes my love?” He asked.

“How would you feel if we did a private gender reveal? I don’t really feel like making this a whole deal.”

“‘Course, we’ll do whatever you like baby.”

Later that week nanami and you found out through a pink filled cake you’d be having a girl.

And best believe you and nanami were ecstatic, you strolled down the girl’s aisle looking at the arrays of pastel colors.

You picked up a few items showing them to your husband with a smile, “Kennn! What about this?” You said but you were met with no answer your husband spaced out.

“Ken you okay?” You reached for his hand gripping it lightly until he was snapped out of his trance.

“Sorry love,” he smiled, lifting your palm to his lips to plant a kiss on your knuckles, “we’re just getting closer and closer and I’m worrying more, thinking about raising our girl, the birth and my shitty ass job not letting me take off-“

“Hey, Ken it’s okay,” you hummed leaning up to place a kiss on his jaw, “Everything will work out accordingly, your job I’m not sure about though.” You giggled leaning into his palm.

“You’re right, I’m sorry for worrying you.” Nanami chuckled, reaching for the small outfit you chose, “Do we have a name yet?”

“I think we’ll know when we see her definitely!”

Eight months in and you were slowly reaching your due date, Nanami stayed home caring for you (much to the dislike of his boss). Your pregnancy had been a bit of a breeze the few months but it seemed your baby girl wanted an entrance on her way out.

“Shit- Ken I swear she’s trying to rearrange my organs,” you groaned in discomfort laying on the couch, your rounded stomach on display as you rubbed your belly gently, “Just making more space in there love.” He said jokingly squirting lotion into the palm of his hand, a small hiss leaving your lips as the cold lotion made contact with your stomach.

“I’m in painnn, everything fucking hurts.” You hummed feeling his strong hands rub the lotion around the sides of your stomach, “why’d you have to knock me upp,” you said jokingly and your husband eyed you.

“If I can recall I'm sure it was you who begged me to give you a baby.”

“Mmm.. shut up.” You flicked his arm and he smirked, “Either way, I’m sure our baby will be happy with her strong willed, handsome, and smart father.”

“And I’m sure she’ll love her beautiful, intelligent and compassionate mother as well.”

Days later your body was suspiciously calm and non-achey which you thought was weird but you paid no mind to it, you decided to call up Shoko to hang out in the city for a few hours.

“I mean are you sure you’re okay to walk? I mean you go a day without pain and you think you’re an almighty being and shit.” Shoko’s eyebrow twitched as you sat down at the table of a random restaurant

“Correction, I am, and second I can be due any day now let’s just have some fun before she possibly destroys me.” A grunt came from your lips which caused Shoko to stare at you concerningly.

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” You waved her off picking up a menu, “let’s just enjoy the day,”

“Sheesh okay mama, I guess I should get something for Satoru too he’ll be up my ass.”

“Oh please doesn’t he pawn off a mission or two to see you anyway?”

“Barely! He just hangs out with his students.” Shoko scoffed putting her menu down, “I’ll get something for-“

She was cut off by the abrupt look on your face, a small silence filling the air.

“…”

“Not to sound dramatic or anything but I think the baby is coming.” You looked down to see the entirety of the long flower skirt you were wearing was drenched.

“I’ll call Nanami!” Shoko said quickly standing up.

3:08 pm

Nanami rushed down the halls of the sterile hospital with bags in tow, he had gotten the call from Shoko saying your water broke and never did he rush as quickly as he did.

You had pre planned hospital bags packed last week for an emergency and Nanami made sure to get those before coming to the hospital, he panted to come to your room number to be met with an open door and your glowing face in a hospital gown.

“Ken! Oh you’re so sweaty!” You grinned while walking to wrap your arms around him as his hands immediately dropped the bags, “Well I rushed because a certain someone is giving birth to my daughter.”

“Wonder who that is.”

“Me too, we should both prepare ourselves.. I’m sure gojo is coming pretty soon.”

“Yeah shoko mentioned calling him, I’m surprised you two still have a good relationship.”

Kento groaned rolling his eyes, “good is a word, I can respect and tolerate him.”

10:07 PM

“Fuckkk! Why!” You bit down on your tongue, dried tears streaming down your face as you gripped onto your husband’s hand for dear life.

“You’re doing great sweetheart just a little more okay?” He whispered to you, placing a kiss on your sweat stained forehead.

After about fifteen minutes of groaning and yelling and cursing Nanami for doing this to you, a loud cry came and your baby girl was born.

“Sooo.. we have a name?” You grinned feeling Nanami’s nose press against your scalp, his large finger entrapped in the small grip of his daughter’s.

“Let’s figure that out later..”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #nanami x you #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader #jjk fluff #fluff

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petitemistletoe · 2 years ago

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Hi i was wondering if you could write something for James Potter x fem!reader already in a relationship. Maybe they’re at a party and some guy makes her uncomfortable and won’t leave her alone and it’s just James being the protective bf he is.

If not don’t worry!!! xx

Title: Protection Charm

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual assault/harassment, eventual smut

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Y'all are real lucky that I've been in a marauders era and have been reading ATYD. Read ATYD here! Feel free to request more from this era!

“But why do I have to go this party?” Remus whined as he took a bite of his eggs.

“Moony! It’s your birthday party!” Sirius said, looking completely affronted that Remus would ever suggest such a thing.

“Come on, Remus! We went through all the trouble planning it and inviting everyone and-” James started but Remus cut him off.

“Wait a minute,” Remus held his hand up and looked at his friends sitting in front of him, “who exactly did you invite?”

“Well…everyone! You’re very popular, Moony.” Peter said with a grin. Remus looked like he was going to blow him top sooner rather than later and you thread your hand through Remus’s arm.

“What would you like to do for your birthday, Remus?” You asked.

“Get drunk with you lot,” he shrugged.

“Isn’t that what we’re going to do at the party?” Sirius threaded his fingers through his hair and looked at Remus had just been dropped from space.

“I mean just with us!” Remus shook his head, tearing a piece of toast in half and handing you the bigger piece.

“How’s this, Remus? The party is happening whether you like it or not so let’s get really pissed tonight and next weekend we can get even more pissed at Hogsmeade.” You suggested, dodging the bigger piece, grabbing the smaller one and spreading a bit of marmalade on it.

“Fine. But I’m not blowing out any candles.” Remus said, draining his tea and standing up.

“Where are you off to?” James asked.

“Have to turn in an essay to Binns. Told him I’d get it to him first thing in the morning.”

“See you later, Remus,” you called to the lanky marauder.

“Cheers love,” Remus gave you a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing from the great hall.

“Now hold on a second,” Sirius started and you only knew that he’d begin with the dramatics, “why on Earth does Moony get to kiss your girlfriend?” Sirius turned his head sharply to face James.

“I’m a person!” You protested lightly.

“Remus is like her older brother. I also don’t control what she does,” James shrugged, moving closer to you so he could put his arm around you.

“So can I kiss her?” Sirius asked James.

“Still a person!” You rolled your eyes.

“No. Remus is an older brother. You’re a dog, Sirius.” James rolled his eyes and tightened his arm around you.

“Are you jealous, Mr. Potter?” You said with mock shock.

“Not jealous, just making sure you don’t get fleas from Padfoot.” James laughed, dodging the piece of bacon that Sirius had flung at James’s head.

Classes always seemed to take longer when a marauder’s party was scheduled to follow. You promised that you and Remus could have a little dinner just the two of you so you snuck off to Hogsmeade for a quick dinner of pub food and butterbeer at the three broomsticks before the party.

“Listen I know you said you wouldn’t blow out any candles but,” you pulled out a cupcake with a single candle in the middle.

“God I’m glad James is dating you,” Remus said, blowing out the candle and cutting the cupcake in half. He handed the larger half to you, which you refused because there was no way you were going to allow Remus to have the smaller half of a cupcake on his own birthday.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” you said with a grin.

“Don’t tell the boys but if you and James ever break up, I’m on your side.” Remus smiled. You walked back to the Gryffindor common room with Remus’s arm around your shoulders. The common room erupted with cheers with the guest of honor entered and Remus sent you a bewildered look.

“Firewhiskey?” You asked him.

“Definitely,” he nodded as Mary, Lily, and Marlene cornered him and started peppering him with ‘birthday pecks’. You could see James and Sirius playing beer pong and by the sound of their cheers it seemed like they were winning. You poured Remus a strong glass of firewhiskey and then a glass for yourself when you felt a hand on the small of your back. You knew Remus was still cornered by the girls, you could hear James and Sirius at the pong table, and you could see Peter sneaking off with some girl in Hufflepuff. So who’s hand was on your back? You turned to see an attractive seventh year Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy, grin down at you.

“Hi darling, who’s the other drink for?”

“Hi Lucius,” you shrugged Lucius’s hand off and stepped away so you were facing him, “the other drink is for Remus.”

“Oh of course, the man of the hour,” Lucius sounded like he was making his voice extra sultry.

“Surprised to see you here. Didn’t think you were a fan of Gryffindor parties.” You said cautiously.

“I’d never turn down an opportunity to see you, love. I do have a question for you, though.” Lucius’s finger hooked under your chin so you made eye contact with him.

“Alright?”

“Are you dating Lupin?”

“Remus? Oh no-”

“Excellent,” Lucius leaned down and kissed you rather forcefully. You put your hands on his chest and pushed him back.

“Lucius. I’m dating James,” you didn’t want to make a scene but Lucius’s grip on your arms was pretty tight and he gave no indication that he was going to let go. You glanced back at James but he was currently absorbed in making Sirius drink from one of those funnels that Mary had brought back from the muggle world.

“I don’t see him around.” Lucius said, leaning his head down to kiss you again. His lips were against yours but you didn’t kiss him back.

“Let me go Lucius, I’m serious,” you said, trying to pull yourself away.

“Come on now, don’t be a bitch,” Lucius said, his grip tight on your wrists. You were beginning to panic when you felt Lucius pull away from you. You looked up in time to see James punch Lucius right in the jaw.

“What the fuck, Potter?” Lucius said, holding his jaw with one hand and pulling out his wand with the other.

“Get away from her, Malfoy. Get out of Gryffindor tower before I hex you,” James said, positioning himself in front of you.

“Not if I hex you first,” Lucius said, hissing out a curse. James was ready with his own but Remus yelled,

“Expelliarmus!” Remus snatched both James and Lucius’s wands, “Now you two are making me exercise my prefect duties on my own birthday. Detention for you both. Malfoy get the fuck out of here.”

“Fuck off, Lupin.” Malfoy said, clearly not thrilled at the idea of returning to the dungeons with a bruised ego and a bruised jaw.

Peter and Sirius were struggling to hold James back and you heard Sirius hiss at his brother Regulus,

“If you’ve ever done anything good for me ever in your life you will get Malfoy out of here right now.”

Regulus was not going to disagree and along with a few other Slytherins, they hauled Malfoy out of Gryffindor tower.

“Let’s do a round of shots!” Sirius said with a grin. He had no intention of letting the party halt because of some interhouse drama. James turned and wrapped you in his arms,

“Are you okay?”

“Let’s get out of here.” You said shakily. James nodded and you both slipped out of Gryffindor tower. James’s wand was raised just in case you ran into Malfoy again but it seemed that Regulus had made sure that Malfoy didn’t linger. He lead you to the astronomy tower where you sat on the edge with your legs dangling and shared a cigarette.

The energy between you was uneasy, uncomfortable. James was obviously still upset with Malfoy but was trying to keep calm for you. You were still processing Malfoy’s disgusting behavior. You couldn’t help yourself, though, and you started to laugh. Little chuckles at first but then full belly laughs and finally you were doubled over trying to catch your breath as James stared at you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He finally asked, after pulling you by the forearm after you almost toppled over the edge of the tower which only made you laugh harder.

“You were jealous,” you giggled, your hands clasped firmly over your mouth.

“I-” James started but he too started to see the humor in it and he started to laugh too.

“How’s your hand?” You asked, picking up James’s left hand and examining his knuckles. There were bluish bruises forming already and you knew he’d probably need to go to the hospital wing in the morning.

“It’s fine. Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked. You let out a weak chuckle and nodded.

“Yeah. Thank you for…you know.” You said with a smile.

“Of course, love. I’ll always be here for you,” James practically whispered. You brought his bruised knuckles up to your lips and kissed them lightly. You kissed around his hand and then on the sides of his fingers and then you slid one of James’s long fingers into your mouth. James took in a sharp breath and watched you, mesmerized, as you slid your tongue around his digits. James let out a strangled moan when he saw how deep his fingers stretched down your throat. You released his fingers softly and looked up at him with doe eyes. James’s eyes were lust blown and he was looking at you while breathing very hard.

“Come here,” he pulled you towards him and kissed you hard, his hands knotted in your hair as he practically consumed you. He was starving and you were his last meal. He kissed down your jaw and down your neck before coming back up to your lips.

“We should have sex,” you panted. James nodded.

“Yeah definitely.”

“I don’t think I can make it back to the dormitory,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t either.”

“You got an Outstanding in transfiguration right?”

“Yeah,” James looked at you like you had grown another head for talking about school at a time like this.

“Then transfigure these desks into a bed.” You said, your fingers fumbling with his belt buckle.

“Oh! Yeah, fuck…yeah.” James nodded, throwing his sweater somewhere across the room. He was fumbling in his pockets for his wand and you sunk to your knees, pulling his wand out of his pocket and handing it to him before pulling his cock out of his underwear and putting it in your mouth.

“Oh my god,” James gasped, one hand on the brick wall of the tower. You let the head of James’s cock brush the back of your throat before you made eye contact with him and pulled away.

“James, the bed,” you grinned before leaning down and taking one of his balls in your mouth while jerking him off.

“In my defense,” he said in a strained voice, “it’s a little hard to focus.” James was able to transfigure the desks into some sort of futon before letting out a strangled moan and saying “please stop before I cum in your mouth.”

You stood up and took your shirt and bra and dusted your knees off before reclining back on the futon.

“Are you going to fuck me?” You asked, spreading your legs and pulling down your underwear. James watched with pure shock and adoration as you let your panties dangle on an outstretched foot before letting it drop to the ground.

“Yes, yes! Absolutely.” James nodded, diving onto the futon and burying his face in your pussy. His lips immediately attached to your clit as he maneuvered three fingers inside you. James kissed you deeply before you broke away from his lips and moaned into his open mouth.

“Fuck, don’t stop I’m going to cum.” You panted. James grinned and if you had been able to open your eyes you would’ve seen how embarrassingly fogged up James’s glasses were. He was also rutting against the edge of the futon and moaning into your own mouth. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist as you rode his hand into your orgasm. You barely had a moment to come down from it before James was fully ripping your skirt off and pushing himself inside of you.

“I learned-” James could barely get two words out through his moans and you had to take a minute to wipe the inside of his glasses so you could actually see his eyes, “-a charm hold on a minute.” James stayed inside you as he reached over your head for his wand again. He mumbled something and pointed his wand at one of the crystal balls. The ball shot itself into James’s outstretched hand and transformed into a rapidly vibrating clitoral stimulator. James pressed it against your clit and you dug your nails into his bicep.

“Where on earth did you learn a charm like that?” You gasped, feeling a second orgasm coming on.

“Moony is a genius,” James said, before practically screaming, “I’m going to cum!”

You could nod as you came, nearly sobbing and moaning. James came too, moaning loudly and resting his forehead against yours. You pushed the vibrator away and took a few minutes to breathe laying back while letting James rest his head on your chest.

“So wait a second,” you said once you and James were able to restore your heart rates to a normal BPM.

“What is it?” James looked adorably goofy with his glasses all fogged up again and you took them off and wiped them.

“What do you mean Remus taught you that charm?”

“He’s a man of many talents,” James said with a shrug.

“He deserves a much better birthday party then.”

#James potter #James potter x reader #James potter x reader smut #James potter x reader angst #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #Marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #petter pettigrew #marauders x reader #marauders era #all the young dudes #atyd marauders

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latenightreadingpdf · 2 months ago

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A Happy Halloween - Marauders Era

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: At the Hogwarts Halloween party, Y/N plays matchmaker, leading to a magical night full of romance, laughter, and a bit of mischief among the Marauders.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The Gryffindor girls’ dorm was buzzing with excitement, every inch of space covered in notebooks, bits of parchment, and quills. A huge bowl of sweets from Hogsmeade sat in the middle of the floor, quickly diminishing as the girls threw out idea after idea for Halloween.

“We need something iconic,” Marlene said, plopping down on her bed with her legs crossed, fingers drumming on her knee. “Something that’ll turn heads and make everyone wish they’d thought of it first.”

Mary grinned, popping a chocolate frog into her mouth. “Yeah, but it’s got to be a group costume, too. Last year, half the school went as duos, and it was chaos trying to figure out who was who. Imagine if we rolled in as a full set. People would lose their minds!”

Dorcas leaned back, eyes gleaming. “What about fairies? Like…the Winx Club?”

“Too niche,” Lily replied with a slight smirk. “Maybe we’re aiming too young. What about something bold, like superheroes?”

The room exploded with ideas, each one stranger than the last. You leaned in, head on your hand, as they debated.

“What if we did Mario Kart characters?” you suggested, leaning in and wiggling your eyebrows.

Marlene snorted, reaching for another candy. “What, are we all supposed to carry around fake steering wheels all night?”

Dorcas snapped her fingers, eyes bright. “Ooh, ooh! Minions! We could be, like, a whole army of yellow.”

Mary burst into laughter. “The only ‘minion’ we’d look like is a nightmare with the amount of yellow we’d have to wear.”

At this point, they were sprawled out across the floor and each other's beds, snickering at the ridiculousness of it all.

“What if we tried Disney princesses?” Alice suggested finally, shrugging as she threw it into the mix.

Marlene and Lily’s eyes lit up immediately.

“Oh my god, that’s perfect,” Marlene exclaimed. “And we can put our own spin on it, make it look classy but still hot.”

Lily clapped her hands, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “We can each pick one and go all out. It’ll be like our own royal court, but dangerous and…beautiful!”

Everyone buzzed with excitement as you all quickly claimed your princesses, with Marlene insisting she had to be Aurora and Mary immediately taking Snow White. Dorcas was going as Tiana, and Lily being Megara. Alice obviously going as Alice from Alice in Wonderland and you end up choosing to be Belle.

By the time you’d dug through your trunks, swapped clothes, and haphazardly stitched what you could, everyone had their costumes mostly ready. Just a few last touches were needed, but it was time for dinner, and with a collective sigh, the girls abandoned their fabric chaos to make their way down to the Great Hall.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As they entered, the Marauders were already at their usual table. Predictably, James shot up when he spotted Lily, putting on his best charming smile. "Evans," he greeted, clearly fishing for a reaction.

"Potter," she replied, unimpressed but with a glint in her eye that made Y/N smirk. Lily would never admit it, but the way she looked at James sometimes—like he’d just hung the stars for her—was hard to miss.

As they sat down, Y/N leaned in and whispered, "Why do you keep shutting him down? You know he really likes you."

Lily rolled her eyes but bit back a small smile. "He's just... a lot to deal with. And he's dramatic."

Still, Y/N could see the way Lily’s gaze trailed back to him as she spoke. Y/N had a plan forming, one that just might break down Lily’s walls once and for all.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Dinner didn’t take long. You could feel everyone’s eagerness to get back to the costumes; the group energy was practically bubbling as you finished dessert and prepared to head out. You were about to follow the girls out when a sudden idea hit you like lightning. Heart racing, you quickly told them, “I left something on the table, go ahead—I’ll catch up!”

You darted back into the Great Hall, skidding to a stop at the Gryffindor table. James blinked, surprised to see you there. “Y/N? Did you need something?”

“Yes,” you said, catching your breath, a smirk forming on your face. “So, here’s the thing: the girls and I are doing a group costume for Halloween—Disney princesses. Lily’s going to be Megara. You should be her Hercules.”

Peter raised his hand. “Wait, but we were going to be Ghostbusters!”

“Shut it, Wormtail,” James interrupted, eyes glinting with excitement. “Y/N, you are absolutely brilliant! You’re the best wing woman ever, thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

You grinned, knowing this might be the perfect plan to bring them closer. “She’ll be surprised, so don’t let on that I told you.”

After quick goodbyes, you dashed out to rejoin the girls. As you made your way up to the common room, you could practically picture the Halloween party—James dressed as Hercules, swooping in with some over-the-top line. It was going to be perfect.

When you arrived back at the dorm, the girls were waist-deep in costumes, trying to make the last adjustments. Dorcas waved a green sash at you, and Marlene threw a handful of glitter into the air, declaring, “Princesses of Gryffindor, we are ready for Halloween!”

And as you looked around at the chaos and excitement, you couldn’t help but smile, satisfied with your master plan. Halloween was going to be unforgettable, and with any luck, it might just be the night Lily finally sees James the way he’s always seen her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The night of the Halloween party had arrived, Marlene’s playlist blasted through the dorm, a mix of upbeat tunes that kept them all hyped as they perfected their costumes. They took turns braiding hair, applying lipstick, and laughing about how they'd pulled this whole Disney princess thing together with their limited wardrobe and a lot of creative swapping.

As they descended the stairs to the common room, they were met with the sound of laughter and music echoing through the halls. The room was buzzing with students dressed in an eclectic mix of costumes, and Y/N could feel her excitement growing.

“Holy Merlin,” Lily muttered beside her, freezing in place.

Y/N followed her line of sight and almost laughed. There, in all his muscled glory, stood James Potter in a Hercules costume that made the costume look straight out of a Greek myth. He looked incredible—his broad shoulders and arms on full display, his hair charmingly tousled beneath a golden headpiece.

Lily was staring. Hard.

Trying not to grin too wide, Y/N nudged her. “Please don’t be mad, but… I kind of told James to go as Hercules. It seemed fitting, don’t you think?”

Lily shot her a half-hearted glare, but a reluctant smile broke through. “I want to be mad… but it’s actually kind of sweet he’d do that.” She paused, her cheeks going pink as she muttered, “Plus, he looks… really good.”

They burst into laughter, which caught James’s attention from across the room. Spotting Lily, he straightened up, his usual bravado suddenly replaced with nervous excitement. He came over, cheeks tinged with a blush.

“Lily,” he started, voice soft and sincere, “you look beautiful.” He held out his hand, barely hiding his nerves. “Would you like to dance?”

Lily’s surprise was evident, but she didn’t hesitate for long. She nodded, slipping her hand into his, and Y/N saw the look of pure disbelief on James’s face. Before they stepped onto the dance floor, he shot Y/N a look of pure gratitude, mouthing thank you. She winked back, feeling like a matchmaker extraordinaire.

With the night in full swing, Y/N wandered through the crowd, catching up with friends. Eventually, she bumped into Remus, who gave her a warm hug.

“Hey! So, what did you all decide to go as for Halloween, since James bailed?” she asked, grinning.

Remus smirked and gently turned her by the shoulders. There, in the corner, was Sirius Black in a Gaston costume, flexing and striking ridiculous poses to impress the girls around him.

“Sirius,” Remus explained, holding back a laugh, “doesn’t know much about Beauty and the Beast. He thinks Gaston is the hero who wins the princess.”

Y/N’s face twisted in horror and amusement as she tried to stifle a laugh. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Oh, no,” Remus chuckled. “I’m letting him figure that out himself.”

Her laughter bubbled over, and she shook her head. “Remus, you’re evil.”

You quickly look Remus up and down trying to figure out what he’s supposed to be, but it doesnt look like he has a costume on and you look at him confused.

He gave a soft shrug, his smile a bit sly. “I’m actually the Beast, for… obvious reasons.”

She blinked, processing his dark sense of humor, and let out a giggle. “You know, I really shouldn’t be laughing at that.”

He chuckled, nudging her lightly. “But it’s true.”

Her laughter was interrupted by a question. “Where’s Peter, though?” she asked, scanning the room.

Remus nodded toward the far corner, where Peter stood dejectedly in his Ghostbusters costume, arms crossed. “He’s still trying to make the rest of us feel guilty for ditching the group costume.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back a laugh. “He’ll get over it,” she said, grinning. They shared a knowing look before the crowd swept her away.

As she caught glimpses of James and Lily laughing together on the dance floor, Sirius flexing dramatically, and Peter moping in his Ghostbuster getup, Y/N felt a sense of warmth and satisfaction. This was the kind of Halloween she’d dreamed of—a night full of laughter, a bit of chaos, and just the right amount of magic.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N ~ Just a quick one-shot i threw together to comfort all you Marauder fans out there on this sad day. Happy Halloween everyone!! stay safe <3

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 9 months ago

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Words: 9,001 (yeah, she's a beast!) Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria S9, post-Negan war, before the bridge Warnings: language (duh, it’s me), violence (no sexual violence), injuries to main character, blood, some kind of dark Saviors shit (not like line-up level dark but kinda fucked), mild angst, Protective!Daryl, hurt/comfort Summary: The war is over, but it isn't all peaches and cream. The Sanctuary struggles to function and Daryl and Y/N struggle with ghosts of their pasts after Rick asks them to take things over there. Deciding they've had enough, they decide to depart for Hilltop but Y/N stays behind for a couple days to help Carol get started taking over. The past comes back to rear its ugly head... A/N: This is an epilogue to the Sacrifice series, but you don't necessarily have to have read all 29 previous parts to appreciate it (though you def should!) [Spoilers (or reminders) for context start here -> -> -> The war is over, Y/N was once one of Negan's wives in order to protect her brother, she went back to Negan to break Daryl out of the Sanctuary, Daryl ends up shooting Negan to protect Y/N when a plan of theirs goes awry and the war ends, Y/N was also shot in the process but survived]

_ _ _ _ _ _

You and Daryl stood off to the side, watching the group of people gather around Rick, flooding the open space on the Sanctuary’s factory floor. You gently touched him on the arm and his blue eyes landed on your face. “Are you going to talk to him tonight?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. I gotta. I can’t—we can’t stay here any longer. I dun want you here either. Bein’ in here, in these walls again, it feels like it’s slowly poisonin’ us…” He glanced at the fresh graffiti someone had sprayed on the wall. We’re still Negan. Saviors Save Us

Your hand slipped down his forearm and you laced your fingers with his. “I know. It’s the right decision.”

“Yeah,” he mused. “Ain’t sure Rick’s gonna agree though…”

“Rick isn’t the one here dealing with all these people, reliving everything every day. It’s too much,” you said. Daryl nodded in agreement.

“Yeah…” Just then, Rick finished talking to the gathered group and there was a smattering of applause and murmuring. You gave Daryl’s hand a gentle squeeze as Rick wandered over. “Good luck,” you murmured.

Soon, various business that needed to be discussed was concluded and the already dim torch and lantern lights on the Sanctuary factory floor were all but put out. Daryl and Rick retreated up to the catwalk.

As they stood side-by-side, looking down at the shadowy, rundown building below them, Daryl sighed heavily and Rick could feel the tension between them. Rick broke the silence first. “So, what’s going on?” he asked.

Daryl gulped and straightened up, looking his friend in the eye. “I don't wanna be the one leadin’ these people anymore.”

Rick’s expression was impassive. “Okay... Why?”

“Bein' here, behind these walls again... It just don't feel right, man. I'm better out there. I always have been. And I’ve got Y/N to think about. After what happened to her in here—with him—”

Rick sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Things happened to you in here too,” Rick said, perhaps realizing for the first time what he’d really asked of his friend, his brother…

“Yeah, well I care more about her than I care about myself. This is where her life was a livin’ fuckin’ nightmare. His wife…” he murmured under his breath. “She wasn’t his wife. She was his damn property. Her brother died here. He destroyed her group just like he destroyed ours. What d’ya think this place reminds both of us of?” He asked, turning sharp eyes to Rick. “Hmm? Did ya even think ‘bout that when ya asked me to come back here? Didya stop to think that ya might be askin’ us to relive some of the worst shit we’ve ever gone through?”

Rick hung his head for a moment, clasping his hands together. A wash of guilt and shame came over him. He hadn’t considered the full extent of it, no. But there was no one else to do the job and so he’d asked too much of Daryl, too much of you. “But you and Y/N have kept this place together. You’ve kept people in line here. We can't just let the Sanctuary fail after everything that's happened,” he said.

Daryl shook his head and paced a small, agitated circle. “Man, s’gonna fail anyway. Nothin’ grows here. It's a damn factory, man. Look, when Negan was around, he needed people to provide for him. It's still the same. Nothin's changed,” Daryl argued.

“It's different now. We give what we give willingly,” Rick retorted.

“And how long's that gonna last? Most of the bridges are out after the big storm. The highway's done. We've scavenged every drop of gas for miles. And we can't make enough corn fuel to run the cars or the trucks. Pretty soon, it's gonna be more than a day's ride from one spot to another.”

“Well, it's on us to figure out how to make it work,” Rick said, leaning forward on the rail again.

“Man, there ain't no ‘us’ anymore. Everyone's everywhere,” he pointed out. “I feel lucky that Y/N and I are even in the same damn place.” He let out another weighty sigh. “That small group we had back in the beginning... plus a few more of the people we picked up along the way, we could do anythin’. That was right. That’s what I know.” Daryl leaned forward beside Rick, chewing on his bottom lip in that signature way.

“Well, you wanna come home to Alexandria, then?” Rick asked. “You and Y/N?”

Daryl shook his head. “No. We'll go back to Hilltop, check on Maggie and the baby.”

“Well, you go, someone's got to take your place here. Rosita and Eugene are headed to Oceanside next. Maggie's sending food, but not people, and Kingdom's got its own problems rebuilding after losing its fighters. If Alexandria sends another person out, I could use the help back home.”

Daryl only let out a small huff.

“We're not together because things have changed,” Rick said again.

Daryl stiffened. “Mm-hmm,” he hummed. His blue eyes turned to Rick again and they were intense. “The thing is, you changed ‘em, Rick.” The tension felt hot and pulsating in the air like liquid mercury. He patted his friend on the shoulder. “But I get it.” And then Daryl took his leave.

On the staircase, Carol backed away as quietly as she could, only to be startled by your voice softly behind her. “Well, that didn’t go great,” you whispered.

Carol turned to face you, her face drawn. “Daryl is right though. Rick shouldn’t have asked that of the two of you after—after everything you went through here. And he should have known Daryl would have a hard time saying no to him.”

You nodded and straightened up, stepping toward her. “Rick’s his brother,” you agreed. “And there really was no one else. But Daryl’s right. We can’t stay here anymore. It’s—it’s wearing him thin.”

“And you?” Carol asked, worried.

You gave her a tight smile and shrugged. But when you spoke again your voice broke. “I’d almost rather be anywhere else…”

Carol nodded knowingly and then grabbed you into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she said. her mind drifted back to her own abuse at the hands of Ed and she felt a swell of affection for you and for Daryl, for both of you taking this on at all after everything… When she pulled back, she cleared her throat, pushing her emotion away. “I’ll—I’ll take over here a while. You and Daryl need to get out. I want to help.”

“Carol—”

“Don’t argue with me. My mind’s made up,” she said firmly.

You nodded. “Okay. Thank you,” you said. “I’m—I’m gonna go talk to Rick,” you said. “Make him understand.”

Carol nodded. “I’ll check on Daryl. Let him know what I’m thinking.”

“Okay. Good idea… Hey—Carol. This is—what you’re doing to help, it’s huge for us. So, thank you.”

She gave you a warm smile and you passed her on your way up the stairs to find Rick. He was still leaning heavily on the railing, clearly in deep thought over his discussion with Daryl. But he turned at the sound of your steps on the metal catwalk and straightened up when he saw you.

“Hey,” you greeted him stopping beside him and also looking down over the factory floor. No one was milling around anymore. Most people had drifted away to bed. “You okay?” you asked, giving him a knowing, sideways glance.

Rick laughed a little wryly and nodded. “Yeah… Just—tryin’ to figure out if and where I went wrong,” he said, clasping his hands together. “Things I’d do differently now…”

You nodded. “You have a lot of weight on your shoulders. Daryl knows that.”

Rick met your eyes again, clearly realizing you’d overhead their conversation somehow.

You straightened up and tilted your head toward the hallway down the catwalk. “Follow me. I want to show you something.”

Rick followed you as you stopped to grab a lantern and then led him down the hallway. This part of the building was mostly empty these days, except for a few people who had carved out some private spaces for themselves. The warm orange glow flickered past many doors and other halls before you turned right and came partially down the next corridor. The nauseous feeling and the heavy pit in your stomach grew as you walked, and before you knew it, your hand was trembling slightly holding the lantern. This place was full of ghosts.

Rick looked at you with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked. The tremble in your hand translated to a shakiness in the shadows cast by the light on the walls and it was easy to see.

“We’re almost there,” you said softly.

You walked in further silence for only another half a minute before you stopped in front of a gaping dark space in the wall, barely bigger than a closet. Rick gave you a questioning look and you lifted the lantern to illuminate it. The floor was filthy with layers of smeared dirt and who-knows what else. “This is where they held us. Me, when my brother and I were captured, and Negan singled me out from my group. And Daryl after the line-up with Alexandria.”

Rick stared at the dirty, dingy space and he could almost see Daryl huddled there in his mind’s eye, wearing that filthy sweatshirt. His brow furrowed and his face contorted.

You pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Your head felt a bit light and foggy. “I—I had the doors that used to be on the cells removed, because—I just couldn’t stand the sight of them closed up like that. I kept—kept imagining Daryl was still in there every time I had to walk past. Or that somehow, I was going to end up back in there.” You glanced over at Rick who was staring straight into the darkness. He watched as you raised your free hand to rub at your bad shoulder, the one Negan’s bullet had pierced. “They took all his clothes at first. Left him in there naked. Cold. Shot. Hungry. Wondering what happened to the rest of you. And the thirst… Then, Dwight humiliated him and they fed him dog food and blasted music to keep him awake. The same song, over and over. Then, they made him work outside in the heat and humidity in that filthy sweatsuit, chaining walkers to the fence for Negan or doing whatever awful chores they could invent. He had to clean up after Negan punished someone, mopping up shit or piss or worse… Dwight made him look at pictures of—of what happened to Glenn and Abraham.” Tears burned in your eyes and Rick’s shut and he dropped his head.

He lifted a hand to wave you off. “I—I understand,” he said in a low voice, his heart breaking. He’d been careless to ask Daryl to come here, too focused on his beautiful dream in the memory of Carl to realize what this would do to you and to Daryl.

“He didn’t want to say no to you when you asked him to come back here. You’re like a brother to him. He didn’t want to let you down even though—it’s literally the last place either of us wants to be.”

Rick sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin. “I don’t have an excuse… I—I shouldn’t have asked it. Of either of you… I just—I was tryin’ to make this all work.”

You nodded. “I know. So does Daryl. But that doesn’t mean that it hasn’t been… We’ve both been reliving our trauma having to be back here. And we’ve hit our limit. That’s all.”

Rick met your eyes again. You hadn’t even talked about yourself, about what you’d been through here in the cell and with Negan after, not really. You’d mainly focused on Daryl. But Rick could guess well enough what it would have been like for you being one of Negan’s wives and living in that constant fear for your brother and yourself, what you’d had to subject yourself to.

He glanced again at that dark space in the wall. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Carol said she’ll take over here for a while,” you said, turning away from the cell and starting back the way you came.

Rick looked surprised but nodded, walking along beside you.

“I’ll—I’ll stay a couple days to get her going here and up to speed. And then I’ll go meet Daryl in Hilltop.”

“Alright,” Rick nodded. “It’ll have to work for now. But I can’t help thinking it’s a patch on the issue and not a fix.”

You laughed wryly again. “Aren’t most things these days? Rick, Daryl wasn’t wrong about The Sanctuary. It’s a resource sink. It doesn’t produce anything. You’re still going to have to square with that one day. I get what you have been trying to do, making peace with the rest of The Saviors, and not all of them are guilty of the awful things that happened during the war. But things are still festering here under the surface.”

Rick looked over at you, concerned. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, about ready to part ways with him on the catwalk again. “You saw the graffiti. Negan might be dead but for some of them, it’s not over.” You gave him one last look. “Daryl and I know you have a lot on your plate, but it’s time for us to get the hell outta here. If we don’t… this place will consume us. We can’t move away from what happened while we’re here. It’s like—it’s like having it shoved down our throats every day.”

You took your leave from Rick then, leaving him again in deep thought. You knew where you could find Daryl, at a spot outside he liked to go where most people wouldn’t be able to disturb him. It happened to be someplace the two of you sometimes went to watch the stars. When you got there, stepping just one foot outside the building, you had to smile to yourself. Daryl and Carol were just sitting together, side-by-side, enjoying a moment after being apart for so long. You decided to leave them to it.

You made your way back to the room you and Daryl had claimed together in a different part of The Sanctuary. You hastily changed your clothes and got ready for bed, knowing he’d come find you there when he was ready. And it wasn’t long before he did, coming in to see you already cozied up in the bed you shared, reading a worn paperback.

You smiled as he came in. “Hi,” you said.

He stopped in the doorway and took you in, giving you a small smile back. “Hey. Sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” Daryl drawled, sinking down beside you on the mattress. “I was out sittin’ with Carol.”

“It’s alright. I know you were. I didn’t want to interrupt,” you said, reaching for a strand of his wavy hair and running your fingers down it gently. “You haven’t seen each other for a while.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling off his boots. “Get this. Ezekiel asked her to marry him,” he said, giving you a conspiratorial look.

You pushed yourself up on the palm of your hand. “Oh my God!” you burst out.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

“Well? What did she say?!”

“Ah… She ain’t ready yet,” Daryl explained.

“Wow.” You thought of Carol and Ezekiel together after the close call at the museum. They were good for each other. “Maybe someday?” you asked.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm.” His hand came to rest on the graceful curve of your neck. It was cool from the nighttime air. He leaned in and kissed you softly, pulling back just slightly to study the colors in your irises. “Listen—I told Rick—”

“Yeah, I know,” you interrupted him gently. “I could hear the two of you. And Carol talked to me too. She’s gonna take over here for a while.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. So, we can go. We dun have to be here anymore. Figured we can head to Hilltop tomorrow. Check on Maggie and Hershel.”

You nodded and then ducked your eyes. “I’m—I’m gonna stay here with Carol for just a couple more days. Help her get started and settled. Then I can meet you. I’ll take one of the horses.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. You could see that he was getting ready to argue.

“It’s just a few more days,” you whispered, gently grabbing onto the front of his vest. “It’s the least I can do since she’s doing this for us, leaving her family and world in The Kingdom.”

Daryl’s stomach churned a little, leaving him feeling slightly nauseous. “She’ll have Eugene,” he pointed out.

“Barely. He and Rosita are heading to Oceanside next to get the fishery going.”

Daryl sighed heavily and moved back to sit on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slightly slumped. He was chewing on his bottom lip. You knelt behind him and draped yourself against his back, looping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the curtain of his wavy hair, breathing him in and leaving a kiss on his neck. “It’s just a couple days,” you said again.

He gulped. He didn’t know why, but there was a pit in his stomach. “I dunno…” he mused aloud. “I dun like ya bein’ here without me. Here of all damn places.” His mind went back to that graffiti sprayed on the wall.

“I know. I don’t either. But I want to help Carol as a thank you. And then I’ll come straight to Hilltop.” You moved around to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “Hey—Look at me,” you urged him. “I can handle myself. Or did you forget?” you teased him, bumping into his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

“I know ya can handle yerself. It ain’t that… Somethin’ just—I dunno. Somethin’ dun feel righ’.”

You sighed and nodded knowingly. “It’s never felt right being here.”

“Yeah… maybe tha’s just it. I dunno,” he said finally, but you noted that he still looked slightly troubled. It had been a long day, and his talk with Rick was intense. He stood up and started getting ready to climb in bed with you. You watched the muscles in his back ripple, crisscrossed by his scars, as he pulled off his shirt. You crawled back beneath the sheets and waited until he slipped in beside you.

“C’mere,” he murmured softly to you as he settled into his pillow. You moved into him immediately and he pulled you against him. You tangled your legs with his and gazed into his bright blue eyes. He draped an arm over you and his hand moved to find the hem of your t-shirt before slipping underneath it and pressing against your bare skin, tracing absent patterns on your side, your hip, your back. Daryl leaned in and kissed you, one that was deep and full of wanting.

You felt a pooling of heat expanding in your chest as his lips moved to your neck. Daryl listened to your breathing hitch as he kissed your pulse point and grazed the shell of your ear. His hands wandered over the shape of you beneath the draping of your shirt. In no time, the two of you were completely lost in each other, melting into sensations and quiet gasps of pleasure, bounding hearts and heaving chests, skin on skin. Daryl’s fingers laced between yours, his other hand firm on your hip. Then, after you both reached your blissful highs, you fell asleep in his arms and neither of you woke until the sun was coming up.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You walked with Daryl to his bike and stood beside him as he strapped down his gear, giving him a smile when he looked up at you again.

“Are ya sure ‘bout this? Ya dun have to stay. Carol will be fine,” he said in a low voice. That pit in his stomach had returned almost immediately when he awoke and thought about separating from you.

You gently rested your hands on his sides, stepping in close. “Everything is going to be fine. Go help Maggie. Check on her and Hershel. I’ll see you soon. Okay?”

He looked worried, but nodded. “S’yer call. Two days,” he drawled.

You nodded. “Two days. I promise.”

“Alrigh’…” He leaned in and kissed you deeply, clasping your face and pressing his other hand into the small of your back to pull your body flush against his. You kissed him back heatedly and hungrily and sighed when you broke apart.

“Miss ya already,” he said, breaking contact with you and getting ready to climb onto his bike.

“Same,” you agreed, giving him a tight smile. “Love you,” you added, waiting until the last moment of separating to unlace your fingers from his.

He nodded and studied you, drinking in the view. “You too.”

Then, in a spray of gravel and a cloud of dust he was on his way. You didn’t see him glance back at you over his shoulder before he completely lost sight of The Sanctuary.

You found Carol already on the factory floor standing with Eugene, looking over whatever list of action items were on his clipboard that day. You were absently rubbing your bad shoulder as you came up. It had been aching since the day before. Had revisiting the cell stirred things up? Probably. Carol noticed immediately.

“You okay? Shoulder bothering you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Just a little. The old war wound acting up a bit,” you said with a wry laugh.

Eugene looked up from his clipboard. “I could potentially formulate a topical balm that may relieve some of your chronic pain symptoms, though most ingredients would not sufficiently penetrate the muscle in order to reach the origin of—”

You cut him off with a smile and a laugh. “It’s okay, Eugene. I’m fine. It’s not too bad. What do we need to tackle today?”

The three of you chatted briefly about what needed to be done urgently and then each picked your tasks to start with. Several hours later, you were nearly done trying to treat the small number of plants that were still surviving in the raised garden beds for some kind of insect pest when you were interrupted.

You turned at the sound of footsteps to see one of the Sanctuary residents approaching. You stood and dusted the soil from your gloves. “Hi. What’s up?”

“The guys getting that scrap metal from the upper floors found a water leak. Can you come take a look at it? We might be able to fix it, but we’d probably have to shut the water off completely for a while.”

You sighed heavily and pulled off your gloves. “Always something new, isn’t it?” you said dryly. “Yeah, I’ll come take a look now. Lead the way.”

You passed through the factory floor, noting that the graffiti discovered the day before had been freshly painted over as Daryl had demanded. Carol and Eugene were bent over a table in deep discussion over some new plan. Your stomach flipped as it always did as you passed the oven where Negan used to heat his iron or branding rods. You turned your eyes away.

Soon you were on the upper floors, walking through the dim hallways. It always felt eerily quiet up there. The resident you were following pointed ahead to the next doorway and then stopped to grab some work gloves from a pile of gear set in the hallway. You passed him and stopped in the doorway, expecting to see the group of other people working, but the room was empty. And there was no sign of a water leak. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. “Hey, are you sure this is—”

And then everything went black.

Carol was walking somewhat aimlessly back and forth across the factory floor, weaving through the supplies and little bunched groups of people. She craned her neck trying to see if she could spot you anywhere. The two of you had planned to meet for the evening meal after everyone was done for the day but Carol was suddenly realizing she hadn’t seen you since that morning.

Her stomach began to churn. She bolted toward outside where evening was beginning to fall. The garden beds cast long, deep shadows between them, but she didn’t find you crouched among them. The final place she checked was the room you shared with Daryl, now mainly bare of your items since the two of you had begun packing your belongings to leave. Daryl had already taken his few things away on his bike.

There was no sign of you.

Her heart started to pound. She’d questioned everyone she could think of as to your whereabouts. Where could you possibly be? An anxious thought flitted into her mind. Her stomach tightened into a fist. It wasn’t like you not to arrive somewhere you said you would…

The last thing to do was to search the rarely used upper floors. She knew a crew had been working up there earlier in the day, collecting and hauling scrap metal to be reused to patch the roof and fences. Perhaps something had come up and you were still up there assisting with a problem.

Her boots made a lonely, echoing sound as she rushed around corner after corner. There was a weighty silence and the farther up she wandered, the sicker she felt. Something was seriously wrong. She could feel it in her bones. She called your name out but it strangely didn’t seem to pierce the thick vapor of silence in front of her. Every step increased her heart rate and poured adrenaline into her bloodstream. She felt almost shaky as she loosened her knife in its sheath. Just in case, she thought. In case of what?

Another minute or two passed as she searched. Each moment felt excruciatingly long. And then all of a sudden, her breath caught in her throat. “Oh my God. Y/N!” Carol bolted toward the crumpled form halfway down the hall in front of her. “Oh, God…” The front of your shirt was soaked with blood and you were lying on the cold floor unconscious. Your face was bruised and swollen. There were cuts and smears of blood on your skin. But what held her attention horrifically was that whoever had done this to you had taken a knife and began to carve a word into your chest, just below your collar bone. SA and part of a V. Carol didn’t need to guess what they’d intended to spell. They were making a gruesome point. Her hands shook as they hovered over you for a moment. She said your name again and then gently clasped your face and gripped your arm. She jostled you a little. “Wake up. It’s Carol! Please, wake up!”

You began to stir a little and a grimace contorted your features.

“Oh, thank God,” Carol sighed, hanging her head in relief for a very brief moment before the nausea seemed to rise into her throat again at your condition. “Y/N? Open your eyes, hun!”

You let out a small pained noise and then your eyes did open blearily. You were immediately trying to sit up, pushing yourself up on the palms of your hands but your head felt split in two and your muscles felt rubbery and weak. “Fuck,” you murmured.

“Whoa—okay. Easy! Take it easy!”

You reached up and touched the back of your head. It was swollen with a lump and tender and your fingers came away slightly sticky. You looked down at them and registered the deep color of drying blood. Your chest burned. You looked down to see that the whole front of your shirt was stained crimson. Your body ached and panged with sharp pains. You could feel your heartbeat in your face.

“Is anything broken? Can you stand up?” Carol asked, her brow heavy over her eyes, but the light inside frantic and quickly turning furious.

“I don’t think anything is broken,” you said softly. Your jaw ached. You gave it an exploratory wiggle left and right and immediately regretted it. Your bottom lip was split and swollen. You winced again. “What the fuck?” you murmured. “I mean what the ever-loving, royal fuck?” you growled. The hot rage welling up in you was pushing some of the pain back.

“Let’s just get you up and off the floor, okay? Slowly.” Carol helped you to your feet. Your head swam and you squeezed your eyes shut, not letting go of her hands for a long moment until you felt steadier. Her expression said enough about what you must look like… “What happened? Do you know who did this to you?” she asked.

You shook your head a little, absently pressing a hand to the burning sensation on your chest, but you stopped as the burn surged when your palm landed flush on your skin. You took in a sharp intake of breath through your teeth. “No. Well—I saw one of them… they lured me up here. Told me there was a water leak they found while doing the scrapping and—and then someone hit me on the head from behind and I was knocked out. But I don’t know why. I mean, why me?”

Carol’s expression was taught. Anger swirled in her eyes. She knew exactly why. You couldn’t see it yet, but the word was partially carved into your chest. That graffiti on the wall out on the factory floor was just the tip of the iceberg. Things were rotting here just under the surface, and since you’d once been Negan’s wife, she imagined you were a perfect target for those who wanted to make a point. “Let me see the back of your head,” she said. There was a small split in the skin where you’d been struck, your hair stained rusty red, but she didn’t think you’d need stitches there and she was extremely relieved that it wasn’t worse... not much anyone could do from something like a skull fracture in the apocalypse. She sighed heavily as another flame of rage wicked upwards in her chest. “Okay… Let’s get you back to your room. Hold onto my arm. Can you make it?”

You nodded, gripping her to steady yourself on your shaky legs, and allowed her to lead you away. You glanced back over your shoulder and were sickened to see the smears of your blood shockingly deep red on the tile behind you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Carol had you sitting on the edge of your bed and she set down a first aid kit beside you. You were looking up at her from behind a wall of swelling and bruising on your face. You tenderly wiggled your jaw again, testing opening and closing your mouth. It felt ready to lock up. She could tell from the way you’d moved on the walk back and how you were slumped slightly forward now that there was probably substantial bruising beneath your clothes that she couldn’t see. Your movements were tentative and cautious.

You hadn’t looked in the mirror yet. You were afraid to. The pain was bad enough. The fogginess in your head was bad enough. You were worried if you saw the results of the beating, it would only make it worse, more real.

Carol began unpacking supplies. “Tell me everything you remember,” she said gently.

You shook your head. “Not much. Like I said, I was out working in the raised garden beds and somebody came up to me.”

“Who?” Carol pressed you. “If you don’t know their name, what did they look like?”

“Uhh… his name starts with a ‘G’ I think… Give me a second.” You filed through names in your head until you got the right one. “Graham. I think that’s it… He’s tall. Long black hair past his shoulders.”

“Okay,” Carol nodded, opening an alcohol swab. “What did he say exactly?”

“He asked if I could come look at a leak they found while they were moving all the scrap metal. He said they thought they could fix it but they’d have to turn the water off. I went to see and I was barely in the doorway of the room he pointed out. There wasn’t a water leak. I was just standing there, about to say something and—something hit the back of my head. I don’t really remember anything after that. Some foggy pain maybe but… mostly nothing.”

“Do you think there were others waiting up there? Or could it have just been him?” Carol asked, dabbing at a wound on the side of your face. You shut your eyes from the fumes of the alcohol. She was starting to worry about just how many traitors could be in the walls.

“There was at least one other person. When I got hit, I was looking back at him ten feet away from me down the hall.”

Carol sighed heavily and nodded. “Okay.” Her eyes drifted down to the cruelly carved letters on your chest. Your chin tilted down as you tried to look but her hand on your shoulder stopped you. “Hold on,” she said. Her face contorted with emotion she was trying to hold back. “Better you see this now. I’m so sorry.”

You gave her a perplexed look. You knew you were beat up but what was she—

Carol grabbed the small mirror off the little sink in the corner and held it up so you could see yourself for the first time. Initially, all you saw was the swelling and bruising on your face but then your breath caught in your throat. S-A- and part of a V, cut into your skin. The cuts were deep and she had already had to apply some butterfly bandages to hold certain spots closed. No wonder your skin had burned and stung there since you came back to consciousness.

You felt like you were about to be sick and Carol must have seen you pale because she hastily put down the mirror and gripped your shoulders again as if she was afraid you were going to faint. “Whoa. Deep breaths.”

Your eyes shut and you did your best to swallow down the nausea. “What the fuck,” you muttered, reeling. You blinked away angry tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get you cleaned up and then I think I have some of my special ointment in my bag. If you apply it at least once a day it’ll minimize any scarring…”

You let out a wry laugh. “Minimize,” you repeated. “But I’ll still have half of ‘Saviors’ carved into me for the rest of my life.” Tears burned in your eyes again. It wasn’t bad enough what you had gone through with Negan, with his men, with the war—now this? Would it ever be over?

Carol winced. “I’m so sorry… I had no idea things were this bad here.”

You sniffled and mopped gently at the tears that had broken out onto your cheeks. “I knew they were pretty bad but—can’t say I saw anything like this coming.”

“Well, who could? It’s—horrific.” She gave you a sympathetic look and then surprised you by pulling you gently into a hug for a long moment. Her eyes were teary now too when she pulled back, but she pulled herself together quickly. Back to business, she returned to the first aid kit and continued her ministrations. Your mind was endlessly turning.

“I wonder why they didn’t finish,” you suddenly said softly.

“Mmm,” Carol hummed, nodding, tossing down another soiled gauze pad and reaching for a new one. “They must have gotten interrupted. Maybe heard someone in that part of the building.”

Your eyes lifted and met hers. She paused at the expression on your face. “Do you think they were going to kill me? Leave me there with—with this cut into me to make a statement?”

Carol’s mouth dropped open and she shook her head. “I don’t—I don’t know,” she said, trying to keep her tone flat. Your question had been asked matter-of-factly and Carol was suddenly reminded of all you had gone through in the war and even before any of them had met you, when you’d just been a stranger with a mysterious backstory. “But obviously they knew they couldn’t take you in a fair fight. Fucking cowards,” she growled. “Had to ambush you to even have a chance.”

You sighed, shaking your head again, your eyes dropping to your hands. “They sure beat the shit out of me though,” you mused aloud. “It’s probably good Daryl isn’t here. He’d lose it,” you said, fiddling with another gauze pad which Carol took out of your hands and taped down over the now cleaned cuts below your collarbone.

She cleared her throat. “About that…”

You met her blue eyes again. “You radioed him? He’s probably way out of range by now. He’s probably already in Hilltop,” you said.

“Rosita rode out on the quad immediately to get within range. Eugene is doing a headcount as we speak to see who, if anyone, is missing…”

Another wry laugh left you and you nodded. “That’s why you took so long. And I just thought you couldn’t find the damn kit,” you said, shooting her a look, tears burning in your eyes. “Daryl is gonna go on a rampage,” you said softly.

Carol nodded. “Probably. But he should be here with you. And if I didn’t radio him, I’d be on the receiving end of that rampage. And I think we should focus it on the assholes that did this to you instead.”

You nodded and a sob tried to burst out of you. You suppressed it as best you could and it came out as a hitched breath. “Yeah,” you said, your voice a little strained.

Carol quickly grabbed you into a hug again. “Everything is going to be okay. Daryl will be here soon and we will figure this out.”

You hugged her back and nodded into her shoulder, grateful again for your found family.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl was there in an hour, stomping through The Sanctuary with Eugene at his heels, mostly ignoring the stream of words out of the mullet-headed Texan’s mouth. Rosita finally grabbed Eugene’s arm and stopped him, clearly realizing Daryl wasn’t hearing a word of it, didn’t give a shit about anything but going to see you. He was at the door of the little room the two of you had shared before anyone could come to tell you he’d arrived.

Daryl froze and made himself knock lightly, rather than barely in. The last thing he wanted was to startle you. His stomach turned as he waited to hear your voice on the other side, inviting him in. “S’me,” he drawled, the jittery feeling that permeated his body translating to an ever-so-slight tremble in his voice.

You sat up in bed. “Come in,” you said hurriedly, already feeling the tears burning in your eyes again. You were in clean clothes now and thoroughly patched up thanks to Carol, but that wasn’t going to change how rough you looked and how hard it was going to be for Daryl to see it.

The door opened slowly, measuredly, and he took shape in the doorway. He froze for only a split second as his eyes roamed over your face, taking in the swelling and already deep purple bruises. Then he rushed to you and hugged you in against him gently. That was all it took for you to go to pieces against him, clinging to his leather jacket. “Jesus, what the hell did they do to ya? ‘M sorry. ‘M so sorry I wasn’t here. I shouldn’ta left ya. ‘M so sorry, babe. I shoulda been here,” he said into your hair, kissing you on the top of the head, holding you gently so he wouldn’t hurt you but firmly so you knew you were safe.

You sniffled and mopped the tears from your cheeks as he clasped your face and brushed your hair back. “Don’t—don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” you said, looking up into his blue eyes. They were stormy and turbulent. “You couldn’t know…”

“Lemme see ya,” he said, looking you over. His heart ached as you showed him the bruising on your stomach and ribs. “Sit back. Rest,” he said, climbing into bed beside you where you were propped up against the headboard and wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You tucked in against him. He left a kiss in your hair again.

“Did—did Rosita tell you what they—that—”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “She didn’t tell me anything specific except that some assholes had hurt ya bad, beat ya up, and that I needed to get back here,” he said. “Tell me what?” His stomach churned around a hard knot. His mind began inventing all kinds of horrific scenarios immediately. What did you mean?

You could see him whirling and quickly tried to explain. “I was unconscious but—” Your hand landed on the gauze pad taped over the wounds below your collarbone. His eyes flitted down to it. “They used a knife and—” You couldn’t get any more words out so you simply lifted the bandage to show him, gingerly peeling back the medical tape and bandaging. Daryl froze completely. Every part of him stilled. He stared at the brutality someone had inflicted on you and hot rage boiled inside him. More tears leaked out onto your cheeks as you saw what it was doing to him to see that on you. You hastily covered it back up.

He softened again, coming back to himself, letting his anger flow away, and wiped the tears from your face with his thumbs. “Hey—it don’t matter to me what they—how they marked ya like that. Ya know that, right? Ya got every right to feel however ya feel ‘bout it. Ya do. But to me—” He shook his head. “It don’t matter, okay? I just see you. It’s all gonna be alrigh’.”

You collapsed into him again, finally letting yourself completely break down, wondering how the fuck you’d gotten so lucky as to find this man. He held you against his chest, his strong arms securely around you. He could feel the bump on the back of your head where they’d hit you. He could feel the swelling on your face and under your clothes, and he internally yelled at himself for leaving you behind, even if it was only supposed to be for a couple days, even though no one would have guessed that anything like this would happen, even though he knew how strong and capable you were. “‘M so sorry,” he murmured again. “I shouldn’t have left ya here… here of all places, with them.” His hands clenched into fists. “I’m gonna track down every one of these assholes and put ‘em in the fuckin’ ground,” he growled.

You couldn’t stand him blaming himself and you pulled yourself together. “It’s not your fault, Daryl. And—maybe… maybe I should have known something like this could happen…”

His brow furrowed. “What do ya mean?” He took a beat, his heart seemingly suspended somewhere in a gaping space that had opened in his chest. “Did somethin’ happen before this?”

You bit your bottom lip, your eyes still glassy. “No. No, not exactly. Nothing happened. I mean, people have—said things to me before. Made comments. I just—”

Daryl frowned, his brow heavy over his eyes, casting them in a deep shadow. “Like what? What kinda comments?”

You sighed and turned to face him more fully. You rested your hands on his sides. “Just—little shitty things. Because of what I’d been here,” you explained. “As Negan’s wife…”

Daryl was boiling again inside with anger. “Ya weren’t ever his wife,” he said. “That word means somethin’ else.” Your fingers went to touch the wedding band on your ring finger, the one Daryl had made with his own hands and given to you.

“Yeah. I know. It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly. “I just wrote them off and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want it to be a big deal and I knew how upset you’d get. It just felt like shitty people being shitty at the time. Mostly…”

“Mostly,” he growled.

“I never thought anything like this would happen. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

Daryl sighed and ducked his head, running his hands gently up and down the soft bare skin on your arms, marred with bruises and abrasions. “Don’t apologize. Ya didn’t do anythin’ wrong. I get why ya didn’t tell me… and yer righ’. I woulda beat the shit out of anybody sayin’ or doin’ anythin’ like that to ya. But tha’s my job. I wanna protect you.”

“I know,” you said. “We’ve just had so much on our plate here. I didn’t want to add something else. And I never thought—I didn’t think—” You grimaced as a wave of pain and dizziness hit you.

“I know. I know. Hey—it’s okay. We’ve talked ‘bout this enough. Ya need to rest. ‘M here now. S’okay.”

“I am really tired,” you agreed, shutting your eyes and waiting for the lightheaded feeling to pass.

He clasped your face again, his eyes flickering from this injury to that, and then he kissed your swollen lips as gently as he could. You managed to give him an overwhelmed, somewhat sad smile which he returned. “C’mon. Let’s lay down.”

Daryl helped you settle down on the mattress and fitted himself beside you. You tucked yourself against his body, breathed in his smell and safety, and shut your eyes. His fingers brushed through your hair, reassuring and grounding.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning Daryl was awake early while you slept on. He carefully, ever so slowly slipped out of bed and pulled a change of clothes on. He snuck out and headed to find Carol, Eugene, and Rosita.

He spotted Eugene first and nudged his head up in a nod as a greeting. “Well, what d’ya got to tell me?” Daryl asked hurriedly.

“We were short five of the former Saviors at the headcount last night, and five again this mornin’. Carol and Rosita have been questionin’ people all night. We don’t think anyone here knew anything about it. They weren’t exactly gentle with their lines of inquiry.”

Daryl rubbed a hand over his mouth and nodded thoughtfully. “Alrigh’. As I thought then... Cowards took off right afterwards.”

“Indeed. I suspect they knew Justice’s hammer would fall hard and swift on them once their atrocious deed was discovered,” Eugene agreed. “No way to know now where they’re headed.”

Daryl sighed. “Hopefully righ’ into a fuckin’ herd of walkers,” he drawled. “Alrigh’. Well, we need to send out runners to get word out to The Kingdom and Alexandria so ev’rybody can watch out for those pieces of shit... Y/N and I will take news to Hilltop today, and keep our eyes open for any sign of ‘em on the way. If I get sight of ‘em, I’mma strangle ‘em with my bare fuckin’ hands…” He sighed again, even more heavily this time. “Thanks. For everythin’ ya’ll did last night.”

“Of course,” Eugene said sincerely. “How is her condition today?”

Daryl sighed and shook his head. “She’s still asleep. She was exhausted. ‘M gonna get back up there. I dun want her wakin’ up here alone and ‘m still afraid there could be somebody in here—” he hesitated to speak his fear lest it become real. “She’ll be alrigh’. She’s tough. But she was shaken up pretty good and I can’t believe how bad they beat her up... and what they did,” he said vaguely, referring to the letterds on your skin. “But she’ll be okay.” He patted Eugene on the shoulder gratefully and headed straight back to you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

With hasty goodbyes and thank you’s to your close, chosen family, still at The Sanctuary you departed for Hilltop on the back of Daryl’s bike. You held extra tightly to him the whole way, and often his right hand left the handlebars to smooth over yours for a moment. The Sanctuary shrank smaller and smaller behind you and then disappeared into a cloud of dust. Neither of you knew it at the time, but you’d never come to that place again while it was a semi-functional community. It would be only ruins when you sheltered there during the storm eight years after the war.

On arriving at Hilltop, Maggie threw her arms around you and tears of shock filled her eyes when she saw your bruised and swollen face. Enid insisted on checking you over again, but gave you the all clear after much expressed anger and concern. Maggie quickly carved out a space for you and Daryl to stay, close to the room she shared with baby Hershel in the big house up on the hill.

Your body had stiffened overnight and on the bike ride. Every movement caused aches and pains to shoot through you and Daryl was attentive and worried as you settled into your new home. When you settled into bed at first, Daryl kissed every part of you where he could see a bruise or injury. His fingers were light and gentle on your skin, and you were amazed as you always were that he could be so soft when he was so strong. Finally, the sun sank below the horizon and you were again laying side by side, your head tucked up under his chin, listening to the whoosh of air in his lungs and his steady heartbeat.

“I had an idea,” you said softly, breaking a long but comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“Maybe when I’m all healed up, if—if it scars bad, I can get someone to do a tattoo over it to cover it up.”

Daryl smiled. You were already thinking ahead to the future, thinking of solutions. That was a good sign. He hugged you more tightly against him. “What would ya get?”

“I don’t know. Something pretty… to cover up something so ugly,” you mused aloud. “Like, there are these flowers that only bloom once in their lifetime and it can take decades to happen.”

“Nah, tha’s no good,” Daryl said quickly.

“What? Why?” you asked, looking up at him with surprise from beneath your lashes.

“It don’t fit ya. Yer bloomin’ all the time. Every day. Ya always have been, even when ya couldn’t see it,” he drawled. He pressed a kiss softly to your forehead.

You smiled at him sleepily.

“Was that too cheesy?” he asked with a gruff laugh.

“No. It was just the right amount,” you said. “Okay… maybe I’ll just get ‘Property of Daryl Dixon’,” you joked.

“No good. Ya ain’t nobody’s property. Ya belong only to yerself. ‘M just lucky that you share with me,” he said, his fingertips tracing vague shapes on the bare skin of your hip, exposed from the way your shirt had draped.

You sighed and nuzzled in against his neck. “I was only kidding,” you said, closing your eyes.

“I know. But it’s true.”

You yawned. “Maybe. But I do also belong to you, by my choice. I have since that night you fell through that rotten floor,” you said with a laugh. Daryl’s chest moved as he joined you with a low chuckle. In another minute, you were asleep. Daryl whispered ‘I love you’ into your hair, and shut his eyes too.

He meant what he’d said—he’d find whoever had hurt you and end them if he could, but after that, he wouldn’t allow the shadow of the past to dim another day. He’d walk with you forward, facing the sun in the same way you’d been doing together since the end of the war. And he hoped this time all of it, all the Saviors, The Sanctuary, the fear and pain, was really behind both of you.

#sacrifice #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl fanfic

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mrwinterr · 8 months ago

Text

The Nerve

Pairing(s): former!Steve Harrington x Female Reader; eventual!Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: The nerves of some people.

Warnings: Cliché af. Toxic behavior. When they go low, I go lower. Revenge. Not a girls’ girl here bc once you fuck around w/ another girl’s man it’s “yes, and?” from there. Implied smut. Language. We’re probably not gonna like Steve (or even the reader for a bit) here.

Disclaimer: Typical !former and !eventual pairing. Some time hopping. None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series take place in this piece. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up.

Pre A/N: This is embarrassing. I was in my villain era. I was certainly in the business of misery. I was angry (still am sometimes), so I wrote this. We all cope differently.

The nerve.

She had the nerve to steal your boyfriend.

It had been a few weeks since Steve broke up with you, only to start dating a girl you had harbored no ill will toward until that night. He even had the guts to reveal who she was and how long he had been losing interest in you. You weren’t going to lie, it hurt – a lot. Discovering his real need for “space” during the last two months of your relationship was painful to realize because in that time, while you were being understanding, he was finding a way to end things with you.

Looking back, you couldn’t help but dissect the memory. It was an ordinary day. School was let out for the weekend, and you were spending it with Steve, a cozy night in without interruptions since he was often left alone at home. The two of you lay on the couch, cuddled up, bodies parallel, his arms around you, the room dimly lit by the TV screen.

“I have something I wanna talk to you about…and it’s been on my mind for a while,” Steve says, loosening his grip and pausing the movie that was mindlessly playing midway.

“Okay,” you reply, pushing yourself up from the couch to make space for him to sit up. He shifted, swinging his legs over to plant his feet on the carpeted floor, settling into a seated position and scooting aside to allow you room to sit back down next to him.

The atmosphere shifted noticeably, and it made you nervous. The way he ran his hands through his hair and avoided meeting your gaze – it all felt ominous, and you couldn’t prepare yourself for what he was about to say.

“I met someone,” he revealed.

It wasn’t the news you expected, and you could feel your heart sink into your stomach as you absorbed his words.

“Oh,” is all you manage to say, now turning your gaze to the ground too, unable to look at him.

A whirlwind of emotions swept through you – hurt, anger, brokenness, betrayal. The signs had been there. Why hadn’t you seen them? He had been growing distant – more withdrawn, fewer “good mornings” and “good nights”, less calls, more canceled dates. You had been looking forward to tonight, thinking he was just preoccupied with work or his upcoming graduation, believing whatever he needed space for was resolved. Turns out, he needed space from you.

You had so many questions, even though you weren’t sure why you needed the answers. In that moment, you wanted to know what you had done to make him lose interest in you. You had thought the relationship was salvageable.

What? He was breaking up with you.

When? He’d been feeling like this for almost two months.

Where? At work.

Who? The other girl he worked with, also attends Hawkins High, but she's a year above you, therefore had more classes and events with him.

How? It just happened.

Yeah, that last one was a classic, but not as much as him telling you that you did nothing wrong and that you both could stay friends. Bullshit. With Steve, would come her, and you couldn’t believe the nerve of her to pursue another girl’s boyfriend. You’d seen her while visiting Steve at his job, but you hadn’t felt threatened by her. The hurting phase was brutal, but now all you could feel for her was anger – after all, who didn’t know that you were dating Steve Harrington?

She had the nerve to act all innocent.

The school hallways were not pleasant for you. A few days after the break up, rumors circulated that Steve left you for someone else, though apparently their relationship hadn’t been made public yet, sparking widespread gossip.

How would you have known that though? His business wasn’t yours anymore. In fact, you’d made a deliberate effort to distance yourself from them because the breakup was still fresh. Fuck trying to be friends. This time you were the one that needed the space. The last thing you wanted was to think about them together.

Steve had the audacity to point the finger at you because you were supposedly the only one aware of the relationship. Even when you tried to explain, he left you hanging. The disbelief on his face hurt to witness. He didn’t believe you.

“How do they know about us?” Steve demanded as he approached you at your locker, hands on his hips in typical, upset Steve fashion. No hey, hi or hello. He just went right in.

“I don’t know,” you scoffed, continuing to unload your textbooks from your backpack.

“Well, you’re the only one who knows,” he persisted, leaning in closer, determined to get an answer. “And your name is going around.”

“Look, Steve,” you finally turned to face him, your tone sharp, catching him off guard. “Your new relationship isn’t my concern.” This is a side of you Steve isn’t used to. “Why would I go around telling everyone that you left me for her? In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever given you a reason to think I’d do something like this?”

You could see him reconsidering his accusation. The questions seemed to stump him, as if he knew the rumors were absurd and gossip wasn’t something you partook in.

“Why don’t you go talk to your girlfriend and figure it out?” you suggested, turning back to your locker, not in the mood to continue the conversation.

All Steve did was stare at you before shaking his head then going into a tangent of how some of the rumors were negatively affecting her when they weren’t true and how she shouldn’t have to endure them or receive any of its backlash…as if you did. But when he started saying something along the lines of how she wouldn’t do that because she told him she didn’t, you knew this was all a wasted effort on your end because he had already made up his mind. He believed her.

Did he truly think you cared that much about them? Did he really think you'd stoop so low as to announce his new relationship? Did he ever really know you?

She had the nerve to lie.

Steve apologized to you when he discovered it was actually his new girlfriend that spread the news. He recognized his rash behavior and conceded that he should’ve believed you. Why would you waste energy on them? They weren’t worth your time anymore.

“Hey,” a voice calls from behind, and you turn to see Steve standing there, looking contrite. Unlike before, you receive a greeting.

“Hey,” you reply, briefly acknowledging him before returning to organizing your locker, now cluttered by your chaotic friend’s belongings - stashing the shit that no one would suspect the good girl to possess. It didn’t bother you much, except for the occasional stench it left behind.

“You were right,” Steve admits, hands in his front pockets and moving to the side to look at you. Pausing your task, you wait for him to continue. “She was the one going around telling everyone that I left you…for her.” Boy, that was awkward and lowkey stung. It hadn’t even been that long and he didn’t fail to remind you how you all got here.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” he continues, visibly ashamed, “I should’ve known better than to believe that.” His apology didn’t really move you. The damage had already been done. You were branded as the ‘psycho ex’ and all Steve had to do was trust you from the start.

She had the nerve to act like a girls’ girl.

She never directly apologized, but she had the nerve to claim that she harbored “no hard feelings” toward you. Hard feelings? Why? Because you’re the ex? Was she fucking stupid? How did she expect the girl whose boyfriend she stole to feel? Everything that came out of her mouth infuriated you.

It was no ordinary day – it was your birthday, and your friend had organized a night out to celebrate. You never liked to make a spectacle of your birthday, but it was also a good reason to go out, distract yourself, and avoid dwelling on unwanted thoughts.

“You’re lying,” your friend responds, baffled by what you just told him, “she really said that?”

“She fucking did!” you exclaim, still grappling with her impeccable timing. She wouldn’t know it was your birthday or would she care.

“Jesus. Of all the days…” he says with a low whistle before attempting to lift your spirits, “But, hey, we’re not gonna let her ruin your birthday!”

“I know, and I won’t!” Your voice wavers as you try to convince yourself this wouldn’t affect you. You were determined to not cry today, but the truth was, it still hurts. Her little stunt reopened a wound that was almost healed.

“He’s such a fool,” he remarks, followed by a brief silence. You were preoccupied with regaining your composure, fighting back tears, unable to respond. “He didn’t know what he already had in front of him. Lucky son of a bitch,” he added, and you’re not sure if he was speaking to himself or he meant to say that outloud, but you heard him nonetheless.

“Stop,” you reply, turning your away from him. You’re not gonna cry. “I know what you’re trying to do, Eddie.”

“What am I trying to do?” He asks adjusting to move to your line of vision, but you keep your focus averted.

“Hype me up, make me feel better…I don't know,” you answer, finally meeting his gaze, the tears now freely falling.

He understood how hard you were on yourself, replaying what could’ve been avoided. Your relationship with Steve wasn’t something you anticipated. Steve pursued you, and initially, you were fine with a casual fling, but he insisted on something more serious. You had doubts about whether he was the right person, but what if he was? It’s a reminder that life isn’t planned; it’s lived.

Eddie’s support during your breakup was invaluable. He watched you cry a lot – at home, at his trailer, at school, at work. He watched you criticize yourself for the breakup. He watched the light go out and he was determined to reignite it. He simply wanted his friend back.

“Sweetheart, I promise you,” he assures, hand over his heart, “everything I’ve said is sincere,” accompanied by that charming, stupid trademark Eddie grin. He was so endearing.

“Well,” you begin, but he’s got you. He had a knack for flipping the script, leaving you wondering why you were arguing in the first place.

Despite your curiosity about what attracted Steve to someone else and away from you, you had to accept that you probably wouldn’t ever know.

If there was one thing you knew about Steve, it was that when he falls, he falls fast. With that realization, it sparked a wicked plan in your mind. If you could bag him once, you could probably do it again.

The nerve.

You had the nerve to lie.

The only person you had confided in about your breakup with Steve was Eddie, and you had the right to do so. You needed a friend. You also knew he had no interest in high school gossip, so it couldn’t have been him that told the whole school. You trusted him.

People liked to talk and they didn’t hold back. Although the lies bothered you, you had a strong support system in Eddie and his friends. If any group could shrug off that nonsense, it was the Hellfire Club.

“Are you sure you didn’t tell anyone?” Steve asked, continuing to badger you, even suggesting Eddie as the culprit. You knew Steve well enough that he couldn’t take gossip about him for this long. After all, he had a reputation to uphold, and not all of the rumors were in his favor.

“Eddie?” You asked, confused but also guilty because you had done just that.

“Yeah, I know how much time you’ve been spending with him lately.”

“Why is that any of your business?” You countered, a bit snappy.

“Because,” Steve began, grasping for an excuse, “people talk.”

“And you really think Eddie would? He doesn’t care about shit like this or you-”

“Please,” he interrupts with an eye roll, in the annoying way Steve always did.

“You don’t know him,” you defended your friend, “so get off your high horse and go talk to your girlfriend about your problem,” leaving him questioning everything again.

You had the nerve to act all innocent.

The birthday incident, as you tried your best to keep thoughts of Steve at bay, she unexpectedly approached you, alone, feigning sweetness and innocence. You listened as she spun her lies – lies about overhearing people gossip about her, Steve, and you; lies about rumors allegedly started by you; lies about having “no hard feelings” toward you. It was all fabrication.

Politely, you attempted to have her understand your side of the story, clarifying that you had not spread any rumors and had discussed the situation with Steve, as civil as that could’ve been, and ultimately, how she should address the matter directly with him. What were you now? A couples counselor? You didn’t have time for this or them.

You weren’t going to start lying to yourself now, but it angered you. All you saw was red. So, you gave it right back, feigning innocence yourself, doubling down on it, subtly planting a seed of doubt in her mind.

“Watch out for him,” you said sincerely, your warning devoid of malice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked genuinely curious. God she was fucking stupid. Did she think she would walk out of this situation without a scratch? She had just proven she was not a girl’s girl for actively pursuing your boyfriend while he was with you. The world is a jungle, and it was every woman for herself now.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, maintaining composure, “...just a girl looking out for another girl,” you added, offering her an innocent, warm smile.

“Okay,” she replied, sounding confused and a bit shaky. You could sense her discomfort, and she deserved to feel uneasy.

Ultimately, you weren’t lying. Yes, she should watch out for Steve – what made her think he wouldn’t treat her the same way he did to you? However, if you were in her shoes, you’d watch out for yourself.

You had the nerve to not act like a girl’s girl too.

The sudden breakup with Steve left some unresolved feelings, but he was now with her, not you, yet that didn’t stop the urge to act on them. Steve was weak and you realized that soon enough.

With your head turned to the side, you observed him, listening to his ragged breathing, how his lips parted, emitting small puffs of air, his chest rising and falling, the sweat that dripped from the top of his forehead, and eyes closed in post-bliss. Your gaze traces the freckles that speckled his skin as you studied his profile, wrestling with the questions swirling your mind.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked cautiously, breaking the silence. Why fight for him?

He didn’t respond immediately, but didn’t linger too long before replying, “Not really.”

“We’re gonna have to,” you said and it sounded almost pathetic. Why were you trying to hold onto him?

“I…I think we shouldn’t talk for a while,” and when he said that, you knew that actually meant this was done. He was done with you. Why did you want to change his mind?

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You knew it had to end eventually. There was no intention or hope of remaining friends.

That night, you went home feeling hurt, broken, angry, and disgusted. You knew what you did was wrong, a sad attempt on your part. He probably wanted that reaction from you. You were more than willing to feed his male ego. What guy didn’t enjoy the idea of two girls vying for him? If it was easy for her and it was easy for you, it would be easy for another. What made him so special?

You had the nerve to try to steal her boyfriend.

It was a toxic situation. You found yourself doing exactly what she had done to you. What did that accomplish? Bragging rights and a fleeting sense of revenge, perhaps, but it didn’t bring you and Steve back together. It only highlighted how destructive you both could be. You sought revenge at the expense of homewrecking a relationship. You were no better, yet in a twisted way, you didn’t care. You wanted them to feel the same pain you did, even though deep down, you knew Steve was capable of sabotaging his own relationships.

You told Eddie of the misdeed, feeling ashamed. He wasn’t upset with you. He understood that you would follow your own path no matter what. He didn’t have the right to control you. Both of you recognized that this would only lead to your own suffering. Unfortunately, you had to learn this lesson the hard way.

“I know you’re upset and that’s okay,” he tries to console you, “...your feelings are valid. But I don’t think you need to find the answers to everything. They’ll just lead to more and it’ll never end.”

He was right. The more you held onto what happened between you and Steve, the more questions arose. He was living rent free in your head.

“I just-” you struggled, trying hard to make sense of the situation, “I just wanna know. What did I do wrong? How did he get bored of me? When was I not enough?”

“Have you ever heard of the 80/20 rule?” he asked, and you shook your head. “It’s basically a theory that when someone cheats, they are drawn to the 20% in another person that is missing in their current partner.”

You’re not sure how much that helped you because it begged the question…”And I know what you’re thinking, so stop that!” Eddie’s quick to read you, “you’re lacking nothing, alright?”

“Everyone knows I’m not a big fan of Steve Harrington,” he said, scrunching up his face at the mention of his name, “...but he’ll regret this. His type always comes back…fucking roaches.” That last remark elicited a small cackle out of you.

He then took your hand in his. It’s a stark contrast to your own hand – larger, a bit rough, warm and slightly clammy – but it provided a sense of comfort. You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring at your hands clasped together until he gives it a light squeeze and says, “He’ll realize he was much better off with the 80% he already had.”

Damn Eddie Munson. He was too good to you. It gave you a new perspective. Why were you being so hard on yourself? Why were you trying to convince yourself that the relationship’s downfall was your fault? It was Steve who started pulling away from you. It was Steve who did pull away from you. It was Steve who was actively pulling away from you. Everything that happened wasn’t solely on you.

These kinds of things happen to everyone every day. Feeling hurt, broken, angry, betrayed and ashamed were normal and acceptable emotions. You just have to learn to swallow your pride and accept this as part of life. You live and learn – not necessarily forgive or forget, but move on in your own way.

You were once happy without Steve, and you could be happy again. You gave up or changed a lot for Steve, losing sight of what made you happy. Now, you were committed to reclaiming your happiness. Fuck, when did you start crying?

“You alright, sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice laced in concern, bringing his other hand up to wipe the stray tears running down your face.

“How do you do it?” you asked, looking down to compose yourself.

“Do what?” he responded, amused. You didn’t answer verbally, but twist your hand in his to thread your fingers between his. The small smile on your face conveyed your question, softening his features. It’s a rare emotion from Eddie, mixed with vulnerability accompanied with a newfound awareness.

He brings your now interlocked hands to his lips but not before saying, “...because I’m a big fan of you,” and kisses the back of your hand gently.

The nerve.

Steve had the nerve to lie.

Several months have passed with minimal communication from Steve. Occasionally seeing them together around school and town didn’t bother you anymore – well, not entirely. You can’t deny it still stirred up certain feelings, but you didn’t give it a second thought and eventually they weren’t a blimp on your radar. The past no longer consumed you, but unexpectedly, it started consuming Steve.

Evidently, he still knew your schedule and had been desperately trying to find a chance to talk to you – just the two of you, without Eddie, other friends, teachers, classmates, or family around. When he approached you, you were confused; unsure if he was still with her or anyone else. You intentionally tuned out gossip and never paid attention to their situation. Besides, you had a better reason to not care about Steve anymore. So, when he starts pouring out his feelings, you take it with a grain of salt, this time with a clearer mind.

“Hey,” Steve calls out as you step out of your front door, ready to head out with your ride nearby.

“Uh, hey, Steve,” you reply with uncertainty.

“Can we talk?” he asks hesitantly.

“Now might not be the best time,” you respond with unease.

“Please, just give me five minutes,” he begs, his eyes full of hope and pleading. What could there possibly be left to talk about? Despite your instincts telling you to stand firm, you reluctantly agree to hear him out, which you soon regret.

Steve begins with an apology and offers to explain his actions. What more was there for him to explain? You no longer desired an explanation. It was simple – he grew tired of you, became interested in another girl, and left you; perhaps grew tired of her too and now he’s back. You had moved on from your failed relationship with Steve months ago. However, he felt he “owed” you an explanation. Was this all a joke to him?

The more he spoke, the more you got lost in your thoughts trying to comprehend the reality that he was standing before you, admitting to his mistakes, and seeking a second chance. His voice started to fade into the background as you felt the weight of deciding how to respond, all while knowing your ride would arrive at any moment. When the pressure got too much, you finally managed to step up.

“Steve,” you interrupt, “I don’t know what you want me to say to you.”

“You don’t have to say anything right now. I just–” he’s cut off by the sound of loud, muffled music, causing both of you to turn your attention to the bulky van that just pulled up in front of your house.

You glanced at Steve sending him a tight lip smile before taking the short few steps to the curb, not looking back, knowing you were never going to get that "owed" explanation.

Steve had the nerve to try to act all innocent.

The atmosphere in Eddie’s van is tense the moment you climb into the passenger seat. Neither of you expected to see Steve today, let alone right before a date. And it happened. The lingering feelings had unearthed between you and Eddie and you welcomed it, a testament to your decision to move on from Steve. Right when things are looking up, life throws you a curveball in the form of your ex.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks cautiously, stealing a quick glance at you before focusing back on the road.

“Yeah,” you reply unconvincingly, then quickly retract, “no,” followed by a sigh, “I mean, I was…I am. I’m just annoyed at Steve right now. I swear I had no idea he was stopping by.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie assured, dismissively waving his hand to convey that it wasn’t a big deal to him, though his mind was racing with a million questions. When he saw Steve with you, he couldn’t help but wonder: Why was Steve there? What were you two talking about? What did Steve want? Had you been in contact with him and not mentioned it? Not that Eddie could control who you talked to, girlfriend or not.

“I can’t believe he had the nerve to say he ‘respects’ my feelings!” Your emotions spill out as you unload on Eddie, “After everything he did to me, does that look like someone who ‘respects’ my feelings?”

“It is a pretty shitty thing for him to do,” Eddie agrees, not just coming from the boyfriend perspective, but from any perspective.

Steve thought that by acknowledging your feelings upfront, it would ease his case. However, upon reflection, you realized it was more about saving face for the hurtful way he left you, attempting to depict himself in a more favorable light.

“Right?!” The audacity Steve had to arrive at your door, unannounced, just before your date with Eddie. God, Eddie. It was a brief but uncomfortable moment. Steve knew you were friends with Eddie, he never bothered to understand the depth of your relationship because he didn’t care enough to meet your other friends. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” you say, feeling remorseful.

“For what?” he chuckles softly because can’t believe what you're apologizing for.

“I didn’t expect to see Steve today,” you explain.

“That’s not on you,” he assures, “remember, I told you they always come back.”

“True,” you agree, “but that’s not what I want.”

“What do you want, then?” he asks.

“You,” you admit, “just you, Eddie,” reaching for his free hand to hold for assurance.

Yeah, Steve wasn’t going to fool you.

Steve had the nerve to try to steal you from your boyfriend.

During the initial months, Steve made attempts to regain your favor. You questioned repeatedly whether you could genuinely consider being just friends with him. That had been his original intention after breaking your heart, but he failed to uphold his end of the deal. Was it worth attempting to rebuild a friendship with him? Would it reflect poorly on your judgment if you did? Could you bear being around Steve in any capacity? If Eddie hadn’t arrived on time for your date that evening, you didn’t know how much more of Steve's admission you could take before you hit another breaking point.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about you,” Steve begins, pausing, his mouth opening and closing as he carefully chooses his next words, “I miss you.” He observes your lack of response before continuing, “I miss us. We worked…and I really want to try and get to that again…to what we had.”

You can see it was difficult for him to admit this. Seeing your unphased reaction, he begins to ramble and talk out of his ass, “I mean, only if you want to. I can understand if you don’t. I do respect your feelings.”

You knew you didn’t have the mental or even emotional capacity to deal with Steve at that moment, and fortunately, the interaction didn’t progress any further. More importantly, it didn’t ruin your date with Eddie.

Steve’s graduation, once an event you looked forward to celebrating, was now a canceled event on your calendar. While you wished you could’ve joined in celebrating, Eddie had unfortunately not passed his exams again. Hopefully, on his third attempt, he will be able to graduate and walk the stage with you next year.

You had started working at a music store, which you enjoyed because it allowed you to be surrounded by something you loved – music. Eddie particularly appreciated the employee discount, a place to hang around during your shifts, though he seemed less excited about the store’s proximity to a certain video store.

It was inevitable that Steve would eventually walk in. Initially, your classmate and presumably Steve’s co-worker, now friend, Robin accompanied him. Over time, Steve started coming in alone, conveniently when Eddie wasn’t hanging around.

It wasn’t that you were afraid to be alone with him, and Eddie trusted you; he simply didn’t trust Steve. Despite Steve not being the same person from high school, multiple events humbling him, his efforts to revive your past relationship persisted. Although his approach was more subdued than before and masked as friendship, there was still an underlying motive. It was no secret either that you were in a relationship with Eddie.

Given the small-town geography of Hawkins, you accepted Steve wasn’t going to just disappear. You managed to adapt to his presence. While you couldn’t deny that this attention boosted your ego, you were resolute about not revisiting the past with him.

“So, I’ve got a copy of Pretty In Pink hot off the press,” Steve announced, showcasing proof of the video tape during another lunch break he spent at your workplace with you on a slow day. “Interested in watching it with me tonight?” he asked, trying to sound smooth and hopeful, adding and emphasizing “as friends,” though not convincingly considering you haven’t agreed to any plans with Steve let alone as that.

You glanced at him, then at the tape in his hands, and then back at him. “Thanks, but I’m not really into rom-coms,” you replied with a small smile.

“What? Since when?” he asked, visibly surprised.

“Since forever…” you answered with a light laugh that almost sounded like a scoff. It internally annoys you because as a former partner, he should’ve known that.

“Oh,” he said, setting the tape down on the counter between you.

“Yeah,” you drawled, trying to fill the ensuing awkward silence. Fortunately, the door chimed, signaling a new customer – saved by the bell, literally.

“Babe, you’re gonna love me! I convinced Robin to save me a copy of Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, and she fucking delivered,” Eddie exclaimed excitedly about tonight’s movie, barely noticing Steve’s presence until he reached the register. “Oh, hey, man.”

It’s amusing yet endearing to see Eddie straighten up and square his shoulders around Steve, as if they were in competition. You couldn’t blame Eddie for feeling that way, though he really had no reason to worry he’d lose.

“Hey,” Steve replied, shoving the copy of the romantic comedy aside, embarrassed that he had forgotten your preference for horror movies.

As you and Eddie enthusiastically discussed the sequel, Steve felt out of place, as if you and Eddie were in your own little world, completely forgetting he was still standing there. He couldn’t contribute to the conversation because he hadn’t seen the first movie and didn’t know anything about it to share in the excitement. Eventually, he quietly slipped away with the tape in hand, on the short trek back to Family Video concluding his lunch break.

The notion of ‘forgive and ‘forget’ was bullshit. While you could be civil, deep down, you still harbored hurt and anger over what happened. Much of the past year was spent in an emotional decline that affected various aspects of your life – home, social interactions, physical and mental well-being. Now, however, you were focused on reclaiming your happiness. Places and things around town that once reminded you of Steve and your past relationship no longer brought sadness; you were forging new memories with someone else.

Whether it be in a friend or significant other, Eddie was like your rock. He was there from the start, witnessing your first date with Steve and even expressing his reservations about him. Yet, he knew he had to let you navigate life, love and mistakes on your own. Despite any reckless choices you made, even those that disappointed him, Eddie remained a source of comfort and support because he genuinely cared for you.

Growing closer to Eddie was a breath of fresh air compared to Steve. You didn’t feel the need to impress Eddie; he was always impressed by you. Reflecting on it, you realized how much you had changed to fit in Steve’s world, which now seemed almost pathetic. With Eddie, you don’t have to change anything – your clothes, your diet, your friends, or your interests. He respected you for who you were.

It’s ironic that just as you’re back on track and happy, Steve wants to interfere. What’s even sadder is that he promised an explanation but hasn’t delivered, yet he’s actively pursuing you. So what? You tell your ex you still have feelings for them and miss what you both had. What did he expect? That he was Steve Harrington and you’d jump back into his arms? No. He had moved on, supposedly, and so did you, finally.

Part of you cherished early memories with Steve, and you weren’t going to fail to admit that during the initial attempts, you entertained the thought of what if you got back with him. However, he’s the reason why you struggled to move on and became recluse. Who knows? Maybe he learned from his mistakes or not. What he did to you, he did to her and would likely repeat to others. He only proved that second chances sometimes didn’t matter because rarely do people change. You concluded you couldn’t be more than what you currently were to Steve.

He was the one who chose to end the relationship. He was the one who decided you weren’t enough for him. He was the one who chose to engage with another woman. He was the one who strung you along. He's the one who decided to cut you off. And now, he’s the one seeking a way back in. It was comical because all the tactics he used the first time he convinced you to go out on a date with him didn’t work this time. It had him trying harder and he was failing miserably. You were now the one living rent-free in his head.

The events of this whole situation have allowed you to build emotional strength and learn to love yourself and someone else again. You were happy, and happy with Eddie. You weren’t going to let something silly as an 80/20 rule or a past relationship with Steve interfere with that happiness.

Yet, it goes to show the nerves of some people.

Post A/N: I wish I had this happier ending in real life. Please like, comment and/or reblog. It’ll motivate me to write more and you know also help my self-esteem.

#mrwinterr writing #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female!reader #steve harrington x female!reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington

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tiramisumin · 17 days ago

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feeling like i do — 8

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing: kim minjae x f!reader

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ content: swearing i think (i keep forgetting to include this but atp u should just expect it), the most unrequited love scene i’ve ever written

synopsis: you’ve had the biggest crush on kim minjae for as long as you can remember. finally, you’ve gathered the courage to tell him how you feel— only for it to go horribly wrong. but somehow, someway the stars align and your failed confession becomes the best mistake you’ve ever made.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ prev / masterlist / next

୨ৎ i’m eepy

taglist: @tmrwsuns @kookieswithjung @starskq @inthemptymirror @mars101

eight — for his convenience (972)

Stepping outside of the auditorium after drama club was probably one of the most embarrassing moments in your entire life.

Part of you wants to cower away as to not draw any attention to yourself, but you can’t deny that Minjae looks kind of cute leaning against the carriage while waiting for you… Even if his company driver, Seonghwa, is the one steering the horse-drawn vehicle(?)

Your drama club friends are all grouped together at the end of the steps, holding in their laughter as you slowly make your way over to Minjae. Other students passing by point and snicker at the very obviously obnoxious scene, further fueling your mortification.

Heat creeps up your neck as the space between you and your longtime crush minimizes and he offers you an equally warm smile. He gestures towards the carriage, somehow oblivious to the crowd it’s garnered. He bows dramatically, like a prince of the regency era.

“M’lady,” he says, managing to evoke a grin of your own. “After you.”

You take one final glance at your group of friends, who are all giving you supportive thumbs ups, and then step into the carriage. Minjae follows suit, tapping the little window to alert Seonghwa that you were ready. Once he’s sure the two of you are settled, he cracks the reins and the horse begins to trot.

It’s awkward and silent at first, especially because you don’t think you could hold a serious conversation with all the looks you’re getting as you travel towards Minjae’s apartment. But also because you aren’t sure what to talk about. This is the most you’ve ever been around him, accustomed to only admiring him from afar.

At the same time that Seonghwa takes you over a speed bump, he asks with a grunt, “Is this cute and boyfriend-y?”

You blink at the question. The truth of the matter is no, it’s not cute nor is it boyfriend-y. If your boyfriend embarrassed you by pulling up outside of your club activities with a horse-drawn carriage, you think you’d break up with him on the spot. But your heart did flutter a bit at the thought of Minjae going through all this effort for you. Despite his methods being… unorthodox. And because of that, there’s a piece of you that wants to lie to him. (You won’t, however.)

“Honestly speaking,” you start, instinctively gripping onto his arm when you ride over another bump. “Not really. There’s a time and a place for horse-drawn carriages, and unfortunately, our university at seven in the evening isn’t one of them. Also, I’m starting to get a little bit of motion sickness from the bumpiness.”

Minjae looks down at the hand holding onto his wrist with an unrecognizable expression and then at you, nodding in what you think is understanding. His eyes go back to your delicate fingers wrapped around his arm, calling out to your driver without looking away. “Hey, Seonghwa, you can stop here. We’re gonna walk the rest of the way.”

A few seconds later, the carriage pulls over so you can hop out. You both thank Seonghwa for his service (awkwardly) and then bid him adieu. You don’t realize that you’re still holding onto Minjae, strolling beside him the rest of the way to his apartment. Out of everything you’ve experienced so far today, this was the most cute and boyfriend-y, just a quick little walk to your crush’s place.

“Y/N, have you ever liked anyone before?”

You sputter at the slightly invasive interrogation, caught off guard by its timing. You weren’t expecting Minjae to say anything else to you for the duration of your walk, let alone that. “H-Huh?”

“I just mean, since Hongjoong wants this next single to be more on the cute, fan-service side, I need all hands on deck. The more expertise in the love department, the better, you know?” He explains, squinting a bit at you since the setting sun is still too bright.

“O-Oh!” You’re a little relieved that he doesn’t have you completely figured out, but also a little bummed out that this whole boyfriend-y fiasco was just to gain experience for the new song.

“So… Have you?” He asks curiously, now that he assumes you’re on the same page.

You think back to when your crush on Minjae first manifested, during your first year of university. The two of you shared the same Music Appreciation course, which was a requirement for all students, but happened to be a fun elective for both of your majors. His final presentation caught your eye and you were eager to learn more about the handsome young man instantaneously. Since then, you’ve been chasing your tail in circles trying to make sense of your silly crush.

“I have,” you finally answer, after giving it some thought. “At first, I didn’t know if he’d ever noticed me before, but by some miracle, I’ve gotten the opportunity to be around him more often. Even if it’s only for his convenience.”

Minjae sucks in a breath. “No offense, Y/N, but this guy kinda sounds like an asshole…”

His density has a giggle escaping you, but you leave it at that. When the two of you finally arrive at his apartment, you’re a little sweaty and out of breath from the heat outside. His friends, who were awaiting your arrival for this ‘writing party’, give you confused looks.

Hunter, specifically, makes eye contact with you and wiggles his eyebrows, subtly pointing at the fact that you were still latched onto Minjae. Your eyes widen and you quickly release him, taking a step to the side to create a comfortable distance between you. (For the sake of your rapidly beating heart, of course.)

“So,” Junmin says, breaking the ice. “Who wants to hear the beat I have in the drafts?”

#xikers #xikers x reader #xikers smau #xikers minjae #xikers minjae x reader #xikers minjae smau #kim minjae #kim minjae x reader #kim minjae smau #minjae #minjae x reader #minjae smau #𐙚 feeling like i do #𐙚 tiramisumin

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jikookficsdiarry · 4 months ago

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I’ve been in the jkk space for the past 7 years and one creative aspect of the fandom that I love and cherish is the fanfic aspect of it!

I’ve been an avid reader of jkk fanfics and witnessed eras and waves of popular authors come and go. I feel like recently, fanfic isn’t given enough love and (idk maybe it’s just my perspective) but I feel like the jkk writing community has diminished over the years. This is most definitely because of the amount of hate and harassment authors receive. The amount of authors I follow on Twitter who have completely stopped writing for jkk or even left the fandom breaks my heart.

So, thank you for sharing these stories so we’re exposed to all these wonderful creators! Accounts like yours are so important for maintaining creative spaces within fandoms!

Your account and recommendations have actually helped me through the reading slump I’ve been in so, thank you again! <333

Honestly! I can't thank you enough for sharing your thoughts and your words are greatly appreciated!! Thank youu🥹🤍

I completely agree with you. There are so many authors and stories that do not get the recognition and the love they deserve. I am grateful for the writers, for always comforting us with their stories. I had to leave twitter too because of the toxic environment pertaing to fanfiction and so many authors who were my friends and some still were harassed. A lot of fan fic rec accounts were harassed too qehn i left twitter in 2022. I have writer friends who have left twitter because of the constant bullying and similar experiences, and it hurts me that they will never feel safe on that app anyomorw. So many authors have deleted their stories because of the harassement, and it is so disheartening. I somehow managed to gain courage to open a twitter account but deep down I am still afraid. This is the main reason I don't post on my Twitter account. I was so afraid to begin this account, but jikookficsdiarry has become my safe place🤍🥹

I really wanted a platform where I could still express my love for writers and fanfiction and jikook without being afraid. I am so greatful to have finally found it. Never in a million years I thought I would be help people in some kind of way through this account, and I am so so happy that I could🥹🤍 thank you so much for sharing your thoughts🤍 and im sending you the biggest hug🤍

To all the fic readers, all I an saying is to be kind and respect writers and their stories if you can. They deserve the love and appreciation when they write beautiful stories that don't hurt anyone and just bring you happiness. If you don't want to read them, then that's definitely your choice, but instead of hating on them and their creative work, maybe just not say anything and move on. Choose kindness everyday🤍.

~Nel

#jimin #jikook #jungkook #kookmin #mingukkie #jikook fic #jikook fic rec #jimin fic #jikook love #jungkook fic #jikook fanfic #jikook fanfiction #jikookficsdiarry

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tom-hunter-summah · 4 months ago

Text

Born in the Wrong Era pt. 3

a/n: it's finally here! sorry it took so long and thank you to @iluveveryone for sending your ask. i hope all y'all enjoy it!

edit: I linked pt. 2 because I forgot to last night.

warnings: shouting/screaming, flirty best friends, mentions of death/trauma, mentions of mr. martin, hitting (not a person but inanimate object(s))

word count: 2k

pt. 2

Reader’s POV

A frustrated noise leaves your mouth. You really wish you hadn't let Wally get into your head about Bea. You knew he had a point but could Bea have really been that different? Insistent, maybe but not stubborn. And it was always for the other person's good because she knew their potential. Bea was the only person in your life that actually listened to you. But this was her son. He knew her first. And in some weird way you knew Wally. You knew that he loves Bea with everything he has and then some.

"Damn it. Hey Siri?"

Siri Dings.

"How do you apologize to a ghost?"

Tuesday-Wally’s POV

“Can we change? Or do we simply live in the heart of the mulberry bush destined to return where we once started?”

As Mr. Martin started on whatever pseudo-sophical rant he was going on Wally perked up. The dead have no choice to change do they? Wally remember’s Charley going on about this movie with Cybill Shepherd and Robert Downey Jr and how her dead husband was able to cross over after living as him. Wally knows he’s missing some details but that’s besides the point. Almost every ghost movie ever made has some plot-point that the dead have to cross over and they have to grow and all that other shit before they can cross over and start their afterlife.

Wally had been here for 40 years. That’s forty years longer than he ever wanted to be in high school. But how is he to change?

“Wally? Is there something you would like to share?”

“Huh?”

Wally didn’t even pay attention to the last five minutes of whatever Mr. Martin was spewing this morning. Now there are many pairs of expectant eyes on him.

“We’re debating whether or not people can change. Dead or Alive. I’d like to hear your thoughts Wally.”

Wally goes to open his mouth but his8 voice isn’t the one that’s heard.

“He’d have to have a brain for that.” Oh Rhonda, always quick with a jab to the ego.

“Well you should start with getting a new heart, Rhonda, because the one you have now is cold and shriveled.”

Rhonda breaks out one of her sarcastic grins. “Finally someone sees me.”

There are a couple of chuckles from the circle before Mr. Martin clears his throat.

“Wally, please continue”

Wally gets one more taunt in by squinting at Rhonda before he starts talking.

“I think when you die, you break the circle around the mudberry bush as you put it–

Wally catches Charley mouthing something out the corner of his eye but can’t make out what it was.

“And can give you the room you need to change.”

There are a couple of murmurs of agreement around the circle which made Wall feel proud of himself.

“That’s interesting Wally. But before we break the circle; why don’t we move to the center of it?”

This made Wally think. “Maybe. Thanks Mr. M.”

Mr. Martin gives Wally a tight-lipped smile that never seems to bring comfort to Wally but what’s new.

Soon the morning circle is dismissed but Wally lingers for a minute after everyone else left. Or so he thought.

“Hey Wally?”

It was Janet. Even after 40 years Wally still wasn’t used to her 60’s fashion. Her light pink gingham dress with matching ballet flats and white gloves on her hands. Compared to the others in the group it was a silent rebellion that was all Janet’s. Which is pretty rad if you ask Wally.

“Hey Janet what’s up?”

“I was wondering; what was on your mind earlier? You don’t really space out like that.”

Wally hesitated. “Uhh.. I was tired from… working out earlier.” Wally barely believed himself.

Janet’s furrowed brows had him coming up with another lie in seconds. Before he could though; Mr8. Martin called Janet away.

Before Janet left the gym she turned and waved goodbye. “We’ll talk later Wally!”

Wally returns the wave and once Janet and Mr. Martin are out of sight, Wally lets out a sigh of relief.

“Hey Wally you okay?”

It was Charley this time, luckily Wally is able to keep his shock to a minimum.

“Yeah, it’s just sometimes the morning circle makes me want to…”

Charley interjects. “Die all over again?”

Wally snaps his fingers and points. “Yeah! I mean I know he just wants to help but Jeez sometimes it’s agonizing.”

Charley laughs. “Well, Hippie dude has a sub and they’re watching a movie. Wanna come?”

Wally pretends to think about it. “Is it Rudy?”

Charley sighs in defeat. “I don’t know what movie it is but I’m almost 100% sure an AP Lit Class will not watch “Rudy”.”

“Where is there “enjambment” in “Finding Nemo”, Charley?”

“Where is the ‘allusion’ in ‘Rudy’, Wally?”

“What are you talking about, all Rudy does is dream!”

Charley pinches the bridge of his nose. “Allusion not ILLusion!”

“You’re literally saying the same word.”

“I- you know what? Sure. Anyway if you get tired of working out you know where I’ll be.”

Charley walks off, leaving Wally alone with his thoughts. He needs to find some answers. And there’s only one person who can give him that.

Reader’s POV

There’s a sense of comfort you feel when “Bad Reputation” flows through your ears. You wish you were more like her. Letting things roll off your back and not listening to what others say. You feel for Wally, you do. You’re not going to agree with your parents about everything but to insinuate that they don’t care? Ridiculous. Wally’s feelings are still valid though. Eye twitch inducing but valid nonetheless. You don’t know how to summon him (and you’re not sure you want to know?) but when you see him you’ll apologize for being impudent. You’re snapped out of your thoughts when “Fat Bottomed Girls” starts to play and your eyes widen. It’s not Queen that shocks you so much as this may 8be a clue as to what his type is. Not that it matters. Not that you care.

The next thing you know there’s a giant pair of hands waving in your face, luckily they’re attached to your good friend Jacques. You take off your headphones so you can hear him.

“Hey Jaques.”

“Hey dorkalicious!” You chuckle. “Where were you yesterday?”

“Just getting tickets to Horror Con.”

You stop in your tracks. “You’re joking.”

Jacque fights a smile as he shakes his head. “Waited in line all day for these. I can’t wait to go next week.”

“Wait tickets? As in, plural?”

“I’m pretty sure “tickets” means more than one ticket.”

You have to jump a little bit to properly hug him because he’s so damn tall but you can’t contain your happiness.

While horror isn’t your biggest interest you’re utterly obsessed with the cinematography of it all. Plus dressing up has always been a favorite pastime.

“Merci mon cher ami!”

Jacques blushes. “Alright, alright get down before you start licking my face dork. And stop speaking to me in french, it shifts my beret.”

You laugh as you pull away from him. “Oh shut up you’re like a quarter french.”

“My name makes it half.”

Before you can continue to call him on his bullshit, the bell for class rings and you have to go to third period which is Mr. Anderson’s class.

“Oh Jacq, do we have a sub in Anderson’s class?”

“How’d you know?”

“ I didn’t. I was hoping for it though. I had a weird interaction with Anderson outside of class.”

“Is it because you guys argued about which decade was best again?”

“It’s not my fault we had better movies! Plus peak television. I’m still looking for who shot JR. And there was history made when Alexis called Krystle a bitch. The first time it was ever said on primetime TV.”

Jacques sighs, filled with regret. “Why did I even ask? Look for whatever happened, I’m glad you can avoid addressing it for another 24 hours. Just like I will do to you if you don’t shut up.”

“Like you could go that long without talking to your personal musipedia.”

“They have this thing called shazam.”

“Yeah but I’m cuter.”

Jacques ruffles pats your head. “Yes you are. Now go make me proud okay?” You smile at him “C+ it is.”

Jacques dabs fake tears from his eyes. “I’ve never been more proud.”

“Do I want to know?” It’s Ms. Fields. You and Jacques' favorite teacher.

You answer. “It’s best if you don’t.”

She nods her head. “Good to know. C’mon Jacques, today we’re going over the war of 1812.”

“So nap time?”

You slightly shove him into the class which makes Ms. Fields chuckle.

“Be good.”

“Bite me.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sorry about him. I’ll catch you later Ms. Fields.”

“I’ll see you in class, hon.”

You nod and keep making your way to class. You decide to switch out Wally’s tape with your own. You love Wally’s taste but the music definitely got better later in the decade. Which is why when you hear “Raspberry Beret” You smile.

You walk into mr. Anderson's class still smiling, causing everyone to look at you. Including the dead.

You quickly make your way to your seat. You wait a couple of moments and are shocked when you don’t see Wally at your desk. You turn your head and your brows can’t help but furrow when you don’t see him.

You’re slightly disappointed but you figure he’ll come around when he’s ready.

Wally’s POV

They still make walkmans? No, they still have cassette tapes? Wally only half circles Retro as to not draw attention. He sees the walkman hanging on the waist of their jeans, and gently pulls it up. As he inspects the walkman he can tell it looks a little worn; like they bought it from a secondhand store.

Then he sees It. “W.Clark” written in black sharpie.

He drops the walkman but catches it last minute, so as not to break it. There’s too much going on in Wally’s brain to process what any of this means.

Wally takes the walkman and storms out of the classroom. He puts the headphones on his head only to hear “Never Gonna Give You Up” which is the icing on the cake to his frustration.

He knows you and Bea are close but that close? Wally knows it’s been 40 years but it still feels like yesterday. That tackle. It was so fast Wally barely felt the weight of the Behemoth that ended his life. It doesn’t mean it stung any less. His moms last words to him.

“Make me proud”

It comes flooding back at the memory. That anger, the exhaustion and defeat.

Letting these emotions consume him, with a scream Wally’s fist connects with a locker. And again. And again. He eventually has enough and has his forearms resting on the lockers while he catches his breath. Somehow, while his head is hanging low, his headphones catch his ear just in time to hear the beginning of “Deacon Blues”.

He chuckles. “The kid’s got taste.”

“Of course I do. And who are you calling Kid?”

Wally’s head turns in Retro’s direction. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I had to take a leak. The bigger question is, how the hell are you able to listen to my music?”

“I can interact with the physical world but I don’t make an impact on it. So I can listen to your surprisingly good mixtape but I can’t skip a song I don’t like.”

Retro’s eyebrows furrow. “That doesn’t make sense. I mean have you tried with the walkman? It is yours afterall.”

Wally shakes his head with a chuckle. “I don’t think it’s going to make a diff–

Wally is cut off by his own shock as deacon blues cuts to September.

“See I told you.”

If Wally could pass out he would.

“Walls, you okay? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

“I knew it. You’re the answer.”

“To what?”

“You’re going to help me cross over.”

#born in the wrong era #wally clark #wally clark x reader #wally clark x gender neutral reader #milo manheim #school spirits

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