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primaviva · 7 months

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TRUTH OR DARE

PAIRING: ghostface!gwen stacy x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: paranoia and the creeping feeling that someone is watching you have been happening ever since the start of the school year once you got together with your boyfriend, randy robertson. but when he gets murdered and queens starts an uproar over this secret ghost killer, you get a call at night from a stranger in the middle of the night, and they wanna play a game. truth or dare?

NOTES: scream au! violent descriptions (nothing too much just with the use of ghostface it’s expected), reader experiencing comphet, major jealousy and heavy flirting, stalking, obsessive!gwen, nothing too much. nickname “good girl” mentioned once but in a taunting way not no bdsm type way we don’t do that here. HEAVY MAKEOUT. enjoy??

the black cloak and white mask seemed to be everywhere, a constant presence that infiltrated every corner of your world.

it dominated the media— from news broadcasts to social media feeds, newspapers, and even the e!news tabloids. the images from those fateful nights were plastered in front of your eyes repeatedly, each time reopening the wounds and forcing you to relive the heart-wrenching moments.

it all began at a costume party hosted by the notorious playboy, harry osborn, in anticipation of halloween. autumn held a special place in your heart, particularly as it transitioned into the eerie and enchanting season of october. tim burton's movies, with their dark whimsy, were a particular favorite of yours. that's why you convinced your boyfriend, randy, to dress as victor and emily from the corpse bride.

randy was a tall, somewhat dorky guy hailing from a loving african american household. while he had a reputation as an athletic football player, his true passion lay in writing, more specifically the realm of journalism. he seemed like the perfect match for you, and yet, there was an indescribable hesitation lingering in your heart. it wasn't that he wasn't right for you or vice versa, but really a blend of uncertainty and fear. perhaps it stemmed from him being the first guy to actively pursue and ask you out, leaving you unsure of what lay ahead. or maybe you were just grappling with the question of whether he actually fit your ideal type. it was a feeling you couldn’t explain in words.

the corpse bride held a special place in your heart, beyond the fall season. however, it did turn you off how much convincing it took to get randy on board with the idea of matching halloween outfits. after all, it was just a couple's costume. so what was his problem?

the night began on a high note as you arrived at the party with randy. the vibrant lights bathed the room in ever-changing colors. people danced and swayed to the infectious rhythm of the music, while others indulged in halloween-themed snacks and drinks in the corners.

you spotted your friends and decided to join them, breaking away from randy to spend time with his own friends. or so you thought. randy never struck you as the cheating type. with his gentle giant demeanor, he seemed like the perfect match for you— kind, considerate, and driven, basically all the qualities a girl should want in a guy.

but then, everything came crashing down when you caught sight of him in a corner, locked in a passionate kiss with sally avril. at that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl before abruptly hurtling forward.

“what the hell? this whole time you were acting like you wanted to be with me but instead you’re messing around with the bootleg avril lavigne?” you shouted, the words erupting from your lips.

your eyes locked with hers as she stared at you in disbelief. the look you had only intensified as you saw her weakly hide behind him. you didn’t care if you were disrespectful, that was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

randy's gaze was fixed on you, fear and guilt circling within his eyes as you turned to him. “you are the most trifling man i have ever met. if you felt this way, why not end it? but no, you wanna act like a little bitch and make me come dressed with you just to embarrass me. never let me see your face again,” you declared.

angry that a friend of yours who knew he was taken decided to kiss him anyway. angry that your ex boyfriend couldn’t just do the bare minimum out of respect and tell you the truth, instead being sneaky behind your back. angry that you felt embarrassed and like an idiot for even believing something like this would work out.

as tears welled up in your eyes, you turned away, walking off in a haze of hatred. your friends tried to console you, practically begging for you to stay, but you needed to be alone to process the overwhelming pain. seeking solace, you found yourself outside, rain pouring down, mirroring just how you felt. the raindrops traced a path from your head down to the curve of your nose, mingling with the wet fabric of your dress. in that moment, all you desired was to be alone in the dark with your thoughts, away from the prying eyes of friends, and just calm down.

ironic how you were dressed as emily, considering you felt like the other woman.

it was when you were lost in your thoughts that you heard a a piercing scream reverberating through the house, jolting you from your previous assumptions that it was all part of a macabre party activity. your body tensed, and you swiftly turned towards the entrance, witnessing a wave of terrified people streaming out in panic.

driven by curiosity and a growing sense of unease, you stepped forward, determined to unravel the mystery unfolding before you. as you made your way inside, the scene that greeted you was far from anything you could have anticipated.

the grand staircase, once an elegant display of cream-colored opulence, now bore a twisted transformation. its steps were drenched in a vivid, saturated red, creating an otherworldly and macabre sight that churned your stomach. blood cascaded down in a haphazard and unsettling manner, leading your gaze to the source of the horror.

there, at the bottom of the staircase, lay randy, with a broken neck.

his friend, chad, had turned him over, revealing a sight that sent shivers down your spine. it was evident that randy had suffered a fatal blow to his chest, inflicted by a shard of glass or some other jagged object.

initially, you thought it was just a tragic accident, but deep down, you knew better. you had witnessed the fear and confusion etched in randy's eyes while his body laid limp on the floor. it was clear to you that someone or something had ruthlessly taken his life.

the night wore on as the police conducted their investigation, and you found yourself subjected to interviews, polygraphs, and everything else demanded of you to piece together the events that unfolded.

you still don’t know what happened that night. the weight of remorse for randy's tragic fate bears heavily upon your heart, not in the personal sense of romantic love, but in the recognition that no one deserves to meet such a brutal end. the haunting image of his final moments, consumed by fear and confusion, you couldn’t help but feel guilty.

it engulfs you in sleeplessness, much like tonight. the continuous string of events and criminal activities associated with this enigmatic apparition has caused an overwhelming amount of stress, making it impossible for you to find solace and rest during the night.

frustrated, you let out a sigh and forcefully throw off your covers, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. with a gentle unplug from the charger, you notice that it has sufficient battery to allow you to use it comfortably while lying down.

unlocking your phone with your password, you open tiktok, perhaps the least advisable app to open if you intended to sleep. however, acknowledging the chances of you falling asleep anytime soon, you decide to indulge in it anyway.

as you glance at the corner of your phone, you notice the time reads 11:30. you make a promise to yourself to scroll for just a few minutes before attempting to sleep again.

and so, time passes by, more than just a couple of minutes. suddenly, a ringing sound interrupts your tiktok video, and a notification pops up at the top of your screen, automatically muting the video. the incoming call displays as "no caller id," causing you to dismiss it, unwilling to immediately hang up in case it's a scammer testing the validity of your phone number.

returning to your scrolling, the number calls again. it becomes clear that it's an actual person trying to reach you. annoyed, you press the red button, rejecting the call. almost immediately, your phone starts ringing again, persistently calling you.

clicking your tongue in irritation, you sit up in bed and examine the unknown caller id.

why do they keep calling?

"fuck it," you groan, deciding to answer the call. "hello?"

a profound silence ensues, only accompanied by the faint background noise resembling a gentle breeze.

"hello, (y/n)," the voice on the other end utters.

it lacks a natural quality, instead exuding a cold and detached demeanor, yet with a tinge of arrogance.

"how do you know my name? who the hell is this?" you demand, seeking answers.

the fact that this person knows your name, especially at this late hour, immediately sends chills down your spine.

a deep, dark chuckle emanates from the voice before it speaks again. "wanna play a little game?" the voice asks.

you sigh in irritation. "i asked you a question, who are you?"

silence lingers on the other end of the line before the voice breaks it once more. "don't you want to play? it’ll be fun, i promise," the voice adds, its tone dripping with a smirk.

despite your initial inclination to hang up and leave this peculiar individual to their own devices, there was something about them that piqued your curiosity. the voice carried a feminine quality, although it was difficult to discern due to its thick, apathetic tone. beneath the eerie and disconnected facade, there seemed to be a hint of something more in the way they conversed with you. it was as if they genuinely wanted to engage in conversation.

you scoffed, rising from your bed and catching a glimpse of the night sky. "fine, i'll play. what game?"

you could hear the voice on the other end eagerly patting their thigh in excitement. "good girl, i like them feisty. how about a nice game of truth or dare?" the voice suggested, its eagerness palpable.

feeling a hint of nervousness at being referred to as "good girl," you cautiously responded, "truth or dare? okay. what are the rules?" the sinister yet mysterious aura still sent shivers down your spine.

the voice cleared their throat, adopting a more official tone as they explained the rules of the game. "well, you see, the rules are simple. each player chooses either truth or dare. the chosen option determines what the other player does. truth means you'll be asked a question, while dare means you must perform a task." after a brief pause, the voice continued, "the first player is you. which are you going to choose, truth or dare?"

slowly pacing around the room, you pondered your response but ultimately decided to play it safe. "um, truth," you mumbled into the phone.

"okay then, beautiful. what's your favorite color?" the voice inquired.

you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the simplicity of the question.

"what, did i say something funny?" they whispered through the microphone, clearly perplexed.

"no, no. it's just... for a creepy stranger calling me at night, that was the most ordinary question you could have asked," you explained, a few giggles escaping your lips as you spoke.

although you couldn't see it, you could almost imagine the person on the other end of the line smirking. "what do you expect when you receive a creepy call at midnight from a creepy stranger who knows your name and starts a creepy game of truth or dare with you?" they retorted, their sense of humor evident.

you laughed at their wit and couldn't help but feel a sense of strangeness in going along with all of this.

"what do you want?" you asked once more, silently hoping for a genuine answer.

"what i always desire," they stated nonchalantly, causing a shudder to run down your spine as their voice suddenly adopted a tender tone. "you, of course."

"w-what?" you mouthed, barely managing to whisper the words.

you found yourself utterly bewildered by their statement, but before you could dwell on it, the voice swiftly redirected your attention.

"i think i asked you a question. what's your favorite color?"

"it's (f/c). i practically wear it all the time, or at least whenever i have an excuse to. i even buy things in that color," you rambled, attempting to clarify. "but it's not like an obsession or anything."

"i know all about obsession," the voice responded darkly, taking an unsettling turn for a moment. "i bet it looks stunning on you. not that i would know, right?"

a blush crept up your cheeks at the compliments and endearing terms. it had been a while since you had received such attention. yet, even in those instances, it didn't evoke the same spark as it did now. the nervousness it stirred within you felt oddly exhilarating, unlike anything you had experienced from your boyfriend or the other guys at school.

"okay, i guess it's my turn now. so, truth or dare?" you ask the mysterious figure.

they let out a slight chuckle. "truth or dare, huh? i think i'll go with the truth."

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you sense their attempt to put you at ease.

"what's your favorite hobby? or, you know, your favorite thing to do, if you have one," you inquire.

there's a moment of silence on the other end as you patiently await their response. "drumming. i'm a drummer in a band, you know? i've heard girls like the title of being a rockstar's girlfriend," they reply.

you giggle at their comment. "the drummer's girlfriend, huh? isn't it a bit egotistical to call yourself a rockstar?"

"maybe it is, so what?" they retort, followed by a low, raspy chuckle.

another laugh escapes your lips. "that's actually really cool. i've heard that drumming takes a lot of skill and practice. and if you're in a band, then i'm sure you're pretty talented."

"you're... you're really interested in this kind of stuff?" they ask, their tone transitioning from confidence to astonishment. "nice to know a girl like you has good taste. i'm sure you'd love to feel the calluses on my fingertips," they tease.

you can't help but nervously giggle at the stranger's words, a swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"now it's your turn," you remind them.

"well, truth or dare?" the voice asks.

"dare," you reply almost immediately.

you hear them let out a laugh from the other end, presumably in response to your eagerness. "bold, i like it," they comment. "i dare you to spin around in a circle until i say stop."

you tilt your head to the side, slightly perplexed by the dare. "are you serious?"

once again, their laughter fills the line. "come on and give me a show, ballerina."

letting out a sigh, you begin to spin around, unraveling into a fit of giggles. you can't deny that you wonder why they chose this particular dare, out of all the possibilities. but it serves as a distraction, and part of you is content with that.

"and stop," they command, and your feet come to a halt, your head lightly pounding from the spinning.

catching your breath, you resume speaking. "happy?" you ask, lacing your words with sarcasm.

"ecstatic," the ominous voice replies. "thanks for the view. as a former dancer, i'd give you a ten out of ten."

maybe it's the impending headache, but you could have sworn they thanked you for the view. which also means they could see you. but that's not possible, right?

"your turn, hurry up and pop the question," the voice commented, its impatience evident.

running out of questions and feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity, you blurted out, "do... do you like girls?"

silence greeted your question, and you mentally facepalmed at your awkwardness.

"oh," they whispered, seemingly taken aback. "i think you forgot to include the truth or dare part, babe."

your voice caught in your throat, leaving you speechless. you felt like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in fear.

"but i can't help it when i see a pretty girl like you so desperate for a response. i don't just like girls," the voice replied, a small snicker following. "i love them."

heat tingled behind your ears, spreading to your cheeks once more.

"how did you, um, know?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

"i haven't even told you i'm a girl yet, and you're already assuming. i'll take that as a compliment," they mumbled, their tone bordering on mockery. "i just know who i like."

silence fell once again, and you found yourself lost in your thoughts. this inexplicable feeling that washed over you was something you couldn't quite put into words.

"i'll let my curiosity guide me here, but when was the last time you had... intimate relations with someone?" the voice asked, waiting for your answer.

a dry laugh escaped your lips, shattering the silence of your room. "what, my ex-boyfriend? what are you trying to get at?"

"ever thought about having a girlfriend?" the voice asked, its tone now more aggressive and snide, seemingly triggered by the mention of your ex.

the mention of a girlfriend made your mouth go dry. there had always been a certain connection missing from your previous relationships, but you could never quite pinpoint what it was or whether it was something about you or them. the question caught you off guard, but before you could delve into it, the voice steered the conversation back to the game.

"truth or dare?" the ghostly voice asked.

"truth," you replied, this time with hesitance compared to the last.

"okay, truth is... what's your deepest, darkest fantasy? what's something you've always wanted to do?" the voice asks.

"deepest, darkest fantasy? wow, that's kind of corny," you scoffed. "um... it's not really dark, but... i don't know. sometimes i just want to run away and get away from everything. people can be so shitty sometimes, and you reach a point where you just can't deal with it anymore. i think i'm at that point. sorry, that's kind of embarrassing to share with a stranger." you lick your lips as you gather your thoughts. "anyway, truth or dare?"

you can hear the voice chuckle. "i like a woman who speaks her mind. talking to someone about your problems is always nice, especially when they can relate. i think that's a good fantasy, running away from your problems and starting fresh. can't say i haven't ever thought of it," they reply, their tone laced with empathy. "dare, all the way."

it's a little relieving to hear someone who can relate to you, even if they are a creepy stranger.

you come back from your thoughts. "i dare you to tell me your name."

the voice on the other end lets out a laugh as they think about your dare. "oh, alright, if you insist." their tone shifts to sound more flirtatious as they continue. "that's such a boring dare, though." they pause for a moment before speaking again. "my name is... well, you can call me ghostface." ghostface states, their tone a bit more arrogant as they introduce themselves.

"very funny," you scoff, not believing them. there's no way in your mind that you're flirting on the phone with a slasher in queens. "come on, who are you? are you just messing with me at this hour?"

you can hear the voice sounding annoyed by your response, their tone shifting away from flirtatious. "you think i don't have the guts after one conversation? you know what, forget it. i was trying to have some fun with this, but it's clear you don't appreciate it. let's start the game over." the voice pauses for a moment before speaking again. "truth or dare?" they ask, their tone serious now.

"what?" you question, the adrenaline threatening to surge through your veins from how abruptly uncomfortable it got. "truth..."

you can hear the voice sounding eager as you pick truth. "alright then. here's your truth. what are you wearing right now?" the voice asks, their tone sounding flirtatious again.

"my pajamas... why?" you ask, confused and weirded out as your heart begins to pound nervously.

you hear a low chuckle on the other end of the line.

"no reason. it's just hard to make out what you're wearing from here," ghostface taunts nonchalantly, a sinister edge in their voice.

"what the fuck?" you shout out, fear and anger coursing through you.

"well, it's time for the dare. here's your dare," the voice said, pausing for a moment. "i want you to look out your window. take a good look," ghostface spoke, their tone now commanding.

you were too shocked to respond, but you reluctantly moved the curtain aside and peered out the window, surveying the ground below. to your relief, everything appeared normal—nothing out of place or ominous.

"nothing..." you mumbled, your confusion growing.

ghostface chuckled on the other line. "open your window," the voice demanded.

your heart dropped, apprehension seizing you.

"what?" you asked, your confusion intensifying as you focused your gaze on the window.

ghostface's tone became more forceful. "i said, open your window," they commanded, their voice leaving no room for negotiation.

you didn't respond, feeling your breathing quicken over the phone as you grappled with the presence of this mysterious individual. you sensed their frustration as they let out a sigh and licked their lips.

"you know what, how about another round of truth or dare? it's my turn," the voice taunted.

you began to slowly back away towards your bed, your instincts urging you to distance yourself from this unsettling situation.

"truth or dare?" ghostface asked, their tone growing impatient.

but you didn't answer, the scary reality of the moment setting in. fear tightened its grip around your heart.

"truth or dare? don't make me say it again," ghostface insisted.

you remained silent, a mix of fear, defiance, and self-preservation guiding your actions.

"oh, what the hell. no more choices then, (y/n). i dare you to open your windo-" before ghostface could finish their sentence, you abruptly hung up the phone and swiftly pulled the curtain shut, blocking out any further interaction with the mysterious caller.

"(y/n)? c'mon, don't be a party pooper," ghostface said, their tone flirtatious once again as the line went silent. a few seconds later, you heard quiet shuffling behind you, causing your heart to pound with fear.

realizing that you needed to take action, you swiftly grabbed the chair from your desk and dragged it into the hallway outside your room. you closed the door and positioned the chair below the doorknob, creating an obstacle that would make it difficult for someone to open the door, though not impossible.

suddenly, your heart skipped a beat as the sound of glass shattering echoed from inside your room, followed by a loud thud hitting the floor. your adrenaline surged, and before you could react, the door handle began to jiggle violently. you heard the sounds of your belongings being knocked over, accompanied by a loud crashing noise as the entire door shook. the playful tone in ghostface's voice had vanished, replaced by a sinister and threatening tone.

backing away from the door, you clutched your phone tightly, fearing it might break between your trembling palms.

"leave me the fuck alone!" you yelled, your voice filled with desperation. "if you know what's best for you, you'll leave now."

a sinister chuckle came through the door as it shook violently. ghostface sounded excited, his tone now both menacing and playful. "no matter how hard you try to push me away, i'm not going anywhere, babe. so you might as well just... let me in. you don't want me to break this door down. please don't make me."

"i'm not doing a damn thing!" you yelled back, your voice quivering with a mix of anger and fear as you ran downstairs.

frantically reaching for the railing, you rushed down the stairs while simultaneously dialing 911. the operator answered with the familiar "911, what's your emergency?" prompt as you frantically explained your terrifying situation. you provided them with your address and informed them of the intruder's presence in your home.

suddenly, you heard a loud bang. "you know, the police might not get here in time to help you, (y/n)!" ghostface taunted, his words sending a chill down your spine. "who are you going to call for help? your dead boyfriend?"

as the woman on the other end of the line asked if you had a place to hide, time seemed to slow down, reminiscent of that dreadful night at the party. slowly, you turned your gaze upward from the floor below, your eyes fixated on your once-barricaded bedroom door.

"sorry about him, by the way. i tried to talk to him, i really did! didn't go too well," ghostface spoke, his voice laced with a disturbing mix of amusement and regret. "i guess all those muscles didn't help much."

ghostface had broken down the door, and your eyes darted towards the bathroom— the closest room you could hide in— as you shut the door behind you, hoping to buy yourself some time.

"he seemed like a decent guy for you, shame i had to carve him up like a pumpkin. no one really appreciates a good woman anymore. i probably did you a favor, taking the trash out, if you catch my drift," ghostface taunted, his tone oozing with cockiness and a disturbing familiarity with your personal life.

you could hear ghostface getting closer, their footsteps echoing on the wooden floor as they walked down the nearby stairs and stopped outside the door to the room you were hiding in. the sound of their footsteps sent shivers down your spine. "come out... come out... c'mon now. you have until i count to three," ghostface stated, their voice filled with malicious anticipation.

"one... two..."

the constant banging on doors, shaking of doorknobs, and rummaging through cabinets echoed through the house as ghostface searched for you. each sound made your heart skip a beat, and you held your breath, hoping to remain undetected. the heavy thud of ghostface's boots against the floor reverberated through the room before fading away, only to return again as they continued their relentless pursuit. it felt like an endless, torturous game, until suddenly, silence engulfed the house.

"i-i think they're gone," you whispered into the phone, relief tinged with uncertainty evident in your voice as you spoke to the operator.

"is there a nearby exit? anywhere you could run to?" the woman on the other end asked, her voice filled with concern.

you responded with a quiet "yes," knowing that your back door was just around the corner.

quietly, you opened the top cabinet in your bathroom and retrieved a pair of scissors, holding them tightly as a makeshift weapon. you pressed your ear against the bathroom door, straining to hear any signs of ghostface's presence. their footsteps had become distant, as if they had moved to another part of the house. slowly, you pushed the door open, cringing at the subtle creaking it made, and cautiously peeked out. taking a deep breath, you mustered the courage to get up and began walking toward the back door, your eyes fixed on it and the window view it provided. but as you approached, something caught your eye— a reflection.

"three."

you felt a powerful, gloved hand wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you tight against their chest. a scream escaped your lips, swiftly stifled by a hand covering your mouth. desperate to break free, you fought with all your strength, but ghostface's grip was unyielding. the more you wriggled and struck out, the tighter they held you, pressing you closer against them.

summoning courage, you ruthlessly stomped on their foot, causing them to lose their balance. their back collided with the wall, granting you a momentary advantage. seizing the opportunity, you lunged forward, brandishing the scissors, aiming to strike them in the shoulder.

however, just as you were about to make contact, another hand clamped around your wrist, its grip unrelenting. "don't try that with me," a voice hissed. ghostface's grip on your wrists tightened, sending a painful sting coursing through your veins. they forcefully redirected your hand away from them, forcing your arm downward until you had no choice but to surrender. struggling to maintain your hold on the scissors, your resistance faltered.

you released a pained moan as your arm throbbed with tenderness. the ominous figure in the black cloak forcefully pushed you against the counter, causing your hand to involuntarily open upon impact, and your phone slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor.

ghostface retrieved the phone, briefly glancing in your direction before focusing once again on the screen. "she's busy right now," they remarked coldly to the operator before hanging up.

with one hand, ghostface held the side of your tear-streaked face, while the other pressed the cold blade of the knife menacingly against your neck. fear coursed through your veins as you felt the sharp edge against your skin, the chilling reality of the situation sinking in.

"shhh now," ghostface commanded, their voice cutting through the air. their grip tightened, the blade digging dangerously into toward your flesh.

you sniffled, attempting to steady your racing heart. everything felt surreal, as if you had stepped into a distorted reality within the confines of your own home. the anticipation of impending chaos loomed, but the expected eruption never arrived. instead, an eerie silence settled over the scene, intensifying the disorientation.

a loud sob escaped your lips as you clung desperately to the edges of the counter, inadvertently cutting off circulation to your fingers. ghostface's hold tightened as they pulled back on the knife, the sharp blade now threateningly grazing your skin. their other hand covered your mouth, their grip unyielding. "just stay still. you don’t wanna do anything you might regret, right? now, say, 'i understand,'" ghostface uttered.

their gaze took in your terrified state as their grip gradually loosened and demeanor softened. ghostface's gloved hand tenderly wiped away a tear cascading down your flushed cheek.

"i-i understand,” repeating their words as your voice trembled.

their hands forcefully propelled you to the side, slamming you against the wall. through teary, half-lidded eyes, you gazed up at them as their imposing figure loomed over you.

their hand glided to the bottom of the ghostface mask, gripping the edge of the chin, and with a swift motion, they yanked it off and tossed it aside. cascading gracefully down to their shoulders was blonde hair, adorned with pink-dyed tips and one side partially shaved. their skin possessed an ethereal paleness, and their piercing blue eyes held a mysterious allure. a glint from the moonlight reflected off an eyebrow piercing, adding to their enigmatic visage.

and then it hit you. it was gwen stacy, your classmate.

the last person you would ever have expected. a smile played upon her lips, relishing in your bewildered expression. "gwen...?" you managed to utter, your voice barely a whisper. "-the hell?"

reaching into her cloak, gwen retrieved a voice changer box from her chest and raised it to her lips. "hello, (y/n). surprised?" she asked, a sly tilt to her smile.

"w-what..." you tried to speak, but the words eluded you.

"i know this is incredibly confusing and terrifying right now, but i promise i won't harm you," she assured, her thoughts seemingly racing.

gwen's smile grew, taking on a hint of obsession. "i've watched you for so long... you have no idea how much i've longed to be this close to you. you're such a beautiful girl," gwen confessed, her tone simultaneously tender and erratic. her hand still clutched the knife, and she tilted her head, regarding you with a disconcerting smile. the proximity between you two was impossible to ignore.

"please, just... just let me go, and we can forget all of this," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

gwen cocked her head to the side, furrowing her eyebrows. "why forget this? why would i want to forget a moment like this?" her gaze bore down upon you, her once vibrant blue eyes now tainted with a dark ink-like hue, consuming you with an unsettling hunger.

"why are you doing this, gwen?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling and breaking.

gwen shrugged, her shoulders slumping forward as if weakened by the mention of her own name. "fuck, i love the way you say it," she confessed, her tone laced with an unsettling fondness.

drawing closer, gwen closed the distance until your chests were pressed together. in a surprising turn of events, she flung the knife to the far side of the floor, the sound grating against your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"don't you get it?" she stated matter-of-factly. "i like you. you're the kindest girl in school. honest, pretty, genuine. did i mention pretty? every time we talked, whether it was a small conversation in class or when you defended others from dumb gossip, you always showed such kindness. who wouldn't be drawn to a girl like that? that's why i did it."

your heart felt as though it had been submerged in acid. on one hand, her words melted your heart, evoking emotions you had never experienced with any boy before. however, simultaneously, a sense of violation and terror gnawed at you.

"what... what did you do?" you cautiously inquired, your voice faltering.

gwen reached down and intertwined her hands with yours, their grip tightening. "i killed your boyfriend," she confessed.

your head lowered as you shakily swallowed, the weight of her words sinking in.

"he wasn't right for you, (y/n). who cheats on their girlfriend with their own friends and pretends to care about them? you don't deserve that. you deserve so much more. you deserve everything. he never bothered to remember your favorite hobbies, your preferred makeup style, or even how you write the number five. he failed to appreciate everything you've been through or know how to comfort you, to make you feel good, to be a good boyfriend. if i had you, i would never treat you that way. especially after harry's party," she explained, her voice unwavering. "that night, i was dressed as a ghost because it seemed ironic, considering i'm the invisible loser of the school, right? that's when i saw randy with that girl and you running out crying. no one has the right to make you cry like that, especially not quarterback randy. so i went to confront him, told him how messed up it was. he pushed me, called me just another weirdo obsessed with you. maybe he was right, but the way he spoke of you, the words he used? i couldn't let it slide, (y/n). out of anger, i just threw my glass at his chest, i didn’t expect it to kill him. but it did."

your mouth hung open in shock and fear. gwen's grip on your hands tightened as she raised them higher until they rested at the sides of your head. your mind felt as if it were splitting in two, and your vision blurred. the onslaught of overwhelming information threatened to induce nausea, leaving you reeling.

“and god, did it feel so fucking good to kill him. if you told me all i had to do was get into a fight with your sigma male boyfriend who’s best friend's name is literally chad, just to get noticed by you, i would’ve done if in a heartbeat months ago,” she shouted, beginning to pace.

her eyes were wide, and you could tell just by her talking about it she wa reliving the thrill of the moment.

"i... i don't understand," you stammered, desperately trying to free your hands from gwen's grasp. she watched your movements intently, her eyes locked onto yours. "gwen, you fucking killed someone. why would you do that? do you realize the consequences of your actions?"

on one hand, you were furious that she had taken a life, but on the other, a part of you was unnerved by the intensity of the love she professed for you. it was as if, for the first time, someone truly appreciated your mere existence. you despised how drawn you felt to her, despite the circumstances.

"i don't care about him. i did it for you. i killed for you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "what man can say that?"

conflicting emotions tugged at your heart. ultimately, you yearned to surrender control and experience her twisted version of affection.

"no one has ever spoken to me like this, and even when they did, it never felt... like this," you confessed, your voice filled with a mix of fascination and uncertainty. "it feels... exhilarating."

gwen leaned closer, her eyes shining with a spark of light. "really? are you serious?"

your heart fluttered at her smile as she gazed into your soul. what was happening to you?

"this is a feeling i've never experienced before, even in past relationships. i don't know... you make me feel special, seen, and desired," you admitted, your voice laced with confusion. "i don't know what's happening to me right now."

gwen's gaze fixated on you, her once cocky smile softening into an expression of empathy. she broke the connection between your intertwined hands, slowly withdrawing one of her own. bringing her hand to her lips, she lightly bit the tip of her glove and sensually peeled it off, revealing her bare skin.

"i can't believe any of this is real," she muttered, her breath caressing your face. "can i kiss you?"

the question caught you off guard, amidst the whirlwind of emotions and confusion. your mind felt scrambled, making it difficult to think clearly.

"yes," you mumbled, your voice wavering with uncertainty, yet your eyes betraying an eager anticipation.

gwen's eyes lit up at your response. "perfect," she breathed before pressing her lips against yours.

your heart began to race, pounding fiercely within your chest. this was the last place you expected to find yourself, and you couldn't help but feel a jumble of confusion and conflicting emotions. "that’s it— just relax... everything will be fine," gwen whispered, her voice now soothing and strangely comforting, despite the circumstances.

you nodded, tentatively wrapping your arms around her shoulders and drawing her closer to you.

gwen leaned in even closer, her hands now tangling in your hair as her body pressed against yours. as she kissed you, your breath caught in your throat. it felt wrong, like you shouldn't be enjoying it. yet, you couldn't deny the undeniable sensation of pleasure that gwen's soft lips evoked.

a whimper escaped your lips as gwen reluctantly pulled away, expression tinged with sadness from the loss of contact. her eyes held a look of longing and desire as they locked with yours.

"that was even better than i imagined," she whispered, her voice hushed but audible in the close proximity.

"i... i think i liked it too," you managed to reply, your gaze averting to conceal the flustered state you were in.

it was true. in that moment, you were completely captivated by gwen like never before.

"i came all this way just to see your beautiful face," gwen commented, her hand firmly grasping your chin to turn your gaze back towards her.

as your eyes flickered between her piercing gaze and her inviting lips, a smile spread across gwen's face. without hesitation, she pulled you closer and kissed you once more. the taste of her lingered on your lips, tempting you to fully embrace the forbidden situation. you knew it was wrong, and yet... there was an inexplicable allure to gwen's soft kisses that made you reluctant to let go. confusion clouded your mind, even as your body responded to the intoxicating sensations. you found yourself not wanting the kiss to end.

a moan escaped your lips as gwen's wet tongue grazed your bottom lip, igniting a surge of desire. your grip on her shoulders tightened, your fingers clawing at her black cloak.

gwen released a soft moan of her own as her tongue gently explored the depths of your mouth. her hands trailed down your body, her touch growing more suggestive. "(y/n)..." she whispered seductively, her voice laced with desire.

once again, your body seemed to revel in the moment, despite the confusion plaguing your mind. her tongue slipped deeper into your mouth, eliciting a whimper of pleasure. the taste and sensation sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your entire being.

conflicted and seduced, you clung tightly to her cloak, yearning for her lips to remain fused with yours as your heart pounded relentlessly.

gwen continued to kiss you passionately, her tongue exploring the inner recesses of your mouth. her touch grew bolder, and your mind struggled to process the overwhelming sensations. it all felt so wrong, and yet your body responded eagerly to gwen's every move. the kiss felt irresistible, betraying the rationality of your thoughts.

your hands instinctively trailed up from her shoulders to the nape of her neck, lightly pulling at her hair for support. another moan escaped your lips, blending with hers, as gwen positioned her leg between your thighs, creating a tantalizing friction.

gwen's hand firmly gripped the back of your neck, pulling you even closer as her lips devoured yours. the tension and confusion intensified within your mind, but despite it all, the physical pleasure of being so intimately entwined with gwen tantalized your senses. the sensation of her body pressing against yours caused a subtle squirming response. you couldn't deny the pleasure that coursed through you, even as the situation felt inherently wrong.

for a fleeting moment, your lips disconnected, allowing you to lock eyes, but the magnetic pull between you drew you back in. you leaned in, kissing her again with a primal hunger, your hands gripping her in an instinctive and passionate manner.

you found yourself gasping for air, your breaths ragged and desperate as you tried to replenish the oxygen you had forgotten to take in during the prolonged, intense kiss.

gwen pulled back, her head tilted to the side, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips briefly before she wiped it away with her gloved hand, smearing it aside. her messy blonde hair framed her face, and you noticed her chest heaving up and down, mirroring your own heavy breathing.

nervously, she asked, "can... can i take you out on a date?"

a smile spread across your lips, unable to resist the pull of excitement. "i'd like that," you replied almost instantly, catching your breath.

suddenly, the blaring sound of police sirens echoed through the block, their blue and red lights reflecting through your window. it seemed, for once, the police had arrived promptly.

"way to ruin a fun time," gwen scoffed, annoyance evident on her face as she stepped back. "i think it's time for me to go."

despite the interruption, you couldn't help but be captivated by how attractive gwen looked in that moment. her hair was tousled, her lips plump and bright red from your passionate kisses, and her eyes held a smoky allure.

"police, open up!" a voice yelled from outside the door, the knocking growing more forceful.

you glanced over at the door, which shook violently from the pounding, the sound of the sirens threatening to drown out your senses. when you turned your attention back to gwen, she had already retrieved her mask, putting it on over her head and securely fastening it. she removed her glove, then picked up the knife from the floor.

"so, about that date, how about saturday?" she asked, a smile gracing her lips.

you couldn't help but match her mood, the excitement bubbling within you. "yeah, that works," you answered eagerly.

gwen fiddled with the voice box, adjusting it before placing it back into her costume. "i can't wait," ghostface remarked, the iconic voice returning.

before you could respond, she swiftly made her way to the back door, disappearing into the night just as the police burst through your front door.

as the police stormed into your residence, the chaos unfolded. you were momentarily overwhelmed by the commotion, the loud voices, and the flashing lights. the officers quickly apprehended you, their stern commands blending with the cacophony of sirens outside.

moments later, the scene shifted. you found yourself sitting in the back of an ambulance, surrounded by paramedics who were checking you over for any injuries. the blaring sirens had been replaced by a steady hum, providing a strange sense of calm amidst the chaos you had just experienced.

one of the paramedics, a kind-faced woman with a gentle demeanor, asked, "are you feeling alright? can you tell us if anything hurts?"

you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "i... i think i'm okay," you replied, your voice shaky yet relieved. "just a bit shaken up."

the paramedic nodded understandingly, her gloved hands skillfully examining you for any signs of physical harm. after a thorough assessment, she reassured you, "physically, you seem to be alright. however, it's important to take care of yourself emotionally too. if you need someone to talk to, don't hesitate to reach out."

you offered a grateful smile, appreciating her empathy in the midst of the chaotic aftermath. "thank you," you said sincerely. "i'll keep that in mind."

“we already reached out to your guardian so they’ll be here soon, just rest up,” the woman stated before walking off.

as the paramedics finished their assessment and went to speak to the police for whatever further evaluation, your mind wandered back to the unexpected encounter with gwen.

something about this situation felt deeply unsettling. not only was gwen a killer, but her behavior had crossed the boundaries of normalcy into something much darker. the realization of her true nature sent chills down your spine, prompting a wave of revulsion.

however, you couldn't deny the conflicting emotions that had stirred within you during those fifteen minutes with gwen. for the first time in your life, someone has shown you such profound attention and affection, making you feel loved, appreciated, and even worshiped for simply being yourself. it was a heady mix of excitement and nervousness, emotions you had never experienced to this extent with any previous crush.

as you whispered the word "crush" to yourself, a sinking feeling settled in. you couldn't deny that you had allowed yourself to become entangled in a dangerous situation.

deep down, you knew that going through with the date was a sick and misguided decision. it went against your better judgment and morality. the allure of the attention and desire overshadowed your rationality, blinding you from the bright red flags waving in front of your face.

but you are your parents' daughter, so maybe you can fix her.

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. ALL WRITING IS @PRIMAVIVA.

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sambvcks · 2 years

Text

of first, second, third, fourth meetings, e.m. x reader

pairing: eddie munson x fem! reader

summary: The first time we met we hated each other. You didn’t hate me, I hated you. And the second time we met, you didn’t remember me. I did too, I remembered you. The third time we met, we became friends. We were friends for a long time. And then we weren’t. And then we fell in love. – When Harry Met Sally.

warnings: cursing (like a lot), holding not-so lifelong grudges, mention of stage fright, head-cannoning that eddie was kinda a jerk before he was given a proper thump in the head, so divergent from the actual events of season 4 it’s scary, celebration of Christmas (exchanging of gifts).

word count: 5.1k (HUH???)

author’s note: AKA Eddie Munson + RomCom tropes = Perfection. Eddie deserves to be happy. Season 4? Never heard of her. (no fix it fics in this house, we actively pretend it didnt happen)

[ read on ao3 | masterlist | inbox ]

first meeting.

Looking back, it’s so silly to remember the things that seemed so important to the freshman version of yourself. One week, it was some science project that escaped your mind the second it was turned it. The next, it would be the new shoes your mom bought you – off brand and noticeably so. The other girls had real Converse, why did you have to settle for the Payless knockoffs? One particular week, it was talent show try outs.

You had been rehearsing your song day and night, much to your mom’s chagrin. Her overnight shifts only afforded a preciously small window for sleep, something you tried your very best to not disturb (you still did). You had even laid out your best outfit – a hand me down blouse and tweed skirt that you had tailored to fit a little shorter than your mom approved of.

The line of acts auditioning was slowly dwindling, leaving you and a gaggle of boys that looked like they had walked straight off of a Metallica poster to exist solely as every parent’s worst nightmare. They were each absentmindedly fiddling with their instruments, fine tuning and flipping drumsticks as they awaited their turn, contrasting heavily with your noticeably panicked state.

“Do you mind? I think you’re gonna leave a dent in the floor with all your pacing.” Grumbled their leader.

Eddie Munson.

Easily recognizable with his growing hair and the spattering of patches of bands you had never heard of across his jean vest. He was loud. Loud enough that even newly christened Hawkins High School freshmen like you knew his reputation and, more importantly, knew to avoid him if you had a good head on your shoulders. Which you liked to think you did.

Still, who were you to judge, with your barely elevated trailer park aesthetic, homemade lunches, and hair you cut yourself? Benefit of the doubt, you decided. Maybe Eddie Munson wasn’t the devil-worshipping cultist he had garnered the reputation of. Maybe he was just misunderstood, an outcast but a good guy.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, steadying yourself against a wall and hoping beyond hope that he would leave it at that. You could still feel his eyes, though, skirt across your fidgeting form.

“Nervous?”

As if it wasn’t obvious. Your nails had been chewed to the nub and the skirt you had altered was starting to fray at the edge from your constant fiddling with it.

“No need to be, the people running this thing have no idea what real music sounds like. We’ve tried every year, still no takers.” He gestured back to his group of misfits, who only seemed half interested in the conversation. “But you seem top 40. Let me guess…Madonna? Will they let you sing ‘Like a Virgin’ at a school talent show? We’re playing ‘Rainbow in the Dark’. Ever heard of it?”

This drew the attention of the other boys, who cackled like he had told some life-changing joke.

“I-I-” You tried, but Eddie was quicker.

“Jesus, if you’re this nervous before the audition, imagine you up there! Stage lights on you, no one there to save you. You’d just-” His hands wrapped around his own neck, tongue sticking out and eyes rolling back as he pretended to struggle for breath.

Oh, no. Eddie Munson wasn’t a misunderstood good guy. He was an asshole.

Before you could come up with some half-assed retort, the gym door was swinging open. The person ahead of you, Tammy Thompson, was walking out with her head held high. No doubt the teachers they had roped into running the talent show this year had given some sort of standing ovation and maybe even got down on their knees in praise. If they were feeling particularly frisky. Your name was called and you were ushered in so quickly your head spun.

“Good luck.” A teasing voice followed behind you.

You totally choked. Haunted by Eddie fucking Munson and the echoes of his band’s laughter, you were barely able to get two lines out without the air hitching in your lungs. The tears came next as you high tailed out of there without an explanation.

Munson and his friends were still loitering around, awaiting their turn. You wondered, briefly, if they were forced to the end of the auditions in hopes that they would just give up and spare everyone the trouble. You marched past them, eyes stinging and lip quivering as you spat out a single “fuck you” in their general direction.

When the list of acts was pinned to the bulletin board the next morning, you weren’t too surprised to not see your name amongst the ranks.

You did feel a little more than satisfied when Corroded Coffin wasn’t, either.

Within a week, the whole ordeal was forgotten with the announcement of a five page English paper on foreshadowing in Romeo and Juliet. Eddie Munson and his band of freaks were out of your mind, too. High school was funny like that.

second meeting.

Taking up an after-school job on top of your weekend babysitting/tutoring duties was a no brainer. The bills on your kitchen table continued to pile up and your mom’s hours kept getting cut shorter and shorter. She hadn’t explicitly asked you, but as soon as you turned sixteen you applied at the music store on Main Street without debate.

The owner, a lonely old man named Bill, had made plenty of conversation with you whenever you went in to rifle through the discount record section in the past. You had a pension for finding the diamond in the rough, the no name artists that were subjected to the back of the crates, something Bill respected about you. Even with zero experience, he happily hired you on the spot.

So, after band practice you would work a quick five-hour shift and zoom home to pour over homework until you made a half-assed midnight dinner before your mom had to leave for her night shift.

It wasn’t all bad. The bags accumulating under your eyes were minimized when Bill sold you his old, beat-up Volkswagen for a week’s pay. Way under value – even for the gas guzzling, unreliable hunk of junk, but Bill was something like the grandfather you never had. At least, you were the granddaughter he never had.

You were independent, no matter now little sleep you really got. And you got to chat all day about your one true love – music. You weren’t all top 40. You assisted old ladies in picking out records for their grandkids, helped couples looking for a copy of their favorite song, introduced new artists to unlikely fans.

Then, on an ordinary Tuesday, in he came.

Eddie Munson.

His car was almost as loud and worthy of the junkyard as yours was, so it was difficult to miss his impending arrival.

You hadn’t really thought about him since Freshman year, two years prior, willing yourself to forget one of your most embarrassing memories. It seemed it was just as easy for Eddie to forget, as he paraded in with an easy smile and a casual greeting. He perused the shelves for a few minutes, oblivious to the bubbling rage in your gut, which manifested as the harshest glare you could manage.

“Hey, uh-” He glanced down at your name badge, “Sorry to bother. You guys got the new Metallica yet? This is, like, the fourth place I’ve been to.”

His smile was almost charming. He was certainly easier to look at now, even with his still unruly hair and fading jean vest. So similar to that day three years ago that you almost felt fourteen again, shrinking under his unwavering stare. It was something you refused to admit even to yourself, how he never shrunk under pressure. He took the absolute vitriol spewed at him daily and dished it back just as easily. He had grown into his gangly limbs, jaw more defined and the hint of a tattoo peeking from under the collar of his shirt. If you hadn’t sworn to hate his living guts until the day one of you was put six feet under, you might even call him attractive.

But you weren’t fourteen anymore, and you certainly weren’t letting him get the last laugh this time.

“Sure, follow me.”

“Sweet. While I have you, any recommendations?”

“Broadening your horizons, Munson?”

He seems startled that you know him, as if he wasn’t solely responsible for a week’s worth of tear-stained fits of rest. If anything, he looked a little nervous that you did know him. Like you would turn on your heel and kick the troublemaker out. No Metallica, no service.

“Uh, sort of.” His head tilted as he followed closely behind your determined steps, craning for another glance at your face. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I go to Hawkins. How’s your second senior year treating you, by the way?”

Okay, maybe that was a low blow. But he started it, right? Either way, he seemed unphased by the question.

“Ah. It’s, uh, riveting. Really getting the most out of Mr. William’s Chem class the second time around. Might take it again just for the fun of it.”

You almost laugh, but you won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Here.” You pull the new Metallica from its display, the only copy available. “And my recommendation.” You hand over Rio’s Holy Diver, an album you were sure he had listened to backwards if the hand-stitched t-shirt adorning the back of his vest was any indicator. “It’s all great, but my personal favorite is ‘Rainbow in the Dark’. Ever heard of it?”

You watched, satisfied, as the wires in his brain began to piece this interaction together, firing faster than maybe they ever had before. His jaw fell, eyebrows shooting up beyond his shaggy bangs.

“I do know you! You’re-”

“The girl whose dreams of musical stardom you dashed in a single day. Finally, he remembers!”

“Jesus, it’s been, what? Two years?”

“Try three.” You snatched the cassette back, placing it delicately back on the shelf.

“Wow. You’ve, uh, changed a bit.”

Your nails, once a pristine Ballerina Slipper Pink were now a chipped charcoal black. The blouse and tailored skirt he had seen you in before was now replaced by a slightly too big ‘Bill’s Music’ t-shirt and jagged black jeans. You had found a bit of grunge and, if Eddie was pressed on the matter, he would admit that it looks good on you.

“Yeah, well. Someone stole away my dreams of fame, so I’ve fallen into a life of crime and rock and roll.” You maneuvered back to the register, hoping to end this interaction as quickly as it had started. If you were quick enough, Eddie Munson would be gone in a cloud of exhaust smoke from his shitty van in the next five minutes.

“I need to tell you, I still feel like an asshole about that.”

Oh. Oh shit. In all your fantasies about finally getting back at Eddie Munson – slashing his tires, stealing that stupid tin lunchbox he always carried around with him, maybe framing him for some crime – never did it include him actually feeling guilty. You had built him up in your mind as some soul-less villain, preying on the misfortunate.

“I talk a big game, but I still think about you running out crying. There’s no excuse, I’m just a natural dick, I guess.” He seemed almost shy, now. Haunted, even. Fingers fiddling with the edge of his coveted cassette. “I’m sorry.”

What were you to do? You could really stretch it out, let him feel that sinking gut feeling of guilt that would maybe match that fear you had felt on that stage three years ago. You could demand a public apology; he had no trouble making a fool out of himself if his lunchtime outburst were any indicator. But your mom had always taught you to be the bigger person.

“No big deal.” Sometimes you hated your mom and how her voice always rings in your head. “Already forgotten.”

His cassette was purchased, but not without him apologizing around another fifty times. He did disappear in a cloud of exhaust, his van puttering down the street and the faint tones of Metallica blasting through his window. His scent lingered, though, cheap cologne and cigarettes. You hated to think that you didn’t really mind it.

third meeting.

It was a little embarrassing, honestly. Cozying up to a group of freshman boys you had saved the world with was not on your senior year bucket list. Yet, you found yourself huddled around a corner table in the cafeteria, trying to map out the ins and outs of high school life to them.

Really, Robin was to blame. Robin - your talkative junior year Italian 3 desk mate - and your inexplicable hobby of linguistics which afforded you a basic understanding of the Russian alphabet were the two main culprits to this turn in your social life. Which then had you bunkered down in the Scoops Ahoy backroom attempting to translate a shady recording with Robin, Dustin, and Steve Harrington of all people.

And, sure, maybe the curly haired little weirdo had endeared you somehow. And you somehow found yourself promising Steve to watch over the kid after summer. Driving him around was the worst part – the gas alone was cleaning out a healthy chunk of your weekly paycheck. But his taste in music? You’d smother him before you allowed another Broadway soundtrack to crackle through your car speakers.

You remember the looks you got when you maneuvered the cafeteria as Dustin, Mike, and Lucas waved you over, the open mouth stares as the kids poured out of your Volkswagen on the first day back from Summer break. But fighting a Russian army and some multi-legged creature from another world created an unexplainable bond between the most unlikely of people and, honestly, would you even speak to any of these people after walking the stage at graduation anyway?

In return for your vast high school knowledge – which teachers to avoid, which bathrooms went unmonitored, which days they really needed to pack a lunch - the kids gave you a crash course on all things D&D, filling lunch periods with shitty cafeteria food and outlandish ideas for your blossoming character. They crafted an intricate narrative worthy of their high esteem for their sudden older-sister figure, picturing an elf, ethereal and full of curiosity and kindness.

You just wanted to smash things, but the boys promised the game went well beyond simple violence.

Then, a voice from a table over.

Eddie Munson.

He’d clocked the boys on the first day of school, looking lost and out of place in the hoard of cliques occupying each table. Then, you ushered them over like Galadriel to the lost, broken Fellowship and offered little pieces of yourself, of kindness and zero judgement. He was impressed, allowing you to seep into the recesses of his mind ever since he saw you rip off the sign some junior varsity football player stuck to Dustin’s back that said, ‘KICK THE FREAK!’. He watched, amazed, as you balled up the paper and chucked it in the general direction of laughter, hitting some linebacker square in the face.

Gone was the tear-stained girl running from the gym.

Recently, Eddie had found solace under gym bleachers during lunch, discussing upcoming band rehearsals and Hellfire Club meetings. But a weekend hangover actually had him craving the sorry excuse for cardboard that the school district called pizza, so they’d made the trek into the jungle of a cafeteria.

And there you were. Prettier than he remembered, but he was a stupid boy these past few years and anything beyond bootleg copies of Dio records and plans for upcoming campaigns did not have space in his mind. He’d scooped Henderson out of the bunch, much to your displeasure, and ushered your group over to his table with the promise of adventure beyond their wildest dreams.

The boys were easy. They were eager for any type of structure, particularly from an experienced Dungeon Master who seemed to have an ego of steel and a tongue of venom. You, with your faded t-shirts and your ‘Dungeons and Dragons for Beginners’ book loaned out from Mike’s vast collection felt like jumping out of a plane without a parachute. When Dustin noticed the distinct tension between his two new leaders, he voiced concern.

“We just go way back. Don’t worry. We’ll play nice.” You offered as explanation, seated as far away from Eddie as the small table could manage.

You kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Daily, you wondered when the teasing quips or the taunts would pick up. After all, Eddie was always eager to voice any amount of displeasure. Often, it was other students or teachers who didn’t know how to do their job. Sometimes it was as simple as the sun shining too bright or his bangs not falling the way he favored. But never you. He never had a single negative word to send your way.

Instead, he was patient. He started teaching you the ins and outs of D&D, offering pointers and directions for your character to take. He told you which weapons were worth your time and even gave insight into upcoming battles he had planned, offering you the slightest edge.

Before long, you were hanging out without the kids – which seemed like an impossible task because at least one of them seemed to always be trailing behind one of you. But when you had a late-night shift at Bill’s or Eddie just felt like bugging you (a near daily occurrence), there he was. He helped stock shelves even though that was your main job description, he played his favorite songs over the store loudspeakers, much to the displeasure of the customers, and he was so fucking nice it was driving you up the wall.

“Hey, just so you know, I got my Tuesday night shift switched for Thursday. In case you felt like dropping in again and driving even more customers away.”

Eddie was stationed at the classical section, flipping through records to laugh at the artists’ powdered wigs and cherub cheeks.

“Oh yeah? Got a hot date?”

Your silence spoke wonders.

“Dear lord. Who?” He demanded. You shrugged, not ready for this conversation. “C’mon, don’t be embarrassed. If it makes you feel any better, nobody is good enough for my best friend.”

A term he had adopted when you first let him use your employee discount and had stuck since. Dustin pretended not to be jealous – and a little curious – the first time Eddie had said it in front of the whole group without a single note of sarcasm.

“So, you might as well just tell me.” He wasn’t really paying attention, deft fingers still flicking through a crate of records. You were perched on the register counter, watching the clock at the seconds ticked by endlessly. Sunday night shifts were rough in a town like Hawkins, where everyone was too tired after a hot church service to spend any of their hard-earned money.

“His name is Jake.”

“Ugh. I hate him already.”

“You only know his name!”

“That’s enough. Imagine being named Jake. Depressing.” Eddie finished one crate and moved on to the next. “Sounds like he sells insurance and cheats on his wife.”

“Jesus. It’s one date. A free, hot meal, at worst.”

“That’s what prostitutes say, babe.”

He was always like this. Argumentative and honestly a little annoying. But he was somehow your favorite person in the world because of and despite those things. Maybe you were those things too, and you flew to each other like moths to a flame. Kindred spirits, of sorts. You didn’t have a retort, so you resorted to throwing a coin at him from the Take-A-Penny, which he easily dodged.

“Fine. But when it turns out he’s trying to get you to join his cult, just say-”

“Sorry, I’m already in Eddie Munson’s?”

“Ha ha. Anyways, word of advice? Don’t do that thing you do.”

“Thing? I have a thing?”

“Oh yeah.” Eddie abandoned his crate, hoisting himself onto the counter next to you. His thigh pressed to yours, his hair brushing your shoulder as he silently offered his hand over. You fiddled with his rings, slipping one from his pointer and shoving it onto your thumb. “Your ordering thing. I find it so adorable and endearing but any normal person would probably just put you out of your misery.”

“Sorry if I like things a certain way.”

“Don’t apologize, babe. I like that about you. But it might not be first-date material, y’know?”

You huffed in annoyance but didn’t disagree.

“And if he’s a douche, I’ll plant some pot in his locker and get him expelled or something.”

Jake was a total douche.

He was nice, sure. At first. Held open doors, pulled out your chair. All the stuff you had seen in movies Robin made you rent to broaden your horizons. When the time for conversation came, though, it felt…off. There wasn’t that easy back and forth, the endearments and nicknames. It was fumbling for topics and finally settling on extra curriculars.

You’d sat through twenty minutes of him chattering on and on about the basketball team and something called man-defense, but he scoffed at the very mention of Dungeons and Dragons.

“Like that Munson guy? My dad said only Satanists play that shit.”

You politely excused yourself to the bathroom and bolted out of the staff exit before he could get another word out.

And when you appeared at Eddie’s front door, dressed up and visibly annoyed, he didn’t even make a comment. You knew the told you so was sitting on the tip of his tongue, so desperate to make an appearance it was nearly painful for him to hold it back. He just ushered you in, mixtape quickly slotted into his speaker system, and Dio’s ‘Rainbow in the Dark’ sounding off as the soundtrack to Eddie’s quiet comfort.

It was almost as if the date hadn’t happened in the first place, that you both knew you would end up here.

“Any deals tonight?” You asked, so accustomed to the knocks that would interrupt your quiet nights in. Eddie would disappear for no longer than a few minutes, leaving you to twiddle your thumbs on his bed until his return.

“Nah. Wanted to keep my schedule wide open for you.” He was sorting through his most recent supply, acting as if that wasn’t the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You had years filled of missed holidays, forgotten birthdays. You didn’t blame your mom for her horrible boss or her proclivity to ignore the calendar. To think Eddie had pushed aside any other plans for when you would come running had something bubbling in your chest.

Eddie knew you would come. You knew you would end up there, like some sort of escape method. An escape back to Eddie Munson.

If only Freshman you could see you now.

fourth meeting.

Christmas was a notoriously solitary holiday for you. Luckily, this year’s holiday season had been filled to the brim with gifts for the kids on Christmas Eve and a little party at Steve’s place so the ‘adults’ could exchange gifts and just be relaxed for a bit – free from high school and work and otherworldly monsters.

Eddie had become such a fixture to your life, so easily attached to you that Steve didn’t even bat an eye when he ushered you both into the living room, eagerly accepting Eddie’s version of a Christmas present (a few joints to hand around). Even Nancy, with her big college plans and life scheduled down to the minute, let loose a bit and took a few overeager puffs followed by long bouts of coughing.

Steve and Robin pitched in for a new set of headphones for you, Nancy eagerly watched you unwrap some ungodly floral wrapping paper to unveil a cassette of some UK indie band she swore up and down you would love, something Jonathan had introduced her to.

You had been saving up for the past few months to get gifts deserving of each of your friends. You had spent endless hours obsessing over JC Penny mailers and gossip magazines that swore they knew the secret to buying the perfect gift during slow shifts at Bill’s.

Robin got a new pair of Converse and a pack of Sharpies so she could doodle to her hearts content. Steve got a new Walkman, since he had leant his old one to Dustin who swore up and down that he had returned it. You had even taken the time to get it engraved – Property of Steve Harrington, not Dustin! Nancy got a new journal for all her editorial notes, though you had filled the first page with a few polaroid’s of the group together.

As Steve, Robin, and Nancy got to work on properly defacing Robin’s new shoes, you felt a little nudge on your foot.

Eddie Munson.

Looking sheepish and nodding towards Steve’s kitchen. You followed behind him, hand patting at your back pocket to make sure his gift was properly secured. At least the other three had the decency to pretend to not be interested in whatever was developing.

“So I, uh, thought a lot about what to get you.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Eds.”

He rolled his eyes – his default facial expression when it came to you - and fished in his pocket for a second. A chain clinked as it dangled from his hand, offering it up for judgement.

“A guitar pick?”

“Not just any guitar pick, babe.” His fingers worked to unhook the latch. “Believe it or not, this is the very guitar pick I used when Corroded Coffin auditioned for that bogus talent show.” He latched the necklace around your neck as delicately as he could, hands lingering as he watched it fall to your collarbone. “The day we first met. The best day of my life.” He finally pulled away; eyes still glued to his guitar pick on your neck. “Y’know, besides the whole making you cry thing.”

“Eds, you absolute sap.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up about it.” He stepped back, and it felt like it was the first breath of air you had taken since walking into the kitchen. “Would’ve given you something worth more, like my soul or something. But you know that thing is long gone.”

“Well, my gifts no better.” You promised, fishing in your own pocket. “Here.”

His eyes scanned over the tickets you offered up.

“No way.”

“Yeah, they’re playing in Fort Wayne next month. We’ll probably die from altitude sickness from how high our seats are.” You shrugged. “But they’ll probably play ‘Rainbow in the Dark’, right?”

Eddie Munson, with his loudmouth and unwavering ability to find any situation hilarious was struggling to form a single coherent thought here. The way you looked with his pick around your neck certainly wasn’t helping either. His vision felt hazy, his ears were ringing in and all he could see was you. You, with your stupid optimism and endless music trivia. You, his best friend.

Was it normal to think about shoving your tongue down your best friend’s throat?

Eddie thought back to the last campaign you had barely concluded before Winter break. You and Dustin carried the party, right down to the wire. You were beaten up, barely ten hit points left between the two of you. Eddie had heavily pushed for a retreat. Orcus was one of the most powerful foes the party had faced to date and the odds were slim. Retreat, he had advised them. Retreat and live to fight another day.

Eddie didn’t think he could live another day without being able to kiss you.

No more retreating.

His hands were back around your neck, fingers curling into the newly placed chain. He didn’t even have time to steady himself before his lips were on yours. Aching, needy, desperate for something beyond best friends. Your tickets fluttered to the floor.

You returned in kind, hands gripping at the lapels of his stupid denim vest, the band patches scattered across the material much more familiar to you, now. Your back was pushed into Steve’s granite countertop painfully. You curled even further into Eddie, mouth eagerly opening for him as one hand traveled down your sternum, side, before settling at your waist.

A finger hooked into a loop in your jeans, pulling your hips flush to his.

You stepped on his sneakers in your eagerness to get closer, as close as you possibly could. He didn’t mind, hand weaving into your hair to tilt your head back, desperate both for a breath of air and a better view of his guitar pick disappearing beneath your blouse.

“How long?” You asked, wondering how many of those solitary nights camped on his bed, how many of those closing shifts spent thumbing through Beethoven’s classics, how many late-night campaigns could have been substituted for more of this.

“The whole time, I think.” He answered, nose nuzzling into the expanse of your neck. “You?”

“The same. I think.”

A boisterous laugh from the next room over burst your little bubble.

You were in Steve Harrington’s kitchen. It was Christmas night. Eddie Munson was sucking a hickey on the column of your throat like he’d drop dead if he didn’t accomplish his mission.

“I love you.” He pulled back, those doe-eyes finding yours. “You know that, right?”

There had been a time where the very thought of Eddie Munson brought tears to your eyes, memories of that botched audition had you seriously considering dabbling in witchcraft and fashioning a voodoo doll in his likeness. Now, it all felt so warm. Like his mixtape that was surely worn down to the bone with how often you flipped that thing, or his bedsheets tangled in your legs as you spent summer evenings watching him strum his acoustic guitar – the only one his uncle would tolerate at that late hour.

“I know. I love you too.”

It felt like meeting him all over again. This was not the Eddie that had made you cry outside the high school gym. You weren’t the girl who put your name on that audition sign-up sheet. You were just two strangers – deeply, desperately, foolishly destined to love each other until your last breath.

What a perfect introduction.

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #sab writes

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starry-mist · 5 months

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S2e12 thoughts:

Buckle up, this might be long…😂

Okay I think I’ve mentioned that I found this show in late 2020, binged seasons 1 and 2 several times just before s3 started, and instantly hopped on the Charah ship. And at that point, having seen this episode, I was 100% convinced these two would be a couple by some point in s3. Because this episode is about as subtle as a brick about them being endgame.

Anyway, flash forward and of course now with the context of further seasons I would say that they 100% were not ready at that point to confront their mutual attraction but oohhhh the number of unpublished post-ep fics from this one that live in my drafts…

Anyway. To the surprise of no one, this is one of my favourite episodes of the season. Good team stuff, heavy on the Charah, and I will forever adore the image of awkward undercover dating Charlie.

I doubt it will ever happen, but I’d love for them to someday revisit that “let fate take over” exchange when Sarah and Charlie talk about meeting the right person.

Also, When Harry Met Sally is basically my favourite movie of all time.

#hudson & rex #charah #charlie hudson x sarah truong

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talldecafcappuccino · 5 months

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5, 14 and 15 🫡 (imagine it’s the Rebecca saluting emoji)

🫡

5. Is there any scene you're excited about writing?

I have one I kind of keep thinking about that involves Ted and Rebecca at a pub but it’s part of a larger fic and I have a feeling if/when I get there I won’t be nearly as excited to write it or the fic will have changed quite a bit 😆 But it’s sort of a quiet scene that I think could be a fun turning point for their relationship in that particular fic.

14. Is there any unwritten/unpublished fics you planned on doing, but now you're feeling like you're gonna scrap those ideas?

I’ve already mentioned one but I went through my WIPs to see what else has been (most likely) abandoned. There are a few! I had one where Ted and Rebecca go on a double date but their dates hit it off (a la When Harry Met Sally), one where Ted finds Rebecca’s vibrator during an away game hotel stay, and another where Ted and Rebecca hook up after biscuit flirting (sort of at the end of season 1 episode 2).

15. Do you have any unwritten scene that you think about a lot?

I answered this one here!

#ask #ohtendril #thank you friend!!!#if anyone was wondering #I finally got my in-n-out

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fictionqween · 2 years

Text

Rainbow in the Dark

Summary: Tessa Dixon never thought that taking her little brother to his guitar lessons would end up changing her life for the better. (Better summary coming soon lol)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (multi-chapter)

Warnings: 18+, Slow burn, eventual SMUT, bad language, drug usage, mentions of self-harm.

IMPORTANT: This takes place a year and a bit before the events of Season 4.

Authors Note: Like my previous post states, I’ve been so out of the loop on writing fanfiction. Literally this ideas has been playing in my head nonstop since Season 4 was released and I was happy to keep it as a daydream until the Duffers did us dirty with that finale. This is my attempt at fixing it in all our brains. Please let me know if there is something I’ve not done right formatting wise, it’s been a while. This is for you Eddie bby. If there is enough interest in the fic I’m sure I’ll do a few one-shots based off the character. I’m nervous to post but here goes!

Please note that I don’t own any characters except the ones I’ve created and this is just for fun. Nobody has permission to republish this work. I may eventually end up putting it on ArchiveofourOwn if there’s enough interest.

_________________________________________________________

Chapter One: Walking on Sunshine

January 3rd, 1985

“Tessa, for the last time, can you please get Harry ready for his lessons?”

The loud, booming voice dominated Steve Perry’s lucious, dulcet vocals, despite how loud they rang from the boombox on my desk. Sighing, I finished tying the shoelaces of my black hightops and snatched my bag from where it rested beside me on the bed, unwillingly killing the music to get ready for the day.

Saturdays were always busy in my household, and had been for as long as I could remember. Dad worked shift work at the fabrication plant just before the outskirts of Hawkins, and mom owned her own beauty salon in town. They spent more time working than they did at home, which left me to step in as a secondary mother figure to my 9 year old brother, Harrison.

Speaking of the devil, a head of black curly hair poked itself around my semi-closed door, a nervous smile ghosting across his thin lips. Emerald green eyes met mine, apprehension swirling in their depths.

“Hey buddy,” I greeted softy, giving him an encouraging smile. “Almost ready to go?”

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered out, gently pushing the door open a bit more to step inside the room.

His lean, tiny figure looked almost miniature beside the guitar case he was carrying, and my heart lurched at the excited yet fearful look on his pale features.

Ever since he was born, I knew Harrison was different. He was soft spoken, timid, and oh so kind. It drove my hardworking, steel toe boot wearing, no nonsense Dad up the fucking wall to have a son so soft around the edges….a Sally, he had called him once during an argument with my mom. In fact, my Dad had never been shy to vocalize what an utter disappointment Harry and I were to him after a few beers under his belt.

I, on the other hand, adored Harrison with every fibre of my being. I was 8 when he was born, and knew the moment I held him in my arms that he needed me to protect him from the world, no matter what it cost. Where my dad saw softness and weakness, I saw beauty and kindness. We were like two sailors, clinging to one another for survival. Most days, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When Harrison had expressed an interest in getting an electric guitar for Christmas, my dad leapt at the chance to fulfill his dreams. It still wasn’t “masculine” enough of a hobby for Dad, who would have preferred him to play softball or football, but it got him away from his books and into something a little bit more acceptable in his eyes.

It was the first and only time I was grateful for something my dad did. To see Harrison’s face light up with joy on Christmas Day when he opened his brand new guitar is a moment I never wanted to forget.

And now here he was just over a week later, standing at the entrance of my bedroom with the most hopeful expression in his eyes, ready to start his very first day of lessons.

“Alright buddy, if you’ve got everything, then let’s do it.”

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stepped forward and easily took the case from my brother, knowing he would struggle with the weight of it. Smiling, he took my hand and the two of us walked down the stairs and out of the house, calling a half-hearted goodbye to our dad on the way.

I could sense Harrison’s nerves, not in the way he spoke (as he was a boy of very few words), but in the way he tousled his dark locks and bounced his thin knee up and down.

“Listen bud, it’s not a big deal, okay? It’s your first lesson and no one is expecting you to be some rock god,” I gave a chuckle, patting his leg in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. “Just go in there and have fun.”

He was quiet for a few moments, bright eyes watching me as I drove our old Mustang into town.

“Will you…will you stay?” he asked quietly, the bouncing in his leg only picking up speed.

“At your lesson?” I asked, quirking a brow but not taking my eyes off the road.

“Y-y-yes,” he stammered out, a habit he was prone to when nervous.

I paused for a moment, mulling that over.

“If it will make you feel better if I did, then yes. I’ll stay.”

He didn’t speak for the rest of the drive, but I could tell that he was grinning widely when he turned his face back to the window.

We pulled into McGill’s Music Store with only a few moments to spare and I ushered Harrison into the store, myself hot on his heels with his guitar in hand.

“Well, well, Ms. Dixon. I haven’t seen you in here since you quit band!” Mr. McGill greeted from behind the counter, a smile on his face at seeing an old customer.

“Hey Mr. McGill,” I replied breathlessly, setting the guitar case down as I came to a stop at the front counter. “Yeah it’s been ages since I’ve picked up a clarinet. But I’m not here for me, I’m here for Harrison.”

My hand fell to my brother’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as he meekly waved at the graying shopkeeper.

“Ah yes, your Mom was in here before Christmas registering him for lessons. It was a guitar she got you for Christmas, if I’m remembering correctly?”

“Y-yes sir,” Harrison responded, making Mr. McGill’s smile soften considerably at the tell-tale sign of his nerves.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Dixon. You’ve got one of the finest guitar coaches that Indiana has to offer. You’ll have so much fun.”

Harrison nodded but didn’t speak again, looking up at me as if he was pleading for relief from this small talk.

“His instructor is already waiting for him in room 2. You’re welcome to stay with him if you want, Tessa,” he informed me, an unspoken agreement passing between us as we locked eyes.

“Thanks Mr. McGill. Will do!”

Hurrying Harrison so as to not to keep his instructor waiting, we headed to the other side of the shop where the classrooms were nestled. Harrison held the door open for me as I lugged his heavy guitar case over the threshold, giving him a warm smile.

Setting the case down in front of me, I looked up and was caught completely off-guard at who was waiting for us. Sitting in one of two foldable chairs…. was Eddie Munson. Long, curly brown hair framed his pale, angular face, and his wide dark brown eyes met mine with a hint of surprise.

He stood awkwardly and quickly, and I noticed he was wearing his trademark Dio vest and Hellfire Club t-shirt. It was rare to see him without it, he lived and breathed his Club. We had only chatted a few times here and there in the time we’d gone to school together, and I’d found him very enigmatic yet funny, and not at all deserving of his title of “Freak”. He was a year older than me and should have graduated last year, but he had flunked Senior Year and there were rumours swirling he was on track to fail again this year.

His aloof attitude toward school and extracurricular activities made it hard for me to grasp that he would be the one teaching Harrison every weekend.

“Tessa Dixon….right?” he pointed at me, silver rings glittering in the bright morning sun that was filtering in through the windows.

“Yeah, that’s right. Hey Eddie,” I said, an awkward smile splaying across my lips. “I had no idea you taught lessons here.”

He gave a little shrug, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Gotta make ends meet, right?”

“Fair enough,” I laughed, clasping Harrison on the shoulder again. “This is my little brother Harrison. He’s the one here for lessons. He just got his guitar for Christmas and he may not look it right now, but he’s super excited.”

Those dark, inquisitive brown orbs turned to take in Harrison’s appearance, and I could have sworn I noticed a softness creep into their swirling depths.

“Hey man,” he said, raising a hand again. “I’m Eddie. I’ll be the one teaching you to shred like hell on that thing. You up for the challenge?”

My heart swelled at the soft tone Eddie’s voice took on, clearly reading Harrison’s body language and sensing his distress. Even so, Harrison still turned to me, looking up at me with anxiety filled eyes. I knew what that look could lead to, and the need to help calm him overtook me.

“Listen, buddy,” I said softly, kneeling down in front of him. “Eddie here can shred with the best of them. When we were in public school, this guy was killing it in our talent shows.”

Gesturing behind me to Eddie, I waited until I saw Harrison peer over my shoulder at him before drawing his attention back to me.

“I would not bring you to lessons with just anybody, okay? Give him a chance, he knows what he’s doing. Okay?”

After a few moments of silence, Harrison finally nodded.

“Alright my dude, let’s do this,” I said with a grin, high-fiving him before standing. “Eddie…do you mind if I stay for the lesson? I promised him I would, he’s just nervous.”

“Uh, no, I don’t mind at all. Here, let me…” he trailed off, snagging up his chair and rushing it over to the side of the room and eccentrically and exaggeratedly gestured that I sit. “M’lady.”

I blushed and thanked him, pulling my bag into my lap. I watched as Harrison got seated, cautiously opening up his guitar case and then Eddie was soon beside him, another chair in hand. Knowing he was in good hands, I pulled my copy of Neuromancer out of my bag and thumbed through the dog-eared pages, finding my place with ease.

I had every intention of reading through the session, but Harrison’s soft laughter, a sound usually reserved for me and only me, floated over to me from where I sat on the sidelines. Glancing up, I watched as Eddie made a soft joke under his breath, evoking yet another peal of soft laughter from my brother. They talked quietly together for a few moments, heads almost together, before Eddie positioned his fingers on the stringers, showing Harrison his first chord of the day.

Witnessing Eddie teach was like watching a fish out of water. I wholeheartedly felt that he didn’t deserve the hate that he received at school from our peers, but there was no denying he was....eccentric. I’d never known him in this capacity, nor had I ever known my brother to take to somebody so easily.

I watched them for a few moments, heavy chords permeating the room loudly, and realized a wide grin was spreading across my face. As if he could feel my stare, Eddie looked up over Harrison’s head and gave me a small twitch of his lips, nodding in my direction.

I nodded back, the grin not leaving my face even as I turned my full attention back to my book. One thing was for sure, there was definitely more to Eddie Munson than what meets the eye.

“You did a wicked job today, buddy,” I heard Eddie praise after the hour lesson was up, a ringed hand clasping Harrison’s shoulder as he started to put away his guitar. “Keep practicing what you learned today, and I’ll see you next Saturday.”

He paused a moment, brown eyes looking in my direction as I stood and started gathering my things as well. “What about you, Dixon?”

“Me?” I asked, raising a brow at his now smiling face.

“Yeah you. See you next week?”

“She’ll be here every week,” Harrison piped up, a smile ghosting his lips.

“Right on. I’ll see you around then.”

“Definitely. Thanks Eddie,” I responded, a light blush creeping up my neck and to my cheeks. “I’ll see you around.”

It wasn’t until we were halfway home that I realized that both Harrison and I were both in an incredible mood despite it being our usually busy Saturday morning.

Chapter 2

#eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader

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literaturewithliz · 1 year

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could i get this for the chronicals of narnia pls? xx and/or harry potter (preferably marauders' era <33)

i'm an enfp and a ravenclaw. my zodiac signs are sagittarius sun, virgo moon and leo rising. i'm 5''3 with auburn curly hair and a petite (i think??) hourglass figure. i have dark bluey/green eyes & freckles all year round<3

i like to dress alt, with maybe a little cottagecore. my go-to outfits are usually things like baggy jeans, tight crop tops & leather jackets. i also like floral dresses & long skirts <3 i have adhd so i can't really wear certain stuff because of sensory issues.

i would describe myself as observant, fun, genuine, intuitive and witty. i'm an introverted extrovert & need a lot of breaks from people. i can be pretty anxious about things most people find ok, but i'd say i'm pretty good at handling those moments. i prefer talking to listening - although i love asking people questions abt themselves & getting to know their dreams. i'd say i'm an idealist but i also have realist aspects & have a pretty sarcastic sense of humour i'm also a massive hopeless romantic and my love language is quality time - and sometimes physical touch.

i like old cities, anything vintage, astrology, reading, spotify playlists, baking, psychology, 90s/2000s romcoms and greek myths. my favourite season is the autumn (although i think my personality has more of a spring vibe) & i love it when it rains. i like 60s-80s music - the beatles, david bowie, Fleetwood mac & a couple of the smiths songs - and my favourite movie is when harry met sally

Oh my god I’m so sorry this took me forever. But thank you so much for the request!

***

Chronicles of Narnia

I match you with Edmund Pevensie!

I saw that you said your sense of humor was sarcastic and that sealed the deal for me. He loves your sarcasm, but his siblings get annoyed sometimes at how you and Ed will attack them with sarcasm just for fun. Other than that, your and extroverted introvert? He can relate. I wouldn’t say he’s an extroverted introvert himself, just an introvert. However, he can relate to the needing alone time part, so he’s really understanding when you wanna be alone. I think his love language would be quality time too. In a setting where you two are comfortable and alone so y’all can just talk. Or in a setting where you two are thrilled on a great adventure. Edmund just loves that he’s with you. You mentioned liking Greek mythology, and Edmund strikes me as the guy who had a Greek mythology phase is middle school. I know middle school isn’t a thing in the UK bit shhh. Other than your similarities, your differences also bring the best in each other, I think. You said your an idealist, and I think Edmund is a pessimist. He helps you see reason, and you help him have more open-minded thoughts. You said your personality is like spring, and I think his is like autumn.

Harry Potter (Marauders era)

I match you with James Potter!

You say that your idealistic and fun, and that describes James very well, I think. Your wit is what draws him to you, I think. He likes someone who bounces off of his sarcasm and jokes really well. I think he’s most definitely an extrovert, so he has trouble understanding how you feel about alone time, but he doesn’t let that stop him from treating your feelings with respect. He wants you to know that you never have to feel bad for requesting alone time. James puts a lot of emphasis on trust in a relationship, so expect to always be asked if everything’s okay or if there’s something you’d like to tell him. Also, he’s a hopeless romantic, just like you. I just know that he is. You talk about having anxiety, and I think that James can’t really relate, but like I said, he values trust. So he wants you to be able to trust that he will do his very best to make sure your calm and comfortable.

I hope you liked the matchup!

#james potter #harry potter #the chronicles of narnia #narnia #edmund pevensie #matchups #harry potter matchup

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terrainofheartfelt · 2 years

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Are there couples like dair that you know of?

Do you mean in real life? Because that’s classified. Also, not really. That kind of insanity only exists in fiction.

Fictionally though…I can think of many. I think that’s why my affection for dair is so enduring, it ticks so many of my ship boxes for me, so let’s dive in, on a tour of liz’s fave romantic ships

Let’s start with the classics.

The original romcom couple: beatrice x benedick of shakespeare’s much ado about nothing. They have everything: eviscerating banter, guy being an absolute simp for his beloved. Nads has written about it before.

And of course, the austenites: Darcy x Lizzie and Knightley x Emma are big ones, and I think there’s definite vibes with Wentworth x Anne too.

the Blueprints are When Harry Met Sally and Summer x Seth (and tbh you could probs throw Holly Golightly and Paul Varjak and Tracy Lord and Mike Connor — I would have picked jimmy stewart tbh. rip to katharine hepburn but I’m different. )

Sidebar: Oh but you know who knows SO much about Philadelphia Story and all romcomedy bc they’ve written academically on the subject? tumblr user scabopolis!—somewhere, mayhaps a fic comment?—they told me that that script was written with the intention of the ending being punitive for the heroine. if hepburn and the writer weren’t combating early 20th century misogyny, would the play and subsequent film come to a different conclusion???

As mentioned here: kate x anthony from bridgerton have a multitude of parallels. absolutely dair coded.

And I mean…I already made this post about the parallels with Japril but REALLY: the different backgrounds—one rich one middle class; workplace romance; adversaries to best friends to lovers; shared trauma through the loss of a child; RUNAWAY BRIDE; mutual pining; backdoor endgame which I know the gg revival will not give me but a girl can dream

Nads and I have discussed at length how dair coded the Emily Henry couples Gus x January & Charlie x Nora are. And Henry’s talked about how inspired all her work is by Nora Ephron, so. Mutual blueprints (Poppy x Alex have a best friends to lovers that is DELICIOUS but the characters themselves aren’t that similar to dan and blair on that level)

Speaking of mutual blueprints, the mindy project’s mindy x danny have a GREAT workplace enemies to lovers arc in the first couple seasons…the second half of the show roughens them up a bit. (and danny castellano is SUCH a different daniel than our girl dan humphrey)

And in the realm of “stop being so mean to me or I swear to god I’m gonna fall in love with you” allow me to talk a bit about one of my favorite ships of all time: luke and mara jade skywalker.

Okay so, in the extended star wars universe; in the novels that were written BEFORE the new trilogy (and before the prequel trilogy in some cases), these published fanfic pulp scifi books introduced this character, mara jade. She was the personal assassin and fixer for the emperor, and when he was killed, she was like “I have to get revenge” so of course she makes it her life mission to destory luke skywalker. And then of course they get thrown into a few impossible situations where they have to team up and she discovers that actually she doesn’t hate him which of course makes her furious, and then after a couple more teamups she realizes she likes him, how horrifying, then after luke convinces mara to train as a jedi in between smuggling deals she realizes she’s in LOVE with him?! while luke has been down bad since the first assassination attempt they are literally those posts that go “she thinks they’re sworn enemies but he is just some guy with a crush on her” and “she stops trying to kill him and honestly he’s a little disappointed. star wars sequels committed many sins but the original one was cutting out my girl mara jade skywalker.

I have discussed at length with S (and even written fic) on the dair-codedness of amy and jonah from superstore.

Speaking of S, she also made me watch Hart of Dixie and whilst the main couple zoe x wade have a chaotic adversarial romance that may speak to dair, the true dair of the show, the couple that came late in the game, but looking back seems like they should have belonged together all this time (I caught Vibes in s2 but that’s neither here nor there): ANNABETH X GEORGE! They have a long history of mutual disinterest/only tolerating each other for the sake of the mutual love of their life, Lemon, and then after a couple heartbreaks and a long winding road, they fall for each other! and Lemon is like the captain of their ship—it’s both Dair and the resolution the blair x serena x dan triangle deserved!

And in terms of childhood love vs the love you grow into have this whole fic verse that expands upon the dair & amy x laurie parallels

#asks #anon #gg meta #dair #much ado about nothing #billy shakes #p & p #emma #persuasion #jane austen #kathony #japril #the mindy project #nothing but respect for my favorite skywalker #hart of dixie

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foundthebliss · 7 months

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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The One Where It All Began

reminisce in our love as i watch 4 seasons change

Audinne Keily

She go by the name Audinne Keily. Au/Audy for short. A legal-aged water sign enchantress, her eyes reflecting the fluidity of her nature. She navigates life like a gentle stream, finding solace in sipping an iced coffee, soft cookies, and fries as her favorite snacks. An introverted woman who enjoys herself doing her hobbies, such as singing, baking, binge—watching movies, series, and sitcoms.

She loves 90–00s rnb/hip–hop masterpiece such as Boyz II Men, Ne–Yo, 50 Cent, Chris brown, Eminem, Rihanna, etc. Her eclectic taste extends to the modern vibes of Daniel Caesar, Laufey, Taylor Swift, NIKI, Harry Styles, also K-pop. With an ear attuned to the nostalgia of old Western songs and the pulsating rhythms of R&B/hip-hop, she paints a musical landscape effortlessly.

She's indeed a die–hard fan of Friends, Gossip Girl, B99, Victorious, Grey's Anatomy and any romcom movies such as What Dreams May Come, Notting Hill, When Harry Met Sally, While You Were Sleeping, etc.

Before You Follow,

Please be aware that my account revolves around my daily life, and I frequently share updates about it. If you're comfortable with this content, feel free to follow. However, I want to mention that I don't tolerate homophobia, mocking others' favorites, or problematic behavior. If you align with these values, I'd appreciate your follow. If not, I kindly suggest reconsidering before following. Thank you! ♡

If you have any question or you just wanna be listened, feel free to hit me up on DM or my Retrospring. I would love to have a listen. ♡

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gleekto · 4 years

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Full Fic: Even Better Than the Real Thing

Words: 18,295 (how did that happen?)

Full fic now on AO3

Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA, and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Even Better than the Real Thing (13/13)

They decide to tell Rachel first. Aside from being the obvious choice, she would be a nightmare if she ever found out she was second shrift to anyone in Kurt’s life. He would definitely not be able to handle her moping around the apartment wondering if he even really considered her a friend in the first place - last week he finishes her oat milk, this week, he’s dating her co-star and she’s the last to know. Of course, in this scenario he never had any of her oat milk, and she wouldn’t be the last to know, but regardless, not telling her first certainly wouldn’t be worth the headache.

“So you think we should just let her walk in on us?” They’re still lying half naked in Kurt’s bed hours after their “reunion”, Blaine lying on his front, Kurt on his back, with Blaine’s butt as his pillow. “I mean she should be home in what - 20 minutes?”

“Oh shit,” Kurt looks at his watch. “More like 10. And I think my breakfast dishes are still sitting on the table.”

They scramble to put on clothes, quickly make Kurt’s bed, and Kurt amusedly watches Blaine try to figure out how to arrange his throw pillows, while he finishes cleaning up his dishes. By the time Rachel waltzes in the front door, they’re sitting across from each other at the kitchen island, each with a cup of hot lemon tea, and trying to look casual.

“Hi Kurt. I have had the busiest day. Let me tell you I’m completely exhausted-” Rachel finally looks up and sees them. “Blaine?” Kurt can feel Rachel trying to come up with a way to phrase her obvious question.

“Hey Rachel,” Blaine smirks, amused, but doesn’t offer any explanation. Kurt kicks him under the table. “Ow.”

“So you’re um-” Rachel purses her lips. “Both feeling better now, I take it?”

“Much better,” Blaine smirks again.

“Okay yes,” Kurt huffs. “We are feeling better and we are,” Kurt motions between Blaine and himself. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Rachel claps her hands excitedly. “This is so great - can you imagine the PR headlines for the show?” Kurt glares at her and she stops. At least for the moment. “I mean, I’m very happy for you. So anyways. You have my blessing.” Kurt laughs out loud.

“Thank you?” Blaine looks at her suspiciously.

“Well, Kurt is my best friend and I do have inside knowledge that you are a good kisser.” Now Blaine laughs out loud. “So may you be blessed with all that goodness.”

“Oh I will be,” Kurt says and Rachel at least looks slightly embarrassed. So he’ll take it as a win.

...

The fun part is telling Mercedes - it’s always so satisfying to have her approval. They FaceTime her.

“You look better,” She notices right away.

“I am,” Kurt beams, Blaine standing behind the computer out of her view. “We talked and-”

“And?” Her eyes go wide.

“And, yeah,” Kurt shakes his head still in a bit of disbelief. We’re seeing what happens.” She squeals in the best way. “And actually,” Kurt smiles even wider, “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.” Kurt’s favourite part is watching Mercedes’ jaw drop as Blaine saunters into the frame.

“Hey Mercedes,” He smiles his warm smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And you, Mr. Blaine Anderson.” Mercedes smiles reflexively shaking her head back and forth. “I am just - wow. Hello.” Kurt remembers being starstruck. It feels like a long time ago.

“No need to be so formal,” Blaine dismisses. “Kurt just calls me Mr. Anderson.”

“You wish,” Kurt elbows him in the side.

“And he even has a sense of humour,” Mercedes is still smiling dumbly.

“Well, maybe next time we’re alone,” Blaine whispers so only Kurt can hear and he gets elbowed even harder, Kurt trying to remain casual.

“So we do need to ask you not to mention this - or any of our future hang outs - on your blog,” Kurt adds, half in jest all in earnest.

Mercedes nods but Blaine chimes in, “Though if you did say that you had a friend who met me, and that I do have a much better sense of style than Colin Red, I would appreciate it.”

“You did get yourself a comedian, Kurt.”

“My style is better,” Blaine huffs.

“And you can mention that ‘your friend’ said the guy Blaine was with was at least a 9/10,” Kurt says.

“You mean a 10?”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Mercedes nods at Kurt, impressed.

“You think I would date a 9? Please. It will all be confirmed when I talk to my publicist, anyways,” Blaine says nonchalantly.

“Your publicist?” Mercedes and Kurt repeat at the same time. Mercedes in shock, Kurt curious.

“Just give me five minutes.”

...

Who is the pretty face having coffee with Sing!’s favorite heartthrob? You asked and JustJay has the answers. His name is Kurt Hummel and we have got the SCOOP!

Kurt laughs as he clicks on the link the next morning. Blaine had spoken to his publicist for a total of five minutes and said a sum total of seven words. Kurt Hummel...Dating...19...LAADA...Rachel’s roommate.

Sorry to any of the hopeful fans out there. Blaine Anderson of Sing! and That’s So Rachel fame, officially confirmed that he is off the market. At least for now. He is dating Kurt Hummel - and he’s his co-star’s roommate. Awkward!

But good luck to the happy new couple!

And that’s it. Kurt Hummel is dating Blaine Anderson. And some of the more ‘high end’ entertainment bloggers note that Blaine requests privacy about his personal life at this time. At least that way they can decline couple selfies when a fan sees them out to eat.

...

Kurt isn’t able to see Blaine again until the weekend, thanks to a lengthy location shoot. He has the week to catch up on his school work, only being mildly distracted by Blaine’s flirty texts - He laughs out loud to his empty apartment when a pic of Blaine shirtless in his trailer, with the top of his boxers showing above his jeans, pops up.

Blaine: Finally gets to see me shirtless whenever he wants.

What an ego.

Kurt: Definitely not as often as I want.

Kurt is pretty sure that’s what makes Blaine come right back to Kurt’s apartment with Rachel that Friday, rather than at least dropping his bag off at home first. “First weeks of dating are always the hardest,” Blaine says as he shuts Kurt’s bedroom door and pulls Kurt on top of him and kisses him long and slow.

Kurt pulls back. “The hardest?”

“Mmmm,” Blaine mouths along his neck. “Very hard not to want to be naked all the time.” Kurt can’t really argue with that. Despite his sense of romance, he definitely does not want to go out right now.

It doesn’t take them very long to shed their clothes and crawl into Kurt’s bed to wrap around each other. Then it slows down as if in slow motion. The last time they were together was desperate - Kurt was surprised and nervous and unsure of what was happening. Now he’s calm (in a horny sort of way) and he lets Blaine wrap around him as Blaine explores his body - the sensitive spot two inches under his armpit, the strip below his belly, even his balls which Blaine cups in his hands. He moans in appreciation and Blaine likes it. He likes it too.

He lets Blaine finger him open that night while Blaine gives him a blowjob and it doesn’t even feel like a thing. Kurt is on his back and Blaine is sinking up and down on him, wet and slow, slurping in a sort of grotesque satisfaction. Kurt lifts his knees up to see what might happen andBlaine pops off momentarily and stares at Kurt’s open legs, then stares at his eyes as he grabs the lube. When Kurt nods, Blaine sinks back down and touches him so effortlessly that Kurt forgets to be nervous. Light presses turn to one finger, then two. In and out. So many sensations and then he’s coming in Blaine’s mouth.

There is just something very easy about being with Blaine Anderson.

...

Rachel is the one who convinces them to do the interview.

They’ve been dating uneventfully for half a year when That’s So Rachel gets renewed for a second season. Other than the occasional photo request or silly headline - Blaine Anderson buys some strawberries while out for a walk with his beau - Kurt feels like he’s having a pretty regular first relationship. They spend several nights a week together, but not every night, they see plays, bake cookies, hang out, have spectacular sex thanks to Blaine’s well honed skills (It’s not my skills, it’s you, Blaine says over and over but Kurt still thinks he’s indulging him). Tumblr seems like a distant memory though Mercedes tells him there is an active RPF fandom writing fics about them - Klaine, she says. What on earth is a klaine? And he’s still acing all his classes.

Then one day the request comes from good old JustJay, and Rachel is all in.

“It will be such great publicity for our new season,” Rachel insists. “The true love behind the show. Come on, you know it will be fun.”

Kurt definitely does not know that. Neither does Blaine. But they give in mostly because Rachel is pure enthusiasm and what really is the harm? So they find themselves sitting on a little couch in JustJay’s small rented studio, arms crossed on their laps like the little old couples in When Harry Met Sally.

“It’s true. He was a fan,” Blaine confirms. “Of my first TV show, Sing!”

“That’s his false modesty talking. I was a fan of Sing! But mostly, I was a fan of Blaine Anderson - young, out, gay. Not bad looking,” Kurt teases. “But I was Rachel’s friend and roommate long before I knew anything about them working together.”

“It was serendipity,” Blaine squeezes his hand and the camera pans in. Kurt can just imagine the fics that will come out of this.

“It was random luck.”

Blaine continues, “We have a lot in common - growing up gay in Ohio, love of musical theatre. We even both sang in show choirs. I’d never date a fan, though.”

“But,” Kurt continues his sentence. “When we met through Rachel, I was too embarrassed to admit I knew who he was. I was just trying to get through a five minute awkward conversation with my celebrity crush without making a fool of myself.”

“But I wouldn’t let him go.”

“He wouldn’t let me go.”

And the rest is history.

#ahhh it's done!#I will reblog with AO3 link once I post there #full fic here we go #even better than the real thing #gleekto writes

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showyoumyfavoriteobsession · 3 years

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i kind of agree with u on wanting rebecca to be texting a stranger (ted is 100% a red herring) but idk why but i feel like it could be sam, as weird as that would be. he is definitely closer to rebecca than the other players for whatever reason and i could see him writing those texts and i remember a non-spoiler review mentioning that rebecca makes some questionable dating decisions ... idk the power dynamic would be too weird. but the fact that they made ted a red herring at all kind of indicated that maybe later down the line (season 3 possibly) ted and rebecca might eventually end up getting together bc i dont see rebecca being endgame w whoever she is talking with. sorry for the super long message haha im just kind of brain dumping

Yeah, I totally agree that if it's a red herring, it definitely points to Ted/Rebecca being endgame. (I know there’s some debate, and honestly I would also be happy if they just remained friends forever, but I think Ted/Rebecca endgame is pretty clearly what the writers are aiming for.) My little hopeless-romantic heart still thinks there's a chance she could actually be talking to Ted straight off, but it definitely wouldn't be that simple - maybe they would agree to meet and then it would get awkward, maybe they would do the When Harry Met Sally thing and agree to be friends, date other people, get some therapy, think about their feelings... I think it could work, but I agree it seems unlikely.

Sam does seem to fit the profile best of everyone we've met, but I think both of them would be smart enough to realize that the power dynamic is a Big Problem very quickly once their identities are revealed. I really can't imagine them actually dating for any amount of time - even if Rebecca is inclined to make bad decisions, I think Sam's way too moral and level-headed to not call it off, which feels more like a one-episode plot than a half-season arc. Anything could happen though! If you have a link for that review, I'd love to see it - not questioning your sources, just curious to read it!

#ask #anon #thanks friend!#i can't remember the last time i theorized about a show that was still airing lol #but this show man....... it's got me good #as you can see im in brain dump mode as well #j rambles #ted lasso

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anxiouspotatorants · 3 years

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It's actually funny that you mentioned "when Harry Met Sally" in your tags because I do agree with the ridiculous notion of men not being able to be friends with women as a very inaccurate one, but at the same time people really need to let go of the whole "and this is why Harry and Sally never should've gotten together!!" like.....it's a romcom. You can disagree with the overall message and still enjoy the layered relationship they do have with one another because the message people think the movie tries to give out actually doesn't go well with the actual story? Because Sally and Harry do become friends before deciding to get together. So the idea of "men and women aren't able to stay friends" is innacurate, but the whole "men and women can't be friends" one is more or less disproven by the movie itself. Sally and Harry are friends who realize they want to be together as a result of that friendship. The message is badly put, but the movie isn't that bad (I went off a tangent here for something completely unrelated and I'm sorry). But aside from that YES over the whole "Marty should've been gay because apparently this is the only way we could've gotten him being friends with Rory" like listen I get that it's an early 00s WB show but......teen shows where straight guys were friends with other girls was a thing back then, too. It's not something that only recently came up as an option in them, not every teen show had random love quadruplets

For the Marty point: agreed! And for When Harry Met Sally:

I actually love that film and do root for the two to get together! I get their chemistry and relationship and why they get together in the end. My only problem is with the marketing and takeaway that many took from it: that the film was supposed to be this thesis statement on whether or not sexually and romantically available men and women can be friends. I call it the «When Harry Met Sally-mentality» because I feel like it’s the film that popularized/concretized this notion, at least for modern times. That being said I certainly don’t mind friends-to-lovers stories (I actually love quite a few of them, including this one). It’s rather the idea that we can’t be friends across genders because «sex will get in the way» that bothers me.

So to circle back to GG, I think what I would have loved to see is Rory having friendships with men that proved to her that they found value in her outside of her romantic and sexual availability. The closest we really got was Brad Langford (underrated icon), but I wanted later seasons to take it a step further than his interactions with Rory.

#I don’t hate WHMS I swear 😂#it’s a great film and Carrie Fischer is amazing in it #also can we talk about Brad Langford what an underrated character #gilmore girls

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beneaththetangles · 4 years

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Oregairu Season 3 (My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU CLIMAX), Episode 11: A Genuine Confession

“Allow me the privilege of distorting your life.”

Only Hikki would make his love confession in such a way. But isn’t that just like him in the end? It’s as authentic as it is awkward, honest as it is strange, and precisely the proper way for him to end the first journey he was on and properly begin the second, longer, more significant journey into the rest of his life, which, by the way, is what Yukinon references in her “clearer,” better confession in return.

Yes, we finally got there. Through our Instagram account, I’ve realized how invested people are in the romantic aspect of Oregairu. This has been the moment that they’ve waited for—and I admit, I’ve been waiting on the bridge scene as well. But for me, that scene was about more then the confession (as good as it was)—it’s the last step of an adventure for both Hikki and Yukinon (and Yui, too, in a way), toward understanding themselves better and learning what it means to be genuine.

Way back five years ago now in season two, through tears in his eyes, Hikki told Yui and Yukino he wanted something genuine. But you can’t have authenticity just like that. It’s scary and awkward at first, because the self you show to other people must be pulled away, like a magic trick, to reveal the real person underneath. That real person is not the same as the image portrayed; it’s awkward for Hikki to throw off the chains of being a smart recluse and admit both his foibles and his “desire.” And Yukinon fears putting aside her perfect self to admit her insecurities, including a fear of depending on someone else and dragging that person down with her.

We’ve all been teenagers, so we get how hard to it is to be genuine (especially during those years when we’re not quite sure who we really are). And we’ve all engaged in relationships, whether it be just friendships or romantic ones as well. Both types usually develop over a long stretch of time, but for Hikki, Yukinon, and Yui, they don’t have all the time in the world. There’s a self-set deadline—the end of prom—that will mark the closure of their special relationship. A year or less just isn’t enough for this group, especially for Yukinon and Hikki, to go from being unaware of each other (and then even actively disliking one another) to breaking through all their pain in order to develop a deeper, lasting relationship. It’s just too much to expect for these two, and Hikki admits that he has to take the leap now, because he knows that their ties will disappear because of his own weakness and hers. He has to confess to her if we wants that something authentic.

AND HE FINALLY DID IT.

Of course, he takes a roundabout way to do so—he continues with the dummy prom, which now seems set to happen. I have to admit, this part confused me when reading the light novel, and it confuses me now: Did he have to do this so that he could tell Yukinon he loves her? Was this his weird, grand setup to let her know that he would like to continue distorting her life? Or was it to just show Yukinon that they can help one another, and also that her family has begun to trust her in her growth?

I don’t know, but the development shocks all parties involved, including Iroha, who scares the team of nerds with how forthright she is.

And Yui? Well, she cries one more time. But the tone now seems to be of acceptance—not fear, not holding on, not resignation. She’s moving forward, as much as it hurts.

And so are Hikki and Yukinon. The latter has received little screen time this season, but in episode 11 is finally front and center. I admit, I got teary-eyed and a huge grin appeared on my face as she started explaining all her faults, while Hikki calmly accepted them (this is sooo When Harry Met Sally: “I’m difficult.” “You’re challenging.” “I’m too structured. I’m completely closed off.” “But in a good way.”).

And then Yukinon, who for all of the focus in the series on Hikki, is the one that’s furthest from being able to become authentic person she wants to be, pursues him, grabbing on to him, and then giving her beautiful confession.

The upper subtitle are the lyrics to the song playing in the background. Getting some Love Hina feels here…

At the beginning of the episode, Hiratsuka-sensei explains how complex emotions are, how they can’t be conveyed in a simple word. And yet, she does just that when she explains to Hikki that despite his many, many faults, she loves him.

For Yukino and Hikki, it’s the same: Their feelings are complex, their issues deep, and their words scattered—and thus, words (and especially one word, as Yui mentions) aren’t enough. They have to do. And in this case, that doing meant becoming genuine; it meant being brave and showing their hearts to one another. For love is more than just a word, as our trio discovers. Love is action.

And ultimately, if the action of becoming vulnerable and showing your true self isn’t love—then I don’t know what is.

EPISODE NOTES

Yui’s wish is to have it all. Sigh. Her ending isn’t happy now, but she gets a happy ending ultimately, I believe—she’s growing up, and she’ll be ready when the next Hikki comes along.

Yui crying to mom is the kind of relationship I’m sure most daughters want to have with their mothers. Gahama-good-mama!

MVP of the episode: Yukinon. She finally did it and opened up “clearly” and fully.

I love how Hiratsuka’s speech to Hikki was foreshadowing of the confession scene. She explained to Hikki that despite knowing you, and because of knowing you, I love you; and Hikki says the same to Yukinon.

MAXIS COFFEE gets some excellent screentime to make up for a couple of lost episodes!

Ending with the song toward the end of the love scene and moving into a credit-only closing was NICE.

And we come full circle with the title of the last episode and Hikki reading his opening assignment over the episode preview. Sniff sniff.

=====

Oregairu can be streamed through Crunchyroll.

#Anime #Oregairu #Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Comedy wa Machigatteiru.#Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Come wa Machigatteiru.#My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU #My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong as I Expected #Articles #Author: TWWK

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for-emilia · 4 years

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Lap Of Honour.

Tottenham Hotspur Stadium had become a second home to her, as much as she hated to admit it. Spending time every week at the stadium, in the stands, in a box, waiting in the tunnel, has made her grow more fond of the opposition’s stadium than she ever expected. She couldn’t deny it was a gorgeous stadium but there was something special falling more and more in love with the man on the pitch as the fans scream his name, doing what he loves most in the world.

They’d met near the start of the new campaign meaning Emilia had seen it all; the wins, the losses, the mistakes, the goals. She’d been by his side for the majority of the season so it was only right she was there to support him on the final day. The final whistle blew signifying the end of the premier league season and the crowd burst into applause. They didn’t care that the trophy was further up the country in Manchester or that they’d go another season without silverware, the spirit of the club and the love for their team kept them going.

Dele took his first glance around the stadium, sweating and out of breath from making the final run of the game, before glancing up to where she was sat, always in the same place. He tilted his head towards the tunnel, asking silently from across the pitch if she was coming to meet him as if it was the first match she was at all over again. With a scrunch of her nose and a sarcastic shake ‘no’, he rolled his eyes and disappeared out of her vision. She looked around her seeing all of the other wags and children making their way out of the stand and followed on. Chatting away to Lowri, Winks’ girlfriend, they observe all of the excitable children waiting to get out on the pitch and see the stadium from their hero’s perspective.

“Harry can’t wait to join the dark side and have kids, I dunno if I can cope quite yet,” Lowri giggled as they made their way past someone’s child crying to be carried. “I think Del is the same, keep having to remind myself we’ve been together less than a year,” Emilia laughed back trying not to think too hard about the times she’d spent underneath her boyfriend with comments whispered in her ear letting her know just how much he wanted that. Suppressing the shiver that threatened to cascade her spine, she looked up to see the boys beginning to stream out of the dressing room, clad in club tracksuits and their normal clothing.

She couldn’t help but smile, observing tiny children jumping into their fathers’ arms and the men she’d grown to know more over the past 8 months cuddling them close and pulling their wives to their sides. “Well that’s my calling, there’s my man.. God doesn’t he look good in that tracksuit,” Lowri mumbled out as she left her friend’s side and walked towards Harry. Emilia was just happy she departed before she burst out laughing with a ‘no’ on her lips that she couldn’t contain after seeing her god of a boyfriend appear behind the tiny puppy-like man on Lowri’s arm.

Emilia heard a chuckle from behind her that she’d recognise anywhere. “Thought you weren’t coming on the pitch, miss?” She turned around and spoke out to Hannah. “Oi, ‘m not, just wanted to give him a kiss before he went out,” she responded looking sheepish and pushing Emilia away when she made pretend hurling noises. “Here they areeeee.”

As always, Dele was the last out of the changing room. Dele claims it’s because he likes to keep her waiting and make sure he doesn’t smell but she teases it’s because he doesn’t know how to dress himself. “Come here,” he beckons her into the dressing room after laughing at Eric trying to pull Hannah onto the pitch. “Mate, the fans are out there not in here, what do you wan-” Emilia’s response was cut off by their lips colliding before he pulled back and murmured “don’t call me mate, mate.” Looking around, she saw all of the boys’ things packed away neatly ready to grab on their way out apart from Dele’s. “Just wanted to show you the surface options for where you wanna get pregnant after the lap, you’ll be broody,” he smirked out at his own joke (knowing it held a lot some truth to it) pulling her into him by the waistband of her leggings.

“Dele!” Emilia’s jaw dropped at his suggestion, trying to brush it off so he could have his walk around the pitch and get the love and support he rightly deserved. “Are you quite finished, you creep?” she whispered against his lips as she straightened up the strings on his hoodie. “You sure you wanna go out there?” Dele reaffirmed, knowing they hadn’t been public for long and knowing 50,000+ prying eyes was a lot for anyone. “Of course, just protect me from any flying objects,” She joked, knowing after they went public, the fans and the media were all over the fact Tottenham Hotspur’s star boy Dele Alli was dating a Chelsea fan.

They walked out holding hands inside Dele’s hoodie pocket ‘inconspicuously’ (it was all over fan accounts the day after with the media gushing over their ‘young love’) and started making their way clockwise around the fans. The applause he got was unbelievable, everyone shouting his name and waving, taking pictures and clapping for him as he walked slowly around the perimeter of the pitch. A small family all clad in ‘Dele 20’ Spurs jerseys waved Dele down, the smallest child holding a poster asking for a hug. Dele wiggled his hand out of Emilia's grasp and walked off towards the family, happily chatting and taking a photo hugging the little boy as requested before kneeling down to his level to chat to him. Just the sight alone made her want to drag him to the changing rooms and choose a spot but knows she can’t so opts to walk over to the small group by the goal post.

“Look who’s decided to join, have you seen what Dele’s up to?” Kate Kane asks with her daughter on her hip, glancing over to Dele behind Emilia. She looks again and sees he’s moved along the row and is stroking the cheek of a fan’s baby and thanking them for coming, “do not even, I can’t look.” With a laugh she turned back around, looking at all the little families and children running about with the mascots and smiling to herself despite being surrounded by the wrong London club’s jerseys.

Distant shouts of her name pulled her from her gaze, seeing Harry with his arm in the air to show where they were. Giving them all small hugs, Emilia settled resting against the barrier at the side of the pitch as Harry leaned on the other side next to her. “How’s your stomach holding up? Y’know, being around all this Spurs propaganda?” Robyn appears at her other shoulder slapping the logo beneath her hand on the board. “Don’t mention it, I’m in a good mood, I’ll start spewing,” Emilia jokes back hearing Alan and Sally laugh along too.

“It’s nice seeing him like that, ain’t it?” Harry spoke out quietly, all 5 pairs of their eyes trained on Dele doing the last half of the lap with his teammates, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. His joy and pride was unmissable, there was nothing he loved more than his job and the passion seeped out of hispores, especially on this day each year. She didn’t even need to answer, knowing they were all thinking and feeling the same thing.

They all observed as he found a football and kicked it in between Jan’s kids and himself. “He’s such a natural with kids, he’d be such a good dad,” Emilia spoke out subconsciously, barely registering what she was saying. In the future, she’d look back and realise that moment, leaning against the edge of the pitch surrounded by his family, watching on as he was in his element surrounded by the fans, his friends and things that made him happy, was the moment she decided this was the real thing: what she wanted forever.

“Isaiah, come here, bug,” Emilia beckoned her toddler over from where he was sitting a few seats over from her and the 5 month old baby in her arms. “You remember how this is gonna go?” She asked knowing he was still absorbed in the final minute of the game, unfolding in front of him, “we’re gonna go and wait for Dadda, then go and wave at everyone, you’ve gotta be on your best behaviour.” Juggling the hyperactive almost 3 year old and the fussy baby during a match was a handful, normally opting to drop them with their grandparents or Uncle Harry, but she knew it’d all be worth it once they were on the pitch.

The final whistle blew signalling the final win of the season as the crowd erupted into applause. Seats around them emptied quickly in the dash for wags and families to get onto the pitch although they stayed put, knowing Dele would wait as long as humanly possible to come out anyway so the busy battles in the corridors weren’t worth it. She ensured everything was packed away into the bag she’d become accustomed to carrying since becoming a parent and made sure Mabel’s little soundproof headphones were on securely then stood up and made her way out towards the tunnel.

“Took you long enough,” Dele pushed himself away from the wall as he walked over to his family turning the corner, recognising them from just their shadows. “Well babe, what can I say? your days of having people wait for you are over,” Emilia kissed him before continuing, “You’re a dad, you've gotta do the waiting now.” She giggled at his sour reaction while handing Mabel over, her fussing coming to an immediate stop as she mewls at the feeling of Dele’s t-shirt. “She’s missed you,” Emilia spoke quietly as Dele lifted his daughter in the air Lion King style, making her kick her feet and give a toothless grin. “Issa, you ready? It’ll be quite loud, squish,” Dele fruitlessly asked, seeing he was itching to get out of the tunnel and onto the pitch. “God, just like his dad,” Emilia mutters under her breath, chasing the excitable 3 year old out of the tunnel leaving Dele smiling to himself.

Once they’re on the pitch, Mabel settles in the nook of Dele’s arm and Isaiah walks nicely alongside Emilia, tiny hand wrapping around two of her fingers allowing the parents’ other two hands to connect between them, swinging idly. The crowds never ceased to amaze her, the sheer size of the stadium and how almost every seat was filled for the last match of the season. All of that for her man, her husband, her children’s father, the love of her life. The smile that spread across his face was so unique. There were few things he loved in life as much as his job and to have them beside him and on the side lines on the lap of honour every season.. The feeling was unparalleled. He really couldn’t describe it.

After Emilia unlinks their hands to lean down and chat to Isaiah, asking him if he wants to go and kick about with some of the other kids, Dele hops Mabel up and down in his arms a bit to wake her up. He looked around the stand in front of them, hundreds of beaming faces waving and clapping trying to get his attention but getting that of the little baby in his arms’ first. Mabel’s looking backwards and forwards between the fans and Dele, snuggling closer to his chest as a few families in the front row coo.

“You gonna wave, princess? Show them what you learned for today,” Dele started waving, showing Mabel what he was asking her to do. A tiny hand raises in the air and stays there for a minute, clearly too tired to do the full wave but cute nonetheless so Dele takes matters quite literally into his own hands and executes the ‘Dele wave’ with his youngest, having no idea just how much it was gonna blow up on social media later on. “Aww, are you waving Bel?” Emilia emerged from ground level again after double tying her son’s trainers and making sure he was playing nice with other players’ kids. “Wave at grandma and grandad,” she mused, getting the baby’s attention resulting in her making grabby hands and leaning towards her grandparents.

“Well done, bro,” Harry clapped him on the back as they wandered over, Alan immediately taking Mabel off Dele and making her giggle within a few seconds. “Just surreal isn’t it, never gets boring,” he replies mostly to himself, looking right to the other end of the stadium and waving the length of the pitch. Emilia looks over to see Isaiah had veered towards Eric and Hannah, weaving in between Eric’s legs like the little menace he was before getting thrown over his shoulder playfully; they both chuckled at their son in unison as their heart strings pulled at seeing their best friends be so close to their children.

“You coming for the other half or do you wanna stay with madam?” Dele questioned against his wife's lips. “Hmm, I’ll come, she looks comfy enough with your dad,” and that she definitely was, fast asleep in his arms, none the wiser to the crazy world around her. Despite his question, he didn’t move, staying attached to Emilia’s lips every so often and talking away to his family, the crowd still clapping and gentle noises of his teammates and their children chattering away in the distance. “Come on, you lump, people are gonna start lapping us,” Emilia laughed as she pushed him up off the barrier and towards the pitch again.

They went back to holding hands, this time uninterrupted by a baby or a restless toddler, just them and the fans to wave to. “I love this day every year, brings everything into perspective, doesn’t it?” Dele talks directed towards his wife although his words got muffled by the crowd cheering for somebody’s child scoring a goal further down the pitch. “I agree, can’t really get much better, ey?” She replied with a fond smile and walked closer to him. “I think I’m gonna make next season my last,” he suggested while bringing his bottom lip between his teeth, Emilia could tell he was terrified at the thought but it felt right, she didn’t press, trying not to ruin the moment and knowing it’d be brought up again later that night tangled up in bed anyway.

“Maybe we can have another one of these too?” He followed up with a smirk and having his hand swiftly swatted away from where it was drifting towards his wife’s bum in the eyes of the fans. “The lap of honour always makes you broody, you exhibitionist” Emilia rolled her eyes but gave him a small kiss of approval still, “from the first year we were dating and had this day, I knew I wanted you to give me kids.” He chuckled, remembering the ins and outs of that day with a raise of his eyebrows, “you’re such a melt now you’re a mum.”

“Nah not having that, I’ll knock you clean out in front of all your likkle fans,” Emilia chastised, pushing him away and pretending to be in a sulk. Dele laughed in mock offence and pulled her by the wrist directly in front of him, wrapping both arms around her and moving like a penguin, the only way the position allowed. Isaiah scurried back over towards the pair as he rambled on about how he scored a goal against Gazzaniga and Emilia looked back behind them, seeing Mabel waving on her own accord towards them before giggling and clapping herself at her own achievement. This was them, in their happy place, feeling on top of the world. Despite the mess of two young children and Emilia’s lifelong distaste towards the club her husband called home, it couldn’t get much better than this.

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