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arvandus · 9 months

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Touch Chapter 16 - A Night Out

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!AFAB!Reader

**18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI**

OVERALL FIC WARNINGS: Soft!Dabi, Fem!AFAB!Reader with a fictional backstory, fanon version of past events (I started this before the canon stuff dropped), manga spoilers, canon deviation, drug abuse/withdrawal (with inaccuracies since it’s outside of my experience and relies on research and imagination), violence, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, hurt/comfort, pining, slow burn, eventual emotionally charged SMUT, all characters will be written with complexity (i.e., no one-dimensional/hateful representations). *please pay attention to specific warning tags within each chapter!*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drinking. Lots of drinking (both Dabi and reader). Overall drug themes apply; bar scene/club scene (look, we get to have some FUN in the chapter, OK?? We deserve it!)

Chapter Songs: I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys/All I Need by Radiohead

Part 1 Part 15

Chapter 16: A Night Out

You were in the hideout briefly. Dabi changed into his more preferred attire of his stitched jacket, matching pants, and boots. He was free of his mask and his sunglasses now, and you were grateful to finally be able to see his face again. His blue eyes looked at you with mirth when he showed up at your bedroom door. You handed him your pills and he downed them with water before crinkling the bottle and tossing it into your trash can.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Do you need me to touch up your scars first?” you asked, your brow furrowed with concern.

The ‘yes’ hung on the edge of Dabi’s tongue, the desire for relief always present, but this time he swallowed it. Wherever he was taking you, he didn’t want your sensory overload to be an issue.

“I’m fine,” he replied.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Uh-huh... you know, that word doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

“It means that I’ve got it under control.”

You pursed your lips and looked down at your attire. It was the same one you’d been wearing earlier: jeans, a shirt, and a jacket.

“Should I change...?” you asked.

Dabi shrugged. “Do you wanna change?”

“Depends. Where are you taking me?”

“Not sure yet.” Dabi looked you over, head to toe, his eyes leaving fire in their wake across your skin. “You look great. Let’s get outta here.”

You were too flustered to argue, so you followed him down the stairs and out the door into the night air. A gentle mist of rain was falling down slowly, coating everything in a diamond dust of dew drops.

“We might get soaked tonight...” you commented.

“You worry too much,” Dabi replied as he put his arm over your shoulder again.

A smirk played at your lips. “And you don’t worry enough.”

Your hand came up to interlock your fingers with his comfortably. Right now, you didn’t want to dwell on what it meant; you just wanted to enjoy the contact that he was suddenly offering so freely.

“Then we’re perfect for each other,” he teased.

Your skin burned hot at his flirting and he glanced at you, taking in the surprised look on your face that you struggled to bury. He smirked.

“Let’s get some dinner first,” he continued. “What d’ya want?”

“What can we afford?”

Dabi flashed the fat wad of cash nestled in the inner coat pocket against his chest. “Whatever we want. My treat.”

Your eyes bulged. “Dabi! Where did you get that??”

Dabi scoffed. “Did ya think I was just checking out your cute ass while I was walking behind you all day?”

“I— What??”

“Gotta make a living somehow, sweetheart. I’m an expert pickpocket, remember?”

You did remember. But right now, Dabi pickpocketing was the last thing on your mind. He was getting under your skin on purpose, and you were enjoying it. It felt like old times, before things had gotten... complicated.

“Pick your poison, doll. What’re ya feelin’?”

“Hmmm... how about sushi?” you suggested.

Dabi grimaced. “Uhhh, gotta confession. I hate fish.”

You laughed. “How can you be Japanese and hate fish? It’s like a cultural staple.”

Dabi wrinkled his nose. “It tastes... fishy. And slimy. And I hate the way it smells.”

You laughed again. “Okay, not sushi then. How about ramen?”

“Didn’t we have that recently? Twice?”

“Yeah, because it’s delicious. I could probably live off ramen, to be honest...”

“Hm.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, smartass, what do you want to eat?”

“I know just the spot. We gotta hop on the bus, though.”

“Lead the way.”

A few minutes later, you stepped off the bus to see a small little restaurant. Its entire front was a large window that was open to the street, with a counter and bar stools attached into the cement. An animated neon sign of a ramen bowl danced on its low roofline.

“I thought you didn’t want ramen?” you asked confused.

“Surpriiise.” Dabi singsonged. You began crossing the street together. “The owner is a bit rough around the edges, and a total alcoholic. But his ramen is the best I’ve had.”

A canopy overhang allowed for protection from the drizzling as the two of you sat down at the counter.

“Oy,” said a gruff voice. You looked up to see an old man with what remained of his hair pulled back into a ponytail and tattoos up to his jaw line. “You again.”

“Long time no see.” Dabi replied.

The man nodded at you. “Who’s this?”

“A friend.”

Your heart sank in your chest at the label, and then you cursed yourself for being an idiot. Of course you were friends. All of this – helping you through your panic attack, letting you lean on him on the ride home, taking you out to get your mind off things... it was Dabi being a good friend.

A friend who held your hand.

A friend who put his arm around your shoulder.

A friend who almost kissed you the night before...

You refocused your attention when Dabi nudged you with his elbow. “Huh??”

“What do you want?” Dabi repeated.

The old man waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing.” Then he set down a bowl of edamame for you to share and immediately began preparing the food.

“Wait, what just happened?” you asked.

Dabi laughed. “You took too long deciding so he decided for you.”

“Oh.”

“You want something to drink?”

You stared at the list of beverages. “Beer. Sapporo?”

Dabi’s grin widened. “Oh, loosening up now, are we?” He put the order in, holding up two of his fingers. A moment later, two tall, ice-cold beer cans were placed in front of you.

You took a sip, letting the carbonation and flavor play on your tongue. You didn’t answer right away, unease swimming in your chest. You took a few more sips.

“Dabi...” you finally probed. He looked at you sideways as he drank. “Why are you doing this?”

What is this to you?

Dabi set the can down and began to fiddle with it, his fingers wiping patterns into the condensation.

“Because I didn’t want to go back there either. We were both stir-crazy in that place. Figured it was time to stretch our legs a little. Tonight should just be about having fun.”

“Well...” you smiled. “If that’s the case, you know what I want?”

Dabi looked at you attentively, his eyes trying to pry the answer before your lips could give it. “What?” he replied.

“I want to get drunk.”

Dabi let out a surprised laugh.

Your grin widened. “Like, stupid drunk.”

“Wasted?”

“Absolutely shitfaced.” You grinned into your beer as you drank more of it down, letting it wash over the knot you felt in your gut.

Dabi laughed again. “I think we can manage that.” He took another swig of his beer. “This’ll be fun...” he muttered.

You didn’t want to think about anything tonight. You didn’t want to worry. And you didn’t want to rehash what had happened earlier during the day. All you wanted was a break, a night to feel like a normal person, to be able to feel like you were a part of the world again.

So, you drank, and laughed, and ate. Dabi was right. It was the best ramen you’d ever had. Thirty minutes later, your stomach was now full and happy, and your veins hummed warmly with the first beer you drank. Just as you finished your can, another took its place.

You stared at it. “What’s this?”

Dabi held up his new can in a toast. “You said you wanted to get wasted. Cheers.”

“Oh God...” you laughed. “But I’m so full...”

“Don’t worry, doll. We got all night.”

“Really?”

Dabi shrugged. “Not unless you got plans with someone else,” he teased.

You laughed. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about in that department.”

“Not even your dealer friend from earlier?” Dabi prodded curiously.

“Yatsu??”

“You two even have nicknames for each other. How cute.” he commented dryly, his stiff grin never reaching his eyes.

You rolled your eyes. “Uh, nooo.... I mean, there’s history there, but... it’s long past.”

The shop owner refilled the small bowl of edamame. Dabi grabbed one and skinned it with his teeth.

“Yeah?” he said, “I’d be curious to hear that story...”

You laughed. “Not much to it, really... Yatsumoto was interested but I wasn’t.”

“Really?” Dabi’s sarcasm dripped heavy. “An upstanding guy like that?”

“I wasn’t too interested in relationships back then. Very single focused on my research at the time. Besides,” — you took a swig of your drink and then leaned into Dabi, your voice dropping to a whisper — “he’s not really my type.”

You picked up an edamame shell and ate the soybeans from it.

“Oh yeah? What is your type then?”

‘Someone tall, dark, and handsome with the world’s biggest daddy issues.’

You thought it, but didn’t say it.

A grin started on Dabi’s lips, a mischievous glint in his half-lidded eyes. “Maybe someone who’s in horrible need of chapstick?”

Shigaraki instantly came to your mind, and you laughed. You threw the empty edamame shell at Dabi. “What?? No.”

Dabi’s grin widened. “Hmm, maybe someone with a wide variety of personalities...”

“You’re terrible.”

“Or maybe someone who knows magic tricks.”

“Oh my God, no. Compress is like a brother to me, that’s so weird.”

Instant elation filled Dabi’s veins, but he tamped it down, keeping his expression neutral. Instead, he grabbed another edamame. “Coulda fooled me; you two seem close.”

“That’s because he’s the one who recruited me into the League,” you replied. “He saved my life a while back.”

Dabi’s amusement fell apart at this new piece of information. His smirk was gone, his expression neutral.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Not long after I’d been kicked out of the university, my place got broken into. I came home when the robbers were still there, shuffling through my things.” You shuddered at the memory. “They saw me, I saw them, and I ran. They chased me down the stairs and outside... It was Compress who stopped them, popping up out of nowhere. I probably would have been killed if he didn’t show up...”

Dabi’s mind rolled over the information, filing it next to all the other little facts he’d gathered about you.

“Do you know what they were after?” he asked.

A half smile curled your lip that didn’t reach your eyes. “They weren’t going through my bathroom or bedroom looking for jewelry or digging through my bags for cash. One of them had my laptop, and the other was shuffling through papers.”

“They were after your research.”

You snapped finger guns at him. “Bingo.”

Dabi took a long draw of his beer and you followed suit. He stared into the can as he swirled its contents slowly. “So how does your brother fit into all of this?”

You had begun to raise your beer can to your lips, but you hesitated, then lowered it back down to the counter. “He was the reason for my research. I wanted to help him, figure out how to make it so that his quirk couldn’t hurt himself or anyone else ever again. And I needed to prove that he wasn’t a bad person. That it was his quirk manifesting itself, forcing itself to be expressed.”

Dabi stared at you for a long moment. “What was his quirk?”

You hesitated again, and Dabi began to have second thoughts about his questioning. Tonight was supposed to be about having fun, and at this moment, you weren’t smiling. The gentle misting began to transition into heavier drops, the sound drumming on the canopy above you.

Dabi opened his mouth to rescind his question, but you answered before he could.

“Others called it Mind Flay, but he called it Tabula Rasa.”

“Blank Slate,” Dabi hummed. “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“It wasn’t,” you replied. “He had the ability to make people literally lose their minds. Like, one moment they’d be themselves, and the next moment, they’d be a dumb, drooling mess. Like he wiped them clean, basically turning them into vegetables.”

Dabi fell silent as his mind ran through the ramifications of such a quirk. “When did it manifest?”

You gave a sardonic laugh. “The same age it did for everyone else; at around 4 years old.”

Dabi let out a low whistle. Kids were small, emotional creatures. A child having that level of power...

Dabi wondered who the first victim was. A family member? A classmate? A teacher?

You drank more of your beer as if it helped you get the words out. “He was older than me,” you explained. “He was in and out of institutions for years, so I didn’t see him very much. My parents put him through every kind of therapy imaginable, every quirk suppression program. They’d think it worked, but then it’d happen all over again. Like he couldn’t help himself. It’d come out when he was angry... or when he was protective...”

You swallowed, and Dabi realized you had tears in your eyes.

“We don’t gotta talk about this.” he said.

You gave a small laugh and wiped at your eyes. “Sorry,” you replied.

Dabi gave a dry laugh. “You did it again.”

“What?”

“Apologized when you didn’t need to.”

“Oh,” you laughed.

Dabi cut you off before the words could fall from your lips again. “Don’t say it.”

You laughed and gave him a light shove. “Get out of my head.”

You were smiling again; and it made the pressure sitting on Dabi’s chest ease slightly.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” he said.

“I don’t mind. I just...” you stared into your beer can. “I might need more alcohol than this if you want to hear the rest.”

Dabi gave a small smile. “I know a place.”

He paid the bill, finished the last of his beer, and the two of you left the protection of the canopy to venture out into the rain. You held onto his arm and pressed yourself against his side against the cold as the two of you made your way down the street. He skipped the first bar, knowing they overcharged for their alcohol, and then ushered you quickly into the next one.

It was busy, a small dive bar packed with bodies, the sound of pool balls being struck at the opposite end of the room. Music played loudly over the speakers, blending in with the hum of multiple drunken conversations. Dabi managed to spot an open bar stool and squeezed you onto it. He remained standing next to you and had to put his mouth to your ear to ask you what you wanted. You had to do the same to answer him, and he leaned across the counter to give your orders to the bartender.

A moment later, your drinks were in front of you.

“Aren’t you worried about being recognized here?” you shouted into Dabi’s ear.

Dabi leaned close to speak. “Nah, not here. This side of town doesn’t give two shits. Half of the people here are wanted by the Hero Commission anyway.” You stared at him with uncertainty, and he leaned in even closer, his hand warm on your back. “You’re safe, doll. I promise.”

So, you sat and drank, the place too loud to carry a conversation. Eventually the seat next to you opened up and Dabi took it.

A couple of drinks later, and you were feeling the effects of the alcohol much more. You felt more liquid than person, and you swayed slightly to the thrumming of music that played over the speakers, barely audible over the din of the space. Dabi watched you silently with a half-lidded gaze, his eyes always observing. You didn’t bring up your brother again, and Dabi didn’t ask, determined to keep the smile on your face for as long as possible.

After a little while, he leaned over to speak to you.

“Do you play pool?” he asked.

“What?”

“Pool.” he repeated.

You looked over at the pool table and noticed it was empty. In fact, the entire bar had a little less people in it, some of the patrons deciding to continue their bar hopping elsewhere. Still, it remained plenty busy, and you knew the table would get snagged up immediately.

Before you could answer, Dabi grabbed your hand and yanked you off the bar stool. Before you got too far, you grabbed your drink from the counter and brought it with you.

You stared at the table in front of you as Dabi grabbed a couple of cue sticks from the wall.

“This is a bad idea,” you chuckled.

Dabi looked up at you as he began setting the balls into the triangle. “Why?”

“Because I’m fucking drunk, Dabi...” you laughed.

“You? Drunk?” he teased. He stepped closer to you and held up his fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

You rolled your eyes. “Three.”

“Eh, you’re fine.”

“Wait, did I get it right??” you asked.

Dabi’s grin widened and he refused to answer. “Do you wanna break or should I?”

“Hm, you go first. I’m waiting for the room to stop spinning.”

“Suit yourself.” Dabi hit the cue ball and the triangle of balls burst in all directions. The purple ball fell into the corner pocket. “You’re stripes.”

You puffed air out of your cheeks and took a sip of your drink for courage. You stepped up to the table, lined up your cue stick, and missed horribly.

Dabi laughed, and you shot him a glare.

“I told you I was too drunk for this.”

“C’mon doll, you’re just a lil’ rusty,” he chided. Dabi lined up his next shot and sank another ball.

“How are you so good at this?” you complained. “And how am I drunker than you??”

“Experience,” he replied.

You mimicked his response with a bratty tone and a scrunched-up face. “Experience. Please.”

You lined up your shot, and this time you hit the ball, but barely, the cue stick sideswiping. It caused the ball to spin off at the wrong angle before bouncing off one of Dabi’s, causing his to roll into the side pocket.

“Hey, thanks for that.” he commented.

“I swear to God, Dabi. If you don’t stop with your commentary, it’s gonna be your balls next.”

Dabi burst into laughter at your empty threat. “Based on your hits tonight, I don’t think I’m too worried about it.”

You gave a shocked laugh. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh, c’mon doll. Don’t be like that. Tell you what, I’ll give you a free shot.” He coaxed as he leaned on his cue stick.

You narrowed your eyes at him and took your position again. Just as you were about to strike, Dabi interrupted.

“Hold on.”

“What?”

“Your form is all wrong.”

“Shut up, no it’s not.”

Dabi put his hands up in defense. “Okay, sure. Go for it.”

You squinted at him, half to get your vision to focus and half to glare at him. You repositioned yourself again, but now doubt and two failures loomed over you. Finally, you cursed and stood up.

“Damn it. Okay, fine. Show me what I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not holding your cue stick right,” he commented.

“What do you mean?”

Dabi modeled for you. You tried to imitate, but hand-eye coordination was getting more and more difficult. He chuckled at your attempt and leaned his cue stick against the table. Then he came up behind you, his hands on your hips.

His touch sent a shock of pleasure through you, and you sidestepped out of his hold. “What are you doing??” you demanded, your eyes wide.

“Relax, doll,” he laughed. “I’m gonna help you.”

You let him get in position behind you, his body lining up with yours. You could feel his breath on your ear, and it made every nerve sing at peak frequency. He placed his hands over yours, setting up your hand along your cue stick.

“You hold it like this, and...” -- Dabi slowly moved the stick back and forth within your hands -- “you hit it like this.” He pointed to the middle and the bottom of the cue ball. “You’ll want to hit the ball here or here. Got it?”

You glanced at him, and instantly realized how close his face was to yours, your nose practically brushing his when you turned your head to look him in the eye. His hand was on your waist, and all you could think about was closing the distance to kiss him. But he broke his gaze with you and nodded at the pool table.

“Give it a try.”

Dabi stayed next to you, his body lined up with yours as you lined up your shot and took it the way he showed you. This time, you hit the ball you wanted, but it bounced off the edge, and hit the eight ball.

“Wha... NO!” you yelled as the black ball rolled into a pocket.

That was it. That was the game. Dabi won.

“Wow. That was actually impressive how bad that was.”

You smacked his chest with the back of your hand. “I told you I was too drunk for this.”

“Hey, at least you hit the ball…”

You stuck your tongue out at him and took another sip of your drink. He cocked his head to the side as he looked at you.

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Good,” you replied with a smile.

“Good. Let’s try again.”

“Nooo,” you whined.

“C’mon, don’t be a sore loser. I thought you wanted to have fun,” he teased. “Besides, that was barely a game.”

“Ugh, fine. But don’t they have like... cards here or something?”

“I’d probably win at that too. Something tells me my poker face is better than yours.”

“You are so full of yourself, aren’t you?”

Dabi chuckled as he set up the balls again. “You break this time.”

You lined up your stick and hit the cue ball, sending the balls scattering.

Time passed as you played, Dabi refilling your drink when you asked as you bantered with him between turns. Your skills improved slightly, with Dabi giving you tips here and there. But the progress was hindered by the way you had difficulty focusing and the way your body didn’t always move the way you intended it to. You made it through two games, with Dabi beating you both times before you finally gave up, the floor beneath your feet pitching much more than it had before.

“I quit,” you finally said.

You leaned on your cue stick, your body swaying slightly. Dabi was next to you, so you took the opportunity to lean against his chest to ground yourself. But between the alcohol, stuffy bar, and his body heat, you pushed him away almost immediately.

“Ugh, you’re too hot,” you complained.

Dabi chuckled. “Come on…”

He took you back to the bar and you sat down onto the barstool with less grace than you’d had before. It wasn’t your fault; the damn thing seemed to move. There were no other seats again, so he stood next to you like before.

You laid your head on the counter, letting the cool, smooth surface soothe your forehead.

“She okay?” the bartender asked.

Dabi nudged you. “You okay?” he repeated.

With your head still down, you gave a thumbs up.

“She’s good,” he replied.

You zoned out to the sound of the bar noise and the music playing, your body swaying slightly to the beat. A moment later, a glass of water appeared in front of you.

“What’s this?” you demanded.

“Water, drink up,” Dabi ordered.

You shook your head. “Nuh-uh.”

“Your call... you’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow.”

“Where’s my drink?” you asked, looking around bleary-eyed.

“You finished it.”

“Oh. It was good, can I have another?”

Dabi stared at you for a long moment. Then he pushed the water glass towards you. “Drink, doll. You’ll thank me later. Then I’ll order more.”

You grumbled but drank it anyway. As promised, Dabi ordered you another drink, and you gave a happy wiggle as you began to drink it.

Dabi leaned against the bar counter with his head propped in his hand. He stared at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What?”

“I like you like this.”

“What? Drunk?” you teased.

“Happy,” he corrected.

You stilled for a moment as you looked at him.

“It’s because I’m with you,” you confessed.

Your answer seemed to surprise him, his eyes widening slightly as his grin faltered. He gave a scoff. “I’m sure the alcohol is helping too.”

“Shut up and take the compliment,” you retorted. “I’m happy with you. You make me happy.”

Dabi’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how much you were making him grin, the bruise and the torn skin thrumming low. “You’re repeating yourself now.”

“It’s so you’ll listen to me,” you replied adamantly as you took another sip. Your thoughts were more fluid now, your usual filters and reservations carried away on the current of booze in your system.

“I think…” you started thoughtfully, “I thought going back to the hide out would help me feel better. But...”

“But it didn’t.”

You shook your head. “I looked at that place and I just felt... lonely.”

“And you don’t feel lonely now?” Dabi asked.

You shook your head again and leaned against his shoulder. “I feel safe.”

Dabi froze under the contact as your confessions fought with his own denials. You weren’t safe with him. He was unstable and violent and he didn’t deserve your trust.

But you were smiling now, and he couldn’t say that.

He turned his body towards you slightly to put his arm around your shoulders, and you nuzzled comfortably against his chest.

“You ready to go back?” he asked.

“Not yet,” you whined.

“You sure? You’re looking awfully shiftfaced now.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Says the girl falling asleep over her glass...”

You sat up and pushed against his chest with your hands. “Shut up.” Then, your eyes lit up with an idea. “Oh! I know! You know what I want?”

Dabi quirked an eyebrow at you. “More alcohol?”

You pointed at him. “Yes. But also, I want to dance.”

Dabi’s grin vanished immediately. “What??”

“I want to go dancing!” you repeated. “C’mon Dabi, pleeaassee?”

Dabi stared at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

Dabi was familiar with the club scene. He used to visit it frequently before the League, chasing quick highs and whatever chick would spare him a passing glance in an effort to drown his pain in a few cheap hours of euphoria. He knew just the place to go, a place that was safe for people like him, where they didn’t really care about IDs or police records, where cash and drugs were the only currency that mattered.

But it’d been a long time since he’d been there, and the place was filled with temptations and potential dangers. It was no place for someone like you.

Besides, you already looked ready to fall over.

“I bet you can’t even walk straight.”

“Yes I can!”

“Okay, prove it. If you can walk out of here without help and without bumping into anyone, then I’ll take you dancing.”

It was a tall order as the world tilted on its axis around you, but you were stubborn and determined.

Dancing. To be able to finally move your body, to feel the freedom of music against your skin. You hadn’t realized how wound tight you’d been since you’d lost everything and joined the League. It’d been nonstop healing, and sneaking around, and hiding away. Dancing, even for a little bit, to lose yourself to movement and be just another face in the crowd, sounded like just what you needed.

With determination, you stood up from your stool. The motion instantly made you lightheaded, and you swayed on your feet, balance eluding you. Dabi’s arms were out in an instant, catching you, and you fell against his chest in a fit of giggles.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“No, no,” you giggled. “I can do this.”

“Doll, you already failed the test.”

“Shh!” you put a finger to his lips, but now the giggles had you and you couldn’t stop them.

Dabi’s arms were around your waist as your arms hung around his neck. You swayed in his hold, the motion soothing. Your vision focused on him, and for once you allowed yourself to blatantly stare at his beauty, at the shape of his jaw, the color of his eyes, even the staples along his cheeks. Your thoughts made their way seamlessly from your brain to your mouth.

“You’re really hot,” you cooed.

“Yeah, you told me earlier.”

“No, I mean, like... you’re hot. Like attractive, hot. It’s unfair how hot you are.”

Dabi, for all of his self-control, couldn’t stop the heat from warming his cheeks, and he forced a laugh as he began to untangle your fingers from his neck. The way your eyes were looking at him, the way your tongue peeked out to wet your lips...

“Okay, now I know you’re shitfaced.”

“Shut up, it’s true.”

“Everyone looks more attractive when you’re drunk.”

You looked around at all the other faces at the bar. “That’s not true...” you muttered.

Dabi laughed again while internally his mind was spinning. You were going to be the death of him. God, he wished you were saying this shit while you were sober... he wondered if you’d even remember any of it.

He sighed. “Let’s get you home.”

“But what about the dancing??”

“We’ll have to save it for another time.”

You pouted as Dabi began to lead you out of the bar. The realization that your evening of fun was coming to an end made the weight of dread return to your shoulders. Tears pricked your eyes as you began to leave.

You didn’t want this to end. You didn’t want to stop being with Dabi, spending time with him like this. You didn’t want to go back to that stuffy hotel with your medical bag and PTSD waiting for you.

Once you stepped outside, Dabi let go of your hand and walked ahead of you. The cold night air began to clear your head slightly. Everything was coated in rainwater now as the low, heavy clouds passed over you, painted in the yellowish-brown light of the city; but there was a lull in the rainfall that gave a much-needed reprieve and brought a heavy hush upon the quiet street compared to the boisterous bar inside.

You inhaled the air deep into your lungs, letting the damp crispness cool your blood. You stared ahead of you at Dabi, donned in his black coat, his black hair lit under the streetlamp. He turned to look at you, and for a moment you stood still and stared. He was picturesque, the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

“What?” he asked.

“I...” you swallowed, a million different responses piling onto your tongue at once.

I don’t want to go back.

I want to be with you a little longer.

I want you to kiss me.

I never should have left last night...

God, you cared for him. You cared for him more than you had let yourself realize. But now, here away from the chaos, with your worries subdued under liquor and fresh air, you understood just how incredibly head over heels you were for him. It scared you, because he was not someone you ever thought you’d fall for. He was self-destructive, broken, and single-minded in his obsession. It left little space in his heart for anything else. But he was also intelligent, highly self-aware, and surprisingly kind, in his own way. You’d begun to see a side to him that you hadn’t known existed before, and it was a side that only you ever seemed to witness, something that was reserved special for you. You felt protected by it, cared for. In a world that had tried to erase you, he somehow made you feel... wanted.

All you could think as you stood there unable to answer, was that you wanted to be with him always.

Dabi’s dark brows furrowed and he stepped close to you, his eyes looking over your face through his black bangs. His thumb came up and brushed fresh tears from your cheek.

“Why are you cryin’ again, doll?” His voice was deep, coating you like honey, and you closed your eyes to let it wash over you.

You hadn’t realized you were crying; you hadn’t felt the tears fall, too focused on your emotions as your skin hummed like an aura around you. You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your cheek, even though he’d already lowered his hand.

You shook your head in disbelief. So much you wanted to say, but you couldn’t say any of it. Not without scaring him away. If he learned how deeply you felt about him...

You’re not my type.

You understood those words more clearly, now. It wasn’t that you weren’t his type; it was that Dabi didn’t have a type. He wasn’t someone who would commit, who would settle down. He couldn’t even picture a future for himself beyond taking down his father.

But you didn’t want to face that either, because that train of thought only led to more heartache. What you wanted was to remember the way he put his arm over your shoulder, the way he wiped your tears from your cheeks, from the way he’d hovered over you the night before, his eyes drinking you in as if you were all he wanted. You wanted to hold his hand, to lean against him as you sat together, to bask in his attention a bit longer.

“I...” you started again. “I’m not ready. I’m not ready to go back.”

Dabi stared at you, his expression unreadable, and you could tell he was deciding on what to do next. He looked around, taking in his surroundings, and checked the time on his phone. It was late, but not terribly; there were at least another couple of hours before the public transportation systems shut down for the night.

“You wanna dance that badly?” he asked.

What you wanted was more time to pretend. To pretend that this was more than what it was, to pretend that you were two regular people enjoying each other’s company and seeing where things went without worry or consequence about what sat on the horizon.

“I... I just want a little more time,” you whispered, “to feel normal.”

Dabi stepped even closer, his body inches from yours. His long fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, his eyes following his action.

“You’re the most normal girl I’ve ever known.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the odd compliment, and Dabi’s lips turned up at the corners slightly.

“If we stay out longer, I might need more of your pills. Do you have any on you?”

You anticipated this possibility and pulled the small Ziplock bag out of your pocket. Dabi took the pills you offered, noting the few remaining. You tried not to stare too intently at the way he placed them onto his tongue and swallowed them, but you were pretty sure you were failing at being discrete.

He put his arm over your shoulder. “Come on.”

Warmth swelled from his touch, and a great wave of euphoric victory washed over you. Your smile came back.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Dancing.”

Dabi led you towards the train station where he grabbed a quick snack from the vending machine and a drink. Once you were seated in the empty train car, you ate as you watched the city lights pass by. While you watched the city, Dabi watched you. He watched the way your eyes lit up, the longing in them as you looked out at what used to be your home, at a world that you’d been cut off from.

Normal. You wanted to be normal. And Dabi meant what he’d said. You were as normal as they came. You never belonged with the League, but you did it out of necessity. The way you talked about it made it sound like a cage, and the more Dabi thought about it, the more he realized that for you, it probably was.

He wondered what you would be like if you could have your freedom again. If you could exist without fear, without worry, without pain. How much brighter would your smile be? How much happier would you feel? He could picture it; you, successful and happy, with a career, a home, a family... you seemed like the type that would want a family.

But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t picture himself there with you. His future didn’t hold the potential that yours did, and he didn’t want the things that he assumed you wanted. No matter which way he looked at it, he didn’t belong there, his dark shadow blocking out the light that you desperately needed to flourish.

And yet, for some reason, you always shined brightest when you were with him. You were happiest with him. You’d even said so with your own words. The safety that you’d been seeking before wasn’t at the hotel; it was with him.

His mind and his heart couldn’t reconcile the two realities. They co-existed in his consciousness, yet their edges never touched.

You wanted to feel normal, but Dabi knew that normal would no longer be possible for you. Not after what had happened to you, how they had tried to erase you. There was nothing for you to go back to, not with hero society being what it was, the status quo still locked in place and the people who hurt you still in power.

Dabi mourned his past while you mourned your future.

So, you wanted to pretend tonight. Dabi couldn’t blame you. That’s why he changed his mind, even though discomfort and warning bells nagged at the back of his consciousness. That was why he took your pills so that he could stave off any temptation he might feel once you both reached your new destination. It was the only option available that he had in order to give you want you wanted.

He’d let you pretend. And maybe... just for a little bit... Dabi could pretend too. He could set aside his identities of Dabi and Touya, stashing them away to a deep, dark place inside himself. They would never be gone from him entirely but, maybe tonight, he could quiet their screaming for just a little while. He could pretend, take on a third, unnamed identity. No one important, just some guy having a night out with a girl that he had a crush on.

You stepped off the train with Dabi into a different neighborhood. More bars lined the streets here, more people walked the sidewalks. The heavy thrums of music spilled out of open club doors into the streets where people lined up for entry.

Dabi led you along with his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close to him. It was as if he were making sure you didn’t get separated from him, lost in the throngs of drunken passersby. And it was a good call, too... you were still very much tipsy, your balance uneven as you followed along. Your eyes kept getting distracted by the things around you, and Dabi had to guide you around oncoming strangers more than once.

“Careful, doll,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” you said off-handedly. His hand gave your shoulder a small squeeze.

You were looking around, trying to guess which club he would take you to. Instead, he turned down a dark alley.

“Wait, what...?”

“Just trust me.”

So you did, letting him guide you until you found a back door entrance with a line of strangers waiting.

“What is this place?”

“It’s a special place for people like us,” he replied. Then he grinned down at you. “What, do you think villains are just constantly fighting and stealing all the time?”

You smiled and leaned against him as you waited. The closer you got, the more anxious you felt, a mixture of fear and excitement. You could feel the music in your feet now, could hear how the building seemed to vibrate from the bass that spilled out of the open door.

“You still got those extra pills on you?” Dabi asked, his eyes ahead.

“Yeah, why?”

“Hand ‘em over.”

You hesitated, and Dabi looked down at you.

“They’re not for me, doll. Money’s not the only currency here, and that stack of cash I had is gonna dry up if we’re not careful. We still gotta be able to get back later.”

Discomfort stirred across your skin, but you pulled out the pills and handed the bag to him anyway.

“Good girl,” he muttered as he pocketed them.

The reaction your body had to those two simple words was astronomical, heat washing over you and moisture pooling between your legs. It took you by surprise, and you bit your lip to keep yourself composed as you took another step forward in the line.

It wasn’t long before it was your turn to go in. You had expected them to check ID, but instead, Dabi talked to the man guarding the door in low whispers. A few words and an exchange of bills and the pills and you were finally in.

The atmosphere smothered you instantly, invading all of your senses. The noise, the smell, the heat, the vibrations, the flashing lights and smoke... It was overwhelming at first, but Dabi kept his arm over you, guiding you through it. Your eyes took it all in, watching people dancing, grinding, making out. You averted your eyes, realizing exactly what you’d gotten yourself into and who you were with.

You turned your attention back ahead when Dabi stopped, and you realized he’d found the bar.

“I’m gonna need a drink before we do this,” he commented, his voice loud to override the noise. “You want one?”

Yes. Yes, you definitely needed another drink.

You nodded at him.

“Whad’ya want? Better make it strong, this is probably our last one for tonight,” he replied as he checked the money left in his hand. The stack was significantly thinner than when you first started.

You gave him your order, picking something that would taste awful but be highly effective. He grinned at you and gave the order to the bartender. A minute later, you both had your own drinks. You took a sip of yours and grimaced.

“You’re not gonna scold me?” he teased, holding his drink up for emphasis.

You scoffed. “Would it make a difference?” you asked.

Dabi laughed. “Not really.”

“Exactly.”

Dabi’s shoulder bumped yours playfully. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll get you home safe.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “I know you will,” you replied.

You watched the people on the dance floor with longing as you sipped at your drink, waiting for the effects to kick in. You needed to be drunk enough to not care about how you danced or who was watching. You need to be drunk enough to be able to nearly forget yourself and all your troubles.

While you watched the dance floor, Dabi kept an eye out for any potential trouble. His eyes caught a couple popping pills in their mouths and chasing it with alcohol. Further away, a group of girls bent over a table, snorting white powder into their noses off their makeup mirrors. In this place, no one cared what anyone else did, as long as they didn’t start any fights.

Dabi’s arm around your shoulder tightened as he looked away, angling you slightly so the groups were behind you. He didn’t want you to see it. He didn’t want you to see any of it. Because as soon as you did, he knew you’d want to leave, your worry over him greater than your desire for freedom.

And Dabi understood why. He could feel the pull of it, the drag of the old familiar behaviors brought forth by old memories of a time when he didn’t care about consequences. If he were by himself, he probably wouldn’t be able to resist it, the temptation too great. But this time, he had you with him, and it was you that kept him grounded.

It was excruciating waiting; he finished his drink long before yours, knowing the sooner he finished it, the sooner it would hit, and the sooner he’d be able to sober up later. It mixed with your pills in his gut and he could feel the lightheadedness, could feel the numbness settle over him comfortably. His scars didn’t hurt, and the headaches and nausea that came and went each time your medication wore off was once again silent.

But he still had enough awareness to realize how stupid he was being, the risk he was taking by bringing you here. He was being a damn idiot just to make you happy and keep you smiling. What if he fucked up again? What if he couldn’t stop himself? What if he got caught up in something and you ended up getting hurt tonight?

That single possibility lingered in his mind, and he used it to shackle himself to you, using your presence as a lifeline. He refused to let it happen. He’d never be able to forgive himself if it did.

He watched as you finally finished the last of your drink. Your body was loose and untethered again, and you swayed subconsciously to the music.

“You ready?” he asked.

The sooner he could get you out onto the dance floor, the easier all of this would be for him. He’d let you dance, you’d get what you needed out of your system, and then he’d take you home.

He just needed to not see it. He needed to be distracted. He needed to stay focused on you.

You stared at him, eyes wide with hesitancy. But there was longing there as well, hidden behind the glassiness of your eyes.

“Yeah,” you finally answered.

He let you lead the way, allowing you to pick your way through the crowd to find a space where you could squeeze in. Dabi followed behind you, his hand on your waist to make sure you didn’t get lost and to make sure no one else tried to approach you.

The music was upbeat and fast paced, the kind that made people want to jump and sway and sing. Your body fell into it naturally, carried along on the beat.

Dabi stood, his body frozen to distraction as he watched you move. Your eyes were closed, every part of you in motion, and he could tell that you were happy as your mouth sang the lyrics. It was as if he weren’t even there, or more like you weren’t there anymore, just a vessel through which the music moved through. It was a tide that you ebbed and flowed with, and Dabi was the rock.

You loved to dance. Dabi had never even thought about it before; he’d never once asked himself what it was that you liked, what you enjoyed. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized how little he really knew about you. It only made the curiosity burn brighter, hotter.

What else made you happy?

You pulled him back to reality with a tug of your hand, your eyes and face alight with joy.

“Dance with me!” you pleaded.

So, he did, his body coming up to fit behind yours. He let you set the motions, let your hips lead his as his arm wrapped around your waist. His body burned like fire everywhere your bodies touched, and he let it consume him, let himself get lost between you and the music, finding solace in a place where time had no meaning and all that mattered was the movement, the rhythm, the feel and smell of your skin.

The songs changed, blending from one to the next as you danced together, heady from alcohol and arousal. You stopped thinking, you stopped worrying. You let yourself drift in happiness with Dabi pressed against you, his body like a brand against your skin that burned itself into your soul. You were tingling, your skin singing everywhere.

The palms of Dabi’s hands grazed the curve of your shoulders and down your arms until they found their home on your hips, his fingers curling around and bringing you flush against him as you danced. The movement of your bodies were different now, changing, evolving. And faintly, you realized that a threshold was being crossed, a line drawn in the sand that was being etched away with each hot breath across the shell of your ear. You could feel Dabi’s belt buckle against your lower back, could feel the denim of his jeans and the firmness beneath it that had made itself at home against the curve of your ass, and all you could think of was how you wanted more, more, more.

Every inch of you began to tighten like a coil, and you weren’t the only one. Dabi lowered his head until his nose was brushing the crook of your neck, his lips ghosting over your shoulder but never quite touching, never actually reaching out and...

Your movements together slowed to a standstill as people continued to dance around you. Dabi tucked his nose behind the shell of your ear, the breath from his lips tickling your neck in ragged gusts.

He was holding back. Every fiber of Dabi’s being was pulled tight as he fought every natural urge that coursed through his veins.

Your hand reached up to tangle your fingers into his hair soothingly. It was hot and sweaty, the strands sticking between your fingers. You scratched at his scalp, and he hummed, the vibration echoing in your own chest.

“You okay?” you said just loud enough for him to hear.

He growled low and his grip tightened, fingers digging into the plush of your hips, causing your breath to hitch.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

You turned in his arms to look at him, and he stared back, his ocean eyes glowing with hunger. You put your arms around his neck, and you moved in a gentle sway, even as the music continued to pound loudly and quickly around you.

“Am I now?” you grinned.

Dabi’s eyes narrowed at you.

His hands gripped your ass and pushed you tight against him until there was no mistaking just how crazy you were making him, just how badly he wanted you.

“Yeah. You are.”

His action stole a little gasp from your lips, and he grinned devilishly. It only emboldened you, eager to finally rip away the thin, false veneer of a boundary that no longer existed between you.

“So...” you said as you put your forehead to his, your noses bumping gently, “what’re you gonna do about it?”

He could feel your hot breath, could smell the alcohol on your tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut, his brows furrowed. You were drunk, he was drunk and slightly high, and none of this was supposed to be happening.

He shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t...

He didn’t want you to wake up in the morning and regret this, to write this off as a mistake. He wanted this to mean something.

But then you whined his name, the same way you did last night, with that needy, pleading tone that made his heart drop in his chest and his cock throb against his jeans.

“Dabi...”

Fuck it.

Dabi’s resolve shattered into a million pieces, and he kissed you.

Pleasure erupted like wildfire and you gasped against his lips. Your hands behind his neck instantly tightened around him as you slotted against his body like a magnet. His arms tightened around you, his hands following up and down the curve of your back before returning to cup your ass and push you tight against his groin where his need was heaviest. Your need was heavy too, pulsing in your veins and throbbing between your legs until you were sure you’d drown.

Your mouth opened hungrily, and Dabi was done for, his tongue meeting yours as he kissed you fiercely. His hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, keeping you close, preventing you from pulling away as he drank you in.

You were lightheaded, on the brink of fainting, when your lips finally parted. Dabi stared at you, his pupils dilated, his lips wet.

“Wanna get outta here?” he finally asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

Dabi grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the club into the night air. The cold chilled the sweat on your skin, your hearing muffled from the aftereffects of the club music. Everything held a strange lucidity now, despite the alcohol still rampant in your veins. It was as if a heavy veil had finally been lifted and you could see the beauty of the world around you, all of its edges in crystal clear clarity, and at the center of it was him.

You practically had to jog to keep up, your head still swimming. You turned the corner and managed to find yourself on a quieter street, with less people. He led you down it, making another turn into another nondistinct alleyway, much quieter than the last without any back entrances to clubs or bars.

You needed to kiss him again. You needed it like you needed air.

You tugged on his arm, yanking him back toward you. You met the incoming momentum of his body with your hand on his cheek and your lips on his, hot and eager.

He kissed you back instantly, his tongue opening your mouth again and he backed you up against the wet brick wall, his palms exploring your body. Your hips, your thighs... he pressed himself against you, and you moaned at the feeling of his thigh pressing between your legs, your hips rolling.

Dabi’s mouth broke from yours to trail wet kisses to your jawline and down your neck. Your fingers gripped his hair, your body moving of its own accord, finally cut loose of its strings.

But suddenly, a wave of unpleasant heat began to wash over you, and the lightheadedness from before evolved into full-on spinning.

“Dabi...” you warned.

“Hm?” he hummed, too engrossed in the feel of you to hear the shift in your tone.

You could feel it, the way your stomach rolled. All that drinking, and dancing, and running...

You were going to be sick.

“Dabi stop –”

You shoved him away just in time to bend over to the side and vomit your alcohol all over the ground.

“Oh shit.” Dabi’s arm was around you in an instant, holding you up as you emptied your stomach, his other hand brushing your hair back and out of your face. “It’s okay, doll. I gotcha.”

The lust in Dabi’s veins evaporated immediately, his mental fog receding as he held you while your body convulsed.

Realization crashed over him on all that had just happened.

He shouldn’t have done any of this.

He shouldn’t have taken you that club, he shouldn’t have danced with you, he shouldn’t have touched you like that...

And he definitely shouldn’t have kissed you. Not while you were both drunk off your asses, where you couldn’t tell where the alcohol ended and your feelings began.

Fuck, you were too important to him to fuck this up.

It was too late now. He could still taste you on his tongue, could recall in stunning clarity the feel of your body beneath his palms, the way it had bent to his will. He’d finally had a taste of you and he craved more. He’d unlocked something within himself that couldn’t be put back, had given away something that couldn’t be returned.

You moaned miserably once you were done and wiped your mouth. You propped yourself against the wall with your body bent and your hands on your legs.

“Ughh...” you groaned.

Dabi crouched in front of you so he could look up into your face. “You okay?”

You looked at him with tired eyes and shook your head. “Nnnnope. Everything’s...” – you whirled your finger in a circular motion – “ssspinning.” You lowered your head again. “Oh, God. That last drink hit hard.”

Dabi took your hand in his. “Let’s get you home.”

“Yyyup,” you replied. You made to stand up, but the nausea came back. “Woah, woah... hang on... I’mmm gonna... need another m-minute.” Your words were slurred and your movements slow. You bent back over, your head low again as you breathed deep breaths in and out.

Dabi crouched in front of you again. He placed his hands on your calves and rubbed his thumbs in small circles into the denim.

You glanced up at him and a drunk giggle escaped your lips. “Totally sexy right now, aren’t I?”

Dabi smirked. “You’re always sexy.”

You straightened up slightly and breathed in through your nose and out your mouth as the nausea began to subside and the spinning slowed. You leaned your head back against the wall, your eyes closed.

“I thought I wasn’t your type,” you joked.

Dabi stood up and brushed your hair away from your face. “Obviously that was a fuckin’ lie.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

You were spiraling now, all the alcohol you didn’t throw up running amok in your system, and it was late. Dabi put his arm around your shoulder to keep you steady.

“C’mon, doll... I think we’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

“Mmm... I like when you call me doll,” you hummed.

“I know you do.”

“And sweetheart.”

“Yep.”

Dabi started to help you out of the alley, but you stumbled, your steps wobbly. You broke out into a fit of giggles but had to pause again as another wave of nausea washed over you.

“You gonna throw up again?” he asked.

“I dunno. I mean... I’m pretty sure there’s nothing left to throw up.” You looked around you, the surroundings unfamiliar. “How far away is home?”

“We gotta get to the train.”

“Ugghhh... too far,” you whined. Exhaustion was coming on fast and hard. You wanted to lay down on the ground and sleep.

A raindrop struck the top of your head, then another. More and more began to fall.

Dabi cursed. “Ah, shit...”

You held your hand out, watching as they landed on your palm, your fingers. You opened your mouth and caught a couple drops on your tongue.

Dabi stared at you, his breath stuck in his chest.

You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And, for at least a little while tonight, you were his. He watched, memorizing the nuances of you, your laugh, your smile, the color of your eyes, your hair, every beauty and every imperfection locked away into a safe place on the possibility that tomorrow everything would be different.

Tomorrow you may not want him at all.

So, for now, he’d enjoy however much was left of the night, even if all that was left was laughing, stumbling, and dancing in the rain.

The drops began to fall faster, heavier. It began to flatten his hair and soak into his clothes. You were oblivious, your face tilted up towards the falling rain, as you held your arms out. You did a small spin but stumbled, and Dabi caught you in his arms before you could hit the pavement.

“Whoops!” You giggled.

“Shitfaced,” he teased.

“Happy,” you replied. You put your arms around his torso, your head resting against his chest. “Happy.” You repeated again, your voice softer.

Dabi allowed his arms to wrap around you, allowed his quirk to warm his body slightly to stave off the cold for the both of you.

He had to get you back, before the trains shut down.

“Come on doll, we gotta hurry.” Dabi grabbed your hand and began dragging you down the street. You followed him, your feet barely able to keep up.

As the rain soaked through your clothes, you began to shiver. Puddles formed in the street, small streams trickling down the gutters. By the time you’d managed to reach the train station, you were both soaked. Dabi managed to get you onto the last train for the night. You sat down together and you began rubbing your arms, your teeth chattering slightly.

Dabi took off his stitched coat and draped it over your shoulders. “Here.”

You wrapped it around you gratefully and snuggled against him, your arms wrapped around his.

As the train began to move, it rocked ever so slightly, back and forth. Dabi allowed his cheek to rest against your wet head as he watched the city pass outside. He felt an unusual sense of quiet in this moment, a peace that he’d never felt before. The usual darkness in him was always there, lurking, but for once, he didn’t care about it, didn’t look at it. He knew this night was wrought with impermanence, and he told himself that he would pretend.

After a silence that lasted for eternity, Dabi allowed himself to speak from a place that he usually kept quiet, a place he’d never before given credence to.

“I hope you remember this...” he whispered against your hair.

You didn’t answer. The mixture of alcohol, exhaustion, warmth, and the movement of the train had lulled you to sleep. It forced a small loneliness to settle on Dabi’s shoulders.

It had been fun while it lasted.

He had to shake you awake once the train reached your stop. You were half asleep as you followed him off and leaned against him the entire walk home. Dabi had half a mind to give you a piggyback ride to save time, but the healing wound on his back itched as a reminder. His scars didn’t hurt terribly yet, but he remained cautious, aware that your quirk had burned off long ago. Now it was only your pills that were keeping the excruciating pain at bay. He could feel them lurking beneath the surface, waiting to wreak havoc on his body again.

It was an ordeal getting you in and up the stairs. You’d gravitated towards the couch in the common room as soon as you saw it, and whined at him when he redirected you to the stairs.

“Elevator,” you whined.

The old machinery squeaked and rattled, and Dabi didn’t want to wake the others just to deal with curious looks and even more curious questions.

“Too noisy.” Dabi replied.

So, he helped you up the steps of the stairwell, catching you when you faltered.

By the third stumble, your giggles returned.

“Shh, shut up,” he whispered.

Your giggle turned into a cackle, unable to control yourself, and Dabi put his hand over your mouth to try to quiet you. Your tongue stuck out and licked his palm, running across his staples.

He yanked his hand away, repulsed. “Ugh! You’re disgusting.”

You cackled some more, and your voice echoed off the stairwell. You clamped your own hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as your eyes squeezed shut, tears stinging the corners.

Dabi couldn’t help but chuckle at you.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered. “Come on, you idiot.”

He finally had to put your arm around his shoulder and his arm around your waist, and your giggles finally subsided, the occasional chuckle escaping your lips.

Dabi managed to get you through your bedroom door and plopped you down on top of your bed, where you lay sprawled out, your eyelids heavy.

“Dabi...” you slurred.

Dabi began helping you out of your shoes. “Yeah?”

“Did we kiss?”

Dabi froze, his hands in the middle of peeling off your wet socks. It was as if like you’d shot a bullet through his chest, and now his heart was bleeding out, leaving nothing but emptiness inside.

You didn’t remember.

You already forgot.

Dabi stared at you for a moment as you laid back with your arm over your eyes to block the light. His jaw clenched.

“No, doll.”

“Aww...” you pouted. “I thought we did...”

“You must’ve been dreaming on the train.”

“Mmm, it was a really good dream...”

You rolled to your side and curled in on yourself, tears in your eyes as you stared at your bedside lamp. You were still wrapped up in his coat, with your own soaked jacket underneath.

“C’mon, doll.”

Dabi made you sit up and began taking his coat off you. You rubbed at your eyes sleepily. As soon as he got your own jacket off, you fell back sideways into the bed. Dabi grabbed your blanket and laid it over you.

“I wish I were your type...” you whispered.

Dabi froze for a moment, his eyes on you. But you didn’t look at him; it was almost as if you were talking to yourself.

It stung him how little you remembered from your night together. But Dabi accepted it bitterly, playing along. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe tomorrow you wouldn’t hate him.

“No you don’t,” he replied quietly.

“Yes I do....”

Your eyes closed, and Dabi watched and waited. But they didn’t open again, and your breaths fell soft and even. You’d fallen asleep.

A heavy sigh escaped out of his nose, and he crouched at the edge of your bed, his arms on your mattress with his chin in his fist as he watched you sleep.

His type. It was the second time you’d brought it up that night, even though you didn’t remember. He remembered the jab he’d thrown at you ages ago; he remembered how you reacted. It was his first real hint that showed him you were interested in him.

But then everything fell apart and you put him back together piece by piece. And it was all different after that. Dabi had assumed that his little comment no longer mattered; that it had become a thing of the past, once you’d gotten to know him and all of his problems. After all, why the hell would you even want to be his type anyway?

But you did, and now his careless words from before were back to bite him in the ass. Because now he had only one type, and it was you.

And you weren’t going to remember a thing.

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Chapter 17

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TAGLIST: @babayaga67 @ladroone @samemec @georgettesand @horsetechie @ajaviary @thegratefulbread25 @lovingandenjoying @jammakesjam @christalcake @moth-baybee @kdadss @stealingyourturts @purplesweethart @reapersbarge @ren-z @dabi-lover @ohh-takuuu @darkovergrownforestnymph @silverrings-n-prettythings @kirisbeltbuckle @wynnsmelody @sleepyfairyxo @noonasaryn @alittlemoth @prettylambs @n0san1tyl3ft @afuturefailure @sleepycrybby @piratequeen-impact @n3cr0p0l1s @ladyinfini @forrest-of-the-fae @here2vibe @dabislittleprincess @dabislittlemouse @zephoncocaine @kowalsqq @lovingandenjoying @ravenskit @stealingyourturts @crunchtits @byebyeeye @wanhedavaliquette @toastycp @diplotzakkaistriftatsigara @redmilligan @endlessfreaky @noonasaryn

#Dabi x reader #touya x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya x you #touya x y/n #Dabi #touya todoroki #soft dabi #angst #pining #slow burn

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nono-uwu · 2 months

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Ons chapter 135 thoughts!!

Spoilers duh (also very long post. Lmk if I should add the read more cut)

- KAGAMI I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YOU TO GIVE CHESS AND HORN MORE SCREENTIME BUT THANK YOU ANYWAYS

- I am so glad that the whole digestion thing is more symbolical bc... that inital wording really threw me off lmao

- on that note, the immagery of the dead trees with the bodies sticking out of 'em... very creepy and on point, I think it's neat

- they actually adressed Crowley forgetting them! Wowzers (side note she looks hella adorable. My little skrunkly)

- ouugh the dynamic... where was it earlier? It seems so much more casual than during the Nagoya arc (probably just wishful thinking on my part lmao)... idc how give us more of this

- "you two were my first servants", LORE CRUMBS! I guess.

- wait so, they're still becoming demons? But isn't that a form of reincarnation, the thing Ferid is specifically trying to stop? But he's also devouring them... to absorb their power I guess? Since later on Ferid mentions now being more powerful after devouring Crowley (I'll get to that asspull later)

- Also Horn looks a teensy bit weird with the new artstyle but she's still super pretty 🫶 be my wife pls

- So, 16 year old Ferid is inside himself as his 'true self'? I assume that because he got the idea to stop reincarnation when he was 16 and hasn't changed his mind since (never let 16 year olds make big decisions in this world, it only leads to disaster)

- the skrunkle part 2. Also I doubt being digested like that feels good in any way. And with how slow it's supposed to be, yikes.

- I have a theory (aka major amounts of copium): Yuu will bust in and save Crowley because of 'fAmiLy' and also save Chess and Horn since they're family by association

- No one can reach Ferid, eh? And then Corwley's voice reaches him. Kagami and his queerbaiting amirite

- However Ferid then snags Crowley and ig he's on the priority list of getting devoured. Probably bc he's the strongest vampire Ferid has eaten. Cannibalism as a metaphor for love and devotion or whatever, except it's very literal and I doubt there's any love beyond 'u and interesting critter dude' from both sides

- Ok here's my major nitpick with this chapter: KAGAMI STOP BREAKING AND BENDING YOUR OWN FUCKING WORLDBUILDING AND POWER SYTEMS. Until now it was established that a vampires strenght is dependant on 1. their rank (as in who's blood turned them) and 2. their age. But now appearantly Ferid can eat vampires and absorb their strenght? If this was some universal but very difficult thing for any vampire to do, then I wouldn't be this salty. Also one of my favourite things about Ferid as an antagonist was, that power-wise he was on the weaker side. Despite being 'weak' he was still a major threat. He made up for his lack in actual fighting power with smarts and immaculate planning. But now he's another uber-strong genius. C'mon we already had Shikama and Rigr for that department. Bleh.

- now for the Yuu / Rigr and co confrontation, it's fiiiiine. I guess. At least Shikama is still somewhat of a formidable threat. Not to the major characters obviously but yk, it's something.

- rip Basteya. You showed up, slayed for a little and died.

- Kirsten still looks fugly as hell lmao

- so do Ulrich and Roger

- So, who will be faster: Shinoa in absorbing Shikama or Yuu in saving him? My bet is on Yuu purley bc he's supposed to be the main character but ig we'll see next chapter

- KRUL!!! AND THE BAT THING I FORGOT IT'S NAME

- sadly no Ferid / Krul brawl this chapter but yk what makes me excited for next chapter

- my guess is that now Krul is Ferids next target to be chomped. Hopefully she will beat his ass. Like when she first appeared. Ahhh the good old times

- 'A big fan of yours... M'lady Queen' lmao. What's next Ferid, will you put on a Fedora? Bro that last panel ain't it. Fuckin Sebastian of black butler wannabe 💀

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #ons #crowley eusford #ferid bathory #chess belle #horn skuld #krul tepes #ons spoilers

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raydom-gamer · 9 months

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So here's a crackhead thought, I grew up always hearing that if you have those dreams where you fall from a high distance and you wake up with a sudden jolt it was because of Angel was taking you up to heaven but dropped you and you fell back into your body.

On the same concept, if you wake up with your neck hurting it wasn't because you had slept wrong on it it was because of demon was trying to murder you in your sleep to drag you to hell but you had fought them off.

This concept can go one of two ways for the obey me fandom. SLIGHT SPOILERS TO CHAPTER 16 IN OBEY ME SHALL WE DATE.

This is something that actually is a thing and MC not knowing that it's true, mentions it in passing about how they got woken up in the middle of the night becausethey were falling in their dream. MC is just eating breakfast while the brothers are trying not to talk about the screaming match they had with a fellow Angel a couple hours prior.

MC talking about how they must have slept wrong on their pillow because they have a crick in the neck. The brothers keep MC distracted from realizing that Satan isn't at breakfast that morning and shows up to class late.

Or it's a lie that humans told for generations and MC randomly brings it up how they were glad the angel dropped their soul last night. The brothers started screaming match demanding me to know specific details on the angel that dare break into their house and try to steal/kill MC from them. Lucifer is mental checking every opening in the house to make sure that he didn't feel any holy magic outside of Simeon, Raphael and Luke.

MC mentioning how they didn't appreciate the sleepy demon from strangling them last night and Belphie yells at the other side of the table that he said "He was sorry, it was a one time incident." Only for MC to state that it wasn't him he was referring to causing the entire room to erupt in chaos as they try to figure out who the intruder is and how no one even Lucifer was able to sense them.

Like they're so much writing potential and unnecessary chaos that a human dream theory could cause on the Seven Lords of the Devildom.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #funny #the amount of chaos this would rain

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takearisk-xo · 11 months

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So, full disclosure

chapter 16 of the path from you has been hanging over my head for months and i think most of you have guessed why... for those who haven't or who are curious to know more about why it's taking so long, i've decided to be pretty open and candid below the cut. there aren't any outright spoilers but more just an explanation about the process i've been going back and forth on since.... february ?? (ffs)

this isn't directly in response to that anon from last night but they did make a valid point that i have been promising an update and failing to deliver so, if you're wondering why, keep reading

i very much realize that this is my hobby, and i do it for fun, and i don't owe anyone an explanation but i still feel like i can give one anyway. most of you have probably guessed that the next 3-4 chapters of the path from you are harry and ginny reaching their boiling points and finally having it out (in more ways than one)

my problem has been that i have a very specific order of events in my head about how it should all unfold but everytime i sit down to write, harry and ginny jump ahead three chapters and start ruining all my plans. i think they, and i, are ready for some conversations to start happening, however, if they break one wall, then they all come crashing down and to be honest, i'm a little bit attached to what i've already written in 17-18-19 to truly be able to blow it all up again.

now, with that being said, i also think i've gotten to the point where i know it's time for some reconciliation. unfortunately, my ego/pride/self-confidence is getting in the way a little bit because, in my opinion, a well-executed emotional payoff separates a good writer from a great one, and in the spirit of full honesty, i want to be great.

this version of harry and ginny, and all of you who have stuck with me for this long, have earned a damn good moment and i really *really* want it to be the best possible unfolding of events it can be. full of heart and vulnerability and passion.

the people that i talk to almost everyday about this fic (@narukoibito, @fairsquare16, @corneliaavenue-ao3, @herblazinglook, @ginwhisky, @brightlybound, & @valfromcall) can tell you that i have been laboring and struggling and agonizing over this chapter for months. this is not something i take lightly and this fic means a whole lot to me in a lot of really personal ways, so i have been taking a massive amount of time getting us to where we are because i want to get it right. i want harry and ginny's reasons for ending up where they are to feel honest and i want their resolution to feel cathartic. and maybe this is where i'm crippling myself, by trying to make it perfect, but dammit HARRY AND GINNY DESERVE PERFECT

thank you to everyone who reached out last night and over the past few weeks with love and encouragement and support. you guys mean more to me than you will ever know. any good vibes you can throw my way while i write tonight would be much appreciated. chapter 16 is close. i had a revelation a couple nights ago about why i kept getting stuck so hopefully this newfound direction will finally get us to the finish line.

i guess i'll end by saying this, if ever you are curious about what i'm working on or what's coming up next or why an update is taking so long, just ask. i am an open book. i swear i'm not intentionally holding out on you. and if i promise an update and come back a few days later saying its not ready yet, please remember that i am trying to put out the best possible version of my stories and i am just as disappointed as you are that i'm not updating.

as always, thanks for reading and for allowing me the space to create this version of h/g's love story.

#personal #about the path from you....

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bunni-v1 · 8 months

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Clarification for Age in my College AU

(Minor Spoilers for Chapter 6 when talking about Ortho)

If you've read my rules (which I know most of you haven't >:(, shame), you know that I mention that this account is functioning off a 'permanent college au'.

However, I don't exactly establish how large of a gap there is between the characters' current ages to their ages in my AU. I wanted to clear that up for everyone's comfort.

So I'm working on a four-year college system like we have here in America (Because I'm American, ofc 🦅🇺🇸 🦅🇺🇸 🦅🇺🇸). So, the first years would be freshmen, the second sophomores, the third juniors, and then the fourth are those briefly mentioned students doing work study.

So in my AU each character is aged up by three years. So, 16->19, 17->20 and so on. (Leona is 23 lmaoooo). Each character has a major/minor already predetermined for them, they all participate in different clubs, and I've even picked out some on/off campus Jobs they have. As well as changing campus rules about visitors and stuff just a little. If anyone wants more information about this stuff, just ask and I'll be happy to go into it. The only reason I won't go into it by myself is because it would be A LOT of pretty boring information IMO lol.

Anyway, the only exception to all of this is Ortho. We don't really have a cannon age for him. His real (once) living counterpart would be 16, making Ortho himself 19 like the rest of the first years, BUT Ortho is actually not the same age as that counterpart. He has memories from like... eleven years ago?

I'm not sure, but this is where my own headcannons come in for him. I personally view Ortho in-game to be one of those weirdo prodigy kids (I mean he's a robot so it makes sense) who gets to attend college young. I view him as maybe two or three years younger than the current first years, making him about 13/14. So with my age addition in this AU, he'd be around 16/17.

I'm fine with writing him, but because of these factors, I'm not willing to do ANYTHING nsfw AT ALL with Ortho. I'm hardly willing to do anything nsfw period, even though I allow it in the rules, because I know it is a very slippery slope, and If I don't handle it correctly I could easily make someone very uncomfortable and I want this to be a safe space for all!

So, very specifically with Ortho, nothing but romantic fluff.

Finally, for all my writings nsfw or not, I am going out of my way to treat these boys like they are older. I'm trying to show that they are more mature, well-learned, and experienced with life. I am not aging these characters up only to make smut with them, I am aging them up for everything, and I truly hope that my efforts shine through.

Thank you very much for reading, love you all and see you next post <3

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #request rules 🍧

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hauntedmoors · 10 months

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Okay the post about Rand's sexuality is here - you can expect spoilers up to and including A Memory of Light so you should avoid reading it if you haven't finished reading the series. Obv I don't think that a lot of analysis on psychology and sexuality were necessarily rooted in science or research in the early 1900s but Freud's theories have always had a lot of literary significance and that's how I approach analysing how the larger narrative interacts with RJ's deployment of the oedipal complex in the post and I do think the books intend to critique it, at least in part.

the great hunt, chapter 16

Nynaeve and Moiraine are often both posited as potential romantic figures in the series if not in the same sequences in which Rand considers other romantic interests. They both go on to develop into Rand's mentor-mother figures in the series (as Lan functions as the mentor-father figure) and Moiraine’s death in The Fires of Heaven is very hard on him. Rand’s relationship with his various ‘mothers’ have always formed a very important facet of his characterisation - the first significant battle that Rand engages in at the end of The Eye of World involves the Dark One attempting to ‘tempt’ him by promising to resurrect Kari al’Thor, and it’s important to note that the Shadow is specifically involved in the attempt to lure him by using his mother - to succumb to Oedipus's fate is not a favourable outcome.

the fires of heaven, chapter 7

The vision (in other terms, a prophecy) that Moiraine witnesses in the ter'angreal in Rhuidean hints at disastrous consequences should she try to seduce Rand and it's in direct reference to the prophecy that Oedipus would kill his father (see: The Gathering Storm), marry his own mother, and bring down a terrible tragedy upon his people. Once the first two elements of the prophecy are fulfilled in the myth, the kingdom is struck by a plague and the crisis is only resolved when Oedipus blinds himself and goes into exile. This is again vaguely familiar in terms of how the story evolves over the course of the series as Rand is blinded briefly, nearly kills his own lover as Oedipus nearly did, and dies in 'exile' from a home he never returned to for fear of betraying it to his enemies.

With the Oedipal Complex, Freud postulated that the journey to adulthood resolved itself as a 'heterosexual' development of sexuality while homosexuality represented an arrested stage of development. In the series, Rand notably describes Ishamael and Demandred as attractive people and also goes on to describe various men as individuals that women might like to consider as likely candidates for romantic interests - the former also signals Lews Therin's own implied struggles with homoerotic relationships with men; regret colours how he remembers the friendships he'd cultivated with them as he refuses to accept the reality that he's dead; or in other words, stuck in a state of stasis that he refuses to move on from - to develop, or, to mature. He warns against the dangers of male channelers and the Black Tower and cautions Rand against them, which is where a lot of the queer readings arise from.

These references to the attraction that men hold for Rand also decrease in frequency over the course of the series, and are also significantly concentrated in situations preceding Rand's acceptance of responsibility - in other words, Rand is only considered a man who has reached adulthood upon accepting the responsibility of the Dragon Reborn at the end of The Great Hunt, following which he begins to actively return the romantic interest that Elayne and Min show in him after failing to adequately return any interest in Selene or Egwene. His true and final acceptance of his fate is seen during The Fires of Heaven where he's forced to confront the reality that he will not be able to evade or trick the prophecy as he'd planned to do following his trip to Sindhol in The Shadow Rising. His encounters with the Seanchan in The Great Hunt and The Fires of Heaven - i.e. colonialist imperialism, which is often likened to rape - waken him to the responsibility he owes the world on both occasions, and he later loses a hand in another significant encounter with the Seanchan*. Childhood is past for Rand, and there's nowhere to run.

*Mat also experiences several moments that can be described as a ‘loss of innocence' which can be directly traced back to participating in conflicts against the Seanchan, as seen during The Great Hunt and Knife of Dreams.

This recognition sets the trend for Rand's relationships with men moving forward - he severs the bond of friendship he's cultivated with Mat and overwrites it with a relationship based on responsibility during The Fires of Heaven. Following the "kiss" that Rand administered to Mat in The Shadow Rising and the intense degrees of homoeroticism they display in The Eye of the World, he recognises Mat as a point of personal crisis. Perrin is afforded a similar treatment in Lord of Chaos and they're both eventually banished from Rand's lives as they're figures from a childhood with varying degrees of homoeroticism coded into their relationships that Rand can no longer afford to associate himself with.

Similar treatments are afforded to all his friends and allies during books 4-7, but in doing so he weakens himself leading the narrative to deride him for childish, poorly conceived approaches to asserting his maturity. He begins avoiding the Maidens (who often identify themselves as his 'mothers') who are sworn to protect him more religiously to his disadvantage. He asserts his adulthood with irresponsible and dangerous acts, in part guided by the personal traumas that he's endured. He set himself at odds with Moiraine for four books before recognising his mistake - but it didn't prevent him from committing the same mistake again repeatedly in subsequent books.

But the books also display plenty of sympathy for Rand, and in preventing the fulfilment of Moiraine’s prophecy they tackle the idea of the inevitable disaster and Rand’s flawed approaches to reach adulthood - they recognise and draw attention to the points of pressure and negative forces corralling Rand in and preventing him from acting in his best interests and ask the reader to pity him as he begins to isolate himself. The books are critical of his ill-conceived approaches but they don’t forget to be kind to him. And Elayne, with her specific homoerotic relationship with Aviendha, exists to offer an ideal example of a leader who can accept responsibility and make the journey into adulthood with the proper support, empathy and training.

TLDR: rand is bisexual and in denial. like his mom, moiraine, and girlfriend, elayne, who were definitely not in denial.

#1.1k. have fun lads.#I tried my best but I wasn't taking notes so I couldn't hunt down those scenes where Rand commented on men looking attractive #I'm sorry lgbt community #text #wheel of time #rand al'thor #elayne trakand #mat cauthon #mp #not including the gathering storm in my analysis for the resolution of identity with lews therin because 1. it’s bad #2. I don’t think rj would have resolved it the same way

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moonchildreads · 11 months

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small town

Chapter 16 - Let's Hear It for the Boy

IN THIS CHAPTER: Science fiction double feature, rotten eggs, and Eddie turns 20 [12.2k]

WARNINGS: bullying (mentions of racism and fatphobia), childhood trauma (hair trauma, child neglect, toxic masculinity), one use of a homophobic slur (f-word), mild spoilers for The Rocky Horror Picture Show and The Exorcist (specific mentions of the crucifix scene, if you've seen the movie, you know what this is about)

A/N: shout out to my one and only @gutterratt for helping me figure out my way through old horror movies! i'm a wuss so i relied heavily on her opinions to make this work (also read a few entire scripts and scared myself lmao). thank you for being the best teacher i could have asked for. 10 more days until i get to hug the shit out of you <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

We always have a real good time And maybe he sings off-key But that's all right by me, yeah

Thursday, May 15th - 1986

On Eddie’s 20th birthday it rained cats and dogs. There was a light shower during the early morning which stopped at around 10 only to come back with a vengeance after lunch, and by the time the school day had ended, the weather was warm and humid with a sky-obscuring fog that made it seem like it was much later than it actually was. Eddie, as he always did when it rained, offered to take Gareth home so he gave his friend his keys and asked him and Dottie to wait in the van while he finished up a private conversation with Mrs. Vaughn, his Drawing teacher. She was quite impressed with how his portfolio was shaping up, and wanted to know more about the subjects he’d chosen to portray in his art. Some talks were meant to be kept behind closed doors.

Gareth left Dottie at her locker where she was fighting to fit Eddie’s birthday present in her backpack without absolutely destroying the muffin she’d baked for him during Home Ec and headed towards the parking lot to wait for his friends in the safety of the van. Dottie had barely managed to zip up her backpack when a pair of pink sneakers came up to where she was kneeling.

“Do you need help?” a warm, melodic voice asked.

Dottie looked up to find Chrissy Cunningham, the current Queen of Hawkins High, smiling at her like they’d known each other for years. She wasn’t wearing her full cheerleading uniform that day; instead she had chosen cuffed jeans and a lovely cream blouse, her strawberry blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Wow, Dottie thought without an ounce of shame for ogling. She’s gorgeous. Realizing she had been staring up at the kind (almost) stranger, she quickly stood and threw her backpack over her shoulder.

“Oh, no, thank you! I’ve got it,” Dottie said, and Chrissy smiled even wider if it was even possible.

“You’re Dottie Burke, right? We’re in World History together, you sit with Jeff Patton two seats in front of me?”

“Yup, that’s me! And you’re Chrissy Cunningham, you sit with, um, Melissa?”

“Yes, Melissa Levine,” the blonde’s eyes brightened up, pleased that this conversation was going smoothly. “I know you’re best friends with Eddie so could you give this to him for me?”

Chrissy presented a shiny green gift bag to her. It was carefully sealed with a big transparent sticker from the store where it had been purchased from and a huge silvery bow was tied to the handles. Of all the things she had been expecting her to pull out behind her back, a birthday gift for Eddie hadn’t been in her Top 10 List at all.

“Are you sure? He’ll come back in a sec if you want to give it to him yourself, he’s just talking to a teacher.”

“Yeah, I think he already knows what it is,” Chrissy waved her hand like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’d wait for him but my boyfriend is in the car already so…”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I can give this to Ed for you, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, you’re so nice!” she said, beaming at her. “I’m sorry if I’m coming off too strong, Eddie said we’d get along so I thought “well, what am I waiting for”, right?”

“You’re fine, seriously,” Dottie laughed; Chrissy’s bubbly energy was contagious. “He told me we’d get along too. Something about you liking Queen and owning all the records?”

“Yes! Gosh, I love Queen! Do you? We should hang out sometime, we can listen to them together.”

“Absolutely, yes. I’d love that.”

“Okay, cool! I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah, sure! Have fun on your date!”

“How did you know I’m going on a date?” Chrissy said, mild intrigue on her face.

“You just look really pretty and you mentioned your boyfriend so I thought you might be going on a date with him,” Dottie explained like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I like your makeup.”

“Oh,” she said, stopping for a moment.

Chrissy wasn’t a stranger to people telling her she was pretty. She had grown up going to pageants and being paraded as a doll by her mother but the compliments were always the same and regarding things she didn’t care about, like how big her Mom had teased her hair, and how thin she looked like in that formal gown. No one had ever told her something she did for herself, like her daily makeup, was pretty. She gave Dottie a big toothy smile, genuine and warm.

“Thank you! I like your dress!”

“Thanks, it was my Mom’s. It has pockets!” the brunette said, shoving a hand inside the left pocket of her short black jumper dress to demonstrate.

“I love that! Not enough dresses have pockets, it’s a shame.”

They said their goodbyes again and Chrissy disappeared down the hallway, leaving Dottie to consider that maybe she really did need more girl friends. She loved her Hellfire boys, and of course Erica was great, but she had missed the kind of special warmth female friendships gave - the gentle toughness she’d always admired in her Aunts’ actions. Now that she knew what a real friend was supposed to look like thanks to the guys, she realized that whatever she had thought Jeannie was during her life in New York hadn’t exactly been a good example of true friendship. Dottie wondered if, given enough time, Chrissy could become a real friend. She was, after all, good friends with Eddie already and he seemed like a fine judge of character so far.

“You ready to bounce?” Eddie asked, hurrying down the hallway to where she was still standing.

“Yeah! This is for you, by the way,” Dottie said, giving him the gift bag. “It’s from Chrissy.”

“Chris- damnit, I told her not to do it,” he shook his head, a fond smile gracing his face. He accepted the bag and shoved it inside his backpack to protect it from the rain; he had a pretty good idea of what it was but he’d look at it once they were home. “Come on, let’s go.”

He guided Dottie towards the parking lot with a hand on the back of her bag, keeping her close as they ran out into the rain and towards the dry seats of his van. They were almost there when Eddie noticed someone curled into themselves near the furthest column that supported the overhang roof at the entrance, a figure huddled up on the floor wearing what looked like Gareth’s red plaid shirt. He looked at his van and saw instantly that his friend was not sitting inside waiting for them, and the vehicle wasn’t even on. What the fuck, he thought bitterly, taking note that the door on the driver’s side was covered in what looked like a runny viscous liquid. The rain was washing it away, but the white and light brown shells on the floor were enough to confirm his suspicions. Switching gears quickly, he pulled Dottie under his arm and guided her towards Gareth.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking up at him, arm up trying to keep the rain out of her face.

“Gareth!” he yelled for an answer, and the younger boy lifted his teary head up from his knees. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” Dottie exclaimed, rushing to their friend.

“They were waiting for Eddie. Said it was a birthday present,” he sniffed, lifting his arm to wipe his face with his sleeve and putting it down instantly when he saw it was filthy. He smelled like rotten eggs.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Eddie said, crouching next to him.

“Not your fault,” Gareth shrugged. “You always cover for me so… guess it was time I covered you for once.”

“This has happened before?” Dottie asked, and both boys looked at her like it was common sense. “Who- who did this to you? How many times?”

“It isn’t always eggs,” Gareth sniffed again. “One time they threw mud at Donny, called him a pig. Gave Dustin a swirly a couple of times but they don’t touch Mike anymore since they found out Nancy Wheeler is his sister. Andy is the worst, he, um-” he interrupted himself and looked at Eddie.

“Andy Humphrey,” Eddie sighed. “He put a bunch of racist notes in Jeff’s locker for a couple of months last year. We saw him doing it but Higgins didn’t do shit about it. He’s on the basketball team, always wears that stupid hat.”

“Yeah, I know him,” Dottie said. “He’s in my AP Spanish class, he’s barely passing. He cheated on our last pop quiz, he knows I saw because he winked at me like he was trying to get me on his side.”

“Almost everyone on the basketball team sucks,” Gareth said. “I don’t know what Lucas is doing with them.”

“Lucas?”

“Lucas Sinclair. Erica’s brother?” Eddie explained. “He used to play with us before he decided being a freak wasn’t good enough for him.”

“I mean… I don’t blame him. I smell like a sewer,” Gareth grimaced.

“Okay, come on, let’s get you home,” Dottie said, patting his knee to get him to stand up.

“I’ll just walk, I’m gonna get the van dirty.”

“No way, man, not in this thunderstorm. Get in the back,” Eddie instructed.

The three of them headed back to the van, the rain not relenting for a single second. On the bright side, Eddie’s door wasn’t dirty anymore, clean from the constant water streaming upon the metal. On the other hand, Gareth was soaked and shivering by the time he sat himself on a plastic crate at the back of the van, keeping himself away from the blankets and pillows, windows cracked open to let cool air in and rotten egg smell out. They drove to Gareth’s house in silence, only the occasional sniffling coming from the dirty boy wallowing in his own misery could be heard under the vehicle’s rumbling.

When they arrived and pulled up to Gareth’s garage, Eddie wasn’t expecting Dottie to get out too, leaving behind her backpack tucked under the co-pilot seat. He followed the pair to the front door, heard the keys tinkling against each other as his friends walked inside and hurried up to get out of the rain. In the foyer, Dottie peeled off her cardigan and sneakers before directing Gareth to his bathroom.

“Eddie, can you get a chair from the kitchen?” she asked, already pushing Gareth down the hallway.

Eddie complied with her request, bringing one of the aluminum chairs with pleather seats into the Jack and Jill that connected Gareth’s bedroom with his sister’s. Gareth was peeling his dirty sleeveless shirt and sweatshirt off his body, Dottie kneeling near his feet helping him take his rain soaked shoes off.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling softly at Eddie before looking up at Gareth. “You sit.”

“Why can’t I just take a shower?” he complained, but still sat down on the chair.

“Because you’re not only covered in gunk, there’s eggshells in your hair. Let me get them out and we’ll leave you to shower in peace, okay?” she pulled back the bath curtain and got his shampoo and conditioner, coming to stand next to the sink.

The birthday boy watched her work, carefully picking all the shells out of Gareth’s hair and throwing them into the pink waste bin that was hidden next to the toilet. She got rid of the knots in his hair with a glittery blue plastic comb that clearly belonged to Gretchen, wetting it with warm water between each pass. Eddie could feel something bubbling up his chest, but it wasn’t anything like the usual jealousy he swore he had stopped feeling days ago. No, this was something different, much more deep seated, clawing up his throat and threatening to tear his insides apart leaving no prisoners behind. This was something he’d been ignoring for a very long time, from before he even knew a Gareth Coleman or a Dorothy Burke. This padlock had been sealed shut with rust ages ago, the key long forgotten somewhere no one, not even Eddie, would find it anymore.

Dottie poured water on Gareth’s scalp with her hands, making him shiver once and then giggle at himself for his reaction. She worked the shampoo into his curls, pulling his hair once to make him wince when he made a stupid comment that Eddie wasn’t listening. He watched the suds fall into the pure white porcelain of the sink bowl as she washed them away with the utmost patience and care.

“You should be a hairdresser,” Gareth said, eyes closed while he relaxed into her touch.

“I could never. You know that smell when you walk into a salon? I fucking hate it,” she said, snorting at the end.

When was the last time Eddie had gone to a salon for a haircut? Not since living with Wayne, that’s for sure. The last time he’d had a haircut he hadn’t given himself in his own bathroom was back in middle school, when a neighbor buzzed all his hair off during that horrible lice outbreak he’d told Dottie about. He remembered that before he turned 12, before she passed away calmly in her sleep, his Grandma kept his hair rather short, like it had been that summer he’d spent in her care when he was eight. And before that… Eddie didn’t like to remember before that.

Dottie shook the bottle of conditioner until a small blob hit her palm and began weaving her fingers into Gareth’s curls. They were still chatting quietly, their long haired friend hovering in the hallway near the door. Eight years. Eight years since anyone had touched Eddie’s hair, since anyone that wasn’t himself had run a brush through his curls and snapped the damaged ends off with a pair of sharp scissors. He hated getting haircuts from his Grandma - not because she was bad at doing them, but because she always pulled at the knots a little bit too harshly, muttering about how boys with longer hair were unkempt and unruly. And Eddie loved his Grandma so much, and she loved him so much in return, but in those moments there was no denying that she was his father’s mother, and getting haircuts from her only reminded him of Wyatt Munson calling him a faggot because his curls reached the collar of his school shirt before he dropped him off at a cheap salon and returned five hours later, smelling of booze and nicotine and regrets.

Eddie used to feel so guilty whenever he went to the salon. Wyatt would treat him like absolute shit, and then he’d sob quietly in the chair while a middle aged lady told him things like “boys don’t cry” and “it’s just hair, kid, don’t be a brat”, only for Wyatt to return and ask her if she’d turned his little girl into a proper boy. A while back, when Eddie first got his driver’s license, he drove past that salon on his way to Donny’s family restaurant and felt like he’d won the damn lottery when he saw it had been closed for several years. Fuck that place, he’d thought and promptly sped up.

“Hey,” a hand touched his arm, making him jump lightly. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, blinking a few times and focusing on Dottie’s worried face in front of him. “I think I fell asleep for a second.”

“We’re done so… we can go now,” she said, not pushing him for an answer.

She’d seen that face on him before, back when they were arguing about his moldy ceiling, and immediately decided they weren’t going to have this conversation in front of Gareth. The younger boy had a small towel on his head like a nun’s headdress to stop his curls from dripping all over the floor as he gathered his dirty clothes and walked past them towards the laundry room.

“Sorry about all this,” said Gareth, standing under his front door’s frame.

“Wasn’t your fault, man. Sorry you got caught in the crossfire,” Eddie reassured him, waiting for Dottie to finish putting on her sneakers.

“Better me than you.”

“Tell you what, why don’t you pick the movie tomorrow? Anything you want.”

“Anything?” he asked, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“Just… don’t pick anything stupid, okay? The Boogey Man sucked ass.”

“You have no fucking taste,” Gareth complained, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, hold on, are we gonna watch a horror film?” Dottie asked in the direction of the younger boy.

“It’s tradition, we always watch horror movies on our birthdays.”

“Can we not do that this time? You know I hate horror. We can do a thriller, that’s like… horror-adjacent, right?”

“Horror-adjac… Dude,” Gareth turned to Eddie, seeking an ally.

It’s not that Eddie was dying to watch a horror film, he really wasn’t. He was happy to watch whatever most of the time, like when Jeff had insisted on watching Spacehunter: Adventures in the Forbidden Zone for some weird reason and he’d gone along for the ride because, well, any movie was still a movie. Eddie loved stories, the more outlandish the better. He wasn’t about to complain about two hours of mindless entertainment, regardless of the subject of the VHS tape in the player. Caught between his two friends, one who looked at him with exasperation at even suggesting a change of plans and the other one with the cutest goddamned pout and rounded eyes he had ever seen, well, he was only human. If Jesus had stumbled, why wouldn’t he do it too?

“Maybe we can skip the horror this time,” he said.

“Come on, man, don’t let her peer-pressure you!”

“Peer-pressure? God, you’re such a little-”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Jesus,” Eddie lifted his hands, getting between them. “How about this? We do a double feature. You each pick one movie and you can’t complain about what the other one chooses, alright? It’s my birthday, don’t make me uninvite you.”

“But-”

“Take it or leave it, Gareth, it’s my final offer.”

“Fine,” Gareth grumbled.

“Thank you,” Dottie said, still looking apprehensive but not wanting to push the argument further.

This was a tradition she hadn’t been a part of since its inception and she wasn’t going to fight her way in when they were so graciously holding the door open for her. Friends do stuff they don’t enjoy to make other friends happy sometimes, it’s okay. They’d do it for me. I’ll just… suck it up and watch the floor for two hours, she thought as they said their goodbyes and ran under the rain to get to Eddie’s van. He was excitedly going on about the cake Wayne had gotten for him on the way to the trailer, and Dottie couldn’t find it in herself to care about what horrifying movie Gareth was gonna subject her too when Eddie looked so happy to spend his special day with his Uncle and her.

“Wayne, we’re home!” Eddie yelled, trying to put his key in to open his front door.

Dottie was standing very still in front of Eddie, his chest to her back and arms on either side of her while he wrestled with his keys, shielding her from the storm with his body. The copious raindrops falling on them pinged off the leather jacket that was keeping him cozy and dry, soaking his hair that curtained Dottie’s head from above. She was holding both their backpacks against her chest, trying to protect them and their contents from the rain.

“Wayne!” he yelled again, hitting the door twice with his fist.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” the older man replied from the inside, hurrying up to let them in. "Where were you?"

"Got held up at school," said Eddie, guiding Dot in and closing the door quickly behind his back before shedding his wet jacket. "Talked to that teacher I told you about last night. She said I have talent."

"Coulda told you that myself," Wayne smiled at him, pulling his big boy into a hug and patting his back. "Happy birthday, Ed."

"Thanks, Wayne," Eddie melted into his Uncle. They didn't hug often, less so now that he wasn't a little kid anymore, but if you asked him, his Uncle Wayne gave the best hugs in the entire world because whenever he gave you one, he definitely meant it. "Can we have cake now?"

"Get the candles," Wayne jerked his head towards the kitchen where a set of barely used birthday candles were waiting in the bottom drawer ready to grant a new wish.

While Eddie busied himself putting the candles on a small chocolate cake, Dottie cleared the coffee table, setting his gifts on the floor. There were three presents: Chrissy's shiny green bag that had gotten a bit smushed in Eddie's backpack, a thin rectangle in bright blue paper, and a little package smaller than a hand. Wayne added two to the pile wrapped in the same red paper; one looked soft, the other one was a square box. Dottie's funfetti muffin ended up with its own candle next to the cake.

"Light me up, princess," Eddie said, pointing to a BIC lighter that had been abandoned in the coffee table bowl at some point.

"I can't," Dottie admitted, looking embarrassed. "I don't know how to use that kind of lighter, the flick thing scares me."

"The flick thing?"

"You know, the thingy you have to roll with your thumb? That scrapes something inside and sparks up?"

"The sparkwheel?"

"I don't know what it's called!" Eddie held back a grin. "Don't laugh at me, I don't like how close the spark is to the finger. It's a perfectly reasonable fear, I don't want to burn myself!"

"No, yeah, absolutely. You're totally right" he said, fighting a chuckle. God, she's so fucking cute. He reached into a kitchen drawer and retrieved a small matchbox. “Here, use these.”

“The Hideout,” she read aloud on the front of the box. “That’s where you guys play on Tuesdays, right?”

“Yeah, they have a big bowl of these on the bar. I grab a couple every few weeks, haven’t bought real matches in years.”

“Very smart,” she said, lighting the two candles at the same time Wayne found his old camera tucked away in their storage closet.

Eddie knelt in front of the coffee table, closing his eyes with only one wish in mind. Dottie and Wayne sang to him and he smiled, the sudden flash of the camera in his Uncle’s hands painting his eyelids pink for a brief second. His 19th birthday had been tainted with the knowledge that he was going to be held back for the second time in a row. Wayne had taken him to a diner that night; they’d gotten pancakes for dinner and Eddie had cried and apologized for being such a goddamn failure. The eldest Munson had simply let his tears dry before he’d said, very matter-of-factly: I didn’t finish high school, do you think I’m a failure? What’s important is that you keep tryin’ and see things through even if they get hard. Are you a quitter, Ed?

Please, let ‘86 be my year, Eddie thought as hard as he could, sending his prayer to the universe before he opened his eyes and blew both candles out with one single breath. Dottie clapped and hollered, making them laugh. Wayne nudged her side with his elbow, nodding once in his nephew’s direction.

“Come on, you two. Gimme a nice smile,” he lifted the camera again.

Dottie hurried to sit next to Eddie and he didn’t waste a second pulling her to him, cheeks pressed against each other’s. She smiled brightly, the muffin she’d made for him in her hands like a delicate flower, and his arms around her waist, tongue out in a funny face. Wayne committed the memory to film before Dottie lifted herself up onto her knees, making grabby hands at him, Eddie still holding onto her.

“I’ll take one of you two, Mr. Wayne!” she offered.

“How about we take a group picture?” he said, sitting on the couch behind them and turning the camera around.

The two teens huddled up at his feet, his nephew giving him instructions to frame everyone better (“You gotta go higher, Wayne, half your head will be out of the picture!”). After the flash went off, Dottie went to find a knife to cut the cake while Eddie tore into his gifts, starting with Wayne’s packages. He seemed to already know what the soft looking one was, but still ripped the paper with gusto, a childlike glint in his eyes.

Wayne’s gifts had clearly been picked from a thrift shop, but that didn’t damp Eddie’s excitement in the slightest. He thanked his Uncle profusely for his two new shirts and boxy jean shorts for the summer before moving onto the mystery box which turned out to be a thermos flask with a slightly faded Snoopy print.

“No way!” he said, gleefully. “I’ve been trying to get one of these for ages!”

“I know,” Wayne said, proudly. “Heard you yappin’ about it so I asked Loretta to hold one for me if she ever saw them. Said they got a few of them a couple of months ago so I went and snatched one for you.”

“A couple of months ago? Where did you hide it all this time?”

“Under the seat in my truck,” he laughed, and Dottie was reminded once again of how similar the Munson men truly were.

“Gonna start checking down there around Christmas,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes. He passed the flask to Dottie to examine who traded it for a plate of cake.

“This is really cute, Mr. Wayne. Wish mine was pretty like this one.”

“You got one of these?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, my Grandpa gave me his old one a few years ago. It looks so ugly, it’s like… plaid? But it keeps water cool in the summer so I can’t really complain. He got it for his fishing trips but he never used it so I got it instead. The perks of being his only grandchild,” she waved her fingers.

“You don’t have cousins?” Wayne asked, digging into his own piece of cake while Eddie picked a new present to open.

“No, both my parents are only children. All my Aunts and Uncles are their friends. I’ve got a big family, but I’m not blood related to any of them.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie muttered, his attention on the long thin box in his hands.

Chrissy’s gift had turned out to be a red tie. The fabric was soft and silky, slightly shiny, and the tie itself was on the thinner side. There was a simple white card in the bag, it only said “For: Eddie, From: Chrissy” but she’d dotted the I’s with tiny hearts. He caressed the side of the box lightly, staring at it in wonder. He’d never owned a tie, much less one that looked as expensive as this one. When he’d asked Chrissy for advice on what to wear for prom, he’d never imagined she’d take it upon herself to make sure he was presentable. He’d have to figure out a way to make it up to her for her birthday, maybe Dottie would know how to help.

“That’s nice,” Wayne said, craning his neck to see into the box. “That one yours, Dot?”

“No, this one’s Chrissy’s,” she replied.

“Who’s Chrissy?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” Eddie said, realizing he’d never talked to his Uncle about his most unlikely friend. “We’re in Sociology together.”

Dottie knew he was lying; Eddie only shared Sociology with Jeff but it wasn’t like he could tell Wayne he’d become friends with a cheerleader by selling her weed, could he? She noticed how suspicious his Uncle was by his statement and decided to help him out.

“I’m in World History with her, she’s really kind,” Dottie said, making Eddie look up at her too. “We were talking about Queen when you were with Mrs. Vaughn today, she said she liked my dress.”

“She did?”

“Yeah! She liked the pockets,” she smiled at him. “You gonna wear this for prom?”

“I think that’s why she got it for me,” Eddie chuckled. “I told her we’re all wearing Hellfire colors. Gareth got a red bowtie the other day.”

“I still haven’t found a dress I like or that fits right,” she huffed. “Dad said we’re gonna have to go to Indianapolis, we’ve been to every shop in Hawkins already.”

“A lot of shops closed last year ‘cause of the mall,” Wayne said, clearing up the cake plates. “Never reopened after the fire. Damn shame.”

“Can I open these ones?” Eddie interrupted, excited about the two other presents he had left on the pile.

“Sure!”

“Any special order?”

“No, they’re separate from each other.”

He decided to open the bigger one first, fairly confident about it being a book. He tore the paper to find a hardcover notebook, black with an elastic to keep it closed. It looked fancy, but not particularly special, at least not until he opened it. It was sheet music, 14 five-line staffs on every off-white page, binded and with a pocket on the back. He turned to the first sheet, blank, no lines but with a note written in familiar black ink. For my favorite rockstar, from your darling Dottie. With a little daisy at the end. He stared at it for a minute that never seemed to end and looked up at her, big rounded eyes pushing his eyebrows under his fringe.

“You were talking about wanting to write more songs for Corroded Coffin last week at practice, so I thought you might need a place to keep everything organized,” she explained, voice shy and a little soft.

“Dot, I-”

“Open the other one.”

Wordlessly, he grabbed the small box, instantly recognizing it as a cassette case. He removed the paper, aware that Wayne was watching them from behind the kitchen bar while he brewed some coffee, and turned the transparent case in his hand. 1986 - E&D was written on the front, colorful stickers decorating the plastic. The song list inside only had one entry: Hot Patootie - Meatloaf (RHPS).

“Just one song?” he asked, confused.

“I thought we could fill it up together. See, I wrote 1986 on this one, but we can make a new one for every year we’re friends so when we get old, we can remember what we were doing that year by the songs we chose. Like a musical scrapbook.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie said, launching himself from the floor and tackling her to the carpet, dissolving into giggles as she fought to sit back down.

“Stop- Jesus, Ed- I don’t like tickles, stop!” she pleaded, writhing on the floor like a worm, thankful that she was wearing colorful leggings under her skirt.

“Who doesn’t like tickles?” he lifted himself up onto hands and knees above her, ceasing the attack but still caging her under his body.

“I get nervous if I can’t breathe right,” she explained, hair fanning out like a halo around her head. Eddie felt his knees go weak. “Also, it makes me feel like I’m gonna pee myself and that’s so embarrassing.”

“Okay, gotcha. No tickling,” he pulled them both into a sitting position and smiled, wrapping one arm around her. “Thank you, I love my gifts. And I already know what song I wanna add next to the mixtape.”

“Do tell.”

“Nope,” he shook his head dramatically. “You’ll find out when it’s done.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes, turning to where Wayne was watching them, hiding a smile behind his mug.

“Happy birthday, son,” he said, raising his coffee to his mouth, and Eddie thought it might have been the happiest of them all.

After dishes had been washed and the rest of the cake had been put away until a certain birthday boy got the munchies at midnight, Eddie and Dottie decided to sit on the porch just outside his bedroom and leave Wayne to his devices. They lounged side by side on the old ratty couch, him working on his portfolio and her reading Pride and Prejudice out loud in an attempt to get him to finish the last book left in their compulsory reading list before finals week was upon them.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounded families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”

The heavy rain hitting the tin roof provided the perfect ambiance for Eddie’s limbs to start feeling heavy and his hand to begin missing the lines he was trying to stay between while he shaded his latest piece. He closed his sketchbook and slid it through his open window to keep it dry in the safety of his bedroom, quickly returning to the couch to continue hearing the tales of the Bennet sisters. He laid down on the cushions, legs hanging off the armrest and head comfortably pillowed by Dottie's lap.

“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”

“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is no another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”

“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty.”

“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

What a lovely voice, Eddie thought about Dottie, closing his eyes and letting his impressive imagination create Austen's lavish world behind his eyelids. It wasn't too high-pitched, nor too low, with the cadence of someone who already knows the story they are reading and is aware of where to pause for dramatic effect. This Bingham fellow seems nice. Is this a love triangle-angle?, he wondered. Dottie's voice turned sweet when reading Jane, demure when reading Charlotte, and bratty when reading Lydia. She would be kind when she read Bingham, disdainful when Caroline and solemn when Darcy. But Eddie's favorite so far was her Lizzie voice, which turned sensible and self-assured, yet playful and naïve. He supposed it was because she used her own voice for her most preferred Bennet sister.

“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed, that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came with his sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day.”

A page was turned, and Dottie’s hand that had been propped up on her armrest fell onto her lap, where it began playing with Eddie's hair. She had touched it before, albeit briefly, but never had she had the opportunity to absent-mindedly run her fingers through his curls like this. They were so much softer than she had expected. She continued this soothing motion, and Eddie kept his eyes closed, leaving her to wonder if his unusual stillness was due to him falling asleep under her touch. She stopped, not wanting to disturb him when his arm shot up and his hand curled around her wrist.

"Please," he muttered in a broken voice. "Keep going."

Eddie couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a haircut at a salon, but he also couldn't remember the last time anyone had brushed their fingers through the strands that had grown exponentially since middle school. He couldn't recall anyone helping him wash it, blow drying it for him, pushing it out of his face. And now Dottie was showing him the type of affection and care he'd craved for since before he learned how to tie his own shoes, and the rusty padlock with the missing key was beginning to break with the slightest amount of brute force applied to it.

"Please," Eddie pleaded, and Dottie closed the book, pulling her wrist out of his hand.

"Wait here," she said, moving her thighs so he'd let her get up and promptly disappeared into the trailer.

I've finally done it, he berated himself. I finally scared her off. But she reappeared quickly carrying a cushion and a rounded brush, sitting once again on the ratty couch. She opened her legs and put the cushion on the floor between them, motioning for him to sit down. Eddie complied without questioning it, his shoulders grazing against the colorful nylon leggings that covered her inner thighs while he faced the trailer park currently plunged into darkness by the storm. The first gentle but firm pull of the plastic bristles on his scalp made him shiver. The second one broke the dam.

Dottie brushed his hair in silence, being extra careful when she encountered a knot, undoing it slowly and patiently. Eddie sobbed without fear of judgment, because even though they weren't talking about it, he knew that she understood. How could she not, growing up with a single father who had never once in his life styled long hair before hers began to grow past her shoulders? So she brushed, and he cried, and they let go of yet another invisible weight together. When she put the brush down on the cushions, Eddie expected her to say something to ask him about what was happening. Instead, he felt her fingers running once, twice through the entire length of his hair, parting a small section near the top to his left on the third time. Dottie began braiding the strands into a thin plait, securing it with a small colorful plastic hair tie, the kind Eddie knew she always carried in her bag and had used a couple of times to pull her short curls into low pigtails.

She finished the braid, and moved onto the next one, right below the first one. Dottie wove strand with strand until she had three braids on either side of his head, all thinner than her own pinky. She pulled them back into a ponytail with the rest of his hair and brushed the ends for good measure one more time before dropping her weight on the floor between Eddie and the couch. Her arms curled around his waist, his chest to his back, her hands finding his curled into tight fists on his lap.

“You look like a viking now,” she said, softly.

“Thank you,” he replied, voice frail and small but full of meaning. She leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck, just above his shirt, and he bit back another sob.

“Happy birthday, Ed,” she muttered, lips still pressed to his skin like she wanted to get the words permanently etched into it.

Dottie did not go back to reading out loud and Eddie didn’t fish his sketchbook from his room for the remainder of the evening. They simply sat together on the porch, tangled with one another as usual, and watched the rain fall and heard the thunder rumble until it was time for her to go home. They didn’t say anything about what had happened, but there was no need. Another padlock laid at their feet, and they weren’t afraid of busting them open anymore.

Friday, May 16th - 1986

“Fred? Fred!” Dottie called, pushing the doors to the Hawkins High newspaper room in a hurry. “Fred, are you here?”

“N-no, he’s- he went to see the nurse!” a familiar voice came from under the stairs.

Sitting on the floor and hiding between a few boxes that contained blank bundles of paper, was Nancy Wheeler. Her pretty calf-length pastel rainbow skirt covered her bent legs, concealing her feet from anyone who walked by. She had been crying, brown mascara staining the skin under her eyes but she clearly wasn’t anymore, face dry and eyes only slightly swollen. When she noticed Dottie coming to kneel next to her, she quickly hid the paper she was holding in her cardigan pocket. They didn’t know each other very well yet, were friendly at best, but Dottie knew that Nancy didn’t have many friends in school. She was highly regarded as a good student, on track to being the valedictorian with a bright future ahead but she could be a bit of a loner when she wasn’t being followed around by Fred Benson or another newspaper club member.

Nancy often chose to spend most of her time in the library studying or working on something for The Weekly Streak, building her journalism portfolio to parade around in search of internships when she left Hawkins for college in Boston. Dottie wasn’t one to gossip with anyone that wasn’t named Gareth Coleman, but Fred liked to talk. On one occasion when the junior was assisting Dottie with an urgent task, he’d babbled on and on about Nancy, her late friend Barb, the fact that she’d been considered Hawkins royalty for a period of time while she dated some popular guy who was captain of the swimming team, and how she’d dumped him rather publicly at a Halloween party and gotten together with known weirdo Jonathan Byers. She tried to steer Fred away from the topic at the time, but he was undeterred: it was clear the boy held some sort of candle for the pretty senior, and who was Dottie to tell him to snuff it out? She’d only known them for less than a month. Still, with the knowledge that Nancy was a bit of an outcast after the tragic death of her best friend, and coupled with the fact that she was Mike’s sister, Dottie couldn’t pretend like she hadn’t seen her distress.

“You okay?” she asked, giving her editor-in-chief enough room to answer however she wanted.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s nothing,” Nancy rolled her shiny blue eyes, waving a hand around. “Everything’s fine.”

“I was dropping by to leave these for Fred,” Dottie explained, showing her the stack of papers she was holding. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he was just complaining about a headache. Nothing serious.”

“Good, okay. I’ll leave this on his station and we can go get a soda. Would that be alright?”

“You want to get a soda with me?” Nancy said, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“Of course! We can share M&Ms if you want too. I’ve known you for a month and all I know about you is that you’re going to Emerson and that Dustin thinks you’re a badass.”

“He called me badass?” she laughed, getting to her feet and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“God, the kid loves you. Mike says he had a crush on you when they were younger.”

“Ugh, he did,” Nancy said, remembering the moment fondly. “Dustin is probably my favorite out of all my brother’s friends.”

“He’s so nice. His Mom did a great job with him.”

“Have you met Claudia? She’s quite the character,” she confided as the two girls climbed up the stairs and headed into the empty hallways side by side.

Nancy was funny. That was something Dottie hadn’t been expecting. She was polite and reserved, yes, but funny in the way people who notice things others don’t are. She carried their conversation well, asked Dottie questions to get to know her better while she answered the ones directed at her with ease. Her favorite color was pink, she liked all her classes except Math, was really excited about the release of Top Gun and was going to go see it with her Mom, Karen. She preferred Sprite to Coca-Cola, and in her opinion, the best M&Ms were the red ones, even though they all tasted the same. They sat on a bench just outside the cafeteria and talked about trivial things until they ran out of topics to explore.

“I wish we would have done this earlier,” Dottie said, popping a green candy into her mouth. “You’re really cool, Nance.”

“Thanks,” she said, chuckling shyly. “I think you might be collecting Wheeler siblings at this point. Should I let my Mom know you’re available to babysit Holly?”

“I actually have a lot of experience with babysitting. Give me until finals are done and if you need me, I’m there.”

“Speaking of babysitting, Mike mentioned you’re tutoring Eddie Munson.”

“I’m not really tutoring him, just… helping him keep his focus. We’re good friends.”

“I know. Mike,” Nancy said, like that explained everything and it actually did. “Actually, he… he mentioned you gave him advice a few times. About his girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I remember. Why are teenage boys so scared of their own feelings?”

“Tell me about it,” she scoffed, but immediately turned shy and rigid. “Could you… would it be okay if I asked you for advice too? It’s just- you are impartial in this situation and I think that’s what I need right now.”

“Sure, how can I help?” Dottie turned to her.

Nancy explained that she’d gotten a letter from her boyfriend, Jonathan. Ex-boyfriend, actually, but neither of them were good at the ex part. They had had a big argument over the phone after Spring break when post California-visit, Mike had accidentally let it slip that Jonathan didn’t want to go to Emerson with Nancy and had chosen community school instead. She hadn’t been upset about him changing his plans, but it definitely had hurt to know he’d been lying to her all this time, telling her he’d applied when he hadn’t, stringing her along for months on end. Dottie listened to Nancy retelling how she’d broken up with him, worried about if there were maybe other things he’d been hiding from her, and how Jonathan hadn’t tried to argue back once. He’d called two weeks later from a payphone outside the pizza parlor his new best friend worked at, high off his mind, crying and begging for her to take him back. Nancy had firmly said no, but that she was willing to talk more when he wasn’t on drugs.

This had happened mid-April, and Jonathan hadn’t called since. Instead, a letter addressed to Nancy had arrived that same Friday - four full pages of him not exactly asking for forgiveness, but explaining his reasoning in regards to his lies. Nancy didn’t share all the details, but the essential part was that as the eldest son of a single parent, he felt a sense of duty towards his siblings and didn’t want to move away so soon after they started high school in a new town where they had virtually to no friends and were getting bullied just for daring to exist. She did mention that his new sister Jane, Mike’s girlfriend, was still dealing with the loss of her adoptive father, so that situation on top of the move wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Nancy said, at the end of her long monologue. “If he’d told me all of this before, I would have understood him. He’s right, they are all having a hard time but did he have to lie about it for an entire year?”

“I think both sides are valid,” Dottie said, offering her the last candy in the package. “He’s not wrong for wanting to help his Mom and his siblings out, but he went about it in a really shitty way and you’re allowed to feel betrayed by it.”

“Am I?”

“Yes! Nancy, he lied to you! It was with the best of intentions, but he still lied. If you feel like that’s a hard limit in your relationship, you should tell him that, and he should respect it. And you. He should always respect you.”

“He does, he’s… I love him.”

“You can love someone and be upset with them at the same time. Just tell him how you feel instead of avoiding each other because you don’t want to get into a fight. Trust your instincts on this one.”

“You’re right. I’m gonna call him this weekend, and if we’re done, we’re done, but at least we handled it like adults.”

“That’s the spirit!” Dottie cheered her on. “Everything will turn out okay, I have faith in you both.”

“Thank you,” Nancy said, smiling. “I really needed the pep talk.”

“Anytime. I gotta run now, but I liked hanging out with you.”

“Me too. It’s been a while since I’ve done the whole… girl talk thing.”

“Can’t imagine Mike being into that, no,” Dottie said, and Nancy laughed. “See you on Monday?”

“Yes. Monday. Good luck with Hellfire!”

“Good luck with Jonathan. Fight for your love, girl!” she declared dramatically while she sped away.

Nancy watched her go with a curious smile on her face. She’d have to keep an eye on Dorothy Burke from now on, but that could wait. It was Friday, Fred might be down for the count, and she had a newspaper edition to perfect before Monday morning.

Dottie had been to Family Video only twice since moving to Hawkins, once with her Dad and once with the boys, both times during a weekend. When Donny pulled into the parking lot that Friday night after Hellfire, she was fully expecting to see the same greasy dude that smelled like Cheetos she’d seen the last two times but saw instead a pretty tall girl that had her eyes glued to a black and white movie playing on the overhead TV. Gareth immediately ran to the horror section in search for the first part of their double feature, and Dottie approached the girl timidly while Donny smoked outside, waiting for Eddie and Jeff to arrive with warm pizza and fresh ice cream.

“Hi, welcome to Family Video, how can I help you?” the taller girl smiled with tired eyes, the kind you only got if you worked retail.

“Hi! I wanted to rent The Rocky Horror Picture Show if you have it?”

“Yeah, of course, follow me,” she said, lifting the counter and guiding her towards the Musicals section. Another boy was restocking shelves labeled as Comedy next to them.

“Hi there,” he said, waving a VHS case in the air.

“Hi,” Dottie said and turned to where the girl was moving movies around, a frown on her face. “Did someone else beat me to it?”

“No, no, I know it’s here… Just can’t figure out where I put it.”

“What are you looking for?” the boy said, coming to stand above the girl, craning his neck to see the stands.

“The Rocky Horror Picture Show. The cover’s a mouth with red lips.”

“Oh, yeah, I moved it to the Horror section,” he said, brows bunching in the middle.

“Why did you move it? It’s a musical, dingus.”

“How would I know? It says horror in the title!”

“God, you’re hopeless,” the girl shook her head, and Dottie snorted at their antics.

They bickered all the way to the Horror section, Gareth looking up with a confused expression at the scene in front of him. The tall girl moved around him with ease, finding instantly what she was looking for.

“Here you go, sorry about that,” she said, giving the VHS to Dottie.

“You picked a horror movie?” Gareth asked.

“No, it’s a musical.”

“We’re not watching a musical.”

“Why not? It’s really fun, it’s about-”

“Dot, we’re not watching lovey-dovey bullshit on movie night. Come on, pick something else.”

“No!” Dottie put her foot down. “Eddie said we both got one pick and we couldn’t complain about what the other person chose. Jeff hasn’t seen Rocky Horror and I want him to know where Hot Patootie comes from if he’s gonna be singing it for me every week!”

“It’s from a musical? Eddie said it was a Meatloaf song!”

“It is!” the tall girl interrupted with a bright smile. “Meatloaf plays Eddie in it, it’s his only song in the whole movie but it’s a classic.”

“You’ve seen it?” Dottie asked, eyes lighting up at the discovery of a kindred spirit.

“Y-yeah, it’s really good. I love how it constantly breaks the fourth wall, I mean, talking to the audience through a narrator must be one of the most well known resources in theater but it must be so fun to experience in the stage show-”

“Oh my god, yes!” Dottie interrupted her, turning her entire body to face her newest friend. “The stage show is so cool, I saw it twice at, like, the shittiest community theater ever but they killed it every single time. The material is just so good!”

“You saw it live? Where?”

“New York, I used to live there.”

“That’s so cool,” the girl said, her eyes wide.

“Okay, so maybe you two can have your own movie night and watch your girly musical together,” Gareth said, getting back to the topic. “-but we’re not gonna watch that tonight. Birthdays are for horror movies.”

“It says horror in the title, dude,” the other boy said, making Dottie chuckle. Gareth looked at her like she was betraying him.

“Come on, it’s really not bad. You’re gonna like it, I promise. There’s… there’s sex and boobies in it!”

A tense silence spread through Family Video, Dottie painfully aware that she had said something extremely weird in front of people she didn’t know. It was okay that she was using the tantalizing idea of breasts to lure Gareth into saying yes to her movie choice, but she didn’t need to make it so damn obvious she was excited about the prospect of seeing them too. The taller girl was staring at her with a wild blush spreading from her chest up to her ears, but perhaps the other boy’s reactions were much more disconcerting. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, stared at the back of his friend’s head, and then turned to Dottie with a huge grin on his face.

“If you don’t rent this movie, I will. We’re definitely watching it tonight, right, Rob?” he said, and the girl began giggling, her face in her hands.

“You’re such an idiot, Steve,” she gritted out through her laughter.

“Really, man, you’re a dumbass if you miss some boobs because you don’t wanna watch a musical with friends.”

“You’re gonna like it, G, I swear. It was made for the freaks,” Dottie insisted, sharing a grateful smile with the boy who was now known as Steve.

“Ugh, okay, fine! But if you’re picking a dumb musical, I can pick whatever I want and you can’t say no because you’re scared.”

“Those were the rules, we don’t complain about each other’s picks.”

“Not even if I pick The Exorcist?”

“Well… No, it’s- it’s okay. You can pick whatever you want,” she said, but looked very daunted by the idea.

“You sure?”

“She said yes, man,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips like a suburban dad. “Are you gonna rent these two or do you want one more? You can rent up to three every time.”

“Two’s okay, thank you, Steve,” Dottie said, grabbing The Exorcist off the shelf and taking both VHS cases to the counter.

The four of them moved to the main area and Steve busied himself checking them out, asking Gareth for his information to enter into the computer. Dottie was distracted while she looked at the small selection of candy they offered, the tall girl following her movement with her eyes. She knew she’d seen her before, probably at school but who was she? She mentioned she lived in New York…

“You’re Dorothy, right?” she said suddenly.

“How did you know?”

“People used to talk about you a lot back in January. Then you kinda dropped off everyone’s radar.”

“Yeah,” she grimaced. “Kinda joined the outcasts so…”

“I’m in band, I get it.”

“What do you play?”

“Trumpet. Been playing for twelve years.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Dottie said, thinking that she hadn’t done anything in her life with that kind of consistency. “It’s really nice to meet you, Robin.”

“Wha- oh. Oh! My tag!” Robin laughed at herself, looking down at the pins on her vest. “You know, I heard there’s a place in Indy where they do Rocky Horror showings once a month if you ever want to go. I don’t drive b-but I bet Steve can take us.”

“That sounds great, yeah! Is he cool with, y’know, nudity and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely! He doesn’t mind. He’s cool. Yeah, Steve’s… really cool.”

“Aw, you actually love me,” Steve said, giving away the fact that he’d been eavesdropping, and Robin hit him with a magazine.

“You two are really cute,” Dottie said, smiling at them. “How long have you been together?”

“We’re not-”

“Ew, that’s not-”

“We’re friends,” said Steve.

“Best friends,” added Robin.

“Strictly platonic.”

“With a capital P.”

“Oh. Well, I guess retail bonds you forever,” Dottie laughed, and Steve chuckled.

“You have no idea,” he said, looking over at Robin with a knowing expression.

“Okay, can you stop flirting with King Steve now? You’re grossing me out,” Gareth deadpanned, making Dottie frown.

“I’m not- I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“It’s cool. We’re all friends here,” Steve said. “Enjoy your movie night!”

“Thank you, bye! Bye, Robin,” she waved at the girl, who waved back before Dottie grabbed Gareth’s arm and pulled him towards the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Ow, you’re hurting me,” Gareth said, when she shoved him outside, Donny holding the door open for them.

“Don’t know what you did, but you probably deserved it,” he said, letting the door close behind them, muffling their voices from inside the store.

Steve and Robin watched them get into Donny’s car and pull out behind a beat up brown Chevy van, both vehicles disappearing down the road together. When the tail lights were no longer able to be seen, they turned to each other with curious expressions.

“Was she-” Robin asked.

“I think she was, yeah.”

“Huh.”

“What did I tell you?” Steve said, going back to where he had been restocking before all the commotion. “Boobies.”

“Stop saying boobies!”

When Dottie asked to sit next to him to watch The Exorcist, Eddie imagined a scenario where she’d be a little bit scared and seek him out for comfort. After all, cuddling on a couch wasn’t something they’d never done before, blurring the line between friendly touches and something more every day that went by. She suggested eating first, putting the movie in later, and no one complained about the request, eager to stuff their faces after a long day of school and extracurriculars on top. Jeff’s basement was a cozy hangout spot with a door that led to a side entrance, perfect for sneaking out for a smoke between his mother’s carefully manicured rose bushes. The tan carpet and wooden walls were welcoming, if not slightly tacky, and the space had been filled in with a big couch and two armchairs, a huge TV where Jeff’s dad liked to watch football, and a great sound system that had probably been top-of-the-line ten years prior. They gotten their fill of cheese and soda, Whitesnake and Black Sabbath playing in the background, and then retreated to their seats for the movie: Eddie, Dottie, and Jeff on the couch, Donny to Jeff’s left as far away from the TV as he could sit, and Gareth on the remaining Lay-Z-Boy to Eddie’s right, bowl of popcorn for himself on his lap.

As soon as the movie started, it was clear Eddie’s expectations had been sorely mistaken. Dottie started stiff as a board between the two boys, slowly sinking into the couch as the minutes ticked, head hidden behind her knees. Jeff had a bit of success in getting her to relax when he attempted to tell her every time it was safe to look up, but after a miscalculation of the length of a scene involving various medical procedures, her eyes never went beyond the coffee table again. Gareth and Donny’s constant commentary helped ease the uncomfortable air in the room, but it was clear to Eddie that Dottie was not enjoying this situation one bit. Forgoing any ideas of romance, he pulled her into his side, letting her bury her head into his shirt as she tried to ignore the sounds coming from the TV while Regan thrashed on a hospital bed calling for her mother.

Donny looked at Eddie pointedly during a quiet moment, but he pretended not to see it, choosing instead to rub big circles on Dottie’s back in an attempt to calm down her heart rate, beating wildly against the side of his chest like it was trying to get out of her body. Progressively through the 122 minutes that the movie lasted, she pressed more and more of herself against Eddie trying to shield herself from the horrors on the screen, and truthfully, if he hadn’t been so distracted trying to comfort her, he would have been terrified too. By the time Regan was gilding down the stairs on all fours, Jeff was covering half his face with a decorative pillow. When she began hurting herself with a crucifix, even Donny who had been somewhat unaffected until that moment let out a perturbed “Jesus Christ”. By the time the actual exorcism had began, Donny looked like he desperately needed a cig, Jeff was threatening to throw up if Regan threw up again, and Dottie was shaking so much that Eddie straight up manhandled her into his lap like a child and covered the ear that wasn’t pressed up against his chest with his own hand. Credits rolled, and Gareth was the only one that moved out of his chair to stretch and turn on the lights, face pallid when he saw the angry faces of his friends.

“Uh…”

“Are you fucking serious, Gareth?” Donny said in disbelief, knees cracking with the sudden movement of standing up after two hours. “That shit was so fucked up!”

“Please don’t fight,” Jeff said tiredly, letting his pillow drop to the floor.

“Oh, I’m fighting,” Donny doubled down. “Look at Dot! You know she hates horror movies and you get this one? Couldn’t you get fucking Gremlins instead?”

“It’s not that scary, it’s so obvious everything’s totally fake! You can see the tube stuck to her head when she throws up!”

“That was so fucking gross,” Jeff added, still looking a little green himself.

“It’s okay-” Dottie began, wiping under her eyes with the sleeve of her red cardigan, but Donny interrupted her again.

“This is what you were giving her shit for in the video store?”

“Okay, shit- I get it. I fucked up,” Gareth lifted his hands. “I honestly didn’t think it was that scary the first time I saw it.”

“Man, you need to see a shrink if that shit didn’t scare you,” Eddie said, no longer all cozied up to Dottie, but still keeping one arm around her for support.

“I’m sorry,” Gareth looked at Dot, who was the most affected out of his friends. “Didn’t mean to make you feel like ass for two hours. I thought we’d have fun with it.”

“You’re mean, and I hate you, but it’s okay,” she said, grumpily pouting but lifting her arms to ask him for a hug which he immediately gave her. “Just don’t do it again. And you have to go with me to the bathroom now because I’m gonna pee myself and I don’t wanna be in there alone.”

“I’ll hold your hand while you pee, you big wuss.”

Gareth and Dottie climbed up the stairs, him cracking the stupidest jokes to get her to relax while Jeff busied himself going to grab the ice cream so everyone could cool down before the second movie. Donny got his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and nodded at Eddie to follow him outside. They pressed their backs to the cold brick, the lights spilling out from the glass panel on the door illuminating their faces with warm yellow tones. They smoked for a few minutes in silence, looking out onto the fenced-in backyard.

“That shit was wild,” Donny said. "Can't believe they made a twelve-year-old pretend to stab her own pussy with a fucking cross."

"You think that actress was really 12?" Eddie mused.

"Well, she looked like it."

"Yeah, but... maybe she was like 16 and just looks really small? Dunno, but that was crazy. Was she really telling that priest to fuck that other priest?"

"Yeah," Donny chuckled, throwing a bit of ash to the ground. "Saw you, by the way."

"Saw me?"

"You two. Dottie sitting on your lap."

"Oh, fuck off," Eddie scoffed.

"I'm not saying anything weird was happening. Just that I saw you."

"She was terrified, man. Never seen her shake like that, and I've seen her scared before," the eldest said, bitterly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm telling you, I could feel her fucking heartbeat and that shit didn’t feel healthy. She's gonna sleep with her lights on for a week."

"Shit. Didn't realize it was that bad or I would have said something. Honestly thought she was playing it up a little bit, getting cozy with you."

"Nah, she's not like that."

"How do you know?" Eddie shrugged, and Donny narrowed his eyes. "What's been going with you two lately? You're like, attached at the hip."

Eddie took his time to answer, letting the smoke in his lungs leave his body slowly, savoring the peace and quiet of the Friday night. Donny had been his first friend in the group, and if anyone deserved honesty after showing him so much loyalty, it was him. Maybe he'd have valuable insight to share with him in return.

"I'm whipped, Don. That's what's going on," Eddie said.

"Tell me something I don't know, dude."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes. I don't think the others have noticed yet."

"Yeah, well, it's bad. Like really, really bad. Like I'm one more pout away from dropping on one knee and asking her to be the new Mrs. Munson bad."

"Jesus."

"Yup."

"So it's not just a crush? Are you, like, seriously in love with her?"

"I'm gonna go to prom and wear a tie for her. Take a wild fucking guess."

Donny stared at Eddie for a few seconds before smiling and shaking his head. The long haired boy lifted an eyebrow, questioning.

"Why haven't you asked her out yet?"

"I don't deserve her."

"Ed-"

"I just don't want to drag her down, y'know? She has all these plans, she’s gonna go to college, do cool stuff. I want to ask her when I have something real to offer. After graduation, once I get a job."

"Eddie, has it ever occurred to you that she really fucking likes you right now? You know, without all that extra shit?"

"I know she does."

"You do?" Donny looked at him like he'd grown two heads.

"I'm stupid, not blind. Dunno when she started to like me but yeah, I know she does."

"When did you figure it out?"

"We spent Mother's Day together."

"Oh."

"That's when I realized, damn, she must really like me to spend such a big day like this with me. And then her Dad gave me a manly talk so I just kinda put two and two together."

"Does she know you know?"

"I don't know if she even knows herself. She was telling me the other day that it's stupid boys and girls can't be friends without people reading too much into it. Maybe she’s in denial. I was.

“You were?”

“For like two days, yeah,” Eddie admitted.

"I'll ask Gareth about it. I bet he knows."

"You think?"

"They act like siblings all the time, if someone knows, it's him," Donny assured him, putting his cig out against the brick wall. "Hurry up though, she might get tired of waiting."

"Just a couple more weeks. Until I know if I graduate or not. It's the bare fucking minimum but she deserves it."

"Alright. I'm rooting for you, man. Go make me proud."

"Thanks, dude."

They returned to the basement after their smoke break, Donny giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder when they saw Dottie and Jeff back on the couch, heads together over a big tub of vanilla ice cream. Gareth was sitting on the floor in front of them scooping chocolate into a bowl that already had strawberry and vanilla in it. She was explaining the basics of the movie they were about to watch, warning them that things weren’t what they seemed and that it was about to get weird. Jeff looked terribly excited about the prospect of some lighthearted fun, and whatever talk Gareth and Dottie had had while they were in the bathroom (he’d apologized again while he stood in a corner, back to her and his eyes closed for good measure while she peed) had left him equally curious. The boy heard the words “boobs” and “murder” and decided he was all in for the experience.

Once everyone was back in their seats and had a cold treat in their hands to enjoy during the movie, lights went off and bright red lips filled the screen. Michael Rennie was ill the day the Earth stood still, but he told us… where we stand, Dottie mouthed following the lyrics, spoon resting on her lower lip. It was a complete 180 from the previous feature, her eyes now glued to the moving images, only rousing from her hypnosis to fill her spoon with more ice cream when Jeff prompted her to do so. She encouraged the boys to participate, instructing them to say “Janet” or “Oh, Brad” in a bored tone along with Riff Raff and Magenta during Dammit Janet or teaching them the steps to The Time Warp. Donny and Jeff, ever the performers, immediately jumped to action when Hot Patootie - Bless My Soul began, and Eddie twirled Dottie around proving himself to be quite the capable dancer when he put effort into it. Even Gareth got into the festivities when the pickaxe came out.

“Okay, that was awesome,” Jeff said while the credits were still rolling. “Didn’t know musicals could be, y’know, not Grease.”

“Take that back, Grease is legit,” Donny threatened him with his spoon.

“Less boobs than I was promised but still pretty good,” laughed Gareth, and Dottie chucked a pillow at his head.

“Looks like movie night is a success all thanks to Dot,” Eddie said, grinning at the girl that couldn’t sing for shit, but still knew all the lyrics to every beat of the musical. “Gareth, you’re banned from picking movies for a month.”

“I’ll take it,” he shrugged.

“Are there more musicals like this?” Jeff asked, and Eddie could see Dottie’s eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Well, there’s one about a demon barber…”

Eddie’s 20th birthday had been nothing like he was used to, but as he sat in Jeff’s brown-looking basement, his crush resting her weight against his shoulder as she animatedly explained to their friends the plot of Sweeney Tood: The Demon Barber of Fleet… Street, his spoon full of strawberry ice cream, and a pre-rolled joint in his backpack they were definitely going to sneakily smoke in the back of his van at some point during the night, he felt truly lucky for the first time in years. Everything was going to change for them in a few weeks, but Eddie really hoped that his 21st birthday would be as happy, if not more, as his 20th had been.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean

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naranjapetrificada · 1 month

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Time for another Fanfic Friday!

Let's get the obligatory self-promo out of the way: Monday night, just before bedtime, I finally posted Chapter 2 of my bizarre little gay pirates arranged marriage ancient-world-inspired AU From the Firmament. I get if you don't trust WIPs, or don't think it's for you, and I'll be the first to tell you it's unusual. But if you find your curiosity piqued at all, maybe you should give it a whirl? If being in the OFMD fandom has taught me anything, it's that even things that are certifiably Not Your Thing can surprise the hell out of you.

Onto the recs (including one that absolutely wasn't My Thing and a non-OFMD rec)! Here's what I've been reading lately:

1) Of the AUs that should be "definitely Not My Thing", Wanna Fly Away is probably the least My Thing I've encountered. It absolutely, positively should not be something I'd ever consider reading, no matter how much I trust @petrichorca not to lead me astray. Monsterfucking? Nope, absolutely not for me, but blessings upon all who enjoy it. And Animorphs? I mean really, Animorphs???

So anyway I'm on Chapter 9 now, although I'll admit to having skimmed the final chapter many moons ago out of curiosity. I do that sometimes because I'm generally spoiler agnostic and sometimes I need to know ahead of time if a certain story will leave me existentially devastated. Jury's still out tbh! Crucially though, even after skimming the last chapter, I didn't start reading. What actually got me to read the fic proper was this separate one-shot that looked at Stede's character before leaving his life behind. That reminded me in a lot of ways of this pre-canon fic I've long appreciated, and that sealed the deal.

2) Next, for something ENTIRELY in the canon universe, I've been following the gentle, meditative innkeepers-era fic The Waters Around You by eimeo (not sure if they're on tumblr) and it's made for really rewarding reading. There's still plenty of work our boys need to do, but for once they actually have time to do it!

3) I've also been trying to catch up on my OMG THEY'RE ✨BOYFRIENDS✨ fics and one I heartily recommend is Tenderly the Light by the one and only @darcylindbergh, which perfectly captures that effervescent feeling you know they both had during the boyfriends scene while also not forgetting that they have to go out there and escape the British while also just being so full of LIFE. Pitch perfect.

4) Next up is the recently reposted Powder Blue by @scarrletmoon. It's a modern AU which I missed the first time around because I wasn't in the fandom yet (if such a time ever existed). Heed the tags going in, but if you're like me and heard so much about it after it got taken down, you'll absolutely want to check it out now. In particular, I love how like, grounded I feel inside Ed as a character, and how the in-world power dynamics replicate for a reader how Stede's specific brand of inscrutability would have felt to Canon Ed, who doesn't have the benefit of knowing how Stede feels. There's that little bit of distance there that just makes everything a bit more...more, I guess.

5) Lastly, for those of us anxiously awaiting the latest update to @moonyinpisces's phenomenal GO fix-it How Do We Turn On The Light (brb refreshing my email again), I want to recommend Talk to Me of Things to Come by Atsuki, which visits Crowley and Aziraphale on New Years Eve, 1988. It's flirty and sweet (although I definitely would not call it "fluff") and has some S-tier Aziraphale pining if you're into that. Not even sure how I found it tbh but I must have been throwing GO fics at the void where Chapter 16 of HDWTOTL waits to melt our collective minds.

Happy Friday, and happy reading!

#fanfic friday #fic recs #from the firmament #wanna fly away #the waters around you #tenderly the light #powder blue #hdwtotl #talk to me of things to come #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fics #good omens #good omens fics

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lincolndjarin · 9 months

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BKS ✦ notes & bts : chapters 1-5

spoilers for chapter 1-5 of Best Kept Secret!!

✦

a/n :

I feel like this is just SO self indulgent of me but whatever I guess lmao, bks is my brain baby currently and I will take any excuse to talk about it. These posts are going to be long in-depth dives into my writing process, dress inspo, music i was inspired by, etc. of the mentioned chapters so settle in cause this is what i'm doing today lol. also this might be the longest one bc i'm gonna talk about starting and coming up with everything.

starting writing and original outlines :

i've said this so many times lmao but i wrote the ending first. like the ending ending. i work really long hours at a job that has me listening to music for like ten hours a day while i work so i get a lot of thinking time lmao. basically i originally wrote it as a story with no specific characters in mind. I'm a big Pedro fan so i was between characters i thought fit the fic but settled on din because i think he fit the character i was imagining best. (it helps that he's in my top three pedro characters lol) from there laid out a vague outline in my mind of where i wanted to start so i created a set list of characters and basically just dove right in without much to guide me except for an ending point lmao. it wasnt until closer to like chapter 15-16 when i started properly outline each chapter in advance in the document, before that i just wrote vague notes in a notebook that i didn't end up following all that well lmao

music :

i've also said this at one point but the original name of best kept secret was "my keeper and i" i wrote the first three chapters in the same week and spread out the posting but i used the same playlist for most of the early stuff so here's that!!

original bks playlist

inspirations :

if you've seem/read bridgerton then you might know that i took a lot of inspiration from the pattern the show uses and still do.

basically the show has a pattern of the couple getting together and breaking it off or having an issue that's resolved and then there's a new issue. i've sort of been following that sorta kinda

also reader is heavily based on charlotte because i had just finished queen charlotte when i started writing bks

din is more based on anthony bridgerton than george, (anyone unfamiliar with bridgerton, george is the love interest in queen charlotte)

also a lot of din's style of self loathing is based on edwards from twilight LMAO

notes :

here's a random page of misc. notes that i lowkey can't decipher lol

here are my chapter four notes! shoutout to when i didn't realize it was sarad'ika and it was originally ika sarad lmaooo

there's some unused dialogue here, specifically there was going to be a longer conversation about how he wanted to get her out of the castle more often as well as a scene where she was going to eat fruit ands it was gonna drip down her front and he was gonna wipe it off. it was gonna be a whole thing lmao but it didn't really fit the rest of the chapters vibe.

so.... originally there was a timeline issue where the first lunar interlude (i'm a huge taz balance fan and that's where i got the name lunar interlude from lmaoooo, i have 2 taz tattoos) was going to be chapter 4 and then it was going to be chapter 6 and then it made the most sense to make it 5, so any timeline notes here are wrong.

in my original concept for the fic, every chapter was going to end with a small portion of din pov, but it didn't flow well and i really didn't like it so it ended up being easier having it be specific chapters.

when writing the first lunar interlude i went through and read the previous chapters and wrote down how i thought he was feeling during each scene which is what these notes are ^

dresses :

here's a collection of the dresses i used as inspo for chapters 1-5 (these were posted on my old account but i'm gonna put them here as well!!)

chapter one :

the wedding dress was based on this dress!!

and this is the sort of jewelry i was picturing but this stuff is still pretty, i couldn't find anything as ugly as what i was picturing for her wedding jewelry.

this is the sort of stuff i pictured for her blue dresses she hates but honestly all of these are pretty as well LMAO. in all honesty i think that the blue dresses she doesn't like wearing are probably pretty i think she mostly just hates what they stand for and also they put her in gaudy makeup and jewelry as well which doesn't help

chapter two :

used all sorts of dresses as inspo for this chapter! here are these!

chapter three :

sort of a combination of these for the chapter three dress, if that makes sense lmao

chapter four :

something along these lines for the garden dress!!

that's all for these chapters!! I'll probably do 6-15 for the next one since there won't be as many notes for those and then go back to five each for the rest!! i have to do some practice makeup for the concert i'm going to this week so the next one of these will be up either tonight or tomorrow!!

#lincolndjarin #best kept secret #the mandalorian

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giuliano-fan-account · 1 year

Text

hxh Chapter 395: Founding: Part 1

Ohm yg od oh my god I love this chapter!!!!!!

So let’s get started

Spoilers... What else??

I’m deciding to use the viz translations since I didn’t review yesterday and they come out on sundays so yeaaa

Ok so we begin with Hinrigh who has Cracked The Code on the Heil-Ly base thing

They’re gonna go after those two guys and...... To be honest I don’t care if they end up dying!!!! Go ahead!! I forgot their names already and Togashi’s going to need to manage the like 60 new characters that he’s made this arc...

Man, I miss Kurapika and the Zodiacs and the Princes and Beyonds team... hm...

Like these characters I love and all like Lynch and Zakuro and Tserriednich’s Militia people and Hinrigh but Man where did everybody else go????

Well good news is later this chapter we at least have the troupe!!

(Togashis trying to tell us to enjoy the little detours-- to the fullest)

Volksen ever. Apparently her officially translated name is like Bork something but Volk is a lot better in My opinion and people spell Giuliano like Juliano all the time so does it Really Matter?

Volk makes me think of a Volkswagen car and Bork makes me think she has an acidic reflux I’m sorry.

Also Otocin = Otoshin (doesn’t really matter to me) and Momolly = Momori (Momori is way cooler sorry so I will also be saying Momori)

I also permanently associate Volksen with octopi now but that’s besides the point.

Anyways enough about the 6 People from last chapter let’s move on.

Fun fact I still cant remember his freaking name What Is it Somebody please say It nobody has said it in the past 5 chapters and I’m confused but anyways.

He says the Phantom troupe are checking out 3102 (next to the trap room 3101) because they think there might be a Hideout behind rooms 3101-3103 and of course they’re being insane about it, since to them it doesn’t matter if they have a plan or not.

He’s been talking a lot about people being captured..... Togashi? Is this going to be another big theme??

He needs some water or some skin moisturizer or something He can’t be living like this dude look how dry that skin is...

Anyways they're threatening this guy to get in the room as you do.

I’m going to thank Togashi forever for visuals because without them in this arc I would be entirely lost.

I really don’t have any sympathy for this guy but Imagine if three guys just came into your room and then cut a hole in your bathroom.

I’m sorry but in this panel he looks so emo it’s... It’s the hair and the... The everything looks extra emo.

I love this conversation cause it opens new parallels between the mafia and the troupe, which Phinks, Feitan, and Nobunaga are already involved with and it gives some more insight, but also What is Nobunaga holding right now.

Is that like a ball of light or something

And why is it the only one there

Anyways enough of looking at random details its its

ITS FLASHBACK TIME

When I saw this page spread I kid you not I think I went crazy for a second. It’s a callback to the flashback in chapter... 102 (the panels were redrawn!!!!!!@2442454##$#%^$#)

I was right with Chrollo being the one on the left and Franklin being the one on the right closest to the tape, but I thought Shalnark would be the one sitting in front of the elder, and Phinks was the one running at the bottom..... However..

THE ONE WITH THE CURLY WAVY HAIR IS SHALNARK.......... (broken heart crying emoji /pos)

God I love this Flashback Look at them all. Shalnark and Chrollo are my best guess at like 9 years old and Franklin is probably like uhh 16 or something.

Franklin has a Oldest-brother-that-is-cool-and-is-in-college-while-you-are-in-middle-school vibe which I’m not being super specific about you guys have to know what I’m talking about right.

Tbh this part felt a bit like I was on something but it’s ok it works out!

I love how they have Territory like its warrior cats. Like theyre those kids on the playground that would play warriors (definitely not me /s) But its taken to the actual extreme and they actually fight.

I’m guessing Uvo is also 16 but Puberty just hit him in the face with an iron bat. He’s like the Average bully archetype but also taken to the extreme because they live in a dump city.

Machi... She’s just... She’s like 5 or 6 years old oh my god she’s a literal baby actually... and she’s just handing Uvo a “Murder Weapon” they would probably call it.

Baby Syanorke being a little smartass and then Immediately getting hit in the head with a plank of wood and passing out This was like the funniest part ever

Look at him tumble

...

Wait

.....

No...

NOOO.......

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOLY CRAP

...Anyways let’s move past that...

Fist fight Immediately 1 v 1

The low quality running of the little guy I can’t believe he’s a little guy

HELP ME THIS IS TERRIFYING WHY DO THEY LOOK LIKE THAT

He is also Average bully archetype No. 2 but a different flavor for sure...... His hair looks like a walnut Phinks what are you doing....

Umm ok so Age guesstimate... the first appearance Phinks looks older and then he looks smaller in the other panel... So I’m gonna say he’s like 13 and Feitan...

...

Yea I have no Idea let’s just say 13 as well.

Get wrecked. I only noticed the arrow now so hopefully you see it too now.

The little guy the little thief

Meteor city civilization real

AGAIN WITH THE PEOPLE GETTING CAPTURED AND STUFF??

Ok so Basically

Since Meteor city residents technically don’t exist since they don’t have any form of identification, that means it was legal to kidnap them, kill them, commit crime against them etc since they technically “weren’t human”...

A while later to prevent this, Meteor city allied with the mafia to be safe, but before that there were hundreds of victims and 70% of them were under 15.

Their ties with the mafia grew stronger, and Nen abilities came about the elders, and a pledge was made (The law of retribution):

“Only life can compensate for a life.”

“We’ll accept anything you leave here, but don’t ever take anything away from us.” (a note left at the kurta massacre, if it rings a bell)

And so with all this going on the Phantom troupe formed 12234543

PAKUNODA!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love her hair so much here its real

This is so adorale im cyring .........

Ddue just became a part of the council at 9 years old I guess!

Tiny Just tiny little ones

POWER CLEANERS HELP

MIGHTY SWEEPIN POWER CLEANERS

He also created dubbing wow /s

IM CYRING AGAIN ........ So Paku must be like 8 or something but they have an Older sister Younger brother dynamic lol

SHEILA?!?!?! You mean the lady in volume 0 who looks uncannily similar to Pariston Hill?

...*snif* *sniffleef* eu......e.ue ,,

Omg its Sheila and Sarasa... Sheila still has her silly rat ears...

I like Sarasa she’s a little silly and I wonder if she’ll be relevant too but as far as I know I dont remember her.

hehe im just imagining all of them just sitting down and watching a really badly dubbed but endearing episode of the power ra-cleaners.

D Hunter....

I live them that’s all I have to say

Oh god More human trafficking

Even worse child trafficking... Yea this is going to be relevant

And then It just skips back to them peacefully HELP

To be continued!!! Yea nothing bad happening here totally

I’m guessing since the Title of the chapter is Founding: Part 1 that we’re still going to be in the flashback in part 2 since there’s still stuff that needs to happen.

I mean we still have yet to see 12 year old Nobunaga and what about the whole Council thing??

Oh god wait somebody may get captured during the screening NO

And why is it called founding?? The troupe is officially founded I think when they’re like mm... I wanna say maybe 6 or 7 years older so maybe there’s a time skip idk.

Anyways keep being silly Goofer man Behave yourself.

(remember the hunter exam applicant form or wtv in the 1999 version well I wanted to draw them so here ignore the bad coloring and shading i made this at 2 am)

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joyouslee · 1 month

Text

MLC Chinese fic rec: 天机莫问 by bandt包子

Link to the prologue of the fic.

(To get to the next chapter, go to the bottom of the page and click the left button. There may be other posts by the author in between the chapters, just keep clicking left. Use desktop mode to find the button if you're on mobile.)

My translation of the title:

Ask Not Heaven's Secrets

a.k.a. “Without a word, this young master wrest away that old fox’s stupid character design.”

Pairing: Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi / Fang Duobing

Author didn’t provide a summary for the fic, but said in the author’s notes for the prologue that it’s about a life for a life, but this “life” is not like that “life.”

Essentially Fang Duobing exchanges his life of good fortune for Li Xiangyi’s life of misfortune and ends up in an alternate timeline where Li Xiangyi grew up in a wealthy and loving home with his brother Li Xiangxian and doesn’t get poisoned.

40 chapters total, plus 4 extras (one of which is locked).

This was a fun romp - well written and a fast-paced plot, but to me the reason I especially love this fic is how the author writes Fang Fuobing. He’s a delight(ful menace) - he took on Li Xiangyi’s terrible life but remains optimistic and hopeful. He has many identities, including a female one, and he gets to turn the tables on Li Xiangyi (payback for the times Li Lianhua drugged him and left him behind), at least in the beginning. Ultimately, it’s about his devotion and love for Li Lianhua and how far he’s willing to go to save him.

Go read and come back to talk about it!

See my general warnings for Chinese BL/danmei fic.

Below are some specific warnings for this fic. I don’t want to put spoilers here but will eventually post a spoilery review in a reblog, so you can put questions on that post if you have any about the warnings given.

Canon-typical violence

Suicide

Use of canon sex swap technique

Threatened sexual assault

Underage and age gap (Fang Duobing is physically 16 years old, but since he transmigrated, his mental age is older. Li Xiangyi is 28 and doesn't know about the transmigration when he first starts being interested.)

One of the extras is an AU ending of the fic, so major character death warning for the extra.

Ableism (how Fang Duobing thinks of himself before meeting Li Xiangyi)

Misuse of gendered language (arguments about who is called the wife/ being married 嫁 vs 娶)

Negative perception of being the shou in a m/m relationship

#mysterious lotus casebook #fic rec #Chinese fic rec #huafang

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lia-land · 2 months

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Throne of Glass

2.5/5 stars

*Spoilers for the first book in the Throne of Glass series.

This was boring and slow. I would have stopped reading early on had it been any other author, but I ended up resorting to the audiobook only because I love A Court of Thorns and Roses and have seen SJM’s storytelling potential in that series. If I had read this book before ACOTAR, I would have likely stopped reading and not been interested in any of her other works either. I understand that she was around 16 when she wrote this book, but did an editor not go through it? What—perhaps irrationally—annoyed me was the use of so many exclamation marks. 221 of them, to be exact. Here’s some examples from one chapter 2:

She’d forgotten there was anyone else in the room. She looked at her rags and stained skin, and she couldn’t suppress the twinge of shame. What a miserable state for a girl of former beauty!

But now, standing before Dorian Havilliard as little more than a gutter rat!

“Four months,” Chaol said, “after Sardothien arrived, she attempted to flee.”

She waited for the rest of the story, but he was clearly finished. “That’s not even the best part!”

“There’s a ‘best part’?” the Crown Prince said, face caught between a wince and a smile. (This line specifically is a great summary for how I felt while reading this whole book)

Dorian grinned. “What remarkable eyes you have! And how angry you are!”

…And this is all just from one chapter. The second chapter, specifically. As far as first impressions go, this was not a good one. Maybe I’m just not used to seeing this in other books, but thankfully, SJM does drop the exclamation marks for the rest of this series.

The entirety of the first interaction between Celaena, Chaol, and Dorian in Endovier felt like a very young writer wrote it. I’m talking 12 or 13. The dynamic seemed strange as well because they’re all talking to each other like old friends, but they don’t have any previous relationship. I think Celaena was meant to come across as badass, but I found her insufferable and sort of fake. A lot of her remarks through this book were cringey.

There are only two things that I was interested in: Dorian, and the competition. Both lead to disappointment. The competition was such a cool concept based on how it was described and I was excited to see some sort of Hunger Games style situation where it was a continuous and deadly arena sort of thing. I was so underwhelmed when it ended up being weekly ‘tests’ like archery and climbing. It wasn’t even really that necessary for the overall plot of the series. It had so much potential, and nothing was done with it.

It’s worth mentioning that I chose to read Assassin’s Blade as the third in the series as SJM recommends, so maybe I just didn’t have any reason to connect with Celaena in Throne of Glass, but having read Assassin’s Blade at the time of writing this, I can’t imagine I’d have cared enough about any of the characters to get through it as a first book.

The series does drastically improve after Crown of Midnight/Assassin’s Blade in both plot and writing style, as many others have said. I don’t think any book series should take 3 and a half books to get good, but I stuck with it only because it’s SJM. This book gives context and adds to the world building (as does book 2), but this could have easily been combined with Crown of Midnight. ACOTAR felt like a prequel until Under the Mountain, so I went in with the mindset of not expecting much from the start of this series either. I did wonder while reading this book if this series would have benefitted from the first person POV that ACOTAR had, but SJM does get better with third person as ToG goes on and it ends up working eventually.

I’m a very slow reader, like it will take me a full day of reading to get through 200 pages, so I would not have stuck to this series had I not read ACOTAR before it. I extended the courtesy to SJM on this occasion, but I likely would not have done so for other authors and would have missed out on the intricate story that unfolds throughout the rest of the series, as many others have.

It’s worth putting up with this book and the next one in order to get 5 good books (5 because CoM and Tower of Dawn are not great). I haven’t found that Celaena gets any less annoying, but she is unlike any other main character I’ve read about so almost as interesting as she is annoying.

#throne of glass #sarah j maas #celaena sardothien #dorian havilliard #chaol westfall #book review

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witch-hazels-musings · 1 year

Text

Harbinger Diluc - Match 8 - History

Synopsis: One day, the Harbinger meets someone who ignites something different in him - and all he knows is to keep what he wants close, that’s all that matters

Harbinger!Diluc X FM Reader | Anthology

Warnings (specific to each chapter) - > sea sickness (throwing up, feeling of discomfort, unease), SPICE (16+)(making out, touching non-specific, reader wrapping legs around character, implied 18+ activities, hints at nudity not specified), Childe Spoilers (history of his past and why he joined the fatui), Diluc spoilers (mentions of his past, Hazels interpretation of how his past led him to joint he fatui)

It took you a while to come to terms with what he had said. The words weren’t distorted, the crashing waves against the side of the boat didn’t make you question what he told you, but it was still too much, and you felt like throwing up.

“... S- Snezhnaya?” Diluc nodded while you pressed your hand to your stomach. Never in your life did you think you’d head to the most dangerous, coldest, and most ruthless land in all of Teyvat. You’d heard stories of the torturous snow, of the freezing air that could turn the mist in your lungs to ice. To actually be on a ship headed toward - what you would consider - your worst nightmare was one thing, but to do so on a ship full of people you didn’t trust was somehow worse. “I um --”

“Would you like me to open a window?” Diluc asked, his footsteps drowned away in the creaking haul of the large ship. The bed dipped when he sat next to you, his fingers brushing over your tangled mess of hair. Shaking your head, you pulled your legs to your chest and moaned. If it weren’t for the familiar scent of Diluc’s coat smashing into your face, you might have completely lost sense of reality. “Try to breathe.”

Logically, you knew there wasn’t anything you could do but breathe, there wasn’t any choice you could make but to embrace the reality around you. You chose this, you were the one who stood in front of the Harbinger Targalia and threatened him, told him you’d go with him in order to protect Diluc. This was your fault, you were here because of your own choices. So why didn’t that make you feel any less miserable.

“Sick ...”

“Mmm?”

Lifting your head up, you grabbed Diluc’s arm, leaned toward him and though you tried to explain yourself, he seemed to understand by the expression on your face, “... sick ...”

“Oh! Hold on,” he moved just in time for you to shove your face in a bucket.

Your body hurt. Not just from the violent purge of your stomach, but your head throbbed, your legs and back ached, and your heart yearned for the solid feeling of dirt and rocks. Diluc did his best to stay by your side but it seemed even here duty called him away.

Rolling onto your side, you grimaced at the bubbles of gas and nausea that came with the action. The boat rattled against the waves and you wished for death.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” A gentle voice called to you from beyond the closed door. You glanced their way, waiting. They knocked, opened the compartment door, and peered in when you didn’t answer. “Pardon me,” a young woman said as she entered the room and bowed. She was carrying a small basket with cloth inside, her chestnut hair was tied back into a messy bun as if she hurriedly threw it together. When she stood up, you noticed the richness of her skin; apparently she had seen many days in the sun.

Quietly, she made her way toward the bed where you curled around a pillow, every once in a while groaning at the constant churning of the boat. The woman was silent for the most part, save for the hollow noises she made as she moved around the room. Her actions were specific, as if she knew every inch of the cabin you were in.

“... how long have you been here?” you asked, curious and hoping the conversation would be a good distraction.

“I’m sorry?” she paused with her hands hovering over the pile of clothing she placed in the chest near the end of the bed. Her head tilted so you asked your question again.

“It looks like you’ve been in this room many times. I’m just ...” a wave of nausea came over you so you quickly sat up, hand extending toward the now empty bucket, “wondering how long you’ve been on this boat.”

“Ah,” as the woman moved to assist you, her hair flopped to the side but she didn’t seem to mind. “Many years now.”

“Did they kidnap you too?” you mumbled into the bucket, ready for what was to come.

Her voice rang out into the sun-spilled room, a cool cloth touched the back of your head, “No such thing. The sea and I seem to have a deep connection.”

“ugh,”

“It takes some getting used to though, but once you find yourself,” she brushed the hair from your face and you noticed the lines that decorated her lower cheeks and eyes; years worth of joy were written across her skin. “You’ll notice the beauty the ocean has to offer.”

“... right now, I just want to settle my stomach.”

“Right,” she hummed and lifted herself off the bed. For a while you stared into the empty, terrible smelling bucket while she rummaged around. The sound of water and calming hums filled your senses until a kind hand returned to your side. “Drink this,” you looked at the cup she offered hesitantly. At this point, what harm could it do.

The liquid soothed your hot throat, it coated the inside of your stomach like a cool breeze laps away the sweat on your brow. You sighed and lifted yourself further from the bucket. “Tastes like ginger.”

“Mhm, a fine remedy for the sickness of the sea.”

“How much should I drink?”

She chuckled again, “All of it.” You nodded, and did as she suggested while she returned to her work.

“I’ve left a fresh outfit for you,” the woman explained, her hands once again wrapped around the basket she came in with, head bowed in respect. “Feel free to change when you’re ready. I will return in some time to check on you.”

“... thanks,” you replied, eyeing the cloth at the edge of the bed. It was simple, plain looking, which seemed unexpected considering the attire your companions chose to wear. The woman was about to leave but before she could go, you called to her again, “wait. You didn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Sisi, ma’am,” she answered before exiting the room and leaving you alone.

You didn’t get up immediately, but once your body started to feel like you were in control, that the nausea plaquing you had run its course, you carefully made your way off the bed. It was strange to walk. You’d been on small boats before as a child. The unsteady rocking made you anxious, so you preferred to hunt for game in the woods than in the fishing boats. Here however, you were trapped. Again.

Each time the waves crashed against the bows of the ship, you felt it in your legs, in your chest. You cursed at the sensation. You hated feeling out of control, and here you had so little already. “Get it together,” you told yourself, as if that would help.

Carefully, you made your way toward the end of the bed where the outfit Sisi picked out for you laid. The fabric was different than what you were used to. Whoever weaved this together left ample space for wind to pass through. When you placed your hand inside the shirt, you noticed it still showed your skin and you hoped there was something more opaque to cover the parts of your body you didn’t want revealed.

Glancing around the room you found a door that, upon investigation, revealed itself to be a bathroom. It was annoying, but after a while you managed to change. When you stepped back into the room, Diluc was standing there, waiting.

“Oh, hello,” you greeted him as you bounced against the door frame, your legs dreadfully unprepared for the jostling sea.

He made his way toward you, unaffected. An outstretched hand came into view and you took it eagerly. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his finger grazing the back of your palm.

“Much better, I just -” you stumbled into him without wanting too and clicked your teeth, “I want to stand properly.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Archons, I hope so.”

Diluc fell silent. You weren’t sure why until you felt him adjust the clothes you’d just put on. His hand slowly moved across the sky-blue collar, his fingers smoothed out the uneven and wrinkled fabric covering your chest until he reached the hem of your pants where the shirt was tucked in. Diluc pulled at the long, thin sleeves covering your arms while you stood there, lost.

Your hair that often spilled over your shoulders was pulled back slightly by a hair clip. You were glad for it because the room was growing warmer by the second. “Diluc?” you questioned, eyes lifting away from his long-sleeve black button up to his face which was studying you intently. Swallowing, you looked to the floor.

“This suits you,” he professed as he took as step closer, unfazed by the way you bumped into him.

“I think you’d say that about anything.” Your hands were sweating so you rubbed them on your pants, lucky for you they were black.

“It wouldn’t make my statement any less true.” Lifting your head, you felt yourself sway at the intensity of him. His hair was tied back but some strands fell around his face even now, grazed his sharp jaw and shrouded his intense eyes until they were almost too much to look at. Backing up provided little reprieve because he followed you until you were flush against the door frame, his hand gripping the wood to keep you from slipping into the small room beyond.

It was hard to breathe. You found this rather common when trapped by him but instead of trying to wriggle your way free, you embraced the proximity, fighting back when you could. Your hips pushed into him, a rather forward action to which he rewarded with a demanding grip on your waist.

You could already feel yourself slipping under him. Quick breaths couldn’t stop the swelling sensation rising in your body. Your heart wouldn’t slow down no matter how many times you closed your eyes and willed it. Thoughts of the last night you were together flooded your mind. You yearned to experience it again.

Diluc leaned in, his eyes locked onto your lips but when you didn’t return the gesture, he stopped. “Do you not-”

“No,” you interrupted him, suddenly aware of his misunderstanding, “I’m just waiting.”

“Waiting for?” he asked, his breath hot as he hovered above the lips you could feel his desire to have.

“Waiting to see if we’ll be interrupted.”

“Mmm.” Diluc pulled away slightly so both of you could listened for the sound of footsteps just outside, the call of his name which so often came. Save for the distant chatter of the crew and the steady crashing of the waves, the only sound left was your heavy breathing. “I don’t he-”

“Yup.” With force, you cupped his face, tilted your own, and crashed into his lips. He responded in equal ferocity, fingers already pulling at the shirt you shoved into your pants. No matter how badly you wanted to keep kissing him, you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped at the sensation of his hands against your skin, at the feeling of his thumb just below the most sensitive part of your chest. When he stopped so he could lift you around his waist, you let go and became practically feral at the display of his strength.

With ease and swiftness, he took you away from the support of the wall and carried you to the bed. It took little time to fall against it, and even less time to remove his shirt - since he practically tore it off himself. His red hair fell over his shoulder, brushed against your sensitive skin as he hovered above you. The tender affections he left across your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, filled you and made you gasp at every impression he left.

This must be what it feels like to love and be loved by another, you thought.

It was well into the evening when you made your first exit out of the cabin. Surprisingly, you noticed the rocking boat less than before. You weren’t sure if it was time that helped you adjust, or the guiding hand that led you up the steps. Either way, when you reached the deck, you felt your heart flip at the sight.

Nervous, unsteady, you made your way toward the edge of the massive ship. Griping the thick wooden taffrail, you admired a landscape you would have never seen otherwise.

Radiant reds, yellows, and oranges stretched across the shimmering water. The light flashed over the gentle waves, it danced and swayed creating shapes you’d never seen before. What stole your senses most was how endless it all was. Vast stretches of glittering water surrounded you and while the west glowed in brilliance, the east was lost in icy blues and pitch black.

“It’s quiet the sight, don’t you think?” Tartaglia’s voice ripped through your awe in an instant. Dejected, you settled back onto your feet.

“It was,” you mumbled under your breath but you were certain Diluc heard you by the way he turned his head the other way.

Tartaglia glided down the steps from the helm, his arms stretched wide as if he were soaking in the evening air. “Enjoy the weather while you can, comrade. The closer we get to Snezhnaya, haha, well, you’ll see.” he chuckled, stopping a few feet from where you were standing and placing a hand on the rail you leaned against earlier. His expression wasn’t what you expected. He seemed almost wistful, as if he were thinking of a private memory. “Neverminded that,” he shifted instantly; this man was like a living whiplash. “I bet you’re starving.” His comment was simple but pointed, and it made your chest hot. You tried to play it off but something about the way he smirked at the both of you made you extremely embarrassed.

“I - um.”

“I mean, you haven’t eaten in almost a day. Plus I heard you were sick,” he continued as if it was nothing and you felt your body catch on fire for thinking he was talking about what you and Diluc had done earlier. “Feeling better?” Nodding, you turned back to the sea to cool your face. “Great, let’s get you some food.” He waved, making his way toward the other side of the boat to a set of stairs. You followed after him but not before glancing at Diluc who looked unamused.

It was surprising just how big the ship was. The further down you went, the more shocked you were to find rooms, storage, commissary places that didn’t seem possible on a boat of this size. To be fair, you didn’t really recall examining the ship prior to leaving.

“Here,” Tartaglia escorted you to a table near the open kitchen. There were a few people working next to one another on small counters. They seemed to move smoothly, never once bumping into each other even with the unsteady floor beneath them. The harbinger disappeared for a moment before returning with a few plates. It was the last thing you expected, to be served by the 11th Harbinger of the Fatui. “It’s not the best food, but it’ll do,” he explained as he slid the dishes to you.

The meal was simple. A few slices of meat with boiled potatoes and vegetables. Nothing too overpowering, which was good considering you were starting to feel ill again. Though, as your stomach growled, you figured it was because you hadn’t eaten in a long time.

Tartaglia didn’t wait; the sound of his knife slamming into the plate as he picked up the meat to take a bite reminded you of an animal enjoying their kill. “So,” he began, excitement in his eyes and a smile on his lips, “how’d it feel to touch the talisman?”

“Tartaglia,” Diluc glowered at the man across the table, jaw clenching.

“Come on!” he exclaimed, hand slapping against the table, the other still holding the meat. “I’m curious. Don’t tell me you haven’t wondered the same thing?” Diluc’s jaw tightened and you figured it would be easier to appease Tartaglia rather than let something in Diluc’s ever-dwindling patience, snap.

“It hurt,” you replied before biting into your own food. You started with the potatoes before working toward anything with more potent flavor. When the harbingers looked at you, you continued, “It was like ... mmm ... a snake coiling up your arm and squeezing as tight as it can before sinking its teeth into you.”

“Ouch,” Tartaglia grimaced, though it seemed disingenuous.

“It was only for a bit, but ... it hurt.” You recalled the dark room flashing in violent blue, the darkness of the domain pushing down against you, the Herald’s power with every strike. Subconsciously, you peered at Diluc in your peripherals.

“Does it hurt any other time?”

“Mmm,” you thought about his question by taking a few other bites. Your appetite returning with force. “No.”

“What about when you fight?”

“It doesn’t ... hurt. It just feels -- I guess like an itch you can’t scratch?” Diluc’s attention turned to something down the hall but when you looked there wasn’t anything there. Or, at least, that’s what you thought.

“No more questions,” he demanded, eyes shifting to Tartaglia.

“Wha-”

“Now.” There was an uncomfortable pressure settling at the table. You could tell the young gentleman across from you desperately wanted to keep going but he waved his hands in appeasment. Discomfort took the place of curiosity and the three of you ate in silence for.

You couldn’t help but notice how tense Diluc was. It was like the moment you went into the bowels of the ship, his entire demeanor changed. He was on edge, and you didn’t know why.

So, you decided to distract yourself.

“So, Tartaglia-”

“Call me Childe, comrade,” he beamed, elbows resting on the table as he leaned in toward you.

“Tartaglia,” you began again, ignoring him, “how did you become part of the Fatui?

“Ah, now that’s quiet the interesting story.”

“I’m all ears,” you encouraged and tossed the final bit of food into your mouth.

“Let’s just say I have an insatiable desire for conquest,” he smirked and placed his hands on top of one another so he could rest his chin against them. You scoffed at how at ease he was.

“Fine, don’t tell me.”

He chuckled, “It’s honestly not that impressive. When I was nearly, what now, fifteen, sixteen, my father enlisted me.”

“You’re father!?” Shooting a look at Diluc, he seemed unaffected by the news.

“Yup, he hoped it would ‘satiate my desire for battle.’ I don’t blame or hate him for it. You should hear of some of the conquests I’ve had, of the blood I’ve spilt.” Tartaglia seemed to revel in his story. Flashes of something far stronger than elation shimmered in his eyes as he spoke and you wished you hadn’t asked the question.

“You were just a child. To force someone at that age into this life, it hardly seems fair.”

“Fair,” he hummed, head nodding, “life isn’t. I learned that far earlier than my indoctrination into the Fatui, even before my first bout against fellow harbingers. Mmm, the darkness of the abyss truly holds nothing but contempt, wouldn’t you agree, Noctua?” He flashed a knowing look to the man at your side whose piecing gaze would have frightened you if you hadn’t grown used it it by now. Though, there was something odd about the familiarity the two of them shared.

“I thought the Abyss was just a folktale, something parents tell their children about to keep them in line.”

“Oh, it’s very real. Care to find out?” The devil flashed across his face; a visceral elation washing out any human-like features. It took your breath away.

“We’re done.” Diluc stood from the table and practically pulled you with him.

“Awe, don’t go yet,” Tartaglia wined, that fake face of his plastered back on like a mask. You hated how easily he could flip from one personality to another. “Hey! Why don’t you tell her the story of when you joined-”

“No.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad!”

“We’re leaving.” Diluc turned his back to the harbinger sitting, pouting, and begging at the table while he pushed you down the hallway and toward the stairs. You managed to get out of earshot, but not before hearing Tartaglia yell, ‘you’ll have to tell her sometime!’

When the two of you made it back to the quarters on the other side of the ship, only the sound of the door closing made you breathe easy.

“How many days until we reach land?” you asked, body tense and exhausted.

“Three weeks,” he answered with a weary sigh.

Days went by without much to report. You finally found what they called, ‘sea legs’ and settled into a normal routine. Meals in the morning, activities to pass the time in the afternoon, dinner holed up in your quarters or with the other operatives on board. Some nights you spent alone, others you were at your harbingers side. The ocean was rather beautiful at night. You grew to enjoy the sounds and sights of the setting and rising sun. Once, you were goaded into a sparing match with Tartaglia. He was almost successful but Diluc took your place.

Considering how the entire crew begged them to stop before they destroyed the whole ship, you couldn’t imagine the damage they could have done on land.

On days you woke up next to Diluc, the two of you made time to be as isolated from everyone else. It was clear in these confined days that he wasn’t fond of being social. You didn’t mind, in fact you welcomed it. The quiet comfort of just being near each other brought ease to you unsettled mind. You passed the time reading while he worked, he inquired about your past and you did the same, but in small doses. There was always that prickling question dancing on the end of your tongue but you avoided asking it.

Who was Diluc before the Fatui, and what changed him?

Sisi stopped by every now and again. When Diluc was busy elsewhere, the two of you held pleasant conversation. She, much like yourself, was a private person but one evening she let slip that she was looking for someone. When you pushed a little more, she reassured you it was nothing important before finding an excuse to leave. Sisi was still kind in future interactions, but she appeared more guarded with her responses.

The times you did decide to leave your quarters, you were thankful you’d grown used to Diluc’s shadow. If he could escort you, he would, or he’d ask that you wait for him. There was clearly something about this journey that unsettled him but he refused to share his discomfort. Instead, he’d pass it off as being tired, or that he was distracted. Even now he didn’t share his worries with you. It was frustrating considering the blooming relationship the two of you were building.

You tried not to let it bother you, but there were things about him you didn’t know. What real reason did you have to trust the man who took you from your home - was it right for you to even be at his side after everything that had happened.

“Where are you?” Diluc asked, his voice filling your ear, fingers tracing across your arm as you leaned against him in the bed. You took in a breath and felt the muscles of his chest push against your back. Carefully, you adjusted so you could be closer to him, using his strong legs you lifted yourself from between them and propped your knees up to keep you stable. He waited for you by kissing your exposed shoulder and neck.

“I’m thinking.”

Another kiss against your neck. “About?”

“You.” Diluc hummed, signaling his curiosity. “We’ve been on this ship for almost three weeks but I still know so little about you.”

“What would you like to know?”

He opened the door but you were still nervous to step inside. “Well ... who were you be-before you were a Harbinger?” It wasn’t the question you wanted to ask but it was as close as you could get. You were certain he could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“I was no-one.”

“Diluc, that’s not an answer.” Your tone was one of frustration. You didn’t intend for it to be but with your nerves on the frits, it came out that way.

“It will not provide you more information about who I am. I am no longer that person.”

You twisted so you could look at him, the sheets pulled tight against your chest to keep you covered. “Let me decide that. Please.” Searching his face, you felt your brows furrow and lips turn into a frown. He relaxed and pushed your hair over your shoulder.

“As you wish.”

Diluc started at his childhood. One filled with rules and expectations that, at times, felt suffocating. He grew to understand them, grew to accept them and explained how they started to change him. Diluc shared of his family. A father who was strict, driven, and dedicated to helping others. A brother whose mischievous behaviors often got the both of them into trouble but whose company he fondly recalled. A maid who was like a mother to him. These memories brought a smile to his face as if they were a cherished part of him.

He was open, for the first time in a long time about who he was and where he came from. It was like your eagerness to hear him released the flood-gates of repression.

“I was a member of the Knights of Favonius.”

“Really!”

“Hah, yes.” he confirmed, his body adjusting to your own as you twisted to look at him again. “A Calvary Captain actually.”

“W-Wow.” The thought of Diluc dressed in the garments of the knights made you chuckle, but left your heart feeling sad. From what you knew about them, they were a reputable organization. The pride of Mondstadt. What could have happened to turn this boy who valued honor to an organization that destroyed it. “So what - um -”

“What happened?”

“Yeah.”

Diluc tensed, his arms coiled around your stomach and he held you against him. Even if you wanted to turn toward him, you couldn’t. “A monster.” The atmosphere in the room shifted, and you listened. “There was a party in the city. One to celebrate the ‘coming of age.’ Everyone was there to join in the festivities; and free alcohol.” He added, a slight, bitter chuckle rumbling in his chest. “On the way back to our estate, we were leading a caravan and that’s when -”

“The monster?” you asked as your hands found his arms.

“Yes. I wasn’t strong enough, none of us were, but my father fought against it with everything he had.” Diluc’s grip tightened and you felt his pain seeping from your eyes. “I watched him do unbelievable things. He was never gifted a vision but if there was someone more deserving I do not know them.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “In the end, he defeated what we later learned was a dragon but not before it corrupted him. It stole his senses, his soul. He became crazed, unlike himself, and I was left to ... I had to ...”

He didn’t say it, couldn't say it, but when the realization that Diluc had to kill his own father dawned on you, there was nothing holding you back from reacting. You twisted in his arms until you could comfortably hold him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered into his hair. His nails bit into your back and you let them.

“After that,” he continued but you wanted him to stop, you wanted to take your question back so you knelt between his bent legs and pressed your hands to his chest.

Shaking your head, you called to him but he kept going.

“I told the knights about what had happened, told my brother, but they all turned their back on me. I vowed to find the answers no one else would give. After a long time it led me to Snezhnaya, where I fought my way to the source and came face to face with the Tsaritsa.”

“Diluc ...”

“She redefined me. Took my hollow life and filled it with purpose. With her I found the retribution I wanted, I was owed, and I never looked back.” His expression turned dark as if remembering was enough to close off the suffering that came before it. These words came from him, but they felt unlike him; twisted.

For the first time since that day on the grassy plane, Diluc looked like the Harbinger you feared, and you desperately wanted to pull him free from that place.

Bending forward, you cupped his face in your hands but he wouldn’t look at you. “Look at me,” you uttered, a few times, a small shake of his head until he finally met your eyes. “You were not no-one,” you lifted his head when he tried to look away, “the person who lived this life before the Fatui is still there. He’s still here,” placing your hand on his chest, you pushed to help him feel it, “even now, you have shown me that he is. What you went through was terrible, it was painful but it did not take away the person you once were. The person your father taught you to be, the one your brother remembers.” Tears ran down your cheeks, the landed on his chest and slowly the life in his eyes returned, “You are nothing like them.”

“I am them.”

“You may hold a name, but that doesn’t define you. If you can’t see that t-then let me r-remind you. I’ll be here to remind you.” Your words were growing choppy, the tightness in your throat made it hard to communicate so you hoped it was reaching him. Pointing at the center of his chest, you blurted out, “Diluc Ragnvindr lives in there, and I’ll fight whoever or whatever I need to, to b-bring him b-back.”

His eyes went wide at the name he hadn’t heard in years. Like the moment it rolled off your tongue ignited a nostalgia he had long forgotten. The sound of his past came flooding back in, but he didn’t know how to answer it.

Tenderly, he pulled you against him until you fell into his arms. He found it difficult to know why this affected you so much. This was just another story, one he’d heard from countless other Fatui. It rattled him to see you react this way, but what confounded him more was the flame in his chest that became rekindled at the sound of his real name.

“I am them,” he mumbled while you wrapped your arms around him and whispered, ‘you’re not.’

Day’s past and the icy wind, the chilling crash of an endless winter crept closer and closer to the Artemis. You were fortunate there was appropriate attire for you considering you hadn’t had a chance to pack. Still, no matter how much you put on, in the depth of your soul you knew whatever waited for you would be an encounter you weren’t prepared for.

As the final day came to a close, you watched the snow fall across the ocean. You saw the push in the sails as they forced their way forward. In the distance you strained to see the peaks of snow-covered mountain ranges against the boundless white. Only in the darkness could you tell where civilization began and the cold ended; like small beacons in the night, you were headed straight for them.

Nervously, you wrapped the thick coat around your shoulders. Your hair tight and clumped to the sides of your face as the snowflakes attached, melted, and froze again. It hurt to breathe but you refused to hide away from what waited for you.

Someone moved to your side, the radiating warmth told you who, so you moved closer to them. “We're almost there,” you said, the towering wall of white affirming your observation.

“Yes.” Diluc’s voice was tense; you knew why.

Another joined the watch, someone you’d learned much of and yet so little in these last three weeks. Someone who’s straightforward approaches reminded you of your own, but felt so foreign to you. While you put one foot in front of the other, he bounded forward with a thrill in his heart and blades flashing in the light.

There was a time you thought you couldn’t trust the man who was now guarding you, would you ever be able to look at this Harbinger’s face and see anything but a well-decorated façade.

“Ah! Doesn’t the world look so glorious in the snow?” He asked, though it seemed rhetorical, “The pure white, the pristine quiet of it all, like the light of the moon.”

“It’s just cold to me,” you added, a shiver arriving just in time to emphasize your point.

“Oh but you see,” he explained as he leaned onto the taffrail, his hands dangling toward the frozen ocean as he breathed in the air. “It has such a perfect backdrop for bloodshed.”

Tartaglia’s words sent a cold chill down your spine. How can someone with a face like his, and a smile so earnest, speak of such things so easily. He turned to wink at you and you moved closer to Diluc.

“This is why you don’t work well with others.” Diluc groaned.

“Hey now, and here I thought we had become fast friends, Diluc.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Pity,” he lamented, “because you’re going to need some of those.” And with that, the bright lighthouse came into view and so did the ominous headquarters of the Fatui stronghold.

I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good days before you leave them

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