#like hopelessly in love main characters?

[5starluvr]

I listen to jazz a lot these days and I want to write a story that is somehow connected to a jazz bar like kiss the frog kind of vibe story…

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Madk's mangaka is one of the few people who truly understands the old adage

Love and hate are two sides of the same coin

[snowshinobi]

nothing gets me like a character with overt flower symbolism ESPECIALLY self-inflicted

[orcelito]

Kinda wanna reread my old Nico rps. Like What If I revisited my biggest interest of age 18? What If I revisited the excessively long text based rps where I really developed my own writing ability?

Sometimes it's just fun to revisit

[raisedbythetv89]

The writers I think mostly completely by accident with the assistance of James charming his way into becoming a main character created the perfect storm to ensure people who love spike would reach absolute peak levels of being completely obsessively deranged about him forever

Season 2:

He’s a punk rock villain with killer cheekbones, enchanting eyes, and an absolutely DEVILISH smile - who’s an incredibly dedicated and dangerous fighter who specifically seeks out challenging fights he’s not guaranteed to win (brave and reckless - normally traits seen in heroes) hates everyone except his mentally ill physically sick wife (the statistics of men who leave their wives when they get sick in the US is horrifying like nurses literally have to warn married women who get sick it happens so often) who he’s hopelessly devoted to and unbelievably soft with and always listens to her while also exuding a psychotic amount of sex appeal and is just F U N he loves being a vampire and he loves fighting and it makes it so much fun for the audience. While still showing how much he respects and admires his enemy for her skill, strength, resourcefulness, and intelligence - NEVER underestimating her just because she’s a tiny blonde girl - and instead of destroying the world for love he SAVES the world for love - a villain doing good to get the love of his life back who essentially dumped him for her ex????????? D E V O T E D and shockingly extremely trustworthy??? And has amazing chemistry with our heroine and is there for a pivotal moment in her life and is the only one there for her when she has no one else????? *enemies to lovers girlies ENTER THE CHAT*

Season 3:

He shows he fucking MEANS IT when he says Dru is the love of his life when he shows up in Sunnydale because he blames Angel not Buffy or Drusilla but the man actually responsible for all their problems and he is the most pathetic mess we’ve ever SEEN!!!! He’s crying and drunk all the time and he’s so sad he goes to Buffy’s mom TO TALK 💀😭 our pathetic sensitive little self admitted lover boy who KNOWS he’s love’s bitch and he won’t be pretending he’s anything otherwise who shows how clearly he sees and understands other people and the depths of his emotional intelligence so much so Buffy herself admits she can’t fool Spike she can fool her friends BUT NOT SPIKE OR HERSELF EXCUSE ME MA’AM WHAT???????

AND Spike doesn’t just uselessly MOPE forever he gets some perspective and is like I know what I’m gonna do to her back and I’m gonna go do that now! 😁👍🏻 showing he never stays down for long and is always gonna get back up to keep fighting for his love while BOTH he and Buffy still honor the truce even though he’s broken it by coming back??? While Buffy’s all “I violently dislike you” YEAH OK GIRL WHATEVER YOU SAY *enemies to lovers girlies chomping at the bit intensifies*

Season 4:

CLEARLY heartbroken about Drusilla (DEVOTED!!!) but it’s turned into anger and resentment directed at Harmony who how bizarre looks nothing like Drusilla but A LOT like Buffy…… hmmmmmmmmmmmmm HOW INTERESTING *enemies to lovers girlies are vibrating with anticipation that turns into a full blown combustion when something blue happens*

Spike doesn’t pretend to love Harmony in order to get what he wants from her (shown in direct contrast to Parker) he’s ironically very honest despite being a villain - he’s showing he’s STILL loyal to Drusilla in ONLY loving her even after she’s dumped him... again!

We see Spike treat Buffy the EXACT same way he treated Drusilla during something blue reaffirming THIS IS HOW THIS MAN LOVES WHEN HE LOVES YOU. He’s extremely affectionate, helpful, protective, caring - D E V O T E D - and is truly just the most certified lover boy we’ve ever fucking seen

Season 5:

SURPRISE HE’S SECRETLY A LOVESICK MAMA’S BOY POET AT HEART UNDERNEATH THE BAD BOY PERSONA AND A PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER AND NOW BUFFY AND HER FAMILY’S MOST LOYAL DEFENDER AND IS WILLING TO DIE NOT JUST FOR BUFFY BUT FOR ALL THE SUMMERS WOMEN AND HE KNOWS AND SEES BUFFY SO DEEPLY AND INTIMATELY AND CAN HOLD SPACE FOR HER PAIN LIKE NO ON ELSE CAN AND SHOWS THE DEVOTION THAT ONCE BELONGED TO DRUSILLA NOW BELONGS TO BUFFY AND IT IS GOING NOWHERE EVEN WHEN SHE DIES AND WE'VE SEEN IN HIM CRY BEFORE BUT NEVER HAVE WE SEEN HIM BREAK DOWN LIKE HE DOES AT THE SIGHT OF BUFFY'S BODY!!!!!!!!!!!

*all of us screaming, crying, throwing up, climbing the walls and generally just losing our minds*

Season 6:

No soul, his love is so great for Buffy as is his loyalty and devotion to her, he now helps all of his dead love’s friends fight evil and is raising her sister and dreams of saving her every night for 148 nights 🤚🏻😭 don’t even fucking talk to me I can’t take it

Forgive the absolute 180 in tone change here:

Dick game is FIRE - his touch is the only thing that makes Buffy feel alive AND SHE WAS IN HEAVEN BRO SHE KNOWS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE IN HEAVEN AND SPIKE IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING HER GOING like damn girl yes YOU FUCK THAT HOUSE DOWN!!! Also he is now just naked 50% of the time just to drive us all even FURTHER out of our minds and somehow has just gotten even hotter as the seasons have gone on like this is what’s been hiding under the leather jacket all this time! Enjoy!

And THE MOST unintended consequence of jw’s vindictive writing:

SPITE

He clearly didn’t want us to love Spike and tried to manipulate us into hating him in such a blatant and clumsy ooc attempt all that did was weed out the weakest amongst the Spuffy/Spike fans until all that remained were us:

The most devoted and stubborn fans who REFUSED to have the thing they loved ruined or taken away from us and were smart enough to see through his bullshit manipulation attempt in the first place.

Genuinely they created the equivalent of supersoilder strength level fans with this absolutely lethal combination of events 💀

AND THEN as if all that wasn't enough he goes and gets his soul on purpose for Buffy so he can be the man she deserves and she can love him without hating herself for loving him despite the immense pain it will cause him which is the most selfless thing we have ever seen anyone do for Buffy only to be topped when he sacrifices himself to destroy the hellmouth, save the world and free her from Sunnydale!!! Plus ya know once he gets the soul even though he did it for her he never tries to use that as leverage to get anything from her like he truly expects nothing from her at all but still wants to help her and James delivers the most devastating performances we've ever fucking seen, finally tells her friends off which has needed to happen for 5 seasons, the "you're the one speech" him being a dad to all the potentials with Buffy giving us supernatural parent core who made it through their rough patch with their first kid in season 6 with Dawn and now are just the beautiful team with their found family and Buffy finally has someone who can truly carry her burdens with her and just all the tenderness and devotion they both deserve after so many years of pain and fighting. Basically giving the audience the message that even if you have a metric ton of pain and trauma there are people out there who see you and understand you and there is a chance for you to heal both together and separately to build your own version of a more normal and stable life. It's a message of such hope and I personally know several people, including myself who watched what Spike and Buffy have and it inspired us to look at the relationships we were in and realize we deserved SO MUCH MORE than what we were getting and in my case it turned out I was being emotionally abused and manipulated that entire time!! Much like Buffy was by both Riley and Angel. So it isn't an exaggeration to say Spuffy saved my life in a lot of ways both in being there for me at such a dark time and helping me draw a map of how to get out. Not to mention loving them in fandom spaces has helped me connect with so many people just like me who share very similar experiences and have helped me feel so much less alone and has helped me heal in so many ways 🖤

Spuffies get "hOw cAn yOu liKe sPiKe aFtEr wHaT hE dId" all the fucking time and truly the better question is how can you NOT like Spike???? HAVE YOU BEEN PAYING ATTENTION AT ALL??? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT GOOD RELATIONSHIPS NEED TO WORK?? BECAUSE AT THEIR CORE SPUFFY HAS THEM ALL!

It's jw writing so NOTHING will escape his toxic bullshit but Spike - because he was hated by jw for so long - so much of the time when he tried to make Spike less popular he just kept making him better and more complex and more and more targeted to the female gaze which is exactly why he snapped and made the choices he literally forced everyone else to go along with despite their protests with that scene to make it the most traumatizing scene in all of Buffy history not just for the audience but for the actors as well because yes it is incredibly horrific and upsetting to watch (which is why I skip it on rewatches) but I still am able to see if for what it is which is a narcissist lashing out at people he hates because he hasn't been able to control them and too bad for him I refuse to be manipulated by his bullshit so it failed completely and made so many of us that much more stubbornly protective of Spike and his and Buffy's relationship not just from other fans but from the creator himself 🙃🖕🏻like he basically just trauma bonded us to Spike and Buffy which has led to the creation of one of the most devoted, loyal, intelligent fanbases who is absolutely unhinged (affectionate) with their love of this character and his relationship which is why we are all still creating and writing about this character 25 year later and show absolutely zero signs of slowing down or stopping 💀

[love-byers]

so as hard as it may be to believe, i was a mileven shipper right up until just before vol 2 of s4 came out. not hardcore twitter mileven, but a shipper nonetheless. i did love will and mike's relationship, maybe even more than mileven, but i never clocked it as romantic. i vividly remember thinking "aww, will and mike would be so cute together but they would never let that happen." and never thought about it again. even when i saw the rain fight and heard "it's not my fault you don't like girls" i was like "ohh wow so will is probably gay" and didn't even think he was in love with mike. i didn't believe that until the s4 trailer said "i think there is someone he likes" and of course, this was because of my own heteronormativity. i dismissed everything i saw and didn't even look for hints because the idea that the writers would allow a gay relationship between two main characters was not even a thought in my head. once i dropped that and started to trust that the writers actually cared and did want queer characters/storylines, everything made sense.

so i went into s4 thinking mileven were gonna be fine and that will was sad and hopelessly in love with mike. i mean fully believing it. so im mindlessly watching s4 e2 and thinking "aww poor will mike is so in love with el he can't pay attention to will" no questions asked.

then the fight happened. when mike blew up and said "you were! you were! you were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking you basically sabotaged the whole day" i was like " how do you know that" but still, i dismissed it and barely thought about it.

then it happened. "we're friends! we're. friends." all the alarm bells went off. red flags flew up. my eyebrows furrowed. "ummm what mike? he didn't say you were more than friends. why is he viewing this romantically and why is he being so defensive???"

i was so deep into believing the writers would never let the gay romance happen, but that just couldn't get past me. there's no other way that line can be interpreted. that's a trope that means one thing and one thing only.

my next thought was "ok, this is gonna be like the rain fight. will is gonna be really hurt by this and go silent."

but nope, will claps back with "well we used to be best friends!" and i was stunned. utterly stunned. what is going on here? what is this dynamic? and why is mike more worried about this than finding el? why did he care enough to completely stop walking so he couple blow up at will for not talking?? but still, i was somehow able to let this go. because the writers just wouldn't do that. would they?

the mileven fight happens and i've never wanted to backhand a teenager more in my entire life. i'm reminded of stancy and their whole "i love you" thing

then THIS happened, and i was thinking more and more that mike doesn't love el romantically. look at his face when will says "whatever you didn't say you can say it to her then". will starts talking but the camera stays focused on mike and will remains blurred. we're supposed to be taking in mikes reaction. he says yes, but frowns and blinks rapidly. will was trying to reassure him, but mike has not been reassured. i don't know how to describe the emotion on his face. it's like you just had a chance to clear up your lie, but you still didn't, and now you're back to thinking about the moment your lie will blow up in your face. it's like his face is saying, "no, i can't just say it to her then because i don't want to."

the scene where they talk on top of the car is what started to make me think mike doesn't love el romantically. his reaction to will saying "it's scary, to say how you really feel. especially to people you care about the most. because..what if they don't like the truth?" he nodded. he felt seen. i remember thinking "ooooh. he doesn't love her and he knows she won't like that" everything made sense. if we apply mike's monologue logic to this, it makes no sense. whatever it is that mike is feeling, he thinks el won't like it. then he supposedly decides that the moment to tell her that is when she's dying?

mike is lying. he was holding back saying how he feels because he knows el won't like it. then when she's dying, he suddenly thinks his feelings are what she wants enough that it'll save her life? whatever he was feeling on top of the car and what he tells her in the monologue are not the same. you don't tell someone something they won't like when they're dying.

and 2 years ago i came to this conclusion without an ounce me believing byler could be canon.

[lovebugism]

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

They only met once, but it changed their lives forever. 

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems. 

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore. 

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you. 

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough.  You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against. 

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles). 

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into. 

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary. 

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you. 

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”  

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her. 

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips. 

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means. 

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you. 

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds. 

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about. 

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place. 

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right. 

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week. 

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now. 

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie. 

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you. 

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call. 

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.” 

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting. 

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer. 

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat. 

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way. 

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye. 

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm. 

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing. 

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college. 

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs. 

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

 Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be. 

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching. 

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully. 

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease. 

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago. 

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need. 

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret. 

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure. 

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?” 

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading —  and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly. 

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious. 

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for. 

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry. 

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you. 

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him. 

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him. 

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so. 

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes. 

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you. 

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it. 

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?” 

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats. 

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling. 

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day. 

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down. 

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone. 

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him. 

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold. 

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler. 

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock. 

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.” 

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time.  “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are. 

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were. 

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?” 

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so. 

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.” 

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost. 

But it’s happened before. 

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight. 

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise. 

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak. 

You want him. 

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

[beomiracles]

ᴛᴜʙᴀᴛᴜ ᴀꜱ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ʟᴇᴀᴅ ꜱʏɴᴅʀᴏᴍᴇ ੈ✩‧₊˚

DREAM RECALL "'Second male lead syndrome' is where the second male lead is or seems infinitely superior to the male lead, and you curse the main character for choosing the wrong guy."

pairings non idol!txt x gn!reader warnings yeonjun is kinda mean, beomgyu is pervert (I can't help myself when I write for him), beomgyu's hints at sexual themes.

#serene adds ✎... it's been forever since I wrote for all five like this hehe. this one's lowkey a little sad... :>

ʏᴇᴏɴᴊᴜɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅ ‘ʙᴜʟʟʏ’ who you had sworn off years ago due to his persistent snarky comments and mean pranks. In your eyes he was nothing but a bully and you did everything in your might to keep your distance. 

Yeonjun, who had only been a small boy with a crush on a small girl; now finds himself hopelessly watching you from afar as you laugh with your friends. Despite years passing and the fact that you were both grown up by this point, your grudge seemed to persist. 

Yeonjun who doesn’t know how to express his feelings for you so he chooses to pull pranks instead, hoping it will catch your attention. Not understanding why you get upset with him and ignore him when he passes by; it only makes his comments grow nastier. 

Yeonjun who trips you over in the hallways, yet hesitating — wanting to reach out a hand and help you back up again. Yeonjun who tells you that your shirt is dirty when he actually wants to tell you that blue looks nice on you. 

Yeonjun who calls your boyfriend a down-grade from your last, when he wants nothing more but to be the one you call your own. 

ꜱᴏᴏʙɪɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ’ꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ who always seemed to hang around your boyfriend whenever you were present. Your boyfriend who always explained it as it being a ‘guy thing’. 

Soobin who knew that it was wrong to have a crush on his best friend’s girlfriend. So he never made a move. 

Soobin who knew that he stood no chance against his best friend. Yeonjun was confident and charismatic, easily swooning you with every other sentence. All the while Soobin has to rehearse his next words before even daring to address you. 

Soobin who gets flustered under your stare, and you don’t understand why he insists on hanging out with you and your boyfriend as he rarely speaks. Yeonjun who explains it as him being shy — it only makes Soobin feel even more guilty, his best friend oblivious to his true feelings. 

“You listening, Binnie?” Your sweet voice makes his knees weak and Soobin has to blink a couple of times before realizing that he hadn’t heard a word of what you had just said; too lost in your eyes, the way your soft lashes subconsciously moved as you spoke.  “Uh-huh”, he splutters, earning a giggle from you, Soobin who loved your laugh.

ʙᴇᴏᴍɢʏᴜ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ who’s gaze always seemed to linger whenever you were around. His brother would often bring you over, and you would always so politely greet him, making his heart flutter like a little school boy.  

Beomgyu who loved the way your eyes would crinkle up as you smiled at his jokes. He would always make excuses to pass by his brother’s room whenever you were over, earning quite the scolding from his elder sibling. In the end it was always worth it. 

Beomgyu who doesn’t understand why you had chosen his older brother over him. His brother wasn’t twice as funny or good looking, yet he was the one who’s cheek you pressed soft kisses to whenever you could. 

Beomgyu who doesn’t know if he loves it or hates it when you stay over. The sounds of your sweet moans as his brother has his way with you in the room next to his own –  keeps him up at night. And he knows it’s wrong, the way he tries to peek at you whenever he thinks you aren’t looking; he can’t help it. 

Beomgyu who always got compared to his older brother, desperately wishing to have everything he had, most of all he wanted his girlfriend. Beomgyu who hopes that one day you’ll see what’s been right in front of you all along. 

ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴜᴛᴏʀ who helped your grades go from D’s to B’s. Taehyun who usually never offered to tutor, despite being the top student in all of his classes, but when you came along, there had been no question about it. 

Taehyun, who always waits for you after class so that you can study together. He doesn't mind when you don’t get it right away, in fact he likes explaining things to you, even if he has to do so over and over; only to see the way your eyes light up in joy as you finally understand. 

Taehyun who loves when you ask questions about the subject he’s helping you with. Sometimes he even messes up, too lost in the way you chew on your pencil or the way your painted nails itch at your rosy cheek. 

Taehyun whose mood turns sour as your friends approach, whisking your attention from him in milliseconds. Heart aching when you tell him that you would have to leave earlier because you had a date. 

Taehyun who wishes you would ask to hangout outside of school, outside of tutoring. Taehyun who wishes you would ask questions about him and not the boring equations you tried to solve. Taehyun who wishes to be more than just your tutor.

ʜᴜᴇɴɪɴɢᴋᴀɪ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ who never seemed to understand the appeal you saw in the guys you chose to date. Who also never wrapped his head around the range of emotions they caused you to undergo. 

“He’s such a dick!” You groan, slamming your phone down on the table as you lean back in your chair. Huening frowns, yesterday you had told him that he was perfect, you seemed to change your mind a lot. 

“I’m sure he’ll come around” Kai reassures, though he secretly wishes he wouldn’t. You give him an uncertain look, “you think so?” Your best friend nods, “you’re gorgeous y/n, he would be a fool not to.” 

"Oh, stop it!” you giggle, ignorant to the fact that he had meant every word. Hueningkai who wishes you would see yourself through his eyes, perhaps then you would realize his true feelings for you. Instead he’s forced to watch from the sidelines as guys sweep you off your feet. 

He gives you a small smile, cheeks reddening as you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. “You’re such a great friend, Kai” you sigh against his neck, his heart sinks, friend, that’s all he was to you. 

Hueningkai who pats your back and dries your tears after yet another unsuccessful date. Hueningkai who listens to you vent about the guy you’re currently talking to, wishing more than anything to be in his shoes. Hueningkai who’s too much of a coward to ever admit his feelings out loud. 

taglist ✎... @gardnhee @theresawtf @jjklvr9 @binniebakery @beomies-world @yunjinsbbg @ninoshome1 (if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ᰔ © all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[aimasup]

just found some Valiant AU development sketches and notes in my old OLD sketchbook

I really thought it would be a webtoon

long post warning! And I mean long looooooooong post. If you get to the bottom and go "I'm not reading allat" I do not blame you

more under the cut:

^^^ OC

General notes:

This Valiant AU was meant to be a solarpunk superhero slice of life that slowly reveals a heavier plot, mostly focusing on character interactions and personal growth

White Hat Incorporated is a struggling, newbie business and clients are rare

The episodes can range from domestic shenanigans like fixing a leaking pipe or getting dinner, to running their business by defeating the villain of the week

The villains and heroes stay in their roles from canon. The only ones with major changes are our main 4 guys

All major information about White Hat would be discovered from the point of view of Lumencia and Zug as they realize that not only is PEACE corrupt, but that their boss is neither human nor demon nor alien

Now onto the characters themselves:

Dr. Zug Gleis

Like his name suggests, he likes trains. His train is also a drill that was an attempt to burrow out of government's arrest

Which he then modified into a laboratory, each train cart being a unique kind of laboratory for surveillance, medicine, etc. He sleeps very uncomfortably in cramped spaces and likes it that way

V.I.R.U.S is now a software he created and repurposed into his bratty computer assistant, now Cambot. She's also the one recording all their commercials and making his coffee. Basically Zug doesn't get along with ANY of his children

He doesn't like to leave his laboratories, so he set up a network of tunnels through White Hat's mansion that send and receive messages, inventions, food, etc. There's one little chute for these in most parts of the place

His arc was focusing on his inability to accept help from others because he sees any kind gesture as a possible way to control him. Even worse if the kind person genuinely means it, because he also sees accepting kindness as a handicap, a debt

His villainy was an easy way to make money and show the world his capability without any assistance from any hero or villain organization

Really, he just wants to be able to do whatever he wants, but his need to be the best or else he's the worst is tiring for him. Anger issues don't help

This stemmed from a past of constantly being bullied and compared to his brother, Goldheart

After dropping out of hero college, Zug became his own supervillain's known as The Mad Condoctor, whose theme was, you guessed it, trains. He stole trains, modified scrap metal, targeted stations and trade centers, held hostages, prepared puzzles for heroes to solve, etc

The Mad Condoctor was notorious for being uncooperative and a backstabber. He operated at night and was an expert in secret missions, spyware and tech-based combat and the likes

By the first season finale he would have genuinely cared for his coworkers but still didn't value his own life, so he let himself be taken in by PEACE. The crew have to go retrieve their idiot and many things about White Hat Incorporated are revealed to the public after they clash with their local PEACE headquarters

He finds authority annoying and hates seeing people kiss up. Mostly shameless in his actions and doesn't much care for other people's opinions. Can be honest to the point of hurting

So he is a terrible liar. It's like he's allergic to it or something. Prefers to lie by omission

Will only call White Hat 'sir' and 'jefecito' sarcastically or to get a point across. Unfortunately hopelessly devoted to him at the end of the series whoops

Lumencia

A superwoman with horse-like powers that decided to choose unicorns as her motif because that's way cooler. She has kicks and punches that convert her diet into energy, which is great because she loves eating

Changed it up so that Lumencia is the resident prankster and WH tells puns, not the other way around

She has a room with a slanted ceiling which she can climb out the window of to lie and chill on the roof. She's also converted that space, where flat roof meets slanted roof, into an outdoor cinema/gym, decorated with christmas lights. The mansion is a three-way clash of decorative styles from afar

She doesn't have a license to be a hero, but she helps out wherever she can anyway, stopping purse snatchers and helping lost children find their parents and such

In fact, she is actually one of the most beloved people in the little town they live near, with many residents familiar with her buffoonery but affirming her as a reliable source of help

She's also relatively well-known online, as she posts videos of her playing the guitar and well-intentioned but nonsensical 'Lumencia Tips', filled with terrible puns and comic-like ballpoint pen doodles

Her arc would have focused on letting herself acknowledge her strengths that aren't related to fighting

Shes very buddy-buddy with petty criminals and shop owners alike, able to strike up a conversation and make pals no matter who they are. Once she deems you chill, you can chill, yknow? This isn't on purpose.

Even though she has gross taste in food and is messier than Zug, her handwriting is very pretty and neat. She also is very good at graffiti and sticks to an aesthetic, with glitter and y2k stickers and denim-clad wizards on skateboards, all the works

She has a very straightforward view on heroics and is not big on plans, preferring to punch her way out of situations or annoy her enemies to tears. In fact, her main goal is to become an official part of one of the many PEACE-brand hero leagues.

There's other hero corporations too but PEACE is the number one in America

So one day she just showed up on White Hat's doorstep and never left because it would 'look good on her resume'.

Previously, she bounced from place to place, relying on connections and the occasional tip from her halfway-illegal heroism efforts to get by. She also doesn't remember where her powers are from, only that her parents worked at PEACE and where killed by 'villains' when she was a little girl

Her favourite place is the funfair because that's the last nice memory she had

By season two she would have started another arc where she learns that she was an experiment and her parents were killed by their own higher ups in PEACE to silence them, and she has to come to terms with why she even wants to be a hero as well as stand her ground when her optimism is challenged.

Lumencia's music is like whatever Equestria Girls and Electric Mayhem have going on. I think the genre is power pop? Either way it sounds like those elaborate 80s radical van murals look

Is an effortless liar in the sense that she says the most batshit things with utmost confidence and treats consequences like an afterthought.

Only calls White Hat 'White Hat' and not 'boss' when she feels the situation calls for it. Also unfortunately hopelessly devoted to him by the end of the series

624

An extra set of hands that cleans the place and helps out with their little business. Does not like being interuppted when listening to music

Goes from 'fucking hate these guys' to 'they give me food therefore they are mine' in the span of the entire series

Quite lazy, plays the winning side. Which is usually the heroes here

Dunno if I'd call his arc an arc. All I know is there's an episode where his spoilt teenager-ismd hits their peak and Zug and Lumencia have to reach an understanding with him by respecting his boundaries and helping him feel secure

And after that episode, 624 stopped being a total catalyst for disaster plotwise

White Hat

He is one of the comic reliefs and manages White Hat Incorporated, often making really stupid decisions because profit is not on his mind

The final voice I settled on for him was fucking Australian Markiplier

His "growth" would be the characters and readers seeing him to actually be a caring, experienced-in-heroics-but-not-business individual who gives really sound advice and becomes a source of comfort for his close friends

But is still a MEGA-PRICK. Every time he gets beat up it's for a valid reason

In canon, villainy triumphs because Black Hat is there. In the Valiant AU, the story is in the heroes' favour because White Hat is in his place.

I wanted him to be (mostly) opposite to Black Hat in many ways! BH's office is huge, minimalistic, corporate and cold, while WH's office is small, maximalistic, filled with sentimental items and like a warm cabin.

BH basks in hellfire and while WH does use fire, he prefers the ocean. BH enjoys golf, WH enjoys dancing. BH takes himself seriously, WH very much doesn't. BH detests everything, WH has an appreciation for everything. And etc...

They're still horrible creepy eldritch monstrosities, the fish theme for WH is just because he likes ocean shit and fish are scary

BH has made himself known globally and universally, he has statues and monuments and paintings

WH has nothing; White Hat is five years old. This is his first time being White Hat

But he's been around since the beginning of time, taking many forms and names, learning the wonders of the universe and giving all of his time to help however he could

He believed this to be natural, he's the one of a kind who doesn't need rest or food. He can't die or get really hurt, and would later learn he couldn't bear to love either

Some of the things he was included many plants and animals before the humans, then farmers and warriors, witches and politicians, an entertainer vigilante, a writer, a parent, a fur-clad warrior in the snow, guiding forces of nature, and a female pirate.

I wanted him to cycle through the entire alignment chart in terms of morality as he exhausted everything he could do to make a difference

After World War 2 on earth, his psyche gave out and he collapsed into a long, long nap; a shadow pooling in a lake, his favourite

Finally woke up and decided to take his own form not based on any species or star or tree, chose his own outfit and everything

And made his debut as White Hat, forged documents to start a small business for heroes support

He doesn't have an arc, but if he did, he would be in the midst of learning to let himself get attached again and be properly selfish. Maybe identity issues.

But he doesn't have an arc

And so really only serves to help out Zug and Lumencia. He's comfortable with no one knowing these things about him ever, because what would they even do if they did?

Wouldn't change anything, they wouldn't understand the full scope even, so he's at peace with himself right now, grateful that he's alive for once

He uses manipulation to direct conversations away from himself and get people to spill their feelings, or burrow into their trauma without using magic

if he wants he can let loose to trigger some kind of indescribable primal instinct within a person, that cripples them with terror and despair and love for the sublime face of something divine, bigger than the observable universe. He doesn't like doing this.

He's a fan of ice and shadow manipulation, he thinks the colours go well with his coat

Most animals hate him and he cries about it

He also cries when he tries to download an app on a laptop

He is a competent medical doctor, babysitter, and waiter. In fact, he seems to have infinite patience and calm when he isn't whining over dessert like a toddler

The human skeleton hanging in his office is real

Hopelessly attached to Lumencia, Zug and 624 by the end of the series but they don't need to know that

This AU will forever make me warm and fuzzy inside I love them so much, I had so many locations planned, started Pinterest boards and shit

Instead I think I'll take some of these things and apply them to my OCs instead! HUGE thanks to everyone who enjoyed this version of this AU while it lasted! Maybe it'll come back one day, maybe not. Likely not

[slashingdisneypasta]

Erik Destler x Fem!StageActress!Reader || Would Include...

Erik Destler always learning your on-stage romantic interests part totally and then 'dispatching' of the poor guy just before he's meant to go on so he then can always taking his place would include...

Warnings: Contemporary musical references, I don't care, shoot me. Also just basic Erik creepiness; murder and not-super-consensual kissing/touches (dub con at most).

Tagging: @marinerainbow and @masqueradeball .

🥀 Erik falling for you almost the moment you entered the Palais Garnier for the first time. He has no chill, we know this. He's like a Disney Princess. One song and he's fallen hopelessly in love.

🥀 Erik always keeping an eye on the cast lists when they come out- checking who you are and if you have a romantic interest. If you do, that person is now his main target. He may not kill them immediately, he'll wait until the final show on the final night, but there is a big red bullseye on their back now.

🥀 Erik practising 'his' lines (The lines of your on-stage romance) in his sewer room, reciting them to a dummy wearing some... familiar clothing. What? No, he didn't sneak into your chambers in the middle of the night and steal them from you! No, no! Absolutely not!... though you are missing a dress exactly like the one the doll is wearing. *cough*

🥀 Erik treating that doll of you with the utmost care. Almost as much as he'd treat you, the real you, with (Or, how he'd like to treat you. Only the lord knows if Erik could actually be gentle if given the chance to hold you). Its really creepy. Imagine his fingertips only grazing the dolls cheek very gently, but his eyes drift downwards (even though, again, its JUST A DOLL- ITS JUST STUFFING, ERIK!- Y O U ' R E T H E O N E W H O S T U F F E D I T- ) with very desire-filled eyes. Imagine him on one knee before the doll, holding its hand in his, its dead-eyes staring off into space while he professes deep speeches about love that are supposed to be romantic but just come out wrong and infatuated off Erik's tongue. Imagine Erik's hand wandering in the middle of a particularly heated scene; completely lost to his imagination.

🥀 Erik n e v e r, ever stealing the part of a villain. Even if that villain gets much more heated, or charged scenes with you then your actual love interest (Duke Monroth, Professor Callahan, Judge Turpin, Scar, etc). He wants to be your hero. Your prince, your true love.

🥀 Erik watching your every show, in his special box 5, studying you with eyes so hot you swear you can feel them on your skin every night. Paying so close attention, so he knows exactly how to compliment you on stage; how to be your perfect stage partner. This is why your scenes in every last show at the Palais Garnier are so impossibly electrifying to the audience- and, to you.

🥀 Erik allowing your casted partner to appear in the first few scenes with you during that last performance on that last night, so you never really know when its going to stop being the one guy and start being Erik- you're on your toes. Waiting the whole performance for the hand you grab onto to be Erik's. (He's waiting for the perfect moment to step in. The moment when you're really, really in character; lost to your art.)

🥀 Erik being the Christian to your Satine during 'El Tango De Roxanne' (His eyes upon your face. His hand upon your hand. His lips caress your skin. It's more than I can stand), 'Crazy Rolling' (See how I leave with every piece of you. Don't underestimate the things I will do), and 'Your Song Reprise' (Look at me... Satine... Why else live, if not for love?) in Moulin Rouge.

🥀 Erik being the Fiyero to your Elphaba during that super fucking charged 'As Long As You're Mine' scene in Wicked. You know? With you both on your knees on the stage surrounded by dramatic mist and you cant keep your hands off eachother?? *cough cough* I mean, with you both on your knees on the stage surrounded by dramatic mist and Fiyero and Elphaba cant keep their hands off eachother??? XD (Kiss me too fiercely, Hold me too tight; I need help believing, You're with me tonight, My wildest dreamings, Could not foresee, Lying beside you, With you wanting me // Every moment, As long as you're mine, I'll wake up my body, And make up for lost time.)

🥀 Erik being the Prince to your Sleeping Beauty, Snow White during the True Love's Kiss Scene. Oh yes, he definitely goes there. Did you doubt it?

🥀 Erik AS THE BEAST IN 'EVERMORE' TO YOUR BELLE IN BEAUTY AND THE BEAST!!!?

🥀 Erik never appearing at the end of the production to bow- he cant. You know that. So he makes his last moments on stage with you last, because honestly- who knows when the next time will be?? Its not like he can come call on you like a normal person... 🙄he's a dramatic freak. He holds your hand a few moments longer then necessary, or a little tighter. He kisses you one more time even though its not scripted.

🥀 Erik leaving you a bouquet of flowers in your dressing room after that last show on that last night. Signed simply, ceaselessly yours.

~

🥀 You tell yourself every time that the show must go on. You tell yourself, that thats why you don't stop it; Don't do anything.

🥀 You are lying to yourself. You cant deny the electricity crackling all over your skin every time you see Erik on stage with you, every time Erik touches you under fake pretences. You've never felt quite the same on stage then when he's there with you; you feel like you're really the characters... and there is nothing on earth like that feeling. No one else can give you this. No one but him.

🥀 You expect it now and anxiously await the moment when your practise partner (Just Erik's understudy. Thats what you're thinking of them now; the men who are actually cast) dematerialises from the stage and its Erik.

🥀 You always leave the flowers from Erik at the grave of the man who died. Its sick, the game (?? habit?? r e l a t i o n s h i p??) you're in, but you cant stop. And you cant apologise, so you can only do this.

🥀 You working extra hard to get lead roles at the Palais Garnier. As soon as one show is over, you have a hunger to do it again. Get another part, get Erik back on that stage with you.

Its like an addiction.

[mister-mickey]

Okay okay so this is exposing me as probably the cringiest person ever maybe but‼️ descendants au!

Okay so for anyone who doesn’t know the basic premise of descendants, all the characters are the kids (aka, descendants) of (Disney) fairytale characters, both villains and heroes. The descendants movies mostly focus on the villain kids and their redemption, and that’s what the trilogy is basically about (ignore the new movie, it sucks, don’t even bother watching it)

Okay so, Darry, soda, and ponyboy are the sons of Gaston because I think it’s silly. Darry is strong like Gaston, soda is good with the ladies, and Ponyboy is the biggest disappointment ever.

He likes to READ like a FREAK so Gaston hates his stupid little child. Gaston isn’t too fond of Darry either because although Darry is big and strong, he sucks with the ladies, and is also intelligent and dislikes his dad.

Soda might be Gaston’s fave, but even he isn’t perfect because he’s skinny and not tough. So they all have severe daddy issues lol

After that we have Dallas who is technically the main character because he steals Mal’s spot as maleficents child. (He’s a fairy haha so funny)

He’s like a little demon and we love/hate him. He does magic and all that. He hates his mom because… she sucks but he also lowkey wants her approval because she is the most powerful person on the isle. He has almost the same relationship with her as Mal does in the movies, so there isn’t a whole lot to change

I gave him horns because I felt like mal should have had horns

Next is Johnny! His mom is mother Gothel because none of the main parents seemed to fit him. They have a complicated relationship because that lady is crazy but she’s also really good at pretending that she loves him

Poor guy is so conflicted 24/7. He’s got long hair because mother Gothel has somehow gotten it into her head that he will eventually become magical.

And then there is twobit!!!! His dad is Jafar which I’m pretty sure was @crazability idea

This was mostly because he seemed very similar to jay in the movies, but also because like… it just works. We like it

He’s goofier than jay is because he’s twobit but I think he plays a similar role

Then Steve!!! Steve is Cruella DeVil’s son. He is very smart obviously because he’s Steve but since Cruella owns the only car then he is ofc the car guy

Steve is the same except he is deathly scared of dogs because of his mom lol. He HATES her she is absolutely off her rocker

Now after them is the auradon kids!! These are obviously the socs because like, come on

They get tiny doodles because I got lazy.

Paul is the son of belle and the beats! He is the future king of auradon and that power goes to his blond curly head. He is also hopelessly in love with the person he keeps seeing in his dreams (if you’ve read the descendants books you know, but if you haven’t, I’ll explain later in the plot section)

Cherry is Ariel’s daughter! She’s a mermaid obviously and I’m assuming she’s melodys younger sister. We made her Ariel’s kid because she’s a redhead lol. Cherry is super chill until she meets annoying Dallas. She’s currently dating Bob

Marcia is fairy godmothers child and she takes Jane’s role in the original movies. She’s kind of insecure (though not AS insecure) and it does affect the way she behaves

Bob is literally just chad charming if his name was Bob. Also if chad was violent. Bob is Cinderella and Prince Charming’s son. He’s very eugh I guess

Randy is the son of aurora and whatever her husbands name is. He dislikes Dallas because of that but I’ll expand on that further down

OKAY! PLOT!

20-25 years previous, the villains were resurrected and sent to the isle of the lost. This was as a punishment becuase apparently death was not punishment enough. Obviously the villains have kids and the heroes have kids, but the villains kids grow up in an incredibly violent and poverty stricken environment. Cruelty is not just encouraged, but necessary for survival. Nobody cares about these kids so they often raise themselves

Well, the good guys elect a king to rule over all the lands (auradon) and they pick the beast from beauty and the beast. Whatever. Well now Paul is about to be king (despite his father being alive and fine. Stupid descendants lore)

Paul has been having dreams about blue eyes for months. He doesn’t remember anything else. It’s haunting him and he’s been searching for the person with blue eye for so long. He eventually figured that the person may be on the isle, so his first decree as a soon to be king is for some of the kids to be taken off of the isle.

So Darry, pony, soda, Dallas, Johnny, Steve, and twobit get picked. They are carted in a limousine and taken to auradon. Now, these guys have an EVIL plan thanks to Dally’s mom

The plot is basically the same after this except dally is the one doing the magic, but Darry is the one with the romance plot.

Basically, dally thinks Paul’s is gross and he refuses to seduce him. They all draw straws and darry loses. Dally makes the love potion, darry gets Paul to eat it, and then darry has to deal with Paul being head over heels for him. Eventually Darry falls in love back (which is super scary for him) which makes him not want to take over auradon.

Dally is conflicted because he wants to take over auradon to show his mom that he’s powerful but he’s quickly realizing that she will never care. He feels stupid for ever wanting her approval and sticks with the people that he KNOWS will always love him (the gang)

Now, they all get their arcs where they realize that they like living in auradon and they like being happy and not on the defensive 24/7.

Steve gets the dog arc where he realizes that his mom lied to him to keep him under her thumb

Twobit flirts with girls and tells jokes like he does on the isle, but in auradon people act likes he’s special for being witty. They want to be his friend. They actually try to get to know him and it makes him realize that his humor was a sort of defense tactic. He realizes that he doesn’t want to be funny just as a defense. He likes to make people smile. (Also room for marbit where he jokes with her and makes her feel good and she is a little less insecure but still insecure because insecurity doesn’t just go away after one conversation)

Johnny cuts his hair! It was an accident and he felt so nervous he almost passed out, thinking about how mad his mom would be. But then the teachers helped him even it out and make it look okay, and made sure he was okay. He felt free and happy that he was given a choice. He realizes that he wants the space to make choices

Soda is used to feeling dumb. He doesn’t like to read or do much of that stuff. He leaves it to darry and pony. It’s never been an issue for him, until the teachers started caring. It was awkward for him having all his teachers offer extra lessons because he struggled so much. It was weird having adults CARE about his issues. He starts to hate his dad a lot more

Pony is clear cut tbh. He likes to read, he hates fighting, and gangs, and wars, and everything else that the villains DO want. He meets belle and they become besties. He was on the auradon side since the beginning tbh. He felt very validated swapping his stories about his dad with her.

But! Trouble still happens when Marcia tries to make herself “better” and accidentally opens the barrier. Maleficent comes, causes trouble, and dally defeats her with the power of friendship

Darry realizes that the spell on Paul wore off ages ago and that Paul really does like him, boom! Happily ever after!

For now. Descendants two will include the Shepards 😈 and other characters if anyone has ideas on how to make that work

Also forgive me if this is confusing my phone is super laggy and I’m having trouble actually typing

Also! @batidochokolat wrote a few cute little snippets a while back of this au and I’m still crazy about it

[moonyflesh]

“Technical Difficulties” - [Steven Grant x Reader]

WARNINGS: fluff, single use of profanity

CHARACTERS: Steven Grant (Moonknight; MARVEL)

🌙 .*.. ☎️

Your eyes flitted over the open book in your lap, a soft yawn leaving your plump lips as you flipped one of the yellowing pages, your eyes droopy with exhaustion (and possibly a hint of boredom).

Lulling your head back into the large leather couch, your eyes hazenly scanned the large studio apartment, analyzing what a mess it really was.

A cozy, almost welcoming mess, but a mess nonetheless.

You stood, stretching with a slight groan as your back popped, and you tossed the old, hardcover book on the messy coffee table by your calves height, your eyes scanning the papers that littered the surface, analyzing the Egyptian studies and documents for only a moment, before you tore your gaze away from the “fascinating hieroglyphs”.

A soft, oh-so-sweet accent rang through the flat, drawing your gaze through the seemingly endless bookshelves.

Steven.

The strong cockney accent had you walking through the maze, your fingers dragging along the spines of the old, once-read books on each shelf, rounding a corner to be greeted by the adorable sight of none other than your loving boyfriend, Steven Grant, hunched over his brand new phone.

Paper manuals splayed out over the already cluttered wooden desk in a frantic splash of white and black text, illuminated by a small desk-lamp as you raised your eyebrows in amusement.

A small pair of “grandma glasses” hung precariously close to the tip of his nose, slipping lower before he would mumble a complaint under his breath and push them back up with a sigh.

“Did you call for me, baby?” You asked, rubbing at your eyes with a soft yawn, before running your hands through your hair, undoing any knots.

“Ah- there’s my beautiful darling!”

He immediately seemed a pound lighter when his posture straightened up from the device in his hand, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours for a brief moment, a smile of simple relief on his chapped lips.

“Were you sleeping, love?” He quickly questioned, his eyebrows knitting at the sight of your sleepy gaze on him, but smiled and nodded when you shook your head negatively.

“No. Was just bored- i was reading one of your books and just could not find any interest in the concept of worshipping cats,”

He chuckled, faking a face of offense at your distaste in such an interesting matter.

Well, to him anyway.

You wandered to his side, elbows first on the desk, ignoring the stacked papers as your eyes curiously draped over the phone in his hand, noticing how it still was flashing the bright white greeting screen, the word “hello” in different languages flashing slowly over the screen like some sophomore’s lazy slideshow presentation.

“I uh- well, I’ll admit i’m still not fond of your begging me to get a new phone,”

He chuckled out almost bashfully, pushing his reading glasses up the bridge of his crooked, tanned nose once again.

“I cant figure this bloody thing out, love.”

You smiled down at the device, tilting your head in your hand, a small laugh passing your freckled lips.

“I did not beg. I simply…asked. It’s 2025, Steven. You couldn’t keep using that damn flip phone.”

Steven scoffed, a small, playful frown on his face as he cocked his head oh-so-cutely to the side, scrunching his nose at the fact that you were probably right.

You always were, though.

He smiled, nudging your shoulder with his own playfully, scooting back out of the desk’s main area in the rolling office chair.

“I’m just askin’ for sum help, darling,”

He smiled lovingly up at you, like you were the most angelic being out there. Like he was so hopelessly in love with you.

How true that really was, you couldn’t imagine.

Sighing, you gingerly took the phone out of his hand and began the basic set up, casually pointing at buttons and certain things he should remember in terms of having a smartphone, like where the flashlight ability was, etc.

“Alright, you need a password. Something that’ll keep your phone locked, until you wanna use it.”

His eyebrows curiously knitted together, as if that was the silliest thing in the world.

“A…a passcode? Ooo, it’s like a riddle every time i want to contact you! Well- except ill already know the answer every time-”

Your heart swelled with a small huff, his innocence too much for your corrupted thoughts as you laughed.

“Uh- yeah. Like a riddle. So….?”

He pursed his lips for a moment, scratching at his black curls that were messily unstyled and stuck to his forehead.

“Make it…make it your birthday, yeah? That way I’ll never forget, and you’ll always be able to get onnit.”

He looked up at you, his hands reaching out for your hips, drawing you to his seated form, letting you stand between his thighs with a soft smile, one that absolutely melted you, and you couldn’t resist.

“…my birthday?”

He nodded eagerly, rubbing mindless circles into your hips through your loose trousers, shrugging.

“Would you rather it be our anniversary date-?”

God how dearly you loved this man.

“No, no- i just-”

He leaned closer to you, leaning into your stomach as he buried his head into your tummy, nestling his forehead there.

“I don’t deserve you, Steven.”

The man guffawed, and playfully smacked the back of your thighs with a small huff, chuckling into your tummy.

“Now why would you ever say such a thing? Course you deserve me, love. you deserve the whole bloody universe, really,” You smiled, running your fingers through his hair with a puff of acceptance, shrugging, before moving your attention back to his phone, typing away at his contacts, which consisted of, well, no one.

“i’ll add my number in, yeah? you want anyone else in here yet? Donna, maybe?”

The woman’s name brought forth a shudder from the man snuggling against you earning a bark of laughter from your glossy lips.

“alright, i’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

Pressing a few numbers, you inputted your number into his contacts, labeling it with the simple first letter of your name, and a brown heart emoji.

You cheekily pinned yourself to the top of his chat thread, but didn’t bother to tell him how you did it, or how to undo it.

“alright, you’re all set up, sweet boy,” you purred out, tugging softly on some of his curls, the raven strands of hair that stuck to his forehead being swiped away by your fingers gingerly.

“i’m probably gonna take a nap, if that’s okay? might steal your bed- that couch is awful for my back-”

He nodded, his lips brushing over the skin above your pant line, where his fingers had rested over your belly button under your blouse, curiously tracing the soft, speckled skin and stretch marks around your hips.

“y-yeah, that’s alright love. i’m gonna finish this tour outline and then i’ll join.” He smiled up at you, shifting so his chin rested on the plush of your abdomen, a lazy smile tugging at his face when you pulled the magenta glasses off his crooked nose.

“handsome chap.”

“pretty gal.”

You both chuckled at each other’s words, before you leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth, and pulled away with a soft grumble of a ‘mm’ from his chapped lips, and he scooted back into the large pine desk with a soft, overworked sigh.

“don’t be too long, okay? ‘s cold without you in bed,” You mumbled, wandering further and further away from him in open space of his flat, to the sand ring round his bed, where you kicked off your house shoes and socks, and climbed into his crisp sheets with a soft sigh, smiling at his ‘won’t be much longer!’ from across the room.

Your eyes fluttered shut when your nose inhaled his scent on one of his many pillows, a content groan leaving your lips as you laid on your side, yawning.

Sleep welcomed you more warmly with the knowledge that Steven had an easier way to contact you.

…

And it was a plus that he had a picture feature now.

…

you were definitely going to abuse that opportunity.

[neolxzr]

student au ivantill would be such peak "fell first fell harder" do you get me. the whole main cast has all known each other since they were kids and ivan's been nurturing his onesided crush ever since they were like. very tiny.

mizisua are best friends but grow up to realize their feelings for one another in like late middle school/early high school idk theyre around 14-15 and till has his crush on mizi crushed but mizi is the sweetest angel ever and he cant be mad at her for it. he only knows sua through mizi really and cant be too good a judge of character but he knows mizi loves her and wants to be supportive but hes a little sad. he starts spending a bit less time with her to give mizisua their space but also cause hes trying to get over his feelings.

enter: ivan. ivan has sworn off confessing to till outright for years cause he knew he liked mizi and the two of them have always butted heads so he figured he had no real chance and settled for being his kind of friend who lightly bullies him sometimes for attention. he grows out of this mostly as they age but he still makes it a point to spend as much time as he can with him because he's down horrendously. post-mizisua confession is the first time till is the one to initiate spending time together, and ivan is absolutely thrilled. till learns that he actually doesnt mind being around him and they become closer than they ever had been before.

they stay in this stage of being closer-than-before friends for like. most of high school and then they become seniors and talks about moving away to go to different schools start and WHAM. oh moment realization hits till like a truck. he doesn't want ivan to leave. he likes him. oh god. this is horrible. this is the worst thing that ever could have happened. there's no way ivan feels the same. dramatic irony

he agonizes over this for a long while. he tells mizi who tells sua who both are naturally already aware that ivan has been horribly hopelessly in love with till for nearly the entirety of his life and they want to laugh at him. but they dont. they consider just telling him but they dont and mizi encourages him to tell ivan how he feels.

time is running out. they're receiving college acceptance letters. ivan is accepted into some crazy prestigious university thats all the way across the country. he tells everyone together. till is happy for him. he's crying. ivan is confused. he tells him he doesn't want him to leave. "i love you." he feels awful about it. it's a selfish request. he shouldn't have said anything.

ivan is speechless. till is stammering out an apology. ivan drops the letter and steps closer. he's kissing him. "i love you too. i always have."

the end and everyone clapped happily ever after etc. anyway do you get me

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 13 - Sex, Drugs, & Rock n Roll

Summary: Up and coming Rockstar Eddie meets his dream girl on Corroded Coffin's first tour. And she's nothing like what he thought she'd be like...

Word Count: 991

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie x Pornstar!Reader

Rating: T - I KNOW LISTEN BEAR WITH ME...we're playing with the oxymoron ok? ITS NOT ABOUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP

Warnings/Themes: minor discussion of the rockstar/pornstar life (of which I have no experience), mention of smut but nothing graphic, strangers to...somethings, AU within an AU, satire, metafiction, angst, fluff, friendship

Note: Keeping in theme with Saturdays tying into my existing series, this entry takes place in the dream-AU that I just established in the last chapter of my series Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction, which is a story about Eddie realizing that he's been written into a crossover fanfiction with his favorite fictional character (you) from a cult classic television show called Port Geneva (which exists in-universe but obviously was made up by me). Does it sound like a headache? Because it probably is. STFF is EddiexFem!Reader. But its fun and if you're willing to give it a shot...idk I'm biased but 10/10 recommend.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If someone would've told Eddie that he would meet his favorite porn star--let alone sleep with them--he would've said they were delusional.

But there you had been.

In the pit at one of the shows on their first tour. A face and body he'd seen dozens, if not hundreds, of times on tapes from the adult section at Family Video.

Someone he'd convinced himself he loved, in some weird and desperate way; the world was unforgiving and you were reliably in the VCR anytime he needed you, so could you blame him?

He'd intended to find you after the show, but you had the guts to come and find them first. To tell them you'd been a fan of theirs after seeing them at the state fair last year.

Then one thing led to another...

It was wild, what coincidences and experiences his rising fame brought to him, especially in a dinky town like Port Geneva.

"It's not that dinky," you laughed. You were curled on your side, hand tucked under your head, staring at him like he’d just hung the stars. Maybe he had; he’d made you scream, after all.

A feat he was pretty proud of, actually.

“I’d never even heard of this place before coming here,” he scoffed in return. "Couldn't even tell you what state we're in."

You hummed, “it's funny how you'd never heard of this town but you recognized me.”

You'd brought it up more than once downstairs at the hotel bar. Disbelief that he knew your face when the whiskey had loosened his tongue enough to admit it. Almost to the point of self-deprecation.

“It’s just a job,” you explained. “It pays the bills. Makes relationships hard. But I have a little trinket shop in town. M'sure it’d be closed by now if I didn’t get those checks.”

And whatever stories he'd made up about you in his head before to convince himself it was ok to sort of be hopelessly in love with someone on the other side of his television screen were soon replaced with facts about the real you.

The reality of this situation made him, in contrast, feel almost too embarrassed by himself and his so-called fame. You, happy to stay here unknown, and him, riding his rising star all the way to the top if he could.

There was a long way to go.

”Well I’m surprised you’d heard of us,” Eddie scoffed. “We’ve only had one or two singles on the radio. We don’t even sell out our shows.”

“You will.”

“You have a lot of faith in us.”

“You don’t?”

“I feel like we’d do better if I still sold weed at the merch table before our gigs.” He smiled as you laughed, genuine joy radiating in his heart to see it.

“That’d get people in the door,” you agreed. You poked his cheek. "I forgot to get a t-shirt, by the way. Was too busy chasing after you like some hopeless fangirl to stop."

This was how it’d been all night. Nothing like he expected.

None of it was, actually.

It had been a whirlwind and he knew he wasn't the only one who felt like that. One day they were managing their own shit, going from state fair to state fair on their real first "tour." Then they had music on the radio and a manager and were on their way to making their first album...eventually.

Albums don't make money, Phil had said, shocking them all when Eddie had asked about it. Touring does.

They'd been offered uppers when they were tired, downers when they got too riled up. There was more money thrown around than any of them had seen their whole lives. And then there was a stern discussion where they had to decide what their future looked like and if they were in it for the long run.

They were just a bunch of guys in their 20s...and they had to decide their whole future right now.

But tonight's show was the first where he actually felt in command of the stage and not just like he was playing pretend.

He and his friends finally got their dream.

People knew them, knew their music, some people even sang along.

You hadn't even been the only one to approach them after the show.

Did they even deserve it?

"I'm just a guy from Hawkins," he whispered to you. "Waiting to wake up from this dream or for them to send me back."

Or something else. There was a lingering feeling that there was just something else waiting for the penny to drop.

Eddie continued spilling his soul to you, in hushed whispers across the pillows, about his hopes and fears, and before he could get to a point where he was certain he was about to cry...you crossed the distance and pressed a kiss to his lips.

It could have been a shut up, you talk too much kind of kiss, but there was something so soothing about it, about the way you caressed his cheek and dropped tiny pecks against his mouth when all was said and done. Two kindred spirits, finding their way to each other in a mess of uncertainty.

"The future is scary," you told him. "But you have to be ok with the choices that you make."

"Do you have any regrets?" he asked.

"Maybe. But then I wouldn't have gotten to meet you." You looked bashful for a second and then rubbed a hand over your face. "Yeah. The rockstar and the pornstar...definitely power couple material."

"We could be. They could write stories about us one day."

"Eddie, it's a one-night stand."

"Doesn't have to be."

"And who is this they you speak of."

"Our adoring fans."

"Uh huh." You snorted. "You have to buy me dinner first before we have some epic love story worthy of stories written about us."

Eddie just smiled.

"How about breakfast?"

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

Hello! For the cafe event, could I get a smoothie bowl with jazzy juice please? Thank you! 💖

- 👑

Hello 👑 Anon! ☆

Thank you so much for your order! ♡ I hope you enjoy! ♡

This is part of an event I'm doing where people can request stories by placing orders! For more information, please refer to this post! ♡

⋆ 𝓥𝓲𝓵 𝓢𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓷𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓽: 𝓓𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓪𝓲𝓷 ⋆

One smoothie bowl and a jazzy juice, coming right up! ♡

⋆ In movies, there were always moments that stood out. Moments that made an impact, that people remember for years to come. Sad moments, dramatic moments, funny moments. Character deaths that everyone seems to know, plot twists that left people reeling, jokes that people recite, without having seen the movie in question. For Vil, his dream was to make an impact like this, to have a moment where everyone remembers him. His role, his acting, his work. Ever since you've became a couple though, his attention has been drawn to a specific genre, even auditioning for a role in one.

⋆ Romance movies were well known throughout the film industry, with moments that leave couple's longing to have them. Moments that inspire proposals, weddings, even honeymoons. Moments that left the viewer wanting, wondering what a romance like that would be like. For someone to run after you before you go, stopping you from getting on your train, or in your car, or on the plane. For someone to reunite with you after so long, yet the love you still hold for each other remains, unwavering after years of distance. For someone to run up to you, holding you close and spinning you around as you both laugh in delight, uncaring of the stares around you. For someone to love you, to truly love you, exactly as you are.

⋆ He doesn't want to play the antagonist, or the side character, or the rival. He wants to be the main character, the main love interest, your love interest, for as long as you'll allow him. You are his, after all. The only love interest he has ever wanted, the only person he has ever longed for. So, indulge him, won't you? When he's feeling sentimental, his longing for you getting to be too much, his heart overflowing in his love and adoration for you.

⋆ You had just gone to the theaters to see his most recent film, Vil wearing a disguise so you could enjoy your date privately. You couldn't help but think he still looked handsome, dressed more casually than usual with a pair of sunglasses on his face and a baseball cap on his head. Now that the sun had set, and you were away from the theater, he put his sunglasses away, giving you a better view of his face. The film was a romantic drama, with Vil playing the main character's rival, who was the main love interest's ex. You were enraptured by his performance, unable to take your eyes off him whenever he was on screen. He played the bitter ex well, with moments that made it clear his character was still hopelessly in love with the love interest.

⋆ You couldn't help but feel he would have been better suited as the main character though, thinking about your relationship with him. The main character had been devoted, stern yet caring in his love for his partner. It was clear he had only wanted the best for them, and as you watched their relationship unfold, you couldn't help but think, Vil would have been perfect for this. He should have been the main character. You tell him as much, causing a smile to come to his face.

⋆ As you're walking it begins to drizzle lightly, reminding you of a scene from the movie. In it, the main character and love interest were sitting outside at a restaurant, eating while listening to a band play. The love interest hints that they want to dance with him, leading the main character to drag them near the band. As they begin dancing it starts to drizzle, the main character and love interest having no plans on stopping. It was a cute scene, with them sharing their first kiss before Vil's character interrupts them.

⋆ It seems Vil must be thinking the same thing, pausing as his gaze lingers on a restaurant nearby. There was no band playing, or dinner date, but in that moment he wanted to pretend. Pretend that he was the main character and you were the love interest. Pretend that you had just had a wonderful dinner date, hinting how you wanted to dance with him. He looks at you before pulling you along, urging you to follow him. He stops near the outdoor dining area, where fairy lights shine as the rain continues to drizzle. You can't stay out here too long, he doesn't want either of you to get sick. But indulge him, won't you, when he pulls you in close and sways with you to an unheard beat.

⋆ Lost in your own world as you move to a silent song, his gaze never leaving you. Once your hair starts to become damp, some pieces sticking to your face, he decides your dance must end, even if he longs for it not to. He reminds himself that there will be other dances, other moments for you to have as he holds your cheek in his hand. The kiss you have is slow, as if he wants to savor it, to burn it into his mind. As he pulls away he realizes the rain has started to come down heavier, taking a moment to catch his breath before leading you to shelter. Unlike the movie, there is no credits that will roll, or a romance that will end anytime soon ♡

I hope you enjoyed your meal, and thank you for visiting the Cathie Cafe! ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

[relicsongmel]

Dahlia simultaneously needs and resents Iris' love.

She relies on it. She envies it. Possibly even fears it.

Iris is one of the single most selfless and loving characters in Ace Attorney—and her love for her sister is the main driving force behind why she chooses to become her accomplice, even if it means hurting others along the way. And without that help—without that love, Dahlia likely would not have gotten nearly as far as she did in escaping blame for her crimes. In that sense, Iris' love became a very useful resource to her.

However, despite what Dahlia wants us to think—despite all her claims about her sister being a "backstabber," Iris is more to her than a mere tool for damage control. To her, Iris is the only person in the world who sees her for who she truly is and still loves her regardless (and the same can be said in reverse as well).

Consider her claim that she convinced their father to send Iris away to Hazakura Temple. While it's highly unlikely that their father decided to leave Iris with Sister Bikini purely because of Dahlia’s pestering, it's possible that part of the reason she was so insistent was because she wanted to spare her sister from being hurt by him anymore, and her claiming credit for that decision is solely based on her need for control when she had been denied it all her life. Add on the fact that Dahlia continued to keep Iris in the loop of all her crimes despite her initial "betrayal" during the fake kidnapping incident—with the one exception being her plans to kill Phoenix, because she recognized Iris' romantic feelings for him. These behaviors all support the idea that Iris is special to her, however—in my opinion, the truest tells of Dahlia's love for her sister can be found in her lines to Phoenix while disguised as her:

Dahlia knows her sister better than anyone. She knows her to be kind, humble, and compassionate; as such, it makes sense that she would choose to embody these traits while pretending to be her. It can even be argued that Dahlia's sweet, delicate facade that she uses to sway the judge (among others) is directly inspired by how Iris is naturally. However, during this conversation, she exaggerates her sister's humility almost to an excessive degree—in fact, she heavily plays up Iris' reverence for her specifically. Which begs the question—why go that far, especially if the sudden shift in demeanor from this "Iris" means there's a risk her true identity could be discovered?

Is it possible, perhaps...that her reason for overemphasizing her sister's love for her is because said love is the only reliable constant in her life—the one thing giving her stability? She certainly comes off as egotistical here if you read this dialogue with the knowledge that it's Dahlia speaking and not Iris, but reading between the lines...it's almost as if her words are moreso directed towards herself rather than Phoenix—as if she's reassuring herself that she is loved by her sister because that feeling is a source of solace for her.

Dahlia isn't loveless. At the end of the day she is a human being seeking affection just like the rest of us (though she would never admit it and maybe even lacks the self-awareness to do so in the first place), but after the trauma she's endured and how much hatred she’s faced from her family and the world, she simply cannot fathom how her sister can go through the exact same thing and still retain her selfless nature. And given that she’s already far too hurt to blame herself for such a failure, she deflects that blame onto Iris instead (and she goes on to despise Phoenix for similar reasons—because he is surrounded by friends that love him and he, like Iris, is hopelessly selfless at heart). She's the one who has something wrong with her for not shutting herself off the same way, therefore, Dahlia feels less remorse for hurting her when she coerces her into her criminal activities. When she dives into Eagle River to flee her family. When she attempts to kill and later frame Phoenix knowing full well Iris is in love with him. When she agrees to help Morgan with her plan knowing it hinges on her sister taking the fall. Maybe, Dahlia thinks, if she keeps hurting her, Iris will eventually give up on loving her and then she’ll never have to carry that burden anymore—never again will she be forced to acknowledge the reality that she can be loved despite everything. That she could have been good despite everything. But even death itself brings no escape—the channeled Dahlia meets her sister in the Inner Temple and the two once again conspire the way they always have, swapping places just like they did before. And it’s during this swap that her self-aggrandizement (as Iris) reaches an extreme—because at the end of the day, her sister’s love and selfless willingness to help her have been her lifeline all along.

Dahlia loves Iris. But unlike her, she isn't always capable of expressing that love in a straightforward way. Thus, she hates her.

And that contradiction haunts her even beyond the grave.