#there's love and messiness and messiness in the love and it's all complicated

[isagrimorie]

what makes them such good scene partners is sincerely just trust#they didn't need to discuss it#they knew they could push at each other#they could go where they needed to#because they always on some level where each other's boundaries were (via @motherconfessor)

[cosmicanakin]

⸝⸝ 𓈒ㅤׂ 𖦹 here's an angsty dean blurb that i couldn't get out of my head <3 miss my baby smookums s'much.

warning(s) smut | strong language | situationship | angst | s1 DEAN | abandonment | self loathing. ୨୧ eighteen plus! adult content | minors do NOT interact.

　　　ꢾ꣒　　 ⑅　　 ⁺　 　₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎　　 ✺ LIBRARY.

★ bonus. divider creds @anitalenia !

it wasn't supposed to be like this with dean. casual was what you both strictly agreed on — no strings attached, no feelings involved. just two hunters finding respite in each other whenever paths crossed. that was the deal.

but here you are, straddling him in another stuffy motel room, his calloused hands gripping your hips as you ride him slowly. the dim lamplight casts shadows across his freckled face, highlighting every expression of pleasure that crosses his features. dean's breathing is ragged, green eyes half-lidded as he watches you move above him.

you lean down, pressing your palms against his rough ones, intertwining your fingers together. the new angle makes him groan, head throwing back against the pillow. his grip on your hands tightens, and you can feel the trembling in his muscles as he fights to maintain control.

"fuck," he breathes out, voice wrecked. "you feel so good, sweetheart. s'perfect..."

you increase your pace slightly, watching as he falls apart underneath you. DEAN WINCHESTER — the notorious hunter, the man who's faced down demons and monsters — coming undone by your touch alone. his walls are down completely, vulnerability written across his face in a way you've never seen before.

that's when it happens.

"i love you," he gasps out, the words tumbling from his lips before he can stop them.

you freeze mid-movement, staring down at him with wide eyes. the confession hangs heavy in the air between you, and you watch as realization dawns on his face. dean's hands suddenly release yours, gripping the cheap motel sheets instead, knuckles turning white with the force of his grip.

"what?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

he won't meet your eyes anymore, jaw clenched tight as he stares at some point over your shoulder. the silence stretches on, broken only by your shared breathing and the distant sound of traffic outside. you're still connected intimately, but the moment has shifted into something else entirely — something neither of you were prepared for.

without warning, his hands move to your waist. those strong arms that you've admired countless times before easily lift you off of him, setting you gently on the bed beside him. you watch as he sits up, running a hand through his disheveled spiky hair before reaching down to grab his discarded boxers from the floor.

"dean, hold up—" you start, but he's already heading for the bathroom, not looking back as he closes the door with a soft click.

you lie there in the silence, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. your mind replays his words over and over, trying to make sense of what just happened. dean winchester loves you.

DEAN WINCHESTER — who keeps everyone at arm's length, who builds walls higher than heaven itself — just confessed his love for you in the most vulnerable moment possible.

and you? you don't know what to feel. this wasn't part of the plan. feelings weren't supposed to enter the equation, but here they are, complicated and messy and real.

you can hear him moving around in the bathroom, probably trying to compose himself. knowing dean, he's probably gripping the sink, staring at his reflection, and beating himself up over his slip of the tongue. that's just who he is — taking every perceived failure and turning it into self-loathing.

the thought of facing this conversation, of dealing with the aftermath of those three beautiful words, suddenly feels overwhelming. you slip out of the bed, quickly gathering your scattered clothes and pulling them on. your hands are shaking slightly as you find a piece of paper and pen from the motel's complimentary notepad.

that's all you write before placing it on the rumpled bed. it's cowardly, you know it is, but you can't face him right now. not when everything is so confused and tangled in your mind.

you're just closing the motel room door when you hear the bathroom door open. you don't stay to see his reaction, but you can picture it perfectly — dean walking out, preparing himself to bare his soul to you, only to find an empty room and a note in your place.

you know it'll hurt him. know that he'll blame himself, add it to the long list of things he carries on his shoulders. but you can't give him what he wants right now, can't pretend those words didn't change everything.

as you walk to your car, you can almost hear him in that room — probably throwing something in frustration, cursing himself for ruining what you had. classic dean winchester, turning his pain inward, letting it eat at him.

but sometimes running is easier than staying, even when you know it'll leave scars on both of you that might never fully heal.

[po3tbbygirl]

Something happened last night…

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

CW: mentions of alcohol and slightly suggestive

A/N: I don’t know

Y/n sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, leaning in close as she whispered the story to her friends. She glanced around the Great Hall, spotting students laughing, sipping pumpkin juice, or just waking up for the day. A few teachers wandered nearby, keeping an eye on the noisy room.

Her stomach twisted with embarrassment.

Last night, Gryffindor had thrown its annual Halloween party, inviting students from all houses to the Room of Requirement. Costumes were required, of course. Y/n had grabbed hers at the last minute in Hogsmeade, thinking it didn’t matter much. But when she showed up, she realized the worst: she had accidentally matched with her academic rival, Remus Lupin.

Remus Lupin—her so-called "enemy" in the classroom, the one who always challenged her in every subject. They’d been competing for ages, though Y/n usually managed to stay one step ahead. And now, here they were, in matching costumes, with everyone around them laughing and making jokes. Their friends didn’t waste a second teasing them, giving knowing looks and nudges.

She had tried to avoid him all night, but in the end, the crowd had pushed them together, cheering for "Best Couple Costumes." Y/n looked up at him, frustrated and embarrassed, as she muttered, "I’m going to burn this costume."

Remus smirked, eyes bright with amusement. "No, you won’t. You love me, really. You’ll probably keep it to show your grandkids."

Y/n scoffed, trying to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. "In your dreams." They bickered back and forth until, somehow, she let him pour her a drink. Then another. Before she knew it, they were laughing together. It felt different—like, for once, they weren’t rivals at all.

“YOU WHAT?!"

"Shh!" Y/n hissed, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear. "It was just a hook-up. It’s nothing."

Her friend stared at her, wide-eyed. "Wait…weren’t you a virgin?"

Y/n’s face flushed again as memories of last night flashed through her mind. She hadn’t expected it, hadn’t planned it. But something about the party—the way he looked at her, or how his laugh sounded that night—had pushed her to do something she’d never thought she would.

“It’s…complicated,” she mumbled, trying to play it off. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe it meant more than she wanted to admit.

The Room of Requirement was filled with laughter and lights, shadows flickering as the party buzzed around them. Y/n found herself tucked into a quiet corner with Remus, away from the crowd. They hadn’t stopped talking since their “Best Couple” award, and somehow, the drinks made everything seem easier, lighter. She didn’t feel like she was talking to the boy who usually made Charms class imposible at all.

He leaned in close, his gaze locking with hers, warm and intense. Y/n felt her heart hammer, a mix of nerves and excitement she couldn’t ignore.

Remus reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her and her damn messy hair, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

She swallowed, barely whispering, “You’re close. Really close…”

He grinned, a little shy, but not backing away. “Am I?”

Their faces were just inches apart. Without thinking, she tilted her head, and his mouth met hers, soft and hesitant at first. But the kiss deepened, and she felt a thrill run through her, pushing all other thoughts out of her mind. Their rivalry, the teasing, the arguing—it all fell away.

They pulled back just enough to catch their breath, staring at each other in the dim light. He brushed his hand along her cheek, his voice low. “Are you sure?”

Y/n’s cheeks burned, but she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes.”

They found themselves tangled together, feeling the warmth of each other, everything about the moment suddenly crystal clear yet dreamlike. For that night, there was no rivalry—just the two of them, forgetting everything but the connection they’d been denying for so long.

“Y/n.”

She looked up, heart dropping as she saw Remus standing just a few feet away. He looked a bit nervous, his usual confident smirk replaced with something softer, more uncertain.

“Can we, uh… can we talk?” he asked, eyes flicking to her friend, who took the hint and nudged Y/n with a grin before slipping away.

Y/n took a shaky breath and nodded, following him out of the Great Hall to a quieter spot near the staircase. They stood there for a moment in silence, both unsure of how to begin. Finally, he scratched the back of his neck, glancing at her.

“About last night,” he started, his voice softer than usual. “I didn’t… I didn’t expect that to happen. But, uh… I don’t regret it.”

Y/n felt her heart race. She opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure of what to say.

Remus shifted closer, his voice barely a whisper. “I know we’re usually at each other’s throats, but… maybe we don’t have to be. Maybe we can try something different.”

Y/n looked into his eyes, and for once, she didn’t see her rival. She saw Remus, the boy who’d made her laugh, who’d kissed her like it meant something.

“Maybe,” she replied, her voice just as soft, a small smile breaking through.

He smiled.

[katieaki]

My ✨ post-apocalyptic Lesbian Cowgirl Mailman choose-your-own adventure✨ has just updated! Read it here for free on my Patreon and vote in the poll! Here is a guide to get you started, the summaries of each part of the story thus far, the complete collected text, and FAQ, all in one place. They have everything you need to know about Lou, her requited-but-complicated love, the religious assassin who just beat the tar out of her, the worst person she's ever met, and the ill-advised journey she is on! There is also a discord where Pony Express readers from all across god's green internet can gather, here!

✨Read the update for free on my patreon & vote on what happens next! ✨Excerpt below the cut.

When her vision cleared, she could see that a whole group of people had gathered around the infirmary door: Holliday, all of the divers, Mrs. Kikkawa, Kanon’s wife with her baby in a sling against her chest, Solitude, and Artie. Everyone looked so relieved to see her, but an air of palpable anxiety still hung around them. Mrs. Kikkawa laid her hand over her eyes, hung her head, and started to cry. Sol made the sign of the star and brought their hands together in prayer. 

For a moment, Lou couldn’t understand why. Why would any of them care what happened to her? She was a stranger to them. Then, she remembered how much loss they’d all experienced, and so recently, too. It seemed that, in recent days, so many of their loved ones had gone into the infirmary and not come back out alive. Sumie’s side of the family had lost, at least, their mother, oldest brother, and baby sister from the same illness. Of course they’d been feeling anxious. They’d been hounded by death. They didn’t need any more of it. The only person who didn’t have their eyes trained on her was Artie, who looked out, over and past her, but close enough that nobody but Lou would notice she wasn’t looking at her. She sat close to Tsuneko on a short stone wall that bordered the garden adjacent to the infirmary. She looked right over Lou’s head, like she wasn’t even there, her expression neutral, but when Tsuneko looked back at her to whisper something Lou couldn’t hear, she smiled broadly at her. She was glowing. Her skin looked beautiful and all her scratches were almost faded. The dark circles under her eyes had lightened considerably. Like in Lou’s dream, the scabs that had been splitting her lips had healed. She didn’t even look sickly anymore. Someone had either cut her hair or lent her a buzzer because she had gotten her sides shaved back down to near-skin. The length of her hair was curly and charmingly messy; it was clear she’d been swimming. Everybody thought Lou was going to die and Artie was spending her days swimming in the ocean and hanging out with a beautiful girl. Lou felt the sting of betrayal like a thorn pressed into the flesh above her heart. She actually felt it. It hurt. Artie once again had on a little makeup and wore more jewelry than she ever had on the trail. Worst of all, she was beaming. She was so beautiful and so happy there, in the light of Tsuneko’s attention. Lou couldn’t stand to look at her but couldn’t manage to look away, either.

[lettre-romantiques]

5#-> 💌: a letter has arrived from satoru gojo.

dear y/n.

heyy cutie.. i hope you like the gifts i got you. i know this isn’t the easiest way to communicate, but it's the only way right now. things have gotten.. complicated. i don't have much time to spare.

i’m writing this quickly and short, because things are moving fast, and i need to make sure you understand what’s going on. things are about to get messy, i know it, so i’m doing what i can to keep it all from falling apart.

the whole thing with the transport barrier and the crowd of civilians, none of that was going to be easy. but i didn’t.. fully expect this. i mean.. i did, but you know what i mean. i didn’t expect the king of cursed spirits to come together like this, or for the sheer fucking chaos that would unfold once sukuna was set loose.

and if anyone is going to deal with him, it’s got to be me. it always had to be me.

i’m doing this because it’s necessary, because i need to, and if anyone is going to deal with him, it’s got to be me. it’ll always be me. you’ll understand when the time comes. hopefully the students will explain.

i know you’ve always believed in me, hell, i’ve built my whole persona around being the unbeatable, invincible sorcerer. but i’ve learned something over the years: no matter how strong you are, no matter how much you try to control everything around you, there are things that will always get away from you. and i’ve come to terms with the fact that sukuna isn’t someone i can just 'neutralize' in the usual way. this time, it’s different. this fight’s different. and if i’m being honest, part of me knew that from the very beginning.

i’m sorry for the things i never told you. i’m sorry for the times i acted like everything was a joke, like i was invincible and nothing could hurt me. i didn’t want you to see how often i was just faking it, pretending like i had all the answers. the truth is, there were moments where i was terrified. terrified of the responsibility, terrified of what would happen if i ever failed. so i did what i always do, i covered it with jokes, with ridiculous stunts, and by being 'the strongest.' it was easier that way, wasn’t it? easier for me, easier for everyone else.

but i guess that’s where i was wrong. you deserved more than that. you deserved to see all the versions of me. so, for all the times i let you down, for all the times i acted like i wasn’t just as scared and confused as anyone else.. i’m sorry. really, i am.

the truth is, i’ve never really had a plan for how to handle all this. the higher-ups wanted me to handle everything, like i was some kind of god who could solve all their problems. but i’ve always known the world’s broken, y/n. it’s always been broken. and now, it’s my turn to do something about it. even if i don’t come back from this, at least i’ll know i gave it everything i had.

sukuna isn’t just some 'big bad guy' for me to beat. he’s the only thing standing in the way of everything. i can’t just let him continue. i can’t let him tear down what little everyone managed to hold down together. and if that means putting myself on the line.. then so be it. it’s what i have to do.

i don’t expect you to understand fully, but i need you to know this: if something happens, if i don’t make it back, just know that i’m okay with it. this was always the risk. i’ve always known that. but i want you to keep going. i want you to keep fighting. you’ve got the strength to carry on. i wouldn’t have left if I didn’t believe that, you already know that baby.

so, if something happens to me, if i don’t come back, please, don’t let it break you. keep going. keep fighting. and don’t forget that i did what i know was the best choice. i don’t have regrets about the choices i made. i just regret that it had to end this way.

i don’t know how to say goodbye, and i don’t want to. but whenever this is it, i need you to know that i love you more than i ever thought i could, i didn't really think i could love anyone after suguru. you were my greatest love. and i’m sorry i never got to say that to your face one last time.

anyways, i’m rambling now. just know this.. if i don’t make it back, i’m grateful for every second we had, for everything. you’ve meant more to me than you know.

from, your glorious blue eyed king.

p.s. take care of yourself. keep your head up. and don’t forget baby, i was the strongest. and i hope your heart will be the strongest to stomach all this.

[bleedingwidou]

glee multi bot release - 14/11

Quinn Fabray - opposites attract fempunk!reader

It was stupid! And so stereotypical. Opposites attract? Really? Individuals with nothing in common wouldn’t get along. It’s common sense. That’s what Quinn believed. Until about three weeks ago, that is.

The first glimpse she got of you the new girl, she was frankly appalled. The whole punk look you had going on — your messy hair, your dark makeup, your piercings? The way you spoke, too, gosh, it was.. disgraceful. Disgraceful, and so, so so hot.

Not that she’d admit that. Ever.

Santana Lopez - hot co-worker! fem!reader

It was hard for Santana to not notice you. Hell, it was hard for anyone to not notice you. She was sure any and every guy that came to the Spotlight Diner on one of your shifts was drawn to how the back of your little red skirt with the sewn on apron would tip up when you’d bend to pick up stacks of plates, and how when you’d stand back up the customer service-friendly grin that appeared as you bared your teeth matched the same pearly colour on your name tag that read your stupidly pretty name.

Santana couldn’t get any more lesbian.

Brittany Pierce - family line fem!reader

Why does family have to be so hard?

For you, at least. It wasn’t a complicated thing for Brittany. She was okay, her family was okay. They loved her, smart or dumb, straight or bisexual. It just didn’t seem the same with you, and she hated not being able to do something about it.

It’s not nice to watch your girlfriend get put down for something she can’t control; something that makes her, her. By your family, too? All because you like the same gender? It enraged Brittany, but she wasn’t a violent person, nor was she mean. Confrontational, maybe, when it’s necessary, but you insisted on not getting involved, which she’d respect.

Quinn Fabray - not a peep fem!reader

This feels so unnatural. This little love affair Quinn has going on. She’s supposed to be with Finn, she is with Finn; she’s supposed to be faithful. Then again, she doesn’t have a great track record of staying loyal. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t control her feelings (and overwhelming hormones), it wasn’t a switch she could flick off. She wanted. She wanted that quiet Glee nerd. She wanted her.

She wanted you, and she always got what she wanted.

more in bot intros!!

it’d been a bit since my last bit release and i really just can’t contain myself.. i hate to keep people waiting !! (if anyone IS waiting..) also, a big thank you for 100k interactions!! woaaah huge number. <33

[blackenedsnow]

Trans reader x Beej? 🙏 I love reading your work, btw! 😊

ghost light

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Transgender! Reader

NOTE: Hey!! Thank you so much, this one’s got a big chunk of heart <3 I actually got some help from a trans friend to make this as real as possible. I love hearing from you all, so don’t hesitate to send more asks or thoughts <3

SUMMARY: It’s a weird thing being with Beetlejuice, but it’s also the most fun you've ever had. He makes you feel like yourself in a way no one else does – loud, strange, and totally alive.

There’s something about Beetlejuice that just feels right, in the loudest, strangest way possible. Even on the bad days, when you don’t quite feel like you fit into your own skin, he’s there with that wild grin and endless antics, making you feel like you could belong somewhere. It’s not that he really gets it – you're not even sure he really understands half of what you tell him about yourself, your past, the weirdness of figuring out who you are. But he listens, sort of, as best as Beetlejuice can.

“Wait, you mean to tell me you got a whole… thing with your body?” he says, scratching his scraggly chin with this exaggerated look on his face, like he’s really thinking hard about it. “That’s gotta be a real trip. Personally, I think you’re lucky – I don’t even have skin problems. Or organs. Or haircare needs!"

You laugh because that’s the thing with him. He has this gift of making everything feel like one big, surreal joke – but not in a dismissive way. It’s like he’s lifting the weight right off your shoulders, letting you laugh at yourself in the best possible way.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being you?” You ask, half-joking, half-curious.

He looks at you with these glowing eyes, brows wiggling in a way that’s simultaneously ridiculous and, well, somehow...charming. “Oh, honey, being me is the best gig in the Underworld! And you? You’re pretty good at being you, too, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, feeling that warmth bloom in your chest, the way he can just make everything feel like it’s already okay. And even though his teeth are gross and he’s grinning a little too wide, you believe him.

It’s like he understands the parts of you - you sometimes try to hide – the doubts, the days where you wonder if anyone will really see you the way you are. But with Beetlejuice, you feel seen in a way you never have before, like your weirdness fits perfectly with his own.

“You think I’m good at it?” You say, trying to keep your tone casual. “What’s my thing then? Just…being, I dunno, strange?”

He throws his hands up, a look of mock offense on his face. “Strange? You’re one-of-a-kind, babe. An original! If there was a pageant, I’d parade ya around like a prize! You’re the whole package!”

It’s over-the-top, ridiculous even. But it makes you laugh.

It’s not all fun and games, though. Sometimes, when you're alone, he’ll look at you in this quiet way, without the show or the wild grin. It’s rare, but it’s there – like he really, actually cares. And maybe that’s why you stick around. You think, in his own odd way, he sees you, all of you, even the messy, uncertain parts. And he loves you for it.

One night, you're lying on the creaky old bed in his little corner of the Netherworld, and he’s uncharacteristically quiet. You're lying there beside him, feeling his gaze on you, intense and curious, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“So, what’s the deal with you wanting to change so much?” he asks, in this genuinely curious way, like it’s just a passing thought. Beetlejuice is hundreds of years old, you have to explain a lot to him. “I mean, you’re pretty great as you are, kid. And trust me, I’ve been around long enough to know greatness when I see it.”

You smile, looking down at your hands, feeling a little of that doubt creeping back in. “It’s…complicated. Sometimes, I just don’t feel right in my own skin, like it doesn’t really match, y’know?”

He nods, though you're not sure he fully understands. But it’s the fact that he wants to that makes it matter.

“Look,” he says, leaning over so close that you can see the glint in his eyes, “whatever skin you’re in, I think it’s damn near perfect. Got it?” He grins, flashing those nasty teeth again, but there’s a warmth to it that makes your chest ache.

He pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, you let yourself relax into his embrace. You let yourself believe him – even if just for a moment – because in this strange corner of the world, you're exactly who you need to be.

[slashbitch2]

The Proposal AU! (part two)

Summary: when your boss Agatha faces the threat of deportation, she convinces you to marry her in return for a promotion- and things only get more complicated with a trip to Salem, an eccentric tarot-card-reading aunt, and a homophobic mother to convince.

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

TW: deportation (which I admit I know very little about I'm not American lol) suggestive themes, sort of arranged marriage

W.C: roughly 1.3k words

PART ONE PART THREE (coming soon)

“There’s no way this is going to work.” You said, bouncing your leg underneath the table, finding it the only outlet for the sickening anxiety weighing down upon you.

To your left, Agatha was scrolling on her phone, nonchalant and entirely unaffected by your panic.

Realising you weren’t going to get a response; you allowed your gaze to travel across the room. It was barren, impersonal and imposing. The chair opposite was currently empty as you waited for someone to arrive. Who, you weren’t quite sure. You really didn’t understand anything about this entire process, and you silently prayed that Agatha did.

Agatha, who was infuriatingly casual about the whole thing. It wouldn’t surprise you if she didn’t understand the process, if she was just winging it- if she had dragged you into all this just to torture you. In an attempt to pass the time, you tried racking your brains for something you might’ve done wrong recently. A coffee order you had messed up, a report you had forgotten to submit, a mistake you might’ve made with her calendar. Yet, nothing came to mind.

Out of the corner of your eye, you looked Agatha up and down. Her coat was neatly folded over the back of the chair that she was slumped in, rather ungracefully you noted. She was wearing a purple jumper with a broach pinned to the collar, one you had never seen her without. You had always longed to ask her whether there was some meaning behind it, but knew better than to expect a genuine answer.

You glanced up at her face, framed by strands of dark brown hair falling from a messy bun, and watched as she chewed on her lip. Now this was a habit you hadn’t noticed before.

“Are you nervous?” You interrogated after spending a second longer staring at her lips than was socially acceptable.

“Why would I be? She murmured, not bothering to look up from her phone. “I have my gorgeous fiancé here with me.”

You sighed, willing her to show one ounce of normal human emotion and opening your mouth to refute.

“Well, isn’t that just lovely to hear.”

Both you and Agatha jumped in your seats at the sound of a foreign voice.

The man rounded the desk, dressed in a perfectly tailored, colourless suit. He had neatly combed grey hair and an impassive expression. “Lovely to meet you both.” He said, routinely taking his seat opposite. “I’m Tyler Hayward and I’ll be handling your case Miss…” the man’s eyes travelled across the file already opened on his desk. “Miss Harkness.” He finished, smiling up at you both coldly.

“Pleasures all mine.” Agatha smirked, tucking her phone away to pay the man full attention.

Finding your mouth suddenly dry, you nodded with a grimace that you hoped came across more like a smile.

“So, I have one question.” Hayward clasped his hands together, eyes darting between you both before landing specifically on you. He licked his lips, prolonging the tense silence, then finally, “Are you committing fraud to avoid her deportation so that she may keep her position at the company you work at?”

Right then and there, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating.

“That’s insane!” Agatha exclaimed, faking outrage as she slammed her palm down onto the desk- ever one for the dramatics. “The audacity to even suggest such a thing!”

You looked over at Hayward, seeing the glint in his otherwise frigid composure. You knew this was the kind of reaction he had hoped for, fake or not, and while this kind of intimidation tactic worked for Agatha with incompetent employees, it wouldn’t work on this occasion. She was doing herself no favours in trying to sell this sham marriage, and any remaining hope you held that she had a plan immediately went out the window.

“How dare you, we’re in love!” Agatha continued. “And I do not appreciate those kinds of insinuations that-“

“Hey, hold on now, love.” You intervened, ignoring how unnatural it felt to be referring to your boss in such a way. “He’s just doing his job.” Swallowing back your discomfort, you reached over to place a soothing hand on Agatha’s thigh, trying to ignore the way her skin radiated warmth through the layer of fabric. “But no, Mr Hayward, there is nothing fraudulent about the way I feel for Agatha. Unconventional, maybe. But definitely real.” You said through gritted teeth, attempting to force as much affection into your gaze as you could.

Which was especially hard with the way Agatha was staring back at you: a mixture of impressed, confused, and suggestive…

“My apologies.” Agatha said, placing her hand over yours. “I just get upset when people make assumptions about my personal life.”

“I understand that.” Hayward nodded, pulling your attention away from Agatha and back to him. “And you’re right it is unconventional for a relationship between an employer and employee. How, might I ask, does the company feel about this? I’m surprised they would allow such a relationship.” He inquired, though his curiosity wasn’t genuine. He knew that it wouldn’t be permitted, that this was a glaring flaw in your non-existent plan.

“The truth is…” You began, swallowed hard and thought desperately about how to respond. “Agatha and I… we’re just two people who weren’t supposed to fall in love… but did.” You shrugged, pretending as though you were reliving such great hardships. “And we couldn’t tell anyone we work with... As you pointed out, it would be deeply inappropriate.”

You smiled sadly, praying that Agatha would jump in so you wouldn’t have to monologue any longer. Each word you worried over, just waiting for you to slip up and have Hayward jump in and arrest you for fraud. You could practically feel the handcuffs around your wrists now, the cold metal tight against your skin, cutting into your flesh, constricting your movement. You felt your heart start to pound, your palms start to sweat.

Agatha must’ve felt you tensing up, as suddenly, you felt her thumb begin to trace soothing patterns against the top of your hand. Round and round. Real and yet ever so gentle. The soft contact drew you back into the moment, back to her.

Back to Hayward…

“So, no co-workers will be able to vouch for you.” He looked down at his file, grabbed a pen and scribbled something down. “What about family? Have the two of you told your parents about this forbidden love?”  He questioned, narrow-eyed and mocking.

“Oh, I…” You grit your teeth together, sucking in a lungful of air as you pondered how this would look. “My parents are out of the country right now.”

“Of course they are.” Hayward chuckled maliciously, jotting more down on his form.

“Well, my mother is actually on a road trip through the country with some… other relatives.” Agatha chimed in, regaining Hayward’s attention. “In fact, we were planning on joining up with them in Salem this weekend to share the wonderful news.”

“We were?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

“Oh yeah, how could you forget, sweetheart?” She fake-reprimanded. “It’s Aunt Lilia’s big sixtieth birthday road trip, the whole family’s coming together to surprise her.”

“Right…” You nodded along, though you couldn’t rid yourself of the frown adorning your face. You recognised what Agatha was doing. She was overcompensating, but she was only going to complicate this arrangement even further.

“How lovely.” Hayward drawled. “I suppose you’ll both be travelling up tomorrow then?”

“That we will.” Agatha gulped, your eyes tracing the movement of her throat.

You turned back to Hayward and met his evident annoyance with a smile, one more genuine. You didn’t like the man. You wanted to prove him wrong...

“I for one can’t wait!”

NEXT PART (coming soon)

[revelisms]

It starts with Sister.

It starts with Sister in a black-walled room, picking frays of silk with needle-nails and puffing plumes of blue through her teeth:

"If you loved me, you wouldn't have subjected me to this." Cold, splintered, distant as the stars. "You would have let me go."

And Nihil—

Greasepaint a sweat-streaked shine, concert-high dimmed like a lamp, yellowish crescent waning—Nihil stares, and splutters, and says nothing.

(When does Nihil say anything?)

Oh, but he says everything—everything but what he should.

Primo sees it. Secondo sees it. Spits it back in his face, with knife-glared eyes; moonbeam and black sun, first son and second.

"The Gate will be overrun, if you keep up with this."

"You are going against the Way, and you know it."

Nihil stares, splutters, spews a steaming slew of denial.

"You boys haven't seen it." Gristling, shattered, cold as a gale. "You are young."

And Primo, unwittingly, absorbs it. Mirrors that fanged-tongued rhetoric to his youngest; his own, above all else: "This is beyond you now, mh? You are too young to understand."

And with it, Secondo mirrors it, too, carved from spittle and ash: "You two can barely see such things. Don't pretend to know differently, eh?"

And with it, the third son: cracked wings, cracked smile, fragmented-minded son, pinned between the three prongs of their expectations like glass in a gilded frame—

And he expects their chastisements. Expects their flippancy. Expects Nihil's grousing grating shame-turned snarl at a mirror image he won't accept—

But not from Copia.

Not the runt.

"You say so much," his little brother whispers once, when he is still young, frowning and blue-white eyed and arms notched about his knees. "You say so much—but you don't say anything."

And who is he to point the finger?

Who is he to rage?

Terzo stares, and stills, and says nothing.

Says nothing, like his damned dead-eyed father.

But Copia, Copia, Copia—

If he has to burn it all, Copia will break away from it. Copia has been an Other, from the day he was sewn, and he has always known it.

Sewn by those needle-nails into the perfect little doll.

"I won't be that," he spits—older, older now, older always—and though there is gray in his hair, and black on his eyes, and a suit of satin jeweled over his skin, he is still him.

He has always been.

Not a product of his father, not quite—though he has wanted it. Hell, craved it.

But he is, in a way.

They all always were.

Nihil's wheezing laugh. Nihil's sly-winked grins. Nihil's reckless joy. Nihil's anger, selfishness, endless-hearted selflessness, wrapped in a self-spiting package.

"I won't be," Copia whispers again, to a mother who is not there, to a grandmother and an uncle and a sad-eyed hateful-hissing nurturer more than brothers, to a father he is but won't claim.

No—there's a new world under his hand now. A future limitless in his own making.

And that, he'll claim.

That, Saints willing, rethroned, he'll claim.

copia / ties that break

[laniidae-passerine]

don’t get how you can watch iwtv and be a sincere diehard lestat hater. like the world’s biggest lestat hater is louis and that man can’t even commit to it for more than five minutes before literally hallucinating lestat wearing a wedding ring and talking pretty to him. this show is about louis and every road leads back to lestat for that man

[pedanticat]

I've noticed there's a whole subgenre of Danny Phantom fics that will have Jack and Maddie be bad parents and I hate it since it feels like a a disservice to their characters. The two aren't perfect by any means and they make plenty of mistakes, but they love their kids more than anything else with them more than willing to risk their own lives to protect them. This is also why I've never vibed with fics that have Danny's parents rejecting or disowning Danny due to being half-ghost because for them to do something like that would be incredibly out of character. Hell, the show has several instances in which when they do learn Danny's secret, they don't love him any less with them fully accepting him.

[potatoesandsunshine]

Karna should've shown up to the meeting with Deli wearing Gemelli's perfume like if we're gonna make things complicated let's make them complicated

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i don't know what order to start Dissecting, so i'll just start with:

it's absolutely fascinating how the dynamic Wally & Barnaby had - to my knowledge - before the update, and a dynamic i'd seen speculated elsewhere and generally accepted, has been completed turned on its head

see, given that Wally is the "main character" and Barnaby is classified as "his best friend", i got the feeling that Barnaby kind of... tags along on Wally's 'shenanigans'. that he's the sidekick, the best friend. especially since their dynamic has been previously & briefly described as "Barnaby is very polite to Wally." he's the Companion.

but the audios sorta paint a reverse picture. in the Interview, when Barnaby enters stage right, he completely bowls over Wally's introduction and dominates the interview. when the interviewer asks how the two of them are handling the fame, even outright asking Wally, Barnaby doesn't hesitate to answer the question himself, and only about himself. Wally doesn't get another word in edge-wise until the interviewer explicitly singles Wally out.

(now, an argument could be made that Barnaby knew that Wally was somewhat overwhelmed with all of the questions, and tried to take the reins to give him a reprieve. but, considering that the interview seems to be very early on the possible timeline - like, very soon after Welcome Home debuted - i don't think this is likely. i doubt Barnaby and Wally would've had the time to solidify their dynamic or really get to know each other that well yet)

and Barnaby continues to take point in pretty much all of their other conversations, too. like in the mystery Howdy/Barnaby/Wally audio, their interaction gives off the vibes that Wally is Barnaby's sidekick, his tag-along.

(on a related tangent, it's fascinating how the website described the episodes as "[beginning] with Wally introducing the focus or theme for the day before coming across other characters who would join him on his escapades until the end of the day." but from pretty much everything we've seen so far, it seems like He's the one who's just along for the ride, bouncing from neighbor shenanigan to neighbor shenanigan instead of having his own adventures.

of course, if the 14 audios are present time, which is honestly somewhat likely, this could be because the show isn't running. they aren't doing episodes - they're just existing, doing their things. no need for Wally to take point in any way shape or form. tangent over)

in the 14 audios with Barnaby, he doesn't even acknowledge Wally until the very end - which, of course, could be because that's how the scenes are set up. except that in some of them, the characters do directly acknowledge Wally's presence outside of the endings. Eddie in 5-14, Howdy and Poppy in 1-14, and Frank in 4-14 (technically, since he was infodumping to Wally at the very start before Barnaby interrupted). you'd think that a guy would try to include his best friend a little more!

maybe i'm reading into it too much. & given what we know about Wally as a character, it would make sense for Barnaby to be the go-getter Main Guy of the two. but it really seems like its Barnaby & Wally instead of Wally & Barnaby. he's just kinda... there. going along with whatever Barnaby is up to.

but also, on the other side of things - & it's occurring to me as i type this, it's interesting how in a lot of audios, Barnaby seems to seek Wally out. in "Just So", he shows up to fetch Wally. in 4-14, Barnaby interrupts Frank and Wally's gardening session, almost as if he's stopping by to check on his little buddy. in 7-14, Barnaby calls Julie's house (presumably) searching for Wally, or at least checking in once again. something to consider in all of this!

[afewproblems]

Season Two Halloween AU Part Ten (Final Part)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

Thank you to Jess @strangersteddierthings for your encouragement and kind words, and to all of you that have been following along with this story. Thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy the final installment!

***

It doesn't take much to get Dustin on board, especially given the little shits ego.

Nancy and Eddie manage to catch him outside during lunch period the following day, next to the bike racks. With Hawkins Middle just a block away from the highschool, it's easy to make their way over.

"Called it, I totally called it," Dustin preens with a wide grin, Eddie holds back the urge to roll his eyes.

Nancy levels Dustin with an unimpressed glare as she crosses her arms.

"It's not too late, we could make this work without him," Nancy says dryly, and Eddie has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the way Dustin's mouth drops open as he looks between Nancy and Eddie with a stricken expression.

"No, wait!" Dustin says, his voice pitched high with panic, "I want to help!" 

"Steve is a good guy, he helped my mom with the groceries last week because she had to work late," the kid continues, his voice softer now.

"I can tell he's sad, when he thinks you aren't looking at him, mom had the same thing after my dad left". 

Dustin looks up at Eddie now, a wary suspicion in his eyes, "he's been like that since the last time I covered for you," he throws long exaggerated finger quotes around the word, 'covered' as he openly glares at Eddie.

"What did you say to him before the tunnels?" Dustin demands fiercely, and even Nancy turns to look at Eddie with a questioning tilt to her head.

Frustration courses through his chest now, hot and bubbling, he has to take a deep breath to keep from yelling. 

As if Eddie hasn't been asking himself that very question, as if he hasn't been turning that moment over and over in his mind, trying to find the moment, the words, responsible for Steve's distance.

"Dustin," Nancy says sharply, "this is not the time--"

"What are you talking about," Dustin turns to Nancy, gesturing at Eddie who bristles, "we're making a plan and that should include what not to say this time."

"This was a stupid idea," Eddie bites out, turning on his heel, his ears are warm under his hair and he can feel the angry flush slowly make its way down his neck, he takes three steps before a hand catches his elbow, halting his path.

"Okay Dustin knock it off," Nancy says quietly, her head on a swivel, watching for any lunchtime stragglers lingering around them or teachers on supervision. 

Satisfied that no one seems to be watching their conversation, she turns back to Eddie and squeezes his elbow one last time before letting her hand drop away, "and you, calm down, we're all here because we want the same thing".

"Well, some of us more than others," Dustin pipes up, wiggling his eyebrows at Eddie who wants to sink into the concrete. 

"Dustin," Nancy bites out between her teeth, "Mike said the Snowball is in two days, think you could get Steve to take you?"

Dustin scrunches his nose as he looks at Nancy, "are you kidding," he scoffs, "all I have to do is tell my mom Steve offered to take me and she'll call him to thank him, he'll have no choice but to agree like it was his idea". 

Nancy blinks once at Dustin and Eddie can't help but stare at the little monster's face as he grins up at the two of them. It's honestly a good plan given what Eddie knows of Steve, and even Nancy begins to nod slowly.

"Okay, then your job," Nancy turns to Eddie now, "is to surprise him here when he arrives at the dance, Dustin's right".

Nancy doesn't look at the little twerp as she says it but nearly rolls her eyes at the triumphant laugh that bursts forth from the kid.

"An ambush is probably the best way to catch him, and Eddie," Nancy turns to fully face him and reaches out to squeeze his arm with small hands, "just…be gentle with Steve, as much as you can".

"Are we all clear on the plan then?" She asks, taking a step back towards the sidewalk path leading back to the school. 

"Yes mom," Eddie huffs, shooting Dustin a matching grin as Nancy sighs loudly.

"Just be here for seven," she says tightly before turning in her heel and stalking off towards the highschool.

"She's pretty intense hey?" Eddie says, turning back to the kid, he trails off at the scowl Dustin gives him in response.

"Nance is cool and has a gun, I wouldn't mess with her and I wouldn't mess with Steve if I were you," Dustin scoffs, taking a step closer.

Eddie swallows roughly at the sudden proximity, looking around the school yard for any stragglers making their way back to class. 

"Keep your voice down you little shit," he hisses, reaching out to pull Dustin farther away from the bike rack and the double front doors. He tries not to let the news of Nancy's weapon cache fluster him but Dustin must see something in Eddie's expression if the sudden smug grin is anything to go by.

"I'm just saying, you're new to the party and we protect each other, so if you're just looking to mess with him--"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hisses, bringing his hands up to his eyes. He presses his fingers in until his vision explodes in a kaleidoscope of stars and counts to five, breathing deeply through his nose.

"I'm only going to say this one more time, so tell your little party because I ain't doing another shovel talk from someone whose voice hasn't even dropped".

Eddie ignores the squawk Dustin makes as he lowers his hands, "I just want to talk to Steve and see where this goes, I am not getting my hopes up that this is all gonna be 'Happily Ever After' or some shit, and you shouldn't either".

Eddie watches as Dustin frowns skeptically and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from rolling his eyes.

"But I swear, I'm not messing with him, okay?" 

Dustin stares at Eddie for what feels like an age, saying nothing. His gaze is anything but warm, it feels like he's being analyzed and he wishes that Nancy were still here to absorb some of the strange attention the kid has focused on him.

Eddie is about to tell him to forget it, to storm off back to the highschool when Dustin finally utters a simple, "okay". 

It throws Eddie off for a moment, he stands in the patchy November worn grass, shivering in the harsh wind, mouth opening and closing in surprise.

"That's it?" He asks faintly, watching as Dustin swings his backpack off his shoulder and unzips it. He reaches in and pulls out a bright yellow walkie talkie and holds it out to Eddie expectantly.

"The party frequency is 467.5625," Dustin says as Eddie takes the device. 

He looks from the walkie in his hands to Dustin and scoffs, "you expect me to remem--"

"Channel eight then, Jesus," the kid huffs out, "don't make me take it back, this is a big deal Munson, you're one of us now". 

Eddie holds back a smile but it's a near thing. 

It feels strange, the warmth in his chest at the words. It shouldn’t feel as big as it does, but the heavy walkie in his hands feels like acceptance, something Eddie has always insisted that he never needed. He had Wayne, he had Hellfire, and Corroded Coffin, what did it matter if the other teens gave him a wide berth in the halls, or if teachers assumed the worst of him without evidence. 

But as Eddie taps the walkie onto the palm of his left hand, that feeling of warmth grows until it travels up his throat into a sudden lump that chokes his words. 

Fuck. 

Eddie blinks away the burning sting in his eyes once, twice, before lowering himself into a bow to hide the moisture he knows is just a split second from becoming a very evident problem. 

Dustin steps back in surprise as Eddie coughs to hide the waver in his voice.

"I uh, humbly accept your invitation and will endeavor to assist with all future quests, even upon pain of death or dismemberment oh noble bard".

Eddie lets a small laugh loose as he stands back up to his full height, grinning at the delighted giggle Dustin makes, even as the kid loudly insists that he's actually an Artificer, duh.

"Could've fooled me with that inspired speech dude," Eddie shakes his head and begins making his way back towards the highschool, letting gravity take him down the small hill towards the trees with heavy steps. He feels lighter now than he has in a while.

Absolutely nothing could go wrong.

"Wait!"

The sound of quick steps and crunching dead leaves announces Dustin before Eddie can even turn to face Hawkins Middle.

He skids to a stop at the bottom of the hill, breathing heavily with a wild grin on his small face.

"I know we have a plan already, but I think I have an even better idea," he breathes out, nearly vibrating in excitement.

"Better than Wheelers?" Eddie says, raising his eyebrow and slowly crossing his arms over his chest, careful not to drop the walkie in the grass.

"It's genius," Dustin insists, "trust me".

***

It was not genius.

It is in fact the stupidest thing that Eddie has ever done.

Including the time he skipped school to climb the tallest tree in Mirkwood on a dare and ended up breaking his collarbone after falling ten feet.

But, Eddie supposes, this is exactly what happens when one listens to a thirteen year old.

Maybe this was how all urban legends started, as unsolicited advice from snarky little pre-teens with more confidence than common sense.

All of a sudden, you end up stowed away in the back of a car trying your damnedest to keep quiet so as not to tip off the driver.

Who you happen to be eavesdropping on. Again.

Fourth time's the charm after all.

Eddie tries to stay as still as he can, crouched down in the back of Steve's Beemer. How the hell did those Urban Legend serial killers make this seem so easy, Eddie thinks as they manage to hit yet another pothole, jostling his position behind Dustin's seat. Eddie's heart beat feels incredibly loud in his ears as he holds his breath between his teeth.

He wonders belatedly just what Hopper would do if he drove past them now and tries to swallow the sudden anxiety that clings to his throat.

"Remember," Steve interrupts Eddie's thoughts with his insistent tone, "you don't care, you're as cool as a cucumber, you let everything roll off your back," Steve says as the sound of the turn signal begins, the rhythmic tick tock keeping pace with his words.

"Like a duck?" Dustin asks from the passenger seat and Eddie has to fight to keep the snort that threatens to break free from his nose.

"Uh, I guess, just, look," Steve sighs as they slow down for a light if the red glow is any indication, "you don't want to come on too strong, what happens when you come on too strong?"

"It blows up in your face," Dustin says quietly as Steve speaks in unison with him, slapping the steering wheel once with the flat of his palm, making Eddie flinch in the back. 

God. Is that what Steve thinks he did?

"Exactly, Henderson, you got it! So what are you?"

"Cool as a cucumber," Dustin repeats, this time with more conviction in his voice and Eddie hopes the kid is a better actor than he thought because that is not the lesson he wants him taking away from this evening.

"Because you don't care," Steve says again, tapping the steering wheel with each word for emphasis and Eddie can hear the grin in his voice as he shifts in the driver's seat. 

"I don't care," Dustin repeats again, though in a much colder voice than before, and suddenly Eddie knows if Dustin could see him now, he'd be staring daggers at him.

Eddie rolls his eyes, he's not going to take the blame for every single word and feeling coming out of Steve's mouth and it isn't fair of Dustin to heap all of it on Eddie.

"You look like a million bucks, go get em tiger," Steve says gently as the car comes to a gentle halt. There's a fondness in his voice that Eddie hasn't heard before. 

He's never had a sibling either, but Eddie imagines that this is exactly how it would feel, witnessing their firsts, cheering them on as they head into the unknown. Being their protector from the things that go bump in the night, even if that thing was as small as a first heartbreak. 

God. King Steve just had to be a secret sweetheart didn't he?

Not that it was really much of a secret, Eddie thinks as Dustin opens the passenger door and hops out of the car--

Oh shit. 

Oh shit.

He had been so engrossed in the conversation he'd been eavesdropping on, yet again, that Eddie had forgotten to sneak out.

He had even kept the back passenger door open, ever so slightly, to avoid the sound of it alerting Steve when he made his escape at the same time as Dustin. Then all they had to do was line up their doors closing at the exact same time and Steve would be none the wiser.

Oh God, he really did it, Eddie really listened to a thirteen year old and expected the plan to work.

And what's worse, he's the one that had fucked it up and now, he's trapped.

Eddie takes a deep breath through his nose and releases it as slowly as he can through his mouth. It feels as though an elephant is seated on his chest and his lungs can't quite keep up with the weight as his ribcage slowly begins to cave in. 

He has to get out, he has to run, he has to get out, he can't be caught in here, he can't ruin this again.

He starts at a sudden tapping on the window and holds his breath as Steve leans over from the driver's side towards his passenger door.

"Dustin?" Steve huffs as he moves back into place, his arm stops to rest on the passenger door just above Eddie's legs hidden in the darkness of the back seat.

"Steve! I, uh, forgot something, in the back," Dustin's voice is slightly strangled as he stumbles through the explanation for his sudden reappearance, "uh, my backpack!"s in days with their plan in place.

"Okay," Steve says slowly, drawing out the second syllable as he drops his hand from the passenger seat, "let me look--"

"No!" Dustin barks out, leaning further into the vehicle, from the new angle Eddie can see the panic on his young face. 

"Dustin? What--" Steve huffs as the kid climbs back into the front seat, grabbing Steve's arms and forcing him to continue facing forward.

And perhaps it's the absolute ridiculousness of the situation that makes Eddie laugh, the look on Dustin's face, or the confusion in Steve's voice, but he can't help but contain the loud snort that bursts forth from the back seat. 

Shit.

Eddie's heart drops into the floor of the vehicle beneath him as Steve and Dustin both freeze. 

It's like time stands still for an eternity, though snow begins to slowly fall outside the Beemer and the far off buzzing of music and laughter continues to emanate from the school gymnasium. 

Eddie moves first, lifting his hands to cover his face as he slowly sits up. He presses his fingers harshly into his eyes until a kaleidoscope of stars and fireworks appear in the darkness, before lifting them slightly to move into his hair and pulling at the roots. Eddie keeps his eyes closed as he hears a sharp intake of breath and movement from the driver's seat. 

"Eds? Dustin, what is going on, what are you doing here?" Steve says, his voice growing louder with each word until Eddie opens his eyes. 

Steve is staring at him, his large hazel eyes are wide and his brows have pinched in the middle, cutting creases across his forehead. He looks at Dustin before turning back to Eddie again, the frown on his face slowly morphing into a sneer. 

"Figures," Steve breathes out before turning to Dustin once more, "you two planned this?"

Dustin has the decency to at least wince at the accusation, "it's not like that--"

"Just," Steve cuts the kid off, the word harsh, almost a snarl before Steve deflates, sinking back into the driver's seat and letting his head drop back onto the headrest. 

He breathes out long and slow through his nose before continuing in a much softer, tired voice, "go to the dance Henderson". 

Dustin opens his mouth to rail against the dismissal, to stop whatever train of thought has run through Steve's mind, but Eddie beats him to it.

"Dustin," Eddie sighs, dropping his hands away from his hair to his lap, "let me take my lumps man, go".

Dustin makes a noise that seems to be a cross between a curse and a growl, his expression venomous, before he steps back and closes the passenger door with a loud metalic bang.

Eddie vaguely remembers Dustin and Nancy's threat and the guns she supposedly owns and suppresses a shudder. 

One problem at a time.

Eddie hauls himself into the back seat and groans at the rush of pins and needles dotting along his arms as he moves into a normal position once more. He rubs his hands along his arms and legs, wincing at how loud he is in the absolute silence of the car.

Steve isn't looking at him, his face pressed in between his hands at 11 and 1 on the steering wheel. 

"So," Steve mutters after a beat, startling Eddie as he sits back up from the wheel, "you were listening to me. Spying. Again." 

"Steve," Eddie starts, only for the other man to continue on as though he hasn't heard him.

"The only thing I can't figure out is why?"

Steve turns in his seat to look at Eddie, his face carefully blank now but for the slight downward pull at the left corner of his mouth. The bruises from Billy's recent beatings have faded to a sallow yellow and even the collection of cuts from the shattered ashtray have begun to scab over. 

The sight makes Eddie ache.

"Did Tommy put you up to this?" Steve interrupts Eddie's thoughts, his stare unwavering.

"What?" Eddie whispers, horrified, "what are you talking about?"

"You, you keep," Steve's voice rises slightly, a hysterical edge begins to creep in as his breathing quickens, "inserting yourself into my shit, you--I told you that I," Steve swallows heavily and blinks, his hazel eyes shine in the glow of the streetlight.

"Tommy is the only one who knows about me, so--so whatever he's got you doing," Steve sucks in another short breath, it's wet at the edges and Eddie feels his chest tighten as Steve's voice wavers.

"Steve--"

"You know what," Steve hisses as he reaches down to tug the keys out of the ignition, his breathing still slightly erratic, "just don't".

Eddie watches, frozen, as Steve wrenches the driver's door open and throws himself out of the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind him.

Eddie sits in silent shock for a moment, as though his limbs have filled up with sand, holding him in place, before he manages to scramble towards his own door.

"Steve!" He shouts, wincing as he slams the car door behind him, prompting several kids and parents walking into the middle school behind them to look in curiosity.

He catches a glimpse of a maroon sweater darting into the trees. 

Gotcha. 

Eddie hurries after him, cursing Dustin's insistence that, 'with this plan you won't need a coat, there's no waiting outside at all!'

He tamps down the hot feeling of irritation creeping up his chest and into his throat. It's a ridiculous night, first spent crouched into the back of a car and now traipsing through the woods to what? 

Chase after someone who clearly wants nothing to do with him? Who has been purposefully avoiding him since that night in the tunnels. 

Nancy and Dustin had it wrong, this was stupid. 

What was he thinking going along with their batshit plan --not that Nancy deserved credit for the car thing, that was all Henderson. 

Eddie pushes a branch out of his path and steps over a snow covered log, cursing the fact that he can feel the chill creeping into his toes through the thin canvas of his converse sneakers. The shoes also have little traction in the fresh snow that seems to be coming down even harder now as the night goes on.

As if to prove a point Eddie slips on a wet patch of leaves and swears at the sudden pain in his back as he struggles to keep upright.

He's breathing hard, puffs of frozen breath billow out and away from him in the cool night air

'Be gentle with him,' Nancy had said, as if she knew this would happen. As if she knew Steve would run the first chance he could and Eddie would follow.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, letting it in and out, allowing the frustration and anger from the last few days flow out with each breath.

"Steve," Eddie shouts as he finally catches a glimpse of maroon and tawny hair through the thicket, "just stop, man!"

Steve halts, halfway over a fallen log, but doesn't turn around.

Eddie ducks under another branch and into the small break in the trees that Steve is in. He can see the way the other man's shoulders rise and fall rapidly in the meager moonlight but whether from panic or exertion, Eddie can't tell.

"Steve," Eddie says as he takes another wary step forward, as though approaching a wild animal.

"You promised we'd talk," Eddie tries to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat, "was that a lie?" 

Steve says nothing still, though he turns his face just enough that Eddie can make out his profile in the low light.

Eddie sighs heavily, sliding a shaking hand through his hair, "what would Tommy want with the town freak anyway, he'd be more likely to put sugar in my gas tank than talk to me about anything, Steve".

"So," Eddie breathes out slowly, feeling his heart rate begin to climb as he prepares to take the leap, "rewind a bit, and catch me up on just what is going on in that head of yours sweetheart".

He sees the moment the words register in the way Steve stiffens, the way he slowly turns towards Eddie, his face pale and his eyes wide.

"You…you've called me that before, in the car," Steve says slowly, in fits and starts, "I thought it was a dream". 

Eddie takes another step closer, watches as Steve traces his movement with wary eyes.

"I think that was the most scared I have ever been in my life Steve, I thought you were dead, and it made me realize something," he swallows heavily, it feels like glass all the way down. 

"I was an idiot," Eddie whispers, his breath floats away in the cold November air as he shivers, "and didn't understand what you were trying to tell me at the Byers".

Steve winces slightly and nods, he opens his mouth to say something but Eddie beats him to it.

"IthinkyourNonnawasontosomethingSteve," the words tumble out in a long nearly unintelligible string, "I want to be in your life, whatever that means, however you'll have me," his lungs stutter slightly as Eddie takes a deep steadying breath.

Steve's head tilts slightly to the left as he regards Eddie with a infuriating black expression, his eyes searching Eddie's own.

"As friends?" Steve says slowly. There's a leading note to his voice that Eddie tries not to wince at.

He can't quite help the way his shoulders drop at the words though. Of course, of course he'd been right the first time. Steve was straight and, despite his better judgment, Eddie had gone ahead and gotten his hopes up for nothing.

"If that's what you want," Eddie agrees, forcing a wane smile that doesn't meet his eyes.

Steve's expression betrays nothing still as he moves through the thicket in two steps, his gaze never wavering from Eddie's own as he crosses his arms over his chest, still guarded despite how close they are.

"And if I wanted something else?" Steve speaks softly now, the words travel in between them through gentle puffs of frozen breath.

They're nearly the same height, Eddie might be a half inch taller or so, but from this close it doesn't matter. 

Eddie can see the flecks of green in his eyes, the collection of freckles and moles across his nose and cheeks; if Steve is an Autumnal King in a sunset, he's absolutely otherworldly in the moonlight. The pale snow falling around them almost makes it seem like he's glowing.

"Glowing huh?" 

Fuck.

Steve's face splits into a soft smile, his eyes crinkle at the corners, pulling at the yellow bruised skin. He breathes out something resembling a laugh through his nose as he says, "well, you're not so bad yourself Munson".

Eddie takes another step closer, his heart racing at a mile a minute, "s'that right?" he asks, lifting his hands to grip at Steve's arms.

He lets his ungloved hands run up and down, reveling at how soft and warm the sweater Steve's wearing is before settling at his elbow.

Steve's eyes slowly trace over Eddie's face, before his expression morphs into the determined one that Eddie recognizes from that horrible night in the tunnels.

"I'm sorry," Steve swallows roughly before clearing his throat. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head as Eddie opens his mouth to speak, "please, just let me explain first, and then you can," he bites at the inside of his cheek as his hazel eyes move beyond Eddie's gaze into the trees. 

"You can, make your decision or whatever".

Eddie hesitates for just a moment, squeezing Steve's arms once more before he lets go. 

Steve gives Eddie a tight smile, before closing his eyes, "I've known Tommy since we were like six, sandbox kids right?"

"Our dads were friends, they worked together, so it just made sense, and we were close, we did everything together," Steve opens his eyes but doesn’t look at Eddie, "Tommy knows a lot about me, stuff I've never told anyone, not even Nance".

Steve sighs, kicking roughly at a cluster of leaves and snow on the ground, "not that she hasn't figured a bunch of it out, she's smart like that". 

"I remember talking about girls for the first time when we were Dustin's age, Tommy had a crush on Linda Holloway, he liked her red hair," Steve smiles faintly, but it quickly disappears as he finally meets Eddie's eyes once more, "and I didn't think anything of it at the time, I just thought we were sharing who we thought was cute so I--"

He stops speaking, his breath stutters for a moment as he shakes his head once and curls his arms even more tightly around himself.

"Steve--" Eddie tries, reaching out once again with one hand before he curls his fingers away as though afraid to touch him. 

Eddie wants to tell Steve that he doesn't need to continue, that he understands, but Steve has regained his voice, soft and unwavering.

"I told him about Mary McKinney, she let me borrow her pencil whenever I needed it and always wore her hair in braids," Steve licks his lips, his eyes flitting between Eddie now and the ground, "and, about Brian Donovan, he was on our little league team and he had the best dimples I'd ever seen".

Steve's lips twist into a shy smile this time as he looks at Eddie, "maybe second best now".

Heat rises in Eddie's cheeks, his heart thrums in his chest and he can't stop the pleased grin from taking over his face at the words. 

God, he's so fucked.

Steve continues on, if he notices Eddie's blush in the low twilight he doesn't mention it.

"Tommy said that was weird to think of boys like that, the same way I thought about Mary, and not to talk about it again. That didn't stop him from bringing it up after that," Steve sighs heavily now, "I couldn't so much as make eye contact with another guy at school without Tommy telling me off". 

Anger ignites in Eddie's chest, spreading up his throat and curling around his hands which suddenly long to meet Tommy Hagans stupid face. 

He'd never cared for the guy. Too far up his own ass over the years with a mean streak a mile wide. Add to that a penchant for making other kids' lives absolutely miserable and you have a recipe for a douchebag that Eddie based nearly half of the Munson Doctrine on. 

The other half, well, that had also been influenced by Steve, but if Eddie was being honest, he had no clue who the real Steve Harrington was. 

No one did. 

Hopefully, in time, Eddie could change that. 

"I'm sorry for not trusting you," Steve whispers, his face tipped down to the ground, "I think I've had his voice in my head for so long that I couldn't stop myself from listening to it".

"You want to know the worst part?" Steve asks quietly, he scoffs, not bothering to wait for Eddie to reply, "he acted like he was doing me a fucking favour, like he was protecting me". 

He shakes his head, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as his voice wavers suddenly, "maybe he was, in his own way--"

"Nope," Eddie barks out, startling them both with the sudden volume filling the trees, "that rat was trying to save his own skin by trying to control you, you owe Tommy nothing". 

Steve looks at Eddie with wide shocked eyes. He's standing so still that Eddie wonders if he's stopped breathing.

"Maybe he thought he was doing you a favour," Eddie laughs, it's a cold bitter thing that hangs low amongst the tree roots and plant litter, "and in public sure, I get it, but honestly if he could only be friends with this version of you, then he wasn't really ever your friend, Steve". 

"If someone doesn't like you just as you are, then they aren't worth it".

Steve is still staring, he hasn't blinked the entire time that Eddie has been speaking…it's a little unnerving.

"So," Steve asks, hesitantly, halting Eddie's train of thought, "what about you?" 

He's even closer now and, when the hell did that happen.

"Me?" Eddie says faintly, his eyes drop once to Steve's lips, they're slightly chapped but have never looked so God Damn kissable.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and smiles softly as he lifts his hands to grip Steve's elbows once again, squeezing gently before sliding them down to take his hands. 

They're large and warm in his own, callused along the palms from where the nail bat had sat in his hands. Eddie lets his thumbs run along his knuckles, lingering on the healing scabs from his fight with Billy.

"You weren't what I was expecting," Eddie says, watching as Steve's head tilts again at the nonsequiteur, "especially after the party when I tried to give you back your sunglasses".

"You care, about the kids --even when they are being self destructive little shits, about Nancy even though she broke your heart," he traces his thumbs over the tops of Steves hands when his fingers twitch, "and you care about me, enough to put yourself out there even though you had no idea if I felt the same". 

"You are brave, crazy brave to the point where I'm a little worried about why you're so quick to just throw yourself in front of danger, but," Eddie shakes his head as Steve bristles this time, ducking his face away from Eddie's watchful eyes, "we'll unpack that another day". 

He takes a deep breath and slowly lets go of one of Steve's hands, shaking as he reaches up to cup Steve's jaw, tipping his face up until his eyes are level with Eddie's once more.

Steve's hazel eyes trace over Eddie's face, wide and glassy in the moonlight. They are close enough that Eddie can feel the shallow puffs of air against his lips as Steve's breathing quickens.

"Did the doctor say anything about your face," Eddie asks, gesturing at his own with his one free hand, "recovery time?"

Steve shakes his head with a confused frown.

"Good," Eddie takes a deep breath, allowing a wide lecherous grin to bloom, "because I like you, Steve Harrington, exactly as you are, and I'm going to kiss you," he lifts his other hand now to cup the other side of Steve's face, "but I only make it hurt if you want me to, big boy".

Eddie freezes as the words he just said register. 

Oh Fuck.

Who pulls out Big Boy like five seconds after confessing their feelings? 

Eddie groans lowly and shuts his eyes for a beat, only opening them at the tentative sound of Steve's voice.

"Eds," Steve laughs, his face flushed a deep scarlet, giving Eddie a sly smile of his own, "that was really bad, like really bad".

Eddie sighs, embarrassment beginning to curl, hot and heavy, in his chest as he removes his hands from Steve's face, "I know…"

He startles at the feeling of warm fingers wrapping around his own, drawing his hands back to where they had been on Steve's face, "it's a good thing I like you, so you can get more practice".

"Yeah?" Eddie whispers, his voice hoarse as though he can scarcely breathe. He watches as Steve smiles, counting the crinkles at the edges of his eyes and the way his scarlet flush has faded to a soft pink.

He wants to freeze this moment, burn it into his memory so he'll never forget the soft happiness in Steve's eyes.

"Yeah, Eds," Steve breathes against his lips as their noses brush, "exactly as you are".

Eddie's not sure which of them moves first, it's only the faint brush of chapped lips against his own that sets off an unhinged chorus of, 'Kisskissingkisswhatthefuckyou'rekissingSteveHarrington'.

Eddie's fingers tighten against Steve's face before his hands begin to move on their own, one along his jaw until it has wrapped around the back of his head, burying his fingers in thick soft hair. His other hand shifts slightly lower, his thumb presses into Steve's jaw until his head tips back. 

The noise Steve makes against his lips as Eddie moves him sends a thrill down his spine. He feels two hands slide up his chest, over his shoulders, and around his neck as Steve presses himself even closer. Eddie's fingers tighten in Steve's hair, almost involuntarily, as the pulse under his thumb climbs even higher. Eddie hums contentedly and smiles into the kiss.

It's…God.

Kissing Steve is everything he's ever wanted. He tastes like peppermint, like the candy canes Dustin had brought Steve as a thank you for the ride to the dance, and Eddie can't help but wonder if the little shit had done so with this in mind? 

No, nope. Definitely not thinking about that right now.

He tugs his mind away from the thought and opens his lips more to brush against Steve's with purpose, pulling a sweet moan from the other as he nips at his bottom lip.

He pulls back begrudgingly after another moment, relishing the heat, the softness of Steve pressed against him. They're still standing in the middle of the ravine just a few steps from the middle school and it would probably be best to continue this sort of thing in private. 

Eddie shifts away just enough to run the tip of his nose down Steve's own, his heart fit to burst at the soft sigh Steve releases at the touch. His eyes are closed, but from the new blush that has spread from Steve's cheeks, to his ears and all the way down his neck, as well as the soft grin that pulls at his lips, Eddie can tell the feeling is mutual.

Eddie wonders just how many different shades of pink he could make Steve turn? 

A thought for another day, Eddie thinks with a mischievous smirk, brushing his thumb along the crest of Steve's cheek. 

"We should probably get back sweetheart," Eddie murmurs as he reluctantly removes his hands from Steve's face, "I can think of somewhere warmer we can go to talk". 

Steve nods with a snort, knocking his shoulder into Eddie, "talk huh?" 

"Is that not what the kids call it these days?"

Eddie drapes his arm around Steve's neck, tugging the other man closer. He comes all too willingly with a pleased grin stretched across his face.

"Besides," Eddie hums as they begin to make their way back the way they came, "my Uncle Wayne's been asking about when he can meet you --well after he weaseled it out of me, what was making me mope so much these last few weeks, he's already making Thanksgiving plans--"

They jerk to a halt, half slipping in the leaves and snow, he turns to Steve to meet his wide fearful eyes.

"You--your uncle knows, about me, about you?" Steve asks, the words stopping and starting as he speaks. 

Eddie reaches out only for Steve to take a step back into the trees, "why would you tell him--"

"He doesn't know about you specifically, Steve, I would never do that," Eddie insists, he keeps his voice level now with how close they are to the school again, he can hear the sounds of teens yelling and laughing in the short distance.

"Okay, but he, he doesn't care about…"

Steve trails off, his teeth closing down on his bottom lip and though chewing on what he wants to ask.

Your uncle doesn't care about you being gay, being different?

Eddie sighs, resisting the urge to lift his hands and press his fingers into his eyes, "Uncle Wayne took me in a few years ago when my parents kicked me out for that so, no, it's pretty safe to say he doesn't".

"Oh," Steve says faintly. His arms come up around his chest as he begins to hunch in on himself yet again.

Well shit. 

Now, Eddie isn't a hundred percent certain, but based on things that Steve has said, the warning that Nancy gave him, and what happened at the hospital, he knows that the Harrington house hasn't been the happy home he had assumed it to be.

And now, given the stricken look on Steve's face and the pinch in his gut, the doubts are fading even further away. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, stepping onto the tightrope between them, he'll have to be careful about how he plays this, or Steve could bolt again. He's seen Steve run track at school, he knows the other man could easily outrun him.

Best not to give him a reason to.

"You know, not all parents, um, deserve to be parents sweetheart," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching Steve's face as he speaks, "especially if they're never around".

He feels the rope between them wobble as he takes a step closer, holding out his hand.

"Especially if they don't love us for who we are Stevie," Eddie whispers, watching as Steve looks away sharply, his shoulders tense.

Eddie takes another deep breath before taking the leap, hoping that his feet will meet the ground beneath them.

"Wayne isn't like that, he's safe, and he wants to meet the person I've been mooning over for weeks now, if you're up for it". 

Steve swallows once, twice, his jaw moves as though grinding what he wants to say between his teeth, his nose begins to redden as his eyes grow damp at the edges.

"Yeah," he manages to choke out, his voice cracks down the center as he draws one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "maybe not, right, right now but --fuck, I'm sorry, I don't know why this keeps happening".

Eddie takes the last step and pulls Steve into his arms again; he stiffens at first before finally relaxing, almost boneless, against Eddie's chest. He feels Steve release a long hitching breath and squeezes him gently, rubbing his cheek against the slight stubble on Steve's own.

"Probably because it's been a really hard couple of weeks sweetheart," Eddie pulls back enough to look into Steve's eyes, they're red rimmed now and his lashes have begun to clump together, but even like this Steve still looks beautiful.

"Yeah," Steve says, he sniffs, wincing at the sound of his stuffy nose, "I think I could use a proper…talk, and a rest, if you're still up for it?"

Eddie feels a smile pulling at his lips as incandescent happiness glows in his chest. He pulls Steve closer once more, relishing the feeling of being able to hold Steve again, without the scent of blood and terror in the air. 

"Lead the way then sweetheart," Eddie says softly, knowing he'll follow Steve wherever he goes. There's a lot more for them to talk about, but for now, he'll be there for Steve as his person, for as long as he can. 

Forever if he can swing it. 

Tag List:

@eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @steveshairspray @hellfireone @eddielives1986 @sunswathe  @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson @queenie-ofthe-void @rainbowsaw @sp0o0kylights @littlebluejane @hi-im-eff  @phantypurple @just-ladyme @thoroughlycollected @justrandomfandomstm @swimmingbirdrunningrock @finntheehumaneater @dynamic-powerm@nightmareglitter @genderless-spoon @zaddipax @thebiblesays @pyrohonk @emly03 @geekymagicalpotato @sidebarre @lemon-astra @cipounette @discreetapple @starlitlakes @saphhicwitchbitch @marvel-ous-m @lingeringmirth @honorarybrit81 @bookbinderbitch @finntheehumaneater  @lololol-1234 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @monsterloverforhire @gaydrieeen @starlight-archer @homosexual-having-tea @devondespresso @rennnnon @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @carlprocastinator1000 @0o-queendean-o0 @emly03 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @louismeds @fruitmix

@lizzicleromance @fairy-princette @eddiethehunted

And a few people I think may be intersted!

@steddierthings @steddie-there @stevesbipanic @henderdads @bramble-berries @flowercrowngods

[batcavescolony]

Why do people keep saying they want Agatha to adopt Billy or that Billy is a motherless child or that Agatha is Billy's new mom.... Y'all he says Rebecca is his mom, canonically in the show. Agatha isn't his mom.

[heyclickadee]

One thing about Crosshair is that he’s a remarkably intelligent man with a good read of people and situations and emotionally wrecked life decision-making skills. Dude will have some truly perceptive insight into whatever’s happening that hits on a grain of truth, and then that insight will be filtered through so many layers of trauma and cynicism that his conclusion will end up at least 90 degrees off whatever’s right.