#first one will be posted tomorrow (obvs!) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xcherricutie · 3 months

Text

🌺 drift away 🌺

[Lucifer Morningstar x Reader]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

[Word Count - 1.4k]

[Tags: Angst, songfic (I can't help myself)]

[Notes: My first Hazbin Hotel one shot. Still new to Tumblr, and new to writing one shots, I'm used to writing longer form. Hope this post is up to the standard. It's like, 1 in the morning and I have work tomorrow morning, enjoy. I will hopefully get out a part that's kinda like a prequel, I wanna do Other Friends lol. Obvs inspired by Steven Universe.]

Let’s go in the garden,

You’ll find something waiting,

Right there where you left it,

Lying upside down...

Excitement shot through your system, your feet dragging along the ground as a giggle bubbled from within you. You paused every few seconds as the man before you looked back, a single brow raised at your antics. He took a few steps forward, the sounds of your feet tapping as you followed along filling the air. He sighed, turning around. His eyes, golden sclera and deep red irises, landed on your own, though unfocused. Almost as if looking straight through you.

He’d tried to keep you here, to stop you from following. He knew you were only doing what you were meant to do. You were made for him. An angel born purely to keep Lucifer in check, to keep him happy. You loved being by his side, you loved spending time with him on Earth, in the garden. You thought he loved it too. You thought he loved you.

Taking a deep breath, Lucifer forced a smile for you. His wings softly flapped behind him, lifting him off the ground, raising him to be just above your face level. His finger tapped your nose, his enchanting voice coming through. “Here in the garden, let’s play a game, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Here in the garden, stand very still,” His hands on your shoulders, you looked up at him with a beaming smile, happy to spend time with your love.

“This’ll be so much fun,” Your voice, soft and delicate spoke, earning a smile from him. Your heart fluttered at his smile, his cheeks crinkling slightly as his eyes closed, appearing relaxed. At least to you. But appearances weren’t all what they seemed.

“And then he smiled, that’s what I’m after,” You clenched a fist, pressing it to your chest, trying to calm your fast beating heart. You could feel the eyes of the demon behind you on you, the very demon that came from him. “The smile in his eyes, the sound of his laughter.”

You could see the scene replaying before you all over again. You could even hear the soft chuckle that had once escaped his lips, his hands softly squeezing your shoulders. You knew she could see it too, but you didn’t want to acknowledge the memories that had begun to rush back to you, memories from long ago. Memories you’d wished you could forget.

“Happy to listen, happy to play, happily watching him drift away...”

Lucifer’s grip loosened on your shoulders, his wings flapping as he pulled away, leaving you to your little game. You watched him fly into the bright sky, disappearing in the light of the sun with another. But you didn’t think anything of it, because he loved you. He was playing with you, spending time with you.

The girl behind you could only watch in silence, her throat squeezing closed as she tried to keep her inner turmoil to herself. She knew exactly where she was, exactly where you had taken her. The wilted bushes, the out-of-control bramble, the spiraling roots through the grass. This was the long-abandoned Garden of Eden. This was where it all began. Where Charlie’s father, Lucifer, had started humanity’s spiral into chaos, starting with you.

“Happily waiting, all on my own, under the endless sky...” You glanced up to the stars dotting the night sky. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. You never wanted anyone to see this, you never even wanted to see it again yourself. Yet, here you were, sharing your vulnerability with the person you’d come down to Hell to kill. The princess of Hell herself, and Lucifer’s daughter, Charlie. You had let her in, showing her your memories. “Counting the seconds, standing alone, as thousands of years go by...”

The roots had begun to cling to your still form, your body aching, your wings begging to be spread once more. Your hair, once something you had been proud of, now in shambles, grown out nearly to your feet. Deep bags had sunk into the skin under your eyes, a telling sign of your exhaustion. For how much longer must this game go on, you wondered, but never dared voice it. You were meant to make him happy, right?

“Happily wondering, night after night, is this how it works? Am I doing it right?” Your fists clenched, unable to bear looking at your old self any longer, watching as your sickened form disappeared, turning into speckles of gold in the wind. You stepped forward into the place where you had once showed Charlie your older memories, resuming the familiar stance you had been in for over ten thousand years. “Happy to listen, happy to stay, happily watching him drift away...”

A cool breeze blew through your hair, reminding you of the countless nights you took solace in the feeling, the only thing that reminded you that you were still alive, still conscious. Your eyes met Charlie’s, a faint smile on her face as you spotted the tears welling in her eyes. You turned away with the breeze, taking a step in the opposite direction of Charlie, startling her as she was quick to follow.

“You keep on turning pages, for people who don’t care, people who don’t care about you,”

You walked along the edge of a pond, legs brushing against the soft petals of the flowers surrounding the pond. The breeze pulled along the flowers, a long dead water lily being ripped from the ground. Grasping the weakened petals of the flower in your hand, you turned to Charlie with a soft smile, placing the flower in her blonde hair that felt just the same as his. Just as you pulled your hand away, turning your attention to the water, the flower crumpled in her hair, falling apart.

“And still, it takes you ages, to see that no one’s there, see that no one’s there, see that no one’s there, everyone’s gone on without you...” Your eyes drifted back to the spot you had become a part of for so long. The spot you thought would one day claim you and set you free from the pain that he’d left behind in you. Charlie’s eyes followed, her eyes widening to see more of your memories, more of what her father had caused.

“Finally, something.”

The two seraphims, Sera and Emily, stood before you, fear and sorrow written across their faces. Emily ripped roots that had grown to hold you down tightly off, while Sera ran her fingers through your broken hair, tears streaming down her face.

“Finally, news, about how the story ends.”

Sera rambled on and on about everything you had missed. About how humanity had progressed. About the angels that had replaced you in society. Everybody thought you were dead, at the hands of the Devil. You didn’t understand any of it, not until she explained just what had happened, why you were even standing here, playing this game.

“He isn’t an angel anymore, fallen long ago, leaving you for Lilith, and his brand-new daughter...”

“Isn’t that lovely?”

Tears streamed down Charlie’s face as she watched your younger self burst into tears, sobbing violently into Sera’s chest as she hugged you tightly, muttering useless apologies over and over. You cried and screamed, telling her to stop lying and to bring you to Lucifer, to end this game already. You begged and pleaded, telling her that it wasn’t like that, that he loved you, he asked you to stay and play with him. He couldn’t abandon you. You were his angel, his love.

“Isn’t that cool?”

You ignored the pain that squeezed your heart, watching as your memories faded in those familiar golden glimmers, begging that this would be the final time you’d have to see them. You ignored the hot tears that dripped down your cheeks, your emotions leaking through, escaping the tight hold you’d kept them in for so many years.

“And isn’t that cruel? And aren’t I a fool to have happily listened, happy to stay, happily watching him drift, drift...”

You squeezed a fist to your chest, your heart slowing down finally as you sighed deeply. This was the end. This garden, where everything had begun, would finally see the end of the story. Where you would finally let go of the memories that haunted you for ten thousand years, and move on with your life, putting an end to his little game.

“Drift away...”

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader

413 notes · View notes

hanniluvi · 3 months

Text

— ✦ OH MY ! - BERMUDA LINE SMAU

✦ SYNOPSIS : Despite being okay with being single, your friend Ningning can’t help but feel sad for you. So, as her job as a matchmaker, she sets you up for a blind date! Not being able to refuse, you got ready for this date … but why is there three men in front your house ?!

⤷ not one, not two, but three guys show up to your doorstep, claiming that they are your blind date.

➷ THE DATES! — model!younghoon , model!hyunjae , model!juyeon x fem!reader

ִ ۫ ₊ MATCH IN MAKING 📄 . . : social media au, non-idol au, blind date au, strangers 2 lovers, fluff, crack.

𝄞 DETAILS — possible random timestamps, use of kys + kms jokes, friends may jokingly bully each other, will add more if there’s anything else!

… INCLUDING . . : ningning from aespa, eric + chanhee from the boyz, sieun from stayc, serim from cravity, yeonjun from tomorrow x together.

☏ NOTE - you may be wondering , um soph don’t you already have oh my posted? well, after putting it onto hold, i wanted to to revamp it a little bit (well, a lot..)! had to do my first tbz smau right!! there will definitely be some changes in this smau!! there still will be the old ver up :) enjoyyyy sjjsjs

and obviously, this smau is dedicated to kayla (whose been asking for it since last year), sia (who was thinking abt stanning tbz bc of this , i am quite honored), sona (obv!!)

STATUS — ONGOING | FEB 26 2024 TO ???

➷ AND THE MATCHING STARTS ⌞ CHAPTERS ⌝

ෆ PROFILES ! the lunatics [y/n] | the famous [bermuda]

DATE 001 — 0 hoes but 100% swag

DATE 002 — THE model trio

DATE 003 — some shady business

DATE 004 — errr is this the set…?

DATE 005 — truly embarrassing

to be added …

note : unpublished chapters may have their names changed!

🎧— dm, ask, or comment to be tagged!

TBZ PERM TAGLIST — @flwoie @haruavrse @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ilovechanhee @ja4hyvn @vampcharxter

OH MY TAGLIST — @haknom @wonieleles @wvnkoi @tocupid @be0mlvr @nanadreamies @conwunder

170 notes · View notes

writing-for-life · 3 months

Text

Keeping Them In Character...

It’s so interesting what you wrote about fixing Morpheus in the other post, @rriavian. I didn't want to take that one too off topic, hence I made a new one. I hope this is okay, because I love talking about these things, especially with other writers (everyone who reads this, writer or not, feel free to join in). I think I’ve said this somewhere else before (can’t remember where): If we keep him in character, there is no fixing him anyway.

But fanfic wouldn’t be fanfic without those attempts, and I totally get why. I want a different ending for him, too, alas, not in canon, even if that might sound contradictory. If they touched the ending in the show, I’d honestly be pissed off, but that’s my personal problem, and Neil can do with it whatever he wants—it’s his story. So I guess every fic that sees him alive at the end starts with the premise that we have to bend him into shape ever so slightly to make it possible. To me though, there’s a world of a difference between that and basically turning him into an OC with no resemblance to Morpheus bar name and looks (not saying that isn’t fair, it’s just not for me because if I wanted that, I’d write an OC, because that’s what he would be to me).

Morpheus is not weak. I even get why some people who mainly came to the Sandman via the show might be drawn into that direction initially, because we obviously see him very low at the beginning (I’m hesitant to say “at his lowest”). But after that, he pretty much stands in his power again (with ups and down obvs)—a power that burdens him for a multitude of reasons I don’t want to go into now, otherwise I’ll still sit here tomorrow. Wrote about it a million times though.

I think the fundamental misunderstanding is that anyone can fix him. So whoever we pair up with him can only walk with him, but he’ll need to take the steps himself, and more importantly: He would need a reason to want to do that. And yes, that’s exactly what my OC tells him at some point because she suffers, and she’s done with it despite understanding him on a deep level and accepting who and what he is—I think you're right when you say there’s a tendency in fandom to turn one half of the relationship into some kind of martyr and/or “void filler” to save someone. And the tricky thing about Morpheus is: He actually is looking for something to fill a void (which, to stress that again, doesn't mean he isn't powerful, so it's not to be mistaken for general weakness). And both in The Sandman and in real life, that never leads to anything good, but I can see why it's tempting to fall into that trap because his character lends itself particularly well to that type of trope (and I even play around with that in the first part of my fic, but it was also clear to me that it won't end there).

Now, this obviously isn’t real life, a story doesn’t necessarily have to lead to something good, but the most important question, to me, was always: What would make him take said steps himself, and above all: WANT to take them? Because truly, that’s where it all falls down in canon. And there is enough scope to explore that in quite a few different ways in my view.

For me, it was always clear that it can never be through wanting to change who or what he is on a fundamental level (that’s why I’m not into retired!Dream AUs, because they would fundamentally change who he is. Again, totally fine if people want to explore that, it's just not for me). I honestly believe he would bristle at that and recoil/retreat. Because it would just add to what is at the core of his very dilemma: If you want to change who and what he is, you basically admit you don’t truly understand him (not even those closest to him truly do), and that’s part of what breaks him (I say “part”, because there are more things in the mix than one can shake a stick at). And there is a clear difference between his being capable of change (we all know he is) and wanting to change him. They are not one and the same, but sometimes, fandom treats them as if they were.

Misunderstanding him, misinterpreting him is inherent to his being: He is Dream—forever out of reach, forever nebulous and unreal and weird and prone to be misunderstood/misinterpreted unless you stop trying and just trust the process/intuition--otherwise, it wouldn’t be (a) D/dream. It truly applies to all that he is. And you see what happens when he tries to rationalise things himself: Although he understands the boundaries between dreams and reality and keeps them in place, he is UNreality, and forever will be. And the way that gets ignored in fandom sometimes baffles me. Although it also doesn’t, because of course we’re human, and we want things to be real.

Back to those steps: I personally think he would never take them for himself because he doesn’t believe he has a story, and outright centring himself as the main character who is in charge of his own story is something he will always deny himself. But I think that’s also the way in? Because if he could perceive, at least initially, that he is part of someone else’s story and that they WANT him in that story (all that he is and isn’t, including all that is broken) with full acceptance but without complete self-denial. That they don’t try to change him, because they understand what the unreal is (and that requires a very particular type of person). That he would want to try because the love he has for them weighs heavier than how little he loves himself (was it you, @stellerssong who recently also wrote something along those lines, or am I making that up?). And that by doing that, he gradually learns to see himself through someone else's eyes. And once on that path, he would maybe, just maybe, start to understand that indeed he has a story of his own, and that he might be able if not to entirely rewrite, but at least to keep on writing it from this moment onward. Like everyone who believes (because believing something is possible means trusting in it despite it not being real, and trusting in the process rather than the result. He knows the power this wields over everyone but himself--not because it’s not true for him but because he won’t allow it. But maybe he could get himself to a stage where he allows it). That it's not about fixing anything really, but growing enough around what's broken and always will be, instead of trying to make it smaller or go away.

Yes, I do believe that might be possible, although there's much more to it than I've written here because it's incredibly complex, and it requires a lot of give and take, compromise and yes, pain along the way. And maybe it might not work at all (I never really 100% know where I end up when I write because my characters always, always make those decisions for me, and despite setting out with a plan, I almost never end up where I had initially intended to go. So if you asked me today, I couldn’t promise that I truly know where my current WiP is going and who will be where at its end, and it is very frustrating at times because I’m not always happy with what these guys are doing. At the moment, I'm truly not). But I believe he would at least try if someone who allowed for those dynamics were around. And that’s why I wrote an OC, because while I can see one or two canon characters that get fairly close to what I'd envision (and none of them are one half of the bigger ships), I ultimately couldn’t do it with them because there was something in their established dynamics that threw it off for me. Unless I would have pulled at least one of them (probably both) OOC to a degree that felt too much for me. But I'm always super interested in other people's process and line of thinking.

But yeah, that’s the precarious dance between trying to keep him in character while also working towards a different ending (that's obviously far less of a problem in one-shots). If that will ever work—who knows…

#sandman fanfic #the sandman #sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #fanfic writing process #also somewhat of a >>>#sandman meta #trying to keep them in character #and it's hard

42 notes · View notes

pedriscroquettes · 1 year

Text

AN1MAL – pablo torre & alejandro balde

summary: alejandro finds a cure to pablo’s frustration.

warnings: dirty filthy smut, f!oral receiving, m!oral receiving, p in v sex, v long, and some spanish (translated obv), drugs, and drinking.

listened to an1mal by lola indigo.

the referee blew the whistle and as always pablo marched off the pitch and although he looked unbothered at the amount of game time he had played. but as always alejandro always managed to see through his fake emotions. alejandro always noticed the frustration on pablo’s face whether it was at practice or at the stadium. he knew how hard pablo worked to try and prove himself so he decided to do something about his frustration.

“tio, estas loco.” pablo simply kept on walking towards his car. (man, you’re crazy.)

“what’s the problem? you think she’s hot and she thinks the same.” alejandro just shrugged as if the idea he had proposed wasn’t insane.

“that’s not the problem.” pablo stopped walking and turned around to face him.

“i won’t even look at it if that’s what you’re worried about. i’ll turn aroun-”

“joder, tio! callate!” pablo didn’t want anyone else to listen in on their conversation. the last thing he needed was the press knowing about his sexual affairs. (fuck, man! shut up!)

“look let’s just go to her room and see what happens. if this goes terribly wrong or you don’t like it i’ll leave your sex life alone forever.” alejandro tried to reason with him.

“how do you even know if she’ll agree? she’s only flirted with you.”

“trust me pablito, she likes you.”

you scroll through your phone looking for photos of today’s game to post for tomorrow. the sound of the hotel’s television serving as background noise. you’re editing a couple of pictures trying to fix the lighting when a knock on your door interrupts your work. you quickly stand up and try to fix your hair a bit knowing that only one person could be seeing you this late in the day. you completely disregard the fact that you’re only wearing your underwear with a simple gray shirt and head straight for the door.

you open the door and are met with not only alejandro but pablo as well. both of the boys analyze your outfit and soon enough a smirk is plastered on alejandro’s face while pablo’s cheeks go pink. you can’t help but feel way better about yourself knowing you could get a reaction from both of them.

“we brought drinks.” alejandro suddenly blurts breaking the silence.

you simply open the door wider allowing both of them in and quickly close it as soon as they get in not wanting any other player to see.

“don’t you guys have a plane to catch in the morning back to barcelona?” you sit back down your bed.

“don’t think that’s ever been a problem for you before.” alejandro simply states while setting his stuff down.

your cheeks instantly heat up at the comment. you try to compose yourself hoping the brunette doesn’t notice your flustered face.

“que te jodes.” (fuck you.)

“okay let’s play smash or pass. answer we move on to the next person if you don’t you have to take a shot or a hit of my disposable whichever one you prefer. although i’d suggest the drink pablo because we have practice tomorrow.” alejandro simply takes out a bottle and a small disposable.

“so who’s going first?”

“honestly i don’t see why the group sees you more innocent than me.” pablo complains.

“because i’m not stupid like you. i don’t get photographed at clubs every weekend, you should learn from me. which by the way with all your whining i’m gonna start with you.” the brunette simply rolls his eyes. “smash or pass lola indigo?”

“respectfully, smash. she’s hot.” pablo doesn’t even hesitate twice before answering which makes you laugh.

“okay your turn dumbass. smash or pass emilia?” pablo turns the attention away from him.

“frenkie’s PR agent?” pablo just nods. “pass. she’s pretty but not my type.”

“finally, y/n.” you’re scared of the smile on alejandro’s face knowing he’s about to put you in an uncomfortable position.

“smash or pass both of us.” he points at pablo and himself. “at the same time.”

“did you both just come here to get your dick sucked?” you laugh.

“just answer the question. come on be a good girl.” alejandro takes a swig of his cup and you could almost feel the smirk on his face.

pablo’s lips on your body are enough to release lewd moans. he trails down your body as alejandro leaves small kisses along your neck, the pleasure overtaking all your senses. as the brunette gets closer to your core you reach for his hair running your hand through it. he can’t help the groans he slips out as he enjoys the feeling on your hands through his hair.

you can’t help but let out a loud moan as pablo starts licking at your folds the feeling sending tingles all over your body.

“mira como la tienes gimiendo pablito.” alejandro’s raspy voice interrupts the sensual sounds coming out of you. (look how you have her moaning pablito.)

his friend only encourages him as soon his tongue is circling your clit and his hands are spreading your thighs even more to gain more access to where you need him most. alejandro doesn’t even mind the lack of attention he’s receiving from you as he’s more content with being pablo’s wingman.

loving the way you moan because of him, pablo starts teasing your hole with one of his fingers wanting to increase the pleasure. he waits a couple of seconds before inserting it inside of you and soon you’re moaning louder than before. the pleasure is too intense and you can’t help but let go. the way your face scrunches up in pleasure is enough to awaken something in the brunette and he quickly stands up and grabs by the hair kissing you passionately.

“vaya pablito.” alejandro is surprised at his friend’s actions. (wow, pablito.)

“ahora la follas tu o yo?” alejandro asks his friend casually. (now who will fuck her? you or me?)

“let her choose.” pablo runs his hand through his hair the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“always the gentleman.” alejandro jokes. “well you heard the benchwarmer what do you want?”

“well you brought him here to fuck me didn’t you?” you simply shrug.

in another world you probably couldn’t even imagine yourself talking about a threesome so casually. your neck was already full of hickeys that you would have to wake up early to cover them. you only had alejandro to blame for your hyper sexual behavior ever since your first time with him last year.

“do you have a condom?” pablo asks.

before you could answer alejandro answers for you.

“she’s on birth control.”

it’s not long before pablo has you on all fours, legs spread for him. you had always admired the brunette often telling the left-back how cute you thought his teammate once. you moan at the feeling of his dick near your entrance. alejandro can’t help but admire you, all fucked. normally he’d be jealous of you with anyone else but he doesn’t mind sharing with his friend. his thoughts are interrupted by the noises you let out as pablo enters you.

your hands grip the sheets under you as soon as pablo enters you. one of his hands is placed right next to your head to keep his balance while the other wraps itself around your hips.

“fuck, she feels so good. so tight.” pablo groans.

the brunette is kind enough to allow you to adjust to his size before he starts to thrust, slowly. he loves the way you clench around him. you can feel his breath near your ear and soon enough you’re letting out a bunch of profanities at the feeling he invokes inside of you. he doesn’t hesitate before grabbing your hair and leaving kisses as well as marks around your neck. he’s completely entranced by you, his inhibitions going out the window.

you don’t think twice before guiding his hand from your hip to where you need him. he gets the memo and soon starts circling your clit. you also don’t miss the way he starts thirsting faster, his shyness long gone.

“fuck, pablo.”

the sound of his name coming out of your lips simply encourages him and he picks up his pace. soon enough you feel your orgasm approaching. alejandro can’t help but feel left out and instantly stands in front of you. he lowers his shorts down and soon you’re face to face with his dick.

“be a good girl now and suck.” his confidence has come back.

your morals are long gone and you instantly take him inside your mouth, your hands covering the rest of him that doesn’t fit. your moans from pablo’s thrusts send vibrations along alejandro’s members and soon enough he’s gripping your hair. the room is filled with dirty and filthy sounds and you don’t doubt that there’ll be noise complaints tomorrow. pablo can’t help but get more turned out at the mere sight of you not only enjoying yourself but satisfying his friend and his thrusts reach a speed he didn’t know was possible.

the pleasure is too much and you instantly cum. pablo isn’t too far behind as you soon feel him release inside of you, his groan is almost enough to pounce on him again. your moans overstimulate alejandro and soon he cums all over your tits. the three of you just lay on the bed for a minute or so, alejandro taking a picture of you before helping you clean up.

you can’t help but stare at both of them. you’re fucked.

the three of you head downstairs’ extremely early wanting to avoid the possibility of running into any of the other players. you wear a turtleneck just in case your makeup isn’t enough to cover the marks all over your neck. on the way to check out you can’t help a couple arguing with the poor receptionist.

“are you aware they’re shooting porn videos in your rooms? we couldn’t sleep all night because of the obnoxious moans! this is unacceptable!” the man yells.

the three of you try your best to not let out any laughs. you’re in deep shit.

#new theme :D !#finally for all my pablo and ale girlies #pablo torre #pablo torre smut #alejandro balde #alejandro balde smut #football smut #ash writes

231 notes · View notes

silawastaken · 3 months

Note

i was wondering what Dazai and Chuuya would wear in your au? I'm talking about the (not so) perfect pair btw.

(This is totally not for fanart)

AAAAAA FANART????? (im autistic and sarcasm is not my strong suit for this stuff, and I'll feel real stupid if this isn't real but OH MY GOD I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER)

And my GOD have I thought about this. It is currently 10:03PM and I have school tomorrow, lets see how long this takes me.

Right- Generally speaking, any chapter they're in school, they're wearing a uniform. Most of this stuff is based on what I know from the uk so 💀 yeah, it's a school uniform. That means, a collared short sleeve shirt, red tie(honestly it doesn't need to be red, I just randomly picked one), and black trousers.

Chuuya's wardrobe I feel would consist of patched denim shorts and jeans, jeans probably ripped at the knees. Dark colours mainly for other types of trousers, think black and greyish.

T-shirts, second hand band tees that are probably a little worn mostly, his parents do well but he isn't rich + he's a middle child, he probably doesn't own a lot of first hand clothing. I'd say oversized flannel or tartan shirts, either worn loosely over shirts or tied around his waist(Think very grungy. It's getting into summer, so tied around his waist is more likely)

The big thing is that most of the time so far, unless he's at school he's been wearing the hoodie Dazai gave him(black + red stitching, detailed better in the actual fic😔), so it'd make sense for him to be wearing it, unless at school, or post his parents finding out.

Generally, he's rather grunge but put together, he looks nice, and generally presentable.

DAZAI HOWEVER, LIVES OFF HIS BEDROOM FLOOR.

While Dazai has clothes, he doesn't actually wear much of them. With Dazai, I think black or tan trousers when he's not in uniform, the same two pairs. The black ones more commonly, so probably more worn.

If Chuuya would wear the t-shirt, Dazai would too. Generally, I think most of the t-shirts Dazai would wear would be stolen from Chuuya, so yeah! If Chuuya'd wear it, Dazai would.

Same with hoodies, but obvs Dazai is slightly different. Generally with dressing Dazai/his clothes, this au Dazai is still in his emoish phase, so stick to black and earth tones- blue, green, brown.

A few extra details!!! I've never said it explicitly, but Dazai isn't wearing bandages over his face, just his neck and arms. Chuuya's ears are also pierced, Kouyou got him earrings for his birthday. How many piercings that is? Idc go wild bro's sixteen and his parents are rather chill, he probably has a few. I don't know if this is the level of detail you were looking for, but for Chuuya, with shoes I'd say boots or like converse. For Dazai- it's actually specified that he wears a pair of like BATTERED high top black converse so :D

I feel it's fair to mention that Dazai and Chuuya are still rather rough and tumble teens, they're both depressed as shit rn and not going out to cause chaos like they normally would- but they still dress like they're prepared too. So a little unkempt and scruffy is a fairly accurate department of how they likely look half the time.

It is 11:08 and has been an hour, so I should probably stop agonising over this but this was a LOT of detail sorry if it still wasn't enough, or wasn't what you were looking for :(( BUT HAVE FUN WITH THIS INFO.

#IF YOU ACTUALLY DRAW FANART FOR THIS AU I WILL CRY #I'LL NEVE GET OVER IT #I'LL CRY AND WAIL AND IMPRINT IT IN MY BEAIN #PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FEEL FREE TO MAKE FANART I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER #bsd #ao3 fanfic #soukoku #soukoku fanfiction #silas yaps #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs #skk au

34 notes · View notes

swissboyhisch · 9 months

Text

Canada vs Europe

Liked by crosby87, penguins and others

ivylemieux: One last training before game time. Hiya boys 🙋🏻‍♀️ tagged: crosby87, jackhughes, colecaufield and anzekopitar

view all comments

crosby87: Hi, I'd like to ask you not to post more pictures of me

ivylemieux: No.

crosby87: okay, well I tried 🤷🏻‍♂️

taycrosby: Look how smiley Sid is. We've all missed you so much! Liked by ivylemieux

user: I can't wait to see these games!

colecaufield: bestieeeee 🫶🏻

jackhughes: 🫶🏻

ivylemieux: my favourite bromance

user: We know you have the goods. Please post them.

anzekopitar: good seeing you kiddo

tkachuk19: why didn't you post a picture of me :(

ivylemieux: Matty the Ratty you don't need to have your ego inflated more

tkachuk19: but bub 🥺

mcdavid97: suck it up Tkachuk

Liked by jackhughes, ivylemieux and others

laurenmatts: First time seeing an ice hockey game. Thankfully, I have a coach to help me understand icing 🤭 tagged: ivylemieux

view all comments

user: even I don't fully understand what is or isn't icing

ivylemieux: Thanks for coming with me on this little trip around the country ❤️

user: Around the country?!

laurenmatts: Always willing to spend time with you 🫶🏻

friend2: you two are stunning! Liked by laurenmatts and ivylemieux

user: imagine never seeing a hockey game 😭

macematts: why didn't you take me 😡

laurenmatts: girls' weekend obvs

macematts: says the girl currently hanging out with a ton of guys

ivylemieux: there is wives and girlfriends too

Liked by jackhughes, ivylemieux and others

hockeycanada: Our favourite captain is in the house cheering on our boys 🇨🇦 tagged: ivylemieux

view all comments

user: this is such a great photo

user: 🫡🫡🫡

taycrosby: couldn't just pose normally?

lemieux66: You expect her to be normal?

crosby87: you'd be crazy for that

user: this family is great

user: 🥰🥵

ivylemieux: gotta support the best 🫡

usahockey: so us?

euroallstarhockey: No it's us 💁🏻‍♀️

hockeycanada: who does she play for? oh that's right us. It's us.

user: She’s so cute!

timhortons: We love her 😍

ivylemieux: stahppppp 🤭

Liked by leondrais, nhl and others

mcdavid97: What a way to kick off the Hockey Exhibition tour. tagged: leondrais

view all comments

user: love that he also used a picture of Leon

user: What a game! As someone who has never seen a hockey game before... Wow you're a great player

leondrais: we'll get you in the next city

mcdavid97: just win against the US tomorrow?

anzekopitar: yeah we will, don't mind Leo

user: They're besties your honour

ivylemieux: Canadaaaaaa baby

tkachuk19: United States baby

mcdavid97: CANADAAAA

jackhughes: USAAAAAA

nylander29: EUROPEEEEEEEE

user: Guys.... did you see Matt and Ivy watching the game together? Matt even came to support Connor!

ivylemieux: Hate to tell you but I made him come

edmontonoilers: Our favourites playing against each other?! NOoOoo

Liked by calgaryflames, ivylemieux and others

tkachuk19: The three stooges are back together 😈 tagged: ivylemieux and mcdavid97

view all comments

user: I honestly forgot these three were best friends

user: right? it's so weird that Mcdavid and Tkachuk don't constantly fight

taryntkachuk: Bring her home will you?

tkachuk19: 🫡

bradytkachuk: your wish is our command 🫡

user: One of my favourite things about these three is the fact the boys go with Ivy to the other's games. Even though they're rivals. Just super sweet.

tkachuk07: oh no, watch out Australia 🫣

lemieux66: Wouldn't want to be there

user: Best friend goals

user: The chaos 😂

ivylemieux: missed you two knuckleheads 💕

mcdavid97: are you sure?

tkachuk19: Yeah, you hitting us doesn't say 'I Miss You'

ivylemieux: and the tackles that took you both to the ground? What did they say?

laurenmatts: Those tackles said "You better win'

TAG LIST:

@penny4yourthoughts @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi

67 notes · View notes

blondephil · 5 months

Text

sooo i can’t remember the first dnp video i watched but it was definitely in middle school or early high school (so like. 12 years ago!!) because i have very distinct memories of finding vlogbrothers → charlie!! → dan and phil. and that is time bound because i did a portrait of charlie in eighth grade art and have a vivid memory of one of my friends in ninth grade saying they had a crush on dan (now gay. obv.) so it’s been a long time and a long journey for them and for me! i don’t have any pics from that time in middle school without trawling my mom’s facebook so here’s baby me, me circa 2014 (age 16), and me starting my first Real Big Job post-grad school this september (age 25). and i would be remiss to not shoutout the group chat that has now existed for five whole years (as of tomorrow!)

also hi i’m jill she/they!

#time machine meetup #dnp #dan and phil

23 notes · View notes

unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Note

hi i just found your blog and i’m in love with ur writing<3 imma stalk it, if that’s ok!! also, saw ppl can send writing ideas (u don’t have to do this it’s just something i like reading lol) and i see lots of angsty fics where steve is the one that fucks up and has to apologize but I also think eddie could fuck up too - so if you could right something angsty (with a happy ending obv lol i’m not made of stone) where eddie fucks up and has to figure out how to apologize to steve :) but like i said no pressure if it’s not something you want to do <333

keep up with your writing, it’s beautiful <33

Ohmygod this is such a lovely message, thank you so much <333 Seriously this really means sooo much! I hope you're having a good day, lots of love!

And YESSS i love this prompt! I started writing something and it completely got away from me so now it's getting waaayyy longer than i planned it to be, whoops. I'll give you the first part already and I hope to have the second (longer) part ready soon.

(also, i wrote this post a while ago which also has angst and eddie being kind of a dick so you might like that one, too)

XXXXX

'Do you know what day it is tomorrow?'

They're on Eddie's bed together, the two of them, not doing much – or rather, Steve's not doing much. Eddie, however, is tirelessly scribbling down ideas in his notepad to prepare for the next Hellfire meeting.

He looks up from his notes to look at Steve in disbelief, wondering if he's for real with that question.

'Friday,' he answers in the most scathing tone he can muster.

'C'mon Eddie, don't be a dick,' says Steve, but a small smile is playing around his lips. 'Can I take you out tomorrow night?'

'I have band practice on Fridays. You know that.'

'Yeah, but I talked to the guys. They're okay with skipping it one time.'

'Dude, I'm not gonna miss my band practice for fucking Valentine's Day.'

Steve frowns. 'You don't have to say it like it's a gross word, you know.'

'But it is a gross word, Stevie!' Eddie exclaims dramatically. 'Come on, you know just as well as I do that it's not for people like us.'

'Seriously?'

Eddie doesn't understand why Steve is acting so surprised. Honestly, what did he expect from dating a non-conformist queer metalhead, exactly?

'It's not even about romance, man! It's a conspiracy of the big corporations so they can capitalize off their ridiculous made-up heterosexual ideas of what relationships should be like. Nothing romantic about it, it's all bullshit.'

Something shifts in Steve's gaze. 'It's all bullshit?' he repeats, eyebrows arched into a frown.

There's something in his tone and in his pose, his arms crossed in front of his chest, like he's challenging Eddie, that makes Eddie feel like he can only double down on this now.

'Yeah. Complete bullshit.'

'Okay.' Steve nods, opens his mouth, then closes it again – seems to swallow his own words, before he continues: 'Okay, good to know. I won't keep you away from your band practice, then. Um, you know what, I should be heading home now.'

'I thought you were staying here for the night?'

'No, I changed my mind.' Steve doesn't look him quite in his eyes. 'I think I just wanna be alone. Get a good night's sleep.'

Eddie squints at Steve as he gets up from his lazy position on the bed to grab his shoes.

'Are you angry?'

'No, I'm just – you're probably right, I don't know why I even thought – never mind.'

But Eddie can't see Steve's face as he's ducked down to tie his shoelaces, and his voice sounds oddly strained. Steve leaves Eddie's room without so much as a kiss on Eddie's cheek and only stops in the living room to say goodbye to Wayne before he heads out into the cold evening.

'You and Steve okay?' Wayne asks after the sound of Steve's car has faded away. Eddie is still standing in the middle of the living room, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

'I... don't know,' he answers his uncle's question. 'He was being all weird about fucking Valentine's Day, can you believe that?' He lets himself fall onto the couch. 'What about this –' he makes a vague gesture at both himself and the room around them – 'could have ever given him the idea that I'd care about Valentine's Day?' It's impossible for him to keep the disgust out of his voice.

Wayne sighs. 'And did it ever occur to you that maybe he cares 'bout Valentine's Day?'

Eddie scoffs. 'Of course he doesn't care about Valentine's Day, he's –' Shit. The horrifying realization dawns over him and it makes so much sense that he wonders how he didn't see it right away. How could he have been so stupid? Of course Steve Harrington cares about Valentine's Day. And he probably planned some big romantic surprise date for Eddie and all Eddie said was that it was bullshit.

He groans and lets himself fall further into the worn-out couch cushions.

'That's what I thought,' Wayne comments dryly.

'Shit! Shit, shit, shit, I fucked up so bad, Wayne! How could I have known?! He's a fucking badass, I didn't think – Ah, damnit, I'm such an idiot!'

'Badass or not, if you didn't wanna be with some hopeless romantic, you been lookin' in the wrong place, boy,' Wayne says.

Eddie lifts his head up to take a look at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It's almost eleven thirty. That leaves him with about eight hours until Steve wakes up on his own in that big empty house, on Valentine's Day, ready to start his day feeling completely miserable. It's time to switch into all-nighter mode.

XXXXX

(Update: read pt2 here)

#i feel like i didn't really deliver on the angst because you KNOW this is gonna be fluffy af #so sorry about that :(#but i hope you still like it maybe i'll try something more angsty later #writing so much christmas shit this month but here we are with a valentine's theme somehow #idk how i ended up with that honestly #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #fruity ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

283 notes · View notes

parkerslatte · 2 months

Text

I will be taking a few weeks break from writing again. I have a new fic being posted in the next couple of days but that was pre-written a few days ago.

Since it is the first of April tomorrow, I need to put all my focus in my screenplay and portfolio as my submit day is 3rd May (it’s too soon and it’s scary). This is my final deadline of university and I want to get a good grade!

I will still be interacting with everyone one here so I won’t be gone completely! And feel free to send in more requests! After this deadline I will have absolutely nothing to do (obvs except my job) but that is all and I will need things to do with my free time and writing is my favourite way to pass time!

#tonitalks

15 notes · View notes

notyour-valentine · 2 years

Note

I really like the way you write Tommy and Charlotte. Could you do something like that for John and someone like that for your celebration (obvs not another Crawley but a lady reader) Thank you!

John Shelby x aristocratic!Reader ~ Headcanon

[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Warning: mention of WWI and death (18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

It is the spring of 1912, which means the London social season is in full swing. All the aristocratic families leave their large estates all over the country and commence on their annual pilgrimage to their city palaces, at least all family members over eighteen years old, which means the younger ones are left behind.

Left all alone with a few cousins (if you are lucky) or just a governess (if you are unlucky)

So when you hear rumours from the maids that a few travellers are organising a fair not too far from your family’s stately home it is too great a chance to pass up.

You beg your favourite maid and call in a few favours like borrowing a set of clothes from the kitchen maid whom you gave the weekend of, since even if you are not of age yet, your wishes overrule the decree of the butler (at least when presented to the cook) and sneak out with your favourite and equally giddy cousin under the guise of attending a charity function.

It is the most brilliant thing you have ever seen with painted wagons, open fires, children of all ages running wild, with music, drinking, and dancing without evening clothes, dance shoes or even a set floor

Before long you are asked to dance too- by a young man with freckles, long blond hair and a blinding smile who introduces himself as John.

He doesn’t ask you formally, the way a gentleman should, but rather threw you a grin and only asked “Want me to give you a whirl?”

It was an offer a lady ought to decline but too good to pass up

You are shy at first, since this dance doesn’t resemble and waltz, foxtrott or polka you had ever learned, and what little similarities it had to ghillies balls weren’t sufficient, but he calmed your nerves with a loud, cheerful laugh

“You got two functioning feet- that’s all you need.”

And it was - it is a fast dance, reckless even, with more skips than proper steps. It tangles your hair and twists your (or rather the kitchen maid’s) skirts but you had never known fun like it.

It leaves you with a flushed face and breathless, but beaming from ear to ear.

Afterwards, he leads you back to his family, where you find a cup of beer in your hand before long. You’ve never had it before, just wine and champagne, but you try your best to play the bitter taste off, even if you are not too sure you succeeded.

Since you can’t be caught out, you do your best to imitate the servants’ accents, but you aren’t sure if you are getting away with it. If John notices, he doesn’t show, but you don’t miss the piercing gaze of his dark haired brother.

You dance and dance until John grins at you differently

“I’m going to try something now.”, he announced and before you know it, he is kissing you - and not just kissing you, but kissing you on the lips, in front of everyone, one hand on your back, the other on your cheek.

It is your first kiss, and you don’t really know what to do. It is wrong, you know it is, but it just feels so right and so you kiss him back, shy at first, trying to find the proper way of doing it.

When it is time to leave, he asks if you will be back tomorrow

You know you can’t - there is tea with a great-aunt tomorrow, but you can’t tell him that. So you tell him you will be back and kiss him before leaving once more.

It should only have been an adventure but the memories linger longer than they should have.

In 1913, it is your social season and so you cannot return to the fair, the same in 1914. It is also the season you get engaged. He is a nice young man, rich, and from a family similar to yours.

You like him, you really do. He is kind and gentle and a great friend, but whenever he kisses you, you close your eyes and imagine his hair is blonde, not brown, that his eyes are blue instead of grey.

In 1916, he is called up too, as a cavalry officer to go to France. You weep as he leaves, because he is a good man and a good friend, and you cry even more when news comes that he fell. You cry for him, for his parents, for yourself and your future, but above all you cry for your little boy, after all, your little Johnnie would have to grow up without a father now.

Bonus fact:

He is the only thing you cling to during those years of darkness, and only at the behest of your cousin you start to come out again, three years after the end of the war. You have always liked horses, and so you agree to join her and her husband in the owner’s enclosure at Epsom.

Thank you for requesting and participating in my celebration - I hope you liked what I wrote.

Thank you everyone for reading and as always, I hope you enjoyed and would love to hear your thoughts!

If you want to participate in my celebration, click here!

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend

#valentines1k #valentineswritings #valentinesheadcanons #john shelby #peaky blinders #join me for a drink #john shelby headcanon #john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader

91 notes · View notes

pullhisteeth · 2 years

Text

the end is near | eddie munson x reader

posting this here as well as my old blog because there’s a part two in the works hehe. xxx

summary: you’re with Steve, Robin, Dustin and Max when they find Eddie in Rick’s boathouse. You don’t know him, but he knows you. The two of you spend the night together, not knowing you’re sitting on the edge of the end of the world, and get to know each other.

word count: 5.5k

contains: 18+ !!! a recount/rewriting of the events of episode 2, angst (Eddie is terrified, obvs), bitchy!reader, fem!reader, use of y/n, implied/very light smut, weed, a Pretty In Pink reference, enemies to lovers (kind of), one-sided pining, lots of dialogue. it’s a bit bittersweet, but in my head the ending of s4 is very different. maybe there’ll be a part 2 idk I am a busy woman!!! also fluff. lol

author’s note: had this idea so long ago and I finally finished it! I hope the bits that are word-for-word rewrites of episode 2 aren’t too boring! I will also inevitably edit this tomorrow so sorryyyy. enjoy xxx

It’s a cold March this year.

1986 has been a doozy so far – you’re out of school with nothing to do but doze off behind the counter of the record store downtown. It’s next door to Family Video, where your friends work: Robin, your life-long best friend, partner in crime, and (platonic) love of your life, and Steve Harrington, her unlikely new companion. Lunch breaks are spent by the bins out back, chatting shit and eating even worse shit from the diner across the street. But it’s nice enough; you have very little to complain about.

That is until one dull, frostbitten day, when your break is interrupted by two teenagers whose voices are far too loud for your liking. One’s a nerdy little kid, brown curly hair and a stupid baseball cap, whose enthusiasm for life seems way beyond your own, but the other, a sullen redhead wielding a skateboard and a serious case of resting bitch face, is more to your liking. You see yourself in her a lot.

They’re shouting wildly, arms flailing at Steve and Robin, and you catch the words missing, trailer park, Eddie.

You’re not an idiot; you’d seen the news that morning, same as everyone else in Hawkins. Eddie wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to you – he’d been doing his second senior year the year you’d done your first with Robin – but what you do know of him is unsavoury. He’s an unkind and boisterous individual who riles the basketball team up and deals drugs to kids, and you had wanted nothing to do with him.

You’re paying very little attention to what’s happening behind the counter, instead spending your limited minutes on break strolling aimlessly up and down the aisles, wondering whether you should rent a movie for that evening. A sudden grip on your wrist and tug of your arm shakes you clean awake, and without realising it you’re being pulled out of Family Video and into Steve’s car by a very frazzled looking Robin.

You are completely silent in the back seat. The car’s swamped by shouts between Steve, driving, and the louder kid, wedged in the trunk. You learn that his name is Dustin, and realise that this must be the one Steve moans about – never cruelly, always fondly. The girl, who you decide is called Red for the time being, is to your left, looking sullenly out the window.

You inch your hand across the leather between the two of you and tug lightly on the sleeve of her jacket. She turns to you, brows furrowed slightly.

“Are they always like this?” you murmur, leaning closer so she can hear you over the echoes of how do you know where you’re going?! and there is no way I’m getting the car up there and Steve, keep your eyes on the road!

She looks taken aback when you speak to her, almost as though she didn’t realise you were there at all.

“Yeah, most of the time,” she says, sharp and monotonous. God, she really is just like you.

“How do you put up with it?” you ask her, genuinely interested.

She reaches into her backpack between her feet and pulls out a Walkman and a pair of headphones. Giving you a sympathetic smile, she puts them on and pushes the heavy play button.

You lean forward and rest your chin on the side of the passenger seat in front of you. Robin’s turned towards Steve so she sees you, and when she shifts to look at you her face softens.

“Sorry about this,” she says, eyes genuinely apologetic.

“S’okay, just left the shop unlocked and ready to be robbed bare, but it’s fine,” you laugh. You really don’t care too much about your job, and you know the owner probably won’t notice that you took off for the afternoon. You’ll just miss a day’s pay.

You push the thought to the side.

“Where are we going?” you whisper to her, faces close enough that she can hear.

“Up to the lake. Henderson’s friend Eddie’s up there. We think, anyway,” she says.

“Eddie Munson?!” you exclaim, a little too loud for the small gap between yourself and Robin. She winces at the volume and the other voices in the car stop. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Red turn to look at you and take off her headphones.

You watch Robin take a breath as she starts to speak, but Steve cuts her off.

“He’s not a murderer, y/n, before you say anythi-“

“That’s not what the news said!” You sit back, away from Robin’s chair, and stare wide-eyed at Steve. His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the wheel.

“Shut up,” he bites. His voice is hard and it stings like a slap to the cheek.

“Fuck off,” you spit back, huffing and crossing your arms, slinking back into your seat. “This is crazy, Steve. Pull over and let me out, I’ll just walk back.”

“Y/n,” comes a voice right beside your left ear. It makes you jump out of your skin.

You turn to see Dustin Henderson leaning over the back seats. Your eyes drift to Red, who’s staring at the commotion.

“It’s y/n, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well, hi. I’m Dustin.” He sticks his hand awkwardly over the seat, as if to shake yours.

After a confused beat of looking between it and his grinning face, you sheepishly take it in your own and shake lightly.

“Nice to meet you, kid,” you mutter.

“Eddie didn’t murder Chrissy,” Dustin begins. “He wouldn’t, he’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, right,” you grumble.

“Seriously. She died, but he didn’t kill her. We think we know-“

“HENDERSON!”

All three of the other people in the car scold him, loudly and in unison. You’re more confused than you were when you left the video store at this point.

“What?!” Dustin shouts.

“Just- Everyone shut up, please?” Steve begs. His grip is still white with tension around the wheel, and you see Robin give him a sympathetic look before turning to look out of her window. Red’s doing the same to your left. “We’re like five minutes away. Just be quiet.”

He’s not wrong. He puts the car in park a few minutes later, and through the sparse trees you can see a run-down looking shack.

You have so many questions buzzing around your brain but you choose to remain silent, scared in part by the stoic expression on Steve’s face.

“Rick!”

“Henderson, seriously?” Steve sighs as Dustin walks away from the car, towards the shack, yelling the name of a convicted drug dealer like he’s looking for his cat in the garden.

The rest of you follow him with flashlights, but when you get to the house it seems completely empty. In fact, it’s as if no one has been here for months – from what you can see through the grubby windows, the living room is covered in a thick layer of dust.

Ding.

You and Steve whip round to find Dustin stood at the front door, ringing the bell.

You hear Steve huff out a “what the-“ before Dustin begins rapidly pressing the bell and banging on the door.

“Okay. Well, that’s settled. I guess he’s not here,” Steve says, defeated.

They’re so intent on getting through the door that they don’t spot Red – but you do. She’s creeping around the side of the building, so you follow her.

Before you round the corner, you hear her yell, “hey, guys.”

When you catch up to her, she’s pointing at an old boathouse down by the lake. It’s derelict. Perfect for hiding a fugitive.

Carefully skirting down the banking, the five of you wander around the building. It’s dark now, the sun still going down early, and this whole thing’s got you spooked.

Robin’s the first inside, pushing the creaking metal door open, and as the rest of you follow, you feel the anxious well in your gut getting deeper. You cling to Steve’s jacket, and he doesn’t ask questions. Instead, he extends his arm behind him, and you take his hand wordlessly.

It’s quiet inside, the floor creaky and it smells of rotting wood. You separate, each of you heading in a different direction, flashlight beams dotting around the room. There’s a boat hanging in the middle of the room, and you nearly trip over old beams and boat stuff a couple times.

A loud noise and Dustin saying, “what are you doing?!” makes you jump again. You spin round to see Steve with an oar in his hand, prodding tarps and boxes with it.

“What are you doing?” Dustin repeats, voice hushed.

“He might be in here,” Steve shrugs, still beating a pile of tarp.

“So take the tarp off!”

“If you’re so brave, you take the tarp off.”

“I thought you guys said he didn’t murder her,” you say bluntly.

Dustin looks at you with a hurt expression. It instantly makes you feel bad.

“Hey, look over here.”

Red’s stood across the room, by a table. You and Robin join her, and you see she’s found a mess of empty beer bottles and food wrappers.

“Maybe he heard us. Got spooked and ran,” Robin suggests.

“Don’t worry, Steve will get him with his oar.” Dustin’s sarcasm doesn’t do much to dispel the strange tension filling the musty room.

“I know you think you’re being funny, Henderson,” Steve retorts. “But considering the fact that everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the-“

Before you can begin to try to process the fact that he just said everyone here has nearly died before, and numerous times, something – or someone – comes flying out from under the tarp Steve had been battering.

Everything happens very quickly. You guys realise it’s Eddie – he’s difficult to mistake for anything other than a wild animal, but the very iconic denim vest gives him away – and soon he’s got Steve backed against a wall with what looks like a broken glass bottle at his neck. There’s a lot of shouting and screaming, and from where you’re stood you can see the incredible look on Eddie’s face.

It’s one of fear, sure, but it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He looks terrified, eyes wide and sunken.

“Eddie! Eddie, stop, it’s me, it’s Dustin, this is Steve. He’s not gonna hurt you, right, Steve?”

From underneath Eddie’s huge hand around his neck, Steve chokes out a right, yeah, and drops the oar on Dustin’s command. You watch Eddie visibly relax, although his guard is very clearly still up, and find yourself thinking that he actually looks quite good, until you shake the thought away, because he’s a murderer and you’re in the room with a murderer and he might murder you and all your friends and why the fuck are you here again?

Eddie’s eyes are flitting around the room, across the familiar and unfamiliar faces, and when they land on yours you feel yourself stiffen.

There’s some more tense interaction, but between them, Dustin and Robin bring Eddie down. The whole situation sends your head a bit fuzzy, and even while you’re hanging back, behind everyone else, you feel unbearably exposed. There’s exchanged names wherein you learn that Red is really called Max, and when Dustin tries to introduce you, he says, “actually, I don’t know who y/n is, but she’s cool, okay?”, and you wish the kind words of a teenager weren’t making you feel so rosy on the inside.

Eddie’s very clearly panicked, and when Dustin tells him you guys are just there to talk, he says, “you won’t believe me.”

You’re taken aback by this, having been so sure he’d just deny everything straight up, but then Max says, “try us.” And so he does; he recounts the most batshit story you’ve ever heard. And while you stand there, arms crossed defiantly across your chest, your mouth hangs agape. But then you look around and see that everyone else, even Robin, seems entirely undisturbed by this elaborate story.

“You all think I’m crazy, right?” Eddie says between sarcastic scoffs and what you’re sure are tears.

“No. We don’t think you’re crazy,” Dustin responds.

For a kid, Henderson is damn good at being reassuring.

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter under your breath. You think it’s quiet enough, but you realise you’re mistaken when everyone turns to look at you. Including Eddie.

“We believe you,” Robin says calmly, turning back to look at Eddie. He looks at her, really looks at her, and then Dustin says, “Look, what I’m about to tell you might be a little difficult for you to take.” And he turns to you, and says, “both of you.”

You look at the faces around the room, bewildered, and then Robin nods over to Eddie. It takes you a moment, but you realise she wants you to go sit next to him.

You’re a stubborn person by nature, and so you stand rooted to the spot for a brief moment, until the daggers she’s shooting at you through her eyes force your feet to move. You take a few creaky, uneasy steps over to him, and sit as far along the box he’s using as a seat as you can.

He eyes you suspiciously, but turns back to Dustin, satisfied.

To describe your emotions in the following minutes would be to attempt the impossible.

Dustin, Robin, Steve and Max stand around yourself and Eddie and tell you an otherworldly story – literally – about parallel dimensions, monsters they’ve named after Dungeons and Dragons characters (this particular detail seems to entertain Eddie, though it’s lost on you), and a girl you’ve never met who can read minds or something. It’s all impossible to take in; your brain becomes impenetrable, and you refuse to believe any of it. Eddie’s right there with you, until they start asking him questions about ‘dark particles’ and Chrissy’s death.

“You know, I tried to wake her, man. She couldn’t move. It was like she… she was in a trance or something,” Eddie says.

“Or under a spell,” Dustin offers, a layer of concern coating his voice.

“A curse.”

“Vecna’s curse.”

It’s this revelation, which appears to happen only between the two of them, that changes everything. You’re still sat next to Eddie, but you feel further away from this conversation than ever. None of it makes any sense.

It’s so dark out by now that it must be late. Steve and Robin decide that you’ll leave Eddie there for the night and come back with supplies in the morning, but Dustin isn’t satisfied.

“He can’t be here alone,” he insists. “What if something happens? One of us should stay with him.”

“None of us have time to stay with him, Henderson,” Steve barks. When Robin had told you he’s like a mother around these kids, you’d thought she was exaggerating. She wasn’t. “He’ll be fine on his own.”

“No, Dustin’s right,” Max says, giving Eddie a sympathetic smile. “It’s kinda dangerous to just leave him out here.”

There’s more bickering, Steve insistent that there’s no use anyone staying, Robin adding that they all have lives to live and it’ll look super duper suspicious if one of them just disappears, Eddie maintaining that he’ll be fine, just fine.

“I’ll stay.”

Your words cut through the arguing like a whip, the crack splitting the noise. Everybody turns to look at you, once again.

You’re stood away from the little circle that’s formed, by the box you’d been sat on, with your arms crossed over your chest. This time, it’s for warmth, rather than out of your usual stubbornness.

You’re not sure what made you say it, really; you don’t particularly like Eddie, but there’s something about the way he recounted the events with Chrissy that pulls a certain empathetic heartstring. You don’t know why.

Maybe you can find out.

“Y/n, you have work,” Steve says.

“I’ve already bailed all afternoon. They don’t care that much.”

“But what about your pare-“

“It’s fine.” Your words are hard and final, and Steve closes his mouth.

Robin treads over to you, face soft again.

“Are you sure about this? We dragged you out here without telling you anything, you don’t have to do this.”

“It’s fine. Just bring us some stuff in the morning. Eddie could do with some company, I’m sure.” You look at him, at where he’s stood. He’s mirroring Steve’s position, hands on his hips, and he shrugs.

“Would be nice, I guess.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, turning back to Robin and giving her arm a squeeze.

“Okay. We’ll be back in the morning. No mischief, okay?” she says with a laugh, looking between the two of you. Everyone else seems to soften a little. She comes in closer, and whispers, “be nice, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply.

The four of them leave you with flashlights and a few snacks Dustin found in Steve’s trunk. It’s cold and wet and generally fairly miserable all round, and quite soon you begin to question why on earth you offered to do this at all.

Eddie’s returned to the spot where he’d been hiding under the tarp. He’s cracked open a box of Cheesits, and so you take the chance to wander around the room, looking for anything that looks remotely warm.

“So, y/n,” Eddie pipes up, making you jump. “How’ve you been?”

You suppose the small talk was inevitable, so you indulge him. “Good, I guess. Better than you.”

“Ooh, scathing,” he gloats, with a dramatic hand clutched to his chest.

“Three goes at senior year doesn’t exactly sound like fun, Munson.”

“I’ll have you know I’m in love with Miss O’Donnell so I will keep failing her class until she falls in love with me too,” he says, and the attempt at a joke gets a genuine laugh out of you. You don’t miss how it makes the corner of his mouth turn up, even in the darkness. “I see you at Trax sometimes, y’know.”

“Oh, yeah? How come I’ve never seen you?” You’re surprised he’s ever noticed you enough to remember where you work.

“Oh, I never have the money for that place.”

You’re unconvinced by his excuse; you’ve got the distinct feeling he’s hiding something. He gives himself away by tripping over his words slightly.

“It’s a secondhand record store, Eddie. And you deal drugs.”

“Mm-hmm, that I do, but I’ve got a precious van to spoil with my riches.”

“Is it the same one as always?”

“Oh, so you remember her, do you?” He’s beaming at you now, clearly humoured by the fact that you remember him.

“Hard to forget a bright green van in the school parking lot.”

He chuckles at this, and you continue moving around, pulling things out that look like they could be soft and not made of plastic.

“This is the only blanket I could find,” Eddie says from behind you.

You turn and look at him and see that he’s pointing to a pile of something on the floor by his feet.

“No jumpers or anything?” Even though you layered up, you dressed for record store cold, not sleeping-in-a-boathouse cold, so you’re in a mini skirt, wool tights and a sweater.

“Nuh-uh. Here, take it,” he says, toeing the pile with his sneaker. You step over to him, across the rotting wood floor, and sit beside him on the tarp. He pulls the blanket up and tries to shake it out, and you reach up and help him so that you can spread it across the both of you before he tries to deny you. It’s thick, and seems to be padded with something, so it’s good enough for now.

He makes more conversation with you, asking about work and life after graduation. You ask about D&D, and you notice way his eyes widen when you keep going. You’re genuinely interested in it and he loves talking about it.

“I read Lord of the Rings when I was a kid, I love shit like that,” you tell him between handfuls of Cheesits, and he thinks you might be some kind of angel. You’re starting to warm to him, too; you no longer think he’s a murderer, at least.

“So you really remember me from school?” he asks you.

“You’re a little difficult to miss, Eddie,” you tell him, smiling. It’s true – he’s so loud, and tall, and his hair’s been long for a while now. He drives that stupid green van and plays metal so loud the whole parking lot hears him coming. And in the cafeteria, he’s never quiet.

“Yeah, but you were cool. Didn’t think cool people really noticed me, unless it’s Jason Carver trying to kick my ass,” he admits, and it makes your heart ache a little. He underestimates himself, firstly, and secondly, who the fuck does Jason Carver think he is?

“I was not cool. I had one friend.”

“Yeah but you’ve always been cool, you know. You were nice to me, and you always dressed pretty well.”

“What does that mean?!” You’re shocked at this confession of his. You try so hard to look like you don’t care that sometimes you think it works too well – you can’t believe that someone’s actually noticed any of this.

“I don’t know, you just always look good!” Under the sparse light of the moon, you watch as Eddie Munson blushes before you.

“Well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, tone half-joking.

“I always thought you were an asshole,” you confess frankly.

“Now what does that mean?!” You look at his shocked expression and can’t help but laugh.

“Seriously?! You used to shout shit at people in the hall, you were always winding someone up. And that time you made Tammy Thompson cry in front of everyone? That was not cool.”

He shuts his mouth at this, and again you see a flush creep up his neck. Except this time it’s combined with a strange look on his face. His mouth’s turned down and his brows are too, like he’s sad.

“I don’t wanna make excuses for that,” he starts, and you give him A Look that says, but you’re going to anyway. He rolls his eyes playfully at you, but returns to his sombre expression, and continues. “I was an asshole, but there were… reasons.”

You don’t say anything, wanting to hear his reasons.

“There was… a lot going on, with my dad and stuff, and I think I took it out on other people. Not fair, I know,” he adds in response to the condescending look on your face. “But also Tammy Thompson nearly made me cry, so-“

“What?!” you say through a loud, barking laugh.

“Her and her friends were dicks. Steve Harrington being one of them,” he grumbles.

“Oh, so that explains the bottle,” you say, laughing at him, a little dramatic. This is fun, you think. You like talking to him.

“What d’you mean?”

“I did really think you were gonna kill him,” you say. “Partly ‘cause I thought you’d just killed Chrissy, but- shit, sorry, fuck. Shit. Sorry.” You realise you’ve brought it up, the fateful elephant in the room. You see his face drop.

“It’s, uh… it’s okay.” He lifts an arm to scratch at the back of his neck, and you wonder if he always does that when he’s anxious.

An awkward, stuffy silence blooms between the two of you and you wish the rotting floorboards would finally give way so that something could free you from this embarrassment. You fiddle with the rings on your fingers in your lap and feel an unbearable prickling warmth up your neck.

“Hey,” you hear Eddie say beside you, voice soft. He shifts where he’s sat so he’s turned to face you, his legs crossed. “It’s fine, seriously. It’s just still all so… fresh.” You feel oddly comforted by his confession of his anxieties, but his face makes your heart ache again. He’s so concerned, clearly traumatised, and it brings something to the boil within you.

“Eddie,” you whisper, too scared to speak any louder. Everything suddenly feels incredibly still and silent and you don’t dare do anything that might startle him.

He looks up at you with those big, round, sad eyes.

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him. You have no idea if it’s true, or if you should be saying it, but that something within makes you.

He laughs an awkward, sarcastic laugh, and says, “I don’t think it is, y/n.” You don’t know what to say to this, but then he says, very earnestly, “thank you, though.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper back.

“You always were so nice to me,” he tells you again.

“I just wasn’t mean to you, Eddie. Your standards aren’t very high.”

“No, I always thought you were nice. Kind.”

That flush comes back into your cheeks; his words give you butterflies. It reminds you of high school, of those fleeting crushes that feel like Armageddon.

He really does look good, if tired. His eyes are red and sunken, his hair’s a matted mess, but he’s very pretty.

He looks like he needs a hug.

You twist around and up onto your knees in a way that feels like your body’s on autopilot. Pushing up off the ground, you wrap your arms around a very unsuspecting Eddie, who freezes in your grasp. You wind them under his arms and across his back and squeeze, squishing your face into the rough collar of his vest. It takes him a moment, but he appears to come to, bringing his arms around you, too. He gives you a grateful squeeze in return and settles his nose into the junction of your neck and your shoulder, and you hear him mumble “thanks,” into your sweater.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that with him. It’s likely no more than a minute or so, but it feels like forever. He smells funny, a concoction of weed, Cheesits, a cologne you can’t place, and the musky smell of the boathouse. It’s a comforting smell nonetheless.

He thinks you smell divine. Perfume, but not too much, washing powder, and weed, too. There’s a warmth there somewhere that smells like home.

You pull back when your knees begin to ache, but his arms don’t let you go too far, so you scoot closer so you can sit back on your heels anyway.

“See? Always so nice,” he says softly.

You look him in the eye as he speaks, and watch as he studies your own face. Before you is a boy, a scared boy, and he’s crying.

“Eddie, are you-“

“I’m okay,” he says through a laugh and tears. Those seem to come in a pair for Eddie, like he can’t take his own emotions seriously enough.

You offer him a frown and brush the wild hair out of his face. He drops his arms from around you as you awkwardly reach up and use the hair tie on your wrist to tie it back.

“Can see you better now,” you say as you finish the final loop.

“How do I look?” he asks lowly with a smirk.

“Lovely,” you say back.

His smirk turns warm and he lifts a hand to your face. You’re not sure exactly what’s happening, but he just tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It’s like a scene in a movie, where you’re rooting for them to just kiss already, except you’re sure that’s not where this is going.

Surely not?

“Can I tell you something?” His eyes are bouncing around your face, your hair, anywhere but where you want them - on yours.

“Sure,” you say, nervous.

He takes a slow breath in through his nose, and then he says, “I had a crush on you when you were at school.”

God, what the fuck?

“What?”

“I had a crush on you. A pretty big one, actually.”

You can’t help but laugh. All those years spent thinking Eddie Munson was an asshole, and all the while he was pining after you. The idea is hilarious.

Even though he’s laughing too, at your silly, stupid laugh, he says, “why are you laughing at me?! That’s like the worst thing you can do right now!”

“I hated you!”

“Yeah, well, I liked you!”

The two of you sit there laughing together, and it feels oddly fun to be sat here with a fugitive in a rotting boathouse, unknowingly on the edge of the end of the world, giggling about high school crushes.

“You’re less of an asshole than I thought,” you admit to him.

“Thank you very much, that makes me feel better,” he says, beaming.

Eddie’s a very hard to read individual, you think. But here, he suddenly seems to be baring all for you, and it’s unusual. You’re not a very approachable person, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“You should come into Trax more often, Eddie.”

“Can I tell you something else?” He’s straight-faced now and you’re giggling, blithely unaware of his racing heart.

“What?”

“I still have a crush on you.”

You stop laughing and stare at him. He’s not laughing, either, his face instead etched with worry.

“What?”

“I avoid Trax because I have a crush on you. You’re always fuckin’ in there, and you’re kinda intimidating.”

You know this is true. Plenty of people have told you before, and even if they hadn’t, Robin, who is notoriously terrible at reading social cues and even worse at listening when infant you told her to go away, was your only friend until you met Steve. It’s not difficult to read the room.

But he’s Eddie. Eddie Munson. If anyone’s intimidating, surely it’s him.

“I-“

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.”

“No, I-“

“Seriously, y/n, it’s fine, I know you-“

You shut him up with a hard, hot kiss to his mouth (kind of – you don’t quite get your aim square-on because he moves a lot when he talks). Just like he did when you hugged him, he freezes, so you move back to sit on your heels again, and say with a smile, “would you shut up for a second?”

The blanket’s around your knees now, forgotten; the heat under your skin from Eddie’s confession is enough to keep you warm.

He stares at you, finally looking you in the eye again, and smiles. It’s a slow, easy smile.

Before you know it, he’s leaning over to you and kissing you back. You snake your arms around his neck and pull him in, but you lose your balance on your aching knees and topple to the side, pulling him with you.

Through laughs and huffs of pain, the two of you stand up and brush yourselves off. You’re incredibly close to each other; his face is right there, and kissing him felt really nice, and you want to do it again so badly. But he moves before you can, hands flying to the sides of your head and pulling you in so close your nose is crushed with his and you can’t really breath. You don’t mind, though, because you’re up on your tiptoes and your hands are on his arms and your lips feel like someone’s shot 8 volts through them.

There are teeth and tongues and your hands move around to grip the front of his tired Hellfire shirt. You slot your legs either side of one of his to get as close as you can, and when the pressure of his knee hits that spot between your thighs, you whine into the kiss.

But then it disappears, and so do his lips, so you grumble and he laughs at you.

“I am not doing this for the first time in here,” he says. “I want to, trust me, but not here.”

You want to argue with him so badly, but you can’t. He’s right; it’s disgusting.

“Here,” he says, lowering himself to sit back down. His hand takes yours and pulls you with him, so you’re straddling him.

“You’re trying to stop me having sex with you by making me sit on your lap?” you ask with a smirk.

“Don’t,” he scolds, and you try to hide the way his authoritative tone makes you whimper. You don’t succeed.

The two of you get a couple hours sleep, but you wake up when the birds do. It’s early, and you’re both groggy, but you braid his hair to pass the time and teach him how to braid yours, and you find a pack of cards on a table by a window, so he teaches you to play Solitaire. And then, an hour or so after the sun comes up, there’s a noise outside.

You’re both on edge, but it’s just Steve, Robin, Dustin and Max with cereal and beer and news, good and bad.

They answer your questions, and don’t pry when you sit right next to Eddie, thighs flush, or when you hold his hand when Dustin tells you that the police are looking for him. And though none of you know what the next days bring, or how much your lives will change, you’re very grateful that you’re not facing it alone.

#eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader

131 notes · View notes