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NIGHTCALL

Pairing: Draco Malfoy X Reader

Simple school life with Draco except you both live on the more dangerous side; willing to bend and break school rules for fun.

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, sexual talk, mentions of blood⚠️

Filch had caught you wandering the school corridors alone at night. Great. Although you weren't doing anything wrong and all you wanted to do was walk off a nightmare and stare out at the stars, he had been a stickler for the rules, and thus, you landed in detention.

The corridors were now full of bustling students; a contrast from the dead empty halls when the sun went down as you made your way to Professor Dumbledore's office, waiting to be given your detention assignment. Funny how being a Hufflepuff has only made you hate their usual standard of being a happy-go-lucky and lover of people. You despised basic social interaction, something that had started with anxiety in your youth and had stuck with you until now. You could always put on a brave smile and stick through a conversation, but once that was done they could count on you heading straight back to your dormitory.

You just liked to be alone.

But a particularly asshole-ish blonde boy with a daddy kink ruined that for you.

"Oi, (Y/N), why the fuck are you wearing a skirt?! It's freezing outside!" Draco stated as he ran up to where you were following Filch, most likely coming back from an intense test in potions; you inferred based off of the way he glared at Snape and how his usually gelled hair was now spiking up in odd places. Draco had a horrible habit of ripping out his hair when he was stressed; you wanted nothing more than to put one of those dog cones around his neck when his hair-ripping days got really bad.

"Because it's the fucking school uniform, Malfoy." You stated with a smile on your face. You guys always joke like this and it was very refreshing to poke fun when other students tend to be expectant of the fake nice all the time.

Draco mumbled something about how it was misogynistic to make women wear skirts in the winter for school uniforms (which he's right) as he removed his large green and silver Slytherin Quidditch sweater and forced it over your head.

Oh shit, that's hot as hell. Especially since you're a Hufflepuff.

You tousled his hair and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You'll always be my bitch."

"Mhm. I enjoy it, actually."

He laughed and offered to hold your schoolbooks to which you declined. You had to go to detention which was on the opposite side of the school to where Draco had Herbology next. You memorized his schedule. Mainly because it was the same as your own with the only exception being that he had Defense Against the Dark Arts second period and you had it last.

"Why can't I hold them, where are you going? Or is this another one of your speeches about how you're not reliant on me?" He asked with a puzzling expression on his face. Merlin, he was cute.

"I have detention!" You stated with false enthusiasm, mainly because you knew it was over something stupid. You even threw in some jazz hands in the direction of your boyfriend.

"Oh. Is it because you left my dormitory late last night?" He asked.

Filch, who was standing idly waiting for you to finish your conversation so you could continue your path to Dumbledore's office, overheard this.

"Malfoy, you had a girl in your dorm? That's against school policy and you're going to have to follow me for detention as well." Filch sneered and pet Mrs. Norris who was placed so delicately in his arms. You hated that stupid cat.

"Draco you're a fucking idiot."

"Yeah but I'm your idiot." He smiled and grabbed your hand. "Change of plans, I guess we get to hang out today after all."

***

The walk to Dumbledore's office had been fun, you'd hate to admit it, but wearing Draco's sweater with him holding onto your arm and the stares it got you filled you with an unreasonable amount of pride. Like 'fuck yeah, I'm dating Malfoy, the hot mysterious boy who hates all of you but me.'

As you turned the corner you saw the Golden Trio sitting by the foyer steps and arguing about something stupid, Hermione trying desperately to fix Harry's glasses and Ron fiddling with his robes. You were friends with Harry,much to Draco's dismay, because you had grown up in Little Winging together. You had also been unaware of the magical world so when you two both received your Hogwarts letters looking at each other like a 'what the hell is this?' you had grown a close bond.

"Hey (Y/N)! I need your help picking up a package from Zonko's later if you're not busy." He said, approaching your spot in the hall.

Uh oh.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco sneered from next to you, looking in the direction of the tan boy with the scar glistening on his forehead.

"What's it to you, Malfoy?" Harry was immediately backed up by his friends as he stared the blonde boy down. You could tell he was a Gryffindor via the aura of unnecessary confidence radiating from him. Bright green eyes and broken glasses, you would've taken him to be the calm and composed type if you hadn't known him.

Draco flicked him in the nose, tightening his grip on your hand. "Absolutely nothing other than the fact that your ugly face disturbed my walk to detention," he gave his infamous sneer.

"Ha! Bleached blonde is going to detention! For what, being an arrogant prick?" Harry chortled with Ron laughing from behind. Hermione looked genuinely bored as she usually did and readied her wand in case this fight got serious. She knew Malfoy played dirty.

"Actually...." Draco began, "It's because I fucked your best friend." At this, he made a dramatic gesture by kissing your face roughly and flipping Harry off.

You, however, were not having it.

"And goodbye." You said as you left the boys to argue, following Filch the rest of the way towards the office.

***

Twenty minutes later, Draco sits next to you sporting a bruised cheek and a bloody lip. He looked really pissed, and now he had to spend his time sorting letters in the Headmaster's office.

"Babe, what happened?" You asked with a voice full of worry as your hand went to glide up to his lip as you assessed the damage. You were gonna yell at Harry for this later.

Draco (who was fine) saw that you were concerned and willing to baby him so he made everything sound worse than it actually was.

"You left and then Potter said something about how I didn't deserve to be with you so I got mad and then he hit me." He quivered his lip for a dramatic effect.

"Awh poor ferret." You smiled a bit and he scowled as he was used to getting called that stupid nickname.

"It was one time."

"Yeah, but that Transfiguration was funny as hell."

"Oh shut it." He said, pretending to be angry as he picked up the neglected letters on the mahogany table. He looked frazzled with his hair all messed up and a bloody lip, but it was a good look on him. Maybe it was hot, even.

***

"Potter you fuckass where are you?" You asked, stepping into the Gryffindor dormitory in response to the fight he had with your boyfriend. You were friends with Harry, sure, but you weren't about to let him mess with Draco's pretty face. Especially since you stared at it all the time.

The boy in question was sitting with his legs crossed by the fireplace, playing with the tassels on one of his House scarves. You sat down next to him and stared at him before laughing. Draco had definitely done more damage to Potter's face.

With a black eye and cut running alongside his nose, Harry looked towards you and smiled. "You're starting to sound a lot like Malfoy with your incessant swearing."

You laughed and moved his curly hair away from his face. "I would like it if you didn't destroy my stuff, Potter. I happen to like Draco's face and I would prefer for it to be intact when I see it."

Harry fake gagged at this as he rolled his eyes. "I'm more hurt than he is, and I've known you for longer." He said with a smile.

"You can handle it, you fought Voldemort once or twice, killed a Basilisk, got crushed by the Whomping Willow, Broke your godfather out of Azkaban, Won the Triwizard Tournament, Exiled Delores Umbridge......do I need to continue?" You situated your head comfortably in his lap looking at the ornate ceiling above you.

"As much as I appreciate you listing my accomplishments, I think I'd prefer a bandaid for my face."

"I'm surrounded by babies." You laughed as you went to grab your wand to conjure up a bandaid.

"Hey (Y/N)," Harry began, watching you get up, "What do you see in him anyways? He's my worst enemy."

"Over the Dark Lord?" You joked.

"Serious."

"Okay, okay," you started, sticking the small bandage onto his cheek. "I guess I like him for things you wouldn't be able to understand. You really don't know him all that well."

Harry looked at the fire tentatively in thought as he pondered over your response. What is it about the bitch that he didn't know already? Other than the fact that his blonde hair wasn't real or that he one time accidentally tripped on the way to Quidditch practice and landed in a mud puddle when he thought no one was watching? What is it about him?

"Eh sure, okay I guess I trust your judgement."

"Good." You said, going to lay back down on his lap. "When did you want to head out to Zonko's?"

***

Back at the Hufflepuff dorm, you found yourself making Chamomile tea and filling it up with coffee creamer; a delicious trick you learned from one of your best friends under the Ravenclaw house. You made one for Draco since you knew he would come visit you soon and ask for a cup before you situated yourself at the small table in the lounge area.

The Hufflepuff dorm was nothing short of beautiful. Whereas the other houses prided themselves in their luxurious architecture, the Hufflepuffs had built their home focused more on comfort and tranquility rather than perfection and style. It was a large round building with equally round windows that let in the sunlight, and was covered in plants that were sparadically placed on the ceiling. The big couches were mismatched and comfy and some of them had patches that were fixed up by the more artsy Hufflepuffs within the commons. To describe it as a smell would be to say that it is similar to petrichor- the earthy smell that follows after the rain; and sandalwood incense, courtesy of one of the Scamander children.

"(Y/N)?" You heard your name and mumbled a 'yeah' in response, holding out Draco's mug of tea and waited for him to situate himself beside you on the sofa as he always did.

He took the mug from your left hand and placed it on the side table, also placing yours beside it. Guess he wasn't thirsty.

Instead, he laid down on you in a way similar to how you were with Harry earlier except he had placed your hand on his face. "Do you want to sneak out again tonight?"

"You liked detention that much, huh?" You snarkily responded and kissed him softly on the head.

"Listen. I want to play music and run through the halls. I think it'd be fun, unless you're too much of a pussy to do it." He sneered.

"Why do people use pussy as a word to describe something that is weak and balls to describe strength? Women bleed every month with an excruciating pain equivalent to that of a heart attack, whereas you could flick a man in the penis and he would cry about how much it hurt." You said as you picked up the neglected tea from the table and took a sip.

"That's a good point." He said looking up at you.

"I know." You smiled back down at him, messing with his tie that he never knew how to wear properly so it always hung loose under his collar. He was really pretty. So you decided to vocalize your thoughts.

"You're really pretty." You said looking directly into his eyes.

"Wow, a compliment coming from your lips and not an insult. I'm not used to this side of you." He joked and booped your nose.

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

"And there it is."

And wow, were you in love. His sharp and angular face with piercing grey eyes and a soft smile to match. His hair that framed his face perfectly when it wasn't gelled back (or being pulled out) was shining under the soft glow of the sunset. He looked nothing short of ethereal, laying on your lap like this. If someone had told you in your first year that you'd end up in this position with the Slytherin prince himself, you would've laughed in their face. Now, you couldn't imagine a time where he didn't come to see you on the days you weren't swamped by homework.

"Draco."

"Yuh huh?"

"I think I'm in love with you."

He squinted against the bright light as he looked up at your face. "Well I would hope so."

"Just thought I would remind you."

***

Night fell and when everyone else was supposed to be wearing their pajamas, you were slipping on your jeans and Draco's sweater. You didn't really want to get into trouble again since you wanted to finish your episode of Euphoria after classes tomorrow instead of in a cold room sorting through letters, but you couldn't deny Draco of his idea. You were excited to spend more time with him and you realized that he was one of your favorite priorities.

"Ready to go?" He asked from the end of your bed, still wearing your sweater over his school uniform. "I feel like if we wear our robes it'll be fun since they'll flow when we run."

"How deeply did you think about this, Malfoy?" You asked tauntingly.

"Arguably too much." He stated back, rustling through his satchel.

"Relax, I'm excited too. After you, ferret." You opened up the door and motioned for him to be the first one out after you had put on your Hufflepuff robes.

Draco led you through the Hufflepuff common room being very careful not to wake anyone up. Hand in hand and adrenaline pumping through your veins, you made your way to the entrance of the hallway. Once you were in the clear, you slipped through and followed him into the brightly lit corridor.

"(Y/N)."

"What?" You ruffled up his hair and smiled.

"Tag, you're it." He grinned like a maniac and took off in the opposite direction.

"Oh Malfoy you little shit." You mumbled under your breath, making sure to stay quiet as you guys were still breaking the rules.

I'm giving you a Nightcall to tell you how I feel

He's running extremely fast, left , right, left and then right again as he makes it near impossible for you to catch up. You sprint past the open windows, the blue night sky littered with stars entering your peripherals as you make your way to Draco. The castle was such a wonder at night, it was a shame that most students would go their whole time at the school without seeing it. The candles that lit the gothic hallways were enchanted to never go out, always keeping away the dark; which could possibly be seen as a metaphor for the magic of Hogwarts itself.

One foot after the other, robes flowing around you, (Draco was right about the dramatic effect of the wardrobe change) and the red flush on your cheeks you round the corner before you're abruptly grabbed from behind and hidden behind one of the corners of the pillars by the windows. Confused, you look up to see your boyfriend very much out of breath and very flushed.

"Draco wha-"

"Shhhh. Snape."

You carefully peered out from where the two of you were situated as you caught a glimpse of the greasy-haired man rounding the corner at the end of the hall.

"Coast is clear." You said, withdrawing from Draco's grasp.

"That was a close one. I contemplated letting you get caught." He snickered.

You lightly hit him on the chest and smiled.

"You're it."

I wanna drive you through the night, and down the hills

You ran in the opposite direction of the professor and made your way to Draco's favorite spot in the whole castle: the Astronomy tower. From there, you would be able to watch the stars encircle the balcony which showed the view of the Quidditch Stadium and everything else beyond.

Draco knew where you were heading, of course. It was where you usually ended your nightly encounters and enjoyed the company of one another, laying on each other's stomachs as you pointed out constellations in huffs and puffs.

He can't remember a time where he felt this happy. He used to think his happiness came from letters from his father, or fancy gifts from his mother. He thought the definition of love was how much you were willing to spend on the other person. Now, he realizes that love is defined by the way your eyes looked at him when you shared teas at the Three Broomsticks or the way you held his head in your hands when you kissed him in his room. It was the way you got excited over the smallest things like wearing his clothes or holding his hand. It was things like the way you sneezed or how you tied up your hair when casting spells. It was you.

I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear

Heading up the Astronomy tower, you made your way to the top, Draco in tow.

"Got you." He said as he wrapped you in a hug from behind, giggling as you squirmed in his arms.

"Ah you fucker."

"Hey, watch your mouth, bitchass."

The two of you laid down on the cool linoleum and assumed your positions on top of each other, taking in the warm night air. You could hear Draco's heart beating at a very fast rate due to his chaotic running and the sound soothed you. Just knowing that you had him by your side was enough for this moment to be perfect.

I'm gonna show you where it's dark, but have no fear

Tracing your finger over his Dark Mark, you called him beautiful. It was a part of himself that he had concealed from you for a long time and he finally trusted you enough to be open about it.

"How is something so destructive beautiful in your eyes?" He asked with a sad smile.

"Because it's a part of you." You replied and wound your hands through his hair, kissing him and taking in his scent of cigarettes and peppermint.

***

"(Y/N). I thought you got detention for sneaking off to Malfoy's room last week?" Harry asked you in Charms as he fiddled with his quill and ink. "Or did you have doubts about being in Hufflepuff?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" You asked, giving him a quizzical look.

Harry just laughed and you followed his eyes down to your tie that was placed delicately around your neck. With the bright green and silver stripes, there was no mistaking it for anything other than that of the Slytherin house. You must've mixed up your ties when you decided to end the night in Draco's room.

"Ah shit balls." You said as you fiddled with the knot, trying to take it off.

"(Y/N)." You heard a familiar voice from behind you and Harry slowly approaching where the two of you sat at the table.

Draco looked lovely. His hair was slicked back perfectly, trousers and shirt freshly ironed, and silver rings adorning his fingers. The only thing that seemed out of place was the bright yellow tie that was much too small for him knotted hastily around his neck.

"Draco, I'm so sorry I didn't mean-"

"Wanna switch sweaters again, too?"

His response caught you by surprise as he grinned from ear to ear. He was enjoying this attention from other people as they realized you two were wearing each other's clothes.

"You guys are gonna get detention." Piped Harry from your left which just led to Draco excessively rolling his eyes and placing his hands on his hips.

"Great, we'll just fuck there too."

"Draco!"

You felt your ears get hot but hey, everyone in the whole school had to have known by this point based on your wardrobe since this morning.

You looked towards Harry, expecting some form of shock or disgust to appear on his face, making itself known with the discovery of you and Draco's free time activities. Instead, he was laughing. Really hard.

"I'll hand it to you, Malfoy. I haven't seen her look that horrified since Ron told her in our second year that he had used her toothbrush to give Scabbers a bath."

"Annoying her is my favorite activity." Sighing, your boyfriend sat down next to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Did... Did he and Harry just agree on something?

Hello I need bullet train fic like I need air thank you

Me too, I'm so in love with Bullet Train, prepare yourself because I'll be writing more fics!!

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Prom?

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: you ask your boyfriend to be your date to the prom, but he turns you down. angst to fluff

wc: 3.4k

a/n: the chokehold this man has on me is unreal

stranger things masterlist

“Prom?” Eddie repeated back to you, bewildered and borderline offended by the mere suggestion. “You’re asking me to prom?”

You nodded, playing with your hands and avoiding eye contact. You knew this was a mistake. After spending so much time listening to his rants about conformity and “the dark side,” you should have known he wouldn’t be interested. 

“Sorry, Yn, but it’s really just not my scene. Wouldn’t you rather go on a regular date like we usually do?” he asked apologetically, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. He hated that he was the one to put such a dejected look on your pretty face, but he’d rather do almost anything else than go to a stupid school dance, even if it was with his girlfriend. Eddie swore his heart cracked when you only responded with a simple no, leaving him standing in the school parking lot by himself. You had been so hopeful that he would say yes. It was your senior prom and you wanted to go with your boyfriend. You hadn’t gone junior year, so this was your last chance to have this high school experience. 

You didn’t sit at the table the next day at lunch. Or the next. Or the next. You were actively avoiding Eddie, and the more you avoided him, the more his heart cracked. His eccentric personality was becoming more subdued with each passing day. It hurt to see him like that from across the cafeteria, but frankly you were hurt and slightly embarrassed at being rejected by your own boyfriend.

Not knowing what to do about his relationship problems, Eddie consulted Hellfire.

“Dude, you obviously hurt her feelings. Would it really be that bad to take her to prom? I mean c’mon, don’t you want to see your ‘sweetheart’ all dolled up just for you?” said Dustin, the rest of the guys nodding in agreement.

Eddie sighed, “If I showed up to prom, I’d make a hypocrite of myself. I love her, but…” He trailed off.

“But what?” You interrupted from behind him. You had decided to rejoin the boys at their table, intending to ask Eddie if you could talk privately. You wanted to apologize for the past few days. A silly school dance wasn’t worth your relationship.

Eddie stared up at you from his seat, wide-eyed, trying desperately to form the words that would stop the tears in your eyes from falling, but nothing but stuttering came out. With every fresh tear from your eyes, the cracks in Eddie’s heart deepened until it finally shattered at what you said next.

“If you have doubts about how you feel about me, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.” Your words came out in a whisper, as if it would lessen the blow. You hadn’t said it in a fit of anger, hadn’t said it to be malicious, you had actually meant it. Eddie was going into a tailspin. You broke up with him. The most precious person in his life was walking out the cafeteria doors, out of his life, and for what? Because his pride got in the way? Because he couldn’t give his girl one night? His club members were talking to him, but it was all just background noise to Eddie.

Mike snapped his fingers in Eddie’s face, “Dude! What are you doing?! Go after her!” That was all it took to spring Eddie into action. You were the best thing in his life and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to fix this.

He jumped out of his chair, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush through the cafeteria. You were nowhere to be found. In a last ditch effort to find you, Eddie ran to the parking lot. He’d gotten there just in time. Just in time to see you pull out onto the road, that is.

From that point forward, all Eddie saw of you was brief glimpses in the hallways and fleeting looks in the cafeteria. 

Soon enough, the dreaded week of prom arrived.

Eddie was staring at you across the lunchroom again, lost in his own pity, when Dustin slammed his hands down on the Hellfire Club’s self proclaimed table. “Dude!! You have to make things right with Yn right now. Your campaigns SUCK lately, and you look like a kicked puppy. Just talk to her, Munson.” 

Eddie sighed and put his head in his hands. “She won’t even talk to me, Henderson. I don’t know what you want me to do.” Before the younger boy could respond, a crash sounded throughout the cafeteria. Everyone looked towards the noise, and the cause of it, which happened to be Robin Buckley hurriedly fixing the trash can she had stumbled over moments prior. 

“Uh- sorry everyone, um- proceed!” She quickly turned and exited the cafeteria, wide eyed with a hand over her mouth. 

“Yn might not talk, but I know someone that will tell you everything you need to know.” Confused, Eddie lifted his head and followed his friend's gaze. “Huh?”

 The next day, in between 3rd and 4th period, Robin found herself cornered by the smallest, most determined-looking freshman she’d ever seen.“Uh, can I help you?”

“That depends.” The boy squinted at her, scrutinizing. 

“On.. what, exactly?”  She shifted anxiously under the curly-haired boy's glare.

Without answering her question, he continued. “Come to the science hall during lunch.” With that, he promptly turned on his heel and hurried away. 

“I’m not doing that.” Robin uttered under her breath. 

Robin did, in fact, do that. Call it a morbid curiosity.

When she arrived, Dustin was already there, checking his watch and tapping his foot as if he was an angry parent. “Seriously, could you have taken any longer? Lunch is almost over!.”  

“Sorry baby-man. Gotta eat.” The boy rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Whatever, Eddie should be here in a second.” 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear. What’s all this, Henderson?” Before the boy in question could respond, Robin interrupted. “Woah woah woah hold on a second this is bad- I can’t talk to you, Munson.”  Eddie furrowed his brows disbelievingly. “Why? We literally went to middle school together. Are you seriously still mad about the time I cut off your ponytail? I was 12! And it looks super metal short-“ Robin waved her hand in the air, cutting him off. 

“No, dingus! I can’t talk to you because Yn is still super upset with you and now you’re all broken up and stuff! Girl code still exists, dude!” 

The boy darkened. “Oh. Did she.. did she confirm that we were broken up or..” 

Robin panicked when she saw the look on Eddie’s face. Yes. Panic. That’s what she would tell Yn when she undoubtedly gets in trouble for this later. 

“I mean yes but she still loves you she’s just really upset because it’s her senior year and everything and she knows it’s not your style she just figured that you might make one little sacrifice for your girlfriend because she’s always supporting your Dungeons and Dragons nerd things all the time and it seems like you expect her to compromise and I guess it just hurts her feelings that you won’t do the same for her and she already picked out this really cool dress and she was just really looking forward to it and she’s still going but it just won’t be the same and-”

The girl took a deep breath to begin talking again, but she was interrupted by the man in front of her. “Oh shit. Ohhh I fucked up.”

The boy beside him hummed in acknowledgement. “Oh shit indeed, Eddie.”

Eddie ran a ring-clad hand through his hair and laughed incredulously, sliding down the lockers he had been leaning against. “I’m the biggest idiot ever to exist in the history of idiots.” He frantically looked up at Robin. “Quick, what color is her dress?”

The day had somehow snuck itself onto everyone. Girls were panic-buying hairspray and boys were rushing to the nearest grocer for acceptable looking bouquets. As soon as the sun went down, Hawkins’ roads were filled with rented limos and concerned parents. Meanwhile, Eddie was pacing around his trailer as Dustin tried to give him a pep talk.

“Dude, relax. This’ll work, I’m positive.”

Despite Dustin’s words, Eddie didn’t look any less nervous than he was before. He stood in front of Dustin and spread his arms, “Do I look okay?”

“Perfect! Except for one thing. Do you have a tie?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t figure out how to tie it so I just took it off. Do I need one?”

Dustin rolled his eyes and sighed, “Bring it here.”

10 minutes later Eddie could proudly say that he knew how to tie a tie. Dustin gave Eddie another once-over before approving; with Dustin’s stamp of approval, Eddie was finally ready to knock on your front door (after dropping Dustin off at home, of course). His emotions were so frazzled that he doesn't even remember the drive. One second he was putting a bouquet in his passenger seat and his guitar in the back and the next he was pulling into your driveway. It was nearly 8pm already, and though he wasn’t a religious man, he was praying to any god out there that you were still home. Eddie knocked on the front door with one sweaty hand, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for someone to open the door.

Except it wasn’t you who opened the door, it was your mother. “Eddie? What are you doing here? Yn’s not here right now.”

He nodded quickly before running back to his van, your mother watching him, confused at his unusual behavior. There was no time to waste. If you weren’t home then you must have already been at the dance. Robin did say you planned to go anyway. Plan B it is.

As soon as he made it to the school, he was rushing to the gym, bouquet in hand and guitar strapped to his back. The dance had already started, which made it difficult to spot you in the crowd of his peers. He eventually spotted you seated at a table with Robin, completely oblivious to his presence. You looked beautiful, and as you laughed at something your friend said, his heart tightened at the thought that it could’ve been him sitting with you and drinking (probably spiked) shitty pink punch.

“Guess she wasn’t home, huh? You owe us big time, Eddie. Do you know how hard it is to rent a tux day of? It’s easier to buy alcohol underage. Thought they were gonna background check us, dude.”  

He turned to his friends and smiled sheepishly. “Seriously though, guys, thanks. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn't agreed.” 

“Whatever Munson, we’re desperate for you to get Yn back. Your campaigns have been dogshit lately because you’re so heartbroken. It’s pathetic. Seriously. Now what set are we playing?”

Eddie smiled. “Oh no boys, we’re not playing a Corroded Coffin original tonight.”

While Eddie led his band-mates backstage, you stood and offered your hand to Robin. “Let’s dance, Rob. I’m missing out on a boyfriend at prom but no WAY am I missing out on dancing to Pat Benatar.” Reluctantly, your friend stood up and took your hand. “Cool ring by the way, where'd you get it?”

You looked at your hand, confused, until you realized you were wearing one of Eddie’s rings. You’d had intentions to give it back, but you couldn’t bear to take it off. It was your favorite of his, a silver, spider shaped ring with a ruby in the middle. “Oh uh, I got it at a vintage shop. Now come on, the song’s almost over!” Dancing with Robin allowed you a moment of reprieve from thinking about Eddie. It didn’t last long though, not when you heard the music stop abruptly, replaced with angry protests from your peers. “Seriously? What gives?” 

Curious, you made your way to the front of the crowd surrounding the stage, Robin in tow. Before you could reach the stage, you heard the sound of a bass guitar starting up. “What the hell?” You finally pushed your way past the group closest to the stage, and what you saw made you stop dead in your tracks. “Robin, please tell me you’re seeing this too.” 

“If you’re also seeing Eddie Munson on stage at prom playing with his band, then yeah I'm seeing it.” 

You gawked as he leaned towards the mic and started singing. There was no way he was going to these lengths. “Tonight- I wanna give it all to you, In the darkness, so much I wanna do-“ You saw him search the crowd, but his eyes never met yours.

“Doesn’t he usually play all that death metal stuff? Kind of a genre switch if you ask me.” You looked at Robin and ran your hand through your hair. “Yeah-” You had to yell over the deafening noise . “It’s my favorite!”

 “And tonight- I wanna lay it at your feet, ‘cause girl I was made for you, and girl you were made for me-“ 

The crowd was buzzing again, excited that the ‘freaks’ were playing recognizable music. “I was made for lovin’ you baby, you were made for lovin’ me!” You felt yourself smile endearingly, adoring how at-home Eddie looked in his element, eyes closed and all but yelling into the microphone. 

“And I can’t get enough of you baby, can you get enough of me?” For the first time, you took notice of his outfit. It looked like he’d actually tried- he had a tie and everything, though he hadn’t taken off his signature rings or his worn-down converse. (You preferred it that way anyways- it was unapologetically Eddie) 

“And tonight, I wanna see it in your eyes, feel the magic, there’s somethin’ that drives me wild.” His eyes raked over the crowd again. “And tonight, we’re gonna make it come true, cause girl you were made for me, and girl I was made for you-“ Finally, your eyes met his, and he grinned, triumphant. With as much force as he could muster, he sang the chorus, and motioned for the crowd to join. “I was made for lovin’ you, baby, you were made for lovin’ me!” Throughout the rest of the song, Eddie’s eyes were only on you, pleased that you at least looked amused at his performance. However, as soon as the song ended, his confidence was spent and he was eaten up with anxiety. Would you be angry? Would you tell him to piss off? As he left the stage in an attempt to find you, he felt a hand clasp his shoulder. Expecting you, he turned around, but instead found himself face-to-face with his drummer.

 “I saw her head to the bathroom with Buckley. They’re probably deciding your fate right now, dude.” 

“Thanks, Gareth, that really makes me feel better.” Eddie deadpanned.

 “I’d pray to god that Yn’s in a forgiving mood. We’ll catch you later, Eddie. Goodluck.”

“Y’know, I don’t see why you're so freaked about it. Do you have any idea how many girls would kill to have a guy that would do that for her?” 

“Do you know how many girls didn’t have to break up with their boyfriends before they showed up to the god damn prom?” 

Robin shrugged. “Touché.”

“So, what do you think I should do?”

“Don’t leave it up to me!” she screeched. “I’ve never had to deal with this before!”

“No no no, not a valid answer. What would love guru Steve Harrington do?”

Robin snorted. “Something dumb, probably.” You groaned and put your head in your hands as you slid down the stall door. “Somebody sedate me.”

After a moment of silence, Robin spoke up, giving her best impression of Steve. “You gotta take a chance on the guy, what if you lose the wrong guy and end up a single, nerdy loser that works at a video shop like me for the rest of your life?”

You giggle, but then pause. “Wait, you’re right.”

Robin blanched. “About your future of being a single loser?”

You pushed her slightly. “No idiot, about taking a chance.” You lept to your feet and started out of the bathroom. “Hey, where are you going?” 

“To do something dumb, probably.” 

As soon as you exited the bathroom, you frantically looked around for a glimpse of Eddie’s mess of dark hair. Immediately, you spotted him pacing around the entrance to the gym. He was fiddling with his hair, frazzling the ends and rolling them over his fingers. You walked towards him quietly, and he didn’t notice you until you spoke.

 “You clean up pretty good, Munson.” You lightly joked. “Oh my god, Yn-“ He was tempted to hug you, but he didn’t know how you'd react. Your arms were crossed over your chest and you looked uncomfortable. God, he could feel his palms sweating already. “Yn, I'm so sorry, I’ve been such a dick and you look so amazing and I can’t believe I almost missed seeing you just because of my pride. I’ve been totally blind to your needs and just totally inconsiderate. I hope you can forgive me.” Afraid of your answer, he looked down at his feet, bracing himself for your response. 

To his surprise, you just sighed. “Eddie.. It’s not all your fault. I overreacted over something I knew was probably a stretch in the first place. I knew prom wasn’t really your thing and I almost lost the guy I love over it.”

He looked up and met your eyes, hopeful. ”So you forgive me?”

You smiled and he pulled you into a hug. “This time. But you know, you can’t just show up and sing me a Kiss song everytime we fight.”

He grinned. “Of course. Next time it’ll be a Depeche Mode song, then Tears for Fears, then maybe even an Ozzy song.” You rolled your eyes. “Whatever, Munson.” You snuggled into his chest and appreciated his warmth for a moment until he moved. 

“Hey wait, I have something for you. He removed his hands from around your waist and stepped back. 

“Close your eyes!” He said in a sing-song voice. You huffed a breath in amusement and complied. “They’re closed.” You heard shuffling before he spoke again. “Wait here for a sec.” You heard footsteps retreating and waited, but not for long. 

When he returned, he was accompanied by a crinkling sound. “Okay now open.” You complied, and were met by the sight of Eddie offering you a bouquet that nearly covered his entire face. You held back a giggle and took the flowers as he cleared his throat comically and brought himself down to one knee. 

“Now, will you, Miss Yn Ln, do me the ultimate honor and accompany me to senior prom?” 

You tapped the bouquet to your chin and pretended to think deeply. 

“Okay, sweetheart, honey, baby, I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t have the strongest knees and this is really doing a number on me.” You laughed and offered your hand to him in a faux-cordial manner. “Well, Mr. Munson, I would be delighted to accompany you to the senior prom.” Before he stood, he kissed your hand and smiled. “I love you, Yn.” You felt yourself melt a little. “I love you too, Eddie.” He brought you into yet another hug, burying his face into your neck. You stayed like that for a few minutes, until you felt him smirk against your neck and lift his head to meet your eyes.

“So I take it you liked my performance?” He raised his brows and you huffed. “Oh my god, would you just shut up and kiss me already?” He smiled and leaned in until your lips were ghosting each other. “As the lady wishes.” Finally, his lips connected with yours. After a moment, you pulled away. “So I guess I really did get the entire prom experience, Mr. Teen Angst.” 

  “Not quite.” You gave him a questioning look, but all he did was wiggle his brows suggestively. You deadpanned and started walking back to the gym. “Always gotta ruin the sweet moment, Munson. Keep it in your pants at least until we get home, ’kay?” He smiled and followed after you. “No promises!” When he caught up to you, he grabbed your hand. “And by the way, sweetheart, I'm 20, so it’s not teen angst, it’s just the regular kind.” 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

This just made my day omg it's so cute 💛🦐

Dog Days (TASM!Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.

“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.

“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned.

Words: 2.4k

A/N: Andrew Garfield!Spiderman; friends to lovers; heated make-out; cursing; minor injury; mutual pining; possible part 1 of 2? characters are in college & of age.

It was hot. That sticky kind of hot that clung to you and made you feel like tearing your skin off. That makes the sweat pool at the nape of your neck until it slides in a cold streak down the curve of your spine. The New York air was shimmering, alive with exhaust fumes and the output of overworked air conditioning units of every apartment on your block—except for yours. The dumbass thing had broken overnight and when you woke up at five a.m., damp and uncomfortable, you’d called your best friend knowing he’d make a quick fix of it.

But you’d gotten his voicemail, unsurprising given that he’d never been a morning person. Since you’d met him three years ago at freshman orientation, Peter Parker had perfectly offset you in every way. Where he could stay in bed until noon, you were decidedly not a night owl, often cosy in your pyjamas by ten p.m. Peter had a sharp wit and loved to tease, and though his wit brought out a sharp tongue you’d never known you had, you were infinitely shyer than he was. He was perpetually late to everything from the Christmas dinner you’d invited him to at your parents’ home to your final exam for Organic Chemistry—which he’d passed with flying colours—whereas you were punctual to a fault. And perhaps most significantly, you’d never known heartbreak in your life, never had the opportunity because you’d never given anyone your heart to begin with. Peter’s heart, you knew, had endured the worst kind of break. Though he only spoke of her sometimes, you knew his high school girlfriend had died tragically and each year you went with him to visit her resting place, holding his hand and running your thumb over his knuckles as gently as you could. The depths of that pain, written on his face and in his body language whenever he spoke of Gwen, made you steel yourself against love, afraid to give yourself to anyone in case you left them broken and alone.

There was a flaw in your plan to avoid love forever though, and that was Peter himself. As much as you’d tried to swallow them, shut them up in the deepest pits of your soul, bury them where they’d never see the light of day, your feelings for him had only grown in the last three years. At first it was a little thrill each time his eyes met yours, a tingle on your skin when his fingers grazed your own while you shared a carton of fries at a Yankees game. That had grown, exploded really, into a brilliant whirl of colours every time you heard his voice—a sort of love-induced synesthesia that turned Peter’s laughter yellow and his whispers soft purple and his calling your name the deepest, richest scarlet.

You’d fallen desperately in love with your best friend and you were resolutely not going to do anything about it, thank you very much.

“Y/N!” There was a knock at the door of your cramped apartment that drew you out of your crossword puzzle—stuck, as you were, on 18-Down. “It’s Peter!”

You’d barely heard the knock over the sound of Eminem in your headphones, but there was no mistaking Peter’s voice. You were at the door, earbuds abandoned on the coffee table, pulling it open before you remembered that you’d traded in your baggy David Bowie tee and jean shorts for a barely-there camisole and blue panties of the lightest cotton. You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.

“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.

“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned. If only you’d known he was being entirely serious—his neck having had a near miss with some villain’s techno-reproduction of a classic medieval weapon only hours ago. “It’s hot as hell in here, Y/N. Are you trying to get me naked?”

Your cheeks flushed and you made quick work of rolling your eyes as dramatically as possible, trying to distract Peter from the change of colour in your face. He was an expert at changing the subject, so much so that you’d long since given up trying to get him to talk about anything he didn’t want to, such as why he was chronically late or where he’d disappeared to that night you had tickets for the Rangers playoff game, or how he managed to find time to workout with his ridiculous school schedule and familial duties because god damn, his arms—you stopped yourself from letting that thought full form, knowing it would send you down a rabbit hole.

“Don’t think I’m not keeping a tally of every time you dodge my questions,” you muttered, moving to the refrigerator and opening it briefly to let some cool air out on your heated chest. The emptiness of the shelves reminded you that you really needed to get groceries because ramen noodles, eggs, and the rapidly decaying bananas on the counter would not keep you alive forever. “And didn’t you get my voicemail?”

“No,” Peter shrugged, “I saw you left me one but thought I’d just swing by.” A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, though you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what the joke was.

“Well, the AC is broken,” you informed him, straightened up and facing him where he stood in your living room, his tall and lean frame a familiar sight there alongside the stacks of textbooks and novels, the record player, and the pile of throw pillows you couldn’t stop collecting. For a long moment, Peter stared at you, his head tilted slightly to the side as if he was just now seeing you since coming in. You felt much more naked than you actually were under his stare and shifted your weight from one leg to the other, your hand coming to tug down at the hem of your camisole. Peter had seen you nearly nude before, but this felt—different. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the unfamiliar expression that flashed across his eyes. Either way, it had you squeezing your legs together as subtly as possible. If Peter noticed, he didn’t let on.

“That explains the outfit,” he grinned, tone light, though you noticed the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard.

“It was hardly my first choice,” you shot back, “But anyways, now that you’re here do you think you could fix it?”

“This feels like the start of a por—”

“Don’t say it, Parker,” you cut him off with a warning glare, eyes wide. Peter only laughed, though stopped almost immediately, favouring his jaw. Already it looked like the gash was healing and you wondered where he’d gotten it from—it reminded you, oddly, of the ankle he’d “sprained” while showing you a skateboarding trick last summer. You would swear up and down, on every holy text that existed, that you’d seen his bone popping out of his skin. But the next day he’d been absolutely fine and you were certain that the limp he’d had for a week was half-faked.

“Y/N? Are you alive in there?” Peter’s amused voice drew you from your reverie and you nodded, running your fingers through your hair to get it out of your face.

“Alive and well,” you reported, “So you think you can fix it?”

***

As it turned out, Peter could fix the AC unit, but he’d need to pick up a part at the hardware store down the street. While he examined the ancient device mounted on your bedroom wall, you sat perched on your bed, silky pink blankets long since tossed to the floor, watching him with interest, noticing everything about the way his hands moved carefully over the shabby metal, the way his brow furrowed when he peeked inside the unit, and the way his eyes crinkled when he announced that it wouldn’t be an issue to repair.

For his part, Peter knew your eyes were on him—he wouldn’t go so far as to call it Spidey-sense, he just knew you and he’d had an inkling of the feelings you harboured for him for quite some time, though that part probably was Spidey-sense. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way, because god knows he did, but he was terrified to let himself fall in love again; beyond hesitant to ever let anyone get hurt again because of him. But then there was the way you looked at him, your eyes sparkling with delight when he made a stupid joke. And the way you said his name, like it was a magic spell wrapping itself up inside him and making him forget everything other than your voice. Yes, he loved you—more deeply than he’d thought he’d ever love again—but he was afraid to be in love with you.

When he delivered the happy news that he’d be able to get cool air back into your apartment, he felt his heart swell at the look of relief on your face.

“You’re my hero, Pete,” you said earnestly, “Really and truly.”

You had no idea.

“Yeah,” he said lightly, “I’m the best.” He saw the pillow coming at him even before it fully left your hands and dodged it in a swift, graceful motion.

“That’s not very nice,” Peter grinned wolfishly at you and your heart fluttered, “Here I am helping you out like a dear old gentleman and you throw things at me.” With another two quick, almost instantaneous steps, he was at your bedside, his hands coming down to your ribcage, fingers curling in as he began to tickle you mercilessly. You couldn’t do much more than squeal, kicking gently to get him off of you, whining his name as you begged him to stop.

“Peter!” you cried out, “It’s too hot for this!” There were tears in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks and your bottom lip was swollen from where you were biting it to try to keep control of your laughter. Looking down at you, Peter knew he was finished, absolutely doomed, to fall into the warm and beautiful void that was loving you.

His fingers paused their attack and you both seemed to take stock of the position you found yourself in; you, flat on your back in bed, hair a dishevelled mess haloed out over your head; him, legs spread so that they were straddling your hips, his arms on either side of your body, lean muscles holding him up.

“Pete—” you whispered, eyes fluttering down to where your bodies met, lashes wet with unshed tears.

He blinked once, twice, three times, a pregnant pause in the hot air before his brain supplied the two words he’d been wanting to hear, giving him permission to plunge forward. Fuck it.

“Y/N,” he licked his lips, “You—” his fingers moved from your ribs to the edge of your camisole, thumbing across its stitching, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes shot up to his, pupils dilated. Your lips twitched, uncertain. “Don’t do this,” you sighed, all the while your own hands moved as if of their own accord, coming to rub up and down his arms, caressing lightly over the rippling muscle.

“Do what?” he asked, hand pausing in its movement to slip under your shirt. He withdrew it immediately, hoping he’d not grossly misread the situation.

“Don’t start something with me that you won’t finish,” your voice was barely there, “I—” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, couldn’t utter those little words out loud, but you knew Peter understood. You could tell from the way he settled down closer to you, his lips running feather-light kisses along your collarbone, the way he brushed the lightly calloused pad of his thumb over your eyes.

“Y/N, I feel like I was finished the moment I met you,” he said, “And now I’d really like to give you a proper kiss, if you don’t mind.”

“Hopefully you’re as good at kissing as you are at running that mouth, Par—”

The words couldn’t finish leaving your lips because Peter’s shut them right back into your mouth. He kissed you gently at first, then ran his tongue along your lips, asking entrance which you granted easily enough. Your kiss went on for what felt like years, each of you learning the other with care and attention. His hands explored your body freely, eliciting small moans of approval that led him along a path he was memorizing and then his lips were navigating that same path, kissing and nipping at your shoulders, your clavicle, your navel, between your breasts at the edge of your shirt.

You were on fire as your hands tangled into his soft brown hair, nails gently massaging into his scalp. You knew, from the vibrations on his lips, that he liked the sensation and filed that information away for a later date.

Once he’d kissed all the way down to your ankles, Peter flopped onto the mattress beside you, watching as your chest heaved with pleasure.

“It feels even hotter in here than before,” he smirked, “I should go grab that part, yeah?”

You swatted at him, laughter on your lips. “You’re the worst, Peter Parker.”

He caught your hand in mid-air, wrapping his fingers around yours and gently squeezing your palm—once, twice, three times. Three squeezes for three little words that neither of you were ready to say yet, but that you would willingly show each other.

“I’m serious,” Peter said, “I’ll grab the part and a pizza and we can hang out, even though I’m the worst.”

You rolled your eyes again, still trying to steady your heart rate. “Like I said, my hero. How can I ever repay you?” For good measure, you placed the back of your hand against your forehead, faking a swoon.

Peter only looked at you with fire in his eyes. “I can think of a few ways.”

He was out of the room before you could throw another pillow at him. Shame.

Nightly Encounter

Carl Grimes x Reader

Characters mentioned: Carl, Daryl, Michonne, Rick, Judith, Eugene, Carol, and Rosita

⚠️SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8-9⚠️

Warnings: Extreme angst, mentions of suicide, depressed reader, eating disorder

"(Y/N), turn around."

You were fidgety. This was a new territory, a new level of trust that Carl was putting in you. You knew you couldn't say no the minute he'd asked. He felt comfortable enough to show you the thing he hated most about himself. All in hopes that you would love that part of him too.

And of course you would, it wasn't even a question. But what if you said the wrong thing? What if you stared for too long, what if you looked away too fast? All these 'what ifs' ran through your head, making it impossible to think clearly. 'Calm down,' you told yourself, 'you're turning this into a bigger deal than it is.'

You heard the sound of his bandages being removed and the bed shifting under his weight. You waited for him to give you the sign that he was ready. When he did, you turned around slowly to make sure not to scare him. His head was looking downwards, his hair was in his face. You couldn't see anything but by the slump of his shoulders you knew he was terrified. You could practically hear his heart beating a mile a minute from where you were standing on the opposite side of the room.

You went to sit down on the bed and you grasped Carl's hands, inviting him to look at you. Once he put his head level with yours, you slowly reached out for the long hair that framed his face and you moved it away from his face.

What lie under it was the scar that had hurt him more emotionally than physically. It was large and took up most of the right side of his face, but you couldn't help but feeling as though it was beautiful. It was beautiful because it was a part of him.

"I'm sorry."

Those words shattered your heart when he said them aloud. Sorry for what? He had nothing to be sorry for. He had lost his eye courageously. He had lost his eye but not his smile. He had lost his eye, but not himself.

"Carl. You have nothing to apologise for. I think you're beautiful."

He looked up in pure shock and furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?! I have a hole in my head!" He angrily pushed his bangs back into his face and sprang up from the bed.

"Carl!" You called out after him, grabbing his wrist. He stopped and turned to look at you. He was fuming now, you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "Carl," you repeated, much kinder this time, "sit down. Please."

He sat down on the bed and folded his arms.

"Carl. Thank you so much for trusting me with this. I understand it's such a hard burden to carry but you don't have to carry it by yourself anymore. I think you're just as handsome as you were before. Maybe even more handsome. I love you and I wouldn't care if you shot out your other eye, I would love you just the same." You pushed the bangs back away from his gaping wound and you kissed his forehead, holding his head in your hands. "Please, never forget that."

He stopped being so tense and nuzzled into your touch. This was a lot of trauma to relive at once and you understood it was going to take more time for him to open up. But you were ready to be there for him when he did.

"I love you, (Y/N). Sorry for keeping my emotions from you for so long."

"Again, you have nothing to apologise for, Grimes. I love you and that won't change."

...

You played back the memory in your head. It seemed like a millennia ago that you were holding him in your arms like that. When the worst thing you guys had to worry about was a scar.

You tugged on the grass a little as you laid down on your chest. Your face was pressed against the grave of Carl, to your heart aching to hold him in the way you did before. To tell him that that stupid scar wasn't going to change anything because it didn't. It made you love him even more. Crazy how losing things like that makes your love stronger. Only this time, you'd lost him.

Your tear stained cheeks were starting to get itchy as you prepared yourself to stay another night with Carl. Everyone else was busy, even Rick who had somehow gotten over Carl's death so quickly. It felt shameful to you that he could lose someone so important and then continue as though there were more important matters.

You were ready. Ready to die. Carl was the last thing you'd had in this world and now that he was gone, you and wanted to have no part in it. This cruel world that was based on survival. This cruel world that killed the last beacon of hope. This cruel world that killed Carl Grimes.

Again, more tears came. It had to be almost a week now. You've refused to eat, drink, socialize, or even leave Carl alone. You couldn't. He was right there yet so far away. You could feel yourself slipping sometimes, fading in and out of sleep that was haunted with nightmares of your long-gone lover.

"Hey. I can't let ya stay out here any- jesus (Y/N)! When was the last time you've eaten?!" Daryl came up from behind, sitting down on the grass-Carl's grass- beside you.

...

The moon shone over the trees and cast a pale glow over the gazebo Carl led you to. His hand was in yours as he dragged you to his favorite spot in Alexandria. The place where he could see the stars the easiest.

"Just a little further..." Once you reached the small structure, he offered you his knee so you could climb up on the roof. It wasn't all that tricky, considering the gazebo was only a few feet up. You climbed up to the top and offered your hand to Carl but he denied it as he tried to climb up himself. 'Show-off' you thought as you smirked and laid on the patchy wooden roof.

You heard a grunt as Carl laid next to you, brushing the bangs out of his good eye. He grabbed your hand and looked at you before looking up above. You had to admit, the stars were beautiful and since light pollution was no longer a problem, there was more that you guys could see. But your focus wasn't on the stars, no. It was on Carl. The way that he looked at the world not knowing that your world was him. You could see the reflection of the stars in his eye, but they were there all the time. The boy really held the universe in him and he would change this cruel world one day. He had to.

When he noticed you staring, he scooted in closer.

"Whatcha thinking about?" He asked, a knowing look on his face. He knew that whenever you were lost in thought he'd be the one to bring you back down to earth.

"You. As usual," you smiled and pushed his hat over his eyes,

"All I ever think about is you."

...

"(Y/N)? Are ya listening?"

You forgot Daryl was sitting beside you and not Carl. You grunted as you tried to sit up but found that you didn't have the energy. It must've been days since you've gotten any food or sleep.

"Yeah. I'm listening." You replied but you knew you couldn't. No one could ever pierce your thoughts and knock the sense in you that you needed to hear. You were a thousand miles away.

"Look," Daryl sighed and played with the denim of his vest, "I know things are hard. But I also know this isn't what he woulda wanted. Carl was brave. He worked to keep this place safe....to keep you safe. He wouldn't want to see ya like this." Daryl leaned in and placed a hand on your shoulder. "I don' like seeing ya like this."

You could barely hear him over the rushing of your thoughts. Carl wouldn't have wanted you to live without him, right? You started this world together and you were supposed to end it that way. He got the chance to leave it first, but that shouldn't mean you should go about your days pretending that everything is fine. Nothing could be fine without him. He was your world and it didn't matter what Daryl would say, or Rick, or Michonne, or anyone else for that matter. Because your world had been taken from you twice. All because of those stupid flesh-eating bastards.

...

"(Y/N)!"

You woke up with a start. The grass you were laying on was covered in dew, meaning that it must've rained while you fell asleep after your talk with Daryl.

You reached for your knife, only to find that it wasn't there. Your eyes searched the area looking for it when you saw him.

His boots were all scuffed and muddy, his jeans were ripped and his gun holster was at his side, also empty. His long brown hair was bushy and his hat sat atop his head, exactly in the position you remembered it. Because right before you was Carl Grimes. The love of your life.

"(Y/N), can you hear me?"

Your whole body went into shock and before you knew it you started crying. Tears streamed down your face like never before as you watched him sit down next to you, reaching out to hold you. You sat in his arms for a few minutes as you let it all out, finally conveying the depression you had felt for days.

"Shhhh it's alright."

You suddenly stopped and got a grip on what was happening. Was this real? Carl had gotten bit by a walker. Surely there was no way he has suddenly come back to life to give your pathetic body a hug.

"What happened?? How are you here?" You uttered in disbelief.

He smiled. "(Y/N). I wanted you to find a home here. I don't want you to keep grieving my death. Alexandria is safe now and you're free to live again. Please don't give up because of me." He rubbed your back and pushed his hat up. "You would say the same if our positions were switched."

At this, you fell limp. Of course. What have you been doing all this time? You'd been so wrapped up in the death of your lover you forgot there were other people you had to care for. Rosita, Michonne, Eugene, Carol, Daryl, and even Judith. This was your home. This was a place where you didn't have to suffer from the harshness of the outside world. You could've been helping with the runs and cleaning but instead you were here and as much as you loved him, you knew Carl was right.

"I'm sorry, I- I just-" you held back your tears "living in this world without you- it's hard. I promised myself that there wouldn't be a day where I wouldn't wake up next to you. I love you so much. I- I'm sorry I couldn't save you." The last part came out in a rush. The words hurt you to say as much as they hurt Carl to hear.

"Hey. Listen to me." He titled your chin upwards so that you were looking at him. "What happened was not your fault, okay? It was mine and mine alone. I'm so sorry that I left you here. I should've been more careful. But I promise you're not alone. I'll be here with you everywhere you go. And I'll still be here when I'm just a memory. When you find someone else I'll be here cheering you on. When you have children I'll watch over them too. When you get old, I'll be waiting for you on the other side so that you have nothing to fear. I promise." He slid his hand into yours and wiped away your tears. You smiled- actually smiled as you caught a glimpse of his face for the last time.

"There's no way you'll ever be just a memory, Carl Grimes."

And then he faded away.

...

The lights in the infirmary stung your eyes as you opened them. You weren't lying outside anymore, and instead you found yourself in a bed wrapped in one of Carl's flannels.

You caught a glimpse of someone standing outside your doorway. "Hey- what happened?" You asked to no one in particular. You just wanted to know why you'd been moved.

The man standing in the doorway was none other than Daryl who had visited you that night. He was looking more healthy than usual, although he could use a good night's sleep. His bags were becoming more and more prominent.

He made his way over to your bed and sat down at the end of it, careful to leave you enough space. "Could've died last night. Your heart almost stopped."

This stopped you from asking anymore questions. So what happened last night wasn't a dream? Carl was really there? You had come face to face with death without even realizing it.

"(Y/N)-" Daryl began but you stopped him.

"I saw him."

Daryl's eyes grew wide. "Ya did?" He turned around so that he was looking directly into your eyes. "What'd he say?"

You smiled.

"I have a reason to keep living, Dixon."

Gifs aren't mine, thank you for reading <3

Hi,

I had a quick look on your masterlist and saw that you are writing for the Harry Potter fandom, does that also include Fantastic Beasts? (Love your stories, especially the new Hannibal one <3)

Sure does! Lmk who you want me to write for from the series and where you'd like the story to go!

Thank you for all the love on my Hannibal fics!

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what i want to say: fight club is about the hurt so many men feel and the toxic masculinity that doesnt let them heal. they dont know how. they want to cry but the only time where theyre allowed to is when people think theyre on their deathbeds. so they turn all their hurt and anger and pain outwards. its about knowing that the world is fucked up but not knowing how to fix it. and instead of figuring out how to heal it they decide to destroy it and start over again. an option that seems so appealing to them, to burn it all and rise from the ashes like a strong and powerful phoenix. but none of them are learning how to build, theyre just learning how to destroy. its about the dangers of cults, how all these men who grew up with shitty fathers and ripped up and shitted on dreams see tyler who seems to be the peak of everything. hes strong hes smart hes charismatic and he seems to understand their struggles so it makes sense them to follow him and to carry out his work. it gives their lives new meaning, such is the appeal of any cult, and the leader is so persuasive that hes convinced actual real life people outside of the book and movie to believe him. to look past the satire and to want to be him. its about obsession. its about wanting. its about how modern day society and especially capitalism and consumerism is fucked up and spoiling and corrupting humanity but the way to fix it isnt by an attack as so many men want to believe. you cant just take sledgehammers to the machine without all the people already in the system suffering. these men dont care if there are casualties they want the world to be plunged into a new dark age they want a new flood so they can start it all over but thats not. the. way! it backfires and the people in project mayhem get hurt and die and their loved ones get hurt and die and the main character realizes he cant stop this and whats sown must be reaped and its about men with hurt inside them not being able to deal with it not being able to sleep or cry because of a system THEY SET UP which is now backfiring ONTO THEM and instead of reconciling with their tender side they just keep fighting and keep throwing punches and HOPE that the blood and bruises will cover all the internal turmoil so they never have to face it

what i say: fight club is actually about gay sex

Announcement for my Lovely Panko Shrimps!

TOMORROW. 10:00am. BULLET TRAIN FANFICTION. PART ONE.

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