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#also i haven't updated that in like a year
spamton · 13 hours
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i accidentally napped and had a dream (nightmare?) where a new update for stardew valley released where everything was the same except on a random day in year 3 Evelyn would just straight up die. There was a whole cutscene that started in her house where she collapsed, and then transitioned over to the hospital where Harvey gave George and Alex the worst news of their lives. However, they got to speak to her where she said something along the lines of "Yoba will protect me, and I am sure he will let me watch over you."
Alex and George would not talk to the player for more than a few words for a full season after this event. George would spend most of his time in the bedroom, so if you had less than 2 hearts with him, you could barely ever speak to him.
And Alex... oh my god, poor Alex. If you were married to him during this event, he just stayed in bed all day. Otherwise, if single, he would just stand on the beach most of the time, staring off into the ocean. If you tried to interact with him, it would just say "Alex is grieving... Better leave him be."
There was also other NPC dialogue like mayor Lewis saying "I haven't seen the community in this state of mourning since your grandfather passed..."
there was also a glitch where you could make Evelyn live forever and there were entire guides for the "immortal Evelyn glitch" that got patched out in the next update. If you tried to perform the glitch after the patch, mr. Qi would tell you that "hey, it happens to all of us. We can't prevent it, and neither can you, no matter how hard you try."
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lis-likes-fics · 3 days
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Princess II
Pairings: Eddie Munson x rich!Reader Word Count: 18k words Warnings: Slow burn, swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, strangers to best friends to lovers... A/N: This was so much fun to write. It took like....over a year to finish this two-parted but it's done and I love them so much. They're literally idiots. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Thank you! (And a special thanks to my beta reader, you're amazing!)
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The months pass smoothly, and soon you've been incorporated into aspects of Eddie's life that you've dreamt of for years.
It started with you ditching the cheerleading squad at lunch to go sit with Eddie and his friends. They were so sweet to you, if not a little flirty. Dustin was always eager to see you at lunch, showing off his intelligence or quick-wit any chance he got. He was all smiles, treating you like his cool aunt who got him just about anything he asked for because you liked to spoil him.
Mike was also excited, but he was also a little more open to accepting gifts and things from you. But he was the middle child in his family, so you kind of expected it.
Gareth, Fred, and Jeff all had similar reactions. Though Fred was more skeptical of having a girl like you in the group, you were easy to warm up to. Gareth and Fred constantly flirted with you, but you suspect they did it more for Eddie's annoyance than yours. You warmed up to them.
But Eddie.
The first day you went to sit with them, he'd made one of his buddies get up and move so you could sit next to him. It was a complete change in fondness, like his comfortability to you had skyrocketed to the other end of his kindness.
He included you in every chat, asked questions that weren't awkward but let him and the group get to know you. You really felt comfortable there, like one of them. You expected to feel a little off, but you didn't. They were so kind.
Everyone sneered for a while. The first couple of days were full of glares and snickers from those of other tables. But the longer you sat there, the less people cared. Whatever. You could do what you want, you're the princess. Eddie's comments on how people pick on him and his friends dwindled, though it never fully disappeared.
The squad wasn't so happy, not that you cared. They talked about it to your face and behind your back. It always got back to you of course, Chrissy kept you updated.
You actually managed to pull Chrissy a couple of times to sit with you and Eddie. She enjoyed it just as much as you.
Soon you started joining them during their campaigns. You just sat out and watched at first, serving as their cheerleader, until Eddie pulled you in by your waist, sat you down next to him like you always do now, and let you join in as any character of your choosing. You were an orc named Bill.
The longer you were friends with Eddie, the closer you got, and you loved every second. You went from sitting at his lunch table to playing campaigns with him to regularly going to his house (to the point where you could walk in and Wayne would wave and point down the hall where Eddie sat in his room) to spending just about every day glued to his side, his inseparable friend.
Eddie had always wanted a friend like that, though he'd never admit it, adamant on maintaining his reputation as a freakish outsider who didn't need anyone, who adopted all the other losers into his band of rejects.
He'd always wanted someone who loved spending that much time with him. He's way more happy than he'd like to admit that you haven't gotten tired of him yet.
Spring break comes and goes. You spend the whole of it with Eddie, except for the one day your parents decided to take you to one of the charity events in town. You spent the whole of it with Chrissy in a pretty dress that Eddie said he liked—considering she was in the same class as you and your parents were close friends.
You learned a lot of things over the time you spent as Eddie's friend.
You learned that every time he's asked what his favorite color is, he says black or red just to be edgy when, really, it's baby blue.
You learned that he loves pizza, he could finish an entire pie by himself in under ten minutes. Then he'd smile at you with his face covered in pizza sauce and you'd feel like you were going to puke, you're so in love.
He claims to be ambidextrous, but you've seen his left-handed penmanship and there's nothing ambidextrous about it. He likes loud, thundering music, but you've seen him turn into a softy from the slow, quiet kinds you never thought he'd be into. He lifts sometimes, revealing to you how lean he actually was when you walked in on him shirtless in his room once with weights in his hands.
You'd left the room to recuperate. He'd teased you about it for weeks.
He's terrible at math but he's a decent writer, he's a nice singer—and you melt every time you hear him sing, no matter the genre—he can draw, he can read three different books in one week, he cannot cook, but he can boil the hell out of some water. Wayne was very happy when you showed up in Eddie's life and started cooking for them.
You watched him learn the entirety of Metallica's new song, Master of Puppets, in under a month.
Choosing to become Eddie's friend was a terrible decision in only one way: every single day, he gives you more and more reason to fall deeper in love with him. Your heart is so full, you think you'll die.
You don't know if Eddie knowing that you like him is better or worse. On one hand, he knows he definitely has the option if he really wants it. On the other, he doesn't know just how much you have fallen and him being him tears you apart from the inside out.
But if this is the closest you'll get to him, you'll gladly burn inside just to get the chance to hold his hand.
~
After pulling up in front of your house, Eddie opens your door like a gentleman so you can make him study for a test he had that you knew he wouldn't do otherwise. He slung your bag over one shoulder, grabbing his own to do on the other side.
"Wait!" you tell him as he's slamming the door. You rush inside, smiling wide as you disappear into the house. Eddie follows you, taking his sweet time about it. You're already running down the stairs as he reaches the door after finally walking the length of your huge driveway.
You come out with your hands behind your back, smiling too big for your face as you look at him. He raises a brow, dropping both your backpacks inside by the door and leaning to the side. His knee pops out, making him look as sassy as he probably feels.
"Another gift?" he asks, almost exasperated as he recognizes that sticky sweet smile on your face. He loves it but the amount of gifts you shower him with is insane sometimes.
"Are you trying to buy my love or something?" he teases. "Is this a bribe, Princess?" He lifts his brow ridiculously high and lowers his voice ridiculously low, as if talking in secret.
You roll your eyes at his theatrics. "Don't be ridiculous," you shake your head. "It's a gift."
He shrugs a shoulder. "Same difference."
You scoff. "Shut up and close your eyes." He makes a teasing snort but does as he's told. You bite the very tip of your lip. "Hold out your hands." He does it.
You pull the long, yellow envelope from behind your back, tied with a thin white ribbon to make the most exaggerated bow he'd ever see. You watch his brows change at the feeling of the paper in his hands, curiosity leaking out.
"Now open."
He does. Looking down at the envelope, he raises a brow and stares at it, as though it would open on command. He fingers the glued down flap of the letter and glances at you with hesitant eyes. "What is this?"
He pulls the glue free and begins to pull out two, just as long, slips of laminated paper. Looking up at you, he can see how bubbly you were with the excitement to show him your latest gifts. Or "bribes", as he liked to call them—all out of good fun!... you think.
The words pour from your lips. "Two backstage tickets to Metallica next week!" You bring it back once the biggest part of the reveal was said. "They're on tour, and I know you like them."
He stares at you with wide eyes, but he doesn't smile. You wait for his grateful reply for a while before what you are met with is a loud, "What?"
Your excitement turns to shivering fear as you stare, worried. "Is it the wrong band?" Suddenly, all the worst scenarios you worried about come to mind. "Shit, did I mess up?" You start mumbling to yourself. "I know I checked and then double checked. Maybe the tickets are wrong. Fuck, what did I do—?"
He stops you with his heavy hands on your shoulders, weighing you down but also providing a lot of comforting warmth as he looks you in the eye with the same level of intensity. "You got me V.I.P. tickets to see Metallica perform?"
"In Indianapolis, yes."
He stares at you a moment longer before he's shoving you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you flush against his body. The hug is warm and enveloping and much too close for friendship, and you hug him back just as closely, almost feeling as though you could cry of how wonderful it felt to have his scent all around you, his arms around your waist, his crazy hair tickling your face and shoulders.
After a beat too long, he's hoisting you off your feet and spinning you in a circle that has your body flying for a moment. He sets you down as you're both giggling, and when he pulls back to see you, his lips are set in the biggest smile you have ever seen. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you stare wide-eyed at him, and whatever was left slips out when his thumbs smooth circles along your sides as his hands stay set on your waist.
"You are fucking amazing," he says too fondly.
You gaze warmly at him, feeling your heart skipping too many beats. You need to go to the hospital.
Then his whole demeanor changes once more as his face drops into near frustration. "And extravagant," he adds suddenly. "Why the fuck did you get these for me?"
You honestly expected his hands to leave you by now, but they stayed at your sides with the envelope held between his fingers. You set your hands on his arms, shrugging as you smile earnestly.
"For us," you say, hoping not to scare him away with that. "Because I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve it."
Eddie doesn't know what he's done to deserve something as special as this, but he just smiles down at it with the joy of a little boy getting a dog he's been wanting all his life for his birthday. You hear him curse under his breath.
"I gotta go tell Wayne," he beams. He scoops you into his arms again, squeezing tighter this time as he laughs happily, his elation infecting you. He sets you down, looking over your face. He's moving and speaking faster than you think he thinks he is, but it just makes you smile some more.
"Ah, I fuckin' love you. I'll see you later!" He tears away from you, turning around and sprinting toward his van to drive haphazardly down the road to get back to his uncle. He's waving at you through the window as he pulls away.
Meanwhile, you stand at the door with wide eyes and stilled breath, frozen on the porch. His words replay in your head like a mantra, like a prayer that you've been waiting for as you smile a little.
"He loves me," you sigh. Then you shake your head, hoping not to be as delusional as you feel. "Just a figure of speech..." you chew your lip, "probably..." you furrow your brows, "most likely."
You sigh as you shake and bow your head. "I'm talking to myself again."
You turn on your heel and set a course down the sidewalk, walking a few houses down with fast feet and an even quicker beating heart. Four doors down, you come up the path to Chrissy's house and start repeatedly pounding on the door, because it was more dramatic than letting yourself in.
You hear her as she approaches the door because she yells, "Y/N, I'm coming!"
The door opens and Chrissy stands on the other side with a raised brow and a sigh. She sees you standing there with your conflicted look as she furrows her brow. "What happened?"
You walk past her, venturing into the house and walking right up the stairs as she follows behind you, unphased as she closes the door. "I gave the tickets to Eddie."
"And?" she asks as she follows you up the stairs.
"He loved them," you say over your shoulder, shrugging. "He was, like, super excited."
She smiles wide, her whole face lights up. "That's great!"
You get to the top of the stairs on your way to her room, stopping at one of the doors prior and knocking gently before pushing it open. "Hi, Carter."
The boy looks at you and smiles wide, waving his hand as he returns his greeting. You smile back and close the door, instantly falling back into your contemplation as you burst into Chrissy's room and plopped down at the edge of her bed.
"So," she prompts. "Is it a date?"
You furrow your brow, granting her a confused look. "What? No, don't be ridiculous."
She rolls her eyes, "Right..."
"But he..." you trail off, chewing on your lower lip as you keep thinking to yourself, replaying the moment over and over and over again with the over-analysis of a skilled theorist.
"What?" she asks, urging you to finally spit it out.
"He, like," you look at her and release your lip in favor of speaking as you try and fail not to smile at the memory—as though it was a cherished thing that had been living in your brain for years. She follows the loose narration your hands give as you speak. "He picked me up and spun me around and said something about telling his uncle, and then..."
You hesitate to say it, hiding your face a little behind your hands. Chrissy sighs heavily, playfully impatient with your slowly developing, weird relationship with Eddie. "What? What did he do?"
You blush and smile too wide. Your face hurts. "He said 'I fuckin' love you', and then drove off." You're suddenly really giddy. "He said he fuckin' loves me!" You beam at Chrissy before quickly backtracking. "I know it was probably just a figure of speech or something, right? Like, he doesn't actually love me, he was just super happy. Heat of the moment. Right?"
This left your mouth as a word vomit and, honestly, Chrissy just watched you with a wide range of emotions crossing her face. Confusion, joy, passive frustration, hints of awaiting sarcasm...
She shrugs a shoulder, sitting next to you on the bed and attempting to soothe your scorching nerves. "I mean, probably, but you spend so much time together... who knows," she smiled wide suddenly, "maybe he's coming around."
Your grin is hopeful, your eyes glisten as you smile at her and she smiles wider and chuckles at the look. "You think so?"
"Sure!" she exclaims, eager to get you to the optimistic side of things.
"Maybe you're right," you nod to assure yourself, hoping that saying it out loud will bring it into existence. "Maybe you're right." You breathe in and out and sit up straight, nodding once more before you turn your gaze to Chrissy again. You take her hands in yours and squeeze gently. "The concert's next week, I need you to help me get ready."
"Absolutely," she beams. "You couldn't pay me not to help."
You wrap your arms around her neck and pull her into a bone-crushing hug. Chrissy, a native to your affection, takes it with an excited laugh and no acknowledgement to your strength.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"Of course," she smiles, before pulling out of your arms and waving a playfully scolding finger at your face. "But you owe me."
You shrug. "I always do." You think for a moment. "We'll get lunch and go to the mall. Check out that store you like. An outfit of your choice, my treat."
"Deal," she said immediately. Rolling her eyes and smiling, she sighs dreamily. "I love leeching off rich people."
You roll your own eyes, not as dreamily. "You're also rich, Chris."
She shrugs, letting her shoulders sag lazily at her sides like a ragdoll. "I know, but you're my bitch."
You gasp dramatically. "Christina Elizabeth Cunningham! You watch your language."
She snorts. "Bitch, please."
You shove her back onto the bed and start for her kitchen. You're hungry and you're sure she hasn't eaten yet...
~
You close your locker with a snap. As you look up, you notice Tommy H on the other side, staring you down with an unimpressed look upon his face. You can see the rest of his group surrounding his locker to peer into the conversation, looking like a flock of pigeons—all bulgy eyes and flicking heads.
You sigh internally and turn to him, smiling as sweetly as you always do. "Hey, Tommy." You check your watch quickly.
"Hi," he says back, feeling slick.
You move your bag from your side to place your science books in, glancing at him as you do it. "Is there something I can help you with? I gotta get to class."
He leans his shoulder against the wall, crossing one leg over the other and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his lettermen. He shrugs his shoulders heavily, and your eyes fall on his Class of '85 patch—where it should now read '86 after an unfortunate grade point average in his last, slacked off year.
"You're hanging out with Munson now?" He raises a brow.
You sling your bag back over your shoulder. "Yeah?" You raised your brow, failing to see his point. "Is that supposed to be a problem or something?"
"I mean..." he trails off, laughing lightly like it's obvious. You just stare at him, almost looking clueless as he stumbles over his words to try and come up with an argument. He shrugs, "It's Munson."
You make a face. He scoffs.
"I mean, you seriously blew off a game for him?"
Oh. That makes more sense.
You've been hanging out with Eddie for months, and they haven't commented that much because you could do whatever you wanted because you... well, you're you.
But you did kiss the game last night. It wasn't a really serious one—at least, you don't think it was—and Eddie had a huge campaign he practically begged you to go to, and you accepted because you loved his campaigns way more than a stupid game (that, and the fact that you're head over heels in love with him). You told Chrissy, she covered for you.
You shrug. "We lost the game."
He scrambled for a comeback. "Yeah? Well, maybe we wouldn't have if you had been there. It's called moral support sweetheart."
You straighten your back and try not to make a face, continuing to remain friendly as you close your eyes. "First of all, don't call me that." He shrugs. "Second, there will be more games and more hangouts and whatever else. I'm hanging out with Eddie Munson, so what? He's my friend."
He scowls. "He's Eddie Munson."
You make a face, confusion raising your brow and lip. You pause, waiting for a follow-up. "You say that like it's supposed to prove a point."
Tommy scoffs. "Okay, how about this?" He towers over you, his elbow propped high up on your locker in an attempt to intimidate you. His red-freckled face is stern. "He's a freak."
He nearly spits the word in your face, and he smirks when he does it.
You tilt your head and smile.
"How about this..." You clear your throat and brush imaginary lint from his lettermen. "If you call Eddie a freak one more time," you look up at his face again, smiling a little sweeter and speaking a little slower, "I will personally see to it that my parents stop inviting yours to our parties."
His face pales.
"You'll be moved to our blacklist. From there, people will stop respecting you. And, by then, you'll be scrambling to get back in with us, and you'll look desperate doing it." Your eyes darken but your smile is perfectly intact as you watch his fear overcome him.
"I'll work you so far to the bottom that even the name Munson will hold less disdain in this town than Hagan." Your smile drops. You look cold.
"Do I make myself clear?"
He swallows thickly, finding his voice again after cracking on his first attempt. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "Yes."
"Great!" You clap once as you smile brightly once more. The warning bell cracks loudly, echoing through the halls with a shrill screech. Both you and the bell startle him as he flinches, sighing heavily as you pat your shoulder twice. "Thank you. Don't be late for class."
He hesitates, shaking his head and walking away to rejoin his posse pretending to not have been listening in to the conversation. "Yeah," he mumbles as you watch him leave.
"That was scary."
You turn and smile wide when you see Eddie, leaning on the lockers with an impressed look. "I can be very scary," you joke.
"Tell me about it." He rolls his eyes, and you lightly smack his shoulder at the insinuation. You both start walking down the hall to your shared science class. "What was that about?"
You glance over your shoulder to where Tommy and his friends are walking away, throwing half-hearted scowls at Eddie over their shoulders.
"Oh," you say, smiling to yourself almost maliciously. You shock Eddie for a moment with the brief look. "Just a little... nudge in the right direction."
His whole demeanor changes as he turns his body to face you, walking still as his feet side step to keep up with you. "Did you just threaten Tommy H for me?"
"'Course," you smile. "We're friends, Eddie, and I protect my friends... even if that means destroying social lives forever."
He sighs a laugh. "Startin' to think you like destroying social lives."
You both walk into class together just as the bell rings, moving to your seats as you lean in and whisper dramatically. "Only when they're assholes."
He gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls. "Has her majesty just spoiled her tongue with the dirty language of the peasants?" he exclaims quietly in his best posh, British accent.
"I'm afraid she has," you play along in an accent of your own, though it's not as perfect as his. He's got an impeccable accent. "It can be quite hard to keep one's tongue guarded when met with the incompetence of the lower class, or even that of the upper."
He snorted, "Then, forgive me, my liege. I shall do my best to keep you away from the clutches of the incompetent."
You both laugh quietly amongst yourselves.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he snorts again, shaking his head with a seeking shudder.
You wink at him. "Never get on my bad side."
You direct your attention to the teacher. Eddie watches the side of your face and laughs again, shaking his head and readjusting after spending too much time taking in the sight of the side of your face.
You're pretty. He hopes he never gets on your bad side.
~
With Chrissy out with Jason, you have no one to calm your nerves as the time for Eddie to come pick you up grows closer. You've already dressed in the clothes you both picked out, she'd done your makeup before she had to leave, and you're walking around your room in your heels as you await his arrival.
You check yourself in the mirror one last time before the sound of your doorbell echoes through the house. You grab your stuff faster than you've ever done anything in your life, rushing down the stairs dangerously fast in your heels and throwing the front door open before your father's hand can even brush the handle.
Upon seeing you answer, he decides to walk away. Whatever you want...
You open the door and smile wide at Eddie, ignoring how nervous you feel at the sight of yourself. You feel sort of...out of place. This isn't your vibe but you are hoping he likes it anyway.
Eddie's eyes bulge and his mouth drops open.
He takes you in. Dressed head to toe in leather, he eyes your little red skirt and your black bustier top decorated with red roses. It looks so tight, he wonders how you're still able to breathe. You've got a garter belt wrapped tightly around your thigh, just peeking out from under your skirt, in more black leather. In knee high platforms, you've gone up a couple more inches in height. Even your makeup, with sharp wings, a tiny eyeliner heart on the apple of your cheek, and red lipstick a dark shade of blood.
Eddie feels like he just fell fifty feet and smacked his face on concrete, knocking all the air from his lungs and making it impossible to breathe. You are drop dead gorgeous.
"Wow."
You don't take it as well as he expected, nerves sinking in as you look over yourself quickly, wiping your hands down the skirt. "Too much?"
He shakes his head. "You look..." he trails off, lost in thought before shaking his head to bring himself back, "great. Really great."
You take it for what it is and smile. "Thanks," you blush. "Chrissy helped. You don't look half bad yourself."
And you mean it. He's in nearly as much leather as you. With black leather pants that cling to his body like chains, lacing running up the sides that seem to make them even tighter, he looks like a rockstar in his old Metallica muscle tee (the one where the logo is so faded, you can hardly see it).
You're not surprised to see his leather jacket and his battle vest, nor are you to see him wearing his own eyeliner, an extra edge you've seen during his concerts at the Hideout—though yours is admittedly done better. His hair is frizzier than ever, a look you tried to copy as well as you could but believe you fell short on (Eddie thinks your aces).
Eddie shakes his head. "Wow," he mumbles again, more breathless this time.
"You said that already."
"My bad," he says, not meaning it.
You shake your head and smile sweetly. "No, it's nice."
After staring again for too long, he clears his throat and smiles again, returning to his stupid antics that make you laugh constantly, like you've gone insane.
"You ready to go?" he asks.
"Yeah." You turn and yell into the house, cupping your hands around your mouth as you do it. "Bye, Daddy! Bye, Mom!"
Your mother's voice calls back, "Be back by sundown."
"What your mother said," says your father.
You close the door and walk with Eddie. "Uhm," he says. "We will not be back by sundown."
"It doesn't matter," your shrug. "They say it more as a courtesy. They'll forget I'm even gone."
"Ah," he mutters, though you don't seem too fazed by it. Almost like this is the norm for you. Maybe it is...
He takes you to his van, opening your door like a gentleman and loading you in. He hops into his own seat, slamming his door extra hard because it's been pretty stubborn lately.
As soon as he starts the engine, his music blares through the speakers, "Holy Diver" by Dio. You flinch, shocked by the sound but not upset. He immediately goes to turn it down, and once he's dialed it one way, you dial it the other.
Eddie looks over at you, your head already banging to the music as you rock enthusiastically in your seat. He stares at you, his parted lips curling in a grin. He thinks you're amazing.
"Are we going?" you ask half-jokingly when you catch him staring, speaking so loud you nearly blow your vocal chords trying speak over the music. You poke his side.
He over-exaggerates, recoiling in on himself and flailing back against his window like he'd been shot. You roll your eyes. And he lays there for a while, really dragging it out until you lightly smack his shoulder. The music blares.
"Eddie!"
"Ow– Hey!" he exclaims, even though you barely touched him.
You shake your head. "Drive."
"Okay, bossy," he says. He turns the music down just a bit and starts down the road. It's still loud, and your parents might get a complaint, but it's unlikely because the neighbors would be too afraid of offending them.
He nods lightly to the music, turning it down another smudge to ask, "You hungry?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes. He's going to give you a hernia.
"Not much," you shrug. "You?"
He also shrugs, tapping the fingers of his left hand on the wheel. He leans on his right arm rest, glancing over at you. "I'm always down for food," he winks. "But we could probably wait 'til we get there."
"If you wanna eat, we can."
He shakes his head. "Nag, we'll have a shit ton of free time. We'll be, like," he checks the time, "three hours early."
You snort. He's usually three hours late.
"Okay," you nod. You turn to him, smiling. "Oh, we could check out this new place my parent's friend's daughter told me about."
He laughs lightly, "Is she not your friend?"
You shrug a shoulder. As far as your friendships go, you recognize you don't really have many. Chrissy is the love of your life, as you tell her constantly, but she's the only person you've held close to your heart for years.
But your parents are rich. Their friends' kids are supposed to be your friends, but you've never acclimated to that thinking.
"Eh," you mumble. "We don't really consider ourselves friends, we just know each other." Her parents are also rich, and she's within the same category as you.
He hums. "Yeah, we can check it out." He sets his hand closer to yours, his pinky brushing yours. To avoid seeming too intimate, not wanting to complicate the friendship you've created, he wraps his pinky with yours and shakes it around.
Not intimate, just friendly.
"Is it fancy?"
You shake your head. "Not really." I squeeze his finger, grabbing his hand in both yours and forming his to lace your fingers together. "My parents and their rich friends spoil me with expensive stuff all the time, so I like the cheaper stuff a little more."
You purse your lips, looking away from your hands to look at his face. "But I don't like telling people that because I feel like I sound bratty."
He shakes his head. "Nah, you're not bratty." He lets go of your hand and lightly nudges the side of your face with his palm. You snort, swatting his hand away. "You're just bossy."
"Shut up," you laugh.
His face lights up at the proof of him being right. "See?" he laughs. "You're bossy. You're so bossy!"
You roll your eyes at him, "If you weren't driving, I'd hit you."
His eyes widen. "You're violent," he accuses. "You're violent now!"
You groan loudly, turning away from him with the most exaggeration you can manage. He laughs loudly. It's a ridiculous guffaw, and you feel the van swerve a little. You're so used to his driving by now, though, that it doesn't faze you.
When his laughter dies down and you're urge to burst into your own fit of giggles eases with it, he sighs dramatically to announce the end of his joke. "So," he hums, "if I gave you the choice to go someplace fancy with the best steak in town or a McDonald's," he leans toward you, tearing his eyes from the road at a stoplight to look at you, "what are you picking?"
You let a slow smile spread across your lips as you look at his stupid face with his stupid eyes and his stupid nose, and his stupid lips. You chuckle lightly, taking him in some more. "Well, you can't beat those nuggets."
He laughs again, still just as loud and dramatic as the first one. You love it, and you can't help but to laugh with him this time.
"No, you can't." He smiles at you, staring at your face a little longer than he probably should.
Eddie jumps when a loud honk interrupts his examination. Turning to the light, he sees that it is a very bright green. "Shit," he curses under his breath as he steps on the gas.
The van jolts, but your gaze lingered on him too long to notice. A slip of anxiety creeps up on you as a thought flashes behind your eyes. You hook your finger through one of the holes in your fishnets. You lean on your armrest. "Was that your way of asking me out, or am I dreaming?" You say it with enough amusement coloring your voice that it gives you the option to back out of it as a joke as soon as it is required.
And it was required.
"Fast asleep, Princess," he smiles, chuckling lightly as his eyes stay on the road in front of him. You ignore the stutter in your heart, covering your disappointment with a chuckle of your own and roll your eyes.
"Playing hard to get, huh?" you joke, trying not to be too sad about his lack of falling in love with you. You've still got him, even if you don't have him in your arms.
Eddie's fingers reach for the dashboard as he turns up the radio, turning the heavy rock up louder and louder. "What?" he shouts over the music, drowning your giggles in the song (though he can still hear them because he's listening very specifically for them). "I can't hear you over the music. What did you say?"
You smack his shoulder, giddy with his jokes. "Asshole!" you exclaim, crossing your arms in a faux pout. You both laugh out loud, big and dramatic and happy to be there. And as he turns down the radio before he blows your precious eardrums, he finds himself oddly tender with the sound of your joy. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he has to breathe a little more to steady his traitor of a heart.
~
You're nearly late, despite arriving there a whole hour early. Eddie had found a McDonald's and got so caught up in taking you that you both lost the time. You were in the middle of wiping Sweet N Sour sauce off his face when you realized it on the hands of your watch.
You almost got pulled over twice.
But you get there just as the lights are dimming. It's a huge opener—guitars and drums and screaming vocals, fans cheering and crying, headbanging and jumping and a couple of already too-drunk patrons puking in the back.
Eddie is ecstatic. He loves every part of it—the screaming, the crying, the puking. He takes it all in stride and stands really close to you as he does it.
He keeps looking at your face. Through the haze of flashing lights and so much excitement his heart might stop, he keeps looking at your face. You're really pretty, dressed in his style, smiling like a maniac, dancing to his music.
He was so scared you would hate it, this scene, his scene. He was scared you were going to show up and stand uncomfortably, smile in that people-pleasing way and bear through it until it was over.
But you don't.
You're beautiful. You glow under the lights, you're wonderful as you dance and sway and headbang to hell.
You keep smiling at him. You keep grabbing his hands and jumping to the beat of the music, and he jumps with you and he holds your hands. He can't help but adore you.
Part of him hopes it doesn't stick. He's not sure he could handle his heart beating this fast.
By the time the concert is over, you're both sweaty and hyped and tired but so happy. You both flash your VIP passes—you more confidently than him—and rush backstage with all the other VIPs.
He's buzzing with excitement as his sweaty hand shakes that of each member of the band. He does it wide-eyed, gleaming and entirely unbelieving. If his other hand was gripping yours, he'd think this was a dream.
A really freaky, amazing dream.
You both get shirts, personal autographs, and a lifelong experience that you load into his van with buzzing and heavy limbs. He helps you in, closing your door like a gentleman, and you slump against your seat.
Eddie gets in, slamming his door shut because it's a little stubborn. He starts the engine and turns the radio down all the way to a gentle background hum.
He doesn't turn his eyes toward you until he's pulled out of the insanity that is leaving the parking lot. When he glances over at you, you're asleep.
He'd wanted to thank you.
You're really pretty like this: eyes delicately closed, lips slightly parted. Granted, you're always pretty.
He has to look away before his chest starts hurting again.
Fuck.
He looks away from you quickly, gripping the wheel to get a handle on himself. He didn't mean to do this, to like you. Being friends was one thing, becoming best friends was another...
But actually starting to like you...
He isn't supposed to. You don't live in his world. He doesn't live in yours. More than that...
Actually, he's not sure. He just knows that... he wasn't supposed to begin liking you. His feelings for you were supposed to remain platonic.
But now he's not so sure.
There are a couple things he's sure of though.
You're beautiful, dressed like a metalhead or a cheerleader, you're beautiful. And he adores you, inside and out. And he wants you to know that.
~
"Hey, Princess."
You turn, giving Eddie a wide smile as he walks up to your locker. He's got his hand behind his back in an obvious, and you laugh at that as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. "Hi, Eddie."
He leans on your locker, nervous and proud at the same time as he smiles. His hair is freshly washed—still damp and curly with conditioner. It'll be fully frizzed by the end of the day, you know it.
"I got you something. Well, I made you something," he says. "Close your eyes." You do as you're told, smiling as you do. "Give me your hand."
You're almost giddy as you lift it, presenting it to him. He sets something in your palm. It's light, your brows furrow.
"Okay, open."
You do, looking at your palm. Your smile falls a little as you look at it. A bracelet made with black leather, braided together with a few little silver beads woven in. You look at the silver charm. A skull with a crown on it.
He made this himself.
"Eddie..." You swallow thickly, blinking quickly so you aren't crying your mascara off. People don't do things like this for you—no one but Chrissy.
"Do you hate it?" There's an anxiety there that kick-starts your heart. He braces himself for a 'yes' before you have to remind him that you're you, and you're deeply in love with him.
"I love it," you urge him, using your best smile to convince him of that fact. "It's beautiful."
Hope sparks in his eyes. He smiles a bit. "Really?"
"Yeah!" you promise. "I'll wear it forever."
You shove it in his hand, and he immediately understands your request without you even having to ask. You hold out your wrist as he fastens the bracelet on. It's a perfect fit.
You coo as you look at it. "I really love this, Eddie..." Then suddenly, "Oh! This reminds me. I got this for you–"
"No, no," he stops you, holding out a hand as you reach into your locker. "This was a gift. I'm gifting this to you."
You slump slightly, your smile falling into a confused frown as you sigh. "But..." you fiddle with the charm, "I wanna pay you back."
He shakes his head, not unkindly. "No need. I technically owe you a lot, I'm sure those tickets were expensive as hell."
You're feeling a little...nervous. No one refuses gifts from you, ever—except Chrissy, when they're really excessive. But this isn't. It's just an Iron Maiden vinyl record, one of those limited addition ones you have to really look for.
Your parents had bought it a while back at an auction because a lot of people were bidding on it. But it just sits in a case in the living room collecting dust—they don't listen to that kind of music. They only got it because a lot of people wanted it.
Eddie would like it. He'd appreciate it...
"But–"
"No buts," he says, his tone final. "Let me do this for you."
You pull your hand away from your locker, sighing. You nod slowly, offering a weak smile. "Okay..."
This isn't the last time that happens. Through the next few weeks, Eddie keeps declining your gifts. You try to give him the record, but before you can even get the words "I got you something" past your lips, he's telling you that you don't need to get him anything and giving you his own gift instead.
You feel like you've done something wrong.
He's giving you a lot of gifts. It's becoming harder and harder to accept them, but you couldn't stand refusing one of the presents he's made specially or used hard-earned money on for you. You couldn't do that to him, it would break his heart. But...
It's a lot of gifts. And he isn't even letting you repay the favor to make it even.
There's a problem. You just don't know what. So you do the only thing you can do.
You ask Chrissy.
You walk up the steps to Chrissy's house, pushing the door open and heading straight up the stairs.
"Hello, Y/N," Chrissy's father calls, not lifting his eyes from his newspaper.
"Hi, Mr. Cunningham." You go down the hall, barging through Chrissy's door and closing it tightly behind you. She steps out of her closet, her brows furrowed as she looks at you. Though she's unsurprised.
She does this to you almost as often as you do to her, though you have admittedly more drama than her. You're more radioactive than she is.
"We have a crisis." You plop down on her bed.
She leans on the frame of her closet door, crossing her arms over her chest. "What crisis?"
You lay down, covering your face with your hands and, in doing so, muffling your words. "I think Eddie's mad at me."
She understands you perfectly. "Why?" she asks as she walks over and sets her hands on your thighs, leaning over you. You look at her. "What happened?"
"He's not taking any of my gifts anymore!" You sit up on your hands, but she doesn't move. "I'm trying to give him stuff 'cause he keeps getting me stuff. I mean, whenever I'm mad at my parents, and they try to bribe me to get over it, I just don't accept their gifts."
She shrugs. "Okay," she thinks. She moves off of you, walking back to her closet. "But why would he give you things if he was mad at you?" She disappears inside. "Besides, what have you done?"
You stand, following her in. She's sifting through her wardrobe, looking for her outfit for tomorrow. She does it every day, usually with your help.
"I don't know!" you sigh, looking through her choice of skirts. "That's why I'm worried. I don't know what I've done, and guys are weird."
She holds up two skirts to show you: one short and flowy pale blue and one bright pink two sizes too small. You hum, picking the blue. The pink doesn't suit her skin anyway.
"Or maybe," you continue, "maybe he thinks I'm mad at him, and that's why he keeps giving me stuff."
She shakes her head. "I think you're reading too much into this, babe."
Your head shake is far more intense than hers. "I am reading perfectly into this. I show my love by buying people things, I gift give! I'm basically Santa as a teenage girl. Here." You pass her a white shirt, long sleeved and pretty.
She takes it. "Thanks." Then she hums. "Interesting analogy."
You shrug, sitting on the little stool in her closet with a sigh. "I mean, how would Santa feel if kids just...stopped taking his gifts and started giving him a whole bunch of them?"
Probably special, Chrissy thinks.
"He'd be frantic!"
Chrissy can't help but giggle lightly at that. She loves you, but you're a little ridiculous sometimes. She shakes her head and turns to you and picks up two pairs of shoes. She holds them up as she kneels in front of you, showing them off. "Have you tried talking to him?"
You choose the white sneakers over the black flats. "I don't want to say something bad and mess this up." You rest your chin in your hand. "We were doing so well."
She sighs, setting both pairs down. "I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."
You sigh. "You're right." And then you stand. "It's worse."
She stands and places her hands on your shoulders, making you sit again. "Okay, maybe you're exaggerating this a little bit."
Your shoulders slump. "Am I?"
"Yes." She laughs lightly to take the weight off it. She breathes in slowly. "Take a breath. Calm down."
She takes your head and takes you back into her bedroom, making you sit on the bed. She sits across from her, her legs crossed as she sways some hair behind her ear. She takes your hands.
"Eddie is not rich, he doesn't have a lot of money like your family," she begins to explain. "People who are not rich don't always enjoy accepting gifts because it makes them feel like they're inconveniencing you."
Your brows pull together, and you frown. "He's not an inconvenience."
"I know," she smiles. It looks beautiful on her. "He's already gotten so much stuff from you, plus those tickets? I'm not surprised he's trying to pay you back. He's not going to let you give him anything else until he feels like he has."
You assume the worst, looking down at your joined hands and sighing. "So that we're even, and he can stop feeling obligated to be friends with me."
"No," she urges. "So he can stop thinking that you might think he's using you for your money." She shrugs, "He probably just feels bad."
You think about her reasoning. Her explanation actually makes way more sense than your own.
"Yeah," she says. "Just talk to him. I'm sure it's just that."
You sigh, covering your face. "This is so weird."
She takes your wrists, pulling them away. Her voice takes on an annoyed tone. You can practically hear her eye rolls. "Because most of the people who are 'friends' with you are only friends because you buy them nice things."
You nod. "Yeah."
"Except for me, of course," she smiles, almost proudly.
You chuckle. "Except for you."
She sighs, letting go of you and shoving you to stand. "Go talk to Eddie."
You take a breath. "Okay..." You give her your best smile. "Thanks, Chris. You're the best." You kiss her cheek on the way out as you turn toward the door.
"I know," she says matter-of-factly. "Love you."
You open her door, peering your head in. You kiss at her. "Love you back."
She begins to stand. "Also," she looks back at you, tilting her head, "tell your bitch mom to stop shrinking your clothes so she can loosen them. She's an ugly old hag–"
"Y/N!"
"–and you're beautiful and perfect, and I love you. I'm serious, I'll beat her ass."
"Leave!" She closes the door in your face, but you know she's laughing on the other side, grateful for your comments.
~
Eddie is sitting on the porch with his acoustic when you drive up. The engine halts when you pull out your key, standing and closing the door behind you. He likes your car. It's sleek and beautiful. Very expensive because your parents bought it for you when you first got your license.
He keeps strumming his guitar as you make your way up the stairs. "Hey, Princess," he greets you.
"Hey," you mutter, the nerves grabbing at your throat as you come to stand next to him. You fidget with your fingers, sitting next to him on the bench.
"Eds, can we talk?"
He hums, still strumming. "About what?" When you don't respond, he looks up at you. He stops, moving his guitar off his lap with furrowed brows.
"Woah," he says, noticing your worried face. "What's wrong?"
You take a moment to think, sighing as you try to figure out what you were going to say. You rehearsed it in the car, thoroughly, and it's all blanking staring at his wide eyes, brown as coffee.
"Are you mad at me?"
He looks confused. "Why would you think that?" He grabs your hand, and you don't know if you're imagining his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
"Because you aren't letting me gift you things."
He doesn't do what you expect—though you're not entirely sure what you were expecting. Eddie smiles, a wide thing that splits his face in two. His eyes almost look like they're shining as he looks at you. You don't feel patronized when he does it, either. It's oddly warming.
"You think I'm mad at you because I'm not letting you gift me things?" he clarifies, almost shocked, though he knows he shouldn't be.
So he's not mad at you? That makes you feel a little better...
"Well," you sigh. "When my parents and I argue, they buy me things to make me feel better. I always say no."
He softens, smiling gently and taking your hand between his. "Sweetheart," he says slowly, "I'm not mad at you. I just don't want you to think I only like you for your money, especially after that concert. That's a huge gesture for someone you only started hanging out with two months ago."
You sigh, looking away from his eyes to think. Chrissy was right, he feels guilty for accepting your gifts. This whole thing is new to you. You're so used up from serving everybody else. Now someone is trying to serve you, and you completely mistook it for anger...
"I'm not used to that," you admit.
"To what?"
You shrug, "People not accepting gifts from me... other than Chrissy." You smile a little, but it falls quickly. Sighing, you look back up at him, squeezing his hands just a slight. "Most of my friends are friends because I bought them their prom tickets last year or invited them to a party or something."
Eddie smiles again. He seems to scoot closer to you, both your thighs squishing together and leaving no space between your bodies. He nudges your shoulder and then pushes you away a bit because he's too affectionate. "I don't like you because you have money and buy me nice things." He chuckles lightly. "Actually, the reason I didn't like you in the first place was because you have money and buy people nice things."
You smile a little and Eddie feels like the special-est person on Earth. He knows it's silly and too affectionate but he can't help it. Eddie's crooked finger hooks underneath your chin and lifts it to look right at him. "I like you for you."
It's moments like these when your love for Eddie can't be measured. It's moments like these when your love for Eddie feels more mature than a schoolgirl crush. It's that moment when you're imagining more than parties or prom or dates or celebrations, when your mind is full of thoughts of sitting quietly in the living room or watching a movie at three o'clock in the afternoon because it's a stay-at-home-day or fixing dinner as he wraps his arms around your waist and sets his chin on your shoulder or reading a book while he scratches his head and files taxes at the kitchen table.
You smile fondly, and Eddie thinks you're the strongest whiskey because he gets dizzy at the sight of you.
"Really?" you mumble, your voice soft and sweet.
"Yeah," he nods. "You're awesome, sweetheart."
You love when Eddie calls you 'Princess' in that funny, affectionate way, but when he calls you 'sweetheart; you lose all your senses in the blink of an eye.
"Really?" It's the only thing you can think to say.
"Absolutely."
"Okay..."
Then you get brave—as brave as you can get. Licking your bottom lip, you look down at your lap and smile nervously. To have to gather the courage to look him in the eye as you smile gently at him. "You know how you can repay me for the concert?"
He laughs, shaking his head. "How?"
You bite the inside of your cheek, another breath for courage—"Go to prom with me?"
Eddie's smile falls. "I-"
"You don't have to go as my date. I just don't want to go alone," you say quickly, trying not to trap him or manipulate him or make him think you're trying to do either. "Chrissy's going with Jason, and I don't want to be a third wheel..." You sigh, looking him in the eyes and feeling your heart palpitating.
"Please?"
You're going to kill him one day, he's sure of it. The way his heart kicks at the sight of your pleading eyes is fatal, and he knows it because he can feel it in his chest. He sighs. It's his own fault. He let you be friends, and now he's head over heels...
"...Sure," he agrees. When you beam at him, the largest grin he's ever seen in his life, it's all worth it, his stupidity. "We'll go together."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he says. "Just two friends...going to prom."
You'll take that. You would take a million "just two friends" over "we don't talk anymore". You'd do anything for him. "Yeah," you smile. "Thanks, Eds."
It's all worth it to see you smile. "No problem."
~
Eddie's nervous. You can tell in the way he keeps bumping into you. You would dismiss it as just the way the place is crowded, stocked to the brim with sweaty bodies, some already drunk in the first hour and others high.
Eddie's been to parties before, obviously. He's done senior year three times, of course he's been to parties.
But he's not used to being around so many people and not being stared at. Almost no one is looking at him.
"Why are we going to this thing again?" he'd asked as you were getting ready.
You shrugged. "It's pre-prom."
"But there's actual prom."
You smoothed out your lipstick before you turned to him. "Yeah, but actual prom is kinda boring 'cause of the family-friendly rules. Pre-prom is hosted by students with no real adult supervision, so...less boring." You shrugged again, turning away to fix a stray hair. "Besides, I have to make an appearance. Me and Chrissy since we're in the running for Prom Queen. Otherwise, we get no votes."
"People'll vote for you anyway," he smiled.
"I always just want a drink or two."
He laughed a little. "We can just go to my place then." When you shook your head and laughed at him, he did the same. "Why am I going?"
"Because you have to. 'Cause you're my date." You turned quickly, eyes wide and hands out, "My plus one." You think about it for a moment. "My friend-date."
"Your date," he agrees, nodding and laughing and hoping you don't freak out because he called himself your date when you're just going as friends. Just friends.
"Yeah, I'll go with you, Princess." He sighs dramatically so he doesn't sound too wistful.
But now he wishes he'd convinced you to just go to his place and lounge on his couch, watching stupid movies and eating popcorn and then throwing popcorn at the screen when they do something stupid.
He holds your hand. You squeeze it, pulling him further inside with you and comforting him with all you have.
It becomes easier when you find Chrissy. Chrissy is very welcoming and helps you help Eddie settle because she's sweet and you're sweet and he loves you—your sweetness—he loves your sweetness.
When he has a beer in his hand—his only beer tonight, he's decided—and your hand in his other, he's laughing and letting you dance around him. Some people get upset with him when he accidentally bumps into them, and others give him dirty looks for the sake of giving dirty looks, but under the light in your eyes, he doesn't care. He doesn't even notice.
He watches your nose scrunch up in that adorable way that means you're truly happy. He keeps looking at you with the fondest eyes and the gentlest touches and the most wonderful smiles. You can't take it—he's so pretty with his doe eyes and smile lines and long lashes and his big nose and crazy hair and plump lips.
"Quit smiling at me," you giggle, pulling on his hand in yours. "I can't focus when you look at me like that."
"Like what?" he laughs. Then he makes a face, his eyes going wide and his smile showing all his teeth and his brows pulling together goofily. "Like this?"
"No, not like that," you laugh, smacking his shoulder lightly. He hears a squeak in your giggle and is thrown into his own fit. All your best laughs have squeaks in them. "Go back to how you were!"
You're both too sweet on each other, and he laces your fingers together to make sure you can't go away—even though you'd never.
"Oh, so now you want me to look at you?" he hums.
"Just not like a crazy person." He pulls you in so you're flat against his chest, and you don't have time to let your breath hitch until he's spinning you out again.
"How does a crazy person look?" He sets his beer down, pushing his hands into his hair and shaking it up. It sticks out all kinds of ways, a total mess.
"Like that," you nod dramatically.
"Like that?"
"Yeah." You add to the madness, your fingers carding through his hair. "Certified insane. It's a good look on you."
He snorts, fixing his hair again, "Yeah, I think so, too." When it's only in slight disarray, he sighs and looks down at you.
Eddie thinks you're beautiful. He likes your hair and your face and your soft hands and your pretty lips and bright eyes. He wants to hug you, but he'll settle for taking your hand when he realizes he's been staring at you for too long.
He starts pulling you with him as he walks. "Come on. I–"
A surprised gasp forces its way from your chest. You don't have time to process what's happening until after it's done. All you know is that it gets really cold and wet, and now your white dress is stained a bright red.
A round of snickering is heard above you. You look up to see a group of boys laughing obnoxiously over the stairs, a large bowl once filled with punch braced in their hands as they do. Everyone stands in shock, all talk ceasing when they see the sight of you drenched in red and these boys cracking up from it. It takes them a moment to catch wise...
Eddie is the first one to snap out of the shock, ignoring his hand, sleeve, and shoes just as wet. He mumbles something under his breath. Even in the relative silence, you don't make out the tiny "baby" that slips from his lips.
He sees your bottom lip tremble, your lashes already clumped with punch now clumping with the oncoming tears. The sudden urge to make everything okay again fills every inch of his bones. And as he looks up at these boys who'd hurt you, he wants nothing more than to let his fist meet pompous cheekbones.
"Tommy?" Your voice is meek, wavering with a brimming sorrow.
The other boys stop laughing immediately, looking down at you as their eyes fill with shock...and even fear. Tommy H, the main culprit, isn't so quick. When he notices their sudden change, he looks down as well.
That was meant for Eddie. Not you.
Now he knows fear.
Eddie watches your face contort even more until you're crying, tears falling down your cheeks and adding to the mess. He reaches out for your face, but you don't seem to notice as you rush past him, sniffles and all.
Eddie doesn't even get to shoot Tommy a threatening glare. He completely forgets about him for the moment in favor of following you through the house and out of the door, his shoes squeak-squeaking behind him.
He guesses you notice him following, because you reach a hand out behind you and catch his as you continue running out. Everyone parts ways, letting you pass without trouble. Eddie hears shouting behind him but keeps after you without a second thought.
You make it all the way to his van, parked outside in the crowded mess of cars and trucks. He opens the back doors for you so you can sit properly. You do, dropping your face in your hands as your chest heaves and you sob.
"Are you okay?" he asks, almost frantically. He runs his hands through your hair and gets you to look up at him so he can see your face clearly. It's covered in tears and punch and running mascara.
That same silent "oh, baby," passes his lips again, but you can hardly see the movement of it through your tears, so it's lost on you once more. Eddie's hands move to cradle your face. You keep sniffling, letting your body shake with shuddering breaths.
A horrible feeling curls in his chest. "Jesus," he mutters ruefully. "I should go back there and beat his ass."
He looks in the direction of the house, but you're already stopping him. "No, wait," you sniff. "It's okay."
But he's pissed. "No, it definitely is not okay–"
He's cut off by the sound of the front door opening forcefully. You both turn to see what's happening. As soon as you see Tommy H's freckled face, you hide in Eddie's chest. His gentle hands keep you there, rubbing and comforting you.
Tommy's running. He and the friends who hadn't escaped bolt from the house faster than Eddie thinks he's ever seen anyone run.
Someone hollers inside, and suddenly the entire football team is chasing after the boys, shouting and whooping and out for blood in the cover of street lamps in the night.
Directly behind them, Chrissy, Steve Harrington, and some brown-haired girl, stand by the door. They look after the boys but ultimately turn toward you. Chrissy doesn't look at all worried.
Eddie's attention is caught by a shouting voice.
"Y/N!" Jason Carver yells. "Do you need a ride home?"
You look up from Eddie's chest, wipe your face a little, and shake your head. "No. Eddie's taking me." You sniffle pitifully, "But thank you, Jason."
He nods, "No problem." Turning to Eddie, he raises his finger in a harsh point. "Take her home safe, Munson, or I'll skin you like a cat." He turns in the direction they're running, still in sight. He shouts loudly. "You better fucking run, you son of a bitch!"
"Hey, it's okay," you say, "You can let Tommy go." Eddie looks at you, obviously disagreeing, but says nothing.
Jason makes a face. "Why would I do that?" Then he's off again, shouting after the team and the runners.
You look toward the figures walking toward you and Eddie. Chrissy shakes her head gently, seemingly amused (only to you) but not smiling. Steve's expression is completely different, as he looks genuinely concerned but ultimately sympathetic. The other girl looks worried.
"Hey, you okay?" Steve asks, setting his hands on his hips and leaning.
You nod, wiping your nose and rubbing your hands on your wet clothes. It's not coming out. "Yeah..." you mumble, squeezing a couple tears out.
He sighs, "Tommy's way outta line for that one. I'm sorry, princess."
Eddie gets jealous for a moment that he's called you by his name for you before he remembers... Everyone calls you princess. It's basically your name.
"S'okay."
You glance at the girl, who gives a small nervous smile. She mouths silently, "I'm Robin." You give her the best smile you can manage. "Hope you're okay," she says gently.
Chrissy nods gently to herself. She shoots you a look, "Don't catch a cold." She looks at Eddie. "Get home safe. Both of you. Bye, babe."
You wave at her, a tiny lift of your hand from your lap. Another tear slips down your cheek.
"Come on, sweetheart."
Eddie braces a hand behind your back and eases you to stand. You do, taking his hand and letting him lead you. Steve pats his back gently before he's stepping away. Eddie closes the back door and opens your own like a gentleman. The three wave their goodbyes and start back toward the house.
He closes your door and goes to his side. The engine roars to life after having to twist the key a couple times. He starts driving. You're really quiet.
Eddie reaches a hand down and sets it gently on your knee, hoping it's not weird but also too worried about you to care. "Are you okay, Princess?"
You nod. "Yeah." You take in a large breath.
He shakes his head, his hand flexing on the wheel. "Why would you want them to let him go?" He hates the idea of someone hurting you and getting away with it. You deserve so much more.
"Hm?" You look at him, wiping the tears in your eyes. "Oh, I don't." You clear your throat and sniff. As you lick your lips, your face scrunches at the taste of alcoholic punch and lipstick. Eddie watches you try to wipe your face clean as best you can with your hands.
Your face scrunches. "Shit, I'm all sticky now."
Eddie's going to get whiplash.
"What?"
"Hm?" you look at him again. All evidence of your crying is gone. Your teary eyes are now only slightly watering, with your face kind of clean, no new fresh tears take their place. The sadness is wiped clean. You look back at him with the least amount of sorrow he's ever seen on you.
When you feel the van turning, you say his name and it swerves back in place. He puts his other hand back on the wheel.
"You were faking it?"
Suddenly, you smile. Eddie can't stand you.
"Of course," you say, shrugging. "It's just punch."
He sighs, feeling a little stupid but mostly just...amused. And really fucking relieved. He hates seeing you cry. You deserve so much more.
"I thought you were upset."
You laugh and he no longer has any reason to be upset. "No," you chuckle, "but Tommy's not happy."
He shakes his head. "I'm so confused."
You smile and sigh gently. "Thomas Hagan just poured a whole punch bowl on me—" you make doe eyes, "—the sweet, innocent princess of Hawkins—and then laughed his ass off like it was the funniest shit in the world." You shake your head, not at all upset. "He's not coming back from that."
Eddie smiles slowly. You're enjoying this. "You little–"
"He'll be blacklisted. No more hangouts, no more parties. He's done."
Eddie can't believe you. "Manipulative."
You pinch your fingers slightly and smile as you look through them. "Just a little."
"You're seriously not upset?" he wonders.
You're drenched head to toe, your hair is clumpy, your skin is sticky, your makeup is running all over your face, and your dress is forever ruined. But you're smiling like all is well with the world.
Again, you shrug. "I'll have to take a long shower now, but I'm okay."
He snorts lightly. "I bet."
You lean in slowly, smirking and bobbing your brows. "Never get on my bad side." A reminder. The one he asked for the last time Tommy had done something unbecoming.
And Eddie laughs. Not because he doesn't take you seriously, but because he just likes you so much. You are... everything to him.
Doing his best to keep his eyes on the road, he laughs loudly and fills the van with the sound of it. You get giddy at accomplishing such a feat and can't help but laugh with him. It's loud and obnoxious and just what you both needed. Warmth blooms in your chest, despite the cold shivers coming in, and you couldn't be happier.
~
Eddie pulls up on the curb, opening your door—like a gentleman—and helping you out. You mumble a quick apology about his sticky seats, to which he replies that those seats have seen worse. You don't know what he means, but you're hoping your idea is wrong.
In the driveway, yours and your dad's cars are parked and idle. Your mother is gone on a business trip—her boss' secretary—so he's probably home alone.
"Play it cool," you whisper to Eddie as you get to the door, messing with your sticky hair to make it look worse than it is. "How do I look?"
"Terrible," he lies.
"Great," you beam. You let your face fall immediately, and you look pitifully pretty.
You take Eddie's hand and let him open the door for you. As he's closing it, you glance around. "Daddy?"
"Yes, honey." You hear his footsteps as he enters the foyer. He turns the corner, "I thought you would be out longer–"
He looks up, stopping abruptly as he realizes what a mess you are. He furrows his brows, walking closer. "What happened to you?" He goes in to hug you, pausing when he sniffs. "Why do you smell like that?"
"Just..." you sniffle and Eddie watches a tear slip down your cheek. He thinks you're ridiculous, and he loves every moment of it. "Something happened at the party."
He picks up your hands and holds them in his palms. "What happened?"
You shake your head, looking down at the buttons of his shirt. Eddie stands close behind you, a hand on your back for support. It's warm, and you like the feeling of it. "Nothing."
"No," your father hums, tilting your chin up to look at him, "tell me."
You take in a big breath and let it out in a sigh. Your bottom lip trembles. "Tommy H," you confess. "He poured punch over my head on top of the stairs." You will more tears from your eyes. Your breath hitches, and you shake your head, "I'm sure it was an accident... He probably didn't mean to do it."
Technically, he didn't. It was meant for Eddie. But that's no better. You did warn him.
He raises a brow. "It looks like he spilled the whole bowl on you." He looks at his hand, red fruit punch staining his palm now.
You nod, a slow up and down that has him frowning deeper.
"Hey," he hums. "He won't mess with you anymore."
"Really?"
He nods, holding your chin. "Of course. No one messes with my little girl and gets away with it. We're cutting him off."
Bingo.
You shake your head, "It's okay. You don't have to do that."
He smiles gently, "But I will." He nudges your chin gently before letting you go. "Go get washed up."
He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and begins wiping his hands clean. "Thank you, Daddy." You would hug him, but you're still sticky. You're sure he wouldn't mind, but you'd rather avoid the mess anyway.
"Of course, honey." You kiss his cheek as you turn toward the stairs with Eddie's hand in yours. As his foot lands on the first stair, your father stops him.
"Hey."
Eddie turns.
"Did you drive her home?"
"Yes, sir."
He grunts. "Did you beat that Tommy kid up?"
Eddie shakes his head. "No, sir. Jockeys had him," he looks at you, spying a gleam in your eyes and smiling a bit. "I was just trying to get her home."
There's a short silence as your father smiles. He gives a firm nod, "Good man."
Relief fills his chest as he nods back. "Thank you, sir." You pull him up the stairs. He takes off his jacket.
You close the door behind him, your smile returning as you kick off your shoes. "Not only did we blacklist Tommy," you turn back to him, "but my dad also loves you now. Congrats."
Eddie furrows his brow as he heads toward your bathroom. "He does?" He turns on the sink, washing his sticky hands.
You nod. "Yeah." You disappear into your closet, coming back a moment later with a towel on your arm. "That's fatherly approval. You defended my honor, my knight in shining armor."
You take his arm and kiss his cheek as you walk past him. He feels giddy. "At least someone's parents love me." He starts taking off his shoes, setting them next to yours. Eddie sits at the edge of your bed.
You snort. "I'm gonna take a shower. Don't be a perv."
He kicks the floor playfully and sighs. "Ruined my whole night."
You point at him threateningly. "I'll tell my dad on you."
"I'll take pictures with me then. To remember you by." He winks.
You return the wink. "I'll make sure to pose for you."
You disappear into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Eddie sits in your room, smiling pathetically, so happy that you're okay and he's okay and he's your knight in shining armor.
Here he is, smiling like an idiot, surrounded by the scent of you in your room with all your pictures and all your knick-knacks. He slides onto the floor, resting his head back on the mattress. God, he's in trouble.
He's flipping through one of the books on your shelves when you come out, a cloud of steam following you as you dry your hair. He looks over your outfit, smiling but offering you a confused look.
"Is that mine?"
You look down at your shirt, one of his band tees that you'd taken a couple weeks ago. He'd been looking for that. You can keep it.
"Yeah," you nod. "I stole it from your room."
He chuckles. "Well, finders, keepers, I guess."
You smile, walking toward your drawer stocked with VHS tapes. "You wanna watch a movie? I can go make popcorn."
"Sure." He raises his brows. "Can I take a shower? I don't wanna get spiked punch everywhere."
You snort. "Course. There are towels in there, and some of your clothes are in my closet."
He tilts his head, sighing. "How many of my clothes have you stolen?"
You raise your hands in defense. "Just a few shirts and like...one pair of sweatpants."
He shakes his head at you as he goes to get a pair. He closes the bathroom door softly behind him.
He likes your bathroom. It's clean and mostly organized. It smells like lavender and rose, pearly whites and pale blues. He almost expected pink.
~
Eddie appreciated the weight of your body against his as you lean into his side. Labyrinth plays on the TV as the minutes tick by into the night.
He keeps looking at you, your heavy eyes drooping as you struggle to stay awake. It's late. You should be sleeping, but you're staying awake for him. It takes a lot not to turn his head and kiss the top of your own.
"You're warm," you mumble.
He smiles a little. "Yeah?" With the arm thrown over your shoulders, his fingers play with your hair. "You gettin' sleepy?" He knows the answer.
You nod, a sluggish movement against his arm. "Mhm."
He picks up the remote slowly, turning down the TV just a little more. "You should go to sleep then."
Your body becomes a little heavier against him. He takes all your weight, proud to. "Mmm," you slur. "Finish the movie."
A very light chuckle, as light as he can make it, eases from his chest. "We can finish it another time," he says so, so softly.
"No...Watch it now."
He does kiss your hairline this time, leaning his cheek on the top of your head. "Go to sleep, bossy."
He's not sure if you mean to say it, he's not even sure if you know you've said it. But when you whisper that little "love you", he loses his mind.
He smiles so wide, he feels his whole face start to hurt. He hadn't realized it would make him so happy to hear that, to hear your little confession spoken gently into the warmth of his chest. He turns his head so his words go into your hair. "Yeah?"
"Mmm."
He opens his mouth, thinks, and smiles. "I love you, too, baby."
You hum, and then he feels you slump. He doesn't mind. He doesn't mind the way he can't move his arm, he doesn't mind the way your hair gets in his face. He turns off the TV, leans back as slowly as he can, and lays the both of you down against your pillow to sleep.
You love him.
~
The entire day consists of Chrissy at your place getting ready for prom. The music doesn't stop and neither does the energy. You keep her happy and entertained and well-fed and then distracted again with more excitement so she doesn't get self-conscious and start panicking.
You also spend a lot of time keeping all the parents from the room. Your mothers keep trying to "help", and you keep having to kick them out because they're both annoying and overbearing.
Eddie keeps calling you. The walky-talky Dustin gave you both goes off regularly, at least once an hour to ask a question you'd had answered for days now.
"It is red, right? Not blue? It can't be blue; Chrissy's wearing blue." "Which knot are we doing on the bowtie? Wayne only knows the simple one but he's got a magazine with the other ones." "Am I leaving my hair down?" "I drive to your place, and then we take your car, right?"
"Yes, it's red. The whole outfit we picked is right." "Try the simple one. I can fix it if it looks weird, but it shouldn't. I trust you." "Do what makes you comfortable. I'll love it either way." "That's right. I know you really want to drive it." "Eddie, everything's gonna be fine. Don't worry."
"I know," he sighs. "I just don't wanna mess this up for you. I know you've been looking forward to it."
You giggle a bit. "As long as I get to spend time with you, Eds, tonight will be great."
"Such a charmer," he teases.
"It's my natural talent."
You set the device down, taking your spot across from Chrissy once more. She's smiling at you, albeit nervously.
"Are you sure I look okay?"
You smile, pinching her chin before reclaiming the small brush and finishing off the short, sleek wing of her eyeliner, all while holding your breath so you don't accidentally screw up. You draw a tiny heart just above the apple of her cheek.
"You are," you set the eyeliner down, "absolutely beautiful. You always are."
"Are you sure?" she says, a telling hand creeping to her belly.
You take her face in your hands, careful not to screw up her freshly done makeup. "Chrissy," you whisper, "you're perfect. Always, all the time, no matter what. I will never lie to you, and I'll never sugarcoat it. You're amazing, and I love you."
She takes a slow breath in and nods, smiling prettily. "Love you, too." You kiss her forehead.
"Now do my eyes," you smile, handing her a makeup brush. She giggles as she takes it.
And later on, as the night gets closer and the sun is beginning its descent, you and Chrissy are walking down the steps, holding each other's hands.
All the parents are gathered downstairs, smiling as your mothers cling to your fathers' sides. Your father smiles as you come down. "You both look like royalty," he declares, holding his arms open for you. Your mother moves to give you the space.
"Thank you, Daddy," you hum.
He pulls you back to see your face. "Anything for you, princess." He kisses your forehead.
Chrissy's sharing her own hug with her father. "I trust they were the dresses you wanted," he says.
She nods. "They were. Thank you, Daddy."
"Whatever you want, angel." He kisses her cheek.
Your father pats him on the back as they both wander into the kitchen, your mother follows behind them.
You try not to grimace when Laura stays back, looking her daughter up and down with a grimace of her own.
"I still think I should have loosened that dress up a little more." She moves forward, placing her hands on Chrissy's waist and trying to adjust the fabric.
Chrissy tries to smile through her discomfort. She puts a hand over her stomach and you retire your hard side-eye to come to her side. You weave your arm around her as you give her a reassuring grin.
"Well, I think you look beautiful." You nudge her chin, she smiles. "I envy you."
"I don't know," she tsks. "She's a little too big for her dress. Especially around the hips..."
You smile, turning to the side as you mumble under your breath. "Funny how you barely fit in that large sized dress."
Her brows shot up. "What was that?"
"Hm?" you ask, turning back to her. "Nothing. I was just saying you didn't need to stress."
She huffs, "You said something about a large."
Chrissy's head dips, attempting to cover a grin as you loop your arm through her elbow. "I was just...admiring your large heel."
There's silence as she stares at the both of you. Chrissy tries not to laugh at your dangerous idiocy whilst also struggling with not shrinking under her mother's terrible gaze. You have no issue in staring her right back down, your head tilting and your cordial smile held strong on your lips.
"You mean...'high' heel?" she corrects.
The tension in the air is thick. Chrissy finds it difficult to stand still as she shifts from foot to foot, staring down at the floor or the wall or her bracelet. Anything to avoid looking her mother in the eye—or you, for that matter, in fear that she would burst with laughter and build herself her own grave.
You hum and nod. "Of course. High horse—heel. My apologies."
Her hand raises to her chest, seemingly shocked by the blatant 'disrespect'. "You are being very disrespectful, young lady."
You were trying to be subtle but something about Chrissy's mother rips all the subtlety from you as you furrow your brows but continue to smile. "Oh, I wasn't aware decency was considered disrespectful."
Chrissy nudges your side gently, whispering your name in an urgent reprimanding. "What? What did I say?" you wonder.
Laura isn't having it. "Why, I should go tell your mother about your unpleasant behavior."
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You try to look regretful, but you're sure you're missing the mark by a few hairs. "Oh, forgive me, Ms. Cunningham."
She huffs. "Missus, young lady."
"Right," you nod. "Mrs. Cunningham. I apologize." You tighten your grip on Chrissy's arm just a slight, making it harder for her to keep it together. She loves you, and she thinks you're hilarious. "It's unbecoming of a lady—such as myself—to behave in such a way."
"Yes, it is," she agrees. "One would think a girl like you would behave more appropriately."
You nod firmly. "Of course. I should respect my elders—I apologize, my superiors."
You could gag at the idea of it.
But she can't stand your "disrespect" any more as she huffs and shakes her head, making a various amount of scoffing noises as she begins walking away. "The nerve of children these days."
She leaves the both of you alone. Once you're sure she's out of earshot, Chrissy bends over laughing, covering her mouth and shaking her head to keep quiet.
"You're gonna get in trouble," she whisper-yells. Instead of shoving you away, she tightens her grip to pull you closer. Your foreheads practically touch as the two of you form a conspiring huddle.
You scoff. "I'm Daddy's angel. Doesn't matter what she tells my mom—who will tell my dad—Daddy's angel knows no wrong." It's a truth you repeat often, but it's one of those truths that have always been indisputable.
"Daddy's princess," she corrects you. "I'm the angel."
You shrug, humming. "You're technically the queen."
It's funny. You probably have a higher social standing than Chrissy does, but she was always the Queen of Hawkins while you were simply the princess—not that you minded, you would always support her.
Neither of you are quite sure why that is, but you think it may be because she became a cheerleader before you and then started dating Jason Carver. It doesn't matter. As long as you have her by your side, you would accept being the jester in this high school court of a kingdom.
Chrissy smiles, another giggle rattling her body. "So strange how you don't listen to me then."
You gasp dramatically. "I do! Otherwise I'd be out of the business, Your Highness. We both know I'm a little too dramatic to process common sense sometimes." She rolls her eyes playfully at you. "Exhibit A, Eddie."
She snorts. "Yeah, you were a little confused a couple times there.*
You gasp again, pretending to elbow her in the side. "You're mean!" She giggles again as you call out. "Daddy! Time for pictures."
"Coming, princess," he calls from the kitchen.
Chrissy whispers to you, "You're crazy."
You wink. "Crazy for you."
She rolls her eyes.
All the parents return with a camera. There are a multitude of flashes as they get every possible picture they could need—you and Chrissy, you and your parents, you and your dad, Chrissy and her parents, Chrissy and her dad, Chrissy and her mom (because her mother is insistent). More pictures will be taken when the boyfriends show up.
Jason is the first of the two to show up. As you predicted, there are more pictures. And as soon as those pictures are done, he and Chrissy leave, but not without a pink kiss to your cheek.
Then Eddie shows—without blaring his music through his speakers tonight. He isn't late, in fact he's perfectly on time.
As he walks up the steps to the house, he behaves like a gentleman the whole way. He rings the doorbell, you answer it before your father can, and you give Eddie your best smile.
He looks so handsome. He's in a black tux with a red dress shirt. His black bowtie is perfect, and you're sure it's because he didn't stop until it was. You would have thought he would keep his hair down, but he wants to impress you. His hair is shiny with product and so, so curly. He's got it pulled back in a half-up man bun.
And, of course, his rings are still in place. Shiny, freshly polished. Jesus, you loved him.
"Wow," he sighs at the sight of you. His doe eyes are wide, and his plump lips are parted. He looks starstruck.
"Do you hate it?" you worry, looking down at your dress. The theme is royalty in yours and Chrissy's honors. So, as intended, you look like a princess.
He shakes his head. "No."
You try not to mess with your hair by running your hands through it. "Is it too much?"
Eddie grabs your hand, smiling as he squeezes it gently. "You look fuckin' beautiful."
Your eyes seem to shine, and Eddie thinks you're trying to kill him. "Really?" you smile.
"You look like a princess," he promises, looking at you too closely. You're so, so pretty.
Something hits him, not literally. "Oo!" he exclaims, taking a step back. He turns on his heel with no explanation and rushes back to his van. You watch him, thinking that he's a total dork and that you wanna kiss him silly. There's something about being dressed up like this and being his not-date to prom that makes your feelings for him just that much more potent.
Usually you can get through the first five minutes without imagining your faces squished together in a too-affectionate kiss, but you can't help right now but to be riddled with the fantasy.
He comes back with something uselessly hidden behind his back. "I have this. Close your eyes."
You do as you're told because you trust him, and you would hold a ticking bomb in your palms if he asked you to. You feel him place something on your head—a tiara, you presume.
"Shit," he huffs breathlessly.
You peak your eyes open, raising your hands to feel the tiara with happy fingers. You want to burst. You're so much of a princess to him that he needed to give you a tiara. You're proper royalty now.
"Too much?" you ask.
"Never," he's quick to say. He smiles. "You're perfect."
You don't know what compelled you to say it. "Shit, you might as well kiss me now."
"Huh?" he wonders, as though he wasn't paying attention. You don't think he was.
He was. He definitely was.
"Nothing," you say anyway, covering your words with a grin as you take his hand and pull him inside. "Come on, my mom wants a picture."
He raises a brow, pointing to himself like a dummy. "With me?"
"'Course." You thread your hand through his elbow, and he gladly allows it.
"Seriously?" he asks.
"Yeah," you giggle. "We'll give some to Wayne, too. I'm sure he'd like a picture."
"Yeah," he mutters, fully agreeing but also slightly confused. You like him confused, he's sweet either way.
~
Eddie is a gentleman. As soon as you get to the party, he rushes out of the car just to open your door for you—as he always does. He takes your hand in the crook of his elbow and leads you inside. You smile the whole way, and he tells you that you're pretty when you smile. Your face hurts from smiling so much.
When you're inside, the music is already pounding in the floors and a lot of people are dancing. There are also, however, plenty of people sitting at the sidelines, watching others enjoy their time. People with no dates, people with dates ignoring them, people in friend groups. You notice Tommy H's freckled face hasn't shown up yet. A sly smirk threatens to overtake your warm smile.
You and Eddie spend the first hour dealing with everyone coming up to compliment you. You both expected this. The party's just started, you're running for queen, and...you look beautiful. Eddie does his best to swat away any of the vultures. When you spy Chrissy, you stick next to her and brave the vultures together.
Until Jason pulls her away for punch. She kisses your cheek as she goes, allowing her boyfriend to drag her away again. You don't mind, it gives you time with Eddie and his excited affection.
"Sup, Harrington," he calls when he spots Steve and—the girl you've come to know as—Robin Buckley. "I thought they didn't let old men in here."
Steve rolls his eyes as his palm smacks Eddie's. "You're older than me, Munson."
Eddie shrugs that heavy shouldered shrug and snorts. "By, like, a year."
Steve shakes his head and turns away from him, setting his eyes upon you. With a warm smile, he greets you. "You look great, Y/N."
"Like, drop dead gorgeous. You are stunning," Robin spews, taking in your outfit with plenty of appreciation for your style. A tiny squeal escapes her as she does.
"Thank you," you answer genuinely. You've grown to really like Robin in a short span of time. She's so sweet and geeky, and you love getting to hang out with her and Chrissy on the days where you've kicked the boys out. "You look beautiful, Bobby."
She seems to blush, looking down at her dress and nodding. It's probably too dressy for her, but your compliment makes her feel better. "Yeah, thanks."
She nudges Steve in the side hard enough for him to bring a hand to it and mutter a weak, "Ow."
"Steve wishes he had a date. He couldn't score one," she teases.
The three of you laugh as he rolls his eyes at the abuse. He'd hoped you would at least be nice to him, but it seems you've followed in Eddie's cruel footsteps. "Har, har. Laugh it up."
Robin takes his arm then, her giggles melting into her words as she smiles wide. "Anyway, we should go check out the punch. I heard someone spiked it and now we've got booze!"
Robin starts walking away with Steve, but when he pauses, she doesn't stop to wait for him. Steve sidles up to Eddie, leaning down to whisper in his ear and keep away from your prying ones. "It's now or never, dude. Don't keep making us listen to your gross pining."
Eddie grumbles, masking his anxiety with annoyance as he rolls his eyes. "I don't pine."
Steve scoffs. "Yeah, right."
Eddie pushes him away, to which Steve raises his hands in mock defense as he goes to catch up with Robin. He waves at you on his way. As if on cue, the music changes to something slow and steady, something romantic, and Eddie thinks the world is mocking him. When Eddie turns back to you, you're smiling at a couple who'd come up to say hi. He waits patiently for them to leave before he holds his kind of shaky hand out to you.
"D'you wanna dance?" he asks after clearing his throat a couple times.
You smile that drop-dead smile at him and he finds it a little harder to breathe. You slip your hand into his palm, and he hopes his isn't sweaty. "Yeah," you mumble fondly, standing close as you let him guide you to a spot within the dancing couples. Your heart beats so fast, drowning on his nervous fondness.
He holds you with timid hands, one in your hand and one on your side. You're just familiar enough that his touch does not feel as awkward as you feel. You try not to melt against him, to lay your head upon his chest and close your eyes, to let him sway you with the gentleness he feels swelling in his chest and tingling in his fingers.
He stares at your face, and it feels natural for him to do so. Your hand on his shoulder slides further to wrap around the back of his neck. He smiles at the soft glow in your eyes, the little sparkle of life that erupts every time you look at him.
"You're really pretty," he whispers as his eyes look over all the glorious features of your face: your soft lips, your kind eyes, your plush cheeks, your adorable nose, your fluttering lashes he wants to feel lay little butterfly kisses on his face.
You look down from his eyes momentarily, hoping the warmth in your cheeks and the shortness of your breath isn't too evident. "This dress was really expensive, so I'm glad you think so–"
He doesn't mean to cut you off, but he does. "I'm not talking about the dress." He can't help it when his hand strays from your hand to hold the side of your face, his thumb brushing the gentlest touch against the apple of your cheek. "You're pretty without the dress."
You stare at him with the biggest, shiniest eyes. He loves when you look at him like this.
Then he realizes maybe he weirded you out.
"N-Not, like, naked! I just meant, y'know, even without the fancy dress, just in regular clothes, too. You're just..." he clears his throat pathetically, "you're really pretty."
You tip your head back to laugh sweetly, the one with the squeaks—the one he really likes because of its sincerity. His hand wraps farther around your waist. You respond—seemingly unconsciously—by setting your other arm on his shoulder. He secures both hands at your waist.
"I know what you meant, Eddie," you giggle, giving him one last squeak just to please him—though he knows you didn't do it on purpose.
He nods, letting his own giddy laugh escape him. "Cool."
A chuckle, one of the ones that goes through your nose as you stifle a grin. You move slowly, like you're trying not to startle an animal, as you set your head on his chest. You step just a slight closer, and he graciously lets his hands wrap tighter around you. His head rests against the top of your heart.
It's close and warm and it makes you both smile. He smells nice, familiar, like the cologne you bought him, deodorant, and cigarettes. Under the music and the sound of his clothes brushing your ear, you can hear the faintest beat of his heart. It's quick, heavy. You can feel it against your cheek if you really focus.
You chuckle so lightly. "Eddie, calm down. Your heart is, like, super fast."
He clears his throat, speaking through his fond haze. "My bad."
He's so nervous. Steve's words play over and over again in his mind. "It's now or never, it's now or never, it's now or never, it's now–" and he is so afraid to pick now that all he does is sway and breathe the scent of your soft perfume, and under that, your—supposedly—scentless lotion.
He's so afraid that he's missed his chance. He knows you love him, but he's stuck on the possibility that you don't love him like you did. Maybe now, after having waited so long, you love him like a best friend, you love him like a brother. Maybe now that he's finally fallen for you, you don't have the capacity to stay low with him.
He's so afraid.
You both sway to the music, moving so slowly. There's a pause, it feels like. You feel like something is supposed to be said or done but...no one is doing it. The music changes again, but neither of you have stopped your slow dance. You rue the moment you have to tear away from him.
But there was a pause.
"Do you want to stop?" you ask gently, hoping against hope that he says no.
And he answers your prayer better than you could have asked for. It's a quick, "absolutely not," that leaves no time for any conceived hesitation.
You're so relieved. "Okay..."
His response is just as immediate. "I like you."
You look up at him, smiling gently. The sight of him warms your heart, all the softness in his big features, all the gleaming in his dark eyes. "I like you, too."
"No, like..." he sighs, struggling to say what he wants to say as his hands find firmer purchase at your waist out of nerves. "I really like you."
You're confused as to how to respond. Smiling strangely and furrowing a brow, you chuckle, "Thank you?"
Not quite. "I mean–"
"Eddie," you pause, donning a playful voice. "You're being weird again."
He wants to laugh but his ears are burning. "What I mean to say is..." now or never, "I fuckin' love you."
Your heart leaps to your throat, and you almost choke on it. It's beating so fast, you feel it in every pulse in your body. "Like..." you think quickly, though your thoughts are jumbled. "Like a friend? Like Steve and Robin."
"Not at all."
You shake your head, thinking his not platonic love for you is too good to be true. "I'm confused."
He's already said it, there's no use in being shy. He chuckles, and then takes a deep breath, and then blows it out. You stare up at him, eyes gleaming and lips parted so delicately. He wants to kiss you.
"I'm..." Breathe. "I'm in love with you, Princess." And then your heart stops. You're surprised you haven't fallen in the middle of the dance floor. He holds you up with all the fondness in his heart. "I was trying not to fall for you, I wasn't going to–" he says it with the same resolve as picking up candy at the gas station, like loving you is such an easy thing to do, "–but then we started hanging out, and you ended up being really, really cool. Then, I sort of just..." He sighs, trying to find the words. "I started really liking you. Then I picked you up for that concert, and you were so gorgeous—you always are. And I picked you up tonight and saw you in this...fuckin' awesome dress, and I couldn't breathe because you're just... You're so beautiful, and–"
You shut him up with a kiss. You sit here and listen to his compliments forever, but you couldn't wait any longer to feel his lips on yours. You've wanted this for so long, craved this kind of intimacy with him since you first saw him and thought he was super weird. And he was, you were right. You often are.
His lips are soft and warm, and you love the feeling of kissing him. It sways in your chest and warms the pit of your stomach, and it tingles in your fingers and ears and you just...lean into it like it's such a natural thing. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, tangling in his hair to pull him closer. His hands tighten around your waist and pull you flush against him. Happy hands hold the other, an innocent desperation to be near.
Fuck, you love him and his stupid anxiety. You love him in all his strangeness, his eccentricities, his eager hands and giddy eyes. Kissing him is one of the best decisions you've made, and it's one you hope you can continue to make forever and ever and ever.
When your lips pull apart and you're breathing each other's air, you keep your eyes closed as your lashes flutter. "I love you, too," you whisper, pulling him even closer. Your affection for him had only grown over the last few months, from a swelling warmth to a bursting excitement that grows still with every Eddie-ism.
"Sorry it took so long," he replies, your lips brushing with his words as his hand raises to brush your cheek.
You shrug lazily. "I'm glad it happened at all," you're still so close. You forget the music is still playing, you forget people are dancing to something fast and loud, you forget people are probably staring and talking and laughing and dancing and carrying on while you and Eddie are stuck in your own world, confessing and kissing and loving.
You chuckle, resting your head on his chest for a moment before lifting up again. "Chrissy'll be ecstatic."
He laughs, his hand splayed along your lower back as he rubs the spot affectionately. "Yeah, well... They certainly are."
You look over to where he motions with his head, giggling when you see Steve and Robin beaming and throwing thumbs up at the two of you, as though they were being subtle in their celebration. If you look over just a bit, you can see Chrissy smiling like it was her being kissed and loved on so sweetly. She pulls Jason with her as she joins the other two in your success—which is, in turn, their success.
You snort. "You have weird friends."
"Correction: we have weird friends."
What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine. You're okay with that.
You get giddy all over again looking at his face. "I'm so fuckin' happy right now." You lift up on your toes and kiss him again, drinking in his loving affection. When you pull away, you smile wide.
"Do you wanna go to the movies with me?" he asks, bringing an eager hand up to cup your chin.
You smile, containing your laugh. "You won't stand me up?"
He laughs, a big one that rumbles in his entire body and spreads to your own. "No, I won't stand you up," he says. "I'll open your door like a gentleman, I'll buy your snacks, I'll drive you back home and give you a goodnight kiss."
Your voice is soft, though the music shouldn't permit it to be. "Can we go back to your place?"
"Mine?" he wonders. Yours is probably better, he thinks.
"Yours is better." It's like you've read his mind, and you need to prove him wrong with his own phrasing.
He shrugs, "It's small."
You respond with your own shrug, holding him a little longer. Your thumb rubs against the back of his neck. "It feels like a home."
He hums. "Not very gentlemanly, taking you back to my place."
You snort. "Not like my parents'll notice." The way you say it makes his heart hurt. They wouldn't realize I was gone. "Your house is lived in," you say with a new gentleness. "I want to be with you." And then you get shy, shrugging one shoulder and slanting your chin down to meet it. "And maybe I just want to make out with my boyfriend."
Eddie blushes all over at the word, like he's a school boy flirting with his playground crush. "Right?" you ask quickly. "I can call you that?"
"Please do."
You purse your lips and giggle at his eagerness. You can't help it, you kiss him again. You love the way he kisses, full of smiles and warmth and a hint of desperation.
You pull back, your hand on his chest. "Does this mean you'll let me buy you gifts again?"
He rolls his eyes and laughs lightly, shaking his head before conceding with a grin. "Within reason." He couldn't say no to you, especially not now.
Your hands sit fondly at either side of his face. Your thumbs brush his skin. "I can deal with that."
And this time, he kisses you.
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Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @queermaxwooo @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog @thegr8estpuff @lover-of-books-and-tea @xxhanililoxx Eddie the Banished taglist: @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom
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spikedhe4rt · 15 hours
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Need more sub Dallas smut 🤭👀 possibly him getting hard at a bad time when you kissed him
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Word Count: 1440
A/N: hi pookies. DID YALL MISS ME :) Im sorry i haven't updated!! happy new year? Back with a good one tho!! also follow my tiktok: spikedhe4rt bc i don't really care who sees my face fr! I LOVE YALL AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY!
✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
Dallas never really showed his submissive side infront of others. Only me. His reputation was important to him, what would others think if they knew he gets on his knees and begs just for the chance to fuck me. Im his girlfriend, the girl that makes everyone jealous because "shes getting fucked by Dally". Its boosts his ego so I let it happen.
Dallas, after tons of convincing got me to go out for night with him. I never been a huge fan of parties. Dally on the other hand was a party animal, dragging along two-bit for his shenanigans constantly. Two had better things to do, surprisingly, so he looped me in.
"Dally, I thought Two bailing on you would inspire you to take a break" I told him as I looked at myself in a full body mirror.
"Nah. The party animal in me never stops, doll" He says in response, I roll my eyes at his comment.
I hear his footsteps creak against the floorboards as he comes up behind me. His arms wrapped my waist, warm hands coming to touch my stomach. I reached my hand up to touch his hair as i leaned into him. "I can count on you behaving tonight-" I tugged his hair to bring him closer to my level "-hm?"
A quick flash of desperation came over his face before that signature smirk. "Yes ma'am" I flipped myself around so our chests were touching, "Good boy. You ready?" I asked with a toothy smile. He nodded, grabbing my hand to lead me to the door.
We decided to walk to the party because Tim's wasn't that far. After we got there, I picked a corner for us to stay in. I know its a party but sometimes you just need a moment. Dallas decides to venture off and catch up with his pals. I take a sip of my beer as I sit with my legs crossed, scanning the room.
I decide to find Dally in boredom, I spot him with Tim and some other guy. I walk over and tap him, he opens his arms to invite me to sit on his lap. "Hi, Dal." I say in a sultry tone.
He says nothing, pulling me closer to him and continuing to talk. At some point, Tim and whoever the hell he was left, leaving me and Dally alone.
After a little bit of talking, I go to the bathroom, needing to pee. As I washed my hands, I heard the laughter of people outside. One particular laugh stuck out to me, some girl sounding like a damn bird. I laughed to myself and walked out.
My face quickly changed when I saw the scene in front of me. The cackle came from a girl talking to Dallas. " Oh my god. Dallas, you're so funny" she exclaimed. His face read confusion "All I said was my name-"
I smiled to myself before walking up to Dally and kissing him feverishly. I got up on his lap as we continued. I heard heels click as I ran my hand down his chest. I smirked as I felt his cock get harder against me. At a party? I pulled away to look at him with a cocky expression. "All it takes is a kiss and a hand down your chest for you to get hard like desperate slut, huh?" I whispered in shell of his ear.
His body leaned into mine, before he whispered back "Please- Can we go to the bathroom" I beamed. "Im glad y'know who you belong to," I told him before jumping off his lap and leading him to the bathroom. I made sure to lock it behind us.
His lips captured mine as soon as I turned around. Dallas's tongue quickly slipped into my mouth. The kiss was hot and passionate, feeling like he never needed anything more in this moment. Fuck. The feeling of wetness flooding my underwear as I started to grind against him.
"I need you so bad..."
"Baby please"
"You're so beautiful, fuck"
Praises and pleas spilled from his lips. My lips curled into a smile and Dally's hands came down to my ass. I started to kiss his neck, my lips lightly pressed into the supple skin. "You're such a good boy for not entertaining her. You deserve a reward." My hand came to rub his hard-on over his jeans. "You want my mouth on your cock, hm?"
He nods.
"Use your words like you want it" I rebutted. 
"Yes- Shit right there" he interrupted himself as my hand slipped into underwear past his denim.
I brushed hand along his cock, sending goosebumps against his skin. My knees touched the floor as I pulled down on his jeans and briefs.
I placed kisses down his hard cock, making him let out a deep breath. "You're such a slut for my touch, aren't you?" I asked looking up at him. "Yes, ma'am" he breathed. Thats new.
I take the head of his cock in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip. I smile as I him almost fully in my mouth. My other hand came to message his balls, rolling through skin in my fingers. Another moan spilled from Dallas's lips "Please. Can I guide you?" he asked in a low voice. "Mhm" I hummed with him still in my mouth.
Dally's hand rested on my head before he started to slowly move it up and down. His tip hit the back of my throat lightly as he whimpered. Dallas's hips bucked in my mouth harshly, making me gag a little. He continued to lightly fuck my mouth as I rubbed my hand on his meaty thigh.
I pulled off him, looking up "You're such a good boy baby, You wanna cum for me?" His lip was caught between his teeth as he nodded. I gave him a knowing look, "Yes yes. Let me cum. Please" he said, vocalizing what he wants.
Mouth came back down to his tip, swirling my tongue on the tip once again. Both my hands came to stroke his cock. Dally choked on a moan. "Fuck, please don't stop. G-gonna cum" He was loud but we didn't care at the moment.
I felt the taste of his cum a minute later as his body lightly shook. "You did so good for me" I praised his as I lifted myself off the ground. I immediately captured his lips, the taste of his own cum flooding his mouth. "You think you can handle another, hm? Ill let you fuck me for your behavior." He nodded, still drunk from his orgasm.
I jumped up on the counter, the cold material resting against my thighs. Dally pulled my pants and underwear down in a swift movement. I brought my hand down to my pussy, collecting my arousal. My fingers came up to his mouth, he accepted them quickly and bobbing his head. Dallas desperately aligned his cock with my hole, bottom out inside
Dally let out a whine, "Oh...I love so much" I smiled at his words "Mhm...You love me and pussy so much, don't you? Say it, you can do it." His thrusts started off slow as I lightly clenched down on him. "I love you and your pussy so much. Shit" His hands came around my hips and head fell into my neck.
Dallas's thrust became faster and more aggressive as he groaned into my neck. He soon started placing open mouth kisses on my neck, increasing the euphoria I was feeling. His balls slapped against my ass with each thrust. "Mm. You're making me feel so good" I told as I moaned.
My walls flutter around his cock as I feel my orgasm getting closer. Dally's pants get louder, his hair getting light moist with sweat. "You're so handsome like this. Keep fucking me, just like that" I take my hand from Dally's shoulder to rub my clit, increasing my pleasure.
I topple over the edge with a loud moan, my orgasm making legs shake. Dallas's thrust stay at the current pace, with him chasing his own peak. "Baby can I cum please" he says with a groan. His face stayed in my neck as he moaned. "Look at my when you cum, sweetheart. you can do it, hmm?" I coo.
He looks up at me with low eyes.
"Good job, go ahead." I say with a smirk.
Dallas's eyes roll back in his head as he cums inside me. I kiss him as he rides his high. Good behavior deserves good rewards.
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Why are adhd, asd, and lgbt+ considered triggers? I'm not trying to be rude here i just read your carrd and im just hoping it isn't for any ableist or queerphobic reasons
If you had read the cards you would have also read this
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scourgeblooms · 4 months
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commander ⇾ wayfinder
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jimlingss · 9 months
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two years!! :D it’s been two years since my final curtain call and seven years since Jimlingss began! Seven years!!! Now that’s a crazy yet meaningful number!
Hello to everyone reading this message :D hopefully you remember me (it’s ok if you don’t) and for those who care, hopefully this is a treat! just a quick update on my life — I successfully completed my first year of law school and what a whirlwind it’s been. 
I’ve had so many ups and downs in the past year and I honestly feel like I’ve changed a lot. like evolved from pichu to pikachu. It was my first time moving away from home, away from my parents, and making so many friends. it’s been 20% bitter and 80% sweet. overall, I feel like I’ve learnt so much about myself and became a lot more stable in who I am.
school is hard but completely manageable. luckily, I don’t think my choice was wrong. there are days I quite enjoy what I’m learning. I got 2 years left in the game. soon (hopefully) I’ll be making the big bucks $$$ and I’ll be able to fund my sugar baby dreams (except I’ll also be my own sugar mommy). Although my dating life is as stale as always with 0 movement, I’ve become close with a handful of folks that I hold dearly to my heart. guess I’m in my friendship arc hahahaha
funny enough, I actually came back to this blog out of my own volition 2 weeks ago and re-read some of my stories. I feel so nostalgic. some of my stories really slap ngl. anyway, I really miss creative writing so much. Fortunately, there’s a few extracurriculars at school that allow me to write creatively so it’s somewhat of an outlet for me. it’s not fully satisfying but it’s something!!
I regularly come back to tumblr to check messages and do plagiarism checks lol. Speaking of which, I’ll take this time to answer some messages in my inbox.
unfortunately, i don’t have any socials that anyone can follow me on. my socials are pretty private and only the people who i’m close to, I follow and vice versa. but no worries because I will always come back to this blog to do a yearly update so you’ll hear from me! I will satiate your curiosity if you’re every curious about what I’m up to!!
for anyone who ever messages me compliments to my stories and/or missing my presence, no worries, I read them all :) your messages and feedback is never lost! it’s very sweet and always warms my heart.
if you can’t reach my masterlist, it’s here lol
I’ve kind of fallen off my fic reading game so if you ask me if I know a specific fic, I won’t be much of help unfortunately ://
if my fics ever help you through hard times, then I’m super glad!!! life can undoubtably be downright terrible. life can really really suck (understatement). but I think it’s comforting to know that everyone at some point thinks the same. it’s a universal sentiment - and in that, you’re not alone.
anyway, that’s it for now! you’ll hear from me again!
I’ll be back! And I hope you will too! :>
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ghostly-cabbage · 2 months
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I have officially edited and updated my DP fic recommendation document
I've so far only used it for friends but now I'm wondering if any of you guys would be interested...
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smalltimidbean · 9 days
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It says in your pinned post that you are taking commissions, but that your sheet needs a big update, and I wanted to ask if we will be getting that updated sheet soon? Depending on the price, I probably won't be able to make a commission this very moment, but It'd still be nice to know how much it'd cost so that I can save up to commission something at a later date.
I did say that, didn't I? Sometimes I forget the things I type right after posting them jkdfgk (lighthearted)
But it probably will not be updated soon, unfortunately! Since I am still in the early stages of taking medication, I am not taking on any work right now
So it could be another few weeks to a month depending, but I will put it on my list, so I do not forget this time!!! And I appreciate you wanting to commission me!
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lavenoon · 1 year
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Lave-san i need help i desperately need fics where the DCA does not like you initially/straight up dislikes you and avoids you. Bonus ppints for mechanic y/n
So I'll lead with the disclaimer that I crowdfunded this reply because I am a pitifully slow reader, which translates to me actually reading only very few fanfics. However, I trust my sources (from the Sleepy Cove Server <3), so I'll wholeheartedly recommend these!
First the two I have actually read:
Our Orbit is Elliptical by @sycopomp and @madame-mongoose
The Daycare Attendant is very protective of his role in the Superstar Daycare; he was made for this job, after all, and he finds it insulting that management seems to think he needs help. They insist on saddling him with human assistants, over and over, no matter how many quit. Not that he does it intentionally, of course... but if they can't handle the stress, then perhaps they aren't fit to be working with children. Hmph.
You are the new Daycare Assistant at the Superstar Daycare! Despite some reservations, you're determined to do your best and prove-- mostly to yourself-- that you deserve to be here. You're inspired by Sun and the ease with which he gets along with the children, and you hope to impress him with your go-getter attitude and unflappable confidence! (Even if both of those things are about as flimsy as construction paper...)
aka: Sun is passive-aggressive to his new assistant, whom is so determined to do a good job that they're too oblivious to notice.
Almost Human by @vilz
“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.” ― Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis
---
You get a new job. It's a struggle.
And now the ones that make me wish I could read faster or simply have more time in the day:
Two Choices by @thelonereni
You chose this.
There was regret of course, but turning back wasn't an option anymore. You couldn't lose this new game you found yourself in, and somehow you managed to feel more and more alive the longer you played...
You have worked in sanitation since the pizzaplex opened, but that all changed when you had a bit of a mishap in the kitchen. With the only real option left being an assistant in the daycare, you decided it couldn't be worse that your previous position.
Between the surly daycare attendant, bosses breathing down your neck and the corporate overlords coming for a visit, your starting to think you make really shitty life choices.
What's The Moral Here? by @/siquieres on ao3
Your little brother is invited to a birthday party at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex, hosted inside the Superstar Daycare. The Daycare Attendant takes a disliking towards you, or at least, that's what you think it is. Despite this and the violent nightmares of a sun god that plague you, you keep letting your brother bring you back. You keep coming back.
A sort of mean-spirited take on the Sun/Reader dynamic. Reader is often injured, intentionally or not.
What's It Called When Light Hits A Prism? by @/TooManyPsuedonyms on ao3
The PizzaPlex has been running--and the Management needs a new operator for one of their salvaged animatronics.
You are just trying to live independently, so of course, you'll take the job.
You have no idea what you're in for. Granted, you never really know what you're in for, but this can't be much different than working with regular human people… right?
And perhaps one where the DCA doesn't outright dislike Y/N, but the premise still causes tension in their dynamic (and you get mechanic Y/N!):
It's Curtains For You! by @muzzlemouths
|| “You will be befriending, then dismantling the animatronic,” he gets right to the point, “and you’ll have about a month to do it.”
You're not here to make friends. You're here to earn what you can, smile and nod with simple Yes Sirs, and keep your head down low. An open position as the Daycare Attendant's newest 'mechanic' doesn't change any of that. You're on a tight schedule with the disassembly and you can't afford to be getting attached.
But what happens when you do?
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elenadoeslife · 8 months
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Getting ready for the afternoon & evening ✌🏻
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fairytale-lights · 4 months
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It was interesting to find out that people having sensitivities to chemical scents is actually a real and recognized thing though. Like I knew that happened to me, but I kinda just figured it was one of my Issues, not something that enough people actually experience for anything to be done about it.
#though i suppose all of my issues really are genuine problems with explanations#but I'm just so used to not having explanations that i kinda just categorize them as oh well that's how it is#oh well that's how i am. that type of thing. and it's true that they are part of me but if i experience unusual pain then it's for a reason#and one that probably other people also do#and. if the chemical sensitivity is linked to my headaches then i suppose that is actually a true thing of other people too#it's a migraine trigger i think. it's not just some random 'oh well she just doesn't like perfumes' type of thing; it's a migraine trigger#i guess something about some types of chemicals people use for fake smells are things that upset some people's brains#(and nervous systems probably) in the way that sets off a migraine#my post#it was on a thing for my college at the start of the year- we had to do a 'diversity and inclusion training' and one question#it asked at some point to make you aware of What Privileges You Have was about if chemical scents can make you have to skip class#sometimes. like if you get headaches bad enough from smelling things that you can't go to class#and i was startled because i didn't know anybody cared about that! i thought it was something i get told to just deal with#and i just got a work email recently about dress code updates and one thing the dress code says is to be mindful of#what chemical scents you wear. something like that. i don't expect that to actually make my coworkers wear less perfume or anything#but it's interesting to know that's a thought. and a thing people are actually trying to help with#like i doubt people will see that and think it's something that needs to happen because it's normal to wear the perfume and they#probably will assume it doesn't affect people around them. i sure haven't brought it up to whoever wrote that. but it's nice to know#that it is a consideration being made i guess!
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alyona11 · 5 months
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I truly think some people in the internet need to log out and talk to an actual real human person irl. If every message you send regardless of context looks like a Twitter callout/discourse starter post it's NOT normal and I can't empathize it enough. You shouldn't talk to people this way??? It's incredibly rude and uncalled for.
I think Twitter in particular has permanently damaged people's brains because I started noticing more and more people acting like they are in a ratioed hit tweet outside Twitter. I even started to see that when I spend too much time scrolling through Twitter, I myself start to formulate my messages in a more provocative manner like I have the intention to hurt someone's feelings to get a reaction. And surprise-surprise! It's not cool, guys! Not just in relation to other people but it's toxic to yourself, first a foremost.
Do yourself a favor: do outside, take a walk, talk to actual people, hang out with friends. Delete Twitter at least temporarily to detox. Literally touch grass.
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littlehen · 6 months
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I’m always paranoid of my tumblr being deleted or malfunctioning or something like that someday, so here’s other places to find me/follow me, just in case lol
~ instagram - https://www.instagram.com/lucalicatte/
~ main youtube - https://www.youtube.com/c/LucaLiCatte
~ games/sims youtube - https://www.youtube.com/@cloudycatte
~ facebook page (I rarely use this because I hate facebook but.. it at least allows text posts better than instagram does, so idk maybe I’d use it more if tumblr went away? lol) - https://www.facebook.com/cloudycatteart/
~ Other Links (stuff I don’t use often/isn’t Main enough to list here, like twitter, neopets, other tumblr sideblogs, youtube channels, etc.) are here - http://icewindandboringhorror.tumblr.com/otherlinks )
#An updated version of this since some of the links on the old one are no longer the same lol#I might make a website website one day (not with a custom domain since I'm not paying for that/dont have the money lol#but like a 'my name.weebly.com type thing lol) but I haven't had the time recently. If I ever get around to it I'll update the post and#reblog that version. ANYWAY.. I just like to have one of these written out to reblog every once in a while. During the once ever few months#when poeple are like 'tumblr is failing again! it wont survive!' which has happened like 80 times but I'm still always like :0c what if!#also love the ms paint art done with a mouse ghhj#ANYWAY.. also if you want to see the stinky game I made that's not actually related to my own worldbuilding really (why I have never#posted anything about it publilcy because it's like.. how do I talk about it lol) I have my itch.io linked in the 'other links' page#as well as my General Projects blog. which talks about all the ongoing and upcoming projects I want to do that are#actually set in my world and can give you previews of some of the things I'm working on. Currently resuming my Game after abandoning it#basically for the entire pandemic and a little before that - as mentioned before - so that's OUgh.. in terms of A Lot Of Work#Especially since while kind of 'revamping and updating' I want to add a few features which are mostly easy but every once in a while#I don't understand something and it's like....... hGGhh...... Ironically despite Blogging I just hate talking to people in public open foru#.. I love privacy and security lol.. and I always feel that ONE day I am going to have a question that has not already been asked on a foru#somewhere and I am going to have to post myself and.. no.. I shan't even imagine it.. It's not even really social anxiety it's just like..#efficiency.. instead of wating like days to get an accurate response and resolve the problem with the general public I would rather just ha#e a one time 30min conversation with an expert and resolve it quickly. PLUS then I also only interact with One stranger instead of Many Of#Them lol.. any 6+ yrs of experience Ren'py experts hmu so I can pay you like $50 to have a single 45min conversation#with me over an insanely simple question and then never talk to you again until a year later when I have a second question. hhjb#ANYWAY.. I still really don't like instagram or it's layout and I never understood how it works like.. if I should be tagging photos or wha#or how you really use it and I just... euGH... stimky.. but it is one of the most popular so I feel obligated to link it. I wish facebook w#sn't such a nasty poo poo because I do actually like the variety of posts you can make and how Pages on facebook operate. In the scense of#it being similar to tumblr that you can make a VARIETy of styles of post. not just Only Post Photos or Only Short Text or Only Video which#is still like.. how the funk does sutff like that even get popular lol.. the Limited nature.. hewwo.. but alas.. and NO way I'm touching#fucking Threads please do not make an account on there and don't let your friends do it and don't let that shit catch on lol.#BUT YEahg... links...... just in case.. i hope tumblr stays aroundin it's current format forever though lol..#I'm pretty sure even facebook doesn't have audio posts. or tags the way this does. or CHRONOLOGICAL FEED. custom html for pages.. aaaaa
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golyadkin · 2 years
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apropos of nothing I’ve been using the same mechanical pencil to write and draw since i was like 10 years old because nothing has ever lived up to it and i happened upon a pack of them at the store today so i’m pretty much living in the best timeline rn
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proximart · 3 months
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real all or nothing kind of year; either half a dozen things to pick for a month, or a single sketch if i was lucky. maybe i'll do like, some sketchdumps or something of all the stuff i've never posted? (good reminder for me to finish off my heath fritillary design though, i do still want that tshirt...)
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