#honestly thinking about every damn scene they ever had

[l4zyb0n35]

THE BREAKING POINT

SMUT FIC

PAIRING: Alastor x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is a diligent worker, much to the chagrin of her partner, Alastor. Despite his efforts to get her to stop for both their sakes, Y/N remains steadfast in her duties. However, Alastor finds a loophole to this situation.

WARNINGS: Really really great awesome writing skills, Established romantic relationship, (can be seen as dating, fiancé, or married), AFAB reader, usage of Y/N, Sexual content (obv), Mature themes, Mature language, Nudity, Breastfeeding, Unprotected sex, MINORS DNI FOR UR OWN SAFTEY, Alastor manipulates her but only to get her to stop cleaning the hardwood floor, Alastor kinda controls her but not too much. Let me know if i missed anything :3

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.<

WORDS: 2.4k

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

You were a very hardworking woman around the hotel, to say the least.

Your excuse? “Well, Charlie is just dealing with so much, what’s my help going to harm but not… help?”

Ever since your dear partner, Alastor, invited you to live with him in his hotel room at the Hazbin Hotel, just to be closer as a couple,

You would not stop fucking working.

It’s driving him mad.

He has recently tried everything to get you to relax, to take it easy for once, but you were too stubborn for that. He couldn’t even believe how much work you did for such a small pay. It was honestly ridiculous since you weren’t even a maid, if that was what you were thinking.

So what if you were a bit of a clean freak, it wasn’t any reason to clean the entire damn hotel every day, including the outside, may we add.

You wouldn’t listen to his advice though, no matter how many times he told you to stop.

“Y/N, I swear if you keep cleaning the hotel I’m gonna…do something very bad,” he threatened one day while you were scrubbing down the lobby.

You chuckled, ignoring his threat.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart, m’ not gonna lose a limb.” you said with a smile.

Alastor sighed, watching as you continued to scrub the floors.

“You’re just being stubborn, Y/N,” he mumbled under his breath.

‘My last resort, I suppose.’ he concluded in his thoughts, looking around to make sure nobody would hear them.

After making sure that they were alone at the scene, he walked back over to you, trying to fix his composure.

“…When will you come back to bed with me, dear? It’s been cold without you.” Alastor said, kneeling down to her level as he put on his fake facade.

You paused for a moment and turned to him, “Aw, Al, you miss my spot being filled in the bed?” You said, rubbing his shoulder.

He nodded, “It’s never the same without you, I’m afraid.” He tried to soften his smile.

“…You’re not just saying that, right?” You said, losing your smile and pausing your hand.

“What? No-no. I would never lie to you dear.” He said, defending himself.

“…When do you want me in bed, hm?” You said, picking up your supplies and ignoring your suspicions, “I need to shower, after all.” You added.

Alastor stood up, “Now?” He asked, trying to sound hopeful.

“Mm, sure.” You nodded, walking off with your bucket of cleaning supplies.

He silently celebrated his victory.

* * *

Alastor’s ears perked up as he heard the shower turn off.

He was currently laying in bed with only a robe on and some boxers, staring off into the bayou and he brainstormed what he could do to get you to stop working.

He decided a couple minutes ago that his only option left were to ‘have intercourse’.

It was quite smart, actually. All he had to do was take your ability to walk.

So he waited as your blow dried your hair, trying to ignore his unpleasant boner from beneath the cloth of his boxers.

He waited even more when you picked which robe to wear to bed,

which, as you stepped out the steamy chamber, was a red silk robe with Alastor’s initials on it, your favorite.

He had a smug look on his face, seeing you step out in his clothing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were waiting for me.” You said, seeing Alastor sitting up in bed.

He smiled at you, “No worries, dear,” he said, standing up and putting his hands on your hips.

“I was just waiting for you to come to bed.” He said, bringing his lips close to yours.

You laughed softly, pulling back after a moment, “What’s the occasion, dear?” You rested your forehead on his, closing your eyes.

“Hmm?” He asked, confused.

“Why are you acting so lovey-dovey with me? Is it Valentine’s Day already?” You laughed again, resting your head against his chest.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, darling.” He said, leaning forward and kissing your temple.

“But, really, what’s the occasion?” You asked, moving back to give him space.

“Well…” He said, thinking quickly, “I figured you deserved a break after all of that hard work you put in recently.” He said, smiling again.

“Oh, your so sweet, Al.” You commented, caressing his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, “Yes…so i decided, what better to do so than taking your ability to walk for the next morning?” He sighed sweetly.

You paused, “…forget about Valentine’s day, did rut season come early?” You said, raising an eyebrow.

Alastor grinned, “It’ll definitely feel like it.” He said, grabbing your waist and laid you flat on the bed.

He moved down to your neck, kissing and suckling on it.

“Alastor…” You laughed out softly, more in a mumble.

“…Sshh, just let me do my thing, okay?” He whispered in your ear, continuing into your neck until he was sure to leave a mark, latching off of it with a ‘pop’.

He then made his way down, stopping at your breasts, cupping them in his hands and giving each nipple a gentle tug before resting his lips onto one of them.

He sucked and nibbled on it, moving to the other breast and doing the same.

He stopped, hearing you moan quietly under him, “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked, looking up at your face.

“Oh, yes,” you gasped out, feeling your legs go weak as you lay there, “Keep going.” You added, running your fingers through his hair.

Alastor smiled, continuing to kiss your breasts until he felt you get wetter and wetter.

He sat up, sliding your robe off of you and throwing it somewhere across the room, leaving you in just your panties.

His eyes widened a bit at the sight of your body, “How did i end up with a sinner so beautiful.” He said, resting his head on your stomach, giving the fat of your hip a squeeze.

He ran his hands up and down your thighs, stopping at your panties and pulled them off of you, tossing them aside.

He then spread your legs apart and started to rub your clit gently with his thumb.

You let out a soft moan as you let out a jolt throughout your body from the contact, “F-fuck…” You breathed.

Alastor smiled and brought his free hand to your mouth, “Lick.” He commanded, placing his index finger on your tongue.

You obeyed, tasting your juices on his fingers.

He swiftly pulled the claw out your mouth, then slowly slipping two of them into your gummy walls.

You moaned out again as he curled his fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out of your hole.

He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking them clean as he moved your body to the center of the bed, sitting on his knees atop of you.

“Now,” he grabbed your left left, throwing it stop his shoulder, “You know the safe word, dear?” He said, grabbing ahold of his member and teasing your entrance with it.

You nodded, moving your hips for some more friction.

“Needy, I see…” You pulled his cock farther from her, “I need words, dear.”

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You struggled out.

He started to fist his member slowly, “Wouldn’t want to hurt my prized possession.”

After a moment, he pulled his hand away to put another leg up on his shoulder, scooting in and rubbing his duck along your slick folds.

“O-oh….” You breathed out as his meat hit your nub, “P-Put it in, Al…” You mumbled.

“Hm, what was that?” He stoped his member, resting it upon your nub as a tease.

You bit your lip, grinding against his dick, desperate for him to put it in.

He chuckled, pulling it back, making you stop.

You let out a whimper.

Alastor looked at you with a lustful look, his smile widening. “I need you to beg for it, dear.” He claimed, enjoying the moment.

You blushed, looking away for a moment.

Alastor tilted his head, grabbing his member again and started fisting it slowly.

You gulped, looking back at him, still not meeting his gaze, and whispered something incoherent.

He grasped your chin, turning it so you would look at him. “What’s wrong dear? losing interest in my so suddenly?” He said, making you shake your head, “Hm…then beg for it.”

"Please, Alastor, put yourself inside of me, fill me up, fuck me, please!” You begged, moving your hips for a feeling.

He stopped your hips, growling as he pushed himself inside of you without any warning, making you moan loudly.

“F-fuck…” you cursed from the sudden movement, trying to squirm away automatically.

Alastor noticed this, pausing his movement as he grabbed your arms, then your hips and waist, getting you to stop, “What’s wrong dear?”

You looked at him, “…k-kiss me?”

He smiled softly, “Anything for my doe.” he said, leaning down and kissing you directly on the mouth.

Although, as he leaned down, his dick moved further inside you, causing you to let out a jolt once again.

He caressed your hair, “It’s already in, dear,” he mumbled lovingly on your lips, “you’ve done your work, now just relax. I’ll do everything else.”

Waiting until you nodded, he pulled away and slowly began to pull out, before thrusting in swiftly, but gently.

You whimpered softly, gripping the sheets under you.

He pulled out and pushed in again, slowly building a rhythm.

He began to thrust faster, more cruel, “Oh, Alastor…” you moaned out, holding your hands around his neck.

Wet skin slapping together filled the room’s noises, alongside the crickets in the bayou, making you blush from the awkward noises.

Alastor noticed this, beginning to buff out his breaths and growls, and silently sent over his shadow to turn on the radio to a quiet, intimate jazz station.

“Hah…Alastor…” You breathed out as he shushed you, thrusting faster.

His cock rubbed against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

After a while, Alastor started to feel a familiar coil in his abdomen, grunting as he forced his hips to go at an ungodly pace, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Gonna fuck you so good, darling…” He huffed, “Fill you up…you won’t be leaving this bed, understand?” Making you look at him directly and he moved your head with a tendril.

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You mumbled, trying to hold eye contact.

“Good girl…” He awarded verbally, growing another tendril into sight as he moved it down to run your clit, getting a high pitched moan out of you.

“F-faster, Al…I feel it…” You tightened your legs on him, tensing up.

As your tits bounced up and down from the thrusts, you couldn’t help but have to cover them because of the breeze from the bayou-

“No,” he immediately said, lifting one of his hands from clawing at the sheets and placing your hands around his neck, immediately diving down to suckle on your breasts.

“O-oh, yes!” You cried out, feeling his tongue circle around your nubs as he switched between the two.

You groaned as you felt the familiar coil in your abdomen grow after a couple thrusts, “I’m g-gonna cum soon, Al…” You scratched at his back in pleasure, trying to chase at your orgasm.

That’s when he didn’t switch to another breast, but kept sucking on one of them, rubbing and squeezing the other with his hand, making you wonder what he was doing,

Until you felt some milk come out of them.

“Ah-Ah! Alastor! I’m close!” You said, your legs shaking violently as you felt the intensity of him suck and squeeze milk out of you.

He growled, fastening his pace even more, making them even more tougher and he enter and exited your womb space, “Come for me, darling, let me hear you sing for me…”

His dirty talk only got you closer and closer to your edge, until,

You threw your head back into the mattress, arching your back as you let out a blissful cry of pleasure, clenching around him as you rode your orgasm, struggling to even keep your eyes open.

Alastor let out a beastly growl as his form quickly morphed to a more intimidating one as he shoved he cock into you one last time, releasing his seed inside you.

His cum leaked out of you as he slowly pulled out, quickly stuffing his fingers inside your hole so the cum would stay.

“What a good little for you are to me…” He said, admiring the mess you both made on the bed, and then just you laying there.

Noticing how you were still breathing heavily, not moving your body unless a little twitch, he leaned down to whisper softly, “How about some cold water, dear? Think this’ll help you relax?” He asked dotingly, making you nod instantly.

That made him chuckle, moving over to the edge of the bed as he stood up, going over to the nightstand and placing a water pitcher there from the shadows, and walking over the the bathroom for a towel.

***

As he came back from the bathroom with a hot rag in the hand, he noticed how you were half asleep, yet still conscious, which made him laugh softly as he place the rag down by the pitcher, crawling over to you.

“Mon Cher, you’re all fucked out by yours truly.” He smiled softly, fetching the rag from the nightstand with his shadow as he began to wipe your cunt clean.

When he was done, he then took notice of your breasts, how there were some stray milk on them.

Shrugging and tossing the rag aside, he leaned down and softly licked the milk off your chest.

You giggled softly in your daze, “Alastor…” You rubbed your eyes.

When he finished up, he filled a glass of water from the pitcher and turned back to you, sitting you up gently as he tipped the glass of water to your lips.

“Think you’ll be walking tomorrow?” He wondered aloud.

“Hm…will you stay with me here if i don’t?” You asked as you finished your glass.

He placed the cup down, “Of course dear,” he promised, crawling under the sheets beside you, sending his shadow to turn off the lights in the room as he cuddled close to your fragile state,

“Sleep well, dear.”

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END NOTES: I LEARNED HOW TO SPELL AWKWARD FROM WRITING THIS LETS FUCKING GO!!!! All jokes aside, (not really, now clap), i hope this fic actually turns out well because i spent 5 minutes trying to copy and paste this into a word counter and then 2 more minutes pasting this fic here because my phone sucks and it’s broken and i hate it and abuse it but like…i just hope it does well. I (hypothetically) put blood sweat and TEARS into this fic and idgaf what you think because it’s amazing for a first fic on this blog. Notes and comments, maybe even reblogs *wink wink* and also REQUESTS!!! Requests are my best friend, and always open unless I’m on vacation (which i’ll always announce). I love you guys ^^ !!

-Lynn Lazybones

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[respectthepetty]

do you happen to have any other bls with toxic kings up your sleeve? i’m as giddy as you when it comes to ming! i’m newer to bls, so there’s a good chance i haven’t seen whatever you suggest.

Anon, I have an entire roster of toxic characters because

I LOVE TOXIC BITCHES!

Like 2 Chainz rapped on one of my favorite songs, "I love bad bitches, that's my fuckin' problem" which is why I HATE when a story won't allow characters to be toxic. Like we all know the character IS toxic, but the story keeps telling us he isn't that bad or he is only that bad because reasons. Regardless of the reasons, the character is a bad bitch so why not just let him fucking own it, which is truly the reason Only Friends pissed me off so much.

Case and point, my favorite characters were Ray and Nick. Ray was calling Sand a whore every two seconds and throwing money at him, while Nick was recording non-consexual sex tapes, yet the narrative wanted me to think they were just sad dudes who were slightly problematic.

NAH! Nick straight up said he was trash! THEY WERE TOXIC just like everyone else in that damn show!

Which is why I liked Kang in Dangerous Romance because I don't feel like the narrative eased up on his toxicity. In fact, I feel like the story said Sailom was into it with that master/servant scene at the very end.

So in order for me to love a toxic character, they must 1) be considered toxic by the story, and 2) stay toxic, so I'm going to give you a list of ten of my favorites, but know that spoilers are coming your way too. Also know that I do not recommend anything, ever, so these are not recommendations. These are merely my favorite toxicitos.

Mis tóxicos favoritos

presented in no particular order

Todd - Not Me

This man had his lover (it's canon to me) beat into a coma. Then, he went and grabbed that man's twin brother and made him take on his lover's persona all so he could overthrow his competition and be the number one evil capitalist. And then, AND THEN, he was excited to see his lover, Black, return even though he knew that meant he was probably going to die. Honestly, his entire relationship with Black was toxic, and I desperately need more of it. Not Me 2: Blackout when? WHEN, GMMTV?!

Rio & Kido - The Novelist Series

Rio blew Kido in front of an old man in broad daylight, so they could get a book deal. That's just one of the many fucked up things these two did together, but they were even worse apart. Rio lied to a college student for months about his arm being injured and writing pornographic novels just to turn on the college student and fuck him because . . . he was bored? It's deeper than that, but it kinda ain't. Rio and Kido did toxic shit to feel alive and that's my special brand of toxic. I will never make excuses for them. I like them this way.

Yai - Big Dragon

The very beginning of this show, as in the very first scene, is Yai and Mangkorn having sex AFTER Yai drugged Mangkorn in hopes of sexually assaulting him and recording it. AND MANGKORN IS INTO IT! Yai tries to steal Mangkorn's phone and ruin his life too, but Mangkorn is so in love with Yai, that he is willing to play along with whatever Yai does including fighting Yai. This is one of my favorite BLs for a multitude of reasons, but the biggest is because instead of trying to tame Yai, Mangkorn just decided to match his toxic energy! I love that for them.

Songpol - Club Friday

Bank plays toxic very well, which is why he has two characters on this list, even though this show isn't technically a BL. Club Friday is already a hot mess express, so to be the most toxic character in a show filled with toxic characters means that Songpol was TOK-SICK! He cheated on his boyfriend with multiple men. When his boyfriend left him for a woman, he showed up outside of that woman's house calling her a whore. He then went to their wedding just so he could fuck his ex in a bathroom (on his wedding day). He continued to hook up with his ex, and sent a video to his ex's wife of them having sex, only for her to tell him to move into the house and continue having sex with her husband! AND THAT'S ONLY THE SECOND EPISODE! He was serving telenovela villain, and I want him back.

Vegas - KinnPorsche

The scene: Vegas' beloved hedgehog has just died and he has carried out a tiny funeral for him while the bodyguard he has been holding hostage AND TORTURING comforts him, but instead of sitting in that grief, Vegas tells the bodyguard that the bodyguard is probably turned on by seeing Vegas weak, then proceeds to fuck him. Skipping over the fact that Vegas drugged Porsche, killed Tawan, got Big and Ken murdered by extension, and a plethora of other horrible shit, Vegas was a HUGE red flag from the very beginning, and I wanted him to choke me so badly. *bites knuckles*

Charn - Laws of Attraction

He had his reasons, but the story and his husband didn't let that be an excuse for his toxic behavior. He tried burning down Tinn's house, with Tinn and his grandmother in it, and Tinn was very upset about it. Not enough to not sleep with Charn, but enough to get his point across that if Charn wanted to burn something down, he needed to focus on burning down the oppressive heteronormative government, so we could all have basic human rights. Toxic, but for the cause.

Chalothon - The Sign

I knew he was a problem because the way he handled his patients, but he truly proved how toxic he was when he told Phaya he would kill Tharn before letting Phaya have him. I'm mad that the show made him good in the last episode, with most of if being off-screen, but I'll always remember how he committed psychological warfare on Phaya for eleven episodes in hopes of making Phaya seem crazy, and actually made Tharn, Phaya's soulmate, question Phaya's sanity.

Mol - 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us

The only woman on this list and she isn't even queer. That's how toxic this chick was that she made it on a this list being a heterosexual, which was a major part of her toxicity. She is a top-tier gaslighter to her son. She doesn't actually consider Inn her friend. She uses feminist rhetoric to be homophobic. She manipulates every situation in her favor by using tears. I could write a list just about her being lead paint toxic, but the most fucked up part is that she got to ride off into the sunset with her son in the passenger seat being miserable, which is what she wanted. No other BL parent could reach her level. Korn and Gun from KinnPorsche exist, yet this woman would eat them alive without hesitation, then go throw a party for herself. She really is that bitch.

Yong Jie - HIStory 4: Close to You

I'm not going to bullshit around him being a whole ass problem. This motherfucker is the most controversial pick on this list, and I am well aware of why he is hated by the people, but the story told us he was the devil. The show treated everything he did like stalking, physical assault, and sexual assault as horrible, and he got knocked out for it. HIStory 4 is my favorite BL, ever, and part of it is because the story let this toxic motherfucker BE toxic. I love how much I hate him, and I love how much the story allows me to hate him.

So - House of Stars

This show was a mess, so I was not expecting this man to come out as THE toxic king to rule over every other toxic character. What made him so toxic is that I had no idea just how toxic he was until the exact moment I realized it, and that's why he is one of my favorites. He was sneaky. He was playing everyone against each other. He was letting the bodies stack up. He was Tan from Dead Friend Forever without anyone figuring out he was Tan. One person realized part of his plan, but even then, that person was not aware of how committed to the bit So was. This smile was the very last scene of the show, and it really proved that this boy ruined everyone's lives only to walk out of it completely unbothered. You know, king shit.

[mirai-desu]

On the MSATD News

I didn't have time to post a knee-jerk reaction (which those of you from the Downton days know I was apt to do - thank you to all my long term mutuals of my side blog for sticking with me through those days), as I saw the news as I was getting ready to head out for work and it's been… a bit of a day.

Suffice it to say… I am devastated. And my initial reaction was (well after cursing), that it should have ended with S4, but with a different (happier) conclusion. It's called Miss Scarlet AND THE DUKE for a reason. And after all that happened in S4… it really feels like… what was it all for?? Especially if they knew WHEN FILMING THIS?? "Goodbye for now" is NOT "goodbye forever." They really, really really fumbled this.

There's a lot of theories going around, and I will admit it's too hard for me to listen to Stuart's new interview, but going off what other's have said and the parts of the transcript I did manage to read… I just cannot feel like this was actually his decision unless there's something else going on with him (either in his personal life or maybe he has some secret role he's got, because supposedly he hasn't worked since he did ADR on S4). He's been the captain of the ship, and he has always been enthusiastic with discussing the show and had just great insight into playing William. It doesn't feel like he himself was ready to move onto other things (and that's not even how it's worded - some BS about how the show needed it him to be gone for ~longevity~ of the show), like I've seen with other actors are on shows (e.g. Dan Stevens). He still promoted S3 (which came out in the UK after they filmed S4), he still even promoted S4! He was an executive producer for S4!!! Nothing makes sense!

So if it's due to RN… why keep having the other characters say William was only going to be gone a year? Why bother to have the flashback? why bother to have him stay at at Eliza's to recover?? hell I'm surprised they just didn't keep in the coma then--

But really, why even bother to have Eliza write to him? Or have Ivy say what she said to her?? The time apart was supposed to be them looking at their options. They literally foreshadowed him joining Eliza at her agency upon his return. So… what happened?

If it was actually for personal reasons that Stuart left, he has a right to his privacy. But then they should have rewritten S4 to be the end then, since they knew all this time. I can't believe we are getting the full story on this, one way or the other. The more and more I think about it... I do think it was RN's doing though.

Just two nights ago I drafted up a whole meta extolling how one of the best things this show has done has been how they developed William and how he grew as a character. The progression he made as he not only accepted Eliza having a career but encouraging her. His mentorship of Fitzroy. How he came from nothing, from a teenager living on the streets, to become an inspector at Scotland Yard. But they have chosen to toss that all out the window.

Who knows, maybe S5 ends with Eliza deciding to go to New York. But it doesn't seem like they are handling this like Babington's absence in Sanditon. They will make Eliza quickly fall for someone else, and slap fans in the face who have been following their friends to lovers slow burn for five years (because we had to wait for S2 in the first place thanks to the pandemic). And what sucks is that we still got promo saying they are in love with each other. From Stuart, from Kate, from Rachael New herself. We have still gotten promo promoting the romance. Why not have them have a big fight then or something, idk. They gave us hope. And you know what Fellowes says about false hope.

So I'm just supposed to believe that William gives up on Eliza and doesn't return…? No, I cannot. As much as we hated the deaths on DA when they wrote out actors, at least those characters still died in love with their spouses. And while I'd still be foaming at the mouth in anger if they killed him off… yeah.

William's last lines of the show is a flashback including him saying "is it all worth it?" And the answer is… no it's not.

[meanbossart]

How did your DU drow react when he got told he had to kill his spouse? and then when he went to wake up Astarion and get tied up? I think I just wanna know how your DU drow mentally/emotionally is doing during and after that part, and when talking to Astarion afterward, I'm a sucker for hearing about those deep kinds of moments (hopefully that makes sense?) Also, how did your DU react when you met Kressa Bonedaughter and learned all about what was done to him (again, I know none of the companions really comment on literally something horrible being told such a shame, honestly) but how would you say or think that Astarion and Shadowheart might have reacted hearing that info? Again, thank you for all your art and for answering these questions! PS: (I really don't care if your answer is super long; I WILL EAT IT UP)

Sooo for the first question, I wanna preface by saying that I personally don't think their relationship was that in depth yet, at that point. Yes, DU drow enjoyed Astarion's company and relied on him in a similar way which he relied on Shadowheart. And also yes, Astarion saw DU drow as the first person who ever took him and his agency seriously - but I think feelings were still in their infancy. DU drow's mind was a mess through and through; he drank constantly to keep his urge at bay, he kept his distance from everyone most of the time, and when he did seek out comfort in either Shadowheart or Astarion (the non-sexual kind, they didn't really fuck at all), it was a kind of primal instinct and desperate longing for companionship - if you asked him if he was in love with anyone, however, he would have said no.

Similarly, while I think Astarion's act 2 confession is sincere, I also think that he's being sincere when he says that he doesn't know what you are yet. You're not really a lover, but you aren't a victim, either; what you are is a person who he would rather not have to murder eventually, and as someone who has had their empathy squeezed out throughout the course of two centuries, that's meaningful enough. He may fantasize about the best case scenario for you two - but he has no expectations that whatever this is will last. But it is nice, for the time being.

So the "murder your darling" scene, rather than a proof of love and trust, is to me the turning point where:

A) DU drow has to come to terms with the fact that he doesn't have as much control over the Urge as he thought, and B) When Astarion snaps out of his care-free, just-go-with-the-flow nature around his plan and this relationship. They both realize they bit off more than they could chew and are now caught in each other's crossfire.

Which is to say that I don't read Astarion's words of comfort to him as entirely honest - specially when you compare it to certain dialogue deliveries later in the game. I think he's still, to a degree, telling you what you need to hear so that you hold out for just a bit longer and kill Cazador. You probably can't be together forever as he idly fantasized about once or twice, when he let his mind wander - but god damn it, he needs to at least be free, and it seems like you have bloodlust to spare to make that happen.

Meanwhile, DU drow finally comes to confront the fact that he is not in control. Doesn't matter how hard he tries or how much he drinks, the urge will do to him as it will, and when it wishes. It stops being fun and it gets scary, from that moment on.

But here's who did stop it: Astarion. Where alcohol fell short and his willpower failed, Astarion stepped in.

So, more interesting than the scene itself to me, is how from that point on DU drow would have no choice but put his trust entirely on the vampire to control him. He ties him up, he keeps an eye on him, he has full spoken-word permission to kill him if necessary - he is forced to be as vulnerable at humanly possible under his hand, every night. Regardless of whether or not DU drow realizes that Astarion is doing it for his own reasons, he doesnt care, because Astarion has now become his rock and his bondage - hell, if Astarion does have a reason to keep him alive that's all the better; someone else might just slit DU drow's throat and be done with the concern altogether.

And so, it's only from that point on that DU drow truly starts to see Astarion as an equal, and even a partner. He's thinking that, if his whole life has to be like this, at least he has someone who can handle it.

Astarion, meanwhile, I believe only comes to truly consider (and wish for) DU drow's freedom after he's free from Cazador - and after he bestows that freedom upon his siblings and the other spawn. That's when he finally understands the length of DU drow's devotion to him and the value of freewill as a concept- and how he wants it for both of them, instead of being content with his own.

Not to mention... I think in Astarion's mind he was 100% not going to survive Cazador LOL so when he succeeds he's like "oh shit I guess anything is fucking possible huh. Yeah fuck it lets go fight your dad, also I've decided I want you for realsies, now."

Anyways, can you believe I thought this was gonna be a short ask. Here have a doodle I made while thinking about all this bullshit:

As for Kressa, I got an ask about that before but I can't find it now LOL to summarize; he was pissed, angered, and in a far more personal level embarrassed to have had his dirty laundry aired (AKA, victimized) in that way in front of the others - but this isn't something he would have expressed outwardly, and I think both Shadowheart and Astarion would have known better than to inquire him about it. It's not really something he would have sought out comfort for in anyone, so, I think the subject died as soon as Kressa did. In this case, their lack of commentary was completely appropriate - If they had reached out in any way (which would have been, in my opinion, completely out of character) DU drow would have shut them out with a quickness.

[writefightandflightclub]

So like what if you’re Javi P’s co-worker and you get drawn into going undercover with him at some seedy bar, posing as his… let’s say lady friend for the night.

And you always dress practically, you know? In case you need to give chase, but tonight you’re in a skimpy little dress that makes Javi’s eyes pop.

And at some stage in the night, to lend credence to the facade -or maybe just because he wants to, he isn’t sure - Javi pulls you onto his lap. Your ass perched across his sturdy thighs. The hem of your silly little dress riding almost all the way up, barely covering you. His splayed hand bracing at the small of your back, smoothing up and down, itching to slide down to feel the globes of your ass.

Your hot lips sliding down the column of his throat now to lend credence to the facade - or maybe because you want to, he’s not sure - and he thinks about you tasting the sweat on him but you’re not stopping. Not stopping and he never loses his cool but… damn.

You nip at his earlobe with your teeth before you whisper your astute observations of the scene to him. Never wavering even as you do this, your breath fanning warm against the shell of his ear and he’s convinced he can’t help it as his free hand slides on to your bare thigh, fingers sinking into your flesh and driving up, slow, towards the hem of your dress. His skin is buzzing, all warm from your touch as your hands wander over him too, palm smoothing at the bare expanse of his chest beneath the deep “v” of his shirt. Your scent all over him, his jeans tightening as you wriggle on his lap, curling further into him with his thighs bracing you… and he almost forgets that you’re pretending. That he’s pretending. This is the most secure, straightforward cover he’s ever had and he realises it’s so easy to want you.

He almost forgets why you’re here at all, honestly. That is, until your languid, honeyed movements turn suddenly cool and decisive. Until you whip your head around to signal to another operative in the room that the target is moving out. Until you stand too, grabbing your jacket and concealed weapon and moving out, high heels be damned.

But Javi… Fuck. Javi looks down to his lap, still warm from the press and weight of you on him, and he notices… the wet patch on his jeans. Holy shit. Your wetness on his jeans, where your heat had rested over his sturdy thigh. His arousal swells painfully against the seam of his blue jeans at the thought of it. The thought that being close to him like this had turned you on. Enough to soak through your panties. Enough to darken the denim and leave him a reminder that maybe you weren’t pretending at all. All that for him? So wet that you’ve soaked him, even as he’s sure you would have tried with every scrap you had to resist it?

“You coming?” you hiss from the doorway, and the sudden swell of his arousal makes it hard to stand - but he does. He stands because he’s motivated to wrap this op up quickly. He’s suddenly very motivated, in fact. You step out into the alley together, and you’re stumbling and giggling a little, hooking your arm into his - to add further credence to the facade. Making eyes and him and God.

Javi pins you against the wall. Positions close enough to the mark outside that you can still observe the interaction. Do your due recon. You won’t miss anything, he knows it, and so he focusses on making things look… as convincing as possible.

It’s easy. He pins you to the wall with his body, hips slanting towards you. He tilts your head and his lips hungrily meet your pulse point. He tongues languidly at the taste of your perfume. Across the ridges and cords of your neck as the act punches a breath from your lungs. He works you until no-one could possibly doubt the scene before them. It works him up too, so much so that if you asked him why he was here at all tonight, his first thought would be that he came here for you.

“You want me to take you home tonight?” he purrs, and you offer him a perfectly pitched coy smile as you sling the loop of your arms around his neck. Always on your game. Still watching. Still working. Fuck, you’re a dream, he thinks, and the wet patch is burning a hole in his thigh. He wants to feel it for himself with his fingers, right here. Has never needed anything more.

“Peña, they’re gone,” you impress, your voice trembling with a brazen want which sounds every bit authentic - despite it all. “You can drop the act now, huh?”

“I know,” Javi breathes. “I know they’re gone.” He didn’t miss it. Didn’t fail to hear the thrum of the motorcycle and the sudden hush which has fallen over the alley. He’s definitely not pretending any longer. “So. How about it, darling? Do you want me to take you home tonight?”

You blink at him from beneath your lashes - pupils lust-blown- as Javi kicks your legs open. Shoves his thigh up against your heat as your bare, warm legs bracket him. “Or if you really can’t wait…?”

“What gives you that idea?” you protest, stubborn and proud as ever, even as you grind yourself down on his leg, angling your hips further towards him. “This is just work, Javi… I mean...” Your eyes turn big and searching then, in a rare moment of vulnerability. Despite himself, it makes Javi wonder if that’s how you’ll look the first time his cock spears you, as you wonder for a second if he really is too much. “…Isn’t it?”

He offers you a smug, lopsided smile. “You soaked through my jeans, darling.”

You shake your head softly, more of your weight sinking into his hold as you go even more limp against the wall. “Fuck, I’m-“

“-Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. It’s okay.” He dips his lips towards the shell of your ear. “You know? I wouldn’t even mind if you soaked my sheets instead.”

He grabs the meat of your hips in his broad hands. Angles you down to slide your heat against his thigh. The way your eyes flutter closed, followed by a honeyed moan, sends a zip of pleasure straight to his cock. He could drink down those noises all night - and for breakfast. He could have you for breakfast.

“Can I feel you?” he begs, his fingertips lingering at the hem of your dress.

You bite down on your lower lip, eyes darting around the alleyway. “Not here, Javi.”

“No?”

“No. Take me home.”

Reluctantly, he moves away from you, and he groans as he once more looks down at his jeans to see the wet patch has grown.

He is arrested there for a moment, and yet when he looks back up you are already waiting at the door of his vehicle.

“You coming?” You ask him for the second time tonight.

Finally, he finds some game, from somewhere. “Not as many times as you will be.”

Just like earlier, he’s more than confident he can get the job done… it’s just that this time, there won’t be any need at all for pretending.

[stevie-petey]

episode eight: the upside down

You know you shouldn’t, but you laugh. Honestly, after everything you’ve been through tonight with Steve, how can he possibly think the two of you aren’t friends? “Why are you laughing?” Steve mumbles, confused.  “Sorry,” you wheeze out, still uncontrollably laughing. “It’s just–I mean, dude! We almost died together, of course we’re friends now!” “We are?” He looks like a little kid on Christmas day being given the gift he’s always wanted. Your heart warms. “Yes, idiot.”

summary: drinking game time ! take a shot every time jonathan tries ditching you or every time you almost die at the byers house, you find out that steve really is an athlete and tbh it's hot, but you know what's even hotter ? saving hawkins and reaching a tentative compromise with steve after he loans you $5 for snacks. after, jonathan makes a promise you really hope he can keep.

rating: general, cursing and slight scary violence

warnings: violence, use of fire and weapons, guns, use of fem!reader and use of y/n, slight mentions of blood and death

words: 13.7k

before you swing in: the final chapter ,,, my heart </3 please enjoy my child, i put so much into this chapter. action scenes scare me, they're hard and i'm weak, so i hope this lives up to everything you guys wanted n more ;) i cannot believe we're at the end (but i do have another chapter planned that's set in season 1, so shhhh). thank you so so so much for all your support. i never thought this silly lil fic would get that much attention, but i'm insanely flattered and grateful for each and every one of y'all. i'm so proud of what i've created and you guys are my beloveds ,,, anyways, enjoy !!!

-

You almost miss Jonathan and Nancy sneaking off. 

You had been explaining a comic book that had been in your bag to El when you noticed a shift in your periphery. Turning your head, you see Jonathan stand, offer Nancy his hand to help her up, and then walk towards the main doors together. 

What the fuck. 

“They wouldn’t dare…” You excuse yourself and run out the gym and into the hallway to follow them, absolutely furious. You’re so sick of their bullshit, of Jonathan’s bullshit and putting Nancy first. This isn’t even a petty jealousy thing, this is about the years of friendship between the two of you that has just suddenly disappeared within a damn week all due to circumstances completely out of your control. 

The slam of the main door is the only warning Jonathan gets before you’re yanking him by his coat and flinging him back, forcing him to look at you. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

You’ve never, ever yelled at him like this before. Not even earlier this week when he’d given you that bullshit apology after screaming at you for being in his room, for saying the two of you weren’t family. You didn’t yell at him for hiding Nancy’s pictures from you, for going off without you to find the monster. Despite everything, you’ve never been this cruel to him, even if he may have deserved it at times.

Jonathan’s wide eyes stare down at your hand that’s still clutched around his coat, frightened. “Bug, we were just–”

“Just what? Sneaking off without me?”

“It’s not like that, Y/N.” Nancy now steps in, her hands held up as if you’re some rabid dog she wants to calm down. “We just figured we’d help Joyce and Hopper.”

“‘We’? Are you fucking kidding me? You two talked about this, had an entire conversation, and still somehow came to the conclusion that ditching me was a great fucking idea?” You scoff, deeply hurt by the fact that the two of them had an entire conversation without thinking to include you in it. 

“Bug, can we talk about this one on one?” Jonathan asks, his voice lowered. You can see the genuine upset in his eyes and for a moment your grip on him lessens, but then you see Nancy behind him and your anger only returns. 

“No, we can discuss this right here.” 

He sighs and tries to grab the hand not clutching his coat, but you slap it away. “Bug–”

“You’ve lost that privilege.” 

“Bug–I mean, Y/N,” His voice falters. “Look, my mom and Hopper are out there right now trying to find Will while that monster is still out. Nance and I… We want to finish what we started.” 

“Without me?” You don’t mean for it to happen, but your voice catches at the end.

Jonathan’s gaze softens and this time he succeeds in grabbing your hand. You let go of him and allow him to pull you in, weak against him as always. “I’m doing this to protect them, to protect you, Y/N. I’m always trying to protect you. You know that, right?”

You used to think that you did, but now? You’re not so sure, and it terrifies you. 

Nancy has stepped away from the conversation, now kicking at rocks while you’re with Jonathan, and you can’t help but think about how wrong all of this feels. 

Throughout this entire week it’s felt like someone has given you a photo of Jonathan, smeared its lines and edges, removed his moles and his crooked smile and made it neater, altered so that if you squint you can see the boy you grew up with underneath it all… But it’s fuzzy, almost too unclear to really see. 

Now he’s standing in front of you, his smile once more crooked and cunning and his moles faded underneath the moonlight and for a second you can see him. There he is, clear and untouched and him in a way that’s never quite been yours.

“I know,” you tell him. “But how many more times do you expect me to forgive you for lying and ditching me? If you want to protect me, you need to talk to me.”

Jonathan winces. “I know, I know it sounds stupid and I know I’ve fucked up more than enough this week, I just get caught up in wanting to make sure you’re safe. It’d kill me if I let anything happen to you… I just, I can’t lose you, bug.”

“So pushing me away is your grand plan of keeping me?”

“I’ve always been an idiot.” He manages a smile, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“That’s true, but if you attempt to ditch me one more time I swear to god I’ll pour tar all over your car.”

The boy laughs and for a brief moment everything feels okay again, but it doesn’t last very long. “In our defense, we figured you’d be better off with the kids since you’re not really a fighter, ya know?” 

You drop his hand. “Excuse me?” 

Jonathan’s smile is gone. “What?”

“I’m not really a fighter? You’re kidding, right?”

“Hey, no I didn’t mean it like that–” Jonathan fumbles over his words, clearly taken aback by your sudden mood change. 

You step away from him. “How many times did I defend you against Lonnie? Better yet, remind me how we became friends in the first place. Wasn’t it because I threw milk at a bunch of idiots bullying you? Huh?”

“Y/N–”

“God, I can’t believe I almost let you get away with it again! I mean, do you even hear the bullshit that comes out of your mouth?” You deepen your voice, now doing a poor impersonation of him. “‘Hey, bug! You know I love you, right? Cool! Now, I’m gonna go do fuck all and ignore you and ditch you and then somehow turn it into me being a good guy because duh! I can never do any wrong!’”

“Please, just–”

“Did I get it right? It was a pretty good impersonation in my opinion. I mean, I am the one who has had to deal with this shit all fucking week. I think I'm an expert on this topic now.” 

Jonathan looks pained but you don’t fucking care anymore. You’ve reached your limit, you’re sick and tired of being treated like some delicate creature that’s incapable of taking care of itself. You literally slapped Tommy Hagan this afternoon in order to help Jonathan, yet here he is basically calling you weak. 

And yet Nancy is the fighter. She’s the one who gets to go along on the adventure while you’re sidelined because for some damn reason you’re always the second option. Never taking matters into your own hands, always the one left behind to clean up the mess and take care of those also discarded. 

You’re sick of it. 

You step closer to Jonathan again, so that you’re nose to nose, and whisper, “I’m tired of never being good enough.” 

And with that, you reach into his coat and snatch up his keys, a game you’ve always played with him but now has turned into a bitter taste in your mouth, and run back into the gym. Someone has to inform the kids of the plan, make sure they’ll be okay on their own. 

Dustin sees you approach and smiles, but when he notices the angry pace in your steps, he frowns. “Uh oh.”

“Yeah, uh oh.” 

“Jonathan again?”

You nod, still too angry to trust your words. “Yeah.” 

He notices the keys in your hand. “Where are you going?”

Mike and Lucas look over now, curious as to what’s happening. 

You sigh. “I’m going with Nancy and Jonathan to the Byers house, we’re going to kill the monster.” 

“Why the hell are you going?” Dustin exclaims while Mike shoutes “sick!” and Lucas mumbles “great, alone again”. El remains quiet, still resting. 

You flick your brother’s hat. “I have to, Dustin.”

“For Jonathan?” He shakes his head. “I like him, but aren’t you mad at him right now?”

“Is it just me, or is she always mad at him these days?” Mike whispers over to Lucas, who simply shrugs. 

“Girls, man.” 

You ignore them and focus on Dustin. “It doesn’t matter. He needs my help, and no one in the party gets left behind. Remember?”

“Y/N–”

“I love you,” you kiss the top of his head. “I promise I’ll be safe, just be careful, okay? I’m putting you in charge, so don’t let me down. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll see you in a few hours tops!”

Dustin tries to argue some more, but you quickly run back outside before he can get another word in. You feel horrible leaving him behind, but you know this is the right decision. If you can kill the monster, there’s less of a chance of the kids or Joyce and Hopper getting hurt. Jonathan and Nancy may be fine on their own, but there’s always power in numbers and they’ll need all the help they can get. 

You just… you have to help. You know this is what you’re supposed to be doing, even if it pains you to do so. Dustin and the kids are smart; as long as they stay at the school, they’ll be fine. 

In theory, that is.

Nancy and Jonathan are waiting for you outside. You push past them and march towards Jonathan’s care; they awkwardly follow after you. You unlock it, throw yourself into the backseat, and promptly dig through your backpack to make sure you have everything. 

The two teens get in a few minutes after you. Not one word is spoken as Jonathan starts the car and the three of you drive off, leaving Hawkins Middle behind. 

– 

You thought the car ride with Nancy and Jonathan from the funeral home had been tense, but this one? Downright painful. 

Jonathan has a tight grip on the steering wheel and keeps trying to catch your eye through the rearview mirror but you avoid his gaze. You’ve spent the last five minutes arranging and rearranging your backpack to give you something to do while Nancy has tried three times to make conversation to make this car ride bearable. 

“El seems nice.” 

“You said four words to her, Nancy.” You retort, switching open your switchblade once more to watch the moonlight dance off of its blades. 

“Right.” 

Nancy shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat. You know she realizes she’s once again upset the balance in your relationship with Jonathan. It was only an hour ago that she tried getting you to admit your feelings for him before convincing the boy to up and leave you. Sure, Jonathan made his own decision in the end, but damn. She could’ve at least pretended to want you around. 

She notices your knives and tries to spark conversation again. “I love the color of the handle, it’s beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you switch the blades closed and sit up in your seat. “Anyways, you geniuses have a plan or were you just counting on ditching me and winging it from there?”

“Y/N–”

“No, Nancy. I insist, let’s talk about a plan. We’re here to kill a monster, right?”

She closes her mouth and frowns, turning to Jonathan for help, but he’s no use. He’s busy tapping his fingers against the wheel and praying that the world will just swallow him up whole. Too bad for him you’re a stubborn pain in the ass and would simply pluck him back up so you can torture him some more. 

Nancy sighs. “Well, Jonathan and I were thinking we use the supplies we got earlier and lure the monster to his place, then we kill it.” 

“Awesome plan, guys!” You say, your voice dripping with sickly sweetness that leaves them both feeling even more uncomfortable. “But may I suggest some actual details or shall we just bank off of this wonderfully dull and vague plan?” 

“Sure, Y/N. Tell us what you had in mind.” Nancy rubs her face tiredly, knowing she deserves this. 

“Great! I’m assuming we’re luring the monster with blood?” They nod at you, so you continue. “Okay, so before we lure it I think we should completely booby-trap Jonathan’s house. Nail the bear trap down onto the floor, make sure the floor is cleared of anything that could trip us up. Then, once we’ve got the house secured, we knick ourselves to draw some blood and pray to whatever god is up there that we can kill the thing.” 

You pause for a moment, remembering how all the Christmas lights had been unscrewed by Joyce earlier. “The lights, we need to fix them. The monster communicates through the lights so if we have them, then we can track it.”

“That all sounds great, bug.” Jonathan finally speaks up, ass kissing. 

“Thanks, pal. Still don’t have the bug privilege back, but I’m sure you simply forgot.” 

He gulps, once more going back to being silent as he drives you and Nancy to his house. 

Nancy again tries to diffuse the tension. “How do we even kill the monster though? I mean, will my bullets be enough?”

“I have this idea, but it’s… well, it’s out there.” You bite your lip, now feeling your cocky demeanor slipping. “If we can safely set fire to it, I think that’s our best bet.”

“Fire?” Jonathan exclaims, but Nancy shushes him. 

“I think you’re right.” 

“Y/N, I know you’re mad at me but do we really have to set fire to my house–”

Now it’s your turn to shush Jonathan. “This isn’t about that. I wouldn’t burn your house down, I already told you I’d just pour tar on your car whenever I get the chance. For now, I really do think the best thing to do is burn the monster alive. In every horror movie and book, fire always gets the job done.” 

Despite herself, Nancy lets out a soft chuckle as Jonathan parks the car, now at his house. “She’s right, Jonathan. And who burns down houses these days? Tar really is the best form of revenge.” 

“I’m flattered, Wheeler. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be off my shitlist in no time.” You tell her, patting her on the shoulder before getting out of the car. You quickly open up the trunk and gather the monster hunting supplies while Jonathan and Nancy take their time getting out. 

You let yourself into the Byers home using your own key to the place. It’s been nestled in between the key to your house and the spare key to Jonathan’s car on your keychain for a few years now. 

The first thing you get started on are the lights. There’s hundreds of them to get through, but you drop your supplies and begin screwing them in one by one. Nancy and Jonathan come in soon after and silently begin to help. 

No conversation is made besides the necessary comments about the prep work. You’re all too focused on the possibility of what could happen next; the danger of the situation has finally set in. After the lights have all been fixed, you instruct Jonathan to begin nailing the bear trap down while you and Nancy discuss where to pour the gasoline. You both agree to make a path from the living room to Will’s room. 

As Nancy pours the gasoline, you follow behind her and pick up any flammables. You weren't lying to Jonathan earlier, you really don’t want to burn his house down. While the house is wrecked, it’s still a home despite everything that’s happened in it. You practically grew up within its walls, you’d do anything to keep it as protected as possible. 

When you’re done, you watch Nancy load her gun. A shiver runs down our spine; she looks at ease with it, which you figure should be reassuring, but the gravity of everything leaves you feeling on edge. You leave her alone and walk into the kitchen where Jonathan is, now hammering a ton of nails into his bat. 

You begin to sharpen your blades next to him, still finding that you only feel secure by his side. The rhythmic sound of his hammering calms you, in a sense. It serves as a distraction. You know you insisted on coming, you don’t regret it and you know you’re stronger than everyone seems to give you credit for, but you’re also terrified. This isn’t just some adventure in the woods; this could kill the ones you love dearly. 

Once you’re both done preparing your weapons, the two of you walk to Will’s room and rig up a simple snare. Jonathan grabs a yo-yo and you pull up a chair to set it on. The idea is that when the string gets pulled, it’ll alert you that the monster has sprung the bear trap. It’s not the most efficient warning system, but it’ll have to do. 

The last thing to do is set the bear trap, which takes all three of you to achieve. Jonathan and Nancy hold down the edges with their body weight and you very carefully set the trap with your hand. You shake a bit as you do so, but you force your nerves down. You remind yourself that Jonathan thinks you’re too weak, too cowardly, you have to prove him wrong. 

When the bear trap clicks into place, you let out a harsh exhale and sink against the wall, your heart still pounding. Jonathan and Nancy copy you and the three of you sit in silence. You’re still shaking a bit, and Jonathan is next to you just as tense, but for the first time since you’ve met him you can’t reach out to grab his hand to steady yourself. He’s too far, both literally and figuratively. Even with him next to you, you couldn’t be more far apart. 

In the back of your mind, you hope the kids are alright. Hopefully they’re having a better night than you currently are. 

“C’mon,” you say after a few minutes, getting up to walk over to the living room. “We’ve done all we can, now we just have to draw some blood and be the prettiest bait in Hawkins.”

– 

Nancy and Jonathan decide to cut the palm of their hands, but you respectfully would rather die than have a matching scar with them. The idea makes you so uncomfortable you visibly cringe when Jonathan tells you the idea. “Yeah, no thanks. I think I’ll find somewhere else to cut.” 

He looks hurt by what you’ve said but doesn’t voice it. Instead, the three of you stand in the living room in a triangle facing each other and he begins reciting the plan. “Remember…”

Nancy goes first. “Straight into Will’s room and–” 

“Don’t step on the trap.” You finish.

Jonathan nods. “And then?”

“Wait for the yo-yo to move.” The girl says. 

“Then…” Jonathan flicks the lighter on.

You whistle low. “Let there be light…” 

“Right. Light.” The boy nods again. “Alright, we ready?”

“Ready.”

“Scar time.” 

Jonathan and Nancy bring their hands up and place their knives flat against their palms. You roll up your sleeve and place your own knife against the upper part of your arm, just below your shoulder, and take a deep breath. 

“On three,” Jonathan says. He begins counting and you all can’t seem to stop shaking. He senses your unease and looks up at you and Nancy. “You guys don’t have to do this.”

Nancy glares at him, her own voice shaky. “Jonathan, stop talking.”

You nod. “Yeah, what she said.”

Jonathan tries to argue, but Nancy squeezes her eyes shut and yells, “Three!”

You close your own eyes and slice at your arm, the pain immediate. You gasp out, never having been good with pain, but you know you have to do this for Will. The blood trails down your arm, dripping from your elbow onto the ground, and you watch as blood from Jonathan’s and Nancy’s own cuts falls onto the ground too. 

Well, at least it’ll be an easy scar to hide compared to theirs. 

“Fuck, that stings.” You say to break the silence, and Nancy nods her head in agreement. 

“Not the most pleasant feeling.” 

Jonathan guides the two of you over to the couch and grabs the first aid kit that you had prepared on the coffee table. He sits in the middle, leaving room for both you and Nancy on each side of him, but you’re still pissed at him and opt to sit on the floor in front of the couch.

Nancy begins to patch up his wound, and it takes everything within you not to reach over and help him yourself. It feels unnatural to watch someone else taking care of him, but the space between you still feels too vast to cross. 

You patch up your own cut while the two of them talk quietly. You wind a bandage tight around your arm, ensuring you won’t bleed through, and Jonathan watches above you with guilt in his eyes. Nancy is trying to reassure him that everything will be okay, but as he watches you struggle to tie the bandage he wonders if he’s fucked up more than just your friendship.

“Bug, let me help with that.” He leans down and ties your bandage before you can stop him. 

You glare at him, still having not said anything to Jonathan besides what was needed for preparation. Nancy distracts herself by cleaning up around his cut and your stomach twists into knots. This is all so miserable. 

“Y/N, I know you’re upset with me and you can go whenever. I won’t blame you, you’ve done enough for me.” Jonathan says, trying to catch your eye. 

You turn away and inspect your bandage, still reeling over the fact that he tied it for you. “I’m here for Will, and only Will.”

“Y/N…” There’s a hurt in his voice that almost makes you turn around to throw your arms around his neck and whisper a million apologies to him. To tell him everything, that you love him and that you’d do anything for him and that’s why you’re so terrified of how you feel. You know you’d burn yourself up if it meant he’d be taken care of, if it meant he was safe and happy and far away from anything that could harm him. You know you’d use up everything within you to love him. 

Instead, you remain silent.

After getting no response from you, Jonathan clears his throat and begins to say something about how the lights will serve as an alarm for the monster, trying to pretend that everything is okay, but he’s cut off by a sudden pounding on the door.

You all jump and your fingers tighten around your switchblade, ready to open it. As your heart pounds you think of all the possible ways the plan could go wrong. When you’re on possibility number twelve, a voice calls through the door. 

“Jonathan?”

“Is that… Steve?” You say out loud, in complete disbelief. 

Steve continues to pound on the door. “Are you there, man? It’s… It’s Steve! Listen, I just wanna talk!”

You’re the first to react, standing up to run over to the door. You fling it open and step outside, making sure Steve won’t be able to see inside the house. When he sees you, he stumbles back a bit. “Henderson?”

His face is still bleeding from earlier and his hair is a mess, and yet there’s a softness to him that you haven’t seen before with him. “Steve, now isn’t really a good time.”

“Can I just talk to Jonathan real quick? I just… I want to apologize about what happened earlier, see if we can maybe–” His eyes land on your bandaged arm. You curse and roll down your sleeve, feeling like an idiot for forgetting to hide the wound before going outside. 

Steve reaches out to touch it, a hint of worry on his face and his voice is now full of concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

You shiver at his touch, it’s gentle as he skims along the bandage and inspects it for any other problems. You pull away, now hiding the wound. “It’s nothing, but you should really go.”

“I want to help you, Y/N. Do you need me to get you anything?” His face is so full of worry for you that it makes you ache. Then a thought occurs to him. “Wait, where’s Byers? Why isn’t he here to help you?”

You’re about to make up a lie, but Nancy flings the door open. “Steve, listen to me.”

He looks between the two of you in complete shock. “Okay, what–”

“You need to leave.” Nancy orders.

Steve looks at you. “I’m not trying to start anything, okay?”

“I know, but–” You get cut off by Nancy.

“I don’t care about that. You need to leave.”

Steve begins to plead with the girl and you step away a bit, not wanting to intrude. You feel bad for him, he looks so beat down by what’s happened today and you suppose that you can’t really blame him. After spending maybe a total of ten hours with Nancy and Jonathan, you also have come close to losing your mind. 

If you were with Jonathan, if you truly had him, you’d react the same as Steve. Begging for the girl he loves to listen to him, to give him another chance with the promise of him changing. 

“I just want to make things right.” Steve says, impressing you with his vulnerability. He’s openly admitting to his mistakes and taking accountability mere hours after the situation has occurred, leaving you both in awe of him and also saddened for him. He loves Nancy more than anything, you can hear it in his voice. 

He deserves better. 

As you’re thinking this, you see his eyes flicker down towards Nancy’s bandaged hand and his brows furrow. “What happened to your hand? Is that blood?” His eyes now flicker over to you again. “Why are you both hurt?”

“We’re clumsy?” You say as Nancy yanks her hand away from Steve.

“It was an accident.” She agrees. 

Steve looks between the two of you, now sensing that something else is wrong. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing!” Nancy insists, but something in Steve’s demeanor shifts. 

“Wait a second, did he do this to you? To Y/N?” His once soft voice is now filled with anger and you step in front of him. 

“Steve, it wasn’t Jonathan. You need to go, I promise I’ll explain everything later–” 

He grabs you by your side and gently moves you so that he can get past and shove through the door. Nancy yells at him to stop and tries to push him out, but she’s useless against his strength. When he manages to break in, he stumbles inside and scans over the house. 

“Shit!” You follow after him, your brain running a million miles a second trying to figure out how to explain everything to him. 

“What the fuck?” Steve mumbles, eyeing the bat with nails in it. “Y/N, what’s going on here?”

He’s looking to you for reassurance and you guess he assumes that the two of you are allies in this Jonathan and Nancy situation. You really wish you could explain, but Jonathan has grabbed him by the shoulders and is trying to push him outside. The two stumble around for a few seconds and you just helplessly watch. 

“Steve, there’s no time to explain, please just listen to Jonathan and get out of here!” You’re helping Jonathan now, trying to get Steve out the door and away from harm’s reach, but he’s still fighting back confused and lost as ever and you pity him. 

You hear a click and turn around, gasping when you see Nancy holding her gun up to Steve. “Woah, what the fuck Nancy?”

“What! What is going on?” Steve yells, now more panicked than anything else. 

While Jonathan has stepped away, you find yourself standing in front of Steve as if to somehow block the bullet. You can’t let him get hurt, he doesn’t have any part of this, he can still have a normal and happy life if he just leaves now. “Nancy, put the fucking gun down, this isn’t helping!”

Steve pleads with her as well and the two of you scream at the girl to just listen and not swing around loaded weapons, but Nancy remains firm in her stance. “You have five seconds to get out of here. I’m doing this for you.”

“Because holding a gun to his head is any better than telling him the truth?” You exclaim, entirely over the situation. 

As the four of you are arguing, the lights begin to flicker. Steve and Nancy don’t seem to notice, but you do. You look at Jonathan and say your first real words to him in hours. “Jonathan…”

He hears you and he runs over to your side, grabbing your hand as the two of you stand shoulder to shoulder. You feel your heartbeat race and you can feel him shaking beside you. He’s terrified, so are you, but his hand around yours manages to steady you. 

“Nancy!” Jonathan tries to get the girl’s attention, but she’s too busy counting down to hear him. 

He shouts at her again and the lights start to flicker more wildly and you draw your switchblade out, adrenaline coursing through you. It’s time. 

Jonathan yells once more and finally catches Nancy’s attention. “The lights!”

She whips her head around and curses, Jonathan, still tightly holding your hand, tugs you along so that you follow him as he secures his weapons and grabs the bat. “It’s here.”

“What’s here?” Steve is flailing around, utterly lost.

You all ignore him and now stand back to back in a triangle. Nancy holds up her gun, Jonathan wields his bat, and you flick your wrist to bring out your knives. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know!” 

The lights flicker rapidly and you feel overwhelmed. They were supposed to serve as a guide towards the monster, but there's no possible way to see which direction it’ll come from and for a fleeting moment you think you’ve made a huge mistake. 

Steve is still screaming, demanding answers, but you’re too busy scanning your surroundings to offer him some information. “Hello? Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going–”

The roof opens up, cutting Steve off, and you scream as the monster attempts to come down right above you. Jonathan shields you from the fallen debris and you cling onto him in utter fear. This isn’t real. This cannot be happening. 

Nancy begins to shoot at the thing while Jonathan guides you to safety. He brings you to the edge of the living room and holds your face in his hands, forcing you to really look at him for the first time all night. “Listen to me, stay here while I get Nancy.”

He kisses your forehead and then leaves, rushing over to Nancy to pull her away and guide her towards Will’s room. Steve stands next to you, frozen, and it forces you back to reality. The plan, you have to stick to the plan. 

You grab Steve’s hand and yank him so that he follows. The monster has dropped down now, a horrible creature on all fours that opens its gaping mouth to let out a horrible screech that you feel deep within your bones. This is what killed Barb. 

The four of you run to Will’s room and you only just barely have enough time to warn Steve about the bear trap. You look over your shoulder and shout, “Jump!” right as your ankle catches on its chains. 

You fall. Hard. 

Pain sears through your ankle and you try to get up, but any pressure on it sends flames through your entire body and you let out another scream. The monster catches up, looming over you, and you brace for your death. There’s no fucking way you’re getting out of this. 

You squeeze your eyes as the monster stalks close to you, its ugly mouth open and ready to kill you. Jonathan is screaming at you to get up, but Nancy is holding him back from helping. You’re relieved by this, knowing that someone has to be there for Will once this is all done. He’ll need his brother, and Nancy seems to understand this. You catch her eye and nod at her, sending a silent thank you. 

“Bug! No, let go of me! I have to help her, Nancy!” Jonathan’s voice becomes hoarse by how loud he screams, his voice breaking with fear and desperation. 

Then, right before the monster lunges at you, you feel a familiar pair of arms slide underneath your legs and pick you up. “What–”

Steve Harrington has swooped in to save you, picking you up as if you weigh nothing, ever the athlete, and swiftly jumps over the bear trap while screaming his head off. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

You’re so delirious from the pain in your ankle and the adrenaline pumping through your veins that you can’t help but let a laugh escape you. No fucking way is any of this real. Steve Harrington is carrying you bridal style into Will’s bedroom with Jonathan and Nancy as witnesses. 

What a life. 

Once you’re both secured in the room, Steve sets you down gently right as Nancy yells at him to shut up. As soon as Steve lets go of you, Jonathan is at your side and pulls you into a crushing hug. 

“Bug.” He breathes out against your ear, relief heavy. 

“I’m okay.” You tell him, threading your fingers through his hair. He’s shaking harder than ever, and holding onto you as if he’s scared he’ll lose you again. “I’m okay, bee.” 

He pulls away and his hands are all over you, checking everywhere for any other injuries. “Did it hurt you, are you bleeding? There should be a first aid kit–”

You grab his hands and kiss his knuckles, which seems to calm him down a bit. “I’m fine, just twisted my ankle. If you help me up, I’m sure I’ll be able to stand again.” 

Jonathan quickly helps you to your feet and you lean against him for the extra support. While you put on a brave face for Jonathan, you’re terrified out of your fucking mind. You almost died. Jonathan is still holding your hand and he’s looking at you as if seeing you for the first time and you force yourself to look away. It’s the same look from the field days ago, when you thought he’d kiss you. 

You have to focus on what’s at stake.

How the hell are you guys supposed to kill this thing?

The monster screeches, breaking the moment between you and Jonathan, and he flicks his lighter on and forces you to stand behind him. Nancy holds up her gun and you bring your knives closer to your face, Steve standing weaponless behind you. 

You all wait, tense, for the monster. It stalks closer to the room, its awful growls alerting you of its proximity, but it doesn’t appear. 

“What’s it doing?” Nancy asks, frustrated. 

“I don’t know.” You respond, equally as frustrated and scared. 

Another few agonizing seconds pass, and you stare at the yo-yo and hope that it remains still. Then, the lights stop flickering and it becomes quiet. All you can hear is your blood roaring in your ears. 

Nancy looks around. “Do you hear anything?”

“No,” Jonathan shakes his head, inching closer to the door. 

“Wait!” You tug at your still interlocked hands. You pick up his bat that had been thrown on the ground and hand it to him. “Be careful. Please.”

He gives your hand one last squeeze before letting go, accepting the bat.

As Jonathan pokes his head out to see if the monster is outside, Steve bends his head down and whispers in your ear, “Romantic.”

“Shut. Up.” You hit him in the chest, fearfully watching your best friend to make sure he doesn't die. When he motions an all clear, Nancy follows him outside, then you, then Steve. 

The house is silent and your heart sinks when you see that the bear trap has been left untouched. You realize with a horrible gut wrench that the monster is smarter than the three of you had anticipated. 

So much for your plan, then.

“It’s smarter than we thought.” 

“Yeah,” Jonathan agrees with dismay. 

He stalks against the wall towards the living room and you all follow in a single file line. You do your best to stick close to the wall but you limp with every step. Your ankle is definitely out of commission for now. Great. 

All of you are on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It couldn’t have been that easy, there’s no possible way that the monster simply up and left. You enter the living room, which has gotten even more wrecked due the monster. The wallpaper has been torn off of some parts of the wall and you see papers scattered everywhere. 

“Shit…” you mumble, kicking at a shredded wallpaper strip. 

In the corner, Steve has started to hyperventilate and mumble to himself. “This is crazy, this is so crazy, this is fucking crazy.” 

You limp over to him and grab his shoulders, making him face you. “Steve, hey. It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Y/N, what the hell just happened?” 

“It’s… complicated. For now, can you trust me that everything will be okay?” 

“Of course I trust you, it’s just…” He nods, his eyes softening. You lessen your hold on him and give him a smile, he seems to be calming down. Then, he looks around the room and seemingly remembers where he is. “This is crazy!” 

Steve lunges for the phone on the wall and tries to call for help. 

You stumble after him, the pain in your ankle slowing you down. “Steve, wait–”

Nancy gets to him first, grabbing the phone out of his hand and throwing it across the room. He looks at her, shocked. “What are you doing? Are you insane?”

“It’s going to come back!” Nancy yells at him, and you wince at the way she treats him. You know Steve will only listen to her, but she could at least be nicer about the whole situation. The three of you have had some time to process everything happening, Steve was thrown into the deep end. 

“You could be a little nicer,” you mumble, and Nancy sends you a glare. You raise your hands up in surrender. “Sorry.” 

“Steve, you need to leave. Right now.”

He looks so overwhelmed and you give him a pitying look. He stares at you, reminiscent of the way he looked at you earlier in the alley, silently begging you to say something, anything, but again you can only shake your head at him. You won’t force him to stay, it wouldn’t be fair.

“Y/N, please…” He tries one more time to get you on his side, but you can’t. Frustrated by your lack of response, Steve groans. “Fuck it!” 

He runs out the door. 

You’ll admit that you’re a bit disappointed, but you also understand. Who in their right mind would stay? 

You and Nancy share a look before the lights begin to flicker again. Dread fills you. “Fuck…”

Jonathan is back by your side and he and Nancy again form a triangle with you, all your backs pressed together as you desperately try to locate the monster. You all stumble in a circle, searching for any sign of the thing, but there’s nothing. 

“Where is it?” Nancy gasps out.

“Just fucking show yourself!” You shout, just wanting this all to be over with. Your body is drained from living in a state of fear for so long. 

“Come on you son of a bitch!” Jonathan echoes your taunts. 

Suddenly the lights turn off and you’re left alone in complete darkness. Faintly you can hear the monster’s familiar growl approaching from behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, the air stands still. It’s back. Before you can react, it pounces on Jonathan. 

“Jonathan!” You scream alongside Nancy. Desperation takes over you and before you can even process what’s happening, you ignore the pain in your ankle and jump onto its back, stabbing repeatedly at it. 

Your blades only bounce off of its thick skin and the monster struggles to get you off. You hold on as tight as you can, shouting and kicking at it so that it can’t hurt him, but then it opens its mouth and for a horrifying moment you’re afraid that Jonathan will die.

“No!” You scream even louder than before and double down on your effort, stabbing and slashing as much as you possibly can to try and create some damage, but your arms are starting to ache and your ankle now feels like it’s on fire. 

“Nancy, its skin is too thick!” You sob out, nearing complete exhaustion. Then, just as you’re about to collapse from exhaustion, gunshots fill the room. 

Nancy begins to shoot at the monster and with the help of your blades, the two of you manage to pierce its skin, but even then the damage is minimal. It’s not enough, it won’t be enough. Tears stream down your face and the monster only gets closer to Jonathan, so you do the only thing you can think of: you crawl onto the top of its body and stab at its mouth. 

The monster lets out a blood curdling scream and flings you off of its back. You go flying across the room and land against the wall with a groan. All the air has been knocked out of you and your ribs are definitely going to be bruised tomorrow. Every part of you aches, but you manage to lift your head up and blearily process the monster now approaching Nancy as she continues to shoot at it, but it remains unphased. 

You crawl over to Jonathan, who is still laying on the ground. He’s motionless, and you fight everything within you not to break down and sob. You have to keep going, he has to be alive. As you reach Jonathan and frantically check for a pulse, the monster has now cornered Nancy and her gun seems to be out of bullets.

It’s over. You know it is. 

Right as you’ve accepted your fate, a screaming Steve Harrington wielding Jonathan’s bat once again manages to save the day. 

He hits the monster with the bat, effectively saving Nancy and you’re so impressed with his batting skills that you almost find him attractive with how easily he hits and dodges the monster. However, you file those thoughts away for later and finally manage to wake Jonathan up. He startles with a gasp and you check over his chest, scared he may have gotten pierced by the monster’s claws. 

“I’m fine, we need to help.”

You help each other up and you have to lean heavily against him due to your ankle. You bull riding the monster has only made the sprain worse; you’re too afraid to look down and see the damage that’s been done. 

As the two of you hobble over to Nancy, Jonathan looks at you. “Is Harrington really here right now?”

“Yes.”

“Lovely.”

Steve manages to lure the monster closer and closer to the bear trap and you watch him in awe. He’s quick footed and so sure of himself, the complete opposite of the boy from only ten minutes ago who had run out of the house screaming his head off. Now, Steve is swift with his hits and even twirls the bat in his hand to show off. The small act causes you to smile despite the horrible circumstances. 

By the time you and Jonathan are up and recovered, Steve has successfully led the monster straight into the trap. It clamps around the monster’s foot and it screeches, flailing around in the trap. Steve still has his bat held up, now frantically looking over to everyone else. “He’s in the trap! He’s stuck!”

“Jonathan, now!” Nancy screams, motioning over at him to use his lighter. 

Jonathan listens, using his free hand to flick the lighter on and then drops it onto the ground, right into the trail of gasoline. Immediately the monster goes up in flames, letting out horrible noises. You all shield your faces from the flames and Jonathan pulls you closer into him, still having yet to let go of you; you feel yourself sink into his side as you watch the monster wither away.

“Bug, I have to get the fire extinguisher, do you think you can stand on your own?” Jonathan asks you, his voice soft but urgent. 

You quickly nod and brace yourself for his departure. “Yeah, go.” 

He lets go of you as gently as possible before running to grab the extinguisher. When he has it, he orders everyone to get back and then smothers the flames. It takes a couple seconds, but eventually the fire gets put out, leaving behind an awful stench that makes everyone cough and gag. 

“Holy fuck,” you wheeze out, hunched over. “Burnt monster smells horrible.” 

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve coughs out. 

Nancy covers her face with her jacket. “Where did it go?”

“It has to be dead.” Jonathan pants against the wall, looking like he’s three seconds away from passing out. “It has to be.”

“It fucking better be dead.” You mumble, hobbling closer to see what exactly was left behind. When you get closer and see the giant lump of melted skin all over the bear trap, you gag. “Oh god. Yeah, okay. It’s dead.”

Everyone sighs with relief. 

Then, you notice a Christmas light above you flicker on. Your heart stops, terrified that the monster has somehow survived, but then a second one turns on, then a third, until a path seems to be guiding you towards the living room. 

You all follow, cautious but curious, but these lights don’t feel threatening. There’s an energy to them, a comforting one that leaves you breathless. When you get to the living room, tears form in your eyes, now understanding what this all is. You look at Jonathan, who also seems to be thinking what you are. 

It’s Joyce, you know it is. 

“Mom,” he breathes out. 

You limp over to him and grab his hand. He turns to you, his eyes shining with an appreciation that he only ever has for you. He seems to be drinking you in, as if now realizing just how close the two of you came to dying tonight. You’re doing the same, thankful that he’s alive and standing next to you despite everything. There’s so much the two of you want to say, but as always the words aren’t needed. You understand each other perfectly, the balance between you centered once more. 

You put your head on Jonathan’s shoulder and he brings his hand to your hair to softly stroke it. The two of you stand like that for a second, breathing each other in and enjoying the tenderness after such a miserable day, before you slowly break apart and follow the lights going outside. 

The porch light flickers and Nancy stands next to you, watching it with uncertainty. “Where’s it going?”

“I don’t think it’s the monster.” Jonathan tells her. 

“It’s Will.” You don’t know how you know this, or what makes you feel so certain that you’re right, but somehow you know that you are. Somewhere deep within you, you feel the faint outline of hope flicker. 

A new silence surrounds the four of you at your words, and for once there’s hope between you all. Then, after a minute or so of silence, everyone begins to head back inside. Steve first, then Nancy, and finally Jonathan, leaving you alone with the crisp early winter air.

You take a deep breath, the cold air serving as a reminder that you’re alive. You let it fill your lungs until you can’t breathe in anymore, then you release the air through an exhale and feel your body settle into its exhaustion. This is the first time you’ve had a moment to yourself, so you let the exhaustion weigh upon you like a warm blanket. 

Will is safe, you can feel it. Despite everything, he’s safe and alive. Jonathan is too, still your best friend regardless of all the unspoken words between the two of you. Dustin is at the school with the kids, away from danger. Everything is okay, it’ll be okay. 

You let the moment wash over you, incredibly grateful to be lucky enough to have survived it all. Everyone you love and hold close to you is safe. You didn’t fuck up this time. God, you did it. 

Jonathan comes running out after a while, his face alight with joy and he crashes into you and picks you up to twirl you around. You laugh, loud and freely, and bury your face in his hair as he continues. “Bee, stop! Put me down, you dummy!” 

He does as he’s told, but doesn’t let go of you once your feet are on the ground. “My mom just called, they saved Will. He–he’s in the hospital, he’s okay.” 

You squeal and throw your arms around Jonathan again, squeezing him so hard that you’re afraid you'll hurt him, but he simply laughs and squeezes you just as tight. Tears come again, but this time they’re happy ones, and if it weren’t for your ankle you’d be jumping up and down right now. 

Jonathan’s laughter dies down and he cups your chin around his fingers so that you look up at him. “You did it.” 

“We did it, bug.” You softly push against him. You can’t take all the credit. 

His eyes are shining again, you haven’t seen him this happy in so long, you get lost in it. His face is lit up and his smile is back and you’re so in love with him that it claws against your throat and threatens to spill out in excess.

A beat of silence passes and Jonathan just soaks your presence in. You can’t quite read his face, but for once this doesn’t frighten you. You enjoy it, you relish in the fact that he’s still yours yet now forming into someone new and lovely and wonderful. 

“You never gave up.” He whispers at last, adoration in his voice. 

“Never.” 

“You never left me.” 

“Never.” You breathe out, the word so simple with such heavy weight behind it. 

The moment is so raw, so tender, and Jonathan is giving you that look again, the one that leaves you feeling like the sun itself has settled upon you and kissed your cheek. His eyes flick down to your lips and you smile, taunting him to lean in. He seems to understand, giving you his own teasing smile before leaning in. You lean in as well, every part of you buzzing, and right before your lips touch his, Steve bursts through the door.

“Jonathan, dude, do you have like, any food in the house?” He asks, completely oblivious to what he’s just interrupted. 

You and Jonathan break apart, laughing the tension away. He ducks his head down, clears his throat, and turns to Steve. “Sorry, man. Been a little busy this week for grocery shopping.”

Steve’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Oh shit, right. Sorry, okay. Uh… Well, I’ll be inside, I guess.” 

“We’ll be in shortly.” You tell Steve. You want to be frustrated by his timing, but something tells you that you’ll have all the time in the world to tell Jonathan how you feel. Now just isn’t the time. 

– 

The moment you arrive at the hospital, Jonathan sprints out of the car and straight towards the front desk to find out where Will is. You and Nancy follow behind, figuring you won’t be able to see Will for a while since you’re not blood related, so the two of you wish Jonathan goodbye and head towards the waiting room. 

Steve lags behind, obviously unsure where to go. Nancy immediately walks inside, but you notice his hesitation and nudge his shoulder. “I’m sure that the cut on your eyebrow needs to be looked out. Let’s go sit, okay?”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah, sure. Totally. Let’s go sit in a room full of people who probably hate me. No biggie.”

“Either come or don’t.” You shrug. “But the way I see it, you can start mending some metaphorical wounds while you wait in there.”

You don’t wait for Steve to figure out what to do, you know that Dustin is somewhere inside the waiting room and you’re buzzing to see him and the rest of the kids. You hobble inside, still very much in pain due to your injuries, but the moment you see your brother it all fades away. 

He runs into your arms and almost knocks you down with the force. Dustin clings onto you, mumbling over and over again how sorry he is. 

“Hey, wait a second,” you pull him away and crouch down, groaning a bit at the pain. “What are you sorry about? What happened?”

You look around the room and see everyone there. Nancy, Hopper, the kids, Steve, even Nancy’s parents, but there’s someone missing…

“El,” you breathe out. 

Dustin’s lip trembles and he begins to cry. You soothe him, grabbing his hand to bring him over to the seats and sit between him and Mike. Lucas is to the left of Dustin and you can’t help but notice how all the boys have dried tears in their eyes. 

When they’re ready, you have the kids explain what happened, and the more they tell you, the more guilty you feel. You should’ve been there for them, you left them all alone with that monster. You got Will back, and yet you’ve lost El as a result. It seems that no matter what you do, it’ll never quite be enough in the end. 

“It’s not your fault.” You tell Dustin, who still keeps apologizing. It was you who had left him in charge, you’re why El ended up vanquished by the monster. “You did everything you could. I shouldn’t have left you guys all alone, but I’m proud that you all took care of one another, okay?”

He sniffs and nods his head, but you know he doesn’t believe you. All the boys are somber; you know it’ll take time for them to recover. So, you do what you do best, you console them. You hold their hands and rub their backs and offer your spare comics in your bag. You do whatever you can to comfort them, to reassure them that they’re safe now and that no one will hurt them, but the light in their eyes has dimmed. 

They’ll never be the same again. 

And El… she had been so young, you don’t think you’ll ever not feel the heavy weight of guilt whenever you think of her. She had been so sweet and had trusted you. 

You should’ve been there, you wish you could’ve saved her.

Steve watches from his seat across from you. He listens in as you comfort the boys, taking care of them in such a natural way. He admires this softer side of you, one he hasn’t quite seen before. Sure, you’ve always been gentle and sincere, but watching you with the kids is something special in itself. You manage to get them to laugh, you offer them your shoulder to cry or sleep on, and you read aloud to them stories from your comics and Steve finds himself drawn towards your interactions with the kids. 

It’s sweet, something delicate and lovely, and Steve admires everything that you are. When he sees you awkwardly stand up and stumble over to the vending machines in the hall, Steve finds himself following after you. 

-

“Bitch!” You slam the palm of your hand against the vending machine in vain. The bag of chips hangs by the little spiral, taunting you. 

“That’s not a very nice word, Henderson.” 

You turn and see Steve, leaning against the wall with a fond expression. “You stalking me?”

“Nah, just wanted to watch you fight against a vending machine.”

“Ha,” you snort, turning back to the machine. “Unless you can help me get this last chip bag, you’re free to go sit back down.”

You mean it to be a joke, not expecting Steve to actually listen, but he’s at your side within a second. “Step back, let Steve handle her.” 

“What–”

Steve motions for you to move, so you reluctantly do as you’re told. Once you’re out of the way, Steve claps his hands, stretches out his neck, and then begins to aggressively shake the vending machine. 

“That is so not what you’re supposed to do–”

Suddenly the bag drops down from the hook and into the retrieval slot. Steve reaches inside, grabs the bag, and then dangles it in the air. “Tada!” 

You laugh and grab the bag from him. “Okay, I’ll admit, that was impressive.” 

“What can I say? I’m charming like that.” 

“Sure,” you smile at him, neither of you have moved yet. He’s still standing in front of you with that cocky smile on his face that’s slowly started to warm on you. You truly do understand why so many girls have fallen for him. If you ever saw Steve on the street, a stranger passing by, you’d fall a little bit in love with him yourself.

The thought startles you. “Well, uh…”

“Yes?” Steve raises his eyebrows at you, smiling. 

“Thank you for the chips. The kids haven’t eaten anything in hours, so…” You wave the three bags in your arms. “Gotta keep 'em fed.”

“Wait a second, there’s only three bags there. Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

“I only had enough money for the boy’s chips.” You say, feeling suddenly sheepish. “It’s fine, though. I’ll just eat a few pieces from them and wait until we get home.”

Steve scoffs. “Yeah, no.”

You frown at him, confused as he rustles through his jean pocket and pulls out his wallet. “I don’t want your money–”

He doesn’t listen and simply puts the cash into the vending machine and punches in a few numbers. Slowly, one by one, multiple different bags of sweets and chips come falling down within the machine. Once the last one has dropped, Steve bends down and offers the huge stash to you. 

“A feast, on me.” He winks at you and you can’t help but blush. 

“T–thanks, I guess.” You now carefully balance the rest of the snacks in your arms, the mound almost blocking your view. You’re not sure how much Steve just paid, but with all these snacks you and the kids will surely be well fed. 

Steve shrugs, and if you weren’t so tired you’d think the blush on his face was a real one. “It’s the least I can do, all things considered.”

His words give you pause. You know he’s referencing earlier today, back in the alley where fists slammed against skin and he had dragged you away from your best friend, but the memory feels like years ago. So much has happened since then, Steve has saved your life since then. 

“Steve…” Your ankle is starting to sting again from standing for so long, so you adjust your footing and try to figure out what you want to say. “I never got to thank you back at Jonathan’s.”

“Thank me?” His face scrunches in confusion in a sickeningly cute way that it almost distracts you.

“Yes. You saved my life tonight, Steve. I won’t ever forget that.” 

“Oh…There’s no need to thank me. I mean, what are friends for?” Steve freezes and clears his throat. “I mean, shit. We aren’t friends, you keep saying that. Sorry. You know what I mean.”

You know you shouldn’t, but you laugh. Honestly, after everything you’ve been through tonight with Steve, how can he possibly think the two of you aren’t friends?

“Why are you laughing?” Steve mumbles, confused. 

“Sorry,” you wheeze out, still uncontrollably laughing. “It’s just–I mean, dude! We almost died together, of course we’re friends now!”

“We are?” He looks like a little kid on Christmas day being given the gift he’s always wanted.

Your heart warms. “Yes, idiot.”

Steve starts moving around in what you can only guess is a happy dance. “Sweet! Does this mean I get a cool nickname, too?”

“A nickname?” A bag of chips threatens to fall from your arms, but Steve catches it before it can land on the ground and takes a few more snacks off of your hands. 

He readjusts the snacks he now has so that he can carry them easier. “Yeah, I mean. Byers has one, why can’t I?”

You don’t think you’ll ever stop feeling so thrown every time Steve mentions a small detail about you that he’s somehow come to notice. He has a habit of doing that, surprising you by how much he seems to pay attention to you. You thought that no one ever had before, but Steve continues to prove you wrong. 

“I’ll tell ya what,” you begin to walk back towards the waiting room, careful to step carefully to not drop anything or upset your ankle. “Let’s see how this ‘friends’ thing works out, then I’ll decide what nickname fits you best. Deal?”

Steve thinks for a moment and follows. “Hmm. I don’t know, I think I’ll need some type of precaution to make sure you give me a nickname in the end. I want one, Y/N. I’m so serious right now.”

You laugh at his pleading tone. “I can add you to my baking list. Whatever I bake, you’ll get a piece of it. Is that better?”

“God, yes!” Steve punches the air and cheers. 

You’re smiling so much that your face aches. You haven’t felt this light and carefree in so long, you’d almost forgotten what it’s like. The two of you don’t say anything else as you walk back to the waiting room, though Steve seems to slow down so that you don’t hurt your ankle keeping up, though you still let out a few winces and groans.

When you’ve arrived back at your seat, Steve sets down the snacks and runs off without another word. You’re confused by his sudden departure but don’t think much of it. Instead, you wake the boys up and show them your array of snacks, which wakes them up immediately. 

You’re mediating a fight between Mike and Lucas over who gets the bag of Chips Ahoy when a nurse interrupts. “Excuse me, ma’am. This young man over here told me I should come over and check out your ankle?”

The woman smiles and you look past her and see Steve sheepishly waving from his seat across from you. You’re stunned. Had he really gone out of his way to ensure your ankle gets treated?

You shake the thoughts out of your head and inform the woman all she needs to know. You tell her how you’d fallen and what type of pain you feel when you stand up. She inspects the ankle, her fingers cold but kind, and within a few minutes has diagnosed you with a sprained ankle. 

“All you can really do is stay off of it for a few weeks while it heals. I can go and get you some crutches, if you’d like?” She asks, rolling her gloves off and tucking them back into her pocket.

You nod. “If you wouldn’t mind, that’d be great.”

The nurse leaves with the promise of being back soon. In the meantime she instructs you to keep your ankle elevated, so you prop it against the coffee table and wait. You’re annoyed that you even have to have crutches, but then you think of Barb, of El. You’re luckier than you should be. 

– 

After an hour or so, Jonathan opens the door to the waiting room. He spots you and Mike talking softly with each other and whistles over to catch your attention. When Mike looks up, Jonathan nods at him and the boy scrambles out of his seat. 

“Guys! Guys! He’s up, Will is up!” Mike shakes awake Lucas and Dustin, who had been cuddling on the seats fast asleep. “Will’s up!”

Once they’re awake, they quickly follow after Mike and the three boys are gone in an instant, sprinting down the hall towards Will’s room. Clearly they’re eager to see their friend. 

You do your best to get up as fast as possible, but your new crutches serve more as a nuisance rather than an aid. As you struggle to get up, somehow knocking over the mountain of snacks, Steve rushes over. 

He grabs the crutches and offers you his hand. “Here, careful.”

“Thanks,” you awkwardly accept his hand and get up. Jonathan watches from the doorway, a curious look on his face. Nancy does the same from her seat, not saying a word as she watches Steve gently help you navigate the waiting room with your injury. 

Jonathan holds the door open for you and takes over once you’re out the door. He grabs the crutches from Steve and is now the one to hold your hand, balancing you. “I can take it from here, Harrington.”

“Right, yeah.” Steve scratches the back of his head and coughs. “I’ll just… yeah.” 

He heads back inside and you and Jonathan watch as he leaves. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Jonathan turns to you. “Are you two friends now or something?”

“We almost died tonight, bee. I think it’s safe to call Steve a friend now.”

Jonathan bites his lip, though there’s a far off look in his eye that leaves you feeling like you’ve missed something in the conversation. “Guess that’s true. Anyways, let’s get you to Will.”

By the time you make it to the room, the boys have swarmed around Will and are telling him everything he’s missed this week. He’s listening eagerly as they’re telling him about El, but when he sees you enter the room, his eyes light up and he tries to sit up. 

“Y/N!” Will calls out, pure excitement in his voice. 

You practically fall over in your haste to get to him. The second you’re close enough, you collapse onto his bed and give him the tightest hug you possibly can without hurting him. He feels so small against you, smaller than he’s ever felt before, and his sunken eyes and pale skin make you want to cry. 

But he’s alive and here and in your arms once again, happy and wonderful and safe. 

“Little bee,” you try not to cry, but tears are thick in your voice. “I missed you.”

Will manages a weak smile and shrugs, trying to play off the gravity of the situation. “Took a little detour home.” 

You laugh and ruffle his hair. “At least you came home, that’s all that matters.”

“Ahem,” Mike obnoxiously clears his throat, effectively ending your moment with Will. “You’re hogging Will, move over.” 

You laugh again and move away, allowing the boys to resume their millions of updates. You maneuver your crutches and walk over to Jonathan, who is standing by the door. He’s looking at the boys and Will with a soft smile on his face and you join him, standing side by side as you watch your boys finally come together again. 

Then, you feel a pair of eyes on you and you turn around. Nancy is leaning against the doorway behind you; she looks frail and distraught. There’s a sadness in her eyes as she watches the kids. You know that watching the boys reunite with their friend must remind her of Barb. She never got her happy reunion. 

You feel awful for the girl, so when her bittersweet smile drops and she turns to leave the room, you nudge Jonathan to make him aware of the situation. He sees her fleeing and begins to follow after her, but he stops. 

“What are you waiting for? Go.” You tell him, knowing it’s for the best. 

He shifts his weight, uncertain. “Are you sure?”

You’re not sure how to decipher the hidden meanings underneath those three words, but you find that you’re exhausted trying to keep reading between the lines. The feelings you’ve kept buried bubble to the surface, but you remind yourself that he loves Nancy, despite your weird moments of almost with him. There’s something there between you and Jonathan, you both can feel it, but it feels too raw and fragile to bring into the light. 

Without having to ask, you know that Jonathan will choose her. 

It breaks your heart, but you look over at Dustin and Will, who are laughing about some joke while Joyce gazes at them fondly, and you know that you can’t lose this. Maybe Jonathan knows this, too. The small family you’ve built together, it’s too precious to ruin. 

Joyce and your boys, you can’t lose them. They’re yours, and Jonathan is yours in a way that you can’t quite keep to yourself forever, but for now it’s enough. You approach Joyce, grab her hand and give her a tired smile, and the smile she returns to you reminds you that this is more than enough for you. 

You turn to Jonathan, pushing down your feelings once more in favor of appreciating the fact that Will is looking at you again, alive. “Go, bee.” 

Jonathan gives you one last look. You study his face for a moment, watching as it shifts from confusion, to hurt, then finally into acceptance. You’ll never be sure of what exactly he’d been thinking in that moment, but it seemed to have been enough for him, too.

He smiles, lets out a deep breath, and then leaves.

The door closes softly behind him. 

– 

A month later you find yourself in the passenger seat of Jonathan's car, tired from your shift at Bookstrordinary but excited to pick up your brothers. Somehow, even after missing three consecutive shifts last month, Mrs. Waters refused to fire you. 

But Jonathan? He hadn’t been so lucky. His boss fired him from the Hawk, but he hadn’t been too upset. He still drives you to and from work, so you suppose things could be worse. 

It’s late, but the two of you take your time driving to the Wheeler’s. Nothing much has changed between you two following Will’s reappearance. Sure, maybe you’re at his house more just to make sure Will is adapting well, but besides that everything seemed to go back to normal. 

Well, almost normal. 

Steve appeared at your job a few days after your conversation in the hospital. He had surprised you when you walked in, and when you asked what he was doing in a bookstore, Steve simply shrugged and said, “You can’t figure out my nickname if we don’t hang out, right? So, I’m here.”

He had become a regular at the store, stopping by whenever he could, and slowly the two of you became good friends. You’ve come to enjoy Steve’s presence, something that you never thought would ever happen. But he keeps you company as you work, he wanders around and explores the comics and books you recommend to him, and it’s nice having someone to goof off with. 

Plus, you did promise to add him to your baking list, so he’s also become your taste tester who happily eats any creation you bring in for him.

As for Nancy…

That was more of a sore subject for Jonathan. 

There was a few weeks following Will’s reappearance that you thought Jonathan and Nancy would get together, but it never happened. You’re not quite sure why, maybe it had something to do with Jonathan’s hesitation of approaching her, but it had crushed him when you and he saw Nancy and Steve making out in the hall as if nothing bad had ever happened. 

The way Jonathan’s face crumbled when he saw the couple only solidified that he’d never be yours, but you comforted him anyways. You told him he deserved better and then dragged him away. It’d taken him a few days, but eventually Jonathan was able to fake a smile again. 

You haven’t spoken about it since that day, but you leave your window open most nights for him to crawl in. The nightmares from that night fighting the monster plague you both, and the loneliness feels a little heavier than usual, but at least you have each other. 

“Jonathan! Y/N! Come in, the boys are downstairs.” Mrs. Wheeler answers the door, letting the two of you in. “And Y/N, I love that sweater on you.”

You thank the woman. “It was a gift from my mom. She claims I need to up my wardrobe, whatever that means.”

“Well, I think she has lovely taste.” 

“I’ll let you know you think so!” You open the basement door and motion for Jonathan to go down first. 

When he reaches the bottom of the steps, Jonathan makes a face. “Woah, what’s that smell? Have you guys been playing games all day, or just farting?”

“My vote is farting.” You say, hopping down the last step. Your ankle has mostly healed by now, but sometimes if you land on it wrong it makes a weird clicking noise followed by some pain, but you choose to pretend that it’s normal. 

The boys laugh and Lucas points at your brother. “Oh, that’s just Dustin. He farted.”

He begins making fart noises with his mouth and you and Dustin share a look. “Very mature, Lucas.”

The boy continues to sing and make fart noises and you can’t believe that this is your life. You’re standing in a smelly basement while picking up your stubborn brother all while simultaneously enjoying the fact that you get to call this your life. 

Jonathan calls over to Will to grab his things, so you follow suit and gently berate Lucas. “Alright, that’s enough. I gotta get Dustin home.”

“What, I thought I got to stay–”

“Jonathan is our ride and I made cookies, so let’s go.”

The moment the word “cookies” leaves your mouth, Dustin hops up and collects his things without any further argument. 

Once he’s ready, he and Lucas play wrestle as they say goodbye. While they’re distracted, you walk over to Mike and discreetly hand him a container full of double fudge brownies. You’d specifically made them for him, knowing they were his favorite, because you noticed how hard it’s been for him to adjust to El being gone. He really cared about her, anyone could see that. 

Mike’s eyes widen and he throws his arms around you. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You pat his back. “Anytime, Wheeler.”

Dustin breaks away from Lucas and runs up the stairs, so you take that as your cue to leave. 

Upstairs, Jonathan and Will are talking to Mrs. Wheeler. When they see you enter, the woman turns to you and asks if you’ll be bringing over your usual round of holiday treats. “Of course, I’ll get started on them tomorrow. You guys still like the sugarbread cookies?”

“If you make them, I think I’ll die of happiness.” Mrs. Wheeler informs you, and you laugh and tell her that you’ll have them ready as soon as possible. 

You bid her goodbye, Dustin now by your side, and you follow Jonathan and Will to the front door. Right before you open the door, Nancy calls Jonathan’s name from the top of the stairs. 

“Hey, Jonathan, wait up!” 

You, Dustin, and Will stand awkwardly in the back while Nancy hands Jonathan a wrapped gift and wishes him a merry Christmas. They share an awkward exchange since Jonathan hadn’t gotten her anything, but Nancy assures him that it’s fine. The interaction is painful to watch as Nancy doesn’t spare you a single glance. Dustin and Will look at you uncertainly when she kisses Jonathan’s cheek, but you ignore them and pretend to be interested in a Christmas decoration on the table.

This will never get any easier. 

“You ready?” Jonathan turns back to you guys, a blush on his face, and all you can do is silently nod. 

In the car you sit in the back with Dustin, who squeezes your arm in reassurance. He’s come to understand your complex feelings for Jonathan and has pieced together Nancy’s involvement. While he’s never outright consoled you, he’s shown his support in other small and wonderful ways. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, and Dustin smiles. 

“We all buckled up?” Jonathan asks as he starts up the car. 

“Yes, captain.” You mock salute. 

Will giggles at you before he sees the gift and looks up at Jonathan. “Can I open it?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

You and Dustin lean forward so you can see what’s in the box. When Will unwraps a beautiful, and no doubt expensive, camera, you gasp. The bitterness and hurt from moments ago vanishes. This gift is from Steve, you know it is, and something warm settles deep within your bones. 

You think about last month, how you’d told him not everyone can just afford a camera. 

Seems like Steve listened. 

Maybe he isn’t so bad after all. 

– 

A week later you knock on the Byers’ door, a giant container of your annual holiday cookies in your arms. 

“Bug!” Jonathan answers the door with an excited smile on his face. His new camera is in his hands and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s already taken a photo of you with your crooked earmuffs and oversized box of cookies.

He’s been using the camera ever since he got it. There’s now multiple pictures of you, always unaware or caught off guard, now hanging in the kitchen. It makes you blush to think about. 

“You didn’t even give me a chance to smile.” You complain, shoving your way inside. It’s snowing and you’re freezing. 

Joyce grabs the container to help you as soon as she sees you. “Here, honey. I’ve got it.”

You thank her and walk over to Will, who is drawing at the kitchen table. “Hey little bee. Whatcha drawing?”

“Hi, Y/N.” He slides over his picture and you’re shown a quick sketch of you and the party, this time fighting what appears to be a misshapen dog. “It’s a Dire Wolf, we’re fighting it in our latest campaign.”

“Ah, I see. Looks fluffy, though. Can’t possibly be a dangerous creature.”

Will rolls his eyes at you. “This is why you don’t play with us.”

“Careful, you’re sassing the girl who has just bravely ridden her bike through the snow to deliver her famous Christmas cookies.”

Will is out of his seat in an instant, running over to his mom, who has just placed the container on the counter. “Did you make the oatmeal raisin cookies?”

“Duh,” you snort. 

“And the chocolate chip?”

“I sure did.” You stand next to him and point at a new cookie you’re trying out this year. “This batch is a caramel banana one. Steve seemed to like it and I think it’s pretty good, so I hope you do too.”

Jonathan swoops over and kisses your head. “Of course we’ll like it, bug.”

“He’s right, you know. We always love whatever you make us, honey.” Joyce informs you, her mouth now full of cookies. 

“I’d hope so, this is like my fifth year making these for you guys. It’d be awkward if you hated my baking.” You say, now securing your earmuffs back on your head. “Anyways, I should get going. It’s Christmas, my mom won’t want me out too long.” 

Joyce looks out the window and frowns. “Did you really bike here in this weather?”

“It wasn’t too bad, I’ll be fine–”

“No. Jonathan, grab your keys and drive Y/N home.” She stares you down, daring you to argue with her, but you don’t. You know better than to argue with Joyce Byers. 

Once Jonathan has his keys, you say goodbye to everyone and wish them a merry Christmas. Jonathan throws your bike in his trunk and soon you’re off on the road. The drive is quiet but cozy. The snowflakes fall in a pretty spiral and there’s a soft song playing on the radio. 

Sometimes, if you close your eyes, you can pretend that the events from last month never happened. Will never disappeared. You never discovered that you love Jonathan. Nancy Wheeler never became friends with Jonathan, possibly something more had there been more time. When you close your eyes and sit still, you can imagine that your brother never has nightmares that wake him up screaming. That your heart doesn’t hurt when you make your best friend laugh. 

For a moment, you can forget. 

“Can we always stay like this?” You ask Jonathan softly, almost as if you’ll disturb the peace that winter has brought with its quiet snow. 

“Like what?”

You’re not sure how to express what you’re feeling. “This, us. Together.”

“Of course we’ll always stay like this.” He grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. He says this like it’s a fact, the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Pinky promise me.” You hold your pinky up. You know it’s silly, but you need him to hear you, to understand what you’re saying.

Jonathan looks over at you. “Y/N–”

“Please, promise me, bee.”

He’s silent for a moment, seeming to understand the weight of everything between, around, and within the two of you. Then, he extends his pinky finger and wraps it around yours. “I promise, bug.” 

And you believe him.

[END OF SEASON 1]

-

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[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Please No!

Oh this part, the amount of times it has gotten me teary eyed, a lot of this will probably be squealing so sorry about that but I am sucker for angst and this movie knows how to hit me.

Before I start crying let's go back for a bit.

The sequence of Miles seeing the future somehow hit him, and I am assuming it was him and only him since the others don't seem disoriented and were kind of behind.

However, all of them saw Miles clearly be shocked by The Spot's words, and honestly I think everyone would had been a bit intimidated after seeing the man basically tear time and space just to say how he will end you.

Gwen quickly goes for him to see that he is okay and that he can get up.

Gwen is calling his name while Hobie is clapping his hands, so I am guessing they both realizing Miles is stunned but physically okay, or as well as any of them are.

I love that Hobie tries to get Miles moving and went with Gwen to check on him, this guy just met Miles, who hasn't been exactly the friendliest to him (not that I think Hobie care, if he ever paid attention to that to begin with.) Yet he still goes and check on him, even if this hasn't been the point when he actively likes Miles.

Miles is disoriented, the world around him sounds distant and how we see from his eyes everything is a bit confusing and difficult to process.

This is probably bias talking but I love how realistic this feels, it reminds me of the times I had gotten so overwhelmed trying to make sense of words is difficult and felt like I barely have time to process what's going on.

Which makes me feel it for Miles while for him it only lasts a few seconds, DAMN I wouldn't like to be feeling that way when I am having rubble falling on me.

As soon as they start running Gwen checks to make sure Miles is following fine, we know she specifically was looking for Miles because Hobie was going in front of her and Gwen went directly to look towards the direction Miles should had been coming. Then she went a step back to grab him.

While this makes sense, considering he was the one who stunted and Gwen probably can hear Pavitr coming slinging; we can't pretend there is no more meaning behind Gwen checking on Miles constantly while going on.

Hobie went to make sure he could get up but after it is Gwen who is making sure he goes out in one piece.

She continues to grab him by the wrist while running (which btw, tip, most of the time that's a bad idea; it works in this context since Miles seems to be still disoriented,)

She tries to guide him amongst the rubble until it starts getting difficult for her too.

Still keeping an eye on him and helping to get him out.

(Sorry for the shake frame, I try 3 times to get one that looked decent and this was the best I could get.)

I couldn't get a good screenshot for it, but after Gwen helps Miles out he is the one who takes the lead getting out of it while still holding her hand.

There are other things to talk about in this sequence, but they aren't really ghostflower stuff, so it would go in their own separate post.

Let's continue to the part that still hurts even after seeing it so many times.

We all know that there was more than once reason why she did this, and let be honest here, I don't think the canon event was the primary concern.

Let me repeat that to make sure no one gets it twisted, maintaining the canon event IS STILL important for Gwen, but I don't think it was the main reason why she was worried about this, and we see it in the next scene.

Not My video, this is a link for the original.

Again I normally try to not use works (gifs, videos,) but there was no amount of screenshoots and words that would make this moment justice.

I feel my heart bleed every time I watch this scene, I can hear the desperation in Gwen's voice and all I can think is how she must be thinking about Peter; how she also lost him when rubble fell on him and she needed to move around to get his body.

I can imagine how absolutely terrifying and heartwrenching this must be for her; she said it before, Miles was her only friend after Peter, and while Hobie and other spideys are important to her, Miles is next level.

And the idea of losing someone that important to you in the same way you already lost someone else- goddammit I am getting teary eyed writing this.

This is why I said her priority was Miles while asking him to not go; because she didn't try to look on her watch or see if the canon event was still intact, I honestly thing she forgot about it until her watch warned her about it.

I could probably go on, but I would be repeating myself; anyone who says Gwen doesn't care about Miles (using what happens later in HQ as proof,) is blind in my opinion.

I had mentioned multiple times about how the masks are meant to be more expressive than what they would normally be to allow the characters to show emotion.

This normally shows by the shape and size of the eyes, but something I picked up while watching this scene again was that Gwen's eyes look really reflective in this scene (more than usual at least,) which is not something you really see in other scenes.

I think this was a way to indicate that Gwen was getting teary-eyed below her masks, which I think would make sense considering that it already sounds like she is ready to cry by her voice.

May be wishful thinking, but I think the way she says "Right" shows my point about not thinking on the canon event the moment she saw the rubble fall down.

For me it the way she says it looks like she just remember about this, and it needed to be her watch telling her in order to do so.

(By the way, we never see any scene with Hobie's watch doing this, it could had been that way because there was no point in doing so; but I wonder if, while being aware of canon events, his watch doesn't report these events because he isn't working full time with Miguel. Or maybe because Miguel doesn't trust him with that information.

I think is around this moment, that Gwen starts to question the canon events situation.

While she technically sided with Miguel later (or at best, stood aside without doing much for any side,) she sees what they just did here, how they had saved a bunch of people and got a happy ending for Pavitr, who if Miles hasn't done anything, will had probably dealt with a lot of trauma and guilt that he didn't deserve.

Sidenote, sadly Miles and Gwen aren't holding hands in this scene, the angle just gives that impression. I wish tho.

In a way, I think this shows what Gwen ultimately thinks about Miles' being an anomaly.

This entire situation is technically, an anomaly in itself, but she is looking at it in awe and shock, soaking at the image of a city that could had faced a worst tragedy hasn't them being here. She saw Gayatri hug her dad, something that wouldn't had been possible without Miles, because he was suppose to die in a event that is also suppose to kill Gwen's dad; I don't think that was something Gwen missed.

She knows Miles is an anomaly, yet she says she has always thought he was amazing.

I think she sees Miles in the same way Peter B does, yes, perhaps Miles situation was an accident, but it was ultimately good that it happened; because he himself is amazing, and he is better thanks to being an anomaly.

I see this scene, and I think of Gwen seeing Miles, while thinking "Perhaps is by being an anomaly, that you get to do the greatest things."

(Yes, I know that's a leap from speculation and into fanficfky territory, I may use that later.)

The Mumbattan scenes are interesting because we see an entire array of emotions coming from Gwen towards Miles. From being exasperated, to not wanting to give him the wrong idea about her and Hobie, to being so worry nothing else in the world matters.

There are still some things to talk about Mumbattan, but it has been mostly covered.

Thanks for reading!

[ioniansunsets]

may i please have some heartsteel yone/f!reader? i haven't seen much of my beloved producer 🥺

✖ Heartsteel!Yone x Reader ✖

✖ Word Count: 2k

✖ Tags: Long Term Established R/S

✖ A/N: You get together with Yone 10 years ago in Japan. HC Yone as someone who started out DJ-ing at clubs before outgrowing the scene and fading to obscurity online before Heartsteel picked him up.

----  Meeting Him ----

- You met him back in Japan, back when you visited clubs and actually managed to catch his DJ-ing before he quit. It was underground but it was unique. Experimental stuff that just somehow still sounded so damn good to you. You found yourself drawn to him and eventually going up to talk to him during a break between sets. He fell in love with you shortly after, he had a small but loyal fanbase and having someone like you appear at every single one of his performances really weakened the walls around his heart.

- You spent college dropping by any of Yone's appearances throughout your fall quarter and as school went on and as winter break came over, you finally found the time and energy to hang around and visit his other appearances too. Some fun mall gigs, cute online streams in the day, even managing to land a dj-ing gig at a local dance competition. You could tell it was hard, he had a distinctive style that was as much a pro as it was a con and eventually he faded away from performing at all in person.

- It was his 'Final Performance' so the speak. That late night in the club, a drink in hand, bright smiles as you had fun with you friends while watching the elusive masked dj on his little stage. It was his final performance. Now or never to confess your love for both him and his music, your nerves straight ice as the night slowly drew to a close. Unbeknown to you, he too, felt exactly the same as he watched you from the stand. The passing comments and small conversations the two of you shared over the months left him yearning for something more with you.

- And it was sweet when it finally happened. Uncharacteristically gentlemanly coming from a DJ. You stayed as the club begun to close, Yone walking up to talk to you just like any other time a friendly conversation before he offers you a small giftbag, softly telling you its a personal Christmas gift for his most loyal supporter, telling you to open it when you're home. You thank him, pushing yourself to exchange numbers with him so you can give him feedback when you're home safe. You curse as you miss your chance to confess in the heat of the moment.

- As you return home, you pull a thin package beautifully wrapped in the little bag. You unwrap it to find a homemade mixtape, all of your favorite songs from him paired with special unreleased works that he think you would like. How he even managed to know which were your favorites shocked you honestly. As you look into the bag further a sweet handwritten note confessing his budding love for you neatly written in decorative paper falls out. Poetic words with the neatest handwriting, you could swear the paper itself was scented too. Your heart races as you listen to the CD while reading the pages of his feelings. The first thing you ever messaged him was a cute " Yone, I love you too." Which Yone has graciously screenshotted and looked back on often over the years.

---- Heartsteel / Dating ----

- You two are the loving parents of Heartsteel, the comforting consistency, the caring confidants of the group. There was just something nice about seeing Yone and his partner of almost ten years still going strong in such a stable relationship that causes all the boys to look at you with such respect. You have fun with them all, you work hard late nights supporting Yone and his work, you look out for him as he looked out for you. You were as much part of the gang as he was.

- Surprisingly Yasuo loves you just as much (platonically), he's happy to see Yone just genuinely be so at ease around you, to have someone be there for his brother that can actually make the man relax? You have his approval. After moving on and joining True Damage, Yasuo would worry seeing Yone so alone, so having you appear and provide his brother with such companionship made him happy. Though, Yasuo does tease Yone a lot, every time you meet him he always asks you if Yone has proposed. He can't understand how you two have been together so long yet not gotten married.

- Dates with Yone were always so calming. Bringing you out to hot spring inns during stressful times, inviting you to cute hidden cafes to work together, comforting jamming sessions late night at his place if money was tight. Nothing embarrassingly over to top yet not so casual that you felt like the two of you weren't doing anything special. There was just something about the way he just knows what you need. As the years went by you realized it was just how Yone was, he was an attentive guy and especially so when it came to you.

- Also it was no secret that Yone looked at self care as a priority and slowly you picked up on his little habits too. Simple yet small adjustments to your own habits. The way you two would go through the motions of burning incense and making tea early in the mornings for a quick meditation and mindfulness session. The loving way he would cook healthier meals for you, how he would be the one buying bath and beauty products, how he would motivate you to follow him to Kendo lessons to exercise, how he would leave books filled with comments on post-its around the house for you to read when you had time. The softest part was how he never seemed disappointed even if you said no to any of this, he was caring and patient after all, he'll win you over into self help eventually.

- The biggest change with the new popularity of Heartsteel was seeing the sheer number of fans Yone started to get. You almost forgot what it was like being his fangirl honestly, so used to your life with him after his semi-retirement, it was weird suddenly being thrown back to your college days of being in love with that DJ at the club. Sure things were different, you came home to him, you slept by his side every night, you heard all his music before it was released, but still... There was something about the way your heart thrums as you stand in the audience watching Yone lift his mask to throw you a charming smile. There was something about the way you knew when he laughed softly on stage, when he waves to the fans, when the crowd cheers, that the cool DJ standing up there was all yours. Oh it made you smile just as bright.

---- During Touring Season ----

- Being together for so long had its perks and its downfalls, for one, you two had a really nice house together, a place you truly called home. Little bits of Yone all around you all the time in the way the bed smelt like him, the way you see his drinks in the fridge and his things around the room. As much as it all comforts you when he is away, it all also oh so depressingly reminds you how lonely you are without him. At the least, Yone was a man of conviction and strict schedules, without fail every day at midnight where he is, when the concerts over he would always contact you somehow. Be it a call, a message, and photo. He would always make sure to send you at the very least, something, once a day. Lovingly checking in on you to make sure you were ok.

- Sure you had your own life outside of being his loving girlfriend but yet, being by Yone's side was such a commonplace that the emptiness of the house felt foreign after all these years. Yone did his best to make sure you weren't alone though, leaving little notes hidden around the house for you to find and read, leaving you a playlist to fill his study with music so you could feel like someone was still there. Of course he still called you when he could but there were other things too, like how he kept ordering meals for you, secretly asking your neighbors to keep an eye out to make sure you were safe at night, how he actually sent you postcards so you could have a physical reminder that he was thinking of you. It was all so sweet.

- If you could make it to a concert? You had the VIP treatment, he was very secretive, not really having social media, no one really knew he was in a long term relationship with you. But for Heartsteel? Everyone close to Yone knew who you were. No questions asked, a VIP pass thrust into your hands courtesy of Alune who excitedly dragged you backstage to say hi to your partner before and after the performance.

- During the actual show it was crazy, for someone whose style was so underground it was exciting and certainly different to see how wild the crowd was compared to your hazy memories of small secluded rooms in the fringes of Tokyo all those years back. Heartsteel was good for him you had to admit, seeing him on the international stage, seeing him having so much fun with the other boys, seeing the way he was just glowing with joy when people actually hollered and cheered at his beat drops. A warm bubbling feeling rises up in your chest as you see him smile the way he does around you, only this time it was on the big stage. You knew he was happy with his own small fanbase of loyal stans but you two knew better, a tiny fanbase wouldn't pay the bills, being so wildly loved, being able to make music, his passion, for work. Having so many new people hear the same style of mixing that caught your attention years back and actually love it? Heartsteel was a blessing to you both.

- When you run backstage after the performance to congratulate all the boys on the successful performance Yone stands further back. A warm smile on his face as he pulls off his mask to watch you hug and high five everyone else, a mix of feelings as he watches you talk to his bandmate. As the initial greetings pass, you finally walk up to him, everyone leaving to settle their own post performance maintenance. For Yone, that was a little habit of searching for you and reaching out to pull you into a hug. A habit that he once had all those years back, the nostalgia after every performance always hitting him so hard his usually calm and cool demeanor would crack. The lightest tinge of a blush could be seen rising up to his ears as he finally makes eye contact with you. Slowly he walks over, a hand reaching out to beckon you to come over and hold him.

" You were amazing up on stage, I almost forgot how charming you always looked in the DJ booth."

" And I almost forgot how exciting it was to search for you cheering for me in the crowd. Especially when the crowd is that big."

Yone laughs softly. A deep melodic noise that sends shivers down your spine. Oh the way the corners of his lips curl up, his sparkling emerald eyes gaze down at you. His right hand reaching up, the back of his fingers lightly brushing over your cheeks, pushing your hair back behind your ears.

" Just like old times my love?"

" Just like old times Yone."

Carefully, doing his best to make sure his hair doesn't tickle you, the same hand that pushed your hair back now rises to hold his own messy fringe up as he leans down. Gently, just like always. His lips press against yours. Nothing too affectionate, you two were still in public after all, but still you could feel it, the way the softest kiss from your lover fills your chest with such overwhelming love. As you pull back you look up to see a smile so bright that it causes his eyes to close. Ah, you were truly loved.

[vidavalor]

Hi! Hope you're having a nice day! So, I love your metas, however, I confess the, idk tecnicalities? logistics? of a twist that they've been together the whole time still puzzle me. What would the narrative purpose of such a reveal be? Why and how would it be put into the story? I guess what I'm saying is I'd really, really like you to be correct but I'm sadly still skeptical that it could actually happen :(

Hi! Thanks for the ask. Hope you're having a nice day yourself. :) I'll give you a cheeky answer and then a real one, if you don't mind. @procrastiel also asked me to talk more about "no nightingales" and it fit into the second half of my answer here so this is kind of a combination ask response to both of you.

This gif below this paragraph here? Yeah, this is *not* the scene from 1.01 that, when decoded from their language, says they're having sex. I am not being sarcastic-- it is *not* this scene. This scene is in that meta (which is being edited, so, soon) because how could it not be, really, but *this scene* is *not* that scene lol and, yet, some people still find the idea of them sleeping together surprising:

Anon, this is, like, the third, joint Crowley & Aziraphale scene in Episode 1.01 and that is consensual, mutually beneficial, kink. One that both has a sense of humor and puts a smile on your face, as Mrs. Sandwich would put it.

Let's thought experiment a bit here. Let's say this is the extent of it. It absolutely is not lol but, for the experiment, let's say it is. Let's say that they've never taken each other to bed, they've never lent each other a hand, so to speak, they've never anything else you're thinking of right now-- nothing. The most significant physical contact they will have ever had pre-2.06 in this thought experiment is holding hands on the bus on the way back from Tadfield which, as we all know, isn't a sexual thing. Anyone can hold hands and it was a long week, but let's say that's it. They would then *still* have a sexual element to their relationship and the show gave you that information in 1.01. What is happening in this scene is a form of sex. It's already in the show that they are having sex. Yeah, they're having more and different sex than this and yeah, there is evidence of it and yeah, meta finished soon, but honestly... there is actually *a lot* of suggestion of Crowley & Aziraphale sleeping together. For now, we'll just talk about this scene here...

Crowley liking to watch is such a thing that it's now a recurring joke on the show. You don't think that "can I watchhhhh" while he follows Aziraphale around the neighborhood in S2 wasn't Crowley self-deprecatingly poking fun at the fact that he's got a bit of a voyeuristic thing happening? "Can I slither over and watch you eat cake?" in Good Omens: Lockdown?... Anon. Girl.

Crowley isn't just scientifically intrigued by Aziraphale eating lunch. He's not just super happy that his pal is having a very delicious meal. He is very, very, very sexually into watching Aziraphale eat...which is to say that he's into watching Aziraphale allow himself to experience pleasure, in the face of the repression of the Heaven mentality... and Aziraphale isn't just indulging this in a one-sided way where, for whatever reason, he lets his best friend of 6,000 years get turned on watching him have lunch but they don't talk about it or something and Aziraphale lets it go because he's got no one else to talk to lol. Aziraphale is equally into this. It's easy to see why and the more the show tells you about Aziraphale, the easier it is.

Aziraphale, into Crowley watching him? Aziraphale, who painted every damn room in his house the color of Crowley's pretty, Va-Va-Voom Yellow eyes? Aziraphale, who has scene after scene after scene after scene of looking irritated and jealous at literally anything else Crowley is ever looking at and calls beautiful? lol That angel is into the undivided attention of the Serpent of Eden, ok?

Crowley made the stars in the sky. He's a creator and an innovator and an engineer and an artist. He's been on Earth since the start and has seen basically everything beautiful humanity has ever made. He drives one of the finest examples of human ingenuity-- his beautiful Bentley. He's seen The Pyramids and watched Da Vinci paint The Mona Lisa and saw first-run Shakespeare performed at The Globe. He has an eye for art and beauty... and he's the original temptress. It was Crowley who tempted Eve into eating the apple and when Eve ate that apple and discovered the pleasures of food, she and Adam created that whole Biblical fruits of knowledge metaphor by getting up to some other forms of pleasure soon after, so, Crowley is basically responsible for free thought and pleasure throughout all of human history since the Garden of Eden... and what drives him out of his mind with want is Aziraphale enjoying himself.

I mean, enjoying his food. Totally just his food. Only his food, Anon. *slight smirk*

Aziraphale is absolutely into that. Crowley likes to watch and Aziraphale likes being watched in that way. Crowley looking at him like he's more beautiful than nebulae and statues of Gabriel is attention that is absolutely welcome by Aziraphale. Two of his favorite things at once-- a luxurious, scrumptious lunch and a turned on Crowley. Aziraphale's ideal day lol. That angel is watching Crowley watch him and loving every minute of it. It's as delicious as his actual lunch. Look at that little glance over at him. C'mon lol.

They do this from time to time. What do you think the results are? What would happen if you kinky-lunched with your best friend and how low are the odds that this is the only sexual thing the two of you have managed to get up to in the 6,000 years you've been on Earth? When one of you is a raging hedonist and the other likes to take beautiful things apart to see how they work?

This scene and its character knowledge is dropped into the middle of the first episode of the show with zero context and 10/10 no notes that was the single most hilarious way this extremely funny show could have ever chosen to do this but this is something the show chose to not only tell us about but to then provide context for in 2.02.

They gave kinky lunch an origin story, Anon lol. They were like also, you should probably know about Bildad at the ox rib special... you see, that hot lunch from 2008 actually started in *2,500 B.C.* when Crowley offered Aziraphale some barbecue and Aziraphale, who had never eaten before, ate an entire ox while Crowley lounged in the corner with a jug of wine and fantasized about being Aziraphale's dinner and before you yell at me, Anon, for sexualizing barbecue when really, sometimes, one just loves a good cookout, I agree with you.

Enjoying food does not have to be a sexual experience. I mean, I've had some pasta that could have given me an orgasm but... what makes ox rib cellar night sexual isn't how much Aziraphale is like omg food is delicious, I eat now, maybe forever, this is amazing. It's how he *looks an aroused Crowley dead in the eye while fully aware of how into watching him Crowley is and then goes back to enjoying his barbecue.*

The next day, he's cracking Crowley up by using the ox ribs in their whole plot to save the kids by having that be what Sitis pulls out of Job's ribs. Gabriel and the angels think sex is rib removal so Crowley and Aziraphale are jointly, from across a room, like the previous night coordinating a kind of pseudo-sex to fool the angels and Aziraphale puts the ox ribs into the pseudo-sex, joking with Crowley about their own sex-that's-not-exactly-traditional-sex-but-was-way-more-sex-than-this from the night before. He winks at Crowley and gives him two thumbs up when he sets up the ox rib bit of it and Bildad was like do not laugh in front of the angels do not laugh in front of the angels...

It was absolutely an intentional joke on Aziraphale's part, poking light fun at their night of figuring out that they have a pair of wildly compatible, mutually arousing kinks that can bring them some fun and showing they have a sense of humor about themselves-- something that is on display a lot, actually.

They're very aware of this and very funny about it and it has been going on since 2,500 B.C., Anon. S2 was just like Bildad at the ox rib special was the first time they had a form of sex, fyi, so yeah, that's why I would not be surprised if S3 has some flashback where they're semi-dressed in Aziraphale's bedroom or something and the implication is that they also have sex that doesn't involve food. The show is also already saying that they do and other scenes already suggest it but we'll save that for the main meta on this topic.

Ok, so my less cheeky, more technical answer :)

To be clear about what I'm saying here so we're on the same page about what S3 could potentially maybe bring... I'm not saying that there's a 25 minute long minisode that's nothing but them getting busy. It would likely be a bit more subtle than that. I say that and then also they did drop food kink into 1.01 and had that hilarious Newt & Anathema scene in S1 so who knows lol but basically, I think there's a flashback in S3 somewhere that is a little more direct about the fact that they've been sleeping together and for a long time. It doesn't need to be anything wild. It doesn't even need to be anything but suggestive of it. A friend of mine thinks it's my The Blitz, Part 3 theory but that they're in bed when Greta gets into the bookshop. All I know is that it's suspicious to me that the only room in the bookshop they haven't really shown us so far is Aziraphale's bedroom. Probably because there's at least some subtle evidence of Crowley in it and they're dragging that out a bit. The one thing I do think though for sure is that we get the vavoom-y first kiss and it being a bonkers amount of time ago, to re-contextualize basically all of their scenes that come after it, which will wind up being most scenes. I don't presume to be correct about details about stuff we haven't seen as I would not dream that I could predict the how, just maybe that I've got the overall vibes right at this point. I won't place any bets about how they'd work in a more direct implication of sex. I might on The Vavoom, though. I've got a solid feeling about that.

For the record, I wouldn't really consider them in bed a twist (as you might have gotten from the tone of this meta lol) but I can see how some people would. If your skepticism is coming at all, even in part, from a place of something like this just not frequently done on tv, I'd say, well, you might have also thought they weren't going to kiss, either, and *gestures in the general direction of Every and doesn't gif it because we've all been through enough* lol. The show is very, very queer-friendly and has a showrunner and actors who seem game enough so none of that is really an impediment to this.

Good Omens is telling its story out of chronological order, for the most part, for what amount to two main reasons: because it lends additional meaning to its themes and because it's fun as hell. The narrative purpose of adding additional context to Crowley & Aziraphale's relationship is to add to your understanding of it because your understanding of it is one of the main ways the show is conveying a lot of its themes. They are the story so adding context to the story to drive meaning is never is not without narrative purpose. By telling the story out of sequence, you wind up engaging your audience to focus more on what you're saying in every scene because you've taught them to look for the layers you're building.

Good Omens told you "no nightingales"-- had Crowley use nightingales and confirm that it's a word in his and Aziraphale's language-- in the same scene in which they showed you them kissing for the first time (and, for them, the worst time lol) to help bury the lede that this other scene earlier in the season is actually telling you about their first kiss. (By setting this up, they now have to show you it, suggesting it's in S3.) The other scene is obviously Crowley taking advantage of the fact that Aziraphale just asked him to play Cupid (and called Crowley romantic in doing so, btw-- "I don't think she [Maggie] knows how to conduct a courtship" implying that Aziraphale feels that Crowley does and that's why Aziraphale has run to his very romantic partner for help). Aziraphale is asking him to help the shop lesbians fall in love and Crowley uses the moment to demonstrate that romantic side by describing back to Aziraphale their first kiss as, to him, the epitome of romance:

Good Omens intentionally shows you stuff and then gives you more context that helps you understand it later. It spent two seasons getting you to know more about nightingales than Sir David Attenborough for the express purpose of eventually answering your question in 2.06. The question: do all these references to these romantic birds really mean that Crowley & Aziraphale are aware of them and the nightingales mean something to them or are the nightingales just a metaphor for them?

And even if a part of you was still going awfully interesting choice of metaphor since this is all romantic as all hell the whole time, you're still not sure until 2.06 if it's symbolism and metaphor and if the show is ever going to weave it totally into Crowley & Aziraphale directly, even if a few clues seem to suggest that they have been doing so all along. Like that "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is playing on the piano at The Ritz in S1 (implying one of them either asked or magically influenced the pianist to play it, implying that it's their song/a song with meaning to them/their parallel to Ineffable Bureaucracy's "Everyday", as we'd say after S2.) Most significantly, that Aziraphale in 1967 seems to be referencing it in a coded way when he tells Crowley that maybe, one day, in the future, they could dine at the Ritz, in a scene that's almost impossible to read as anything but a discussion about their relationship.

Cut to 2.06 when Crowley busts this out:

The show is now like remember when we taught you that nightingales are symbolic of romance? Well, we had to so that you'd understand that here is nightingales being used by Crowley as the shorthand word in their language for their romance. We taught you that dining at the Ritz is the act of trying to live live a little more openly with that romance, as well as meaning to literally dine at the Ritz, and that it's a reference to the lyric in "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square." Here's Crowley talking about it. Here's him using the word nightingales in a coded way and Aziraphale understanding him. Here's confirmation of this word existing between them as the word they use when talking about this romance of theirs long before this scene in 2.06 takes place. Here's confirmation that they are in a romantic relationship with one another. Crowley using "nightingales" and Aziraphale understanding him means that it means their romantic relationship in their language... which means they have a word for their romantic relationship in their language... which is to say that they have a romantic relationship.

People do have romantic relationships without having kissed one another before or without having sex but do beings who kinky lunch? Probably not. No nightingales recontextualizes the kiss in its same scene for us the way that Crowley lifting the magic for a moment as he walked away in Job's courtyard recontextualized what had happened earlier in that scene for Aziraphale. When Crowley got Aziraphale to see the crows were the key, Aziraphale understood what had just happened in the scene. When, in 2.06, Crowley says no nightingales, it's for us, this time. Not Aziraphale. He already knows how to speak their language. Even if it's the first time *you've* seen them kiss, no nightingales exists to show you that it's not the first time they ever have.

You don't have a word in a secret language unless you need it. You don't talk about a romantic relationship with one another that you don't have. Crowley pointing to Heaven the way he did when he had Muriel arrest him and saying no nightingales is Crowley saying their romantic relationship, at that moment, felt incompatible with Aziraphale going to Heaven. Heaven means no nightingales-- no romance. He doesn't know how they can continue *the romantic relationship that they already have* if Aziraphale is leaving.

2.06 is not their first kiss; it is probably the worst kiss they've ever had and they've had thousands. It was desperation in the failure of surface communication and double speak alike both seeming to fail them in the moment. Aziraphale touches his mouth with a shaking hand after Crowley leaves and thinks about how he wants him to come back and do it again because imagine loving your soulmate for six millennia and it's going to end with that kiss. This is not a show that's going to permanently break your heart here. Everyone basically already knows how it ends and it's sweet. It's called Good Omens. You really think a show like this is going to make these two adorable supernatural dorks that are its protagonists have had a depressing first kiss? Especially when they're already hinting at how they're going to reveal in S3 that it was really the complete opposite of one? And that it was a really, really long time ago...

If you look back on the nightingales references prior to this, right, you realize that this word has existed in their vocabulary for a long time. "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" was playing on the piano at the end of S1 so nightingales was already in their vocabulary then. They were already involved romantically in S1. The scene as they agree to go to lunch ahead of the end of S1 has Aziraphale saying that they should go to The Ritz and when we get in there and see them at lunch, we realize we've already been here with them in the first episode and that the show chose to only tell us in the season 1 finale. They tell you things and then add in context to give them additional layers of meaning later.

They dined at The Ritz in 2008 for the first time in 1.01, doing what Aziraphale had suggested in 1.03, so there are nightingales in the beginning, middle and end of S1 pretty directly. Aziraphale having suggested this in 1967 means that nightingales already meant romance to them then. It's *why* Aziraphale uses dining at the Ritz to describe having that more open romance as something he would like-- literally and metaphorically. It comes from the song, which was first performed in 1940. It suggests that the references to this song for them probably tie to The Blitz in 1941, which we almost certainly have a Part 3 to coming in S3. It would be a safe bet "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is in it somewhere. Whatever happens then will also wind up re-contextualizing the "no nightingales" moment and adding additional meaning to it that we don't yet know but we know enough already to understand that nightingales = romance.

But when Crowley says no nightingales in 2.06, he frames it by asking Aziraphale to stop and listen, in a reference to the formation of their secret language in the Job courtyard. In a reference to those other birds-- crows-- that hid the goats and formed the basis of Crowley's name. Nightingales and dining at the Ritz might have existed for them since WW2 as words but there were other words that pre-date it and by framing the nightingales comment in such a way as to also reference Job, it's a reminder of how their romance isn't new. It's thousands of years old. The crows were nightingales, long before they ever admitted it, let alone got a song.

World's hottest, most romantic buddy comedy, I tell ya...

[soulofapatrick]

The Morning After - Pedro Pascal x Reader

Part Two of Friends to Lovers Series 

Summary: The morning after the red carpet and events of Solace  

Words: 1.7k 

Warnings: nothing, this is just fluff

Notes: Your last name is Thornberry in this series (I needed to add a last name to get a ship name)

Y/N’s POV

Pedro is an absolute legend and I love him with all my heart. He took me up to his hotel room and found me some of his clothes I could change into to get out of the suffocating corset, never looking anywhere immodest when he had to help unzip it and get me out of it. I quickly pulled on the baggy sweater he had given me and Pedro set the damn thing aside before he left me to change into the sweats so he could also get changed out of the premier outfit. 

Nothing was said about what happened in the car but there was definitely a change in the atmosphere around us. We’re usually orbiting together but it feels like we’re now slowly set on a collision course in all the right ways. I didn’t believe people slipping from friends into partners like nothing has changed but when he climbs into the double bed with me and pulls my into his arms. I shift until my head is on his chest and my leg is tangled between his, our hands intertwined and he hums lightly as we decide what to watch. 

“This is so much better than an after party,” I mumble, pressing my face into his chest as I feel my cheeks heat up at the admittance, still confused as to what happened earlier. I saw the hickeys in the mirror, Pedro watched my fingers ghost over them with a proud smirk on his lips but nothing more has been done or said, “You’re the best.” 

His fingers grip my chin, forcing me to meet those charming cognac eyes, “I’m the best, am I?” He’s so close I can smell the mint on his breath from brushing his teeth and I find myself reaching up, hand messing with the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling ever so gently. You wouldn’t have noticed I was doing it but the look in Pedro’s eyes tells me he knows and suddenly soft lips are on mine and my eyes are fluttering closed. The kiss is quick and innocent, both of us taking the time to get to know the others lips but nothing more, nothing less. 

We go back to the movie Pedro put on after, cuddling like this is the most natural thing in the world. It definitely feels it as he begins talking, “How does breakfast sound in the morning? There’s a Starbucks down the road where they have your favourite four cheese toasties and we can have coffee and just relax.” 

“Sound perfect.” 

“You’re perfect, baby girl.” 

“Oh shush!” I bat his chest lightly, fighting a yawn and failing. The sound of his heartbeat lulling me to sleep and the familiar rumble in his chest at every funny moment letting me know it’s him have me cocooned in a safety net of Pedro. I grip his hand tightly as my eyes begin fighting and before I know it a hand is carding through my hair and he’s whispering to me. 

——————

Waking with Pedro curled up around my back is the best thing I could think of. We’ve slept in the same bed before but again, there’s something different about this. Our body having gravitated towards each other and fit as if made for each other. His large hand is splayed across my stomach under the shirt, his face pressed against the back of my neck, soft snores letting me know he’s still asleep. 

I just revel in the peace, the comfort of him being here and the fact that my feelings weren’t one sided after all. I have to thank Oscar when I next see him as he was the one who introduced us at one of his get togethers and we hit it off immediately. Pedro was charming and very down to earth for someone starring in such big hits and honestly I couldn’t stop the flush that had spread over me when I realise he was Javier Peña from Narcos. I had always had a crush on the character and those steamy scenes? Well fuck me. 

“Morning baby girl.” A sleep filled voice murmurs, breath ghosting over my neck and arms tightening around me as he stretches. I hum in response, reaching my arm back to scratch at his beard gently and he presses a kiss to my palm before turning me around in his arms. His lips are plump and pillowy, his beard scratching my chin lightly but the beard burn is so worth it and I never want to stop kissing him but humans need oxygen. Stupid evolution, “Hmmmm we never had the pizza.” 

“No, but we’re getting coffee. I have been promised coffee.” I reply, brushing my lips along his neck and relishing in the shiver it gets. He moves his head back a little to expose more skin and well it is only fair that if I have to go out with hickeys so does hi so I nip at the skin, sucking those dark marks into the lightly tanned skin for the whole world to see. 

The whole world to see… 

“Pedro.” I quickly sit up, the meaning of all that’s happened suddenly hitting me and he knows it, the way his eyes soften when he sits up with me. He doesn’t speak, taking my hands in his and kissing my knuckles, then leaning forwards to kiss my cheeks then my forehead, my chin and finally my lips. It’s as if he’s promising me the world without saying a word and I don’t care what anyone has to say or think about us because I’m his and he’s mine, “Yes Pedro.” 

He’s beaming, both of us knowing what I’m saying yes to. To him, to us, to the world. Yes.

“I’ve waited for this for so long.” He murmurs, stealing another kiss from me before he’s whispering against my lips, “You. My girlfriend.” 

I hum again, kissing him once more before slipping out of bed, “I was promised coffee.” 

“That you were Princesa.” He chuckles, following suit, going to his bag to rummage around for clothes. We don’t have to dress up today as it’s a day off after last night and I’m just so glad as I’m not dealing with my replacement stylist again. I’m going to call Emma later and get her back, hoping she’ll come back soon or find me another stylist while she’s gone that isn’t James. 

“Ah,” I glance at last nights outfit, “We’re gonna have to stop off at my room... I need a bra.” 

He rakes his eyes down my body then back up with no shame and it has me blushing, turning my head away and arms instinctively covering my stomach as I wait for the older man to grab his jacket now that he’s dressed. He’s uncurling my arms from my waist, whispering about how beautiful I am to him before drawing me up into a meaningful kiss that has me weak at the knees, “Come on baby girl let’s get you ready for our coffee date.” 

Pedro stuffs his wallet into his jeans pocket, pulling his jacket over the simple tee shirt he’s got on and he slips his worn out trainers. He’s grabbing the room key, my outfit from the premier and my boots in one hand, holding the other out for me to take which I of course do. We’re on the same floor just I’m right down the other end of the hallway and I know we’re going to get spotted by a fan or two as some have booked rooms on this floor for the specific reason to see us and other celebs. 

I let us into my room, feeling the flash of a camera behind us before Pedro shuts the door. He settles on my bed, putting my clothes and shoes down and let’s me grab whatever I need. He pulls out his phone and begins scrolling through social media as I grab a pair of jeans, a bra and some clean underwear and socks before slipping I got he bathroom to change. I should check social media too after last night knowing my phone is probably blowing up on the bed right now, Pedro having brought it with us seeing as I seemed to forget everything I needed. I’m still a little dazed at the fact I’m dating my best friend who is Pedro Pascal. 

Leaving the bathroom Pedro’s deep cognac eyes roam my body with no shame, settling on the pink sweater he leant me last night. I decided to keep on because it smells like him and well maybe I like the way he’s looking at me currently, his voice cracking when he tries to speak before he has to clear his throat and try again, “We’re trending. They’ve given us a ship name as well. Meet Pascaberry.” He shows me his phone where someone has posted a video of us from last night. It’s from when he rested his forehead against mine and I turned and hugged him and yeah there’s nothing very platonic looking about the hug or the way our noses bump. 

“Pascaberry? Hmmm, kinda has a nice ring to it.” I sit next to him grabbing my own phone from where Pedro had put it on charge to see hundreds upon hundreds of notifications from all types of social media, “Oh wow, they really love us together. I thought they’d find the age gap weird.” 

“We’ll, there’s going to be some who won’t like our age gap but,” He grips my chin and makes me look at him, “I. Don’t. Care.” He punctuates every word with a kiss, before letting me go to put my shoes on. I go for the same Doc Martens as yesterday and then grab my jacket, shoving my phone and wallet into my pockets and stretching the last remains of sleep from my body. His arms wrap around me and he’s leaning his head on my shoulder, pressing an innocent kiss to my neck before asking, “Shall we?” 

“The world awaits.”

 Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - lots, just LOTS

I thought I would be pretty lean reporting for Oct 2023 but then (for reasons relayed here) the weeklies got saved by a drunk avenging hacker in a hotel room.

Oct 2023 Wk 1

Except I still can't watch IFYLITA, because I use my other computer for it.

Gotta say though, watching tese mostly all in one day (for travel reasons) is beyond even my BL superpowers. I did my best tho.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Dangerous Romance (Fri YT) ep 8 of 12 - Sailom, sweetie, Kang is never sleeping alone again. It wasn't really translated, but Kang's way of speaking in that opening stinger was VERY cutsie. Also the gay sheets have made another appearance. I do have to say that "rich kid problems" is not my favorite story arc, but I still think this is a great Thai BL.

Naughty Babe (Sat YT) ep 6 of 8 - I love that they are finally talking to each other but Yi’s whole personality is shifting. Honestly, this pair is great at kissing and casual touches, but the friendships are the best thing about this franchise. Also Mr Chenne remains my fav character. But where did Diao's baby superhero team come from? And why? This show is very confusing... It’s also not very good.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) You Are My Soulmate ep 7 - This was the one of the series I was looking forward to the most, because silly, pretty, and v BL. It is, in fact all those things and nothing more. So I'm enjoying it, of course.

Absolute Zero (Thai Weds iQIYI) ep 2 of 12 - I like it, but it feels like it's gonna be so sad. I'm having Promise and Dew the movie flashbacks. Plus 12 eps seems too long for this narrative thread. I am worried.

Venus in the Sky (Tues iQIYI) 6 of 10 eps - This show is so slow it's hardly worth the bandwidth, but we attained "baby is a floppy drunk" and thus a finger bite frustration scene, which was nice.

Only Friends (Sat YT) ep 9 of 10 (not a BL but I'm watching it anyway) - Ray is so mean to Sand. The not-a-thing with Sand & Nick was cute. I’ve had several experiences like that. All my queer friendship groups tend to be incestuous, but sometimes they're just too much of a sibling and trying to sleep with them is the most unsexy thing in the universe. To be fair, I’ve also been in Ton’s position (this ep). Jojo sure makes queer shizz. But also, Ton must have a magic rod with everyone wanting a repeat. (I'm so glad they put Neo in this role, no one else at GMMTV could play him as complex or sympathetic.)

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

You Are Mine (Taiwan Fri Viki) eps 5 of 10 - now officially known by me as "I'm too sunshine for this seme" where our boss is being hella obvious but our cinnamon roll is just too ooey-gooey to notice. Al.though, baby boy, he takes you home, sleeps on top of you, feeds you cookies (IN HIS BED) and keeps you in his space? Surely even this sunshine is catching a few rays of truth?

Gaga's *unintelligible gay murmuring* is my favorite caption EVER.

Also the name of my new ASMR YT channel.

Bon Appetit (Korea Weds iQIYI) 3-4 of 8 - ah gay panic, also what is Korea's obsession with 7 year separations? Is it only true love if you wait 7 years? Dohoon is SUCH a flirt, it's kinda great! Also, since it's Korea, we got us a bit of a love triangle with 2 hyung romances, so I (of course) am torn. Either way Dohoon is going down. I do love how much time we are spending with the food in this drama, finally one that lives up to its name. On an entirely different note, Korean camping is the most bizare thing to me. It's SO damn civilized. There will be NO DIRT. They pack blow torches. And full dinner sets. Every time I see it in a drama, I'm amused.

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 7 of 8 - OMG these 2 are so in love with each other, and so ridiculous about it. They're tiny idiots but I love them.

If It’s With You AKA Even If I Fall In Love With You AKA Kimi to nara Koi wo Shite Mite mo’ (Japan Gaga) ep 1 of 5 - from MBS a live action adaptation of Kubota Maru’s manga ‘君となら恋をしてみても. Amane has stopped loving people due to trauma until he meets Ryuji. At first Amane just wants to play with Ryuji but… feelings.

I like the odd Japanese mature-childishness in this one. Plus a broken sunshine who is out in a kind of aggresive way and an instinctive caring seme. What's not to love? Well, it's Japan I'm sure it will surprise me one way or another.

Mr Cinderella 2 (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 3 of ? - the cray cray step brother quazi incest is a bit much for me. Why does VBL just suddenly get so unhinged like this?

Kiseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan Tues Viki & iQIYI) ep 9 of 13(?) - resumes next week

It's Airing But...

I Feel You Linger in the Air (Fri grey) ep 8 of 12 - I will try to watch 8-12 and do a series review when I get back in November but... not sure I will be able to. Fingers crossed.

Love in Translation (Sat iQIYI) ep 8fin - I will complete and drop a review in Nov.

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - 4th installment in this series (1st series, 1 special, 1 movie prior) about a lawyer who lives with his boyfriend, a hairdresser, and cooks for him. I find thie series more fun to binge, som I'm waiting until it completes its run.

I Cannot Reach You AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan Tues Netflix-Japan & ????) - in classic JBL fashion, I Cannot Reach You could not be reached. 

Can I Buy Your Love From A Vending Machine? AKA Sono Koi, Jihanki de Kaemasu ka? (Japan cinema release in-country only) - This one is a movie from Japan so in customary fashion who tf knows when (or if) it will get international distribution. Salaryman Ayumu Koiwai just can't tear his eyes away from the strong, muscular man as he checks on the stocks of the vending machine in his office.

In case you missed it?

Crazy Handsome Rich (Sun Gaga) Apparently ended its run I DNFed this at ep 3. So no review from me.

My Beautiful Man: Eternal AKA Utsukushii Kare Eternal (Japan movie Viki & Gaga) - Play it again Sam, only I'm kinda tired of this song. I was v dramatic tho. And it's always nice to be reminded JBL can kiss when it puts its mind to it. 8/10

Next Week Looks Like This

Upcoming October BL

10/31 SHADOW (Thai VIU ????) - this is a horror BL featuring ghosts and other paranormal elements in a high school setting. I'm not wild about Thai horror (or horror at all, but if it must be done in BL let Japan do it). It features Singto (who did paranormal BL He's Coming to Me) opposite Fluke N (who's done a couple horror's before). Also Fiat. Dan suffers from sleep paralysis, and in his dreams he sees a shadow that suffocates him. It gets worse when he transfers schools.

10/? Bump Up Project AKA Bump Up Business (Korea ????) - BL staring OnlyOneOf that released(??) as a movie in July but is now being recut and reissued as a series. Stars NineMill and from Idol Romance bulled as a love story between a trainee who is about to debut and a celebrity from the same agency (based on a webtoon). OnlyOneOf have been auditioning for this since Libido IMHO. You can watch me chronicle their BL MV work in this post. Idol Romance will do sad but can do good kisses (Wish You, Nobleman Ryu, Once Again, Kissable Lips, Poongduck 304, Tasty Florida, Tinted With You) but I don't think we will get any in this. After that OmegaX Shoulder bullshizz buisness I am very wary of this show.

2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I've seen this Chinese drama like... no wait... okay it's like EVERY Chinese drama ever.

(both Mr Cinderella 2)

I only got to watch this scene and the bath, but bot were pretty darn good! I Feel You Linger in the Air

There's only one bed but they slept together on the floor anyway. One of BL's oddest tropes.

I do love a finger bite. (both Venus in the Sky)

Good advice

(Naughty Babe)

(Last week) 

[zuhamuses]

☆ some harri headcanons because i love him so much. slightly suggestive in some scenes but nothing too bad! enjoy, my loves <3

Harrison grey. The guy who avoided you like the plague at first, and messed with you, continuously lying and never uttering a single truth, was now SO in love with you. 

His lovesick grin when he sometimes wakes up before you (it’s very rare), and he looks at your face as if seeing you for the first time. His eyes glide over your slightly furrowed eyebrows to your closed eyes, then to the bridge of your nose, and lastly they reach your lips. The lips he had connected with his own on so many occasions. Harri makes sure to drink in your sight like a man starved and thirsty in the Sahara, etching every detail into his brain before he drifts off to sleep once again.

Always wants to sleep till late, especially when there are no missions to go to. He would like to just stay in bed with his beloved, either while reading a book or listening to her talk. He doesn’t care what you want to say, your voice is so lovely that it has held him captive. He WILL gently comb his fingers through your hair!! He’s big on that!

JAW AND EAR KISSES… oh yes. Lazy kisses on your jaw to silence you whenever you want to get out of bed. He will silence your murmurings and complains with that. When he succeeds in getting you to be quiet and flustered, he passes you a grin. 

His morning voice??? Hello?? Raspy and hot and when he murmurs next to your ear with that?? He will use it to mess with you from time to time, and oh lord does this man love when you get flushed because of that??? “Sweetheart” “darling” or any other term of endearment said in that voice is enough to cause a mini heart attack!!

Harri gets possessive quite easily and he’s not really verbal about it, but he will pull you closer by your waist, and whisper some things in your ear. Yeah… some really scandalous things at times that you have to clamp a hand on his mouth to shut him up. Seriously, for an introvert, he’s so cheeky and mischievous at times.

Will most definitely share his sweets with you. You are his partner, the love of his life, his last love! And if you wanna make him flustered, then scoop up some of the dessert on a spoon and bring it to his lips. Sometimes he may be caught off guard but other times he will eat it, and kiss your finger. Saying something like “You smell sweeter than all these desserts.” and watches you avert your gaze from him. He’s cheeky as hell.

If you ever wear his clothes, he WILL get flustered. You look so damn cute in his clothes! He just wants to coddle you all day and kiss you till you are left breathless. Goodness, the effect you have on him is crazy, but now he doesn’t know how to live without you.

Reading books together at night!! Him reading to you in that soft tone of his, and having you sit on his lap??? Yes. 

Harri will sometimes stare at you with lovey dovey eyes when he thinks you aren’t looking. You are the prettiest girl he has ever met in his entire life, and he’s constantly surrounded by other women. Oh. and speaking of other women, if you ever get jealous of someone getting too close to Harri, he will make sure you know how much you mean to him.

He will kiss you till you are gasping for air, face flushed red, and the only thing you can utter is his name. It’s in such moments that he truly lets loose, and says what’s in his heart. Honestly, with no filters. “Yeah, darling. I love you. I love you more than you will ever know.” Even though you are panting to catch your breath, he has the strongest urge to connect your lips with his again. That, he does.

Will always treat you gently, and be sweet with you. He loves you, and Harri knows he has to let you know that.

You do things to Harrison Grey, and he’s fallen too hard for you, with no hopes of ever getting up.

[maryellencarter]

Andy Serkis, of course, as *the* expert in motion-capture acting ever since he first played Gollum 20+ years ago, is a shapeshifter in ways beyond even most character actors to achieve.

He's also a high-level shapeshifter by normal character actor methods -- when I saw him in Black Panther (I think possibly the only place I've seen him wearing his own face, me not being a great moviegoer at the best of times), there was only one brief moment where an expression that reminded me of Gollum flickered through.

Recently, it turned out that a free trial of Amazon Prime which I happened to have running could be converted into a second free book credit on Audible if I should take a free trial there. I've been curious for some time about the 2021 audiobook of LOTR performed by Andy Serkis, and while trying to get my sleep schedule right way up for job-hunting purposes, I've been working on listening to his Fellowship of the Ring. (I've just reached Moria.)

It's a straight-up audiobook, not a play, by the technical definition: one performer, no music or added special effects. But *damn*, you want to talk about shapeshifting? Serkis does startlingly accurate impressions of every actor in the Peter Jackson movies, plus unique voices for characters with no movie casting, and he sings the songs that are described as having tunes.

(I don't have the ear to tell whether he's using new compositions or some kind of traditional tunes, except that I can say for certain he doesn't use Tolkien's rendition of "A fox went out on a winter's night" for Sam's "Troll Song". If anyone with a better ear than mine happens to investigate, I'd be delighted to know what's discovered.)

His narratorial voice isn't 100% Jirt, which is a Choice, but one I honestly support. The Professor had a thick Old English accent which would probably be a chore to listen to or perform for 60+ hours of total audiobook length. Serkis seems to be using something close to his natural Middlesex accent for the narration, as far as I can tell, but there are enough of the familiar Tolkienian twists (like using the "o" sound from the word "tossed" in "shone" and "wroth") that I'm favorably impressed so far.

His Elvish pronunciation isn't perfect, but it's solidly movie-quality (positive); you'd likely have to be me, with a quarter-century and counting of Sindarin as a second language, to snag on the tiny things I'm snagging on, stuff like the Finnish-style double-length "m" in Remmirath or the "eth" sound represented by the "dh" in Caradhras. (There is properly no D sound in Caradhras; the middle consonant sound should be that of the "th" in "these clothes", but I've never actually heard anyone besides myself say it that way.) He gets a lot of the tricky sounds correct, better than I do when I'm being sloppy, like the long-i-adjacent diphthong in Edain or the broad second A in Gandalf.

Also, the unique voices and the vocal effects he brings in for certain scenes are just... I don't even have words. The Barrow-Wight is as terrifying as it was when I was ten. Tom Bombadil sings about 95% of his dialogue, which I've never imagined any performance acknowledging unless it were the hypothetical LOTR opera I suggest every so often, but goddamn if he doesn't somehow make it work. For the movie-cast voices, he flips so smoothly between the mishmash of accents that I keep forgetting I'm not actually listening to a full-cast play with Billy Boyd's chirpy Glaswegian, Sean Bean's gruff Yorkshire, and Sean Astin's earnest put-on West Country all complete.

As for the lowest bar, the reason I refuse to recommend Rob Inglis's older unabridged audiobooks as an entry point -- Inglis regularly inserts contractions that aren't in the original text, turning the formal tone of scenes where "cannot" and "will not" are important signifiers into something incongruously conversational. I do not forgive that kind of alteration in a text where the formality level, and the changes between levels, are such an incredibly fundamental part of what's being conveyed. Serkis has already successfully cleared one dialogue point where it would have been easy to change "can not" to "can't" (Pippin talking nearly as fast as hobbitly possible), and I'm very optimistic that he'll continue to hit those marks.

Wow, that got longer than I expected, but I'm *really* enjoying this rendition. Unless it majorly blows up in my face somehow, I fully expect to have a new go-to recommendation for How To Experience LOTR for people who can't get through it by reading the text. (And even for people who can. I've said on many occasions, that book is written to be read aloud.)

[moonlight-prose]

BLOOD ALONG THE MOON

➛ 03. WICKED NIGHTS

a/n: honestly i didn't expect to take a year to ever post about this fic again. if i'm being honest i figured this would become an abandoned series. solely cause the inspo for this character completely left my head. but i couldn't let go of our reporter and their love story with this bat. so while the updates may take time, i'm ready to keep going with this. enjoy.

summary: halloween was always been your least favorite night of the year, but circumstances make it so much worse.

word count: 8.2k+

pairing: bruce wayne x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, fluff, awkward beginnings, a small bit of romance, murder, death, crime scenes, grief, gratuitous prose about the darkness of gotham.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Halloween. Your least favorite night of the year.

The city streets were crowded with people; a sight not unusual to the dark pit that Gotham transformed into. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. Even getting to work was a struggle due to the overcrowded platform of the subway and the scarcity of cabs. If you had your way you’d wish everyone would suddenly vanish—giving you a chance to find some reprieve before the onslaught of darkness that plagued this night every year. Although you were foolish enough to hold out hope. Foolish enough to believe that things would be different; that nothing wicked would befall this night.

If only you’d known.

Work was filled with people milling about, some in costumes, some not. You wore your usual black coat—a pair of boots accompanying your look. If someone were to ask you’d claim you were dressed as you were every other day of the year—as a reporter working yourself to the bone. It would be sure to get a laugh from a person or two in this office.

It always did in the end.

Only this time…you weren’t laughing.

The interview you had with Bruce Wayne yesterday continued to bounce around in your mind; the thought of how to write it, still missing. You didn’t want to sound like every other magazine that sprouted nothing but gossip. There’s a reason why you chose to work at the Gotham Gazette. So you could get into the nitty and gritty of the story—no matter how dark it got in the end. To you this was either a story people would talk about forever, or it would remain a forgotten piece that would later wind up in people’s trash cans come morning the next day.

“Day.” Henry leaned against the doorway of his office. A pencil behind his ear, his glasses propped on the end of his nose, and a cup of crappy coffee in his hand. “I need to talk to you.”

You hoped you would have at least five minutes of time to breathe before you were called into what you liked to claim was the equivalent of the principal’s office. But it seemed that Henry Goldfinch decided to pick on you this week more than anyone else.

The interview notes you’d jotted down during the night were crammed into your small black notebook—nearly burning a hole in your pocket. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d ask you about them; intent on seeing a full story by tomorrow night.

“Look Henry I did the best I could with the guy, but he barely even spoke—” You were cut off at the look on his face. “Am I in trouble?”

“I just got a call from Mr. Pennyworth.”

Shit, you were so fired.

“If he wants to retract any statements then I’ll work with what I've got, but you were the one who gave me this story and I think I can do a damn good job on it.”

“Would you let me talk?” Your jaw snapped shut, cutting off the remainder of your ramble; or what you’d like to call reasons why he shouldn’t fire you. “Don’t unpack your things.”

You felt your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently you caught Mr. Wayne’s eye,” he said, settling down in his seat. “That call was Mr. Pennyworth giving me notice that Bruce Wayne is heading down to The Gotham Gazette today.”

“What?” you exclaimed, nearly falling into the chair behind you. “What the fuck for?”

“He wants to take you to lunch, kid.”

You fell into the chair, staring wide eyed at Henry who regarded you with a smirk.

Bruce Wayne wanted to take you to lunch. He was coming to your work in order to…pick you up.

Any way you tried to string it together, the news still remained hard to comprehend. Still you caught on to Henry’s words from before. You’d caught Bruce Wayne’s eye and now you were going to have to deal with the consequences of that. This would be the first time in years since he’d left Wayne Tower to do something as mundane as go to lunch. Let alone with someone like you.

“What do I do?” you croaked, trying not to panic as the reporter in you attempted to take over. Was this only a social call? Or did he want to do a follow up interview?

Henry leaned forward, the damned smirk still on his face. “You go to lunch with him. Maybe he likes you.”

“Likes me,” you scoffed. “I’d no sooner learn the identity of The Batman before Bruce Wayne admitted to liking me.”

You wanted answers like any sane person would, but the idea that Bruce Wayne possibly liked you left words unavailable to you. That was the farthest thing from the truth, except coming up with some other alternative left you with nothing yet again. What the fuck were you being called to lunch for? You hoped it was just him personally asking you to rip up the notes you took from yesterday while he watched.

“They’ll be here soon. I’d get your ass moving.”

“Right.” You stood slowly, a feeling of unease spreading through you with every step towards the door. “Did—um—Mr. Pennyworth…did he sound upset?”

Henry scoffed, taking a sip from his coffee. “And here I thought you didn’t give a shit if you pissed people off Day.”

You felt the switch flip in your mind. A reminder of who you truly were on the inside coming back like lightning cracking across your body, and you stood taller in your place. You didn’t care. You never had.

“I don’t.”

“Atta girl.” He tipped his cup slightly your way, watching as you walked back out into the office—the straight set of your spine once again returning.

You didn’t come to Gotham to make friends. You came here to work, to build a career that would outlast you if you were determined enough. Pissing off Bruce Wayne had never been on your list, but you figured it was bound to happen eventually. It was either now or later in life. Thankfully everyone had their hands full worrying about The Batman and the election—so you pissing off the Prince of Gotham would go unnoticed.

Grabbing your bag, you did a quick sweep of your desk to make sure that everything was accounted for before you left. You weren’t sure how long this lunch would take, but you didn’t intend to come back later.

The elevator doors opened once again with a loud creak, thankfully revealing it to be empty. Your heart thrummed in your chest a mile a minute, the tension still in your shoulders as you walked towards what might be the end of your career. While you knew the possibility of this simply being a social call was high, you couldn’t ignore what might very well happen. The ding of your stop brought you out of your daze enough to get out and head towards the front doors.

Glancing up towards the sky you saw the gloominess still remained—a reminder of where you were, what this city was reduced to. While you may have called it pollution of the environment, others would call it weather. After all there was always a difference in opinion when the opinion came a bit too close to the actual truth.

A sleek black car sat directly outside of the doors, a man in a black coat was hunched beneath an umbrella leaning against its side. You recognized him the second he raised his head, his blue eyes practically singeing your skin. Henry really wasn’t kidding when he said Bruce Wayne himself was coming to pick you up from the Gazette. People stopped and stared at the spectacle that was this man. By all means he was considered a hermit from the rumors that spread through Gotham like poison, and yet there he was, meeting with an unknown woman—a reporter nonetheless.

“You don’t seem like the lunch date type of man,” you said, standing far enough under the awning of the building where you didn’t get wet from the rain, but still felt it splatter against your coat.

His lips twitched, eyes skimming your figure before flicking up back to your face. You wanted to ignore the flutter in your chest from that simple gesture, but your body wouldn’t let you. It seemed that whoever Bruce Wayne was…he had an affect on you—a hold that refused to be severed.

“It wasn’t my idea.”

Scoffing, you turned to glare at a man who stood only a few feet away, clearly eavesdropping in on the conversation.

“So you aren’t here to have lunch with me. You’re simply here by the orders of Mr. Pennyworth,” you retorted.

“Alfred,” he said, finally standing to his full height for the first time since you met him. He was taller than you actually anticipated. “He thought it would be a good idea.”

“He thought going on a date with a reporter was a good idea?”

He shrugged slightly, the tension in his shoulders made the movement awkward. “Would you call this a date Miss…”

“Day.”

“Day,” he repeated quietly, his lips forming around the word as if it was already familiar to him. “Interesting name.”

“Nick-name,” you replied.

He nodded slowly, his gaze so intense you found you had to keep looking away. “Your real name isn’t printed on any of your bylines.”

You smiled albeit rather ruefully as you stepped close enough to be underneath his umbrella with him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to earn my real name Mr. Wayne.”

Again you watched—entranced—as his lips twitched slightly. Almost like he wanted to smile, but forgot how exactly to do it. He’d been in pain so long, suffering the grief of losing those he loved most for nearly his entire life, and not once had he learned what the true meaning of happiness was. For some unknown reason, you wanted to be the first one to show him.

“Okay,” he murmured, turning towards the passenger seat door and opening it for you. “And it’s Bruce.”

The words were accompanied with an outstretched hand to help you into the car, his hold simultaneously gentle yet firm as you sat. Your eyes met his briefly, something flickering to life between your gaze, before the door shut entirely and you were left in silence for a few brief seconds. It gave you enough time to catch what little breath you had in your chest—the interaction far too electric for someone like you.

Get some fucking sense.

You weren’t the type of person Bruce Wayne would fall for. One day he would find someone as wealthy as him, someone who knew his life due to shared experience. You hated those fucking words with a burning passion. Shared experience with people never went over well in your line of work. For a reporter, shared experience meant you had nothing original to say. It meant that you were the same as everyone else around you and to you that was damnation itself.

“Where would you like to eat?”

The question was barely loud enough for you to hear over the traffic and rain, but his soft tone caught you in its hold until you were solely focused on him. Once again that unfamiliar spark of energy crackled in the air. You were afraid that if this continued, you’d walk out of this lunch date with a newfound crush on Gotham’s Prince. That thought alone was enough for you to tear your gaze away—settling in the seat and staring through the front window.

“You invited me, Mr. Wayne. Why don’t you pick?”

He fell silent, hands shifting from his lap to the steering wheel and back again. “I don’t know many places to eat around Gotham anymore.”

Of course Bruce Wayne of all people would eat at home day in and day out. Thus was the luxury of having a personal chef in the Wayne Tower. Although you couldn’t stop the small grin from forming at how funny you found all of this.

Going to lunch with this man. It should have been absurd—almost laughable—but there you were. About to tell him to drive into the heart of the city just to take you to your favorite diner. Reporters would murder you just to stand in your spot. To spend mere moments with him. Yet it seemed that all you had to do was exist.

Rather than dwell on the moment any longer, you told him where to take you and it seemed that he knew the city a lot better than you expected. Pulling out of the spot with ease, he swiftly swung the car around in a rather illegal u-turn before making a quick right turn. You had to hand it to him…he knew how to handle a car. Part of you wanted to call it sexy, but you killed that echo in your head before it could manifest into something else.

Feelings were dangerous in your line of work—having seen the pain several reporters went through when they fell into bed with lethal people. You wouldn’t wind up like them. All you could allow in your life was friendship, nothing more. A friendship with Bruce Wayne wouldn’t hurt you. Not when he refrained from speaking to anyone, let alone the worst of the worst that roamed Gotham.

He turned another corner, the rain getting worse the further you traveled into the city. Driving in this weather would have stopped you from going, but it didn’t seem to phase him. He took it in stride, focusing intently on the road with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting between you. It would be so easy to pick it up, to run your fingers over the lines in his palm. And for a moment you indulged. You imagined what being with him would actually feel like.

Would he treat you the same way? Or would you suddenly become special. You couldn’t picture him treating anyone in a loving manner, let alone you and that’s where the fantasy died.

“That’s it,” you said, pointing to the flickering sign out front that only read DEM as opposed to its usual bright DEMETER’S TABLE name.

“Is it closed?”

You laughed, barely a puff of air, but you knew he heard it. Opening the door you ignored the downpour that threatened to soak you down to your very soul, and patiently waited until he got out himself. The expression on his face caught you slightly off guard as you watched him get out. You would have figured it was nothing—having seen him wear a grim expression all throughout your interview with him—but this looked different.

“I know it’s not the best place, but the food is—”

“I could have opened the door for you.”

That killed the worry filling your chest in an instant. He wasn’t upset that you brought him to what looked like the shittiest diner in all of Gotham. In fact, he could care less about that. He wanted to open the door for you…like a gentleman.

You nearly laughed in his face, but the rain was starting to seep into your shoes, causing your whole body to shiver and he fared no better. It caused his hair to stick to his face, the coat doing absolutely nothing to keep him dry.

The sign from the diner cast a luminescent glow across his face, highlighting his high cheekbones. You found yourself wanting to brush your lips across them. Though it was daytime and the sun remained stuck behind the clouds somewhere, you still felt as if night encased you in its cold embrace. Yet standing there with him in the rain, keeping his stare, you felt warmth flicker in your chest. As if he had placed a piece of the sun in your heart.

“You don’t have to do that with me,” you said softly, turning away before you grew too attached to this odd man.

The bell above the door rang throughout the building, alerting her of your presence. Your friend Dem stood behind the counter, her graying black hair wrapped up in a loose bun—a pen going directly through it to hold it in place. She looked up at the sound, a broad smile pulling at her wrinkled cheeks and bringing to light the soft lines around her eyes. When you first moved to Gotham she was the person who practically took you under her wing.

“Day! You are soaked hun. You shouldn’t be out in this weather.” She walked around the counter, immediately handing you a hot steaming cup of coffee. “Especially not since you just got over pneumonia. What are you trying to do, kill your…”

She trailed off, her eyes growing wide as the bell rang again and Bruce entered behind you, looking worse than you did. You knew the shock she was feeling, having gone through it about thirty minutes ago yourself, and did your best to drag her back to the present.

“Got a free table?” you joked, knowing the diner was practically empty.

That seemed to do it. The smile—though hesitant this time around—was back as she gestured to the second booth by the door. “I’ll be right with you sweetie.”

“Thanks Dem.”

You slid into the old brown booth, feeling your clothes stick to the fake leather. “Here.” You pushed the mug of coffee his way. “It’ll help with the cold.”

“I’m okay.” He reached up to push it back, but you held it in its place.

“I’m not asking Wayne.” Smiling, you leaned back. “Besides…can’t have one of the most important people in Gotham getting sick on my watch. I’d definitely be fired for that.”

Without another word, he lifted the mug to his lips, placing them directly where yours were mere moments ago. The spark flared to life again, cracking like a familiar bolt of lightning through your body and burning you to the core. Looking away, you clasped your hands together in an effort to seal in any heat that might try to escape your body. You weren’t sure if you liked the feelings that were causing your body to go haywire. For all you knew, you could have been imagining this entire thing.

You wouldn’t put it past your mind to play tricks on you as you sat across from him.

“Why this place?” Once again, his question caught you off guard.

“What?”

He set the mug down, pushing it your way. “Why this diner?”

His blue eyes were fixed on your face, as if attempting to see past the shield you wore day in and day out. When a person suffered enough pain to last an entire lifetime, they tended to become closed off. You were that person and from what you could see…so was he. The temptation to ask him how he survived through the pain, how he managed to come out of it at the end somewhat of a person, was on the tip of your tongue.

But you figured it was better to stay silent—keep it to yourself until the right moment came up.

“It was the first place I came to when I first moved to Gotham. I used to live a block away from here.” Sipping on the coffee, you tried to busy yourself to avoid his piercing gaze. “Though, I had to move because my apartment got broken into while I was sleeping.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger? No…something else.

Clearing your throat, you continued in the hopes of appeasing your now racing heart. “Anyways. Dem took me in, she took care of me and it felt nice. So I stayed.”

Before he could reply, Dem arrived with two plates in her hands. You smelled the burger before she even placed it on the table—your stomach clenching with hunger. Her specialty that you first ordered when you came here. It made your heart warm seeing her place it in front of Bruce, her smile kind and welcoming. No matter who he was, Dem always saw the good in people. Saw what they needed and willingly gave it to them without question.

She was a mother to the strangers that wandered into her diner.

“More coffee?” she asked, staring at the single mug that sat empty in the center of the table.

You noticed she didn’t ask if you’d like a second cup, her body language telling you enough. She thought this was a date. You weren’t sure if you should correct her or not.

“Please,” Bruce said, interrupting your thoughts. He handed her the mug, never asking for an extra one, but seemingly happy to share with you.

Once again your heart fluttered and this time…you let it.

“Dem’s burgers are possibly the best thing to be created.”

His lips pulled up in a small barely there grin. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should,” you replied, smiling around a bite of your fry. “As a reporter all I have is my word.”

You didn’t catch the way he looked at you, his eyes shining with something that hadn’t been there in a very long time. Instead you focused on gazing out the window at the rain. The way it transformed the city into something dangerous. Yet even through the darkness you could see it. The small hints of the light seeping through the clouds and shining down on an otherwise grim place.

Carole King played on the old speakers—a favorite of Dem’s you learned early on—and it created a soft symphony of warmth as it mixed with the rain. You wanted to stay there forever. In a place of comfort and love.

You’d even include Bruce in it too.

He bit into the burger, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the taste burst across his tongue. The sight caused your heart to lurch in your chest, warmth spreading up your neck and into your face. And you tried your best to shove it down. How ridiculous of you to find the sight hot, but there you were. Speechless, watching as he enjoyed one of your favorite meals.

Dem’s voice humming to the song snapped you out of your ogling; you looked to her to find something else to focus on. Except the small knowing smile she wore on her face and the wink she threw your way did nothing to help your situation. Rather than dwell on it, you began to eat. Content to remain silent until the both of you finished.

The singular cup of coffee was set down in between you two, dragging your gazes back to one another. You glanced at the mug, then back at him. As if that was the defining factor of whether or not this was a date. He chewed thoughtfully on a fry, his eyes still on you, while you mulled over whether or not you could magically turn the one mug into two.

It turned out to be an impossible feat, but one you found you didn’t mind.

“So tell me—” You pried your trench coat off, draping it over the back of the booth. He’d discarded his thirty minutes ago, his black button down now rolled to his elbows. “What’s Bruce Wayne been up to?”

His eyebrow quirked, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “This isn’t a second interview is it?”

You shrugged. “I’ve gotten enough for my article already. This is me asking.”

“Hm.” He leaned forward, hands clasped together and hair falling back into his eyes. “And who are you exactly?”

The smile you’d been fighting for an hour came through. “I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

The coffee mug had been refilled three times now, your energy coupled with the spark of attraction (you were still denying) between you brought life back into your body. While he didn’t disclose much about himself—saying bits and pieces here and there—you still found yourself engrossed in his words. You wanted to know more, to see the man behind the mask that was Bruce Wayne.

Maybe if you were lucky enough he’d show you his true self one day. For right now you were content to remain just as you were.

A reporter who shied away from any aspects of love, sitting with a man who was discovering what the meaning of joy was all over again.

“I can wait,” he murmured, his eyes no longer resembling the cloudy skies outside. You could see the lightness in them—the shining blue unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You glanced down at the mug, seeing something in it you hadn’t before. For whatever unknown reason Bruce Wayne—the man who had been reclusive his entire life—trusted you. Even though he didn’t say it outright he didn’t have to. You saw it well enough and something told you…he knew you could see it. He wanted you to see it.

Time was slowly ticking away, reminding you that you had a job to get back to, but you still remained. Sitting with your elbows pressed to the table—unconsciously trying to get as close to him as possible. Maybe if you never left the world would melt away. If you became a permanent part of this diner, the city that happily ate away at every resident would leave you be. You’d be forgotten in a place that thrived on the lost and forlorn.

“Why me?” you inquired after the beat of silence threatened to swallow you whole.

The soft lilting notes of Billie Holiday echoed in the empty diner. Dem was nowhere to be found and the only two remaining customers were you and Bruce. Still sharing that singular cup of cold coffee. It had created a ring on the table, your lipstick a slight stain on the white mug. The color smudged off from where Bruce had placed his lips. Sharing a hint of a kiss that would never be.

He leaned back in the booth, no longer stiff—the nature of a man who had hid from society for years now traded in for someone different. His body language was enough to make you stare. Transfixed on the way his shirt continued to hug his figure even though it had dried an hour ago.

“Why not you?”

You huffed. “Answering my question with another question. And here I thought I was the only reporter in the room.”

“I’ve had my fair share of interviews.”

“None that I’ve read.” You slid your plate to the side and clasped your hands together in the hopes of looking as intrigued as you felt. “Do tell Mr. Wayne.”

The tension was beginning to set in his shoulders again. A small overlay to the man that lingered beneath. As if he was bringing up a mask he constantly carried with him. He hid constantly day in and day out, but right now he didn’t sit before you the Prince of Gotham, but instead a man who was trying to relearn how to live. Whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not…Bruce Wayne was like you in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

“Alfred keeps them from printing.” The admission alone was enough for you to change the subject, but he continued to talk—cracking open yet another small sliver to the impenetrable armor he wore. “People they don’t…they always look for something wrong.”

You nodded, digging your nail into your palm. “Flaws are sometimes easier to sell.”

The sad truth of being a journalist is more often than not people weren’t looking for the truth. At least not in Gotham. They wanted something to sell. A piece of the person that one would deem too vulnerable to be shown to the rest of the world. They wanted to satiate the greed that clawed its way to the front. Rarely was the truth their only reason for writing a story.

“You’re not interested in flaws.” His eyes grew softer, hand splaying on the table to trace a random shape as he watched you. Saw through the facade you wore. He dug right down to the depths of your persona and dragged it to the surface—a relenting and brutal act.

Yet you wanted it to happen all the same.

“I like the truth.” You distracted yourself with the shape of his finger, the length of it as it shifted. “It sounds better.”

For a split second you allowed your eyes to flicker up, to meet his in the dim lights of the diner, and you finally caught hold of that niggling emotion. The one that held you captive in your own right. You liked him. Despite only meeting him yesterday, you found yourself drawn in by his haunted eyes. The same ones that practically burned a hole in your skin, until he was forever a part of your form.

Bruce Wayne felt familiar to you.

Not in the way that a stranger finds a face in the crowd familiar. Not even in the way an old friend would feel seeing someone from their past once more.

He was familiar in the way two souls separated beyond time and space were familiar. You couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow you knew these eyes that traced the lines and curves of your face. Committing you to memory. You were two distant beings made up of different particles of the universe. Yet there in that diner you found one another—as if gravity had dragged your cells together all along.

Two halves of a celestial being finally forming to be one.

You almost wanted to laugh at the notion that Bruce Wayne and you had anything in common. Let alone that there was any physical attraction between you.

But there it was. The truth you’d been searching for all along.

You could almost laugh at how fucked it all was.

How horrifically beautiful.

Night was beginning to settle over the city, calling to the horrors that lingered in the shadows. Prompting them to finally emerge for the one night where fear ran rampant in the streets of Gotham. Being scared on Halloween wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but this year things felt different. You could practically taste the blood that would run through the grime filled streets come morning. The same one that you would later have to report on.

Bruce stood beside his car next to your apartment building. You had directed him here after another hour spent in Dem’s diner barely speaking yet saying more than you would have liked. For some reason he was able to unearth more about you than you had found out in the entirety of yesterday’s interview with him. If being a Wayne didn’t wind up working out for him, he’d make a killing out of being an investigative journalist.

You told him as much before you left.

“Got any plans for tonight?” you asked, already knowing the answer you’d receive.

He looked up to the slightly darkened sky, at the way that the clouds did nothing to allow even slivers of the sunset to break through. You had to hand it to the city. There was some irony in the way even nature plagued the city in darkness. As if its legacy was always meant to be this. An abyss that drowned everyone within.

A barely there quirk appeared on his lips. “I’ll be out of the city tonight.”

Convenient.

The thought crossed your mind of asking him to join you for a lonesome dinner and half a bottle of wine. But the line had been drawn in the sand long before you agreed to accompany him for lunch. An invisible border you couldn’t cross. He was a Wayne. A part of a world you could only reach through second hand stories and gruesome aftermaths.

If the lunch had been more than strangers sitting across from one another, you would have joked about your house being Capulet and his Montague. But something told you irony wasn’t his strong suit. Nor would it favor you being able to see him another time. That is…if he even wanted to see you. For all you could tell this was merely a social call placed on his shoulders by Alfred—the man you came to see as Bruce’s father figure.

“Well…”

“Would you—”

You smiled, feigning being professional for the sake of your giddiness. “You go first.”

He cleared his throat. “Would you be available in a few days?”

“Oh…” Rather than take it easy on him, you decided that the best course of action was to jab at his wall just a bit. Just to see if something would crumble even further. So with a smile you stepped closer, watching the rise and fall of his chest quicken just a bit more. “That doesn’t sound like Alfred speaking.”

A heavy breath left his lungs—washing warm across your skin. “It’s not.”

“So this is you asking?”

He nodded, probably irritated with the way you were clearly teasing him. But that’s the thing. He let you tease him. He gave in to your small ruse and let it play out until you felt like you were finished.

If you could get away with this, who knows what else you’d be able to get away with. Perhaps calling him a stupid nickname. Or even getting to know his favorite color.

Something told you it was brown.

“What’s your favorite color?”

His eyebrows rose, mouth parted slightly as if you’d thrown him for a bigger loop than anyone had before. And much to your own surprise…he answered. Honestly.

“Black.”

Ah…you were close.

“Tuesday. The rush of Halloween will be over and my paper should give me some free reign. I’ll be available then.”

Another solemn nod as if you just informed him that you were attending a funeral for a recently departed loved one. You learned to realize that his nods were simply a part of his personality. Eventually you would be able to decipher what each one meant, what they were attempting to say without using words. His voice seemed to be an afterthought—actions speaking louder than words could say.

“Tuesday it is,” he replied with a soft hesitant smile. You wanted to see it again, ask him to never frown again, but this was merely a fleeting moment in the grand expanse of things.

He stood there for a minute more as if leaving was the last thing he wanted. Then got into his car, turned the engine once, and drove down the street. And you watched him disappear into the already dark horizon. The day never existed to begin with, but the storm wouldn’t stop the chaos of the night. So you gave one last glance to the street before heading inside, ready to hole yourself in your locked apartment til sunrise the next day.

The shrill ringing of your cell phone startled you from your small nap on the couch. A throw blanket that was a mishmash of colors was thrown over your body, a half empty wine bottle on the coffee table and the book Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde face down beside it. Ever since finding it in the Wayne tower, you began to look through the old text. With the silly hope that you would find pieces of Bruce Wayne in the words.

“What?” you grumbled, rubbing a hand over your face to rouse yourself from the groggy state of sleep. Your brain was sluggish, body content to remain on the couch for many more hours, but Henry’s grim voice startled you awake.

“The Mayor’s dead.”

You sat up. “What the fuck do you mean the Mayor’s dead Henry?”

A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearing the middle of the night. The noise outside still persisted though. People always partied the worst on this night. Especially in this city.

“If this is a joke—”

“Shut up and listen will you.” Your mouth clamped shut, eyes falling to the book. “They found him in his home. And it’s gruesome. Whoever did it was a right fucked up person, but I can’t get there at this time. The streets are too packed.”

The breath caught in your throat, even as your eyes stung with exhaustion. “And I’m closer to the scene.”

“It’s a favor and it’s a big one Day.”

You sighed. “I’ll leave in ten. Who’s on the scene?”

“Gordon.”

Good. Gordon never gave you shit for being a reporter like the other detectives did. Many wanted your kind out of Gotham all together simply because of how good you were at getting your nose into places it shouldn’t be. With Gordon there at least you would have a chance to do some meaningful reporting—or at least help where you could in figuring this out.

Henry listed out a few details they told him, what was going to occur within the next few days. But all you could think about was Bruce. You’d miss your chance to see him Tuesday after all. Too stuck in the midst of a city wide crime scene that would take up more or less all of your time. Which left him on the outs. You scribbled down in your black notebook a note to call him and ask for a rain check.

At least then one good thing in your life wouldn’t disappear without a trace.

You grabbed your coat, shoved your arms in the sleeves, and locked up your apartment as the weight of the news rested heavy on your shoulders.

With the death of the Mayor came an investigation. One that would no doubt lead to more bloodshed in the streets and leave a city divided amongst itself. You had heard about shit like this happening in Gotham, but you were never around to see it yourself. Yet there you were. Right in the thick of it with no other option but to see the chaos through.

People filled the streets. Some drunk, some not. Which didn’t make getting to the scene easier. You fought through the crowds, managed to catch a train down there, and somehow came out unscathed. And above in the night sky…his sign hung like a full moon. It called out to the chaos of the night, and made a promise to those who liked the cover of darkness that they would only be safe for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, feeling the rain strike against your cheek. It stung as you crossed the street.

Police cars lined the sidewalk, sirens blaring and bright, and for a moment…there was light in Gotham. You could barely see in front of you, but at least they illuminated the pathway to the front entrance. Many of them were taping off the building, others standing around and gazing at the sky—probably asking themselves if he would show up.

“If it ain’t Miss Day!”

You felt the weight lighten as you reached the top of the building steps. “Officer Martinez. Funny seeing you here.”

“You come to talk to me tonight?”

The smile was involuntary on your lips as he let you head in with him, holding the door open for you. Martinez always had a soft spot for you when things like this befell the city. After all he was usually around when it came to Gordon and with a job like yours, you ran into cops a bit too often for your liking. But Martinez was the exception. He brought you coffee on long nights at crime scenes, cracked jokes at the worst times, and even drove you home if he was around.

“Of course,” you said with a grin, bumping his shoulder. “I’m here to write a piece about the greatest cop in the city.”

He scoffed. “Flattery will get you everywhere chica.”

“Do you know what happened?”

Another flight of steps revealed even more cops scattered around the place. You could see the flash of a camera in the distance, whispered voices filling the air as you entered. Several cops gave you nasty glances, scoffing to themselves at the fact that you were allowed to enter. A reporter. Someone beneath them. To them you were the vulture that came to pick apart the mess they were left to clean.

“All I know is what Gordon told me. And even that’s not much.”

“Where is Gordon?”

Martinez shrugged. “Went out to fetch someone. Figure another detective.”

One more step into the room and you felt it. The pressure in your chest, the pinch of pain in your side where you were still healing. As if crime in Gotham called to crime. A horrid likeness that permeated the air. When Henry said the scene was gruesome he wasn’t kidding. You were ready to bolt the second you could smell the blood—the sight nearly too much for your stomach to take.

“Fuck,” you murmured, eyes wide and body wracked with fear.

“It’s not easy to see.”

“He’s…oh fuck.”

You didn’t need words to know Martinez was concerned about you. His eyes told you enough. They lingered a bit too long, tried to see past your mask you quickly pulled up when it came to scenes such as this. If you were lucky you would make it out tonight without any nightmares.

You were rarely lucky.

Someone called his name, causing him to leave you alone in the room with a few other people. Yet all you could focus on was the Mayor. The message scrawled across his head screamed so loud you could practically hear the voice of the killer. It punched right through your chest, made you pay attention without any barriers. Without mercy.

“What the fuck?”

You turned when someone’s voice filtered through the air, disbelief clear in their tone. Perhaps they found something worse. Something that would make you want to unsee everything that happened tonight. But what came to your attention was not what you expected. Your heart dropped to your stomach, a flutter going through your body, as the sight of him filled your view once more.

For some reason he seemed bigger in the room. He towered over everyone here, eyes still striking against the dark color of his suit. For a moment you couldn’t breathe, nerves filling your body with each heavy thump of his boot against the hardwood floor. How he would react to seeing you again took over your mind. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe…he forgot about you.

Maybe to him you were just another lost soul in a sea of tragedy.

Someone he saved once and didn’t think twice about second.

He stopped midstep, gaze falling to your form, and for a split second…he stiffened entirely. Recognition flashed in his eyes before something darker took its place. You were reminded of the night he dragged you home, the night he held you as you cried about death. As you begged him to keep you alive.

You wondered if he was thinking about that too. If you stepped close enough maybe you could see it in his eyes. Fragments of a memory that still burned bright and alive in your mind—a bad movie you could never turn off. So there you sat in the theater. Forced to watch it replay.

Maybe if you asked he’d sit with you. Keep you company in the darkness.

“Daywalker.”

Gordon had a habit of using the formal version of your nickname. A call sign that seemed to jolt you from your own mind—eyes snapping from The Batman to the man standing beside him. He regarded you with a confused look. A question lingering on his tongue.

One you quickly overlapped with one of your own.

“What the hell happened Gordon?”

His eyes went soft. “Chaos.”

The pain in your side flared to life again. “And what’s he doing here?”

The thump of his boots echoed behind you as he circled the scene. No doubt taking notes about what happened, what was left behind for them to find. Gordon held up a green envelope, writing scratched into the paper as if it was left there in anger—the pen nearly breaking through. A formal address to the man who still remained behind you. A call out to The Batman himself.

Either this guy was insane…or he understood what The Bat would react to.

“So all this…was for him?”

Eyes burned into your skin when you said the words, another thump letting you know he still remained, still listening in the shadows of the room.

Gordon shrugged. “That’s what he’s here to find out.”

You nodded, stepping back to let Gordon do his job with the others as you surveyed the room yourself. Every once in a while your gaze fell back to him. How he stalked about with purpose, each step measured and calculated. He understood the tension in the room, how cops hated that he stood amongst them.

After all, he fell lower into their likeability category than you. To them you were the vulture, but he was the thief. He took their image—their reputations—and made it worse. He took their jobs right under their noses. Not because they couldn’t do it, but because with him it would come to a final end.

You caught bits and pieces of the conversations at hand, heard how the Mayor must have died, but your attention still remained with The Bat. How he stood wary with his back to the window. Every now and then you swore his gaze fell to you, but that might have been your imagination. Your mind hadn’t stopped racing since you stepped past the threshold; the crime scene doing nothing but wracking your body with fear and anxiety. Two things that were an enemy to a good reporter.

“Killer may have come through the skylight.”

You glanced up, eyes tracing the metal lines of the glass above and tried to imagine the scene playing out before you. How they’d get in, how they’d hide. In your head it matched up, but something felt off—as if the scene itself was too perfect. Too pristine for you to gather anything notable.

Gordon’s voice peaked your interest, drawing you closer. “What does a liar do when he’s dead?”

“There’s a cipher too.”

Something flickered in the back of your mind. You remembered Henry having a book of riddles on his desk. Some cheap Christmas gift someone in the office got him in the hopes of giving their boss a sense of humor. You had flipped through it once or twice while waiting for him to show up for a meeting. But you could recall the same riddle being printed with all the others—in a list of nearly three hundred, you remembered that one for its dark flair.

“Lies,” you murmured to yourself, attention forced to the outburst towards Gordon.

But it was the darker and much deeper voice behind you that sent a cold shiver down your spine. “He lies still.”

The answer to the riddle.

Yet even that didn’t tell you much. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t going to give Gotham the easy way out. No, you could see the darkness lingering in the distance. The threat of something more on the way. And there wouldn’t a fucking thing anyone in this room could do about it. Except for him. His name was on the envelope, his sign in the sky and soon…Gotham would be turning to him for more than just an answer to a riddle.

“Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” the commissioner spat, turning away from the scene with enough anger to rival the killer. Grief plagued the air and while you should have stayed, asked for statements, all you wanted to do was go home.

So you bid Gordon goodnight with the promise to call him tomorrow for more than just this. Your stomach was in knots, bile filling the back of your throat, but you could barely move. His gaze still burned a hole in your back, watching as you left on semi-steady feet—the wound that lingered now a reminder that you were nearly this person. You were nearly another story in a newspaper.

Martinez came up beside you as you stepped out into the hall, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. He must have grabbed it from down the street, because he held his own. The rain still pounded outside striking loudly against the window but it had become a drowned out echo. Simply background noise to a tragedy that kept you locked tight in its grasp. You could see the headline of tomorrow’s paper. The words bold and loud amidst the gray color—a color that matched the sky.

GOTHAM MOURNS.

“Want me to give you a ride home?” Martinez asked, eyes still plagued with concern. You wanted to wipe it from his face, place his carefree smile back where it belonged. Except no one would be smiling tonight.

You sucked in a cold breath, sensing the presence of The Bat as he followed Gordon out to the hallway.

“Yeah. A ride would be nice.”

Tomorrow was a new day, but the truth still remained, waiting to break free. Darkness ran through Gotham so deep it would take prying the streets up to see it, but something told you exactly that would happen. This was not the end of the blood that would turn this city red.

It was only the beginning.

[annasinterests]

I See Fire

|| main masterlist ||

a/n: i'm dedicating this to my love @tinygarbage because the percy brainrot has been unreal for both of us. i thought this up after watching a tiktok (pls don't ask me i literally watched it once, swiped out of the app, then threw my phone across the room) and so this is what we got fellers. ALSO, one line is directly inspired by/from the D&D movie, so i give credit to my boy edgin because honestly the scene about him being so unapologetically honest about his mistakes was everything to me (i also guessed his dialogue word-for-word that entire time and was RIGHT). honestly thinking ab whether or not if i wanna make a part 2 to this..

divider by @saradika ! ❤️‍🔥

word count: 682 words (who knew i could actually write under 1k)

pairings: percy de rolo x reader

warnings & tags: angst, past trauma, arguing, cursing, miscommunication, unresolved ending

“No!-” You seethe, hands balling into fists at your sides, “Don’t you get it?”

Percy scoffed, “You ask that like I should know, and I don’t!” He raised a pointed finger to you, “How can I when all you ever do is leave us in the dark!”

Your jaw clenches as you turn away. White-hot anger blazed your body and blotted out everything else, even the tears that brimmed your eyes and streaked your cheeks.

“Always putting yourself at an arm’s distance, acting like you have the biggest burden to carry– well, guess what? We all have shit of our own!” His rigid tone made your face scrunch up. “You push away every single person that tries to get under the surface, including us! We’re supposed to be a team, damn it!”

You hated him. His pompous attitude and sense of entitlement, as if he’s somehow better than everyone else, or deserves explanations for things that don’t concern him. You hated his stupid glasses that made him look pretentious as hell, and that unnecessary trench coat he wore at all times. And the way he constantly whips out some sort of contraption that leaves the others in awe, stroking his ego, but you wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction.

But what you really hated, arguably most of all, was that he saw you. Right through all the acts and walls you put up to protect yourself– a promise that there’d be no more pain and tears for as long as you lived out your days.

A promise now shattered.

“Without trust, we are nothing.” The words are venomous, so full of exasperation that it strains his voice on the last word.

A sigh and some shuffling follows a moment or two after, and all you can think is how he’s undeniably soothing the crease between his brows while his other hand rests on his hip, a classic pose of his in high-stress situations. Not that you ever paid attention…

“Believe me, it’s not worth living life that way.” His voice was softer, almost apologetic, “It’s… lonely.”

Had you been completely blinded by your own emotions, you would’ve taken the opportunity to tell him to shove it and kick rocks, but you spared him.

“I, too, thought it was easier. I’d seen my loved ones hunted like game, my own sister betrayed our family name, Whitestone had been–”

“Whitestone still stands,” you snap harshly, abruptly cutting him off. “My home does not.”

It’s then you finally turn back to him with a chilling glare and darkened features. His expression drops to widened eyes and slightly raised brows, clear that he’d not been expecting that response. But now it started, and you couldn’t stop.

“My friends do not– my family does not.” The words are registering at higher decibels that burn your throat after each word, “My life– everything!”

You march up to him, squaring up before his infuriatingly tall frame, locking eyes with his. You were shouting in his face, reaching a point of zenith you didn’t know you had, your vocal cords raw and sore that you were sure they could snap at any moment.

“I’ve lost everything that ever mattered to me and it was all my fault!”

Your body is trembling from the sheer force of the confession, and the air isn’t getting to your lungs the way you need it to right now. Your eyes, narrowed and fierce, fight to maintain their focus, but that buried, broken part of you is clawing its way out with a strength you can’t compete against.

His eyes flicker between yours, his face softened by a frown. You force yourself to look anywhere but his pitying gaze; you don’t need or want it, especially from him. You hastily wipe away the tears with the back of your hand, take a sharp breath in, and then exhale deeply. Out of all people, you couldn’t believe the one person to break you down would be none other than fucking Percival Fredrickstein von Mu—

“You don’t really believe that… do you?”

Yes, of course I do.

[mono-blogs-art]

incredible chaser game w moments (part 2) up to & incl. episode 4

the most homophobic breakup you've ever seen. just, unholy behavior. on fucking god itsuki i know you had good intentions but you're the worst for doing it like that !!!!!!!!! at least let her down easy !!!!! if i was 22 and my gf of 4 years did that to me i'd fucking go insane as well

the elevator stopped working ➡️ you are trapped in with the person you hate ➡️ you are forced to sit it out and face your fears together, ultimately bringing you closer both emotionally & physically. i love this trope and i didn't know i needed it here, but it was great. step 1 to the meowmeow-ification of fuyu complete

my prediction of itsuki running into & taking care of little tsuki and the two of them then being found by fuyu, resulting in an awkward and heartbreaking scene, came true exactly like that. i think this scene was genuinely so well done and well acted, it broke my heart. i think this was the scene that really got me to say Damn, I'm invested in this now...

^ I'm still waiting for Itsuki to bring up the similar names in conversation though. like you need to talk about that

"ohhh harumoto-san, so you're part of that team?" - itsuki (sweating in closeted lesbian): "huh? what? n-no, of course not- I'm--" - "Don't worry, it's all good, we're all into BL too!!!" ➡️falsely coming out as a yaoi fangirl to your coworkers to avoid having to talk about your own sexuality. LMAO

^ this scene only being a setup so fuyu can be homophobic on main is what makes it even funnier

why. in every gods name. would you go to your boss' home address. why on earth would you do that. at least itsuki was self-aware about it too. girl you are SO unwell

every time fuyu has kissed itsuki of her own initiative, it has been when she was drunk... can we remedy that for future episodes, please? not that consent has been an issue, their mutual feelings are obvious, but i think she should be making a move when she doesn't have any liquid courage in her. step up your fucking game, fuyu

"she's a classic tsundere, after all" - fuyu, who has been severly harassing her subordinates at work (again, there seems to be no HR department at this company) being written off as a "tsundere" by the rest of the team - I mean, you're not wrong, but you should still file a complaint against her.

fuyu's husband Kouu is the nicest man on earth. my man doesn't deserve ANY of this. he even calls her dongyu. he even calls his wife by her real fucking name like the bar is so low

fuyu treats him so badly too, man, i genuinely felt bad watching it. were the 5 years of marriage all like this? was he always just a means to you getting your revenge? i'm sick. i hope they can make up by the end of the show and have a real conversation about their feelings and relationship.

that aside, i do have some theories on kouu, his disappearance, and his own feelings as well, but i'm keeping that to myself atm...

fuyu & itsuki keep having insanely homoerotic moments in front of god and everyone on earth, I'm starting to believe the only person with a gaydar in this company is the photographer from the other office. the fact that you two haven't been found out yet is honestly a massive plot hole (lmao)

has itsuki eaten anything else but sweets (cake, in particular?) on screen yet? apart from the homemade meal at the hayashi's, whenever there's a scene of her alone or with her grandma, she's always eating cake. i wonder if it will come up at some point, but it's just something i noticed. no shade though girl i'm also (almost) 27 and if you wanna eat cake for dinner alone at home I'm your nr1 supporter

i'm never a fan of the trope of a bilingual character breaking out into their native tongue for swearing or just randomly, but it is fun that only fuyu does it and that all the other chinese characters just don't speak mandarin at all. and i'm happy they actually cast a bilingual actress for fuyu!

episode 4 was the mid-series finale, and it definitely showed. this was the best episode so far by a pretty significant margin imo.

the. silent pleading fuyu puts on to make itsuki stay at the hayashi house. the most fucking 🥺*twirling my hair cutely* AND IT WORKS TOO BECAUSE ITSUKI IS JUST AS INSANE AS YOU ARE

i would like to talk about the best scene of this show yet. i really wished it was longer and was given even more weight. in episode 4, fuyu & itsuki are sitting in the living room together at night, so far apart that they're completely out of each other's camera shots even. i found this to be the most interesting scene so far. there was genuine tension in the shot composition, the acting, the complete absence of music. just silence and their voices. "after all, it was all my fault, wasn't it? that we ended up like this?" fuyu still deep down believes that she was the reason their relationship failed. she wasn't enough, because she's fuyu, because she's a woman. she still thinks that. my heart fucking broke in two

their fight after fuyu came back home drunk was so funny. especially with their height difference... hydrogen bomb vs coughing baby

after finally learning the truth about their break-up, fuyu is absolutely devastated. "you valued your promise to my mother more than the one you made to me?" just completely broken. after all this time sitting with these unresolved emotions, feelings of guilt and deep shame, only for that to be the reason? I feel so bad for her

the mutual love confession!!!!! i'm honestly a bit surprised it came so early, i thought they were just going to sleep together and not talk emotions first. but i'm not gonna complain (i just love mess) i'm also devastated that itsuki used suki while fuyu used the word aishiteru. my friends it's so bad for me right now (and them)

did. they. fuck. on. the. floor. in. the. living room.

i hope so because 1) hot and 2) although i'm still unsure as to the exact room situation of the hayashi household, don't they all have one shared bedroom??? isn't the bedroom that they're in after they've had sex (hopefully in the living room) the same one we've previously seen, where the kid also sleeps????? WHERE WAS THE KID ITSUKI. WHERE. WAS. THE. KID. WE KNOW SHE'S WITH YOU BECAUSE THAT WAS THE WHOLE REASON YOU STARTED FIGHTING!!!!!

if you had sex while your kid was sleeping soundly in the same room i'm sending both of you to superhell. i'm praying you guys just have a totally identical bed in another room. please.

if it wasn't the same bed we've previously seen from tsuki's room, that means you guys fucked in the marriage bed, which is only slightly less gonna get you sent to superhell.

in any case, happy lesbian sex to them. i know neither of you have known the touch of a woman in the past 5 years so it was probably intense. drink a lot of water in episode 5, alright? jesus.

it was also quite funny that the scriptwriter for the show tweeted out a few hours before this episode aired that "itsuki has always taken the leader position in their relationship" and that "you should watch episode 4 with this in mind" and we were all like. oh so you're telling me that fuyu is a bottom? you're telling me water is wet? fork found in kitchen??????

their lil afterglow convo in bed was just perfectly sweet. 1 point to fuyu, now presumably much more sobered up, for having the courage to ask if itsuki's gonna stay the night after all. girl you don't have to ask. i think she's ready for another 12 rounds. she's not going anywhere.

the line delivery of the "alright" (i'm gonna stay) oh my god. oh my god... oh. oh.

the meowmeow-ification babygirl-ification of fuyu is now complete

in the preview for ep5, fuyu is wearing a mixture of white and black clothes. girl... it was that good, huh?????

in conclusion:

i had a lot of thoughts on this one and i've found great joy in going deep into the twt tags for it as well. and i'm glad to see many japanese sapphics also being super vocal about the show. it's really interesting to read and interact with that side of the fandom i haven't really seen in this capacity for a (lesbian) live action show yet. i see people slowing down & brightening up footage to analyse who's taking each other's clothes off first, people just posting close-ups of Yuuka's hands, people going into Yurika's past filmography to dig up ancient clips of other sapphic roles she's played (of which there seem to be actually quite a lot?). i love to see it lmao. on a more serious note, it makes me happy to see sapphics from so far away expressing themselves similarily to myself or my other lesbian friends. it's cute!! as for cgw, part b of the series is gonna be intense, and i'm especially curious to see how they're gonna do the inevitable breakdown of fuyu again. my girl is so deep in the trenches, her temporary being on cloud 9 right now is gonna be short-lived and i want to see it happen. i hope she can really stand up for herself and make things right after all!