#part two!!!it's finally here

[becca-alexa]

Ride the Lightning

Chapter Eight: The Unforgiven

Read on AO3!

01 ┋ 02 ┋ 03 ┋ 04 ┋ 05 ┋ 06 ┋ 07 ┋ 08 ┋ 09 ┋ 10 ┋ 11 ┋ 12 ┋ 13

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Original Female Character

Summary: Veronica can't help but be worried when Eddie misses school - will he finally be able to apologize?

Word Count: 4.4K

Content Warnings: mentions of illness

Author's Note: GOD this took way too long to put out -- i'm back at school and it's really killing me but i will try to get these out as soon as i can!! and THANK YOU FOR READING 💗

and as always HUGE hug and many many kisses to @rollforhellfire for putting up with me and reading these before they go out 💗💗💗

    He’d missed first period.

    Whatever. If he wanted to risk his chances at graduation with shoddy attendance, so be it.

    It wasn’t like she cared.

    Sitting through Ms. O’Donnell’s ramblings on… whatever Shakespearian drama she’d decided to delve into that week was usually easy for her. Simple; she’d take a few notes, answer a few questions. But, as her eyes drifted to the empty seat three desks over, Veronica couldn’t help but chew on her lip - it wasn’t unusual for Eddie to be late, but he was rarely absent. She kicked her feet, trying to figure out where he could be, what he could be doing, so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear name being called.

    “Miss Windsor?” Mrs. O’Donnell called out, tapping her manicured fingers against her desk in annoyance. “Miss Windsor!”

    “H-Huh…?” Veronica’s head snapped toward the board, face flushed as she desperately tried to recall what the older woman had been saying. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

    Mrs. O’Donnell rolled her eyes. “What was Romeo’s intention in pursuing Juliet?”

    Veronica gave a quick answer - true love. It seemed to pacify the woman, as she’d turned back around and continued her droll recitation of the literary classic. Struggling to keep from gnawing at her nails, her eyes moved to the clock hanging above the door, and she counted the seconds for the class to be over, a feeling of unease already settling itself in her stomach.

    He’d missed second period, and third - and by fifth, Veronica was beside herself with worry. Not that he deserved her concern, but it still managed to wrap itself around her chest, tightening, pulling the air from her lungs as she pushed through the heavy double-doors leading into the lunchroom. Searching the crowd, she nearly barreled into an unsuspecting group of freshmen in her haste to reach her table.

    “Max.” Veronica called out, winded, clearly frazzled, dazed and confused beyond anything her friends had ever seen. “Did you see Eddie this morning?” The younger girl gave her an odd look, chewing through her sad excuse of a burger before answering with a shrug.

    “His van was still there when Steve picked me up.”

    “You didn’t see him at all?”

    Max shook her head, stabbing a straw through her carton of chocolate milk. “He’s probably sick.” she said by way of a reply, giving the two of them an exasperated look. “Like, who the Hell goes for a bike ride in the middle of a thunderstorm?”

    Sick? Of course he’d gotten sick.

    Eddie was sick… and it was her fault.

    “You lookin’ for him?” Robin chimed in, wiping sandwich crumbs from her hands. “I have him next period - I can pass along a message, if I see him.”

    Veronica slowly shook her head, her thoughts a violent spiral behind her troubled eyes. “No, it’s… That’s okay. I don’t think he’s here today.” She looked around the room, her bag suddenly too heavy, the noises suddenly too loud. She needed to get out, needed to leave-

    “Hey, aren’t you going to eat?” Max shouted over the crowd, giving Robin a confused look as they watched Veronica shove her way toward the doors.

    “I forgot I had something to do!” she shouted back, giving them both a wave, not bothering to look back. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

    Veronica stared at the door to the trailer, absentmindedly counting the rusted spots speckling the metal, the plastic Melvald’s bag in her hand stuffed to the brim with… everything, feeling as though it’d been filled with bricks. Don’t be stupid, it’s just Munson, she reminded herself, her words echoing through the empty expanses of her mind, never finding purchase, never truly reassuring her. Taking in what she intended to be a calming breath, she knocked on the door. Once, twice, even a third time, but was met with silence, the quiet buzzing of the rain around her silenced only by the sound of her pulse thrumming in her ears.

    Looking around, she found the small plastic rock hidden just behind the railing Eddie had shown her after their first few meetings; flipping it over, she pulled out the key, brassy and well-worn with age, and let herself in. “Hello?” she called out, her voice cautious, hesitant - she'd never actually used the secret key before. Usually, Wayne had always been around to let her inside. She felt… out of place, being in the trailer by herself. Something felt off, missing. “Uncle Wayne? You home?”

    She took off her shoes at the door, not wanting to track in mud and water. The television was off, as was the radio, the coffee maker, the hallway light that always seemed to flicker, no matter how new the bulb was. The unending stillness unnerved her, the sound of her setting her bag of supplies atop the kitchen counter much too loud, too jarring. Working quickly, she pulled out a pot from one of the cabinets, putting it on the stove, all but tearing open a can of soup and leaving it to warm - chicken noodle. Simple, filling, familiar. She wasn’t sure what kind of soup Eddie liked, and for the life of her, she didn’t know why she cared. But, she conceded with a sigh, he did need to eat - even if that meant taking his preferences into consideration.

    With the soup debacle cleared, Veronica made her way further into the trailer, to where she knew Eddie’s bedroom to be; the furthest room down the narrow hallway, past the bathroom and the oddly-framed picture of geese flying over a lake, worn and yellowed from years of nicotine. She stopped just before the threshold of his door, her mind still a whirlwind as she took that final step forward.

    “Eddie…?” she whispered, having to squint her eyes as she looked around the room. The curtains were drawn, the blinds closed, blanketing the room in a stuffy, musty darkness. “Munson, are you in here?” Hearing no answer, she let herself in, and reached for where she knew his lamp to be - and, to her shock, she found him, abed and asleep. Rather, as asleep as someone with a raging fever could be. A swell of sympathy - unwarranted sympathy, she reminded herself - overcame her at the sight of him, shiny with sweat, his brows furrowed almost painfully as he groaned, turning onto his side, pulling his blankets infinitely tighter around him. Even from beneath the covers, she could tell how roughly he trembled, his cheeks and nose apple-red.

    “God, Munson, why’d you have to do that…?” She brought his desk chair to his bedside, her touch gentle, featherlight as she brushed the damp hair off his forehead, feeling for his temperature. “You total dingus…” Her mind began to wander, her thoughts trailing off to nothing as she allowed herself a single indulgence; she let her hand trail down his face, the backs of her fingers soft against the light stubble of his cheek, tracing over the gentle edge of his jaw. Feeling the caress through the iron grip of his nightmare, Eddie leaned into her touch with another groan, chasing any relief he could find, its source be damned. He was so hot, and she was cold-

    “Hey, you alive in there?”

    That voice. Wincing as he swallowed against the dryness of his throat, Eddie peeled his eyes open, aching and miserable in a way he hadn’t felt since… well, since he’d been dragged out of the Upside Down. His chest burned, his hands itched, but all he could feel was the cool relief ghosting over his skin. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, his mind still a pitiful haze as he mumbled, “Angel…?”

    Angel. That was new.

    “Sorry, it’s just me.” Veronica tried to keep her smile out of her voice. She didn’t pull her hand away, letting it rest against him, her thumb rubbing slow circles over his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

    “Bad-” Eddie croaked, burying his face into his blanket as he let out a series of hoarse coughs, his shoulders shaking with the effort he expended trying to catch his breath, tears gleaming at the corners of his eyes as he calmed himself down. “Shit. Bad.”

    “I’m sorry.” Her response was genuine, honest. “Would some warm soup make you feel better?”

    “Not hungry.” he mumbled with a pout unbefitting his twenty years.

    Veronica rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she bit back her grin. “You can’t take your medicine on an empty gut.” At her words, a shiver ran through him - just the mention of medicine made his stomach roll, clench, flip; he buried his face back into the blanket, his breathing labored as he tried to keep himself from tossing his cookies all over the carpet.

    “What is it?” Veronica asked, suddenly panicked. “Are you-”

    Eddie nodded.

    Her head snapped around the room, searching for something she could give to Eddie to use, counting the seconds between his breaths as she finally found his trash bin. Dumping out the empty baggies and crumbled homework assignments, she shoved the thing at his face just as he’d started to heave. She held onto him - he clung to her - as he brought up whatever sorry excuse of a meal he’d had that day; pulling aside his hair, she rubbed at his back, mumbling soothing words, her touch grounding him as he pulled away, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

    “Feeling better?”

    “Still shit.”

    She leaned him back against the wall, propping him up with pillows to keep him comfortable as she left to flush away his impromptu escapade, returning with a glass of water. “Drink it.” She left no room for arguments, but he was too weak to even reach out for the thing, let alone bring it to his mouth. Veronica, again, rolled her eyes as he looked away, his own clenched shut in shame, his lips a thin line as he tried to keep them from quivering.

    “You’re something else, Munson, y’know that?”

    He didn’t argue with her.

    With the patience of a saint, she brought the glass to his lips, pausing often to let him breathe as she made sure he finished it off, leaving and returning with another - and a sleeve of saltines. “C’mon, big boy, you need to eat.” He shook his head, focusing on his breathing, slow and steady. She leaned in toward him, her hand back on his forehead, tender and sweet - she had to break out the heavy artillery. “Just one. For me, yeah?” She pressed the salty square to his mouth, watching with unfiltered satisfaction as he nibbled at the corner of one, then another, and another still, until he had downed half the packet.

    “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked, pointedly ignoring his piercing glare. “Feeling up for that soup now?”

    With a stifled groan, he nodded, the emptiness of his stomach more uncomfortable than the prospect of eating. His gaze followed her out as she disappeared down the hall, something in his sickness-addled mind screaming at him to bring her back, to keep her with him; he tried to move but couldn’t, tried to shout but wasn’t able to produce any sound louder than a squeak. He wanted her, needed her - where was she? How long had she been gone? He couldn’t hear her anymore. Had she left? Was he by himself? As the seconds ticked by - hours to him - the lonely ache that he’d always kept at the fringes of his mind flooded into him, enveloped him, dominated his thoughts.

    He was alone, as he always was.

    “Hey, hey, whoa - what’s with the waterworks?” Veronica was quick to set the soup on his nightstand, falling back into her seat as she brought her hands - still warmed from the bowl - to Eddie’s face, catching his tears, wiping them away as they dripped onto his lap. “What happened? Your stomach hurt again?”

    “Y-You… You l-left…” he tried to say, swallowing against the aching knot in his throat. “You were gone.”

    “I was in the kitchen, remember? Getting your soup?” she ran a hand through his hair, making a mental note to brush it out later. “What, did you think I…” As the meaning of his words seeped into her mind, she felt her heart constrict, her stomach drop. “Eddie, did you think I went home?”

    He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

    How often had he been forced to do this by himself? To weather his illnesses on his own? As much as she knew the man loved his nephew, she couldn’t imagine Wayne staying home to take care of him - nor could she imagine Eddie letting him do such a thing.

    “I’m right here, dingus.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, still tight as she cradled the side of his face, pulling at him to look at her. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

    Again, he nodded, staring at her as though she were an angel. His angel.

    She fed him the soup, filling the silence between them with mindless chatter about the school day - rather, it was mindless to him. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand a word she was saying, his eyes already beginning to droop as she set the now-empty bowl aside.

    She watched as his head bobbed once, twice, smiling as she pulled at a few of the pillows behind him to lay him back down. “Sleepy?” she asked, tugging his blanket up to his shoulders, biting back a grin as he curled up and turned himself toward her.

    “Tired.”

    “I bet.”

    “Soup was good.”

    “I’m glad it was.”

    Veronica stood up, the bowl and half-eaten sleeve of crackers balanced in one hand when she felt something pull at the hem of her skirt, urging her to turn around.

    “Stay…?”

    “...Sure, Munson.” she relented, her sigh warm, balmy as her voice pulled him further into whatever dream his mind had chosen for him - something pleasant, she hoped. “I’ll stay.”

    Slowly, peacefully, Eddie drifted away, clinging to her hand as tightly as his sapped strength would allow, the smallest of smiles on his lips at the feeling of her beside him.

    “Christ, I feel like shit.”

    Eddie walked out into his living room, hands scrubbing at his face as he stumbled toward the kitchen in search of something to drink, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, chapped lips nearly to the point of bleeding.

    “Look like it, too.” Wayne called out from the couch, turning down the game he’d been watching before leaving for work - football, probably. Eddie was too exhausted to even pretend to care. “There’s still soup on the stove, if you’re hungry.”

    Eddie rushed into the kitchen as quickly as his sapped strength allowed - more of a hobble than a run. “Aw, Uncle Wayne, you shouldn’t have.” he croaked, lifting the lid, sighing as a salty cloud of steam reached his face. God, he was starving.

    “I didn’t.” Wayne kept his voice even in tone, watching as his nephew pulled a bowl from inside the cabinet beside the stove, digging through one of the drawers for a spoon, all the while biting back a grin. “The lil’ lady did.”

    Eddie dropped his spoon in the pot, hissing out a curse as he tried to fish it out, burning the tips of his fingers in the hot broth. “Veronica? She was here?” He stared at his uncle for some sort of clarification, but the man just shrugged. “When was this?”

    “Today.” Wayne said by way of reply, walking toward the solitary peg on the wall where he’d hang his coat. “Must’ve skipped school to come here, I think. Brought you all sorts of goodies.” At his words, Eddie finally noticed the plastic bag set atop the counter, filled with several more cans of soup, bottles and boxes of medicine - and, at the very bottom of the bag, pretzels. The tiny ones he liked to eat at school.

    She’d remembered the kind he liked.

    Memories of earlier that day slowly trickled into his mind - Veronica in his room, feeding him, calming him down. Him, in tears; her, holding his hand. As if he hadn’t already been feeling like a sentient pile of hot garbage, the fact that she had gone out of her way - skipped school, of all things - to look after him buried what was left of his crumbling pride.

    Wasn’t she upset with him? Didn’t she hate him?

    And, yet, she still cared.

    He felt like such a loser.

    “Don’t forget to take your medicine.” Wayne called out from the door, pulling his hat down over his balding head, hand already gripping the doorknob. “Every six hours, she said. Couldn’t get you to take it before.”

    Eddie waved off his uncle, his mind still reeling at the fact that Veronica had been there -  in his trailer, in his bedroom, with him. Tearing open the safety seal to a bottle of NyQuil, he grimaced as he took the measured amount, chasing down the green bile with a glass of water, all while thinking only of her.

    It took two days before Eddie was well enough to return to school, and his presence was met with a… mixed reception.

    “Veronica…!”

    Eddie struggled to shout above the waves of students ebbing and flowing through the halls, all eager to leave for the day, the sound of the final bell still ringing in his ears as he pushed his way forward. ”Veronica, please - just listen to me!”

    “Shove it, Munson.” her voice carried little, yet he heard it all the same, her words piercing his chest, his heart. Nonetheless, he continued after her, nearly knocking someone over as he pushed through the building’s front doors. He was paces behind her now - so close, yet still impossibly far away.

    “Please, I… Just let me explain!”

    “What could you possibly have to explain-”

    “Five minutes.” he begged, pleaded, his hands shaking as he held them at his sides. “Please… A-And then you’ll never have to talk to me again, I swear.”

    He stared at her, holding his breath as she turned around, hands set firmly at her hips. Even with the distance between them, he could see the pain in her eyes, certain they reflected his own. He let out a trembling exhale, tearing a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts into some semblance of order, his lip worried to the point of bruising between his teeth.

    “What you heard that day, I… It came out wrong.” He swallowed, still watching her, the iota of confidence he’d had going into their conversation deflating as she rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that-”

    “How did you mean it, then?”

    “Not the way you took it…!”

    Veronica let out a groan, pinching the space between her eyes, her head falling to her chest as she turned back around, frustrations mounting as she struggled with the lock on her bicycle. “I don’t have time for this.”

    Eddie found himself at an impasse, his unbridled need for her to just understand bringing him nearly to the verge of tears, the muddled desperation bleeding through his chest breaking his voice. “I-I miss you.”

    She froze, shoulders stiff, her hands stilling atop the chilled lock as she swallowed at the tightness coiling in her throat, her words soft and strained as she replied, “Eddie, don’t-”

    “I mean it, Veronica.” He took a half-step toward her, a cautious step, maybe just a tread. Still, she didn’t shy away from him; he took what little he could and bolstered his resolve. “And I’d rather you hate me and know that I do, than… than hate me and think that I don’t.”

    Hate him? Veronica spun back around, giving him a pointed look as if to say she’d never heard something so ridiculous. “I don’t hate you, I…” She blinked once, twice, before pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes, cursing herself for getting so emotional. “God, I just… I really thought we were finally friends, y’know?”

    “We are friends-”

    “Are we?” She hadn’t realized she’d raised her voice, drawing more than a few curious eyes from the students still gathered in the parking lot. “Because it sure as Hell didn’t seem that way when you were talking to Gareth!”

    "Forget Gareth! Forget that whole conversation!" Eddie started to pace, pulling at his hair, dragging his hands down his face as he tried to keep his breathing in check, failing miserably as he felt a sweltering heat work its way up his neck. “I was being a total dickhead, alright? I didn’t mean any of it! I was just talking straight out of my ass-”

    “God, seriously-”

    “I’m an idiot - I know! But, sweetheart, you have to believe me…!”

    He stopped, turning on his heel to look at her, swearing he could feel her indecisiveness; it made him want to scream, watching how uncertain she was, how her hands tugged at the hem of her cable knit sweater, gaze falling to her feet.

    And Eddie dropped to the ground, to his knees, hands reaching out, grabbing one of her own, his voice loud and booming as though they weren’t surrounded by dozens of inquisitive people. “Oh, will the beautiful princess spare a morsel of pity for this lowly knight?” As he continued on, Veronica couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips, her resistance withering away with each passing phrase.

    “Eddie, get up-”

    “Pray tell, shall ye bestow thine most benevolent forgiveness upon such a homely creature as I?” He didn’t care for the small crowd gathered around them, gawking at his display - some in annoyance, but more than a few in unspoken envy. His focus was solely on Veronica, on the way her warring thoughts were clear as day behind her verdant eyes, her expression a cautionary mix of sadness and… and hope.

    Calling forth what was left of his courage, he brought her hand to his lips, pressing the softest of kisses atop her knuckles, his touch lingering perhaps a bit too long before he lifted his head to look at her. 

    “Please, Veronica…?”

    “Get off the ground, dingus.”

    He scrambled to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers, his stomach leaping as he waited for her to speak, to sort through her thoughts.

    Veronica kicked at a pebble near her foot, her shoulders falling ever so slightly, braids swaying as she shifted from one leg to the other, her hesitation palpable. “You… You really hurt my feelings, Eds.” Her voice was small, quiet, and it pained him to hear it, knowing he was at fault.

    “I know - and I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

    She looked at him - truly looked at him  - and the shadow of a smile playing at her lips sent butterflies soaring through his chest. “So, what you said before… You didn’t mean it?”

    “Everything in that conversation can be regarded as false.” he answered quickly, his eagerness making her budding smile broaden, even if only a little. He took another reluctant step toward her, hands stuffed into his pockets, lip caught between his teeth as he asked, “So, are we okay? Are… Are we still friends?”

    And she shoved at his shoulder, rolling her eyes, her reply of, “Yes, you dweeb, we’re still friends.” sending an explosion of relief blooming through him, his body moving on its own accord as he picked her up in his arms, his head resting atop hers, his smile absolutely radiant as she returned his embrace with one just as tight.

    Eddie wiped the sweat trailing over his brow, shaking the nervousness from his hands as he made his way up Jeff’s driveway toward the open garage, guitar slung across his back, heart pounding in his throat. Inside, he could see the other three already gathered, practicing what he could only assume to be their Indy setlist; his stomach dropped, tightened as Gareth's words echoed through his mind.

    He had been neglecting the band; Hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he’d played his Sweetheart, let alone practiced with them.

    The trio were quiet as he approached them, unsure of what to say, how to address him - and he deserved as much, he’d figured. It was only fair, considering how things had been going as of late.

    Thomas was the first to acknowledge him. "Hey, Eds." he called out, giving his friend a wave, breaking the frigid ice between them; Eddie gave a smile in return, hands deep into his pockets as he looked between the three of them, his mind wiped clean of the speech he'd prepared.

    “Look, I-” he began, but was… cut off? Jeff waved his hand around, shutting him up as he whispered something sternly to Gareth, pushing the younger man forward.

    “Look, man, before you start, Gareth’s got something he wants to say.” Another shove, and Gareth’s standing face-to-face with the repentant metalhead, tugging at his fingers, kicking his feet. "Don’t you?"

    Eddie watched, waited as Gareth took in a deep, steeling breath, hands twisting behind him as he worked through his thoughts.

    “Dude-”

    “I-I was wrong, for saying what I did.” Gareth’s voice, quiet as it was, carried through the open garage as though he’d been shouting, his apology hanging heavy between them. “I was just… angry, I guess…”

    Eddie blinked, still reeling from the shock of having received an apology at all - and from Gareth, of all people; he’d gone to the group fully prepared to grovel for his spot back in the band.

    “I… We… know how hard you’re working to graduate this time - and that stuff I said about Veronica was just…” Gareth continued, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked behind him to Jeff, who gave him an encouraging look. And, taking in a final breath, he quickly added, “I’m sorry, man. We all are.”

    Eddie shook his head, still in obvious disbelief; he took a step forward, crossing the length of the garage and dismissing Gareth’s extended hand altogether as he pulled the young man into his arms, his hold well past the point of tightening discomfort.

    “A-Alright, man!” Gareth laughed, both returning his friend’s embrace and struggling to escape from it; Eddie, finally relenting, turned to them all, his face tickled pink as he asked, 

    “So… uh… Am I back in the band?”

    “Dude, who said you ever left?” Thomas exclaimed, clapping a hand against Eddie’s shoulder with enough - albeit loving - force to knock him off balance, and the metalhead’s smile is blinding as he takes his usual position beside Gareth, strumming away at his guitar.

Tag List

@lulukings92 @i-me-mine @kaitebugg03

[itstimetodrew]

Their epic love story continues...

[ruporas]

kisses of affirmation (ID in alt)

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[melverie]

One of Satan's top three favorite days ever. If you guys even care

[afewproblems]

Christmas Party Wish Part One

After The Christmas party, Steve manages to avoid everyone for all of two days before Robin shows up at his front door, ready to knock it down.

He crosses from the kitchen and into the foyer just as Robin starts yelling.

"Steven Marie Harrington, you open up this door or so help me--"

Steve rolls his eyes, pulling the door inward quickly enough that Robin loses her balance and nearly topples onto the inside floor mat. If not for Steve's quick reflexes she would be face down in a heap, he tells her as much with a sly grin as he helps her to stand.

"And whose fault would that be? Nice way to treat the person who is here to help you out Dingus," Robin huffs, brushing off imaginary dust from her shoulders while Steve moves aside to let her in.

"Merry Christmas to you too Rob," Steve says tugging her towards himself. He sighs as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck, content until she blows a long wet raspberry into his check. Steve drops her with a yelp and wipes away the wet mark she left behind with grinning lips.

"That was for ignoring my call," she says with narrowed eyes, "you were supposed to come for supper on Christmas day remember?"

She shrugs off her blue parka before lifting each foot to pull off her snowy boots, Steve takes the coat and tosses it over the back of the closest chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I know," he manages after a beat, sighing as Robin scoffs. She turns on her heel and wanders into the kitchen, leaving Steve to trail after her.

"I can only assume it's because you had other plans, you can't have possibly ignored my call for some other reason, hmm?"

Steve lifts his head to stare at the ceiling and count to five.

The thing that Steve both loves and hates about his best friend is her ability to read him through and through and call him on his shit. He'd hoped to have at least a little more time to wallow in self pity though.

"You've been wallowing for two days Steve, and I know it sucks," she chews her lip for a moment before sighing, "I'm sorry about the wish game, I feel like it's my fault".

Steve shakes his head and moves to the fridge. He opens it and reaches inside for two cans of cola before turning and using his foot to nudge the door closed again. He stacks the cans, holding them both with one hand and he moves to the pantry, grabbing an old open tube of Pringles, before making his way back to the kitchen island.

"Nah," he says eventually, "it wasn't your fault, if anything it proved why I was right not to say anything".

Steve places Robin's cola and the chips on the counter beside him and cracks the tab on his can with one hand as he leans heavily against the edge. He takes a long swig from the can, pounding his chest as he finishes to release a long burp.

Robin grimaces and swats at Steve's bicep as she grabs her own can and hops up onto the counter next to Steve.

"Dis-GUST-ing," she enunciates, wrinkling her nose, "and it doesn't prove anything Steve, of course Eddie would wish for his band to succeed, he doesn't even know you're on the table".

"And besides," Robin continues, gesturing to Steve with the can, "Nancy and Jonathan don't know that I'm a friend of Dorothy and we've known each other for over a year now. You've known them for three years and haven't said anything either, Dingus, so why would Eddie feel comfortable sharing something like that in front of everyone?"

And, huh, well what Robin says does make a lot more sense than the rambling depressing thoughts that he's been playing on repeat since their movie night.

He and Eddie have gotten a lot closer since they escaped from the Upside Down for the last time. Since Steve managed to carry him out of hell and got them to the hospital in time.

And Steve has been trying so hard for months not to expose himself, to show the most vulnerable parts of his heart to someone that could stomp on it as easily as Nancy did.

But Robin has a point.

On the one hand Steve has been protecting himself, and on the other he's also made sure that there would never be a possibility of--

Steve shakes his head, "first of all, I only just figured all of this, Bi-Sectional stuff, out Robin--"

"Bisexual," she sighs as Steve keeps talking.

"Whatever, and second, we have no idea if Eddie swings that way either…I just don't want to take the risk and end up fucking it all up".

Robin stares at him, an unhappy frown marring her normally sweet features. It feels too much like she's evaluating the inside of his mind --though she did always have the uncanny talent of knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"And what would you say if I told you I had a plan?" Robin says slowly, her gaze unwavering still.

Steve meets her eyes for a moment, taking in the smirk and the raised eyebrow. There's a challenge in her expression and Steve knows there's nothing for it but to listen to what she has to say.

"I'm going to regret letting you in today aren't I?" Steve says as he lifts his can towards her own.

Robin answers with a wide grin and knocks her can into his with a metallic click.

"Don't you always? Anyways," she clears her throat and looks at him with a mischievous smirk, lifting her hands into the air and wiggling her fingers, "I'm thinking, are you ready? New Year's Eve!"

"No--"

"New Year's Eve Steve, come on!" She insists as Steve grazes on a stack of chips from the Pringles tube.

"All we need to do is invite everyone over, Eddie included, to Casa Harrington for a little New Years Party," Robin continues, ignoring the eye roll Steve sends her way, "with enough liquid courage you'd have another opportunity to actually talk to Eddie, confess your feelings, and Boom! Maybe even get a midnight kiss out of the whole thing!"

Steve stares at her wide eyes and wider grin, forcing himself to keep his expression blank.

"So, just to be clear," Steve says eventually, around a mouthful of chips. Robin exaggeratedly gags and snatches her own stack from the tube.

"Your plan is for me to host another party and talk to him".

"Well, yeah--"

"...Robin, that's not a plan, that's a repeat of what already happened," Steve groans as he puts down the chips and runs his hands over his face until they've tangled into his hair.

"No, no, nuh uh, because you didn't say jack shit to him all night," she huffs, gently pulling his hands down, "the crucial difference my sweet bozo, is that you are actually going to tell him how you feel this time".

"How am I supposed to do that with my ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend, and everyone else here smart ass," he counters, letting her continue to hold his hands in her own smaller ones.

She rolls her eyes but squeezes his fingers as she continues, "it will be easy to get him alone, come on, you could tell him you want to give him his Christmas present in your room, you could ask him to go for a smoke outside, you could show him the basement stereo and your ridiculous music collection, must I go on while you don't write this down?"

With every suggestion Steve feels a surge of warm affection for his friend and allows for a fond grin to replace the skeptical frown on his face.

"Do I have to do all of those or should I pick one?" Steve asks, lifting his now free hands to protect his face as Robin whips her own at his chest and head.

"How you were ever considered a ladies man, I will never know," Robin says, though the words are rather undercut by a laugh that turns into a giggle as she finds a particularly ticklish rib and begins her assault.

"You are a fucking menace birdie," Steve manages to say as he catches the offending hands and steps away from the counter and his friends attack.

"You love it," she scoffs, stealing another chip and crunching it loudly as though to make her point.

And he does, Steve thinks to himself.

They have five days to figure out the final details, and Steve can't help but move back to the counter to swing an arm around her shoulders.

Because when in doubt, he can always count on Robin.

"Okay, New Years it is".

[lady-phasma]

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen - Dune: Part 2

Planetary Governor of Arrakis

[imvenusasaboy]

finally got around to doing that illustration I wanted to do from TAOLAW by @fireflywritesgt :D

Huzzah!

[egophiliac]

screams

(still not spoilers! BUT probably the last one for a while that will not be spoilers, be warned)

[revengemode]

How it started

How it’s going

[sprucewoodmpreg]

most messed up this of this entire decade is me trying to clean up a bunch of my old music folders and finding old wips or abandoned songs that i worked on when i was making the life series chiptune tracks

[carrotkicks]

Fugitives arc - Abridged vrs.

(part of the sends them to school au)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I figured as much too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tch. Rude.” 

The door opened. The timer starts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you figure?” 

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

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

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

*** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chuuya’s gaze was unreadable now. 

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

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

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

“Chuuya I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm. How about never?” 

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

“Dazai.” Chuuya started. “I’m…”

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

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

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

“Yeah. Me too, Chuuya” 

***

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

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In the equineswap au does everyone know that wwx lost his magic bc his horn is gone or does he pretend it's there somehow?

Wen Qing casted her scotch tape spell

[sodasquidsart]

eighth wonder of the world, you'll never get to see!

[averlym]

litany of the martyrs (click for better resolution!)

[katnissmellarkkk]

seeing hate for season 3 is super annoying because we only got half. the first 4 episodes of the last two seasons and queen charlotte wouldn’t have been good either standalone.