#hello I’m talking a lot about my fanfic again don’t mind me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madelynraemunson · 3 months ago

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HEY MADDY, WHAT’S ON TV? 📺

𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 (…𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬)

part 2/2

🥡 steddie!body swap x freaky friday fanfic • RATED: NC-17 🥡

part one here.

SUMMARY: Dustin’s science experiment goes horribly wrong and his two ‘bickering besties’ have to suffer the consequences.

WORD COUNT: 6.9k words

CONTENTS CONTAIN: (EASTER) EGGS, WHEAT, METAL, PARALLELISMS, A PINCH OF COMEDY, ANGST, AND LOTS OF SWEARING

ALLERGENS: CHEESY, CORN(Y), SHELLFISH (sorry eddie)

🥠

Eddie makes himself dinner again tonight.

It's nothing new; it’s been this way since he was a kid. But the loneliness at Steve’s is almost suffocating, despite the vastness of the house, the extravagant amount of silverware in the drawers reserved for a grand party of three… and hell, even with Todd Harrington being in the same room…breathing the same air as him right now.

“Hello, Steven.”

“Hi, Dad,” Eddie replies.

It almost feels apocalyptic.

There wasn’t much in Harrington’s notes about his parents, other than they were hardly ever home and basically let Steve do whatever he wanted. And to an extent Eddie thought Steve was exaggerating, but given that this was the second time this week he’s seen Steve’s parents — after being in his body for nearly five days — he realizes Steve was telling nothing but the truth.

“How was work today?” Steve’s dad inquires.

Eddie does a double take, glancing at the fridge with Steve’s work schedule on it plastered in bright colors. It’s very hard to miss.

“…Today was my day off,” Eddie replies, baffled that Steve’s dad was too spatially unaware to look that way. “Did you uh…did you eat yet?”

“I did. Did you?”

“No, I was thinking about what to make actually,” Eddie mumbles. “I guess Spaghettios will do. Again.”

Eddie always thought Steve ate dinner with his parents, had conversations about his day, and shared laughs and stories. It’s jarring now to be in his shoes, where the silence is almost deafening.

“Yeah, we do need more groceries,” Steve’s dad agrees with an absent-minded yawn. “It’s a bummer you were off today. I was going to have you fetch your mom and I a tub of that Neapolitan. Didn’t realize we were out.”

Neapolitan? Eddie’s ears quirk at the mention. Isn’t that…?

“Ice cream? Why would I have ice cream at work, Dad?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Don’t you work at Scoops?”

“I work at Family Video.”

“Since when?”

“Since THREE YEARS AGO... You didn’t know that?”

“I’m not a psychic, Steven.”

Eddie’s eyes pan back to the fridge, again, the only thing on it being a sheet of paper that reads, FAMILY VIDEO SCHEDULE STEVE H. The stark reality of the situation hits him hard.

“Anyways, kinda odd you’re home tonight,” Todd continues. “You usually never are. Shouldn’t you be with Nancy?”

NANCY?!

“Nancy?! Nancy and S–” Eddie pauses. “Nancy and I broke up FIVE years ago, Dad. …Don’t you remember?”

“I may have remembered you saying something about that…”

Oh he’s being absolutely insufferable! Steve and Nancy’s breakup was the talk of the town, and probably even the hot topic at the Loch Nora Moms Book Club meeting. How could Todd Harrington not even notice that Nancy wasn’t around for five years?!

At his wit’s end now, Eddie starts towards the hall. “I’m out.”

“Where are you going?” Steve’s dad demands, his tone sharp enough to slice through the thick tension in the air.

Eddie feels a surge of defiance bubble up. “I need some fresh air,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not that you’d notice if I disappeared for a while.”

Eddie doesn’t know where he’s going yet. He just needs to get the hell away from here. Meanwhile, Steve’s dad is trying to figure out what he’s done to make his son so upset. He can’t think of anything he could’ve possibly said to elicit this reaction.

“Hey! Tone, you heard of it?” his eyes flicker over to Eddie. “What’s going on, son? You’re not acting like yourself.”

Eddie tuts. “Yeah, like you’ve been around to know what that’s like?”

Maybe he could go to the arcade. Or Starcourt. Hell, maybe he’ll loiter around Camp Knowhere, or a convenience store that sells Farrah Fawcett spray (The humidity was making his hair so hard to deal with! Eddie just wanted it UP and OUT OF HIS WAY).

Eddie just wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but the hellscape that is Steve’s house.

“WHERE are you going?” Steve’s dad demands again.

“Knowhere, I guess.”

“Nowhere? Well you’ve gotta be heading somewhere.”

Annoyed – and too exhausted to explain – Eddie sighs.

“You know what, fine. Stay ominous about it,” Todd mutters. “You know what, Steve, you are never home.”

“Oh yeah? Well if I was home, would that have made a difference?!”

Taken aback, Todd Harrington’s eyes widen, shocked by his son’s sudden outburst. This isn’t the calm, polished Steve he knows. If this is how his son really is, what else has he been up to? Quite possibly no good.

“You know,” Todd clears his throat. “You are never home anymore.”

Eddie whips back around, enraged at the audacity.

“What’s the point of staying home if I’m going to be ignored?!” he yells. “If I’m going to eat dinner alone? If the only time I’m home you guys want something from me?! If I’m going to be stuck wondering when my parents are going to walk through that door?”

It’s like Eddie was talking to his own father while yelling at Steve’s. He’s had an eerily identical encounter with Al before. It just wasn’t expected or heard of. A guy with rich parents who weren’t…present in his life? His mind couldn’t wrap around it. Until it had to.

“I see you all the time, kid.”

“But do you know me…DAD?” Eddie cries. “Do you really know me?”

“I was at the hospital when you were born, of course I know you, son.”

Does this dude even know who Dustin is?

“Oh yeah? What’s my best friend’s name?”

“Tommy.”

“What sport did I do in high school?”

“Volleyball.”

The third and final test.

“What am I allergic to?”

But Steve’s dad clicks his tongue in annoyance. “What do I look like, a doctor?”

Eddie swallows hard. Wayne would’ve answered all those questions—and correctly—in a heartbeat.

“I’m out,” Eddie says again.

Holding back the remainder of his tears, Eddie starts towards the door, any last bit of his appetite he had left completely down the drain now.

“It was a genuine question, Steven,” Todd Harrington calls after Eddie. “I said, do I look like a doctor to you?”

“You sure as hell don’t look like a father, I can tell you that much,” Eddie mutters.

Steve could argue that Nancy Wheeler was his biggest heartbreak, but as Eddie inhabits his life, he begs to differ.

The real heartbreak lies in being surrounded by everything a young man could ever want: parents, a big house, a large inheritance, hell, even a nice body—and still feeling profoundly lonely and unloved. In terms of a family and sense of belonging… Eddie’s richer than Steve. And had they not switched bodies, he would’ve never guessed.

Poor Harrington. Eddie had no idea.

“Master of puppets are pulling your strings… twisting your mind and smashing your dreams”

This is Steve’s last resort.

He figured if he listened to the same music Eddie did, acted like Eddie, and believed himself to be Eddie, the guitar solo for Take Me Away would just come to him naturally. After all, nothing is impossible. And delusion has gotten enough people pretty damn far.

Harrington reaches into his back pocket, acquiring the fortune that got them in this situation in the first place, hoping that maybe there were more messages in between the lines.

“A journey soon begins, its prize reflected in another’s eyes. When what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back.”

“…in bed,” Steve jokes.

Look at him. This Eddie stuff’s easy.

Suddenly, an airy, delicate, seductive voice belonging to a young woman shifts Steve's attention.

“Eddie?”

Steve’s eyes nearly bulge out of his face.

Standing in front of him with her hair neatly kept in a high ponytail, body embraced by a nice blouse and an even nicer skirt, and frilly socks that poked out of her sneakers is a woman he didn’t expect to see.

The Queen of Hawkins herself. The woman of Steve’s dreams.

“NANCY!” he exclaims.

CRASH! Books fall out of the cart that rested besides Steve and onto the floor. He’s inherited Eddie’s clumsiness too it seems. Shocked, Nancy rushes to his aid, picking up books that fell more towards her side.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Steve frowns. “Thanks…”

“I uh, like your haircut,” Nancy smiles. “Also, I didn't think you’d work at the library.”

“Well it’s the only place that would hire me,” Steve chuckles. “…literally. Uh, my haircut? Thanks. You really like it?”

“Yeah! It’s nice!" Nancy nods. "It’s new. I’m so used to your long hair.”

“Yeah back when I looked like an electrocuted ferret,” Steve grumbles.

“Huh?”

“Nothing!” Steve says. “A-are you looking for anything?”

“Just browsing for some poetry that’s all.”

"I see," Steve nods. "W-well if you need anything, let me know."

Nancy watches as Steve, or Eddie in her eyes rather, walks back to the counter, acquiring the newly returned books to stamp for the next round of check-outs. He then loads them into the book cart, getting ready to return them to their respective aisles. All with a sulking demeanor that he’s too aloof to notice on himself.

“Are you okay?” Nancy inquires. “You look kinda down.”

Steve hesitates.

“I…” he says. “I really let someone down recently. Multiple people, actually. And I have no idea what to do.”

"I know how that feels,” she empathizes with him.

Nancy heads towards him.

“I was given a solution on how to make it right I just…” he shakes his head. “...don’t know how.”

“Well, the fact that you want to make it right is already the first step.”

Nancy motions for Steve to follow her, to which he does so immediately. She leads him to the poetry section of the library, specifically towards the authors with the last name starting with ‘D’. Shuffling through volumes of books, Nancy finally settles on one and takes it out.

“There’s a poem about selflessness that I really love,” she explains. “And if I’m correct, it’s in this lil book right here.”

Steve watches as Nancy flips through the pages in concentration.

She is still so pretty. Despite living in the same hometown, Steve hasn’t seen Nancy in a couple years. But she is still quite beautiful, and the same in her mannerisms and quirks, but just now older and wiser. Nancy clears her throat before reading the poem out loud.

“If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.”

The two meet eyes.

“Emily Dickinson,” Nancy cites the poem. “Redemption is selfless. It's a sacrifice. But life becomes more worthwhile when you live to help others. If mending this brokenness is really what you seek, you have to see what matters most to the other person, and make sure there’s a way to meet in the middle. That’s the best way to help in any case.”

Nancy drifts off into a sorrowful, reflective trance.

“I should know.”

They were both wrong, Steve and Nancy. They broke up over dumb shit that teenagers broke up over, both too stubborn for their own good to see the other person’s perspective. Steve never got a chance to redeem himself. Jonathan stole Nancy’s heart back then before he could.

But Steve never stopped loving Nancy. And now that it’s being revisited when they’re much older, it’s discovered that Nancy never stopped loving Steve either.

“You’re beautiful, Nancy Wheeler,” Steve says, peering into her eyes.

Perplexed, Nancy looks at her friend with furrowed brows. Encouraging space between the two, she places her hands on Steve’s shoulders, before moving off to the side.

“Thanks, Eddie.”

2 DAYS LATER… 💀

SHOW AND TELL DAY

“I made a promise to keep you shitheads safe and that’s exactly what I’m doing!”

You’d think it’d stop at the raccoons. But to Eddie’s surprise, the shenanigans of Camp Nowhere are far from over.

Today’s activity is centered around “aerodynamics” – which quickly translates to “Rolling Down a Steep Hill in a Dismantled Tire Swing”.

“The chances of us getting concussions are unlikely,” someone protests.

“BUT. NEVER. ZERO!” Eddie points out. “Wear a damn helmet, for Christ’s sake!!!”

“Ugh!!!” another kid wails. “You’re being a buzzkill, AGAIN, Steve! We miss the Relaxed Steve who didn’t give a shit.”

“Well, that’s too bad!” Eddie’s quick to match the energy. “It’s when Steve STOPS giving a shit that you should be scared. STEVE has set rules for a reason. And the reason is that STEVE doesn’t want you guys getting hurt.”

An injured kid would likely mean a trip to the hospital. Which means calling home. Which then means mountains of bills and a potential lawsuit which could lead to the shutting down of Camp Knowhere forever. And if Eddie wanted to leave his mark on the world, he would want it to be because he shaped young minds. Not eviscerated them.

Eddie sighs before speaking again. He had no clue about what really goes into all of this.

“Why is Steve talking about himself in the third person?” a kid questions.

Eddie quickly realizes that he in fact was talking about ‘himself’ in third person, to which he quickly deflects by saying,

“Because you dingbats stress me out. Put a helmet on or it’s no tire swing.”

———

“You look absolutely ridiculous.”

“What do you mean? I’m just channeling my inner Eddie.”

It was like watching Eddie cosplay as himself. As a nervous Robin drives towards Discount Stereo in Eddie’s van, Family Video’s sister music shop, she can’t help but get annoyed with Harrington’s forced headbanging and unnecessary drumming-on-the-dash.

And making her drive without a license too? It was way too anarchic for Steve. It’s like she was actually with Eddie instead.

“What exactly are we looking for anyways?” Robin sighs.

“We need a voice changer of sorts,” Steve brainstorms. “Or at least something to isolate Eddie’s vocals from the original track so I can perform for him.”

The further and further they were away from camp, the more desperate Steve got.

But Steve isn’t giving up hope. And if he has to play What Would Eddie Do? to get Eddie the dream contract he had been wishing for, he’s going to do exactly that.

“Master of puppets are pulling your strings… twisting your mind and smashing your dreams…”

Just then an epiphany reaches him.

“Puppet…” Steve whispers to himself. “…strings.”

How could he have overlooked this? The answer was so clear, so evident, right there all along. And in that moment, Steve had reevaluated all his previous judgments of Mr. Clarke. The man is a modern-day genius.

Steve turns to Robin.

“Turn around,” he says.

“What? I literally just got on the highway and I thought we were going to—”

“TURN. AROUND!”

SKRRRTTTTTTTT!

———

“Okay, turn around,” Gareth cautions. “But don’t make it obvious.”

Eddie’s neck immediately snaps towards the respective direction. Gareth gets a good eye-roll in before backhanding him across the chest.

“Way to be subtle,” he spews. “But that’s him. That’s the guy from Cardinal Records.”

The "dad" sunglasses. The Old Money Laugh. Initially unassuming, Eddie has no doubt that the man behind him is the off-duty talent scout. Because while he didn’t stand out at first, his confident demeanor and unbranded athleisure reeked of ‘subtle wealth’, his attentiveness to the stage screaming, ‘I’ll have my people call your people’.

“We should introduce ourselves before going up there,” Gareth suggests. “That way we start off on the right foot.”

“Noooo sir,” Eddie sings, shying away from the idea completely. “Not when I’m not myself.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll scavenge a wig and sunnies for you!” Jeff brainstorms. “He won’t even notice you took the form of some temperamental, big-haired frat diva!”

“It’s hopeless, guys,” Eddie refuses. “I say we just appoint the next band. Give someone else a shot while it’s in their reach.”

“But Eddie, THAT’S US!” Grant frowns. “We’ve dreamt of this, man. This is our only shot. You said it yourself, you practiced your solo for nearly two months!”

“So let this be a lesson learned,” Munson mutters. “That just because you work hard, it doesn’t mean you’re guaranteed success. I’m sorry guys, but it’s not happening.”

But “Eddie!” he hears himself scream. “EDDIE, EDDIE, EDDIE!”

Steve dashes towards him, ignoring the people staring at him like he’s some lunatic yelling his own name. Harrington’s feet are thinking too fast for his brain, judging by the way Eddie has to extend his arms forward to protect the two from ramming right into each other… again.

“Eddie,” Steve pants one last time. “God…your cardio sucks. You haven’t… gone on yet…have you?”

“No, and I don’t intend to. Show’s off. We gotta find the next act.”

Steve stops him.

“I’ve been thinking,” Harrington begins. “Well, listening to music, more like. You know that one song by Metallica? The puppet show one?”

“Master of Puppets?” Eddie corrects him, baffled. “It’s not about a puppet show you ignorant f–”

“I know that,” Steve stops him. “...now. Point is, the word ‘puppet’ kinda had me thinking. What if you played your guitar solo backstage and I just pretend that it’s me doing it? I know the lyrics of the song, I just don’t know how to play guitar.”

“You know the lyrics to our song?” Jeff’s eyes twinkle with joy. Not that it was too big of a deal. But a ‘normie’ knowing the lyrics to one of Corroded Coffin’s songs is flattering in a sense.

“Yeah, after hearing it for a week straight,” Steve shrugs. “So, what do you say, Munson? Let’s get you guys that record deal, huh?”

Eddie lets the idea marinate for a while. Harrington’s onto something.

“So you suggest that I – quite literally – pull the strings behind the curtain…” Eddie nods along. “While you go out there and perform as me since you’re in my body? Pulling a Singing in the Rain essentially?”

“A what?”

But the theater kids sighs. “Nevermind. I’m uh, yeah! I’m up for it. If you are.”

Steve extends a hand to Eddie. With his stomach doing somersaults now, Eddie extends his hand to Steve, shaking it firmly, the mutual agreement eliciting a smile amongst the two former rivals.

“It’s now or never, baby. Let’s break some legs.”

Eddie shoots him a sour look. Steve’s trying. He’ll give him that much.

“Sure. I’ll take it!” Eddie chuckles. He quickly turns around. “Hey! Henderson!”

Dustin gives him a single nod.

“How long does it take for you to make a sign?” Eddie inquires. “Multiple, actually?”

“Depends,” Dustin shrugs. “What do you want them to say?”

Eddie smirks.

———

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. ...Again.”

Eddie takes a quick moment to admire his guitar, the red and black Rich NJ Warlock that he had spent two-and-a-half of his paychecks on, glistening atop the wall, held upright by a matte black holster. His eyes then trail over to the standard Reverend beside it, the one he’s going to be using while Steve goes out there with his precious baby.

“Okay, so when you guys get on stage, Gareth will start the count,” Eddie instructs, looking at Steve now. “When he counts to four, that’s when you start the song.”

“Wait, four?” Steve’s only been used to three. “Do I start right when he says four or after the fact?”

“At four. Starting after four would make it a five count.”

“ButifIstartatfour, howcanIbesurehedidn’tmeanthree and I’m off a couple counts?! Usually the count is three, I wanna make sure the count is actually four.”

“The count is four and you start AT FOUR!” Eddie hisses. “I was in band and theater and I’m in a band, I should know.”

The two quickly stop their argument to don their respective guitars. After another firm handshake, Steve sets off with the band, nervous but determined to give the performance his all.

“Don’t fuck up, Harrington,” Eddie shakily mutters as Steve walks away. “I’m countin’ on you.”

“Uh, Steve?” Nancy questions. Eddie spins around. “What are you doing with Eddie’s guitar?”

How’d Nancy get backstage? And why is she here? Eddie’s brain is riddled with a ton of questions, but nonetheless, all he does is smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Wheeler.”

Wheeler? Now Nancy really thinks Steve hit his head.

“I’m gonna worry!” she insists.

“‘Scuse me, ‘scuse me, pardon me,” Dustin utters as he squeezes his way to the front of the Show and Tell audience. “Tour manager here! I need access to the barricade!”

And he’s the best damn tour manager Hawkins has ever seen. Tucked underneath Dustin’s trusty armpit are a stack of poster-sized notecards with lyrics for Steve to read. Steve spots him in the crowd almost immediately and his eyes light up in relief. The two exchange confident thumbs up before the audience is lowered to a hush by the bright yellow stage lights and the fading stereo music.

“Uh… hi everyone!” Steve mumbles. “I’m Eddie Munson, and this is my band Corroded Coffin.”

Aggressive ringing shrouds people’s ears. Wincing himself, Steve gulps as he gathers what is left of his courage.

“A-are you ready to be blown away?” Steve questions the crowd. “Taken away, I should say. Haha.”

Crickets. There’s a hesitancy with the enthusiasm, but the crowd still remains supportive.

“C’mon…” Eddie whispers, impatiently and nervously tapping his feet.

Clearing his throat out of habit, Steve starts to speak again.

“Uh, this song is about never wanting to grow up. Refusing to conform to society’s expectations. The harsh realities of young adulthood.”

“Okay, we’re off to a good start…” Eddie comments.

“You know, I’ve done a lot of reflecting this summer,” Steve admits, the spotlight theatrically closing in on him. “Before this summer, I used to be uptight and a little bitter about everything and the way things were headed. But in the mess of it all, I learned to have a little bit of fun. To let my hair down, literally and metaphorically. And the fact that it all—“

“JUST START THE SONG!” Eddie interrupts from backstage.

Negative feedback rings through the stadium once more as Steve turns his head. I deserved that, he thinks. Without further adieu, Gareth starts them off, clashing his drumsticks together to set the tempo.

“ONE. TWO. ONE.TWO.THREE.FOUR.”

So it was after four.

“YEAAAAAH!” Steve croaks mightily into the microphone. “YEAAAAAAH!”

The band is already off to a good start. Even Eddie is stunned. The guitarist watches in joy – and almost with pride – as Steve pretends to know what he’s doing, ‘strumming’ along with Eddie’s band and banging his head around like an untamed maniac. It almost looks natural when he does it. Almost as if he had rehearsed this over and over.

When he senses the cue, Dustin holds his poster up.

“Get up, get out. Move on, move on there’s no doubt. I’m all wrong. You’re right. It’s all the same to you.”

“Get up, get out. Move on, move on there’s no doubt. I’M ALL WRONG. YOU’RE RIGHT. IT’S ALL THE SAME TO YOU!”

‘Eddie’s stage presence seemingly grabs the attention of the producer from Cardinal Records. Off to the side, Dustin’s friend’s friend’s dad remains leaned against a railing, his sharp eyes fixed on the band with a mix of fascination and calculation.

“I’m too thin. Too fat. You ask why. So why? So why? So why? So why?”

The scout's fingers drum against his thigh, fascinated by the song and the enthusiastic, young audience it catered to. He watches ‘Eddie’ and his provocative thrusts, the band and their one-ness with each other and their respective instruments, and the different groups of respectful mosh pits that have started since the band started performing. It’s a refreshing sight to see. Angst. Challenging the status quo. Young adults coming together to enjoy the music while being unapologetically themselves. Sex appeal.

The 90s have arrived; and Corroded Coffin is just what Cardinal Records needs.

“On and on and on and on. On and on and on and on! Don’t wanna grow up, I wanna get out. Hey! Take me away.”

Nodding his head to the song now, the man reaches into his pocket to acquire his business Motorola.

“Curtis,” the man says after a few rings. “Clear my schedule for the next week and a half. I’ve got some meetings to set up immediately.”

“I wanna shout out, take me away, away, away, away, away!”

“Round and round here we go again,” Steve sings, causing the crowd to roar and chant Eddie’s name. “Same old start, same old ends.”

“I don’t care if it was set in stone, I need you to clear them immediately,” the scout hisses. His eyes remain fixated on Corroded Coffin, “I just found our golden ticket.”

“Turn my head, I turn back again. Same old stuff, never ends.”

“Turn my head, I turn back again. Same old SHIT, never ends.”

And the audience ERUPTS once more. Shocked and ecstatic about the lyric change, Dustin bangs his head in excitement, throwing up two rock-and-roll signs while his notecards fall to the ground.

“He said the S word!” Suzie shrieks. “In front of a bunch of kids? He’s insane.”

He’s awesome, Eddie thinks, grateful at the fact that Steve had a change of heart when it came to the lyrics.

“Take me away, away, away, AWAY!”

And as planned, Eddie’s guitar solo that he had rehearsed for six weeks sounds through the amphitheater of excited, inspired teenagers.

Steve’s head bangs rhythmically with the beat, his eyes closed in a moment of pure bliss. His long hair whips around his face, drenched with sweat that sparkles underneath the stage lights.

I feel so fucking metal, he thinks to himself.

Eddie mirrors Steve from behind the curtain, ravaging his guitar, allowing his heart to pour from his fingers with a fiery, trance-inducing passion. And with a final, triumphant chord, Eddie thrusts his guitar skywards from behind the stage, his tongue poking out of his mouth from excitement, and the crowd erupts in an ear-splitting ovation, hands clapping, feet stomping, and voices roaring in a collective, euphoric frenzy.

Nancy stares in bewilderment at the sight in front of her. Robin takes notice and finds a cover explanation immediately.

“He’s been hanging around Eddie a LOT,” she says.

———

“MOST. METAL. EVER!”

Steve, Eddie, Dustin, and the rest of Corroded Coffin congregate in a circle, over the moon by the fact that the plan had actually worked out. Like a colony of black rabbits in a carrot field, the group hops around in a state of impermeable bliss, soaking in all the emotions that came with the idea of the beginning of their dreams coming true.

“Most metal, indeed.”

An unfamiliar voice cuts through their celebration, causing them to pause. Steve feels a nudge at his ribcage, placed excitedly there by Eddie. A turn in that direction and everyone grows quiet, unsure whether or not to speak or bow to the mogul in front of them.

“So this is Corroded Coffin, huh? I’m Gary Feldman, a talent scout for Cardinal Records.”

Eddie shoves Steve forward.

“Th-that’s us!” Steve stammers. “It’s great to meet you, sir. I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson. These are my buddies… Gareth on drums, Jeff on bass, Grant on guitar and keyboard. And these are my other best friends, Dustin, and Steve.”

“Cardinal Records?” Eddie – as Steve – asks, feigning innocence with a hint of mischief. “What’s Cardinal Records?”

Steve catches on quickly, then channels his inner Eddie.

“Only the most METAL record label in the history of record labels! They’ve produced everyone who’s anyone—probably your favorite artist and your favorite artist’s favorite artist!”

Eddie smiles at Steve’s ability to be such an accurate historian, whether or not it was done on a whim. Meanwhile, Feldman chuckles, clearly flattered at the fact that Steve, or ‘Eddie’, was practically kissing his feet, saying all the right things to get him on his good side.

“The media training is strong with this one.”

Just then, Steve’s confidence wavers. Scared that he ruined their shot, he gulps.

“I wasn’t thinking that, I swear.”

But Feldman laughs heartily, easing the tension.

“I’m just messing with ya, kid,” the talent scout grins. “I like your band, I really do. You guys have a sound I haven’t heard before. And the energy you bring to the crowd is something I haven’t seen in a long time.”

“Y-you’re serious?!” Eddie can’t help but exclaim. “You… really think my friends are that talented?”

“I don’t just think, I know,” Feldman insists, looking back at ‘Steve’. “I believe you guys have the IT factor we’ve been looking for but have been unable to find. I would like to have Corroded Coffin on board, if you are willing.”

Eddie beams in awe as he watches the interaction take place. Never did he think he would get his foot through the door thanks to Steve Harrington’s rockstar skills. And it seems like all the other guys shared that very sentiment.

“Here is my card, perhaps we can set up a meeting.”

The card is sleek when Steve takes it in his hand. It’s a glossy jet black color, heavy, and feels very, VERY important. Struggling to find the correct words, the boys nod profusely, smiling ear to ear while taking turns shaking Gary Feldman’s star-and-jewelry-studded hand. And when the recruiter disappears from sight, Eddie is quick to snatch the card out of Steve’s grip.

“Holy shit, we got our foot in the door!” he cheers, high-fiving all of the boys in celebration.

Steve peers over at Eddie with a proud smile.

“Congratulations, man. I knew that this would be possible.”

Eddie offers him a grateful smile in return. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Harrington.”

Eddie and Steve share a hug. Dustin stares as they do so, palms clasped together like a relieved parent witnessing a rare bonding moment between her children. Although it was a messy process, the mission of his fortune cookie worked. Steve and Eddie finally get along.

Suddenly, Eddie feels the grasp of two gruff palms below his hips.

“Uh, Steve,” Eddie clears his throat. “Can you please get your hand off my butt?”

But Harrington only laughs. “You mean my butt?”

———

“This is so not cool, man,” Argyle grumbles. “SO NOT COOL!”

Wading through a sea of glass beakers and soggy clothes, the gang proceeds to help Dustin clean out his side of the cabin… one last time before saying goodbye to Knowhere forever.

“I agree, why did you have to pack so much?!” Will questions. “You were only gone for six weeks.��

“Hey, I didn’t know what I would need for my last year,” Dustin defends himself. “Also, with my mom gone on her spicy book retreat, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back and get anything.”

“Spicy book retreat?” it piques Argyle’s interest. “Explain.”

“If it’s anything like my mom reads, then you don’t wanna know,” Mike makes a face.

“Says you, sore Paladin. We REAL MEN have a thirst for this type of knowledge. Gotta know how to cater to the ladies, you know what I mean?”

The room fills with disgusted groans. This may be a science camp, but no one had the stomachs to discuss human anatomy at the moment.

Just then, the ground beneath the party rumbles again.

“EARTHQUAKE!” Argyle shrieks, his tone reminiscent of that of a little girl. “FOR REAL THIS TIME!”

“Jesus Chr—” Steve yelps, taking cover underneath a table.

“Here we go again,” Eddie mutters through his gritted teeth.

Everyone takes a form of shelter while the cabin rocks around, Suzie’s influence heavily evident on Dustin as he prays repeatedly for this shit to be over.

“HOLY SHIT!” Max screams, holding onto some chair legs to stabilize her body.

“WHAT DO WE DO, WHAT DO WE DO, WHAT DO WE DO?!” Lucas cries.

“EVERYBODY, COVER YOUR HEADS!” Dad Eddie yells. “BRACE FOR IMPACT!”

The earthquake makes itself known for a little longer, before fading into complete nothingness. Everyone looks around to see if that was the last of the shaking. When the coast is finally clear, Argyle is the first to stand up.

“Now that,” he huffs. “Is what you call a California quake. That had to have been a five-point-something.”

When Eddie looks up from his bracing position, he pans his gaze over to Steve. And he’s absolutely elated when the face staring back at him is exactly who it is… Steve.

“Oh my god…” Eddie’s breath hitches. “Harrington.”

“Holy,” Harrington breathes. “Eddie?”

“Did they change back?” Robin mumbles, hands still atop her head as a form of self-regulation.

Everybody’s eyes trail over to Steve and Eddie as they reemerge, watching them palm at each other’s chests in confirmation, laughing delusionally in one another’s faces as they hop around in celebration.

“I don’t…” Steve stammers. “But you… how did we…”

“When what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back,” Eddie recalls in his story-telling voice.

The notion really was the key to empathy, it seems: you never know what someone goes through until you live life in their shoes. A bit too literal for both of their likings, but Steve and Eddie evidently got the picture. It just felt great, being back in their own bodies again.

“I’m really sorry for everything I said about you,” Eddie fesses up immediately. “You really are a pretty amazing guy, Harrington. The kids are lucky to have you.”

“And I’m sorry for always refusing to see your side,” Steve says. “My jealousy, bias? and bitterness wouldn’t allow me to do so. Until I lived through it.”

“Hopefully it’s not too late for us to actually be friends.”

“For sure, man,” Eddie grins. I’ll call ya after that record deal meeting.”

The rocker reaches into his pocket to acquire a gift for Steve. His guitar pick that he used during Show and Tell. Upon it being delicately placed in his palms, Steve looks down at it in admiration, encapsulating it with his fingers to ensure its safety.

“Something to remember me for when Coffin makes it big,” Eddie explains.

The two share a smile once again, ecstatic that this fiasco is all over – but also excited to be burying the hatchet they have been harboring for years. It felt like an end of an era, a catalyst for a new beginning.

“Hey!” Argyle exclaims, his mouth just inches away from the fortune cookie in his hand. “Jonathan and I finally got the same fortune.”

Suddenly, concerned energy fills the room.

“NOOO!” everyone yelps running towards Argyle to knock the pastry out from his hand.

———

“Steeeeve Haaaarrington?”

The bright smile on the young woman’s face catches Steve off guard as he turns around. A flutter of nerves wash over him, but he remains fixed, determined to keep his composure as he feeds into the flirtiness.

“It’s Camp Counselor Steve Harrington, actually,” the former jock winks.

“Heard you’re the absolute best.”

“I’m alright, I suppose.”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hey, Nance.”

It’s been years since Steve and Nancy had a decent conversation. Let alone one where tears weren’t involved. But despite the passage of time, taking in Nancy and all of her beauty still feels brand new to Steve, the mere idea of her making him giddy and bashful, just like the very first time.

“Did you have a good summer?”

“I did,” Steve nods. “And it just got a whole lot better.”

He catches himself immediately.

“Because now Dustin is free, of course,” he babbles.

“Right, right, of course,” Nancy nods along, trying not to blush.

“And we get to hang out again, and he gets to hang out with your brother again…”

“Fun! So fun!” Nancy insists.

“.. and he gets to hang out with Eddie and his band before they go on tour and make it big…”

The two take a moment to sit with the fact. A Hawkins local going to Indy with his band. A retired delinquent, mind you. Yet still the most badass.

“You know…” Nancy speaks again. “I am still kinda curious as to why you’ve been walking around with Eddie Munson’s guitar all night.”

Steve hands her the guitar pick. Confused but intrigued, Nancy takes it from his hand, grazing it with her delicate fingers as Steve closes up the space between them.

“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain. Emily Dickinson.”

Suddenly, Nancy appears to realize. Steve’s charm not only transcended time, but now also bodies, it seems. And Nancy knew she recognized those eyes from somewhere.

“Something’s telling me that it wasn’t Eddie that I was talking to in the library…” she speculates.

Steve can only chuckle. “Crazy, right?”

“It’s Hawkins,” Nancy giggles. “Nothing’s crazy to me anymore.”

“Not even me?”

“No, you’re not crazy,” she blushes, biting delicately on her bottom lip. “You’re just an idiot…Steve Harrington.”

“And you’re beautiful, Nancy Wheeler.”

“Uh, gross,” Eddie remarks from a distance.

Eddie nudges Dustin as they watch the two walk off into the sunset. They’ve been eavesdropping and spying this whole time, but Steve and Nancy were too smitten to notice.

“Is it too late to grab a coffee?”

“With you? No never. I heard Newby’s Coffee Roasters is pretty good.”

“Let’s go.”

The two spies proceed to watch as Nancy and Steve walk away, arm in arm, setting towards Steve’s car to enjoy the rest of their night.

“How come YOU never take me out for coffee and pastries?” Eddie jokes.

Dustin shrugs, reaching into his pocket to give Eddie an offering. “Here, you want a fortune cookie?”

Having learned his lesson now, Eddie is quick to shut it down.

“Absolutely not.”

EPILOGUE

“I, Sir Eddie Munson, dub THEE,” Eddie announces. “Dustin Randall Henderson, KING of Camp Knowhere.”

The boys chant adorn praises while Steve and Eddie wrap a linen mantle around Dustin’s shoulders. They then issue him a trash grabber to serve as his scepter, along with a dented paper crown from Crispy King to top off the look. Dustin bows at them gracefully.

“Thank you, thank you, my loyal subjects. First order as King — is D&D — with no curfew!”

“D&D, I thought we were watching Alvin and the Chipmunks,” Steve interrupts with a pout.

“Those fruity rodents can wait, Big Boy,” Eddie refuses. “Rise of Kas is tonight. I’ll teach you how to play if you’re game.”

Steve is about to say something before he stops himself. Hey, why not? After all this time pretending to be Eddie, he never mastered playing a fantasy game.

“I’m in,” Steve humbly shrugs. “Let’s go!”

Everyone cheers before descending towards Mike’s basement, a proud King Dustin watching at the top of the stairs. All his friends are friends. Thanks to his invention.

“Well don’t you look just ADORABLE?!” Karen Wheeler beams as she makes her way into the living room. “What are you supposed to be?”

“Dustin Henderson,” he grins proudly, bowing once again. He politely takes Karen’s hand in his and plants playful kisses upon her knuckle. “King of Knowhere, to you, Lady Wheeler.”

“Why am I not surprised?” a cacophonous voice interrupts the beautiful moment.

Off in the corner sits a salty Ted Wheeler, reclined in his stupid LayZ Boy while playing Sudoku like he was last time. And the last time. And the last time.

Dustin shakes his head. In Ted’s defense, Dustin would hate his life too if every day was the same as the one before. It was just sad. The complete killjoy should have been the last to speak about what Dustin does for fun.

“King of a place called Nowhere,” Ted remarks. “That’s exactly where you’re headed if you don’t start acting your age soon.”

“Oh, you wish you had my child-like whimsy,” Dustin hisses. “Someone’s just upset that they never had a childhood.”

But Mike’s dad fires back. “Someone’s just upset that they can no longer act like a child.”

Curly never understood what Ted Wheeler’s deal was. He’s got a nice house. A smoking hot wife. And three kids who Dustin is blessed enough to call his friends. What more could he possibly ask for?

“You know what — Theodore?” Dustin demands. “I was going to banish you to my dungeon to embark on a journey towards eternal misery, but it seems like you’re already there, so I shall not issue you better. A true king does not internalize the opinions of common court jesters anyways.”

He chucks Ted a cookie. Hopefully it’ll rid him of his attitude. And replace it with empathy.

“Lucky for you, I don’t discriminate either.” He turns back to Karen and blows her a kiss. “Same time tomorrow?”

Karen rolls her eyes as Dustin starts towards the basement. And just before he joins his loyal subjects for Dungeons and Dragons, the little king stops to read his fortune.

"You are about to embark on a curiosity voyage."

Dustin chuckles to himself.

"...in bed," he adds.

The little king hums happily to himself after popping the cookie into his mouth. There was no way in hell he’s letting Mike’s dad ruin his night. Not anymore.

“Man, I make one mean cookie.”

Meanwhile, ‘Common Court Jester’ Ted Wheeler gives in and goes to eat his fortune cookie as well. A sweet treat every now and then wouldn’t hurt anyways. Oh, the small joys of adult life.

“You know,” Karen speaks up, attempting to lighten the mood. “One of these days you’re going to miss them being this young. Or that you were 17 again, at least.”

“Well it sure isn’t today, I can tell you that much, honey.”

Karen scoffs, evidently accustomed to her husband’s dry humor by now. She then holds up some jell-o that she had made not too long ago.

“Care for some dessert?”

Ted shakes his head, holding up the fortune that came with Dustin’s cookie.

“No, thank you sweetheart, I think I’m set for tonight.”

Ted wipes his mouth as he chews. And, because curiosity got the best of him, he flips the strip of paper over to read his fortune.

“You are about to embark on a curiosity voyage.”

Ted Wheeler shakes his head and tosses it to the side.

“I’ll say… If there’s one thing I CAN praise Dustin Henderson for, it’s that he makes a great fortune cookie!”

The End 👀🕰️

---

author's note (again): thank you my loves for tuning in and for all your support. want a cookie? 😇🥠

divider credits: @saradika-graphics @silkholland @dreamlandcreations

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington and eddie munson #eddie munson and steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie #steddie bodyswap #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #Spotify

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danny-pino-group-therapy · 3 months ago

Text

“The Call” a Reader X Nick Amaro fanfic

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 1,822

Warnings: Talks of cancer and women’s health. Infertility.

Author’s Note: This is deeply personal for me. I’m going through this right now and I needed to write to get my emotions out somewhat. I held back a lot but it’s what I know right now and what I’m going through. Just thought I’d share a little story with you all too.

Sitting at your desk your phone started vibrating against the surface. Picking it up you noticed it was your doctors office. Two days prior you had gone in for a checkup and she had found a polyp on your cervix which she removed for testing but had assured you they were common and no cause for real concern.

Picking the phone up and answering it you pressed it to your ear with a casual greeting. “Hello?”

“Is this Mrs. Amaro?” The woman on the other end of the line spoke softly.

“This is she.”

“This is Jackie at Dr. Coleman’s office. Mrs. Amaro, the doctor would like you to come in today to see her in the office to go over your test results.” She spoke with a slight worrying tone to her voice.

“U-um…y-yeah okay. Alright.” You felt your heart rate rising.

“Can you come at one this afternoon?” Jackie asked.

“Y-yeah…yeah I’ll be there.” You nodded not that anyone could see you.

“We’ll see you then Mrs. Amaro.” The nurse hung up after saying goodbye.

Fears and anxiety raised in your mind as your heart raced more. You needed to tell Nick and there was no way you could concentrate on your tasks at hand now.

Signing off your computer you dialed Nick’s familiar number hoping he would pick up.

“Hey baby…didn’t expect you to call.” Nick purred as soon as he saw a picture of you and he at the summer festival in Central Park pop up on his phone.

“Nick…Nick…” You started, your voice shaky.

“Baby what is it?” Nick asked straight away detecting the fear in your voice.

“The doctor, the doctors office just called.” You found yourself swallowing a lump in your throat. “They want to see me regarding the polyp they tested. I know it’s not fair of me to ask this but…but can you” You began before Nick cut you off.

“I’m coming home and going with you, baby. You don’t need to worry about asking me. I’m going with you. I’ll be home, twenty minutes tops okay?” He spoke with urgency.

“O-okay…t-thank you. I’m just. I’m just scared. They don’t ask you to come in if everything is normal.” You tried swallowing your tears.

“I know baby, I know.” His voice was soft and broken with worry and concern for you.

***

It was about twenty minutes later Nick rushed into your shared apartment finding you pacing the small living area.

“Hey baby I’m home. I’m here. I’ve got ya.” He came over pulling you into his arms holding you close and stroking your back gently.

You breathed shakily into his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Thank you for coming home. I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t ask you to come home. I’m so sorry.” You sniffled.

“Hey…” he pulled you back and held your upper arms as he looked into your eyes. “I will always, come home to you if you need me for anything. Alright Amor?” You nodded before he pulled you close again kissing you tenderly and holding you close.

***

It was a little past one now as you sat in the doctor’s office. The nurse had just shown you to her office and said that Dr. Coleman would be in with you in just a few moments. You thanked her kindly and took a seat across from her desk, Nick sitting beside you holding your hand.

Your mind filled with questions and what if’s but nothing made any clear sense it was so jumbled.

Your knee bounced with anticipation and anxiety as you zoned out onto a little medicine advert sitting on the desk.

“Hey…” Nick whispered looking to you with his brows furrowed in concern.

You looked over to him as his voice shook you from your thoughts. “Hmm?” You hummed.

“It’s alright. No matter what she says, I’m right here with you.” He nodded a little and gave your hand a squeeze.

You were about to thank him when the door opened and in walked Dr. Coleman. “Good afternoon. I’m glad you could come in (Y/N), but I’m so sorry too.” She sighed as she took a seat. “You must be Mr. Amaro.” She looked over to Nick.

“Nice to meet you.” The blonde smiled and pulled up your chart on her computer.

“Nice to meet you as well.” Nick replied.

“So…(Y/N) the polyp we removed the other day ended up being a grade one tumor. It shows you have Endometrial Cancer.” The woman said softly as she looked to you and Nick.

You zoned out as you felt your heart drop. Cancer. You had cancer. No one expected or ever thought they’d have cancer especially in their 30’s.

The doctor kept talking explaining everything and stopped to ask if you or Nick had any questions. When you didn’t reply Nick squeezed your hand. “Amor?” He said gently.

“Hmm?” You looked to him then back to the doctor feeling tears fall down your face that you weren’t aware had even gathered in your eyes.

“Do you have any questions?” Dr. Coleman asked again.

“I…I.” You swallowed. “I don’t know.” You let out a choked breath.

“I understand. We can stay here as long as you like to (Y/N). You can always call or message me if you think of anything at all. I’ll make sure the oncologist calls and sets up an appointment with you as soon as possible.” The woman assured.

“I-I don’t think I can even think of anything. What will they do about it?” You furrowed your brows.

“They’ll preform a hysterectomy. Usually if it hasn’t spread to the lymph-nodes then a hysterectomy is all you’ll need. Thats what we hope for.” She smiled.

You only nodded. You and Nick had talked about having kids but it hadn’t happened yet even with trying. You always wanted to be a mother and you had an extremely close relationship with Zara and Gill but you wanted to expand your family and now it was all for nothing. They could take your uterus and leave the ovaries but generally they would take them as well which left you no option of even saving eggs for a surrogate in the future. Not to mention IVF was an extremely expensive adventure.

You felt your heart break all over again before you looked back to the doctor. “Thank you. I’ll let you know if I need anything.” You sniffled and even caught a few tears in Dr. Coleman’s eyes.

“Again, I’m so sorry.” She said softly and you just nodded and held onto Nick’s hand as he helped you up and headed out the office.

***

The ride home had been a silent one. You were processing it all. The anxiety, the fear, the unknowns, never having your own kids. You could adopt of course but that wasn’t even in your head right now.

Once inside the apartment you kicked your shoes off and headed to the bedroom wanting to just get comfortable before you even sat down to process and talk to Nick.

Nick sighed, the news had scared him too. Cancer. The big C word. It scared him to think he may not have as much time with you despite it being a very treatable cancer that they had seemed to catch early unless it was worse once they opened you up. That thought scared him alone. The what if’s had swirled in his mind just as much as they were yours and now he needed to try to focus on helping and supporting you the best he knew how.

“Baby…can I get you a tea or anything?” He called down the hall to you.

“No. I don’t feel like drinking or anything.” You said back as you came back into the living room heading to the couch and curling up with your knees bent and feet tucked under you.

“You didn’t have lunch or anything though baby. You got to be hungry by now.” Nick came over to the couch, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his arms, bringing your head to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his lips to your head gently.

“I’m not hungry. I can’t even think of eating.” You sniffled.

“Baby…I know you’re upset and this news, this news is just heartbreaking but you have to eat. You are fighting now. You’re fighting harder. Your body needs food.” He purred as you sat there listening to the steady beating of his heart.

“I know. I just don’t want anything right now.” You spoke barely above a whisper.

“Alright Amor.” He replied understandingly. “I’m right here with you. I won’t go anywhere.”

“Cancer. Who the hell thought it would be that. They had said it was normal a-and now it’s cancer. I have to wait so long for the oncologist and then I’ll have surgery and what then?? W-we weren’t able to have children like we wished. We couldn’t…we tried and couldn’t. You think this is punishment for something I’ve done?” You looked up to Nick’s hazelnut eyes as tears spilled down your face. “Punishment for not being healthy enough o-or did I do something wrong?”

“Baby no…no you didn’t do anything wrong Amor. This isn’t your fault and it’s not a punishment. You are strong you are a fighter and you are kind. This isn’t your fault. It’s not.” Nick urged.

“B-but we can’t…we’ll never have children of our own. Never. A-are you sure you still want me? You sure you want this? You don’t have to put up with anything, I can leave.” You choked out.

“Hey…no. That’s not happening. I love you so much baby. I love you. Please never ever forget that. you’re not going anywhere okay, no one is getting rid of anyone. You’re the love of my life. So important to me and to my kids. We may not be able to have our own babies, Amor but you and I can adopt when we think we’re ready. Right now all I’m worried about is you, your health, and your happiness. I just want you to be okay right now.” Nick urged, a finger under your chin to keep your gaze on him until he kissed you softly and wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I love you (Y/N) Amaro. I love you so much.” He said between kisses.

“I-I love you too.” You sniffled.

“We’re going to fight this together alright? I’m going to take off work and be with you for every appointment and every test. You’ll never have to be alone. Through sickness and in health.” The handsome raven haired Cuban assured.

“Thank you. Always. You’re so important to me.” You replied. And he kept his promise, he was right with you through everything and always there to hold your hand, just like he said because Nick Amaro was a man of his word and always kept his vows.

*****

Author’s Note: Thanks @irishavengersassemble for editing and reading through it. Thank you for supporting me and being there for me.

Tagging a few people who may want to read (or not want to and I just admire your writings and want to share 😅) @itsjustmyfantasyroom @burningtacozombie @beccabarba @darqchilddaydreamz @breanime @withmyteeth

#nick amaro #reader x nick amaro #fanfiction #reader fanfiction #law and order svu #danny pino #reader x character #angst #fluff #svu fanfiction #trigger warning #cancer #cancer sucks #comfort fic

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oldiesstationlover11607 · 3 months ago

Note

🎶You had me at hello🎶 (if I used this one before, no I didn’t).

Hello! It’s 💛! And before I go any further I would like to apologize for breaking the TØP streak that you were on (even though you absolutely KILLLED the Party Poison story! It was exactly what I imagined it would be!). I had the idea in my mind and I just wanted to see it come to life in someway so I appreciate you doing it. Also, that Josh Dun story you did the same day, so cute! ☺️

To nobody’s big surprise, or maybe to your chagrin, I am falling back into the TØP cycle of fanfics with yet another request. You said you were getting a lot of Tyler, but have no fear! This one is Josh (it’s Torchbearer!Josh but…hopefully that’s close enough).

This may be too close to the Keons daughter story idea that you had in mind so if that’s the case just disregard this, but I was wondering if you could do an angsty story about the reader being Nico’s daughter (*gasp*), but she escaped Dema and joined the Banditos. Her and Torchbearer hit it off and become close (I’m imagining romantically but platonic could also work), but she never tells him who her father is. During trip into Dema when he goes to try to help break out some people trapped inside (NATN sorta thing), he finds out the truth. He comes back to the camp and angst ensues (whether or not it ends happily is up to you).

Like I said, I know this may be too close to your other plot idea, but I wanted to request it (also sorry for my yapping).

Daughter Series - Torchbearer + Clancy + Nico!Daughter

Warnings: Swearing and angst

Word Count: 3090

A/N: WELCOME! I do believe I killed this ngl...

PART 2 + PART 3 + Part 4 + Part 5

Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t born in Dema. My mother had me outside of the walls before I was taken inside by my father, and my mom was never seen again. Growing up, that was a story I was forbidden to tell. My father rarely talked about my mom and if I ever asked, he would only say, “She didn’t understand the greater purpose, but I do. You will too, one day.”

For a while, I believed him. How could I not? When you grow up with someone like Nico, your whole world revolves around what they tell you. He was my father, but he was also Dema’s leader, head bishop, the one who enforced the silence, control, and order we citizens were all too familiar with. No one defied Nico, not even his own daughter.

Life in Dema was strict but comfortable. I wasn’t treated like everyone else. My father made sure of that. I lived in one of the best apartments, with guards who kept a constant watch over me. In the evenings, I would look out from the balcony and watch the city below—lifeless, colorless, and silent. The people moved like shadows. It felt wrong but I couldn’t put my feelings into words. It was like a quiet voice that echoed in the back of my mind, begging me to see beyond the walls. That voice grew louder as I got older, especially when I overheard whispers of resistance. Stories about people who escaped. The transcripts of the Banditos were forbidden, but I found ways to read them. They described a world outside Dema, a world full of music, color, and freedom. I imagined it often—what it would feel like to run without fear, to laugh without looking over your shoulder.

For years, I buried that desire, letting my father’s teachings drown out the voice of rebellion inside me. He would tell me, “You are my legacy. Dema’s future. You don’t need anything else.” And I believed him—until the day I didn’t. I don’t exactly remember when I decided to leave. Maybe it was a slow realization, a growing awareness that I couldn’t stay in Dema–I couldn’t live like this. Or maybe it was the night I saw him–a Bandito. He had this bright yellow bandana tied around his head that covered his face and was sprinting across the city. His eyes were filled with fire, determination, and a passion I’d never felt before. Several citizens left that night and the next morning there were almost double the amount of glorious gone lined up.

After that I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling, the walls of my apartment feeling tighter and tighter, as if they were closing in on me. I thought about the stories I had heard, the people who had escaped. For the first time, I wanted to know what it felt like. The voice in my head—the one I had tried so hard to suppress—was louder than ever.

I don’t know how I did it. Nico’s daughter wasn’t supposed to slip away unnoticed, but somehow I did. Maybe my father had gotten too comfortable. Maybe I wasn’t as much of a priority as he liked to pretend. It didn’t matter.

I ran.

The night I left Dema was the most terrifying night of my life. Every shadow felt like it could be a bishop or vulture watching, every step against the cobblestone ground echoed in my mind as if the entire city could hear me. But I didn’t stop until I got out of the catacombs. I couldn’t.

The Banditos found me the next morning, huddled in an abandoned building outside Dema’s reach. They took me in, gave me water, food, and shelter. They didn’t ask who I was right away, which was a relief. I didn’t want to tell them. Not yet. Not while Nico’s name was a curse on their lips.

I never expected to feel so at home among them, especially with him.

Torchbearer was everything Dema taught me to fear—brave, reckless, defiant. He radiated life in a way that was foreign to me, and yet, I couldn’t stay away from him. We met the night I arrived at camp. He approached me cautiously at first, well aware that most escapees were either violent or runners in their first few days.

But I wasn’t like most escapees.

He asked me my name, and I hesitated, not wanting to give my real name.

“Just call me…” I hesitated, not wanting to give him my real name. “Call me Ash.”

“That’s not your real name is it?” his head tilted and eyebrows raised slightly as he took a bite of the bread roll someone had brought through camp.

“Nope,” I chuckled below my breath, “But something tells me your name isn’t Torchbearer.” He laughed and shook his head. The Torchbearer was the kind of person who knew when not to ask questions, something I was thankful for.

As the months passed, we became close. Closer than I expected, closer than I thought I would let anyone get. At first, it was a hesitant friendship, both of us hearing each other out. We talked about the rebellion, we talked about vialism, and he talked about Dema. Over time, we became inseparable. I loved him. He showed me what it meant to live—truly live—outside the grasp of Dema’s cold, suffocating control. He showed me what it meant to have fun, to laugh, to joke, and to fight back.

And through it all, I kept my secret. I managed to keep him at arm’s length, no matter how much I wanted to let him in. Because how could I? How could I tell him that I was Nico’s daughter—the daughter of the man who had destroyed lives, stolen freedom, and enforced misery?

So I didn’t.

The guilt gnawed at me. Every time Torchbearer looked at me with those fiery eyes, filled with admiration and trust, I felt the weight of my life settle deeper into my chest. The longer I stayed with the Banditos, the more I realized I wasn’t just lying to Torchbearer. I was lying to everyone.

That was until my first raid. Each month Torchbearer and a few select Banditos would sneak into Dema to pick up escapees and add to the rebellion and after 10 months of being in Trench, Torchbearer had asked me to come. We all knew it was a risk, but as Dema reminded us–we had no choice. The mission was simple: get in and get out. We were the best at what we did. The Banditos had been in and out of Dema before, but this time felt different. This time, the stakes were higher. I was there. Torchbearer grabbed one of his yellow bandanas to tie around my arm so he could find me.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go back?” he asked, his fingers flowing perfectly to secure the knot. The hesitancy in his voice was mirrored by the look on his face.

“It’s going to be okay Torch,” I smiled shyly, cupping his jaw and pressing my lips against him. He returned the kiss by his lips were shy, mind clearly elsewhere.

“It’s difficult to go back, Ash. I just–I don’t want to lose you and I’m worried that you’re not ready for a mission this high stakes,” he pressed his forehead against mine, his fingers tangling through my hair.

“I am ready. I want to go,” I insisted, the fear of the truth bubbling over.

“Okay,” he raised his arms in defeat, “if you say you’re ready then I believe you.” Torchbearer pulled me in close, his chin resting on the top of my head while my face pressed against his chest. I was ready. I really was ready.

Torchbearer led the charge, his eyes gleaming with determination. The night we infiltrated Dema, the city was as lifeless as I remembered. The silence was deafening. I hadn’t been back since I left, and the familiar streets, the cold concrete walls, sent a shiver down my spine. Memories flooded back—of my father, of the life I had left behind.

Torchbearer stayed close to me. He didn’t know the real reason for my tension, and I wasn’t about to explain it now. I needed to focus.

We split up to cover more ground. My heart pounded as I ran through the darkened alleys, sticking to the shadows. I found the building where they were keeping the prisoners and signaled to the others. Everything was going smoothly until I heard footsteps behind me.

I spun around, heart leaping into my throat. My hand hovered over my weapon, ready to fight, but when I saw who was standing there, the air was knocked out of me.

It was him.

Dad.

He stood there, calm, composed, his pale eyes locking onto mine like a hunter sizing up his prey. His presence made the air around us feel heavy, suffocating, like the very essence of Dema was crushing me.

“I knew you’d come back,” he said softly, his voice as smooth and cold as I remembered. “You couldn’t stay away forever.”

My heart hammered in my chest as I struggled to breathe. My mind raced, trying to come up with some kind of explanation, some excuse for why I was here. But what could I possibly say?

“Dad,” I whispered, my voice betraying me with a tremble.

He tilted his head, regarding me with the same detached curiosity he always had. Clothes in his traditional blood red robes there was no anger in his eyes, no surprise—just cold, calculating control. He stepped closer, and instinctively, I backed away.

“You left,” he continued, as if we were having a casual conversation over tea. “I wondered how long it would take for you to see reason. To realize your place was always here, by my side. With us.”

I felt like I was drowning. My pulse raced, my thoughts tangling together in panic. How had he found me so quickly? I wasn’t supposed to run into anyone—especially not him.

“I didn’t…” My voice faltered as I glanced around, searching for an escape. But there was none. “I didn’t come back for you. I’m here for them.”

Nico’s gaze sharpened. His cold smile never wavered. “Is that what they told you? That you’re here to ‘rescue’ our people? To ‘save’ them from our sacred religion?”

He took another step toward me, his eyes boring into mine. “You are my daughter. Our city’s future. There is no ‘saving’. There is only the Order. You belong with us.”

“No,” I said, my voice firmer this time. I took a deep breath, standing my ground. “I don’t belong here. Not anymore.”

For a moment, Nico was silent, his eyes narrowing as if he were studying me, calculating his next move. Then, his smile faded, replaced by something far more dangerous—disappointment.

“You are mistaken,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that made my skin crawl. “You think you’ve escaped Dema, but you never left. You are still tied to this place. You always will be.”

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure. “I chose to leave. I chose a different life. I’m not your puppet anymore.”

Nico’s expression darkened. “Is that what you think? That you can just walk away from your legacy? You are my blood. You will come back to me.”

“No,” I said, the word feeling like a dagger in my throat. “I won’t.”

His eyes flashed with something I couldn’t place—anger, maybe, or something deeper, something darker. He took another step toward me, and for a second, I thought he might reach out and drag me back to our tower by force.

But instead, he stopped, his voice growing quieter, more insidious. “If you leave now, if you continue this path, you are lost to me. And when Dema rises—when the time comes—no one will be able to save you from what’s coming.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. His words were like poison, seeping into my mind, but I pushed them away.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I lied, my voice barely a whisper.

Nico laughed, but this time, it was colder, emptier. “Yes, you are. You always have been.”

Before I could say anything else, I heard footsteps. Nico’s eyes flickered toward the sound, and for a brief moment, something like recognition crossed his face. He knew. He knew we weren’t alone.

“We’ll meet again, daughter,” he said quietly, pulling me in for a forceful hug. His arms wrapped around me like a vice, sending a chill down my spine. I could feel the weight of his authority, his control, pressing down on me as he whispered in my ear, his breath cold and steady. “You may try to escape your fate, but it will find you,” he murmured, his voice low and insidious. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pressed his cracked lips to my cheek—a twisted mockery of affection.

I wanted to push him away, to shove him back and break free, but I was frozen in fear, trapped in that moment. It was only when he finally released me, vanishing into the shadows, that I could breathe again. My heart was pounding, my hands shaking, and the air around me felt thick, suffocating.

But before I could even collect myself, I heard something—a gasp. My eyes shot up, and there, standing just a few feet away, was Torchbearer.

His face was pale, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He had seen everything.

“Torch—” I started, stepping toward him, but he took a step back, his expression hardening. The raw hurt in his eyes cut me deeper than any weapon could.

“Is that—” His voice faltered, then came out sharper, more accusatory. “That was him, wasn’t it? Blurryface.”

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. My mind was racing, trying to find a way to explain, but what could I possibly say? Torchbearer had seen me in my father’s arms—Nico, the head of Dema, the enemy of everything we fought for. The truth was out.

“I-I can explain,” I stammered, my voice weak and trembling.

Torchbearer’s eyes were cold, his expression unreadable. “You lied to me.” His words were barely above a whisper, but they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken accusations.

“I didn’t—” I tried, but he cut me off.

“All this time… you knew. You knew, and you said nothing.” His voice rose, trembling with anger and betrayal. “We trusted you, Ash. I trusted you. And you… you’re his fucking daughter?”

The words stung, each one like a slap to the face. I took a step closer, desperate to make him understand, but he only backed away further, shaking his head.

“I’m not him,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m not my dad. I left Dema. I chose to leave. I chose to be in Trench with you.”

Torchbearer’s face twisted with anger. “But you never told us! You lied about who you are—about everything. You let us believe… You let me believe…”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” I whispered, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. “I was scared. I thought if you knew—if you knew the truth—you’d look at me like this. Like I was him.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to look at you, Ash?” Torchbearer snapped, his voice cutting like a knife. “You’re his daughter! You’re part of this. You’re not you anymore.”

“I was part of it, yeah,” I said quickly, pleading. “But I’m not anymore. I left. I left him, I left this city, I left my home.”

“But you didn’t leave it behind, did you?” Torchbearer’s voice was cold, filled with bitterness. “You didn’t tell us the truth, and now… I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

I felt the ground slipping out from beneath me. “Torch, please. I’m still me. I’m still the same person.”

“No, you’re not.” His voice broke, and for a moment, the anger in his eyes softened into something else—something like pain. “I thought I knew you. I thought I could trust you. But you’ve been hiding this the whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought… I thought I could just be part of this life, without bringing my past into it.”

Torchbearer let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not how it works. You can’t just pretend like your past doesn’t exist, Ash. You can’t just hide who you are and expect it to never come out.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I never wanted this. I never wanted you to find out like this.”

Torchbearer shook his head, his expression filled with disappointment. “It doesn’t matter. The damage is done.”

He turned to leave, but I lunged forward, grabbing his arm. “Please. Don’t walk away. Don’t—I love you.”

He hesitated, but he didn’t pull his arm away. For a moment, hope flickered in my chest, but when he finally spoke, his voice was cold and final.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, Ash.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I let go of his arm, the weight of everything crashing down on me.

Torchbearer took one last look at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, hurt, and something else—something that made my heart ache even more.

And then he was gone, disappearing into the night, leaving me standing alone in the empty street, tears streaming down my face, my heart shattered.

“Y/N,” my father’s friend’s voice echoed through the street. Keons. The bishop I’d often found myself speaking to when I still lived here. He was one of the only leaders in this city who cared–or at least created the illusion that he cared–about citizens, especially those from his district. “You should come with me.”

“Why would I go with you?” I asked, my arms folded across my chest.

“You left the city, right?”

I nodded.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet. A boy from my district, he reminds me of you and I believe together you could do some good for our city,” he explained.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I said.

“I assure you, you are not in any danger Y/N. This boy, he’s different from the other citizens,” he continued.

“What’s his name?”

“Clancy.”

REQUESTS OPEN

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bluntforcefem · 2 months ago

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HI HELLO! I read your Staroba fanfic and I didn't have an account to leave a comment so I thought I would do that here. So uhh... here goes?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IT WAS SO GOOD AAAAGHHH I AM SICK THEY MAKE ME SO ILL??? I love them oughhhhhh I love them so much they're so CUTE TOGETHER AAAA.

“I wouldn’t find you anyway. You snore.” “I do not—” Star laughs, bright, ducking away as she swats at him. For a moment, the stale air of the Ketsukane Estate lifts, and Ceroba can breath again.

OH MY GOD HOW ABOUT I JUST CRUMPLE TO THE FLOOR AND SOB AND AAAAAA

You cooked so hard you burnt down not just my kitchen but my entire house. Thank you SO MUCH

Oh and... there is a director's cut? ... 🥺👉👈

HI THIS IS SO KIND!! thank you for reaching out to leave a comment i love getting asks about my fics. it's been a Hot Minute since i thought about uty but i will absolutely dig into my notes for the director's cut again <3 putting it under a cut because i have no idea how long it'll get!

so, first, deleted scenes: there was originally going to be a scene where ceroba notices that starlo hasn't really Moved In to the guest room at all, and gently bullies him until he brings over his sewing machine/more of his stuff and makes it his home too. there were ALSO going to be more scenes with the feisty five, because i love them, but writing scenes with more than three people is a NIGHTMAREEE and it got a bit out of scope of what i wanted. here's a snip of that deleted scene though

“Could play ERS,” Star suggests. “Somethin’ Ace can’t cheat at.” Ace scoffs, idly shuffling the deck of cards on the table. “I would never. Mooch, on the other hand…” “I would,” Mooch chirps, smiling broadly.

a lot of my notes for this fic were about ceroba and chujin's relationship. it, for obvious reasons, haunts the backdrop of this fic a lot - the complications of their relationship that never had the chance to be worked out in life, the ways in which they complicate her grief in the aftermath of his death, it all means a lot to me and it was important to me that i underlined it throughout the fic. see:

The minute it escapes, Ceroba wants to take it back, but she can’t. Star takes the beer from her hands as the aluminum crumples in her claws. She lets him, her head bowed and her shoulders shaking. “He knew me. He knew me, didn’t he? And he still- and he still… what’d he think I could do? That he couldn’t? That the finest minds of monsterkind couldn’t?” “I don’t think we’ll ever know,” Star says, quietly. She laughs, covers her mouth to stifle it. Tears slip down her cheeks. She’s been crying too much, lately. She doesn’t want to remember these moments. “I wish I did,” she cries. “I’m so damn tired of guessing.”

in the game, she refers to chujin as "a man of secrets". when she talks about him building a house: i think he was insinuating a bigger family. did they never have a conversation about that? where he told her he wanted a bigger family, without her having to guess based on how big he built the house? and, of course, the entirety of steamworks underlining that... maybe he wasn't as honest about his job to her as he could've been!! not to mention. the elephant in the room of "experimenting on himself to his death"

i don't think it was a bad marriage! we don't see a lot of them, but the scenes we do see in the flashbacks, and the way ceroba talks about him - there's a lot of genuine love and care there, and i believe that they had a good thing going, but it definitely wasn't the healthiest, especially when it came to how they talked to each other - or, you know. How They Didn't. ceroba deconstructing her idolization of chujin after his death and coming to terms with the fact that she can be, and IS, angry with him, even in her love and her grief, was like. the backbone of this fic, for me. but also, of course, it's about the way she ends up accepting it, and moving on:

“I think I already knew what I was going to do before I came to visit. I just wanted to let you know. There’s…” Ceroba places a hand on the grave, fingers curling against the smooth surface of it. “There’s so much I should’ve asked you, when we had the time. So much I wish I had known from your mouth, instead of the tapes. Instead of the Steamworks. But seeing you in the things you made for the Dunes, for the rest of the Underground… that isn’t so bad. I don’t know what you’d think of the last couple years. But I’d like to think I could guess.”

accepting her role in the way things were strained, and looking to the good of his legacy, the good she loved in him. accepting that she DID know him - not nearly enough of him, not as much as she wanted to, but that she did. i'd like to think i could guess. you know!!

this of course also comes back in her confession to starlo in the last scene - the fact that she knows starlo so well, that she's known him for so long and trusts him to be open and honest, THAT is part of what reassures her that she can be in a relationship again. that it won't end up the same way. the knowing is important to her!! the trust!!!

ceroba & chujin sidebar over, let's talk about kanako: i actually have an abandoned-for-now WIP prequel/sequel to this fic about her! called i'd really love to break your heart, about her time in the secret lab from the moment she became an amalgam to her post-undertale reunion with ceroba. it's a more dreamlike/rambling style of third person than i hope we live to tell the tale, because it's very inside of kanako's head, and her thought process as an amalgam is really tangled and messy, especially before frisk arrives. i have a couple notes for how i think she's like, as an amalgam:

amalgam kanako threads - friends with the ghost of integrity? looks like she's talking to herself. did melt with other monsters but took 'priority' & is now the only aware monster in the amalgam, which she doesnt think about. has dreams of others' memories. still loves westerns. asks alphys for them. amalgam parts: parsnik (snakes like dina's…), frostermit or another hermit crab…, decibat relative?

the fact that she was injected with integrity is key to my understanding of her as an amalgam, because i think that's what kept her 'kanako' even when the other monsters lost themselves. an unimpaired condition, the quality of being whole, etc. i think she inherits a lot of behaviors and faint memories, feelings from the other monsters, but for all intents and purposes she's the only one still 'alive', and i think she feels guilty about that, a little! but for most of the time, while she's in the secret lab, she's just really, really not thinking about it too hard.

here's my favorite little bit of what i had written:

When the Royal Scientist walks into the room, shocked and worried and hopeful all at once, and tells them they can go home if everything’s alright, Kanako hears her, but… She isn’t looking at her at all. She’s looking at the human at the back of the room only she can see, the girl from Snowdin in her dusty tutu and ribboned shoes, looking all wrong. Nothing but a dark blue shadow on the wall, a slip of a person. Dr. Alphys keeps rambling and the girl meets Kanako’s eye, slowly shakes her head. She looks scared, now. Scared like she looked back then, when Kanako couldn’t recognize it. It doesn’t make any sense. They’re all awake now, aren’t they? They’ll get to go home tomorrow, won’t they? She’ll get to see Mom again, and Uncle Star, and everything will be okay, because her dad’s plan didn’t work but she’s alive, awake, and she doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep but Mom must be worried sick. There’s a lurch in Kanako’s stomach every time she looks over to the girl, for the rest of the day. The unease, a constant shadow over what should be joy.

(my integrity is named lami, and she's a good kid, for all that she lashes out when she gets scared. i'm a "all of the souls were just kids and even if they did get LV that's a tragedy of their circumstances" truther. she's the second main character of this fic and i think her and kanako are best friends :] it takes a while. but they get there. having someone to talk to through those lonely years is part of what keeps kanako together)

and my secret, third thing to wrap this up: i also have a clover fic idea set in this universe called you shouldn't have to sell your soul, which is a second person fic about them and flowey seeking out the cast of uty post-undertale when the kids are revived. lami joins them because she wants to find kanako. they're so important to me<3

thank you for reading all this if you did!!! thanks for giving me the excuse to ramble about them again, i love this game and i love star and ceroba and the ketsukane family alot

#kbitycus talks #deathbirby #uty

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evilwriter37 · 9 months ago

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I see that my bridnapping headcanon in your ask got some notes. I was worried I was stretching it too far 😅

It also gave me a whump/angst fic idea with the bounty and bride-napping scenario between Hiccup and Viggo. Free whump idea if anyone wants to create a fanfic out of this! I’ll read it!

I remember another ask before that you answered, probably a year ago or something. I think the person asked about “why Viggo wants Hiccup alive?” Or “what happens if Hiccup was brought to Viggo and wasn’t saved on time?” (It’s somewhere there in my memory when I read it)

I don’t know, the headcanon connection I created between the bounty “Midnight Scrum” and bride-napping has been in my mind for a while. Reading a lot of ask before that you’ve answered was a puzzle piece into creating some headcanons for me 😅. Especially the intriguing question and fanfic potential “what if they didn’t save him on time?”

Hello, bride-napping anon!!! Great to see you again. Talking about that was so fun.

And ohhhhh, the potential of Hiccup not being rescued on time. It’s absolutely dark and delicious. Like, sure, Ryker said Viggo wants to kill Hiccup by his own hand, but are we really supposed to believe that? People seem to forget that characters lie sometimes and can’t always be taken at face value. I don’t know about you but I don’t trust Ryker as far as I could throw him. (And I couldn’t throw him because he’s like, a 6’4 giant.)

One reason I haven’t written an alternate ending to Midnight Scrum like that is because it would probably turn into a long fic with some themes I’ve already explored. (God knows I have so many long fics going right now. [Wait, now I want to work on Our Time Together.])

Midnight Scrum was such a fucking fun episode. I’m glad it left such an impression on the fandom that we’re discussing it years later.

#asks #midnight scrum #httyd #rtte #whump #hiccup whump

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sesamestreep · 6 months ago

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hi hello I'm here to ask about "write a loving letter" and "mystery door no. 4"

how dare you make me format TWO excerpts??

“write a loving letter boy” should maybe not be on here because it’s not exactly an active WIP because I’ve fully forgotten the actual plot I had in mind for it, but I love the draft title so much I can’t delete it (see below if the reference eludes you). The basic idea was yet another daredevil college au (what can I say, I have a Type) but in this case it’s…like a Cyrano de Bergerac AU?? where Foggy ends up helping one of their classmates woo Matt because he “knows him so well” and ends up discovering his own feelings for Matt that way?? I watched an episode of Bones that was obviously a Cyrano pastiche but they refused to acknowledge it and it made me so annoyed, I had to write this AU instead. Also thought I was very clever for thinking of a queer Cyrano retelling and then remembered “The Half of It” exists. Whoops.

Here’s the only scene I have, which is Foggy talking to the girl who wants to date Matt, who ended up just being the most fun OC to write:

“I was going to ask you something, actually,” Willa says, in that precise way of hers. Foggy likes her, based on the few conversations they’ve had, but he imagines she makes a lot of people their age feel a little frivolous, just based on her general energy. Foggy already knows he’s pretty frivolous, as a person, so he doesn’t take it too personally, which probably helps. “Sure. Shoot. Go ahead.” “You’re really good friends with Matt, right?” “We’re roommates, yeah,” Foggy replies, as he brings his drink to his mouth. “Right. I know,” Willa says, frowning. “But like…you’re friends too?” “Of course.” “I’m not friends with my roommate,” she supplies, explaining her clarification without actually explaining it. “Oh, sure,” Foggy says. He likes the way Willa’s brain works, he’s just remembering. It’s like he can see the gears moving inside of it. It’s kind of fun. “Yes, Matt and I are friends as well as roommates. Why do you ask?”

title reference for page break reasons

youtube

“mystery door no. 4” is actually not fanfic, it’s an original novel I’m kind of working on (I am working on it, I just have no real vision for what I’ll do with any of it should I actually finish it, is what that sentence means, ftr). It’s based on an old idea I did for the made up movies meme on here years ago and I’ve been mostly handwriting it as an excuse not to look at screens during the spring/summer when I’m a lot more headache prone. I went through a period of about 2-3 months where I hated every fic idea I started and was just miserable about writing in general and decided to try writing some original fiction, which is not something I’ve done since I was like 12 (a long time but redacted amount of years ago) and it’s been very fun so far though I’m keeping my expectations low.

here is an excerpt, featuring my new OCs who I’m sure I’ll start tagging in stuff soon as the next step in my full descent to madness:

“Again with these words!” Aleks groaned. “Didn’t you just wake up?” “Not just.” “Still. ‘Puerile’? I couldn’t use that in a sentence correctly with three cups of coffee in me!” “Was that a hint?” “Hmmm?” “Do you want coffee? Were you asking me to make us some coffee?” “Are you part sheep dog or something?” Aleks asked. “Will you go crazy if I don’t give you something to do?” “Maybe,” Eugene admitted reluctantly.

#oof so much formatting that I chose to do on my phone like a moron #sorry this is so long but it’s actually zainab’s fault #wip game #ask #firstelevens #thanks for the ask bestie!!!#sorry for inflicting otgw music on you at this hour #I mean it’s good so no apologies there it’s just also going to seep into your vocabulary which is less fun #homelywenchsociety #that’s my writing tag! don’t worry about it!#‘Writing something because I got annoyed during my bones rewatch’ is such a me thing to do it’s honestly embarrassing #anyway #untitled ballet boys novel

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kkolg · 1 year ago

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hello, I love what you're doing with your AU. as someone who is making an AU myself, do you take somethings from "canon" and put them in? if so how do you decide how to put things into the story of Vigilante

GAHHH IM LOVING THESE QUESTIONS!! Fangirling aside, it really depends what direction and plot you’re taking with your AU. Time period, location, and main plot all are big factors here, along with how polished you plan the story to be.

Let me do some comparisons with my two AUs

Vigilante: I did want to keep main aspects of the game in there, but sometimes plot can get in the way of that so you really have to get creative. I won’t spoil anything but I did have to do this with a few main plot points in the game. Tom being Boris in this AU is one example: two Boris’s that look exactly alike would be very difficult to explain in the context of this AU, the only way I could see this working is having them be twins which is it’s own can of worms. There are a few other examples but again no spoilers. This is specifically a BATIM AU due to the difficulties BATDR provides for the AU, plus this AU was also made way before BATDR was released and I already had my main plot points done. I was lucky with the time period because early BATIM did happen in the 1920’s, tbh this is one of those moments where I bullshit the story and say “well in this world-“ mostly referencing the animation era and just moving it to take place in an earlier time. I don’t like to do this too much because I do try to be as accurate as possible, but in the end of the day it’s my story and I can do whatever I want😜. I also got luck with the setting too, correct me if I’m wrong but the cannon studio is in either New York or Brooklyn but at the time I actually didn’t know that so… Lucky me lol. I decided to make Henry’s backstory actually relating to the main plot of the game, he goes back to the studio except this time he’s trying to find Bendy. If you didn’t know, Henry also leaves the studio in this AU. I won’t spoil any more of this because I want to expand on the little man more in the future but that’s what I got.

The Void AU:

This AU was made 6 years ago, it is quite old- This AU was probably my first intro into story making so it’s very messy. What I mean by that? The plot is everywhere, many characters are flat or have no real goals or morals, Bendy was honestly the worst guy ever he was such an asshole (not in the cute way) and was the most toxic mf alive, the amount of Warriors references that are there is honestly exhausting and basically turns this whole “original story/AU” into more of an elaborate Warrior Cats fanfic, the many villains that popped up were super flat and boring along with every protag too, and finally this take place in a forest/plain/camp place and tbh I don’t even know what the setting is.

With that being said…

What I was talking about there was the “original” version of the AU, call it “Random Mess 1.0” if you will, since then I’ve changed many things about it since it’s original creation. Keep in mind, the Void AU you see is only one of the arcs in this full AU and it’s basically the last one, so many of you don’t know a lot of the whole world that’s in the back of my brain. I will tell you the changes I’ve made for the characters and story you do know: I made Bendy much more likable protagonist with goals that are much more expressed, I polished the plot a lot more than it was before, I made a few things more original and deleted a lot of the Warriors references (so many…), I gave many of the characters more expressive personalities which the reader would be able to recognize, I fixed the designs to match the fluffs personalities much more and to help make them more expressive. NOW BACK ON TRACK, I honestly didn’t have any of the cannon events in the game really happen in this AU, the only thing really relating to the actual games is the alt. designs (demon/spirit forms probably the only OG thing I created that was pretty cool, this concept is also featured in the Vigilante AU) I’ll show them here at some point but that aside, this was just a goofy, silly, story that I made just for fun so I really didn’t care how the story went. The Void AU you all see is probably the most polished part of the story and because of that it’s able to be cut off and stand alone as it’s own thing.

Ok, I probably went off track many times and started rambling so my bad, BUT this is sorta how I see it: Depending on the plot you can add and cut out things as you please, this also applies to the quality of the story you want to tell.

#Please ask me more questions like this I love them sm #batim #batim au #vigilante batim au #ask #k’s rants #vigilante concept #the void au

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twigg96 · 2 years ago

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I’m STARVING for Charles Offdensen content, so may I have something like High School Sweethearts that meet again at a ten-year reunion or s’mthing? If fanfic slots are open, I’d like one. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.

Hello my sweet Anon! Yess we Stan Charles!!! I hope you don’t mind but I kinda went a little wild with this one!

Until Next Time

Warnings: indicates smexy times if you squint, lost love found again.

Pronouns: They/Them, S/O, Partner

Summary: Charles Foster Offdensen was a little wild and wacky in his younger years. He did a lot of things he truly regretted. One such thing was losing touch with the love of his life. But fate tends to bring people back together in the funniest ways. Maybe it was Karma. Or maybe it was sheer dumb luck.

Panting breaths and glistening skin glossed in the neon light of stolen store signs. The feel of slick sweat under fingertips and drag of nails on sensitive skin. The smell of intoxicating incense whipping across bodies making sweet unbridled love. With a shiver and a contented whine Charles laid his head on his partner’s chest not minding the mess he would have to clean in the morning. He could feel their every breath. Hear their racing heartbeat through their ribs as he traced patterns into their sides. With a shiver, he could feel their fingers gliding through his waist length hair. “Have you decided yet?” His partner whispered almost so quietly that he could not hear. Charles hummed lazily, turning his head to meet his partner’s intense gaze. “I promise. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He muttered, wrapping his arms around and under his love. “I saw the letters, Charlie.” They huffed. Cocking a brow Charles shook his head, sitting up on his elbows to get a better look at his partner’s face. “Babe… I really don’t understand. What letters?” He asked. Rolling their eyes his S/O turned their head away from Charles. “Don’t try to hide it.” They bit out. “The acceptance letters.” Oh… fuck. Charles swallowed thickly, shifting uncomfortably. “You… ah… you saw those?” He asked meekly, wincing at the glare thrown his way. “How could I not when they were just lying on the fucking table, Charles!” Cursing his lack of organizational skills, the recent high school graduate shook his head. “Look… I was going to say something but-“ Suddenly Charles was sitting on his knees, face to face with his S/O, their hands on his chest as they cut him off. “But what?!” They snapped, shaking their head angrily. Behind them the tapestry of the American flag they “decorated” with the anarchy symbol in dark spray paint fluttered with the movement of the A/C. “You were just going to say ‘I’m so sorry, I know I said we were going to have this great life. Ya know, get married, start that group we always wanted to, use your skills and mine combined to dismantle the world's governments after graduation but instead I went behind your back and put in applications to move across the country without you’ and you just expect me to accept that?!” Charles shook his head feeling so confused and conflicted. Everything was so overwhelming. “No… I wanted you to come with me.” He whispered. Silence. “With you?” Was all that was whispered back as painful tears rolled down their cheeks. “Darling… how would we ever pull that off?” They asked sniffling and swiping at their running makeup as Charles wiped away the tears. “I-I don’t know. But you could always apply-“ they shook their head cutting Charles off once more. “I dropped out, remember… no way an Ivy League would ever take me.” They sobbed. Charles hummed pulling his lover close and kissing their hairline, thinking about what his partner said. “We could move into an apartment… I could help you get your GED�� it’ll be tight but if we both work full time…” His S/O looked at him with large pleading eyes. “And lose your full ride by not choosing to go full time and live on campus? Baby please don’t do that. Not for me.” They whispered through heavy sobs. Pulling them close to his chest, he held them close, running his fingers through their hair as he rocked back and forth soothingly. “Then… I just won’t go.” He said finally. But his partner laughed deviatingly. “We both know that’s not true Charles Foster Offdensen. Jesus Christ… When will you ever just wake up….”

Wake up…

The words rang out clearer and clearer in his mind, morphing from his lover’s sweet sorrowful voice into a frank Midwestern accent. Blinking bleary eyes, light assaulted Charles’ eyes. Grumbling, he grasped for his glasses blindly on the nightstand. “Oh thank shit! Charlie you’re finally up!” Pickles stood before Charles, his voice thick with worry. “What is it, Pickles?” Charles asked groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he sat up slowly and pulled his glasses into place. “The haus is on lockdown… the gears sent me to find you. Something about a break in… I was the only one awake still so they sent me in to wake ya.” Pickles’ breath smelled of booze and weed but Charles knew better than to dismiss him. “Ok… thank you Pickles. I’ll, ah… I’ll look into it.” He muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his face and puling on the robe he had hanging at the end of the bed for safe keeping. Pickles shuffled his feet anxiously, obviously eager to tell Charles more but not willing to take the wrath of an uncaffeinated CFO. Staring expectantly at Pickles, Charles went about getting his suit ready on the bed. “Is there… ah… something else you need Pickles?” He asked with an air of slight annoyance. The drummer nodded, twiddling with his thumbs. “T-The gears said this is very important… like ‘Get dressed in the Command Center'' serious.” Charles nodded curtly. He understood.

Charles found the time to at least pull a pair of dress slacks on before walking into the Command Center. He was met with his general of command shaking his hand firmly as the other dutiful Klokateers fluttered around the two helping Charles to appear presentable, fixing his hair, changing his top into a dress shirt, tie, and blazer. “Good morning, sire. I apologize for the inconvenience.” The hooded man said. “It’s no inconvenience. As long as we keep the boys safe. That’s all that matters.” Charles hummed, turning to the wall of monitors. The general nodded his cloaked head in understanding. “Sire an anarchist terrorist group has infiltrated the grounds. How do you want us to proceed?” Pointing to the monitors the general directed Charles’ gaze to several different monitors. “Have any of them attempted to enter the building?” Charles asked, watching the figures dressed in all black sneak around the grounds of the building on the night vision of the camera systems. The general nodded shallowly. “Their leader… This one there.” The general pointed to a figure that sparked something… vaguely familiar in Charles. But the CFO brushed the feeling off focusing on the task at hand. “What’s their history? I want this terrorist group’s name. I want every member’s names, addresses, and family pets. I want it all!” Charles ordered, listening to the gears around them work, typing on the many computers searching the digital databases for any information they could provide him. Watching the group slink across the security cameras Charles growled as they spread out ducking behind several blind spots and disappearing from sight. Pointing to several of his high ranking Klokateer members Charles walked to the door. “We’re taking them down now before they have a chance to act.” He growled, marching down the hall to face the attackers.

The gears had moved in front of Charles as they approached the lone pillars. Strapped to each base were 5 charges of C-4 all blinking and armed. The sight sent shivers up Charles' spine as the gears moved into action to disable the bombs. How many more were there? How many more could there be? Glancing around in the dark for any signs of movement, Charles held his phone to his ear calling the Command Center. But before the phone can connect, it is ripped from his hand as a knife is pressed to his throat. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A voice rang out of the darkness, muffled by what Charles could only assume was a mask. The gears turned to look at their leader but the sharp knife merely dig deeper into his throat. Holding his hands up slowly, Charles stayed as calm as possible. “Keep working.” He ordered his gears, glancing back to the person in black with the familiar voice. “I’ll handle this…” The person laughed, the sound, almost intoxicating and pleasant if not for the circumstances. “Oh, Charlie… you lost your grip on everything already…” the voice muttered lowly, passionately, their blade lowering just enough for the CFO to face them. Lifting the mask Charles’ ex grinned deviously up at him, eyeing his figure in the dim moon light. “It’s been a long time. You’re a sight to see, Charlie.” They whispered, brushing his hair back behind his ear. Charles hummed, pulling away from the touch as if it had burnt him. “It has…” he whispered. “Why are you here? Why with them?” His ex shrugged much too playfully for the situation at hand. “Awe… come one Charlie. Didn’t cha miss me? Not one bit?” They mused, standing on their tippy toes. That’s when Charles saw it. The sheer manic gleam shining in their eyes. One he was too familiar with after weeks of fighting so many others like them off. The pain that filled his chest was immeasurable. They were a revengencer… maybe once they had liked Dethklok. What they stood for. But now. They were corrupted by the curse of Salacia… Charles knew. But who would believe him? Especially his beautiful, wonderful ex who he had loved. Who he probably still loved. “I-I did. I-I still do.” Charles whispered. Oh how he wanted to scoop them into his arms and pull them to a safe place and try to talk sense into them. Maybe with a little confidence he could get them to stay in one of the cells until they woke up. Or maybe he could sneak them into his room? But the thoughts were merely fleeting as his ex S/O began to laugh a hearty belly laugh. One of those belly laughs that cracks the ribs and aches the sides. “You’re such a charmer Charlie.” They crooned, stepping away from him. “You always were, ya know. It’s why I fell for ya in the first place.” Pulling a small detonator from their pocket they giggled twirling it around in their hand like some sort of sick toy. “Ya know… you’re really lucky Chuck.” They muttered, stepping farther into the darkness. “I dismantled my best group after seeing you at your first UN press conference. These idiots know shit about dismantling governments. They bailed when I mentioned the word bomb.” The terrorist hummed pressing down on the button making cute confetti spring from the bags of C-4 and rain from all areas of the haus. “You should really upgrade your security, babe.” They whispered tossing the detonator on the grass in front of him. Fuck… glancing up Charles met their eyes. Love still shown deep inside, deep beneath all the drugged mania they were forced to live through. “Until next time, mon amor.” They purred, sending a sensual wink his way before disappearing into the pitch blackness of the night. Yes. Charles thought leaning over to pick up the toy detonator. Until next time, my love.

#thank you so much for the ask #thank you for the ask!#thank you anon #imagine metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #metalocalypse headcanon #metalocalypse #dethklok #charles foster ofdensen #charles offdensen #x reader

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fan-ficwife · 1 year ago

Text

˗ˏˋNew FanFic Creator ´ˎ˗

₊˚ପ⊹ Hello to everyone reading! My name is “fan-fic wife” and I decided to make an account to publish fan fictions of fandoms I’m in. This post will be an introduction of me, my top 3 fandoms, and extras you’ll have to read more to see ♡

★・・・・・・・・・・★

⋆ ★ About me

⋆ I’ll go into personal things about me that I think you all should know!

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

✧˚ · . My online name is Cali

˚ · . I will not be disclosing my age to anyone!!

✧˚ · . My pronouns are She/They

˚ · . I also enjoy role playing as much as fan fics

✧˚ · . I watch and read lots of stuff

˚ · . Currently on mobile but plan on getting a laptop soon

✧˚ · . I also only have tumblr for this stuff but I plan on making a tiktok, twitter, and maybe instagram for this content!!

˚ · . Will not tolerate racism, homophobia, ableism, disregarding triggers, etc.

★・・・・・・・・・・★

⋆ ★ Fandoms

⋆ I’ll talk about my top 3 fandoms I’m in, there is much more I’ll make a post on later!

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

✧˚ · . The first fandom I’m in is BTS! I’ve been an army since 2017 but I’ve been into K-Pop since 2016.

˚ · . My bias is Min Yoongi/Suga/Agust D. He’s been my favorite since I’ve gotten into BTS.

✧˚ · . I don’t have a favorite song from them since it’s so hard to choose, but my top 3 right now are Boy In Luv, Anpanman, and 21st Century Girl!

˚ · . My favorite song from Yoongi currently is Haeguem and my favorite collaboration is That That ft. Psy

✧˚ · . Last thing I wanted to put is I’ll miss them while they are in the military but they will be back in 2025! Let’s keep fighting army!

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✧˚ · . The next fandom I love is Alice In Borderland! I’m very into psychological horror and I like how they incorporated it into the manga and the show.

˚ · . My favorite character is Niragi, especially in the manga. It upset me how in the show he did some bad things though

✧˚ · . It’s my favorite non-drawn show, there’s a possibility for a season 3! I personally like the ending and think it’s fine but I also have unanswered questions so I wouldn’t mind a season 3.

˚ · . I got into Alice In Borderland in 2018 and read the entire manga. When the show came out in 2020 I watched season 1 but never finished season 2 when it came out until this year, 2023

✧˚ · . Lastly this show for some reason is emotionally connected to me, it’s just a hyper fixation of mine and I love it a lot

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✧˚ · . The last fandom I’m in is pretty broad but I a favorite it’s just not popular, it’s anime!

˚ · . I’ve been into anime since I was a kid, my first anime was Glitter Force but the first official anime I really started to watch was Fairy Tale! (Never finished it.)

✧˚ · . Currently I’m watching Neon Genesis Evangelion but I’m not too much of a fan of it, but I’ll still finish it

˚ · . I have an anime list of all the anime’s I’ve finished completely and I will post it!

✧˚ · . My favorite anime is “The Girl Who Leapt Through Time.” It’s by far amazing though it is only a movie!

˚ · . I don’t have a favorite series but I guess if I had to choose my top 5 are Hunter X Hunter, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Ouran Host Club, The Day I Became a God, and Junji Ito!!

★・・・・・・・・・・★

⋆ ★ Extras

⋆ I’ll talk about this account a bit, what I plan on posting, etc.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

✧˚ · . First, which I’ve said before, I’m only on mobile but I plan on getting a laptop soon!

˚ · . I also, again, will most likely make a TikTok and Twitter/X!! Maybe an instagram but not sure

✧˚ · . I have many fan fiction ideas in mind! I plan one writing at least one for each BTS member, but most likely there will be lots of Yoongi/Suga

˚ · . I also plan on writing at least one for each main character in Alice In Borderland, maybe some side characters I enjoy

✧˚ · . Lastly I’ll definitely be doing lots anime fan fictions, maybe one shots, etc.

˚ · . This blog will mainly be about me, memes, and updates!! I also have one of those “Question” response things where you can request things but I might make a google form for requests on TikTok and Twitter and put it in my bio, same for here on Tumblr!!

✧˚ · . Also I have CharacterAi so if y’all like the fan fiction so much I might start making bots for you all to use with my fan fiction stories !!

★・・・・・・・・・・★

˗ˏˋYou Read It! ´ˎ˗

₊˚ପ⊹ If you read all of this and are interested in anyway thank you so much! You probably saw it on here or from my TikTok that will be posted in the future lolz. I hope you all have nice days/nights and again thank you!

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yoonia · 6 months ago

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Hi again Dia! You’ve probably gotten a million questions like this one but do you have any writing tips for beginners? Or ways to improve your writing? I’d like to write my own fanfics one day and I also have several outlines (including my commissions) that have never seen the light of day (at least, not yet). I’ve even attempted to write some stuff in the past. The problem is though is that I end up getting stuck and eventually give up because I either have trouble writing good dialogue (and making sure it’s distinguished and everyone’s in character (depending on what I’d like to write)), I unintentionally come up with more than one plot for a fic or a character (or character archetype) that are too identical, or I get worried about sounding repetitive (from character description to anything else in general). Truthfully though, writing isn’t my strength or passion. It’s just a hobby for me I’d like to develop more, really. But if you have any time, I’d appreciate if you had any tips and advice for beginner’s writing😊

Also, somewhat off topic but I got a suggestion. For any future smut scenes, I think it would be absolutely hilarious if you ever wrote a scene (maybe for like in motion or any other fics that feature bdsm themes) with smutty stuff happening with (whatever member) and OC while the latter’s being tied up. But then all of a sudden OC says the safe word. (Member’s name) mood changes entirely and he gets concerned/worried for a bit and asks OC what’s wrong. But it turns out OC just has a really bad itch (but she can’t scratch herself because of her position (obviously lol)) so she asks him to scratch her. Which kills the mood for a second, but I bet readers would be absolutely dead. I’m not usually open when it some to smutty stuff. HOWEVER, you can’t tell me a shenanigan like that would never happen, fictional or real life 😂💀

Hello! I’m so sorry for replying so late. It’s been a rough week for me with my, um…health problem and then trying to catch up with work, so I wanted to wait until I could sit down to answer this properly.

Yes, I’ve gotten some questions about writing before but I don’t mind sharing! There are two ways that I personally follow to improve my writing.

reading

lots of practice

By reading, you’ll get to see for yourself what type of genre you’ll be interested in getting into and what kind of writing style that works for you. Reading can also improve your vocabullary, to learn more about worldbuilding, and it may help you find your own narrative “voice”.

I actually just had a similar talk about this with some friends. It always works better for a writer to write in genres that they are interested in and when they already read other works written in that genre before. It helps you see what about the stories written in that genre that gets people interested in reading and to learn some of the tropes, prompts, and maybe the lores that are known in that genre which you can use as a guide to create your own story/universe you’re building.

By practicing, you’ll get to see what YOUR writing style looks like and what works for you in narrating your story. You can start small with your practice. Try to begin by writing down your premise, or write down your raw idea in a brain dump setting to see that idea in written form to later organise it into a premise or an outline.

Sometimes it helps if you write your idea and create a summary or a story synopsis because you get to see your idea formed into a story

I’ve looked into your outlining for EANA and I think the way you did it was already great for a start. I personally started that way too, with bulletpoints to organise the ideas and scenes before developing them and mapping them into a storyline. You can continue doing that with your story ideas and use it as practice. But try to make a more compact structure with your bulletpoints if you want to practice how to keep your plot from running wild and switching into a different one in the middle of your writing process.

I’ve shared a quick look at my own writing process (more simplified than what I’ve shared on Patreon) which you might be able to follow on this post. There, you’ll see different steps of writing from beginning (plotting, first draft, etc) to editing. I hope this can help you with your practice, but feel free to ask me if you find some steps that are too confusing to follow :)

You know, I also had problems with dialogues from time to time. I struggled with it when I first started writing so don’t feel bad about it. Someone told me in the past that we mostly struggle with dialogues because we often unable to see the characters speaking as themselves while imagining them using our own voice.

Try to voice their dialogue out loud when you are writing them. That way you can ‘feel’ it when your dialogue seems too awkward or stiff and you can make it flow better by acting it out as an actual dialogue.

Fyi, I’ve been preparing to bring back my writing class on my Patreon, so I’m hoping that I can share a more in depth writing process with some practice sheets that everyone can follow and use to practice their writing skills (though I must warn that I’m not an expert, so this might just be helping you start if you’re a beginner writer haha)

Speaking of having odd shennanigans in smut scenes, I’ve actually thought of it from time to time but I’ve shared about it before (on twitter/X, I think?). Trust me, while smut scenes are written perfectly in most stories/fics as if there’s no faulty could happen while people are in the middle of it, these things could happen in real life. A lot. I know from experience lol. So adding shennanigans in smut stories may probably bring up some reality in it instead of ruining it.

#💌 for dia #pinkbtsarmy #misc: tips & tricks #on writing #I'm planning to make a post to compile all of my writing tips here so keep an eye on it

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luna-writes-stuff · 1 year ago

Text

Everlong, Alina Starkov

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Fluff

Word count: 2509

Tw: Mentions of Mal, Alina is an anxious mess (when not). Feeling of impending doom and hopelessness. Very sweet fluff and comfort.

Summary: After days of being on the run, Nikolai had finally taken the group to a safe space. And in her room, Alina can do nothing but stare at the ceiling with an absent mind, only thinking about her impending fight with the darkling. You’re there to comfort her when she needs you most. Some light distraction does work wonders.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Hello, I've waited here for you Everlong. Tonight, I throw myself into.”

“Alina. Alina, are you still there?” A fond smile crossed your features as you watched the girl in front of you stare off into space. Bringing your hand up to her shoulder gently, you successfully gained her attention, her eyes blinking twice before settling on you. “Where’d you run off to?” You joked, retracting your arm as you watched her slowly begin to smile. “I’m sorry.” She excused. “There’s a lot going on.”

Leaning back on your bed, your shoulders slightly sagged. After Nikolai had brought you and your group to safety, Alina had been slightly off. That didn’t come as a surprise to you, of course, but it made it difficult to hold a proper conversation. There was a lot resting on her shoulders, so trying to relieve some tension seemed painfully difficult. You had brought her to your room in an effort to make her calm down, but she hadn’t done anything but stare at the wall behind you for the past few minutes.

“No, you’re right,” you agreed. “But you know I’m here to help, right?” “Yes,” she quickly nodded. “Yes, of course.” It didn’t assure you, whatsoever. Even when her face moved, her expression seemed far-off - as if she hadn’t truly been in the same room as you. At least not mentally.

“Talk to me, Alina,” you tried to encourage. She just shrugged at it, her smile slowly falling.

“What is there to talk about?”

“And out of the red Out of her head, she sang.”

Your lips formed in a thin line at her words. You knew the burdens that laid on her mind - Darkling related and not. But you weren’t going to bring it up if she wasn’t. She was going through enough as it was, and having someone prodding around in her brain would not make her feel any better.

“How about the orphanage you and Mal came from? I’m sure there are fond memories there.” “Can we not talk about Mal?” You sighed at her words - not loudly; quietly. Only to yourself, not in response to her attitude. Ever since you and Alina had begun to grow closer, Mal’s personality had shifted awfully, and he seemed to be doing everything in his power to avoid Alina. At first, she had tried to talk to him, but when he refused any reasonable actions, she had fallen into the absent state she had been in just seconds prior. You didn’t know how to feel about any of it.

“If you don’t want to talk, I understand,” you admitted. “But if you’re going to bottle everything up, you’ll become distracted. Alina, the whole world is counting on you now.” She scoffed at that, rolling her eyes at your speech. You couldn’t help but feel a harsh tug on your heartstrings upon the sight. “Sure, that’s all there is to it.” “You know I don’t mean it like that.” You began to reason, but she ignored it. “I’m just a stupid pawn and weapon.” “No, you’re not.” You countered, grasping her hands firmly in yours. “Which is exactly why I need you to talk to me.”

“Come down and waste away with me Down with me.”

“You need me focused,” she dismissed. “So I can do my job.” “No, I need you safe.” You turned down again. “You’re here for the greater good.” “Alina, I am here for you. You know this.” “Everyone seems to ‘be here for me’ these days.” Tears began to gather in her eyes as she jumped from her seated position on the bed. You watched her pacing the room, visibly doubting between leaving and staying.

“You don’t have to stay,” you mumbled. “I just thought you could use the distraction. You know? With all of…” you trailed off, unsure what to say. Waving your hand around vaguely, you continued: “everything going on.” Alina slightly halted at that, her pace now slower as her gaze towards the door began to fall. She then turned around with a loud sigh, making a beeline towards the bed, before plunging down on top of it.

“I don’t know what to do,” she mumbled into the sheets. “I want it to end, everyone wants it to end. But Mal says I shouldn’t, because I wouldn’t handle it.” Looking at her with sorrow in your eyes, you repeated her confused: “You wouldn’t handle it?” “And I know he means it to keep me safe, but it just makes me more conflicted about what to do.” She continued ranting, now raising her head to look at you in desperation.

You gave her a sympathetic smile, offering your hand. She lazily swung hers into yours, clumsily getting back up in a seated position. You only observed her quietly, unsure of when and how to help her. You understood her conflict completely, which made the situation difficult for you as well. For a minute, you didn’t quite know what to say.

“Slow, how you wanted it to be. I'm over my head Out of her head, she sang.”

“What do you want to do?” You settled on, sincerity laced within your voice. “I don’t know anymore,” the girl admitted, her hands folded in her lap as she toyed with her fingers. “I want it to end, but I don’t think I’m the person to do it.”

You frowned at her: “Why not?” An almost mocking smile climbed onto her face as she gestured towards herself. “Have you seen me?” You looked her over once, seemingly unbothered, before repeating your question: “Why not?”

She was quiet for a while, trying to determine whether you were joking or not. When she figured you weren’t, she swallowed harshly. “He’s ancient,” she began hopelessly. “How can I defeat someone who has lived my life ten times?” Anxiously tapping the sheets, she halted briefly, squeezing the material beneath her. “I need more power.”

“Alina,” you interrupted her. “You’re not a machine. Give yourself some rest. When was the last time you had proper sleep?” She chuckled shortly at this, shaking her head as she recounted everything she had been through in the last couple of weeks. “It’s difficult to get a full night’s rest when you’re constantly on the run.” “When was the last time?” You repeated, not seeing the same humour in her words.

“And I wonder When I sing along with you If everything could ever be this real forever If anything could ever be this good again.”

Looking down at her lap, Alina’s smile faded, an unknowing shrug showing itself. “I can’t remember.” You had thought something like that. You hadn’t been travelling with her since the very beginning, but you had long enough to realise that the sleep she was getting hadn’t been enough by a long shot.

“You should get some rest.” You told her, nodding your head towards the headrest of the bed. She seemed to understand the hint, slowly crawling towards the cushions before letting her weight give out there.

“Don’t think I haven’t tried to sleep,” she muttered, her back turned towards you. “There’s too much going on for me to completely relax.” You followed suit, sitting down beside her, even though she couldn’t see you. “I know.” You assured her. No one would willingly try to stay awake. “Try to get comfortable.”

Alina shuffled slightly, ducking under the sheets as she rearranged the pillows, another laugh involuntarily tearing from her. “What are you going to do? Enchant me?” When she turned around to face you, you copied her smile, glad to see a slight change in her uptight behaviour: “I wouldn’t dare.”

“The only thing I'll ever ask of you You've got to promise not to stop when I say when She sang.”

She was quiet for a while. You were going to speak - you wanted to, but it seemed something still laid heavy on her mind. You waited patiently for her to spill it out. “Mal used to calm me down,” she revealed, taking your silence as a queue to begin talking. “Now, he just brings me more sorrow.”

She turned on her back, staring at the empty ceiling, her mind swirling with thoughts. She then mumbled softly, but audible to you: “You calm me down.”

Another tug on your heartstrings, only this one felt pleasant. Earlier, it had hurt a lot, but this one was pleasant. You wanted her to say it again. You couldn’t ask her of course: “I thought you didn’t want to talk about him.”

She looked back at you, a soft smile on her face. “I don’t. I just thought you deserved to know.”

“Breathe out So I can breathe you in Hold you in.”

A mumble of gratitude stumbled out of you as you leaned against the headboard, your legs sprawled out in front of you. “You should focus on the way you’re placed.” You advised, gesturing towards her laying form. “I’m sorry?” “To keep your mind distracted.” You clarified. When she didn’t seem to understand, you leaned forward to give her your full attention.

“Focus on your head,” you started. “How big is the surface connected to the bed? Are you holding your head up, or is your neck completely relaxed?” “It’s-“ “No,” you cut her off. “Answer them in your head. Not vocally.”

Alina hummed in response, doing as you told her. “And your left arm? Are you using your muscles, or is it limp?” When another hum escaped her, you nodded in understanding. “Try to do it yourself to the rest of your body. Focus on the way you’re lying right now.”

A third hum escaped her as she closed her eyes, silently scanning the rest of her body. You merely sat beside her, staring out of the window where heavy rain had begun to fall. The soldiers training in the yard had retreated inside for shelter. There was only one person left outside. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was.

“And now, I know you've always been Out of your head Out of my head, I sang.”

Walking to the window, you closed the curtain silently. Alina needed the distractions. Seeing Mal practising outside would likely send her down another spiral, and that was one of the least suitable things to happen now.

“I quite like the rain,” Alina mumbled from the bed, her eyes still closed. She must have heard you close the curtains. “It’s getting dark,” you returned. “And I don’t need people staring at you from windows as if you’re some sort of tourist attraction whilst you’re asleep.”

That made her open her eyes, a grateful grin passing over her features quickly. Then, she patted the spot next to her, her eyes closing again. You obeyed her silent demand, laying down next to her on your back, your eyes still observing the room.

“Anything I can do to make you calm?” She offered. “Yes,” you mumbled. “Get some rest. That’ll bring me comfort.”

She laughed at that, her hand finding yours, squeezing it affectionately: “Thank you.”

“And I wonder When I sing along with you. If everything could ever feel this real forever If anything could ever be this good again.”

Moments of silence passed, and you almost thought Alina had fallen asleep. The opposite was proven when she spoke up.

“You never told me where you came from.” Her hand, still in yours, stirred slightly as her body turned as well, now fully facing you. You kept your eyes on the lamp above you, suppressing a heavy sigh. “A happy family, divided by the war.”

Another squeeze from her hand as her gentle voice carried through the room. “I am so sorry.” Finally, you turned your head, shaking it lightly. “Don’t be. One learns from their experiences.”

Your head fell back upon the ceiling, missing the way Alina’s face fell. Light shuffling was heard before you felt her head fall in the crook of your neck, her arm slowly curling around yours, giving you every second to reject her. But you didn’t.

“The only thing I'll ever ask of you You've got to promise not to stop when I say when She sang.”

“I can’t wait for all of this to be over.” She whispered, her breath hot on your skin. Trying to change the earlier topic, you indulged her comment. “What’s the first thing you will do?” You asked, your voice equally hushed.

She giggled lightly. “Get a proper meal. The first best tavern I run into.” “Oh, that sounds nice.” You agreed, the taste of good food long gone from your tasting buds. Royalty or not, Nikolai’s kitchen hadn’t been the best - especially not after you had to run. There were days he’d get a big meal, inviting everyone, but more often than not, you craved that old taste of something you used to eat in your old living room. No prince nor king would serve that.

“And then,” Alina continued. “I’d buy a home far away from everyone.” You let out a hum of understanding. “Very saint-like of you to do. Escaping everything and everyone. Running of to a place you can simply be.” Your head fell down slightly, resting on top of hers.

“It sounds peaceful.”

“And I wonder If everything could ever feel this real forever. If anything could ever be this good again.”

“Yes,” she spoke absentmindedly, her hands now fiddling with the fabric around your wrist. “Though not every saint had someone beside them.” You hesitated to answer, now feeling guilty for closing the curtains on Mal, even though she hadn’t known he was there. But your insecurities were quickly silenced. “I’m not talking about him.”

You didn’t answer her - you couldn’t. There were many in the land who would weep at her feet and throw themselves to her, yet she was talking with you about you. Not taking your silence as a rejection, she brought up a new question: “What’s your favourite food?” “Why ask?” You returned after thinking about it for a while, your heart now beating in your throat, it’s feeling almost making you laugh.

“So I know where to eat once the war is over,” she answered truthfully. “But only with a fanatic of course.” “My, miss Starkov,” you muttered in a dramatic accent, now sure she had indeed been talking about you. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were asking me out on a date.” Once more, a light chuckle was heard as her hands stopped fidgeting with your sleeves: “If I was, would you say yes?”

Taking your time to respond, you pretended to think it over for a while. Again, the fidgeting returned. “I don’t know,” you started, your tone on a teasing edge. “You haven’t asked.” At last, she stilled completely, her hand now back in yours, her head nuzzling into your shoulder even more.

“You’ll see.”

“The only thing I'll ever ask of you You've got to promise not to stop when I say when.”

#november writings 2023 #grishaverse #shadow and bone #shadow and bone Netflix #alina starkov #alina starkov x reader

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