#though those scenes could be broken up between chapters..

[charmac]

DUDEEEE pls more dennis pov ive seem posts of u saying its gonna be macs pov for a while but omfg i loved the chapters where its dennis’ so bad

It's not that I don't enjoy it, but that I think the audience being in Dennis' head too much is... a little dangerous. Sometimes I write stuff from Dennis' POV and then re-write it from Mac's (the beginning of Chapter 9, for example, was originally Dennis' POV).

So, it's unfortunately more of a narrative decision on my side to keep out of there. There's is always potential to go back, it's just trickier for me (and more spoiler-y for you) to give Dennis' perspective on things. How do you build angst if the reader is aware of both sides! I have yet to figure that one out, but the night is still young.

[runabout-river]

Yuji's accumulated Trauma

After Choso's death, I've been thinking about Yuji's reaction to it. At first glance, it looks mature and composed and obviously Yuji doesn't have the time and privilege to grieve. More importantly, Gege didn't give Yuji any panel time to be distraught; his aniki's death scene was over pretty fast. The 3000 Shibuya deaths in conjunction with Nanami's and Nobara's deaths on the other hand had been given more time and more impact afterwards.

The difference in reaction between those two times makes sense in context but, in my opinion, not with Yuji being mature and composed about it.

Because Yuji never got over Nanami's and Nobara's death, he didn't heal from that, instead, he had a negative character arc where the trauma of their deaths affected his world view and mentality in significantly bad ways.

He started to think of himself as a cog in a machine and he also identified with Mahito, the curse who killed both his friend and his mentor figure, a villain and his personal antagonist. Yuji did not overcome Mahito in Shibuya, the story makes us forget that often times. He was marked and changed by Mahito and even though that curse ended up with an extremely pathetic death that didn't mean that he hadn't broken something inside Yuji.

The only time where Yuji constructively dealt with that trauma was in his fight against Higuruma but that was only about his guilt over letting Sukuna kill 3000 people with his body. And it didn't get resolved completely, at least not in a way that would've helped with dealing with Nobara's and Nanaimi's death too.

Yuji is taking that trauma from Shibuya, his feelings of weakness and guilt, and he puts them into believing himself to be a machine that has to follow a predetermined path. Before Sukuna took over Megumi, that meant being suicidal when the situation called for it. Yuji wanted his life to make sense again and dying so Angel would've her wish of seeing Sukuna dead to save Gojo perfectly fit into that.

After Sukuna possessed Megumi, his path and role stayed the same except killing himself directly was off the table but that tendency still exists inside of him. If he were to be presented a way to defeat Sukuna while saving Megumi at the same time where he would die as a result he would take that path immedietaly without hesitation.

Back to Choso's death. In my view, this unresolved trauma and his lack of will to live lead to an unhealthy coping mechanism: thinking of his friends and allies as already dead. We can see that when he asked Megumi if Nobara had survived Shibuya.

He knew that there was a slim chance she survived but it was so low that she was basically dead. When Megumi confirmed her fate, Yuji was prepared for it. Prepared to receive the bad news so instead of crying again he could function like the cog he was supposed to be.

And this Mahito-infused cog mentality still follows him until now. He has to function so his role can be fullfilled and when that means he has to think of his friends as having already been killed so he would never break again then that's what he's going to do.

He did not despair over Choso's death, he despaired because it looked like he was alone and on the verge of defeat against Sukuna. His role was breaking just like his reason to live and I think that this mentality, his negative character arc, will find it's conclusion at the end of the Sukuna fight.

This fight is not the end of the manga, we still have the merger to deal with, there is still a big arc with smaller ones in between coming at us. But for Yuji something big has to happen, probably something pretty bad that has him crushed... at first.

At the end of it, he will finally deal with all his loss and his trauma in a good and healthy way and leave his life as a cog and being a human Mahito behind. Then he might finally shed the tears that were missing in chapter 259.

[creedslove]

BETRAYED - PART FIVE

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: angst, age gap, established friendship, unrequited love/one sided feelings, fluff, glimpse of Pedro being a great (silly) dad, and more angst of course

A/N: I really don't know what you guys will think of this part. It is longer than the others and for those who don't want Pedro to be forgiven, you can consider this the ideal end, though this is NOT the last chapter. I still have some ideas for this story but their development will go according to what you guys want, especially because due to all the feedback I've received over the last week (yes today marks one week I posted the first chapter) things are pretty divided between who wants a happy ending and who wants a sad one, lol!

A/N Part 2: I still can't manually tag people on the works because I use the app and it won't let me do it, that's why I don't have a tag list at all!

3.2k words

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Your heart clenched the moment you heard Kate's words. Pedro was there. After months pretending not to know each other, after not seeing him nor listening to his voice, months after the horrible argument you two had, where you both said horrible things to each other, words that hurt you two deeply, but also needed to be said. So you two could break free from what was holding you back. You and your mindless passion for Pedro, and him and his incapability of letting you go.

You realized you went silent for several seconds and Kate was staring at you with a worried look on her face, so you gave her a nervous smile and nodded "there's no problem, really. We are not making a scene or anything, I mean, we didn't have that much of a fight, it wasn't that serious"

"Yes, it was, Y/N" Kate said in a low voice "you completely fell out with each other, you have never been apart from long and honestly, he seems the saddest I've ever seen, and you don't seem like you're in a picnic either" she placed her hand on your shoulder reassuringly and looked down, excusing herself as she needed to attend the other guests.

You didn't like to be read like that, yes, you missed Pedro, in many ways you were still broken hearted at everything that went on, it's very hard to just let go of a person you were so invested in for years. It leaves an empty spot in your chest, even when you get over whatever happened, your mind always comes back to a bunch of might-have-beens. And though you and Pedro hadn't been away for that long, that's exactly how it felt. You walked out the kitchen and realized you were getting anxious to see him. He was there, it was a stated fact. It wasn't like when you went to the gym and very often looked over your shoulders, in hopes he wouldn't show up at the same time you kind of hoped he would show up. Internally battling with the relief of not running into him and also the disappointment of not seeing him. Once again, you had to remind yourself to act rationally, you didn't want to be shaken to the core when you saw him, and you definitely wouldn't make a scene at a princess' party.

When you reached the living room, he was the first one you spotted and for a few seconds he was the only thing you could see. There he was, Pedro, your dulce Pedrito like you used to call him and make a soft reddish color spread through his cheeks. He looked the same as always, the same as always made your heart race and you hated that. Your heart beat faster, your palms suddenly got a little sweaty and you were sure you'd stutter if someone asked you any question. You cursed yourself under your breath, months of self care and you still acted like a high school girl around him. The sadness Kate had seen your ass, you mentally rolled your eyes as you saw how he was still the life of the party, how he laughed and made everybody laugh. He wasn't sad, and why should he? Maybe you did hurt him in your argument, in fact you did hurt him as he left with tears in his eyes, but he probably got over you, he had done it so many times before, times where you still were friends and you loved and cared for him, so now what was stopping him from just forgetting about you?

Pedro finally eyed you, he knew you were coming and he tried his best to look good for you, he had a nice outfit on, his hair was messy like you always said you loved and God, he felt like time had stopped when he saw you walk into the living room. Hermosa, princesa, linda, mariposa, all of that crossed his mind once he saw you. He hadn't seen you in what it felt like forever, and now you were there, standing a few feet away from him. His desire was to rush to you, ignoring everyone else there, and wrapping his arms around your waist. If he could, he would let out all those Spanish words you loved roll out of his tongue before he could touch your skin and make you his. He chuckled to himself just to picture what you would say if you knew his heart raced when he saw you, how he wanted to take you into his arms like you had dreamed about it for so long. Life sometimes is truly a joke.

He didn't understand how you managed to become more beautiful since the last time you saw each other but you did it, and he couldn't take his eyes off you. He had no idea if you'd even want to talk to him, give him some of your time, but he was going to try.

Before you could greet everyone who was sitting closer than him, Flora and her big brother came running to you. If someone thought Flora was sweet, they hadn't met her brother yet. Wyatt was a five year old who seemed to be obsessed with you. Out of all his mommy's friends you were definitely his favorite. He was sweet to you like he was with no one else, and the fact he still had some trouble pronouncing his 'R' made him even cuter to you.

He immediately jumped onto your lap, snuggling you as tight as he could, he was overly excited at the sweets he'd eaten and the fact some people who brought his little sister presents also brought him presents!

Pedro's heart dropped to his stomach the moment he saw you surrounded by Flora and Wyatt. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to watch that, but he couldn't look away either. It all brought him back to the dreams he constantly had about you, the dreams where he always got to a happy, crowded home, where you were his and only his, in all the ways you dreamed of for long and now he longed for it as well and you two had built a beautiful family. He was always happy in these dreams, only to feel empty when he woke up.

One of the things he always loved about you and that one he made pretty clear throughout your entire friendship, was how good with kids you were. Of course Pedro had earned the cool uncle status, but he just admired how natural you were, how kids simply wanted you to be around them and how happy you got with that. It quickly drove him back to the night of your argument, and how you threw it on his face he was nearly 50 without a family. Yes, he knew you were right, but it still hurt him anyway. When he was younger, he wasn't sure if he was going for the traditional stuff but he assumed good old marriage and kids would happen to him, after all it happened to everyone. But as the years went by, he just focused on his career and he was pretty happy that way, apart from all the loneliness he felt, loneliness that was soothed by your company during the day and some other female company at night, sometimes even more than one at the same time. Until those stupid dreams began, every single night he would have a family with you and love every single part of it just to be taken back to reality where he was alone and all he got was his career.

"Did you really think I'd forget about you?" You whispered to Wyatt as you very discreetly handed him a small basket with his favorite chocolate. You didn't have enough for all the kids, so you hoped he wouldn't make a big fuss about it, but the moment he squealed in happiness and hugged you, you felt so lucky to be there. You quickly helped him open his present and watched as he ate one piece after the other. Kate would probably kill you the next day, but you didn't care at all, seeing his true happiness.

"Pedwo, come play please!!" He asked the man, waving his hand at him and inviting him to the empty seat next to you. You saw when he smiled at Wyatt and moved closer to you. His cologne was intoxicating and for a moment all you wanted to do was to rest your head on his shoulder and have his arm around your body.

"These are my favorite too, you gotta share" he frowned playfully at Wyatt and looked at you

"Hey Y/N" he said shyly and looked down clearing his throat before looking into her eyes again "you look very beautiful, muy hermosa como siempre" he said and saw the familiar blush spreading through your cheeks adding a cute look to your face. You still reacted the same, maybe you were still his muñequita?

"Hi Pedro" you said softly and smiled politely at him.

"Come on Pedwo do the voice!!! Do it again, fow Y/N to see!!" Wyatt begged excitedly and pointed at his brand new Grogu doll. Once again you felt the urge to roll your eyes mentally, of course that was Pedro's doing and it was so predictable. Cute, but predictable. The little boy however, was mesmerized as once more Pedro sat up and made his Mandalorian voice. You didn't know exactly how it was different from his regular voice, but it was and you couldn't explain. He said whatever Wyatt liked to hear and gently tapped the doll's head, making Grogu cooed and blink his eyes, lifting his little arm gently which caused Wyatt to squeal in happiness again.

You both felt pretty good at that, no matter what happened between you two, you were really good at handling kids together and your chest ached to wonder if the same would apply if you ever had children together.

•••

After singing Happy Birthday and serving the cake, Rob, Kate's husband, asked his kids to go to the backyard. Pedro grinned at the interaction and placed his plate down, taking your hand in his and pulling you "come on Y/N, you'll want to see this" he said happily and you had no other reaction than follow him. The kids were so excited when their daddy asked them to close their little eyes. They peeked all the time, not being able to hold back how eager they wanted to see the surprise. Pedro looked at you and smiled sweetly "I don't mean to brag, but it was my idea, so you're not the only one who is great with kids, you know" he winked at her.

You swallowed and looked down at your hands, fingers entwined and how softly Pedro caressed your hand with his thumb. You immediately let go of his hand and blushed, which wasn't unnoticed by him, who sighed and stared into your eyes "I know you're still hurt about everything that went on and we need to talk, I owe you an apology for what happened and-"

Pedro was cut off by the kids' screams of happiness and pure excitement when their daddy revealed their mysterious present: a bunny. A real life bunny, you stared into Pedro eyes and chuckled "that was your idea, right?" You asked and couldn't help but smile a little "I bet Kate is thrilled" you both burst out laughing and for a moment everything was alright between the two of you again.

He only laughed softly but gently took your hand in his once more, walking towards some trees, away from the fuss the kids were making and once you were both hidden enough from anyone else who might bother you, he finally gathered the courage to speak.

"I screw everything up with you, Y/N. I know I did, in fact I knew it from the moment it happened but I was too proud and stubborn to admit it" he sighed "and then it all got worse and worse until that horrible episode at your place. I deeply regret everything that went on" Pedro looked down, and then back at you again, being puzzled by how indecipherable your expression was. You watched him apologize without really apologizing, you just hated how he asked for your forgiveness without acknowledging anything at all.

"The reason why I didn't want to talk to you anymore was because I'm tired of being your doormat, Pedro. You know how much I love you" you bit your lips "how much I loved you" you corrected yourself and continued "but you only took advantage of it, and you know it. You know how many times you've hurt me, how many times you flirted with me, you kissed me almost on the lips, you sweet talked to me, the times you had your hands on my body not in an erotic way but definitely more intimate than a friend should ever do, you know how confused it left me, and you kept doing it"

Pedro knew it was all true, but he had decided to ask for your forgiveness and to be honest, he looked around embarrassed and nodded

"I-I know that, Y/N. I know I was a real shitty friend, always teasing you, playing with your feelings… I am really ashamed of it and if I could turn back in time, I'd never act that way. I had only one glimpse of what you must've felt all this time… when I saw you with that guy from the gym and it felt like my heart had shattered into a million pieces"

You had to admit you were not expecting that, at first you thought it would be just some more of his usual bullshit, but it seemed Pedro really meant what he was telling you.

"And I know the last straw was that night at the gala. It should've been about us, after all, you were my plus one because I wanted to have you there, and I loved every minute we spent together, you looked gorgeous, muy hermosa mi cariño, but then I was just terrible to you. I don't know why I left with that woman, I mean, I don't know why I just gave in to that impulse and I know I tried brushing off as if you were exaggerating but these past months I was finally able to be true to myself and admit you were right. I was a dick, I not only humiliated you and broke your heart but also put you at risk by letting you go home on your way"

His voice had a sad tone and he didn't look away for a split second, showing he meant all that.

You began tearing up, as those were the words you waited months to hear. You wanted him to apologize, to admit what he'd done and now it had finally happened, you couldn't help but feel sad as it came too late.

"Pedro, I-"

"Please, Y/N, let me finish" he asked and took another breath "that day at your house was completely unacceptable, I know it, and we both hurt each other, I snapped because I saw you with another man and told you to leave me alone, and I didn't understand why I had such a childish and reckless attitude, until I realized I didn't know how to act on my feelings for you, which takes me to the very painful words you told me, which unfortunately, were also true. I left that night hating myself, I didn't know what to do or what to say, so I looked for help, I went back to therapy and I was able to see all the things I was doing wrong"

You saw when he took a step closer and you could smell his cologne, you had no idea what he was going to do, but your heart pounded into your chest as his big hands cupped your cheeks so gently, stroking them and staring into your eyes "and after all that self-analysis I came to the conclusion that I love you" he bit his lips and a light blush spread through your cheeks "I mean, I already did, as a friend, even if I was a dick, I truly loved and cared about you, but it changed, Y/N, it got more intense, you're the only thing that crosses my mind the whole day, the only one I want and crave, all I can think of is your body against mine, your beautiful voice singing while you make breakfast, the way you light up a room when you step inside, how the kids love you because they see how incredible you are" Pedro took another deep breath "I'm in love with you, Y/N" he finally admitted out loud and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He leaned in and touched your lips with his very softly at first, ghosting over them, appreciating how perfect they felt against each other. One of his hands went for your waist, wrapping his arm around it and gripping your body in a desperate need. He was so close you could feel his strong chest against your soft breasts, so pressed up against his body it was really hard to remind yourself that wasn't right. The moment you felt the man deepening the kiss, you couldn't hold back a soft moan. You decided to enjoy that moment, something you'd craved for so long, it almost felt like your heart was bursting out of your chest. Your hands gripped his hair, pulling it softly as you kissed him back as eager as he kissed you. You felt like you could be trapped in that moment forever with him, it felt right, even if it was wrong.

When Pedro broke the kiss looking for some air, you still gave him a last peck on the lips, gently stroking his cheek and taking a step back.

"Wow" you whispered and smiled shyly "I've dreamed about that moment for so long. God knows how much I daydreamed that one day this exact scene would happen, now it did, it feels unreal" you looked at him and took his hand, gently squeezing it "and that's why it breaks my heart to see it happened too late. I'm sorry Pedro, but we can't do this. I'm really sorry that I don't believe you, I don't think you love me, I think you love the fact I was in love with you and that stroke your ego like nothing else, I was young, devoted, I would do anything for you and would take anything you had to offer, but we can't do this anymore. I can't do this to myself, I love myself more than I love you now, and I won't let anyone get in the way of that, not even you" she said and let go of his hand "I'll always love you and cherish you Pedro, but it's time to say goodbye"

_____

A/N: any feedbacks, let me know! Also, you guys have just met Wyatt! He is pretty much my OC and for the years I wrote for/roleplayed Victor Creed/Liev Schreiber he was always my character's son, and I developed an emotional connection with him even if he is not real, so I thought to myself, why not show the world what a ray of sunshine my fictional son is, right?

And yes, the bunny thing I got from Narcos because I thought Pablo Escobar had no right to be that cute while gifting his daughter a bunny, the way she got happy when he gave her su conejito just made me go all aww 🥰

[nayruwu]

hi guys! it's me again on my way to throw some salt because i'm starting to believe guren belongs in a retirement home to be treated for early onset dementia.

so i'm reading the chapter, and it's all fine and good, i love it, go krul, go ferid, whatever. and then even guren shows up! i was waiting for that. but then i see this

and it's like, uh, yeah, weird thing to say considering she literally is the person that caused "everyone" to die for her own goals, but this isn't a new thing. he's said some shit like "if i had just let myself die along shinya, mahiru and the others" before, and it was odd then, it's odd now. anyway, then comes this

and i'm like?? hello???? this is a hundred times worse than "dying together with everyone", because it takes his friends out of the equation entirely and gives the image of someone who doesn't even care if they left them behind, who just wants to go and die together with their murderer. which does not fit the image i have of guren at all.

you may know that this notion itself is also not new, since he did try to die with mahiru by throwing himself and her out of a window in catastrophe (hence the "back then"). the thing is, she had not killed his friends at that point. to him she was just a broken girl and if he could end her suffering by dying alongside her, his saviour complex ass would have done it. he also hadn't yet come to the realisation of how much he loved and needed his friends. but to say this now??? i feel personally offended on behalf of guren squad, lol. imagine if he fucking died and left them to spend their last 2 years alive wondering about all the lies and the hurt, having no way of knowing their end is near, probably blaming themselves for not being able to help him even though he brought it upon himself willingly. it just makes me want to. urgh. it's horrible, and it makes no sense.

and yeah, i'm not going to pretend that i'm not also offended because of this.

did this just mean nothing?? this shit was so emotional, the original scene, the fact that he still remembers exactly what shinya told him eight years ago, for THIS? for him to say the same exact thing TO THE PERSON WHO KILLED HIM? sach mal hast du lack gesoffen oder was??

the dissonance between him shedding all those tears over his friends' deaths and then acting this way towards mahiru, i just. i do not get it.

and like, i hear the people saying that he's just pretending, he's only staying so calm because he has his own plan, he's going to betray mahiru, and i want to believe that, i really do. it' the only thing that would make sense. but as awesome and fitting of a plot twist as that would be, i will not set myself up for further disappointment and believe it.

maybe we're just doomed to watch guren and mahiru get married and have 5 kids that they name in honour of his dead friends, who knows.

salt over

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Midnight Prayer | One Shot

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge / Tiny bit of Enver Gortash x Dark Urge

Chapter Count: One Shot | Read on AO3 Word Count: 4,016

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 after Gortash's coronation in Act 3. Explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge after the implications of a past relationship between the Dark Urge and Enver Gortash are made known. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Mentions of Violence, Soft Astarion, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature

Author Note: Those new lines in Patch 6 between Durge and Gortash are to blame for this. Plus the fact that I adore the Astarion x Dark Urge dynamic because they're on the same level, meaning they're both barely functioning beings who no business getting into a relationship and yet they make it work. Also, Astarion gets to be the supportive one when Durge goes off the rails.

All these idiots live rent free in my head and I had this scene that just wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it out. This is a one-shot based on the same Durge MC, Eli, as my other ongoing fic - which I have not updated in some time, and I am sorry for that. Have some brainrot to make up for it! This is grade-A mushy, soft garbage.

Sleep was difficult to find as Eli lay on the stiff makeshift cot. Her glassy half-focused eyes were fixed on the patchwork ceiling of Astarion’s tent as her mind coiled around and around, like a snake trying to suffocate itself. Her thoughts were circular, aimless and chaotic as she chased the ghosts of memories that always haunted her nights.

Sleeplessness was nothing new, and Eli’s propensity for restlessness and nightmares was well known throughout camp. She had a tendency to toss and turn as rest evaded her, and when the darkness of slumber finally overtook her in the small hours of mornings it was never peaceful. She was often agitated and unsettled, mumbling low to herself until the shock of some cruel fever dream sent her into an outburst of screams as she flailed and fought to rouse herself from whatever terror had uncaged itself in her mind.

She’d wake shivering, breathing as if she were fighting for her life against legions of the Absolute rather than visions within her own mind. He was always there, though, whispering soothing reminders that they were safe. That they were together. That the horrors inside her broken mind were toothless phantoms. Remnants of a fractured past she could only catch flashes of.

She’d offered on many occasions to sleep alone, saying it made little sense for both Astarion and her to suffer because of her tortuous insomnia. He’d been firm in his refusals and finally told her that if she didn’t stop saying such ludicrous nonsense he’d figure out how to charm one of Gale’s used socks to jump down her throat every time she mentioned the idea.

Gods, was she thankful for that absurd and stubborn man.

She turned her head, eyes focusing on the pale elf who slept beside her. They’d settled into a habit of overnighting in his tent due to the plank of wood that served as a haphazard bed. Like her, Astarion’s sleep could be troubled, disturbed by his own breeds of monsters that lurked around the corners in his brain. His past was filled with grim and vicious memories. What small comforts he had been able to acquire over the past 200 years were things he clung to like life rafts upon a boiling and thrashing ocean. The stiff plank he slept on brought him a strange sort of peacefulness. He’d told her once that the only soft bed he’d been allowed to use while under Cazador’s control was the large plush bed in the palace’s guest room. The room where he and the other spawn “entertained” those who were brought back for Cazador to feast upon.

His bed in the dorms had been stiff and old, and yet he’d far preferred it to the lavish guest bed. Sleeping on something too downy and cushioned reminded him of the countless nights he’d spent being smothered into a pliable mattress by whatever piece of transient garbage he’d lured back to the palace. They’d have their way with him while he’d disassociate, his body working through the motions of sex while his mind walled itself off. It had become second nature to disconnect himself from the present the moment he slumped onto that soft bed.

It was a cruel byproduct of his torment that laying on comfortable bedding triggered a deep seeded anxiety in him, but Eli honestly didn’t mind the stiff makeshift cot Astarion had set up in his tent for them. Her body recalled sleeping on worse, even if her mind didn’t clearly remember the details. Astarion had even started laying down a thin bedroll atop the plank once their shared sleeping arrangements became a regular thing. It had been completely unprompted. One evening she’d entered his tent and it had simply been there, an unspoken acknowledgement of the validity of their relationship.

They were both uncouth morons when it came to navigating the delicacies and emotions of romantic relationships. They’d been quick to indulge in one another physically, the both of them looking to find refuge from the specters of their pasts in one another’s arms. They hadn’t meant for it to mean anything, and yet they’d kept seeking one another out - drawn together like kobolds are drawn to shiny objects. They’d tried ignoring their growing affections, but neither one of them were particularly good at pretending to be nonchalant and stable. Primarily because neither one of them really knew what that looked like.

Astarion had confessed first, admitting to his initially manipulative intentions with her and revealing truths about his enslavement to Cazador that made her heart ache for him. Eli knew, instinctively, that empathy was not an emotion she was incredibly familiar with. It made her anxious, feeling for someone else. And yet, when Astarion had said he wanted something real with her, she’d felt an almost wild desperation surge to life within herself. She wanted that, too. With him.

A cruel and vicious voice at the back of her mind had admonished her for her pathetic weakness. She should be punished, skinned alive for allowing herself to feel this kind of fondness and yearning for someone else. Once, she had been worshiped as a god by those around her. Once, she had been feared and her name whispered in awe and horror. Once, she had been something powerful, something violent and vicious, a conduit of destruction and carnage. Though the details were fractured, scattered about her ruined brain like shards of glass, she knew instinctually that she was a child of slaughter and that the bonds of mortals should have been beneath her.

But that didn’t stop her. Perhaps…perhaps she could be different. Something else. Something that was valued as more than just a weapon. Something that wasn’t just a means to an end. Something that didn’t need to butcher and rip the world inside out in order to be loved.

She’d pushed the Urge down, beating it back as she confessed her own affections for Astarion.

That had been some weeks ago, back in the Shadowlands. Now, they were just outside Baldur’s Gate, and things were…good between them. To her never-ending astonishment.

Her eyes focused on the sleeping elf next to her. He looked so peaceful, the worried lines of his face smooth and serene at rest. He was pallid, pretty and perfect like a cadaver forever tranquil. Just one stab, a stake through the heart and he’d always be like this – he’d never know torment or despair again. No one would ever hurt him.

She took a long, slow breath and banished the intrusive thoughts back to the shadows of her mind where they always lingered. She would never…she couldn’t…gods, she hated those thoughts that never let her be. They filled her with a sick guilt as she recalled nights tied up, howling and screaming and raging as she spat out all the ways she’d flay and ruin his beautiful body. Afterwards, once the Urges had quieted, Astarion would simply laugh as he cut her bonds, always joking about how you had to pay good coin for degradation like that in the city. He’d hold her until she calmed, the both of them quiet, content to just be together for one more day.

They shouldn’t work, not as a couple or as anything else, really. They were barely functional as individuals. Together, they should have been about as operational as a dumpster that was missing one wheel and was on fire. But they did work. They were careful with the broken pieces of each other, treating them with reverence and respect. They understood pain all too well, and not just the physical kind but the raw and panicked pain of having everything you valued ripped away. Of having your very self torn from your control…the pain of being used and the fear that no matter how loud you screamed or how hard you fought it would happen again.

The fear that you would never be anything more than a tool.

And so they were gentle with one another, in a way only reserved for them. Careful touches and trusting hands, concerned glances and warm smiles, constant wordless affirmations that they were at one another’s backs - that when one of them crumbled the other would be there to help build them back up, attentively and without judgement.

Neither of them knew what they were doing. Their combined histories with healthy relationships added up to an unsurprising number of zero. Astarion had admitted to her that he couldn’t remember ever bedding the same person twice. And Eli…well, she couldn’t remember anything, frankly. Her memories of past lovers were nonexistent…at least…

At least until today. Today, when they’d finally met the infamous Enver Gortash.

The name had always struck her as strange, from the first time she heard it when Karlach told Eli about the tiefling had acquired her infernal engine. The name had stirred something in her brain, like a familiar tune that she couldn’t remember the words for. And every time someone mentioned him, that sense grew stronger. It was as if there was a crack in her skull and every time she’d reach for that sense of familiarity, it would leak out and away just beyond reach.

Until today, when they stood in the opulent and grand hall of Wyrm’s Rock Fortress, surrounded by the elite of Baldur’s Gate, and she finally saw the man who had wrought so much suffering not only upon the city and the coast, but on her friends…

The flash in his eyes when they met hers…a sense of knowing, a sting of excitement. That spark of familiarity suddenly blazed hot and she knew this man was not a stranger. Not to her…

“If you keep staring, darling, I’m going to start charging you for the privilege,” a soft and slightly chiding voice lurched her back into the present.

Eli flinched, startled, blinking away the haze of her thoughts and focusing on Astarion, who now was peering at her through half-lidded and slightly weary eyes. He’d been sleeping with an arm draped across her waist – Astarion had grown fond of resting with an arm or a hand touching her, and she liked it, too. It was comforting.

He trailed his hand along her side in a calming manner, brows furrowing slightly with a hint of concern.

“Sorry,” Eli said with a slight yawn. “I was worlds away.” She gave him a small, tired smile as she reached out and brushed her fingers against the ruffles of his shirt, mindlessly beginning to fiddle with the cloth.

Astarion’s hand slid to her back, pulling her closer until her head was tucked below his chin and he could rest with his cheek against her silvery hair.

Eli could feel the soft rumble of his voice vibrate up from his chest as he chuckled quietly. “I’ve been told I have that effect on people,” he mumbled cheerily as his other hand began to gently brush through her hair, fingers carefully smoothing out any snarls as he stroked back and forth.

She hummed appreciatively, breathing deep and feeling eased by the familiar scent of rosemary and bergamot. “And who told you that?” she asked, teasingly.

“Hmm,” he pondered, running a dexterous finger along the side of her ear, causing goosebumps to prick along her arms. “I think it was you,” he mused slyly before his voice dipped lower into a growl and she felt his breath warm against her ear. “You remember, don’t you? That one night you told me I ravished you so thoroughly your soul left your body.”

He couldn’t see Eli’s exaggerated eye roll, but he could hear the grin in her voice as she responded. “I seem to remember that very same night you saying I exhausted you into delirium,” she teased, poking tenderly at his chest. “In the best way possible, of course,” Eli smirked.

Astarion sighed, the hand on her back drawing aimless circles as he murmured, “I do miss our nighttime trysts.”

Eli smiled, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and placing a light kiss there. “You know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Or some such bullshit like that…”

“They sound awfully boring, whoever they are.” The vampire hummed low in his throat, kicking a leg over her waist and hooking his foot between her legs at her knees so that they were tangled together in a possessive embrace.

Eli just chuckled. They’d backed off the sexual aspects of their relationship for now, the both of them having their own flavors of hang ups that they needed to sort through. For Eli, that meant parsing through her strange, sometimes disturbing Urges which continued to insist that the lines between butchery and eroticism were blurred. Bloodplay was one thing, and that would likely remain a happy little staple in their titillating toolbox once they were ready to be that physically intimate again. But Eli had…other thoughts. Thoughts she wasn’t exactly comfortable with. Darker ones that bubbled up at extremely inopportune times and had her questioning whether she really wanted to shed light on her obscured past.

She breathed in Astarion’s scent, grounding herself in the now and pushing those musing away for another day. The desire between Eli and Astarion had not diminished, and on more than one occasion they had teetered precariously on the boundaries they’d set and wondering whether they should just say fuck it and…well…fuck. They’d always talk themselves down from the ledge, though, comfortable in the knwoeldge that when it did happen it would be earthshattering.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, love?” Astarion’s voice held a note of worry and Eli realized she’d been drifting off into the confines of her own brain again.

“Everything,” she sighed, frustrated with herself.

Astarion was silent for a moment, considering. The hand in her hair stilled while the one on her back pulled her in a bit tighter. “Is it…” he began, then paused a bit uncertainly, hesitant with his question. “Are you thinking about today? About…Gortash?”

He said the name so quietly that it would have been inaudible had they not been so closely pressed together. Eli wasn’t surprised about the question. She’d been acutely aware of how Astarion’s eyes never left her as she spoke with the newly crowned Archduke of Baldur’s Gate earlier that day. How he had discreetly positioned himself closely behind her, just off to her right. How he’d tensed, fingers ghosting near the hilt of a hidden dagger when Gortash said he’d always liked Eli. How his gaze darkened and his jaw tightened as Astarion sized the man up from across the hall before they left.

She knew this was a delicate situation for the vampire. Astarion despised showing any sort of vulnerability that could be construed as a reason for pity. Vulnerability, in general, was something he was still figuring out how to navigate after two centuries of living in an environment where anything and everything that could be used against him was twisted into a tool for subjugation and pain. Even with her, there were times when he wouldn’t let his walls come down, needing space to sort through his own internal barriers before he was ready to open up. Eli didn’t mind, and would give him all the time and space he needed. And bit by bit it became easier, for the both of them.

“That…yes,” she admitted, wanting to be truthful with him.

It wasn’t just Gortash, though. It was what he had told her, about Eli’s role in the whole Cult of the Absolute fraud. It was difficult for her to reconcile what she had apparently done with who she was now…the misery she’d set in motion. The lives she had destroyed. She shut her eyes and pressed closer to Astarion, seeking comfort in the cool of his skin against the inferno she felt inside.

He hugged her close, voicing a thought that had been gnawing away at his insides all day. “Were the two of you…close? Like us?”

The tentative, halting way in which he asked squeezed at her heart. As if he were bracing himself for something terrible, for something that would rip her away from him, just like everything else he’d ever given a damn about.

She thought for a while, mulling over the question. There was still so much that she didn’t know about who she was. Who she had been. She’d tell him what she could, though. He deserved that.

“I think we were. Close, I mean,” she clarified when she felt Astarion stiffen anxiously. “Not like us, though.”

She pulled her head back, out from under his chin, so she could see his face and meet his gaze with her own. Astarion’s eyes were round and distressed, the pinch between his brows furrowed and the lines of his face were tense. His eyes searched her own, desperately wanting to know who that man was to her while also fearing the answer.

Eli smiled warmly, bringing her hand up to brush one of his white curls behind his ear. His face softened slightly at her touch while the hand on her back clutched at her shirt as if to hold her here with him.

“There’s still so much darkness in my memory. But, there are things that have come back in flashes and fragments,” she explained, holding his gaze as her finger trailed to the edge of his eyebrow. “And while I’m not wholly sure what Gortash and I were to one another, I know it wasn’t like this.” Her hand came to rest on his cheek, thumb gently caressing his face near the corner of his mouth.

“Not like us,” she affirmed with a tenderness that allowed Astarion to relax, the stiffness easing out of him as the hint of a smile twitched at his lips. “He knew what happened to me,” she said softly, putting into words a thought that had been lingering at the back of her mind.

“He knew what happened to me, and he welcomed the person who did it into his confidence,” she said with a tinge of sadness to her voice. There was an ache of betrayal behind her words, and thought she didn’t fully understand everything her history with Gortash entailed, she understood this. “He stood by while I was unmade. While everything I was, the person he claims to care for, was brutalized and decimated.”

Eli’s words took on a cold edge, sharp as a shard of ice. Astarion listened intently, his breath caught at the back of his throat. He ached to pull her back into him, to wrap her up in his arms and shut the world out. Instead, he placed his hand on the back of her own and intertwined his fingers with hers, holding it against his cheek as Eli spoke.

“When I woke up on the nautiloid, I was nothing. Just the discarded scraps of whoever I had been. I had been thrown away. And nobody came looking for me.” She paused, her eyes flicking down in a brief moment of uncertainty.

There were some truths between them that had still gone unsaid. Truths that neither of them were ready to admit, and some that simply didn’t need words to be understood. Not this, though. This, she wanted him to hear.

“Since then, it’s been difficult not to think of myself as damaged goods. Something that was used up until it broke and was discarded.” She felt Astarion squeeze her hand and she looked back to him. There was a pang of recognition in his red eyes. “Everyone who I spoke to about my…urges, they all confirmed that there was something very wrong with me, even if they sympathized. Everyone except you.”

She paused, brushing her thumb once more against his face before she lifted her hand from him and took his own hand in hers. She pulled it to her lips, lightly kissing his knuckles while he stared at her, afraid to take his eyes off her for fear that she and this moment might evaporate if he did. He had stopped breathing, which luckily was not something he necessarily needed to do in order to maintain his existence.

Eli searched his face as Astarion waited for her to go on, breathless and just a tiny bit desperate to hear what she would say next. She wondered if he understood just how much it meant to her to have someone who didn’t see the wreck that she was when they looked at her. Someone who didn’t see a monster and only saw her, broken pieces be damned.

She thought he probably did…

“You were the only one who encouraged me to simply be whoever I was, darkness and all. I know at the time you were probably just looking to entertain yourself with whatever chaos and bloodshed I could cause,” she laughed and the expression on Astarion’s face melted into one of complete adoration.

“Guilty,” Astarion admitted with a laugh of his own. “And you haven’t disappointed,” he added softly, brushing a knuckle back up against her lips with delicate reverence.

She kissed at it, holding his tender gaze. “I don’t think you know how much that meant to me, though. And then later, when I was at my worst, you stayed by me and took care of me and you never stopped.”

Eli swallowed down the lump in her throat and blinked away the warmth that was threatening at her eyes.

“Nothing else could be like us, because no one has ever cared about me like you,” she concluded, smiling softly and whispering the words with the sincerity of a prayer.

Astarion stared at Eli for a long moment, emotions colliding and burning in his chest with so much vigor he was surprised his dead heart didn’t start beating again. He felt elated and awed by what she’d said. So much so that he was struck speechless and could only play her words over and over again in his mind, wanting to capture them perfectly and tuck them somewhere deep inside himself where no one could reach to steal them away. He couldn’t recall anyone ever saying anything to him that made him feel so cherished and significant. He traced the planes of her face with eyes that were beginning to wet as he tried to clear his throat and failed.

Eli watched Astarion carefully for a moment before her eyes widened in concern and she lifted a hand to him, carding it gently through his curled hair.

“Oh shit, did I break you?” she asked, only half joking as she stroked her hand through his hair.

The feel of it helped to calm him as a wide smile spread over his face, eyes half-lidded and looking at Eli like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“Come here you sweet, silly thing,” Astarion said, voice low and underpinned with a raw adoration that caused a flutter to take up in Eli’s chest.

He pulled her into a needy embrace; one hand placed softly in her hair as he tucked her head back under his chin, the other hand tightening around the small of her back to hold her close. He kissed the top of her head and breathed in slow, savoring her scent. She’d always smelled like wildflowers and the cool mist before a storm, like something exciting and freeing.

“Gods, you’re incredible,” he breathed, wondering what in the hells he had ever done in his irrelevant life to deserve her admiration. “I don’t think I’m ever going to want to let you go, my love.”

Eli wrapped her arms around him and for a moment she felt safe, secure and at peace.

“Then don’t,” she whispered against him.

They stayed wrapped up in one another until dawn, thankful to have one more day and hopeful for so many more.

[aihoshiino]

Hey there! Love your analyses of Ai and ao3 fanfics! They're so good and you always bring interesting points to the table! I want to know your thoughts on something (it's possible that I sent this ask a while back but I have a feeling it never came through lol, my Tumblr/Internet be broken sometimes): In chapter 140 (not 100% canon, but I think the brought up subjects still resonate), page 5, Hikaru says that the student should come to the teacher, while Ai says don't just invite a man to your house. Do you think this has a link with their traumas? It also makes me wonder why exactly Ai would say something like that. Could it have a link with Ayumi's boyfriend (="man") that ogled her? I would like to know your thoughts on how this boyfriend would've affected Ai, her image on men or just relationships/sex in general. Would it even have a big impact on those factors? Thank you for your thoughts!

Thank you so much! 💜 Looking at my inbox I do think Tumblr just ate it the first time you sent this….. Functional webbed site……………..

Honestly it's so hard to know what to make of those HikaAi movie scenes in general but especially off the back of Hikaru being like "fake and gay lol" about it. The characterization feels additive and consistent with the real Ai and Hikaru but at least one of these scenes was written by an author who had literally never met them. And while they do communicate things to us about their respective baggage, it's complicated by the fact that this is in-universe fiction written by an in-universe author. So it's like - is this characterization Aka Akasaka is trying to communicate to us or characterization Yoriko Kichijouji is trying to communicate to the audience of 15 Year Lie? Both? It's a mess!

THAT SAID, Hikaru's "fake and gay lol" is explicitly challenged and undermined by the narrative and the whole point of the confrontation is slapping him with the fact that (among other things), he doesn't understand Ai half as well as he thinks he does. With that in mind and given that it doesn't directly contradict anything else we know about the real Ai, we can probably treat it as true enough for the purposes of using it as jumping off points for discussion.

I don't think Kamiki's line is super important on its own as its really just the setup for Ai's response - so the talk as a whole is really more about communicating things about Ai to us, through Hikaru's POV. And I think strictly in this context, Ai's line there is less to do with her mom and her experience growing up in Ayumi's house (I actually got the impression that the movie barely touched on that stuff? but I could be wrong) and more about her like… responding to other people's expectations without necessarily fully understanding them. I do think the specific way she phrases it is probably parroting something Ayumi may have said to her though - similarly to the way she calls her past self a 'nasty brat' in the Da Vinci interview which was just like… so pointed and unkind I can only assume it was something Ayumi called her in the past that just burrowed its way into her brain forever like that shit does.

Overall, it's part of a much broader pattern of behaviour on Ai's part of, as I've described it to friends, performing normalcy to the point of abnormality. She imitates the end of the "normal behaviour" process tree without understanding or following any of the steps that get there. I can't believe I'm reaching for this reference lol but I was rewatching a bunch of CJ the X vids last week and in their essay about Cat Valentine from the show Victorious, they describe some of the (certainly accidental) neurodivergent coding in Cat's character in a way that really pinged me as also speaking to the way Ai is also (much more intentionally) coded:

"[…] There's a big difference between following social procedure naturally and Attempting To Behave As One Might Act. […] She mimics convention, while fundamentally misinterpreting what part of convention is important in the first place."

That's really the cornerstone to a lot of Ai's behaviour - the combo of her social isolation and her neurodivergence means that she does not have the same frame of reference that most other people absorb from their peers and families as they grow up. So instead she just sort of… looks at the people around her, figures out what successful social interactions look like from the outside, and tries to replicate that to varying degrees of success.

Her argument with Nino is probably my favourite example of this - Nino is all but screaming at her to have a normal fucking human being conversation with her and Ai just sits there like ^_^ Nooooo don't be insecure your so sexy aha. no wonder nino wanted to kill her with a brick HGSJSSKS. And like - from an outsider perspective, you can see exactly why this happens! This is basically Ai short-circuiting because none of her usual scripted responses are resolving this situation. She defaults to the fawning response because she doesn't know what else to do, even though it should be clear it's making the issue worse.

It would be sooooo easy to just make this a one sided instance of Nino being cruel to her but it's really just the inevitable and unavoidable conclusion of Ai's instincts towards avoidance and fear of vulnerability. And it's not Ai's FAULT she's like that. it's learned behaviour. she is the way she is because allowing herself to be sincere and vulnerable only ever gets her hurt, but it still hurts her and the people around her as a result (like with Kamiki).

oh my god i'm like 5k words in and i haven't even touched the question you directly asked LSKDJKSSK. I MEAN, I ASSUME AT THIS POINT PEOPLE SEND ME ASKS LIKE THIS KNOWING THE RISKS OF GETTING AN ESSAY IN RETURN…

ANYWAY, I definitely think Ai's experiences growing up in Ayumi's house (incl. ayumi's pedo boyfriend lmao) were a huge part of why she ends up with such an utterly fucked concept of love and relationships. When I see people talking about this aspect of her character, I feel like it gets downplayed because the series itself is more about her life as an idol but her childhood is the literal foundation of everything that follows - Ai becomes an idol because she wants to know how to love people and be loved in return and the reason she's never experienced that is because of how Ayumi raised her and how she failed to protect Ai from and properly respond to Ai's narrow brush with that type of victimization.

It's hard to really say exactly how this specific incident impacted her with how little we know about how all that went down, but I definitely think it was part of a pretty consistent pattern in her childhood of having failed/toxic relationships modeled for her - there was All That with Ayumi's boyfriend but we also know that Ai's biodad was not in a relationship with Ayumi at the time Ai was growing up and that she saw him pretty infrequently. It's not hard for me to imagine that Ai's kind of wishywashy confusion as to wtf marriage even is expressed in 45510 is the result of seeing dogshit relationship after dogshit relationship fall apart in her formative years. And I definitely think The Incident (& Ayumi's reaction to it - she herself admits her behavior escalated as a result) probably planted the seed in Ai's brain of her being like… more aware of sex than she should have been at the age she was?

In fact, ironically, Hikaru's line about 'giving your body to body to receive love' was actually how I've always interpreted Ai - pretty much the entire time I've been brainrotted about her, my interpretation has always been that Hikaru was not her first boyfriend or sexual partner and that she had probably run through a couple of extremely fast burning short term relationships before they met.that escalated to physical intimacy very quick and burned out just as fast.

I don't necessarily have a ton of capital-E Evidence for this other than a line or two in the series and also just Vibes. Not only can abuse and neglect in childhood lead to premature sexual behaviour in teens (as a sort of attention/intimacy seeking mechanism) but Akane specifically pegs Ai as having obvious emotional imbalances typical of a person who engages in this kind of early sexual behaviour, but then notes that it settled down after she turned 15 and notes 'did she meet someone nice?', implicitly tying her improvement in behaviour to Kamiki - but then of course, that means her destructive behaviour can't have been the result of sleeping with him. In addition, the TL that was available for the manga when I was getting back into the series had Ai refer to Kamiki as an ex during their phonecall, implying she had more than one.

This is one of those things where like… if you are normal about this character it probably doesn't really matter but unfortunately for everyone else i'm insane ;SKFLSNMSLSMKA So stuff like this is really interesting for me to dig into. One of the things I find really fascinating about Ai that mostly exists in subtext and idk how intentional it even was on Akasaka's part is this sense of internalized shame and even disgust she has directed at her own body and sexuality. She calls herself 'dirty' and 'impure', and her final words to Ryosuke are her more or less apologizing to him for that - and idk, I think that aspect of her character (and OnK's ongoing refutations that Ai being 'dirty' in this way is in any way something she should have been rebuked or punished for) is that much more interesting if all that is the case vs the more straightforward and "pure" (for lack of a better word) version of events where she met Hikaru and they fell in love and had sex… if that makes sense.

Honestly Ai's relationship with like, sex and intimacy and sex in the context of a loving relationship being healing and reclaiming for her is one of those things I have so much fun writing in the context of RP and stuff but if I continued rambling about it here I would go on all day lol and this post is already so long. IN ANOTHER ASK, PERHAPS……..

[reallypleasanttree]

Deleted scene for “Wedding Plans” on how Obanai and Sanemi became friends. And chapter 20 is at 6k words roughly. I got to smooth out the edges and make sure it flows nicely. 🫠

“You know Halloween is in October, right?” Someone asked. It was study hall and the teacher had slipped out of the room to grab some supplies. Obanai kept his head down not wanting to interact. He attended school for a week and talked to no one. The other students were loud and were already settled into their groups. Obanai just wanted to get through the school day not talking to others, especially the girls. 

He could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise anytime a girl came within a few feet of him or spoke. His heart thudded wildly. Their voices were so high and there was one girl who looked like his cousins. Black hair and dark eyes. He avoided her the best he could and would walk the opposite way if he saw her. 

“Hey, I asked you a question,” the teenager said. Obanai shrugged and focused on his history homework. He wasn’t in the mood for this. 

Last night he woke up to the sound of Kaburamaru gurgling. The sound was unnatural. He ran over to the cage to find the snake wheezing and hardly moving. His heart raced as he picked up the reptile and ran to Shinjuro’s room. Something was wrong with his friend. Shinjuro took him and Kaburamaru to the emergency vet. He told Kyojuro to stay home with Senjuro and get him ready for school if they weren’t home by 6:00 A.M. 

The vet said Kaburamaru had a respiratory infection and was given oral antibiotics. He’d be fine, Obanai had to remind himself. Obanai only had the snake for two months, but if anything happened he wasn’t sure how it would affect him. They were the same. Bruised and broken creatures. 

“Are you deaf or mute?” The boy yelled, waving his hand in front of Obanai. His lips curled up and his nostrils flared. 

“Fuck off,” the black haired teenager growled lowly. His throat felt raw as the other boy laughed obnoxiously. 

“He speaks! And such a fucking attitude. I was asking you a question.” Obanai heard the desk creak as the other boy leaned over the desk. “Why do you look like a mummy?”

“None of your business,” Obanai’s neck prickled. Why did this guy care? They’d been sitting next to each other for the past week and said nothing. It worked out well.

“You should know, you look like shit,” the teenager tried again to irritate him. Dick. His gaze flickered up to the guy next to him. He had short messy white hair that stuck out randomly as if he used gel. His large eyes were dark violet and he had nearly nonexistent eyebrows. There was a scar running across his hairline that blurred due to Obanai’s right eye. 

“Holy shit, your eyes,” the boy laughed again, pointing between Obanai’s dual toned eyes and bandages. “You must love Halloween to be wearing those!” 

“Shut up,” Obanai snapped back, narrowing his eyes. He knew he was ugly. Putrid amber and swampy teal eyes and a bandaged face. It was unnatural and disgusting. 

“No way. You’re a theater kid, right? All the makeup, contacts, and bandages. Dude, pick one,” the teenager chuckled. Some of the other students looked back at them and he froze. He didn’t want their attention. He wanted to get through today without issues. 

Be good, his mother whispered in her sickeningly sweet voice. Obanai gripped his pen harder. Please, not now. He shut his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste his own blood. He could see the other boy’s mouth moving, but not the words. Based on the white haired boy’s expression though he was taunting him.

“-how could your mom let you walk out the door like that?” His voice filtered through. 

Obanai’s pen snapped in half and his fist connected with the boy’s face. The other desk toppled to the floor when Obanai launched at the shithead. He was reacting based on instinct. Adrenaline pulsed in his veins as his knuckles hit the boy’s face again. 

Several students screamed and jumped out of their seats. The other boy’s face was bloodied and his eyes watered. Instead of backing down, the other boy smirked, “You’ve got some balls.” He pushed Obanai off with a flat palm to the chest.  

The smaller boy was nearly knocked off balance and had to reach out for a chair to steady himself. Obanai’s hand throbbed and he had to flex it to ensure he had not broken anything. 

“Hold it!” A man yelled charging into the classroom. Obanai tensed, but kept his eyes on the other boy. “Mr. Shinazugawa!” He yelled as the violet eyed boy threw a punch at Obanai, but missed as Obanai ducked to the side. He twisted and shoved his shoulder into Shinazugawa’s ribcage. 

Due to the force, Shinazugawa reached out for a desk and its legs scraped against the beige tile floor, which made a horrid grating sound. Obanai jumped away to prepare for another strike. Before Shinazugawa could make another move, the teacher grasped the boy’s shirt and pulled him back. 

“Mr. Shinazugawa, we’re going to the nurses’ office. Mr. Iguro, you’re coming with us,” the teacher tried to grab Obanai. 

“Don’t you dare try to touch me,” the fifteen year old spat and narrowed his gaze. The teacher glared back and waved at him to follow him and the shithead. Begrudgingly, Obanai walked behind them with his head bent down. 

All he wanted to do was get through today without the pain, worry, and guilt. 

——-

The school gave Obanai in school suspension. When he walked into the classroom dedicated to the troublemakers, he saw the white haired boy sitting in the desk closest to the window. His nose was covered in gauze. Another boy  sat beside him. He had spiky black hair and vacant blue eyes. His face was pinched and rat like in nature. It unnerved Obanai. 

 Shinazugawa glared at him as he approached the desks. He sat down beside the blue-eyed boy. 

“You know Halloween is in October, right?” Obanai asked and the other boy laughed sarcastically. 

“I figured I’d join the gauze guild,” Shinazugawa stuck out his tongue. 

“Cut it out you two,” the older man ordered at the front of the room. The boy between them shifted in his chair. 

“Can I be dismissed? I should not be here with them,” the blue eyed teenager asked, glancing between Obanai and the other one. What was that supposed to mean? Obanai’s eye twitched and narrowed. 

“What did you just say?” the white haired teenager cocked his head. His violet eyes flashed. “What do you mean by them?” he reiterated. 

The middle boy stared blankly in front of him. What was his problem? The teacher looked between the three boys before sighing. He took out a blue paper and passed it to the middle boy. Wordlessly, he took it and left the room. Why did he get permission to leave while they sat here? 

“Fucking Tomioka,” Shinazugawa gritted his teeth. 

“Language,” the teacher warned from his desk in front of them. 

“What’s his problem?” Obanai asked, casting one last glance towards the doorway. 

“Privileged rich boy who thinks he’s better than everyone else,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Obanai examined the other’s clothes. He noticed the wrinkles, frayed seams, and disheveled appearance. “He thinks he’s better than everyone cause his daddy has a fortune,” Shinazuagawa said, rolling his shoulders. 

“Jerk,” Obanai said without thinking. Shinazugawa grinned before explaining how Tomioka disappeared for the last two months of school for vacation. When someone’s family has a fortune, what was the point of going to school? Shinazugawa kept sharing information and Obanai would offer snide remarks. The two bonded over their mutual dislike and Obanai made his first friend outside of the Rengokus. 

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley) (Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 12

The rest of the week was me tending to my farm and working on getting my house looking presentable. For three days, I had woken up to Robin working on the renovations I requested. I finally have a kitchen and bedroom now. My bed's been pushed over to the other room, and I threw my groceries into the fridge, in the cupboards, and on my counter.

A few of my crops were harvestable as well. I got to sell some of those and purchase furniture. There is now a couch and wallpaper to make it feel more cozy and inviting. It's actually pretty spacious now with the renovations complete.

The townsfolk have also really warmed up to me as well. They've sent me plenty of things in the mail to help my career, and also recipes since I now have a kitchen.

I have even tried visiting the mines up in the mountains. It's not fun there. There were so many creepy crawlies that attacked me down there. I didn't think I'd make it out alive. I figured out what the Hat Mouse was talking about as well with the museum. I found things in the rocks I've broken open with my pickaxe that are supposed to go in the museum. I haven't found everything yet, but I found quite a bit.

I haven't seen Haley around town for a bit either. Our paths just haven't crossed like they have been lately. I guess I wouldn't find her going to the mines though. That's probably the last place I'd see her.

When I was up near the mines, I took a little adventure to the train station area and noticed there was some sort of building by it that I hadn't noticed before. That's where I was heading to today since I need a break from all the work I've been doing. There are a lot of places I haven't explored yet and that building is one of them.

The sign above the door of the building says 'Bath' in bold letters with a bunch of writing beneath it. I didn't bother reading, I just walked in. My curiosity got the best of me.

The room I entered felt like a scene from a horror movie. It's dimly lit with two doors directly across from me. Besides a picture of a bathtub between the two doors, there were no other decorations.

I walked up to the two doors to get a closer look. One has a 'W' sign plastered on it while the other has an 'M' one. I tug on the door with the 'W' not expecting it to open, but it does. The force of my tug flings it wide open, nearly knocking me over in the process.

Inside, there is a long row of stalls on the right side, with a small locker area on the left. I toss my bag into one of them and keep walking down a hallway. I pass by a large vanity and shower room, and reach a small change room. There seems to be a set of clothes neatly folded up on one of the stools. Unfortunately, I was unprepared to go swimming and didn't bring a bathing suit. I stripped off my clothes so I could just go in my bra and panties. At the other end of the change room was another door which I assume led to the bath/spa. I push open the door and walk in.

The bath area was unexpectedly, insanely large. Gentle music plays over speakers scattered around the room and steam from the heat of the bath floods the air, giving it a relaxing vibe. There are a few chairs facing the bath area at the front of the room for lounging if taking a dip isn't what you are in the mood for. The side deck of the bath leads all the way around the water area, so I start pacing around, examining the water before getting in. I came to a narrowed area of the bath and walked around the corner that leads to another large water lounging area. It's not as big as the first area though, but still pretty big.

A mess of blonde hair tied up in a claw clip sticks out of the water, along with a pair of bare shoulders with frilly straps wrapping over them. There appears to be a bottle of wine behind her on the bath deck. She hasn't noticed me walking in yet.

"Hey Haley," I call out, making my voice echo against the walls of the bath. Haley screams and flails around to look at me.

"What are you doing here?! You scared me!" she slurs. She is definitely drunk.

"I saw this place when I came in on the train and decided to finally check it out." I responded. I still haven't gotten in the bath yet. Haley doesn't seem to mind because she is aggressively checking me out. The farm work has really toned my body some and I have slight abs now.

"You have such a good looking body..." Haley completely disregarded what I had just said. She is now leaning her head down on her hands on the ledge of the deck, staring up at me with admiration. She holds her hand up to me for me to take. Obediently, I bend over to take her hand and walk down the steps next to her that lead into the water. She doesn't let go of my hand and drags me over to her bottle of wine. "Want some?"

Handing the bottle over without me even answering, I take it out of her hands and open it. There was only about a drop left. I look over to her and raise my eyebrow.

"Oops. It was full when I got here..." she giggles.

I put the bottle back on the ledge and prop my elbows up behind me on the same ledge. I watch Haley dance over to me and put her arms around my neck.

"You know... Alex and I would come here to... you know..." she puts her hands up in front of my face and motions a finger into a hole made by her other fingers, "... you're lucky you didn't catch us doing that."

I made a disgusted face. I hope they clean the water of this place. "I'm sure glad I didn't walk in on that. That is not a sight I'd want to see," I awkwardly say.

"What? You don't want to see all this?" she boldly undoes her bikini and slips her top off. I quickly avert my gaze to the wall.

"Haley, put your top back on. You are drunk," I demand politely, "you will be extremely embarrassed tomorrow by the decisions you are making right now."

"I doubt it," she takes my face in her hands and turns my head so I am looking into her eyes. Her cheeks are rosy from the heat of the bath as well as from the alcohol flowing through her. I try really hard to keep my eyes on hers and not look down. "You need to relaaaaxx, that's what this place is for. It's not like you haven't seen boobs before."

"Yeah but-" I begin. Haley puts her finger to my lips before I can finish my sentence.

"Relax. Turn around," she spins me around before I could protest or question her. She takes my shoulders into her hands and starts massaging. Instantly feeling relaxed, I hunch over and lean on the bath deck.

Her soft hands move all over my back and neck. She has traced every prominent muscle on my back, as well as played connect the dots with my freckles. Not only do I have severe goosebumps all over, I have nearly fallen asleep once or twice.

"You really do have such a nice body," she says again as she traces my shoulder blade.

"Are you jealous?" I mumble while giving her a sleepy flex of my bicep. The flex always makes her giggle and blush. Without even seeing her, I can picture her reaction.

"In a way..." her hands travel down my arms causing more goosebumps to arise.

"Just work on a farm. You'll get this body no problem," I sit up and smack my bicep a couple times. "Might take some time since you are so dainty and perfect, but you'd get there."

"So if I work on a farm...I'd get your body?" She questions me with a hint of sing song in her voice.

"I mean yeah that's what I just said," I tease, "you'll be all muscly and ripped in no time. Not sure why you'd want to be-"

"That's not what I meant."

That causes me to whip around with a face of shock. Haley is giving me a little smirk and looking at my lips. Since I am facing her now, she traces along my collarbone.

"I- um-" I'm at a loss for words. Her hand has traveled to just above my chest. When sober Haley finds out what happened, she'd freak. "Listen, I'm not rejecting you, but you are drunk. You won't remember anything you are saying to me and you'll regret everything you even said." I respond softly, taking her by the shoulders and backing her up.

I think Haley has realized what she has said. Her face drops and she kind of stares off into the distance with tears welling up in her eyes. "I- I- didn't... mean that. I'm sorry." She grabs her bikini top, throws it back on, grabs the wine bottle and leaves.

I sink down so the water is just over my shoulders, and put my head in my hands. I remain that way for the rest of the day.

[atxxzist]

broken | c.s (12)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: under 2k lmfao

warning: nothing but lmk

a/n: its short but i needed this scene to be its own standalone chapter

you wish you can say the night san left is the last time he breaks your heart.

it would be ideal to say everything ended there; that although you can still recall the feeling of emptiness from waking up to nothing, it spared you from the worst heartbreak possible.

a heartbreak that you would then seek out on your own because you're all too good at self sabotage and chasing temptation; a complete hypocrite you are, angry at san for not ending things sooner but now that he did, it's so unsatisfying.

this can't possibly just be it.

there's still so many unanswered questions, so much resentment, and so many unspoken wounds that needs to be addressed.

he's caused you so much pain one after another, and he can't just... walk out without giving you some form of closure. you feel you deserve that, at the very least.

the morning you head to his apartment is the most low, pathetic, and desperate you've been, even the you a couple months ago would be disappointed. but you suppose she would understand if she knew just how everything's gone to shit within the past few days.

the walk of shame up the stairs is halted when you meet those familiar pair of eyes that causes an immediate sink to your stomach.

he has a cigarette between his fingers and pulls back only to pinch his brows together at your appearance.

you shouldn't be here. everything was supposed to end after he left.

the quiet and hesitant steps continues to be taken until you stop in front of him, gaze leveling his, and though you haven't said anything, your eyes tells it all.

a reflection of everything you've gone through, and you're tired, defeated, even more so than the night at wooyoung's party.

whatever you have to say, and whatever you're here for... he knows he won't be able to give to you.

you linger on the cigarette in his hold before prying away, the entire time ignorant to the fact he even smokes.

san thought he was also done with it given he haven't touched any other forms of addiction beside alcohol in more than half a year, but the withdrawal from you is just about the worst one, old habits started showing up just to numb everything temporarily.

the separation is taking a toll on him just as much as it is to you.

"you shouldn't be here," he's the first to break the thick tension, taking one last dig at the cigarette before throwing it down, but he refuses to look at you, whether out of shame or annoyance.

"i know..." you reply, almost like a whisper, but there's not a lot of time to dwell in the awkwardness of the situation because he's already making way back inside with you not missing a beat behind him.

"then why are you?"

the harsh and blunt delivery makes you stop in track, because san isn't one for confrontations. he usually avoids them. but you register that at this point in time, there's no more pretending.

the facades you both had put in front of each other for so long are gone, and all that's left is a broken history between two people who started it for all the wrong reasons.

"because i want answers."

your voice is so full of confidence, he wouldn't be able to tell just how nervous you really are. how, you still feel so small and fragile, he could break you without trying.

but if there's one thing you learned from being with san, is that if you want to stand a chance, you would have to play his game.

stand tall and act like you're not the tiniest bit intimidated by the slight tilt of his head and the burning of his gaze as he looks you up from the couch.

a quiet sigh leaves him, watching as he goes on to shake his head in slight irritation, you can't help but to feel some type of way at the gesture.

"i don't know what more i could say to you that i already didn't--"

"--all of this. why did you do it?" but the confidence only turns to remnants of betrayal, he has to keep from recoiling.

"i told you, y/n. i gave you a choice, we made a deal and you agreed to everything."

"we made a deal, but i said i wanted out only for you to bust into my freaking room--"

you flinch in position when he suddenly gets up and walks over, his looming figure almost closing you in against the wall as fear quickly washes in.

"--you think i don't know that? i was there. so tell me again, why the fuck are you here?"

"because i want to know why the hell you took me on that trip! why did you stayed all those nights, and why were there times you actually seemed genuine, only for you to always walk out... always leaving me hanging..."

san goes from aggravated to feeling guilty in a matter of seconds, his body language softens at your frustration, only for a low mutter to fall out, "even if i tell you, it won't matter. none of this will."

"nothing ever matters when it comes to you, san. but it matters to me, because you knew i was stupid, naive, and easily manipulated, and you took advantage of that--"

"i know!" the volume makes you jump, "i know i fucked up, i know this is all my fault! that's why i'm trying to fix it!"

"how is this fixing anything?"

"because if i had stayed, would that have been any better?"

the thought knocks, and it knocks you over hard to the point of denial.

"i don't know what it would be like if we actually gave this a chance, because the entire time i feel like you never allowed me to get too close."

"even then, i don't have to tell you. you're not stupid, y/n. you know deep down how wrong i am for you. how wrong we are for each other."

you swallow down the tension, completely speechless, and only able to stare at san as he actually starts sounding reasonable... which is what makes it so unsettling.

"actually, i think you probably would like me a lot less if you really got to know me." he scoffs it off with a short laughter and his bittersweet gaze continues lasering into yours.

"i know you're sweet and all that, but i always had the smallest suspicion that there was a deeper, hidden reason for why you wanted to know about me so much."

it's that statement that picks up the immersion even more because you're curious; wonder what the presumption just might be.

"maybe a part of you was secretly hoping that i'm this broken soul who grew up in a shitty environment with shitty parents, and that's why i'm the way i am..."

but again, you have a natural instinct for self defense.

"what? no. i-i never thought--"

"then are you saying you like me for who i am? the douche that screwed you over so many times? because i highly doubt that."

"i never planned on changing you or anything like that!" you cry out, trying the hardest to hold back some tears, beyond frustrated at the assumption being projected onto you, but also at his approach.

he's exceptionally hostile, because not only is he trying to convince you, but also himself.

"good. then i don't have to tell you why whatever this is between me and you will never work."

for a brief moment, your head is in another dimension where time has pulled you back to a discussion your professor and classmates had about what brought them to writing.

for many, literature is in their blood. for others; for you, it is a way to detach from reality and to dream of another; living in your head and escaping... it's not a bad thing if that's what drives you, your professor said.

it's good to always keep a wishful mind that anything is possible in that form.

"but if you need to hear it for yourself; for a peace of mind... you won't like me. it's as simple as that, but i'm sure you already got the memo."

he stops to catch his breath before going on, "i'm not special by any means, and i don't come from some interesting background like you probably think i do. i'm just some prick with well-off parents and enough time to fuck around. it was what drew me and wooyoung to each other initially... because we were both just some stupid rich kids."

"i was only able to get you the job because of all the connections i have, yet i don't work a damn day in my life and am definitely not the one paying the bills for the roof over my head. the trip, everything i ever offered, and anything that came out my pocket, i paid for because i could afford to. that's me. that's who i am. fucking choi san, and all the reasons for why you shouldn't want to be with someone like me."

and you really do dream big, because you want it so bad... for it to possible.

"but it's not like we get to choose who our family are and how we grow--"

"--come on, y/n. have a little more self respect than that. you know what i mean, or do you still need me to say it outright for what it is?"

he's growing short and as selfish as san's always been, he feels he's doing it for your sake for once, fighting to end it as hard as you're fighting for it.

"it's just... so unfair."

so unfair that he made you fall in love only to take it back in the end.

"i-i just feel like you never tried enough. maybe i'm not fond of who you are currently, but i could learn to--"

"please don't make it any more harder than this, y/n. you don't get with someone hoping you can learn to tolerate them... that's not how it works."

it's good to dream of the imposssible once in a while and fill your head up with 'what-ifs', but it's not healthy to get caught up in them. let it consume you and then be disappointed that in the end... san didn't come around for you.

"you're a nice girl, y/n. you really are so sweet, and i can see myself with you someday..." he says with a distraught look you will forever remember given how his words make your heart thump, only to then shoot it down, "but not right now..."

because this reality can be cruel, and no matter how hard you cling, it is sometimes about accepting defeat and moving on.

putting it to perspective, it's funny and ironic how everything turned out. how you used to make such a fuss about not knowing who san is, only for you to find out in the worst way possible.

even more ironic that things between you guys pretty much ended with a screaming match of some sort.

but the one good thing to have come out of it, is that you can confidently say that that was the last time choi san broke your heart.

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[lovecarisi]

Mistakes We Knew We Were Making

Chapter 2: The Unraveling

Two weeks. Two weeks you had told him to wait. If he was still thinking about you then, he could call. Otherwise, he shouldn’t bother. And you had meant it. You had not saved his number, only given him yours.

Dominick had assured you that he would call but truth be told, you didn’t know his character from a quickie behind a boathouse in South Hampton. Promises were made and broken in the heat of a moment like that. Careless words were spoken all the time when there were no obligations involved, no strings attached. And it would have been no big deal.

You didn’t know anything about him except that he was studying criminal law at Fordham, lived somewhere in Williamsburg, and had stumbled onto the Hamptons scene that weekend the same way you had - some friends had dragged him there. Other than the way he was so magnetic and you wanted him with every fiber of your being, you didn’t even know if it was a physical attraction or more than that. However, you would have been lying to yourself if you didn’t admit to the fact that you spent every day of those two weeks thinking about him. Cursing yourself for telling him to wait. Hoping he would call. Even if it would end up being just a good old-fashioned booty call. Yes, you would still see him around somewhere if he didn’t call but it would hurt your pride. For him to have made you feel the way he did that night and never be acknowledged again? Sure you would cope eventually but not after a few weeks of utter bitterness and self-loathing. Ugh, once again you cursed his name for the millionth time these past two weeks. What a fool you had been.

__________________

You are sitting at your desk at the law firm’s office where you work part-time, typing away at an email reply. Two clients enter the room and you look up, smiling politely at them. 

‘Mister Phillips is ready for you, gentlemen. Would you care for some coffee?’ you offer.

They return your smile but shake their heads, and close the office door behind them in a rush. You sigh in relief, turning back towards the computer screen only to be interrupted by your phone vibrating on silent. You stare at the unknown number slightly annoyed but pick up with an exasperated ‘Yes?’

‘Guess this is a bad time, huh?’ you hear him chuckle on the other end.

Fuck. 

Fuck.

FUCKFUCKFUCK!

You draw in a sharp breath and sit up straight as though you just got caught doing something naughty. It’s him. Dominick. 

What the-. Your work had actually distracted you, kept you so busy you had forgotten about what day it was. For once in those two weeks you had not thought about him in a hot second.

‘It’s you.’ You feel so silly but you actually cannot believe he is really calling.

‘Well…you told me to call in two weeks. It’s been two weeks. And I’m afraid I haven’t stopped thinking about you. So I was hoping to see you again. Please say yes.’ 

He sounds like a little boy asking for his favorite toy back after it’s been taken from him. It makes you weak immediately, flashbacks to him and you together, skin on skin. Oh lord.

‘Yes.’ is all you manage to mutter. Girl, control yourself. You swallow hard, you’re sure he can hear it.

‘I’m so glad. Are you free tonight?’ The urgency in his tone of voice makes you feel so powerful, maybe he can’t control himself either.

‘I’ll text you my address.’

When you hang up you are shaking. There it is again that feeling in the pit of your stomach, spreading down between your legs. Your mind is racing. You actually can’t believe it. He had been waiting to call you. He had been thinking about you. In fact, in his own words, he had not stopped thinking about you. Your whole body is suddenly trembling with anticipation and disbelief. Is this really happening? The way he had so nonchalantly admitted to more or less obsessing over you the way you had over him. The way he had practically begged to see you. Oh boy, would you make it worth his while.

You finish early on Fridays so you run out of the office, stopping by your local grocery store to pick up some essentials, including a bottle of wine, before coming home to your small Bushwick apartment. Good thing is, you still have hours before Dominick gets here, bad thing is, you still have hours before Dominick gets here. Your anxiety is already through the roof and you kind of want to smoke some weed but you’re scared it will make it worse. 

So instead you take advantage of the luxury of having a bathtub and spend an hour soaking among lavender-scented bubbles. Looking down at your naked body, imagining him touching you again, and you have to hold back from touching yourself at the thought of it. Like you have so many times during the past two weeks when these thoughts had taken over. It was the way he had known exactly how you liked it, even the things you yourself hadn’t known you liked yet. 

It had never been this good with anyone before, even your ex-boyfriend of three years. He had never been able to even want you to open up like this because it was clear from the beginning that he was more interested in his own needs and wants. But you had hoped that you could coax it out of him by giving into whatever he demanded because after all, it was love, right? Or at least you thought it was. And yes, he had made you cum, most of the time. And yes, he had gone down on you. Even though you always felt like it was more of a chore to him than something he had enjoyed while you had to pretend that sucking his dick was something you relished when he more or less forced you into it. Either way, he never made you feel sexy, he never made you feel like the most important person in the room, like all eyes should be on you; like a woman, like a man should make you feel. Instead he liked to keep small, keep you in your place, talked over you to make himself look smart and important. So eventually, it all faded away between you two. And that was putting it mildly. You don’t like to think about it too much, it takes you to a dark place you don’t want to go. 

You don’t miss being in a relationship. In fact, you’re not looking for one. Whatever this is, is going to be, or not, between you and Dominick, you aren’t ready for anything serious. 

8pm on the dot, your doorbell rings. The spritz of perfume you just sprayed behind your ear still lingers in the air as you rush down the hallway to press the button on the intercom. Soft footsteps on the stairs. Your heart is pounding. You check yourself in the mirror one last time. No fancy outfit, nothing revealing. Just a simple gray cotton off-the-shoulder dress, your hair in a messy bun, soft make-up. Why bother when he already had your pussy in his face, right? Why bother when he for some reason already thinks you are the sexiest little thing?

He’s holding a small wicker basket full of fresh strawberries, the sweet scent overwhelming as you open the door to greet him. 

‘What-‘ you raise your eyebrows at him.

‘I think flowers are overrated and well…I passed a farmer’s market earlier on my way home, so. I hope you’re not allergic or are one of those rare people who hate strawberries.’ he’s babbling. He’s nervous. How cute. 

‘I love strawberries.’ you reply, as you pick one from the basket and grab his arm, pulling him in. The fruit is absolutely bursting with flavor as you bite into it. ‘Delicious.’ you smile, making it clear you’re not just talking about the strawberry.

‘Well, I’m glad.’ he smiles back at you.

‘Thank you.’

He follows you into the living room/kitchen area, his eyes tracing your body and your adorable little banter quickly gives way to that familiar heat spreading between you two.

‘Just so you know, I think flowers are overrated too, unless they grow in a field.’ you turn around and properly take him in for the first time since opening the door. 

You can’t believe he’s really here. Standing in your apartment. And he seems to think the same thing. As much as you both were overconfident that night you met, fueled by a bit of alcohol and the excitement of the unknown, you don’t know where to start, or rather where to continue now. His hands seem restless, yours are dying to touch him.

‘Glass of wine?’ you ask because you can’t think of anything else and maybe a few sips will calm your nerves.

‘Sure, thanks.’ he answers as he shrugs off his jacket and you turn to get glasses from the cupboard. 

By the time you have opened and poured the wine, he has wandered over to your bookshelf, scanning the contents. You watch as his fingertips glide over the spines of books, and you can’t explain why it makes your heart beat so much faster all of a sudden. With the glasses in hand you join him, handing him his just as he pulls out Kierkegaard.

‘I don’t know if I’m amused or shocked.’ he looks at you, one eyebrow raised. 

‘And why’s that?’

‘What’s your field of law again?’

‘I never said.’ you challenge him.

He takes a sip of wine and his eyes stare into yours. Damn you, you think.

‘Well can I guess then?’ 

‘Go ahead.’

‘Human Rights.'

Fuck, he is good. Or you’re just too obvious. Your law books aren’t even on this shelf.

‘You figured that out from me reading Kierkegaard?’

‘Oh no. I just really appreciate philosophy.’ 

You purse your lips and he cocks his head and it’s a game you’re playing now it seems. If that first time you told him not to tease, teasing is now all you are both doing. His face is entirely too close to yours and you notice a slight sunburn across his nose, a few freckles dancing there, his lashes too unfairly long for a man as he looks down into your eyes. 

‘Philosophy me this then, Mister. You really couldn’t stop thinking about me?’ your voice is low and you can tell the effect it has on him.

‘Hmm. You left me with quite the thoughts.’ he says, in the same low voice.

‘Can’t imagine what you mean.’ you smirk up at him, putting your glass down on the bookshelf next to his.

He smiles and puts a finger under your chin, raising your head slightly. 

‘I mean….’ he takes a deep breath. ‘I thought about you day and night, wondering what you were doing, what you were eating, drinking, dreaming about. Whether you were feeling happy or sad, stressed or relaxed. What kind of music you were listening to, what kind of books you were reading, what kind of clothes you were wearing. If you were wearing the same perfume you wore the night we met. Whether you preferred the rain of the last few days or if you were hoping for sunshine and the heat. What you were thinking about while waiting in line at the coffee shop. If you were thinking about me? If you were counting down the days hoping I would call, or if you regretted that night? And if you were thinking about me, were you thinking about the way I touched you, the way I kissed you, the way I fucked you? Did you touch yourself thinking about me? Because I did. I got hard the second the thought of you entered my mind.’ 

His mouth is behind your ear now and you are a mess. You are holding back a moan, choked up in your throat. He has once again managed to reduce you to a complete wreck, a dampness spreading between your legs. 

‘Sounds intense.’ you exhale and he smiles as he picks you up, your hands wrapping around his neck, legs around his waist.

You finally find yourself kissing him deeply, his strong arms holding you so tightly you can feel his heartbeat hammering against you. 

‘Just so we’re clear…I never regretted it for one second.’ you say it with every inch of your soul before slipping your tongue into his hot mouth, a moan rumbling within him. 

‘Anything else you wanna clear up? Maybe like…you thinking about me too…and y’know. Touching yourself?’ he tickles your sides and you shriek, punching his arms playfully.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’ you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

Somehow you manage to make your way into your bedroom and he puts you down on your bed, his body on top of yours. Your kisses are becoming more intense by the second, your hands sneaking under his shirt, feeling his warm skin, so desperate for more contact. But you have other plans. Pushing him off of you, you crawl back on the bed, telling him ‘Stay there.’ as he attempts to follow. He looks confused but does as you say, an undeniable look of excitement on his face for whatever awaits him. 

You really can’t believe what you’re about to do. But you know it’s gonna make him lose his mind and that is what you set out to do. So you reach under your dress, slowly pulling off your panties before throwing them in his face. He gasps, taking the piece of clothing like it’s a treasure he just unearthed and brings it up to his face, inhaling your scent. You bite your lip, watching him, knowing it’s just step one on his way to absolute unraveling.

Sensuously, you let your hand glide over your body, still just over the fabric of your dress while the other one releases your hair from the bun, letting it fall loose over your shoulders. He doesn’t even blink watching you, just stares at you in utter fascination. There’s a bulge growing in his jeans, you can tell, and god, does it make you feel special. Here’s this breathtakingly gorgeous man and all he wants is you.

‘So, you wanna know if I thought about you, hmm?’ your hand slips under your dress. ‘About that night? About your tongue tasting me? About your fingers exploring me? About your beautiful, big cock inside my wet little pussy? About how you were the best fuck of my life? The only man to ever make my earth shake like that?’ your legs spread a little but still not enough for him to see you. Somehow he’s not trying to, his eyes are fixated on yours, his mouth slightly agape, and you can hear his breathing getting heavier. ‘You wanna know how many times I’ve touched myself thinking about you, wishing you were inside me again? I’ve lost count. I’ve moaned your name into my pillow so many times, Dominick. Dominick. Dominick.’ 

Now you let him see. And he inches closer to you as you rub your clit in small circles, so wet already. He moans your name back at you. Watching you as you insert two fingers into your soaked pussy and start pumping in and out slowly, whimpering with pleasure and you can tell he’s about to fully lose it, it turns you on so much, making you shiver with lust. 

‘And I pretended it’s you. But it could never feel as good. You really fucked me up, baby. You really did.’ you sound almost mad and he catches it, pulling you close as you withdraw from yourself.

‘I’m sorry.’ he apologizes and kisses you again and you claw at his shirt, nearly tearing it off within a second, followed by his jeans while he does the same with your dress. ‘I’m sorry.’ he says again, lips down your neck, across your collarbone. ‘I’m sorry.’

And it’s both of you who unravel. And you knew this was gonna happen. Because yes, he fucked you up but you fucked him up just as badly. 

‘I’m sorry too.’ you whisper, running your fingers through his soft hair as he continues to place kisses downwards, his mouth closing around your nipple, tongue sneaking out to tease. Your back arches and his large hands grab your waist, not even a piece of paper could fit between your bodies. It’s so intimate, and he’s not even inside you yet. He’s in no rush you can tell although he’s as hard as he can get, pressing against your thigh, a wet spot forming on your skin there. It doesn’t matter, he’s lost in you, you’re lost in him. 

When he finally slips inside you, you almost pass out at the sensation, wrapping your legs around his hips to get his full length as deep as possible. He groans into your neck, not moving for a second just letting himself melt with you.

‘Please.’ you whisper in his ear and your voice is shaking and he slowly starts moving, dragging out every thrust. 

‘Fuck.’ he breathes. ‘Longest two weeks of my life.’ and you stare into his eyes with a sheepish grin. 

It’s the hottest sight, Dominick on top of you, moving in and out of you, and you don’t know where to put your hands. His beautiful face, his warm chest, his toned arms, his strong shoulders, his tight ass, you really want all of him at once. And then this feeling he’s giving you where you are joined, his cock dragging along your tight walls, one hand reaching down because he knows how much you like it when his fingers play with your clit. 

‘S-so g-goooood. So fucking good.’ you moan, clenching around him and he furrows his brow in an almost serious way at the sensation of you squeezing him. 

‘You like it when I do that, hmm, babe?’ you ask, wiping a loose curl of hair from his face and he nods, kissing you sloppily. 

And you do it again, and again. As much as you enjoy this slow rhythm, you are dying for him to pick up the pace a little, and this does the trick. He grabs one of your legs and hitches it up higher, opening you wider to him, fucking into you deeper and slightly harder. You let out a loud moan as he hits that spot within you.

‘Is this what you wanted, my sweet?’ and you smirk and affirm. It’s not long before you begin to shudder, whining his name as he presses his sweaty forehead against yours. ‘You really are so beautiful when you cum. All I wanna do is make you cum.’ 

He flicks his thumb over your clit again, pumping his dick so deep inside you, you lose all control over yourself. His eyes are staring into yours and that feeling you get scares you a little but it is all too much now, you have no time to think.

‘Cum for me. I wanna feel you cum. I love how you get even tighter around me when you do. How you shake. No more moaning my name into your pillow all by yourself. I’m here. I’m right here. I’m all yours. Cum for me, baby.’ He thrusts into you again and you uncoil. 

‘Fuck! Dominick!’ you moan, clinging to him as you pulse and shudder with your orgasm. 

He holds you and kisses you and continues to move in and out of you slowly, disregarding the chase for his own pleasure to revel in yours, to extend it even. This man. You cry out in pleasure, he has once again managed to lure the most intense climax from you, and you already know it won’t be the only one tonight. He hasn’t cum yet, it’s like he is holding back and while it makes him the sexiest man on the planet it also makes you want to make him cum even more. So you press your hands against his chest and push him off you, his eyes widen in surprise as you straddle him.

‘Okay.’ he grins up at you as you slowly lower yourself on his cock, letting him sink into you. ‘Jeez.’ he gasps and you feel even fuller in this position. 

‘Any last words?’ you smile down on him and he pushes up into you without a warning, making you squeal. ‘Don’t you dare!’ you raise a finger. 

‘You know where you can put that.’ he pokes his tongue out at you and you glare at him in shock before putting your hand over his mouth. 

‘If you don’t shut up I’ll make you wait another two weeks.’ he immediately stays silent, a serious expression on his face as you smile triumphantly and start moving on his throbbing cock. 

‘You don’t mean that.’ he blinks his eyes shut, pleasure taking over as you feel his thighs tense under you. 

‘Please, I wouldn’t survive.’ you reply and his eyes flutter open again, a soft smile on his lips. 

He grabs your hips, gently guiding your movements as you run your hands up and down his torso. ‘You’re gorgeous.’ you whisper and can’t believe he blushes. ‘What? Has no one ever told you that before?’ You drag him in and out of you slowly. 

‘Not like that.’ he pauses. ‘I was always the lanky, skinny kid and girls tended to go for the quarterbacks.’ He looks perfect to you. 

‘Well, I bet they never got dick like this from their quarterbacks.’ you shrug and he giggles until you make him moan again, rolling your hips back and forth a little faster. 

From the way his hands are moving over your body you can tell he’s getting close. They’re restlessly looking for a place to settle, or a place they haven’t touched yet; up your sides, over your breasts, cupping them gently, squeezing, down your stomach to your pussy, over your thighs. You’re close to your next climax too and you know just the thing to send you both over the edge. While you move up and down his cock, you guide your hand down your pussy and start rubbing your clit, Dominick watching you with heavy eyes. 

‘You like what you see, baby?’ 

He can only nod, and the sight of him watching you with his head pressed into the pillow, biting his lip, is so fucking hot. Poor boy is so close but you don’t want to pick up the pace. You’re dragging his cock in and out, painfully slow, circling your clit with your index and middle finger. 

‘Dominick, you feel so good.’ you moan, arching your back, he has the best view of you riding him. 

‘God, you are gonna make me lose it.’ his breath quickens. 

‘Lose it, baby.’ you squeeze his cock with your walls, the beginnings of your orgasm crashing over your body like waves. 

You sit up again and withdraw your fingers from yourself, only to offer them to him and he opens his mouth to taste them, taste you, hungrily. He jerks his hips up, slamming into you, and cums hard, releasing himself inside you with a shudder and the sexiest moan. Your pussy clenches around him as you literally ride out both of your orgasms, the two of you still shaking as he pulls you down onto him. And it’s some kind of insanity just how badly you want to take everything of him in at this moment, even though there’s not much more left to take in. Somehow you still want more of him. More. His lips are on your neck and yours are in his hair and you take in his scent, his heavenly scent that is now on your pillow, in your bed. Your bed. 

You’re breathless and giggling and it’s warm and comfortable although you’re exhausted. 

‘You don’t mind if I spend the night, do you?’ he asks, stroking your back.

Your brain is yelling at you to be careful. That you don’t really want this. That it’s just the endorphins or whatever. It’s nice to be wanted, it’s nice to be taken care of by a man like him, a man who knows how to touch a woman. To make a woman feel special. But you don’t want the complications of something more. Something serious. So you tell yourself, it doesn’t have to be like that. It can still be nice without it being serious. You will be careful. While still enjoying it.

‘Not at all.’ you say, snuggling up to his warm body.

And you ignore the unraveling. 

[im-a-king-baby]

hi ! first of all; i read ELYN over the easter weekend and stayed up till like five am waiting for it to get happy so i could sleep (i gave up) and i loved it so so much. It just feels like such a tangible, realistic outcome for them (if we ignore s3) it made me ache in that exact anxious yearning way the actual show does. Big ask and 100% appreciate it if the answer is no but are you planning to write more for them in that universe? Would love to see them when Wille is at university, or see Wille simply make some (oblivious?) uni friends, or see Sara and Simon interact again or honestly literally anything and everything.

secondly, and who knows maybe (probably) you’re aware of this but the photos/images in the fic do not appear as images but just as a text/error box? Is that intentional or did they break? I kept finding myself curious as to what image was put with the chapters haha

Hi!!! I hope you had a good easter... and went to sleep at some point... 😅

Thank you for alerting me about the images! I was not aware of that :( Although I guess that makes all those hours hardcoding the text threads and tumblr posts so they would work without images worth it 😂

I have gone through it all again and updated the image links so they are working for me now (let me know if they're still broken for you?).

There's nothing in them that's required to follow the fic, you just get to judge the time I spent procrastinating by making album covers and then sorting all the random pop songs I'd invented into albums (something that was definitely vital even though no one but me cares about the difference in vibe between Simme eras 🤣).

If you are just interested in the art, these are the 4 covers I used in the fic:

Sadly this fic was always destined to lose canon status after season 3 (although I am going to keep believing August's arc could go the ELYN route until proven otherwise).

Regarding sequels, prooobably not? Sorry :( I have more notes for Simon pov scenes during and before than anything set after because I'm not sure what more I have to say, (other than wanting to write something of ELYN Wille with Edvin's new haircut but basically all I've got is this:

For a moment Simon thinks Wilhelm isn’t even here, then the bleached blond head turns and it’s Wilhelm’s face and Wilhelm’s eyes and Wilhelm’s mouth dropping open in surprise at seeing Simon in the doorway. “You’re here,” Wilhelm says. “How are you -?” “You cut your hair.” It’s dumb. Obviously. But Simon hasn’t slept and Wilhelm’s hair is almost white, sharp and bristled, and Simon wants to touch it, to see if it hurts. “I…” Wilhelm hesitates. “There were always rules about my appearance, about how I was allowed to look, and I thought…” he reaches a hand to his hairline, his face falling a little. “Do you hate it?” The bristles give under his fingers, impossibly soft. He looks older, but also somehow younger, like he’s reclaiming the rebellious teen years that the crown never let him have. “I want to kiss you,” Simon says. The coffee shop is full of people. At least four that Simon can see are looking at them, not even trying to be subtle. There’s a camera tilted in their direction, but it’s not close. “Can I kiss you?” “I-” Wilhelm starts doing the same glance - who’s watching, who’s filming - then seems to catch himself, snorts a soft laugh and pulls Simon in. It's too short for Simon to catch hold of, but he can run his fingers through it and it's soft or ghost them over to catch the sharp edges of the tips, and it's Wilhelm and he's here, they're both here. And they're going to be okay.

<3

[andieperrie18]

champagne problems

A/n: I'm a horrible writer, I know. I just deleted the original one again cause its far from the plot that I had intended. I'm really sorry. I just love hurting myself with my own writing. I don't dislike Ada, I just needed plot and basically vent the pain I put myself though while reading some angsty Leon fics. But here it is chapter one, the official chapter one of i don't know how many. Pray for me guys. Please bear with my english and grammar, I'm no English proficiency professor. For now feel my pain.

Warnings: Angst, Confrontation, Hurt no Comfort, just pain I guess, I don't know if its really angsty

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader (post re 6)

Series: that vacation you're looking for

Y/n could only watch her fiance run through chaos and debris just to get to the woman red. The woman she's been competing with ever since she first found out her with Leon, even though she shouldn't. But when you're significant, others aren't really doing a great job of reassuring their fiance for their constant interaction with the woman in red. It didn't help that Y/n and Leon were partners therefore encounters with Ada were prone to happen at a few missions. 

-------------------------------------------------

Y/n's fingertips glide deeply over her forehead, her lips releasing a rather long sigh as if she's carrying a rather heavy weight over her back. It didn't help that the skies decided to darken outside the coffee shop as she nervously waited for him. Her hands join together until her fingers begin fiddling, the cold metal band on her ring finger pulling her back to awareness as to why she is sitting in an almost empty coffee shop. The ring felt cold on her skin despite it being in that same finger for a long while now. Seeing it reminded her of that scene back in Lanshiang a few weeks ago.

Y/n did her best to not let the radiating chemistry and playful banter between the two get to her. Because as far as she know, Leon's marrying her, he had promised his future with her and hers alone that he has tied the knot for almost few years of working together since their first mission to save the president's daughter from the cult of Los Illuminados in Spain.

And yet, there she was, a crowd in the commotion that precedes. Leon leaping into action as he cradles Ada close to him as the mutated Simmons sends a barrage of debris towards them. She guessed Leon was so caught up with the chaos that he didn't notice his comm pick up his exchange with Ada.

"Ada? Can you hear me?"

"Don't let it end like this…"

"If you're Ada, you can pull through this… we both can…"

Y/n could have retaliated then and there. But she just heaved one big puff of air and released it slowly. Her eyes fall and soften as she listens to Leon. His tone was soft, sweet and loose.

It wasn't like he didn't speak to her that way when they are together and intimate. But the way he was bare and unguarded with her hammered larger cracks in Y/n hear. The patches that she had placed on those openings, the distrusts, all tore open like a poorly stitched wound. This scene is tearing every little band aid, tape, and thread that held the large pieces of her heart together.

As if it was a shattered piece of mirror, bare hands keeping each piece together. Like every bit of her remaining hope for him was clutching each piece together like a broken embrace.  

"Hey babe…"

Y/n barely heard his voice, it was only when he placed a nuzzled kiss on the side of her head that broke her from her heartbreaking trip down memory lane.

"Sorry, I got caught up with Hunnigan, did the wedding planner need something?" He asked as he took his seat on the chair across her, but like before she only stared at him.

"Hey…" Leon called, his tone soften in worry as his veiny and calloused hands took her smaller yet rough ones in his, his fingers gliding over the ring on her finger. She still didn't answer him, it raised an alarm in him, maybe it was the mission a few weeks ago. It might have taken a bit of a toll on her.

"Y/n, I'm here. Do you need something? Let take you home, let's talk–"

"I'm tired," she finally replied.

He sighed and smiled small, "I guess muscles are still sore. Come on, let me take you–" he shifts of his chair.

"I'm tired of you Lee…"

A cold chill ran through his hand that's holding hers as he looked dead set on her. Confused and hurt. 

But her eyes were blank. Devoid of the usual spark it usually has when she's with him. When did it lose it?

"What do you mean–"

Her hands slipped away from his as he slumped back in his chair in distaste at the sudden confession. Was she seeing someone other than him? Did she find someone else? 

"I'm tired of fighting for you," she continues, gaze dead set on his troubled one.

But Leon wasn't dumbfounded for too long as he finally put the pieces together. This reaction might have something to do with the mission in Lanshiang and the encounter with Ada. He gave out an annoyed sigh leaned forward on the table across from her.

"Look, Y/n, you know how Ada means to me but you don't need to overthink about her. I'm marrying y–"

"I saw you. I heard you." She went on, yet her voice cracks in every syllable that Leon picked up immediately. His fiance was breaking apart in front of him. It was only at that moment that he finally took in her state.

Dark bags under eyes, lips slightly chapped, skin pale, her that was tied in a loose ponytail nearly looked neat. She was as gray as the darkening sky outside the cafe.

"Y/n, I–"

Leon paused as Y/n finally moved in her seat, leaning forward against the table. Her gaze went to the metal band on her hand, staring at it. The male across from her wished that what he was thinking she was gonna was not what was actually going to happen. But her other hand's finger pinched the ring and began to twist and turn it off her.

Leon's hand went to stop her but she had already had it off and took his hand. Y/n opened his palm, and placed the ring inside. The cold metal almost felt prickly on his rough and calloused hands.

"I think this ring isn't for me at all," she whispered, yet loud enough for him. Leon was too stunned to speak as he could only stare at her. Like his world just crumbled down as he felt the metal on his palm. But he was pulled back from the trance when he felt Y/n familiar warm palm on his cheek, thumb rubbing his rough stubble.

"I didn't mean to go this way but… Leon I'm falling apart… everything is just too much and I don't feel like myself anymore," like a dam, tears spilled her eyes, Y/n tried not to break into an all out sob.

"I'm sorry Leon, I'm sorry," she continued before leaving her seat

----------------------------------------------------------------

Y/n ended up in a random train ride to who knows where it will go to. She just needed to be in a place where she could cry and guilt trip herself. She will be reminded of Leon's back on her as he faced her empty seat across from him, hands fiddling with the silver band that was once on her fingers. That scene will forever be etched to her mind as she buries her face in her hands.

Leon was still at the cafe. Still fiddling over the silver band as his mind went over how much Y/n apologized over and over to him as she shakingly handed the ring back to his hand after telling him that they can't be together. But what hurt was that he knew that she was not the only one at fault. He knows it. He ran away again. Instead of assuring her that it was not all her. It was his action that led to his fiance's distrust and anxiety. But he didn't say anything as she broke down before him, he was clouded by the anger of her decision.

Y/n curled in her seat breaking into quiet sobs. She cried and cried and yet somehow the weight that rested on her shoulder a few hours ago slowly fluttered away.

-------------------------------------------------

She'll patch up the tapestry that I shread

[runabout-river]

Wolf/Rabbit parallels between Yuji/Mahito and Megumi

Watching the anime, the end of the fight between Yuji and Mahito became prominent on my mind again. We see Mahito utterly defeated and running away for his life, slowly chased down by Yuji who promises him that he'll kill him without remorse now and every time he gets reborn.

The scene even gets an overlay of a snowed-in landscape, driving home the imagery of Mahito being chased as a rabbit, small and defenceless, by a big and white wolf. The anime adds some extra scenes into this e.g. by showing us a rabbit with a broken leg.

The representation of this turn in power dynamics is extremely visual (Mahito's new facial expressions, him running away, the split panel with Yuji on the left and Mahito on the right with Yuji's hitherto unseen cold demeanor that's Sukuna-like) with an extra metaphor added on top with the prey animal and predator.

It's really striking though that Gege decided to use this prey and this predator: a white rabbit and white wolf. Two animals mostly associated with Megumi. Yuji himself is mostly associated with a tiger.

For the above metaphor, the rabbit and the wolf are adversaries with an obvious showing of who kills who. For Megumi though the rabbit and the wolf are companions and two of his shikigami that are still alive - except with the white and black wolfs/dogs reversed.

If we were to try and apply this imagery and metaphor onto Megumi, we could come up with the theme that Megumi is his own and biggest enemy right now. His dog and his rabbit existed in harmony with each other but now there is internal strife caused by trauma that ripped those shikigami apart into a state of prey and predator.

If Megumi had been mentally stable (which is an impossibility after all the suffering he was pushed into) he could've reacted to Yuji entering his inner domain by retaking his body. But he's obviously in deep pain and resignation because of outside influences - Sukuna's torture.

Those influences most likely have also caused inner turmoil where Megumi's mind, his heart, his desires, his duties, his concience, everything is working against each other leading him to be in a state of powerlessness. His Cursed Technique and body have been literally used against him as well.

In the next chapters, Yuji and the others will try to bring Megumi to fight back and defeat Sukuna from the inside. From the looks of it, this will be a tough call because Megumi already lost his will to live. Whoever will take the lead on that help and who will contribute what is unimportant right now.

The thing is, even if/when Tsumiki's soul itself starts to talk to Megumi, he'll still be completely defeated because what he had cherrished and wanted the most in his life died at his hands and won't come back. Even if Megumi wanted to listen to Tsumiki and Yuji, parts of him won't get up from that floor he was trapped on for a month completely alone.

In the Mahito metaphor, Yuji is represented for some reason as a white wolf. The anime shows this better with additional black wolves at his side. Yuji's colour scheme, overall but especially in that fight, is black however.

The very first shikigami from Megumi that had been killed was his white wolf and that by Sukuna's Finger Bearer. When we apply the Yuji/Mahito metaphor to Megumi, the white/black inversion of colours becomes significant because it pulls Yuji - the white wolf - into Megumi's struggles.

It also pushes the fear that Yuji will be killed by Sukuna to the forefront. Megumi's metaphorical white wolf might get killed directly by Sukuna who had previously killed his literal white wolf indirectly.

There is also comfort there though when your first fallen friend spiritually guides you back to the light. Megumi just needs to see and understand that and finally find the conviction to live for himself without being bound down by Tsumiki and her death.

(The association between Yuji and Tiger Funeral though is also there. Tiger Funeral did not have a design reveal and I think Gege intentionally made that decision so Megumi could be the first to summon him right after Yuji saves him to show us their bond.)

[lej222]

Please please please make a prediction about how the story will unfold starting from chapter 127 in Aslfua. I am a big fan of your theorie

Well, this is a difficult quiestion, but I will try to answer it. First of all, I believe everything depends on the author's intentions. I've read her previous webtoon, Cheese in the Trap, and I must say she has grown a lot as a storyteller and artist. Unripe Apples, in my opinion, is her best work so far in terms of characters, storytelling and symbolism. From the very start the ending had two different outcomes, at least the part of the ending most readers seem to care about - whether Cheol and Miae will end up together. The author has hinted the possibility of them parting ways since the very first chapters; in fact, when I read the narrator's parts it always feels like the narrator is looking back at the past, recalling fleeting moments that were important to the characters once. It's deliberately like an adult talking to children, noting how their age and inexperience about the world shape who they are in the storyline. Of course, the creator might have wanted them to end up together from the start, or maybe fan reactions and personal opinions could have changed her mind, maybe she always wanted a bittersweet ending and will stick with it - who knows. It will all depend on what she will emphasize in the upcoming part of the story, either way it will be fine.

As for other aspects of the story, I have lots of theories and have read other interesting ones as well.

In my previous post I talked about how ASLFUA should be read as a growth story instead of a romance. Like there are certain people we have to meet in our lives as if it was fated in order to learn from them. If we use this mindset, we can say that differents parts of the story are about the struggles and emotional growth of different characters. Part 1, ending with Miae's birthday, is mainly Cheol's story. It deals with his insecurities, problems and he matures significantly by the end of the first part. One of my personal favourite scenes is when he's just sitting next to the trash, broken, without any hope for the future - it's a visually impressive and tragic scene about a teenager who carries a heavy weight too big for a child. Part two, ending with ch126, is mostly about the changing friendship between Cheol and Miae, and the start of Miae's growth as a person. It is also the first time Jisu gets a center role in the story. Interestingly, characters who are acknowledged by the main characters and start to be a significant presence in their lives get their faces revealed. It's a funny visual solution, because it shows the focus of these kids - one who can expand their world and be a part of it is treated differently than those who are not. Jisu's face wasn't shown before simply because he wasn't the focus of Miae's limited world, once she acknowledged him as a person and learned his name his face was revealed. Part 3, in my opinion, starting from 127 will put more focus on Jisu as a character. There are multiple signs of him being a significant character from the very first chapter.

Jisu is an interesting case though, because we know almost nothing about him. It's pretty obvious that he parallels Cheol in many ways, they are opposites in almost everything. If the story becomes darker as the end of the year approaches, Jisu's backstory might not be as happy as some might first believed. There are numerous theories about him, I've also mentioned some of them before, like how he might be neurodivergent, a son of divorced parents, or maybe even abused. Some of these might be present at the same time, e.g. if he's on the spectrum he might be abused and bullied because of it, people who are different are always easy targets for those who want to abuse their power. Let's not forget his reactions when he was hit by the teacher and it became a running gag with Miae thinking he enjoys the pain - but if you reaaaaaally look at his expression and what he says about it the signs are all there, especially for those who have experienced similar treatment in the past. Jisu enduring all that might be his way of defiance for all we know. Considering that he has started to appear more since part2 and has been featured in ads and promotional arts, I would say his story will take central stage in part3 and will be the catalyst to Miae's growth as a person, in what exact way it remains to be seen.

Cheol and Miae will probably have an awkard relationship after the kiss without real resolution, but will still see each other in the summer. The bully from Cheol's old school will be back for sure, hopefully this time Cheol will ask help from his family and not act alone on the matter. I don't believe the academy kids will be featured that much, but I can imagine a Sora miniarc which could also take a darker turn. They will all have to say goodbye very soon with the end of the year approaching. I don't believe many of them will go to the same high school which ties to my theory that the story is about making connections in different parts of our lives. If Cheol chooses to go back to the countryside it won't be because he's still afraid and wants to hide from others - it will be because he likes being there. About Cheol and Miae the real question is whether they can grow together or if they have a different path they have to take. If it's not in the cards, it's not their fault, they are still kids after all. But if they are destined to be together I think the author will make them both mature together and communicate more about their feelings. I will be able to say more once the new season starts, but I guess these are the most important thematic points the story needs to address. :)

[ladysomething]

Well, I lasted three update emails. I was holding out on starting your new fic so I could binge a lot of chapters at once, but after getting the update email today I just couldn’t wait and to no one’s surprise, I loved every minute of it! Such an interesting world you’ve created and it’s only going to get better (for us, for Charles who knows).

I do have to ask since I’m not a fic writer - when you say you’re expecting this to be around 150-180k is that daunting for you as a writer or exciting? Right now you’re averaging around 8,000 words a chapter so with that average that’s around 20 chapters and with possible (please don’t view this as pressure) weekly updates that’s 20ish weeks of fic! I’m always so curious if this seems overwhelming to writers? I know as a reader it’s so damn exciting.

lol can you tell I’m a numbers girl and not a writer?

ah thank you! I'm so glad you're enjoying it, and I totally understand the urge to want to wait. I'm excited you're coming along on the journey anyway!

moving on to your question, I'll try to be succinct but to nobody's surprise I am an absolute yapper so it probably will be a long and winding answer.

I think firstly, you kind of almost explained it yourself, but in the opposite way. I'm a writer, not a numbers girl haha. I personally (though other writers may have different experiences) don't really think about how many chapters it will be, or how many weeks of uploads, so there is really no opportunity for it to be daunting because it doesn't really enter my mind.

The outline I have for this fic IS broken into chapters, but I already am not sticking to it. When I'm writing, I often explore a scene in much more detail (and therefore many more words) that I expected when writing the note for scene. e.g. today's chapter was like "1. Charles goes into pre-heat 2. max claims Charles 3. Pierre shows up" and then it ended up being 10k. I just finished writing chapter 6, which is also at 10k, and I've ended up having to shift half of what I outlined for chapter 6 into chapter 7 because I found a natural end point and I didn't want to end up with a 20k chapter.

so, for me at least, when I write I make a lot of decisions based on my instincts. does this scene need more, or is it dragging? is this chapter complete, or does more need to be added? is there too much in this chapter, and should I split it?

all of which is to say - my estimate of 150-180k is based on how much I have written so far (55k) and at what point in the story am I up to (I honestly don't think act 1 is done yet). I suspect my estimate of 150-180k is very low, and it's not getting to that word count that's daunting, because it's not what I'm actually working towards.

what IS daunting is trying to tell the story itself. are the characters right? are their intentions coming through? am I hiding what I want to hide? do I have a note of plot I've started at the beginning so I make sure I follow it through to the end? working towards answering those questions is what I'm thinking about, and that is always daunting, no matter whether its 10k or 200k (though.... PWP is always fairly mindless hahaha).

but it IS exciting. especially when people love something. I've written a lot of fic in my time, long and short, complete and not complete, and I can absolutely guarantee that the difference between exciting and daunting is how people react. when people love something ... the nerves are there, but they're eclipsed by the sheer joy of knowing you brought a smile to somebody's face with your writing.

not to get sappy, but I whole-heartedly believe that my purpose on this earth is to make people happy through my writing. if I know that I'm doing that, I could write 200k fic after 200k fic and die a happy woman.

I hope that kind of answered your question anon! long and winding, but fairly thorough? haha

[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.”