#NEXT PART FINALLY HERE

[taniamitsu]

The truth about Frisk

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Beginning

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part seven)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)

Eddie takes back everything he’d thought before; sex dreams are so much worse actually, especially when you wake up to the subject of them holding your hand. His face turns bright red the second his eyes open and land on Steve. He sits upright immediately, bunching up the blankets over his lap. 

The pounding of his heart - aka the rapid beeping of the heart monitor - alerts Steve who snaps awake instantly and tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand as he asks with urgent concern, “Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?”

“No, no, definitely not a nightmare.” Eddie’s cheeks burn, feels the flush reach his ears and down his neck too. He clears his throat. “Just, uh- just a weird dream, that’s all. Not bad, just…weird, yeah. I’m fine.”

Steve relaxes. “Okay.” He hesitates, then adds hopefully, “Was it, uh- Do you think it was a memory?” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Definitely not.” 

“What makes you so sure?” Steve asks. 

“It was fantasy.” Eddie’s eyes rake over Steve, and he tries not to wonder just how accurate his dream was. 

Steve raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Fantasy?” 

“Yeah, fantasy. So unless you have some truly awesome news to give me about the existence of dragons,” Eddie lies (better to have Steve think he’d dreamt of riding on a dragon rather than that he’d dreamt of Steve riding him), “I’m pretty sure it was just a regular old dream.”

“Oh.” Steve's face falls; and Eddie almost wants to take it all back and tell a different lie, that it had been a memory, but he doesn't. “Yeah, no, I've yet to run into any dragons yet, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, running his thumb over Steve's hand. “I wish it was a memory. I mean- I wish I had more memories, and I'm sorry that I don't. I'm sorry that makes you so sad.” 

The apology only makes Steve look sadder. “Oh, Eddie, no, it's okay.” He shakes his head, squeezes Eddie's hand. “Don't apologize for that. It's not like you chose to forget.”

“I know. I’m still sorry though,” Eddie responds quietly. His dream-sparked lust has since curbed into something softer, inevitably. He looks into those downturned and devastating brown puppy dog eyes. “I didn't choose to forget, but I’m still the reason you're sad - I know that, so I'm sorry.” 

It's Steve this time who mutters “You don't have to worry about me so much, Eds, I'm alright,” and it's Steve this time who clasps Eddie’s hand in both of his and brushes a kiss over his knuckles. 

It sends a rush through Eddie's whole body to feel Steve's lips against his skin - in real life, that is. Heat rises in his cheeks again, heart rate kicking up for the millionth time. “Uh- yeah, uh, o-okay,” he stutters, can’t seem to form a coherent thought or sentence right now. He pulls his hand away and runs his fingers through his hair instead, changing the subject, “Um. Are you, uh- are you sticking around today?” 

“Yeah.” Though there’s still a trace of sadness behind his eyes, there’s something like flirtation there too as Steve smirks and says, “I’m all yours today.” 

God. Eddie really is done for, isn’t he.

It’s no wonder, then, that after spending another full day with Steve, another full day of being subjected to Steve’s bittersweet smiles and friendly banter and (that is, if Eddie’s not just being delusional, which is a very real and probable possibility) the occasional flirty comment, Eddie’s dreams soon turn sappy again:

They were sitting in some restaurant, in a corner booth, holding hands behind a propped up menu. Steve was looking gorgeous in a tastefully tight polo and perfectly styled hair streaked with gold, and he looked at Eddie with that warm little smile that always made his heart glow. It overflowed; Eddie almost couldn't take it. 

He said, “I know you said you wanted to do things right, so after how many dates can I ask you to be my boyfriend?” 

Steve's smile grew, eyes wide with a sort of wonder and disbelief and anticipation that was vaguely reminiscent of a child on christmas morning. “I, uh- I think the third date is just fine.” 

“Okay, good.” Eddie grinned. He caught Steve's other hand and held it right there out in the open without a care who saw or heard. “Because I like you so so much; you’re the best person I know, Stevie, and I wanna lock this down before someone else comes along and snatches you up. I want to be your boyfriend more than anything, and I want you to be mine, if you want that too. So, what do you say?” 

Steve must not’ve cared who saw or heard either because he immediately lunged across the table to kiss him, holding Eddie's hands tight as he pressed their lips together fervently. 

Eddie certainly wasn't about to complain. He indulged the kiss for a good long few moments before he pulled back to double check, “So that was a yes, right?” 

“Yeah, dumbass,” Steve laughed, fond and bright and beautiful. “That was absolutely a yes.” 

That ache is back when Eddie wakes up, the wanting, the wishing. 

He thinks this dream falls somewhere in between the events of the last two, like his brain is turning this fantasy into a whole connected narrative now, building and fleshing out this wishful story of him and Steve. Unless… No. Eddie can't let himself think like that. If these dreams have been memories, if that had really been the type of relationship they'd had, surely Steve would've said something. It's not unusual for Eddie's daydreams to become so involved and become entire worlds. This is, as he tells himself for the third time now, just another case of his overactive imagination. 

Steve doesn't ask about his dreams again, and he soon leaves for work and isn't around much that day, but that still doesn't stop Eddie's mind from continuing the fiction when he falls asleep holding Steve's hand, as always now, that night: 

Eddie sat on Steve's couch, his arm slung casually around Steve's shoulders as Steve leaned against him and idly played with the rings on Eddie's other hand while a movie played on the TV in front of them. It was Steve's turn to pick the movie, and there was a time when Eddie would've rolled his eyes and scoffed at the suggestion of watching The Breakfast Club, but it had just come out on VHS and Steve was so excited about it and Eddie was more than happy now to sit just there and watch Steve watch it. Because Steve was smiling and humming along to the songs on the soundtrack, and Eddie felt, suddenly, with such simple certainty that this is where he was meant to be, that this is who he was going to spend the rest of his life with. 

Something must've changed in his expression, in his stare, because Steve soon rolled his head to the side to look at Eddie and asked with an amused (and vaguely confused) smile, “What?” 

“Nothing, I just-” Eddie shook his head, pressed a kiss to Steve's temple and then said like it was the easiest thing in the world, “I think I've fallen in love with you.” 

Steve laughed as if this great big relief just bubbled free from his chest. “Oh thank god,” he said. “I’m in love with you too.” 

Eddie believed him, knew it with the same certainty as before. They shared gentle smiles and a sweet, chaste kiss. Steve slipped an arm around Eddie's waist and curled closer against his side. He went right back to watching the movie and Eddie went right back to watching Steve. And that was all there was to it. 

Clear, effortless, uncomplicated. Because how could they be anything else but in love with each other? 

~ 

Eddie sighs when he blinks awake. His eyes slowly shift to the side and he looks at Steve strangely for a few silent moments. 

Steve asks, “What?” 

Eddie's cheeks tinge pink, and Steve wonders, not for the first time, what Eddie had been dreaming about. He gets a devastating sense of deja vu when Eddie shakes his head and says, “Nothing.” But it stops there where Steve's memory doesn't. 

Although, Eddie is still considering him in that weird, just short of familiar way, and Steve wonders - again, not for the first time - if maybe Eddie just might remember too. But surely he'd say something if he did. 

Eddie taps his fingers against Steve's hand and asks after a long minute. “Are you gonna be around tomorrow?”

“I can be.” Steve is scheduled to work tomorrow, but he'd call out sick in an instant if Eddie asked him to.

“Okay, because, uh, that's when the doctor’s gonna have me try to walk and when they're gonna teach me and Wayne how to take care of my wounds at home for when I’m discharged, and I, um, I want you to be there for that too,” Eddie says. 

Steve finds himself a little surprised by this. “You really want me there?” 

“Yeah, I mean, If you don't mind,” Eddie starts, rambling like he's suddenly scared Steve might refuse, “I know it's not the most fun thing to be here for, but I just figured whatever the doctor tells us tomorrow you should know too, just in case, you know, like I might need you one day and Wayne can't be around all the time and-” 

“I’ll be there, Eddie,” Steve assures him, squeezing his hand. “Of course I’ll be there.”

And so he is. He calls out of work the next day, much to Keith’s annoyance, and stands there as the room fills with doctors and nurses and Eddie's uncle Wayne. 

Eddie's mobility is tested first. He makes a soft grunt of pain as he's instructed to swing his legs over the side of the bed, and then another when the doctor taps his knee and his injured leg kicks with the assessment of his reflexes. Satisfied with that response, the doctor moves on to pressing various pressure points on Eddie’s leg to measure how much he can feel (and Steve tries very hard not to feel so weirdly irrationally jealous at watching the doctor feel up Eddie's leg). After a few more soft painful hisses that let the doctor know Eddie's nerve endings are intact - or whatever it was she was testing - he's told to try and stand. He's understandably apprehensive, hesitant. The doctor and his uncle help coax him off the bed; the competent and the familiar. Steve hangs back still, sure he's not needed for this. 

But the second Eddie attempts to put pressure on his injured limb and he stumbles, his hand shoots out and it's Steve’s name he calls, as if on instinct. And, on instinct, Steve is there in a second to grab his hand and assist in steadying him. “I've got you,” he murmurs, guiding Eddie to the walker that's been set out for him. Eddie limps a few more feet with the help of the walker and the encouragement of Steve’s (hopefully) comforting hand on his shoulder until the doctor calls it and tells Eddie he can rest again. 

Once Eddie makes it back onto the bed, collapsing back into the pillows with a haggard sigh, the doctor and nurses immediately crowd him again, try to go straight into the next step of redressing his wounds. 

“Give him a second,” Steve snaps, protectively holding onto Eddie's hand and leaning over him. “Can't you see he's exhausted?” 

The doctor shoots the only other proper adult in the room a weary look. 

“They know what they're doing, kid.” Wayne's heavy hand lands on Steve's shoulder, both a reassurance and an alert for him to back off. 

“I’m okay, Stevie,” Eddie adds. He gives Steve a tired smile and squeezes his hand before prying it out of Steve's hold. “It's alright.” 

Steve reluctantly relents and steps back to give the medical professionals space to continue. 

Eddie's shirt is pushed up so the bandages on his chest and stomach are accessible as the nurses begin to explain and demonstrate the process of taking care of the injuries. Steve watches, listens intently, wants to absorb every ounce of information so he can best tend to Eddie if need be. Then his eyes flick up and he accidentally makes dead eye contact with Eddie who seems to realize then just how vulnerable and exposed he is right now because his cheeks burn red and his heart rate suddenly increases. 

The nurses don't seem to be too worried about this - if anything, they exchange knowing glances with everyone else in the room except Eddie and Steve before they continue their demonstration. Steve isn't worried either anymore - if anything, he finally resigns himself fully to the fact, the irrefutable proof, that Robin was right and Eddie really does have a schoolboy crush on him again. 

Steve does his best to keep paying attention, but in the background his mind is spinning and his heart aching. 

On the one hand it’s kind of sweet to know Eddie's feelings are not gone completely, that some level of attraction still swirls to the surface even through the empty space in his memory. And Steve has been indulging that crush the past couple days, little comments of flirtation just to feel like he still has Eddie in some way, just to see the reaction and have some evidence that Eddie still feels something at all for him. (Stupid, selfish.)

But on the other hand it is just a crush. Eddie used to love him, but now that's halved; and that's a very specific kind of agony. 

Steve’s not sure how much longer he can handle this. 

~

Something passed between them when they made eye contact; something sweet and sad flitted across Steve's expression, as it often does, but he looked away when Eddie blushed and has been avoiding his eyes again since. 

When the nurses are done showing them how to wrap him up, Steve retreats, saying kindly, though still not quite looking at him, “I'm gonna go get you some water, alright?” 

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Eddie smiles gratefully after him. 

“Your boyfriend seems sweet,” Nurse Katie comments, carefully, as she secures the last of the fresh bandages. 

“Excuse me?” Eddie coughs, chokes on his own spit, spluttering, “I’m- he's not- we’re- it’s- um. He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Oh, sorry,” the nurse is quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to assume, I just thought since he's always in here holding your hand, even before you woke up-” 

“We're friends,” Eddie says shortly. He feels a little dizzy at what she's suggesting and would really rather her stop talking. 

“Alright, my mistake.” Katie backs off the subject. 

Steve returns then anyways, further killing that topic of conversation. He hands a cup of water to Eddie, who takes it with another muttered “thanks” and starts gulping it down while the doctor goes off on some spiel about the process of having him discharged and more tests they’ll have to do tomorrow. Eddie’s not paying attention. He’s too tired. 

Not long after that, the doctor and nurses file out of the room, and Wayne stands to leave too. “I’m glad the two of you are getting close again,” he mentions to Steve and Eddie on his way out. “You were good for each other.” 

Whatever that means. 

Eddie doesn’t have the brainpower left to contemplate that. Being poked and prodded and trying to walk took a lot out of him. He’s exhausted, achy all over. It’s barely even late enough to be dinner time yet, but he could honestly just pass out right now. He sets his finished water cup on the bedside table and his now free hand reaches, once again, for Steve. 

“Tired?” Steve asks as he catches Eddie’s hand. 

“Mhmm.” Eddie settles against his pillows, closing his eyes. He adds in a sleepy mumble, “’M glad you were here today.”

“Me too.”

He feels Steve’s lips slide gently across the back of his hand, and then Eddie slides gently into sleep. 

Immediately, though, his dreams are not gentle; for the first time since he’s been falling asleep with Steve’s hand in his, Eddie dreams of the bats: 

Eddie was in that hell dimension, the scene all black and red and dotted with bats. But he wasn’t alone. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley were there too, the three of them fending off the creatures with boat oars, and Steve- Steve was on the ground; two bats gnawed on his sides, another had its tail wrapped around his neck. Eddie’s heart was in his throat, roaring in his ears and pumping pure fear and adrenaline through his veins. He couldn’t save him; all he could do was try his best to keep more bats from joining in on the feast. 

Steve, however, seemed perfectly capable of saving himself. He managed to sink his teeth into the bat tail around his neck, getting it to let go. Eddie couldn’t see everything, too busy whacking away more incoming bats, but when the last of this fleet of creatures was fought off, Eddie turned back around to find Steve on his feet now, holding a bat by the tail and slamming it against the ground far more times than necessary. He watched as Steve stomped down on the bat’s neck and tore its head from its body. Blood from the bat’s tail hung from Steve’s lips in a thick, dark drip before he spat it into the dirt.

Eddie stared, jaw dropped, pounding heart pumping an entirely different sensation through his veins now. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” 

Steve gave him a bloodstained grin and Eddie’s knees felt weak. He would’ve dropped to the ground in front of him right then and there if- 

“Keep it in your pants, Munson.” Robin shoulder-checked him as she walked past. “At least until we get the hell out of hell.” 

Eddie settled instead for sidling up to Steve and, after taking a second to make sure he was alright, whispering low and close to Steve’s ear, “If we were anywhere else and you weren’t injured right now…” The muttered end of that sentence was something so filthy it made Steve’s face burn red, and he laughed. 

“Freak,” Steve said affectionately as he smacked a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. 

Eddie was quick to turn his head and catch Steve’s lips, locking them together in something searing and intense. 

“Boys!” Nancy snapped impatiently from a few feet ahead, which startled them apart. “Seriously? Time and place, come on.” 

Both Eddie and Steve laughed as they followed after the girls. 

Eddie wakes up a little bit disoriented from that dream. He doesn’t know what to call it: Was it a nightmare or not? Was it a memory or another fantasy? The lines are blurred and Eddie finds himself confused. 

Steve must’ve seen this on his face because he asks, “Everything alright?” 

“Yeah…” Eddie answers slowly. “I had a dream about the Upside Down…but it wasn’t quite a nightmare, I don’t think. I’m just- I’m not sure if it was a memory or not.” He hesitates, then decides screw it, he might as well try to get some sort of clarification on the reality of some details of his dream. “Did you…rip a bat in half with your bare hands?”

“I did, yeah,” Steve confirms. His expression shifts, sparking with something like hope. 

“And, uh, did I tell you that was the hottest thing I’d ever seen?”

“You did, yeah.” 

“Okay, cool,” Eddie says, reeling. “Just checking.”  

Steve is watching him almost expectantly, but when Eddie doesn’t say anything more on the subject, his face falls into something more like disappointment.

(final part is here!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

[mangk0]

The Giantess of Ironwood 💕💐💥

[carrotkicks]

Fugitives arc - Abridged vrs.

(part of the sends them to school au)

hehe so guess what! I took my insanity to new heights and I actually tried to write (horrifying) do tell me how it goes for you

It took exactly 9 seconds to find the extra bandages. Dr. Mori was always reliable about keeping medical supplies ready on hand but Dazai counted anyway. It’s a habit she’s grown over the years. Her eyepatch had gotten rather grimy after a long day on the run, and the bacteria that may have collected could give her another infection, so she might as well change it, right? 

Right! That’s a good start. Redoing her bandages is an excellent next step in her plan to somehow get herself and Chuuya out of this debacle. 

Speaking of, Chuuya was currently in the bedroom, trying to find something to wear that was left lying around in this safe house. Dazai had helped her take a bath earlier, and it took a lot of effort on her part to not freak out. Not that Chuuya noticed, of course. Chuuya might have a second special ability to be completely oblivious to some things. Like when someone’s putting the moves on her, or when she’s in pain. It’s as though she entirely lacks self-preservation. Does she have a death wish or something? Oh wait –

Dazai freezes that horribly ironic train of thought to remind herself she’s in a bathroom surrounded by puddles of Chuuya’s blood and tattered clothes. After the bandages, I’ll clean this mess. That’s a good next, next step.

Chuuya had gotten injured, somehow. A deep gash on the back of her neck, like a creature sunk its claws in her and pulled something out. Dazai frowned at the thought as she pulled her patch off. Chuuya hasn’t said a word about why they were hiding but after the events of the past few days, Dazai’s overactive mind was starting to paint a bleak picture. 

Chuuya wasn’t at school for the past few days. On the third day of her absence, her literature teacher pulled her aside with a packet of coursework in hand. 

“I know you’re close to Nakahara-chan. Perhaps you can deliver her the materials she’s missed this past week so she doesn’t fall too far behind. And check in on her too, okay?” 

Of course, Dazai readily agreed. Their Sensei has always shown exasperation towards Chuuya’s poor attendance habits, but today there was a strange tightness in her smile that made Dazai’s stomach settle uncomfortably. 

Kunikida decided to join her to deliver the notes – “Not that I don’t think you’re capable of it on your own. I’m putting up with you because it’s a dangerous location, and I would like to see how Nakahara-san is doing” he declared. Naturally, Dazai had cheerfully wrapped an arm around his waist and accepted his chivalrous offer. Kunikida may give the pretenses of aloofness but he worries too much for the act to hold any weight. That’s how Dazai managed to figure out what happened after that disastrous mistake on her part last Friday. 

Kunikida and Yosano both agreed to this story: Chuuya looked very pale when they entered the club room. She claimed she was ill and decided to leave after minutes in. That’s where it ended, frustratingly enough. At yesterday’s Detectives Club meeting, Ranpo mentioned to her briefly “I don’t think things look very good at home for Chuuya-kun.” Dazai nodded. 

I figured as much too.

That’s why when she and Kunikida stepped up to a ratty-looking apartment unit in a ratty-looking apartment complex in the Suribachi neighborhood on the outskirts of Yokohama, she had Hirotsu in a van full of Mafia guards parked two blocks away. Her security detail was also following close by but she’s not supposed to know about them, so if anyone asks, what security detail? 

“This is the right place?” Kunikida asked, looking back at the surroundings. The area didn’t seem safe, at least for a couple of kids wearing uniforms for one of the most prestigious private academies in Yokohama. Even if those kids were ability users. 

“It’s the address Sensei gave me,” Dazai responded in a relaxed fashion. She gazed back to where Kunikida was looking. An armored truck hidden under the shade of a tree. 

“Supposedly there’s a military base nearby,” she rationalized. Kunikida only nodded uneasily. 

Dazai grinned and began ruffling through her bag for the handouts. “Hey, if Chuuya answers the door, she won’t be in her school uniform.” 

“Hm.” Kunikida stepped forward and knocked. Three times. 

“I bet she has an awful fashion sense. She seems like the type, right?”

“Anything Nakahara-san chooses for her style will be an improvement to your bandages, Dazai-chan.” 

“Tch. Rude.” 

The door opened. The timer starts.

Standing there was a tall man wearing a lab coat and a gentle smile. “Hello. Can I help you?” He has glasses and graying hair. He’s keeping his hands in his pockets, one of which seems to be holding something. 6 seconds. 

Kunikida must have picked up that Dazai wasn’t willing to talk, and took over. “Hello sir, is this the residence of Nakahara Chuuya-san?” 

“Yes, I’m her father. She’s not well right now, so I’m afraid you can’t see her.” 18 seconds. From what Dazai could see there wasn’t any furniture other than a sofa, coffee table, and coat rack. Chuuya’s signature boots weren’t by the entrance. 

“That’s… alright. We just came to deliver some of the notes and homework she’s missed. We’re classmates.” The blinds in the apartment were drawn, and there was something in the shadow that Dazai couldn’t make out clearly. 23 seconds. 

Chuuya’s “father” accepted the offered papers swiftly without a second glance. “I’ll see that she gets these. Anything else?” 31 seconds. A glint of metal, that looked the shape of – 

“Nope, that’s it! We’ll take our leave then. Please tell Chuuya we hope she feels better for us, sir” Dazai cut in. She nudged Kunikida’s foot  Come on, time to go.

Kunikida gave a courteous bow. “Thank you for your time, Nakahara-san.” 

At that, a strange smirk crossed over the man’s face, as if he heard the world’s most ironic joke. “Of course.” He made eye contact with Dazai for a moment and she really hoped she was giving him a polite smile because her eyes felt far too wide to be anything other than manic. Then the door slammed shut. 

The entire encounter lasted 42 seconds, and Dazai already figured out more than she wanted to. “Chuuya wasn’t there. That man wasn’t her father” She tells Kunikida when they’re far enough away from the building. Her friend gave her a sharp look, but it wasn’t an "I don’t believe you". It helped the tightness in her throat clear a little. 

“How do you figure?” 

Dazai furrowed her brow, “That apartment isn’t lived in at all. None of Chuuya’s possessions were to be found. And…” She halted. Kunikida stopped beside her. “Inside I saw a glimpse of a rifle, a military-grade one. There was definitely an armed soldier hiding in the back, and likely the rest of their squad too.” Soldiers, a military base, a man in a lab coat, and a missing ability user. A terrible combination.

Kunikida muttered what was absolutely not a curse. “We need to find Nakahara quickly.” He says, not wasting a moment to pull out his phone to dial who she thinks is Ranpo. 

Dazai nods, already feeling more confident. But Yokohama’s a big city, how are they supposed to find one tiny person like – 

*** 

“Dazai. Dazaiiiiiiii! Are you- oh!” Chuuya rushed out about as quickly as she entered. Dazai had scrambled to throw her hands up to hide her uncovered eye. She exhaled heavily as she tried to suppress the irritation that flared up in her chest. That was terrible timing on her part, and she should have accounted for Chuuya being her spontaneous self. 

“Seriously, Chibi? Didn’t anyone teach you to knock first?” 

“Sorry. I didn’t expect you to be indecent.” Dazai isn’t naked, just bandage-less right now. Oh, Chuuya’s trying to be funny.

“Humor isn’t your thing Slug-chan. Hhh, tell me. Did you see it?” Dazai doesn’t know why she’s feeling so self-conscious. Her eye healed a long time ago, even if seeing out of it is still quite blurry, it looks perfectly fine. But in the year since the … injury … Dazai has only been able to bear looking at her own unobstructed reflection for only a few minutes at a time. The only other person who could be comparable was the Good Doctor himself. 

There’s a silence behind the door. Then, Chuuya says, “I saw you, Dazai.”

Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that, and it seems like Chuuya may have realized because there’s a hesitant turn of the door handle. Dazai puts her hand over the right side of her face for good measure. 

The door creaks open and the redhead shuffles in. Literally shuffles, Dazai realized, those clothes were huge on her, practically swallowing her frame. The sleeves of the collared shirt she found were rolled up to her elbows and the black slacks she was wearing must have been cuffed 3(?) times. They must be Dr. Mori’s, a little voice in Dazai’s head supplied. She looks cute in them, an unhelpful one adds. She looked cuter covered in blood, to be honest, another, more unhelpful, eviler voice continued. Hold on, has Dazai ever seen Chuuya wear long pants before?

Whatever. It didn’t matter because obviously, Dazai laughed out loud at the sight. Maybe overcompensated even, she really needed this chance to tease Chuuya. Any chance she’ll get. For her part, Chuuya must have anticipated this reaction because she just huffs out in annoyance and drags herself closer. When her giggles died down, she realized that Chuuya had grabbed her hand and was looking directly into her eyes, and a self-satisfied grin settled on her face.

Ah, Dazai’s mouth felt dry again, so she lowers her head. Chuuya took that as a cue to start talking. “It’s only fair, Dazai. You got to see all of me, so I deserve some leverage on you too.” 

Leverage? Oh… Dazai thinks she gets it. Chuuya’s at Dazai’s mercy right now. Dazai’s father owns this safe house, Dazai’s people are guarding the perimeter, and Dazai’s the one who can treat her injuries. Chuuya’s asking for some control over the situation. She’s asking for trust in return. Dazai can handle that. 

She looks up, but Chuuya’s already turned her head away, cheeks a faint red. She detaches her hand but Dazai grabs it before it can retreat further. 

“Hey.” Dazai brings Chuuya’s hand close to her face. Chuuya meets here eyes. She seems confused. “A while ago I got into an accident.”

“An accident?” If Chuuya doubts her, she wouldn’t show it. 

“Yeah. It really messed up the right side of my face. It used to look really bad so I always bandaged it. It became a habit.” 

Dazai hesitated on the next part. “And when I see myself without the patches, I get reminded how human I look.” 

Chuuya’s gaze was unreadable now. 

Shit. Don’t say more. Dazai found herself stuck explaining, “And it makes me a fraud because I’m not a human. Not inside. Not where it matters” Stop oversharing! She can feel her heartbeat going faster “Ahh ~ that part’s not really a big deal, though. How’s my face, Chuuya-kun? Is it cute?” 

“What the hell are you saying, Dazai?” When she’s upset Chuuya’s voice goes down an octave from her usual high throaty pitch. It seems that’s the case here. Dazai stayed transfixed to the anger brewing in her eyes, and didn’t noticed that Chuuya’s hands landed themselves on either side of her face, cupping it gentler than her expression would have let on. 

“Don’t you ever say that to my face again! You're not human? That’s complete bullshit.” Who taught Chuuya how to curse, anyway?

“Chuuya I-”

“Shut up. Don’t you understand, Dazai?” She really doesn’t understand. Chuuya’s expression melts into something Dazai can’t recognize. Her thumb strokes her right cheek and then Dazai is being pulled closer to the Earth. At some point her eyes close. Some muddled thought about trust floats around her head. 

“You’re the most human person I’ll ever meet.”

Something soft and warm. Right under her eye. Dazai snaps back into awareness as Chuuya pulls away, red-faced, like a shrimp. A shrimpy color on a shrimpy person. Or the color of crab. Dazai loves crab. Dazai loves- Chuuya squirmed under her gaze. Oh, right. How much time did she just lose?

“You took me by surprise last Friday,” Chuuya confesses, looking away in embarrassment. “And then I got scared, because I felt so good in that one moment with you, and then I had to go back… Home.” She shuddered. “And I’ve been trying change, you know? Because I didn’t feel alive until I met you, and then suddenly I wanted to feel alive for you.” 

Dazai didn’t know how to respond, so she wrapped her hand around the back of Chuuya’s neck, carefully over thick patch of gauze that protected her injury. Chuuya looked breathless. “And then last week, I realized that my freedom had run out, so I took a chance and escaped. And now we’re here. And it’s all your fault Dazai. I did it because of you.”

There’s something dark and stormy in Chuuya’s eyes. 

“And that stupid goddamned kiss. It was fucking incredible .” 

Dazai closed the distance between them again. And again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again andagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagain –

*** 

So their night went peacefully after that. Dazai never ended up rewrapping her eye, just for the sake of savoring that adorable flustered look on Chuuya’s face. Cleaning the bathroom was a more irritating chore. Dazai had nudged the pile that was Chuuya’s blood-soaked uniform and a random set of green and yellow gardening gloves she somehow acquired. (“Hey you sure you didn’t go and murder anyone, Slug?” she had taunted. Chuuya ominously didn’t answer.) Dr Mori had kept a huge stock of spicy instant noodles in the pantry and the two of them held a contest to see who could handle the spice better. It ended in a tie because Dazai refused to admit she had a runny nose and tears in her eyes. 

And now they were in bed, in each other's arms. Dazai hugged her… girlfriend? partner? … closer. Chuuya was so warm. Like a human furnace. Dazai could happily die right now. Until Chuuya spoke up. 

“Dazai, why did you tell me I would look cute in a cage right before you kissed me. ” Death needs to arrive a little faster. Dazai is a little spent from the embarrassing and soulbearing conversations earlier. 

“It. It was a dog joke Chuuya. Because you’re my doggy.”

“Likely story. You just want me to have no freedom under you instead.” Dazai pointedly didn’t wrap herself around Chuuya more, to prove her self restraint and respect for Chuuya’s autonomy.

“Please drop it. You don’t understand my prodigal mind.”

“Hmm. How about never?” 

A comfortable silence settled over them again. Chuuya pushed herself deeper into Dazai’s hold. She was wearing a pair of oven mits that she found in the kitchen, and Dazai didn’t bother to ask why. What did matter was that this moment never ended.

“Dazai.” Chuuya started. “I’m…”

“Hm?” Dazai shifted her position so she could see Chuuya’s expression. It was horribly vulnerable. 

“I… don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.” 

The unspoken words rang clearly in Dazai’s mind. She smiled and ran her hand through the short red hair. There was a light shining in Chuuya’s eyes. If they were going to pull an all-nighter, then Dazai better start counting.

“Yeah. Me too, Chuuya” 

***

Dazai woke up to the barrel of an assault rifle pressed to her temple and a tall man in a white lab coat holding Chuuya in his arms.

[starryeyedjanai]

you and me and a lot of bad decisions

steddie | explicit | 8k | chapter 1: 1994 - i'm only human

read on ao3

written for @thefreakandthehair's summer challenge!

Steve swears he doesn't know how he ends up in these situations.

One minute, he's applying sunscreen to Eddie's back like a good friend, and the next, they've got their hands down each other's pants, breathing harsh breaths and groaning as they get each other off.

It's true that maybe Steve has been a little pent up for a while. He hasn't had much luck dating recently, and working as a guidance counselor is stressful. He's had a tough school year and even after it ended, there was no outlet for him to pour any of his anxious energy into. Robin was still working because "not everyone gets the entire summer off, Steve!"

All of his friends still have to work and he's disillusioned about trying to date someone new after his honestly awful track record.

Last summer, he dated a woman and she was nice and tried to get along with Robin, but Steve knew she didn't understand their relationship, didn't get that she was someone who would always be in Steve's life, regardless of if he has a partner or not. So things got ugly in the end, because she threw out an ultimatum that Steve readily answered - just not in the way she wanted.

So, he's hesitant to try again because most people won't get it, won't get that Steve and Robin are a package deal, do-not-separate, kind of thing.

So between all of his friends still working and not being remotely interested in dating, he's been a little lonely.

He's been cooped up in his apartment being antisocial because this school year has taken so much out of him that he feels like he could sleep for a month.

The one thing he had to look forward to was this vacation.

The sun, his friends, no obligations for an entire week? It sounded like heaven.

And it starts off fine enough. Their hotel is nice, has a nice pool area that opens up to a private beach.

They all get in around the same time, so they make their way to their rooms to drop their stuff off. They're all sharing rooms because it makes more sense to split the cost rather than everyone getting their own room.

He's sharing with Eddie because while he would normally share with Robin, she and Nancy have finally got their shit together and started dating after putting everyone through the misery of watching them awkwardly flirt for years now.

He and Eddie are friends - he thinks. Kind of. After everything, they have so much tying them together that they kind of have to be. They share all the same friends, they live in the same city now and grab drinks together with Robin and Nancy, they spend holidays together with everyone.

While it's true that they're kind of friends, he can admit that he's a little nervous to have so much time alone with Eddie because they just don't normally hang out alone.

He, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, and Jeff were all on the same flight, but Eddie and Jeff took a separate cab to the hotel since there wasn't enough room in the other one. Steve's cab driver was apparently taking the scenic route because he gets to the hotel room and Eddie is already inside, pulling his shirt over his head, getting ready for the pool, it seems.

"Hey, man," Steve says, dragging his suitcase inside. Eddie's already claimed the bed by the window, so Steve drops his sunglasses onto the other bed and grabs the suitcase stand from the closet.

"Hey, man," Eddie parrots back.

Steve opens his suitcase and starts pulling some of his clothes out to put in the drawers.

"Oh, fuck, Steve, tell me you're not one of those people who unpacks on a vacation," Eddie says, watching him open up the empty dresser drawer.

It's rhetorical, Steve knows, but he still answers, "And what's so wrong with that?"

Eddie just shakes his head and says, "You would be the type to make even vacations harder on yourself."

Steve rolls his eyes. "How am I making things harder on myself? What do you do? Just leave your stuff in your suitcase and dig through it everyday to find what you need? How is that easier?"

"It's less work than making sure all your clothes are perfectly folded and in the drawers," he says pointedly.

And- okay. Steve hadn't even realized he was re-folding the shirt in his hands, but he just likes when things are tidy and neat. What's the harm in wanting his stuff to be tidy?

He stuffs the rest of the shirts into the drawer and closes it.

"Are you going to the pool?" he asks, changing the subject.

Eddie grins over at him, gesturing to the swim trunks in his hands. "Very astute, Mr. Harrington."

He drops trou and Steve takes maybe a second too long to look away. He just wasn't expecting to see Eddie's dick so early on in this trip. Not- not that he was expecting to see it at all, you know? Just, he wasn't expecting it.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks, grabbing the trunks from his suitcase. He grabs the rest of his shorts and underwear from the suitcase and puts it in a drawer - he's not going to let Eddie teasing him stop him.

"Sure, the more the merrier. You know what room Nancy and Rob are in?"

"Ah, yep. Or, well, I know they're on the eighth floor, not sure the exact room number. I told them I'd meet them in the lobby before dinner, so that'd give us enough time to unpack and get settled."

He hears Eddie rumble about unpacking on vacation as he steps into the bathroom to change into his trunks. He makes quick work of it before peeking around the bathroom. This hotel is nice, much nicer than last year's disaster. He thinks Robin working at one of the sister properties back in Chicago is probably why they were able to get such a good deal.

He steps out of the bathroom and puts his travel-day clothes back in his suitcase. He rubs sunscreen on his face and shoulders and thinks about calling it a day. He doesn't really need to put it everywhere, right? It's just gonna wash off when they get in the pool anyway.

"Hey, you wanna help me put this on my back before we get down there?" Eddie asks, holding out the sunscreen bottle in his hand.

Eddie doesn't seem to have the same skepticism about putting sunscreen all over, Steve notes as he looks him over - his arms and legs have that sunscreen sheen to them.

He must not say anything for a beat too long because Eddie asks again, impatiently, "Can you get my back or not? Time's ticking, we're wasting daylight."

"Oh, sure, sorry," Steve says, shaking his head, taking the sunscreen from him. He pours some in his hand and steps closer as Eddie turns his back to him.

He looks at the wide expanse of pale skin on his back for a second before he slaps the handful of sunscreen in the center of Eddie's back and Eddie arches away from him for a second.

"That's so cold!" he says as Steve spreads the sunscreen down his back and Steve snorts.

He maybe grabbed a little bit too much because it takes a long while to rub it in. He rubs harder, trying to make the white-cast disappear.

He hears Eddie groan and he pauses. Did he hurt him?

"Sorry," Eddie says when he realizes Steve's frozen behind him. "That just, that felt good."

"This?" Steve asks, digging his palms in harder. He doesn't know why it makes his heart speed up when Eddie hums in agreement.

It's just- it's been a while, since he touched anyone like this. There's so much skin on display, so much pale skin beneath his fingers. He can't help but dig his thumbs in a little as he rubs, turning this into something closer to a massage than spreading sunscreen. The white liquid has all but disappeared, but Steve keeps rubbing, keeps digging his fingertips into the muscles of Eddie's back.

He can't even say how long they stand there, Steve's hands on Eddie, working his thumbs into the muscles there, listening to him sigh and groan at his touch. He rubs up and down on his back and he listens to the little sounds Eddie makes when he hits a good spot and it- fuck. He realizes this is making him hard.

Now the speed of his heart beating makes sense. He's turned on. He's getting hard from putting his hands on Eddie. All this warm skin, the noises he's pulling from him, it's all doing it for him.

"Everything good back there?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve out of his stupor. His hands were frozen on Eddie's back. The air in the hotel room is cool on his skin, but he still feels overheated in the moment.

He realizes he needs to answer, needs Eddie to stay turned around because when he looks down, he's visibly hard in his swim shorts - they're tight, the fabric pulled tight around his cock, leaving very little room for interpretation on what's going on here.

"I'm good, just stay there for a sec?" He takes a couple steps back, his hands falling away from Eddie's skin, leaving him cold in comparison to the way the warmth just seems to be rolling off Eddie's skin.

Of course Eddie doesn't listen. He never listens.

He turns around as Steve is backing up, a thousand thoughts floating through his brain, the number one thought being am I into Eddie?

He swallows hard as Eddie looks at him, sees the moment Eddie notices. His lips curl up, cocky, and he's looking directly at Steve's crotch.

"Oh? Big boy, indeed," he says, and Steve can't even find it in him to roll his eyes because Eddie can't tear his eyes away.

Steve's never shied away from someone looking at him - he likes the attention, likes having eyes on him like this. When Eddie looks back up at his face, Steve sees the hunger there, knows he's wanted.

And he's never been good at making decisions that don't bite him in the ass, so he steps forward, closer to Eddie again.

It's a bad idea, his brain is telling him.

But he's looking at Eddie's mouth and his chest and his tattoos and his goddamned pierced nipples.

Fucking friends is a bad idea, his brain is shouting at him.

But he's stepping closer anyway, feeling the heat seeping from Eddie's skin once more. He wants to touch him. He wants to put his hands on him again. It feels like all the air has rushed out of his lungs, like he can't breathe through the want.

He doesn't know how to make the first move here, where he's so incredibly unprepared for what's about to happen, but luckily he doesn't have to.

Eddie hooks his first two fingers in the waistband of Steve's shorts and pulls him forward, gets their hips aligned, nearly pressing together.

He looks at Eddie's face and realizes how close they are, leaning in towards each other like this.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks and Steve knows he should back away, knows he should laugh it off, make some joke about accidentally getting hard from touching him.

But Eddie's fingers are still dipped into his waistband and Steve is sweating about it. His brain is short circuiting because five minutes ago he was utterly unaware that he was into Eddie like this.

He had no idea that he wanted to feel his skin against his like this, feel the skin of their chests brush.

Eddie's chest is sunscreen-sticky and Steve wants to get stuck to him.

When they're pressed together, flush from chest to waist, Steve feels him, really feels him. He's hard too. Hard from Steve touching him, maybe, or from knowing Steve wants him. Either way, feeling his cock brushing his through only a couple layers of thin fabric is making Steve's scalp prickle like a shiver wants to run it's way down his back.

"Yeah," Steve whispers, shifting his hips forward minutely and biting back the groan that wants to escape.

Their thighs slot together and he takes in a shaky breath. Looks from Eddie's lips to the metal glinting on his chest. He knows it had to have hurt. Did Eddie like it- the hurt?

He knows his face has to be flushed by now. He feels sweaty and red and somehow Eddie's still looking at him like he wants to eat him. It's really doing it for him.

Eddie takes his fingers out of Steve's waistband and Steve doesn't even get a second to mourn the skin to skin contact there because Eddie is cupping Steve's dick through his shorts.

It's such a tease, just Eddie's hand cupping him, no real pressure. Steve pushes himself forward into Eddie's hand.

Eddie lips twitch up again into a smirk, like he's having fun with this, like he likes teasing Steve, getting him a little desperate.

Steve tries to hitch his hips forward again, but Eddie moves his hand back to Steve's hip, herds him backwards until he's backed up against the dresser.

"Is this okay?" Eddie asks, tugging at the waistband. Steve's not exactly sure where this is going, what Eddie wants from him right now, but he nods. If it gets him touched, he wants it.

Eddie grins at him and shoves his hand down into Steve's swim shorts and wraps his hand around Steve's cock. It's suddenly a lot all at once.

Eddie's hand is warm, but his rings are cold to the touch. He's never had someone touch him while wearing rings before. It's not something he's ever had to consider before, whether he's like the feeling.

He does. There's something about the texture difference between the smooth, hard surface of the rings and the softness of Eddie's palm. His fingertips, when he rubs the head of Steve's cock with his thumb, when he wraps his hand around the length of him and strokes, feel rougher than the rest of his hand, callused from years of playing the guitar, Steve guesses.

He drops his head back and groans at the feeling of Eddie stroking him.

The rings are a contrast to Eddie's warm skin, and every stroke is making Steve want to come on them, get them wet with it. It's dizzying, making Steve a little crazy, thinking about coming on Eddie's rings. That's never been a thought that crossed his mind before, but he can't get it out of his head now that it's there.

Eddie strokes him from root to tip, slow and measured, and the only thing Steve can do is sigh about it, bringing his hand up to Eddie's hip.

He looks at where his hand rests on Eddie's hip. Steve's been sunbathing, for lack of anything better to do, recently. His skin is tan and golden and Eddie's skin is so pale in comparison.

This is all so much. And they've barely done anything at all.

"You wanna touch me?" Eddie asks, pulling him out of his thoughts, and Steve nods. He wants to touch him so fucking bad.

He can feel Eddie's breath on his lips, they're so close. He wants to lean in and put his tongue in Eddie's mouth, sloppy and wet the way Eddie's thumb feels on the head of his cock.

He shoves his hand down Eddie's swim shorts instead. They're tight too, like his, so his hand barely has space to move.

But he feels him, gets his hand around him, and he's- he feels big. His cock fills out his grip nicely, it's thick, a good length.

He breathes out a heavy breath as he strokes Eddie's cock. The tip is already wet, pre-come pearling there, getting Steve's hand all sticky when he rubs his palm over it on the next upstroke.

Eddie moans, sharp and sudden, when Steve's thumb catches on the underside of the head of his cock, and then it's like all bets are off. Whatever perceived notion of taking it slow has faded, quickly.

Their hands are moving fast on each other's cocks, grips tightening, like they're in a race to the finish. Like who can hold off the longest?

And Steve still wants to kiss him, almost feels like he has to. He doesn't want to stand here in the middle of their hotel room and touch Eddie, be touched by him, and not know what his mouth feels like against his.

But it feels like it would be a step too far. Like it would snap Eddie out of it, Steve pressing his mouth against his, trying to push this into something it isn't.

Their mouths are close, they're already sharing the same breath, practically. It would be just a hair of a movement that would get their mouths slotted together for real- he wouldn't even have to move much. It still feels too far a space to cross.

Eddie makes the decision not to kiss him even easier when he dips his head to bite at the juncture of Steve's neck.

"Don't leave any marks," he says, breathless. He can't show up to dinner with hickeys on his neck.

"I won't," Eddie says, licking at the spot he bit.

Steve feels close already and it feels too soon. It feels like they just started and Steve is tensing up, ready to come.

Eddie pulls his mouth away from his neck and Steve whines.

"Just," Eddie says, ducking back down to press his mouth quick against his neck again, his breath warm and damp on his skin. He presses a kiss there and it feels more intimate than the situation allows. "We just- I only have two bathing suits and I can't get come on one of them the first fucking day."

Steve nods. Anything, anything- he'll do anything to get Eddie's mouth back on his skin, his hand back on his cock.

He feels like he knows what's coming, and he sucks in a deep breath, at the thought of them pushing their shorts down, at the thought of them rubbing their bare cocks together. He wants it. He wants it more than he's wanted anything in a long time.

He shoves Eddie's shorts down and lets Eddie do the same to him. He looks down and groans. Fuck.

Eddie's cock is red and wet and Steve wants it in his fucking mouth, wants to lap at the wet head, taste his pre-come. He wants Eddie to come in his mouth, wants to roll it around on his tongue.

But Eddie's wrapping a fist around both of them, his hips thrusting forward like he can't stay still and that's good enough. That's more than enough to have Steve riding close to the edge again - feeling Eddie's cock snug against his own in the grip of his hand.

Their foreheads are pressed against each other as they look down at their cocks sliding together in Eddie's fist. It's like he can't look away - it's captivating, the rough slide of them together in Eddie's palm.

He puts one hand on Eddie's neck, the other hand back on Eddie's hip, pulls at him like he can drag him closer even though they're already as close as they can get.

"Fuck. Can't believe the rumors about your dick were true," Eddie whispers, his gaze still glued to their cocks.

"There were rumors about my dick?" Steve asks, switching between looking at their cocks and looking at Eddie looking at their cocks. The feeling swirling in his stomach is so much, and he's so goddamn close.

"Mhm," Eddie hums. "Prettiest dick in Hawkins."

That makes Steve groan, his hand tightening on Eddie's hip.

"Oh yeah?" Eddie asks. "You like being called pretty? Like knowing people are talking about how pretty your dick is?"

He doesn't know why that's what does it for him, but he's coming, just rocking his hips forward, squeezing the hand that's on Eddie's hip until it's probably bruising, and coming all over Eddie's cock. He looks down again, watches it get all over and that makes him twitch even harder. He didn't know that was a thing for him - any of this.

But watching his come get everywhere, all over Eddie's hand and his rings and his cock makes Steve shiver with the sheer amount of possession it strikes in him. He likes his come marking Eddie's skin. He likes Eddie not stopping even for a second, just stroking Steve through it and trying to get himself off with his come-slick hand at the same time.

The sound of Eddie's hand still going, so wet with Steve's come, is obscene in the quiet of the hotel room.

It makes Steve want to get on his knees. He wants to drop down and put his mouth on Eddie, taste his own come on Eddie's cock, lick at it until the taste of salt is gone, keep going until Eddie's filling his mouth with his own salty come.

But he's still catching his breath, still trying to reckon with all of this, when Eddie gasps this perfect little ah sound and comes, getting his fist even slicker. Steve's straddling the edge of overstimulation as Eddie's hand tightens to work himself through it, his grip turning the pleasant aftershocks sharper, meaner.

As Eddie comes down and loosens his grip, Steve brings his hand up to Eddie's chest and touches the metal going through his nipple. It's warm. His skin under Steve's fingertips is so warm. He tugs at it, pulling a groan from Eddie's mouth.

His cock twitches where it lays, still touching Eddie's, still messy with both of their come. It's way too soon to be thinking about more, to be thinking about again, to be seriously considering getting on his knees to clean Eddie up, maybe keep him warm in his mouth until he gets hard again.

He lowers his hand back to Eddie's waist, moves to rest his head on Eddie's shoulder, and closes his eyes.

"Fuck," Steve whispers into the quiet of the room after a minute, only the faint hum of the air conditioning reminding him where they are.

"Mhm," Eddie agrees.

"We just-" Steve cuts himself off, because he still can't quite believe it.

"Mhm," Eddie hums again.

"And it was-"

"It sure was," Eddie says, his clean hand stroking down Steve's back. It's comforting and grounding, having Eddie's still touching him like that, knowing that Eddie's not going anywhere right now.

The room is actually pretty cold, so having Eddie's warm hand running up and down his back is soothing. It makes him shiver just as much as the cool air on his hot skin.

They have to clean up soon or the come will dry uncomfortably in his pubes, but he takes another minute to bask in it. Because in a minute he has to evaluate whatever the fuck just happened. He'll have to look Eddie in the eyes and figure out what the hell this was and how to move forward from it.

He's known Eddie for over eight years now, and nothing like this has ever happened before - Steve's never wanted anything to happen. He had never even considered him an option before.

It's true that they aren't the closest of the bunch - they never really got the chance to get close because Eddie left Hawkins pretty quick after he recovered from the bat bites. He was out in San Francisco and then LA for a couple years, so he and Steve didn't really get the chance to get to know each other.

They'd talk on the phone sometimes to catch up because they were beginning to become friends before he left, before everyone kind of split up. With Steve following Robin to Chicago and Eddie in California, they only ever really saw each other for the holidays at the end of the year, which wasn't exactly enough to foster a deep friendship for them.

It's only recently that Eddie and his band moved out to Chicago, maybe a year or so after Nancy did.

So they've hung out more this past year than they had in the past, but it was still mostly hanging out with their group of friends rather than them hanging out one on one. They'd sometimes go to the bar after work together to de-stress, but unless everyone else was busy, they were rarely alone together.

He thinks he would know if he was secretly into him, is the thing.

He obviously knows Eddie's attractive - the same way he knows his other friends are attractive - but that's never translated into wanting to stick his hands down his pants. Until now.

Something about the ambiance, the liminal space of a hotel room, being all alone with his hands all over Eddie's back- something about that flipped a switch in his brain.

Because standing here, panting into Eddie's shoulder and coming down from an orgasm he was wholly unprepared for, he still wants.

He wants to push Eddie down onto one of the beds in here and grind on him until they come again. He wants to feel Eddie's cock against him again, in him, maybe.

When they pull apart, he doesn't know how they're going to handle this.

There's still so much want running through his body that he's sure Eddie can tell, can see it on his face.

They make their way to the bathroom to clean up and Eddie helps him, dabbing a washcloth across Steve's sticky stomach like it isn't something totally domestic. The warmth in Steve's stomach isn't arousal right now, watching Eddie take care of him like this - it's ooey gooey squishy feelings that Steve is sure didn't exist an hour ago.

He doesn't know how this happened so suddenly, the onset of these feelings, the rubbing off against each other like they've done it before, like they've mastered the art of dry humping against each other until they're desperate with it, breathing heavy against each other's mouths, lips never quite touching.

But Steve lets Eddie clean him up, lets him dab a wet washcloth over the head of his soft cock, lets him tuck him back into his shorts, like this all isn't tugging at his heartstrings, making him feel something he can't quite name yet.

They don't say anything in the bathroom, but when they walk back out into the bedroom, Eddie grabs his sunglasses and asks, "We still goin' to the pool?" kind of like nothing happened between them at all.

Steve blinks at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Uh, lemme grab a towel," he says before grabbing the beach towel he packed.

They walk down to the pool and Steve claims a couple of chairs while Eddie dives straight in.

It's fine.

The way the water glistens off Eddie's skin when he resurfaces makes Steve think about putting his tongue on him to lap up the wetness.

But it's fine.

The way the sunlight glints off Eddie's nipple piercing makes Steve want to touch it, pull at it again, see what noises he can get Eddie to make.

But everything is fine.

The way Eddie looks at him with hooded eyes like he knows exactly what Steve is thinking about makes Steve a little dizzy with the want that washes over him.

But it's probably fine.

Right?

They head back inside after a while of Steve being utterly unable to take his eyes off Eddie in the pool, and Steve knows he's in trouble.

Eddie calls first shower and Steve sits there with his head in his hands for the better part of Eddie's ten minute shower.

How does he get himself into these situations?

He hates not knowing what to expect, wishes he had a manual for what to say and do right after you hook up with your friend.

He doesn't know how to be normal about this the way Eddie seems to be able to. It feels like Eddie is somehow accustomed to hooking up with his friends and Steve doesn't know what to do with that. He doesn't know how to handle any of this.

Does Eddie do this a lot? Does he have friends back home that he hooks up with? Does it just mean nothing to him? The way he's able to just walk it off and appear totally normal is grating at something in Steve. He wishes he could be normal about this.

He's spiraling and he doesn't really know what to do.

When Eddie walks out of the bathroom, Steve tries not to stare, but he's only human. It was bad enough at the pool, but he's sure Eddie is teasing him on purpose now, towel hanging loosely off his hips, water still dripping down his chest, his skin pink and soft looking.

Steve holds back the groan of frustration and slips into the bathroom to shower before they meet the others for dinner.

Unlike Eddie, Steve took his clothes into the bathroom, so he changes in there instead of walking out into the room in just his towel like a harlot.

Robin eyes him suspiciously all throughout dinner, like she can somehow tell he was up to no good, but doesn't know exactly how yet. She always seems to know when something's up with him, but he doesn't think he has the words to say anything about this to her right now, or at all while they're still on vacation. He doesn't even know if he'll have the words when they get back home, because he knows she's going to want to know what's going on with him.

Robin's somehow even more suspicious the next day.

They're late to the lobby the next morning to get breakfast with the others because Eddie slips into Steve's bed as he's swatting at the alarm on the nightstand.

He turns around and Eddie is right there, right up in his space, saying, "You wanna?" and placing a hand on Steve's chest.

And Steve does want to.

So they do.

Steve is still groggy from sleep, but he still pulls Eddie on top of him, he still presses his mouth against Eddie's neck, awake enough to remember to not leave marks there. It's slow and sleepy and he comes in his underwear less than a minute after Eddie does, fingers playing with one of Eddie's nipple rings, his other hand on Eddie's ass, urging him closer, closer, closer.

It's good and Steve still doesn't know how to come to terms with that. How is he supposed to go back to normal after knowing how good it can be with Eddie?

They're late because they spend a few more minutes in bed after they both come, breathing heavily into each other's necks. One of Steve's hands is still on Eddie's nipple, thumbing at the piercing - he's pretty sure that's a thing for Eddie, having it played with. And it definitely is a thing for Steve. He almost wants to go again, wants to put his mouth on Eddie's nipples and grind against him until they're hard again, until they're making even more of a mess.

They're late because after they brush their teeth together in the bathroom, Eddie presses him against the counter and puts his mouth on his neck. He puts his hand on Steve again, circles his fingers around his soft cock and strokes his thumb over it softly, gently. He plays with him for long enough for Steve to start to get hard again.

He's inching his hand down to where he feels Eddie starting to get hard again too. He's curling his fingers around the shape of him, wanting.

They only pull apart because the phone rings - the front desk calling because Robin and the others are tired of waiting for them.

They rush to get changed and they make it downstairs and Steve tries to act normal.

The skin of his neck is sensitive and red from Eddie's facial hair, which is now a whole 'nother thing that Steve can no longer think about without getting turned on apparently. Because now he knows what his mouth feels like against his skin, what the scruff on his face feels like against him.

So Robin knows something is up - either because she and Steve know each other so fucking well, it's obvious to her, or because Steve's not doing anything to try and conceal that he's making what are probably really bad decisions.

On the third day is when she finally says something to him about it and he was right- he just doesn't have the words to say anything about it, mostly because he has no idea what he's doing.

She says something because he's not being normal right now.

Because Eddie refuses to eat his ice cream cone like a normal human being.

He makes eye contact with Steve as he licks his ice cream like he wishes he was licking something else. It makes Steve's cock throb, which is unfortunate considering the entire group is together.

"Why are you looking at him like that?" Robin asks him with wide eyes when Eddie is briefly distracted and talking to Grant.

"Looking at who like what?" Steve asks, cursing the fact that Robin knows him so well, that they share a telepathic bond most days.

And- okay, maybe he wasn't being subtle. He can't help it. Eddie's doing it on purpose, lounging like that, looking like that, all spread out and -

"You're doing it again, dingus." Robin's looking at him with judging eyes when he tears his eyes away.

Steve lets out an exasperated noise. "I'm not looking at anyone like anything, Robbie."

She clenches her jaw and gives him an unimpressed look.

"I'll tell you later? Like when we get home," he says sheepishly, hoping he'll actually be able to. Because right now, he has no idea what he'd even say. We just happened to fall into bed together. Oh, actually, that was after we accidentally jerked each other off. How can he explain that?

Robin looks back and forth between him and Eddie a few times before she nods and says, "Okay, but you're telling me everything. And I mean everything."

Steve doubts she's going to want to hear all of the details of what he's been doing.

This is their last full day here and Steve is maybe having an internal crisis about it. Because he doesn't know what's going to happen once they get home.

He has a feeling he's going to be extremely awkward about it when they get home. He doesn't know if Eddie will want to continue doing whatever it is they're doing or if it'll stop. Because they haven't talked about it at all.

They've just been doing things without talking about it and that isn't really something Steve's dealt with before. Even when he's had hookups in the past, they've established boundaries, called it exactly what it was, and when they were done, that was it. He's never had a week-long extended hookup and he's especially never had one with a friend.

He thinks it's probably going to come and bite him in the ass, not talking about it. Because he's going to get home and all of his friends are going to go back to work and he's going to be left alone to freak out about it, probably.

They spend the last day walking the pier and hanging out on the beach and he tries not to let it show how much he's currently freaking out. He thinks he manages to make it seem like he's a normal human being thinking normal thoughts and not about to spiral.

That night, their last night at the hotel, Eddie pulls a bottle of lube and a couple condoms out of his suitcase and looks at Steve meaningfully.

"You brought lube and condoms?" Steve asks, scrunching his nose up. "Were you planning on fucking someone in our hotel room?"

The thought upsets him more than he wants to admit. He can't imagine coming back to the room and finding Eddie with someone else, someone he sought out and brought back because he wanted to fuck them.

They've had plenty of opportunities to hook up with other people, is the thing, considering they're in San Francisco, and have been going to bars - straight and gay bars - and have been meeting up and hanging out with Eddie and the band's old friends from when they lived out here.

He hadn't thought about it, but now he's thinking about Eddie hooking up with those people he met this week.

It's entirely possible that Eddie could have wanted to take one of them or one of the many people he flirted with back to their room. Why didn't he?

Eddie grins at him and says, "I mean, you never know what could happen on vacation. It's not like I was planning on fucking anyone with you in the room. I mean, probably."

"Only probably? Jesus christ, Eddie," he says, rolling his eyes. He's not going to be jealous about this. He's not. He knows from Eddie's tone that he's joking, mostly.

"I'm kidding. But like I said, anything can happen on vacation, man, as evidenced by everything we've been doing," he says, the first time he's mentioned this thing they've been doing. He lobs the bottle of lube at Steve, badly, but he manages to catch it anyway. "We don't have to use them, by the way. We can keep doing what we've been doing, if you want."

What have they been doing? He wants to ask, wants to know what's going on in Eddie's head, but he also doesn't want to rock the boat. He doesn't know exactly what Eddie thinks is happening, but if he says something, it feels like it would put an end to things early. If this is the last night he has of this, he doesn't want to turn Eddie off by trying to talk about it.

He looks at the condom in Eddie's hand and pauses to think about it. He doesn't think fucking would change anything between them given everything else they've gotten up to this vacation, but he doesn't really want to have to sit on a plane for four and a half hours and be uncomfortable for the entire flight tomorrow.

This is probably the last time they're going to hook up, at least while they're here on vacation so they should make the most of it and make use of the lube at least.

So he says, "I- we shouldn't. Um, there are other things we can do with the lube, though."

Eddie looks at him thoughtfully and drops the condom back in his suitcase. How he even managed to find anything in the explosion currently coming out of his suitcase is a miracle.

"I could fuck your thighs," Eddie says, and a jolt of heat runs through Steve's entire body.

"You could fuck my thighs," he agrees and then goes to grab a towel to lay down on the bed.

The cleaning staff came by while they were gone and remade the beds, so Steve pushes the covers down on his bed and lays the towel there.

He shucks his pants and underwear and pulls his shirt off quickly. Eddie watches him with dark eyes, pulling his own clothes off at the same time.

Steve gets on the bed, turning to lay on his side, facing away from Eddie. He feels Eddie get onto the bed behind him, but he still jolts when he puts a hand on his hip.

Eddie smooths his hand down Steve's side and fits himself along Steve's back.

Steve's already starting to chub up, feeling the hard press of Eddie's body against him. That's another thing he's going to have to reckon with when this vacation is over - Eddie's body is insane.

He never really thought about it before, never really noticed it before. Gone are the days of Eddie being a lanky little beanpole.

With the passing years, he's started going to the gym and his body has more muscle mass than it did before. He's still lanky, but there's muscle there. There's strength and lithe muscles that have had Steve drooling over him for the past week now that he knows just what that strength can do - Eddie lifting him up and placing him on the edge of the desk in their room on the second night here so he could go down on him left Steve feeling shaky and had him blowing his load way too soon.

Feeling Eddie behind him, the press of his half hard cock against his ass, is making Steve kind of regret saying no to getting fucked. It's been a while, and he just knows Eddie would fuck him so right.

He thinks it's the right decision, though - he doesn't know how much more knowledge of how Eddie is as a lover he can take. He doesn't know if he'd be able to survive knowing what Eddie cock feels like inside him, how well he stretches him out, because he knows he would. His cock is wide, fills out Steve's palm so fucking nicely, and feel big when he's taking him in his throat when he's blowing him, so he knows the stretch of it would feel insane.

He feels Eddie press a kiss to his neck before he hears the snick of the bottle of lube opening.

He feels like he should have said something about Eddie having lube this entire time when he saw what was in Eddie's hand a few minutes ago. Because they've been trading spitty hand jobs for days when they could have had the slippery glide of lube on their cocks instead.

Eddie says, "Lift your thigh up for a sec."

So Steve does, feeling a little vulnerable in this position. Maybe they should have done something else or done this a different way, one where he had more control of the situation. Right now, he feels a little bit like he's at Eddie's disposal, like Eddie could do whatever he wanted and Steve would let him.

Eddie reaches between his thighs to coat them in lube before coating his cock. He nudges up closer to Steve, so he's pressed up more firmly against him and Steve lowers his thigh when Eddie's cock slides between his thighs.

Eddie groans, low in his throat when Steve tightens his legs together to give Eddie a nice, tight channel to fuck into. Steve shivers at the sound.

His hand is still coated in lube, so when he reaches around to take Steve's cock in his hand, it's slick and wet with lube, the slide is so nice, exactly the way he does it alone - nice and slick and tight around his dick.

There's a moment of pause where they just breathe together, caught up in it, caught up in the feeling of it.

And then Eddie starts to move.

The drag of him between his thighs is a lot - it's the girth of him pressing against him, nudging up behind his balls on every thrust. He's thick and he feels good between Steve's thighs, would probably feel even better inside him.

He knows it's a little too late to stop and say something like you didn't happen to grab that condom anyway, did you? because he knows Eddie wouldn't - Steve said no, and he knows Eddie would respect that even if he did want to fuck him.

Having Eddie so close to fucking him - the motions are all the same, with Eddie's thrusting against him like he would be if he were really fucking him, his hand wrapped around his dick - but not having him inside him is kind of torture and he's eating his words from before. It might be the smart idea, but fuck if he doesn't want to do the wrong thing right now.

He wants to feel the stretch of him, his hole quivering around him as he bullies his way inside. He wants to feel how deep he'd reach inside him, pressing in slow and measured and considerate like Steve knows he would. He'd want him balls deep, hips pressed flushed against him.

He's gasping at the thought of Eddie inside him, can almost imagine what it would feel like. Eddie's hand around him feels so fucking good - after days of giving each other hand jobs, it's like he knows exactly what Steve likes, how hard to grip him, how and when to play with the head.

The slide of him between his thighs, the feeling of him pressing gentle kisses to his neck, his other arm around Steve like a hug - it's all so much to take in.

He feels wrapped up in him, surrounded by him.

He can feel Eddie's heartbeat against his back with how close and tight they're pressed together.

He comes suddenly in Eddie's hand, gasping, his own hands gripping the pillow beneath him, shuddering through it. Eddie strokes him through it, his slick hand milking the come from him.

It's not the most intense thing he's ever done in the bedroom by far, but this orgasm leaves him feeling wrung out and shaky because Eddie's hand doesn't stop stroking him after he crests through his orgasm, pulling whines from his mouth at the overstimulation.

"Eddie, it's too much," he says, his hand coming down to grab at Eddie's hand still wrapped around him.

"You sure? I could wring another one out of you," he says and Steve's cock leaks at that, still hard, just another glob of come seeping out from the tip. His eyes roll back at the sharp, intense feeling of Eddie's hand being too much on him.

"Fuck, I don't know if I have it in me," he says, voice shaky. Eddie's still hard between his thighs, still thrusting, catching the underside of his sensitive balls every stroke.

Eddie hums in his ear, says, "We'll have to try that another time then," and stops stroking, but keeps his hand on him, cupping him, as he speeds up his hips, chasing his own orgasm.

Steve clamps his thighs together tighter and reaches his arm back to grip Eddie's hair and pull.

Eddie groans, setting his teeth against Steve's shoulder and biting. The edge of pain makes Steve's cock twitch even as it softens in Eddie's hand.

It doesn't take long for Eddie to get there, his come painting the inside of Steve's thighs as he thrusts shallowly and rubs the head of his cock between his thighs.

As they come down, Steve feeling sticky all over somehow, he can't help but think of the way they've come to know each other. He thinks about how intimately they've come to know each other's bodies.

He feels like he knows more about Eddie's body and how to make him come than some people he's actually dated.

He thinks about how Eddie's had his hands and mouth all over Steve, near constantly when they've been alone for this entire week. And how Steve has reciprocated, of course. How his tongue has come to know the shape of Eddie's barbell nipple piercings. How he's come to know the taste of him, the weight of him in his mouth. How exactly he likes his cock to be sucked.

That's not knowledge he should know about someone who's supposed to be a friend, he thinks.

He shouldn't know that Eddie's voice gets gravelly and low when he's about to come. He shouldn't know what Eddie's dirty talk sounds like. He shouldn't know that Eddie still cracks awful jokes even as he's getting his dick sucked.

That all feels like forbidden knowledge, something that he shouldn't be privy to.

But he knows it now. And he isn't sure how he's going to be able to go back to normal once they get home.

taglist (people who've expressed interest in the wip games): @stobinesque @scarcrossdlvrs @cuoredimuschio @steves-strapcollection @patchworkgargoyle @delta-piscium @matchingbatbites @kkpwnall @inairbinad @legitcookie @sidekick-hero @eriquin

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

I love you winter!

I love you, first snowfall of the season. I love you, powdery snow and frozen grass in the mornings. I love you, pink and purple sunsets. I love you, heavy snowfall. I love you, waking up in the morning to find a thick blanket of untouched white snow. I love you, skiing trips through the woods. I love you, hot berry juice. I love you, making running steps through the untouched snow to see how far you can leap. I love you, frost and snow in the tree branches making everything look glistening and perfect. I love you, grey cloudy days when everything looks monochrome except for the red trunks of the pines. I love you, downhill skiing. I love you, trying out new routes and tricks while downhill skiing and getting out of my comfort zone! I love you, hot chocolate and whipped cream. I love you, great tits and magpies flying about looking for food. I love you, clear days when the sky is blue and you remember how beautiful it really is. I love you, heavy snowfall illuminated by the street lamps at night. I love you, walking on the sea ice and lake ice and accessing places I never could before. I love you, glögi. I love you, snowflakes and inspecting your patterns. I love you, steaming hot saunas. I love you, ice swimming, even though you also frighten me! I love you, fairy lights in the trees. I love you, wind-carved waves and shapes in the snow. I love you, blue hour. I love you, warm blankets. I love you, tiny black streams still staying unfrozen and moving. I love you, icicles and other beautiful ice formations. I love you, crown snow-load and thick snow covering the trees. I love you, northern lights. I love you, fireplaces. I love you, waking up in the middle of the night in your warm bed, finding the house completely quiet as you walk through the hall, and upon looking out the window, all you can see is the calm snow slowly making its way to the ground, illuminated by the colourful fairy lights and the orange street lights. And you get this magical feeling inside of you, that you’re so warm, and calm, and perfectly safe and sound in this very moment. And you feel like you could stand there forever and just… take it all in.

I love you winter!

[09lover]

shoganai daburu nanda……….

[recalled11]

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident Part VIII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: None

Words: ~ 2k

About: You finally meet your good friend &lt;3

Part I II -> Next part

"You know each other?!"

You stare at Atsumu with wide eyes, who just stares at the short blonde next to you and raises his eyebrows as if he just had an epiphany.

"Where have I—wait. Karasuno. Karasuno's manager! You're a friend of Shoyo-kun!" Atsumu's eyes shine when he talks about Karasuno, and you furrow your brows when you remember that it's the name of Yachi's old school. "Shoyo-kun? Like—Hinata Shoyo?" You ask, recalling a bright orange-haired man you've met a few times already when Yachi had invited you to drink with her and her friends. They had always been a lively bunch, definitely growing on you the more often you saw them.

"Hmm, we work together," Atsumu nods, and you blankly stare at him while you try to digest that piece of information. You know that Hinata is a professional volleyball player. Very professional. Olympics level professional. He offered you cards to his games quite a few times, and you had politely declined, not wanting to cause him trouble, but he had sent you tickets anyway for a game in a few weeks.

That probably means that Atsumu is a professional player too—or he might be some kind of manager, according to the vague statement that they are working together. His physique and his posture tell you that he potentially could be an athlete- you would believe that in a second.

"Working together like... playing volleyball too?" You ask for clarification, tilting your head curiously while you watch his reaction. His lips curl into a smug smile, and the confidence he's radiating now makes your legs turn into jelly.

"Yeah. I'm a professional, just like Shoyo-kun. He loves my sets, by the way. Always aces them with no problem."

His eyes capture yours and you hang on his every word, definitely surprised by the development. You're married to a probably very famous professional Olympia volleyball player. You're not even sure what to think about this; the new details just made the whole situation more absurd and unrealistic. The only good thing is that Yachi apparently knows him. You could maybe get more information out of Yachi about him later.

"I—wait. The marriage—you married ATSUMU MIYA?" Your attention shifts to Yachi, who turns almost worryingly red, and you quickly step closer to her and reach for her arm, trying to calm her down. "Yes, but it's okay. He's a good guy, okay?" You smile encouragingly, and Yachi takes a few hasty loud breaths before she nods.

Atsumu watches you both and awkwardly clears his throat, a faint blush covering his cheeks at your words, and rubs the back of his head. "I'll leave ya two alone then. I'll call ya, y/n."

The last thing you see is his smile before he turns around and walks away with his hands in his pockets now. His broad back is evident, especially when he's wearing the white dress shirt, and you can't help but admire the man for a second before Yachi enters your sight once again.

"Y/n! - what happened?!"

xxx

"I can't believe you're married to Atsumu Miya!" she exclaims, still sounding shocked as she repeats the same sentence for the third time after you managed to tell her the fully story during the car ride. Both of you sit on her comfortable plush couch, adorned with a few of her stylish designer blankets. You're glad to be in a familiar place finally, but you can't help but to think about Atsumu. Will he call or leave a message soon? You wouldn't mind him calling today already- just to make sure you have his number. Nothing else. Just to clear that whole marriage thing. And nothing else.

You nod with a mild smile an attempt to calm her slight panic. Atsumu has assured you that everything will be taken care of, and you find yourself actually trusting him. "It'll be okay. You mentioned he's a good guy, right? I mean, he's friends with Hinata."

Yachi deeply inhales and takes a sip of her tea and nods. "He's close to Hinata. They get along really well. But let me tell you, Atsumu Miya in high school is something else. His serves were powerful and terrifying- not as much as today, but still enough to keep us all on the edge. Even Nishinoya had a hard time receiving them. Atsumu-san and Osamu-san managed to copy Hinata's and Kageyama's special attack effortlessly. It was insane. Maybe we can find a recording of it."

She grabs the remote to turn on the TV, and you lean forward eagerly at the thought of seeing more of Atsumu. "I wonder what Atsumu looked like in high school," you muse, taking a sip of your tea, its slight bitterness complementing the rich flavor. "He basically still looks the same. His hair got a bit brighter, and I think he grew a bit. And gained mass," Yachi responds, finding what she's looking for with an excited squeal. "Here!"

You both watch how a much younger Atsumu raises his arm and much to your surprise the whole crowd falls silent. "What- that's not normal, is it?" You turn to Yachi who seems slightly pale, probably because she remembers the moment vividly. "That's normal for Atsumu Miya. He was so good and popular that he got that special treatment. It helps him to focus. Oh, and watch his steps! You can tell what kind of serve he's going to make by the number of his steps."

You diligently nod and watch him serve again, taking six steps this time. The camera angle is a tad bit closer this time, and you don't fail to see his yellow-ish hair that definitely looks different compared to his looks today. He was very fit, even back then, but he is definitely more buff today.

You watch some more of Atsumu's powerful serves, his form screaming utmost perfection, and memories of the very same strong, muscular arms wrapped around you make heat rush to your cheeks. Yachi continues to share insights about his playing style, and you quickly try to focus on her words.

"...their combined attacks are difficult to anticipate. But look at how Kei blocks it!" You nod enthusiastically while you observe Tsukishima's impressive block. The video then shifts to another game, showcasing Atsumu in a black uniform adorned with yellow claw prints on his sleeves.

"Oh, that's from the MSBY game! You should have seen him; there's this amazing set—" Yachi's words trail off as the camera cuts to an unusual angle, revealing Atsumu's impressive thighs in full glory as he sets the ball with a ridiculously seductive smile. Your jaw drops at the unexpected sight- you know for sure you would have fainted if you saw that scene in live. How dare he look so good while setting the ball?? "Look, Hinata easily managed to hit that! And there's Bokuto-san!" You recognize the orange-haired spiker, sharing a smile and high-five with Bokuto. "I can't believe that they all actually know each other."

"Yeah," Yachi smiles and nods. "Hinata always talks about Atsumu-san. And Bokuto-san is close with Osamu-san, I think. I've seen him post a few pictures with Akaashi-san at Onigiri-Miya."

"Is that the name of his restaurant? Atsumu said he would take me there someday." Yachi gives you a side-eye, and reaches for her phone. "You've gotten pretty close, haven't you? You seemed really flustered when-" You quickly interrupt her, "No! I—I don't even know him. I don't even have his number. He was just being nice, we're not really close."

Yachi nods with a small grin, and hands you her phone. "Here. That's his Instagram. He's also often at Onigiri Miya. It seems like he's very proud of his brother's success. I though you might want to have a look at his life."

"Thank you." Yachi is truly a great friend, and you feel once again fond of being close to her. As you scroll through Atsumu's Instagram, you find a mix of game snapshots, some pictures with Osamu, in which he always has a plate full of food in front of him, and you can't help but zoom into the plates, impressed by the neatly arranged dishes. As you keep on scrolling, you almost gasp loudly when you find a very surprising collaboration with Calvin Klein, featuring a shirtless Atsumu from a very close perspective. At first, you keep on scrolling, too flustered at the sudden revealing picture, but curiosity makes you go back after a few moments, and you look at the picture again.

He looks good. His muscles are well-defined and he grins seductively for the camera while he poses, clad in only a ripped pair of jeans. It's almost unfair how ridiculously attractive he looks, but you still think that he looks even better when he's just woken up, just like he did this morning. You exhale loudly and curiously click on the comments.

"I would pay real money to have him like this in my bed." "Christmas came early this year- and so did I." "Bless the Miya genes. I'd gladly help to spread them." "Thank you Calvin Klein. I'll make sure to get a pair of these pants." "*FAINTS* HE'S SO HOT, I CAN'T-"

You're startled when you notice how the comments get even more unhinged and shameless as you keep on scrolling. "He... has a lot of fans," you remark, scrolling back to the top and handing Yachi her phone back, to which she nods heavily. "He had his own fan club in high school, and ever since the Japanese team won the Olympics, the whole team has been very popular. Especially Atsumu-san and Sakusa-san."

You hesitate before asking the next question, uncertain of what the answer might bring. "Is there a reason why he's single? He seems like a decent guy, looks good, and he's probably rich. Isn't he the perfect catch?"

Yachi furrows her brows, thinking. "I don't know, actually. It's probably the same as with Hinata and Kageyama. They focus a lot on their careers; they simply don't have time for dating. I also found out that most volleyball boys can be a bit... intense. It's probably hard to find a partner that understands their passion. They prioritize training over anything else. I've never seen Hinata skip a day of training, no matter what happens. Their partners must accept that they put a lot of their energy and time into their jobs."

"Ah," you simply nod, slightly surprised by the revelation. You would have assumed that they have a very lively dating life, but it seems like they just live for work. Sounds a bit lonely.

"I also think that some fans are a bit obsessed with their private lives. There was an incident before with Atsumu-san and one of their fans- but things have calmed down lately, so you should be fine." Yachi reassures you, reaching for a cookie on the couch table.

"I think that—" she is interrupted by the sudden sound of a ringing phone, and both of you exchange confused glances before realizing it's your phone. Yachi's eyes light up, and she squeals, "Maybe it's him—I mean, I could have gotten his number through Hinata, but maybe he's got some news—"

You fumble with the phone, the unknown number undoubtedly belonging to Atsumu. Taking a deep breath, you nod at her and hold the phone to your ear, answering the call with a simple,

"Hello?"

[joyfuladorable]

Capril Wedding Shenanigans - Part 1: Proposal

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[xskyll]

Page 15, for the second time! Apologies to those that saw the version I posted last night with the typo. My days lately have been busy, so sometimes I feel a bit brain foggy. A couple of people left comments on either here or Twitter and it killed me to delete everything. ;_;

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[holidaybrews]

part two

click for better quality <3

[batfossil-fr]

I’ve been really thinking of reopening my art shop soon… I’ve been taking some practice doodles (hence all the posting lately) while I shake off my rust and I’m finding things I enjoy working on again. I miss trying my hand at more dragons/OCs and colors. my shop’s so broken rn lmao but that’s a problem for a later date it’s just nice getting back into art

[inkblackorchid]

What the hell happened with Crow: an autopsy (Part 2)

Hope you didn't think I'd forgotten about this post yet. Lads, ladies, and other lovely people, here we go. I have more yelling about bird boy to do.

But first, a few disclaimers. For people who may have missed part one, yes, as the title implies, this post is part two of an attempt to analyse Crow's character throughout 5Ds' whole run. You can find part one here. Now, both for people who may not have the time/energy to read my first, huge post about this right now, let me explain what I'm about here before we start again: My analysis is not meant to deter people who like Crow from liking him. It's also not meant to convince Crow haters otherwise, even if I admittedly personally like Crow. All of this stuff is just my personal attempt at dissecting how his character was handled in the show and why that might have been. And because this is part two, and I covered the Fortune Cup and Dark Signers arc in the first post, I'll start with the pre-WRGP arc, then dig into the backstory Crow was given directly before the WRGP begins properly. Also, mind the length of this post. I'm physically incapable of writing short things.

I also feel the need to reiterate another thing before I really get into the meat of things again: If you were hoping to see any old rumours about 5Ds confirmed, this is the wrong post. In fact, thanks to the very thorough work of someone over on Reddit (another shoutout to @mbg159 here, who's the author of those posts), I know for a fact that literally all the big rumours surrounding Crow are one big pile of logistically impossible horseshit, and I think after so, so many years of people citing this nonsense, the fandom as a whole finally deserves to let these go:

No, Crow was not meant to be a dark signer, least of all the final boss of season one, and Blackwings were not the reason he got more screentime later.

No, Aki being sidelined was not the result of her irl voice actress' pregnancy.

Yes, I know these two posts are both a long read each, but I cannot begin to tell you how tired I am of these rumours. So even if you don't have time to read the stuff above, please take away this: The big 5Ds production conspiracy theories are. all. bullshit. Because, to put it in as simple terms as possible, none of them work out logistically. The events people have pretended affected the show's production in a major way all don't line up with the actual production timeline. So just can the rumours already. Please let them die. And no pitting Aki and Crow against each other on his post or because of this post, yes? I beg you, I am so tired. Ok? Ok.

All right, now we can get to the good part. In my previous post, I left off at the end of the DS arc. So, in what position is Crow at the end of the DS arc? He helped save the world by defeating Goodwin and got his very own signer mark after Rudger/Roman Goodwin's death.

And now, where is Crow at the start of the pre-WRGP arc?

(Bam. Delivery bird boy be upon ye.)

This time, Crow wastes absolutely no time coming back on screen. We see him again within the first episode of the second half of the show, and wouldn't you know it! He moved in with Yusei and Jack and the three of them have a funny, brotherly, bickering dynamic between them. Also, as a fun little add-on that is very much in line with his deeply Satellite, down to earth characterisation from the first half, Crow now works as a delivery driver to earn money for the household. That's all very nice and good.

But what is his role in the plot from here on out? Well.

First, a small note about the pre-WRGP arc. Though this arc is fun to watch because it gives us a lot of silly character interactions the show no longer found the time for once the WRGP started, the pre-WRGP arc really can't be said to bother with actual plot much. It's the known filler arc of 5Ds, and as such, Crow is not the only character who gets pretty much nothing plot-related to do during this arc. Thus, I'll only give a quick run-down of what he does get up to, just in case any of these tidbits end up showcasing a relevant aspect of Crow's character I might come back to later.

Furthermore, another thing that's pretty much obvious to everyone who's ever watched the show in its entirety but still bears mentioning: Crow gets a lot more screentime from this point on out. Technically. Why do I say "technically"? I'll get back to that further below. For now, just keep it in mind.

So, how does Bird Boy spend his time during the arc where the plot's on the back burner? To be honest, on the sidelines, mostly. Don't get me wrong, Crow's there. Most of the time. But he gets pretty much only two episodes where he's the focus, and both of those aren't exactly known for being 5Ds' most memorable episodes (even though I still like them both tbh, but I digress): For one, in episode 68, he gets to convince Bashford to move in with Martha so the depressed old man isn't spending his entire retirement living in a scrapyard.

(This episode's comedic moments are actually fairly solid. But those are just my two cents.)

And for two, in episode 85, Crow gets to bond with the boys' somewhat cranky landlady, Zora, by duelling some sense into her son, Lyndon. (Which also introduces us to a duelling tactic only Crow uses that we will later see again: Losing on purpose.)

(And here we can see Crow showing off his skills at dealing with petulant children.)

Now, do these two episodes where he gets to be relevant actually do anything for Crow? As a character? Debatable. If nothing else, they strongly reaffirm the values Crow represents which we were introduced to in the first half of the show, though. They reintroduce us to his stubbornness, to his (in comparison to Jack and Yusei) more playful nature, to his very Yusei-ish dedication to doing the right thing, to his penchant for spite, and to his strong sense of family and community and his belief that these two things shouldn't be abandoned unless you have a damned good reason for it.

You may notice that there's a sizeable gap between these two episodes. That's because those episodes are where we get the only smidgens of plot in this arc. Among them, highlights like Sherry's introduction, the first reveal of accel synchro, Aki's turbo duelling license exam, three separate story beats hinting at the machinations of the emperors of Iliaster (Luciano's little stunt with Rua and Ruka, Placido getting started on building a killer robot army, and the Jack double being unleashed onto NDC), and Bruno's introduction. So, here's the thing: Crow is technically present during most of those episodes, too, but he doesn't actually get to meaningfully interact with the plot-relevant elements. (Which is not to say he doesn't have nice moments here and there. He does get to bounce off the other characters, and, just as one example, helps Yusei and Jack upgrade Aki's duel runner, as well as help Yusei build Rua's duel board. Crucially, he doesn't get to do anything that later becomes plot-relevant, though.) Moreover, not one, but two characters who end up becoming major players in the series' finale are introduced here, which is relevant insofar as that Bruno and Sherry both end up needing a good amount of development before they can impactfully take their later roles. Now, I say this with nothing but genuine appreciation for both these characters, because I do like them, but I feel the need to point out what this means not just for Crow, but for pretty much everyone who isn't Jack or Yusei: Every minute of screentime that was dedicated to Bruno and/or Sherry was one minute less the writers could spend on the rest of the cast. This is not to say that time shouldn't have been spent on them, they needed it, especially because they were introduced so late, but it's something I do want people to keep in mind when talking about who got how much screentime and whether or not that time was well spent. (I also have a larger gripe with the definition of "screentime" in general, but more on that later.)

So when does Crow get to be relevant to the plot again, now that he's even a signer and all? Well, not until episode 94, when the WRGP arc has already started. (Note that I'm using the 5Ds episode list on wikipedia as a general guide for which arc and which season starts where. You can find it here.)

*Deep breath*

So. Episode 94.

(Pictured: One very scruffy dragon. Bird? Dragon-bird. Bird-dragon. You figure this shit out.)

That episode. The episode where Crow, who was awarded with the status of a signer during the finale of the DS arc, finally gets a dragon to match his mark. And the episode where we finally, finally, get some actual backstory for Crow that goes beyond his involvement with the Enforcers and childhood with Jack and Yusei. A backstory that's only Crow's own. Except. How do I put this politely...

This shit doesn't make a lick of sense. Neither the events in the duel between Crow and Bolger in the present resulting in Black-Winged Dragon's appearance, nor the Pearson backstory.

Now, I'm not saying this to step on anyone's toes. From a writing standpoint, I can even make a fairly reasonable guess as to why this episode/mini-arc is here, I think: As I mentioned in part one of this analysis, Crow was not only introduced very late, but also got very little backstory of his own, which set him apart from the other signers. Don't get me wrong, he did get some backstory—we know of his strong connection to Duel Monsters because he learned to read from cards, and we know of his involvement with the Enforcers/Team Satisfaction. Crucially, though, Crow doesn't really get a backstory segment that feels as unique to him as the others. Aki gets her tragic past with her parents and her powers, Jack gets his betrayal of Yusei, which also doubles as part of Yusei's backstory, who as the protagonist understandably gets the most backstory, and even the twins, though they are as always treated as one unit, get their very own segment about the time when Ruka was essentially in a coma. Meanwhile, Crow only has that one-off tear-jerker moment about learning to read from his cards and his being a part of the boys' duel gang, which, and I cannot stress this enough, is treated as more of a Yusei and Kalin/Kiryu backstory by canon than a Crow backstory. Thus, it makes perfect sense from a writing standpoint that the Pearson/Black-Winged Dragon mini-arc would be here. Crow, up until this point, has neither a backstory segment dedicated solely to him, nor a signer dragon to call his own. So, how do we solve this? Give him both in a strategic double-whammy! The math checks out. Unfortunately, the writing of said mini-arc... doesn't.

Now, look. The juicy question of whether Crow would have worked better as a non-signer or not, which I already discussed in part one aside, I personally don't hate what this backstory is trying to do. It's just that the whole Pearson-drama has some very notable, logical holes which I'll get into below. Furthermore, this is not the first time something related to Crow has some unfortunate, logical and/or chronological issues. I already brought up the infamous fridge and Rex Goodwin's rather confusing backstory in part one, both of which raise some serious questions. However, Pearson and everything surrounding him arguably blow that clean out of the water. Let's examine this more closely, shall we.

The long-overdue backstory we get for Crow begins with a mystery: Mikage and Trudge, for a reason that is never given to us, are investigating the death of Robert Pearson (whose death would have been several years ago at this point), whom Crow knew very well, and they're doing it because they found a hint that the person who killed Pearson used an illegal card, Crimson Mefist, to do it.

(Post redemption-arc Trudge actually doing his job instead of bullying random Satellite citizens. Who would have thunk.)

Thing is, here, we already encounter our first, minor problem: Pearson has never been mentioned up until this point, not even as an aside. And this issue is compounded by the fact that not only Crow seems to know him, but Trudge claims to as well, because "Satellite used to be his jurisdiction". So, a named character who's familiar to both one of our protagonists and a notable side character, and we've never seen hide nor hair of him. If we pull our heads out of the story for a second, the irl reason for how this came to be is probably pretty obvious: Pearson was never mentioned before because the writers had nowhere near as solid of a plan for Crow as they did for the other characters, which leads to him being introduced out of nowhere here because we need a backstory and a dragon for Crow and we need those now. Moving on.

The mention of Pearson having been not simply killed in a fire, like Crow previously assumed, but having been murdered through a special, illegal card immediately makes him suspicious. So, he goes to consult Bolger/Bolton, another never-before-seen character who gets introduced in service of this backstory, and who knew Pearson well. And while this guy certainly acts amiable towards Crow at first, implying that the two have a good rapport, at least, he quickly starts acting suspicious when Pearson's murder comes up. Moreover, we as the audience at this point already know Bolger's looking for Black-Winged Dragon so he can use the card essentially as collateral to save his company. And the name "Black-Winged Dragon" already leaves very little to the imagination as to whose deck this monster is supposed to fit into. But, in a small twist, we learn from Crow that this was apparently Pearson's card, and supposedly lost in the fire where said man died, to boot. Then Bolger challenges Crow to a duel, too, offering to tell the truth about Pearson's death if he loses, but demanding Black-Winged Dragon, which he believes Crow to be in possession of, if he wins. So far, so good. We've got a mystery here, and canon is not contradicting itself just yet. Until we get to the actual backstory, which shows us the time Crow spent with Pearson, that is. Before we get into that, I'd like to highlight one theme this mini-arc introduces that actually feels like it fits Crow: Legacy. Over the course of meeting Bolger again and being reminded of his time with Pearson, Crow starts thinking about whether he's taking over his former mentor's/father figure's legacy well enough.

(Crow having some Deep Thoughts TM, featuring one of Yusei's most relaxed, easygoing smiles in the entire show, probably.)

This theme, I would argue, is one of the major things this backstory introduces that really meshes well with the Crow we already had until this point. He's a community-focussed guy and absolutely a family person, if him taking care of Satellite orphans is anything to go by, so leaving behind a good legacy for the people after him (read: the kids he took care of) would absolutely be something he cares about. We see this element of legacy again in his cards during this episode, too, which canon implies he inherited from Pearson. (I'll get to THAT can of worms below.) And on paper, with the themes he's already got going, Crow being the only one to inherit his deck rather than build it all by himself would actually make sense!

However. This is where we have to get into the meat of the backstory. I'll start by listing the barebones information Crow's backstory with Pearson gives us, then going into why several aspects of it are either logistical or chronological nonsense.

So, as canon tells us, Crow met Pearson after Kiryu/Kalin was arrested, when the Enforcers/Team Satisfaction all went their separate ways. During this period, Crow had already set up shop near the original Daedalus Bridge and started out taking care of orphans, but it wasn't all smooth sailing. He was, by his own admission, "living aimlessly". Then, during a pinch, Pearson and Bolger show up, take care of some bad guys for Crow and the kids, and Crow sees a new role model in Pearson. Pearson, who rides the Blackbird, plays a Blackwing deck and owns Black-Winged Dragon. So, he joins up with Pearson, presumably learns how to work on duel runners from him, and also befriends Bolger. Then, one day, a fire breaks out at Pearson's workshop and the man in question dies, but leaves Crow his runner and his duel disk before he does so. End flashback. Because I want to tie this together nicely, we also learn later that Pearson technically left him Black-Winged Dragon, too, by sealing it in his runner. And, of course, that dragon later becomes Crow's very own signer dragon.

Several points to be dissected here. And funnily enough, Bolger's duel with Crow isn't relevant for any of them. Let's start with the big one: The timeline. I want you to remember that as far as canon is concerned, Crow is 17 during the DS arc. Moreover, it's canonically stated that Jack stole Yusei's first duel runner two years before the show's start, at which time Crow would have been 15. And their time together as the Enforcers must have been even before that, because Kiryu/Kalin was already in prison for a while at that point and Crow and Yusei don't reunite until the DS arc is basically in full swing. So, I'll make a vague estimate here and say that during the time of the Enforcers, Crow would have probably been 13-14. (Which is hilarious when you think about the fact that this gang of angry teenagers essentially took over the entire duelling underground of Satellite, but I digress.) Now we add the idea that Crow met Pearson after the Enforcers, but that he died before canon starts into the mix. That means Crow first ran into Pearson sometime around age 15, and that he then died presumably before Crow turned 17. So far, so good, that still slots into canon, even if it makes Crow pretty damn young for some things. He's even missing the personalised Blackbird duel disk he later wears during the Enforcer days, I went back to check. What he is not missing, however, are his Blackwings. And this is where canon may or may not have made an implication that, if intentional, breaks this timeline. See, during the scene where Pearson's workshop is burning down and he's already trapped under debris and has embraced death, he tosses Crow his duel disk and leaves him his runner.

(Two important screenshots, in sequence. One, Pearson with his duel disk still strapped to his arm. His deck is very obviously still in there. Two, Crow with that same duel disk, as made obvious by its distinct shape.)

What this implies is that Pearson also left Crow his deck. Which, yeah, fair enough, if I were dying in a fire I'd probably also think "fuck it, not like I'll need my cards in the afterlife". What this (and Crow's look the first time he sees Pearson's monsters) implies, though, is that Crow didn't start playing Blackwings until Pearson left him his deck. Which is factually untrue, because there is literal evidence in the show that Crow already had Blackwings during his time as part of the duel gang, before ever meeting Pearson. (The exact episode, if you want to check for yourself, is 33, where Crow summons both Bora the Spear and Blackwing Armor Master during a flashback.) However, I will concede that the show never actually states this is the case, it's just implied by what we see on screen, so perhaps the idea here was that Crow already played Blackwings before Pearson, but grew to love them even more through his mentor/father figure, and so later happily integrated the deck he inherited into his own. Crucially, canon never states this outright, either, though, so the option remains on the table. But, to give the benefit of the doubt here, the possibility that this could still slot in with canon and that it was just handled poorly is there. The same cannot be said for the Blackbird, however.

(Uh oh. So much for canon continuity.)

The above two screenshots directly contradict each other. First we have Yusei, upon reuniting with Crow in Satellite during the DS arc, casually remarking that Crow finished his duel runner. Which means that canon at this point suggests to the audience that one, Crow built this duel runner by himself, for himself, and two, that Yusei knew about it for a while already. Then there's the second screenshot, from the Pearson backstory episode, where Crow outright claims the Blackbird was left to him when Pearson died. I don't think I need to tell anyone that these two things can't be true at the same time. And again, I think this is where Crow fell victim to the writers not having a clear outline for him. At first, he was supposed to be this scrappy guy who also built a duel runner for himself, just like Yusei. But now, he's a signer, needs a backstory and a dragon, and because a theme of legacy is introduced alongside Pearson, the runner suddenly needs to be inherited, as well as (possibly) Crow's cards. Now, a crafty fanfic writer could probably reconcile the above contradiction somehow, and I know some stories that accomplished that. But the point isn't that we, as the audience/fandom could make this work, the point is that canon didn't make it work. What canon, sadly, also didn't get to work was Black-Winged Dragon.

(We meet again, bird-dragon.)

Here comes the next elephant in the room: Everyone and their mother who has watched 5Ds knows that Black-Winged Dragon was never implied to be a signer dragon up until the duel where Crow acquires it. In fact, an entirely different dragon is teased so heavily long before BWD ever shows up that it to this day is one of many people's major gripes with the show's writing.

(Why, hello, Life Stream Dragon! Fancy seeing you here.)

And yet, Black-Winged Dragon is turned into a signer dragon before Life Stream Dragon, who was teased more than sixty (!!!) episodes before BWD was ever even mentioned. Why? Simple: Because Crow became a signer and Rua/Leo didn't, because the signers all need dragons (or else the "5Ds" part kind of doesn't work), and because Life Stream Dragon thematically doesn't fit Crow.

Now, I've seen people post theories to reconcile this weird hitch in canon, hell, I've even posted an idea for how it could be reconciled myself. But, again, that isn't the point here. The point is that as far as good old, barebones canon is concerned, it isn't reconciled. Canon at first states there are five signers, suggesting that there are also five dragons. But then, the fifth dragon never shows up, and one of the signers dies, to boot. Only for canon to then teach us, oh, no, look, the signer marks can wander from one person to the next. And to add insult to injury (at least where the show's writing and internal consistency is concerned), the signer mark that was "freed up" by Roman/Rudger's death doesn't wander to Rua/Leo, who any attentive watcher would have expected to become a signer because it was heavily teased during the DS arc, but to Crow. Frankly, I'm not surprised many people were angry about this, but in case my disclaimer didn't make it clear, I don't think it's productive to pin this on Crow by claiming his cards became super popular irl. There was definitely an out-of-left-field writing choice made here, but the only answers as to "why" were left in the 5Ds' writer's room, I believe. At a guess, if you want me to throw out a non-sugarcoated theory as to why, though? They probably thought Crow would be a more interesting character for their target audience. He's a scrappy guy who sticks it to authority, he's brave, he's funny, he plays a cool deck, and most of all, unlike Rua, he never embarrasses himself in a duel on screen. Why am I highlighting that last part? Because I feel like people sometimes forget that the target audience for this show, at the time of its creation, were about twelve year-old boys. And you can feel free to contradict me on this, but most twelve year-old boys I've known and know don't want to project themselves onto a chracter who loses and gets his butt kicked a lot, and who's a bit awkward and steps in it sometimes, which is much closer to how actual twelve year-olds are—but that's exactly why they prefer the cooler characters. And Crow is the cooler character, by average twelve year-old boy logic, regardless of what the grownups of this fandom think.

So Crow gets a dragon and the writing doesn't bother explaining the how or why of it, let alone tackles any of the implications made by Black-Winged Dragon's existence as a signer dragon. (Like what does this mean for the larger worldbuilding? Does the Crimson Dragon actually have more than five servants, but chooses to only ever bestow five marks at a time? Can any "dragon" the Crimson Dragon chooses be a signer dragon, and it just so happens that the constellation of signer dragons is nearly the same as the original one in present-time 5Ds canon? Did the Crimson Dragon specifically elevate BWD to a signer dragon because it felt like it? Was BWD always supposed to be a signer dragon? Was Pearson supposed to be a signer, but died too early before the dark signer prophecy was set into motion? Am I overthinking this? (Yes.)) He also obtains his dragon in what feels like the weirdest way possible to me, because it suddenly??? Just decides to appear in his runner????? Out of nowhere??????

(Why is that here. How did it get there. Why did Pearson even put it in there. And HOW. Is it just wedged between the machinery or what???? And how on earth did Yusei, Bruno, and/or Crow never find it before this point considering how often someone tinkered on the Blackbird on screen???)

(This scenario, of course, also raises the question how the other signers even got their dragons. But like many other, interesting questions, this episode chooses not to interact with that one whatsoever.)

In short, this backstory is a bit of a mess, to say the least. For as much good as it tries to do by contextualising Crow's character and giving him something that sets him apart from the rest of the protag group, it feels like a rough draft of an episode was given the green light to be produced without any editing, judging by the contradictions and weird implications. As such, it harms Crow's character as much as it builds it, as evidenced by how much fandom backlash he still receives years later for the things that were bungled in this backstory and also in different aspects of his character writing.

Now, you may notice this post has gotten stupidly long due to just how convoluted the specific hangups of Crow's backstory are. I originally meant to cover the WRGP and even the Ark Cradle arc for Crow in this post, too, but due to how much there was to say about canon's attempt to finally make Crow a "proper" signer, I've decided that trying to force another two whole arcs in here would be a disservice to the analysis and the character, and also make this agonisingly long, so I'll close this part out here and write a part three, perhaps even a part four depending on how much material the WRGP gives me to work with.

There's one more thing I need to get back to before I finish up this part, though: The "screentime" discussion. I mentioned far above that I take issue with how some people seem to be using the word screentime, and now I can explain why. First, I want you to take a look back at the episodes I covered here, those being 65-95, essentially. Now, as anyone who usually dislikes Crow will tell you, Crow is present in most, if not all of these episodes. He's on screen. He's getting screentime, and, according to many people, hogging it, even. Okay. Now, I want you to look back up at the analysis. How many episodes did I cover where Crow actually gets something to do? As in, where he's either the focus of the plot or gets to contribute to it in a significant way? There's the old man Bashford episode. There's the Poppo Time clock episode. There's his two backstory episodes. That's four. Four episodes. If you're generous, you might add in the episode where he gets to narrate Yusei's backstory alongside Jack and the two fake Jack episodes where he gets to have an emotional moment or two with his foster-brother. If you're less generous, you'll note that none of these episodes have Crow actually interacting with the main antagonists in a meaningful way or set up anything important that pays off later. (Hell, he doesn't even get any, and I really mean, any meaningful setup interactions with Sherry, who ends up being his final-boss-level opponent during the final episodes! Aki gets more meaningful interactions with Sherry than him, not that this ever gets a payoff.) And this is why I take an issue with people claiming Crow gets so much "screentime" post DS arc. Because to me, "screentime" should be time spent letting a character act meaningfully within the story, which most of the pre-WRGP episodes aren't for Crow. He's on screen, yes, but in many episodes, it wouldn't matter one whit whether you replaced him with a nameless side character, which isn't exactly a great look for a supposed third of a protagonist trifecta. Perhaps I'm being too strict with my definition of "screentime" here, fair enough! But the claim that Crow hogs screentime already rubs the wrong way during this comparably unimportant arc, so I can't leave it alone. It feels very decidedly malicious to claim a character who during some episodes seems to only be there to provide exposition or make whatever jokes Yusei and Jack's personalities aren't suited to is stealing screentime from other characters. As for the WRGP duels and whether he's "hogging" anyone's screentime there, I'll dig into that nonsense in the next part, please be patient with me.

...Phew. Okay.

Now, before I leave you to wonder whether I'm every finishing my Crow analysis in full again, I want to attempt to do the same thing I did in part one—propose some changes that could have been made to the writing for Crow's character in order to make things slot in better with the rest of canon. With a small disclaimer, of course: These are just my suggestions as to how Crow's character could have fit into canon more smoothly and been done less of a disservice by his own backstory.

So. First, a quick-fire thing about the pre-WRGP, to get that out of the way: Crow, alongside Aki, is the only signer who didn't get his own confrontation with either Iliaster or their minions. (Yusei had Ghost, Jack had fake Jack, Rua and Ruka had Luciano.) Instead of having him confront a cranky old man in a scrapyard or Zora's son, they could have easily given him a very short side-story where he gets to experience the threat of Iliaster up close and personal, too. Hell, they could have very nicely cut the recap episode where Crow and Jack lie in the mess of Jack's terribly built coffee table and philosophise about Yusei's backstory for this, too. (As funny as their interaction about the coffee table and Jack lying on the floor with a perfectly intact coffee cup are.)

(Pictured: Two idiots (affectionate) contemplating life among the scraps of a shitty, broken coffee table.)

Then, there's the Pearson backstory, of course. So, here's the thing, I think two very different kinds of "fixes" could have worked here. Crucially, they both depend on Crow's status as a signer. I argued in part one that Crow might have worked better as a character if he hadn't actually become a signer, so I'll give both versions here. Let's go.

Option A: We try not to touch canon too much and Crow stays a signer.

How to do this? Frankly, I think what Crow's mark and Black-Winged Dragon were majorly missing was setup. The mark is the smaller offence here, since, fair enough, the idea that signer marks can wander from person to person isn't too out there for 5Ds canon. However, the lack of a dragon despite the alleged 5Ds stands out, and Life Stream Dragon's wasted setup only makes it worse. Thus, making Black-Winged Dragon make sense would have required giving him the same amount of foreshadowing as Life Stream Dragon, at the very least. And you know who could have been great for that? Sweet, ever-forgotten-by-canon Ruka. She was already shown having flashback dreams to the signer dragons' first battle against the dark signers, so who's to say she couldn't have gotten dreams about a shadowy, new dragon she's never seen before? Perhaps even dreams where she's not sure if the dragon is good or bad at first! It could have provided intrigue, it could have made the audience curious. To strengthen that, canon could have also bothered taking the question "hey why are there only four dragons now" seriously. No character in canon ever questions why there are five marks, but only four dragons. Even Rua, who was previously hopeful that he might secretly be a signer, never brings it up. If canon had bothered to actually point this mystery out, they could have used it not only to foreshadow Black-Winged Dragon, but to aid Life Stream Dragon's setup, too. What the fuck am I talking about, I hear you ask. Hear me out: Life Stream Dragon is shown way, way later down the line, long after the audience probably already accepted that it was simply never going to show up, literally bursting out of Power Tool Dragon's armour. We are not provided with an explanation as to why. Imagine if they had sprinkled in another dream Ruka could have had about the ancient past here. Imagine if they had used the opportunity to show something like, oh, during the battle, Life Stream Dragon got injured so badly they had to protect its wounded body with a suit of armour, in the hopes that it would heal. And with one original signer dragon out of commission, the Crimson Dragon sadly had to choose a replacement in between, because the Earthbound Immortals were sure to return. Bam. Black-Winged Dragon. Two signer dragons, set up simultaneously, without forcing the canon lore to do somersaults. Furthermore, to actually explain why Pearson had the dragon but wasn't a signer, they could have easily sprinkled in a flashback between him and Crow. Maybe Pearson could have mentioned how the dragon always feels like it's never really his, as a joking aside. It would have been enough for me to suspend my disbelief, you know? And then the rest of canon could have played out exactly as we know it. Crow could have confronted Bolger, could have obtained Black-Winged Dragon because maybe the dragon finally decided he was worth throwing its weight behind. The mystery behind the missing fifth dragon could have been solved, and it would have made for satisfying payoff without kneecapping Life Stream Dragon's setup or conjuring an extra dragon out of thin air. And really, stuff like the runner thing could have so easily been solved by simply picking one version (did he build it himself or inherit it?) and sticking with it. All it took was a little more care.

Option B: We assume Crow didn't actually become a signer, but try to keep his backstory intact.

Okay, this version works under the assumption that Crow, despite partaking in the final battle against Goodwin during the DS arc, didn't receive a signer mark. To make this work, I would, bluntly put, simply make it so that Black-Winged Dragon doesn't exist. Pearson can still play a powerful Blackwing monster during his flashback that Bolger wants to find and sell later, but it simply isn't that dragon. Really, Blackwings have enough to choose from there. If the backstory episodes had been placed a little later, say, during the pause in the middle of the WRGP, he could have even received something like Blackwing Full Armor Master here. (Yes, I know that card didn't exist at the time, but my point is that he could have simply received a powerup like Yusei and Jack did, instead of a completely new monster.) With this setup, they could have still added the intrigue of taking the question why there are only four signers now seriously. They could have still set up a mystery about why no one ever saw the fifth dragon outside of dreams. And it could have made Rua becoming a signer later, and in this version getting the tail mark instead of a completely new one, that much more satisfying. And Crow could have kept his "fuck destiny, I'm trying to save the world here"-attitude from the DS arc, providing a nice, amusing counterweight to our heroes chosen by an ancient Incan dragon deity. All it would have taken would have been not giving him a mark and switching out Black-Winged Dragon for something else.

So, take your pick, I guess. In the meantime, I'll try my best to work on part three faster than I did part two, lmao.

See you next time!

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 8)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 | next: Part 9 | ao3

The meeting we’ve all been waiting for… (also wow it’s already October what the hell. Plus it’s whumptober so this feels very fitting ^^ also sorry for the slower updates, I’ve started work again and it’s hectic to even get the writing energy after shifts, especially when I’m also doing a couple fan events)

Will carefully moves his hand around the drawer, brushing against the items inside and feeling their shapes for something familiar. When he finds it, he takes his hand out all the more slowly as not to brush his elbow against the vines that are keeping the drawer half open.

In his hand is a Zippo lighter. This one is bigger than his palm with a dragon engraving. The sight of it makes Will’s heart skip a beat. This one. This should work too.

He slips it into the pocket of his vest. It clinks against the other Zippos he had collected. On his way out of the trailer home, Will hops over the thickest vines on the ground as the residents chatter.

“Don’t forget about the fish.”

“I won’t, Bella. Are you stopping by the Byers kid’s funeral today?”

“What?” Will asks aloud, stopping in his tracks.

“Maybe, but I’m not sure I can attend the wake after.”

“Why? You and Joyce have a feud I don’t know about?”

“None of your business, Cody. I just don’t feel comfy about apologizing for nothing to a woman grieving her dead son.”

Will stays a moment longer but the couple’s conversation is already over, heavy footsteps echoing across the floor and to the gravel outside. He follows, but not before waving a hand on the light-switch, watching the lights in the living room burst into glittering orange in quick succession.

“Goddamn electric bill…”

He takes that cue to leave.

It’s a stomach-turning daze on the walk back to Eddie’s trailer. The couple had just mentioned a funeral. His funeral. But that can’t be right! Funerals happen when someone dies and their body has to be buried. And Will’s still very alive right now and his mom knows that!

And if Mom knows he’s alive, then she must’ve told Jonathan and the Party. And if they all know, then the school and rest of Hawkins wouldn’t make up a funeral for him.

Right?

He swallows down the urge to vomit. It’s suddenly harder to breathe. Will thinks it’s another coughing bout but nothing happens. It just feels like his chest is being squeezed.

He hurries faster. He doesn’t want to leave Eddie alone for too long.

Once he’s back in the trailer, he tiptoes his way into Eddie’s bedroom. He hasn’t been there before in the first visit, but it’s so full of posters, books, cassette tapes, and a red oddly-shaped guitar hanging on a wall. When he had first stepped in here, Will understood why Eddie didn’t want anybody to know he listens to David Bowie because there’s not a single poster of Bowie or The Clash anywhere. Only scary looking metal bands with similar clothes as Eddie.

Eddie’s still laying on bed, his back to the door. The same position he’s been in when Will had left.

Will slowly comes up to him and gently pats on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything because touching is enough confirmation to say I’m back.

It’s like when Dad yells at Jonathan and his brother would be completely mute for the rest of the day or even the next day, not liking it when Will tries to talk to him.

“It’s not because I don’t like you trying to make me feel better. I just hate hearing someone talking to me when all I can still hear is Dad.” Jonathan had explained to him gently. Will had understood and hugged him, promising not to talk on Jonathan’s bad days.

Seeing Eddie becoming blank-eyed and not talking after weeping for what felt like hours had brought Will back to his brother’s bad days. So when Eddie couldn’t get up at first, Will made him get up and took him back inside where Eddie had let go of his hand and disappeared into his room.

It makes Will angry. Not at Eddie but at his uncle. Eddie had talked about his uncle Wayne like he was the best guy in the world and he left. He ran and never came back despite hearing Eddie on the phone.

When they get out of here, Will is going to punch Eddie’s uncle in the knees. Maybe. He had never hit anyone before.

Leaning against the bed, Will sits down on the floor and gets out the Zippo lighters he had collected. He has twelve in total so he organizes them in two rows of six. He picks the first one up and tries to catch a light.

It doesn’t work.

He puts it on the side and picks up the next one.

For about every two minutes, Will tries a lighter and sees if a flame can work. Sometimes it catches but only for a brief second. When a lighter does work, he flicks it off and on again to check if it’ll do it again, only for the spark to fail. This happens to Zippos number four, seven, and nine.

Even as the lighters dwindle with no success, Will keeps his hopes high. He has a crazy plan that he’s sure Eddie would love and he really wants it to work.

Number eleven is the one with the dragon design. He sucks in a quick breath and flicks it on.

The flame appears immediately before his eyes.

Will gasps, suddenly unable to flip the Zippo lid on. It looks much more brighter than the others, almost the same glow as the lights. Despite its small size, it illuminates the room, casting shadows as it flickers.

He takes another breath and closes the Zippo. He clamps it tight between both hands. Please come back.

As the Zippo flicks open, its flame returns.

Will can’t help but emit a happy shriek, “Eddie! It works, it works! The lighter works!”

He turns around, hoping to see Eddie sitting up wide eyed and shrieking back in excitement. But he still sees Eddie’s back.

The smile falls from Will’s face. He clicks the Zippo shut. Then he flips it open again, stretching his right hand out enough so it wouldn’t get burned. He looks at the now-orange wall as the shadow of his hand mimics a rabbit’s head.

“Look, Eddie the Elder Traveller.” Will whispers. He “hops” his hand, making it disappear and reappear on the silhouette of Eddie’s back. Then he moves his fingers so it would look like a fox. “The fox is about to get the rabbit.”

Eddie doesn’t move.

A sudden thought strikes upon Will: What if Eddie’s dead?

He lunges himself onto the mattress, barely careful to turn the lighter off. After an ‘whoompf’, he turns on his side to actually face Eddie. He flicks the lighter back on and sighs in relief when he sees Eddie’s pupils immediately dilating.

“See, Eddie? We have light. I can make a real fire to scare the monster off.” Will tells him in a hushed tone. Watches for any more movement or reactions.

Nothing. Even his breathing is too small to notice.

Will closes the Zippo, shivering when the tiny warmth disappears. It’s getting colder the longer they’re here.

Eddie finally moves.

Will almost says something, but Eddie’s face is unchanging even as his arm wraps around Will and pulls him close to his chest, Will’s head tucking under his chin.

This close, Will can feel Eddie’s heartbeat - slow and almost not there..

He gulps, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. He lets himself stay in the hug before he taps Eddie’s arm. He whispers, “I have to get up.”

There’s a small tremor across Eddie’s body. Will feels him slowly shaking his head and tightening his arm.

“I promise to come back. It’ll only be a few minutes.”

Eddie shakes his head again but stops. Then he makes a tiny whistling sound like a sigh before his arm loosens. Will slowly shuffles away, watching Eddie’s face as he gets off.

The only change of expression is the glossy look in his eyes.

Will squeezes Eddie’s hand one, two, three, four times. He forces himself to look away and walks out of the room.

On the kitchen counter, the pile of dirty towels and broken wood pieces remain besides a tall bottle of cooking oil as he had left them. Will takes a deep breath and gets to work.

—

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Wayne’s courage to come back at his front door. Every attempt to turn the damn doorknob gives him the goosebumps and shivers down his spine. He’s fairly certain his trailer is haunted and the ghost in there doesn’t want him in.

But Wayne has to go back inside. He needs to collect his suit for Will’s Byers funeral later in the morning. It’s a public invite and Wayne wants to give his respects for Joyce Byers.

He cycles through deep slow breathes before he finally twists the doorknob all the way and steps in.

He expects the living room to be a mess, if the ghost is a poltergeist type. But it’s the same as last night. Not even his mugs are misplaced. Though he can practically taste the new weight of the atmosphere.

He hurries over to the hallway closet, which is a corner away from Eddie’s room. There, the weight presses down, slipping into his throat as if he’s choked with the depression. The same feeling he gets whenever Eddie has an awful day and wants to be out of Wayne’s sight.

Wayne’s hands are carefully still as he finds the black suit at the very end. It’s a little wrinkled but he doesn’t want to stay longer to iron it.

As he changes in the living room, the light in the kitchen flickers.

He freezes. Watches the light flicker slowly and than rapidly.

He finishes in record time and gets the hell out before the ghost gets another idea.

—

Will listens to the rumbling echoes of the truck driving away. He kicks at the front door again, imagining it to be Eddie’s uncle’s knees.

It’s really frustrating to get someone who isn’t Mom to do more than notice their lights going crazy and ignore it.

Will closes his eyes, takes more deep breaths, and tries not to get mad. Once he’s feeling more calm, he goes back to packing the new torches. He’s made about five, which is enough to fit the small satchel he found in. It’ll be heavier to carry, but he can do it.

He’s both excited and cautious about using fireballs in real life. He knows it’s going to be different than playing in D&D, but Will the Wise always uses fireball as the first and last chance to finish the fight.

Will the Wise had missed. Will Byers will not.

As he returns back to Eddie’s room, the older boy is still lying in the same position. Will wonders if Eddie had even heard his uncle come in and out.

His eyes fall on the box of tapes, somehow untouched by the vines. Then he looks over to Eddie’s desk where a Walkman lies with dust.

An idea pops up.

He makes a quick move to the tapes. He’s almost overwhelmed by the sheer number of them (Eddie probably has more than Jonathan!) but he lets himself pick one by random. It’s too dark to read the band name but it has three angels sitting and smoking.

He grabs the Walkman next. He pops the tape inside and presses play. It immediately starts to life, a song playing loud through the headphones.

Will pads over to Eddie, contemplating if he should slip the headphones on. He places them in front of Eddie where he could see it, exclaiming, “Walkman still works!”

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to sit up. Slowly and robotically, Eddie picks up his Walkman and slips on the headphones. His gaze remains dull and downcast. Will tries hard not to notice the tear tracks cleaning his dirty face.

He steps closer and gently takes Eddie’s hand, limp across the lap. “We should go back to my place.” Will’s not sure if Eddie can even hear him, through the music or not. But Eddie gives a small nod anyway, although he doesn’t stand up until Will tugs him to move.

Will squeezes Eddie’s hand three times as he leads them outside. The demogorgon isn’t here so there’s a bit more luck on their side. Maybe it’s finally leaving them alone?

He says this aloud to Eddie, but Eddie doesn’t respond or squeeze his hand back. Only shuffles along with a blank stare.

Will keeps a tighter grip on their hands and spears. It all feels too heavy.

—

The funeral goes as expected for a young boy: quiet, heavy-hearted, and carefully neutral expressions. No one wants to be the first to burst into loud tears, not even the Byers.

Wayne looks over at the family during the priest’s readings. Lonnie is carefully sober. Jonathan seems seconds away to crying. Joyce appears almost scowling, no doubt angry at the world for taking her son.

He also notes the three younger boys attending, possibly Will’s best friends. They all look carefully inattentive at the small coffin.

After the initial burial, most of everyone goes to the funeral home for the usual refreshments and murmurs. Wayne didn’t plan to go, not wanting another target of pity on his back. But something on his gut tells him to go there and he’s obedient to himself so he follows the crowd.

He keeps his head down, which does enough of avoiding attention. But the funeral home feels too small and tight. He goes outside to one of the porches.

Joyce is also there, sitting one of the cricketing wooden chairs. She gives out a heavy sigh, “Jonathan, tell your father I’m-”

She stops herself when she looks up and sees Wayne. She looks almost frazzled for a second before her shoulders drop slightly, then they hunch up again. “Oh, sorry.”

Wayne manages to bite the “I’m sorry for your loss” from the tip of his tongue. Instead, he takes out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and offers it to Joyce.

She blinks before she takes one. Then she hesitates and takes two more. Wayne gives no comment to that. Only asks, “You want a light?”

Joyce shakes her head, taking out a lighter from where she stuffs in the two extra cigarettes. “Thanks for the cigarette though.”

“Not a problem.”

They smoke in silence for a while. Wayne peeks over at Joyce, feeling his eyebrows rise to his scalp when he sees her cigarette is halfway done. But he doesn’t say anything about it. Anyone’s smoking habits is their business, not his.

When Joyce finally speaks, it sounds careful, “I noticed another missing poster on the way here.”

Wayne grunts, “Who’s?”

“Yours.”

He stops. He doesn’t look at Joyce. He doesn’t want to see the same goddamn face on her too. Instead, he gives the smallest of nods as he stares out. “He might’ve just ran away to a concert. I’m probably overacting.”

A pause.

Then Joyce says, quiet and hoarse with an undying conviction, “My son is not dead.”

Wayne merely hums. Takes another drag instead of replying back to her.

“Think of me as crazy like everyone else, but that’s not my Will we’ve buried. He’s still alive, I know it.”

Wayne looks at her. She’s staring at the ground as if she wants to burn the grass in front of her. There’s a trembling anger around her outline that threatens to break out and scorch the woods. He gets the feeling this isn’t something Joyce had built up to after her son’s disappearance, but much earlier in her life that she hid well until now.

Her words come over him then and he feels a tug of, well, maybe not sympathy. More akin to understanding. The vague sense of knowing your child is still alive without a doubt and yet everyone already thinks otherwise.

It feels like a curse. That maybe he and Joyce had accidentally walked through some wrong area of land as kids long ago and nature covered their tracks by taking away their boys.

“I get it.” Wayne mumbles around his cigarette. “I know my nephew is out there somewhere but I just don’t know where.”

Joyce hums in acknowledgment. “Maybe they’ve found each other and are coming home as we speak.”

“Careful, wishful thinking is a bad habit.” Wayne jokes lightly. He feels relieved when Joyce snorts and shakes her head. He sighs and looks off to the direction of the cemetery.

“I’ve actually had a call from Eddie last night.” There’s a surprised noise from Joyce. “Yeah. Couldn’t believe it either. But it was so short with lots of static and actually killed my landline. But it was him. And he was calling for me. I just wish I could’ve known immediately where he was so I could drive there as fast as I could to my boy.”

Silence answers him. He worries the pad of his thumb along his jaw. His cigarette is still burning but he lets it drop to the ground, feeling unable to smoke anymore. He stares at the dying embers as if they would tell him off for oversharing like that.

“Did your lights flicker?”

Wayne blinks and looks over. Joyce’s sitting up straighter, traces of anger suddenly vanished and replaced by a wide-eyed expression he cannot place.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Your lights.” Joyce repeats. “Did they, uh, did you have some electrical problems after Eddie disappeared?”

Wayne stares.

Joyce shrinks down, putting out her cigarette. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question. I shouldn’t have asked-”

“No, no, it’s alright. Just why are you asking that?”

Joyce looks back at him with an almost helpless expression. Then she appears to steel herself with a sharp inhale, closes her eyes, and says “The night after Will went missing, I got a call. And I can recognize my baby’s breathing and voice. Even if the other line’s nothing but the static. And every day after that, the lights in my house flickered at random. It happened whenever I called for Will’s name.”

Wayne feels himself leaning forward towards her, his hand lightly grazing his beard. It sends him a little down to memory lane of being ten years old and listening to campfire stories. The ones that scare and intrigue him the most always make him lean forward, as if he can catch the next words from midair and keep them for himself like caterpillars in jars.

“I knew it was Will. It took me a couple of days to figure how to help him speak better through the lights. He told me he wasn’t safe or alone.”

Joyce opens her eyes and meets his. They look almost kindly like a summer’s rain. But Wayne knows how to see through and recognize an approaching tornado.

“Before Will said this, I asked him to spell his name. He did that and also spelled out ‘and Eddie.’”

Wayne catches the air escaping out of his mouth. He turns his head away, looking back down at his dead cigarette.

“I know it sounds like I’m making this up, but I’m not, Wayne.” Joyce continues, her voice firm with a hint of pleading. “If you choose to not believe me and see me as a psychotic bitch hurting your feelings, than that’s fine. All I’m just asking if your lights—”

“Last night.” His voice sounds too calm in Wayne’s ears even though his throat feels rough as sandpaper.

“Sorry?”

“My lights went crazy last night. Then again this morning.” He returns his gaze back to Joyce. Her mouth is open in an ‘o’ shape, almost like she’s in disbelief. She closes it, the unreadable expression returning.

She asks, “Do you… believe me?”

Wayne thinks back to the campfire stories. How the ones that shake his younger bones and skin are the ones with truth to them, no matter how small they were. And Joyce’s story sounds like the truth is too large to be chopped up.

“It feels a hell of a coincidence that our boys vanished almost a couple days of each other and then we get crazy by our house lights.” Wayne answers slowly.

Joyce almost shutters with a sigh of relief before she snaps her head up at him. “Can you take me to your place?”

Wayne blinks, taken aback by the little whiplash of her words. “What-”

“I want to check your lights. See if we can speak to our boys.” Joyce’s tone is no-nonsense. Her eyes are hard with determination. Her outline of fury is shimmering, no longer ready to burn the town down.

Wayne wonders if he’s looking at himself. That he has the same fury and determination that everyone had seen in him since Eddie never came home.

He nods at her. “I’ll drive you.”

—

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