#this is kind of a filler chapter

[analogwriting]

Childhood Crush

Chapter 13: Cobalt

Killer x gn!reader

word count: 2.4k

a/n: since i was gone longer than usual and gave a good cucking - HAVE ANOTHER AYEO cucking, i mean

next

When you came to and made your way out, the blizzard stopped. The night was still - no wind, no noise. Just the quiet snow and the light of the moon illuminating the glittering landscape. You stood there for a moment, just enjoying the silence. You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back. You were already exhausted. Why did Myra send only you? She had seemed pretty adamant about you going alone. She wouldn’t spare anyone else. Did she know something you didn’t?

Your mind then drifted to the crazy guy from earlier. What even was his deal? His face flashed in your mind and you groaned. That unnatural grin couldn’t be…on purpose. It almost looked as if some invisible force was pulling it - pulling it to that unnatural state. It couldn’t be comfortable. Even still, he felt familiar. You couldn’t place why.

You opened your eyes, sighing once more and watching as the clouds from your breath traveled up then to the ground. There wasn’t a lick of wind like earlier. You looked down at your arm. You needed to get that taken care of for sure. You couldn’t lose another arm. Sure, you could probably just make another armband, but you’d honestly rather not.

Thankfully, due to the still of the night, you did hear running water. You followed the noise and soon discovered a small river. At least it wasn’t frozen. 

Some time later, you had a small fire going and were boiling water. You cut off a piece of your cloak, dipping it in your now clean water. You hissed softly as you began to clean up your wound, soon enough stitching it up. You were glad you always carried around a small stitch kit just in case. It was essential to you at this point.

Once you were all patched and warmed up, you set off again.

--

Finally, you made it to a village. The Flower Capital to be specific. You needed to gather some information about Kaido and his castle. You couldn’t just go in blind. This was a stealth mission, not a strength contest. You stood no chance anyway. You knew your limits and you weren’t dumb.

The intel you obtained was a lot. Twenty years of constant downfall. These poor people just couldn’t catch a break. When would their suffering end? Soon, you hoped.

The information that pertained to you, however, was that it seemed that Kaido was going to be throwing some kind of party for an alliance he was having with Big Mom. Great. Two yonkos in one place. Just fantastic. Not only that, all of the beast pirates were apparently going to be there. Fanfuckingtastic. Just what you needed. Though, if you just found some kind of disguise and laid low, you should be just fine. You’re just getting some flowers after all. No need to stress about fighting. No one was going to question you just picking flowers.

Make fun of you, maybe, but nothing more.

“Yeah, I heard that the prison in Udon is holding that Strawhat captain now along with that Kid Pirate captain.” Your neck could have snapped with how fast your head turned. You noticed two people talking and walked over. “I heard the same thing,” you lied, sitting on the bench with the other two. They looked at you for a moment, but didn’t seem to dwell on you for long.

“I heard the Strawhat tried to take on Kaido and was easily defeated.” The woman laughed softly. “That’s what happens when you end up too big for your britches and try to fight a yonko, I guess.” The other woman laughed and you joined in.

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” you say, trying to fish for more information. “How long has that Kid guy been there anyway at this point?”

“Oh, I think it’s been a bit at this point. Kaido captured the whole crew. My husband heard it from a Beast Pirate. Boasting about it, he was.” Your heart sank. Caught the whole crew? Panic set in. Were they alive? Were they dead? Were they being held in the same place? It didn’t sound like it. You needed more information, but you knew you wouldn’t get too much from the two ladies without drawing suspicion.

“Well, at least they’re locked up. We don’t need more pirates terrorizing us. We’ve been through enough,” the other woman said. You nodded along with them, making a little more idle chat before bidding farewell and leaving.

Well, now to figure out where the hell Udon is. And what prison they were talking about. Though, you weren’t sure how old that information was either.

As if the universe was granting you some kind of mercy, you heard another tidbit of information.

“I heard there was a breakout at the Udon prison.” You glanced over, seeing a couple Beast Pirates talking this time. “That Strawhat guy and that Captain Kid guy.” You felt your heart breathe a sigh of relief to hear your brother was able to get out of there. But…where the hell was he now? You didn’t even know where to begin searching for him. You knew he wouldn’t stay in one place long and knew the first thing he’d do is get his crew back.

The only thing you could do was just continue with your own mission. Surely you’d run into him eventually. Besides, he was your brother, he was probably just fine. With a deep sigh, you decided what to do next.

Now, you just need to head to Onigashima. Simple enough. You just…needed to find your boat…and…fuck. Which fuckin’ port you come in on? You should’ve paid more attention to your surroundings and where the hell you were going. Though, taking your own boat over to Onigashima was probably also not very smart. You should probably just sneak on one of their own ships in disguise. Yeah, that checked out. That was a better plan.

Turns out, most of the Beast Pirates were absolutely dense. They were not bright. All it took was knocking one out and changing clothes and they were none the wiser.

When you actually made it to Onigashima - things didn’t get any easier. You thought it would for a moment, only to find out there was some kind of huge fight going on. Well, shit. Now what were you supposed to do? You ended up getting swept into a crowd of rushing people heading into the castle. Well shit, that’s the opposite of what you wanted. You wanted the outside not the inside. 

You eventually broke away from the crowd, grumbling as you did so. You straightened yourself out, heading towards the place where you had entered from only to suddenly feel the entire place begin to quake. You lost your footing, crashing to the ground as did a lot of other people. Shouting began and everyone started looking around. 

Once the ground stopped shaking, you stood up, heading over to the nearest window. “Are we in the fucking air?” you mumbled to yourself. That was absolutely insane. What was Kaido’s plan with this one? Actually, you still weren’t even sure what the hell was going on. As far as you know a fight broke out during a party and that’s it. You had no idea who was involved or why it was happening.

“I can’t believe it either.” You looked over, seeing another Beast Pirate. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but apparently the Strawhats, the Kid Pirates, and the Heart Pirates are all here trying to take down Kaido and Big Mom, so get ready for a lot of fighting.” You stared at him. “Huh?”

“Good luck, soldier,” he called as he ran off.

You just stared after him. “He’s going after another fucking yonko?” you yelled to no one in particular. With all the commotion, no one really noticed anyway. You took off your helmet for a moment, running a hand through your hair. This was absolutely ridiculous. What the hell was Eustass thinking? 

Well, at least that answered the question of where he was. It was only a matter of finding him now. At this point, you forgot about what you had originally come here for. Your only goal now was to find Eustass and demand to know what’s going on…or at least know he’s okay. You still couldn’t believe he was targeting a yonko. Was he trying to lose another arm? 

With a dramatic sigh, you started to navigate the halls. Fights were broken out left and right. You did your best to stay out of all of them. You didn’t particularly care one way or another how they would end up. None of this was any of your business…well…if you rejoined your own crew then you supposed it was.

Ugh, you’d figure out the details later. You really needed to stop overthinking things - it was giving you a headache.

During your search, you stopped dead in your tracks as you saw a familiar tuft of red hair. A large smile spread across your face as you honed in on what you saw. There he fucking was - your brother. Eustass fucking Kid. And, as always, Killer wasn’t far from him. You felt a heat creep onto your cheeks as you looked at the man you’ve had a crush on since childhood. Did he get bigger? Motherfucker yoked up. Your brother too. Damn, what the fuck did they do when you were gone? Take steroids? Damn.

Your heart was pounding in your ears with excitement. So much excitement, in fact, that you didn’t exactly notice the state they were in. Now that the initial shock of seeing them had passed, you noticed the rough shape the both of them were in. You had something that could fix that - you just had to get to them first.

You moved quick, taking your enemies out one by one in rapid succession. Soon enough, all that was standing in your way was Eustass and Killer. “What are you doing?” One of the fallen pirates asked in a strained voice. “Are you betraying us?” You just looked down at him, licking your teeth. You looked back to the two in front of you, tossing them what looked like some kind of protein bars. 

“Eat those,” you said.

Eustass just glared at you. “Why the fuck would I listen to someone who just killed their own men?” he demanded. You blinked, confused on why he didn’t recognize you. Then it dawned on you. The helmet covering your face. Right. Plus, what were the odds you’d be here anyway? You were about to take your helmet off when you noticed someone creeping up on your brother. 

With a sigh, you threw one of your daggers, flying right past Eustass’ head and straight into the skull of the man behind him. “You really need to be aware of your surroundings, Tungsten,” you said with a dramatic sigh.

His eyes widened in disbelief and his whole body went rigid as the nickname left your mouth. You took off your helmet, tossing it to the side. “Ugh, that thing was awful.” Honestly, you didn’t know why you wore it as long as you did. Maybe to make people leave you alone? You weren’t sure at this point. 

“What?” Your brother’s voice was soft, full of disbelief. You looked at Eustass, confused. “Is that all you gotta say to me?” Though, with the look on his face, you could tell that he was still dumbfounded. He definitely couldn’t believe his eyes. “What? You think I was dead?” You snorted.

“Like I said, eat those bars. It’ll take a couple of minutes, but you’ll completely recover. However, it’s the only one you’ll be able to have today so make it count, yeah?” It was something you had developed while you were on the island. Medicines were your specialty, after all.

They looked at each other before looking back at you. “Bigs?” You looked at him and nodded slowly. “...Yes? Are you still on that?” Now that you thought about it, Eustass did look pale. As if he had seen a ghost. He slowly stepped towards you before taking you in his arms and holding you tightly. “Uh…Tungsten?” you asked, patting his back. “As much as I love you and love your affection, I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something.”

“Kese said you died.” You froze at the mention of his name as your own mind started to spin. “H-He what?” You pulled away from Eustass, looking at him. You searched for a lie in his face, but there was none. There was, however, a lot of emotion that he was holding back. Probably holding it together because you were in public and somewhat in the middle of a war.

You blinked, looking from him, to Killer who hadn’t even moved so much of an inch or said anything, back to Eustass. You shook your head. 

“This is something we can process and go over later,” you said, knowing you needed to move things along. “I’m well and alive, obviously. I’m just here originally for a mission for the labs, but it seems like there’s a lot of unsettled business I’ll need to attend to. So.”

You look at them, stepping back and putting your hands on your hips. Once more, you were taking your authority as an older sibling. “This is the plan, yeah?” They nodded, looking at you, ready to listen. “You two are going to eat those bars and do whatever it is you need to do. I’m going to finish my own side mission that I was sent on. This is all gonna end and we’re gonna meet up later, alright?” They nodded again, opening their bars.

“And none of us are going to die, got it?” You had a firmer tone this time and again, they nodded. You could tell they were still absolutely floored that you were before them. Why would Kese tell them that you died? What the hell was his angle at this point? Why did he want you out of the picture so damn bad? You didn’t even fucking know the guy. 

You could figure all that out later, right now you had shit to do. You smiled at the both of them. “Alright. We have a plan, now quit standing there like a couple of idiots and get going.” With that, you winked and hightailed it out of there.

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer - Part 11

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 8k

warnings: swearing, some angst (as always) discussions of closeted queer folk (just in case) probably a lot more - will go back in and edit as needed!

A.N.: I'm back, Chat! After a million years and some change, I really hope you like this chapter even though to me it feels a tad like filler, so sorry it took so long to get back into the swing of things!! - Also, my taglist is broken, so if you would like to be put on it for the chapters going forward, please let me know!

To call the last few days a blur would be an understatement, more so considering how everything that had happened over the course of the last few hours could have filled the duration of those days themselves. 

And everything happened so fast, events falling into place one after the other in such quick succession that Dustin has barely had time to process all the steps he’d taken down the road since he and Max first left his house in search of Eddie – in search of you. 

Presently, he’s stuck trying to rationalize just how he’d come to find himself sitting huddled on the Wheeler’s sofa, stuffed in between Max and Lucas under the tense scrutiny of the Hawkins PD and the worried coterie of their parents.

Though perhaps “how” is not the question, but why, considering he knows exactly how it happened: they found Eddie, then they lost him, and after a very tense few hours, subsequently found him again, camped out with you at Skull Rock, looking very much like you’d been to hell and back.

From there their road circled back to Lover’s Lake, and now here they find themselves, in police custody with half of their party lost to the gate beneath the water.

It’s the closest thing Dustin can imagine to a worst-case scenario.

That’s not true, he tells himself, Eddie’s still in the clear, so it’s not all bad… not yet…

Still, it’s beyond bizarre to be sitting and getting lectured on the Wheeler’s sofa with Mike so far removed all the way in California.

Karen is nice, sure, and Ted is … well, Ted is Ted, hardly intimidating, but something about being under the direct scrutiny of the Wheelers and the Sinclairs and his mother and the Hawkins PD, all of whom he is actively lying to, has Dustin sinking further and further into the plush cushions in the hopes of somehow shrinking out of existence.

How badly he wishes he was anywhere but here. 

It’s not that he’s intimidated or anything so foolish, particularly by the bespectacled likes of Officer Callahan, only that Dustin is painfully aware of how this looks, their merry band of misfits camped out at the water’s edge directly opposite an active crime scene with binoculars in hand. Worse still, he’s painfully aware of how it sounds.

“What were you kids doing out at the lake?” Callahan asks.

It’s as good a question as any, but it leaves the lot of them reeling with just exactly how to answer it.

What are they supposed to tell them, the truth? That they were busy sending half their party through an interdimensional gate at the bottom of the lake to the Upsidedown?

No.

Under absolutely no circumstances will he be telling them the truth, not unless he wants to see the inside of a padded cell.

He could have told Hopper the truth (or at least some summarized version of it), but Hopper isn’t here, so Dustin and his friends open their mouths and all begin to speak at once as they fumble for some sort of credible answer as to what they were doing out at the lake. 

“Swimming—” Dustin says immediately.

Max shrugs her shoulders and offers what would have been the most practical answer…  

“Nothing—”

… if not for what came tumbling out of Lucas’s mouth.

“Taking a long romantic walk under the moonlight?” He squeaks, voice lilting an octave higher as his sentence comes to a close, making the statement sound much more like a question than anything else.   

The silence in the room is deafening, and Dustin suppresses a wince, fully aware of just how well and truly cooked their collective gooses are as he exchanges a horrified glance with you, sitting in a plush chair opposite the couch, wide-eyed and gaping at him from the other side of the room.  

It’s a wonder you’re even here, considering Dustin had been sure that you’d go right along with the others, but in a stunning turn of events, you’d elected to stay behind.

It was because, as you said; “I’m the babysitter, it’s literally my job…” – Dustin had been decidedly pleased about that, in stark contrast to Eddie, who had just about capsized the boat right there on the shore trying to reach for your hand.

“Don’t be silly,” He’s insisted, despite how unbelievably practical you were being. “There’s plenty of room,” There was not, as had been evidenced by Dustin’s own rejected application to join the expedition. “– come on,” 

But there was no arguing with you, as was always the case when your mind was made up. For as many reasons as Eddie could drum up for you to go, you had just as many reasons to stay, the least of those being that you were injured. 

“I’ll only slow you down,” You’d assured him with a slow shake of your head, “It’s gonna be fine, we’ll be waiting right here when you get back.” 

It’s yet another thing that is driving Dustin to the very edge of anxiety-induced nausea: they won’t be there waiting on the shore when the others get back … if they get back.

The adults are still gawping at their little group, eyes wide as dinner plates in patent disbelief of their swimming–nothing–romantic moonlit walk at the lake. 

“It was kind of, sort of a … field trip scenario…” Dustin says, gesturing flippantly as he fumbles through the poor excuse for an explanation. 

“To the lake…” Callahan deadpans.

“Yeah…”

“In the middle of the night…”

It’s less a question than an accusation.

Dustin resists the urge to correct the deputy, considering it’s hardly the middle of the night, and he nods, swallowing hard against the cotton blooming in his throat. 

“...I mean, it’s Spring Break.” he croaks, “...No school…”  

“Dusty…” His mother presses, “Somebody was just murdered there!”

It sets his teeth on edge.

“We didn’t know that at the time.” He insists, well aware of just how lame this all sounds. 

Desperate to claw back some shred of credibility, he elbows Lucas in the ribs. It startles the boy to attention and his head snaps around to regard Dustin with an incredulous look, as if to ask what the hell am I supposed to say?

Max takes the hint for him. 

“What’s the big deal?” She starts, “So, we were down at the lake — it’s called healing your inner child, look it up.” 

On the other end of the couch, Dustin is vaguely aware of hearing you breathe out harshly, muttering something that sounds very much like “Oh, boy…”

Before he can stop this snowball from rolling, Lucas is nodding emphatically, suddenly very eager to add his two cents to the notion. 

“Right, w-we were just trying to …” he trails off, swallowing hard as the rest of his sentence escapes him, and then, “… yeah, like Max said… do that.” 

If Dustin thought the first silence was deep, this one is a yawning chasm of infinite depth. They’re great at this, actually, not at all amateurish.  

“Right…” Powell says slowly, “...and this has absolutely nothing to do with Eddie Munson?”

Once again, they’re all speaking simultaneously, shaking their heads, gesticulating, and doing anything in their power to make themselves even remotely believable.

No really, they’re doing great.  

“No, not at all.”

“Of course not.”

And then, because this is already going so well, Dustin opens his big mouth.

“That weirdo?” He scoffs, refusing to refer to Eddie by any harsher language, and cringing at the way his voice breaks on the word, “We don’t even know the guy.”  

Erica Sinclair erupts into a bark of incredulous laughter from her position in the far corner of the room, and Dustin realizes his mistake the moment the words leave his mouth. 

Erica… how could he have forgotten about Erica, who very recently had been caught up in the brief euphoria of reading from the Good Book of Eddie Munson.

Erica, who has just caught Dustin in what is perhaps the most blatant lie he has ever told and is trying her damnedest to strike him dead with the daggers she’s hurling in his direction from the other side of the room. 

Oh, whoops… it’s the understatement of the century. 

“You know they’re lying, right?” She snarls, “The whole couch is on fire.” 

Her mother is quick to silence her with a harsh utterance of her name. 

Dustin can’t help but feel a sharp stab of betrayal as he gawps at the younger Sinclair.

He’d thought, perhaps foolishly, that their triumphant victory against Vecna during the last Hellfire meeting would be some kind of a turning point for their friendship. 

He kicks himself for being so naive and sinks a little further into the couch, pouting as she sneers back at him.  

To make matters worse, the police are clearly not buying what they’re attempting to sell. Chief Powell and Officer Callahan exchange wary looks before, slowly, their gazes slide across the couch and over to you.

You begin to fidget under their collective scrutiny, doing your utmost to look anywhere in the room besides directly at the officers. 

It’s only when Powell addresses you with the firm and formal usage of Miss followed by your last name that you finally look at him.

It takes him what feels like a very long time to speak.  

“Care to chime in?” He finally asks, gesturing to the absolutely bafoonery of the couch.

You glance at Dustin, and he feels a stab of anxiety lance through his midsection as he fails to decipher the unreadable look splashed across your face. 

Your attention snaps back over to the police when Powell repeats his overly formal addressing of you, the well of his patience growing ever shallower. 

You pull an innocent face and gesture dumbly to yourself. 

“Me?” You chirp, like you can’t imagine how they could possibly think you’re involved in this. 

You? No, surely not you, who had pulled Dustin and the rest into a quick huddle and quietly instructed them on how best to lie to the cops when they’d found themselves ambushed at the lake.

Dustin had been caught somewhere halfway between impressed and appalled, but he’d stopped himself before the question could even take root in his mind: how do you know anything about lying to the cops?

Eddie. Naturally.  

Officer Callahan doesn’t seem to have the same patience as his direct superior for your act. He heaves an overdramatic sigh and rolls his eyes behind his glasses.

“No,” he scoffs, “The other delinquent in the room.” 

The mask of innocence slips immediately from your face as you level the man with a hateful look.

“Oh, sure.” You snap, “Because name-calling is the best way to ensure cooperation — real mature, Phil…” 

“Wha— how did you—?” Callahan splutters indignantly before clamping his mouth shut and setting his jaw. 

Strangely, Chief Powell coughs harshly into a closed fist, and Dustin only realizes that the man is masking a chuckle when his deputy levels him with a dour look.

After a moment to collect himself, Callahan returns to you and shrugs. 

“Okay, fine – why don’t we put you in a pair of handcuffs and take you down to the station, see if that makes you feel any more cooperative.”

You blanch at the prospect and Dustin’s heart seizes in his chest in outrage. Before he can leap to your defense, however, the Sinclairs and Wheelers alike erupt into loud protests of the notion.

The collective vitriol of the adults is enough to cause Callahan to balk and suddenly he’s standing a little less tall. 

“Oh, really, Officer!” Dustin’s mother tuts, “There’s no need for that — I’m sure whatever it was they were doing was completely innocent,” 

He’s not entirely certain how sure she is of that, but evidently enough that she’s managed to overcome the horror she’d previously been experiencing at the thought of them going down to the lake where someone was just murdered. 

Still, considering you’re more or less an honorary member of the Henderson household, she goes on to paint a shining picture of you, insisting that you are a good girl – responsible.

The others respond with varying degrees of enthusiastic agreement and Dustin’s chest swells with warm, golden pride. 

Damn right. 

While you were only ever officially his babysitter, it never stopped the Sinclairs from asking you to carpool Lucas and Erica to and from school twice a week, or Karen Wheeler from enlisting you to look after Holly when she had the odd errand to run – though perhaps more specifically, covering for her last summer and remaining the soul of discretion when a momentary slip in judgment regarding a certain public pool lifeguard had seen her very nearly destroying her marriage and perhaps by greater extension her family as a whole. 

Karen Wheeler would have defended you like one of her own children if it came down to it, as is evidenced by the way she comes flying to your rescue.

“She’s their babysitter, for God’s sake.” She scoffs, gesturing toward you in a way that makes the chunky bracelets sitting on her slender wrists clack loudly together, “She takes the boys to the arcade and plays that …fantasy game with them – I mean, really… what kind of trouble could they possibly be getting into?” 

Unfortunately, as Dustin realizes too late, the Hawkins PD happens to know exactly what kind of trouble you could be getting into, and they are all too happy to share.

“Listen, folks…” Chief Powell sighs, taking the floor and rubbing a tired hand over his face, “I’m sure you mean well, but I’m afraid that your word just isn’t enough – the fact of the matter is that your babysitter has been caught trespassing at two active crime scenes in about as many days.” 

Callahan is quick to chime in.

“Not to mention she’s a known associate of Eddie Munson.”

Dustin bristles. He’d been waiting for that shoe to drop, and now that it has, he feels a thin sheet of ice beginning to form across his stomach lining. 

A sticky silence falls heavily over the room as the adults all exchange bewildered looks. Not even Karen knows what to do with that reveal.  

“What does that mean?” Charles Sinclair demands, brows furrowed tightly as he turns a hard eye on Lucas, as if his son somehow held the answer. 

He freezes like a deer in headlights, but Erica is more than happy to explain, pushing forward to stand in front of her father and remind everyone that she is still there, hands propped up on her hips as she levels you with a particularly snotty look. 

“It means he’s her boyfriend.” She drawls, peering back at the denizens of the couch and looking entirely too pleased with herself. 

Dustin’s heart seizes with terror. 

How the hell does she know that?

“Shut up, Erica!” Lucas hisses.

She reels on him.

“You shut up!” she snaps, and her mother quickly admonishes her for it.

“Erica!” She hisses. 

“What? It’s true – I used to see them at the mall all the time, swapping spit, sticking their tongues down each other’s throats… you know, making out?” She makes a show of visibly shuddering before twisting to address you, sitting mortified with your hands fisted in your hair and your face flushed crimson, “You guys are super nasty, by the way…” 

“Er-i-ca!” Her mother warns her sharply.

She puts up her hands defensively and retreats a step.

“It’s just the facts!”  

Still, the sentiment causes a nervous murmur to pass through the adults… you and Eddie Munson?

Apparently, your dating habits had been as shrouded in mystery to them as it had been to Dustin, and unfortunately, they are less likely to be as forgiving about it. 

His mother’s voice quavers as she turns to you and quietly says your name. He watches as, in spite of yourself, you shrink back a little further into the cushions as if you yourself had been hoping that information would not come to light.

“Is that true?” She squeaks.

You don’t answer right away, but to your credit, when you do you try to laugh it off.

“Which part?” You scoff, “The dating thing or that incredibly vivid description Erica just painted for us?”

The attempt at humor falls short on the adults, and in the silence that follows, Dustin can’t help but feel a little angry at how ridiculous this all is.

True, the descriptors were a bit much, Dustin doesn’t need to be picturing that any more than he already had been, but they’re all acting like she’d placed you at the scene as an accomplice to the murders, like you and Eddie are some kind of modern teenaged versions of Bonnie and Clyde, which is ridiculous – Eddie wouldn’t harm a fly, and if anything the truth bomb Erica just set off in the middle of the room means you’re the one who can personally vouch for that.

It would be a pointless endeavor, of course, they’re only going off of what they know of Eddie’s reputation, one that is currently telling them that he is a cold-blooded killer going on a rampage through the Hawkins High School student body…

Dustin feels himself begin to sweat. 

Suddenly everyone is holding their breath to see how you will react, and how everyone else will if the truth comes out. 

“...Technically we broke up…” you mumble sheepishly, tugging a the hem of your worn t-shirt.

The room erupts in a cacophony of noise.     

All at once, the Wheelers and the Sinclairs find themselves split down the middle over whether they find that information credible, waffling between thrusting accusatory fingers at you, at the police, at the couch, and every direction in between.

Ted Wheeler and Charles Sinclair demand to know if they’re lying to the police and what kind of trouble you’re getting their kids involved in, and their wives insist on returning to the rescue of your character, assuring the men that this is all a huge misunderstanding and that you would never dream of putting their children in danger.

Boy, if they only knew the truth.

Dustin’s mother begins to weep, wailing about the state of her poor nerves, all the while you sink further and further into the cushions and do your best to become invisible.

It’s a madhouse.

Dustin wishes, not for the first time, that he was back on the shore of the lake, and silently hopes Eddie and the others are having a better time than they are. 

Wherever they are, he hopes they are okay.

+++

Eddie is absolutely positively not okay. He can’t speak for the others, who all seem to be doing a much better job at handling the whole “crossing through a portal into another dimension” thing.

They’re calling it the Upsidedown like it’s the next town over, like they simply hopped in the car and drove down the interstate to arrive in this bizarro version of Hawkins with monsters and nasty shit.  

They’ve apparently been through this before, so Nancy says, and Eddie can’t even begin to wrap his head around what that could possibly mean.

That they’ve swum to the bottom of the lake where someone has just been psychically murdered and passed through to another dimension only to narrowly avoid being eaten alive by a swarm of demonic bats? Somehow he highly doubts it’s that specific, though only because he’s having a very hard time coming to terms with the fact that basically, everything he thought he ever knew about Hawkins is complete and utter bullshit.

Eddie supposes he always knew Hawkins was one of those places, the cliche of the happy little midwestern town pretending everything is nice and shining and wholesome meanwhile grandma’s skeleton is rotting in the hall closet. He’d always assumed there was something going on just beneath the shining veneer, just not on the level of “a literal hell realm existing right beneath his feet”.

Nancy is maddeningly calm about all this as if she didn’t just go diving into the pitch black of the unknown to rescue Steve, or rip off the bottom panel of her blouse and tie a tourniquet around his midsection to keep his guts from spilling out.

Harrington himself is taking the whole “almost being eaten alive” thing in stride in a really frustrating way, already walking and talking like someone died and made him king of the goddamn Upsidedown.

In fact, the only one who seems even remotely in the realm of appropriately manic about this whole thing is Robin, talking a mile a minute about rabies and the logistics of bat bites in the Upsidedown, but as far as Eddie knows, Robin is just like that.

Naturally manic, naturally caffeinated, probably on some kind of prescription drug like Ritalin if he had to guess… not that he’d hold any of that against her, Robin’s cooler than most. 

They’d had intermediate band together one semester before he realized he’d actually be expected to wear that stupid uniform and dropped out.

They’d even been somewhere halfway to friends during that brief period of time, though that “friendship” could be summed up to nothing more than the casual snide, sarcastic remarks during class, a joke here and there, and one instance of Robin getting way too high on half a joint they’d smoked under the bleachers.

It resulted in her becoming paranoid that Eddie was trying to get into her pants, which he most certainly was not, and inadvertently coming out to him in a moment of panic.

He swore to take her secret to his grave, quit showing up to class, and they didn’t speak again until she came riding in alongside everyone else on Dustin’s little rescue mission.

Eddie wonders if she remembers any of that… 

He supposes it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, particularly since Eddie seems to be the only sane one among them, which is to say the only one teetering on the edge of losing his shit, and it’s really pissing him off because none of this is normal. 

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Beyond the dark, however, the perpetual red lightning storm, the alien network of hive-minded vines, and literal goddamn monsters trying to kill them, Eddie is, foolishly, most concerned about you, as always. 

He’s well aware of just how stupid that is, to worry about you up on the surface with all the subterranean dangers that pose a direct threat to his life and limb - he’s not even sure that’s the correct way to quantify it, but it sure as hell seemed like he’d swum through the bottom of the lake and crawled out on the other side of the world. 

He wishes more than anything that you were here if only because then at least he’d have someone who he could turn to and know with confidence would agree, “Yes, Edward, this is in fact insane.” 

Normally he rails against the utterance of his government name because the only people who call him that are typically authority figures preparing to dole out some sort of capital punishment, or his mother when she was royally pissed at him – “Edward Munson if you think I’m about to let that slide you have got another thing coming,”.

And you, of course, though you only ever do so with the utmost fondness… and very often in an affected English accent, which despite being one of the worst impressions he’s ever heard, Eddie actually likes very much.

What he wouldn’t give to have you right here, trying to liven the mood by doing that stupid accent. He can almost hear you chewing through it. 

“We’re in a right mess, innit, Edward?” You’d say, “Pip-pip cheerio and the lot…” or whatever. 

Still, a decent-sized part of Eddie’s brain is attempting to crawl out of his skull and abandon him to the madness of this place, and imagining all the ways you would try to make the situation seem less dire if you were there is doing nothing to help.

Because you’re not there.

Why in the hell hadn’t you come with them in the boat? 

He knows why, of course, rationally so – there was no room, someone needed to stay with the kiddos, and most of all you’re hurt – but there are spiders in his skull, skittering around and irrationally whispering that the real reason you stayed behind was that after everything that happened, you couldn’t wait to get away from him. 

A larger part of Eddie than he is ready to acknowledge is pissed about it because you’d only just finished agreeing not to split up anymore.

Together is better, you’d promised him that, but another part of him understands why you might be desperate to get away. 

First Chrissy, then Patrick? He’s got to be cursed, why else would he be made to bear witness to those deaths? 

Eddie is laden with the feeling, wrestling with the guilt and the misplaced anger and the confusion, and everything else his body is trying to feel all at once as he trudges through the nightmarish woods.

Step by aimless step he follows, careful to avoid the network of vines and the concerned gazes of unlikely companions, who all continue to treat this like it’s nothing more than a casual stroll through the woods, like this is just another Tuesday. 

Is it Tuesday? He has no idea what day it is… and he can’t stop thinking about you, playing the moment on the shore over and over in his mind. Thinking about the way he’d reached for your hand, and how instead of taking it you’d carefully curled his fingers back in on themselves, shaking your head and insisting you’d only slow them down. 

“Hey, you doing okay?”

The voice startles Eddie, wrenching him violently – thankfully – from the mire of his thoughts.

Steve is there, giving him a strangely concerned look, having fallen back into step with him at some point over the last few contemplative minutes. 

Eddie blinks back at him, not entirely sure how to answer and wondering just how long he’s been there. He almost doesn’t realize he’d asked him a question until Steve’s brows jump up toward his hairline. 

“Me?” Eddie scoffs, he briefly considers lying, but the truth is out before the notion can really take hold, “No, Man. I’m pretty goddamn far from okay.”  

Harrington nods solemnly, in a way that seems, weirdly enough, almost remorseful, like it’s his fault they’re down here in this mess… which, it technically is, if they’re pointing fingers here.

True, Eddie didn’t have to follow them out of the boat, he could have sat there and waited for them to come back, but he knew they weren’t coming back, and he didn’t have to swim to the bottom of the lake, he could have just as easily swum to shore …

It hits him like a brick to the face.

Why the hell didn’t he swim to shore? 

Steve casts his gaze down to his feet, exposing the dark, angry ligature marks ringing his throat and Eddie fails to suppress a shudder.

That’s why – because Steve was in trouble, and some repressed kernel of do-right in Eddie, the same one that drove him over the side of the boat and down into the depths to the bottom of the lake, wanted to help.

Or at least it didn’t want the shame of having to look Robin and Nancy in the eyes if he didn’t help and the bats went and pulled Steve’s head off anyway.

Ego is a funny thing, sanity even more so, because as crazy as it had seemed at the time to dive in after Robin, crazier still was the concept that had he not, it could have resulted in yet another death – or deaths, perhaps – that he would have been indirectly responsible for.

Still, his body is still thrumming with adrenaline from the fight, and not in the good, buzzy way either.

He’s been picking at the blackened, drying blood on his hands for the better part of an hour now, and part of him has started to wonder if it’s ever going to come off, if any of the blood on his hands is ever going to wash away. 

Before he can get very far down the road with that line of thinking, Steve tries again.

“Thanks for this… by the way,” he says, plucking at the collar of Eddie’s battle vest sitting across his broad-shouldered form in a sorry state.

It’s filthy, splattered with ichor and viscera, and several patches have torn loose, much to Eddie’s dismay, but it’s the strangest combination of freezing cold and unbearably humid down there, wherever they are.

The way he figures, Steve needs it more than he does – that and it’s the only thing shielding their eyes from the knitted sweater he has got sprouting from his chest.

He basically had to hand it over, if for nothing more than modesty’s sake. 

Still, the sentiment startles him– gratitude? Really? 

Unaccustomed to basic human pleasantries from the likes of Steve Harrington, he finds himself at a loss and he suppresses the urge to twist around and make sure he’s actually talking to him.

For lack of anything else to do, he gives a lopsided shrug and gestures vaguely.

“Oh… yeah – no worries.” He stammers, “Least I could do.”

“...And thanks for... s-saving me… that was–” Steve clears his throat in an attempt to keep his voice steady – it’s awkward, “Yeah… anyway. Thanks for that.”

Eddie gestures vaguely, suddenly unsure of whether he wants the burden of Steve’s gratitude. 

“Wheeler did all the work, I just tried to stay out of her way…” He mumbles, “She’s badass,”

Steve chuckles in a way that feels oddly secretive.

“You have no idea.” He says. 

Of course, Eddie can’t possibly know what that means, but it’s compelling, nonetheless, and entirely true. 

He makes a mental note of it in the Rolodex of his mind:

Wheeler, Nancy: Good grades, pastels, kinda prissy. Dated that douchebag, Steve Harrington – Badass. 

A sticky silence bleeds between them after that, and Eddie passes the time stealing a handful of looks at Steve, casually walking alongside him, on purpose. 

He can’t help be feel ever so slightly amazed. 

If his shitty friends could see him now – only he’s fairly certain Steve isn’t friends with his shitty friends anymore, at least so he’d heard.

Normally it wouldn’t be enough to wash away the history of torment between them. Steve had, for a time, been the driving force behind a campaign to make Eddie’s life a living hell, but this situation is just too bizarre, too outlandish to discount – there might be some merit to Dustin’s hero worship of the guy after all.  

Suddenly he can’t help himself. 

“That was pretty metal what you did back there…” Eddie posits, and when Steve casts a curious look his way, he continues with tentative enthusiasm, “Biting that thing’s head off? Major Ozzy energy.”

Steve furrows his brow. 

“…huh?”

Uh oh. In an instant, the feeling is gone, replaced by the much less desirable panic of an impending social failure. 

Eddie scrambles to explain himself and bridge the valley between their interests. 

“Ozzy Osbourne?” He tries to no avail, “Bit a bat’s head off on –?” Steve’s face remains unbearably blank, so Eddie abandons ship for his own sake, “Nevermind…” he hums, “It was – yeah, it was cool…” 

Another one of those awkward silences falls heavily across their shoulders, and because he’s never learned to leave well enough alone, Eddie simply cannot leave it undisturbed. 

Surely Steve has got to know what he’s talking about, even if only indirectly. It’s not like Ozzy is an obscure reference. 

“You know Ozzy though, right?” He tries, “Black Sabbath?” 

He pulls a face and shakes his head, much to Eddie’s chagrin.  

Shit. Okay, lesson learned. 

Harrington, Steve: Fucking jerk. Worshipped by Henderson. Doesn’t know who Ozzy Osbourne is. 

He dismisses the notion too late.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Thankfully, they are not doomed to yet another unbearable silence as Steve quickly changes the subject, sweeping the interaction away with a wave of his hand.

“Hey, so… look, I’m sorry for what I did back there… starting that fight between you and...” He trails off when he realizes the reference has flown right over Eddie’s head, “Back in the boat house?”

Oh. He doesn't know how to respond to that. Eddie is not entirely sure anyone has ever apologized to him for anything... ever.  

Still, it strikes him as an odd thing to say. 

Almost everything Steve has ever said to him has been something worth apologizing over, but try as he might, Eddie can’t think of any particularly noteworthy zingers from the last few days.

And he does try, wracking his brain and coming up empty – but he doesn’t trust it, whatever this is, so Eddie levels Steve with an unimpressed look. 

“So, this is the part where you get all mushy and remorseful because you almost died, right?” He starts slowly, “You’re gonna tell me you’re sorry for being such a fucking asshole back in the day and I'm just supposed to forgive you because you almost had your head pulled off?” 

Strangely, it doesn’t elicit the expected response - no defensive comebacks, no biting retorts, just a weighted sigh that carries the heavy burden of guilt. 

“Oh, shit… wait, seriously?” 

Steve runs a hand through his hair, which is still somehow maddeningly perfectly coiffed – it makes Eddie feel frizzy and unkempt. 

“Look, we’re not in high school anymore…” He starts, then stops like he’s only just remembered that isn’t expressly true, “– well, you know what I mean…”

“Careful.” Eddie warns. 

Steve forces out a hard, frustrated breath and rolls his eyes – he’s barely even begun to make his point and he’s already fallen flat on his face. 

“What I mean is that there are bigger things happening here,” He huffs, “It kind of puts things into perspective and makes all the stupid petty shit seem…” He trails off as he searches for the right word.

Eddie is more than happy to help.

“...Stupid and petty?” He offers.

“Exactly. I was an asshole – I’m still an asshole, and I’m working on it, but some old habits die harder than others–”

“Clearly,”

Steve clenches his teeth and flexes his jaw and apparently resists the urge to make some kind of snide remark, electing instead to swallow the blow and nod.

He's doing it on purpose, and Steve knows that as well as Eddie does, even if it's not an overt show of effort. Part of him figures if he can get under Steve's skin and rile him up, it will make him drop whatever bullshit act this is and they can go back to hating each other like normal. But try as he might he can't seem to break him.

This may, in fact, be a genuine show of remorse. 

He can’t make heads or tails of it, except that Steve had very nearly died less than an hour ago, and nothing sets someone’s head on straight like facing the precipice.

Eddie can’t help but feel a little more than dumbfounded, because this has never happened even in his wildest flights of fancy. He almost can’t believe it, and what’s more, part of him knows he shouldn’t believe it.

He should know better, that at any moment the rug will be pulled from beneath his feet and he’ll find out it’s nothing more than a big elaborate joke, he’ll be doused in pig’s blood and find out he’s not actually the Prom Queen, and that will be that. 

Still, he seems genuine, as if Eddie would know what genuine even looks like one Steve.

Maybe Robin’s right and those bats are affecting him in stranger ways than they realize.

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” Steve continues, “Is that I treated you like shit and you didn’t deserve it, and I’m sorry about that.” he averts his gaze then and gestures vaguely in Eddie’s directly, “I mean, Henderson says your decent, and he’s usually a pretty good judge of character...” 

Eddie fails to repress a sardonic snort of laughter, though not at Steve so much as the concept of Dustin being a good judge of character when he's out here double teaming friendships with people who are meant to be enemies. 

“Is he though?” He presses.

Steve fails to repress a smirk and shrugs broad shoulders beneath torn, dingy denim.

“Yeah– well. The kid’s biased, anyway, he’s pretty much obsessed with you." He mutters, "It’s annoying as hell.”

It strikes Eddie that this is the first real conversation he’s ever had with Steve that didn’t involve him antagonizing him one way or another. 

Still, he can't help himself

“Don’t tell me Steve Harrington, arguable deposed King of Hawkins High, is jealous of the town freak?”

Steve pulls a face, brows pinched tight over his eyes and glares back at him.

“Don’t be a dick," He says, though his tone is oddly not malicious, "This is embarrassing for me, okay? I’m opening up here.”    

Part of him wants to hold Steve on the hook for it, out of some long-buried yearning for payback for all the shit he has put him through over the years, but in spite of everything and against his better judgment, Eddie suddenly feels a bizarre, misplaced fondness for the guy. 

You used to say that Steve was a mean girl with a God complex, but looking at him now, Eddie can see he's really never been much more than a big fish in a small pond.

Popular kids who don’t extend their shelf life by way of scholarships and collegiate glory tend to fizzle out and implode, and Eddie imagines that every day Steve spends in Hawkins, that little pond gets a little smaller, and he shines a little less brightly.

“So…" Eddie begins tentatively, crossing his arms over his chest and hugging his biceps, "You’ve been holding on to this for a long time, huh? The guilt?”

Steve mirrors his posture and casts his gaze down to his feet, shaking his head.

“You have no idea.” He chuckles.

Eddie scoffs.

“Don’t I?” He counters, “Guilt is my bread and butter, Man… I was raised on that shit.” 

He doesn't seem to know what to do with that knowledge. The sheer valley between their upbringings is evidently too wide a gap to bridge, so Steve pivots and yet again changes the subject.

“So, are you and the Psycho getting back together or what?”

It only takes Eddie half a moment to realize Steve is talking about you.

He gives him a terse look of warning, but when Steve raises his hands in an show of no offense, Eddie shrugs. 

Before he can think better about divulging the intricacies of his lingering heartbreak to the likes of Steve Harrington, the words come tumbling out. 

“I don’t know…” Eddie hums, “Things are pretty much fucked in that department.”

“What’s the problem?”

He swings his foot to kick at a rock, send it skittering across the forest floor, but remembers where they are and thinks better of it at the last moment, electing instead to roll in under his shoe as he passes it over.

“It just feels different now. Kind of like we’re just pretending…” 

Another one of those heavy pauses passes between them.

“Hey, listen, Man, I don’t wanna step on your toes or anything, but you guys broke up." Steve says, "Things are always gonna be different the second time around. That doesn’t make it any less real. Don’t be so goddamn cynical–” 

It's hardly a blow, but in spite of himself, Eddie bristles. He levels Steve with a hard, armored look. 

“Look, don’t patronize me, okay? I’ve got no delusions about what I did. I made my bed, now I’ve gotta be a big boy and burn it.”

“I don’t think that’s the saying.”

“You know what I mean.” He snaps.  

He supposes Steve means well, but Eddie can’t help but get defensive. It's like he said ... old habits and the like. 

Still, Steve meets his gaze stares back at him long enough to make him regret his tone. Long enough even to make Eddie uncomfortable with the proximity, and so he clears his throat, averting his gaze and staring down at his sneakers, tinged nearly black from the ichor of bat’s blood.

He realizes with a start that Steve is still barefoot and wonders how much further they've got to go before they're out of this mess. 

“Did you cheat on her?” Steve asks suddenly.

It hits Eddie like a fist to the gut.

“No,” He says immediately, feeling ever so slightly winded.

Steve nods then, pursing his lips like he understands what happened.

“Got in a fight and called her a bitch or something?” He says, "That's what did Tommy and Carol in–"

The notion makes Eddie's heart seize in his chest because beyond the fact that it makes him sick to have his relationship (or lack-thereof) compared to the likes of Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, he would never stoop so low, no matter how angry he was, no matter what you did.

He may have been raised with a shocking lack of social skills, but Wayne had made damn sure that he knew better.

Of course, Steve could never know something like that, but he can’t help the way it leaves him bristling.  

“No.”

Steve continues to nod slowly, then pauses a moment like he has to really process the information before he knows what to do with it.   

“What was it then?" He asks, "What’d you do?”

“Nothing –” Eddie insists, feeling suddenly foolish for how defensive he sounds because it wasn’t nothing and Steve can see that as well as anyone, “I broke up with her – and I was kind of a major prick about it… I mean, not just kind of… I was mean about it.”

“Why?”

He’s loath to admit it, but now that the stopper is out, it’s hard to put it back in, and the truth comes spilling out.

“... I got scared…” Eddie mumbles, crossing his arms tighter over his chest and reaching up to tug at a snarled lock of his hair.

“Scared of what?” 

Eddie exhales harshly under the duress of this bizarre interrogation, hating the way he can feel his guts seizing up. When he got in the boat that evening, he didn't expect he was going to have to relieve all the mistakes of his recent past.

“Jesus, what are you some kind of cop? You’re kind of intense, you know that?”

Steve rolls his eyes and makes a chattering little mouth of his hand to mimic Eddie’s whining.

“Quit deflecting and just answer the goddamn question, Munson – what scared you bad enough to end your annoyingly perfect relationship?”

He could almost laugh out loud at the concept of Steve not only referring to his relationship with you as perfect, but apparently to the point of being annoyed by it. 

“Perfect relationship?” Eddie splutters, “What the hell are you talking about?”  

“Come on, Man – she and I used to run in the same circle, remember? I was there when you showed up. Don’t pretend you didn’t come in and sweep her off her feet like something out of a goddamn movie.”

It takes Eddie a moment longer than he'd like to admit to realize Steve is teasing him. Once again, he doesn't know what to do with that information.

Finally, Steve prods him sharply in the chest in a way that could almost be construed as good natured.

“What happened with you two?”

“Nothing happened…" Eddie insists, and wills himself to shut up about it after that, but now that he’s started he can’t stop, "That’s the problem." Goddammit. "It was the same as it always was and I started getting scared that it was getting too good to last … that she was gonna wake up one day and realize everybody’s right about me.” 

The silence the follows is deafening with Eddie's confession hanging in the air between them. He braces himself for a tirade of teasing and razzing and all the other kinds of verbal abuse he can expect from anyone else in this town, but instead Steve just nods sagely.

“So you pushed her away – hurt her before she could hurt you and inadvertently proved that everybody is right about you? That sound about right?”

It's the kind of observation he might have expected Wayne to make, if he'd actually had to stones to open up to him about what happened with you like this, and it leaves Eddie reeling.

Well… what do you know, turns out Steve Harrington is actually pretty goddamn insightful.  

For lack of anything better to do and more than just a little bit indignant at being so easily read, Eddie stuffs his hands into his pockets and pushes his shoulders up toward his ears.  

“Pretty much.” He sniffs.

“You fucked up,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

“Sure did.”    

“...And what about that makes it so unforgivable that things are never going to be okay again? How come she's never gonna forgive you?”    

Eddie shrugs and wonders idly how getting trapped in another dimension had turned into receiving a lecture about love.

“Because I broke her heart.”

Steve scoffs.  

“Nah, that’s bullshit.” He says, dismissing the notion with a flippant wave, “It’s a speed bump."

Eddie realizes too late he's staring at Steve when he quirks one of those thick eyebrows at him.

"What, you’ve never gone over a speed bump? No way, I've seen the way you drive." He says, and then all the teasing goes out of him and he becomes the one things Eddie never expected to see, sincere.

"Listen," Steve starts, "I know for whatever reason you can’t see it, but ask anyone here – she’s crazy about you, Man. Trust me. Apologize for whatever you said, or whatever you didn’t say – don’t roll your eyes, that goes a long way with girls – and let her know how you feel.”

Eddie shakes his head, more than a little frustrated that he could think it’s as simple as that, like he hasn’t tried apologizing again and again and blanketing you in his affection – smothering you, more like. 

“I’ve told her, Man,” He sighs, "Over and over again..." 

“So you tell her again. Keep trying until something sticks. It’s all you can do.” 

He supposes if he really sat down to think about it, it's as good advice as any.

Still, he can’t wrap his head around the fact that he’s standing there getting unsolicited relationship advice from Steve Harrington, who’d once spectacularly thrown him into a dumpster behind the movie theatre.

He reaches out and claps him on the shoulder, and Eddie fails to suppress a flinch.

“You guys are gonna be fine – hey, who’s the expert here?” 

“I’m sorry …Expert?” Eddie snorts. 

Steve shrugs like it wasn’t the dorkiest thing anyone has ever said in the history of mankind. 

“Yeah, they don’t call me the Love Doctor for nothing.”

Nevermind, that’s the dorkiest thing anyone has ever said or will ever say in the history of mankind and the world forever. 

Harrington, Steve: Fucking jerk Not so bad, I guess. Worshipped by Henderson. Doesn’t know who Ozzy Osbourne is. Total fucking cheeseball.

Eddie cannot wait to tell you about this. 

“Nobody calls you that.” He’s almost giddy as he says it.   

Steve dismisses the notion with a flippant wave of his hand. 

“That’s not the point, the point is trust me. I’ve been around the block — I know crazy when I see it, and that girl? Totally crazy about you, and I mean certifiably bat shit…”

Eddie shrugs.

“You aren’t wrong – she’s pretty much nuts.”  

“Hey, crazy’s not always a bad thing…” Steve says, and Eddie follows his gaze up the path to where the girls walk far ahead of them, blazing the trail.

He can't help but notice the faintest hint of longing pass across Steve's face, and Eddie feels his face begin to split in a wry smile.

“You know, Nancy’s pretty fucking crazy, diving in after you like that?" Eddie starts, "I mean, you wanna talk about what’s real? That’s as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

He forces himself to swallow the bitter lump swelling in his throat and along with it the silent wish that he could somehow be different, be better, be a version of himself worth going after that like that.

Eddie clears his throat to banish the notion.

"You sure this isn’t some elaborate scheme to win her back?”

“No.” Steve says firmly, “Absolutely not.”

Eddie is not convinced - he gives a lopsided shrug.

“Well, I sure hope it isn’t Buckley you’re trying to impress, because I think you’ll find you’re barking up the wrong tree with that one.”

Steve's head snaps around so quickly that he's half surprised it didn't twist all the way around to the other side.

“What?" He yelps, "No, I mean – no. Look, let’s get one thing straight, Robin and I are completely – we’re just friends and I would never… h-how do you know about–? I mean… what do you mean?”

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes at Steve’s fumbling attempt to stop himself from what he can only assume is outing Robin.

It’s noble, to be sure, and he’s got to give him credit for that, but Eddie’s no fool. Even if she hadn’t outright told him, he’s lived long enough in Wayne’s company to recognize the signs of a closeted person living in a conservative midwestern town, faint as they may be.  

"What do you mean?" Eddie counters.  

The question seems enough to stagger Steve, though not for the obvious reasons, it would seem.

“Nothing." He says quickly.

"You sure about that?"

"This isn’t about Robin, okay? It’s about Nancy – I mean – no, it’s not! But even if it was… look, it doesn’t matter because she’s with Jonathan now, and they seem… fine…” 

Eddie stops short and reels on Steve, causing him to stagger a step in an attempt to keep from crashing into him. 

In the distance, Robin and Nancy continue on none the wiser.

Eddie drops his tone and leans in to invade Steve's personal space. Steve inches back ever so slightly, out of impulse, he imagines, and Eddie smirks.

“And yet, you will notice that Jonathan is conspicuously absent from this endeavor.” He says slowly, quiet enough that Steve is hanging on his every word.  

He lets the notion hang between them, breathe a little, and waits to see if Steve will catch on.

He doesn’t, he just gives him another one of those quizzical looks as the yawning chasm of Jonathan Byers's absence grows louder and louder, and Nancy disappears further up the path. 

Eddie tilts his head toward Steve and raises his brows, willing him to understand.

He only knows Jonathan in passing, and from one social pariah with a mean daddy to another, he typically commiserates with him to a degree. He might feel bad about failing to discourage such behavior, but some opportunities are not worth passing up.

If Jonathan is the type of guy to stay out in California and leave his girlfriend to spend spring break swimming in Steve Harrington-infested waters, that’s his poor decision to make.

If it were you, and you had some stupid new boyfriend off in another state, Eddie would not hesitate. He'd go and bang down your door.

Steve shakes his head, still failing to see what Eddie is practically spelling out for him, and he wonders with a brief astonishment whether he could really be that dense. 

“What do you –” He starts, then stops as it dawns on him, and his eyes go wide, “Wait… did she say something?” 

Eddie shrugs and stalks off. 

“Not to me,” he calls over his shoulder, casually lengthening his stride in order to catch up to Nancy and Robin. 

It leaves Steve standing dumbfounded at the revelation, and in an instant, he’s scrambling to catch up. 

“Do you think Nance is into me?” He asks, and then when Eddie doesn’t respond, “Hey… Eddie–!”

Eddie laughs.

“You tell me. You’re the Love Doctor.” 

[enhas-bestie]

Idol Crush! [37]

► THIRTY SEVEN: please say sike ("I've been TELLING all of you that Jungwon is a solo stan!! ")

prev ⇥ THIRTY SEVEN⇥ next

Idol Crush!💞 masterlist

SYNOPSIS: Y/N knew that once she and her group, IKONIC, finally debuted, there'd be a chance that she'd run into YANG JUNGWON: The leader of the global rookie group ENHYPEN. But JUNGWON isn't just the leader of a famous 4th gen boy group... he's also the boy that she confessed to three years ago and got rejected by. The last thing Y/N needs to do is fall back in like with him, because even something as simple as an idol crush! could bring about some unwanted drama and Dispatch worthy headlines.

[TAGLIST #1]: @acciomylove @mitsukifilms @ncityy04 @ja4hyvn @navsnct @hwalllllllelujah @shit-idek-meself-at-this-point @lullabyinparis @masterofdoom @enhacolor @mochisnlix @hiqhkey @vlykai @pshwyfie @hyuka-luvbot @yvesismywife @one16core @en-boyz @moon-lys  @liliansun ​ @jungwoniie @spicynlong @ramenais @bigtoewinwin @catbitchh111 @c9tnoos @missmadwoman @haoreo @doodlewon @enhaswab @alyselenai @moasworld @yyunari @chirokookie @yjwfav @kyutekyuala @giyyuzz @andromedawillburryyou @tlnyjoong @sarahxy537 @darlinluvsu @fairycheol @love-4-keum @ohmy-fandoms @yyunari @centheodd @mavlogist @jungwonnieee @emoworu

[CAN'T TAG #1]: @shit-idek-meself-at-this-point @vlykai @pshwyfie @jungwoniie @spicynlong @itboyjungwon @enhaswab @kyutekyuala @darlinluvsu

[shig-a-shig-ah]

Might have taken a month longer than I hoped but Addicted to Bad Ideas updates this weekend!

[cheeriecherrymain]

The Bottom Of The Inkwell [Chapter 10]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Chapter Rating: T Chapter Warnings: brief moment of anxiety, brief scene in a nondescript hospital Proofread: no beta we die like men, writing this chapter killed me Taglist: @envyspinebender Chapter Summary: You finally go to see your father in the hospital, with the help of Viktor.

When you wake up the next morning, you’re groggy and disoriented. You creak your eyes open, and are immediately met with a wave of dizziness and an ache that radiates through your skull.

You pinch your eyes shut again, but now that you’re aware, the action only seems to worsen the problem.

You’re not really surprised that you’re in such a poor state: the only liquids you’ve ingested in the past seventy two hours have been in the form of alcohol, and you haven’t really been eating, either. Overall, you’re actually amazed that you haven’t thrown up a single time.

What amazes you more is how comfortable and cozy you feel, despite your pressing hangover. You don’t remember falling asleep the night before, but you do remember that Viktor had come by to check on you.

To tell you the truth.

To offer his support.

And judging by the warm, slender arms wrapped around your body, he’d stayed. Kept you safe all throughout the night, chasing away your anxiety and bad dreams with his gentle hands and soothing voice.

You nestle closer to him, wanting nothing more than to remain where you are, tucked up in bed with him. But you know you can’t keep him there forever.

Though you’d not set your alarm for several days, you can tell by how much light is streaming in the window that it’s past your usual waking hour: perhaps not so late that either of you would miss your classes, but you’ll definitely have to rush if you want to be on time.

“Viktor,” you mumble, squirming around slightly so you can better angle your head up. “Viktor,” you say again, pressing your lips to his jaw. You repeat the notion several more times, until he begins to stir and gain consciousness.

He’s remarkably adorable when he’s still laden with sleep, you think. Perfectly mussed chocolate hair, and hazy golden eyes barely open. He seems dazed for a handful of moments, making a couple of nondescript noises as he stretches and peers around the room.

And then he zeroes in on you, still mushed up beside him, and his entire frame relaxes, his lips falling into a lopsided smile.

“Good morning,” he croaks, throat dry from a night of sleeping on his back.

You lovingly stare up at him for a couple seconds, and then plop your head back onto his shoulder with a grunt.

He trembles with laughter at your actions, craning his neck down to lay a soft kiss on your forehead. “Not feeling well?” he wonders, though he already knows the answer. He can see in your lethargic movements, and the puffiness around your eyes, that you feel like gutterwater.

“We can sleep a little bit longer,” he assures you, stroking a hand over your hair, “But no more than an hour. We have places to be today.”

You frown when you comprehend his words.

“You have class, though,” you tell him, weakly pushing yourself onto your elbows. “You’re already going to be in a hurry as it is. Viktor no, don’t shut your eyes again- Viktor you’re going to be late for your classes!”

You can clearly see the mischievous grin slowly stretching across his lips as you whine, and as he pretends to have fallen asleep again. You know damn well that he’s awake and you’re not shy about telling him so - poking and prodding him until he reaches his breaking point.

He grabs you tightly around your midsection, startling you enough that he’s able to throw your balance off and bring you down on the mattress with him. As addled as you are in your current state, you’re easy for him to pin down, rolling on top of you while you squeal with laughter.

“I’m taking the day off, remember?” he tells you, setting his chin on your chest so he can peer up at you. “I told you last night that I’m here for you - that means we’re going to see your father. Today.”

He watches you closely for several moments, watches as your expression morphs from bewilderment into fear, into displeasure, into guilt. He watches as you quickly become resigned to the idea, despite the amount of anxiety it’s caused you over the past several days.

“It’ll be fine,” he promises quietly. “Your father will be happy to see you. I don’t doubt that your presence will brighten his entire week.”

But when his pretty words don’t seem to ease your worry, he knows there’s something deeper going on.

“What’s happening in that pretty head of yours?” he asks, his expression falling ever so slightly. “You’re close to your father - why do you fear seeing him so badly?”

You chew the inside of your cheek as you contemplate, trying to organize your chaotic thoughts into something coherent. “I’m…scared to let myself hope,” you admit, wincing when shame roils in your gut. “I know he’s doing okay now, and I know his surgery went well and he’s recovering, but…”

You break eye contact with your boyfriend, and stare at a speck on the ceiling.

“What if I start to believe everything is going to be okay, and then something bad happens? What if I see him, and we smile, and laugh, and he looks better, and then he goes away?”

Viktor is quiet for a few beats.

“I suppose that’s a valid concern,” he sighs, though not impatiently. “The future is unpredictable, and brings a great many possibilities.”

You blink back tears and try to swallow the lump forming in your throat, and Viktor patiently waits for you to steady your breathing before he continues speaking.

“You can’t hide yourself away because you’re afraid,” he explains, keeping his tone soft and caring. “If something bad were to happen, you’d regret not seeing him. You’d regret not being able to make more memories with him.”

You sniffle, and wipe harshly at your eyes.

“I know,” you wobble, “I know you’re right. I’m just sick of being scared all the time. I’m sick of not knowing what’s going to happen, and I’m sick of being stressed about it.”

“You don’t have to be fearless,” he presses a kiss to where your shirt has snagged and exposed the curve of your throat. “I meant it when I said I’m here for you. I’ll help you through this, in whatever ways I can.”

Warmth rises to your cheeks.

“You’re really okay with the task of keeping me calm?” you ask, doubtfully. “I know I can be a handful at times.”

His lips draw a trail up your neck, to your jaw and across your cheek. Resting just millimeters from your own.

“It’s no bother,” he utters, his breath tickling your skin, “Not if it’s you.”

—

You dress yourself up nicely for the trip to the hospital, hoping that it might raise your mood a little: there aren’t many times in your day to day life where you got to wear your favourite colour anymore.

Admittedly, it does make you feel a little better. Hangover aside, you feel put-together and capable, and for the briefest of moments, your anxiety about going to the hospital wanes.

You’re able to make your way over, Viktor’s fingers knit around yours.

You’re able to march down the shoveled path, all the way up to the entrance of the building.

It’s when you reach for the food handle that your resolve weakens and crumbles. Your anxiety springs back upon you, like some kind of horrible rubber band, and you’re left breathless from the sting.

“Do you want to take a lap around the building?” Viktor asks from beside you, when he sees how you’ve begun to freeze.

You squeeze his hand.

“You’ve already done enough for me,” you say, the barest hint of a quiver in your voice. “I saw how achey your leg was when we got up this morning - don’t try to hide it.”

“I don’t mind walking, if you need-”

“Viktor.”

You stare up at him sternly.

“I appreciate that you’re here to support me. But don’t hurt yourself in doing so - that would just make me feel worse. Okay?”

He knows firsthand how stubborn you are: years of trying to dissuade you from terrible design ideas has left him intimately familiar with that aspect of your personality. Even if most of your arguments had been on paper, he knows that he won’t be able to get you to budge on this.

So instead, he leans down and kisses you. A chaste little peck on the corner of your mouth, but a kiss nonetheless. Heat rises to your cheeks at the tiny motion, and your heart flutters rapidly in your chest - you’d almost be able to mistake the feeling for anxiety, were all your senses not focused solely on your boyfriend.

“If you don’t want to walk around, then perhaps we might find somewhere to sit?” he suggests.

But you, emboldened and soothed by the surprise action, shake your head. While a part of you might feel a little silly for needing so much support, you’re mostly just grateful for his presence.

If Viktor is by your side, you can face whatever you need to: any challenge, any opponent.

Even your father.

—

And oh, how grateful you are to have the support.

You tremble all the way up to your father’s hospital room; through the lobby of the hospital and up four flights of stairs, a journey made longer by the ache in your boyfriend’s leg. Though you hardly mind having to stop and rest every twelve steps, being out of breath from your own anxiety.

He holds your hand when you quietly knock on the door frame and poke your head in, and he holds your hand when you sheepishly step into your father’s field of vision.

Tears well up in your eyes the moment he sets his gaze on you.

The way his brows raise in shock for a split second, before he completely lights up with joy.

“Sweetpea!” he croaks, and you’re gone.

Sobs wrack your frame as you make a beeline for him, plopping down on the edge of his bed to throw your arms around him. You’re extra careful to mind his stitches and bruises, though you can’t see where exactly they’re drawn: grateful that he’s covered in a soft cotton gown.

You don’t know if you’d be able to cope with seeing such fresh reminders of what he’s been through.

“I’m sorry!” you cry, squishing your cheek into the soft fat of his tummy. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner!” The sheet he’s under is scratchy, and the gown he wears smells strange, but beneath the unfamiliar, your father’s same warmth emanates from his body. Wrapping around you in a comforting hug, fingers gently stroking over the fuzzy hairs at your temples.

He shushes you gently, holding you as tightly as his body will allow him to. Pressing his lips to the top of your head, again and again, while he whispers his forgiveness.

It takes over five minutes for the two of you to calm down enough to breathe, and another ten for you to stop clinging to him like a squid. Even Viktor, standing awkwardly by the doorway, seems affected by the emotions roiling around the room: he’s subtle about it, but you’re able to catch a brief glimpse of wetness in the corner of his eye, quickly wiped away.

“I wanted to come visit sooner,” you admit again, now that you’re able to breathe. You delve into the rather pathetic tale of your anxiety - your fear of losing him, of letting yourself hope for his betterment only to have the rug ripped out from beneath you.

He understands.

Of course he does.

He wishes you would have come by sooner, yes, but he’s glad you’re there now. Sitting with him, talking with him. Bringing your boyfriend to meet him.

Your face heats up significantly when he teases you about Viktor, ribbing you about ‘how obvious the two of you had been when you’d last visited’ and ‘how he saw it coming from a mile away’.

You want to wither away from embarrassment when you realize that you had, in fact, been staring at each other with sad puppy eyes - that your parents had undoubtedly noticed.

But a small part of your heart is filled with relief.

Placated by your father’s same humour, even at your expense.

By the end of the hour, the three of you have caught up on everything that’s happened since he went into the hospital. There’s not much to tell him about on your part, save for your apparent ability to binge drink and not get sick. Viktor tells him a little more about the project you’ve been working on, but even he hadn’t come much further in the past few days.

It didn’t feel right to work on it without you, he’d said.

And then your father had poked you again when you flustered.

You depart from him with well-wishes, a hug and a kiss, and a promise to visit again tomorrow.

—

You and Viktor decide to head back to your home after all is said and done. You could have sent him back to the academy for the time being, but he’d insisted on staying with you to continue helping you with whatever you needed.

“I don’t know how much you’re going to enjoy chores,” you tell him with a sigh, pushing your front door open. “There’s probably a lot that has to get done. Mama can’t do the more physical stuff, and I doubt she’s wanted to keep up with everything else.”

The two of you kick the snow off your shoes before stepping into the front entrance, and when you shut the door behind you, it’s like you’ve stepped into another world.

In contrast to the bright, snowy atmosphere outside…the inside of your childhood home is dark. Cold, and cluttered, and dry. Even when you flip the light switch, the depression swirling around in the air seems to permeate every bone in your body, dragging you further and further downwards.

The front hallway is an absolute mess, you realize. Dried dirt and water stains the floor for a good ten feet, concentrated in a little pool where the floor has dipped and settled. It’s nothing a good sweep won’t solve, but the sentiment itself is what makes you feel guilty.

You know your mother has trouble walking. She can barely stand for more than a couple minutes. Of course she wouldn’t have been able to dust away the wet debris she and her friends brought in.

You’re surprised that so much could accumulate in such a short period of time, but that’s…beside the point.

You should have checked on her.

You know you were struggling.

But you know that she’s struggling too.

You should have checked.

“Hey,” Viktor says quietly, hand sliding over the top of your shoulder to give a gentle squeeze. “You didn’t know it would be so bad.”

You look up at him with wide, sad eyes, and sigh.

You know he’s right.

“Keep your shoes on,” you tell him softly. “Until we can get a handle on the floors. And I doubt the dishes have been done, either - hopefully Mama’s been eating. She’d probably appreciate having fresh sheets, too, and someone to bring the laundry up. Might as well fold it while we’re at it, too.”

You eventually decide to run around the house quickly with a pencil and a pad of paper, taking note of everything that needs to be done. Viktor sets up shop in the kitchen at your behest, bringing a chair over to the sinks so he can start attacking the sizeable pile of dishes.

“At least they’re all in one place,” you try to joke, eyeing a precarious stack of bowls.

Viktor, however, is less than amused by your humour.

You kiss his cheek for good measure, and disappear upstairs.

Luca is happily curled up on your parents’ bed when you walk into the room, and chirps curiously at you. You give him a couple of strokes for good measure, and then make your way around the area with your checklist.

Like the main floor, the hardwood is dusty. The rugs are probably in as bad a state, but the weather is hardly fair enough to drag them outside and beat them. It’s a task for the spring, you decide, knowing that you don’t have the upper body strength to lug everything out to the garden anyways.

Aside from a bit of built up dirt, though, most of the upstairs is relatively tidy.

You change the bedsheets in both rooms, tossing the soiled laundry down the stairs to pick up later, and then go about sweeping. You’re amazed that so much filth could have possibly accumulated in the few days your father has been gone - it didn’t look like much when you were first appraising the damage, but now that you’ve got the mess into a concentrated pile…

“Gods above,” you mutter, and stoop down to push everything into a dustpan.

It takes about twenty minutes to finish the entire upper floor, and by the end of it, you’ve gathered a generous sheen of sweat across your skin.

Never in your life would you have thought house chores would be a workout.

—

You sneeze the moment you walk into the kitchen, drawing the attention of your boyfriend at the sink. He’s gotten about halfway through the stacks of plates and bowls, though he’s obviously begun to run out of space to set the clean ones to dry.

“I think I’m allergic to dust,” you sniffle, rubbing at your eyes.

Viktor fixes you with a bemused smile, and gestures you over.

“Perhaps you might take a break from sweeping, then?” he suggests, with a nod to the clean dishes. “I could use an extra set of hands to help dry.”

“I’m finished with the floors anyways,” you reply, leaning the broom in the corner to trade for a rag. The task goes faster after you join your boyfriend, meticulously drying every utensil he hands to you.

It doesn’t take long to work through the stacks, functioning together like a well-oiled machine. You chat quietly while you work, about school and about life; gossiping about some of your classmates and professors, at your request.

—

By the time all is said and done, you’re well and truly tired. You and Viktor are reclining comfortably on one of your plush couches, stretched out and sprawled across each other. A grand pile of fresh, folded laundry decorates the coffee table in front of you.

His fingers stroke lazily along your hairline, scritching his nails pleasantly on your scalp. You feel a bit like your mother’s cat must, laid on his back in front of the roaring fire you’ve set up, purring.

“It’s late,” you observe drowsily.

It really isn’t that late - not much past seven, in truth. But the busyness of the day has sapped all your energy, effectively turning you into a heaping mound of mush.

“Your mother should be home soon, yes?” Viktor inquires.

You nod.

“She was probably out with her friends for tea. And she probably went to see Dad afterwards.”

Silence permeates the room for several minutes after that, both comforting and enjoyable. It’s a moment of heaven after what’s felt like several harsh days of hell; a place you wish you could stay for an indefinite amount of time, safe and warm beneath the gentle hands of your boyfriend.

“You know,” you mumble, with a honeyed glance up at him, “We have the next two weeks off.”

He smiles, the barest quirk of his lips.

“I’m aware.”

“Soooooo,” you wiggle a bit, rolling over so you’re better able to look at him. “You should come stay with us for the holidays.”

This apparently surprises him, because even in the dim light of the fire, you can see the way his eyes widen. You wonder for a few seconds if you’ve somehow offended him with your proposal, with the way his brows draw together as he considers your words.

Then,

“Are you…sure you’d want me here the entire two weeks?”

He’s hesitant, though for what reason, you don’t know. You’ve been friends for years now, and you’ve loved each other for just as long: spending more time together would be nothing less than a gift.

“Yes,” you reply. “I want you here, and I know my mother would enjoy the extra company. She’s fond of you.”

You don’t miss the way his cheeks tinge pink.

“As long as you’re sure,” he finally relents, once again relaxing back into the cushions. 

“But perhaps we can get some of my things in the morning, though? I…don’t fancy moving from this spot, if I’m to be honest. You’re far too comfortable.”

[biscuitblinkeu]

And It’s Mysterious Owner [3]

Jennie Kim x Fem!reader

………………………………………………………………………………

Your home, a small stone cottage with three rooms. A bathroom, bedroom, and the open space area that’s combined with a kitchen area and a makeshift living room.

This living room consists of a fireplace, two small couches, a rug, and a coffee table you should break apart and throw out, but never have the energy to. You weren’t the best at decorating, but it’s not like you have company constantly coming over, and besides, you live alone.

You opened the door, who’s hinges creaked a bit too loudly for your liking, making you puff in annoyance. You set the grocery bags down on the kitchen counter and began unloading everything, putting it in its rightful spots. Cleaning up your house, you realize it’s gotten even later and you should go to sleep. You have work tomorrow.

The sun peeked through your curtains, alerting you it’s time to wake. You always seemed to get up the same time the sun rises and reaches your window. That means you have about an hour and twenty-five minutes to get ready and head to work. Begrudgingly, you roll to your left, miscalculating that it was the edge of the bed and there was nowhere left to roll, and you fall to the floor back-first with a thud. Pain instantly shoots up your back and you groan. You lie there for a couple minutes before getting up. You walk to your mirror and lift up your shirt, a nasty bruise indeed.

“Fuck,” you curse as you look at it, rubbing your fingers across the tender skin and flinching. You were definitely going to need some ointment or ice.

After brushing your teeth, showering, and carefully changing into your clothes— which consists of black pants and a white button up long-sleeve shirt tucked into them, you took an apple and left. About ten minutes into your walk, you find yourself stopping at a bakery at the marketplace. You decide to grab yourself a coffee, and a honey cake for lunch later. You thank the owner of the small cafe before heading on your way, paper bag in one hand and other pocketed.

Approaching the shop you can tell the others have already arrived. Soft jazz music meandered through the open windows, as did their voices.

The three were talking to a woman, laughing and conversing like old friends. She was slightly taller than Jisoo, but shorter than Lisa. She adorned a silky white dress and her dark-brown hair flowed down her back with a black bow clip to accessorize.

Even looking at her backside, you could tell she carried herself with a sort of elegance. You wondered if her face would match the air around her.

You stopped short of the entrance, pondering whether you should walk in or not.

You had hoped to sneak by. But Lisa spotted you, she immediately stopped in the middle of her sentence, her smile growing wider.

“When will I meet her?” The woman asked.

She opened her mouth, going to address you but you rapidly shook your head, mouthing “no” over and over. She looked at you confused. Although your warning proved a little too late. The others noticed her little pause and turned their attention to what she was looking at.

“Right now, actually.”

You stood by the door, fist clenched at your side for a couple seconds. You quietly breathed out a sigh before smiling and walking in.

Everyone’s eyes followed you as you walked past the counter, sitting beside the group and taking a seat next to Lisa. Lisa immediately side hugged you, and Jisoo sitting on your other side plopped her head on your shoulder. You set the cake on the table’s cake stand, and covered it.

“You know we saw each other two days ago, right?” You muttered tracing the counter’s carvings. They just shrugged.

You looked up, smiling at Roseanne before looking at the woman. You froze, eyes widening slightly.

Angelic- alluring- belle. She was beautiful, really something out of a fairytale. She had perfectly sculpted eyebrows, a mole sitting under one. Her eyes, dark brown and shaped almost cat-like, were strong and warm. They lured you in like a moth to a flame. Her lips, red and full, stretched into a gummy smile that took your breath away. The corners quirked upwards like she knew something you didn't.

You wanted to gawk, but you kept your jaw firmly closed, tongue tied at best. You had a strange feeling she wouldn’t like that- and you wouldn’t like that if you were her.

You cleared your throat, effectively knocking yourself out of your stupor.

“Hello, and you are?” you asked politely, curious as to why you’ve never seen her, as small as the village was.

“Jennie Kim. It’s nice to put a name to a face, (Y/n).” You quickly looked at Roseanne, Jisoo and Lisa who avoided your gaze. “So you already know about me from these three?” You trailed off, your lips pouty.

“Don’t worry, they talk a lot about you. All good things, of course. I heard all about the mysterious woman who’s pulling a loaded cart as well as a boy. ” You did your best to ignore the hidden compliment and her gaze sweeping over you.

Although you were a bit skeptical, knowing you had some embarrassing moments with the three.

“She’s right!” Jisoo confirmed. You hummed, returning your gaze to your hands as they began to talk with each other again.

“How is mandu?” Roseanne asked, turning to Jennie. “She’s doing fine. Maybe a bit tired being outside all day. But she actually comes back home happier some days.”

Who are they talking about?

“Really? That’s great.” Roseanne mused.

“She’s been going to The Willow more, now that those brutes are expanding their search.”

“(Y/n) goes there on lunch breaks, your cat seems to like her now. I’m surprised she didn’t give up the first time Mandu tried to scratch her face off.” Lisa teased.

You put two and two together. Jennie Kim owns the cat with the key- so this is the woman who turned the village upside down. You finally met the mystery woman.

You could understand, from a boundary, why she's sought after by the villagers- she's very beautiful; and beautiful things are coveted.

“Is that so?” She glanced back to you, piercing feline-like eyes stared into yours.

You fidgeted under her gaze, not wanting her to get the wrong idea- what if she thought you were another lovesick fool who wanted the key for themselves? You truly didn’t have any ulterior motives for befriending her cat. Just simply wanting to have somewhere quiet to relax and possibly, a friend.

But how could you say that and expect her to believe it true? You've only just met.

“I didn't know that was your cat,” you swallowed, “but yes, I'd say your cat is more friendly than the first encounter. I just really wanted to have a quiet place to relax.”

“You only wanted the spot?” Jennie pried with a tilt of her head, she grinned knowingly. The tea she was drinking was cold and untouched.

“Well, maybe a friend too.” You bashfully admitted, dipping your head. You felt detached from most of the villagers, like you didn't belong. Most people you've interacted with were kind, but there was always that wall that lingered. Some of them looked at you like an outsider, as you were. You seemed to subtly rile up the Hunters- who acted like you took something from them, strange enough.

“You see I love animals, I-”

“Well! You must be on your way Jennie? Wouldn't want you to run into any stray men as the sun gets higher.” Jisoo cuts you off, gesturing towards the clock.

“Ah..you're right.” Roseanne handed Jennie a bouquet of flowers, along with some herbs.

“It was nice meeting you, (Y/n).”

“Y-yeah..”

And with that she left.

You turned to Roseanne. “You didn't tell me you guys knew the mystery woman! Maybe a heads-up next time?” You sighed, running your hands down your face.

“You didn't ask?..” Roseanne trailed off, laughing at the eye roll you gave her.

Lisa shuffled in the chair across from you. “What did you think of Jennie?”

“She’s intimidating” You said with a blank expression. The three bursted out laughing. None of them expected that answer, as it would be their first time hearing it.

“Really? I thought you would say something along the lines of how pretty she is.” Jisoo spoke.

Your face heated up, “Of course I thought she was. She makes me nervous.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“Both”

Lisa laughed and leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “Why both?”

“Nervous as in I'm sitting in front of Aphrodie, and that glint in her eye. It just feels like I'm getting thrown into something weird."

You narrowed your eyes, looking at the three. "You three give off that vibe too. Like you know things that I don't. Like your a...," you snapped your finger trying to think of a comparison.

"Like a fortune teller?" Jisoo cut in, a sly grin appearing on her face. You nodded. "Something like that."

"Well, I'd say you had quite the day, hm? Getting to meet the famous mystery woman and all.”

“I'm surprised I've never seen her around the village though.”

“Maybe you weren't looking close enough?”

“I'm sure I would notice someone like her.”

“Everyone does, it seems like.” Roseanne spoke quietly, picking at her fingernails.

“You know what I mean-”

“I don't. Jennie doesn't need another admirer. What she needs is a friend. I hope you can be like that to her, you've already befriended her cat, and they are alike in a way.”

A/N: Im so disappointed in this chapter, it definitely could’ve been longer. 😭

Would you like to continue? ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

[mobbothetrue]

I’ve reached the point in my Fairy Tail rewatch where it’s further along than tfd ever got, which means shit keeps happening that makes me go “fucking WHAT”

[inked-out-trees]

CHAPTER 12: ALL ROADS BRING US HERE

Dennis meets his best friend twice over. Vanessa thinks about love.

[gailynovelry]

Related to the "don't edit your first draft isn't universally useful advice" thing, we are pleasantly surprised to realize that we did several kinds of editing already for Breathing Gods, and that there's really not that much to tidy up or trim now that we got the whole thing wrapped up.

[kalevalakryze]

Welcome To The Family

I'm on a roll tonight, here's one more! also, this will get back to being a primarily mature fic soon, I'm just vibing on depressed Bo-Katan era and way too in my feelings rn, and I still want to follow the plotline of mando s3 loosely, so it'll get spicy again shortly

[mwahkazu]

THANK YOU ALL SM FOR 50 FOLLOWERS! i know that probably isn’t a huge milestone for some but i appreciate every follow and support i receive on my works 🩵

[vamptastic]

i think when i read the picture of dorian grey i got way too into trying to understand and form a defensible argument for the philosophy in it because i was very much in my debate team reads the stanford encyclopedia of psychology for fun phase. i mean obviously hedonism is an interesting ideology and the book does talk about it a lot, but i think the prime appeal of the book and why it's a classic is not the philosophy whatsoever it's definitely the drama and the art discussion, and i was so caught up on keeping notes on hedonism that i kind of neglected to pay attention to the characters in the literal and not subtextual sense until the tail end of the novel.

[crown-ov-horns]

I AM picking at Sanguis Ch3. My problem is, I know some of what happens. But, not all.

[amtrak12]

My spouse read chapter 12 of my Lucifer fic and he called it my best chapter yet :') Definitely did not expect that for this one, but I am Pleased.

[draw-you-coward]

Cazador Szarr is dead.

[brad-bakshi-loves-bugs]

chapter 10 is up >:))) the angst cloud is finally lifting!