#while said little bitch is on his way to fight god even

[polarisbibliotheque]

Are you into MBTI? If yes, may I ask for your idea on DMC characters types? If no then feel free to skip this ask, sorry for bothering you.

First things first, my beloved: DON’T APOLOGIZE. None of you are EVER bothering me by sending an ask – unless, of course, you’re completely crass, deranged, borderline criminal (or full criminal) with your words or just gratuitously rude. Those types are bothersome and will get blocked and ignored.

Unless I’m on an Axl Rose like rampage and want to burn and fistfight people along my way, then I’ll use the stupid being in question to pour all my anger and have a good reason to spend hours in therapy :)

But you are NOT one of those, my dear. That’s a very fun question and do feel free to ask me random things like that, I enjoy answering!

Now, I’m not really big on MBTI – I know enough about mine and my family’s so I can make things work between me and them. I also like to know my friends MBTI’s because the memes are usually freakishly accurate with all our personalities xD

I am an INTP! Quite proud, if I might say so hahahaha I like the weird vibes and I have adopted in my heart Sherlock Holmes as an INTP ‘cause he was my role model when I was a teen (I know, HORRIBLE role model, but it is what it is) – and that’s how I got into MBTI.

(more under the cut, this answer is LONG)

Big introduction for me to say: VERGIL, THIS LITTLE SHIT. INTJ. I DON’T EVEN HAVE TO THINK ABOUT IT.

I’ll start with him and then Dante. I won’t share my 2 cents on the rest of the crew because either they aren’t that much developed as the twins or I’m not really trusting my MBTI judging abilities here.

Without further ado…

Vergil

I debated quite a WHILE on Vergil, to be honest, because we all know INTJ is the typical villain archetype used everywhere on media because heaven forbid a villain is not calculating and devoided of emotions.

And there’s where I got a little stuck: emotions.

Vergil does have emotions, and I dare to say his run even deeper than Dante’s, so I got a little sidetracked. But then I took my own personality, INTP, and thought about it for a while. I have the same problem as Vergil: my emotions do run deep and I’m always guarding them in a dark, secret place inside of me so I won’t get hurt, opting for a more thinking, analytical and practical approach rather than the feeling approach. And oh boy does my life get difficult with feeling types like my aunt, my mom and even my sister.

I got to the conclusion, then, it’s not how you feel, but rather how you present yourself. I took the test as if I was Dante (I needed that to figure him out, not sorry) and a lot of questions are more leaning on that. It’s not that you don’t feel or don’t understand feelings, it’s more like you have a different approach when doing things and processing all of that – because it can be quite overwhelming.

So, there we go, Vergil is BLATANTLY Introverted and Thinking. The Introverted I got from what I heard some people saying that it’s not that “oh I like talking to people/I don’t like talking to people”, it’s energy: at the end of the day, do you prefer being alone to recharge or around people to recharge?

Me and my sister are opposites on that. My sister was always quieter and shy when she was a kid, and I was expansive and always came back with a new friend. Lo and behold, I’m an Introvert and she is an Extrovert. How? I HAVE and I NEED time alone, completely for myself, with NO ONE around at certain times of the day and I do get AWFULLY tired when I’m being social for too long, needing some me time with tea and a good book. My sister NEEDS to be around her friends after a long, tiring week at work, famously going to 3 parties in a row, in 3 different days, different groups, outfits and all, exiting one party to go to the other, and then BAM going to work on a Monday completely replenished. I’m an Introvert. She is an Extrovert.

Dante and Vergil seal of approval here hahahahaha

His Intuitive part, though, comes from the art – poetry, philosophy, reading, education. Vergil is obviously BIG on that, loving poetry since he was a child and always being found in libraries, we can all picture him going to art galleries, concerts, operas and such. But, particularly, I extend that to his thirst for knowledge: everyone who enjoys reading the dense stuff he does, tends to fall for philosophy, sociology, the metaphysical part of physics, mathematics, all that. There was a reason why great mathematicians of the past were also philosophers: knowledge walks together.

Loving that deeply, Vergil has to be quite Intuitive. Yes, he will do things with discipline and how they should be done to achieve the result – but he will rebel and do things his own way if the knowledge he acquired so far points him to another direction; he will follow his intuition. He’s not one to dismiss the big questions in life: quite the contrary, I think one of his favorite past-times would be drinking wine along his s/o while talking about philosophy into the wee hours of the night as if they are the only people in the world.

Vergil is an open minded, curious and always searching for the meaning of things kind of person, and I will die on this hill. There is no way a guy who likes learning so much would be against challenging his own point of views: to learn, you have to first be a novice; and to improve, you have to admit there’s much you still don’t know and keep an open mind to fail and do it again, and again, and again, until you master what you are learning. Just the way he fights tells me he is very much like that and I’m still dying on this hill.

And lastly, Judging. No, not because he’s the judgy bitch of the series who’s always side-eying someone and sighing while saying “pathetic” just because they got scared by their own shadow. I have to say I wasn’t too sure on this one when I realized Vergil could end up as an INTP and that bitch can’t be an INTP like me, I claimed it.

Jokes aside, Vergil can be quite Perceiving at times, because, wanting or not, he has had his moments of needing to improvise and spot opportunities that weren’t quite on his schedule… But, I do have to admit, INTPs are a mess and Vergil is FAR from being a mess – and when I say a mess, we are everywhere: reading 5 books at the same time, leaving them scattered all around the house, laying upside down in bed to think and come up with a great idea for something… INTPs aren’t pragmatic or schedule oriented. And Vergil would DIE in an environment like this, I think.

So, my conclusion was: his ability to survive does come from his Perceiving characteristics, but his pragmaticism comes from his Judging – and the second is a lot stronger in him. He would like the schedule, he would do things as he has programmed and, if you interrupt him, he’s counting the minutes to go back to his schedule or else everything he has carefully programmed for the week will be delayed and his plans are all but GONE (read: Verge at the Temen-ni-gru screaming “WHY ISN’T THIS WORKING?!” when ALL the plans he carefully executed for WEEKS so he could get to THAT moment and open the gates of Hell just went down the drain ‘cause he missed something in his calculations. Man is in excruciating pain he missed something and ALL was for NOTHING and he’d have to TRY again).

Verdict: Vergil is an INTJ. Expected, annoyingly villainous personality, but it does fit him wonderfully.

Plus, we are the 'we don't have feelings' types :D

Dante

Oh, Dante. My beloved. My red devil. The man who haunts my dreams.

Seriously, I had a REALLY hard time pinpointing his MBTI.

Remember I said I took the test as him? Yes. I did. To check some things and argue against others hahahahaa

I don’t think Dante is as black and white as Vergil. The blue devil is almost textbook INTJ, but Dante…? I have my doubts on SO many parts of his personality, because, unlike Vergil, Dante does a LOT just for show.

Starting with the Extroverted/Introverted. Most people won’t even think before saying Dante is an Extrovert, but I had my doubts when taking things in consideration. What we usually see is that, yes, he does love being around people – but Dante spends most of his time alone, without electricity, reading his old magazines at his shop, sleeping or eating pizza by himself.

Depression? Yes. YES. This man is more depressed than the San Andreas Fault. This can make people behave differently from their personalities, so I had to think a little more about it. Dante doesn’t really go out of his way to be around people, to party with his friends or just have a nice time with them around. Dante wants to be alone, because he thinks he doesn’t deserve to be with people – and that they are better off without him, safer. He puts them in danger, at least that’s what’s on his mind. So, he isolates himself and prefers to spend time on his own, away from everything and everyone.

That’s where the energy thing comes into play! What gives Dante energy? Honestly, my man looks drained and just the dust of his being whenever they get to his shop and he’s been living in that condition for months. During the games AND after the games, though? He looks a lot better – even if he has been beaten up by a bunch of demons. And that’s because, I think, Dante gets energized by being around people – friends, family, loved ones. Just like my sister, he can conquer the world after going to 5 parties in a row. Vergil, in the other hand, would be drained and dying by the second one, just like Dante is when he hasn’t been around people too much, always isolating himself.

So, despite his depression that makes him behave differently, Dante is an Extrovert in my book.

One that I don’t even think too much about him is the Perceiving trait. Dante is like that, 10/10. He can’t thrive on a schedule, things in his life are Everything Everywhere All At Once, and my man is in his lane with that. Try to fit Dante in a box with a set routine and too many rules, he’s dying. Aside from that, he has a knack for improvising and finding the best opportunities in unexpected situations.

Hence why he has so many freaking weapons and is just using all of them and all of his fighting styles at the same time, taunting demons and dancing Macarena right after – and making it all look like it makes the most absolute fucking sense. No one can pull that off like Dante, king of winging it.

Now, I do believe he is Intuitive. Dante might not be the art and poetry type like Vergil, but he is well educated. He has to be, to do what he does. And I do believe his thing for philosophy shows when Dante is lecturing demons: that WHOLE answer he gives Agnus about what demons lack compared to humans, that is VERY much philosophy. Dante doesn’t just go and takes everything at face value, because, if he did, he would very much say the obvious: demons are, objectively, stronger than humans. But all the heart, all the internal things that make humans stronger than demons… That’s philosophy.

I can see Dante enjoying movies – blockbusters, yes, packed with action and special effects, but let’s remember… Titanic is a blockbuster. And there’s so much heart in that movie, so much philosophy, so much about choosing your own fate and not being tied to the one that was handed to you… Titanic can pack one hell of an existential punch and make you think about so much in your life – you just have to be open to it.

Differently from Vergil, Dante wasn’t the library and heavy books sort of guy. But he was the guy to go to the movies, to watch all of that. To go back home (wherever his home was at the moment, even if just a place for him to crash for a while) and think about everything he watched in the silent darkness of his room. To think about the things Eva taught him – and see the value of all that.

He’s not the type to go to an art gallery, or read philosophy, or go to the opera. But he will go if he is invited, he will discuss things the way he learned them, and he will enjoy it. He’d be more than willing to talk about what makes humans so precious and spend hours doing so, as he would be open to listen to his s/o explaining what makes him so human despite his demonic heritage. And he would spend days thinking about it, always willing to discuss those topics if his s/o wanted to.

He's not textbook Intuitive like Vergil, I think, but he still is, in his very own way. I’d say Vergil is academically Intuitive, while Dante learned his Intuitive trait on the streets – we all say Dante is a safespace for everything, and a man like has to be open minded and curious. If he wasn’t, he would have never welcomed Trish and given her a chance to be human: he would’ve killed her right away for being a demon. And that isn’t our red devil.

Last but not least, Dante is a Feeling. I’m always dying on this hill, even if that one ALSO made me have some doubts.

Because you see, Dante just pretends to be a goof, but he isn’t. He is very intelligent and cunning, very perceiving and observing, but wrapped in a reckless rockstar package. It’s his own way of coping, but that is what makes him SUCH a great devil hunter (sorry, Nero). Even if we might disagree on this, I do believe Dante has his emotions very much controlled.

Which is a little evidenced by the lyrics on his theme song in DMC V, Subhuman (I know we ALL love Bury The Light and Devil Trigger but OH MY GOD, I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT HOW SUBHUMAN IS AWESOME AND FITTING FOR DANTE). The song is VERY explicit how Dante is always controlling his rage and keeping his demon on a very tight leash so he has control over it all the fucking time. That isn’t very Feeling in my book – it’s quite Thinking, like Vergil.

That’s what made me think a little about Vergil’s as well. I have what might be an unpopular opinion about the twins after thinking so much about them and seeing how they react and act in all of the games: Vergil has a tendency to loose control and overkill, while Dante has a tendency to let his rage burn at the exact moment he needs it and use his power just as much as he needs to get the job done. Dante is more controlled with his emotions than Vergil – and in my opinion, it’s because Vergil bottles up and ignores his emotions until they become a storm that can’t be stopped (cough cough personal experience cough cough) while Dante controls things so he can use his emotions and let them be expressed/gets them off his system in “safe” environments for him, which would be killing demons.

So, why the heck is Dante a Feeling in my book? Precisely why Vergil is a Thinking. It has to do with how they present themselves – and that is the point that makes them so different and butt heads almost every game.

The devil on Dante’s leash is his rage, the feeling he allows and wants to run amok and uncontrolled is his love. Dante controls his bursts of anger and the demonic blood who craves for mayhem – but he doesn’t control his human heart that does everything out of empathy and love. He will run to the rescue when his loved ones are in danger, he will protect weak people against the powerful ones, he will lecture corrupted humans who see nothing but power in front of them, he will cry and he will do everything in his power to keep love alive and thriving. He will react immediately, he will understand, he will feel the pain of those who are injured and begging for help – he will let his heart melt and do everything for them.

Therefore, Dante is a Feeling. And I think that’s what makes him and Vergil opposites and always fighting: Vergil wants power and puts logic over feelings, avoiding them like the plague, while Dante wants love and puts feelings over logic, embracing them and acting out of what his human heart tells him is the right thing to do. The whole series is based on this – at least in my opinion.

Verdict: Dante is an ENFP. Didn’t really expect it, but after analyzing with care, it makes a lot of sense to me.

Also, all the memes with ENFP x INTJ relationship dynamics I just checked are basically Dante and Vergil in a nutshell - I’ll leave some of them below and you guys will HAVE to forgive me not really crediting the people who created these memes, I honestly just found on google and wanted to share so you can have an idea of what I’m talking about.

But I honestly have been wheezing for the past hour and I thank you SO MUCH anon for this ask – I hope you enjoyed this little TED Talk about the Sparda Twins’ personalities please Capcom hire me to write official canon about them

If this isn't Dante and Vergil, I dunno what is

And last but not least:

That's all the games in a nutshell, really.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny Is A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

(not in a necessarily bad way and it's by Clockwork's design)

Bats, or Constantine, or the JL, or whoever you want to be close to Danny in this prompt, don't notice it right away. It takes them a while to figure out its not purely coincidence. And even after they do figure it out, they still have their doubts.

The thing is, it doesn't work all the time. It also doesn't seem to have a system or a schedule to it, nor is it any kind of a superpower, as far as they can understand. By God, does Danny have way too many superpowers, but most of them are consistent, and yet this one... is weird. Weirder than anything they've seen before, and they've seen a lot, okay.

It also only works if Danny does it without thinking.

"You know what'd be perfect right now? A cheese sandwich," Danny says over the comms, in the middle of the fight with Dr. Freeze, "A warm, grilled cheese sandwich just out of the toas- Owch, what?" There's a pause. And then, "Guys, you're not gonna believe it, a cheese sandwich just smacked me in the face! I think someone threw it out of the window or something!" Danny sounds bewildered, but excited, and there's a sound of chewing from his comm now. At least he is eating, so that's good.

"I fucking hate robots," he grumbles the other day, punching his way through the Brainiac invasion in Metropolis, with no comm and only for the Supes to overhear, "No, correction, I hate only evil robots. The ones that interrupt my astronomy class. The ones that shoot motherfucking lasers and walk like crabs, and ruin a perfect day, and- I wish- aw, fuck, no, that's bad wording. Don't wish for shit. But if all these robots would just suddenly, miraculously malfunction and stop attacking me and the whole city, that would be, like, real nice of them."

A few minutes later, something goes wrong with the Brainiac's control over the army of robots, and all of them just stop moving and fall down at once. It is deemed as a chance, a lucky shot, a coincidence. Supes keeps quiet over what he heard Danny say.

"Oh, you bitch-ass fruitloop, you know what I want?" Danny yells at Plasmius, as the ghost is laughing like a madman, "I want a fucking brick to fall down right on your head, like, right now! Maybe that can set your brains straight for at least five minutes!" And even before he is finished talking, there's something falling down from the sky and hitting Plasmius's head. It's not a brick, to be exact, it's Miss Martian's shoe, though. She has no idea how it even came undone and fell from her foot. But it did somehow knock Plasmius out cold, so there's that.

It doesn't happen all the time. Red Robin does the math - the improbable accidents only happen in about 26% of the situations, given that Danny says something. It's by no means a reliable power. It also doesn't happen only during the fights: there were numerous times when Danny just said something like 'I wonder if the cafeteria serves garlic bread today' and sure enough, there's garlic bread there. Even if it was not on the menu. Ever.

They try to question Danny himself, but he has no idea. He doesn't even notice the coincidences most of the times - which is not surprising, knowing that they only happen in one out of four situations and Danny is known to have a short attention span. So, after a few unsuccessful investigations and failed attempts at calculating how this even works, they all give up. It has never jinxed anything, as far as they know, so everyone just leaves it be.

Danny is just magically lucky like that.

Meanwhile, Clockwork is having a good laugh about it. Danny's suggestions amuse him, and it's funny to watch the other superheroes having a mental breakdown over it, so he rigs the timeline from time to time. Just a little.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Am going feral for Danny's grill, I'm salivating for another part, perhaps the batfams reactions to Tim's theory of Danny being fae and just "ohh oh that tracks, that tracks a little too well, but atleast he's a nice fae? Also I vainly remember Constantine drunkenly complaining about a pariah being a bitch king so maybe Danny is actually fae royalty which is why he can afford to be nice??"

Sry for rambling ♡

Tim's investigation updates are alarming, to put it nicely. Bruce can't say he's thrilled by how his son discovered a new Fae court or that his son is now untraceable within the said court.

He would think Tim was missing if it weren't for the reports he finds at family information locations. Thankfully, the fae seemed benevolent—at least for now.

Bruce would be the first to admit that he did not like how, out of all his kids, Tim always seemed to get involved with the oddest of missions.

Reading the Young Justice reports always gave him a headache- baseball game for the plant? Accidentally killed Santa Claus?!? - So, he not only figured out a Fae had appeared in Gotham but also ate the food the Fae offered him? Yeah, that was his Tim.

Bruce had picked up Tim's progress reports before anyone else. His other children were focused on a missing person case and their own cases.

Bruce figured that as long as Tim was treated right, he could spend time searching for a way to get his son home safely without worrying about the others. He has spoken with every member of the Justice League Dark, interviewed any god or goodness in the Justice League, and done extensive research on Faes themselves.

Almost everything had given him the same result: A human could be returned from the Other World only if the Fae allowed it.

It's not impossible to trick a Fae into releasing Tim, but it must be delicately done. Those types of beings rarely forgive and never forget.

He had planned for this to happen to him long before he became Batman—after all, he knew those creatures were real after learning of Aliens—but each of his plans to escape the Fae had an "It's alright if I die" in progress.

He could not apply those plans to Tim as he did care if his son lived.

He was replaying his interview with John Consitiante- seeing as that man had a lot of practice swinging his soul as a bargaining chip- when Jason came stomping down the stairs.

"I can't find him!" He swears, throwing himself in a computer chair with a huff. Bruce lowers the volume on his computer, making a sound in the back of his throat. It's the usual noise he makes to convey to his children he is listening and is curious about what is upsetting them

Jason, easily able to understand his sounds now, ranks a hand through his hair with a scoff. "The favor one of my contacts called in. Alvin Draper. I can't find anything on him before my contact took him in"

"Could be a fake name," Bruce offers, typing into his search engine some keywords John spilled in his drunken state. He reads over the runes that pulled up while considering Jason's words. "He gave your contact his name in the same breath as his work. He would unlikely have trusted him that much, so he creates a false name to cover up his street name, which he only gives to customers. His birth name is even less spoken."

"Yeah, I thought the same, so I took the initiative to look at anyone working in his usual areas. Some working girls who answer to me have also asked around. Anyone even remotely matching the description has been tracked down and kept safe, but none were the target. I've even had the others look into it just in case the few corner boys didn't trust Red Hood would be more forthcoming with information. Nothing. Zip. Nada! I'm not an amateur, Bruce. " Jason snarks and Bruce fights off the wave of pride. Of course, his children were able to do all that without him. His kids were incredible at their work.

"No one has seen or heard of Alvin within the industry. If he's a corner boy, he's a private one. Those are the worst because it usually means the clients are crazy powerful and extra careful to not be seen."

Bruce pauses, mind rushing at lightning speed. "Power, not seen and....does this Alvin Draper happen to work on these streets?"

He pulls up a map with various colored dots on it. Bruce had been carefully tracking down where Tim and his Fae had been going through. Tim mainly stayed at the Fae's manor but was allowed to go out to work. One of the reasons Bruce truly believed it was benevolent.

If he ignored the information in the packages, it seemed like Tim was taking some personal time off. His other children surely thought so. They all just laughed at the fact Tim was not about but was still solving the most cases out of all of them.

It was primarily remote work, which Bruce didn't mind. Tim needed a vacation from Red Robin and Wayne Enterprises' CEO.

"Yes!" Jason gasps, leaning towards the map. "How did you find all the targeted areas? My contact said Alvin moved almost every night."

Bruce weighs his options before carefully admitting. "It wasn't my intention to get Alvin's area. I have been tracking a new Fae court that followed these paths."

There was a significant pause before Jason asked with great patience. "There is a what in Gotham?"

"A Fae."

"...Okay, and how long has this been in our city?"

"About two months now."

Jason takes a deep breath. He reaches around Bruce to press the communications line, which he presses four times. At once, the cave is filled with the noise of his children going about their night- either in or out of costume.

All but Tim, since he is still within the Fae's castle. It's a setback that Bruce can't find the castle, even after Tim tells him exactly where it is with coordinates.

He assumes that he, as a human, has no access to the building. Nothing on his computers or tests proves that there is a building there, but Tim swears that's where he's been.

"We have Faes in Gotham. B. has known about them for two months," Jason announces, cutting everyone off. The lines go very silent, and Bruce blinks, confused when he can pick up some anger in his children's silence.

"B?" Dick says in that You better tell me everything right now, old man voice. It's the strangely sickly sweet tone he uses that disguises danger.

Bruce is mystified. Why is he angry? "Two months ago, Tim informed me that a stranger had caught his attention and that he was going undercover. He mostly noticed inconsistencies with his target, but it was only after following the suspect home that he realized the man was not human-"

"Father, are you saying a Fae has Red Robin?" Damian interrupted which is unusual. His youngest almost never does that; he's far too polite and disciplined.

"Yes. He's been in his castle the whole time he's been away."

"Did he eat anything the Fae gave him!?" Duke's cries sounded almost hysterical.

"Yes, he has been there for two months. Tim needed to eat."

"RR has been gone for almost three months, B.!" Harper snaps. She was out as Bluebird for the first time in a while. Her college assignments were really cutting into her hero time.

"Is he okay?" Cullen asks quietly. Bruce had always suspected the lad had a crush on his son, flushing deep red whenever Harper brought him over.

"He is fine. Tim has kept contact with me and seems to be thriving with the Fae. I have been working to get the being to give him back without causing him harm."

"That's what all the research you've been doing lately was about?" Barbara demands.

Bruce squints at the screens where voice lines are beside the images of his children. He doesn't know why but understands that even she is cross with him. "Yes."

"Master Bruce, we will be having a conversation later," Alfred hisses- actually hisses, and Bruce feels cold, hard dread slip down his spine. Oh no. Had he done something wrong again?

Should he not mention his theory that Tim and Alvin are one in the same? Would that make things worse or better?

Jason lets loose a series of swears in Spanish. He leans against the table, pitching his voice loud enough that the rest of the Bats can hear him. "Crude, I think the Fae collects people with the same physical characteristics. Tim and Alvin are known as people of the same height, eye color, age, hair color, and even skin color."

Dick, Damian, Duke, and Harper all swear in their own native tounges, which makes Bruce fight the urge to sink down. Yes, it is better not to mention his other theory of Jason's contact being said, Fae.

Not until he has proof, at least.

"Let me guess." Steph chimes in with a sigh. "Tim followed the Fae because he's pretty."

Bruce remains stubbornly silent, but he thinks that Tim finds the Fae or "Danny" quite handsome. Why else would he spend three paragraphs of his report describing Danny's hair?

"I think we all need to come together to work on this," Dick says next, voice taking charge. Bruce's pride and adoration for the children grow a few notches higher when they all agree without thought.

"Who knows what Tim or Alvin are going through."

Meanwhile, Tim sighed as one of Danny's "hired" help carefully worked out some knots in his back. How long has it been since he had a spa day? Too long. "Was that too rough?"

"No, it's the perfect pressure."

"Wonderful. After we are done here, would you prefer a mud bath or a soothing seaweed wrap?"

"Oh, a mud bath for sure."

[theangelbabies]

𝑴𝒀 𝑮𝑼𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑵 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳.

♡𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒐 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇

- summary : Mattheo can’t help but wonder how he still didn’t get expelled from participating in too many fights, until he comes back to his lover to apologise for his lash out.

- warnings : i think none

Ever since you and Mattheo had been together, he was the only thing that was on your mind especially at evening. Mostly when you were praying.

Since your boyfriend LOVED to stress you by fighting almost everyday and was on every girls fuck list, you just couldn’t help but pray for him and for your relationship. Mattheo not once told you how a random girl confessed to him but he sent her away crying. Not once you’ve overheard girls insulting you from pure jealousy and saying how they are going to either just make him cheat on you with them or even going that far as giving him a love potion to make him fall for them. Not once Mattheo had come to you with bloodied face, broken nose or all bruised hands. This just gave you no other option but to pray for him, you couldn’t lost him to any other bitch or worse expelled by having too many fights.

Most of people thought since Mattheo was the son of Dark Lord, he had too many toxic traits. When someone would mention his name everyone would start to be judgy, saying he is too nonchalant, apathetic or arrogant. Truly, he was a loving boy, that was really caring about his loved one and would do anything for them.

Your boyfriend never knew about you praying for him. You thought he would find it ridiculous since he didn’t believed neither in God or praying. He just didn’t believed it worked. Even if he was sleeping over you still managed to loose your beloved.

Until one night…

In the day, Mattheo came back from yet again fight. Not admitting it loudly, you were a little tired of it. You could not count how many times in a month he came back to you, bloodied scaring and stressing the shit out of you. So you told him that while cleaning up his scars.

“Matty, you can’t keep getting into this many fights. I know it’s hard because of people and their shit talking mouth, but violence is not the only answer and you know it because i’ve told you this many times… i think it’s stressing me out more than you.” - You said while dabbing a cotton pad on a scare on the bridge of his nose. Mattheo rolled his eyes while looking on the floor, mumbling something under his nose.

You sighed backing up a long from him to look in his eyes that couldn’t meet yours. “I know this talk is annoying but-“

“Please Y/N, just… shut up for a second. It’s so fucking tiring listening to the same lecture every time i come to you from a fight.” - He said standing up from the toilet seat to finally look at you. “I come to you for comfort not for listening to act like you’re my fucking mother.” Mattheo looked at you with annoyance and fury in his eyes.

You could not believe what you were hearing. Everything you did for him seemed to go ruin from the things he just said. Looking up at him with teary eyes, the only things you could say without breaking down was “Get out and think about what you just said.”

Mattheo just chuckled and stormed out of the room. When he was out you couldn’t help but break down. You don’t really know how many hours you have been crying and how many class have you missed but eventually you managed to get into bed and take a little nap.

When you woke up you felt.. so empty. The things that your boyfriend had said earlier still hunting your mind. You got up, to freshen up and just do a little self care evening just to lighten up your mood. Even tho Mattheo had hurt you too much today, you decided to not give up your prayer for him and your relationship and for everything to find it way out so you can make today up.

When you started praying, you didn’t hear a soft nock on your dorm room since you were too focused on making sure Lord hears your prayers for your boyfriend’s protection. While the door opened you felt tears falling down your cheeks. Turning your head around to see who interrupted, you saw your boyfriend standing in the doorway. You quickly got up, sitting on a bed and wiping your tears away. You started to say something but he quickly cut you off.

“You were praying?” - Mattheo said coming to sit next to you.

“Um… yeah.. Actually i’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.”

“No Y/N it’s okay, i came here just to-“ You quickly cut him off.

“I had been praying for you. Every evening, even when you were sleeping over i always found time. Only for you. For our relationship. For your safety every time you fight but mostly for you to not get expelled from the amount of them. That’s why i always remind you to wind down with them. Because i’m scared i’m going to lose the only person i truly care about. I- i don’t know what else to say.. i love you too much for us to either fight or to lose each other because of your stupidity. I don’t pray for you for nothing, but i should’ve told you sooner..” - You said not feeling the hot tears falling down your flushed cheeks.

“Y/N… love.. that’s.. the most beautiful.. way for you to show me any love. I really fucked up and disappointed you today. I should have never ever yelled at you today or even start any argument, later i realised you were so right about how i relief my anger. Today i couldn’t stop myself, when i heard an asshole talking about you i just saw red. I’m sorry love, i will try and calm myself just for your final peace. So you can never stress like you have been after every fight.” - Mattheo said stroking your face and wiping every tear that fell down your beautiful face.

When you started sobbing, the only thing Mattheo knew could calm you down was pull you into his amrs and whisper you sweet nothings.

After a while you fell asleep again while laying on your boyfriend that was rubbing your back all the time and kiss your head from time to time.

“I’m sorry sweetheart for today…” - Mattheo whispered knowing you can’t hear him.

“Now i know how i’m still in this school…. thank you baby”

“You’re welcome” - You said kissing his neck smiling.

In the end you both fell asleep holding each other knowing you’re each other’s guardian angels<3.

˚✧₊⁎･:*+.\*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*

THATS ITTTT!!!! The ending is kinda shitty but it’s kinda late i had no other idea how to end it. My school started few days ago and the tests are already coming but ill try to stay consistent with writing somethingss!! PLSS SOMEONE SEND ME SOME REQUESTS CAUSE IK RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS😭😭I hope yall liked it, if you have any tips for my writings please let me know and love yaaalll!!!

[writemekpop]

Birthday Blues (Part 1) | Na Jaemin

Summary: When Jaemin thinks you’ve forgotten his birthday, you have the biggest argument you've ever had.

Genre: Boyfriend!Jaemin, angst

Word Count: 1k

Jaemin was furious. It was his birthday today, and you, his girlfriend of three years, had forgotten about it.

When he woke up this morning, he could barely contain his excitement. He was expecting to see you in something red and lacey, get breakfast in bed, and have some delicious morning loving.

But to his disappointment, he woke up to you, moody, sweaty, and hurling into the bin. You were hungover from your girls’ night out the previous evening.

Soon, it was 7PM, and you still hadn’t mentioned Jaemin’s birthday.

“Could we stop by Yuta’s bar before we go home?” You asked. “They’re having a special offer. Five cocktails for five pounds! I heard they make your vomit look all rainbow-y.”

Jaemin scoffed. “That sounds just fantastic. But two nights in a row? Are you sure this drinking thing isn’t becoming a problem? Plus…” He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly. “Isn’t there something else you��d rather be doing… especially today?”

“What’s so special about today?” you said, shaking your head. “Come on, it’s only a mile away. Do you have money for an Uber? I left my wallet at home.”

“You’re so freaking forgetful,” Jaemin snapped.

You raised your hands in surrender. “Alright, jeez! It’s just a wallet.”

“It’s not just that! What about my cat? You forgot to feed Sushi all week while I was in Morocco. She nearly starved to death! Or what about when you forgot where you parked my BMW, and I had to miss Jeno’s leaving party to search for it! And what about my bir-“

Jaemin stopped mid-sentence when he realised that you weren’t listening to him. You were busy typing away on your iPhone.

Jaemin yanked the phone out of your manicured fingers and threw it onto the floor. The screen cracked.

You gasped. Putting your smashed phone into your pocket, you turned to your boyfriend.

“Can we just… go inside?” You pointed at the bar. “I promise, everything will be-“

“Oh my god,” Jaemin said, cutting you off. “Why are you so desperate to go inside? If you really want to see your friends so much then, let’s go.”

Jaemin grabbed your arm tightly and pulled you through the door.

The inside of the bar was pitch black.

“Would you look at that?” Jaemin spat. “It’s empty. Did you forget what time you were supposed to meet up? God, why are you so dumb?”

“Jaem-“ You waved frantically at him, but he wouldn’t stop.

“You’re so disorganised… and- you’re lazy! It’s my birthday and all you’ve done is whine about your own stupid life. Why do you have to be so fucking selfish? We are done, you… you bitch!”

You and Jaemin stared at each other in stony silence. Jaemin was panting, and you were fighting back tears.

Just then, the lights flickered on.

“S-surprise,” came a bunch of unsure voices.

Jaemin turned around to see the shocked and disapproving faces of everyone he loved staring back at him.

A live band in the corner started to play ‘Happy Birthday’, but someone told them to shut up.

The room was filled with fifty of his friends, parents, cousins, colleagues… Haechan was standing in the middle of the crowd, holding a huge three-tier chocolate cake. A big banner saying Happy Birthday, Jaemin hung from the wall.

Jaemin turned to you. “You… did all this?”

Your face was wet with tears. You pushed past Jaemin and ran out of the door.

“Wait!” Jaemin shouted, but it was too late.

“Way to go, buddy,” Renjun said, slapping him a little too hard on his back. “It’s called a surprise party… ever heard of it? Y/n spent weeks organising it.”

Jaemin tugged a hand through his hair, throat dry. “I’ve really messed things up, haven’t I?”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Welcome back to Singles Night, bud. We missed you.”

---

Jaemin ran all the way home. When he saw you in the bedroom, his heart surged. You hadn’t left!

You were facing away, standing by the open wardrobe.

“What are you doing?” Jaemin asked, frowning.

You spun around at the sound of his voice. “Packing. You said it yourself, J, we’re done.”

Jaemin ran towards you and pulled the bag from your hands. “I didn’t mean any of that! I was just… angry. I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You shook your head, taking the bag back. “Jaemin… you called me a bitch. Do you not respect me at all? How can you expect me to stay with you after that?”

Jaemin crumpled onto the bed, tears threatening to spill. He hugged his knees tight. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

You sat beside him on the bed, shoulders drooping.

“I’m sorry, too,” you whispered. “You deserve someone… better.”

“No!” Jaemin shook his head. “Please don’t leave me.” He leant his head against your shoulder, crying.

You sat in silence for a moment. Then you sucked in a deep breath and stood up.

“I have to,” you said. “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

You walked out of the room. A few moments later, Jaemin heard the thud of the front door.

Jaemin stood up. He looked at the picture frame on the bedside table, it was of you and him, laughing whilst sharing an ice cream.

He picked it up and threw it against the wall, screaming. The glass shattered.

He ran into the living room, head spinning. That’s when he saw it.

There was a small box on the coffee table, wrapped with a purple bow, and a message that said ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAEMIN’. He opened the box, fingers trembling.

Inside was a sleek brass ring. He picked it up and read the inscription on the ring.

“Y/n and Nana forever.”

What a fool he was.

Part 2 coming soon...

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[dilfl0v3rss]

bully!ony

bully!ony who always seems to know just what to say to make your sensitive self cry

bully!ony who’d hide your pencils and take your computer while you went to the bathroom

bully!ony who’d call you mean and annoying names like chubs, dough girl, muffin, dumb dumb, and cupcake. his favorite being peaches since that was the first thing he smelled the first time you walked passed him on campus.

“cmere peaches, need you t’do my homework so i can come back and terrorize you next semester”

bully!ony who was nearly a foot taller than you, towering over you with a mean look when he sees you doing something he doesn’t like.

“stop wearing this skimpy ass skirt. ass all out like a desperate bitch” he mumbled, his harsh, deep voice made you shrink in fear. this only brought a smile to his face, his pearly white teeth flashing at you as he shamelessly looked you over. “i-i like m-my skirt, s’pretty.” you whispered, your finger gravitating towards the middle of your glasses, pushing them up your nose as you looked up at the bully with big, scared, doe eyes.

ony’s smile began to fade, an unknown anger showing in him as he grabbed your bag from your shoulder, snatching book after book out of it before letting each one hit the floor. “s’pretty until you gotta pick shit up. now niggas gon be able t’see everything you got going on under it” he spit, his side colliding with yours as he walked past you and towards the door, not missing the little wet patch in your cotton panties as you bent over to pick up your stuff. “tch, slut…”

bully!ony who’d purposely put things too high or too low just to watch you struggle. the way your breasts would bounce as you jumped for your favorite book in his hand or the way your panties would show, your pretty pussy fighting against the fabric as you reached under a chair for your computer. he couldn’t help but feel his dick jump in excitement.

bully!ony who had no shame walking into your dorm room and taking your snacks, not even knocking on the door since he knew you kept it unlocked while you were in there.

bully!ony who’d copy off of your work constantly, giving you stern looks and a tight squeeze to your thigh to keep you quiet. it worked every time.

bully!ony who’d scare you into coming with him to parties, preying on your fear of being all alone as he’d tell you that the campus would be empty since everyone else would be there except you.

bully!ony who’d make you stay by him the entire time, leaving a big, strong palm on your ass at all times to “let niggas know”. you didn’t mind it though, never questioning anything he does since you were so cute, scared, and dumb.

bully!ony who couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous when he saw you getting hit on in the line for the bathroom.

“look really pretty in that skirt mama” eren said, his voice quickly making heat travel to your cheeks as you looked down at your pretty pink shoes. “t-thank you” you whispered. he heard you, but at the sight of your shy little face eren couldn’t resist teasing you a little. “whatchu say? you gotta speak up f’me pretty the music’s loud in here” as he spoke, his big hand found itself under your chin, lifting your gaze up to his pretty eyes as he stared at you with mischief written all over his face.

ony watched the whole scene unfold, his fists clenched tightly as he removed himself from his spot on the couch. you didn’t even notice him coming as you watched the person in front of you exit the bathroom. before you could say another word to eren you felt a strong hand grip the back of your neck, shoving you in the bathroom before ony followed you inside. he towered over you menacingly, “what was that?” you looked up him, fear and confusion written all over your face as you tried to understand what you did that upset him so much. “i-i don” “oh my god ‘i-i-i’ speak up chubs. you fucking him?”

tears quickly trickled down your cheeks, your mascara messing up as you wiped at them constantly with the sleeve of your pink long sleeve crop top. “n-no…never” you whispered, ony quickly wrapped a hand around your throat, turning you around towards the mirror as he bent you over the sink. “then scream real loud while i fuck you so he could hear”

bully!ony who told you all the time that only he was allowed to touch you since he was the “only man that gave you attention” when in actuality, every guy on campus wanted to be with you but he’d scare each of them off before they even tried.

bully!ony who’d constantly fluster you from shamelessly lifting up your skirt while you sat with him in the library to slapping the fatty flesh of your ass while you bent over to get one of your pencils he’d drop.

bully!ony who couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been a little off lately. the pencils and books he’d enjoy stealing and hiding nowhere to be found as you sat in class with just your computer. tears were in your eyes as you sat in front of the black screen, not even trying to get any notes down as you let your sadness fall down your cheeks.

bully!ony who followed you around for the rest of the day searching for the boy who thought it was okay to mess with you when you were alone. breaking your pretty pink pencils and wetting up your favorite books. “this him muffin?” ony said, holding the guy by the back of his collar with a big tattooed hand as he awaited your reply. you nodded your head, your mascara filled tears drying on your chubby cheeks as you looked at the petrified look the boy carried. ony took one deep breath before telling you to go wait for him in his car. you listened without hesitation, not wanting to anger him further.

he returned to the car with blood covering his knuckles, anger still lingering over his face but it was much calmer than before. “y-your hands” you mumbled but he ignored you, silently making his way to his apartment. even though the two of you have had sex multiple times you’ve never been to his apartment, always settling for a bathroom quickie or your dorm room so you were very surprised to see the huge, spacious apartment this man had. “rooms right there” he mumbled, nodding his head towards his door. you quietly made your way in there, lightly sitting at the edge of his bed as you let todays events replay in your mind.

as ony finally joined you in the room, you noticed the blood from his hands as well as his tight black t shirt nowhere to be found. his broad chest full of tattoos moving closer and closer to your face before he was standing right in front of you. arousal quickly rushed inside your panties as your eyes moved up to his inked neck then to the sexy, dark brown skin of his face. “ass up” was all he said and you complied immediately, making him scoff as he watched your skirt instantly move up your back, putting your soaked panties on full display for him. “knew you’d be wet…slutty lil bitch” he mumbled, rubbing his thumb up and down the wet fabric before pulling it to the side.

ony freed himself from his sweats, lining up with your entrance before sinking into you fully. your pretty moans only drove him crazier as he already started building up to a quick pace. “fuck peach you so tight” he groaned, his hands pushing down on your back as he fed deep strokes into your pussy. your eyes where already in the back of your skull, your hands gripping the sheets as you took each and every inch of him. “o-ohhhh my g-odddd” you moaned, your pussy only getting wetter as you felt ony fuck you even harder, his hips slapping against your ass as he let the rest of his anger out on your body.

“only i can be mean t’you right cupcake? only daddy can make you cry?” he said, his deep voice making your walls clench as you replied with a whiny “only you daddy”. ony gave you a satisfied slap on the ass, his pace quickening as he angled his hips down towards your g spot. “and only i can make you feel good, fuck this pussy just how you like it?” you nodded your head but ony wanted words, his hand leaving a harder slap on your ass as his other hand went to pull you up a little by your hair. “talk t’daddy baby or do y’want me t’stop?” a whine instantly flew from your lips, your ass moving back on him harder as you begged for him to continue. “n-no! only you can t-touch me daddy pleaseeee, just keep goinggg”

a smirk crept onto his lips, his dick twitching in excitement at your obedience as he fucked you just the way you liked it.

bully!ony who had been in love with you since he met you but didn’t know how to tell you, settling for picking on you and your pretty little pussy until he got the right words together to ask you out properly. until then he’d settle for being your big, mean, scary bully and you his pretty, timid, quiet little peach.

[annievrse]

boyfriend!gojo

—ᡣ𐭩 headcanons a/n: haahahahahahahahahhahahhahah.............

bf!gojo loves when you scratch him behind the ear like a damn cat

bf!gojo gives you 6 wet willies a day

bf!gojo is not allowed a pet because he wanted to cuddle with the fish yuuta got him……

bf!gojo goes on runs (i’m talking like 25km at once because he has so much energy all the time) and he wears singlets

bf!gojo begs for a sip of your drink because “it’s looks so much more delicious than his” so you let him and he drinks the whole thing :/

bf!gojo keeps track of everything you’ve ever said in his notes app so he doesn’t forget anything because his mind is going 2752 miles an hour, every hour, everyday

bf!gojo hums to himself 24/7 (mostly your favourite songs that are stuck in his head or, the most random songs that he’s only heard 24 seconds of thanks to yuuji & his giant fuck off speaker)

bf!gojo has a collection of sunglasses and puts them on you when he’s bored because he loves how cute you look in them

bf!gojo makes you brush his teeth when he’s being a little baby bitch & god forbid you don’t want his oral health to go to shit

i believe bf!gojo takes his shirt off and starts flexing obnoxiously if you say anything about how good he’s been looking lately (like he doesn’t look good all the time……), especially in the living room because “the lighting is better in here”

bf!gojo teleports to the shower (while you’re in it 😐) (“omg this isn’t the kitchen?????”)

bf!gojo loves when you wash his hair (when you’re in the shower together, he just tilts his head back and waits silently, sometimes shaking his hair when you take too long to realise)

bf!gojo watches you sleep and before you start omg ann that is creepy….. he has lost many people ok, gojo will do anything and everything in his power to make sure you don’t join that list, and if watching you sleep soundly helps him avoid a spiral, then let him be

bf!gojo allows you remove his blindfold to wash it because i know that thing is gross (smells citrus-y because other detergents make him feel sick (read: baby with fragrance sensitivity))

bf!gojo hates having his feet touched and will fight anyone who comes close to them

bf!gojo holds your hand every chance he gets, and plays with your fingers (cracking them even though it’s bad!!) like they’re fidget toys 😭

bf!gojo likes to be pampered by you (e.g. eyebrows plucked, non-existent beard shaved, face mask = on, skin = flawless & smooth)

bf!gojo invites all his students over for dinner every sunday and you all cook together (turns into cooking competitions: yuuta always wins & yuuji always complains for an entire week after saying he cheated (until the next week where it happens all over again))

bf!gojo cannot keep his mouth shut to save his life, but he will when you’re doing something that requires silence because he likes to watch you in such a way (reading, meditating, whatever you want; you are the only one who he will willingly shut the fuck up for <3)

[zerokurokawa]

Can I request rindou with a introverted reader who hates rindou? Like a enemies to lovers? Thank you!!

Unwritten | Rindou x Introverted!Reader <3

You were constantly being dragged to Tenjiku meetings due to your best friend dating Shion Madarame. She was forced to go, therefore, you were too. 

"You have to suffer with me," Your best friend would say, "If I have to go to these unbearable meetings, you do too." She smirked as she got out off the back of Shion's bike. You had rode by yourself, meaning you could just leave at any point. But instead, you stayed because you didn't want to make your best friend mad. You didn't even mind the meetings so much, you just minded having to be around him. 

Rindou Haitani was always bothering you in some sort of way. Whether it be teasing you about having your nose stuck in your phone, or just plain out talking to you about nonsense, he annoyed you. He would also pick fights with you, constantly belittling you and how you act. 

As soon as you stepped out of your car, he gave you a glare as if he didn't expect you to be there in the first place. You ignored this, barging through the warehouse doors and finding a comfortable spot to sit while the meeting began. It wasn't until after the meeting that he had began to walk over to you, arms crossed with a sly smile on his face. 

"You again, huh?" He asked, kicking your shoe with his boot, trying to get your attention. You ignored him, scrolling through your phone. 

"You not gonna answer me?" He nudged you again. 

"Rindou, just fuck off already." You said, not looking up from your phone. You had a feeling about Rindou and his ulterior motives when it came to you. You had a feeling that he either hated your guts and wanted you gone completely, or he liked you and this was his way of flirting. 

"Fuck off? Nah, I'd rather sit here and keep bugging you." He smirked, sitting down next to you. 

"What do you even want from me?" You asked, looking up from your phone. 

"I just wanna know why you always come to these meetings, yet, you have nothing to do with Tenjiku. I don't like it." 

"I come because my best friend is with Shion, one of the big four. She doesn't wanna sit here alone so I come with her." You looked over at him to see him with a slight smile on his face. It was devious smile, one that would cause shivers to go down anybody's spine. 

"So you're telling me you just sit here and ignore everybody while she goes around and talks? You could at least be more involved." He began to get up. God, you hated his guts. Hoping he would leave you alone, he did the exact opposite. He nudged your foot again and held out his hand. Cautiously, you took it and he helped you stand up from the corner you were sitting in. 

"I just come to come, I guess." You said, standing up. You noted the height difference between you two as you stood next to him. You for sure wasn't scared of him and you know he fought dirty, however, you didn't think anything of it when it came to you. 

"Well, maybe instead of being stuck up, you could congregate with someone." He said in a snarky tone. 

"I'm not stuck up, I'm just a little shy. That's all." You snapped back at him. 

"Oh..." He said, a little taken back by your sudden explanation and response. 

You didn't say anything else before walking off, leaving him behind. He began to follow you outside though, wanting to finish the conversation you two were having. 

"Hey!" You heard him call before opening your car door, "I'm sorry for assuming you were a stuck up bitch. I didn't know you were just shy." 

"It's fine, honestly..." You trailed off. 

"It's not, and I'm sorry. I'd like to get to know you and introduce you to more people so that way you won't feel so alone." He smiled sweetly. In that moment, you actually thought to yourself about how Rindou Haitani could possibly be bearable to be around. 

"Okay... then we can start by you not being a total asshole to me anymore." You replied. He nodded his head in response and pulled out his phone. 

"Here, lemme get your number and we can start from there." He said, rather confidently. Rindou had the good looks, charisma, and was smooth with his words. You ended up giving in and letting him have your number. 

"I guess just text me whenever." You gave him a small smile. He nodded and smiled back. 

Before you knew it, you were on your way home when your phone buzzed from a text. It was Rindou just saying "hey". You two began to talk and stayed up all night, getting to know each other. 

The rest was unwritten. 

(A/N: Wrote this really late at night, I have to get some sleep because i'm sleep deprived. I hope you enjoy!)

[thechaoticdruid]

[We'll Protect Each Other]

Paring: F!Tav x Astarion

Plot: While staying at an inn in the Underdark an unfortunate chain of events forces Tav and Astarion to protect one another.

Content Warnings: Fiercely protective Tav, Tav uses She/Her pronouns, Tav is kinda feral and unhinged, blood, gore, threats of/ literal genital trauma, we are going game of thrones up in this bitch, sexual harassment, brief allusions to Astarion's trauma, violence, so much fucking violence, death, Tav is heavily based on my own Tav Winnie. Oh and a little fluff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tav hummed as she sat at the tavern table, glancing down upon the suspicious letter she'd received last night. 

‘I'll see you soon, True Soul.’

Been a while since she was called that, almost everyone who had referred to her as a ‘true soul’ was dead now so being addressed as such was rather peculiar, but at the same time not completely unwelcome. Tav smirked slightly, the idea of a new foe to face sparked excitement. It had been so long since the human druid had a good fight.  Since the defeat of the Elder Brain she'd been staying in the Underdark, looking after a horde of hungry vampire spawn. Her days weren't uneventful in the slightest, but gods did she miss adventuring. 

Tav's lover was over at the bar getting the two something to drink. Since the Underdark has become home to seven thousand life-challenged individuals this particular inn had made preparations to feed them should any appear at the establishment. He tapped his claws on the table, waiting for the bartender to finish mixing up their beverages as an uneasy feeling coursed through his body. Astarion had felt unfamiliar eyes on him since he'd left to get him and his beloved some refreshments. His blood red eyes darted back and scanned the tavern. Tav was still waiting at their table and mostly all the other patrons there happened to be deep gnomes, all who seemed much more concerned with friendly banter. But then he spotted someone off in the corner. A tall half-orc whose eyes seemed trained on him.  Astarion wasn't exactly sure how he didn't spot the big oaf sooner, usually he was far more perceptive than this, but perhaps his hunger had him quite distracted. The elven vampire tapped on the bar table impatiently wondering exactly what was taking the bartender so long. 

Eventually the half-drow barmaid brought over the drinks.

“Sorry for the wait.” She said softly, “not used to preparing food for our night time visitors.” The half-elf handed him a cold mug of dessert wine and a warm mug of ethically precured lifeblood.

Astarion took the drinks before turning and making his way back.  The half-orc then made his move, walking straight towards him.  

“Have a drink with me, handsome?” The half-orc gave a flirtatious smile, making the elf internally sigh in annoyance.

“No, I think not. My partner is waiting for me, you see.” Astarion gave a forced smile before attempting to make his way back to Tav. A large green hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Come on! Surely you're not talking about the little rat’s nest of hair? Sweetheart, I could show you things that little human wench couldn't even dream of-”

The elf quickly slapped his hand away. 

“Oh, I highly doubt you could show me anything I haven't already done myself. Now bugger off.” Astarion growled out the last part, barring his fangs at the orc before stomping off. 

Tav glanced up as Astarion took a seat next to her. He had a look of discomfort on his face, but quickly bushed it off as he noticed her attention on him.  “I'm back, my sweet.” Astarion smiled at Tav, setting their drinks down before planting a kiss on her cheek.

“You okay, doll? You seem uncomfortable.” Tav put her hand on his shoulder only to receive a small smile as his hand covered her own.

“I'm fine, love. Just a little annoyed by the wait is all.” Astarion squeezed her hand gently, not wanting her to worry. 

“Okay….” Tav said before looked back down at the letter, taking a sip from the wine Astarion had brought her. 

“What's that?” Astarion asked, sliding an arm over her shoulders before taking a sip from his own mug and internally sighing.

Rothé blood….

“Just an ominous threatening letter left by gods know who.” Tav said casually, nearly making Astarion spit out his blood. 

“Ah darling, perhaps you should be a just little more concerned about this?” 

“I'm not afraid. Let them come get me! I've been itching for a good fight for ages!” Tav clenched her fist, a wicked grin spread across her face. 

“Oh Tav, you know what that bloodlust look does to me.~” Astarion flirted leaning closer against his love. “But maybe we should be at least a bit more careful?”

“We’ve dealt with plenty of baddies before, Star. It’ll be fine!” Tav insisted.

“Need I remind you that there are only two of us now since the others have all gone their separate ways.” Astarion sighed, “I just worry for you, my dear.” 

“I know babe.” Tav planted a kiss on his cheek affectionately before saying,”I'll tell you what, once we get everything sorted out with the other spawn we'll recruit some new traveling companions and go after that ring of the sunwalker thing I heard about.” This brought a smile to the vampire’s lips. 

Large footsteps were heard stomping over to the table. Astarion glanced up seeing the half-orc from before approaching them.

“Sorry about my behavior before sweetness. I've just never seen such a breathtaking looking creature such as yourself. So, how about you ditch the runt and i'll take you somewhere we can get you something better to drink…. Perhaps someone?~” 

“Are you daft? I told you to bugger off!” Astarion snarled, glaring daggers at the large male. Astarion kept his arm around Tav in a protective manner, but it was more so for his own comfort truth be told. The half-orc was really making him uneasy. Tav could feel Astarion shake a little. 

“Hey, no need to be like that, I just want a piece of that tight little elven as-”  The half-orc was suddenly silenced by a scimitar pressed dangerously close to his groin.

“You really don't want to finish that sentence, big guy.” Tav said calmly, not even looking up at the green bastard. “You know I’ve been really itching to slit someone's throat lately, but you….I think I might have fun with you…” She said before finally turning her head towards him, a sadistic grin spread across her lips. 

“Y-You better watch yourself y-you little b-b-bitch!” He whined out the last part feeling Tav press her blade harder against his clothed crotch.

“Oh I like this!” Tav breathed out, voice unhinged and full of bloodlust as the half-orc began to shake in terror. “A big stupid creep thinks he can push me around just because I'm small…It's almost cute how pathetic you are. I should cut you open and show everyone what you really are inside. A gutless coward!” Tav stared at him intensely. The wicked grin spread across her lips didn't falter even for a second, until eventually she sighed.

“But it'd be rude to get blood all over Lyn’s nice clean floors.” Tav said, speaking of the half-drow bartender. “So you're going to leave now and never come near my lover again, or I'll cut your cock off and shove it down your throat. Understand?” Tav spat, nearly stabbing the blade of her scimitar through the orc’s pants.

“Y-Yes m-ma’m!” The half-orc said in a high pitch tone. 

“Good boy.” Tav pulled her blade back, “now get the fuck out of my sight.” She growled, causing the green creep to turn and make a run for it, slamming the door on his way out of the tavern. All the gnomes had seemed to halt their chatter and look over to the two lovers.

“Tav…” Astarion muttered in an irritated tone, “I didn't need you to defend me! I had that completely under control!” He fussed, clearly embarrassed because of the scene Tav had caused. 

“I'm sure you did sweetie, but you can't just expect me to sit by and do nothing when some pervert keeps treating you like a piece of meat.” Tav said calmly. 

“Darling that orc was huge! What if you hadn't been quick enough!? What if he comes back!?”

“Honey, I can literally turn into an owlbear.” Tav rolled her eyes. “I know you’re capable of kicking ass, Star. I have no doubt about that. But I don’t protect you because I think you're weak. I do it because I love you.” Tav said sweetly, placing her hand against his cheek. “And sometimes it's okay to need someone to protect you…” She looked down at his trembling hands. Fear began to stir in her gut, worried that he might have been triggered by the situation. Astarion simply place his hand over hers and relaxed into her touch. 

“I know. I love you too…It's just…I want to be able to protect the both of us…” Astarion glanced off to the side.

“You can! Babe, you're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for! You practically carried our team the entire time we were worm brained!” Tav placed a second hand on the other side of his face. Astarion rolled his eyes with a slight smile.

“Gods Tav, you're such a bad liar.” 

“I'm not lying!” Tav chuckled, “I'm pretty sure you have more kills than the rest of us combined! You're so stealthily and quick! The fuckers never saw it coming!” 

“Well perhaps I could be willing to allow you to win this little debate. Granted you continue to list off all of my many talents, or you can just call me beautiful and we can head upstairs for the evening?” 

“You're beyond beautiful, my Star.” Tav purred. 

        •~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The night was quiet as Tav and Astarion rested on the top floor of the Inn. Both of them snug in their bed. Astarion always had a tendency to curl around Tav as she slept and he tranced. However, tonight Tav lay there, eyes wide open. Her mind for some reason wandering off to a memory brought on by today's events.

“I assume he belongs to you.” The drow’s eyes leered over Astarion lustfully as she spoke about his as if he was nothing but cattle.

“Excuse me? I don't appreciate you talking about my friend like he's a fucking piece of property.” Tav snapped, stepping in front of her companion protectively. Of course she'd see him that way. The drow treat all their men like cattle. The fact didn't make Tav any less insulted. 

“Now now. No need to speak like that. I only wish to make a trade.” The drow said calmly, however her stare seemed to harden a little. “What is your name, spawn?” 

“It’s Astarion but hold on!” Astarion put his hands up as if to keep some distance between him the drow. 

“Astarion, I've dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a little girl.” She purred. Tav shot the drow a look which she ignored, red eyes locked on Astarion’s mouth.

“Let me get this straight, you want to be bitten?” Astarion asked, a look of confusion and disgust filled his face. Normally he would jump at a chance to sink his teeth into a willing person, hells part of him wanted to drain this bitch dry because of how she talked about him, but this drow pretty as she was her blood smelled worse than death itself! Just being in her presence was enough to make him want to gag! 

“To feel my life’s essence slipping away, to dance on the edge of death, yes I want it.” She said, nearly swooning. “I'll even compensate you. A potion of legendary power. It's not for sale, but it's yours if you bite me.” 

“I will have to decline.” Astarion said immediately.

“Excuse me? This is a once and a lifetime opportunity and you're squandering it!” 

“I gave you my answer!” Astarion spat. The drow woman ignored him and immediately turned to Tav. 

“Can't you talk some sense into your obstinate charge!?” She demanded.

“He said no. The hells do you not understand?” The druid snapped.

Gods, Tav couldn't help but think back to her first encounter with Araj the drow blood merchant. This incident today reminded her far too much of it. Except this time it might have been worse. The fucking orc actually tried to put his hands on him.

Tav furrowed her eyebrows and glanced back over to Astarion’s peaceful looking face. She knew he could handle himself in a fight, but the situation was different. These sorts of things really got to him. Tav ran her fingers gently through his hair. She needed to keep safe no matter what. Sleep took Tav eventually and she snuggled into her vampire’s embrace, enjoying the coolness of his skin.  And for a while the two were at peace, blissfully unaware of what lurked in the shadows.

It was probably about midnight when Tav woke up. She whimpered and felt around the bed for her lover, only feeling emptiness in his place. 

“Astarion?” Her eyes slowly blinked open and Tav sat up. She glanced around the room discovering the vampiric elf was nowhere in sight.  She tried to rationalize that Astarion was probably just up and around since he didn't need as much rest as she did, but Tav couldn't help but feel anxiety creep its way into the back of her mind.  She got to her feet before slowly feeling a dagger be pressed against her throat. 

“Nice to see you again, true soul…” A familiar feminine voice spoke softly in Tav's ear, causing her to grit her teeth as she looked back. 

“Araj? The hells are you doing all the way out here?” Tav sneered. 

“I needed to see you again. I require your help.” 

“I told you before, you aren't getting any more of my blood and if you even think of bringing up Astarion so help me-”

“This isn't about him, darling. This is about you. I am on the verge of something extraordinary, but I need one key ingredient. Your heart.” Araj slowly dragged the knife down her throat and down between her breasts.

Tav rolled her eyes before chuckling.

“Sweet, but you know I'm spoken for.” In a swift motion the druid slammed her foot down on the drow's own before grasping hold of her wrist and forcing the blade away from her body.

“You idiots! Get in here and help me!” Araj suddenly shouted, prompting the door to open, revealed two half-orc male’s and a female. 

With them was Astarion bound with silver chains wrapped around his body. Cloth was tied around his mouth, preventing him from speaking, but Tav could very clearly hear him whimpering in pain. The silver was burning his skin! 

“Now cooperate or else! I'll make sure our darling bloodsuck-” Tav didn't even give the drow a moment to speak any further before knocking the blade from her hand and slamming her fist into her face with enough force to knock Araj to the floor. Araj hit the ground with a thud, seemingly knocked unconscious from the blow. The druid’s eyes quickly went back to Astarion who was struggling and letting out muffled cries of pain, but despite this he looked far more pissed off than afraid.  That didn't calm the rage that was stirring deep inside Tav however, and the fact that the same gods damned perverted orc from before was holding onto Astarion's silver chains just pushed her over the edge. 

Without even thinking Tav dropped to the ground transforming into a huge direwolf before letting out a deep bloodthirsty snarl and lunging right for the familiar half orc. Her jaws sank right into his groin, causing him to let out a blood curdling scream.

“Bloody hells! Get that thing off of him!” The female half-orc shouted. 

“But the vampire!?” The other male orc replied.

“He's tied up you dumb fuck!” She shouted before turning to attack Tav. Tav yanked her head back hard, tearing a chunk out of the half-orc’s flesh and trousers. The half orc continued to scream as Tav spat his unmentionables out before he tumbled over and began to bleed out on the floor. 

“That crazy drow bitch better pay us good for this.” The remaining male half-orc muttered before charging at Tav alongside the female. 

Tav quickly dove under his legs before bucking him to the ground with her back and darting right for Astarion. Astarion shook his head as his wildshaped lover approached him with a doglike whine and sunk her teeth into his chains, trying to he them off him. She was only able to allow one of his arms to slip free. Astarion quickly tore the cloth around his head. 

“For gods' sake Tav! Look out!” He shouted, before suddenly the female half-orc slammed into Tav from behind, wrapping her arms around her in a headlock. 

“I've got her! I've got her!” The female orc shouted. Tav growled loudly before turning round and sinking her teeth into the orc female’s shoulder. In the struggle the two ended up tumbling down the stairs and out the front door of the tavern.  The half-orc male was about to run off after his female companion when suddenly he noticed Astarion had somehow slipped free from his bindings. The vampire’s skin was quickly healing from the burns left from the silver, and his eyes almost appeared to be glowing red. He clenched and unclenched his fists revealing sharp claw-like fingernails and the next thing the half-orc knew were icy fangs piercing his throat.

Outside the tavern, Tav and the female orc were still going at it. The half orc threw a punch to Tav's head knocking her back before she took out a blade and took a stab at the direwolf only for Tav to dart out of the way at the last second and take a bit at the orc woman’s leg. 

“You godsdamn mutt!” She yelled, kicking Tav in the face before plugging her blade into her back.

Tav howled in pain and backed up, blood trickling down her back and staining her fur.  She let out a pained whimper as she looked up at the half-orc.

The she-orc smirked triumphantly.

“Not so high and mighty now are you, druid?” She huffed starring Tav right in the eyes. Without another word Tav lunged at the orc with a monstrous growl, sinking her jaws into the green female's head. 

“GODS DAMNIT!!” The half-orc screamed. Tav sunk her claws into her shoulders as she stood up on her hind legs and dug her teeth into the orc's skull.  Then with a harsh whip of her head Tav snapped her opponent’s neck. The druid then released the orc, letting her drop to the ground.

Tav dropped back down on all fours with a sigh, panting a little from the fight. She turned her head and yanked the blade from her back. Luckily in this form she wouldn't actually be harmed. But she was honestly feeling far too tired to stay in her wildshape now. Slowly she transformed back, taking a moment to regain her strength. 

“A-Astarion…I-I need to get back to Astarion…” Tav told herself. 

“I'm afraid you won't be seeing him again.” Araj suddenly stepped out from the shadows, blade in hand. “I am not leaving without your heart!” She hissed. 

“Oh for fucks sake! Don't you ever get tired of being a psycho!?” Tav hissed, she quickly reached for her weapon, but this time Araj was quicker.  She stabbed her blade into Tav's leg making her freeze. 

“What….W-What is this!?” Tav sputtered, suddenly feeling her limbs begin to tingle and go numb. She tried to move, but her body just felt so heavy. 

“A paralysis potion I've been keeping for a rainy day. I'd hoped I wouldn't have to use it. I have no idea what affects it will have on your heart unfortunately, but I can't let you get away.” Araj stopped as she watched Tav whimper and squirm on the ground. The silver haired female wiped her blade clean off the potion before she then undid the buttons on Tav's shirt, exposing her chest.

“Now I'll need a nice clean cut. I don't want to damage your heart too badly.” The drow licked her lips before dragging the tip of her blade over Tav’s chest. “Just close your eyes and it'll be all over…” Tears began to form in the corners of Tav’s eyes, heart pounding so hard she was sure it’d burst right out before that damn drow bitch would even have a chance to cut into it.

“Get away from my Tav.” Astarion suddenly growled out, appearing behind Araj who quickly turned and struck at him with her blade. 

“Not until I have her heart!” Araj hissed.

Astarion ducked out of the way, unsheathing his own blade and taking a swing at her.  His dagger barely nicked the side of her cheek as she dodged, drawing a few drops of blood.

“Gods below, it's even more foul smelling than before!” He made a gagging sound.

“Mock me all you like! It won't stop me!” Araj took another stab at Astarion aiming right for his throat, but he quickly grabbed her wrists and pushed her back towards the ground. Now that he was free of the tadpole his vampiric strength returned and it gave him an edge in battle.

“You know darling, I think I may have had a sudden change of heart. I may just bite you after all.” Astarion said, forcing a grin upon his face. 

“What-” Confusion flickered over her face for a split second, immediately being followed by Astarion sinking his fangs into her neck, but instead of drinking her blood, he tore her throat right out.  

Astarion immediately spat out any of her blood that had gotten into his mouth before watching her drop to the ground, a twisted smile plastered over her face. “I-Incredible….” She choked out before suddenly coughing up an alarming amount of blood. 

 He quickly disregarded her lifeless body and swiftly moved to Tav who was still paralyzed on the ground. 

“My love, are you alright?” Astarion knelt down and cradled her head with one hand.

“I-I can't m-move….S-She got me with a paralysis poison…” Tav croaked out.

“Hang in there lover.”Astarion frowned, looking down at Tav with worry. He immediately scooped her up bridal-style. “I'm going to take you to Dalyria. She should be able to cure this.” Astarion carried Tav back into the tavern. Several of the patrons were whispering to each other. Some seemed deathly afraid of Astarion and his love. The vampire spawn simply ignored them.

“I don't think we're going to be welcome here any longer, Star.” Tav said as Astarion set her down on a sofa near the tavern fireplace.  

“Forget them, darling. We're leaving anyway. Now sit tight while I grab our things.” Astarion said, kissing her forehead before quickly going upstairs to get their packs. Tav sat by the fire, she could see the barmaid Lyn giving her an awfully ugly look. 

Good gods, it's not our fault we were attacked.

Tav rolled her eyes. It didn't take long for Astarion to return with their things.  Tav weakly nuzzled her face into his neck as Astarion scooped her back up into his arms. Tav stared up at him with adoration as he carried her out. 

“You did it, you know.” She hummed.

“What are you on about?’ Astarion glanced down at her.

“You protected me!” Tav exclaimed with a weak smile, “and thank the gods you did. I was sure I was a goner.”

“You give me far too much credit, my love. I still allowed you to get injured. You did a much better job than I.” Astarion huffed. 

“You kidding? You just saved my life Astarion and this isn't even the first time.” Tav insisted. “Look, from now on no more arguing over who protects who. We protect each other and that's final.” 

“You're being awfully demanding of someone who can't even move her arms, my dear.” Astarion chuckled, “but I am grateful all the same.”

He planted another kiss upon Tav's forehead before continuing on to meet up with his sister and hopefully cure his beloved’s ailment.

The two set off, leaving the tavern to deal with three battered corpses and a mysterious trail of blood…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note from TheChaoticDruid: Phew! Finally got this thing out! Honestly despite finding her a very shitty person and absolutely despising how she treats Astarion I can't help but find Araj interesting. The whole thing with blood and heck the creepy shit you find in her basement makes me want to know more about her. Kinda went a little overboard with this in terms of violence I guess, but I kinda wish there were more bg3 fics with some action in them. Also, I may have kinda ignored how silver and vampires work in DnD, but BG3 plays fast and loose with lore so I guess I will too. Hope you like it!

[melefim]

Swearing in Dead Boy Detectives: Fuck

Overview:

Fuck was said a total of 90 times, in all 8 episodes and by 15 different characters.

Uses Per Episode:

Fuck is said in all 8 episodes of the show, one of only 4 words to do so.

Episode 1: 7

Episode 2: 5

Episode 3: 13

Episode 4: 5

Episode 5: 8

Episode 6: 13

Episode 7: 16

Episode 8: 23

Uses Per Character:

Fuck is said by 15 different characters, more than any other word.

Edwin: 2

Charles: 5

Crystal: 20

Jenny: 18

David: 12

Esther: 6

The Cat King: 6

Tabby Cat: 2

Calico Cat: 1

Litty: 8

Kingham: 5

Brad: 2

Hunter: 1

Twitchy Richie: 1

Girl in Crystal’s Memory 2 (Club Fight): 1

Percent of Total:

Fuck is used 90 times, which is 27.9% of cursing in the show.

Variations:

There are 7 variations of the word used in the show, with the most popular being Fuck, which was used 42 times.

Fuck: 42

Fucking: 37

Fucked-up: 7

Fucked: 1

Fucker: 1

Fuckboy: 1

Mindfuck: 1

Rankings:

Total Uses: Fuck comes in first for total uses, being said 90 times.

Number of Episodes: Fuck is one of only four curse words that is said in all 8 episodes- the others are Shit, Ass, and God.

Most Uses of a Word in a Single Episide: Fuck holds 5 of the top 11 spots.

Most Uses of a Word by a Single Character in One Episode: Fuck took the title here as well, being said 10 times by Jenny in episode 8.

Total Characters: Fuck comes in first for number of characters to say it, with 15 using it throughout the show.

It is one of only two words said by the main trio of Edwin, Charles, and Crystal, the other being Damn.

It is one of only four words said by both Edwin and Charles—the others being Damn, Bloody, and Bloody Hell.

Favorite Word: Fuck is the favorite word of 7 different characters: Jenny (18), David (12), Litty (8), The Cat King (6), Kingham (5), Tabby Cat (2), and Brad (2).

Curse Word Variations: It comes in first for most variations, with 7.

Lines:

Episode 1:

Charles: Edwin, hurry the fuck up!

David: I'll fucking gut you! (x2 while possessing Crystal)

Crystal: It's just a stupid fucking name.

Tabby Cat: Fuck you. I'm not telling you nothing about that house or the witch inside.

Crystal: So maybe he's our fucking demon now!

Edwin: Police don't know what to do with a fucking witch!

Episode 2:

Litty: Little ghost fucker!

Litty: I'm gonna tell you something, because I think you really need to hear it, okay? You should go fuck yourself.

Litty: You know what? You can take that sweater and you can shove it up your ass. Do you have any clue how powerful we are? We are fucking gods!

Kingham: You better hope we never get out of here or we are going to fuck you up, like 'brass knuckles and mace' fuck you up!

Episode 3:

Jenny: It's a super fucked-up story so I'm gonna need some coffee

Crystal: What the actual fuck?

Calico Cat: At least we don't have to go inside. This house is fucked up.

Crystal: Just what the fuck is it?

Litty: Looks like they left you behind because you fucking suck.

Litty: They're all gonna fucking die.

Litty: We were fucking kidding, can't you take a fucking joke?

Litty: Stupid fucking bitch!

Charles: I'm just sick of watching this asshole kill his family a million times for no fucking reason. Tried it your way, and it did nothing. Sod it. Let's try mine. (x2 due to time loop)

Charles: His dad was bad, Edwin. Royally fucked-up bad.

Crystal: I am done wasting my energy on your fuckboy bullshit.

Episode 4:

Jenny: Ok, so you're what? You're just, you're not gonna leave until I explain this even though it's private and go the fuck away?

Tabby Cat: Fuck off. The kid had a sardine.

Crystal: You fucked with my head, I'm gonna fuck with yours.

Charles: Every day, I'm fucking smiling.

Episode 5:

Twitchy Richie: The fuck is this?

Jenny: Oh my fuck.

Crystal: You walk around acting like the sun always shines, and then you lost your shit while beating the Night Nurse. Edwin and I are walking on eggshells around you instead of just saying 'what the actual fuck?'

Jenny: What the fuck, Maxine?

Hunter: Oh, fuck that, you whiny little bitch.

Brad: It's a fucking tragedy that we died, okay?

Brad: What the fuck does that mean?

David: I'm a demon! And I always get what I fucking want!

Episode 6:

Crystal: I want to keep this demon the fuck out.

Jenny: Just like whatever the fuck I am doing is none of yours.

Crystal: It's like he's fucking haunting me.

David: Oh no, I'm so fucking scared.

Charles: Don't listen to him Crystal, it's just some sort of a mindfuck, innit?

David: Why the fuck do you smell so weak?

David: What the fuck did you do?

Crystal: I gave up my powers, OK? I got you out of my fucking head.

David: Now, she's just another fucking terrified lump of human flesh!

Crystal: I am nothing special, So why don't you just leave me the fuck alone?

David: Did you really think that you could beat me with a fucking cricket bat?

The Cat King: Do you hear me? I will stop fucking playing nice!

Esther: Teeth Face, what the fuck?

Episode 7:

The Cat King: Why the fuck are you here?

Esther: I know you blew up Monty's spot, you little fucking snitch.

The Cat King: I don't give a fuck, OK? End of audience.

The Cat King: That was my third life, you bitch. I only get nine. Would you fuck off? Fuck!

Crystal: Fucking bullshit, like I can't help.

Crystal: God, that's fucking insane.

Jenny: Fucking kid.

Jenny: What the fuck?

David: Why the fuck would you even want that?

David: What the fuck did you do? Where are we?

David: Maybe I was just fucking with you.

David: Fuck! Fine, you got your memories back.

Jenny: What the fuck was that?

Esther: You, you.. you think that you're the only one who's ever been screwed over? You're not. I fucking deserve this!

Edwin: That is so fucking stupid, It's unbelievable!

Episode 8:

Girl in Crystal’s Memory 2 (Club Fight): Get your fucking hands off my boyfriend, you slut!

Crystal: Oh, my God. Oh, I'm a fucking awful person. Oh, God, I'm the worst.

Jenny: What the actual fuck?

Jenny: And why the ever-loving fuck is my hair braided?

Jenny: Fuck that! That is bullshit!

Jenny: No fucking way.

Kingham: "No fucking way" to you. "No fucking way" to that side braid. What the fuck is that?

Jenny: Fucking fuck!

Jenny: Screw it. I'd rather know my own life, no matter how fucked-up.

Jenny: Jesus, fuck!

Crystal: Fuck! (Esther has the boys)

Jenny: I figure a meat cleaver can cut up a witch, but what the fuck do I know anymore?

Crystal: Because whatever fucked-up little thing you have going on with Edwin, you must care about him a little.

The Cat King: Fuck me. Did you even listen to my story?

Esther: Oh my God, my own sacrificial knife? I'm impressed. But I'm not fucking around that you're also gonna patch that wall before you die too.

Esther: Who the fuck are you?

Esther: What the fuck? Hey hey hey no! What did you just do?

Jenny: God, that sounds so fucking procedural.

Crystal: I don't have to give up my new fucked-up life while I'm trying to sort out my old fucked-up life.

Notes:

Not included:

In episode 1, Crystal flips off Edwin in the malt shop.

In episode 2, Litty flips off Charles, Edwin, and Crystal with both hands, and then later Kingham and Litty both flip off Edwin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More Dead Boy Detectives Swearing Posts:

Masterlist

Swearing by Episode

Swearing by Character

Swearing by Word

All Swearing Posts

And if you like lists of things like I do, you can check out my other Dead Boy Detectives ones here!

When Charles’ Shirt Colors Change

George Rextrew’s Edwin comic inspo board

Full soundtrack with timestamps

Moves, Incidents, and Cases Masterlist

First pass at finding where the songs in the score are used- full post with timestamps in progress

[anisespice]

“ hate your boyfriend ” || tokyo rev. pt. 2

one

synopsis: " you can pick me or your little boy. "

pairing: college!toman x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, sexual themes, MDI. toxic!toman, cheater!reader (pumpkin eater!!), enabling behavior, mild violence, vague descriptions of sex (cause i’m lazy), vulgar language, corny marvel joke, dirty-talk, moral compass is a roulette wheel in this one lol and i think that’s it :P 

notes: did a little continuation of the first one before doing more characters lol i’m happy you guys liked the concept, lemme know who you’d like to see next :))) i don’t hate this one, but i don’t love it either (except maybe mikey’s) buuuut hope yall enjoy! <333

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @spacegirl05​

A week had passed since the whole kick-back fiasco, and MIKEY had gone awol. Aki was over the moon about it, for obvious reasons; as far as he was concerned, he scared him off. Besides, the less you hung around the delinquent, the better for both of you.

“That guy’s just a nuisance, babe. Good riddance.”

Little did he know, this was a regular occurrence. Mikey always did this—Disappeared for days on end, only to pop right back up like he never left. Whether it be due to gang related issues, or because he felt like it, this frustrating habit was one of the reasons you invited him that night, despite knowing he’d pick a fight with Aki. You had missed him…in more ways than one. You knew it was only a matter of time before he came back to you.

And in the wee hours of the night, not far after said boyfriend left your place, you received a lone message from the former blonde himself.

from : bad influence ♡ 11:03pm     “ omw. ”

Short, but effective. His timing was impeccable, how he always managed to text the second you were alone was beyond you, but it made your heart race all the same. It was wrong, you knew that, Aki deserved better than someone who snuck around. You didn’t mean for it to get this far, but that was a guilt you’d deal with later. Mikey was your drug of choice, and tonight you craved another fix.

to : bad influence ♡ 11:07pm       “ okay. but just for a little while. ”

Even if you tried to play coy, to salvage whatever weak moral you had left, it didn’t matter—The only one you were fooling tonight was Aki.

from : bad influence ♡ 11:08pm      “ mhm. sure, angel. ”

It was a wonder how you didn’t draw blood with how harshly you clawed at his shoulders, fighting between wanting him closer or wanting to push him away. Mikey didn’t mind, though. On the contrary, he encouraged you to leave marks. As tempted as he was to leave his own, he figured beating up your insides would suffice.

Knowing you’ll struggle to walk tomorrow was all the reward he needed.

“God—fuuck,” he slurred, after a particularly hard thrust made you arch off the bed, forcing him to sink deeper. He gazed down at you with an all too pleased grin as you begged him for more. How could he deny you when you sounded so desperate? “Taking me so well, angel…always so good f’me…”

“J-Jiro..! Ahplease!” You sobbed, your knees practically knocking upside your temples as he increased momentum. Mikey snickered, angling his hips to continue ramming the spot that made your eyes cross, moans reaching octaves you didn’t even know you could hit.

“Mm, been feening for this dick, huh? Yeah? Maybe we should call up that smug bastard, let ‘em see how such good friends we are, right [______]? Bet he was real proud thinkin’ he got me to fuck off…but we both know who you really belong to. Don’t we?”

He wasn’t sorry. That’s the short end of it.

The moment Takeru decided to act all big and bad, breaking stuff in a place where he paid no bills, it was in DRAKEN’s right to set him straight; mama may not have raised him, but he still ain’t no bitch.

It took some coaxing on your end, but you were able to reel Draken back from turning your boyfriend inside out. But, after he forced him to pick up every broken piece of the lamp, he told Takeru to choose a number between one and ten.

“…Why?” Was his response. Draken raised a brow.

“That’s how many shards I’m gonna shove up your nose.”

“Ken!”

The look on the shorter male’s face was worth it, earning a threatening smirk from the mechanic as he slapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Ahh, y’look like you were about to shit yourself, man! Nah, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

For a moment, there’s relief in your boyfriend’s eyes. It was short-lived, of course. Especially once Draken’s grip tightened around his shoulder. “But I will. Don’t ever let me catch you pop off on [_____] like that again. Would hate for you to have to pick yourself up off the floor next time. You feel me?”

With a gulp, he gave a shaky nod; now he really looked like he shat himself. “Y-Yes…”

“Hah? Yes, what?”

“Y-Yes, Draken, sir?”

He rewarded the poor sucker’s obedience with a couple taps to the cheek just to spite him before sending him on his way. It was met with little protest, Takeru scurrying out of the room with lamp pieces still in his palms, not even sparing you a passing glance. 

“Text you later?” You called at his retreating form. When all you got was the sound of your front door slamming shut in response, you swiftly turned on your heel to aim a dejected frown at your other houseguest. Draken sardonically pouted back at you, reaching over to pinch your cheek until you swatted his hand away. “Why’d you do that, you totally freaked him out!” 

He wasn’t sorry. Draken shrugged. “Good.” 

Merely rolling your eyes, you headed for the small broom and dustpan in your closet to gather what little pieces Takeru left behind–Might as well busy yourself to delay addressing the elephant still in the room. Unfortunately, said elephant wasn’t about to let that happen. Before you could even think of sweeping anything, Draken gently grabbed your elbow, those same eyes that stared death into your boyfriend’s soul now filled with something else as they appraised you, melting through whatever cold exterior you tried to aim at him.

He leaned down closer, sporting a slanted grin that sent signals straight down to your core. Sometimes, you despised how easily he made your insides flutter by just existing.

“How much longer y’gonna entertain that fucking loser, huh? He wouldn’t know the first thing about handling someone like you.”

You hummed, fighting the giddy tremble in your body at the challenging air that surrounded you both. With the inkling of boldness you had, you took the bait. “What, like you would?”

He wasn’t sorry; you’d be though.

The way Draken split you in half would make Lucifer himself bite the pillow. Hovering over his gigantic frame, chest bare with your hands perched on each pec, he manhandled you to take every unforgiving inch of his dick, having you feeling downright discombobulated as your hips struggled to keep momentum.

Forget about seeing stars, at some point, you were certain you saw into the quantum realm; say hi to Ant-Man for me.

“K-Kenny...I can’t...t’s too much!” 

He cooed up at you, though there wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his tone. If anything, Draken enjoyed himself thoroughly, tongue-in-cheek as he watched you fall apart in his lap, just like he knew you would. With the way you tightened up around him like a vice, as if your own body was against the thought of him stopping, the former blonde chuckled breathlessly.

“Use the safe word then, doll.”

You glared down at him, to the best of your ability. With him practically jabbing you in the lung, it was more than difficult to say the rebuttal as smartly as you wanted to. “Y-you think…you’re so-oh! So f-funny…”

He did. Absolutely he did. By making your boyfriend’s name the safe word, nothing would soften his dick quicker. Plus, he knew you didn’t need it; just like you didn’t need Takeru.

“What? It’d be the only way you’d ever scream it anyways.”

“Welcome back.”

You paused mid-step upon entering your apartment, not expecting the ravenette to still be there. With a deep exhale, you paid him no mind as you kicked off your shoes, irritated after a tiresome process of checking your boyfriend into the hospital.

To say BAJI did a number on him would be an understatement…Man’s fucked him up. Sure, maybe Makoto could’ve watched his tone when talking to someone with such a short fuse, but Baji could’ve at least exercised a little restraint.

…Oh, who were you kidding? It’s Baji.

“What, ya not talkin’ to me?” Barely sparing him a glance, you set your bag on the coffee table before heading for the bedroom for a much-needed shower. Baji didn’t take kindly to being ignored. He huffed, standing to meet you halfway as he trailed behind you. Even when you attempted to close the door in his face, he shouldered his way in anyway; it was gonna take more than that to deter him.

“Quit being mad…said I was sorry, damn.”

“No you didn’t,” you replied, incredulously. You really tried it with the silent treatment, but knowing him, it was only a matter of seconds before he'd get you talking again. Taking off the sweats you threw on in haste earlier, you continued. “You said, and I quote, ‘Talk shit, get hit,’ then fell asleep on the couch while I had to haul Makoto to the emergency room!”

Baji shuffled his feet, “…Well, I meant to say it. Jus' forgot.”

You scoffed, walking into your bathroom. "What are you even still doing here? Don't you have someone else's day to shit on?”

“Y’kicking me out now?” He teased, raising a brow. What he didn't expect was for you to start throwing your toiletries at him. Although his reflexes saved him for the most part, Baji still got hit a few times as he attempted to dodge between a shampoo bottle and mouthwash. "Whoa! Hey-!"

“Maybe I should! Do you have any idea how hard it was to get him in and out of my car with all that dead weight, let alone into the building? Not to mention, his emergency contacts were his uppity-ass parents, so after they chewed me out, I had to lie and say he saved me from getting mugged.”

“...They buy it?”

You tilted your head, exasperated. "Wow. And here I thought the next thing out of your mouth would be that apology you 'forgot' to say earlier…[Sigh] Whatever. You just better hope when Makoto wakes up he doesn't remember anything, or else we're both in deep shit."

“Tsk. The fuck’s he gonna do?”

“He could literally sue us.” You deadpanned.

“He’s a pussy, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try me again. And if he gives you any shit for it, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, you mean like how you did today? Pass.”

He groaned, “I said sorry!”

“No you didn’t! And still haven’t!”

At the moment, it felt like the conversation would just continue in circles. With Baji stubbornly claiming he was in the right, and you combating his warped logic with colorful language and more stuff thrown at him, it's a wonder how things ended up here–With your face pressed against the cold shower wall as he gave you his fucking apology.

Over, and over, and over again.

While one hand wrapped around the column of your throat, fingers shoved knuckle-deep into your mouth to pacify the excessive whines tumbling out, the other made use of gripping the meat of your thigh, giving you no chance of running from the punishing thwap of his hips ramming against your wet ass-cheeks. The water cascading over your bodies had long turned cold as Baji chased after orgasm number five, his muscles ached from the strain, but he'd be damned to stop until he was certain all was forgiven.

Even if it meant missing every single one of Makoto's phone calls.

“God, I am so, so sorry, Takashi. Can’t believe he just…I-I’ve never seen him act like that before. Does it hurt?”

MITSUYA, despite the sting in his split lip, gave you an easy grin. “Nah, y’know I’ve been through worse. Fucker hits like one of my younger sisters.”

You had brought him back to your place to ice the bruise forming on his jaw, still frazzled over what occurred in the last half hour. Back at the restaurant, everything seemed fine when you excused yourself to the bathroom, having a blast knowing that your two favorite people were actually getting along. Unbeknownst to you, there was a storm brewing in Hajime. And the second you were out of sight, he used this opportunity to set a record straight with Mitsuya.  

Evidently, he allowed his fists to do the talking. 

You groaned, rubbing down your face in distress. “We’ll probably never get to set foot in that restaurant again...’m so embarrassed.”

“Hey,” he softly reprimanded, “Don’t sweat it, t’s not your fault-”

“I’m the one who begged you to let him come with us in the first place. I mean, I know you two butt heads from time to time, but I didn’t think it’d ever turn that serious. Please, Taka, just tell me what happened.”

Mitsuya shook his head, about to lower the ice pack until you shot him a pointed look. With a small exhale through his nose, he kept it on his jaw while he spoke. “I told you, he was probably pissed he couldn’t get a free meal outta me-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Haji wouldn’t explode like that over a fucking chicken sandwich.” You huffed, frustrated at his evasive behavior. He was holding back information on purpose, you were certain. Ever since the fitting, he'd been acting weird all evening. And that fight only solidified your suspicions. “Just tell me what started it!” 

"Doesn’t matter."

"Taka-"

"Let it go, [______]." He laid back on your couch and made himself comfortable, even so much as turning on your tv to fill over the dead conversation. Mitsuya trained his eyes on the lit-up screen, still icing his jaw as he subtly avoided eye contact.

You could just scream.

Childishly, you snatched the remote from his hand and switched it back off. The lavender haired threw his head back in defeat, the hand holding the ice pack slowly coming down as Mitsuya eyed you from his peripheral; so stubborn.

“Be honest. It was about me again, wasn’t it?” His silence spoke volumes. “So it was then. Ugh, okay listen, I get that you’re both really protective of me, I do, but that doesn’t excuse-”

“I’m in love with you.”

You choked. Though, only on your words.

With that now hanging up in the air, you gaped like a damn goldfish, the remote slipping out your grasp and clambering to the floor with a clack. Mitsuya exhaled; no turning back now. “You…huh?”

“Yep. Have been for a while, actually.” He placed his arms behind the couch, wry smirk on his face. “Planned to tell you over dinner tonight, but that backfired fast, no thanks to that walking steroid you call a boyfriend.”

“Y-…You’re messing with me. Right?” The designer offered a humorless laugh, gesturing to his split lip and bruised jaw.

“Didn’t get hit for saying what a great pal you were, [______].”

Now it was your turn to be silent. A lump began to form in your throat, overwhelmed with the newfound information, borderline confession.

“So then…what did you say to Haji to make him so angry?”

For a split second, you saw a glint within his pools of amethyst as they slowly rendered to a deep violet. Staring at you from beneath his pretty lashes, Mitsuya resembled that of a starved animal on the verge of cornering its prey, causing a sudden warmth to envelop you as you squirmed under his heady gaze.

Sitting up a little, he merely beckoned you to his empty lap. You blinked widely at him, sputtering as you tried to protest the idea. But, what he said next played into your curiosity.

“C’mere, and I’ll show you.”

You blinked at him, uncertain; he made no move to rush you. If you were against the idea, you were more than welcome to decline and tell him to shove it. However, when you eventually crawled into the awaiting throne, settling all your weight on top of him to the point he couldn’t keep from groaning shamelessly, Mitsuya was fucking elated.

You gripped his shirt at the shoulders, sporting that signature pout you’d do whenever you wanted something from him—The designer was more than ready to give it to you. All you had to do was say so.

“Hajime’s gonna kill you if he finds out, though. Don’t want you getting hurt again because of me…”

Mitsuya chuckled, hands slowly rubbing up your thighs until they settled on your hips. “Don’t worry about it, sweet thing. He may have gotten two hits on me today, but all I need is one tomorrow.”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved.   likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[wroetojaw]

Hello! 🤍 Could you write something about Ethan making a risky comment about reader and Harry, her boyfriend, gets mad at him and so? ❤️‍🩹🤭

JEALOUSY HAS A SILVER LINING | W2S

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

tags: fluff, w2s x reader

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, just a teeny weeny but of violence, some steamy(??) moments, beware guys!!

a/n: thank you guys for all of the support sending love to everyone hope you guys are well!! <3

-

"Harry I swear, if you make me late to my own birthday party I'm breaking up with you." You said jokingly, with just a little bit of truth behind your words. He had insisted that you stayed over at his place the night before so that you guys could go to your party together. Your friends had put in alot of effort into planning the party for you and you did not want to be late.

Your boyfriend sheepishly promises that he is almost done getting ready and kisses your cheek hurriedly to 'calm' you before rushing back into his room. And it did calm you down just a little but you would never tell him that.

"Alright alright I'm done! We can g....woah," Harry says, suddenly stopping mid sentence. You were wearing the dress he bought for you on your 2nd anniversary. It was a gorgeous gorgeous black mini dress and god did you look good. "Okay let's go hurry," you rushed, trying to get out of the house on time, before you felt your boyfriend's hands grab your waist, pulling you back.

He kisses you, mumbling under his breath about how beautiful you looked. His mouth started making its way to your neck, leaving a faint-ish bruise before you finally 'came back to your senses'. You put your hands on his chest, gently pushing him away. "We're going to be late," you muttered, feeling flustered after what had just happened. He tries to persuade you into staying behind for awhile. You were considering it but before you let yourself 'fall into his trap', you quickly backed away, grabbing his car keys and pulling him out the door.

When you guys arrived, almost everyone was already there. The moment you stepped into the club, you felt all eyes on you. Even the strangers in the club were looking at you and boy did Harry not like it. He instinctively wrapped his arm around you, hoping the other people would take a hint and back off. He knew you could handle your own if you really felt harassed and needed to fight a bitch, but he would strongly prefer to help you if he had a choice.

As soon as he saw that most of the strangers had looked away and continued doing their own things, he lowered his guard and let go of your waist. You guys made your way over to the VIP booth your friends had reserved and were immediately greeted with open arms.

Freya, Talia, and Faith, the people who had planned the party, were the first few people to greet you and wish you happy birthday. Of course you had other friends outside the Sidemen girlfriends, but you felt the closest to them. After all, you guys have been going out together at least once a week while the Sidemen filmed their videos.

"Y/N you look gorgeous as always! If I wasn't married then, I would have snatched you from Harry." Faith teases, giving the stink eye to Harry, who returns one back before continuing his conversation with the guys. You laugh in response, giving her a tight hug.

You went to mingle and talk to the other guests, and it wasn't long before almost everyone was at least a little drunk. The few who stayed sober were the ones driving everyone home (because we don't condone drunk driving), including your boyfriend, Simon, JJ, but that was only because he was in a diet for his upcoming boxing match, and Faith.

The thing is, when you're even the slightest amount of drunk, just like your boyfriend, you have absolutely no filter. So when equally drunk Talia brought up the 'bruise' on your neck, you couldn't help but tell her what or more so who it came from. When you started revealing more and more intimate details is when Harry quickly cut you off. However, you just ignored him and continued running your mouth.

Now this is where disaster happens. Obviously drunk behz started talking about how good you looked today and before Faith could stop him or slap some sense into him, he said "If I were Harry, I would have wanted to fuck her today too." And then Harry slapped some sense into him. With his first.

Ethan immediately sobered up after that and started apologizing to all three of you guys, you, Harry and Faith. The atmosphere after that had immediately changed. Tobi and Josh immediately went to Ethan to check if he was alright, Simon and JJ came over and tried to calm Harry down, while your friends came over to check on you. Luckily it was about the end of the party so everyone said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

Ethan and Faith were the last to leave, Ethan still apologizing for what he said. You and Faith both tried to get Harry to talk to Behz, but he stubbornly refused. You asked him to at least let Behz apologise and eventually he agreed, so you and Faith gave them some space to talk it out, while staying around just incase one of them does something stupid.

Eventually, they made up and you made them hug it out. Ethan apologized once again for his words and swore that he would never do anything that stupid ever again. You accepted his apology and hugged him and Faith before you guys went your separate ways.

The ride home was more then just awkward. There was something bothering Harry but you just couldn't figure out what it was. When he drove past your house and headed on the route back to his home, it only piqued your curiosity even more.

When you guys arrived at his house, he turned in his seat to face you. He pulled you in for a long kiss, and only stopped when you needed air. "Move in with me," he says, dead serious. You were shocked. Of course you guys have talked about the future with each other but the last discussion you guys had, Harry said that he was nowhere near ready to move in together. Granted that discussion was a year ago but still, he hadn't ever brought up moving in together since.

"Harry are you sure about this? The last time you," You started off but before you could finish your sentence, he cut you off saying, " I know, I said I wasn't ready, but honestly I've been ready for awhile, I just didnt know how to bring it up. And today, hearing other people express interest in you that fucking killed me and it just made me realise even more that I want to be the only guy in your life if you'll let me. So please move in with me?"

"You don't have to ask me twice." You say as you pull him in for a kiss.

[prettyboypistol]

Stardew Valley Bachelors x Male Reader Relationship Headcanons

Harvey

Super Shy Gay(TM)

I dont CARE if you're married he ASKS TO HOLD YOUR HAND

Kiss him. Kiss him in public. Do it.

If you call him gay he'll get flustered

Can't cook for shit but tries his best. yes, the smoke alarms are going off because he tried to cook bacon.

Harvey is one of those anxious boyfriends that asks you to text him that you made it to a place safe.

"Drive safe, I love you"/"Dear it's been 10 minutes since the ETA are you alright?" hella ass

probably forgets your anniversary ONCE, but then never again when you tell him you were upset.

Elliot

you know the men that forget your anniversary? NOT ANYMORE

you randomly come home to roses all the time.

"Oh hello my love i am writing a book about homosexual pirates wear this to immerse me please"

probably hides gifts around the house with little notes

bad at confrontation but will eventually talk to you about things that bother him like a week of letting it fester.

"BABY CAN WE PLEASE GO TO THE RENAISSANCE FAIR"

Dramatic ass bitch on GOD

probably likes to be choked

Shane

Calls you gay slurs affectionately and expects the same energy back at him.

He can cook like, 2 meal.

Remembers every little anniversary but is embarrassed about it. He remembers the first time you kissed, the first time you said i love you, etc.

Biggest cuddlebug known to man

Feels bad that you're the main breadwinner so he begs to take care of the chickens on your farm.

You WILL find Shane asleep with a baby chick in his arms sometimes i'm sorry homie

Confrontational af, if something happens that he isn't okay with he'll bring it up as soon as situationally possible in a kind way.

Sam

writes you love songs

he's a bit of a messy partner, but if you mention the mess it'll be spotless for like, 3 weeks.

if you get in a fight he'll brood outside with his guitar for a little, but will always get into bed with you at the end of the day happily.

loves surprises and surprising

he's all great when it's casual flirting, but as soon as you two start seriously flirting he gets all flustered.

bi-curious, you're probably the first man he's dated but not the first man he's kissed.

loves to binge TV shows with you

Sebastian

pan ICON

he thinks you're too cool for him, but he is grateful that you enthusiastically love him

calls you a hillbilly if you call him emo

if you ask about a project he's working on he WILL talk for hours

Falls asleep at his desk a lot, but appreciates when you carry him to bed

he loves when you talk to him "while he's sleeping"

Lets you ride with him to TechCons or Comicons, loves going as couple characters

you get invited to the Dungeons and Dragons campaign

likes calling you his boyfriend

Alex

picks you up and does reps with you to flirt

he loves touching your body after a long day of farming, the tan fascinates him.

a surprisingly great cook, always knows what you wanna eat without asking.

has never even looked at a man before you came along, so he's kinda awkward about serious romantic things

bad at confrontation, but great at supporting you

he calls you very masculine things like "superman" or "my man" a lot

Defends Dusty when he steals your spot on the bed, but offers his chest as a substitute.

[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER THREE — EDDIE MUNSON COMMITS TREASON (BREAKS UP a CAT FIGHT)

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: you deal with the fallout of your fight at steve harrington's party... in the passenger seat of eddie munson's van. so much for pretending you didn't exist to one another, huh? content warnings: as always, MINORS FUCK OFF, because we have *deep breath* implied fantasy smut, lots of swearing, confused yearning, themes of threat, heavy snark, another mention of the drink tab which i feel like is/was gross word count: 7.2k

Dear Dio, Tommy Iommi, Gary Gygax, Pee-wee Herman, Ronnie Ecker — forgive me for what I’m about to do. 

I know I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my life. Like the time I lit all my hair on fire and spent middle school with a buzz cut. Or the time I almost trapped myself in a spread eagle with my own handcuffs. Or the time I got my arm stuck in a wall for an entire afternoon when I was trying to rescue a feral cat. 

I’ve done a lot of stupid shit. But the stupidest among it all has got to be saving this girl from the bare knuckle wrath of Carol Whatsername. You know the one. 

Tonight, for whatever reason, this insane ex-rich chick has decided to teeter on the edge of a pool of boiling hot lava and for whatever reason, I feel like it’s my responsibility to yank her back.

Which sucks, because she’s a total bitch to me. 

Even if she just told everybody Tommy Hagan had crabs and has been cheating on his girlfriend in such a deranged way that it almost made me pop a semi. 

Anyway. Tell my guitar I love her. 

The world around Eddie slows to the tick of a football game replay as you let the last incendiary word you speak to Carol bounce around the goddamn Roman amphitheater Harrington’s back yard has become. 

This is insane. What he’s watching is insane. Like, he knew you and your dumb little court of Hawkinsites bickered back and forth, but you’re the last person he’d ever expect to air their dirty laundry like this. 

It’s incredible to watch the fascist leadership that he and the rest of the social nobodies have suffered under for so long rupture in real time. 

What’s even more incredible is how little hesitation there is on his part, shoving through the crowd when he sees Carol leaping for you. Eddie’s nearly jostled backwards by some slobbering roid heads— they’ve already called CAT FIGHT! and a crowd is clamoring. But Eddie’s got years of thankless equipment lugging behind him, giving him deceptively strong arms.

And thank god, because you are not an easy girl to hold onto. 

Carol lands a decent punch to your face, slamming with a dull knuckle-on-cheekbone crunch that makes all the onlookers, including him, go ooof! You stagger back in a state of shock (though, c’mon, you heard what you said just now, right?) and Eddie takes his shot just as you dive forward to retaliate.

He grabs you under the arms so you can’t like, elbow him in the fucking nose, a pale imitation of an illegal wresting move that Al Munson had forced him to learn at the tender age of seven. His dad had fancied himself a wrestling manager at the time— you can imagine how that worked out. 

But Jesus, can you ever squirm! Your body writhes against him—stop—hips bucking—don’t go there—as you try to get free. He doesn’t even think you realize who’s dragging you away from the screaming harpy, otherwise you’d probably turn your fury on him. 

He takes full advantage of the rage blackout and manhandles you through the party, earning a baffled look from Steve Harrington, who’s finally graced his own party with his presence. A pinch-faced Nancy Wheeler lingers behind him, but then again, Wheeler’s always all pinch-faced.

“What the fuck?!” Harrington breathes, exasperated. 

Eddie struggles against you struggling, just about dragging you over the front doorstep. Trust this guy to be upstairs in a domestic dispute, missing all the action while getting no action. 

Even in the chaos, Eddie will never pass up an opportunity to fuck with Harrington.

“You gotta start hidin’ your bath salts, man! Chicks are going crazy in there–Evil Dead type shit!” 

—

“You’re dead, Lacy! Monday morning, you are fucking dead!” Carol screams down the hallway. 

“It’s a date, bitch!” you screech, Munson’s nelson hold on you stronger than your thrashing. With a lot of work, he manages to haul you as far as Harrington’s front yard before you wriggle out of his grasp. You shove him, hard, all white hot and punch drunk and regular drunk on top of that. 

He yelps, high and frightened. You weren’t expecting a noise like that to come out of a surly-looking dude like him. 

So you do it again. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” you spit, and Munson flinches.

“Cutting you off!” he exclaims, this half-yell, half-laugh. It stings, the way he’s looking at you– like your anger isn’t anger, like it’s just amusing to him. 

“Well, who gave you the right? Who died and made you my parole officer, Munson?!” 

“Oh, I’m not– but I also didn’t feel like being woken up at home when the cops come looking for you after you go all Raging Bull on Carol. You haven’t been around the park long enough to hear ‘em, but those sirens really perforate the eardrums!”

Your jaw sets itself stiffly and you bind your arms over your chest. Unfuckingbelievable. “I would’ve, you know,” you breathe, seething, “Beat her up.” 

Munson’s dark eyes glide over you, like he’s checking you for concealed weapons or signs of a zombie bite— you avoid his gaze entirely, staring square into the middle distance. 

You promised that he didn’t exist to you, yet here he is. Driving you off the road. Breaking up your fights. Existing.

“Yeah, I know you woulda. You’re scary,” he says. You shrug, and he reaches to massage his shoulder. “And strong. Shit.” 

Your eyes flick over to him, but you don’t feel bad. You don’t feel bad because he’s grinning at you now and despite yourself, despite everything that’s transpired and the everything about him, you’re trying your hardest not to grin back. Adrenaline and vodka are still burning a hole in your chest. 

“Stay out of my way, then.”  

“Noted, but,” a couple of steps from Munson’s end closes some space between you. He’s peering at your face, right where Carol clocked you. A hand reaches out, angling your chin closer to the Harrington’s glaring porch light with his fingertips. You stiffen and squint, performatively wary, but you don’t stop him. You just let his eyes pan over you, looking anywhere but into them. “You might need a little first aid first. And a ride home.” 

“I was actually planning on carjacking Hagan,” you say coolly, the smile you were trying to beat away edging its way across your face. Munson releases your chin and the spot where his fingers were buzzes. It’s just the cold. It’s just your slutty librarian outfit, you tell yourself. You have to swallow in order to speak again. “Seems like fitting payback.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, what did I just say about cops?”

—

Eddie tolerates your eyes rolling back in your head when he props the passenger door open for you, helping you into the cluttered van with an outstretched had. 

See, I’m not the kind of asshole who doesn’t open doors for girls wearing stilts for shoes.

Those things were not made for clambering into a vehicle like this, sure, but they’re– nice. For what he knows about shoes, which is nothing. They make your legs look more… leggy, and for whatever reason this is making his brain soft. 

In your other hand is a cold can of High Life, which is the closest thing to an ice pack he could nab. That bruise blooming under your eye is going to be nasty, and he’s a little curious how you’re gonna look with it. You, with nary a hair out of place on a bad day, with a big ol’ purple shiner in a place that’s hard to hide.  

Gunning out of Harrington’s hood, a silence settles between Eddie and you. The radio hums in the background– a mainstream station for once. He thoughtfully figured that an aural assault by Sabbath would kinda rub salt in your wound. 

He’s thoughtful, but he’s not not nosy. So, of course he’s gonna ask– 

“That whole… verbal smackdown back there,” Munson starts after clearing his throat. “With Tommy H and everybody.”

On your end, the adrenaline has worn off and the numbing effects of the booze have amped up. You feel loose and warm, apart from the beer can cooling your bruise. There are twice as many streetlights streaming past you as usual. This is going to blow later– if you don’t blow chunks first. 

“All that about your dad pimping me out?” God, I mean, Hagan couldn’t compose a written sentence to save his life but maybe he had a future in speculative fiction. Did he just come up with that on the fly? “Take a wild guess, Munson.” 

Eddie recoils in his seat– gross. Gross. “Not the– the shit with Tina and Carol and–”

“Oh, the crabs? Yeaaaah, that’s true,” you slur, “But I rejected Tommy waaay before I knew that. Call it my brilliant instinct. And then he has the nerve to call me frigid, which– trust me, I’m anything… anything but.”

Munson seems a little surprised at this. You can see it in the way his eyebrows dart under his curly bangs. 

But you’ve had your share of disappointing experiences with the blandly acceptable boys in your circle– it’s par for the course, it’s part of advancing in the field. You can’t throw your cat into the street completely, but god forbid you be choosy about the boys you want to copulate with. The ones you’ve hooked up with, all unremarkable and perfunctory, always seemed so smug afterwards. Like they’d conquered something. 

But from Eddie’s purview, you always held yourself like you were above everyone else; not just the underclassmen and the social rejects, but even your own friends. He’d watch you sometimes, because it’s hard not to watch you. He’d wait for the few flickering moments you let your guard down, when you thought no one was paying attention as you sat at the lunch table or walked the hallways. So achingly unamused by the guffawing, the backslapping, the forced camaraderie of your forced high school persona and your forced high school friends. Then, one of them would say something like, Right, Lacy? and your brow would unarch and you’d be right back in the groove with the rest of them, giggling dumbly and glossing your lips. 

He always wondered how you did it, tolerated it. And why.

“Now, far be it from me to agree with a shithead like Hagan–and I don’t, before you get scary–but I kinda get where he’s picking that up,” Eddie winces, throwing a glance to you, glassy-eyed with your head against the window. You’re looking at him with narrowed eyes, eyeliner smudged. Even that look could cut down a man with twice his ego. “You’re a little bit frosty. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day– which, y’know, could be–”

You absolutely do not let him finish the thought.   

“It’s caaaalled being aloof, Munson,” you drawl, shuffling your shoulders against the passenger door and pulling a stray thread from your skirt with a sharp snap. “Playing hard to get, duh? Leave them wanting more? You wouldn’t get it because you’re so goddamn big and obvious all the time…”

“Obvious!” he brays, letting his jaw hang open with theatrical flair, “Obvious! Lacy, you wound me, I–”

“Obvious,” you bark back, “Obvious like a neon sign, obvious like a circus tent, obvious like– like– look at me, look at me, I’m a weirdo!” Your Munson impression, complete with devil horns, is a little dorkified but it shuts him right up. That loose little tongue of yours has trasmuted your mood from wrath to barbed silliness. “So obvious you wouldn’t know that kind of subtlety. Not if it hit you in the face.” 

A familiar tune whistles from the radio, distracting you. “… or cause you’re a virgin.”

“Okay—!“ Eddie starts, immediately assuming the position of point guard. His hackles are raised, but to be honest, he’s so willing to let you ramble on. It’s the first time he’s heard you talk this much, ever, save your little tête-à-tête by the lockers the other day. 

Eddie doesn’t want to stem the flow just yet. He’s not thinking about it too hard.

“Oh shit, do you hear that?” Like a Virgin pumps from the tinny speakers and you reach to turn it up, your head drunkenly bobbling on your neck. Eddie winces; it’s so weird, watching you like this. It’s like dream logic. It’s like opposite day. “Munson’s a virgin! I’m gonna touch him for the very first tiii-iime! Munson’s a vii-iir-gin—“

“First off, no I am not and no,” he audibly swallows, positive you didn’t realize what you just sang, “no, you are not, ‘cause— well.” He clears his throat. A flare of heat burns around his collar. “I’m not the type to bone and tell.”

“Bone and tell.” You guffaw, a sound so unbecoming yet so endearing coming from you, and slump back in your seat. That tight little skirt you’re wearing rides up about an inch and a half. “Sounds like something a virgin would say.”

Eddie huffs; no way around this. You’re fucking with him, and it’s the indefatiguable male ego that’s not going to let him let you win. 

He fucks, okay? Or has fucked, prior to this. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with not fucking. 

But he’s done it.  

Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the road, and you’ve got him like a stuck pig with that expectant glare. His eyes linger on your exposed upper legs for a half a second. 

Christ, you’re annoying. It occurs to him that wants to bite the soft flesh of your thigh and hear you squeal about it, but you are annoying as hell. 

“Fine. Fine. You wanna know?”

Your head lolls against the rough upholstery of the seat and you bat your lashes at him. “I really wanna know.” 

And Munson will tell you, you know, because you’re the kind of person people tell things to. 

“Nicole Summers.”

“Bullshit. Nicole Nicole? My Nicole?”

“Nicole Nicole. Nicole, formerly yours. The only-girl-meaner-than-you Nicole. It was tenth grade,” he snorts bitterly. “Most unforgettable thirty seconds of my life.”

“Nicole told us she got her v-card stamped by a board waxer in Maui.”

“I’ve got a lot of side gigs. You don’t know about me.”

You snort too, despite yourself. That’s a lot of despite-ing tonight, Lacy. You sit up in the seat a little, interest catching. Flame to a candle wick. 

“How was it?” you press. 

Munson furrows his brow, like duh. “Most unforgettable thirty seconds of my life, I just told you.” A beat. “Until— …Cass Finnigan.”

Now, an encounter like that is less surprising, but still you holler, “Bullshit!”

“I’d say the same shit if it hadn’t, y’know, happened to me,” he stage whispers, “In this van.”  

Your eyes widen, a flicker of a grimace sailing across your face. You wonder how he pulled that off, but all that comes to mind is the start of a bad porno– Cass meets him at that dingy little bench out back of the school to pick up and he’s, I don’t know, test driving some of his new supply and offers her a toke. She’s all, why the free samples, Munson? and he’s all, I only let the prettiest girls test the product. And because Cass is notoriously insecure–who among us, girl–she’s all, who, me? and he’s all, come back to my van, and she’s all, but I’m going steady with Mikey B, and he’s all, I won’t tell if you won’t and then he fucks her in the ass. 

Because Cass is saving the first hole for marriage and you know that. You’re the kind of person people tell things to. 

What you don’t expect is a weird pull of… envy. Why, in this imaginary scenario, had he never invited you back to his van? Well. You know why. But you’re drunk, so logic begone. “When did all this go down?”

“Uh, right before school got back,” Munson answers, kind of apprehensively. He could be lying, you figure.

“Well, Cass has been having a weird year,” you mumble, meaning to think that rather than say it. You know, because you’re the kind of person people tell things to.

“What’s that supposed to imply exactly?” Eddie says, an edge in his voice. He can’t help the way something in his chest flares; like he forgot to wait for the other shoe to drop with you, and now it’s dropping. 

“It stands to reason that she’d wanna, like, do something stupid,” you explain, and you know how it sounds. It’s mean. But honestly, you’re so drunk, and so past the point of attempting to spare people’s feelings.

“Like hook up with the local freak,” Eddie finishes for you, tone flat. You couldn’t not put him in his place, could you? Not that he thought Cass liked him or anything, he could feel her (literally feel her) going through the motions like a social experiment but– God, a little delusion doesn’t hurt now and again. 

“Exactly!” and even in your inebriated state, you can feel the tension in the air, hanging between you like a balloon full of noxious gas. Rather than cut it, you want to poke at it, unfeeling as to whether that’ll make it worse or better between you and the boy in the driver’s seat. You hike yourself up further, leaning toward him, pulling the can of High Life from your face. 

Munson’s profile is this beguiling mix of hurt and irritation, lit by the scuzzy orange hue of the passing streetlights. 

“What, did you want me to act impressed? Did you want me to lie to you?” 

“What? No– look, I know what girls like that– think of me, but,” Eddie’s voice shrinks in his throat, making him sound completely pre-pubescent. He notices you lean forward in his peripheral vision, like you have to strain to hear it, “that doesn’t make it any less shitty.” 

Oof. He did not need to unleash that little piss-shake of earnestness right now. He mentally steels himself for a ribbing from you, a cackling, piercing laugh like you let out before Carol punched you. 

“Of course it doesn’t!” you froth, “Just like it doesn’t make it any less shitty when guys act like they’re settling a bet with their buddies when they hook up with me.” You cross your arms to your chest with a quickness, slamming back into the seat. “Bet you couldn’t make it with Lacy, she’s got a combination lock on her pussy. Fuck you, dude.”

That coaxes a bark of a laugh from Munson, which makes you giggle a little in turn. It’s a weird feeling. It’s not quite relief; more like satisfaction. One point to Lacy, you made him laugh. 

“Combination lock, huh?”

“Allegedly.”

“Bet none of those losers even know how to crack a lock.” 

Your head tilts in his direction, forward this time. “And you do?”

Munson’s eyes flash at you, a dangerous orange glint sparkling in the darkness of his irises. “My criminal skillset is pretty diverse.”

He pins you down with this look from the driver’s seat and for a heartbeat or two, and you let him. Just long enough that a stab of sobriety sneaks in– and you can’t deny it, but you wish it didn’t. 

You’re drunk. 

If you can stay drunk, all bets are off. 

If you can stay drunk, whatever you do doesn’t matter, because you were drunk. 

You could reach over and press your fingers into the soft denim between his legs, make something hard there. You could squeeze the thickness of him over his zipper and kiss the shock of alabaster skin on his neck, where his pulse goes all jackrabbity under your touch. You could make him forget he ever heard the name Cass Finnigan. 

And it would mean nothing. 

And you wouldn’t have to justify it, because you were drunk. That’s what you’ve always been taught.

But you uncross your arms and you pull at the hem of your skirt and look to the road, just as the van swerves into the trailer park. Munson doesn’t take such a hard turn at the corner this time, probably wary of your risk of ralphing all over the van if he does. He pulls into that negative space between your trailer and his and instructs you to wait in your seat. 

“Trust me, the descent out of this baby is much trickier than it looks,” he assures you, jogging to the passenger door, a jingle of keys and pocket chains and belts on leather, “and you’re way too gone to make it in one piece, princess.”

So he holds his hand out again (“M’shitfacedlady,”) and gingerly you take it, and it becomes very apparent very quickly that your legs have turned to rubber on the drive home. 

“Oh, shit!” 

Your attempt at gracefully exiting the van is ruined by an unsteady ankle, sending your weight right into Eddie Munson’s chest. Luckily, he was braced for it– just about. “Told you you couldn’t make it without me,” he breathes as you clutch a handful of his Metallica shirt, vision quadrupling. He’s warm, and you suddenly realize that you’re freezing.

Trembling.

“Stop flirting with me,” you hiss to one out of the four Munsons in front of you. “I need to go to bed.”

Eddie forces himself to bite back another double entendre, which is a shame, because they’re doing an awesome job of covering up how goddamn nervous he suddenly is. He moves his arm to your waist, helping you haul ass to your front door. He’s got to keep one arm outstretched behind you in case you lose your balance again– which you almost do, a couple of times, wavering around like a dashboard Jesus. 

He watches you like he’s trying to commit this to memory, the rare case of you being so beyond your usual composure. He’s even got to intervene after the first five minutes, making unlocking your front door a two idiot job.

Eddie’s about to wave you off and disappear to scream and something else into his pillow when he sees you take a dangerous lunge into the darkness of the trailer. “Woah, girl–” 

But you recover, in a kind of brainless way, taking a measured Bambi-like step forward. One after the other. 

Fuck. He can’t leave you like this. 

You’re gonna trip and brain yourself on a Fabergé egg or whatever the fuck it is you and your mom have in there. 

“Uh– Lacy?” 

The trailer is eerily quiet. You feel like you’re trespassing in your own place. Boxes of out-of-place, too-expensive ephemera are still strewn everywhere, but you navigate the maze of them like it’s nothing. Sense memory. You don’t even entirely register that Munson is following you inside, that he’s frantically whispering after you, until you reach your bedroom door. 

A coldness shoots up your spine as you turn on him. You didn’t invite him in here, did you? 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask for the second time tonight. This time, it comes out a little fearful. 

Eddie picks this up, right where you’ve erroneously dropped it. His chest gets a little tight. You didn’t think he was trying to–? 

“Making sure you lie down in the recovery position, that’s all,” he throws his hands up in total surrender, Scout’s honor, all that shit. “I’m not tryin’ to pick any locks tonight. I swear.” 

“I don’t need your help, Munson,” but just as you twist the doorknob, you keel over through the door, hitting the floor like a lead balloon. 

“Yeah, you keep telling me that,” he blearily smirks down at you, “And yet.”

But Munson’s not such an asshole about it that he just leaves you there. He hauls you up, again, and you stagger towards your bed, flopping face down on top of the comforter. He says some variation of okay, well, that’s how you choke to death on your own vomit, Jimi Hendrix and bullies you into the recovery position. 

“Don’t freak out, I’m just–” and Munson sits gingerly on the edge of your bed, taking one of your high heeled feet in his hands. 

What the fuck, you mumble, either aloud or in your head. But he’s fiddling with the tiny buckle at your ankle, gently undoing it. Another chill runs through your body but you don’t move, not an iota. You just… let him do it. His hands on your aching feet aren’t a totally unwelcome touch. He’s being featherlight about it, almost afraid to touch you even though he had no problem sheepdogging you into bed. 

“You could do anything to me right now,” you hear yourself saying. “No one would even know. No one would even care, I bet.” 

It’s meant to sound like you’re goading him, or even flirting with him, but it comes out sounding pitiful. You cringe, your hands creeping up to cover your face. 

“I’d care.” Munson’s voice is a tiny mumble– you know he’s just defending himself, but it kind of sounds like something else. He slips your right shoe off and sets it on the floor next to your left one. He hesitates for a moment before getting off your bed. 

“Alright, well– we can forget this ever happened. Resume being assholes to each other on Monday. Don’t, like, die in the meantime.”

“You say resume like we ever stopped being assholes to each other.”

“Have a fun hangover, Lacy.” 

–

You do not have a fun hangover. You wake up late Saturday afternoon after Friday’s bacchanal and don’t emerge from your room save from the occasional bathroom trip to puke up what little dignity you’ve got left. Sunday morning is when your mom hammers on the door and drags you to the kitchenette after confirming that you’re still, y’know, alive. 

“This is your game face, hm?” she says, pulling at your chin to examine your violet bruise that seems to have developed its own heartbeat. She doesn’t hold your face the way Munson did, gentle and searching, just tugs into the sparse light streaming into the dingy kitchenette.

You attempt to steel your jaw, but your bottom lip is starting to waver. 

“What happened?” your mother asks, and beneath all the jagged broken glass, there’s a tiny sliver of tenderness. 

Call it your pride, but you don’t reach for it. 

“I went out,” you say tightly, “and I made a fool of us.”

She hacks up a scoff through her smoker’s cough and disappears into her bedroom, leaving you alone to pick at a cold waffle. The few moments of consciousness you’ve had since Friday night have been spent trying to piece the party together– you remember clearing the better part of a bottle of cheap, cheap, shitty vodka with Robin Buckley’s help (weird), you remember getting into it with Hagan and Carol and getting wailed on. You remember getting a ride home with Munson, but the finer details of that are fuzzy. 

You think, and this is a thought that turns your already 180’d stomach, you let him into your bedroom, but you can’t be one hundred percent sure. All you know for an absolute is that your shoes came off that night, and you would never bother to take your shoes off after a night like that. 

So somebody must have. 

Meanwhile, Eddie’s been having a hell of a meanwhile. 

Fact of the matter is that you managed to detonate a nuclear bomb at Harrington’s party just under an hour after your arrival, which has got to be some kind of world record. It was also a world record for how little product he’d managed to sell during one of those parties, because he was preventing the manslaughter of a teenage girl– could’ve been you, could’ve been Carol. He nearly wishes he let that fight play out, as he stares into his empty wallet. 

Eddie’s gotta busy himself somehow, gotta do something– weirdly, he’s not in the mood to make a whole lot of noise. It’s not such a terrible day for working on his van, so he slams his toolbox on the ground and gives a couple dozen casual glances toward your bedroom window.

Your blinds still aren’t fixed. That’s got to have been shitty when you woke up with a splitting vodka headache and a shiner the size of Canada. 

Eddie keeps finding excuses to pace back and forth in perfect view of your window. Not in a peeping Tom sort of way, but in a way where he’d kind of like to see any sign of life from you. Even if you just rose from your bed like Nosferatu and gave him the finger. Then, he could relax. 

“Ed,” a gruff voice comes from the makeshift trailer porch, “fuck’re you doin’.” 

Those dulcet tones would belong to his beloved Uncle Wayne, who, ever since his hours got cut at the plant, has become unbearably observant of Eddie’s every movement. Wayne’s not a neglectful kind of father figure, not like his blinders-wearing real dad is, so he actually gets concerned when Eddie’s acting out of sorts. 

“Engine,” Eddie mumbles, pivoting fast like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, “Engine’s making hinky noises.”

“Sounded alright last night,” Wayne levels him instantly, “when you came home.” 

“Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he twists an oily rag in his hands, avoiding Wayne’s stony stare. 

“I was up.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. God, whenever Wayne susses him out, it’s like drip torture. He’s slow as molasses with the confrontation on purpose, making Eddie sweat and out himself on every little fuck up he’s ever made. “You go in there?”

Chin jerks towards your trailer. Eddie’s shoulders shrug towards his ears, head tilting back. “Wayne, it’s not– she was real drunk, like blotto, I just–”

“You steer clear of that one.” It’s the definite nature with which Wayne says it that makes Eddie’s stomach drop. No prelude to it, no I know, kid, you were just tryin’ to do right by her. Nothing. 

“Wayne–”

“She ain’t what you think she is. Not if she’s anything like her bloodline.” 

He says this like the realization hasn’t hit Eddie like Carol hit you on Friday fight night. 

He says this like people haven’t been saying the same thing about Eddie for years.

–

Monday morning comes and you’re still somewhat suffering. A headache nags at your temple, but you pin that down to anxiety rather than an extended play of your hangover. 

It occurs to you that you should dress as down as possible today– realistically, of course, as you’d never be caught dead in sweatpants. You need comfort, you need something that feels like a well-worn blanket so you opt for a deep burgundy sweater dress that actually belonged to your mom in the 60s. 

You’d found it in the back of her closet when searching for a belt you knew she’d stolen from you and pulled it out. Mom! you chirped, How cute! How come you never wear this?

Oh, God, she’d cringed, batting the garment out of her way as she passed you in a cloud of Shalimar, Just throw that ratty thing out for me, would you?

But you didn’t. You kept it tucked away in the back of your closet and took it out when you needed it. When you needed to bury your face in it. Substitute it for a comfort she refused to give you. Which you realize is terrifically sad, but so’s life. 

The warm red is a distant cousin in the color family to the bruise under your eye. That bruise, it’s a glaring reminder of what a fucking loser you’ve become. The old you, the real you would never have stooped to that level– never had let them drag her down like that. But now you’re the kind of girl that screams and starts fights at parties, you guess. 

Your rage feels ugly in the cold light of day. 

You’re locking the door of the trailer behind you just as Munson emerges from his humble abode and it’s nothing short of awkward. Like you’d both seen each other naked or something.

You both stand there, in your relative doorways. His mouth gapes like he’s about to say hi, say something, and a memory comes back to you. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day. No one likes that. No one wants that. 

Regret stabs at you.

“Can you see it from there?” It’s the only thing you can think of to say, because you’re sure as fuck not saying hi. 

“What?”

“The bruise. Can– can you see it from over there?” 

Munson sort of half-snorts. “Not from here–”

“Ugh, thank god.”

“--but this is like, over fifteen feet away.” 

You roll your eyes, which hurts a lot, thanks guy, and walk toward his van. 

“Now?” you say, waving a hand under your eye, right where you’ve applied and blended and applied and blended a criminal amount of concealer. Munson leaves about a foot of space between you, on purpose, and you crane your neck back, on purpose. Reinstating the forcefield between you. 

“Oh yeah, you can barely even see that you got your ass kicked.”

“It’s not even eight in the morning, Munson. Do you really want to start your day with a knee to the balls?”

“You’re right. That’s usually an after-dinner activity,” he grins and jerks his head toward the van. “Need a ride?”

Need a ride? Like it’s the most ordinary, everyday thing in the world, Eddie Munson offering you a ride to school in his deathtrap of a van. Your stomach pulls at the sense memory of being in there on Friday night, and what you’ll look like getting out of it in the parking lot of Hawkins High. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head, definite and resolute. “I’m walking.” 

He scoffs. “C’mon. It’s too late to start walking now. You’ll be late for first period.” 

You scoff back, imitating him. “So what?”

“You’re never late for first period.” 

“I can be late– how the hell do you know I’m never late for first period?” 

“Because, dummy, I’m always late for first period,” he tells you, yanking open the passenger door, “And I sit behind you in History, and you’re always there when I come in, leaning back with your nose in some dumb book and your stupid hair all over my desk.” 

It’s true– you are always reading in history, because Kaminsky can’t teach for shit and you’ve already read ahead on the coursework anyway. You liked to rub that in his face by pulling out some unprescribed literature during class. Plus, no one you really care about is in your class, so you don’t have to worry about getting made fun of for having your nose in some dumb book. Illiterate jocks would never try that shit with you– nobody there would. 

Until now. 

And it’s true that Eddie Munson sits behind you, and barrels in like an idiotic excuse for a hurricane with some idiotic excuse for being late that you always scoff at, because does he ever get tired of his own bullshit. But after that brief cameo appearance in your day, you really do forget about him. 

Until now. 

“So?” he says, all expectant. 

And you consider it for a second, you really do– but you don’t think you can handle the blowback of leaving a party with Eddie Munson on Friday then turning up with him on Monday. Going to the same class. Where he sits behind you. It’s just… overexposure. 

The same realization must hit him, because all of a sudden he’s slamming the door shut with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever. Your tardy slip, babe.” You can’t help but think he sounds a little wounded. 

But fuck it. Fuck it! Since when do you stand around feeling sorry for Eddie Munson? 

Before you know it, the van roars out and leaves you in the dust. 

You don’t make it to school until after second period, because that so-called bus route a fifteen minute walk from the trailer park must not even exist, so you forge a note from your mom in the parking lot. 

As your fountain pen hovers over the paper, brainstorming an excuse, you consider pulling out the big guns– say you had to attend visitation day at the penitentiary. Use this disaster to your advantage for once; but you pull back. Scribble something about a doctor’s appointment and dot your mother’s ‘i’s with eerie precision.  

You make quick work of dropping the note off in reception– the uptick of being the kid of the town’s gossip beacon is some people still feel sorry for you. Some people weirdly include Janice, Principal Higgins’ secretary, who snatches the note from you before you can even reach the actual receptionist’s desk. 

“I’ll file that for you, dear,” she says, all coo-cooey with an unwelcome hand on your shoulder, “How are you and your poor mother doing these days? And your,” her croaky voice drops to a whisper, “dad? How is… he being treated?”

You blink at her, gripping the fountain pen in your hand. “Do you know what a shiv is, Janice?”

Just then, the bell trills and you take your leave, stepping out into the linoleum. 

Someone calls your name from down the hall. You crane your neck to see Ronnie Ecker jogging toward you, paper in hand. 

Now look, you’ve never had a problem with Ronnie Ecker. You can’t say you’re particularly fond of her but she’s smart; she keeps to herself and she was a decent lab partner during your junior year of dissecting frogs together. Squeamish, but that’s why you were there, to handle the scalpel. As much of a social outcast as she is, she’s not nearly as odious as the rest of them. That’s pretty goddamn remarkable amongst the Hawkins student body. 

She is also, you’ve come to notice, a resident of Forest Hills trailer park. 

“Hey!” she says, “Um, I noticed you missed first period and Kaminsky was handing our papers back so I figured you’d want yours…” 

“Why is everyone so obsessed with me missing first period?”

“Huh?”

“No– nothing,” you huff, taking the paper from her. A solid B on A+ material– told you Kaminsky couldn’t teach for shit. He’d be hearing from you about this. “Thanks for this, Ronnie.”

You start down the hall but notice Ronnie’s keeping in step with you. “I also just wanted to say– I heard about what happened Friday. And I think it’s sick, you standing up to Hagan like that. Asshole needed to be put in his place.” 

Well, there’s only one person she could have heard the nitty gritty of that news from. You know she’s trying to flatter you, but all you feel is a flame of embarrassment, plus a touch of anger– even though the news has easily circulated the school hallways by now. 

Along with the rumors of you taking Hargrove, Buckley and Munson, and not in a fight. 

“Well. Y’know. I was pretty wasted,” you attempt to brush it off and you see Ronnie deflate a little. 

Like you’re not the blazing hero someone made you out to be. 

“Okay, but is it true you had a threesome with Billy Hargrove and Robin Buckley and Robin was wearing the Tigers mascot suit?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

–

Classes pass in a monotonous blur, like most Mondays, but worse. That would be thanks to the extra shot of dread that’s served with your cafeteria meal of a wilted salad and soda. Last week at lunchtime, you at least had a tenuous standing with your former circle– you could still sit between Tina and Nancy Wheeler and suffer Tina’s thinly veiled jabs at you with a semi-placid look on your face. Nancy would look at you with eyes full of pity, and you’d want to punch her face in, but you’d be fine. 

But now, as you stand in the cafeteria swirling with people and catch the death glares from your old table (save for Nancy and Steve Harrington, who just straight up refuse to make eye contact with you), you’re just about ready to snap. 

Your flight instinct tells you to toss the tray out of your clammy hands and run, and keep running, until you disappear into the woods behind the school, never to be found. Your body becomes mulch before anyone remembers to look for you. Maybe you make really good fertilizer and a couple of pretty weeds sprout up from where you die. 

Your bruise, under its flaking layers of concealer, throbs twice– as if to say, don’t you fucking dare.

You make a confident beeline for the table, chin tilted and eyes set in a stare that could be categorized as withering, if only it was trained on anybody in particular. You grab a chair that some dumb underclassman is about to sit in and drag it with you, legs screeeeeching across the waxed floor. 

Who gives a shit who you were on Friday night. 

“I can sit here, right?” you say, and place your tray on the table next to Ronnie Ecker. 

She just stares at you for a hot second. That’s too long to stay standing in uncertainty, so you settle your stolen chair at the table and sit next to her. 

Ronnie isn’t the only one staring, however– the rest of these dorks, all in their matching t-shirts with Satan’s fiery head emblazoned across them, are watching you with their mouths agape. 

“Is this a prank or something?” one of them, a curly-haired freshman, says. 

This question is directed toward their fearless leader, decked out in denim and leather at the head of the table. That is to say, the direct opposite end of the table that you’re sitting at. 

“That’s no way to greet a lady, Gareth,” Munson says, feigning coolness but you can tell he’s a little flustered. The dead giveaway is in the way he misses his mac and cheese with his fork, the way his solid gaze double-blinks. You’ve thrown him off game– and because he’s impossible not to overhear sometimes, you know that game is all he’s got going on at this table. 

There’s that feeling again– point to Lacy. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

This is Munson’s version of what the hell do you think you’re doing, but you choose to ignore him. It’ll drive him insane, and you know that, glaring red warning sign that he is. Instead, you flash a smile at the freshman that almost makes him pass out, Cupid’s arrow struck straight through the heart. 

You cross your legs and angle your body toward Ronnie– and by extension, in the direction of your old table. You can see Carol burying her face in Tommy’s shoulder, the both of them on the verge of losing bowel control with laughter. Laughter at you. 

Who gives a shit who you were before Friday night.

“So, Ronnie,” you say, taking a sip of your Tab, “You get up to anything fun this weekend?”

author's notes: let me get ahead of everything and say yes, i am absolutely fucking with the timeline. suspend your disbelief, my beautiful babies, and enjoy steve, carol, tommy and ronnie ecker still being in high school because I SURE WILL. but on an absolutely serious note, thank you so much for all the support and each and every note you’ve put on the chapters so far. i seriously, seriously appreciate it. now, the notes: - you think eddie munson doesn’t fuck with pee-wee herman heavy? you think he didn’t watch this movie in reefer rick’s, high out of his gourd, and think oh yeah i love this freak? get REAL! RIP paul reubens, this one’s for you. specially every time i mention a handjob - eddie munson also has charlie kelly disease - speaking of iterations of always sunny characters, much like frank reynolds, there’s not a get rich quick scheme al munson hasn’t tried. we’ll get into that a little more… later - admittedly, the whole ‘face eating on bath salts’ thing didn’t gain traction until the 00s, but if hawkins is going to be ahead of its time in anything, it’s fucked up shit happening to people! - did you notice how i blended eddie and lacy’s povs in the van? i’m going to continue doing that in moments where they’re on a similar ~wavelength~ - jimi hendrix did unfortunately die of asphixiation, but instead of thinking about that, watch this sick video of him playing guitar that eddie definitely has committed to memory - RONNIE ECKER KLAXON. i know that in flight of icarus she’s described as tall, but that hasn’t stopped me fancasting her as ayo edebiri in an eddie munson wig - at this point, you might be thinking damn, everyone sure seems to hate each other in this story. like, why is nancy wheeler catching strays? i’m here to remind you it’s the 1980s and teenagers kind of suck. play the track - thanks again for all the love! you can keep this crazy train going by liking, commenting, reblogging and generally showing me the same kindness you’ve shown me so far. love u my little hellcats

[rafesgoldrings]

Oh girl my request rn is more poly rafe kelce and topper! Whether it be fluff or some spicy spicy smut. Like their day to day life or how they take turns taking her out on dates and then all come back and treat her good 🥵

They’re backkkk🤭 I honestly missed them sm and had so much fun writing for them. I hope you guys enjoy it🫶🏻

Warnings: not proof read, light degradation, Rafe calls reader a pretty bitch one time, reader is called a slut like twice

So your day to day life is actually fairly normal, there’s still lots of flirting and subtle touches but for the most part you guys just hang out. You’ll go shopping or go with them to the gym, go out on the boat before grabbing dinner, hang out and watch a movie or attempt to play video games with them (which always ends in a (“Oh my god Y/N just put the controller down and come sit”), nothing too crazy. But the dates? The dates are a complete different story.

They have a schedule, it was the only way to ensure that each of them were getting equal alone time with you to avoid jealousy and fights. It usually stayed pretty consistent but did change occasionally if one of your boys has a special request or something happened. Monday is Toppers day, Wednesday is Kelces, and Friday is Rafes, the ones between that were ones for you to have the day to yourself or for you all to hang out as a group.

Topper usually kept it pretty casual, sweet, but casual with something like a picnic or lunch at the country club. Beach dates were your favorite, just enjoying the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore while you rested in the others arms, the soft breeze caressing your skin. He also liked to go shopping for things, clothes, jewelry, books, art supplies, whatever you had an interest in that day, he obviously would pay for it all. Even telling you not to bring any money because ‘pretty girls don’t pay for themselves’. Boat dates are another common thing for the two of you, he’d bring your favorite blanket and sweater of his with him for when you inevitably got cold once the sun started to set. He’d of course go somewhere secluded so he could pull your bikini off and fuck you while the sun hit you, the possibility of getting caught make it so much hotter than normal.

Kelce was more of the sporty/stay in date type. He loved to take you golfing, even if all you did was look pretty and tease him by bending over in the short little skirt he bought you, and then treat you to a nice candlelit dinner. Almost always preferred it near the water too, said it was more romantic when your skin was illuminated by the soft flame and it was just the two of you and the soft waves. But on days he didn’t feel like going out, he’d set up a blanket fort in the living room stocked with ALL of your favorite snacks and drinks. He’d put the little fairy lights inside of it like the one he remembered you showing him a while ago, put an air mattress inside with tons of pillows and soft blankets, light up your favorite scented candle, make sure it was as romantic and cozy as possible. He’d put on some of your favorite movies or attempt to teach you to play the games he liked, but it almost always ended with your clothes scattered on the floor. Waking up the next morning with your limbs intertwined and bare skin sticking to each other from the small layer of sweat that formed.

Rafe, as we all expected, is the fancy one. He’s buying you dresses to match his suit, diamond earrings, necklaces, rings, bracelets, shoes, just making sure you’re taken care of before the date even happens. He’d take you to the nicest restaurants, go on shopping sprees where you picked out whatever you wanted (yes that includes any lingerie shops you stumble across), go out on the yacht and stop at the local yacht club for dinner, even fly you out in the private jet somewhere for the day. He had the money and he would happily spend it all on you if it made you happy. He rarely ever stayed in on his nights unless you asked, if he did there wasn’t much going on other than him making it his goal to fuck you on every surface in the house. He was always horny around you, you were just so pretty and got his cock hard immediately. Half the time he couldn’t even wait until you were home before he was pulling his range rover to he side of the road and fucking you in the backseat, or over the hood of it, or making you ride him in the drivers sit so your tits were bouncing in his face.

They all took care of you in their own way, sexually and non sexually, but together? Together the pleasure tripled, every inch of your skin being touched, your brain completely shut off from their hands on you and their cocks burying themselves in your pretty holes. Rafe usually teasing you for it with a little degrading comment like ‘pretty bitch can’t even concentrate on anything but being a slut’. Top usually went for a mix of the two, he was usually the one teasing you while also encouraging you to keep going ‘Such a desperate slut for us huh baby? But you’re doing so good, so pretty too, just a little more pretty girl’. Kelce was almost always the one giving you praise unless he was pissed or felt like he had something to prove, ‘God princess, so pretty. This pussy is so pretty too, doing so so good. I know it hurts but you can do it, you’re made for us so I know you can baby. That’s it, good girl baby’.

The mix of praise and degradation from each one making your head spin and bringing you closer to your orgasm until you snapped, making a giant mess all over whoever was inside you at the time. Nipples being pulled and pinched and sucked, clit being spit on and rubbed until you were crying out that it was too much, each one taking a turn tasting you and trying to push their cum inside you deeper than the last. It was like their version of a group date, who could make you feel the best, who could cum the most, who made you cum the most. It was your thing and none of you would change that, you were theirs and they were yours.

Either way, you’d never go a day without being taken care of and spoiled. Even without the physical contact your phone would be blowing up with texts from each of them. Complements, pet names, voice messages, pictures, anything you could think of they were doing to ensure you were thinking about them always and knew they were thinking about you. Honestly convinced they have a separate group chat just to gush about you outside of the normal one where they try to one up each other

[subfootboii]

You decided to spend the last month of your summer vacation with Uncle Tom. You hadn't seen him since his wedding four years ago. So you called him and he suggested you both go to a private lake house. The truth is it wasn't only your uncle you missed, but also his big feet. He always liked to walk barefoot and it was his feet that awakened your love for feet.

He arrived a day earlier to tak care of everything. When you arrived he was so excited to see you after a long time, and you quickly noticed that he was barefoot. You sat chatted to catch up on everything, and you kept taking glances at his big sexy feet whenever you thought he wasn't paying attention.

The next morning you woke up excited for your first full day at the lake house. You went to the living room and found your uncle resting his feet on a foot rest and wiggling his toes

"Good morning uncle did you sleep well?"

"Goid morning nephew, yeah..."

You found it hard to focus with his slightly dirty feet and wiggling toes in front of you. It took you a minute to refocus your attention to your uncle.

"Sorry uncle I didn't hear you well, may you repeat?"

"Of course you didn't. But don't worry uncle Tom knows what's taking your attention."

You didn't understand what he meant, he looked at you and signaled for you to walk closer to him. When you reached the foot rest he signed for you to stop.

"Oh you always were captivated by uncle's feet weren't you boy. You couldn't even remove your eyes off them yesterday."

"What... no I'm not sure what you mean uncle tom!"

"Then listen well to me, you have two options you either be a good boy and admit how much you love uncle's feet, or you say nothing and we spend this vacation while I wear shoes and socks. You have a minute"

You were stunned but you couldn't fight the desire to be at his feet. You lowered your face and admitted to liking his feet.

"That's what I thought. Don't be shy boy its fine I've had many fags in school and university even at work beg for my feet. I can't blame you for liking my big alpha soles. Now get on your knees and start worshipping uncle Tom's big feet. Make me proud boy."

You dropped to your knees and started worshipping his feet you licked and sucked like the horny boy you were. A few minutes later your uncle took out his huge dick and started jerking off as he looked at you worshipping his his feet. You tried to reach out to your dick but uncle Tom's foot slapped your face.

"Don't even think of it. Such actions are for men only. You can pull your body closer and rubb your dick against the foot stool and cum your pants like the little bitch you are. Oh and I expect you to be an obedient fag for uncle, you'll treat me like a god and make sure I don't left a finger this whole month. Uncle needs to finally have some good time, and I guess you'll have good time too, in your own way at least. "

He said thet last sentence as thick strings of cum flew everywhere from his big monster cock. That made hump the foot stool harder and cum in your pants too.