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ghost-proofbaby · 2 years

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOUR

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 3.8+

masterlist.

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◁ previous part, next part▷

4:00 ──ㅇ──────────────── 24:00

BIRDIE created a groupchat.

BIRDIE added DINGUS, NANCE, JOHNNY, & ARGYLE 😎

DINGUS: why the fuck is my name dingus

BIRDIE: so… are we going to talk about how in love they look in that photo?

NANCE: Eddie looks like he’s going to commit a federal crime, Robin.

DINGUS: how do i change my name

ARGYLE 😎: a sign of true love my friends

BIRDIE: @NANCE SEE? he gets it.

JOHNNY: Is this chat really necessary?

DINGUS: guys seriously. how the fuck do i change my name?

—

HOUR FOUR - 7:00 PM

Let the record show that you don’t normally care about Lord of the Rings. You’d seen the movies out of obligation to your friends, nothing more, nothing less. You usually held complete indifference towards the trilogy. As a matter of fact, you’d nearly given Robin an aneurysm the day you’d informed them all you preferred the Hobbit trilogy over the original movies.

Eddie, it seems, holds a similar sentiment to Robin.

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” he sighs dramatically, sinking into the couch and looking far more comfortable than he had previously. A bottle of cheap beer dangles carelessly in his hand. He’d decided to grab both of you one the moment this argument had begun, “You casually bring up Gandalf, and then you proceed to have the worst opinions on the greatest franchise of all time. A crime against humanity.”

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely through genuine laughter.

You were laughing. You were sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch, in his apartment, laughing with him rather than at him. It was a fluke in the system, a blip in the Universe. You tell yourself it’s just the effects of the beer.

“What’s next? You tell me you prefer Star Wars over Star Trek? Or, let me guess, you’ve never read the books?”

He looks nice like this, at ease. This hour might be setting the track record for the longest the two of you had gone without insulting one another, and you begin to wonder why you’d never been able to hold such a civil conversation with him before tonight. The two of you might not be agreeing or seeing completely eye to eye, but there was enough agreement to keep the entire debate chugging along.

He notices your silence as you take a sip of the beer you’ve nearly polished off, smirking around the rim of it, a bit of beer lingering at the corner of your mouth. “Oh my God. You’ve never read the books.”

“I never said that!”

“You never said you did!”

Your mouth is open, fighting back at the curl of the corners, unable to defend yourself because he was right. “I- Who even reads anymore?”

“Excuse me?” his voice pitches as he sits up straight suddenly, “Oh, no. There’s no way you just said that. There’s no way you don’t read.”

You shrug, and his beer is quickly set to the side.

“C’mon, everyone reads. You’ve got to have a guilty pleasure book.”

“Nope,” you tuck your bottle between your thighs, and catch the way his eyes had followed the bottle before snapping back to yours, “I just prefer the movies, I guess.”

“No one prefers the movies. You’re a goddamn liar,” he shakes his head and some of the frizzy curls fall against his collar bones rather than continuing to tickle his shoulders, “You have to read something. Romance novels, boring essays, the news. Hell, even magazines or that written porn shi-” he cuts off when you smile at the mention of magazines. “Why are you smiling like that? Stop it. It’s creepy. Do you read those porno books?”

“God, no,” you laugh. A lie - you’d certainly read excerpts from Fifty Shades of Grey he was referencing to understand what the hype was to no prevail, “Just ironic you bring up magazines. You probably consider yourself a real connoisseur, don’t you?”

He flushes crimson. His cheeks that had tinged pink from the warmth of the beer are now flaming red. “I have no idea what you mean.”

He clearly did.

“Right,” you drawl, “So which article in that Playboy caught your eye? The one about the psychological deep dive into what makes sex so great, or the interview with that one porn star? No, wait, I got it! It was totally the one that gave fifteen ways to drive a girl crazy-”

“It’s not a fucking Seventeen magazine,” he snaps, but the malice in his voice is dull, “There’s no lists on how to get the girl, it’s a porn ‘zine, Jesus H. Christ.”

“I know that, do you?” you press, reveling in the brush crawling its way down the side of his neck.

He runs a hand over his face, groaning, “I’m not even going to entertain you with an answer. Fuck off.”

“Do you just ignore all the photos of the beautiful women?” you don’t hold back your teasing, subconsciously leaning his way as your voice lilts with sarcasm, “Ignoring all those bushes? Or maybe you just prefer the Brazilian cut?”

“I liked it better when we were talking about your illiteracy,” he deadpans, staring straight ahead at his entertainment center.

“I never said I couldn’t read, just that I choose not to most of the time,” you finally pull back a bit, scared to push it all too far. You pull your legs up beneath you on the couch and move the beer that has gone warm to the table on the opposite end as his, “Sue me for trying to make friendly conversation.”

You await his expected response about how this was not friendly conversation. You start to do mental gymnastics of a way to bring up the specific model he had marked the pages of, of the eerie resemblance she bears to you and a way to push his buttons regarding it. This conversation was following your script, not his.

Or at least, it was.

“Fine. I prefer the bush, I always find the lack of hair kind of weird,” he says, throwing you off your game effectively. He stares at you with now expecting eyes, “What about you?”

You’re grateful you’d stopped nursing the beer, or you surely would have choked, “What?”

“What’s your preference?” he clarifies, not backing down, “On yourself, on partners. Whatever.”

“I- I don’t- I never-” you stumble over your words, at a complete loss for an answer. It only makes him smirk as he’s now the one leaning in closer, close enough to catch the smell of his cologne concentrated on him.

You hadn’t realized you’d adjusted the boyish smell of the apartment until this very moment.

“See? Not so fun when you’re the one getting asked the personal questions.”

He’s right – you shouldn’t dish out what you can’t handle him throwing back into your face.

“Fine,” you mimic him, squaring your shoulders, “Bush.”

“On yourself or others?”

“Myself,” there was no use in being shy now, “But also on, uh, partners. Kind of unfair to expect something from someone I wouldn’t give in return.”

He nods in surprising consideration at the notion. His face twists as if he’s taking words you’d thrown out there so carelessly to heart, as if there’s some hidden message that even you hadn’t realized was laced in the notion. For a moment, you start to believe he’s committing the words to memory before he answers you.

“That’s fair,” is all he says.

A moment of intense thought for that?

“What? That’s all you’ve got to say?” you scoff, and busy yourself with the beer again out of nerves. It’s warm and bitter on your tongue, but it’s better than looking him in the eyes. Warm, honey eyes you’d never really cared to notice before.

“Yeah,” he lifts his shoulders into an offhand shrug, “I mean, what else is there to say? Like you said, you can’t expect something from someone you can’t return.”

Another silence drags out, and this time, it’s stifling. You never thought you’d live to see the day where Eddie being quiet would bother you, but it does. The lack of words in the air is leaving too much room for thought from both of you. It’s giving you too much time to think on those warm, honey eyes and those damn dimples. Trivial things about Eddie that you don’t care to remember past tonight.

“My friend collects vintage Playboys,” you blurt out, internally cursing yourself immediately. What a stupid conversation segway.

Should have teased him about the dog-eared pages, you regretfully think as you dare to look his way.

His face is surprisingly smooth, eyebrows quirking up into the frayed edges of his bangs, “Oh really?”

You nod, “Yeah. Hell of a lot more bushes in the seventies.”

A lot less of that model you like, you silently add, once more not voicing that concern out loud.

The dimples return. Those fucking dimples. “Hm, guess I should check them out, then.”

“She collects them for aesthetic purposes,” you continue to ramble, filling the air, unsure of why you’re even defending yourself. You’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eddie to dissect the small piece of your life you’ve offered, “It’s… It’s really cool, actually.”

“It sounds cool,” he agrees gently.

The other shoe is left dangling in the air, if it even continues to exist.

You think about his earlier question, of whether you really wanted to keep up a miserable act for the entire twenty four hours. If the last hour hadn’t already solidified your answer, you knew now for a matter of fact that he had a point, even if he did proceed to insult you after the question. You didn’t want to spend this time miserable. The passing of time came easier when it was like this, all rounded-edged banter and friendly words exchanged. When Eddie Munson wasn’t being an asshole and making personal digs at you, he was actually a nice person to have around.

You’d never tell him that, of course.

“It’s why I collect all that,” he motions his hand towards the shelving of figurines and trinkets, “I just think it’s cool, you know? I… Uh, I sort of lied earlier. Most of that shit isn’t that expensive. But it’s not about how much it’s worth money-wise, it’s just worth a lot to… to me.”

A glimpse of crimson, a flash of vulnerability that proves that Eddie has a heart just as you do. It beats erratically, and it can bleed just the same.

“That makes sense,” you offer in response. You may not get it, but you wouldn’t push his buttons on the topic. They may be nothing but clutter from your perspective, but the same could be said about the vintage Playboys your friend collects. The same could be said about plenty of things that are sentimental to you. “Doesn’t it get creepy, though? Like, you bring home a girl-”

“Or a guy,” he interjects, making you smile.

“You bring home a girl, or a guy, and you’ve just got Gandalf staring you down while you make a move. Or… Or, Darth Vader?” you squint to pinpoint another figurine, “Is that Darth Vader? Didn’t you say Star Trek is better than Star Wars?”

“Never said that,” he points at you with a tilt of his head, “I just don’t prefer Star Wars over Star Trek.”

“Have you seen Star Wars? It’s way more entertaining.”

“Have you seen Star Trek?” he counters, but it’s clearly rhetorical as he continues on, “I like both. Having a preference for one doesn’t mean I’m completely against the other. Besides, the light saber effects are fucking incredible.”

“So you prefer the prequels?” you ask eagerly.

“I guess. I mean, the original trilogy is still badass and a classic,” he stands abruptly, and you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, but he just walks over to the Darth Vader figurine to pick it up and bring it back over with him as he flings down onto the couch, now several spaces closer to you rather than opposing ends, “It’s kind of hard to beat the ‘Luke, I am your father’ reveal,” his voice dips down to a deep tone, a fairly spot on impersonation, “But it was also nice seeing his origin story.”

“Plus Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen are gorgeous,” you add, almost daring to lean over and bump shoulders with him. But you don’t. You keep what little space remains between the two of you.

“Of course,” Eddie rolls his eyes, “The eye candy is what gets you.”

“And the cool effects!”

“Right. Next you’re going to say you definitely watched for the plot, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“And the plot’s name just happens to be Ewan.”

You bite down the grin that starts to ache your cheeks, because you’re not supposed to smile around Eddie this much. “Now you’re getting it.”

The hand holding the Darth Vader figurine suddenly thrusts out in your direction, and you find yourself jumping a bit. When you don’t take it, he waves it around a bit, raising an eyebrow, “It doesn’t bite, you know.”

“You said to not touch your shit.”

It’s a pathetic lie, you both know it. But he doesn’t know how scared you are to brush fingertips with him, how the way his arm being so close has electricity buzzing from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head. One small shift, one outreached hand, and your skin would brush his.

It would surely be nuclear. An explosion with no survivors, least of all you.

“Oh, c’mon. You’ve disregarded that rule the entire time, why start being a goody two shoes now?” he teases.

Which is fine, except Eddie teases a certain way – with his entire body. His knee knocks into yours, he leans into your space, a boyish grin spreads over his lips. You’ve seen him dance around this kind of lighthearted conversation with everyone else in your friend group except you. It’s uncharted territory, and your heart nearly breaks out of your chest from its rapid racing.

You’re just lucky that there’s two layers of jeans between your knees. The nuclear explosion will have to wait for another day.

Instead of an answer, you reach out and grab the figurine nimbly by the small leg. Your fingertips narrowly evade Eddie’s and you’re eternally grateful and his arm retracts. You poke and prod, gently wiggling the red, flexible stick that serves as his lightsaber and pinch at the edges of his cape.

In your silence, Eddie speaks, “It’s not a crazy collectible or anything, like I said. It probably would have been more valuable to keep it in its packaging, but one time Wheeler brought his little sister over while they were in town, and she wanted to see him out of the box, so I took him out. You know Wheeler, right?”

You shake your head, inspecting the figurine even closer now. It still looks brand new; you’d never be able to tell that a child, presumably, had played with the ‘toy’.

“Oh,” Eddie looks taken back, faltering slightly, “Sorry, I- I just sort of assumed that…. You, uh…. You had met Steve’s children.”

“Oh!” your head shoots up from where your nose had been nearly pressed into the figure, taking in the detailing of the chest piece, “You mean Mike? I’ve heard about him, yeah. Just in passing, though.”

There’s more for Eddie to say, it’s clear in the way his mouth falls open with the corners quirked, but then you’re interrupted by a phone ringing.

Your phone.

Steve’s contact photo occupies the screen for the second time tonight, a ridiculous photo of him scowling at the camera in a yellow jumper while holding a can of pringles in front of him, one of his hands bringing a single chip to his pouting lips.

“Let me answer it,” Eddie insists, holding out his hand as you stare down at the phone, still chiming annoyingly.

“Were they supposed to call this often?” you ask, knowing well enough that Eddie didn’t have the answer.

His hand waves in impatience, and you don’t put up a fight as you let him take the phone and swipe the answering bar, focusing instead on the Darth Vader discarded into your lap as he puts the call on speaker.

“Hello?” Eddie answers in a chirpy tone.

“How many times do we have to te- hold on. Munson?” Steve starts off aggressive, but his tone melts into confusion, “Why the hell are you answering her phone?”

“Because I’ve murdered her,” he flatly replies, but his face doesn’t match his tone at all.

He fucking winks at you. Your grip on Darth Vader tightens until you’re afraid you're about to snap it.

“Not funny.”

“Not a joke.”

“Where is she, Eddie?” Steve sighs like an irritated parent, in no mood for games, “Please tell me you didn’t manage to make her lock herself in a room again.”

“I told you. She’s gone. Sacrificed to the Dark Lord or whatever. Just got to go dump her body in the lake-”

You shouldn’t joke along with him, but you still whisper the correction of, “The canals.”

“Sorry, I mean the canals.”

Another deep sigh. You can picture the way Steve was currently pinching the bridge of his nose at the two of you.

“I heard her, you idiot. Now that we know you’re both clearly alive and well…. Where the hell is our photo proof?”

You both share a look, and you quickly mouth, already?

Eddie shrugs and mouths back, I guess.

“We lost track of time,” you finally say out loud, still locked in eye contact with Eddie. His brown eyes are surprisingly captivating, several autumn shades all woven together. Burnt orange leaves, red apples, brown sweaters. You never thought you’d be able to see a season in someone’s irises, yet here you were, picturing it clear as day. “Let us hang up and we’ll send the photo.”

Steve starts to speak, but Eddie’s thumb is quick to end the call. The moment your lock screen stares back at both of you, you look at the time.

7:41. Shit.

“Oops,” Eddie whispers as he hands the phone back over, “They really gave us quite the grace period that time.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, quickly opening your damn camera app. “So, how do we want to do this one?”

Eddie thinks for a moment before he launches himself back to his side of the couch, and motions for you to toss him your phone.

And once again, you put your faith in him, not even hesitating this time.

It happens naturally; you both mirror each other, drawing up your knees, your sock-clad toes bumping firmly against one another. Your back is supported by the worn arm behind you, similar to how Eddie’s is, as you face him.

He quickly angles the camera towards you, sticking a hand out into the frame while raising his middle finger. You don’t know what to do, so one hand holds up the Darth Vader as the other mimics flipping him off.

A soft click from your phone. The photo’s taken, and you’re not even sure if you were smiling.

“Trade,” he leans forward, one hand holding out your phone, the other reaching out for Darth Vader.

You oblige, and go through the same process for his photo. His white socks contrast your black ones, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards no matter how hard of a line he presses them into. You can’t look at him directly, and settle for watching him through the screen as you hit the small grey button to snap the photo.

Just as quickly as he had shoved away from you, he’s back at your side, watching you send off the photos to the group chat with a thumbs up emoji. You take a deep breath, scanning over the pair of photos until it’s confirmed that they’re delivered, and lock your phone. Your brows are furrowed in your reflection staring back at you through the black screen.

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours?” Eddie’s voice echoes in your mind.

No, you don’t. No matter how wrong this levity with Eddie feels, no matter how uncomfortable it is each time you remember that he’s meant to be the enemy and not someone to share laughter and smiles with, you don’t want to waste these remaining twenty hours being miserable.

“What’s up?” Eddie’s actual voice echoes in real time as you continue to stare at your reflection.

“Just thinking,” you grunt. The thought of admitting your decision to Eddie is much more intimidating than simply acknowledging it to yourself.

“Dangerous.”

Instead of quipping something rude back, you decide to be vulnerable with Eddie. You decide to crack yourself open just a small bit, just as he had done microscopically when he spoke of his collection of items. It’s a dangerous gamble, and you don’t give yourself the chance to overthink it.

“You were right, earlier,” you force the words out, fighting the way they try to cling onto your tongue and remain safely in your throat.

“About… what?” He looks distrusting, and for good reason. He said plenty of things earlier - you could be preparing to remind him of any number of rude things he’d spewed.

“About keeping up the miserable act,” you explain, turning your head to him and abandoning the phone, “You were right. I don’t want to be miserable this entire time. It… It goes by faster when we’re not about to strangle each other, believe it or not.”

You swear you see his shoulders sag in relief. “Well, yeah, I could have told you that. I did tell you that, actually.”

“Shut up,” you force a scowl, “My point is… I don’t know, maybe, we could try to- try to just- we could be-”

“Civil?” he finishes the sentence you stumble over.

You nod, “Yeah. We could be civil.”

The word feels foreign on your tongue. Civility was not something you’d ever considered with Eddie, but the last hour had proven it to be possible.

“Okay,” he nods along with you. He turns his entire body to face you, knees once again bumping as he sticks out a hand for you to shake, “Deal. We will try to be civil the rest of the time.”

“Civil,” you repeat yourself again, more sure this time, still staring at his offered hand.

An olive branch. The opportunity to work together to survive the next twenty hours. The opportunity for his bare skin against yours.

You think again of nuclear explosions and pulsing electricity, of open chests and matching scarlets, of smashing glasses against walls and ruined parties, of wounds healing over in scar tissues as they glow a gentle pink.

Civil. You wonder if that’s one of the words they’ll include on your gravestone as you reach out your hand and let Eddie’s palm meet yours.

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#twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #let's see if i can get it to post in one try this time

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justatypicalwizard · 1 year

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Late night frustration | Bakugo Katsuki

✦ Bnha characters have their quirks but they are all secret heroes living a doubble-life. Katsuki has a had crush on you but instead of asking you out on a date he's stuck listening to you fangirling over Red Riot. Out of frustration he decided to do something very stupid.

✦ Word count: 2,5k

✦ Warnings: none

Secret hero Dynamite on rampage once again [see video]

Stupid fucking media. They just don’t give a time of the day to check how it all happened. All they see are Mina’s boobs and Eiji’s smile. Bakugo grunted while scrolling through a bunch of shorts featuring yesterday's secret hero action. They all showed the two mentioned earlier in a glorifying light or his, not so subtle, bursting out of the convenience store, glass shattering behind him as he grabs the thief by the collar.

Apart from being a college student Bakugo lives a double-life as a secret hero. How did he get his powers? No one knows, including himself. The same with Mina, Kirishima and Denki. There were a bunch of other people who rolled out on the streets after sunset with masked faces but he didn’t know them all, he didn’t care. It's not like he ever even agreed to the idea, his friends convinced him that they should all use their powers to save the world. Honestly he just saw this as an opportunity to manifest his quirk, otherwise too destructive to play with. Over time he got fed up with what people talked about him, he’s not gonna lie, at some point such an amount of hate would touch anyone. Yet, he didn’t stop, didn’t hide behind a fake personality denying he even has any powers. He got out every second night and did what he’s done for years now.

A bag dropping near his face tore him out of his thoughts bubble. Looking up he spotted your smile as you sat down opposite of him, the well used wooden chair creaked under your ass. There was one more reason why he kept trying all the time. After every night action he waited with gritted teeth for your excited text sending him an awesome video of Dynamite that you just found and fell in love with. He wanted you to fangirl over Dynamite so he could drop by in the middle of the night, take his mask off and tell you that it’s him, he’s the secret hero that you’re in love with. But it never came. You never said a positive word about his alter ego, either being neutral or agreeing with some of the opinions on his brutality and carelessness.

Yet, how could you know better? You were not there last night with the shop owner, an old man too shocked to mumble anything into the microphone after onlookers and reporters flooded the crime scene. You didn’t hear him when he grabbed Bakugo by the sleeve just as he was about to run and thanked him. You didn’t know that the old man was grateful, claiming that the window was nothing, repairing it will cost less than what the thief was about to steal. Of course none of them heard that because Katsuki always gets those compliments off-scene. Noone ever listens to the actual victims, they have a forged history that will match their shitty profiles and online channels.

“Did you see yesterday’s action?” Quite close up actually, princess.

“Mhm.” He mumbled, opening a random book to quickly end the topic.

“There’s a lot of shots of Dynamite breaking that window. I mean, I get that he has a very destructive power but was it really necessary to catch the thief bursting through the glass? Maybe he could run up to him on the streets?” And what would it change? Then he’d blast a car standing on the roadside or a street lamp and they aren’t that cheap either! “Well, at least he got the criminal.” Oh finally, some scarce words of compliment. “But look at that, look, look.”

He nearly grabbed your hand as you started to wave it in front of his face. It was a short featuring Red Riot flexing as he ran to help Bakugo tackle down the thief. It was unnecessary as Bakugo’s explosive hand was already on the criminal's neck which paralysed the guy with fear. Yet, Eiji always wanted to help. He sincerely didn’t do it for attention, he just always wanted to make sure he did the best he could. How can he stand back and watch? It was him who handed the tief to the police. Bakugo already learned that they were not keen on being close to Dynamite so it was always Eiji talking to them. That’s how he stole the whole spotlight of the previous night, he jumped on the already disarmed thief, picked him up and handed him to the police. Simple as that. And yet it had you squeaking and scrolling through more phone-made shots from different angles, all painfully exposing Eiji’s flexing muscles in the scarce suit he wore.

“Red Riot is so hot. I can’t believe he lives somewhere there as a normal person.” Oh he actually lived very close by. Your Red Riot was just a few tables away, chewing on a pencil, sweating over a simple maths equation.

Bakugo was seriously in awe that people didn’t see that bulked form in Kirishima. It was obviously good that his cover never blew but apart from covering his face and hair during actions Kiri was nearly all on display. In the daytime he also didn’t bother covering too much, always wearing a hugging shirt that would show off his tremendous muscles. Guess the mass doesn’t really look for the heroes, they just admire them and later forget that they actually exist as said normal people.

“I would totally fuck Red Riot stupid.”

This was enough. Having someone you love, I mean have a crush on, whatever, talking about fucking a different guy in you very face was too much for Bakugo.

“You know what, I got a text from mom, I need to go.” The blonde stood up, pushing the chair from under his knees with such a force it nearly fell down. He looked at your surprised face as you mumbled a ‘okay’ and that you’d ‘do the assignment they were both due’.

As much as Bakugo wanted to spend time with you, he also couldn’t listen to what you said, a painful feeling aching in his chest.

Later that evening Bakugo found himself sitting on a roof, looking at the city below him. It wasn’t supposed to be a patrol night but he couldn’t sit at home, he had to do something, anything to take his mind off of the earlier talk. Eijiro didn’t even do anything bad but the blonde was furious with him. If he saw that dumb face he’d punch him, which of course he didn’t want to do so he distanced himself for the time being.

A cool breeze grazed his form, sneaking under his masked face. He certainly didn’t like the cold, it made him slower and weaker but autumn was taking over. He saw it in your coat, you picked a new one, a warmer one. You wrapped it around yourself tightly, hiding your chin into the large collar. Oh, you were there, again.

Bakugo leaned over the edge of the roof to see you better. It was past sunset, the yellow light of the street lamps giving your silhouette a golden hue. You were walking down a narrow lane in the middle of the park. You must be heading from some shop as your hands were wrapped around big paper bags.

If not his earlier outburst maybe he could have been next to you. Maybe he’d lie that he doesn’t have anything to do and he can go to the shop with you. You’d spend the evening fooling around in some shopping mall, maybe take out something to eat and he could pretend, just for a second, that you were his girlfriend. Later he’d walk you home and give you a goodbye hug because that’s what friends do. And he would keep you close just a split second longer, so that you don’t notice.

Nothing would come true if he keeps on ditching you for the sake of his own anger. So what if you’re fangirling over Red Riot? You’re not stupid enough to fall in love with the unreachable secret hero. Yet, Bakugo couldn’t shake off the creeping feeling that you could meet Eiji at some point, at a party with your mutual friends and talk to him. You could talk to him a lot, laughing at his shitty jokes, unconsciously brushing his biceps with your hand because of course you’d like him. The redhead is a funny, charming himbo that girls love. If Bakugo would sit down on the couch and watch your interaction for afar then he’s sure that Eiji would put down his hand on the counter behind you, narrowing the space between your bodies. He’d flirt with you jokingly just as he does best up to the point when you both sneak out of the party. Then he’d give you a night you’ll never forget because Bakugo knows damn well what girls say after spending an evening with Kirishima. Maybe Eiji would break it to you that he’s Red Riot and after that he’d never get rid of you. It’s a dream come true. For you. A nightmare for Katsuki.

He actually had to cough because the clench in his chest and the turn in his stomach became unbearable. He felt hurt, as if everything that he just imagined actually happened. As if you were already Eiji's girlfriend. He just wanted you so badly right now that he actually leapt down from the roof down onto the park lane, catching your attention with the small explosions.

Katsuki knew that who you saw approaching you right now was Dynamite. He saw the shock in your eyes as they focused on him but not fear. Good, because he was about to do something very stupid.

Bakugo closed the space between you with a few long strides. He grabbed the puffy collar of your coat and with his other hand slid up his mask, just enough to plant his lips onto yours. Katsuki was not innocent, not even a bit. If he was going to kiss you as Dynamite, so that you never know what actually happened, he was going to do it good.

Your lips were already parted, they never actually closed after seeing the secret hero cross your path. Bakugo used it to his advantage, slipping his tongue inside to taste you, grazing his teeth over your lower lip. He swore you moaned quietly but maybe he just imagined it getting way too horny. You were soft, no matter where he grabbed you. Unfortunately it was the coat, it secured you from his touch and he silently cursed it was late autumn and not summer.

Finally he let go of you and you stumbled a bit backwards. Before you could ask any questions he ran away, leaving you gaping behind him.

Bakugo could already imagine the sexual assault headlines after you tell everyone Dynamite kissed you out of nowhere. Or maybe you would first talk to him about it. Either way his hero name was already stained enough so that one more spot won’t change anything. But he did it, he kissed you, he felt it. Now he can play it over and over in his mind, fixating on your taste. Hope he never forgets. But he also felt guilty. He basically stole it away from you and that’s not how he wanted to have the first kiss with you.

Katsuki wandered the streets for some time before the emotions overflooded him and he found himself heading towards Mina’s crumpled up college flat. He just had to yell at someone, to someone. He’d throw it all on Eiji once more, complaining how his crush fangirls over Red Riot, the same as usual. Mina was well aware of the whole drama.

As quiet as possible he jumped up and up until he reached the window of her unused room. It was open, as always, and he flew through it, landing on the floor, tearing his mask off.

“Racoon fucking eyes…” He was just about to start when he dropped his mask to the ground.

Instead of Mina he saw someone else, someone he really didn’t want to see now. It was you, standing in the middle of the room, picking something out of the same paper bag you carried earlier. Now that he saw it up close it had a print of a home supplies shop. You looked at him, eyes wide as ever, mouth gaping once again.

You were not stupid so of course he couldn’t make you think it was all a dream but he honestly didn’t have any better idea right now.

“Bakugo?” You asked, standing up and walking to him, your scrutinising eyes scanning his costume. “What the fuck? You’re Dynamite?”

Of course you were quick to connect the dots, who wouldn’t when he saw his best friend fly up the window with the, oh so well known, explosions.

“You’re, but, how? Why?” You looked like you didn’t know what to ask about.

“Okay, shut it, I’ll explain the whole damn hero thing…” The blonde also started to throw words at you with the speed of a machine gun.

“What? Hero? Why did you kiss me an hour ago?”

That’s not what he expected. You were more concerned with the kiss than with him being Dynamite? He didn’t know whether he liked it. It would be way easier to explain his secret hero life than what he did that said hour ago.

“I…” No words came out of his throat as he looked at you, at your face, tense and focused.

“Why did you kiss me Katsuki?”

“Because I’m in love with you okay, fuck it.”

“What?”

“I’m. In. Love. With. You.” He spat out every word. “And after hearing, once again, how you’d fuck Red fucking Riot today I had enough. It’s always Red Riot this and Red Riot that, but no one cares about the fact that it was me who caught the thief. Why don’t you just go and actually fuck Red Riot. Now that you know I’m Dynamite might as well just show you the way to his fucking apartment…”

Bakugo didn’t have the chance to end his rumble because he felt the familiar taste once again. You were pressing him up the windowsill, your small form no match for him. Your lips were planted against his. You broke the kiss before he had the time to react.

“Shut up about Red Riot. I was just joking. Why didn’t you tell me you liked me?”

“What?” It was his turn to ask stupid questions.

“I, uh damn, I also like you, crush you very much. I just didn’t think you liked me back, giving your shitty demeanour all the time.”

It would take him some time to explain the whole situation to you. It would also take some time for you to get used to him being a secret hero, though after you agreed to be his girlfriend you noticed he threw himself in crossfire less during his night actions. Who knows, maybe he’ll even gain a bit in the eye of the public soon. Now he doesn't really care for it any more as the only person he ever wanted to impress is already snuggled up beside him in bed, late in the night.

#bnha bakugo #bnha bakugou #bnha #bnha fanfiction #katsuki bakugo #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugo #bakugou x reader #katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #mha

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emiliosandozsequence · 7 months

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okay i'm gonna be very frustrated and angry probably but none of this is directed at you guys i promise!!! i'm just!!!! upset!!!!!!!!!! (tagging you so you see this emily!! 💕 @thesparrow1996 )

let me start off by saying i am not a book purist by any means, but when visual media is being made from a book, i would like it to, at the very least, be telling the same story and that isn't what happened here. it wasn't even telling the same story as the first film in the series.

in the last film, it seemed pretty apparent that paul's visions were going to become a reality and then in this one they Sort Of did that, but Not Really but that isn't even my biggest gripe with it. my biggest gripe is that the last film was telling the story of the book and this film was telling a different story altogether.

my other issue is how chani's character was completely changed. and think is probably because i've been obsessed with her character and the lovestory between her and paul (which is CENTRAL TO THE PLOT OF THE WHOLE SERIES BTW) since i first discovered dune when i was in high school.

in the book, she's supporting paul. she agrees with everything he's doing. she and the fremen all support him because the fact that the bene gesserit are controlling things from the shadows is NOT!!!!! a well known thing!! in fact no one knows that except the bene gesserit!!! OF WHICH CHANI IS CANONICALLY ONE!!!!!! (and even then the bene gesserit are very much a 'knowledge divided' kind of people so no one knows everything about the society) she and irulan are literally narrative foils!!!! like the entire reason i made this web weave was because of how much i fucking LOVE chani's storyline, and because i really love how it shows even the most well meaning of people can fall into the trap of doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. but i suppose it makes less sense to anyone else who hasn't read the book because they also entirely erased the existence of paul's first son.

in the books, paul has a son before he has his twins and that son is murdered by the very last of the harkonnens in a last ditch effort to erase the atreides bloodline. before this, paul is refusing to take the water of life because he has a family and he doesn't want to jeopardize that!! after his son is murdered, he takes the water of life, so he can enact revenge on the harkonnens and start his holy war. by then, he his so distraught that he really doesn't care if his visions become a reality and, while they tried to do this with the destruction of sietch tabr in this film, it does not have anywhere NEAR the same emotional impact because of how it was done (without paul really ever spending any significant time among the people there).

also, as you can imagine, i've got an issue with how they leave this film especially since this isn't even really the full first book and chani and paul's lovestory seems to not be anywhere near as central to the main plot as it is in the books.

all of this is an issue if they want to make further films because they've literally wrecked the storyline with this film. as i said: paul and chani's lovestory is central to the plot. everything happens the way that it does because paul is in love with her and treasures her above everything and, without the existence of his son, without him really seeming to truly care about her, the rest of the story is just going to come across as cheap by comparison.

i wouldn't have had as much of a problem with this if they'd started out the last film by steering it in this direction, but they so very much did not do that. this film really feels like denis villenueve was writing his own fix-it fanfic and that's what i hate about it most.

as for things i did enjoy:

everything on geidi prime; the black sun was so fucking cool. i completely forgot that was a thing from the books. i also loved how the fireworks looked like ink blots

stilgar!!! he's not really like that in the books, but i didn't even care bc it was genuinely funny and i had a good time whenever he was onscreen.

the way chani refused to bow to paul because they're supposed to be equals (you deserve so much better, babygirl, i'm so so sorry for what they've done to your story)

florence pugh did exactly what i thought she would and made me like irulan a WHOLE lot more than i do in the books and the miniseries.

crazy paul and jessica and alia!!! deeply obsessed with their evil family slay

also all the weird family stuff in general, including when feyd and harkonnen made out in front of the whole population of geidi prime

the whole bit with paul learning to ride the sandworm!! that was so fucking good

the part where paul is walking toward rabban out of the fog of the sand on arrakis after he tells muad'dib to come face him. that literally was my fav scene and it was only a few seconds long.

#BUT IT'S WHATEVER!!!! IT'S WHATEVER!!!#I'VE ONLY WANTED THIS PART OF THE BOOK TO BE FILMED RIGHT SINCE I WAS 17 BUT IT'S WHATEVER #dts #txt

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afortoru · 1 year

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𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾

Pairing: ceo!Toji Zenin x reader

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst

Word count: 2.2 k

Warnings: old memories both happy and sad ones ig

Note: I wrote an hardcore family fluff...yaay! also im sorry Sukuna stans for making him your brother in this fic TT and if your are reading this, i love you *mwah*

The Zenin Group Pvt Ltd is one of the most infamous company in this world of bussisness. Everyone who's associated with it, gains nothing but tons and loads of money as being there slaves. Even there rivals have given up. Everytime there bussisness rivals try to took them down, something happens to their own company and they'll suddenly loose there shares and shareholders. Even a thought of having The Zenin Group as there rivals would make them shiver, causing them sleepless nights.

But who wasn't affected by this so called infamous company was The Ryomen Interprises Pvt Ltd. The Ryomen's was on top with their business as much as the Zenin's were. They were infact the only rivals who were standing long and tall infront of the Zenin's. The two groups who couldn't bring each other down to hell by there little games decided to play with your's and the upcoming young ceo of the Zenin group, Toji Zenin's life.

You were the only daughter and the second youngest child of the family with your older brother Ryomen Sukuna.

Sukuna was one hell of a cold guy, ignoring the girls lurking around him to get his attention, not giving in into cheap pleases from the business partners and the list goes on. For the the outside world he was a stone cold narcissistic rich guy but the one's who got to see his soft side were the one's he loved the most, his dearest little sister,you and your mother.

Sukuna hold you two like his life depends on you too and it did. Your father, Mr. Ryomen would also get his cold looks and an 'idgaf' attitude. Since Sukuna knows his father oh so well and what that man could do to continue his legacy.

That's why he didn't thought for a second when your father finally wanted him to take over their business and become the ceo. Sukuna thought he could finally make things right with the company under him but later did he knew that some decisions were still under your father's hand.

You were busy checking up the decorations for the party held for your brother being the new CEO.

"I see you're pretty excited about this, huh!" you can tell how annoyed he was with all the preparations. "Atleast let me pretend like I'm preparing for my big bro's wedding or something like that" you said walking towards Sukuna whose expressions has turned from annoyed to confused. "Well looking at the way you 'shoo' people around you specially women, I don't think so you're getting married any soon" listening to your words he looked at you with a annoyed grin "so is that what my sister wants from me now huh, what else do you want, should I rip my heart out for you" he stated "you should totally, maybe then I can sell it to buy myself the new book in my wishlist" you winked at him. Sukuna stood their with a shocked face thinking how can his lovely sister be so mean, oh wait you're his sister there's going to be something about you that's in his personality too.

You went back to look over to the decorations as squeeled from your place as you felt someone's tickling you. "You really gonna be this mean to me huh, never thought this much money couldn't buy you a book but my heart would huh?" he jokingly mentioned while you were on the verge of tears from laughing. "Sukuna stop please, I'm sorry stop...ahhh you idiot I'm gonna tell mom, MOM" you made yourself free from him as you started running outside to the grand house garden.

"Wait you-" he called you out as you made your way towards your mom looking back at him with a funny expression on your face. "I gonna tell mom you're- , ahh!" You weren't looking in front while running as you felt someone stopping you.

"What's so funny kids?", you looked to see the face of the man your brother hates the most, your father. "Why are you running after her like that my son?" he stated with a smile on his face. Sukuna didn't mind his words as he took your hand about to leave but you pulled away. "Nothing dad, we're just going to see mom" you said not wanting to be rude to your father.

He gave you a gentle smile and then he started walking towards Sukuna "Son i know you don't like me but atleast try to act not that mean, can't you?" , "I don't like you?, I hate you... stop being delusional." Sukuna states with an annoyed expression.

"What's happening, I heard Y/N call me. Why'd you call me dear?" you with both the men standing with you turn towards the voice coming from the other side of the hall, you mother Mrs. Ryomen.

She walked towards you and the two men with a gentle smile. Sukuna looks at his mother and then he sees your face, she's exactly like mom, he thought to himself.

She greets your father with a gracious smile, as he nods and smiles back. "Why'd you call me dear?". You pointed towards your brother, faking a pout "Kuna, he was tickling me, i told him not disturb me while I'm working for ceremony held for him and here he's not even a little pounce of gratitude on his face", he grunts listening you complaining like a little kid "hell I'm not , and did I asked you to do this decorations when we already have so much workers around" he says as he pokes you on your cheeks." Mom, you see how rude he'd became now,I-".

"My dear son you should be glad your sister is happy and helping with arranging the ceremony of you being the new ceo, am I right darling?", your father directed this question to you mother, she just noded instead of giving any answer.

"She's not actually happy-", he was interrupted by your mom. "Um Sukuna, dear I need you and Y/N with me right now, please excuse us dear", she asks as a permission from Mr. Ryomen to leave.

You slightly smiled towards him before you started following your mom and Sukuna. As your father stands behind knowing that he won't ever get the same closure from you and Sukuna the like you give your mother. He still appreciated your kindness towards him, atleast you try unlike Sukuna.

He sighs as he walked around the house checking the preparations being held for his son's being the new ceo.

Mr. Ryomen won't say that he loves power, but you knew he does and he'll put his family on the line for this forsaken company. He won't even think once to choose his company, established by your so called forefathers over his wife who sacrificed her career, his daughter who was kind enough to still smile at him and his son who'll put his life on the line for his family.

Sukuna sat with your mom on the edge of the bed as you were trying to find something in the wardrobe. "Mom you sure you haven't lost it and kept it in the wardrobe?" you have been looking for whatever it was and you can sense Sukuna's being impatient.

"Mom, I don't think so this dummy would find whatever it is, you should go and check" he asked her receiving a "shut up" from you.

Your mom was about to get up to help you find it before you exclaimed, "I found it! Here!". Sukuna examine a medium sized, maroon coloured box that you were holding.

"Here mom, kuna this is for you…me and mom got this for you", you handed the box to your her. She looked towards Sukuna, who was now confused on what and why you two got any gift for him.

Your mom's hands moved towards his face as she gently ruffles his hair and places her palm on his now slightly blushind cheeks " for you my dear son" , she says with a motherly smile over her face as she hand overs the gift to Sukuna.

"B- but w-why…i mean is there anything special?", you chuckled at his stuttering."Open it first big bro, don't you wanna see what we got for you?" you reminded as his gaze went towards the box, what could it be, Sukuna thought to himself as he starts unwrapping it.

"I- it's a w- watch, but w- why?",his question made you walk towards him as you sat on the other side of the bed beside him.

"Because we love you and wanted to give you something since we know you're doing all this for us that's why me and mom decided to surprise you with this little gift", you said with a sweet smile as you can see his expressions soften.

"Thankyou so much both of you!", Sukuna felt he's about to shed some tears but he contained himself as he quickly held both of you and your mom in his arms into a hug.

"We know why are you taking the position of the ceo in your father's company, son. M- mom's s- so proud of you, she's so sorry she couldn't-" Sukuna shushed as she's now sobbing into his shirt.

"Mom you did enough for the both us, please don't say like this. Whatever we do, it won't be enough to what you did so please don't speak like that", he uttered as he hold the both of you more closely and tightly like his life depends on it.

"Everything is fine, big bro but I kinda being suffocated, you should do a little less exercise", your words made your mom and Sukuna chuckle as he let go the both of you."If I won't exercise then who's gonna protect you, huh?" he questioned with a smirk with his look diverted towards you.

"I can protect myself, alright. Don't go on this pretty face, i can beat some asses too" you stated proudly pointing a finger towards your face."And who said you're pretty?", Sukuna's word made you pout, gaining a chuckle from your mom.

"Hey! mom not you too" you whinned.

"You're the prettiest, dummy…happy now?", your pout turned into a very much satisfied smile from his words as you nod.

Your mother on the other hand can't believe how lucky she got having you and Sukuna as her kids. She cherish you two too much than she already do. Everyday you two get older, she can't help but want to spend more time with you two, see you bickering, fighting, laughing, just the desire to see you both increases and she can't help it. She knows that one day her daughter and son would have there own family, their own kids and maybe you two won't have enough time for her but she's just happy with the thought of you two being settled down with your spouses oneday.

"Mom, why the teary eyes?", she was snapped back to reality as you wipes her tears away, she didn't realised she was crying.

"N- nothing, just you two make me so happy I can't get enough of you two. Always stay like this together, protect each other, always stand for each other and never let anyone else break this bond between you too…mom loves the both of you so much" she sniffles as she pats one hand on your head and another on Sukuna's.

You and Sukuna looked at each other before hugging your mom exactly how you did it when you were kids. You two used two jump on her everytime you came back from school or in any occasion when you missed her. She would always take you two in her motherly embrace and the what you two felt in her arms is something you can say that's better than the feeling of even being in heaven, so warm, so tender.

It would be true to say that the three of you don't wanna break from this hug, maybe an eternity would feel less cause this love is something you could never get tired of.

Your mother is so lost embracing her most precious possessions.

You were glad to have a family, who loved you so much that you couldn't imagine anyone else to live you more than then. No there's no way anyone who could give you there heart like your family, or was there?

Sukuna on the other hand can't believe how he got so lucky to have you as his sister and her as his mother. The more he's with you two the more he wants to protect you two from this world. He want to give everything best in this world to you and your mom. Sukuna might not be able to fight his father or change the past but he promised to himself that he would never let his mom suffer again, she is happy now but he knows what she's been through for the both of you and you, he lives to protect you from anyone who even thinks to hurt you. He swear they won't see the sun if anyone would even dare to think about you wrongly. He had taken this unspoken pledge to shield you and you too believed you would not find any men like you brother in your life until you met him.

Tagging my babies:

@lotus-n-l0ve @luvjiro @luckimoon @vagabond-umlaut

I'm still an amature writer so feel free to advise me please.

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spacebarbarianweird · 7 months

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The Dhampirs of the Sword Coast - Chapter 2

Part 2 of Astarion's daughter adventures and consequences of releasing 7000 vampires into the Underdark.

Alethaine and Theris are rescuing Tara and returning her to Gale. Both dhampirs aren't that smart as they think they are.

Read on AO3

Link for Part 1

Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!

The List of Chapters

Masterlist

Headcanons

Alethaine Ancunin looks around the corner and sees the gang of smugglers playing cards. The whole room reeks of vomit, dirt, and cheap rum. The scent makes the young dhampir nauseous - cursed be her sharpened elven-vampiric senses!

“Aren’t you afraid someone will steal our possessions?” Theris whispers.

As they decided to look for the kidnapped cat, the dhampirs had to hide their traveling bags in a safe place. The tiefling didn’t have much stuff, meanwhile Alethaine felt almost naked, leaving her prized things behind.

“My sack is conjured with necrotic magic. If anyone dares touch my stuff, their pathetic hands will fall off!”

Theris gives Alethaine an accusing glance. “You could have warned me!”

Alethaine grabs their right horn.

“Did you touch anything, Theris? My books? My scrolls? The cleric’s ring I stole from the self-righteous bastard?!”

“You told me you hadn’t stolen from him! That you just insulted the poor man and were convicted for four months!”

“Yes! And after I’d been released, I got inside his place and stole the ring as compensation for my sufferings!” Alethaine lets Theris go. “Did you touch my things, devil?”

“Hey! Is someone there?” a bearded smuggler stands up from the table, spilling his bottle of rum.

“Fuck”, Theris drags Alethaine into the corner. “There are too many of them!”

“Eight. I counted.”

“Eight? It’s four times more than us!”

“Congratulations, Theris, you know the basics of math!”

Alethaines sits down behind the huge wooden crates and then checks if Theris’ horns aren’t visible to the smugglers. The room is lit with dim light but thanks to their darkvision, both the elf and the tiefling can see perfectly well.

“It’s a bad idea, Alethaine,” Theris grows serious. “The cat doesn’t cost that much! Well, unless it is a misfortunate friend who was permanently polymorphed. Or this cat owes this Gale guy money. Anyway, no one is paying a fortune for a pet! Besides, I don’t trust wizards.”

“Theris, my parents knew him in the past… He is an honest man!” Alethaine trails off. “Well, at least I was told so!”

“I am sorry, Alethaine, but WHEN did your parents know him?”

Alethaine counts the years, doing mental math. When was the Year of Three Ships Sailing? She has heard about that adventure numerous times. When her mother and father were kidnapped by mind flayers, got parasites in their brains, had to fight against the cultists, monsters, illithids and even a powerful vampire lord, her father’s master. Mother, Tiriel the Barbarian, could talk about those months for hours - recalling every small detail, every person she met back then, including her companions. As for Alethaine’s father, Astarion barely could tell anything coherent as if his mind hadn’t regained the ability to hold memories. The older Alethaine grew, the more often she noticed the dreamy look in her father's eyes when he talked about his first weeks of freedom.

Later she realized Astarion, probably, barely remembers the exact events happening to him because he was too busy falling for Tiriel. And even all those decades later her parents behave like love-struck adolescents. Alethaine used to take it for granted when she was younger but now she thinks her parents are very lucky to have each other. Be it a destiny or just a weird turn of events - doesn’t matter.

Tiriel the Barbarian and Astarion Ancunin are a perfect couple.

“Forty-five years ago”, Alethaine finally replies.

Theris curses.

“Uvuaz”

“For your information, I can speak Infernal.”

“Oh, really? Then I shouldn’t limit myself anymore. Alethaine, fourty-five years may be nothing for a fairy but it’s a hell of an amount of life for a human! I am sure the archwizard doesn’t remember knowing your parents! This cat isn’t worth the effort. I am out!”

A loud thump attracts the dhampirs’ attention.

“I swear! There is someone behind the crates!

“Shit”, Theris curses again.

A drunk bard wobbles to them, hugging his viola as if it was his dearest friend.

It probably is.

“Oh look!” Before the drunk manages to say anything else Alethaine raises her hand and whispers.

“Sleep”

The bard falls down, snoring loudly. The other smugglers pay little to no attention, too busy with drinking and playing cards.

“What are you doing?!”

Theris kneels in front of the smuggler and starts loosing the straps around his body.

“Theris, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“A-ha!” Theris releases the viola. “What a beauty, hope this awful drunk man treated you well” He caresses the instrument, then looks at Alethaine. “And what did you think I was doing?”

Alethaine spares Theris the details of her thinking process.

“Forget it.”

“Oh, so you do have a dirty mind, after all!”

“Who said I didn’t? Can you play it?”

Instead of answering, Theris kisses the viola. “Oh, we are going to sing the lewdest and the most scandalous songs together.”

Alethaine takes his response for the yes and looks at the smugglers. Three women, two men, three people who could be both or something else.

And then Alethaine sees the cat.

The brown pet has been locked in a parrot cage in the opposite corner of the room. The cat is fast asleep on her back and for a moment Alethaine thinks the animal is dead but then she hears its heartbeat.

Alethaine doesn’t have any desire to fight the smugglers. She just needs to take the cat - and then run from this wretched hole of a place.

“Theris, I need you to be the bard.”

“Oh, my cousin, I thought you would never ask.”

“Just … distract them! Do your worst! I'll take the cat and we’ll flee back to the city.”

“Alethaine, let’s be clear. You want me to play something merry or, you know, be the bard?” Theris takes out the viola bow and brushes along their inner thigh.

Alethaine suppresses the urge to shove the bow up to their ass.

“Just distract them! Women, men, I don’t care! Whoever you prefer.”

Theris raises the bow as if it were a sword and settles the viola on his shoulder.

“Aletaine, I am pansexual. Everyone is in danger!” With these words, Theris jumps over the crates and leaps onto the smugglers’ table, making a little dance.

The smugglers stare at him in shock, like being splashed by a bucket of water. They reach out for their weapons but before they manage to attack Theris starts playing.

It’s something cheerful like a pirate song - a strong melody that attracts the attention of all the smugglers. Theris plays the viola with their eyes closed, completely taken away by the act.

Alethaine is struck with the realization that Theris is truly talented.

Theris’ lips are moving in time with the music. The tiefling taps his feet and his tail violently wags.

And then the dhampir sings.

Their voice is deep and strong, and he masterfully combines couplets in Common with Iluskani rhymes, weaving the song like a spell. He sings of peasants fighting with guardians, of fair maidens casting spells on men. Of the Trackless Sea and its cruel wonders, of blazing Hells and devils, of Feys and Feywild.

Alethaine has to concentrate to distract herself from the music. She is sneaking in the dim light, carefully measuring her every step, approaching the cat locked in the cage.

And the creature is anything but a cat. It opens its eyes feeling Alethaine’s presence, unfolds its bird wings and yawns demonstrating sharp fangs.

“You are a Tressym!” Alethaine gasps.

“I am very well aware of what I am,” the Tressym says. “My name is Tara. And who might you be, etriel?”

“A-Alethaine”

“Hm… An unusual name for Tel’Quessira but I can see that you are an elf to the same measure I am a cat. An understatement, am I right, etriel?”

“Your owner… sent us… sort of”

“Owner? Etriel, Gale is not my owner. Tressyms know no masters,” the Tara turns her head. “And I suppose the performer is a companion of yours? He has a talent, I must admit, etriel. But I’d suggest we don’t lose any more time. Do you have something to pick the lock?”

Alethaine takes out her Burglar's Pack from the hidden pocket of her jacket. The first lockpick breaks immediately.

And the second. And the third.

“Hurry up, etriel, I think the power of art is sobering them up.”

“Why do you keep calling me like that? I am not an elven nobility.”

“I am not aware of your social status and preferences,” Tara says.”But I assumed it would be correct to call a woman of your kind etriel.”

“Fuck, I am out of lockpicks!” Alethaine curses. “Damn”

“What is that girl doing there!” a smuggler bellows.

“I am sorry, Tara” Alethaine uses all her dhampir strength to pull the parrot cage. Both the chain and the hook break immediately. The dhampir grabs the small door and breaks it down.

Tara crawls out and settles herself in Alethaine’s arms. The Tressym is so fluffy the dhampir wants to squeeze her.

“We need to go!” Theris yells, snatching a dagger. “Thank you for listening, my dear audience! I take cash, thank you!”

“Did you fucking see it? She broke the cell like it was made of paper!”

“She probably used some potions”

“Etriel”, Tara asks. “Any chance you know the FLY spell?:”

“Nope”

“Pity. I am afraid I won’t be able to enjoy freedom for very long.”

Alethaine looks up. The wooden ceiling is pretty high, probably ten feet above the ground. Unless there is a troll or a giant on their side…

“Theris, climb up!” Alethaine yells on top of her lungs and steps on the wall, quickly rising up to the ceiling.

The world turns upside down. Her hair brushes along her body as if having its own gravity.

“It’s a vampire! Fuck!” the smugglers scream. Theris pushes one of them aside, jumps up and Alethaine grabs his right hand, pulling the tiefling to her.

“Oh, etriel, you are a dhampir. That’s very convenient.”

The smugglers snatch their daggers and swords.

“Catch her!”

“Bring the fire!”

Alethaine sprints. She hears loud voices and steps behind her but she doesn’t pay much attention to them.

“Oh, that’s the cat!” Theris points at Tara.

“It’s a Tressym!”

An arrow switches right in front of Alethaine’s face. Then another one scratches Theris’ tail.

The elf jumps on the floor and pushes the crates to block the passage. Theris almost bumps into them, failing to predict Alethaine’s action.

The narrow hallway leads outside - Theris breaks out of the old shabby door with his leg, landing on an unfortunate sentry who has been standing right there.

“We need to part!” Alethaine yells, pushing the tiefling sideway.

“Yes, children, I shall meet you in the tower! Worry not, you are very welcome there”, Tara unfolds her bird wings and soars up.

It’s much more difficult to run along the street - the paving stones hurt their feet, she keeps bumping into the crowd, almost steps on a gnome, and has a bruise after an encounter with a half-ork’s elbow.

Cursed be her short height.

As Alethaine gets closer to the center of the city people in the crowd get more civilized and fewer in number. The elf slows down, hoping to play “a maiden in distress” in case the smuggler hasn’t lost her track.

But no one is following.

Alethaine leans on a wall. Her strength quickly recovers and she feels capable enough to run another sprint through the city, but her legs hurt and her head is dizzy.

She needs to find the archwizard. Instead of any coherent address, it simply says “The wizard’s tower” as if that was enough.

Well, the wizard towers must reek with magic.

“Detect magic” is a simple skill, even non-mages can do it. But it requires concentration which has never been Alethaine’s strong side.

And besides, Waterdeep has many magical places.

Alethaine wanders around a bit, trying to sense the presence of magic. Once or twice she catches the trail like a cat looking for food but she quickly loses it.

A strong tap on a shoulder startles her so much she snatches the dagger out of her boot, ready to gouge out an eye of whoever is behind her.

“Fuck!” Theris takes Alethaine by her wrist. “I have only two eyes, you know? And I value them both!”

“Nine hells! Theris, I have weak nerves, but I'm good with daggers! Next time, you'll be left with either no tail or no eye.Or both!”

“And what about asking ‘who is there’? What if it’s your favorite cousin!”

“It’s much safer to slice a throat than ask what they want.”

“You are a dangerous woman.”

“I am!”

Theris contemplates a bit and then asks. “So… What are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean?”

“I am flattered you waited for me but I was sure you would go get your reward”

“I haven’t found the tower”

Theris looks at her dead serious and then bursts out laughing.

“What? I’ve never been to Waterdeep before!”

“Which part of the freaking-highest-wizard-tower-in-the-whole-city part you didn’t understand?” Theris finally blurts out.

Alethaine turns her head where Theris points.

The wizard’s tower is on the other side of the street.

“You are going to die without me, Alethaine,” Theris says.

“I’ve been doing fine. Relatively.”

They cross the road. The wizard’s tower doesn’t look particularly intimidating - just a tower. It could belong to a local guild or a lower nobility.

The Tressym is nowhere to be seen.

“Is it dumb to get there empty-handed? Of course, it is,” Theris contemplates the closed door. He knocks a few times but even their dhampiric hearing doesn’t catch any sound. “I suppose no one is home. We needed to tie that cat up. Now we won’t be able to prove we’ve saved her in the first place!”

Alethaine looks around, hoping no one sees her and steps on the wall using her Spider Climb.

“What are you doing? There are so many protective runes that we could be turned into dust! Feydust, I hope, but still.”

“Come on! I see the open window!”

“Alethaine! I am not feeling comfortable breaking into the wizard’s tower!”

“Good! More money left for me!” Alethaine sits down at the windowsill.

She looks inside and see a huge hall with the floor somewhere far beneath

A library.

She can see thousands of colorful volumes. They stand in neat rows begging to be taken and read.

And there is so much magic in them Alethaine doesn’t need to concentrate to feel it.

The young dhampir has never seen so many books in one place. Moreover, she has never seen so many enchanted folios.

Something inside her stirs. Knowledge. Wisdom.

Alethaine has never truly learned using skills. She was born like this with skills for necromancy and just a bit of fey magic thanks to her ancestry. It all comes to her naturally without needing much thought.

But as with any magic, her potential craves to develop, to grow.

It’s a literal hunger.

Alethaine steps on the walls and goes up to the ceiling. The library is empty but she senses a few protective spells mostly on shelves. Pity. Whatever a person Gale Dekarios is, he will hardly allow her to touch any of his priceless books.

With loud panting, Theris gets inside the library.

“Oh great. The magic library. Every book must be cursed. If this blasted cat doesn’t show up, I am out!”

"It's a Tressym."

"I don't fucking care! I don't want to be turned into a sheep!"

A soft cough from beneath attracts their attention.

An old man in a violet robe goes inside the library with the sleeping tresuum in his hands. The wizard has a short white beard and shoulder length hair. He has neither a wizard hat nor a staff to turn the intruders into sheep.

"Young people, I would terribly appreciate it if you climbed down from my ceiling so we could talk like civilized people. My name is Gale Dekarios” he waves. “And whom do I have the honor of meeting?"

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #dadstarion #aletha #alethaine ancunin #dhampir #waterdeep #dhampirs of the sword's coast #meet the dhampirs #baldur's gate post game #dungeons and dragons #forgotten realms #necromancy #dhampirs of the swords coast

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strawbrrydior · 2 years

Text

TBP HEADCANONS

• Vance likes to be nurtured and prefers quiet, gentle things. If you approach him nicely and you talk to him nicely then he won’t be mean to you he just has a trigger for aggression.

• Bruce is multitalented. One of those guys who can do anything he really tries to and has done a lot. He’s done theatre, baseball, he’s really good at braiding hair and is excellent at writing informative essays but his main things are studying unsolved cases and filling notebooks with information on thinks he’s into.

• robin boxes every other day after school, he goes to this gym that’s sort of old and kind of empty so it’s usually just him in there. He brings a little radio and hustles a punching bag for hours. Sometimes Vance comes and works out with him, usually they don’t talk rather just enjoy each others company (and music taste. I think they like similar stuff.)

• Vance and Gwen and Amy are actually really good friends for some reasons 9/10 of the times the boys can’t find Vance it’s because he’s at one of their houses letting the girls braid his hair. He protects them but truly he’s scared of them they’re vicious rabid creatures

•Gwen, aside from her dreams and shit, just has really good intuition and can read people like books. Which is why she and Vance are such good friends because she reads him so well she somehow manages to know exactly whats wrong at all times, besides, she went through a stress toy phase and now has a drawer full of them she doesn’t use and Vance has taken all of them. Win win.

• griffin doesn’t know how to ride a bike. He swore up and down that he did and billy got annoyed and called his bluff, hopped off his bike and pat the seat. He couldn’t even get on it he was down on the sidewalk in half a second.

•billy is an advent fan of the outsiders and his favorite character is Darry. He likes to associate characters to his friends and it’s an inside joke between them who’s who. (Finney is pony boy, robin is Johnny. Vance is dally, Bruce is soda pop (but also billy argued he was cherry. He wanted to be soda pop) griffin is two bit, and billy is Darry. (And they wonder why that’s his favorite.) Gwen thinks she should be soda pop and Bruce should be cherry and not reverse but whatever! )

• finney and Gwen’s movie is grease. It’s their favorite, they have The soundtrack on tape and know the dances. They sing duets, finneys danny and Gwen is sandy. Gwen’s favorite song is hopelessly devoted and finneys is you’re the one that I want

•robin listens to a lot of rock and a bit of metal (mostly because of Vance who just needs someone to talk to about albums he likes so he tells Robin cuz Robin always actually listens to them.) he rly likes run dmc and the beastie boys. Any fast paced or loud music is his shit. Finney doesn’t like loud noises and he doesn’t enjoy listening to that kind of music it makes him antsy so their common ground is soft 50s / 60s music. (I.e those magic changes - Sha na na & anything Ritchie valens) but most of the time robin plays whatever he wants on his stereo and just keeps it super low.

•robin and Vance have daily smoke seshs in the bathroom (one robin fought to own literally. Like he put a group of seniors on their asses freshmen year and now it’s his bathroom no one goes in there)

•Billy’s really into old movies and is constantly in the library trying to read up on old 1920s actresses

•billy likes classical music. He buys cheap tapes and lets them play softly in the background

•robins bed is in the corner of his room against a wall so whenever finney sleeps over he sleeps on the side pressed against the wall because sometimes he gets nightmares and makes monsters out of the shadows in the room but from the corner he can’t see them.

•Vance hopper is a writer he’s awful at SAYINg how he feels so he writes to people. He writes poems and stories and stuff and he’s a real good story teller he just can’t figure out how to get the words out of his mouth

•griffin has undiagnosed adhd and spent all of his life getting yelled at by his mother over it. He’s self conscious about himself and tries to do things quietly in dark corners but the boys are never annoyed with him when he talks or runs around or stims and it helps him come to terms with himself

• griffins dad and Vance’s mom are dating and have been since they were younger. They live together and even though Vance still has to go see his dad on a court order and stuff griffin always waits at the doorstep for him or drives with his mom to drop and pick him up

•Bruce is the oldest in the group and takes on a motherly type role. He’s always there to help them, constantly feeds them and buys them stuff and talks to them like he’s sooo much older then them and how he’s sooo tired from raising kids and working but deep down it makes him happy to provide and make other people happy. He needs to be taken care of too and there’s always someone there for him (usually Vance because he’s a little more mature then the others and notices when Bruce is down before they do. Not their faults though, sometimes they just don’t peep it for a while.)

•robins mom loves finney, she jokes about loving him more then robin All the time. Sometimes they’ll lay at the foot of her bed while she’s watching tv and just whisper to eachother. She enjoys their company and really likes it when they stay home she much prefers they just stay right by her side for safety

•robin has a dog named paco , he’s a 3 year old brown pit bull. Very rowdy and clumsy just like robin :)

#tbp #the black phone #tbp headcanons #vance hopper #finney blake #robin arellano #griffin stagg #bruce yamada #billy showalter #gwen blake #amy yamada #I love them #they are friends :)#ao3 #i <3 them #rinney #brance #but also not entirely ship related

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xoxoladyaz · 1 year

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AU-gust, Day 3: Writer

TW: References to monster smut and genitalia, Shrek

Robin’s mad at him.

(Well, mad isn’t the right word. Frustrated? Annoyed? Shocked by his enduring stupidity? All of those are probably better options.)

“Seriously, dingus? You haven’t told him yet?!”

Steve anxiously ran his fingers through his no-longer perfectly-styled coif. “I’ve tried, Robin! It’s just kind of hard to tell the guy that you’re falling in love with that you write monster porn for a living!”

It had started when he was a senior in college, reeling from his break-up with Nancy and trying desperately to find anything to distract himself from his heartbreak. It was a total joke at first, trying to find the cringiest romances he could find and reading them with Robin as they got progressively more and more drunk on whatever cheap booze he’d squirreled away from Tommy that week. But then one night he found himself in bed crying when Matthias the Minotaur sacrificed his life for his one-true love and he couldn’t stand it because Matthias deserved a happy ending after everything he’d been through and Steve had read enough of these books, for fuck’s sake, he could write a better ending!

It was just a hobby for a while, a secret shame that got him through the doldrums of working for his father while trying to figure out what he wanted to do next. Steve could never keep anything from Robin, though, and while she initially teased him for writing “monster porn,” after she read one of his stories she demanded he submit it to some indie romance publishing houses and she didn’t give up until he had done so and now – well, now Steve was making a truly obscene amount of money off of his many, many monstrous and paranormal romance books (with Robin as his editor, of course) and had kissed his shitty parents goodbye.

(And if his pen name was his father’s name, which meant that anytime someone googled “Richard Harrington” the first thing that popped up were book titles like “Prisoner of the Gargoyle’s Heart” and not his father’s incredibly influential law office, well, that was just payback for twenty-five years of bullshit.)

The thing is, Steve isn’t even ashamed of it, not really. He’s always been a kinky guy, first of all, and besides, it’s not all about the sex (although his sex scenes are some of the best in the business and he hadn’t shied away from writing queer books when the rest of the world had.) What he liked most about the stories he wrote was that regardless of what his monsters had looked like, or lived through, or done in their past, or where they’d come from, they all found someone who loved them because of their differences - because of their monstrousness – and not in spite of it.

(And yeah, okay, he liked the sex stuff too. Who wouldn’t want to fuck a dragon with two dicks? Or Prince Titian, the golden-haired merman who had both sets of humanoid genitalia? Or Neptus, the half-man, half-octopus who had all those huge tentacles - )

“Dingus. Stop thinking about Neptus.”

“Huh?” Steve asked, shaking his head. “How did you - ”

“Because I know you, Steve Harrington, and there’s only one person slash fictional entity that you get that weird horny look for and honestly, I could have lived my entire life without knowing about your tentacle thing - ”

“ROBIN, it’s not – I don’t have a tentacle thing - ”

“ – but we can deal with your weird fetishes another day, right now we need to discuss why your boyfriend still thinks that you’re an accountant and the fact that you need to tell your boyfriend about your job so I can tell my girlfriend about my job so she understands why I need so much therapy and why I know so much about your sexual preferences - ”

“Jesus, Robin, I got it, I got it!” Steve stood and headed for his minibar. “Look, it’s not – it’s not that I don’t want to tell him, it’s just – people can get kind of weird about it.”

“Yeah, and those people suck,” Robin replied as she followed after him. “But Eddie isn’t Nancy or Tommy or Cheryl or Brad or Kel, he’s Eddie.”

“Yeah, world-famous-high-fantasy-author-Eddie-Munson! He’s, like, actually legit Robin! He’s won the Hugo Award twice!”

“He also likes to go to the Renaissance fair dressed up as a faun and annoy people by playing the pipes, Steve. And you’ve seen his weird monster dildo collection which I know you have too - ”

“I know, I know!” Steve exclaimed as he poured both himself and Robin a glass of Merlot. “I just,” Steve turned to face Robin and sighed. “I’m just scared, Robin. Like, it hasn’t even been that long but he makes me feel – I don’t even know, like, I haven’t felt this way about someone since Nancy, you know? And Eddie - this feels like it could be more than that. Like a forever sort of thing.”

Robin sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I know, dingus. And I know that people have you given you all kinds of shit in the past, but that’s not going to be Eddie. And if it is Eddie, I will kick his ass into the ocean and feed him to your squid-man.”

“Neptus isn’t a squid man, Robin - ”

/////

Robin was right, of course. Robin was always right.

(Except for when it came to best Marvel movie, she said Civil War when everyone knew that Thor: Ragnarok was the superior film.)

Anyways.

Robin was right, it was time for Steve to tell Eddie the truth. And Steve had known that too, knew that stretching it much longer than two months would probably end really, really badly, especially if Eddie didn’t take it well, but enough of his relationships (romantic and otherwise) had been ruined by people just not understanding or not caring enough to try to understand his stories or why he loved what he did, but Eddie was different. Successful and handsome and creative and intelligent? Sure, Steve had dated people who had all those qualities before. But only Eddie Munson spent hours on the phone with Steve’s friends, talking them through their D&D related problems. Only Eddie Munson showed up on their first date with flowers for Steve, when Steve was the one who normally had to go all out for his partner.

And only Eddie Munson would learn Steve’s favorite Taylor Swift songs in his free time (instead of the latest Metallica or Ghost) because he wanted to make Steve smile, which is what Eddie was in the middle of doing when Steve finally worked up the nerve to tell him.

“The stakes are high, the water’s rough, but this love is - ”

“Hey, uh, Eddie? I kind of need to tell you something,” Steve interrupted him as he walked into the living room, beers in hand.

Eddie stopped what he was doing at Steve’s entrance and beamed, setting his acoustic guitar off to the side. “Everything alright, angel?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I just – here,” Steve handed him a beer. He waited until Eddie had taken a sip (and swallowed) before continuing. “I, uh, well – look, we’ve been dating for two months now - ”

“Two months, three days and fourteen hours,” Eddie winked as he took another sip.

“ – and – right,” Steve flushed bright red at the look in Eddie’s eyes. “Right. Uh, anyways, we’ve been dating for two months and I just thought it was time to tell you and – okay, it’s not a big deal but it is kind of a big deal? But not what you’re probably thinking, I’m not, like, married or anything, I – I’m not an accountant, okay, I’m a writer!”

“I know.”

“ – not, like, a normal writer, I write – wait, what?” Steve gaped at Eddie. “You – what?!”

“Baby,” Eddie started slowly, his finger running in tempting circles around the rim of his beer, “you know I know people in the romance world, right?”

“I – what? You knew this whole time?”

“Yep,” Eddie shot Steve a sultry smirk along with another wink. “I knew exactly who you were when I asked you out, big boy. Or, I knew who Robin was and I put two and two together.”

“I – how?!”

“Baby, you didn’t even change your last name.”

Steve just sat there in stunned silence while Eddie continued to sip on his beer, a teasing gleam in his eyes. “But – I – and you’re okay with it?”

At that, Eddie’s smile grew a bit more serious, and he set his beer down on the coffee table so he could hold Steve’s hands in his. “Of course I am, sweetheart. You’re insanely talented, Stevie.”

“I – I write porn, Eddie. With monsters in it.”

“I know, it’s stupidly hot.”

“But you – it could hurt your career if people found out,” Steve said softly, sadly, squeezing Eddie’s hands. “People – people would give you so much shit, Eddie.”

Eddie squeezed back. “Steve, my nickname was ‘The Freak’ in high school. I was a poor kid with shitty parents who was raised in a trailer park. People have given me shit my entire life and frankly, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about what anyone said about you and your writing. If anything, people are going to ask me what the fuck someone as handsome and gifted as you is doing with someone like me.”

Steve snorted and Eddie let out a laugh. “I mean it! You’re like Prince Charming or some shit and I’m the ogre living in the swamp.”

Eddie froze for a few seconds before a maniacal grin overtook his face.

“Eddie?”

“Stevie, baby, have you ever considered a sexy Shrek retelling?”

“No. No.”

(“There’s an Ogre in His Swamp” was released on April Fool’s Day the following year. The author, Richard Harrington, posted a dedication in this book, the first of many that he would dedicate to his husband, E. W. Munson:

To my Ogre – thank you for being my happily ever after.)

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie fanfic #writer Eddie munson #writer Steve harrington #august fanfic challenge

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tomswifty-fr · 2 months

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🍑

🍑Share a tidbit of prose you've written, and give the author's commentary! (The writing can be from a bio, etc)

This is a bit from a few years ago, of Josie and co. trying to make sense of Mike's so-called boyfriend!

“Ah ha!”

Amelia lifted her head, looking for the source of the sound. The normally neat front desk was scattered with binders and notebooks, with Josie’s horns barely visible behind the drift. “What is it?”

The Guardian lifted her chin until she was completely visible, grinning broadly. “Every time Mike is late for work, every time he leaves early, every time he doesn’t show up, he blames it on someone named Irving. ‘I was with Irving and lost track of time,’” she mimicked. “‘Irving’s doing something, and I have to be there! So sorry, I promised Irving!’ But look at this:” Josie waved her claws, indicating the mess on her desk. “Years and years of library records, and no mention of an Irving.”

“How long did it take you to go through all that?”

“No one named Irving lives in Square Toe. He doesn’t exist.”

“Or he doesn’t check out library books.” Amelia turned away, going back to flipping idly through a book of poems.

“Wait, what’s this about Irving?” Cleo approached the front desk, holding an armful of literature. “What’s he up to now?”

“There isn’t an Irving. Mike made him up.” Josie took the volumes, looking down in surprise. “I didn’t know you were such a big reader, Cleo!”

“I’m not. I’m returning ‘em for Sarge.” The Snapper shifted, waiting for Josie to dig the current records out of the piles of old ones. “Irving’s a real person, though. I chased him just last week.”

Josie paused. “You what?”

Cleo nodded. “Lavinia likes me and Sarge to keep an eye out for him, otherwise he’ll get in her garden and rip up the plants. Vince’s seen him too”

Amelia reinserted herself into the conversation, rolling her eyes. “Vince swears he saw the Earthshaker in the desert last week.”

“Well, he’s a bad example. But I’ve met Irving. I’ve pulled his tail feathers, even.”

Josie snorted. “Irving’s an excuse to avoid work, and I’m not accepting it any longer. Next time I see Mike I’m telling him that myself.”

“Tell me what?” Mike dropped into the lobby with a slight flutter of wings. “I finished organizing the cookbooks,” He gestured upward, towards the second-floor balcony, “but I really think you should get someone in to check for mimics. Some of the reading rooms up there have too many chairs.”

“Sarge and I could do that for you, Josie,” Cleo interjected. “We’ll even work cheap, ‘cause it’s civic service.”

“I’ll think about it.” The Guardian turned back to Mike. “We have to talk.”

“Sure. What about?”

Amelia snickered and Josie shot her a look. “It’s about Irving- ”

Mike snapped his paw. “Oh! I almost forgot, can I please take off early tomorrow? Irving’s cousin just got back into town and he’s having a really hard time.”

Josie covered her face and sighed.

So, first of all Irving does exist but he's not a dragon - he's a desert trickster spirit who Mike just happens to be going out with. Lavinia really does not like him because he steals leaves from her mint plants. Irving thinks he's doing her a favor.

Mike is a mild-mannered librarian who has been pulled into ~ghost drama~ mostly against his will.

Josie is the head librarian, and has a lot of anxiety and a lot of aggression, which means that she tends to fixate on details and blow up when things don't make sense. If I had written this today, her reaction would have been uhhh let's say different than just sighing. She is aware of this issue and is working on it.

Vince would be a UFO nut if UFOs were a thing in Sorneith. He is generally well liked but less than reliable.

The Square Toe Library has an ongoing mimic infestation. The library itself has a ton of nooks and crannies and tunnels and backrooms (there is eventually revealed to be an entire guy living down there) so getting rid of them entirely is impossible. Cleo doesn't read, but she is always hustling.

Irving's "cousin" is Elisabuff, another desert spirit but a more sinister one. I have a technically-not-abandoned plot thread about her devious schemes and Irving's rising stress levels. May is involved.

#i got distracted from the ghost stuff for a long time and i'm probably gonna have to rejigger a lot of it #so its on hold for the time being #thank you for asking!

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modelbus · 2 years

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Can you do cc!tommy with academic rivals to lovers and fake dating please?

Fake dating and Tommy is just mmmm

Pairing: CC!Tommy x Gn!Reader

Academic Rivals To Lovers - Fake Dating

“I need you to date me.”

You jerk your head up from your book to meet Tommy’s eyes. The last time you spoke to him was him cussing you out in Spanish class, so you aren’t quite sure how you got here.

“Excuse me?” You choke out.

“I need you to date me. Now. My friends invited me to a gathering, and I’ve been lying to them about dating someone for a long time.”

“Why don’t you just get a real date? Problem solved.”

“Because I don’t want a real fucking date! And I know you feel nothing ever, so you’re my best bet.”

What are you meant to say to that? Thank you? Tommy had a knack for statements you aren’t sure how to respond to.

For two long years, you two have been practically trying to murder each other through grades. Always neck and neck, it was infuriating. When he scored below you in maths, you scored below him in video design.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask.

“I’m really fucking desperate.”

Wow. The Tom Simons admitting he’s desperate? For your help? You’ve definitely fallen into an alternate timeline, but you weren’t about to complain.

“The trophy from the best video in video design class.”

It was a cheap plastic thing, but you both knew what it symbolized. He held it over you every single day in that stupid class and you were tired of it.

“No.”

“Have fun trying to find someone else to fake date you then.”

You start to pack up your books, tucking them away in your bag. It’s only when you stand up from the library table that he finally speaks.

“Fucking fine. Fine!”

Called it. Talking to Tommy was like playing a game of chess, except his pieces were fucking possessed or some shit.

“You’ll give me the trophy?”

“Yes!” He exclaims.

“Cool. So what do I have to do?”

“Just pretend you’re dating me. And that you like me. The story is that we’ve been dating for seven months and met when I sat down next to you at lunch. You were charmed by my amazing humor and hotness.”

“Oh, yeah, like anyone’s going to believe that.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny that his humor is pretty good. It takes some adjusting to, but in the end you found yourself hiding laughter.

“You’re my fake partner, what I say goes.” He argues.

“I’m just saying, if your so-called friends are-"

“Hey! They’re real! Should I teach you their names? Is that something you’d know?”

Jesus. This was going to be a shit show, wasn’t it?

“I’m going to go, just text me what I need to know and I’ll be there.”

“Okay. You swear you’ll do it?”

Pausing, you take a second to analyze his face. Tommy was always an open book, something you actually like about him. Right now you can tell he’s genuinely doubting you’re going along with this.

Honestly, you can hardly believe you’re going along with it either. But blackmail is blackmail, and you really want that fucking trophy.

“Do you need me to pinkie promise or something?” You jokingly ask, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll fucking take it. I need a lot of luck on my side for this one.”

He holds out his pinkie, dead serious. Tommy’s right about one thing: he’ll need a shit ton of luck. So, you lock your pinkie with his, then give him a solemn nod.

“We tell no one.”

“We’ll stage a breakup a week after or something.” He agrees.

As you walk away, you contemplate what the fuck you just did. Did you seriously just agree to fake date a guy you hate? For a trophy?

Hell yeah.

———

The house Tommy told you to go to is nice. Relatively simple, but nice. He’s already waiting for you when you arrive, nervously bouncing on his feet.

“There you are!” He exclaims. “You’re fucking late!”

“First off, hi to you too. Secondly, the traffic was shit. Don’t blame me, blame my Uber driver.” It was true. You even left a full two minutes early!

“I’ll blame both of you. Hurry up, I had to make a bullshit excuse that you spilled water on your shirt.”

Tommy grabs your hand, practically dragging you up to the front door before knocking. It takes a minute but a guy a bit taller than Tommy opens the door, fluffy brown hair falling into his eyes. Wilbur, if the photo Tommy sent you last night was accurate.

“Tommy!” Wilbur exclaims before his eyes fall on you. “Holy shit, your partner is fucking real. Jack’s not gonna believe this. Jack!”

“Okay, great, everyone is real. Can we go inside now? Thanks.” Tommy practically shoves his way past Wilbur, making you come along with him.

“Sorry, Wilbur. You know Tommy. I like your sweater though!” You apologize.

“You know my name,” Wilbur says, closing the door and following you guys.

“Um, yeah. He talks about you guys a lot.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’ve definitely heard him talk about these people to Eryn before.

“You talk about us a lot?” Wilbur asks, eyes widening. “Aw, Tommy-“

“Shut up! Stop embarrassing me!” Tommy cries.

He finally reaches his destination, the one he's been dragging you to the entire time: the living room.

There are even more people in here, sprawled about on various furniture. Suddenly you're grateful for the overkill he had done on teaching you all of their names. You don't realize how you're squeezing Tommy's hand until he squeezes back, an assurance you're entirely unused to. It's weird but welcomed.

"Woah. He wasn't lying about you." A practically bald guy says, jaw dropped. Jack, you think.

"That's what I said!" Wilbur exclaims from behind you two.

"Jesus fucking Christ, did you all really think I'd lie about dating someone? I'm not that pathetic."

You can't contain your laugh, but you attempt to hide it behind your hand. Because Tommy wasn't just pathetic enough to lie about dating someone, he was pathetic enough to fake date his literal rival.

"Well..." Jack shrugs.

"Oi!"

"Good job, Tommy. Didn't think I'd live to see the day." Another person speaks up. This time you know for certain that it's James Marriott speaking.

Why did Tommy have to have so many weird adult friends?

"Hey, leave them alone." A fourth voice defends you both, coming from behind you.

"Phil!" Tommy cries, letting go of your hand to spin around. "Our savior!"

"Yeah yeah, just sit down." Phil laughs.

Tommy doesn't hesitate to take up residence on the couch, leaving you to awkwardly follow him. Nobody ever talks about how awkward it is to fake date someone.

"Right, I want to know how the fuck you got tricked into dating Tommy." Wilbur says.

It's not malicious, nor is the laughter that follows. A quick glance at Tommy shows that even he's laughing. Suddenly Tommy's humor makes a lot more sense.

"He lured me in with promises of creating a Minecraft realm." You tease, taking his hand. He seems confused at the action, so you raise your eyebrows just slightly. You're in this now, if you got found out it'd be embarrassing for the both of you.

"That sounds like Tommy." James agrees.

"What can I say? They call me the romancer."

"You know, Tommy's told us a lot about you. I always believed you were real. Just for the record." Phil glares at Wilbur as if he's to blame for the idea you might not be real.

"What has he been saying? Hopefully nothing about my lack of actual Minecraft skill."

"Oh, no. Tommy's actually even more talkative when it comes to you."

Wait, you thought Tommy lied about dating someone so his friends wouldn't make fun of him. Why would he spin himself into an intricate web of lies by talking about his made-up partner? You knew he was way smarter than that. It presented too many opportunities to slip up.

"I swear to God he doesn't shut up about you. It's really fucking sweet. Always talking about how you scored higher than him on a test, or-"

"Okay, Jack, shut the fuck up now." Tommy interrupts.

"No, I want to hear what you've said about me! It's sweet!" You were starting to get a feeling that something was off here.

"You wore glasses to school once and for a week straight he was-"

"OKAY! I THINK WE'RE THIRSTY!" Tommy yells, standing up.

You take your chance and go with him, following him through the house to the kitchen. There was definitely something you needed to talk about.

The thing was, you had worn glasses to school once. Nearly a year ago. And you were also the only person that ever scored above him on tests.

Tommy had been telling his friends about you, pretending you were dating him.

"Listen, I can explain-" He begins the second he's turned on the tap.

"Can you? Because that sure as hell sounded like you've been pretending I was dating you this entire time. Is that why you wanted me to do this?"

You weren't even sure how to feel about this! Pissed, because you got tricked? Flattered, because he noticed that shit? That he's been talking to his friends about you? But then again, you were meant to hate each other!

"They kept wanting more details! You were the first person to come to mind so I just kind of... ran with it? Listen, I'm really fucking sorry. And yeah, that's part of the reason why I asked you to do this. But it means nothing."

Apologies from Tommy were as rare as netherite. When he offers you the filled cup of water, you take it. It feels like an offering of peace, his own type of olive branch.

"Nothing except that you think of me all the time." You can't help but tease, watching how his cheeks redden.

"Because you're an annoying ass!"

"Oh no, you've called me an annoying ass! My feelings are mortally wounded!"

"Fuck off." He says, but he's laughing.

"I'm dying!" You wheeze, slowly collapsing against the counter.

"No you aren't!"

"How could you do this to me? Your partner!"

"Everything okay? Did you break the fucking tap?" Wilbur yells.

"We're good!" Tommy yells back. "Come on, let's distract them with Mario Kart."

As it turns out, his friends are very easily distracted by competitive games. And they get extremely into them.

Tommy's friends fit him perfectly, and as time goes on you can see him relax more now that you've passed the hardest part of the gathering. You find yourself relaxing, too. They're a fun friend group. If they weren't Tommy's, you'd be looking to steal them.

After a while, you give up on trying to beat Phil's incredible Mario Kart skills, content to just watch the chaos unfold as everyone tries to rally against him. The tournament goes late into the night because someone made the mistake of picking the max number of races possible. (You're pretty sure it was Jack, but he keeps blaming it on James.)

At some point Phil paused the game to hand out blankets and pillows to anyone who wanted one, not even giving you and Tommy a choice before chucking one at your face. Thank God Tommy had good enough reflexes to catch it because you sure as hell didn't.

Despite it all being fake, it's cozy. You're here on a complete fluke and Tommy's incompetence at finding someone to date, but you can't help but wish, just a little, that this was real. Probably just the exhaustion speaking though.

"Aw, look at the couple." Phil coos, drawing everyone's attention to you and Tommy.

You're curled up close to him because Phil only gave you both one blanket. No other reason. Nope, none at all.

"Kiss," Wilbur says simply.

"What?" Tommy asks, laughing a little like Wilbur's making a joke.

"Kiss," Wilbur repeats, a tad bit more insistent.

Oh, fuck. He knows. Or at the very least he suspects something.

"You don't have to," Tommy whispers, so quiet that only you can hear it.

"We kiss or get found out. I'm not risking the latter." You answer, just as quietly.

In the end, it's Tommy who makes the move and kisses you. It's short, barely a peck on the lips. But it's still a kiss with Tommy. Tommy, your literal academic rival.

"Happy, you fuckers?" He groans.

"Very." Wilbur nods. His eyes meet yours for a second before he turns back to the screen.

He definitely fucking knows.

"I'm going to the bathroom." You murmur, standing up and then pausing. "Uh."

"I'll show you." Tommy sighs. "This way. I think."

It feels like you've been doing nothing but following him around today, going where he guides you. Apparently, he guided you into kissing him and you followed.

Not only did you follow, but you didn't mind it.

Very few things in life were certain. The things that never changed were to be treasured, and you thought this one of them. You and Tommy never stopped competing and that was certain. Until tonight. Tonight, where everything was thrown out of balance.

No matter how short the time his lips were against yours, you kissed him long enough for you to come to exactly one realization. One devastating realization: you wanted to kiss him again.

"I'm sorry Wil made us kiss. He's fucking smart, that's why I was worried about him calling our bluff the most." Tommy doesn't look at you.

"He knows. That we aren't really dating."

"Of fucking course he does. So we kissed for fucking nothing?! This is the bathroom, by the way."

Instead of going in, you stop and face him.

"I want to change the deal." You had to take this risk.

"What? You can't fucking do that!" His eyes are blown wide, panicked. He probably thinks you're backing out.

"Instead of the trophy, I want you to answer a single question with complete honesty."

You were a smart person, one that valued knowledge. This answer was far more important than any award could ever hope to be.

"...okay?" He hesitantly accepts. "Right now?"

"Yeah. Why'd you describe me as the person you're dating? Because I know it's not just because I'm an annoying ass." You didn't know. This was a gamble, your biggest ever. Bigger than the time you decided not to study for a science exam.

"Why?" Tommy asks, stalling.

"A deal's a deal. We pinkie promised." You remind him, unmoving.

"You were the first person I thought of." You wait, knowing there's more. As if sensing his defeat, he deflates and adds, "Because you're the person I want to be dating. Nobody else fucking gets it! Nobody else is a fucking challenge! It's just you and your stupid witty comments about things. And I know it makes me sound like a fucking weirdo, but I didn't mean to. Not at first. This whole fake dating thing? I need you to know I didn't fucking plan it. I didn't plan to kiss you. Really, I planned to tell them we broke up in a week!"

The first thing that sinks in is that you were the dumbest person in the world for not realizing sooner. The second thing is that he didn't use the past tense. "Want" not "wanted."

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” He asks.

“I don’t know. I’m just really confused.”

“You’re confused?” Tommy parrots, seeming shocked.

“Yeah! That’s what happens when you fuck with people’s feelings, Tommy!”

He draws back at your anger, but only slightly. It wouldn’t be Tommy if he didn’t yell back at you.

“I didn’t mean for it to go so far!”

“What happened to ‘you don’t feel anything ever, and that's why I chose you,’ huh!?”

“I thought I could get away with this! And nobody would have to find out we aren’t actually dating, and that I have a stupid crush on you! The second one’s already fucked up, so if you want to fuck up the first one, then just do it.”

The only time you’ve ever seen him this emotional was when he lost a stupid nerf gun. A gun you found, because he looked like shit and you needed your rival at his best.

And because you cared about him more than you wanted to admit at the time.

“You know what? I think I will.”

With that, you press your lips to his. There’s nobody around, no reason to kiss him other than wanting to. It might be stupid, but you’re a firm believer that how you feel while kissing someone tells you if you should be together.

“Oh.” Tommy says dumbly once you pull back. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“FUCK YEAH!” He practically screams, making you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Shh!”

“No!” His voice is muffled behind your hand.

“This doesn’t change the fact I’m still smarter than you.”

“I think you mean that I’m smarter than you.”

"In your fucking dreams."

"Oh! Didn't mean to run into your... uh..." James blinks at you two.

"We were just talking." Tommy quickly says.

"Yup!" You agree. "Just talking. With my boyfriend. Outside the bathroom."

"You know, you're a weird fucking couple. I love it. I'm just gonna take the bathroom though."

James slips between you two, shutting the bathroom door.

"Holy shit." Tommy laughs. "We almost got caught!"

"There's not much to catch now, is there?" You ask.

"Huh. Guess not."

He grins, a dopey and idiotic thing. Either way, you smile back at him.

Who would've thought this was how the night turned out?

#tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit #dsmp tommy #dsmp #tommyinnit mcyt #mcyt #mcyt imagine #tommy mcyt #tommyinnit imagine

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theminecraftbee · 2 years

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oh yeah anyway my further deckbuilding advice for hctcg (and other tcgs) but this time less 'actual talk about ratios' and more 'philosophical advice i guess':

netdeck (copy other people) all you'd like. yes i KNOW people will be rude when you netdeck a popular deck but like... actually who cares, deckbuilding is a skill, it's hard, and netdecking gives you a framework you can be pretty sure is decent to start playing with so you can learn mechanically without losing all the time. later, you can adjust it to use stuff you like more, or adjust it based on what you see other people playing. (this is basically entirely how i build magic decks for mtg:a standard, i find a version of what i want to play that someone else made and then adjust it as i play it to be more what i want to play.)

similarly people will complain a LOT about people who play the meta and just... ignore those guys? if you enjoy playing meta play the meta. learning the meta and, more importantly, why certain strategies are meta will make you better at running off-meta when you want to too. literally any competitive game will have a meta, devs will use banlists/limited lists/errata to try to rebalance and change the meta as needed, players will try to break the meta. that's how it goes. you're not a bad person if you like winning. winning is fun. play meta all you want.

if you like a certain effect just build your deck around that thing you'll have fun with it i promise. yes even if it's bad. yes "is this thing really an optimal choice" is how i do a lot of thinking (hence my deck being so many three-ofs part of my process is "if i'm playing this, is it worth playing at less than three"), but that's not everyone's thing. "does this spark joy" is also important!

(glances back at mtg:a again there's a REASON i refused to play mono-black for like the past three sets and that's because i just don't like it, even if playing a deck that could actually play sheoldred probably would have been better,)

remember that single game format kinda sucks a little bit and there's a reason most tournaments play with a sideboard (set of 8-15 cards that you can swap in between games after seeing what your opponent plays). actually DO recommend sideboarding with friends. sideboarding is fun.

you're allowed to tell your friends you're playing with like, your own invented banlist, that's a thing you can do, have fun with it.

uh. basic items are boring but you need to play a lot of them unless you're playing really low-curve and even then my mono-redstone is the equivalent of 'really low curve' and i still hesitate to cut more items,

did you know i got FTKed by stress the other day? because i'm like this and think people should be allowed to play broken stuff i'll tell you how they did it, it was with a combination of rare stress, opponent flipping going second, and opponent drawing into a efficiency book turn one it was SO FUNNY. i love FTKs. winning before the opponent gets to play is very funny.

that's probably unreliable though and WILL make your friends mad at you if you do it so you know. mileage may vary

i still think "cheap and aggro" is probably the best deck atm; like, doc was complaining that pearl needs to be nerfed but i'm REALLY not convinced. maybe it's because i play the deck with all the status effects though.

idk i'm thinking about all of this. rotating it. because i'm a nerd.

#hctcg #i just have Thoughts

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blanketorghost · 1 year

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A taste of Something New (Pt. 1)

"When I'm not with you, I think of you always..."

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Yuu vignette!! I did promise some Yuu pining pre-Azul catching feelings so <3

Fic under the cut!

Summary: Against his better judgement, Yuu wants to bring Azul a meaningful souvenir from the scalding sands.

• Pairing: Yuu Fujisaki x Azul Ashengrotto (one-sided), Azul Ashengrotto x Jamil Viper (implied, one-sided)

• Timeline: During/Post Al'ab Narya and Ch. 4. Pre Ch. 5

• Notes: Azul may be OOC? Have never been good at writing him convincingly imho

----

A simple, recycled cardboard cover. Lined ivory paper with the faintest smell of persimmon. That's what Yuu first saw when he got the idea. The item in itself... wasn't something that really caught much attention when placed besides its other, flashier patterned hard-cover companions. But it was what he could afford on his meager budget. Either way, what mattered was the content.

For the writing materials, though... pencil would be best in theory. But wouldn't that be a bit tacky? Careless, even? Pencil meant insecurity of oneself... leniency. It meant you didn't trust yourself not to make any mistakes. At least, Yuu thought, that's what Azul would assume, right? He was all about appearances. Maybe ink would be a better option.

What if he messed up writing, though?

Yuu picks up another notebook from the stall and ponders. He could always write two just to be safe.

With a heavy sigh, Yuu pays for the stationery alongside some trinkets Grim had gotten enthralled by, checking the price on each one.

Still on budget. Nice.

The idea of gifting Azul a recipe book had come to him on a whim, something he only realized when Jamil was guiding them through Camel market. Seeing all the foreign fruit, smelling such different scents than he was used to... Surely, this could benefit Azul's research for Mostro Lounge. At first, he had thought of just buying the book ready-made, full of expert recipes and images for reference. But wouldn't that be just... too easy? If Azul wanted a Scalding Sands recipe book, he could just order it online. If anything, Yuu could even accidentally gift him a double of one of the many, many books he had on his personal library. So why not make a unique one instead?

It would definitely be a challenge to write in such short notice, though.

To be entirely honest, Yuu wasn't exactly a foodie. His cooking was meant to be easy and cheap as to not go over the meager allowance Crowley gave him each month, and he barely had any time to indulge on cooking anything else than what was essential for him and Grim to survive. He didn't even know where to start. Compared to people like Trey or Jamil, he was already at a disadvantage. And his own skewed sense of self and ego didn't allow him to ask for any help in the matter, so he was stuck at square one.

All of these thoughts and others flooded Yuu's brain as he chewed on the veggie shawarma he'd been offered for lunch. In fact, if it weren't for the sudden disappearance of one of the orders, he would've kept on chewing at it while looking absentmindedly at the crowds passing by.

"Grim... what did I tell you about stealing food?"

"Fgnah! Don't look at me that way!! I didn't take anything! Why take ONE wrap when I could swipe a whole spit of meat from the stall? I'd get way more food!"

"Please don't do that. Ever." Jamil chimes in. And for once, Yuu has to agree with anything he says.

As the group recounts their orders, Yuu looks down at Grim, who's spared little talk after being wrongfully accused of shawarma theft. The little guy was glaring at the ground and had his arms crossed, tapping his foot on the sandy floor as he awaited an apology.

"... wanna try mine?" Yuu crowches down to his friend's level and offers his own wrap to Grim, who side-eyes it momentarily before whipping his head away.

"You ain't gonna eat it?"

"I'm not hungry." Yuu dangles the shawarma in an attempt to make it look enticing, some veggies falling to the ground.

Grim eyes the wrap suspiciously before quickly swiping it from Yuu's hands with starry eyes, basically devouring it as soon as he gets it. Taking big bites and making a little mess on his hands with the sticky sauce. "Mmmh! The vegetables are so fresh and crunchy! The onions and bell peppers are perfectly sautéed and the cumin really makes the cauliflower taste even better! Mnh..." Grim takes another bite of the shawarma, completely delighted. "The lime's also super refreshing. And the chickpeas are crunchy on the outside and butteyr on the inside! It's a perfect balance!"

"Hm. You can really taste all that?" Yuu asks, a little amused at his friend's detailed explanation.

"An'... *munch* this is *munch* just the basics!" Grim exclaims proudly in-between bites. "I could totally tell you every ingredient in this!"

"Do you, now?" Yuu hums. It may be a long shot, but maybe Grim's big appetite could finally be useful. He may not get ratios right, but that would be a good start. "... Hey, Grim? I've got a proposal for you."

#twisted wonderland #yuu fujisaki #azul ashengrotto #twst grim #fanfic stuff #azuyuu #azul x yuu #yuu is actually my pathetic little meow meow #does azul even deserve him tbh

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moonchildreads · 1 year

Text

small town

Chapter 20 - Self Control

IN THIS CHAPTER: The last high school party, apple flavored Kool-Aid, and Andy gets what he deserves [10.3k]

WARNINGS: underaged drinking, mentions of drug use (weed), slut shaming, a little misunderstanding (gets resolved really quickly), suggestive themes? (very mild, eddie's just a little bit wired, okay?)

A/N: i know i'm a day late, i'm sorry T.T someone got fired at my job and i'm supposed to handle their shit now because my boss is kinda cheap. it is what it is. BUT. hopefully this chapter makes up for my tardiness because as you can probably tell from the banner, the slow burn is officially boiling, you guys! enjoy <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

In the night, no control Through the wall something's breaking

Saturday, May 31st - 1986

Dottie was pacing like a nervous dog in a cage, feet hitting the soft rug in front of her closet with each step she took. It was the first Saturday in a long time that she hadn't spent in a blissful domestic bubble with Eddie and she was feeling downright antsy. The night before, once Hellfire had officially said goodbye to its Class of '86, the two teens had sat themselves in a booth at the back of The Hideaway with burgers, fries, and milkshakes, and something had finally clicked into place for her. There was no longer a specific need for them to spend so much time together anymore - no more exams to study for, no more books to read or worksheets to fill, and yet there they were still, on a Friday night, getting food together like usual. Sitting opposite of Eddie in that booth, watching him try to lick ketchup from the corner of his mouth and not reaching the smudge with the tip of his tongue, it dawned on Dottie that she had never loved anyone the way she loved him.

It wasn't that Dottie hadn't loved throughout her life, because truthfully she had. She had loved her Dad first, tiny fingers wrapping around a big thumb when she was just a few hours old. She'd loved her Grandparents, all four of them equally, but maybe no one should tell them that Grandma Jo leaving after a visit would always cause the biggest sobs to escape her tiny toddler body. She'd loved her Uncle Johnny, always cuddling up to him while they lived together, not really understanding that he wasn't actually her Uncle until it was too late to start calling him anything else. She'd loved her friends back in New York, even though she knew now that they hadn't loved her back in return. Hell, she'd loved Tyler, or else it wouldn't have hurt as much as it did when he broke her heart. Dottie wasn't someone that didn't know what loving meant or felt like, but the way she loved Eddie was unlike any other kind of love she had ever experienced before, and she knew she had to tell him sometime soon or she'd regret it for the rest of her life.

But first, there was prom, and graduation, and most pressingly, a party for which she had absolutely no idea of what she was going to wear, hence the continuous pacing. James, tired of hearing the back and forth on the wooden floors for the last fifteen minutes, came into his daughter's bedroom resigned to play stylist for the night like he'd done so many times before. Keeping up with the latest trends for the sake of his little girl was a full time job he had long ago learned to love.

"Do you know what Nancy is gonna wear?" he asked, sitting down at the end of Dottie’s bed.

"No, I didn't think to ask. But she always looks so pretty, Dad, I can't look like a bum."

"How about you tell me what you don't want to wear and we can start from there, okay?"

Thirty minutes later, Dottie had an outfit laid out where James had been sitting and she was doing her makeup in a hurry before Nancy picked her up. The plan was simple: go to the party, say hi to Chrissy and thank her for the invite, hang out with Nancy for a bit, meet up with the boys, and if the party sucked, head over to Jeff's for a movie night. He'd rented Ghoulies and Weird Science for the weekend and he still hadn't seen either, so it seemed as good a backup plan as any. Besides, movie nights had always meant sharing a blanket with Eddie and cozying up to him when she got sleepy. No matter what ended up happening, she knew her night wouldn't be completely terrible.

"Honey? Are you done yet? Nancy is here!" James yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

"I'll be down in a second!" she hurried to put on her clothes and ran down the stairs to meet her friend, crossbody bag bouncing behind her and hitting her backside.

She found Nancy politely making small talk with her Dad on the foyer; James had gone to school with her mom Karen and had fond memories of sharing a desk with her throughout their many years at Hawkins’ various academic buildings. They hadn't exactly been friends, but they always were on good terms and had even worked on a few projects together, namely one about growing sprouts from beans in mason jars when they were in middle school.

"Hey! Sorry for making you wait," Dottie said, stopping to hug Nancy who was better prepared to receive it than she had been in the school’s bathroom a day before.

"You're fine, don't worry about the time," Nancy reassured her. "There aren't any schedules to keep at these parties, everyone just comes and goes when they want to."

"Oh, good to know that we can just leave whenever if it sucks."

"Speaking of that," James said, getting his daughter's attention. "Call me if you're staying at Jeff's, okay? I'll come pick you up tomorrow."

"Donny can drop me off, you don’t gotta come," she waved her hand nonchalantly.

"Okay, but call me anyway so I know where you are. Take care you two, don't get too wild."

"Dad, seriously," Dottie rolled her eyes, exasperated but not without fondness. She knew he worried too much, but after all they’d been through, she couldn't blame him.

"Have a good night, Mr. Burke, it was nice to meet you," Nancy said, heading out with Dottie at her heels.

"You too, Nancy. Say hi to your parents for me, will you?"

The girls got into Nancy's car and drove away towards Loch Nora, the radio playing The Rolling Stones’ Harlem Shuffle softly in the background. They talked about random things, filling the empty space with the kind of anxious but lighthearted conversations one would have with someone they don’t know very well yet. So far their budding friendship had proved satisfactory for both girls, and they were willing to put in the effort to get to know one another better, even when that meant having to venture outside the comfort zone The Weekly Streak’s newsroom provided. During the ride Nancy complimented Dottie's outfit, and in turn, she had loudly admired hers, prompting the blue-eyed girl to admit she'd borrowed the shiny jacket with padded shoulders from her Mom’s wardrobe. After a good-natured laugh, Dottie admitted she had stolen her dress from her Mom’s closet too and Nancy told her her Mom had good taste. When they parked across the street from Jason Carver's house however, the friendly chatter ceased and both girls stared at the two-storey rising in front of them with apprehension.

"I'm so nervous," Dottie admitted, watching the colors spilling from the fairy lights inside the living room paint the veranda red, then green, then blue, and finally back to red.

"Me too," Nancy said, taking a shaky breath. "But we got this. How bad can it be?"

"Yeah. You’re right. It’ll be fun," Dottie nodded, and arm in arm they ventured inside the packed house in search of good old teenage normalcy.

Neither Nancy nor Dottie were having the slightest bit of fun. After a few shouted-over-loud-music hellos to some familiar faces, they had found themselves in Jason’s kitchen, nursing cups of a strange brown concoction that didn’t smell good and tasted even worse. Dottie wasn’t much of a drinker, and apparently Nancy wasn’t either, citing that the last time she’d gotten drunk, she’d embarrassed herself so badly she’d rather not have a repeat. The jocks and popular kids disagreed heavily with that assessment, and were having a lot of fun with two kegs in the backyard next to the pool. Dottie had suggested they venture out, sit by the water where it wasn’t as stuffy, but Nancy had quickly directed her into the kitchen where they ran into Marcie Hurley, an acquaintance from the newspaper club. Marcie was a lovely tall girl with a bold pixie cut; she was currently slightly intoxicated but full of ideas for stories to run in the last edition of The Weekly Streak before summer holidays started. Nancy pretended to listen to her with her utmost attention, but Dottie could tell by the way her eyes were glazed over that she was definitely calculating how much more she’d have to hear before she could get away without coming across as rude. Two girls Dottie didn’t know walked into the kitchen searching for something fruity to drink when they said something that caught her attention.

“What do you mean Munson said no?” one of the girls was saying.

“He said he wasn’t selling tonight! Which is honestly such bullshit, he was smoking with some other guys, he definitely had something on him,” the second girl said, pouring vodka into a cup.

“Show him your tits, maybe he’ll share with you.”

“Ew, I’m not that desperate!” the first one laughed loudly.

Dottie scowled immediately. She’d once gotten curious about him dealing and asked him a couple of questions, like how did he get into selling and if he was allowed to smoke his own product. Eddie hadn’t been particularly proud of his answers, but she told him she didn’t mind: the money helped pay for some bills around the trailer and put food onto their table. It wasn’t like he was dealing hard stuff or was some kind of mafia lord moving tons of product, for fuck’s sake. People talked about him like he had his thumb on the illegal underground in Hawkins when in reality, he was just a teen selling weed and a couple of pills here and there to a few fellow students at parties. Dottie hoped he’d never done something as gross as asking a girl to show him her body in exchange for a couple of hits of a shitty joint. She liked to believe she knew Eddie, and in her opinion he’d never do something like that, but teenagers had never been particularly known for making good choices. Nancy was already looking at her when she turned around, a knowing smile on her face. She nodded towards the door once, and after a whispered “thank you” off Dottie went in search of her friends.

The boys were enjoying the fresh air and sharing a smoke on the veranda at the front of the house, not really ready to go inside and face the music just yet. Donny had picked up Gareth and Jeff on his way to the party, but Eddie had arrived solo just a few minutes after them. They were talking about music, as they often did, when Dottie opened the front door and jumped on Jeff’s back, who flinched in surprise.

“Fucking hell, Dot, you’re gonna kill me someday if you keep doing that,” he said, rubbing his chest.

“I was worried you guys weren’t gonna show up,” she admitted, hanging onto his shoulders. He leaned his weight into her, hands wrapping around her loose wrists like they were backpack straps to keep her in place as they swayed side to side.

“Party sucks that much?” Donny asked, passing along the joint to Gareth.

“I mean, it’s not like I know a lot of people here. I’ve been hearing Nancy talk to other girls all night, and I think she’s as fed up as me.”

“Wanna ditch?” Jeff asked.

“We’re not leaving until I drink my fuckin’ weight in rich people’s beer,” Gareth declared, giving the cig to Eddie who took a long drag and put the roach out on the underside of the railing he was leaning against.

“If you want beer, there are a bunch of cans in the kitchen but you gotta fish them out of the cooler and someone spilled something green in there. It’s kinda gross,” Dottie grimaced.

“What? No keg?”

“Actually, there’s two in the backyard but the basketball team took ownership of one and I think the football team was doing handstands on top of the other one.”

“That’s so fucking lame,” Donny scoffed.

“Well then, who’s down for fishing?” Jeff looked at the guys, and Gareth shrugged, putting his hands in his jean pockets and following him inside.

“You coming?” Donny asked Eddie who didn’t move from his spot.

“Nah, gonna smoke a cig first. You go ahead,” he said, getting his Camels out of his front pocket.

Donny headed back inside and then it was just Dottie and Eddie under the moonlight, the tiny lamp above the front door doing nothing to shield them from the darkness. Eddie smiled, putting the cigarettes back in his pocket and opening his arms so Dottie could sheepishly tuck herself into him. She felt like she could finally breathe easy when feeling his chest rising up and down under her cheek, his warmth seeping into her bones.

“Too many people?” he asked knowingly, cupping the back of her head with one of his hands. Her fingers drew patterns on the soft cotton of his shirt.

“Mhm,” she nodded. “This is nice.”

“Yeah? You like my shirt?”

“Smells good,” she laughed. He smelled like Old Spice aftershave and laundry detergent.

“Why, thank you for noticing I showered, princess,” he said, grinning. “You look pretty. This your Mom’s dress?”

“Yeah,” she beamed, looking down at her shift baby blue dress. “I didn’t know what to wear so I just played it safe. The socks are new though,” she lifted her leg to show her white ankle socks with frills under her black kitten heels.

“So cute,” Eddie pouted theatrically, making her slap his chest in return. “No, really. You look nice.”

“Thanks,” she settled back against him, cheeks burning.

They enjoyed each other’s presence for a few seconds when the front door opened with a bang, an overexcited and red-eyed Chrissy Cunningham spilling out from the inside, her giggles following her as she skipped towards them in tune with the music coming from the speakers in the living room.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked, a mischievous grin gracing her fairy-like features.

“Hey, Chris,” Eddie smiled, still holding onto Dottie as she turned in his arms to take a look at the newcomer. “How was your latest purchase?

“It was so good. Valerie, Julie and I just smoked a joint each in the bathroom,” she whispered conspiratorially, making Dottie laugh.

“Oh my. What would Jason say if he knew you were hotboxing his shower?” Eddie matched her tone.

“What Jason doesn’t know won’t hurt him. D’you want to smoke with us later, Dot? Only girls allowed.”

“Sorry, I’m not really a smoker,” Dottie said, feeling a little bit dumb. “But I’ll take you up on that Queen song you promised me yesterday if you wanna dance.”

“Oh my God, yes!” Chrissy grabbed her arm and pulled her out of Eddie’s grasp. “She’s mine now, Ed!”

“I can see that. I’m gonna go get a beer,” Eddie said, following them inside. “Have fun, ladies!”

“We will!”

Weed affects different people in different ways. That was a fact Dottie knew after spending so much time with the members of Corroded Coffin, better known as her best friends. Donny was always virtually the same after a good session, just got very thirsty. Eddie would get deep and thoughtful, and once the effects were gone, he’d get so hungry he’d eat drywall if it was the only thing around. Gareth, like Chrissy, would get giggly once he hit that sweet spot. It was like drinking, Donny had told her once. Everyone had a different tolerance, and most of the time taking a few hits of a shared joint wouldn’t be enough to change anyone’s personality significantly. There were other people like Jeff, for example, who had a very low tolerance and had decided to stop smoking altogether after realizing he’d get panicky and his clothes would always start itching each time he indulged in the vice with his friends. None of them had ever questioned him or pressured him to smoke after that, the same way that they didn’t pressure Dottie to smoke or drink when they were doing it around her. They’d always smoke outside, and Dottie and Jeff were free to lounge around on the couch and talk about anything and everything until they all regrouped inside again. Watching Chrissy be so carefree and joyful made Dottie think that maybe she’d enjoy being invited to one of their movie nights some day.

Chrissy, on the other hand, was a girl on a mission. There were no movie nights being planned in her head; she was instead focused on getting information out of Dottie to relay to Eddie at his earliest convenience. Chrissy liked Dottie, she really did. She liked how kind and attentive she was despite always walking around with an anxiety cloud above her head. She liked how she dressed, with her vintage clothing and big earrings Chrissy couldn’t wear because it’d be dangerous for a cheerleader to be tossed around with hoops or fun acrylic shapes dangling from her ears. She liked how she made Eddie feel, and Chrissy liked Eddie very much, so that just cemented Dottie in her mind as a good person to have around. And so, the blonde lulled her into a sense of comradery with heartfelt compliments and wild dances, trying to get to the bottom of the question she’d had swirling around in her brain for two months now: do you like my friend or is he wasting his time to end with his heart broken? To her credit, what came out of her mouth was much more subtle than that.

“Eddie’s awesome, isn’t he?” Chrissy asked, casting her line into the sea and waiting for Dottie to bite.

“Yeah, he’s great!”

“He was so right about us being friends! I’m so happy you came!”

“Well, thank you for inviting me!” Dottie smiled at her, and Chrissy squeezed her hand in response.

The party was in full swing now. Nancy had found a couple of classmates she got along with and finally managed to escape Marcie’s insistent newspaper talk; she looked much more happy talking to them near the door to the backyard than she’d looked like back in the kitchen. Donny, Gareth and Jeff were fishing out beer cans from the cooler and passing them along to people that normally ignored them in the hallways, their bravery for sticking their hands into the horrid green liquid making them the heroes of underaged teens trying to get unbearably drunk before inevitably throwing up all over Mrs. Carver’s bushes. Eddie stood to a side, near the archway that led to the stairs where bubblegum pink eyeshadow Marianne from his Sociology class had just disappeared up to with his lovesick boyfriend trailing behind her, much to his friends’ jeers and claps. The metalhead had a barely sipped on beer in his hand and hearts in his eyes as he watched Dottie and Chrissy spin around in the middle of the living room, singing along to Top 40 hits and dodging couples making out.

Eddie had never felt happy at a house party before. He’d usually drop by, deal a little bit from the back of his van, and speed away either to Jeff’s house to hang out with his friends or back towards his trailer where he’d smoke and fuck around with his guitar until he’d fall asleep on his tummy with his jeans still on. But standing there, seeing his friends being treated like normal people instead of the dirt beneath a shoe, he felt happy at a party for once in his life. He felt like a normal teenager, like everyone else in the Hawkins High Class of ‘86 saying goodbye to a long school year and hello to the unforgettable summer ahead. Chrissy made a suggestive face at him while dancing around with Dottie and Eddie laughed.

“Hey, Munson!” a familiar voice said, coming to clap his shoulder and snapping him out of his trance.

“Hey, Foster. How are you doing?”

“Weird seeing you here,” Kyle Foster of the Yearbook Club said, looking friendly but fidgety. “You never sell inside at these things.”

“Not selling tonight, man. Just enjoying the beer,” he lifted his can above waist level to demonstrate.

“Ah, dude, that sucks. I had a twenty with your name on it,” he clicked his tongue. “But if our deal still stands, I guess in a couple of weeks you’ll have a bag with my name on it.”

“I’m a man of my word, Foster,” Eddie smirked, shoving his hand into his pocket. “But here, for your troubles.”

He produced a tightly rolled joint from inside his packet of Camels and extended it to Kyle, who looked at him like he’d grown two heads. Never in his entire time being Eddie’s customer had he sold him a pre-roll, much less one that he had intended to smoke himself at some point. He eyed him curiously, not making any moves to pluck it out of the dealer’s hand.

“You sure about that, Munson?” he asked, giving him the chance to recant his offer.

“Yeah, you can have it. I’m not gonna smoke it and I’m feeling generous tonight. Just don’t send anyone else my way, okay? It’s the only one I had.”

“Y-yeah, man, sure! Thanks,” Kyle smiled, grabbing his prize for holding a polite conversation with the town’s freak who felt like less and less of a monster as the school year came to a close. “Here, take the twenty anyways,” he pulled a single bill from his back pocket. “Sorry about, y’know, that whole thing. See you when the yearbooks come out!”

And with that, he shoved the note into Eddie’s hand and left towards the backyard, probably in search of a borrowed lighter to spark up in a corner of Jason Carver’s lush garden. Eddie looked down at his hand, snorted, and put the twenty bucks away to spend another day. Maybe he’d get Dottie a strawberry milkshake like he’d done the day before, only to watch her eyes light up at the first taste and indulge in her pleas because it’s so good, Ed, you gotta try this! They make them with real strawberries! Chrissy found his eyes again over Dottie’s shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him. He clutched his chest like he had been hurt by her, overdramatic as always, and Dottie twirled Chrissy around breaking their eye contact. The songs changed but the girls stayed dancing and he kept on watching them with a satisfied smile on his face. It was a shame, really, that Eddie often became blind whenever he saw the girl he was in love with being truly, completely happy, because if he didn’t, he would have noticed one Andy fucking Humphrey staring at him like he could make the dumb metalhead drop dead in a heartbeat just by looking at him.

Jason Carver wasn’t the typical high school bully you’d see in films. Truthfully, he wasn’t even a bully; he just kept quiet while his friends did all the fucked up things the basketball team was infamous for. He was known as someone who would fly off the handle quickly, but not without reason. He took freshmen and sophomores under his wing, taught them what being a good teammate looked like, gave them a family within the walls of Hawkins High as part of his team. Jason was, if anything else failed, extremely protective and fiercely loyal to his own, and expected the same considerations to be returned to him. So when Andy, one of his best friends since elementary, came running to tell him that The Freak of Hawkins High was trying to flirt with his girlfriend in front of everyone, Jason had no reason to doubt him. Why would he, when Andy had been nothing but reliable all this time?

“What do you think you’re doing, creep?” Jason told Eddie, his tone low, trying not to call too much attention to themselves. Chrissy didn’t need to see this, she didn’t have to know she was being ogled by a pervert under his own roof.

“Drinking your beer, Carver, what does it look like I’m doing?” Eddie said with a sour tone, and instantly knew that had been the wrong answer.

“Yeah? What makes you think you’re welcome in my house?”

“Chill, man, I got invited, same as everyone else.”

“Who would want you here?” Chance Peterson said, appearing at Jason’s shoulder. This was bad.

“Uh, his girlfriend? Just like everyone else?” Eddie deadpanned, putting his can of beer on a ledge and lifting his palms. “Look, I’m really not looking to cause any trouble tonight-”

“Why would Chrissy invite you? You aren’t friends,” Patrick asked, and Eddie held back a scoff. He was willing to bet he knew Chrissy, the real Chrissy, more than any of these meatheads did.

“She invited all the seniors, that’s all there is to it. I’m a senior too-”

“Yeah, a senior citizen, you freak,” Chance said. “Why don’t you go home early and leave us actual seniors alone, huh? What is this, your tenth time trying to graduate?”

“See Peterson, I always knew you didn’t know how to count, but didn’t think you would be so bad at it. Should have known though, it’s not like anyone expects you to do anything that isn’t playing around with your balls. Now why don’t you back off and let your captain here and I have a civil conversation, alright?” Eddie looked down at Chance who narrowed his eyes at him, but Jason threw his arm out to stop him from moving forward.

“We’re not having a conversation, Munson. Back off my girlfriend or leave.”

“I’m not interested in your fuckin’ girlfriend, Carver,” Eddie said, bewildered.

“You say that, but you sure were looking at her before we walked in,” Andy said, stepping around his friends to stand next to Jason. “Wanna explain that?”

“Is looking at someone a goddamn crime now? Can’t exactly leave my eyes at home, you dumbass,” Eddie said, getting loud.

“So you were looking at Chrissy!” Jason yelled.

“No, I wasn’t! Believe it or not, not everyone is fuckin’ in love with your girlfriend, man!”

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Donny flanked Eddie, his voice booming over the sound of the music.

“Back off, dude, what’s your deal?” Gareth threatened Chance when he shoulder-checked him.

People were starting to catch on now, curious eyes looking around for the latest gossip. Jason and Eddie yelling at each other wasn’t exactly new, but both groups of friends having a screaming match at a house party? Now, that was juicy. As everyone started insulting and trying to intimidate each other, Eddie looked around trying to find Dottie in the crowd. She was still dancing with Chrissy, oblivious to the conflict, and now another cheerleader had joined them; he was pretty sure she was a junior and her name was Valerie.

“Hey! Stop looking at her, asshole!” Andy said, grabbing Eddie’s hair and turning his head back towards the imminent fight.

Andy’s voice was loud enough to startle the girls and make them look their way. Chrissy and Valerie paled instantly, hurrying forward to try to contain the scene before it turned truly ugly, leaving a path open behind them for Dottie to follow. Chrissy grabbed Jason’s arm and tried pulling him away when Eddie turned to Dottie and shook his head, his curls still in Andy’s grasp.

“It’s okay, Dot, stay over there!” he told her, not wanting to get her involved and hurt.

But it was too late, because Andy, as stupid as he was, caught on pretty quickly. He hadn’t recognized her before, all dolled up and giggly while she danced with Chrissy and Valerie. He’d simply assumed she was one of their friends, maybe even a junior he hadn’t really paid too much attention to while in school. Insistent on Eddie perving on Chrissy, he’d missed a crucial detail: that the unknown girl she was dancing with was the same girl that had threatened him in the AP Spanish classroom just a week ago. The same one that had told him to stay away from the Hellfire Club. That girl wasn’t Chrissy’s friend, she was a freak, merely blending in with the rest of the school population because she didn’t wear dark colors and leather. Andy turned on her so quickly she didn’t have time to heed Eddie’s warning before he was spewing venom towards her.

“I see now, freak,” Andy said, letting go of Eddie’s hair with a shove and stepping towards Dottie. “You weren’t looking at Chrissy, you were looking at your bitch.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?” Dottie said, angrily.

“That’s what you are, isn’t it? The freak’s little bitch. That’s why you came after me last week, huh?” Andy was seething. “Did he tell you to do that?”

“You brought that on your own by being a smug idiot,” she told him, not backing down from the fight even though she was terrified of him.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Patrick asked.

“This slut tried to tell Mr. Lorenzo that I cheated on a test if I didn’t leave her friends alone,” Andy explained, once again looking smug. Everyone was watching them now. “Said I was gonna lose my ride to college, acted all flirty and shit. What is it, honey? The freak not giving it to you good enough? Do they all share you, like the big whore you a-”

“Fuck!”

Dottie hadn’t hesitated. Instead, she’d just simply punched him right in the face with her right fist, thumb on the outside like her Grandpa Ken had taught her when they were boxing in his backyard one summer, hitting pillows and humming along to the Rocky theme song while Grandma Caroline made fresh lemonade. The crack that followed the punch was deafening. All chatter ceased and the music was turned off - if a needle were to hit the floor, it would have been so easily heard in the silence that followed her expletive. It had hurt for him, yes, something was definitely broken, but the impact on her knuckles had split the delicate skin covering them, not used to being treated so roughly by colliding against a jock’s bones. Andy pinched his nose with pain, blood starting to pour down his cupid’s bow.

“Wait, no!” Chrissy gasped, as Andy reached over to take someone’s beer can out of their hand and emptied it on Dottie’s head, throwing it away once it was empty. The metal clang on the floor until it hit someone’s shoe.

“What the fuck?” Gareth managed to say, before Eddie launched himself and pushed Andy away from Dottie who just stood there clutching at her hand and looking at the floor in shock.

Her Mom’s dress was ruined, sticky liquid dripping from her hair onto the soft fabric, staining everything as it went down, down, down onto her thighs and legs until it reached her socks. She smelled like an alcoholic and her fingers hurt. She felt empty, adrenaline leaving her body as she shivered while everything around her dissolved into utter chaos. The Hellfire Club and the basketball team were yelling and pushing each other once again, people rushing to get out of their way so they wouldn’t get hit. With the reflexes of someone used to being on alert, Nancy grabbed Dottie’s arm and yanked her aside just in time for Andy to push Eddie off himself and into a side table. Eddie hit the floor with a sickening crunch, but what made everyone stop the brawl was the sound of the lamp on top cracking into a million little pieces right next to the couch.

“Jason, stop this!” Chrissy pleaded, hanging onto his arm.

Andy, not one to be deterred, snapped his head towards Dottie, not caring that Nancy threw an arm out to cover her with her own body. He raised his hand, fully on board with hurting either of them to make a point, when Jason finally snapped into action and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into Patrick’s arms who instantly held him in place, Chance coming over to help.

“Are you crazy?” Jason yelled at his friend. “We don’t hit women!”

He turned just in time to see Chrissy helping Eddie up, the two of them muttering to each other softly, looking a lot more friendly than he liked. His eye twitched once and he looked at Hellfire as they huddled closer to each other and started inching towards the exit, Nancy and Chrissy herding them out.

“Get out of my fucking house!” Jason told them, like they weren’t already trying to leave.

“Gladly,” Donny said, closing the door behind them and shielding them from further aggressions.

“You guys, I am so sorry,” Chrissy was saying, not knowing who to direct it to first.

“It’s okay, Chris. Not your fault your boyfriend has shithead friends,” Eddie said, patting her shoulder in comfort.

“Still, I should have-,” she cut herself off because there was nothing she could have done; the basketball team and the Hellfire Club were destined to hate each other until the end of time. She turned to Dottie instead. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I think so. My hand hurts,” she sniffed. “I’m sorry we ruined your party.”

“Oh, please, that party sucked,” Chrissy snorted. “The most fun I had all night was when we were dancing with Val.”

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Donny said, guiding Dottie towards his car.

“I can drive her, I brought her here,” Nancy offered, giving him half a smile. She wasn’t friends with the guys, but she knew enough about them through Mike to have at the very least positive feelings towards them. Besides, it wasn’t like Jonathan hadn’t also been an outcast back when he was still in Hawkins. She knew what that was like.

“No, no,” Dottie hurried to say. “You should both go back to the party. Eddie can drive me, Don, I don’t want to ruin your car.”

“Are you sure?” Chrissy said, not wanting to leave her in such a vulnerable state.

“Yes, I’m sure. Go back inside, it’s your party,” she squeezed the blonde’s hand. “I had fun dancing with you, thank you for inviting me.”

“Maybe we can do it again some day? Just us girls?” Chrissy said, eyes full of hope.

“I’d love that,” Dottie said, and she really meant it.

“Okay, then… let’s go back inside, Nancy. Bye guys, drive safe,” Chrissy waved at them, pulling her cardigan closed and both girls disappeared back into the house.

“Is this a bad time to say that I stole a case of beers?” Gareth said, lifting a 12-pack and bringing some much needed humor to the situation.

“Let’s go back to mine then, we can sneak in through the basement door,” Jeff proposed, and Donny nodded.

“I’m… I’m gonna pass, guys,” Eddie said. “I’ll take her home and head back to the trailer. My ass kinda hurts.”

“Have fun without us, okay? I’m sorry I ruined it,” Dottie said, tears swimming in her eyes. Whether it was because of the shame or the pain in her hand, no one knew but no one asked her either.

“Hey now, you didn’t ruin anything. We’ve got an awesome story to tell the kids someday,” Donny laughed.

“Yeah! We’ll be like: Auntie Dot broke a jock’s nose back in high school because he called her names,” Jeff said, putting on an old man voice and Dottie chuckled wetly.

“Come on, let’s go,” Eddie said, guiding her towards his van with a hand on her lower back.

“I should sit in the back, I’m gonna get your seats dirty,” Dottie said.

“Don’t even think about it, there’s no seatbelts in the back,” he said, climbing in and rummaging around for the tarp they covered Gareth’s drumset with when they moved it for gigs.

The music from inside the house was booming again when Donny’s car pulled into the street and the boys left, saying goodbye by honking twice. Eddie covered the front seat with the tarp and helped her get in, clicking the seatbelt for her in place and jogging to get to the driver’s side. Dottie stared out the window as Eddie turned the van on and backed up into the street, waving at a defeated Chrissy who was looking out from the living room’s window. When Eddie stopped at the first intersection, Dottie turned to look at him.

“Ed?” she asked in a shaky voice. “Can you take me to yours instead?”

The trailer was empty with all the lights turned off when they arrived, which was unusual for a Saturday night. Wayne had always had weekends off, after all, he had a kid at home to take care of and nobody was an asshole enough to ask an old man to come in during his time away with his family. Still, as Eddie kneeled down next to the entrance to help Dottie undo her heel buckles, she looked around while holding onto his shoulders and found herself missing her Mr. Wayne. Eddie had asked her in the van why she didn’t want to go home, and she had simply replied she didn’t want to tell her Dad she’d gotten into a fight just yet. She’d failed to mention that she was expecting Wayne to give her the parental comfort she needed, but without the grounding she was sure she was gonna get from her own father.

“He’s at the plant,” Eddie said, guessing her silent inquiry. “He’s doing extra time this weekend so he can take a couple of days off for graduation.”

“That’s really sweet,” she smiled, stepping out of her shoes now that he’d gotten them unbuckled. The beer that had dripped down her legs had stained the tops of her socks.

“Wait here, okay? I’ll get the shower running for you, the knobs are… well, they’re stupid,” he shrugged with resignation. “You can call your Dad if you want, tell him where you are.”

He started the shower for her while she dialed home, James picking up after a few long rings. He listened to her talk quietly while getting her a towel and clean clothes; she hadn’t exactly asked, but Eddie got confirmation that she wanted to spend the night when he heard her lie to her Dad about being at Jeff’s and having a movie night. Eddie wasn’t about to complain about her not mentioning she was with him if it meant he could sleep next to her for a full night. He went back into the bathroom, lowered the toilet’s lid and put the things he’d gathered for her on top before opening the mirror cabinet and pulling out a new toothbrush along with a packet of makeup wipes. She hung up and walked into the small bathroom after him, looking at the items in his hands with a quirked eyebrow.

“I wear eyeliner for our gigs sometimes,” he admitted. “It always looks like shit, but if it’s good enough for Ozzy, it’s good enough for me.”

“Maybe I can teach you how to do it right sometime,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting into half a smile.

“Maybe you should just do my makeup so I don’t poke my eye out.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll do your makeup next time.”

“Kick your clothes out the door when you take them off, I’ll throw them in the washing machine for you,” he said, and left her to her devices.

He went back into his bedroom to give her privacy and get changed into his own PJs, which consisted of an old ratty t-shirt with a couple of holes around the neck and plaid pants he was sure had belonged to Wayne at some point in their lives. While he busied himself changing his sheets into fresh ones, putting her clothes in the washer and making his bedroom look somewhat presentable, Dottie tried to hurry up in the shower, not wanting to use up all the water. Still, she couldn’t help but take her time appreciating the fact that Eddie actually owned conditioner and that the green apple smell that surrounded him in the mornings belonged to the big bottle of shampoo in the corner of the tub. She washed all the beer off her skin and hair and, feeling a lot more like herself, wrapped her body into the soft off-white towel he’d gotten for her, standing at the mirror to rid herself of her make up as best as she could. She brushed her hair quickly, scrunching her curls into the towel to remove the excessive moisture, and brushed her teeth making a note to buy him a new toothbrush to replace the one she’d used. Timidly, she also reached for his deodorant, reasoning that it was better to use it than to stink up his clothes and bed with her sweat.

She was studying herself in the small mirror, not entirely believing that she was wearing Eddie’s clothes, when she realized the light scabbing on her knuckles had probably loosened up with the water and they were all bloody again like she’d never cleaned them up in the first place. Poking her head out of the bathroom, she directed her voice towards his bedroom where she could hear him pottering about.

“Eddie?” she called.

“Yeah?”

“D’you have any bandages? My hand’s bleeding again.”

“Uh, lemme see,” he pushed the door open and rummaged around in the sink cabinet, grabbing a little bag that contained their first aid supplies. “Come, sit on the bed,” he instructed, and she did as he asked without a word.

He kneeled in front of her and inspected her right hand, closing each finger carefully and pressing on parts of her palm to see if anything hurt. Nothing seemed to be permanently broken, so reached over to his bedside table where a cup of water sat and gave her an ibuprofen to help with the swelling before moving on with his next task. She watched him as he worked diligently to clean the scrapes, long thick fingers fluttering softly on her skin.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” Dottie asked.

“I’m getting a weird déjà vu here, princess,” he chuckled. “You need to stop getting into trouble before I get into pre-med.”

“Can’t help it. Trouble’s my middle name.”

“I thought it was Ann?” Eddie said, laughing.

Truthfully, he was joking around to hide the fact that he had been losing his mind since she’d opened the bathroom door and came out all rosy-cheeked, smelling like him and wearing his clothes. He’d given her one of his old shirts, a white one he hardly ever used anymore with a Garfield print at the front and his blue checkered boxers, not expecting them to look as big on her as they did. The hem of the shirt almost covered the shorts, and the short sleeves went past her elbows. The less was said about his gray socks that bunched up at her heel, the better, and he tried not to think about the fact that he knew she wasn’t wearing a bra because he’d had the most mortifying pleasure of throwing the cute cotton garment into his washing machine fifteen minutes earlier. Eddie was wrapping up her knuckles with a long piece of gauze when he noticed she’d gone strangely quiet. He looked up at her face to find her teary-eyed and chewing on a wobbly lip.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, holding onto her hand. “Is it too tight?”

“Is that… what everyone thinks about me?” she whispered, like she was afraid of asking out loud.

“I- I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, darling.”

“Wh-what Andy said. About me being… does everyone think I’m a slut?”

“What? No! Of course not!” he stuck the gauze in place with a piece of medical tape and lifted himself onto his knees between her legs to hug her. “Dot, he didn’t even know who you were until tonight, he was just talking out of his ass.”

“I’m not a whore,” she muttered into his shoulder. “I promise I’m not.”

“Darling, what are you on about, huh?” he grabbed her face with two hands and brought her eyes to his. “I know you’re not. You could sleep with half this town and I still wouldn’t think you’re a whore. You- you can do whatever you want with whoever you want! I know you, you’re… Dot, you’re so fucking nice to me, to all of us, and the only reason Andy said that bullshit about you is because you’re friends with the freaks.”

“I’m not,” she said, and he looked at her in question. “I’m not friends with the freaks. I am a freak.”

“Hell yeah you are,” Eddie smiled. “You are a freak, and you shouldn’t let what that piece of shit said get to you, okay? You broke his fucking nose because he talked shit about you, Dot. You’re so fucking amazing.”

It was probably the way Eddie was looking at her like she’d hung the moon and all the stars, or maybe it was the way he was holding onto her face with a gentleness no one associated with the rugged metalhead, fingers extending under her ears and into her damp hair, thumbs on her cheeks. It was most definitely the way he always took care of her, how he cleaned her wounds like she was the most fragile thing on Earth and how he never hesitated to pull her into his arms whenever she needed a hug without questioning her reasons. But honestly, it was most likely the fact that he was so close to her, his warm breath mingling with her minty one, that had her leaning forward and pecking his lips with hers in the most chaste kiss she’d ever given to anyone in her entire life.

She tried pulling away as fast as she had leaned in, she really tried to, but Eddie felt like he had been struck by a live wire and instinctively chased her mouth with his own, still cupping her face but moving one of his hands to tangle into her hair, finally taking a hold of the proverbial carrot dangling in front of him. He was kissing her - Eddie Munson was kissing Dottie Burke and he couldn’t get enough of it - he needed more, he needed to consume her and she to him until there was nothing left for anyone to see. He grabbed onto her bare thigh to pull himself up and she whimpered, the walls of the illusion suddenly crashing around him. She’d just tearfully asked him if the town thought she was a whore, and his way of reassuring her, had been to deny it and then make a move on her. Eddie jumped back so quickly he fell onto his bruised ass and hissed in pain.

“Fuck, Dot, I’m- I’m so sorry!” he pleaded, leaving her dumbfounded and glazy-eyed.

He’d fucked up. He’d ruined everything. With his eagerness, he’d jumped the gun and now his plan was ruined, and she probably, maybe, definitely thought he was a fucking pervert trying to get into her pants, and yes, he very much would like to do that but not like this. Not before she knew he would quite literally die for her, not before he’d confessed to her the profound love he felt and had finally become the kind of man she deserved to have. Dottie looked at him not understanding what had just happened, but when she moved to get off the bed and closer to him, he jumped off the floor and put even more distance between them.

“I’m so sorry, we shouldn’t- fuck, I didn’t-”

“Eddie, it’s fine-

“No, it’s not fine!” his hands tangled in his own hair while he tried to find the words to explain himself. “This is all wrong, goddamnit-”

“Eddie, calm down-”

“Fuck, Chrissy is gonna kill me, I’m such a fucking idiot-”

“Ch-Chrissy?” Dottie whispered, but he didn’t hear her in the middle of his freakout.

Oh. Oh. She was so stupid. She couldn’t even blame him, she’d been influenced by her aunts and by Gareth - and of course, who wouldn’t be in love with Chrissy Cunningham, Head Cheerleader and Queen of Hawkins High? She was so kind, and friendly, with her gorgeous eyes and warm smiles. And by his own admission, if she was going to kill him, well, that certainly meant she returned Eddie’s affections, did it not? She’d be an idiot not to love Eddie back because Eddie was so loveable. Sweet, silly, wonderful Eddie who had just kissed his best friend and regretted it deeply. She had to get out of there if there was any hope of saving their friendship.

“I’m so sorry,” Dottie said, rushing out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

“Dot, wait!” Eddie followed her. He had to fix this, he had to tell her, he was gonna tell her- “What are you doing?”

“I’m really so sorry, Eddie, I didn’t know,” she got her damp clothes out of the washing machine; the cycle had probably ended in the middle of his upset rant and neither of them had heard it.

“Where are you going? It’s midnight!” he watched her shove her feet into her heels, not bothering with fastening the buckles before she opened his front door. He had to act fast or he was going to lose her forever.

“Eddie, please,” she asked, tears pooling in her eyes again, voice broken. “I just want to go home. Everything’s fine, I’ll see you on Monday-”

“No!” he threw himself onto the door, closing it again effectively locking her in. “Y-you can’t leave like this! What are you gonna do, walk home in your heels? Are you insane?”

“Please, I’m sorry,” she sobbed, breaking his heart into a million tiny pieces. “We can forget this all happened, please, just let me go!”

“No!”

“Eddie!”

“No! We need to talk about this!”

“There’s nothing to talk about! I didn’t know you were dating her, just let me-”

“Wait, what?” It was Eddie’s turn to be confused. “I’m not dating anyone, what are you talking about?”

“I’m not fucking deaf, Ed! You just said Chrissy was gonna kill you!”

“Yes, but that’s not- Fuck! That’s not what I meant! She’s dating Jason Carver, for fuck’s sake!”

“It’s okay if you like her, she’s fucking perfect-” she babbled, fat tears leaving tracks on her cheeks.

“You’re fucking perfect! God, fuck, this is not what I-” Eddie took the clothes out of her arms and threw them into the living room, pulling her into his arms again.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” she shrieked, trying to get away from him but he held on tight, throwing her onto his shoulder and sitting her down onto the kitchen counter.

“I made Kool-Aid!”

“What? I don’t want fucking Kool-Aid-”

“Just stop arguing!” he yelled, effectively shutting her up. “I made apple Kool-Aid.”

“...I love apple Kool-Aid,” she said, for lack of a better response.

“I know,” he said, leaning back and looking at her sitting between his arms, palms on the cold surface of his kitchen countertop. “That’s why I keep buying it. For you.”

An ugly sob bubbled up out of her throat and she hid her face in her hands. She wasn’t strong enough to keep fighting with him, and when he hugged her again, fingers tangling back under her ears, she simply bowed her head and cried harder. Eddie kissed her hair and held her, letting her release all the pent up emotions that were swirling in her mind. When she breathed a little bit easier, he looked at her, drying her tears with his thumbs.

“Can I trust you to stay here while I get the Kool-Aid?” he asked, softly.

Dottie nodded, so he moved away from her to get the pitcher out of the fridge. He filled a mug first, watching her legs swinging lightly back and forth while she sniffled and picked at her nails, and stopped before filling the next one. She saw him frown and look around the kitchen before finding what he was looking for: a yellow ceramic mug with a gnome playing the accordion on the front. A couple of weeks ago, the teens had been studying in the trailer on the small table in the kitchen, and Dottie had mentioned to Wayne she was gonna get him a hat with her college logo when she was in Michigan so he could add it to his collection. He’d glowed at that, joking that he was gonna tell everyone his niece was a genius and that he’d leave her her favorite mug in his will in return. The two of them had spent around 30 minutes going through every mug until she decided on one, all while Eddie worked on his homework with a dumb smile on his face. She’d picked a yellow mug with gnome playing the accordion on the front, the very same mug Eddie was now gently putting into her hands filled with apple Kool-Aid he allegedly kept buying because he knew it was her fave flavor.

They sipped their juice in silence until Dottie calmed down, holding onto the mug with both hands for comfort. Eddie stood there, waiting for her to say anything and when it became clear she was not gonna be the first one to talk, he put his mug down and turned to her, pulling on the hem of her borrowed boxers.

“Hey,” he said, ducking his head down to look her into the eyes. She made a small sound of acknowledgment but kept staring at the liquid between her hands. “I’m not dating anyone.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t like Chrissy,” he kept going.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“Yes, I do. I really fucking do,” he took her mug out of her hands and ducked a bit more. “Dot, look at me. Please.”

“Eddie, it’s fine-”

“I’m kind of insanely in love with you.”

“What?” Dottie breathed out, eyes widening.

“Darling, I haven’t been able to even look at anyone else since the day I met you. I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s actually embarrassing,” he smiled at her, finally hitting her with the full force of his confession.

“You… you like me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, lifting her hand and kissing her gauze covered knuckles. “Chrissy has been helping me plan how to ask you out. We’re not secretly dating, she knows I’m crazy about you.”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know,” Dottie murmured, ashamed that she’d jumped the gun with her conclusions.

“You couldn’t know, that was the whole point,” he chuckled. “I was gonna ask you out after graduation, I wanted to have our diplomas and everything but then you kissed me and… you’re awfully impatient, has anyone ever told you that?”

“God, I’m an idiot,” she laughed, hitting her forehead with her palm. “How long had you been planning that?”

“Since around your birthday,” he admitted, and she groaned. “I would have asked you earlier but I wanted to set things straight before, y’know? I wanted to graduate first, maybe get a job, I dunno… Give you what you deserve. Instead you get… this,” he waved his hand around. “Sorry.”

“Eddie, I’m so in love with you, it’s not even funny. What are you talking about?”

“What?”

“Oh my god, we’re both idiots!” Dottie groaned again, and he laughed in disbelief.

“You’re in love with me?”

“Yes! Why did you think I kissed you?!”

“I mean, I kinda figured out you liked me, but love, darling, that’s… That’s a lot.”

“You just said you are “kinda insanely in love” with me, what do you mean it’s a lot?” she looked at him like he had just told her the sky was green.

“Well, yeah, but- that’s different! I’m me!”

“Okay, what the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know, I just- fuck, I love you and I really, really want to kiss you right now. Would that be okay, darling? Can I kiss you?”

She shook her head at him like he had just said the stupidest thing on Earth and wrapped her arms around him, bringing him forward and pressing their lips together again. Eddie laughed against her mouth, hands coming up to cup the sides of her jaw, thumbs rubbing circles into her skin. They kissed with no hurry and no other motives than to just kiss, savoring the moment like a cold sip of water after a long race. There were no more places to hide, no more shadows lurking in the background. It was just them under the mismatched light bulbs in the Munson kitchen, two mugs and a pitcher filled with Kool-Aid, and limbs tangling with one another, scratching an itch that had once seemed impossible to relieve.

Eddie moved his lips from hers to her cheek, up her nose and eyelids until he reached her forehead and stayed there, just breathing in and basking in the knowledge that they’d jumped off a cliff together and had landed on the other side unscathed. There were so many conversations to be had, so many things to be said, but this was more than okay for him now. This was enough, and for the first time in his whole life, he was enough. Dottie’s hands moved under his shirt, lightly running her short nails over his skin, the motion calming and grounding him. He was hers, and she was his, and there was nothing else that mattered anymore. The waters were calm. The locked padlocks remained in place, but the keys weren’t forgotten or hidden anymore. She felt at peace in a way she had never once felt before, knowing that no matter what came next, they would face it together. She yawned once, burrowing further into his skin, and he chuckled.

“Wanna go to bed now?” he asked, softly.

“Yes, please,” she replied.

Eddie helped her off the counter and let her get comfy in his room while he finished getting ready for bed, turning all the lights off and brushing his teeth with a dazed expression on his face. He found her tucked in on the left side of his bed, the one closest to the wall and realized that he could get used to this so easily. He was sure that once she went home the next day, he’d have trouble falling asleep until she was back next to him, nuzzling into his chest and wearing his clothes. They cuddled in silence, soft touches in the darkness, just exploring skin and calming rapid heartbeats with innocent caresses that revealed just how much they’d longed for this. There would be time for bolder actions, but tonight they just wanted to hold each other tight and never let go. Eddie, however, had one more question to ask before sleep could whisk them away to Dreamland.

“Darling?”

“Mhm?”

“I don’t want to, like, ruin the moment, but… what happens now?”

“Dunno. What do you want to happen?” she asked, moving her leg on top of his so he could shuffle closer to her.

“Can we maybe not tell people this happened so I can ask you out like I planned?” he said, shyly. “I just… I want to do things right with you. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You’re not fucking anything up, Ed. But sure, we can pretend this didn’t happen and I’ll act surprised when you ask me out,” she rolled her eyes playfully.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” he squeezed her closer. “I meant it more like… not telling the guys? You can tell your Dad if you want, though.”

“How about this?” she said, reaching up and kissing his jaw sweetly. “We don’t tell anyone anything, and my Dad doesn’t get an aneurysm every time he sees you. Sound good?”

“You want to lie to your Dad?”

“Not forever. We can tell him before I leave for college. You’re gonna come see me, right?” Dottie asked, hopeful.

“Baby, Michigan is only three hours away. They’re gonna think I’m your roommate with how often I’m gonna be there,” he pecked her hairline.

“Baby?”

“Just trying it on. D’you like it?”

“I love it. And I love you.”

“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of that. I love you,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss her. “Okay, we won’t tell anyone so your Dad doesn’t murder me.”

“I have one condition though.”

“Okay?”

“I still get to kiss you when we’re alone.”

“You just want me to be your dirty little secret, don’t you?” Eddie joked, poking her side.

“I’ll be yours too if that helps,” she said, cheekily.

“Oh, don’t tempt me with a good time, princess,” he said with a mischievous tone. “Who knows? Might be fun to sneak around all summer.”

Half an hour later, when they were finally falling asleep between soft kisses and whispered sweet nothings, they both agreed that a little bit of teenage disobedience might just be the missing piece they didn’t know they were looking for to complete their perfect summer before officially being adults. After all, it always looked so much fun in movies, right?

taglist (comment below or send me an ask if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean @every1lovesanunderdog @eg-dr3amer3

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