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theonewiththefanfics · 6 months

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Dare to Hope, Dare to Dream (Part 1/?)

Synopsys: For three years now, Astarion and his love have been relegated to living in the shadows as he lost his ability to walk in the sun. But one day hope is reignited, and the vampire can't help but reminisce how he got where he is now.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: violence, abuse, talks of SA (if there is anything else that should be tagged, please do let me know)

Word count: 3240

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

There had been a time in Astarion’s life when all he knew was pain. Physical. Emotional. Mental. Pain.

Two hundred years could be simply wrapped up with one word – abuse. What he wanted didn’t matter, what he thought meant nothing, all Astarion was reduced to was a piece of meat to lure victims for his master.

He was flayed for the most minor things, starved and entombed; he had his skin carved apart and then told to lay on his ruined back just to appease the vile tastes of the vampire he was sired to.

But now… now Astarion knew nothing but peace.

In a house which had been rebuilt from top to bottom, walls coloured cream and accented with gold to bring in as much light as he could, he got to live out his life in complete and utter bliss. He never expected to create a home for himself, never expected to live long enough to know what peace meant. Every second of his life had been shrouded by Cazador and his looming presence, like a dark cloud over the summer sky, but the vampire was long gone. Astarion no longer had to watch over his back whether a snap of a twig would be a boar or his old master.

Now the snaps of twigs meant a warm fire being lit in the hearth, a soft body curling against his as they enjoyed their time together.

That was another thing he never thought of having – someone who cared for him. Astarion was aware that years ago, there had been two loving elves, who’d cherished him, loved and worried for him. They called him Astarion for he was their “little star”. From time to time, he did wonder whatever happened to his parents, but then he thought of who he was now, what he was, and pushed those wandering thoughts away. Maybe one day he’d be strong enough to seek them out, but for now, he would enjoy the start of his new life with his love. His fearless leader. His Y/N.

As she lay against his chest, her back to him, he couldn’t help but be grateful for this crazy human to have entered his life. It was that damned tadpole that’d started to push the domino tower over, but it had been her that toppled the pieces that still threatened to stay standing. And despite all the horrors they’d had to go through, he would willingly put himself in the line of fire if it meant finding her once more.

Though as much peace as he had, not all of it was perfect to Astarion’s chagrin. He’d killed Cazador, slain him with his own hands, yes, but as Y/N had begged him to not ascend, pulling him away from the dark urge, the tadpole had been the only thing keeping him walking in the soon. And soon enough, it had to be eradicated as well, unless he wanted to turn into a mind flayer.

It hurt, that realisation as when he stood at the port and felt the sun kiss his skin, but where he’d come to relish in the warm feeling, it was now poison, turning him to ash, making him resign to live his life in the shadows of the night once more.

For two hundred years he’d been deprived of day, and the pain of losing that was even worse than the pain of the sun blistering his body. Tears had sprung out of their own volition and he dashed to hide, raising his cloak and trying to keep any of the rays at bay. As he ran for cover, quick steps followed behind, and when he curled in a ball behind some crates, body rocking back and forth, gentle arms had wrapped around him, a dark cloak pulled over their heads.

Astarion had already accepted to have to spend his life alone, he’d never make Y/N go with him to live like a spawn, but he wasn’t alone. Sure, they had created a bond he had hoped would last well after their adventures, but with the issue of walking in the sun back on the table, he knew it was too large of an ask. To give up one's life in the sun and forever live in greys and blacks – Astarion would never request Y/N such a thing.

Even as she adjusted the material over their heads, he stared up at her, trying to memorise each and every feature for the last time. He was prepared for the heartbreak. As painful as it would be to go on alone, the thought of Y/N happy and thriving would be enough to staunch his bleeding undead heart.

And yet, when he tried to say goodbye, tried to ask for one last kiss, she knocked him on the back of the head before pulling him in a bone-crushing hug.

“You stupid vampire,” Y/N muttered against the skin of his neck. “Where you go, I go. The sun doesn’t matter.”

Astarion wanted to argue, to tell her he didn’t deserve her giving up her life for him, but she silenced him with a gentle press of her lips.

“You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” came his sure reply, tears still rolling down his cheeks, and his hands clutching at her waist.

“Then please believe it when I say I love you. I want to spend my life, however long it may be with no one but you. Where doesn’t matter, as long as we are together.”

Once again, Astarion was ready to argue, but with a single shake of her head, Y/N silenced him. “You told me I cannot make decisions for you. But you can’t make decisions for me either. I want this.” She cupped his face between her loving palms. “I. Want. You.”

And that sort of settled the argument. The guilt still gnawed at Astarion from the inside out whenever he saw how tired Y/N got as she had to adjust to a new sleeping schedule, the couple of months while moving from a life of day to a life of night made his heart ache in sorrow. And the moments when he caught a glimpse of her on their balcony, the last rays of the day beaming down onto her body, making her glow like a deity seemed like a cruel reminder of what Astarion had conscripted Y/N to.

But she never complained. She never even mentioned how much she must miss the world when it wasn’t bathed in shadows. Instead, Y/N always turned to him with the brightest of smiles, one that could rival the burning star in the sky itself, and it made all his doubts vanish to some secluded corner of his mind.

At that moment though, Astarion rearranged himself in the settee, a large book in his hand as he studied embroidery patterns while Y/N ventured off only whoknowswhere.

It had been her idea he should look into tailoring not only as a pastime activity but as a profession. His eye for detail and fashion was unmistakable, and well, it gave him something to do, something to occupy his mind, and, potentially, once he gave into Y/N’s pestering, he could be persuaded into opening up a full-blown business. But for now, Astarion simply entertained the idea and turned to studying new patterns and fabrics.

For the better part of an hour, his darling had lounged with him, discussing what threads would suit best with what colours before disappearing between the rows of the library.

When the larger renovation of the house had been completed, and they at least had a bedroom and a bathroom, the two had taken on a project to present to the other. Astarion had taken it upon himself to convert the rooftop into a beautiful garden with blossoms that would bloom under the moonlight, having scoured the markets and paid ridiculous amounts of money for the bioluminescent flowers, while Y/N had decided to forego having a ballroom and turned it into a library for Astarion.

It’d been a gift unlike any other, and he’d cried the day she finally pushed open the large oak doors to reveal shelf after shelf, row after row of books. She knew how much he loved them, and how, especially now that he’d been robbed of experiencing the world to its fullest, books would take him on adventures across the universe, he couldn’t do so himself.

But what had brought him down on his knees was a large painting placed right above the entrance, and in the commission were the two of them, grinning at one another, Astarion’s lips pulled up in the widest smile, his vampire fangs on full display while Y/N had her arm wrapped around his waist, beautiful smile lines adorning her eyes and mouth.

For the first time in two centuries, Astarion had been able to see himself, and to have been depicted with such love and happiness gleaming on his face as he gazed at his lover was the only way he wished to be remembered in life as well.

With their painted twins watching over the little sanctuary, Astarion flipped a page, his scarlet eyes looking at the golden painting of the flowery embroidery pattern on a long white dress, and his chest constricted. It was something he so desperately wanted to see Y/N in one day if only he could step over his fears and propose when his sensitive ears picked up the sounds of creaking wood, small grunts and huffs, and then a loud thump from somewhere deep in the library.

“I’m okay!” Y/N’s voice echoed through the room, and Astarion sighed, closing the book.

“My darling, I would like for our lives together to be as long as possible.” He ventured deeper between the rows of shelves, finally coming up on Y/N who was scrambling from the floor. “But you and your incessant need to maim yourself seems to be quite the hindrance to my plans.”

How his clumsy human had been the one to become the leader of their rag-tag group while searching for a way to rid themselves of the mind-flayer tadpoles, was beyond Astarion, seeing as Y/N tripped and fell over every single pebble in her way. Even on thin air sometimes.

He extended a pale palm, and she took it with a soft smile. Just as she was ready to let it go and dust herself off, Astarion pulled her into his chest, pressing a gentle, but passion-filled kiss to her lips. “Please do refrain from doing things that might end up with you getting hurt. I rather like having you around.”

Y/N rolled her Y/E/C eyes at his dramatics, but nevertheless gave him a sweet peck. “I didn’t maim myself, I just took a little tumble.”

Instantly worry and guilt roiled through his stomach, no doubt showing on his face by the looks of her softening gaze. “Did I drink too much from you this morning?”

“No.” She cupped his cheeks, brushing a thumb over some unruly hairs of his brow. “My Star, you know you could never hurt me. You took what you needed, and you know I’d stop you if I felt it was too much.”

“I just…” he sighed, eyes cast to the ground.

“Star,” Y/N whispered, taking his chin between her fingers, and making him glance up at her. “I fell because my foot slipped. Not because I fell unwell after you fed from me. I am truly alright.”

Astarion took in a deep breath, eyes trailing along her neck where he could still see the faint marks of his fangs. Nothing like the brutal marks on his own left by Cazador who just wanted to inflict as much damage, to mark him as his spawn, but gentle pinpricks, not even her skin was raised.

“Okay.” He nodded. “I trust you.” And he sealed the promise with a kiss, Y/N humming in content against his cold lips. “But do tell me, what was so important you had to crawl all the way up there?” He surveyed the large bookshelf where on the very top row, he could see an empty spot.

“This.” Y/N untangled herself from Astarion’s hold, leaning down to pick up the book she’d fallen to the ground with, dusting off the cover with her hand. “I was looking for this one romance novel I remember getting ages ago, but when I was passing by these shelves, it almost seemed to be… I dunno… calling out? Whispering to me? There was this pull, and I just had to get it?”

Astarion sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Have we learned nothing about strange things calling our names and not responding?”

“It’s why I have you.” Y/N’s smile was saccharine, eyes full of mischief. “You’re my impulse control.”

“Well, clearly I’m doing a shitty job of that.”

“Oh relax,” she waved him off. “What’s the worst a magical book could do?”

“Famous last words,” Astarion muttered under his breath, but clearly there wasn’t anything he could do to dissuade Y/N from seeing whatever it was through. “You could have at least asked for help, you know. You remind me of it all the time.”

She gave him the most ferocious glare she could muster, scowling over her shoulder and Astarion had to suppress a laugh behind tightly pinched lips. “Just because I am shorter than you, does not mean I am incapable of getting one damned book.”

“I never said you couldn’t. Just that you might be… vertically challenged… with some balance issues.”

Y/N pointedly ignored the comment and opened the book.

Astarion poked her cheek with his nose, but she didn’t budge, eyes spitefully trained on the pages she was flipping through. “A silence treatment, really, my dear?”

She just tilted her head and hummed.

“Fine,” the vampire condeced. “If that is how you wish to play this, I have no qualms about getting down and dirty.” And his fingers were instantly pressing against Y/N’s ribs.

A sharp intake of breath invaded his ears before she began twisting and turning away from him, uncontained laughter ripping through the silence of the house.

“Alright, alright, I give,” Y/N managed to get out through a fit of laughter. “You win!”

A self-satisfied smile bloomed on Astarion’s face as he twisted her to face him. “And what exactly is my prize?”

“No vinegar added to your wine.” She lightly jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

“You wound me, my darling,” Astarion put a hand against his chest, before resuming the position he was in before, pulling Y/N’s back to him in a tight embrace.

She just hummed, reopening the book he’d taken her attention away from. “That’s what you get for doling out backhanded insults.”

“My darling, I would never dare insult the love of my life, let alone backhandedly. If anything, I do it face to –,”

Y/N’s gasp of wonder interrupted Astarion mid-sentence. “Where did you get this?”

His white brows furrowed, as he glanced over her shoulder at the large tome in her hands where the picture she was gazing at seemed to be glowing. “I didn’t get this.”

“Oh, come on.” He could practically feel the eye roll. “You don’t have to lie to me. You and I both know our house has been paid. And not by our own money.”

“My darling, I would never deceive you about my looting ways.” Astarion chuckled. “Believe me, you would be the first person to know of my new… gains, but this – this isn’t something I found. And I do think I would remember if I did.”

The library might have been a gift from Y/N, but Astarion knew of every single book in it, he knew the row and the place where to find it. Not once in the three years since they had lived at their home, had he seen such a tome.

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she inspected it, on instinct, Astarion from where he’d perched his chin on her shoulder, pressed a gentle thumb between the worry lines, trying to smooth them out. He didn’t like it when she worried. She was supposed to be happy, content, smiling and laughing like in the painting of the two, though as inferior as it was in showcasing her true beauty. The time for worries was over.

“Maybe we should contact Gale?” Y/N mussed, closing the book and glancing over the cover before flipping it open again. “He could probably figure out what this is. If you didn’t put this here, and I for one, most definitely didn’t, it might be up his alley.”

Astarion groaned at the mention of the wizard. “My darling, you know better than anyone magical items and Gale,” he gagged on the name, “do not mix. He’d probably eat it before telling us anything useful about what’s in it or where it’s come from.”

“Get over it, will you?” She slapped his arm lightly, soft laughter escaping her lips. “It’s been years by now, and I’ve gotten you so many other pairs of boots.”

“The boots are the smallest of slights, darling.” Astarion pressed a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head and hid his nose in her hair. “I still remember how he tried to romance you, so I will be petty for as long as I wish to about anything I want to when it comes to that git. He tried to make you his.” His words were almost a whine of a petulant child. “When your heart was already mine. And I don’t share.

“Yes, my Star, I am very well aware of that.” Y/N chuckled, as he slowly swayed them to a song only he could hear, but both of them stopped as if frozen by a spell when her fingers turned the page.

There on the left side of the opening, a gorgeous image covered the paper by a peculiar image. On the top half of it was depicted the night sky, stars twinkling all around while the sun, not the moon, had been painted in gold so bright it almost seemed to glow and just underneath the sun a flower bloomed in full. On the bottom half was a flipped mirror image of the scene – the same flower only closed while the sky above it was that of a bright blue day and where the sun should have been, glowed a pale moon.

As his eyes scanned the drawings, they flitted to the right page as well. It wasn’t intricate, there weren’t any weaving designs around the edges, completely nothing else apart from twelve lines split apart in fours, written in a language Astarion couldn’t read, but there was something about the picture that made his chest squeeze and mind reel.

Hope. That was the feeling tightening around his heart. Hope of what the picture could mean – a flower of darkness blooming in the day and resting at night. A creature of night like him living a life in the sun.

“You know, you are always right, my love,” he mumbled as Y/N dragged a careful almost reverent finger along the paper, no doubt her mind coming to the same conclusion. “Maybe we should contact the wizard.”

When she turned around to face Astarion, his breath caught in his throat for such undeniable hope glimmered in her eyes. “I’ll write to him right now.”

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

A/N: So Tumblr is imposing text lenght now.... wtf... or is that just me? I was going to put this in a one-shot, but now I have to split it apart, so this is Part 1 or who knows. This man made of pixels on a screen is ruining my life. I want him now ! (with his consent, of course)

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brittsacademia · 1 year

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• Title: You're My Bitch Tonight

• Pairing: Sub!Dabi X Dom!Reader

• Summary: You couldn't remember what prompted you to snap, but one thing you did know was that you'd make a bottom bitch out of Dabi.

• Word Count: 8,980

Notes: Here it is! The offspring of my current Dabi brain rot and life frustrations! Enjoy the filth, this came out way longer than I originally anticipated. It was supposed to be a short Drabble at first, then I got out of hand. Oops.

Minors, DNI. NSFW under the cut.

Dabi. An A-ranked villain, former leader of the League of Villain's Vanguard Action Squad, and current lieutenant of the Paranormal Liberation Front's Violet Regiment — one of Japan's most wanted. He was a dangerous guy, one that could set fire to the skies and watch with a bored, unbothered glint in his eyes as the ashes of his victims dispersed with the wind.

This was a man set on revenge, one who would stop at nothing to ensure his success. None could stand between him and his goal, less they'd want to face the consequences — an agonizing demise; burned alive with no mercy.

He was a man who held all of the world's hatred in his eyes. A single glance from Dabi would be enough to make even the bravest of heroes second-guess their courage, wondering if their life was worth the attempt at capturing the blueflame user.

Dabi. A man who has killed over thirty innocent people with a straight face, and you knew for sure that more bodies would be added to that ever-growing list.

That's what the news and public said, and you supposed that yeah, they all had a very valid point. It was the truth.

You blinked, looking down at that very man — that very danger to society. Your lips twitched, threatening to break out into a sadistic grin. Your stomach fluttered with excitement because, at the moment, Dabi was none of those things.

Straddling his thighs as he laid on your bed, you never broke his gaze, remaining nonchalant as those pretty cerulean eyes of his narrowed at you with pure anger. You were sure that, should he have the capability of speaking, he'd be spouting some colourful words to express his disdain.

The dark room was illuminated by a hue of (colour) that emitted from your body due to your quirk. The abstract markings adorning your arms glowed, signalling the activation of your quirk, as did your eyes. You knew you lacked pupils at the moment — an aesthetic side effect — and it made you feel like some sort of divinity.

Disembodied, ghost-like hands of the same, faint colour held Dabi by the wrists, pining them above his head. You wouldn't even allow him full control of his legs as another pair of hands held them down; you didn't want to give him the opportunity to squirm much, after all.

And you figured that, since you could produce and control six hands at a time, why not clamp one down on his mouth? Shut him up, for once. It had been your initial goal, but it had escalated.

What had you been arguing about prior to this? You couldn't even quite remember, but that wasn't your preoccupation at the moment. All you could focus on was just how fucking turned on you were at the thought of having full control for once.

His words came out as inaudible, muffled grunts. You tilted your head, fingers tapping at your chin in mock contemplation.

"I dunno, babe. You look right at home down there," you said, voice nothing short of condescending. "If I had known that you'd look this pretty, shit, I woulda done this much sooner."

Of course, you got no coherent response, only sounds resonating from deep within his chest.

"Great. I'm glad we finally agree on something," you said, nodding as you pretended to have a normal conversation.

Dabi's stare hardened — obvious disagreement.

You raised a brow as you watched the hands holding him down glow brighter before dimming once more, signalling his attempt at using his own quirk. The sad display beneath you made you laugh.

"Babe, c'mon. Seriously? You know your quirk won't work while mine is latched onto you," you said before shrugging and making a vague hand gesture. "But by all means, go ahead and feed me more strength. It makes things even more fun."

A sixth hand materialized, slipping beneath his shirt and slithering its way up his torso. It reached his face, tenderly cupping his cheek before offering a few patronizing smacks. They weren't rough, by any means, but they had their desired effect of making Dabi's eyes glimmer with violence.

"Okay, okay," you nodded, mostly to yourself. "I think I'll let you speak a little."

You removed the hand that had been latched to his mouth, sliding it down his neck where you could feel his racing pulse; he was into it, but over his dead body he'd admit it.

Now able to speak, Dabi didn't skip a beat. "What the fuck?" He spoke the words slowly, drawing out every syllable with a low tone in a show of frustration.

"What?" You sneered. "I thought you got off when I'm pissed, so what gives, huh? Can't handle it now that I'm the one who's decided to put you in your place?"

"My place, huh?" He chuckled in disbelief, shaking his head. "Wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry, I guess I should speak more clearly," you said, placing yourself atop the growing bulge in his jeans. You leaned forward, pressing your chest against his as your lips inched closer to his ear. "Your rightful place as a little bottom bitch."

"Fuck y— hmph."

Dabi didn't get to finish his sentence as you slipped cold fingers into his mouth, nearly hitting the back of his throat. Although the hand wasn't attached to your body, you could still feel the wet, slimy texture of his tongue.

"You can bitch all you want, Dabi, but we both know you're enjoying this as much as I am," you said, sitting straight before rolling your hips against his for emphasis.

You could have sworn that you saw his eye twitch, and you weren't quite sure if it was from arousal or anger. It was then that you softened in the slightest, sliding your hands — your real ones — up and down his sides soothingly as you removed the fingers from his mouth.

"... You know you can tell me to stop, right?" You said, making it clear that, although you were mad at him, you weren't there to make him uncomfortable either.

Dabi looked you in the eye, brows still firmly furrowed, as he held your gaze before casting a glance to the side. It was as if he were ashamed of his predicament and the conflicting feelings swirling inside of him. His mind screamed at him that this new territory wasn't for him, that he'd much rather have you all bent over for him to take his frustration out on your cunt. On the other hand, however, his cock said the opposite, nearly begging him to give in and see where this would go.

Fuck, he'd be a liar if he said that you looked anything but hot at the moment.

Eventually, he settled on his classic, shit-eating smirk. "Fine. Go ahead and have your little power trip. Enjoy it while it lasts, 'cause you know damn well what I'm gonna do to you when this is over."

"I think you're a little confused there. You should be more concerned with what I'm going to do to you," you said with a tilt of your head. "If, for whatever reason, you can't talk, try using your quirk if you want to stop. I'll notice."

“You're being awfully soft for someone who claims to be pissed with me," he said, still being a nuisance. You wondered if it was just Dabi being himself, or if he was being a brat as part of his play. Both, probably.

You smiled; it lacked any warmth, only holding a warning. "Don't worry. I won't be playing soft for too long."

Not being able to move his arms, Dabi gestured with his head, sneering. "Then impress me, sweetheart."

You chuckled. Poor thing didn't know what you had in mind for him, now that you had the green light for full control. That bratty attitude of his? It'd be gone. His pride? Shattered. His mind? So fucking broken.

Ghostly hands that had made their way down to the hem of his shirt, teasingly fiddling with the fabric, now had a firm grasp as they began to lift the clothing up above his head before disappearing into thin air. You made sure to relish in every bit of skin — every purple patch and glistening staple — that was revealed to you. Your gaze was piercing, unwavering and studious, but no less appreciative; it made Dabi swallow hard.

You leaned forward again, lips hovering over his. "I don't think you'll be disappointed."

In an attempt to salvage any remnants of control he had, Dabi pressed his lips to yours in a hard, passionate kiss that took both your breaths away. You allowed his tongue to flick against yours before he licked at the roof of your mouth, offering a pleasant tickling sensation that travelled down between your legs.

As much as you enjoyed his tongue inside your mouth, you had enough of this. You wouldn't allow him to think he had an edge over you, and so, as he attempted to slip his tongue deeper into your mouth, you pulled away, closing your lips around his tongue. You sucked at the muscle as you backed away, and you heard a frustrated grunt escape Dabi as you did so.

You smirked and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. You edged closer to his ear, making sure to barely brush your lips against the skin of his face as you made your way up there. You were sure that he could feel the way you grinned, unable to hide your excitement from the sudden rush of power traversing your body.

Your tongue dragged along his earlobe, pulling a deep sigh from Dabi. Kissing down his cheeks to his jawbone, you made your way to his neck, and you slowly licked down his pulse point, leaving a glistening trail of saliva in your wake before sinking your teeth into the junction between his neck and shoulder. You nicked his collarbone — a sensitive area of his — with your tongue closely following to soothe the little marks you left across his body. Beneath you, Dabi's hips shifted, cock jumping at the attention. You could feel the way his thighs tensed, and you just knew that every fibre of his being wanted to pin you down.

But he was powerless — powerless against you, an ordinary civilian — and fuck, seeing someone like Dabi being reduced to something so pathetic was a work of art that you were dying to immortalize.

"You're lucky I'm letting you do this," Dabi grumbled.

"Mhm," you hummed, barely acknowledging his words. All bark, no bite. Not that he could bite at the moment.

And a ghost hand was back to his mouth, silencing him. You felt his warm tongue licking into the palm of the hand — a feeble attempt at deterring you. You quickly glanced up and seeing his eyes full of annoyance, accompanied by unmistakable lust that he so desperately tried to hide, made you laugh. How he could still uphold that look, you didn't know, but you were going to make that petty little glare of his falter.

You gripped the hem of your oversized t-shirt — his shirt — and slowly, very agonizingly slowly pulled it up towards your chest, exposing your near-bare lower body as you only wore lacy underwear. Dabi's eyes immediately fell to your hips, intently glaring at the way your cunt rested so snugly atop his cock. Expectantly, Dabi's eyes wandered to your chest, waiting for your breasts to grace his view, but you wouldn't grant him that satisfaction quite yet. Your expression held cockiness as you took the shirt's hem between your teeth, not fully pulling it over your chest. Instead, from where he laid, Dabi was offered a tantalizing view of the under curvature of your breasts.

As you slid your hands down your body, teasingly pulling at the band of your panties though not removing them, you found amusement in the way Dabi's expression had been breaking as the seconds ticked by. Though anger still remained, it was faltering; it was as if there was an intense battle between anger and burning desire, and the latter was winning little by little.

Slowly, you began rutting your hips against him, moaning as your clit slid against Dabi's erection. With the right amount of pressure, jolts of pleasure shot through your veins that fuelled your arousal, even through the layers of clothing. You could feel Dabi attempt to rise his hips further against you, but your quirk held him down.

If you focused enough, you could make out the way Dabi muttered curses underneath his makeshift gag. His chest began to heave shakily, and his eyes grew heavier from lust as they zeroed in on the rocking of your hips. He watched the way the dangling, blue heart piercing on your navel gently swayed in time with your movements — a gift he had gotten for you last month.

A particularly hard thrust had Dabi grunting. His cock pulsed underneath his jeans and boxers; it was uncomfortable, and he was dying for a shred of relief, but judging by the predatory shine in your irises, Dabi knew he wouldn't be graced with his wishes.

Your shirt was still wedged between your teeth, fabric wet with your saliva. Then, you stilled, abruptly stopping your ruts as you slipped your panties to the side, giving Dabi a slight peek at your slick cunt as you made a show of stroking your lips before spreading them. He wanted to touch you, you knew he did, but you wouldn't let him.

You'd let him watch, though.

Your fingers slid through your lips, and as you brushed against your entrance, you dipped two fingers inside of you, gathering arousal across your digits which you dragged up to your clit. Your moans, although somewhat muffled by your shirt, went straight to Dabi's dick as you slowly stroked your clit up and down. His breathing grew heavier as he remained bound and unable to touch you. The wet shine coating your fingers was beyond enticing to him, and he couldn't tear his eyes away.

You pulled your fingers away from your pussy, letting your shirt fall back down. Now covered up, Dabi's trance seemingly broke, and he was narrowing his eyes at you once again.

You made the hand covering his mouth disappear, allowing him to speak, but before he could do so, you leaned down, gripping at his jaw to keep him in place as you brought your wet fingers to his mouth.

"Come on, babe," you prompted.

Dabi said nothing, only shifting his gaze between your face and fingers before reluctantly opening his mouth, allowing you to dip your fingers inside. He couldn't help the grunt as your taste hit his tongue; he savoured it. He closed his lips around your digits as you began thrusting them gently.

You licked your lips before parting them in a breathy exhalation as your cunt clenched at the sight beneath you. "Hollow your cheeks, hon."

When he didn't immediately comply, you roughly hit the back of his throat, making his body jump as he gagged rather loudly. His strong reaction made you coo condescendingly, and you were sure that, should he have been capable of producing tears, his eyes would be watering. Would it make you a shit person for saying that you wished you could see him cry in this context? Maybe, but you didn't really care.

"I won't ask again, Dabi," you said.

It was fucking humiliating, but Dabi eventually caved and did as you asked, hollowing his cheeks around your fingers, effectively creating more suction.

You groaned at the sight. "Fuck yeah. That's it."

You thrust your fingers a bit faster, occasionally hitting the back of his throat — though not as roughly as the first time — as you desperately wanted to hear him make those lovely gagging noises again.

"That's it, bitch," you said. "God, wouldn't you look pretty sucking on a cock?"

His eyes hardened at the degrading nickname, feeling beyond humiliated as a growl reverberated from deep within his chest.

Eventually, you pulled your fingers out of his mouth, which were heavily coated with his saliva. Dabi panted, attempting to catch his breath.

"Screw you. Fuck you," Dabi hissed at you.

"So vulgar..." you mused.

You gripped at his face, pressing onto his cheeks. "Open your mouth," you commanded.

He stubbornly gritted his teeth, attempting to turn his head away from you in defiance. You huffed, unappreciative of this bratty attitude of his. You tenderly cupped his cheek, tracing the seam of his marred skin with your fingertips in faux sympathy before giving him a nice smack. It wasn't hard enough to harm him, but enough to leave a red blotch on his healthy skin.

What you didn't expect was the damn-near pornographic moan that escaped him upon impact, pupils blown wide with want.

Freak.

"Open your fucking mouth," you repeated.

He did, and when you leaned over his mouth, lining up yours with his, Dabi had a feeling that he knew where you were going with this; he had done it to you before. Payback's a bitch, he supposed.

You let your saliva drop into his mouth, and you were satisfied to see you didn't even need to tell him to swallow. He did so immediately, making a show of gulping audibly.

"Good boy," you said, rubbing the mark on his cheek. "Say thank you."

"... Thank you," he muttered gruffly, cringing as he said it; the words sounded as though they had physically hurt him to say.

You nodded approvingly and appreciatively. Perhaps he was beginning to submit to you a bit more; you were making progress.

You sat back up, running your hands down his toned chest before your thumbs rolled his nipples, making sure to play with the pretty barbells pierced through the sensitive flesh. The attention made Dabi bite his lip harshly, wanting nothing more than to cut off any moan that threatened to escape him.

You took it as a challenge, leaning down again as you flattened your tongue against a bud while your thumb and index fingers continued toying with the other one. Your tongue swirled, flicking the barbell around, making Dabi's body shake, the stimulation to his chest feeling overwhelming with your precise and rapid movements.

"Ngh... fuck, babe," Dabi moaned. It was strained as he tried to contain the noise.

You hummed, pressing a multitude of sloppy kisses to his body as you trailed downwards. His abs tensed underneath your lips, watching in anticipation as you neared the one place he wanted you the most. You slid your nails down the attractive trail of white hair until you reached the bulge in his pants, flattening your palm against it. You felt him up, groping as you revelled at how hard he was. You sat straight as you undid his belt and jeans.

"Fucking, finally," Dabi sighed, already feeling less confined.

You hummed, pulling Dabi's pants and boxers down his legs and letting his heavy cock slap onto his lower abdomen, leaving behind a small puddle of pre-cum. The liquid seeped from his tip, running down his shaft and making that pretty frenum piercing of his glisten further. The sight had your mouth watering, watching how he throbbed with a desperate need to cum.

You finally pulled your shirt over your head, effectively distracting Dabi as he focused his attention on your bare skin. As you did so, you took the opportunity to command your quirk to fumble beneath the bed, subtly pulling out what would be the main event of your night. Tossing your shirt to the floor, you smirked as you watched the hands emerge, holding the items, which did not go unnoticed by Dabi.

"What the fuck are you looking a—"

Dabi's words died as his eyes grew wide upon seeing the bottle of lube and harness that bore a realistic, beige-coloured dildo — around six and a half inches, curved with some texture and a smooth tip. Dabi gulped, knowing damn well what you were implying, but still, he managed to glare up at you in an attempt to salvage his wavering dignity.

"What in the fuck is that?" Dabi hissed. It was rhetorical, but you still answered.

"That," you gave him a bored look as you pointed at the toy for emphasis, "would be a strap-on."

His glare hardened. "I fucking know what it is. When did you even get that?"

"Gag gift from a friend," you shrugged, running your hands along his thighs before snaking them towards his ass. "And I am going to use that little toy to fuck this," you said, squeezing the flesh teasingly.

"As if I'm letting you do that. You're out of your mind," Dabi said.

"What?" You sneered. "Is the big, bad villain scared of a bit of cock in his ass?"

Perhaps it was wrong of you to play with his ego as such, but again, you didn't really care. Besides, you weren't about to ignore the uncharacteristic hue of pink coating Dabi's cheeks.

"I'd rather fuck into that pretty little cunt of yours," Dabi said.

"I'm sure you would," you said rather casually as you set the strap-on next to him and grabbed the lube. "Anyway, that's for a little later. I've got other things I want to do to you first."

You gripped the base of Dabi's cock, pouring a generous stream of lube onto it. With both hands wrapped around his girth, you slowly glided up and down his shaft to thoroughly coat it and your hands in the slippery liquid.

You chuckled under your breath; if Dabi thought you would jerk his cock as you usually did, he was sorely mistaken.

Reaching for the tip of his cock, you brought a fingertip to the head, tracing your finger in slow circles around it as to tease him. The lube slicking his cock made the simple action that much more satisfying, and you could see more beads of his own pre-cum leaking down and merging with the lube. The mild stimulation was enough to make his dick jump from how aroused and needy Dabi was.

"So reactive, and I'm not even doing anything," you cooed.

You wrapped your hand at the base of his tip, making sure to pump at a tortuously slow pace, twisting your hand and letting your thumb rub against the frenulum of his cock — the area's sensitivity being amplified by the piercing — before teasing his slit.

Dabi threw his head back, teeth gritted as he finally received the attention he wanted. You could see his thighs tensing and shaking as you repeated the action, over and over, but never picking up the pace.

Your unoccupied hand reached for his balls, gently caressing them and offering the occasional squeeze, which earned you more streams of pre-cum, and a pretty moan from your villainous boyfriend.

Dabi's lips parted, sucking in a breath. It felt simultaneously amazing, but barely enough. Dabi was used to rough sex and harsh tugs at his cock to get him off, but you seemed adamant on depriving him of such, content with edging him towards his release.

And you fucking knew that, but you liked watching the conflict on his face. You loved seeing how engorged his cock and heavy his balls were from the need to cum. You adored watching his brows crease together as his eyes clenched shut.

"F-Fuck. Go faster," Dabi asked.

You stopped your movements altogether, seemingly contemplating his request, and Dabi had thought for a moment that he'd get what he wanted.

"Hm... no," you said, smirking in the slightest as a brief look of defeat crossed Dabi's features, though it was gone in an instant.

What kind of fucking monster had he allowed control of him?

Placing your palm atop the tip, you extended your fingers in a claw-like manner before gliding them up and down, from the head to the shaft, still keeping the same, lazy pace. You varied the pressure, offering a variety of sensations that had him arching his back.

Lowering both your hands to the base of his cock, you leaned down and swirled your tongue at the underside of his tip before sensually lapping at his slit, tasting the mixture of lubes as you maintained eye contact.

You took him into your mouth, fully taking him until he hit the back of your throat, but you didn't offer much more, immediately popping off of his dick and resuming your torturous handjob. The whine that escaped Dabi was so worth it.

"Maybe if you beg for it, I'll go faster," you said.

"You've gotta be kidding?" Dabi hissed.

You shook your head, keeping your concentration on his cock. You could practically feel the sheer humiliation radiating from Dabi's very soul.

".... Please," he visibly gritted his teeth as the word left his mouth. "Please go faster. I need you to go faster."

"Aw. Good boy," you said, genuinely smiling. "No."

"Excuse me? You fucking said—"

"Maybe. I said 'maybe'," you said, suddenly gripping his dick in a tight hold, immediately causing it to pulse in your hand. "You don't need me to go faster. I'll make you cum by my own means. Thank you very much."

You let go for a moment before slapping his cock hard enough for Dabi to fucking yelp. His cheeks were bright red, tongue darting to wet his lips.

Your hand gripped him once more. "You're just a masochistic little whore, aren't you?"

Touching the tip of your index finger to your thumb, you made an 'O' shape with your fingers, and starting at the tip of his cock, you stroked him downwards, and as you reached the base of his dick, your other hand repeated the process. Like an escalator type of motion; it had Dabi's cock twitching with every one of your movements.

Dabi's breaths grew heavy and rapid, and his thighs were so tense his body shook. His cock pulsed frequently as his head was thrown back.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he moaned, drawing out his words. "'M close. 'M so fuckin' close."

You hummed knowingly, yet you made no move to speed up as you normally would when he was close to orgasm. You were determined to draw this out as much as you could.

You began stroking his cock in a more standard motion, and to Dabi's horror and your sadistic amusement, you slowed your movements even more. He didn't know it was even possible.

"No! Ngh... fuck. Don't fuckin' slow down," he grunted. "The fuck's wrong with you?"

"Fuck yes! That's it," you moaned as he reached his peak.

It was unlike anything you had seen before: thick cum slowly beading at his tip before trickling down his shaft and gathering onto your hand and his pelvis. You've never seen him cum like this before, and you were mesmerized by every new drop that slowly dripped down his cock.

Dabi's reaction was beautiful. The grunts were loud, drawled out in a low tone that came from the deepest pits of his chest. His eyes had nearly rolled to the back of his skull as his tongue lolled out of his mouth for a brief second.

This was the longest orgasm he had ever gotten, and Dabi's head thrashed from side to side as he began feeling the overstimulation. Fuck — he was still leaking with cum; it wasn't over yet.

"H-Hah, fuck...!" He panted.

As his orgasm began to subside, your lips curled into a nearly-lopsided grin that Dabi missed due to his eyes being clenched shut.

"Take a deep breath, baby," you said.

"Why...?" He asked confusedly, still in a post-orgasm haze.

"Just do it."

He eyed you wearily but did as you asked. You watched as his chest rose, lungs being filled with oxygen. Before he could get a chance to exhale, you summoned your quirk, bringing a hand up to his face. You not only covered his mouth but also his nose.

Dabi's eyes widened at the sudden realization that he couldn't breathe, sending a brief shot of panic through his veins. He looked you in the eye, and as if you could sense his feelings, you softened.

"Remember what I said earlier?"

Dabi did; you were reminding him that he had the power to stop this at any given moment. He blinked, panic subsiding as he nodded. He became oddly relaxed for a man deprived of a necessary function for survival.

He trusted you.

You smiled at the green light and went straight back to work.

Unable to sharply inhale, his chest jumped as your hand resumed jerking off his cock — fast and rough. Your thumb stroked all of his most sensitive spots.

Dabi's eyes rolled to the back of his skull; grunts and moans remained caught in his throat. He was so fucking sensitive, and he wasn't sure if his head spun because of the overstimulation or from the lack of clean oxygen.

"What? Didn't you want me to go faster? I'm pretty sure that's what you were begging for earlier. Please, please go faster. I need you to go faster," you said, mocking him as you threw his previous words right back at him.

This was a foreign feeling to Dabi. Everything about this situation was foreign to him. But breath play? It was the last thing he expected out of you.

Dabi's Adam's Apple bobbed as the air trapped in his lungs tried to escape, cheeks bulging out as he grunted against the hand in an attempt to suck in fresh air. It was in vain; the hand was tightly clamped and suffocating him. His adrenaline seemed to be spiking, and it went straight to the swell of his cock.

He could hear his heartbeat thumping loudly in his own ears. His chest jumped again, convulsing hard enough that you got a brief view of his ribs.

"Hmph," he grunted again.

Dabi's lungs burned, and that warmth only fuelled his arousal. Fuck — it surprised him how into this he was. As his heart hammered against his chest in an erratic rhythm, his chest began to convulse more often, gagging noises sounding from his throat.

With the relentless way you fucked him with your hand and the lack of air, Dabi began growing dizzy, and he wondered if he was on the verge of passing out. He could tap out, but no way his pride would allow him to do such a thing.

Although his eyes threatened to fall shut, they shot wide open as he felt a second orgasm hit him like a train. It was a powerful one, painting his stomach white, with some nearly reaching his chest.

You took the hand off his face the moment his orgasm hit, enjoying the way he was torn between coughing, moaning and breathing heavily.

You gently stroked Dabi's thighs, shushing him as he came down from his high. Colour came flooding back to his face as he took in big gasps of air. He looked exhausted, and you sincerely contemplated ending the night there, thinking you may have gone too hard on him.

Dabi seemingly took notice of the soft, contemplative look in your eye. While he did appreciate your concern for his well-being, the night was still young, wasn't it?

"... 'S that all you got, princess?" He taunted with a tired smirk.

You laughed, getting back into character. "No, not at all."

You looked at your hand, still covered in Dabi's cum, before looking at him with a smirk. You lowered your hand near his mouth, looking at him expectantly.

"Clean it up, baby," you demanded.

Payback really was a bitch, huh? Dabi thought back to all the times he made you lick him clean, no matter if it was your or his mess. He opened his mouth, allowing you to shove a cum-coated finger inside. Dabi's glare was deadly as his own tangy taste hit his tongue.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not so bad, is it?" You taunted.

He much preferred your taste, but still, Dabi decided to put on a show for you as he began swirling his tongue around your finger, swallowing down his cum. As you removed your finger, his tongue darted towards your palm, sensually lapping up his substance while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck, that's hot," you said, licking your lips as you pulled your hand away.

"You're a freak," Dabi said.

"Yet here you are, indulging me. Face it, you're loving this," you retorted.

For a brief second, you hopped off the bed in order to slide your panties down. You made sure to bend over as you did so, giving Dabi a nice view of your ass and pussy, and peeking over your shoulder, you could tell that Dabi was definitely appreciative of the sight.

"Now," you started, crawling back onto the bed. "I'm not that cruel, so I'll give you a moment to recover a bit before I make you cum again. So, in the meantime, it's my turn to get off."

You crawled over him before straddling his chest, and oh, Dabi now understood what you wanted from him. He smirked up at you, thinking that this was the perfect opportunity to regain a bit of control by making you helplessly cum all over his tongue.

"Yeah? I'll make you feel good. C'mere," he said in a low growl.

"Don't be mistaken, babe. I'm still holding the reins, here," you said.

You got into position, thighs on either side of his head as your pussy hovered above his mouth. You could see Dabi's fingers twitching, wishing that he could grip your flesh and grind you down onto his mouth on his own accord. Dabi's patience seemed to be wavering, especially when you had teased him with your arousal on your fingers earlier. He was dying to replace the taste of himself in his mouth with your essence; just your smell was enough to make his pupils dilate, hazing his brain and fuelling his sex drive.

"God, you look nothing short of pathetic, right now. You should see how desperate you look," you taunted.

Dabi huffed. "Yeah? 'Cause from where I'm lying, your cunt's looking pretty fuckin' wet."

You lowered yourself onto Dabi's waiting mouth without warning. "God. Shut the fuck up."

Dabi's grunts were muffled under your weight, but it didn't take him much coaxing before he began devouring your sweet pussy. His lips closed around your clit, sucking at the sensitive bud as his tongue flicked at it.

You threw your head back, lips parting in a moan as you looked down at your boyfriend, and the look of pure enjoyment in his eyes made your cunt clench, nearly cumming on the spot. Dabi was enthusiastic, sloppily lapping at your arousal with loud and lewd slurping noises as your lube and his saliva sloshed around. Drool dribbled down his chin, and paired with the raven strands of hair that clung to his forehead from all the sweat, his face already looked like a mess.

"Yess. F-Fuck yes, Dabi!" You said, earning you a particularly good flick of his tongue. "Good boy. Fuck, you're good at this. That's all you're good for, huh?"

He blinked, and to your surprise, his eyes didn't turn harsh, they remained curious, pleasured — vulnerable.

Your thighs tensed, squeezing Dabi's head; the man beneath you looked in fucking heaven. You added more pressure to his mouth, essentially suffocating him with your soaked cunt; Dabi never skipped a beat, only eating you out much more vigorously like a starved man.

"Shit, that's it," you moaned, running your hand through his hair before yanking it roughly, earning a muffled moan from him. "I've always wanted to do this."

You lifted yourself off his mouth, allowing him to catch his breath. Although Dabi was panting, he lifted his head off the mattress, attempting to re-attach his lips to your pussy, eager to resume.

"Stick your tongue out, baby. Lemme ride your face," you said.

"Hm.. a'right," he said, doing as you asked.

You lowered yourself back onto his mouth, and you wasted no time in thrusting your hips, gliding your clit against the wet muscle. Your pace was relentless, you were practically using him for your pleasure, but Dabi didn't seem to mind, the pleasured grunts he let out sent delightful vibrations to your cunt.

You pulled at his hair again. "Fuck, you love getting smothered by my pussy, huh?" He answered with a hum. "I think I — fuck — like you better like this. Putting your dirty, rude fucking mouth to good use for once. All bound up for me to use however I want."

Dabi was so focused on our pussy that he hadn't noticed that you had summoned another ghost hand. At least, not until he felt a cool liquid dripping into his ass. Dabi's eyes widened in surprise, looking up at you as if demanding an explanation.

You slowed your movement, looking back at your quirk as if you had been none the wiser to what was happening. "Oh, that? Don't worry, baby. I need to stretch you out a bit."

The hands that had been holding his legs down throughout the whole night spread his legs further, giving you better access to his hole. The free hand inched closer, soothing the ring of muscles with soft, teasing circles.

"You're tense. I'm gonna need you to relax, 'kay?" You said before lifting yourself off his tongue once more, giving him the opportunity to speak. "Is this something you're willing to try? Just say the word, and the idea is gone."

Dabi felt his resolve crumbling. If this were anyone else, he would've incinerated them on the spot for even proposing the idea. But with you? He could trust you with this kind of vulnerability, something that was difficult — so difficult — for him to show. So, he nodded.

"Yeah, okay. Do what you want. I put you in charge, after all," he said.

You laughed. "If I remember correctly, you didn't put me in charge, I just took it."

"Mhm. Whatever you say."

"Okay, baby. Relax, I'm going to put it in, okay?" You said.

Dabi nodded, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as if to brace himself for the foreign breach that was to come, and when it came, his eyes shot wide open, breathing coming to a sharp halt as his teeth gritted together in a hiss as a chilly finger began pushing inside his ass.

The finger had more girth than the average human size, and so you stilled, allowing him to adjust to the feeling before resuming. You reminded him to breathe, which he obeyed. When he seemed less tense, you pushed deeper until you were knuckle-deep. With the size of the finger, you wouldn't need to insert a second one. It was good training, however, as the dildo size you planned to use on him was rather large for a first-time ride.

"How does it feel," you asked, unable to hide your arousal when you heard Dabi — of all fucking people — whimper.

"Weird... but s'not bad," Dabi grunted, and you could tell that he was holding back his true feelings due to pride.

"Good. You're doing really good," you praised — a stark contrast to your previous behaviour.

But it wouldn't last very long.

Dabi's mind seemed in a haze — in a whole other dimension — so you reached down to lightly smack his cheek to gain his attention.

"You know, you still haven't made me cum," you said, gesturing to your pussy that still remained above his mouth. "You better finish what you started, and I expect you to make me cum before you do. Don't be selfish."

Dabi nodded, eyes glinting with mischief as he accepted your little challenge, and like the obedient little toy you had reduced him to, he stuck his tongue out, waiting for you to smother him.

You moaned loudly; if you thought his enthusiasm was mind-blowing before, it had reached a whole other level. The tip of his tongue dipped inside your entrance before moving to rapidly flick your clit in a consistent up and down motion. The pressure he applied was perfect, and his pace was that of a man on a fucking mission, dead set on the end goal.

Your ghost hand began to thrust, causing Dabi's breath to hitch as his tongue faltered for a moment. In response, you rutted your hips against him — it was a warning.

You slid your finger in and out, setting a slow and steady pace to warm him up. You felt around for a special little spot, one that had possibly never been stimulated up until now, and by God, you were excited to be the first one to hit that jackpot.

As you prodded around, Dabi's whole body suddenly tensed up, and he couldn't stop himself when his mouth unlatched from your pussy as he threw his head back, wheezing as if the wind had just been knocked out of him.

You laughed. "There it is."

You adjusted the hand, making sure that you slid the finger at the perfect angle, continuously sliding against Dabi's sweet spot. You moved at a slow pace, making him anticipate the moment you would hit the area again, and when you did, fuck, the slow pace you set made him feel the intense stimulation on every little nerve ending.

Dabi's tongue lolled out of his mouth, nearly going cross-eyed at the sensation. It was a nice sight, for sure, but you were a little unhappy with the lack of stimulation you were receiving. Your clit felt swollen, pulsing from need.

"Hm... I'm happy that you're enjoying yourself, but don't forget what you're supposed to be doing," you said.

"F-Fuck... ahhh. 'M sorry — shit, feels so fuckin' good — c'mere," he moaned, regaining his focus.

You were relentless as you rode his tongue, not giving him the opportunity to catch his breath. You figured you'd do all the work if your little pillow princess was unable to focus because of one measly finger up his ass.

Dabi's eyes rolled back, grunts and whimpers muffled by your cunt. His senses were overwhelmed, and he was living for it. Your smell, the feel of your skin, your touch, your sounds, the sight of you — everything felt overstimulating.

"F-Fuck! I'm close, Dabi," you moaned, riding him so roughly that your clit occasionally hit his nose. "Are you gonna make me cum, baby?"

Dabi had a hard time answering, even if it was just a hum, especially when the finger began thrusting in time with your grinding. Fuck, he was close, about to hit his third orgasm of the night. He tried his best to keep the cum in his balls, but it proved difficult when you were massaging his prostate like that.

You knew Dabi well enough to know the signs, and you huffed, not pleased that he was failing his task, and so, just as he was about to cum, the finger stilled. You summoned a sixth hand, tightly wrapping it around Dabi's cock while pressing down at the back of his tip, forcing the urge to subside. Dabi whined at the ruined orgasm, eyes twitching as he gave you the most pitiful look you had ever seen on him.

"Uh-uh," you chided. "Remember what I said? I get to cum first."

He nodded, forcing his concentration back onto your cunt, determined to make you squirt all over his goddamn face. Your moans were music to his ears, and he found himself grunting with every little noise falling from your lips. Your head was thrown back, hands reaching for the bedsheets as you gripped them in an attempt to stabilize yourself. Your thighs clenched around his head as they shook, and Dabi could feel your clit pulse on his tongue.

"Dabi! Fuck! C-Cumming. I'm gonna cum," you panted.

You went silent for a brief moment as your body went rigid, and when the tension that had been building in your abdomen snapped, you let out a loud, elongated moan. Your chest heaved with rapid breaths as sharp pleasure had your pussy pulsing from a powerful orgasm. Dabi nearly growled as he savoured your taste when your cum hit his lips. It was a mess as the clear liquid he couldn't catch in his mouth trickled down his chin.

He slowed down his movements, helping you ride out your high until he completely stilled. You lifted yourself off his mouth, backing away so that you were straddling his chest as you caught your breath and recovered from your post-orgasm haze. After all, you still had one last thing to do.

"Fuck," Dabi licked his lips, swallowing down more of your cum, groaning in satisfaction. "Did I do good?"

"Hm... yeah, you did. But now," you said, grabbing the strap-on before stepping off the bed. "We get to the real fun."

You made the hands that had been preoccupied with his cock and ass disappear, making Dabi suddenly feel so empty. He watched as you slipped the harness on, the straps weren't complicated and awkward to figure out, so you didn't fiddle with them all that much.

You crawled back onto the bed, placing yourself between Dabi's spread legs before grabbing the bottle of lube and slathering some on the silicone cock. For safety, you applied some more to Dabi's asshole. You didn't want the stretch to hurt him, after all.

"You look pretty ecstatic with this. You have some kind of weird fetish for me with things in my ass, huh?" Dabi teased.

"Maybe I do. Who knows? Maybe next time, I'll make you wear a cute, fuzzy tail butt plug," you said, lining yourself up.

"As if I'd let you do that."

"That's what you've been saying all night, yet here we are."

You held onto his thighs, locking eyes with him. No words needed to be exchanged for Dabi to know that you were asking if he was ready, to which he nodded. Dabi exhaled, forcing his body to relax as he felt the tip of the cock prodding at his hole.

The toy began breaching, making Dabi's breath hitch. Shit — he was suddenly happy that you had prepped him with your quirk, that thing was much bigger than he had anticipated. Dabi's breath caught in his throat as you slowly pushed in deeper before stilling as means to let him adjust. His cock betrayed him, throbbing and seemingly getting even harder at the sensation of being filled up.

"Fuck. Oh my Go—" Dabi's words died down as his head fell back into the sheets, mouth parting in a silent moan.

You leaned down, pressing a surprisingly loving kiss to his lips, serving as a distraction from the stretch. Dabi lazily reciprocated, being as delirious as he was. You then brought your lips to his ear.

"I'm halfway in, okay? Just relax, it's gonna feel so good soon," you shushed with a reassuring tone that had Dabi nearly melting.

The shift between your harsh treatment of his body and your soft, caring side gave him whiplash at times, but he had to say: he loved it. He loved how you knew which side to use at which moment. Dabi would have never guessed that you would make such a good top, but you just kept surprising him, didn't you?

Gently, you pushed the dildo further in, pulling a sharp gasp from Dabi as you bottomed out, your hips firmly pressed against his. Again, you let him adjust to the depth the toy was reaching, to the stretch it was providing. Your thumbs traced soothing circles into the healthy skin of his thighs.

He had better enjoy this tenderness while it lasted, because you were going to fucking destroy him.

You gave an experimental thrust, only pulling out halfway before pushing back in; it made Dabi's body jolt. Grinning at his pleasured reaction, you fully pulled out the toy before giving one hard, deep thrust.

"A-Ah!"

You grinned. "Atta boy. That's it."

You rocked your hips, rolling them in an attempt to find the perfect angle to hit his G-spot. The lube made the glide so slick and easy, and you found that Dabi's tight little hole had adjusted rather quickly, allowing you to push your hips against him rather roughly.

"Holy shit," you moaned, the sight underneath you bringing pleasure in of itself.

Dabi already looked fucked out, dignity thrown out the window as curses mingled with moans and pleas for more, more. His eyes blinked rapidly as if trying to clear his vision from whatever haze took over him, and drool pooled at the corner of his lips from the way the tip of his tongue poked out.

Fuck it, you thought as you fully deactivated your quirk, allowing Dabi not only free rein of his arms and legs but also his flames. But honestly? You had him right where you wanted, and you knew that he was too concentrated on the pleasure to even think about regaining control.

Your skin slapped against his, the rough thrusts making the bed creak. One of Dabi's arms shot to his face, covering his eyes and a portion of his sweat-covered forehead as the pleasure hit him hard, while his other hand gripped at the sheets beneath him. His legs seemed to have a mind of their own, spreading as much as they could to give you better angles to pleasure him.

His cock bobbed in time with your thrusts, and you watched as pre-cum seeped from the red, swollen tip. You knew he wouldn't last very long in this state, and you were fine with that; you just wanted to give him mind-boggling pleasure and make him forget his own fucking name.

"OH SHIT! Fuck!" Dabi screamed, back arching as you hit that spot.

"Right there, huh?" You grinned. "Get ready, baby."

You pushed one of his legs up towards his chest, making him gasp loudly as you found the perfect angle to fuck him stupid. Hearing him whine and moan, chanting your name like a prayer, gave your ego such a fucking boost, and you swore you might have cum from those sounds alone.

You licked your lips as you took notice of the previous spurts of cum painting Dabi's torso. He looked so fucking hot like that, and you couldn't help yourself when you activated your quirk one last time. A ghost hand brought your phone, opening up the camera app as you snapped a picture. The sound of the shutter caught Dabi's attention.

You groaned at the picture — a work of art, is what it was.

"Fuck, Dabi. Look at yourself," you said, bringing your phone to his face.

He could barely recognize himself: matted hair, all wet and clinging to his forehead. His body was covered in sweat and cum, while his lips shined with his drool and your own release. He had the most delirious, fucked-out look he had ever seen in his life, with eyes nearly crossing and rosy cheeks. From the angle, he could see the silicone cock inside his ass, and his rock-hard cock stood flushed and engorged as it seeped with his lube.

You put your phone away, deactivating your quirk. "God, what would they think if they saw you like this? Think anybody would take you seriously ever again? I'm sure I could make a fortune, whoring you out for the world to see. What do you think? One of the most dangerous villains getting fucked by thick cock."

He whined at your words. Even though he knew you wouldn't ever truly do that to him, hearing that little fantasy of yours had his cock pulsing. Dabi couldn't help himself when he reached for his dick, stroking it in time with your rough thrusts, only edging him closer to his release.

"That's it, babe. Stroke that fat cock," you encouraged, pace never faltering.

"G-Gonna... 'm gonna — fuck," he couldn't even form a coherent sentence, the pleasure was just getting too much.

"I know, Dabi," you said. "Do it. Cum for me."

He did, and the overstimulation hit him immediately. He could barely keep pumping his dick through his orgasm without squirming, especially when you slammed against his G-spot, thoroughly milking him dry. The amount of cum that poured out of him was impressive, possibly due to his previously interrupted orgasm. He covered his face with both his hands, grunting loudly yet lowly in a way that resembled a growl.

Your thrusts subsided, and you carefully slid the toy out. You leaned down to press soothing butterfly kisses to his thighs before moving up to his face. Pulling his arms away from his face, you peppered his face and lips with the same, loving kisses. You shushed him, muttering praises as he came down from his high.

"Are you okay?" You asked with genuine concern.

"Yeah. 'M good," he croaked in a tired voice.

"Stay here, okay?" You said, hopping off the bed and ridding yourself of the strap-on before heading out of the room.

Dabi nodded, staring up at the ceiling — not that he could move much at the moment; he felt so goddamn sore and tired. You did a number on him.

You came back after a moment, a sheepish smile on your face as you brought towels and a glass of water. You helped Dabi sit up, bringing the glass to his lips as he tilted his head back. He gulped down the water in one go, throat immediately feeling refreshed.

"What are you doing?" He asked, watching as you unfolded one of the damp cloths.

"Taking care of you."

You brought the cloth to his face, and being mindful of his staples, you cleaned his face of all the sweat, drool and dried cum. Dabi sighed at the feeling, the coolness feeling great on his overheated body. You went lower, cleaning the release off his chest and pelvis. You muttered an apology when Dabi hissed in sensitivity when you gently brought a fresh cloth to his softened dick.

You tossed the towels into a hamper before bringing your boyfriend into a hug, which he reciprocated tightly. "I hope I wasn't too rough on you.”

He chuckled, patting your back reassuringly. "I didn't know you had it in you. I can't remember what I did to piss you off to the point of ragdolling me around in bed, but shit, I must have deserved it."

You laughed, pulling away so that you could kiss his forehead. "So, can I say that I fucked you stupid?"

"Hm... I dunno, but maybe I should piss you off more often if that's the outcome."

"Don't test me," you said, shaking your head. "Alright, lemme go run a bath."

You attempted to get up, but Dabi was quick to pull you back into bed, laying you down on his chest. The warmth of his skin, paired with the calm and steady thump of his heart, nearly immediately lulled you to sleep.

"Nap first. Hygiene later."

437 notes · View notes

lis-likes-fics · 2 years

Text

Green Isn’t Your Color

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader Warnings: Swearing, smoking, angst, sexual insinuations, idk. A/N: This was supposed to be really fluffy, and then I decided I wanted to break my heart. So here we are. Enjoy 13k words of Eddie Munson and Reader being assholes to each other. Also, I fcking love the best friends to lovers trope with this guy. It’s so great.

“What would you think if I started hanging out with Chrissy Cunningham?”

The question is so sudden. With no preface or anything to call back to, you simply turn quickly to Eddie and blink. You offer somewhat of a nervous smile, pinching the half-smoked cigarette between your fingers and adjusting the red beanie on your head. “What?” you chuckle lightly.

He chuckles a little in return, seemingly nervous as he runs a large hand through his hair and shrugs his right shoulder. He repeats his question. “What would you think if I started hanging out with Chrissy Cunningham?”

You don’t know how to answer his question. Is he asking you if you like Chrissy? Is he wondering if he should go through with it? You can’t tell, his eyes don’t give you much to work with, nor do his words. You shake your head and take a long inhale from your smoke, allowing it to fester in your chest for a moment before you blow it out and pass it back to Eddie.

“I’d think you were being weird,” you say, picking at some peeling paint under your hands on the picnic table. You shrug your own shoulder next, trying to ignore the way your heart pounds especially hard in your chest at the prospect of Eddie laughing with the blonde leader of the cheer squad. “It’s Chrissy Cunningham. I mean, I thought cheerleaders weren’t your type.”

He leans back with his hands gripping the edge of the table, laughing a little as he flashes that Eddie-smile that almost has you melting. “My type?” he chuckles. “Who said anything about my type? I said ‘hang out’, not ‘go out’.”

Then your heart quickens in your slight panic to correct yourself. “Oh, well…still,” is your only save. Again, you shrug it off like it’s nothing, shaking your head lightly as you make a little face of furrowed brows and tightly pressed lips.

Eddie’s smile widens, ever-teasing as he licks his bottom lip. “What, are you jealous that we only ‘hang out’? Do you want to ‘go out’ with me, Red?” His joke hits too close to him. You feel the muscle in your chest hammer ruthlessly against your ribcage.

You are quick to respond, though, shaking your head and laughing over the throbbing heartbeat in your ears as he takes a drag from the cigarette and watches. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous!” you lick your lips, you can taste your red lipstick painted over chapstick.

“I don’t like you like that.” A lie. “I hardly like you at all!” A joke. “I mean, it’s just…” A pause. “It's Chrissy Cunningham. Why would you want to go- hang out with her?”

You have no quarrel with Chrissy, you know how kind she appears to be to everyone in the school. You have known of Eddie’s mentions of his liking toward her for years, but never bring any attention to it for fear of making it true.

Eddie shrugs again, “She’s nice.” It’s the only explanation he gives, a half-hearted attempt to convince you of her virtue — or it’s him leaving your answer open for rejection. But you don’t catch that second possibility. It flies right over your Eddie-gifted ruby red beanie that grants you your nickname-sake.

“Alright? And?” you inquiry, as if genuinely looking for another example. And part of you is, but the other part is hoping he’ll drop it all together and forget it ever happened so you can keep him all to yourself.

He doesn’t.

“I need another reason?” he questions, raising a brow and huffing out a half-hearted laugh.

“I mean, yeah,” you lick your lips again and feel your fingers flex toward your bag in an absent-minded search for your lipstick. “Kind of.”

“She caught my attention, alright?” He taps the butt of the Marlboro a couple of times and watches the ashes fall onto the picnic table, which he smears over the wood after a moment of hesitation for the heat.

When you take in that next breath, you feel as though you have not breathed in hours and are just remembering to. You unknowingly allow the breath to drag out and settle. Eddie waits for it before he does continue. “I dunno,” he hums, “maybe I am considering ‘going out’ with her?” He says it like a question, like he’s asking you if it is okay for him to go on a date with Chrissy Cunningham. “Would that piss you off?” You miss the hope in his voice, distracted by his once again teasing smile as he glances up at you through his unruly bangs.

You lean forward across the table and pluck the rolled up parchment from his fingers. “Why does it matter what I think?”

His shoulders fall from a shrug again, his body moving with the action like he’s just a sack of potatoes being dragged around and manipulated by a disembodied being. “You’re my freaky little friend,” he tells you. “I need your opinion.”

You blow out the smoke in your lungs and grab your black tube of red lipstick and black and gold case of a mirror from your purse. “I mean…” you trail off, revealing the small items and twisting the tube open so you can apply it to your lips. “If you want to, I don’t care.” You play it off well, you don’t let any of your true worry or sadness show at his decision to choose Chrissy.

You smear the stick expertly over your lips and pop them in the reflection, looking back at Eddie with the cig still propped between two fingers that also support the back of the hand-sized mirror in your palm. You snap it shut and set it down, re-adjusting the smoke.

“Long as she’s not, like…” you trail off with a “secret” laugh, “beating you up or something.” You go to bring the nearly finished Marlboro with one last good smoke left in it to your freshly painted lips, when Eddie seizes it from your fingers before you can take it.

“Beating me up?” he repeats, furrowing his brows and finishing off the last of it.

You nod and chuckle, “I think she could take you.”

Your next chuckle is more of a laugh as you imagine a tiny girl like Chrissy handing Eddie’s ass to him. He laughs too, even through his little comment back as he slaps his hand over his beating heart and increases his usual level of drama. “You wound me, Red,” he smirks.

“She might,” you nearly giggle.

Eddie shakes his head and rolls his eyes as sarcasm drips from his lips at your words. “Such a sweetheart,” he mumbles, flicking the finished cigarette to the forest floor and turning his body to step on it through the big toe of his shoe.

The next day, you see Eddie Munson tucked away in a darker section of the school's nooks and crannies talking with Chrissy Cunningham. You hate the way it threatens to tear your heart in two. You hate the way it threatens to make angry, hot tears spill down your cheeks as he grabs her hand and lets her fingers graze ticklishly over his palm.

He sees you and offers a smile, albeit a hesitant one. You just nod and force a smile of your own before you leave for class, ripping a path to your classroom to hide away until your next period with him.

And during that next period, you feel his eyes burning holes into your back like a brandishing iron through a cotton shirt. You ignore him, don't spare him a second glance. Perhaps you should have, just to throw him off your trail, but you didn't. You don't. You can't.

And during lunch, you avoid him again. Not in the sense that you don't show up at Hellfire's designated outsider table, but in the sense that you hardly spare him more than a few words, choosing to sit on the free side of Dustin at the end of the table, instead of at your usual spot at Eddie's right hand. It doesn't matter, either way, sitting at his right hand side. He isn't there. You had seen him walking toward the cover of trees where you knew your picnic table was hidden from the rest of the world. You had begun to walk over, to reclaim your spot by his side, but you saw the way Chrissy's eyes surveyed her surroundings in that shifty manner that only came with suspicious intent — her intent to join Eddie in the woods.

It does not stop then and there, nor does it stop the next day, or the day after that. For the next week, you are deprived of your Eddie-time. In his trailer, he either talks about Chrissy, or he isn't even there. At lunch, he either shares what he believes to be sneaky glances at Chrissy, or he isn't even there. And then, at the picnic table or at Skull Rock — for the sole purpose of completely escaping from the world — forget talking about Chrissy, he isn't even there. He was supposed to be there. You had an appointment, you always have an appointment on Friday afternoons to meet. So you go and you sit and you shake your box of cigarettes in your hand and you wait.

For five hours, you wait in the daylight.

For three hours after that, you wait alone under stars that have billions and billions of others to keep them company.

You give up with an unburnt Marlboro between your lips, your red beanie half-shoved in your back pocket, and your Eddie-gifted silver Zippo with a halo-topped demon engraved on the side held up to the end of your cig. You light it up and leave the hideout, climbing in your car back on your way home, where you will find yourself alone in the tiny house you live in with your night-working father.

You end your suffering before the next week begins, as Eddie had hardly spent any time with you over the weekend because of both work and the leader of the cheer squad.

Standing on Steve Harrington's doorstep, you flash him and smirk and lift two beers in your hand. "Wanna hang?" It's your only question with no explanation — well, half an explanation when he asks why you don't just pick your usual buddy — and he accepts. It is the only day out of the past week that isn't horribly terrible because of Eddie's absence.

The next day, you sit with Steve Harrington in the cafeteria and avoid sparing Eddie a single look, even as he continues to burn holes into the back of your head the whole time.

Eddie expresses his concerns as soon as he is able to steal you away long enough to get an answer from you. With the treatment he gave you all last week, it took him a couple of days to finally do it.

You hear his steps rustle through the leaves and twigs scattered all over the floor of the woods. You're neither at Skull Rock nor your picnic table, just some in-between place that separates you from both familiar and new.

"Steve Harrington? Really?"

You don't turn around, continuing your stroll as you shrug and raise a brow. "What?" you mumble in response, taking your beanie off and grasping your box of smokes from its hiding place.

"Steve Harrington," he repeats with a scoff.

You don't humor him and his antics. He just wants to get a rise at you, to make sure you know he's upset about you avoiding him. Good. That was the point. You just got lucky that Steve is actually a fun guy to hang out with. Otherwise, you'd be miserable.

"What about him, Eddie?" you ask, pulling your lighter from your pocket when you take a cigarette between your lips.

He does not let you have it. He takes a large step in front of you to stop you from moving, plucking the cig your mouth and snatching the box from your other hand. He lets you keep your Zippo.

You whine pathetically at his thievery but do not retaliate. "You're going out with him?" he accuses wrongly.

You scoff and shrug, using his own words to respond to him. "Who said anything about 'going out', Munson? We're just 'hanging out'."

"With Steve Harrington?" He continues to insist, despite the calm of your appearance that should have assured him that nothing is wrong. Part of you, a rather large part, is happy he's upset. He still cares.

But you're too petty to turn around and make a resolve. If he wants to hang out with Chrissy instead of you, then you'll hang out with Steve instead of him.

"Yeah," you nod. "Like you and Chrissy Cunningham." You use her full name, mimicking his use of Steve's. It throws it back in his face, but Eddie is quick to recover. Eddie's always quick-witted in his remarks.

Once again, he scoffs and raises a brow as you snatch your pack of smokes back and shove it in your beanie to put back on your head. "What, would you rather I 'go out' with you?"

The question comes out of nowhere for Eddie, and it catches him off guard. Even if you don't realize it. He almost stutters in his reply. His lashes slightly flutter as he tries to recover, you simply take it as confusion. You don't miss the way his face shifts at the notion of the both of you 'going out', like he's finding some sort of hopeful idea as the words leave your mouth. You do not miss it.

But you don't trust it either.

"What– No," he says quickly, crushing your hopes and your heart. "I don't like you like that." You nearly crumble under the weight of his words, but you don't. You keep yourself composed as you face off with him, frustration rising in you to block out his crushing confession.

"I just…" he trails off before he continues, "It's Steve Harrington. What do you even see in him?" There's a touch of jealousy in his voice. You want to laugh at him, but you can't find a laugh in your chest.

Your voice is smoother than you thought it would be, and you internally pride yourself on it. You shrug a shoulder and tilt your head, shifting your weight to your other side as you let out a breath of exhaustion from having to stand for so long. "What do you see in Chrissy?" you counter.

Again, he begins to stutter. It's a stupid blubbering that you recognize yourself in sometimes. He shrugs to cover himself, licking in his lips as his eyes trail off to look away from you, as if he needs to think about it, or like he’s been caught off guard by your question.

“Like I said,” he finally answers. “She’s nice.” It’s all he can give you, and it’s kind of disappointing. He hasn’t been hanging out with you because she’s nice? There has to be more. One of his favorite things about you is that you’re not nice or sweet, but you aren’t mean. Your sarcasm and your humor matches his, and you like the stuff he does.

Him spending a week with a cheerleader and away from his best friend has to have more justification than just “she’s nice”.

But you shrug it off nonetheless, biting back your insistent and unkind words in favor of continuing the conversation without ending with a screaming match. “And so is Steve. He’s nice, he’s a cool guy.”

Eddie laughs, a loud, fake laugh that makes his face split in a smile. He knows you’re not joking, but he’s dramatic. “Steve Harrington?” he questions, his shoulders bouncing with his laughter. “A nice guy?”

You don’t entertain his antics. You respond simply with a stern nod. “Yep.”

“He’s Steve Harrington.”

Your frustrated groan makes you roll your eyes. He watches you put your hand on his chest and uselessly attempt to shove him back, only to nearly stumble away in the process. “Oh my God! Can you stop saying his name like that?” you complain.

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. When he flexes his arms — which are not wrapped in any jacket, revealing his strong biceps to you — you can see the bats on his arm stretch and squeeze, like they're trying to fly off his arm and take flight. "Okay, so," he begins, "Harrington is… well, he's Harrington–"

His primary use of Steve's last name isn't much better, but it is a slight improvement from his full title.

"-and Chrissy is nice. She's sweet, and she's kind of funny and, well, she's Chrissy." His description makes your heart squeeze torturously in your chest. You hate the idea of him liking her so much, even if she is a very likable person.

Eddie continues, tilting his head and shifting to the side as he waves a hand in a dramatic roll. “And then there’s Steve.”

You don’t comment on his insult to Steve, not a lot of you really cares as much. You’re still caught on his description of Chrissy, how he practically gushed over her like a boy with a school crush. Well, technically he is a boy with a school crush

“You sound like you really like her…” you trail off, tasting the words in your mouth with a special kind of distaste.

He shrugs, always shrugging. He looks away, as if the trees around you are suddenly way more interesting than this conversation. “A little, I guess,” he mumbles, looking down at his feet and shuffling some dirt and twigs, stomping on some leaves that provide no crunch to satisfy his distraction.

You dip down to catch his line of sight again, willing him to look back up at you so you can talk to him correctly again. Part of you regrets catching his eyes. They don’t give you a look that makes you want to smile and laugh it off.

He looks at you with a type of spark you hate to see right now. A spark that you wish was meant for yourself, but most certainly was not. It was a spark Chrissy put in his eyes, a light that you wish he could recognize in yours and reciprocate for you.

The silence is unbearable for both of you, but especially Eddie as you stare at him and he stares back. You lick your lips and finally speak what he would not yet admit.

“You love her.”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head, “What– No, I…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, not yet. He examines your face, takes it all in with a consideration you could not find the meaning behind. “Well, I mean…” He sighs and nods slightly. “Possibly,” he admits. “Maybe.”

You want to smile, allow one big enough to fool him to spread over your lips and lighten the mood. To bring the conversation to a slow halt as you nod and tease. “Look at that. A cheerleader squirmed her way into Eddie Munson’s freakish little heart.”

You want to hear him laugh it off and shove it away with a playful hand. You want the conversation to end, to shut your mouth and just go to Skull Rock or something and hang out for the rest of the day.

But you don't. You don't stop your stupid mouth from running, you don't stop the venom in your words from spilling. You can't.

"If you love her so much, then why do you care if I spend some time with Steve?" It was supposed to be a harmless question, but your tone doesn't support it as such…and neither does your following question. "Won't you be a little too preoccupied?"

The insinuation behind your words begin to anger him, but confusion sets in first at your accusation. He leans back and gives you a look. You shake your head and push past him, shoving his shoulder on the way.

"What are you talking about, 'too preoccupied to care'?" His brows knit together in a rising anger. He turns to walk after you when you don't stop, gripping your arm tighter than he means to and spinning you around to face him.

You roll your eyes and shove your hands in the pocket of your jacket. You lick your lips, "I mean, between smoking with her in our spot and fucking her–" his brows shoot up and his eyes widen, his jaw drops unbelievably, "-you wouldn't really have time to hang out with me. So who cares if I spend a little bit of time with Steve Harrington, huh?"

You try to push past him to avoid having to look at him, but he doesn't let you leave, he doesn't let you escape.

"Woah, woah, woah. Back the fuck up," he responds, his voice raising and biting in his rage. "Who the fuck said anything about me fucking Chrissy?"

You don't know how any of this got here, it was a blur of heartbreak and anger at your feelings, which piles up like a dumpster fire that has gasoline being dumped all over it. "I did," you spit. "Because that's what you are, Eddie Munson. You're a little fucker." Your finger angrily digs into his shoulder and his chest, poking anything you can find with a harshness that hurts him more emotionally than physically. "You find something you like, you mess around with it, and you usually end up fucking it up — and if it's too hard, you run."

You try to shove him back with both hands against his chest. He hardly moves, despite your best efforts. His hands grip almost harshly around your wrists, stopping you so he can speak.

"Stop, Red, just stop!" he yells. He makes you look at him, and he scowls at the angry glare you give him. He has just about no idea why you're upset with him. He's entirely clueless to the whole situation.

"How did we get here?" He asks the question on both your minds. "What happened for you to suddenly turn on me like this? We were just talking."

Turn on him? So you're the traitor?

You try not to take it like this, but you can't help it. You grasp at whatever you can, whatever emotion you can find that's strong enough to distract you from the burning in your chest that comes with the unrequited love you hold for him.

You can't help it.

"And you got mad because I'm hanging out with Steve, like I'm your own personal little pet, like you're the only one who's allowed to spend my time." You yank your hands away, but don't even attempt to make a getaway. He'll just catch you again, you know he'll just catch you again.

Part of you thinks you let him.

"No," he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "I asked, 'Why Steve?'" he clarifies. He tries to continue, but you cut him off.

"And if it was Gareth or Jeff or Jason fucking Carver, you'd ask 'why him?'. What, are you jealous, Eddie Munson?"

His hands clench into fists at his sides. He shakes his head and chews his bottom lip, practically seething with his anger. "Stop saying my name like that, Red."

"Are you jealous?" Your anger is like a wildfire. It spreads and burns anything, any attempt to contain the situation and stop this before it goes too far… as if it hadn't already passed that threshold. You want to stop, to find something to cool you so you can just stop. You just want to stop.

But you can't.

The gasoline spills out, pouring like rain and feeding your anger with each little droplet.

"What do I have to be jealous of?" he asks, raising a brow.

Your response is quieter, afraid you may have revealed something during your raging spill of harsh truths and impulsive lies. "I don't know." It's almost a whisper.

"No, Red, what the fuck are you doing?" he insists. You don't respond this time, you look down at your feet and realize your breathing is way too quick and way too unsteady to be normal. You're almost hyperventilating.

Then he says your name. Not your nickname, not some random pet name he uses that makes you a little too giddy, your real name that you have not heard him speak in a very long time, if ever.

Your breathing takes a sudden halt. You can hear your heart shatter, feel it break into a million pieces that scrape and cut and slice at meat and bone. He means to say it as a plea, begging for you to truly communicate, but it doesn't come out that way. He says it with a bite, a snap of a word that has you in some form of anguish you can't wrap your head around.

For a moment, you wonder how he manages it, hurting you with your own name.

"What happened?" he asks. "What are you doing? Where did this come from?"

He's met with more silence. He doesn't let it linger.

"Answer me." His desperation finally seeps through his voice as he continues, practically begging you now for an answer. "What did I do?"

You shake your head and take a step back, Your voice is quiet, almost hoarse. "I can't do this right now, Eddie."

His anger returns. He turns around, walking away from you and circling his spot as he shakes his head. "No," he says, "No, you don't get to do that." He points angrily at you, "You don't get to call me a fuck up and then leave when I ask you to tell me why." His voice cracks a couple of times, just like his heart.

"Eddie–" he cuts you off. He can sense you don't mean to tell him, another attempt at shrugging it off, at escaping.

"No! Why can't you just tell me? Why does hanging out with Chrissy suddenly make me a traitor in your mind?"

Her name makes you explode. Whatever resolve you have left breaks, and your system floods with jealousy and rage. But when you scream at him, he doesn't hear your anger. He hears the tears that squeeze your throat and the pain that claws at your chest as you finally confess.

"Because you forgot about me!"

He steps back, surprised by the outburst, though he knows he shouldn't have been. Your face is flushed, your eyes are glossy, and your fists are clenched tightly. "What?" His voice is the way yours was now, quiet and weak.

"You forgot about me," you tell him. It's no longer a yell, but it's no whisper, and it's no steady sentence. Your voice trembles pathetically and your words are watery in your throat. You can't bring yourself to care.

"When was the last time you came to spend time with me? When was the last time we went to our bench and talked or smoked or, hell, just sat together? When was the last time you invited me over to listen to some music with you — or the last you were actually home when I barged in just to see you?"

He doesn't respond, no longer looking at you, but staring at the ground. He doesn't move, doesn't make a sound.

You lick your lips and join his gaze at the ground, examining your shoes that are covered in dirt. You huff. Your voice is weaker when you speak again.

"Chrissy's a great person," you say, voice soft and rough. "I don't have a problem with her. I just wish you wouldn't choose her over me every time." You look up at him, "You forgot about me, Eddie."

His eyes find your face again. Fat tears spill over your cheeks, tears he's convinced you don't yet know are pouring. His doe eyes are wet, and his throat feels tight.

When he still doesn't say anything, you get angry again. It's the only thing you can do right now. Get angry. So you do.

You clench your jaw and ball your fists, "So excuse me if I blew up because you got mad at me for finding someone else to spend time with me when you wouldn't."

He doesn't respond, licking his lips and considering your words. You huff out a humorless laugh and rip the beanie from your head. You remove your Marlboro box and throw the hat to the ground between the two of you.

You open your mouth to say something, but close it just as quickly with the shake of your head. You turn around and run.

Eddie screams your name, his name for you. You don't respond, you don't stop, and you sure as hell don't turn around. You keep running until you're completely out of his sight.

He's left standing by himself in the middle of the trees, entirely alone, just as you had been that Friday night when you waited for him all day long, knowing he wouldn't show.

He picks up your beanie, dusting off the dirt that stuck to it and grips it tightly with a frustrated yell into the lonely air.

You don't see Eddie outside of school for a couple of days after that. You avoid him like the plague, too scared to go near him and have to relive the events of the days before.

You and Eddie have fought before. No one can truly escape arguments. But this was something you have never had to experience with him yet. You hate every moment of it.

At the end of days, you find your feet carrying you in the direction of your bench in search of him. But you catch yourself, swallow your tears, and make a full turn right back to where you came from.

During lunch, neither of you sit at Hellfire. The guys keep bugging you about it, but you just tell them you have other things that are holding you. They don't believe you, but they don't push either. Instead they bother Eddie, who threatens each of them with exile from the party if they continue to question.

Steve is insistent on making you confront Eddie and fix things. Your mood has significantly changed, and he doesn't necessarily enjoy it. Whenever you hang out with Steve, you find yourself blabbing about Eddie — which isn't too far from the norm, but it's different banter as you dump Steve in your sorrows about your fight.

It doesn't help that Eddie still spends most of his time with Chrissy. The jealousy you refuse to admit to yourself continues to grow, and it only makes it harder to try to make up.

You're not entirely sure you can make up. And neither is Eddie.

But Steve and Chrissy seem to be pretty damn sure of it.

You don’t notice her as she walks over to your car. With headphones over your ears and music blasting through each side, you cannot hear her steps as she approaches, can’t see the mix of white and green and orange with your nose shoved in a book. It’s not until she reaches your car, stopping only a couple feet away, that you see her out of your peripheral vision.

She’s tentative as she waits for you to fully recognize that it’s you she’s standing in front of, and not simply wandered nearby to. You aren’t used to people just walking up to you, at least not people you don’t regularly hang out with who are not naturally loud enough to nearly always draw attention to themselves.

When you finally look up at her, wide-eyed and confused, you remove your headphones and look around yourself. “Uh, hi?” you mutter, taking in the shy smile on Chrissy’s face as she watches you.

She raises a hand slowly, opening it in a greeting as she slightly ducks her head. Her smile widens for a moment, a kindness residing in it that you find is rare in a lot of people. “Hey,” she greets bashfully. You must be very bad at pretending to be alright, because her next question is a question of your wellbeing. You don’t expect it to come at all, especially not from a person whose world is not within the same realm as yours.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” It catches you off-guard. You close your book and toss it through the open window of your car, resting your elbows nervously on the top of the hood. She’s about to repeat her question when you accidentally cut her off. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

She tilts her head slightly, caring eyes filled with a depth you don’t expect, but a depth you aren’t surprised to see. “Are you sure?” she wonders, her brows knitting together in concern.

“Yeah,” you nod quickly, knowing you aren’t fooling everything with your horrible lying skills. “Why do you ask?” You bite your bottom lip, looking around to see if there are any other nosey onlookers who are trying to figure out what the cheerleader-leader and the right-hand-freak could possibly be talking about.

Part of you is wondering if Eddie is nearby, watching the interaction, avoiding you. But you don’t see him.

She gives a gentle shrug, thinking for a moment to try and find the right words. “Dunno, you just seem a little…” she trails off, trying once again to find the right words. “…upset. Is it about me and Eddie?”

You dread hearing the name slipping past her lips. Having to think about him every time you think is already hard enough, but hearing her say his name to you seems to somehow make it worse.

You stumble over your words as you try to ignore the stab in your chest at the mention of him. It’s not like you haven’t heard his name a thousand times already since you last spoke to him, it’s no like you haven’t spoken his name a thousand times already since you last spoke. But it still hurts.

“No, not you.” You’re quick to assure her. After all, it’s not her you have a problem with. You feel like you’d have to be a pretty strange person — stranger, at least — not to like Chrissy Cunningham. You shake your head quickly, your eyes glancing back down to your car, watching where a beam of sunlight reflects off of the top of the freshly washed vehicle. “No… Eddie and I-” it’s hard to say his name to her at that moment. Your eyes close and you sigh gently, before returning to reality. “-Eddie and I are just… not cooperating right now.”

It’s the only word you can think of that doesn’t make it final, your separation from him.

She nods, still struggling to find the right words to say to you. She fidgets with the sleeve of her jacket, bites her bottom lip absent-mindedly, squints her eyes in thought. “He said something about it. He just said you got into a bad argument…” A smile forms over her lips again, this one isn’t as kind as it is guilty. Her eyes stare down at the ground on the other side of the car and she shakes her head. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.” She says it with a humorless chuckle, one that’s filled with guilt and regret.

You extend a hand over the top of the car, reaching for her with no real intent on touching her. You feel like it would cross a boundary — a freak making physical contact with the school’s perfect star? There is no way it would end well for you.

Still, you’re quick to assure.

“No, I swear, it’s not you,” you tell her. “It’s just… Eddie and I… it’s just– we– he– I…” You can’t find any of the words. None of them come to you because they’re all rushing at the same time, fighting for the right to speak so that you may express to her why these things are happening. But you don’t even know why they’re happening, so you feel as though it is all in vain.

Her soft voice delivers over your blabbering to speak, offering another kind, reassuring smile for you. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she says gently. You look into her eyes and you see just how much she actually cares, how much she wants to reassure, to amend. You almost hate how much good you actually see in her gaze.

A long silence fills the gap between the both of you as you tap your fingers against the car. After a moment, you just sigh and look down at your hands, palms lying flat against the hood. You lick your lips as you open the door on your side, motioning for Chrissy to do the same. She’s surprised at first, but doesn’t waste the opportunity as she climbs into the passenger’s seat and closes the door.

The more silence between you, one that’s far more comfortable than you would have expected. When you finally speak, it's with Chrissy’s kindness and patience greeting every word as she sits and listens.

You speak slowly. “We’ve been friends for years. Through all of them, we’ve always been together– in each other’s company.” You sigh. “When he started hanging out with you, he…” You stop short, shaking your head with a pained look as you think of your next words. You avoid them, licking your lips, “We had never been as separated as we were then…” You sigh again, closing your eyes as you finally allow yourself to repeat the truth you had screamed in his face days prior. “He forgot about me… he left me behind. And then he only turned his head when I looked at someone else.” You swallow thickly, opening your eyes again and shrugging. “I exploded, he exploded. I stormed out.”

It was a shit explanation, but Chrissy understood every word of it. She lets the silence linger, lets it fill the space once more with a strangely comfortable familiarity. When she speaks again, it’s just as quiet as before, just as free of judgment as before.

“Well… I don’t know much about Eddie Munson, especially not as much as you do,” she laughs gently, and you join her in it, “but I do know that he didn’t forget… about you.” She says the word like it’s poison in her mouth, like it just doesn’t belong in that sentence. It’s not in an untruthful way either — she says it like it’s unworthy of being in a sentence with you. “One of the only things he talks about is you.” She laughs again.

You look at her then, blinking a few times as your lips part. “Huh?”

She smiles, giggling slightly as she continues to speak. She gets giddy at the look in your eyes, the hope she sees beginning to spark in them, even if that spark is simply a flicker. “He always talks about you. He always brings up your thoughts on the music he shows me. When we talk about classes, he always talks about how your grades are perfect.”

You scrunch your nose at that, your grades are far from perfect, a string of B’s and C’s with the occasional A, if you get lucky with a test or two. Still, it makes you smile. Her laughter seems to be infectious.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say anything even remotely terrible about you.” Again, she giggles. “I was hoping he would formally introduce us or something,” she trails off for a moment, fiddling with a scrunchie on her wrist as she talks to you. “You sound really cool.”

You lick your lips as a smile manages to find its way onto your lips. “Really?” you wonder, a breathy chuckle escaping you as you mutter the word.

She nods almost excitedly. She smiles at your glimmers of hope, of happiness. “Yeah,” she breathes. Her smile falters only for a moment. “It sucks you guys aren’t talking, though. You make such a great pair.” She tilts her head at you and you take her in.

You don’t necessarily mean to do it, but you laugh. It feels good to do it, too, like your burdens are being lifted off your shoulders, ripped from your chest and released to allow you a moment to breathe.

Chrissy’s surprised smile spreads all the way across her face. It has her laughing with you as she questions your sudden outburst of emotion. “What?” she asks, cupping the sides of her neck in her hands as she watches you.

Your laughs subside just enough to get out a word. “Nothing, I just…” you huff out a hearty breath and sit back lazily against your seat. You feel like you’ve just lit up a joint after a very long and very day. “I think you might actually be the closest thing to perfect I’ve ever seen.”

You loll your head over to her and offer that jubilant smile you got from your relieving laugh. You run a hand through your hair and sigh at the absence of your beanie, ruffling your hair a moment before returning it to your lap. You deflate a little, but only slightly. Chrissy’s kind presence is enough to keep you feeling lighter than you have in a couple of days.

“He told me you were sweet… I knew you were sweet, but part of me was hoping you were really… mean and scary.” Your nose scrunches at the end as you beam at her.

It’s Chrissy’s turn to laugh, eyes widening in slight disbelief at your words. “Me?” she almost whispers. It’s adorable, the way she says it. Innocence drips from her lips and cleanses you of the despair you were feeling before she showed up — for the time being, at least — as she grins.

You nod, “Yeah, you. But you’re not… you’re really cool.” You repeat her own words to her, and it tints her cheeks as she accepts your compliment. As you take in her reaction, you feel a twinge of sadness. Her kind of loneliness is a special kind that can’t help but make you want to mourn her. She must not be used to people like you, those who give their kindness to those who deserve it, in a way that does not fake sincerity for the sake of those who cannot handle your harshness or sarcasm.

She knows that you’re being nice because you believe she’s worthy of being nice to. It makes her smile, it makes her laugh, it makes her feel light and airy. It makes her happy.

“Thanks,” she almost whispers. She looks down at her lap and chuckles, shaking her head. “Eddie actually said the same thing about me when we… re-met.”

You breathe a chuckle, “Well, great minds.”

Your little comment can’t help but make her laugh again. And, once again, you laugh with her. It fades off into another comfortable stretch of silence. It’s a silence you both welcome with peace and calm. Your smiles look like they could never be wiped off, even if the both of you know better than to believe such a thing.

“So…” Chrissy starts out slow and quiet, and she remains that way through the rest of her words. “He probably doesn’t want me to tell you this, but he’s a miserable little mess. I can nudge him, try to encourage him to speak, but you should probably talk to him.”

Your smile fades a little, forming into a ghost of what it had been only a mere second ago. You shrug and look at your hands in your lap, furrowing your brow and allowing them to knit together in thought as you shake your head slightly. “I don’t know if he wants to talk to me… I said some pretty messed up shit to him.”

There’s another pause of silence before Chrissy speaks again. She leans forward, looking at you like she’s waiting to catch your eye again before she speaks. “I don’t think that it matters as much as you might think.”

You look at her, “Why not?”

She offers you that smile again, one that begs happiness. “Call it a gut feeling?”

You admire her hope, her compassion, her care. It makes you smile. Through all of the shitty feelings that had made a home in your body, in your heart, she was making you smile and giving you the feelings to match it.

You shake your head, your lips spreading wider to reveal your teeth in your grin. “You’re alright, Chrissy Cunningham.”

She chuckles, almost silently. She nods, “You, too, Red.” She shifts to face you a little more, beginning to open her arms in a silent, hopeful invitation. You accept it, reaching over the central consul and joining her in a warm hug. She’s warmer than you expect, stronger as she wraps you in a firm hold that still remains gentle enough to allow you to let go with little to no effort at all.

You don’t want to let go, and she doesn’t want to let you go. She needs this hug just as much as you do. So you sit and you hug her for a few moments longer than you really need to before you pull away and offer her a warm smile.

Like Chrissy had found you, Steve finds Eddie with a question on the tip of his tongue. Eddie sees him approaching before he even gets close, and he contemplates turning the other way but doesn’t. He sighs and turns to face him, running a hand through his hair and placing his hands over on his waist with a lean to the side.

Steve catches up, patting Eddie on the shoulder with a chummy feeling that Eddie doesn’t necessarily reciprocate. He raises a brow, one that’s expectant and urges Steve to get to the point with a limited amount of small talk.

Under any other circumstance, Steve would be the one on the receiving side of Eddie’s efforts to annoy. But, in this case, Steve is the one holding the controls that has far too many buttons for one person to be able to have at one time.

He offers a smile, one that borders on teasing as he looks at Eddie. “So what exactly is up with you and Red?” he questions, skipping the small talk, per Eddie’s silent request.

Eddie licks his lips and turns to walk away, and Steve follows after he answers the question. “Yeah, we’re not really talking right now.” Already, a button has been pushed and Eddie hates how easy it is.

Steve shakes his head, “No, that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, I know you’re friends, but are you like…” he trails off and smoothes his hands together as he finally finishes the question, “…together?” He intertwines his fingers, braiding them to illustrate his inquiry.

Eddie is taken aback by the question, eyes wide and mouth dropped slightly. His head shakes, almost circles around to find Steve’s face so he can see whether or not the question was a joke. As he takes in his expression, he finds no humor and can’t help but feel his face heat. “What?” he returns, turning his whole body to face him now. He’s standing unusually close, but Steve just knows it’s one of Eddie’s mannerisms and brushes it off as such.

“Are you together, or something?” he wonders, tilting his head as his brow furrows.

Eddie’s eyes look away, and then he turns his face to allow his body to follow as he starts walking away again, faster this time at the agitation setting in him. “Why would you think that?”

Steve shrugs like it’s obvious, glancing around like the answers are written on the walls around them. He counts each reason out on his fingers as he explains, “I mean, you’re always hanging out together. You’re arguing like a couple right now. You’re always looking at her from across the cafeteria — kinda creepy, by the way — like a lost puppy. I just assumed you were–”

Eddie cuts him off, shaking his head and almost flailing his hands around to match his frustration. He already spends too much time thinking about you, he doesn’t need Steve to come in and make accusations of your relationship that continue to make him think. “No, we’re not dating,” he says. “I don’t like her like that, I couldn’t. She’s my friend. Was my friend– look I don’t know.”

Regret settles in his chest and he just stares forward through his bangs as he continues to walk. Steve doesn’t stop. He pokes and prods, looking for answers, clues. He presses all the buttons he can find to make Eddie squirm, to make him spill.

“She’s just a friend?” he asks, his tone beginning to give away the teasing and the laugh he wanted to get out from the statement he believed with every bone in his body is false.

Eddie nods. He’s beginning to have trouble convincing himself. “Yeah.”

“You don’t have feelings for her?” Steve continues.

Eddie stops and turns toward him again. “No!” he exclaims, flicking Steve’s forehead as he tilts his own head to the side. “You got a thick skull, Harrington?”

Steve flinches back at the little tap to his skull, rolling his eyes slightly. He raises his hands defensively, allowing his tantalizing smirk to break through as he watches Eddie. “Hey, I’m just asking…” Eddie rolls his eyes and turns to walk away again when Steve’s voice enters his ears with a sentence he doesn’t want to hear. “So, if there’s nothing going on between the two of you, you don’t mind if I ask her out, do you?”

“What?”

The single word drips venom that Eddie did not anticipate.

Steve takes a small, barely noticeable step back, away from Eddie and his wrath as he takes in his face. It’s hard, glued in a stern look that makes Steve very lucky that looks cannot kill.

Steve repeats his question again, slower, more cautious as he tests the waters. “You don’t mind if I ask her out?” Of course he fucking minds.

Eddie narrows his eyes, “Why?”

Steve shrugs and speaks slowly, “That’s kind of what you do when you like someone.” His lips raise in a slight smirk as a challenging tone takes his voice, even if he knows that now is probably not the best time to be challenging Eddie Munson. “You don’t think I have a chance?”

The idea of Steve Harrington holding your hand, making you laugh, whispering secret things in your ear, kissing you… it makes Eddie’s blood boil. There’s a claim he feels he has on you that he knows he shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it. He has no right to you, to keep you all to himself when all you are to him is a friend, maybe. But he’s possessive, and he feels a claim to you.

So he’d just have to crush Steve’s hopes.

“Knowing Red…” he trails off, allowing a smirk to take his own lips as he looks Steve up and down judgmentally. “Nuh-uh.” He turns to keep walking.

And it works.

Even if Steve’s goal is just to vex Eddie enough to make him do something about his relationship status with you, he can’t help but take the bait as the question of his general attractiveness is challenged. “‘Knowing Red’?” he stammers. “What do you mean ‘knowing Red’?”

Eddie’s mischievous grin is hidden well as he shrugs nonchalantly. “She doesn’t do… guys like you.”

Steve’s brows furrow and he pauses as Eddie continues to walk on, trying to contemplate that response. He catches up only a moment later, “‘Guys like you’? What does that mean? Guys like me?”

Eddie’s giddy as he toys with Harrington. He shrugs once again, licking his lips. “She doesn’t date Steve Harringtons, man. She wouldn’t like you like that. Friendship is all you’re getting.” And even your friendship is pushing it.

Steve gets a grip on himself before he can fall for Eddie’s antics. He shakes himself out of it and sighs, rolling his eyes at himself for being fooled by his tricks. “You’re probably right,” he admits, running his hand through his hair the best he can without messing it up. “To be honest, I think she likes you. Like, likes you, likes you.”

Eddie turns to him, halting to look at Steve. There’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes he tries not to show as he raises a brow. “Red? Likes me?” he repeats.

Steve nods, “Yeah. Talks about you all the time. Like, nonstop. It’s almost Dustin-level annoying.” He rolls his eyes at the last part, shaking his head with a chuckle. “But I can’t really say it’s not endearing. It’s kinda cute.”

Eddie allows the Dustin comment to slide, but just this once, as he wonders about his words. “Red talks about me?”

Steve nods again, shrugging his shoulders as he stands with his hands on his hips. It’s a look that always reminds Eddie of a mother, which only encourages his jokes and taunting about him and his relationship with Dustin and his friends (but mostly Dustin). “Like I said,” Steve speaks, “all the time.”

Eddie chuckles humorlessly, turning away as a pang of jealousy stabs his chest. “Well, she talked a lot about you when we last spoke.”

Steve laughs a little, earning a bit of a scowl from Eddie. “Sounds like she’s trying to make you jealous, dude,” he says.

Eddie gets defensive, suddenly standing taller as he turns his full body to Steve again. “Jealous? I am not jealous. Why would I be jealous? Are you fucking with me right now? Because she said the same thing.”

His ramble is enough to make Steve burst out laughing, but he contains himself. He raises his hands and holds back his laughter, but is unable to hold back the smile on his face as he jabs at his buttons. “I’m not doing anything, I swear.” When Eddie backs down a little bit, he continues. “It just sounds to me like she talks about me because she complains about how you always talk about Chrissy. She’s getting back at you.”

Eddie deflates slightly at the mention of Chrissy’s name. He hums quietly, turning away, “Oh, yeah. Chrissy…”

Steve can’t hold it anymore, he laughs. It’s one of those laughs that come with teary eyes and teasing points.

Eddie isn’t in the mood to complement the laughter with his own. He grumbles as he glares at Steve, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. “What now?”

It takes a while for Steve to stop, to calm down enough to be able to talk again. He wipes a tear from his eye and looks at Eddie, “You really don’t see it, do you?”

Eddie raises a brow, “What?”

He scoffs, “Come on, you’re totally in love with her.”

Eddie plays dumb, shrugging his shoulders, “So what? It’s Chrissy, you wouldn't like her?”

“I’m not talking about Chrissy,” Steve rolls his eyes. He presses his finger into Eddie’s shoulder, nudging him back. “I’m talking about Red.”

Eddie clears his throat. If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now as he looks around and shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, I’m not,” he urges. He stammers a little as he speaks, “We are just friends. Just friends.” The second time is more for Eddie’s benefit than it is for Steve’s.

Steve snickers again. “No, no, no. You're not friend-arguing. I’ve seen friend-arguing, that is not a friend thing you got going on.” He shakes his head and snorts again at the notion.

Eddie gets defensive again. He can’t help it. With a red face and a guarded heart, he shakes his head and his brows knit together. “What does it even matter to you? You’re gonna ask her out anyway.”

He raises his brows, amusement painted all over his face. “So you’re not denying it?”

Eddie shoves him back, pushing his hands against Steve’s chest as he wills him to leave his presence. “Fuck off, Harrington!” he yells with a huff.

Steve laughs as he stumbles back, raising his hands once again as he nods tauntingly. “Fine, I’m going! I’m going,” he guffaws. He goes to leave before he turns around for one last thing. “Hey– talk to her,” he says, pushing all of his amusement to the side as he faces Eddie. “If you like her at all, don’t screw it up by being a dick.”

Such elegant choice of words. Eddie just grunts and Steve leaves him alone. He’s given him a lot to think about. Eddie doesn’t like it, he has enough to think about.

Your shoulder brushes with Eddie’s on a Friday afternoon in the school hallways. Your eyes lock, but you quickly look away. He frowns, the air between the two of you still filled with a thick tension that he has yet to — and hopes he never has to — get used to.

It isn’t until a couple hours later, as the classes come to an end, that he realizes his lighter is missing. The silver Zippo that has a skull with DND dice for eyes engraved on the side is nowhere to be found in his jacket. The first chance he gets, he rips his van apart to try and find it somewhere in the mess, but he is not successful. He’s filled with a distress that makes his heart pound and his head spin. The lighter was a gift from you, one you’d given him in return for the one he’d given you.

He’s beginning to lose his head when he suddenly remembers your very brief encounter earlier that day when your shoulders brushed in the hall. It was no accident, and he knows it now.

The first place he thinks to look is your picnic table. Perhaps you’ll be found picking at the peeling paint, lighter in hand as you wait expectantly for him. But he doesn’t find you. It only takes one misdirect for him to realize that he’s an idiot.

It’s a Friday afternoon. Of course you’re not at the bench.

The walk to Skull Rock is a lot longer than he remembers. The eerily quiet woods makes his skin crawl. He’s not used to having to walk on his own, he’s always had you walking by his side. He almost gets lost on the way, and he scolds himself for it. He’s supposed to know these woods like the back of his hands, but now that you’re not at his side, he feels like he’s lost his compass.

The closer he gets to his destination, the more he can feel you getting closer. He’s happy about it. He hasn’t lost you yet.

When he breaks through the trees that reveal the rock structure to him, he isn’t surprised to see you there, waiting for him.

But he is happy to.

You’re sitting under the shade of the rock, leaning back against cool, smooth rock with a half-burnt cigarette between your lips. You look different without your red beanie, bare. He watches your hand, which holds his lighter as you click it open and closed with the flick of your wrist.

You don’t look at him, but he knows you know he’s there.

“Hi,” he says simply, glancing around at the trees surrounding you both. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as his eyes find you again, waiting for a response with a sigh. He allows you your space, but he doesn’t stand too far from the rock as he watches you.

Your head doesn’t shift when you finally look at him. Your eyes drag up and down his body and then stare back at the lighter. You pull the Marlboro from your lips and blow out a puff of smoke with a deep exhale. “Hi.”

After a couple more flicks of the Zippo, you finally toss it to him. He catches it with ease, flicking it himself to watch a flame ignite before replacing it in his pocket, where it belongs. He contemplates sitting for a moment, unsure of just how much you wanted his presence. He sucks it up and sits across from you at the other side of the shade.

It is silent for a long time as neither of you say anything. You feel as though speaking would disturb the peace — even if the peace isn’t as peaceful as you wished it was — but not speaking makes it difficult to sit together with the situation you were currently in.

You don’t look at him at first, staring at the cig between your fingers as you tap the burnt ashes off the end and onto the ground between your legs. Eddie’s question catches your attention. As usual, it comes out of nowhere and begs your response.

“So did you say yes to Steve?”

You tilt your head up, your eyes finding Eddie’s face as you furrow your brows. He’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s shuffling some dirt with his fingers, drawing patterns and swiping at it for a blank canvas. “What are you talking about?” you ask, raising a brow.

His eyes finally find yours, filled with a question and something else you could only identify as…jealousy? “Didn’t he ask you out?” he wonders.

You make a face, shaking your head as you near scowl at him for his inquiry. This is the first thing he says to you? After not speaking for a week, his first words after a stupid, pathetic little “hi” were to ask if you said yes to a date with Steve Harrington.

“No,” you say, your voice more stern than you mean it to be. You tone it down a little, sighing as you look back down at your lap. “Was he supposed to?” You place the cigarette back between your lips.

Eddie can’t help but feel like he heard a bit of hope in your voice. It brings his mood down a little more, as if he really needs it right now. He shrugs, but allows himself to feel a wave of relief at the fact that Steve had not asked you out. He still had time to… well, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

“I mean,” he begins, “he said he was going to after spouting some shit about how he thought we were dating.”

You would have laughed, had you felt like you had enough laughter in your body for it. Instead, you just raise a brow at him and lick your bottom lip. “Harrington thought we were dating?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, asked me if you were taken so he knew if he could ask.”

You scoff and roll your head, looking away as you mumble your response. “Well, he didn’t ask me shit,” you take another long breath, and Eddie watches the end of your cigarette glow orange. He looks back down at his lap, watching his fingers play with his rings in a nervous tick as he thinks.

He shakes his head lightly, as if disappointed at himself for even thinking to ask the question he’s about to. “Do you wish he would?”

You huff and look at him, crushing the end of your Marlboro against the stone behind you. “What are you doing, Eddie?” you ask him, accusation of something you don’t even know in your voice.

He shrugs, as if it’s obvious. “Asking a question.”

You go silent for a moment. His response is not the one you wanted. It feel stupid, makes you want to yell and scream and rip your hair out… but it also just makes you want to cry. You hate this, not communicating with Eddie. You always talked, always told one another what was happening, what was wrong. You always understood one another.

But right now, you felt like a stranger.

You sigh and shake your head, looking down at your shoe to play with a lace as you pull it undone. “No, I don’t wish he would,” you answer.

Eddie clears his throat, a momentary swell of elation filling his chest. “Hoping for someone else?” He crushes his own heart with that question.

“Eddie…” you mutter. It’s almost a whisper as you shake your head and refuse to look at him.

“I wouldn’t choose Chrissy over you…”

You look up, eyes wide and breath still. It is such an unexpected sentence, one that surprises you, but it also makes your heart pound in your chest and a bile rise in your throat as you think about the meaning of his words.

He’s looking at you again, dark brown doe eyes staring you down and boring into your soul, stripping you of every wall and every resistance so he can just see you. “…if it came to it.” He’s finishing his sentence, the long pause between his words making it seem like an afterthought. He suddenly shakes his head, his mess of wild curls shaking in the process.

“There’s a part of me that thinks that’s what you think– I wouldn’t.” He’s trying to explain himself, trying to make you understand. It’s almost as though he’s forgotten how to talk to you.

You look at him with eyes that glisten slightly. You’re trying your damnedest to ensure they don’t water, don’t fill with tears that will spill over your cheeks and reveal just how vulnerable you are right now.

But it doesn’t seem like you need the tears’ help to show that. Your voice does it all.

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask, licking your lip again as you take in his face and he takes in yours.

He shrugs, almost lazily. “You’re my best friend.” The word feels so right and yet so wrong on his tongue as he says it, like it just doesn’t fit as well as it used to. “The day I choose some girl over you is the day you can shoot me between the eyes.”

He means it as a joke, like he insinuates that the only way it would happen is if he turns into some kind of beast, but the way he says it feels a little too firm. Your mouth opens, twitching a little as you take in his words. A slight chuckle escapes when you speak, “A little intense, don’t you think?”

He merely shrugs. It isn’t a real answer, but it’s something to fill the space in an answer’s absence. You lick your lips, replaying what he just said over and over in your mind. “So now Chrissy’s just ‘some girl’?”

A ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “Are you jealous?”

You’re a little too quick to respond, too defensive, just as Eddie was to Steve when they talked. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Steve thinks–”

You cut him off with a scoff, rolling your eyes and running a hand through your hair as you shake your head. “‘Steve thinks’.” You can’t help your petty laugh at this. When you fought a week ago, it was because you were hanging out with Steve and Eddie didn’t like it. Now, it seemed as though he and Steve were on wonderful talking terms now that he’s started the conversation and continued the conversation with his name. “When did you talk to Steve?”

He sighs with closed eyes, continuing his earlier thought that you cut off so he can finish. “Steve thinks you’re, like, in love with me or something.”

Your response is far too quick and far too panicked. “Did he say that? What did he say?” you straighten up, your hands on your knees as you stare at Eddie with wide, anxious eyes.

Eddie is surprised by your reaction. He shrugs slowly, “Why?”

“What did he say, Eddie?” Your tone is stern, trying to pry the answer from him so you know how to move forward. He doesn’t understand why you’re so worried all of a sudden. Did Steve say something?

Eddie hums as he recounts the conversation he had with Steve a couple days before. “He said you talk about me all the time. You complain about how I always talk about Chrissy. He said you were trying to make me jealous…”

Your response is much slower, much shyer this time as you glance down at your knuckles. “He said that?” It’s almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” he nods. His brows knit together, “Is it true?”

You swallow hard, gathering up the courage to look at Eddie as your face hardens again. It’s all a front, you need a front right now, a protection. “So what if it is?”

“Well, why?” he questions. He means it to be joking, trying to breach the line between your argument and your old-time teasing. He wants to fix things, but he doesn’t know how. Instead, his voice sounds more shy, nervous, than he means it to. “Do you actually want to… ‘go out’ instead of ‘hang out’?”

It’s the way he says those same words as before, the ones you used before the big fight, that makes you look at him again. You don’t say anything, you don’t dare respond and end up digging a bigger grave for yourself. You stare at him for a moment and then look back down.

He sighs, clenching his jaw and shaking his head as he looks away as well. “Or are you in love with Steve?”

Now you’re frustrated again. You want to yell and scream and rip your hair out. You let out a huff of a breath, “God– no! Stop talking about Steve.”

“Why?” It sounds like a challenge.

He doesn’t seem to care how clear your frustration is as he keeps pushing. You clench your jaw, “Because I’m not in love with Steve.”

“How come?”

You can’t hold it back anymore. You blurt it out without even realizing what you’re saying. It’s not until after you say it out loud for the first time that you realize just how true it really is. Not just some tormenting fantasy that makes you feel bad for loving him. “Because I’m in love with you, Eddie!”

You clasp your hand over your mouth, close your eyes tight in hopes of making the whole scene disappear so you just wake up from a bad dream instead. Your eyes water, you feel the tears prick at your eyes and it makes them come quicker.

They slip and spill over your cheek. It’s of no use to try and hide from anything now. As you open your eyes and find Eddie still sitting across from you, face written in shock, you want to disappear. It is silent for a long time before you speak again. Your voice trembles.

“For years, I’ve been in love with you, whether I realized it or not,” you speak slowly, quietly. Eddie watches. His face gives nothing away, he doesn’t say anything. It makes the tears fall faster. “When you abandoned me for Chrissy, I went to Steve because I knew you didn’t like him. You know– maybe I could grab your attention. And then I did, but it was too late because you fell for Chrissy.”

You sigh, refusing to look at him for any longer than a half a second. “I don’t blame you, she’s a nice girl, she was super nice to me. I just wish that maybe…” you trail off. You feel pathetic for crying in front of him, for proving to be so weak. You don’t want to keep crying, you don’t want to seem like a sad little girl.

So you get angry. It’s the only way to feel something other than the dread that settles in your chest. It’s your go-to, your make-it-better.

“But you don’t like me back,” you huff, “so it’s stupid. Just fucking forget it. This is so fucking stupid.” You move to stand, dusting off your knees and turning in the other direction. It seems you’re the one running away from your problems now. Then again, that might have been the case from the beginning.

He stands as well, brows knitted and eyes almost offended. “It’s stupid that you love me?” Those last three words make his heart flutter, but the first two make his heart ache.

You inhale sharply, breathing out the air with just as much force as you tremble. “Can you not say that?” you snap, wiping at your face harshly to rid you of the tears that are just replaced with new ones.

“Say what?”

“That I love you.”

“Why?”

You’re tired of his questions. “Because it hurts that you know. I didn’t want you to know.”

His questions don’t stop. “Why not?”

You explode once again, rushing toward him and pushing him back by his chest. “Because you don't love me back, Eddie! Are you even listening to me? I didn’t want you to know because unrequited love is bullshit, and it hurts, and it’s worse when the person knows you like them.”

You shove your face in your hands, shielding yourself from him. He takes your wrists in his hands, prying your hands away so he can see your face, a face he thinks is the most beautiful one he’s ever seen in his life, tears or not. “I only said I didn't like you like that because you said you didn’t like me like that.”

You snatch your hands from his grip, unable to look at him, to be touched by him, at the moment. You jab a finger into your chest, “I only said I didn’t like you like that because you’re literally in love with Chrissy!”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes a little, “I only said I was in love with Chrissy because I thought you didn’t want me!”

You look at him with red eyes and a quivering lip. “But Chrissy–”

“Can you stop talking about Chrissy?” he cuts you off, sighing heavily and shaking his head as he watches you, his hands on his hips as he speaks.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t love Chrissy, I love you!”

The words linger in the air, surrounded by silence as you watch each other. Eddie’s cheeks blush red and he shoves his hands in his pockets, fidgeting with his confession. He licks his bottom lip and sighs. He’s positive you can hear how loud his heart is pounding in his chest, mercilessly hammering against his ribcage.

When you speak again, your voice is nearly a squeak. You sniffle as you turn to face him, “It’s not unrequited bullshit?”

The smile he gives you is one that makes your heart flutter in your chest. He shakes his head, stepping closer to you. “No,” he says, retrieving your wrists again as he strokes his thumbs over them, “it’s cheesy best friends to lovers bullshit.”

His eyes are shining, deep pools of honey that make your chest swell. You feel like your heart is too big for your body then as you smile, your face splitting in a large grin that accompanies your elation at his confession.

You kiss him.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore, not with the way he looked at you like you were the most precious treasure in the world. His lips are soft, a little chapped. He tastes like cigarettes and animal crackers, which you know he has a stash of in his van. You separate after a moment, it’s a reluctant pull away as you look at him.

“Did you just kiss me?”

It’s all he asks, furrowing his brow as he tries to hold back his amused smile. His eyes are glittering with glee, and it betrays the surprised façade he tries to use. You chuckle and lick your lips, “You flat out just admitted that you have feelings for me. Of course I kissed you.” Your smile falters slightly as uncertainty begins to seep through your joy.

“Unless it was just some sick joke.”

He doesn’t let you consider that option for even a moment longer. Instead, he kisses you again.

You feel him smiling against your lips, the curve of his own feels nice against yours. He lets your hands go in favor of cradling your neck, his thumbs swiping against your skin as he kisses you. You thumb at his shirt, one that has holes near the hem that he made himself so he “looked more metal”. You smile and move closer so you can hold him as your hands press against his waist. You feel a millions times lighter than you had before. It’s a relief you hope never leaves you. You like being wrapped in Eddie’s affection.

When he pulls away, he offers you a big, Eddie-smile. His hands travel further up so cup your face as his thumbs stroke your cheeks. “I’m very funny,” he whispers, “so that would be a pretty shit joke for me, if it was.”

You laugh and bite your bottom lip, nodding gently, “Yeah, it would.”

He smiles down at you for another couple of moments, admiring every feature of your face, before he pulls back a little. The cool air that comes with the loss of his hold on you is uncomfortable, but it doesn’t last long. He lifts his jacket, reaching into one of the inside pockets that you had put in yourself, and reveals your red beanie.

You smile as he sets it on your head, adjusting it to fit snugly in its designated spot. “Thought you should have that back,” he mumbles, leaning in with his words as he rejoins you in your makeshift hug.

“So we’re good?” you ask, searching his face.

His response confuses you at first. “No,” he says, shaking his head as he smiles. But then you just realize it’s your Eddie being your Eddie. “Not until you kiss me again.”

So you do, and it feels so good to do it.

Eddie the Banished taglist: @sweetcoffeebearr @life-on-needs @hb8301 Tag yourself here or send me a message to be added to the taglist.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie my love <3 #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #best friends to lovers #reader insert #female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

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callmerhynner · 10 months

Text

We’re family, we grieve together. ||

synopsis: After the head of the mansion engages his final plan during his battle of wits with Muzan Kibutsuji, you are left with the traumatized children and depressing memories that the passed family left behind.

tags: gn!reader, angst, a bit of fluff(?), sad vibes, spoiler warning!!, giving the underrated family of ds some love w/ sadness, sad children, trauma

pairing/s: Ubuyashiki Kagaya & Bestfriend!Reader, Ubuyashiki children & godparent!Reader, Amane & family friend!Reader

Author’s note; Art by me :DD, practicing a new art style and thought i might as well try writing angst for the first time. Hope you enjoy!!

⇱ ♥︎ ⇲

"Life's already been hard, being sickly was making it even harder, and the world being infested with human flesh-eating demons gave everyone more reason to fear the moon. The sun was everyone's savior, each demon slayer thanking every deity that no demon came into their homes and killed them in their sleep. And, to everyone's unfortunate truth, if the lowest ranks were fearing for their life, their master had to mourn their death alongside the people they'd left behind.

Their master, the leader of the undiscovered by the government demon slayers, Ubuyashiki Kagaya.

The man that had an army ready to charge to their own undoing if he so requests of them to. The same man that was as sickly as an overworked farmer with tubberculosis, as weak as a toothpick, had the power to control the most determined and powerful men and women in the country. Out of all the country's population, the master with swordsmen that's been trained to face death and survive, was the weakest of all.

Strength, you should remember, isn't always physical. Sometimes, it's their mentality that earns control and respect. Kagaya Ubuyashiki reflected the day's calm view with his moral ideas, only gaining more respect when he has the kindest voice, and the kindest eyes a human can possess. A man of true ethereality.

The master of the mansion, unfortunate enough to be given such a heavy title at a young age, was a man everyone could love and respect. That could make the coldest person feel warmth. Give the hardest stone a soft spot. A man of true charm."

Without you noticing, tears roll down your face, eyes never leaving the last remnant you had of your best friend, an ashy-edged portrait. You had your hands gripping at the canvas' sides, hugging it to your chest as you grieved in front of the destroyed mansion, never daring to move your legs, in fear that if you touched another flick of grass, you'd lose the memories you had with the now passed family. From the father, who you loved like a brother--to his children, that would tire themselves out at the end of the days when you would visit the mansion. His wife, who would treat you as if you have always been family, and the home of which they all felt safest who would welcome you with a flowery breeze.

All of which, gone, only the black ashes that it left behind.

You sat still, the portrait with smudges of black on it's bottom still in your grips, as your salty tears kept decorating your skin. You look to the space in the sky, where one would've seen the master's mansion, before turning your head to spare a sad glance to the young, terrifed children survivors you had managed to save from the explosion. The white of your eyes were visibly red, water never stopping the dripping it slid on your cheeks. You finally gain the strength to ease the children, watching their tears pour out broke your heart like seeing an abandoned puppy, you let go of the portrait and extending your arms to their direction.

"We are family...we grieve together.."

In an instant, the three Ubuyashiki children run to your embrace, letting out their voices and wailing into your clothes. The girls wrapped their arms at your waist as they screamed their grievances out to you, you pat their white hairs as Kiriya couldn't hold his loud sobs into your chest. You sat them all down, their faces still wetting your clothes with their emotions (you were no different), as you wrapped your arms around them in a protective bear hug. They'd lost their father, you lost a best friend, and every demon slayer had just lost their master.

You all sat there, all of your letting your sadness out amongst each other, only calming down when the crying had ceased everyone's energy. The kakushi and hashira had arrived, you knew they have probably been there the moment they heard the traumatic booming, but they unanimously agreed to let all of you pass out from exhaustion to not trigger any more intense emotions. It was a depressing sight to see, and hear, three children screaming their hearts out to the only person left that they considered family (that weren't the slayers); All the while, the person they sought for comfort, felt as much grief as they all did combined.

"Your father was a good man, Kiriya. He deserves to be honored, and i know you can do that for him." you whisper to the little boy as you gently pat his sisters' hair, voice a bit scratchy from holding in the scream you were desprate to let out. "I know we all can do it for him." you continue, a single tear rolling down your cheek as you tried to give him a hopeful smile.

"You won't have to face it alone." you finish, kissing the top of his head as the young boy let out a yawn, curling into your lap. Kuina rested her head just next to him, with Kanata laying down on the ground, using some of your yukata's cloth to protect her eyes from the dirt. "Master," you add, barely a whisper, eyes lingering back to the portrait as the hurt of your heart continues to spread across your chest, finally closing your eyes to rest alongside them when you knew they were all asleep.

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kamenstranger · 4 days

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X-men '97 (mostly) spoiler free Review.

I'll be honest, when X-men '97 was announced I didn't think much of it. I've held a long stance of (at best) indifference towards reboots, remakes, or continuations of legacy properties. At worst, I hold a deep cynicism towards the often mishandling and cheap regurgitation to cash in on nostalgia.

The thing that most often goes wrong with such things is either it becomes so different one questions why it has X name attached instead of being a whole new thing, or it's so similar it does nothing new and only serves to callback fond memories and memes spawned from the original. It's a delicate balance to be familiar yet fresh. More often than not, it goes terribly wrong.

X-men '97 does not suffer that fate.

The most shocking thing about '97 isn't how much it feels like a proper continuation in every sense one could possibly achieve, but how better it is top to bottom. Sure, it has surface level nostalgia like the intro, callbacks, and the occasional campy tone (although never quite as much as the OG series, which lets be real, is for the better.) But it also understands how paramount it is to elevate and evolve the narrative with what the show explores, rather than relying on the familiar. The kids who grew up with the original are in their 30s if not their early 40s, and the ones that didn't remain children want more nuance and complexity. Not to mention the original, for all the good, is extremely flawed.

There's a story I read about Genndy Tartakovsky having a sign outside his office in the heyday of Cartoon Network that said something along the lines of "Make the Cartoons the way you think you remember." The idea being that a lot of people don't recognize the flaws in the shows they enjoyed at kids and have false idealized versions of those memories. '97 feels like that philosophy in some ways. It feels like all the legitimately good aspects cranked up to 11, and a lot of the lesser parts filtered out; an idealized version of what the original could be. In fact, Tartakovsky might be an apt comparison in another way, in that it feels as natural a progression as Samurai Jack with how it matured upon a revival, but without losing the parts that made the original so endearing.

Where X-men '97 hooked me was as early as ep. 2. Magneto gives a speech to the UN stating "As a boy, my people's homes were burned to ash because we dared to call God by another name. Then, my people hunted me with those who had once hunted them." The balls to go there hit like a truck and made me realize where this series was going. It might be trite to say "This isn't your childhood X-men" as if to imply some dark bend to the series. But no, this is simply an X-men that doesn't play coy with the analogies or side skirt death because of broadcast standards. It's an X-men allowed explore topics and stories in a manner much closer to the comics. The greatest example of that here is with Magnus, who for the first time is treated with a level of complexity I've not seen in any adaptive work.

The thing I love about Magneto is his versatility as a villain. He's full of himself, and goes too far in areas, but often still makes a good point. And even if he has those two flaws, is that much different than Xavier? Is his way ultimately more correct even if not 100% so? Conversely, you can easily turn him into a megalomaniac, unquestionably in the wrong-- yet still somewhat sympathetic because much of Humanity has reinforced time after time that it's oppress or be oppressed, with no alternative or in-between. That also makes him very interesting as someone who struggles to change their ways, to avoid falling down that slippery slope of becoming that very thing he so hates.

It should come as no surprise that this added focus on Magneto results in some killer lines throughout the run. The trailer made it clear that he would become leader of the X-men after Charles' apparent death at the end of the original series (as an aside, pay close attention to the language used when referring to Charles, it's very clever.) About half this season deals with Magnus building towards something beyond the school and beyond the X-men with the Island Nation of Genosha, creating a proper haven for Mutants to exist freely and in the open. He's honestly one of if not my favorite part of the show, both as a character and how that characterization helps drive the plot. Of course it's just one of many. Another big focus is Scott and Jean's relationship, the pregnancy, the fear of and eventual birthing of a child into a world that hates and fears them. That added dimension makes Scott a lot more nuanced this go around. Ideally, Cyclops should make difficult and perhaps unpopular decisions that are ultimately for the better, justifying his position as someone capable of making choices others would not. In practice, a lot of instances have Scott making boneheaded decisions and being a punching bag for Wolverine. People like to hate on the dude, and I don't blame them. It's very easy to make someone like that unlikable, and most of time, writers do.

But '97 gives a lot more personal scenes with him, showing how he's scared of his position, how Xavier's absence added a great weight upon his shoulders. Not to mention one of their greatest enemies-- the one ideologically opposite of Charles-- is entrusted with carrying on Xavier's dream, not him, not even another X-men. Then there's the baby on the way, everything that happens afterwards which is just the cherry on the shit sundae. I felt bad for Scott, the poor guy is sent thought the ringer this season. But that also makes him and his relationship with Jean legitimately interesting.

Meanwhile, the latter half of a show blows up into a much bigger cataclysmic event that actually manages to pull off some of the best suspense, trepidation, and "Oh shit, what next?" moments that few series achieve with such a level of success or frequency.

All that said, as much praise as I have for the story and characters… the stuff with Rogue is a bit weird and will probably be the most off putting aspect during the first half.

This is one of those parts I can't really skim over in a mostly spoiler free fashion, so get ready. For half the show Rogue spends a lot of time with Magneto after he takes over the X-men, and it's a source of friction for Gambit. And you think you know how this is going; Rogue obviously has some sorta past with Magnus no one else knows about, which makes sense given her checkered history, and Gambit is horribly misinterpreting that prior relationship as something more out of jealousy.

But no, Gambit was right. It was a lot more than just partners in crime. See, Magnus' whole electromagnet field can protect him from Rogue while the two still feel a touch, as it where, and they took full advantage of that way back when. So yeah, that's a thing that happened.

I get what they're going for; giving Rogue a complicated relationship with a major antagonist, how fair is keeping that information from Gambit, what does that even say about Magnus etc. The comics have done or tried similar things, often to a worse extent. (In fact this is based on a bit from Age of X) Still, it feels a tad weird here, and the age gap certainly plays a role. Which again, I realize is the point. I think part of the hang up on my end is Animated Rogue and Gambit always felt just a tad younger than say Jean, Scott, and Storm-- and the thought of the much older Magnus hooking up with an at the time technically legal Rogue bothers me. Not in an ageist way, but in a Jerry Seinfeld sorta way.

But I think that they're a bit more up there then previously thought. So if this goes back 5 maybe 10 years, that makes it feel less like Magnus was taking advantage of a very lonely and still naive girl, but having a fling with (at minimum) mid 20 something, which has it's own baggage, but is far less creepy and but in-line with Magnus' ego. His crimes against humanity I can forgive, but not acting like a libertarian. As for Rogue…I mean I wouldn't judge her anyway. Especially from her POV. I mean… look at Magnus.

If I couldn't have physical contact with 99% of people, I'd jump at exploring that magnetic pole, too.

That's probably the biggest "issue" I have with the story, and honestly I'm sorta coming around to it because it's told so damn well and leads to some pretty great bits. Rogue's argument with Gambit in particular is heart-wrenching.

And we also get some lovely scenes later in the series with Nightcrawler being a supporting brother to Rogue, which I just adore. I'll admit I'm slightly bias here because Kurt was one of my favorite X-men characters along with Remy, Rogue, and Magneto. So I'm eating good this season.

What I don't care for however is the romance between Forge and Storm. In fact, Storm probably gets the worst arc this season simply due to constraints and timing. It's not bad, but you can really tell hers was meant to be a larger and more intimate tale that was condensed down to what is effectively a single episode hacked to pieces. The passage of time is very poorly conveyed, so it feels like Forge proclaims his love after a week and one romantic dinner. Storm's more internal demons and struggles with her powers, while interesting conceptually, suffers from structural and pacing issues as it's split over two episodes shared with other stories. This is compounded with the fact one episode in-between those two is on the much more grandiose story of Genosha-- which is itself is grounded by that love triangle between Mags, Gambit, and Rogue-- not to mention a number of character deaths as the mid season "Oh shit" moment. The result is a vast cloud being cast over Ororo's narrative. We don't even get to properly delve into the Adversary.

There's some more minor things I can think of; the first episode is a little rough because of the dialogue being very hamfisted. It's made to be friendly to newcomers that didn't watch the original series, which I respect, but the consequence is some very weird statements of facts from characters to others that already know them. I think they knew this, which is why the much better ep. 2 dropped the same day. Smart. Outside ep. 1 it's handled much better. Slight spoiler, but if you know the comics you know about Madelyne Pryor, a clone of Jean with all her memories. OG Jean pops back in, but has a fragmented memory which allows for a much more natural flow of information as she slowly remembers events like the Phoenix and such.

Another use of conveying information to new comers is the newest member to the team, Roberto da Costa AKA Sunspot. Early on Roberto doesn't really have much going on, he's used similar to Jubilee as the audience POV saved by the X-men and that's kinda it. There's sparks between him and Jubilee, but for the most part his story takes a back seat to the much larger going ons. In fact I don't really think he ever comes into his own this season, although he is getting there by the end. However, I do think his character is used well thematically. Roberto's mother is a very wealthy business woman and philanthropist, and she's basically the stereotype of every rich minority liberal. She doesn't mind her son being a mutant, but she wants to keep it secret for social and financial reasons. She holds big charities for mutant causes, but will sell her own son out to authority figures if pressed. I never got invested in Roberto as there simply isn't enough time to focus on how that affects him on a deeper level beyond "Maybe Magneto is right." But I am impressed at showcasing that type of performative ally-ship, and with a parent no less.

I guess the last thing to address the new villain this season. I won't get into the story stuff, but if you know who Bastion is, then you sorta know where this goes anyway. And if you don't, then I won't really be getting too deep into that stuff. To be honest, I don't have a ton to say about him. He is quite different from his comics version to better fit within TAS universe, and he's sympathetic as a result of those changes. Pretty typical with this iteration of X-men to mix, change, and mash storylines across multiple decades. So nothing new there. I think he's a good threat, I like the portrayal of the prime sentinels, he's built up very well as a mysterious puppet master and power house; possibly too good given a "get out of jail free" moment with Jean in the finale. Theo James also does a good job making him sound calm, collected, almost emotionless-- but not bored, which a lot of people struggle with. I just don't really find him all that captivating or fun as a villain compared to say Magneto or Mr. Sinister. What he is, is a good catalyst. And I'm fine with that. X-men thrives on its melodramatic interpersonal relationships to carry damn near any story. Take characters you like, build'em up, have complex emotions, then throw them into scenarios to exacerbate all of that. If you can pull it off, you've got a fine formula for entertaining stories-- so long as you keep evolving those characters and scenarios. So, sure, I don't think Bastion is an all time great, but I'm more interested in the team having to deal with his shit and each other than him specifically, and I'm still getting other villains I do find interesting, so I can't really complain. But that's enough but the story, let's get into the other bits. Animation On the Animation side X-men '97 looks damn good. Comparing it to the original isn't even fair. The original studio, AKOM, was constantly threatened with firing because their output was routinely bad. Be that from a massive workload, poor management, crunch, Saban being a fuck stick, etc. Whatever the cause, the end result was not good. The first episode of X-men aired in an incomplete state, and that sort of trouble plagued the entire production. Heck, fellow Fox Kids series Batman The Animated Series terminated their contract with them for similar errors.

The first episode on '97 meanwhile takes every opportunity to showcase dynamic action. It probably has the most clever combination and uses of the X-men's powers; Scott using his optic blasts for movement, Gambit charging Wolverine's claws, Jean creating a containment field for Storm's tornadoes to increase pressure. That standard of quality is mostly maintained throughout. The biggest critique I can make is that some of the more subtle movements; raised eyebrow; slight head tilt; gritting teeth, tend to have an…off look. It reminds me a lot of the adoption of Flash in the 2010s and other digital animation, where every now and then certain objects just sorta float and slide in an overly smooth fashion, as if someone is simply moving a png around.

Another quirk is that there are A LOT of close ups of eyes. Sometimes that's an artistic choice, but very often it feels like a work around to avoid animating mouth movements for dialogue, showing backgrounds, other characters, and so on. And it's a trick used a wee-bit too much, one I'm hoping is ironed out by next season because it did become distracting by the end. But ya know, this is also better than Castlevania's first two seasons.

Voice Acting.

The voice Acting is great, no surprise there. Hell, the cast was the best thing out of the original series. While the dialogue and the delivery varied wildly, the voices themselves were generally on point, weird takes or direction notwithstanding. Those to me will always be the voices for those characters. I still hear Alison Sealy-Smith when I read Storm's dialogue in comic form, or Lenore Zann's Rogue, or George Buza's Beast. Most of the surviving original cast is back, either as their respective characters, or in other roles if they didn't want/fit the role anymore, as was the case with Catherine Disher and Alyson Court. Hilariously, Morph's original actor, Ron Rubin, now plays President Kelly.

youtube

Oddly enough Gambit's original VA, Chris Potter, returns but in the role of Cable. Credit where it's due, this Cable sounds similar to a much gruffer Cyclops, but in such a way that's clearly a different voice. So I think that was a good change.

Speaking of Scott, Ray Chase is the new voice and he knocks it out of the park, absolutely perfect voice for the character that captures the smarmy routine Norm Spencer had. I'm frankly impressed how perfect he fills those shoes, while also adding a world weariness. Likewise, Jennifer Hales is a fantastic choice for Jean. She's played Jean before but this is much more influenced by Disher's performance. Ironically Hale's performance made me realize how perfect she would've been as Jill Valentine, and I'm sorta surprised she was never picked for any of the remakes. Additionally, Hale is clearly having so much fun in a villainous role as the Goblin Queen. In fact, her tone is slightly different for Pryor in general, but my god is the Goblin Queen stuff a joy. It's only like an episode, but Hale is just REVELING in being a baddy.

Nice to see X-men awakening things in people even years later.

Other new cast members include A. J. LoCascio, who does a great job as Gambit. Of course we have new addition Roberto, voiced by Gui Agustini, who fits lovely and speaks Portuguese to boot. Holly Chou takes over Jubilee and is so damn on point I had to double check it wasn't a time-displaced Court. You actually get to hear Chou and Court opposite one another and it is WILD how subtle the differences are. Ross Marquand is also pretty damn close to Cedric Smith's Xavier, albeit a tad younger sounding. One returning member I do want to give special mention to is Cal Dodd's Wolverine. Dodd was always a favorite, and like the others "the voice" of that character to me, and it's great to hear him again. Although I will note it doesn't really sound like 90s Wolverine, with exception to the penultimate episode where it sorta comes back. I'm not sure if they told him to do a rougher voice, if it's just the result of age, or if he's just getting back into it (Logan doesn't have many lines this season) but it's certainly different for most of the run. Every so often you'll also get a very slight inflection of an accent. Now Dodd is Irish born, but he doesn't have an Irish accent, yet I swear I hear one coming from Wolverine. Honestly? It weirdly works simply due to Logan's age and coming from Alberta, which was pretty heavy on immigrants from all the British Empire's isles. So…I kinda dig it, even if I'll always default to the OG performance in my head.

I'd also be remiss if I didn't mention the incredible music by the Newton Brothers.

But I also don't really know what to say about it beyond "That's some damn fine music and remixing of the Main Theme." Part of the problem is the Soundtrack isn't released at the time of this writing, there's only a single for the opening. But the harrowing vocal version of the theme, the BGM, all that's not released in a format I can point to and tell you to check it out, or even give a name to the ones I like. So... I just have to throw my hands up and say I love their work and am glad they're returning next season.

I hope they remix the second X-men theme from the later seasons. Final Thoughts

X-men '97 has been by far the most pleasant surprise this year. I loved the feeling of looking forward to each episode, wanting to know what events will transpire, waiting until next Wednesday for the follow up. Few series manage to capture my attention to the extent '97 did. In the wrong hands this could've been exhausting, but it's a masterclass in pacing and escalation without feeling tiresome. X-men '97 pulls off a perfect balance of new and familiar, maintaining and building upon a strong foundation of character drama to reach new heights that results in, above all else, an extremely rare example of a revival surpassing the original in every regard.

Now, I just hope the firing of the director wasn't a sign that Disney is going to sabotage this because the suits are rock stupid. Or that the series will become bogged down with cameos and references to other stuff. I gotta tell you, one of the best things was '97 not dealing with MCU and just having relatively subdued cameos and name drops. It was quaint compared to what it's like now. But that finale made me wince in spots. You can justify it all you want, but I'm tired, and I hope it's not a sign of things to come.

I couldn't figure out where to put this in the review, but I did want to mention a moment in ep 2 that I loved. Jean goes into labor and while Logan is driving her to the hospital, her powers go a little out of control and rips the roof off his vehicle. She made him a convertible.

They do not draw attention to it, no smarmy comment, just something that happens. But I have to imagine it was an intentional reference, and that's my favorite kind of callback. All that said, thanks for reading this. It's not often I do spoiler free reviews, but sometimes the format is just right for what I have to say without delving into a big plot synopsis. Hopefully, if you were cautious like me, maybe you'll check out '97 and find something you really love.

#review #x men 97 #marvel #Youtube

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thecleverqueer · 1 year

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Things we know about Bo-Katan Kryze:

-Bo’s problematic.

-Bo’s fierce.

-Bo’s a savage warrior.

-Bo was a teen terrorist.

-Bo’s clearly gay (the sexual objectification of Ahsoka Tano followed by that intense slap on the ass that resulted in Ahsoka jumping 4 feet in the air sort of solidified that in my mind -that was a terrible episode, BTW… f*^%ing awful, but I’ve covered that… moving on).

-Bo sister, Satine, ruled Mandalore for a time, but Bo Katan had zero chill while this was happening (as if she’s ever had any chill), and it caused a familial rift.

-Bo turned a new leaf when Maul killed Pre Visla, the leader of Death Watch.

-Bo and Satine reconciled right before Satine’s death, and Bo saved Obi-Wan Kenobi from the Mauldalorians.

-Bo is obsessed with ruling Mandalore.

-Bo convinced Ahsoka to help her recapture Mandalore by teaming up to capture Maul (someone neither of them liked).

-Bo-Katan and Ahsoka have some intense homoerotic chemistry between them. Maybe it was the from their first meeting? I don’t know. It’s undeniable though.

-Bo-Katan ruled Mandalore before Gar Saxon fucked her over by selling Mandalore out to the Empire.

-Bo has an affinity for Clan Wren…despite threatening Sabine for building that super weapon that melted Beskar.

-Bo-Katan has these weird moments of diplomacy amongst her generalized tendency to be completely feral.

-At the end of the day, Bo is still oddly like Satine in a lot of ways.

-Bo attempted to rule Mandalore a second time with the Dark Saber and lost it.

-Bo is a bottom.

-Bo is likely in her mid-to-late 40s in The Mandalorian.

-Bo-Katan is the last of her line.

-Bo is obsessed with the Dark Saber.

-Bo’s redemption arc was/is incredible.

Which brings me to the things we don’t know about Bo-Katan Kryze:

-Is Bo going to be an antagonist to Din Djarin?

-Are Bo-Katan and Ahsoka still sleeping together? I mean, Bo does know where Ahsoka is on her hunting adventure and that fact doesn’t freak Ahsoka out (we won’t get an answer to this because the folks at Disney are cowards, but the subtext will do… it was pretty loud and clear in the last season of TCW, so we’ll make due with whatever, I guess).

-Why TF is Bo-Katan seen on the Mandalorian throne with a blanket in the S3 trailers? Is Bo sleeping on the throne? Is Bo afraid that someone is going to take it while she sleeps in a bed? Mandalore is in ashes, so why would they? Did Ahsoka kick Bo out of the bedroom? WTF? Why!? Why is this happening?

-Is Bo slipping into complete madness?

-Is Bo actually going to go reverse on her redemption arc after having one so epically compelling?

-If Bo is the enemy, will she survive The Mandalorian Season 3?

-Will Bo and Din just end up being friends for the sake of Mandalore?

-WTF IS GOING ON WITH BO-KATAN!? What are they doing to her?

#star wars #bo katan kryze #the mandalorian #the clone wars #star wars rebels #din djarin #ahsoka being gay #bo being gay #mandalore #the siege of mandalore #mandalorian season 3 #ahsokatan

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vagabondswritings · 9 months

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Reunion at dawn: Mercedes x reader

Reunion at dawn with the Blue Lions (Azure moon)

Others: Byleth/ Sylvain/ Felix/ Ashe/ Ingrid/ Annette/ (OC) Celestia

You're a flying unit

A reunion in the midst of war was quite a privileged idea, but you held hope that at least someone would show up at Garreg Mach Monastery. Upon arriving at the outskirts, you spotted the professor and prince Dimitri fighting off bandits that have seem to be looting the monastery. Without a second thought, you joined in on the battle.

You joined the battle somewhat late, so your role was to take out the faraway enemies while the others engaged in close combat chasing down the bandits and their leader. Mercedes was stationed a bit away from the main commotion, casting healing spells or black magic when enemies approach.

A loud wail caught your attention, and when the archer nearby was confirmed subdued by Sylvain running him through, you flew up to investigate who it was that let out a distress call. At the bottom corner of your sight you noticed the Blue Lions healer working to fight off a few thugs ambushing her. Being mainly a healer, she likely had as much front line battle experience you’d expect a healer to have.

“Down there!” You commanded your winged companion, swooping down next to her and distracting the harassers. This allowed Mercedes to push away on her own to create a safe distance. She kneels down on the floor, praying to the goddess to protect her with the light, and casts a strong seraphim which propelled the harassers onto their backs. You landed among them, your companion cheekily stepping one of their feet on a bandits weapon arm. Mercedes runs over to you as you dismount, flinging herself at you in a warm embrace,

“Goodness, it’s so good to see you again.” She’s just as you remembered her years ago at the monastery, motherly and warm. Mercedes quickly checked you for wounds, as is her duty. “Should we go join the others? They are not far ahead.” You gesture at your mount, “I know they missed flying with you too.” To which they let out a sound of agreement.

“Yes, let’s. We have to battle onwards.” Mercedes agrees. You kneel down to hook your arm behind her knees, hoisting her up like a princess as her arms naturally came to circle around your shoulders, “Ladies first.”

A war was still being fought, but at that moment, you both felt safe in each others arms.

#fe3h #fe3h x reader #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three houses scenarios #fire emblem mercedes #mercedes von martritz #mercedes x reader #vagabondswritings

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shadowshrike · 2 years

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Why I love Miklan in Azure Gleam

I know that some people hate what was done with Miklan in Azure Gleam, so I want to spread some love for what I personally felt was a great story beat through his addition. It worked on many levels for me, from highlighting the themes of Azure Gleam to providing great insight into several characters and how they make decisions.

Social Reform: Penance as Justice

Three main reforms explicitly occurred during the course of Azure Gleam, not counting Support-locked ones like education needed for proper representation. Those are:

Improving foreign relations

Reducing crest dependence

Refining their justice system

Miklan's situation covers the last two.

We know from supports like Ingrid's that crests are dwindling. Titles don't always pass to crested children in the Kingdom, even if they exist. Sylvain notes that the military and threat of invasion or bandits primarily drive the need for crests. Commonfolk require ways to fight without relics if they wish to completely demolish the need for crested nobles in Faerghus.

This makes crests a practical matter in the Kingdom, not religious. The Church has no opposition to the dilution of crest bloodlines. Nor do they stop actions taken to bring crestless people up to the same position of power as those with crests, such as commoners being knighted or mixed marriages being blessed by the king. A crestless noble like Miklan wouldn't be out of place among the new wave of knights and nobles Dimitri has been creating.

Regarding justice, several events show us that Faerghus has a stringent stance on treason and other criminal activity. The Western Lords believe their options are to kill the royal family to stop reforms or die if they fail, as evidenced by Dominic's hesitation. Cornelia feeds this fear, but with Dimitri's forced beheading of Rufus, it's confirmed for the players that criminals are dealt with harshly in the Kingdom.

Dimitri appears to oppose this way of thinking. This may be partly because he considers himself "the guilty" and believes in the duty of atonement. It may also be because he can't just execute people for every crime. Even outside of war, a poor nation like Faerghus has a plethora of criminals out of necessity. Ashe, now one of his knights thanks to Lonato's saving him when he was younger, is a prime example of this.

Unfortunately, change in Faerghus is not so simple. Lambert was executed and Duscur blamed to avoid reforms in the past. Even if those changes are shown to be just, such as re-establishing Duscur, dictating significant cultural changes causes unrest. That puts Dimitri in a position where he must simultaneously seek bottom-up (from the people) and top-down (from the leaders) reform.

Miklan: The Rebirth of an Educated Criminal

In comes Miklan. Well-educated in war and Kingdom politics, a proven leader, crestless, and a true scumbag. His reformation would be a perfect symbol for Dimitri's new Kingdom, which believes a person is more than their birth or past deeds. As a bonus, if Miklan fails to prove he can better himself, his execution would be only a minor setback.

Through his upbringing as a Gautier, Miklan has cultivated the exact skillsets that Dimitri needs in a general. All Miklan needs to do is stay away from the rest of House Gautier due to their sordid history and become his own man - under military supervision, admittedly. If he can live for himself and serve the Kingdom, it is a win for the country as a whole.

The fantastic part is that it works. You see NPCs go from hating him or cautiously optimistic about his role to admiring how far Miklan was able to go. They hope that they, too, can escape their past misdeeds and become respected. After all, if someone as awful as that could turn their life around, why couldn't they do the same?

Miklan personally and publicly proved that his lack of a crest never made him less intelligent or capable of serving as a leader compared to his brother and father. It was his own choice to do his horrible deeds and his choice to be better, as well.

Even in death, Miklan's changes during that short time end up as a massive win for criminal rehabilitation in Faerghus.

Sylvain: Friends and Choice

That brings us to the personal aspect. It can be tough to swallow that Dimitri would invite Sylvain's known abuser into a position of power within the Kingdom. In that decision, we see the difference between the priorities of the infamous 'Faerghus Four.'

Felix and Ingrid are friends of Sylvain, first and foremost. Although both take their duty seriously, personal codes of loyalty drive them forward more than the future of Faerghus. They struggle to look the other way for the sake of the greater good, Felix especially. And since they've seen Sylvain make self-destructive decisions for years, they no longer trust him enough to choose for himself or understand his limits.

Sylvain and Dimitri are the opposite. They care dearly about their friends, but they value being a good leader and securing the future for Faerghus over their personal feelings. Sacrifice comes easy to them. That isn't to say they're unfeeling. Dimitri creates the safest environment possible with the situation - he asks Sylvain for permission, keeps them separate, and makes sure Miklan will be executed if he steps a toe out of line. But ultimately, he trusts Sylvain, naively or not, to know himself and his limits.

To that end, I argue against the idea that Dimitri and Sylvain are "broken" for rejecting revenge as justice for Miklan and instead giving him an opportunity. I think they both made an incredibly mature, valid decision. And I think the fact their friends didn't like it was also valid.

It's a good reminder that moving on looks different for everyone. One victim's way of coming to terms with their abuse doesn't look like another's. They may even be totally incompatible. Not everyone can be okay with seeing someone who abused them living a great life, even if that abuser never harms anyone again. Others, like Sylvain, may want distance and the peace of mind that someone they love, abuser or not, no longer needs to live for only hatred. Which one is "right" can only be answered by the person living through it.

Sylvain and Dimitri move on by doing what they believe is the right thing for the people. It's their comfort when they know that any choice will be uncomfortable at best and deadly at worst. Others might find more peace in incarceration or violence toward those who have wronged them.

Miklan's arc lets us explore the messiness of human nature. He makes others suffer, so we hate him, yet he has suffered himself, so we also pity him. It forces players to reconcile the desire to see someone punished for evil acts with the compassionate idea that there is always a chance to change for the better, no matter our trauma, if we try hard enough.

#fire emblem 3 hopes #fire emblem 3 houses #fe3h #few3h #essay #miklan anschutz gautier

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torchickentacos · 1 year

Note

So obviously Advance is your favorite gen in the anime but I’m wondering do you have a personal ranking of the other gens by chance? I’ve been a bit curious as to what you think about the rest of the series.

HELLO ANON this is late, as are all my other responses right now, BUT!!! Here's my ranking, with bias. If I took bias out it would be very different, but this is based on my personal opinions and enjoyment of them rather than me in writer brain analysis mode, though there is overlap. NOTE!!! I ADORE ALL OF THESE, AND ONE BEING AT THE BOTTOM STILL MEANS I LOVE IT WITH MY WHOLE HEART <3333

1.) AG. Frankly, nostalgia is a large part of this because from a neutral standpoint, AG is kinda wack, inconsistent characterization, weird pacing, et cetera, list goes on. But it's so full of LIFE. It's vibrant, it's loud, it's got explosions in most episodes, and it has the Hoenn Coordinators, which for me is a huge point. I think it had really compelling characters in Drew and Harley and May and AG Ash. I wish characterization was more consistent across them, but ultimately it just altched onto my brain and hasn't let go for maybe.... 19 ish years now. Also, AG is just WILD. Divorce episode. Kidnapped by skarmory. In Japanese intro, it makes mystery dungeon red/blue canon. TOSSING PEOPLE OFF OF WATERFALLS. I adore it. It's chock full of batshit insane energy. Choose a random AG episode and you'll be getting whiplash from every scene. it's WILD, and they let Harley say boytoy several times.

2.) Original Series. Similar points as above!!! it's so unapologetically FUN and VIBRANT. It's the most iconic, and has line after line after line I can quote from the heart. Frying pan as a drying pan, my beloved. I think it has arguably the MOST consistent characterizations, and a consistent story and plot rather than feeling all over the place like certain other seasons. It's just FUN.

3.) Diamond and Pearl. I really like DP because it tried something with Ash and Paul that I really liked. Rivals before Ash and Paul were generally friendly, or at least could come together in some situations. May and Drew had their whole thing, Ash and Gary argue but are there for eachother, Ritchie and Morrison existed, I guess, even Harley, who is the most sinister rival up to this point, was only sinister because of his own personality stuff and not any deeper reason. But Paul shook it up. Paul challenged Ash in ways he hasn't been challenged before- it was largely ideological in nature, challenging everything Ash knows and believes in, and i LOVE that. It's a GOOD RIVALRY. I would change many things about paul, he is my IKEA shelf to fix, but I find that one of the most compelling character relationships. AND THIS ISN'T EVEN GETTING INTO HOW MUCH I ADORE DAWN!!!!!!!!!!! Also Brock had the best characterization here, IMO. And, hot take, Conway is SO FUN when he isn't... you know. in creepy conway mode. unfortunately. sigh.

4.) BW. Do I ever watch it? Not particularly. Are Cilan and Iris in it? Yes, therefore, higher spot on the list. Also, good battles, fun gym leaders, fun meowth plot. Nothing super specific to say about it, I just like it!!!

5.) Orange Islands. just good vibes, not much to say. I like it but would consider it my least-watched along with SM, unfortunately. HOWEVER it has Tracey, and for that it goes here because I love Tracey. <3333

6.) XY. I had a DIFFICULT TIME placing XY because it is riddled with issue after issue for me personally. But I think its art style and music and pacing and animation is my favorite of any season. I liken XY to the following: Imagine you have wagyu beef, expensive brioche bread, fresh homegrown tomatoes, and fancy ass cheese. You put them together and somehow end up with a mcdonalds cheeseburger. It has ALL THE PERFECT PIECES and yet when put together it, uh, had issues. But I do really love all the individual pieces and the potential of XY.

7.) Sun moon, but only because I know it less. I do find some of the voice acting rather grating in this season specifically, and from everything my sister has said the entire lusamine arc was, uh ??????????? weird?, and I don't UNDERSTAND some decisions made, but I do know it has a well-deserved cult following who adore it!! I just never quite joined, but I do still love it from a distance.

8.) I am so sorry, but Journeys. I want to love it. I do. I truly do. However, I just... have thoughts. I have not seen as much of journeys, but I do think that it felt incredibly jumbled and all over the place. I love Goh and Chloe, but ultimately in my personal ranking, they don't save Journeys.

#taylor's tag #pokemon #pokeani #anipoke #taylor talks

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daydadahlias · 2 years

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Re: Concerning Extracurriculars

Some crack for the girlies based on my brain worm of “omg what if management met with Ashton and told him that he can’t participate in bondage anymore bc he has insured wrists and cant risk injuring them” that I then felt obligated to inflict onto others.

Summary: a conference meeting and other consequences of dating (and fucking) a drummer with insured wrists

Word Count: 3,567

Pairing: Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin

Rating: Mature

READ ON AO3

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thisweekingundamwing · 1 year

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This Week in Gundam Wing 8-14 January 2023

Here’s the last week’s roundup! January 8th - January 14th!

Remember to give your content creators some love! Be sure to join in on the events at the bottom! And remember to send in any new works you see or make next week!

~Mod Hel

Fanfiction/Ideas/Snippets:

danceswithronin

Requiem for the Sinners https://archiveofourown.org/series/3258501

Pairings: Heero/Duo, minor Duo/OMC, Quatre/Trowa

This series was originally posted and languished, unfinished, on Gundam Wing Addiction. Now the author (Clever Young Thief on GWA) has revived it and begun posting new updates on AO3 under the name danceswithronin! Almost all of the original fic has been transferred over and edited, as well as its prequel Fall from Innocence, and both of them are updating regularly every few days. In addition, the author has expanded the series to a number of other one-shots. As of right now, Fall from Innocence is up to chapter 21 and Requiem for the Sinners is up to chapter 38, but I expect one or both will have updated again before the next content update.

[CW: Requiem begins with the assassination of multiple non-pilot characters. As it is a work in progress, happy endings are not guaranteed.]

Two years after the Endless Waltz, Duo is a representative for the struggling L2 colony cluster while Heero hangs in the shadows as Relena's bodyguard, hiding from his past. But when the civil unrest in the L2 colonies threatens to boil over into civil war, the two pilots suddenly find themselves on opposite sides of the battlefield.

@expewrites

Snow Like Ash, Snow Like Sugar https://archiveofourown.org/works/44084992

Gen, M/M, Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner

Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba Winner, Nichol (Gundam Wing), Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell

Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Post-Canon, Mobile Suits & Gundams, Mentions of War & Death, Developing Relationship, Friendship/Love, Snow, winter vibes

Cleanup after the Battle of Brussels takes a hard toll. When Quatre suggests a break, it's a chance for Trowa to appreciate winter through new eyes, and find warmth in the bitter cold.

@helmistress

Advance from Behind https://archiveofourown.org/works/44278162

M/M, Multi, WuFei Chang/Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy/Duo Maxwell, WuFei Change/Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy, mentioned Meilan Long/Relena Peacecraft

WuFei Chang, Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy, Relena Peacecraft, Meilan Long

Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, GW Holiday Gift Exchange 2022, Pinch-hit, Omegaverse, Mafia AU, lovers of Relena’s purity beware, Pining, sexual themes mentioned

Being an Omega sucked, especially when you knew you were the smartest person in your ‘family’. Smarts didn’t make you an Alpha though, and only Alphas could lead a mafia. WuFei rolled his eyes at the very thought, then turned them back to face the young woman currently on her knees begging his leader to give her a chance.

@miyurinq

Heart (Ch. 21) https://archiveofourown.org/works/40914714/chapters/111206877

M/M, Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner

Quatre Raberba Winner, Trowa Barton, Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Chang Wufei

Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Post-Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz, Minor Violence, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort

All Quatre wants is to help. Even when the war is over, so many people suffer because of the consequences. Helping rebuild is the least he can do. But he seems unlucky, things go wrong all the time and people get hurt.

Trowa hardly recognizes Quatre. He has changed and seems to have problems. He reluctantly tells him about his bad luck, but Trowa doubts that it's just "bad luck" and decides to investigate.

@vegalume

After https://archiveofourown.org/works/44199298

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner

Trowa Barton, Duo Maxwell, Chang Wufei, Quatre Raberba Winner, Heero Yuy

Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Holidays, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, tiny bit of sad-feeling-ness, First Christmas Together, kisses and gifts

Wufei, Quatre and Heero are recalled from their missions and instructed to wait with Trowa and Duo, who were currently on Earth, until it is time for them to resume their missions.

Oh, and it's Christmas 🎄

Arts/Crafts/Photo Manips:

@ghost-proof

https://ghost-proof.tumblr.com/post/705843605972140032/the-season-premiere-of-rupauls-drag-race-had

Duo Maxwell, fanart

@imperviousmelodrama

https://www.tumblr.com/imperviousmelodrama/705927358525358080

Deathscythe, fanart

@noirangetrois

https://www.tumblr.com/noirangetrois/171815436459/artist-rei

WuFei Chang, fanart by REI

Photosets/Gifsets/Screenshots/Manga Pages:

@fallenwingzero

https://fallenwingzero.tumblr.com/post/706270675613138944/i-love-that-noins-weird-american-western-style?_branch_match_id=1143012942983282777&utm_medium=Share&_branch_referrer=H4sIAAAAAAAAA8soKSkottLXTyzRKynNTcop0kvOz9VPS8zJSc0rz8xLr0otytc3NzAzAmJzUzNDY0NjC0sTE31jw6qMDLM0MwPzdBMA8LY8bkQAAAA%3D

Noin, Zechs, Naina, official art

Head Canons/Meta:

@fallenwingzero

https://fallenwingzero.tumblr.com/post/706050300179529728/continuing-on-with-my-red-dead-online-duofather?_branch_match_id=1143012942983282777&utm_medium=Share&_branch_referrer=H4sIAAAAAAAAAwXBiQ2AIAwAwI1ohWDFbcDUJ%2BGRWmPC9N6dqvezAkQ1%2BpaUxWytwB5z5vpd9RgsDQhn9OgQJwreBrILSGDsVJLrPH4lT6OARAAAAA%3D%3D

Red Dead!Duo

Quotes:

@incorrectgundamwingquotes

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/705921238311305216/kidnappers-over-the-phone-weve-got-your

Kidnappers & Relena

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/705830682588495872/trowa-remember-bird-watching-goes-both

Trowa & Cathy

Calendar Events:

@gundamzine

Battle Scars and Kitchen Cabinets

Applicatons Open~ https://gundamzine.tumblr.com/post/705258971113619456/applications-are-open-to-apply-fill-in-the

Applications close on January 31st!

@gwcocktailfriday

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompt for Friday, January 20th! https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/post/706415628641320960/cocktail-friday-post-responses-on-friday-january

In need of prompts!

@gwlemonyshenanigans

Lemony Shenanigans 2023! https://gwlemonyshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/705715266075705344/hello-everyone-were-back-d-sign-ups-are-now

@thisweekingundamevents

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pokeexehasstoppedworking · 1 year

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Diamond In The Rough Ch1 Hard-As-A-Rock Family Bonds (plus story summery)

(This is the second spin off story of Love Doesn't Do Encores/A Champion Time For The Heart, side parody to Dragon's Treasure, and Part 4 of the Galar Soulmate series. )

It's all over. Y/n doesn't have to ever worry about anything ever again! Her friends are safe. Her pokemon are here. She's got new friends and family. And she never has to go back to her control freak, narcissist mother. So...what now? Well her original plan was to attend college so why not go to the Circhester Community College? It's a lot simpler than the colleges back in her world and it wouldn't hurt to get a degree! There's only one teeny problem. What happens when you managed to pierce the rock solid heart of the local gym leader?

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The air was cold tonight. Snow flying against the windows and slowly fluttering down like albino butterflies to join their brethren on the ground, making a glistening white that glittered in the moonlight against the dark. A contrast to the warm glow of the cozy homes and buildings with orange-yellow lights pouring from within their solid walls, a barrier against the constant frigid cold that was around here. But the enticing smells of foods and ashes from fireplaces was a welcoming feeling. But ..it was strange really. Having a family dinner with his mom and four little siblings tonight. An almost uncomfortable feeling in his chest was there as just sat and almost picked at his food in a way that someone would've thought he was forced by someone to be here. His mother on the other hand seemed over the moon having all five of her children sitting at the same table with her, his little siblings were confused to his sudden presence. Confused, but very happy to see the older brother that they barely got to see nowadays. But the reason he was so stiff tonight wasn't because of the cold, his siblings, or even his mother surprisingly. It was because this was all so new to him. Being open and honest like this and having his mother respecting the boundaries put down in place. Dinner once a week. It was a....start.

An awkward, uncomfortable start he still had trouble wrapping his head around. But a start nonetheless and it was good for now. Something he could do and something that wasn't rushed or pressured. It all started one fateful day and one fateful encounter all earlier last year during the gym challenge. One regular day of the dazzling fame and hoard of fans swarming him from all sides making him put a smile on his face and turn his back on the one person who always came with these crowds. His mother was shoulder blocked in favor of the more 'important' fans shoving papers in his face to sign or pushing one another out of the way to take a picture with him. When a woman with a scarf and thick hoodie hiding most of her face came along and it would end up changing his life forever. He still remembered that memory like he was standing there living through it again and again-

With the speed walk you were going it was impossible to stop on time before you collided with the white blur with a yelp. Stumbling back your foot slipped on some snow and down you went arms flailing landing on your bottom on the hard stone ground. Luckily you weren't hurt but you hissed and mumbled something under your breath at the feeling of the cold seeping into the back of your pants now.

"Oh my goodness gracious!," an older woman's voice exclaimed above you and when you looked up you were met with a woman who looked about the same age as your mom as she held her face in an 'Oh no' kinda pose as she looked at you. All decked out in white winter wear. "I'm so sorry, Young Lady. I didn't see you there."

You waved her off as more people turned their heads at the commotion. "Nah. It's ok. It's my fault I wasn't looking where I was going-," you had begun to say before another's voice much more louder and angrier sounding made you both look over.

"MOM!! What are you doin'!?," A man's voice shouted out as people parted and a guy who looked vaguely familiar marched his way forward. The man wore...Shades of all things in this not so sunny weather with a tan-ish coat thrown over himself and blonde-white hair that draped to just above his shoulders as he pushed his way through the small crowd of people until he stopped right in front of you and the woman. He looked right at your confused self still sitting on the ground for a moment before looking over at the woman with a deep frown. "Seriously!? Ya knocked one of my fans over?"

"I'm so sorry, Honey. Really I am," she said calmly as if she had all the patience of an ancient monk. "But it was an accident." Oh. So this must've been his mom. But what does he mean by fan?? You didn't even know this guy.

"Tch!," he scoffed before crossing his arms, "Yeah right. You crash all my events especially after I win against a gym challenger." Your eyes widened. ....Gym chall-..OH!! Now you remember! You looked between the two who had a resemblance now that you looked at them. Gym Leaders Melony and Gordie! So that's why he looked semi familiar to you. These were some of the few characters you actually remembered from your time playing the game! ..Oh. And they were known for fighting of course. "You're lucky you didn't cause her to hit her head during the fall!" You looked back up blinking wide eyed at him as he scowled at his mother. "Did you even apologize to her or were you just gonna forget that too?"

You stared wide eyed at him. Who says that to their own mother!? Through all this Melony just calmly and sadly watched him as he angrily spewed out. You WISH your mom was like Melony- "HEY!!" You were quick to try and rise to your feet stumbling a bit on the snow as you did. Rising up with your own frown behind the scarf covering your face and quickly dusting yourself off.

"Ah man. Are you alright there?," he asked holding his hand out. "Sorry about my mom-"

"Oh be quiet!" You bluntly said as you snapped your face to him, which combined with your sharp tone seemed to make him pause in the moment. "I know exactly who you are!! What is WRONG with you man!?" You couldn't help but shout at him. Well considering Gordie's only a side character who you wouldn't probably see again after Gloria defeated him, it would be ok to shout at him. Especially since you weren't in the game's storyline at the moment. So you jabbed him in the chest which made him blinked and take a couple steps back. "Of course your mother apologized to me but that's NOT the point! It was an accident and I happened to run into HER! Not the other way around!! Are you kidding me with your behavior right now, Gordie!? Don't you see what you're doing!?" You gestured towards Melony who looked shocked herself seeing you jab at her son. "You're yelling at your own mother who didn't do anything wrong in front of a bunch of your fans in public!? Are you trying to embarrass her or something!? Your mom's so much nicer than you!! Geez! What were those guys thinking!?"

"I-...W-Wha-" He sputtered but you shut him down real quick.

"NO! You're not allowed to talk to me! You know why? Because your mom's one of the nicest people in all of Galar!! DUDE GET OVER YOUR STUPID EGO!! You both had a fight like..years ago!? So WHAT?! You're running your own stadium you wanted and you have like loads of fans! Don't you think that bashing her in front of your fans would make her look bad!?....No. Scratch that." He blinked as you took a step forward and he stepped back. "It makes YOU look bad! SO I am NOT a fan of yours! I'm just here looking for a missing camera but even if I didn't I'd still feel bad for your mother! Don't you think the reason Melony makes an effort to be in your fan club and trying so hard to support you is her way of showing she cares about you and is actually sorry about the fight you two had!?" You shook your head. "Gosh. Your head must be thicker than a onix if you missed that!!"

There was silence all around as the once crowd of chattering people were all shocked and staring at you, Gordie, or Melony or looking between the three of you as Gordie just stared jaw dropped and making noises like a fish out of water as you scoffed and turned around. Melony watching with equal reaction to her son and even passing people who weren't a part of the crowd was staring right at you as you turned your back to him.

"So don't apologize to me. Because the only one you should be apologizing to is your poor mother." You gave him one last very SERIOUS look over your shoulder. "As someone who wished for a parent like her, you need to get a reality check man." You turned back to his shocked mother before sighing. "I'm really sorry about all this, Ma'am. But I gotta go. I have to meet up back with my friends."

With a new sour feeling that combined with your annoyance with the cold and falling down, without looking behind you, you turned on your heels and stomped off back towards where Gloria was headed when you both split up. You didn't feel like staying at the Hero's Bath any longer now with the eerie silent you left behind. Everyone watched after you as you disappeared....until a single THUNK sound broke the silence as Gordie's shades fell off his shocked face to the cold ground below.

Now there was a few things wrong with her angry statements. His mother didn't 'didn't do anything wrong'. She had high expectations and wants that she tried to push him into doing and a few other things that led to them falling out. His mother wasn't a 'poor mother' either in both the sense that she again wasn't an angel herself, and in the other sense because she had quite the income as a gym leader. AND he doubted if that woman or anyone else really grew up with his mother, he doubted they would've wanted a mother like her as well. In fact it still felt like she was overbearing him at times whenever she showed up to his events. THAT'S what he would've explained to her after he got over the shock of that scolding and he hadn't just fled to his home for a while.

Now onto the facts that seemed correct about those statements. Her words stung him through his brain and down his heart and stomach. His Shuckle was worried from the amount of time he'd spent staring off into space soaking in his hot tub or staring at the wall at odd hours of the night. Until one night he finally figured out what feelings the words replaying in his head brought out in him. REALIZATION!! Not at the things you got wrong of course. Oh no no no. Melony still wasn't a perfect person or innocent to their falling out either, in fact she was the sole cause of it with her stubbornness and expectations from him. No one, not even the mysterious woman who yelled, could change his mind on that. Not even if you offered him the Champion title with the most powerful pokemon in Galar. But what he did realize was that, to a degree, that woman whoever she was was right. In a way. He...wasn't really doing either of them any favors by yelling at her in public and embarrassing her..Sure they fought but thinking on it now, he wondered how and why she began supporting his choices all of a sudden. He couldn't exactly remembered when she started showing up to his events and joined his fan club but it must've been maybe a good few years(??) at most. And no matter how much or what he said she always seemed to show up to support him, which still left a sour taste in his mouth. Where was this kinda support back then before they fought?...But if he was really honest with himself, and he always was, there was times that-

He really did miss his mom.

She wasn't perfect and she was hard on him and his siblings a lot, but she wasn't a bad parent. Not a 'perfect' parent, or a 'great' parent, but a good one and he was certain that she definitely wasn't the worst mother in the world. Even if her support now was overbearing was she really trying, or was this all for an image? The questions wouldn't leave him taking his attention away from other things like battles and events he planned in advance because his mind was always somewhere else. Well he one day finally decided to find out once and for all to put his running mind at ease. He felt so awkward and uncomfortable walking up to his childhood home one afternoon and knocking at the door over and over until she answered the door. His mother had opened the door and looked just as shocked as he felt awkward to see him of all people standing in the doorway.

"Gordie?"

"Ma. We need to have a talk," he bluntly stated hands in his pockets as his foot tapped anxiously away. He wanted to get straight to the point. "Can I come in?"

....She slowly blinked for a moment before she nodded and stepped aside for him to walk in. "Of course. Come on in."

"Thanks," he mumbled before walking on in and going straight to the living room. Huh..Not a single thing had been changed or moved over the years he'd been out of the house, from the rugs to the same painting of a frosmoth over the fireplace was the exact same. Glad to see at least this place was normal. "...Where's Elsa and the troublesome trio?"

"They're still in school," she spoke slowly closing the door. he heard her footsteps approach him but stopped a few yards away giving him space. "Why?... Did something happen to them?! Is there an emergency!?"

Good. He didn't want them around in case this lead to another fight. "...Nah." He shook his head making her sigh in relief. "Nothin' like that, Mom." He then looked at her and with one hand reached up to take off his shades, showing the hardened look in his eyes. "But we still need to talk about what's been going on."

She seemed confused and rose a brow back at him. " And what's been going on?"

"I'm talking about the fact you're always following me around whenever I plan anything!," he barked back his anxious brain finally making him lose patience. And she froze. "Cut the crap and answer me already. Are you really doing it cuz you feel sorry or is it to save your own image!?"

And then the house was silent other than the fire crackling currently in the fireplace and again it looked like he caught Melony off guard because the woman only stared at him wide eyed and shocked he even said that. Well he felt himself getting frustrated when she didn't answer him and continued pointing a finger from the hand holding his shades at her.

"Because you've been doin' this for the last couple years and it's been drivin' me CRAZY cuz I can't figure out what your motive is! Are you really sorry or are you just trying to get back in my good graces!? If you are sorry why can't you just say it to my face!? But if you're not then why are ya even bothering with this because it's really getting on my mind!," he continued to rant gesturing his hands around at nothing, "I haven't been able to focus or sleep because that's all I can think about lately so whatever it is just tell me now because I REALLY would like to be able to sleep again without those thoughts clouding my mind!!"

He was left panting and huffing by the end of his long rant and just started at his mother who continued to stare back silently...before she sighed and allowed her brows to crease in slight sadness.

"Oh, Honey," she spoke slowly seeming to put the puzzle together. "Is this what it's all about?" She shook her head. "Of course I'm sorry. That's why I've been trying so hard to make it up to you and make things right."

"Y-Yeah? Well you could've made that clear from the beginnin'!," he spoke with a waver to his voice.

"I thought I did when I first started supporting you. I thought that's what you wanted from me."

"I DID FROM THE VERY BEGINNING!!," he shouted again pointing at her harder, "That's ALL I ever wanted from you! Your support now d-d-doesn't erase what happened when I was seventeen, Mom! It doesn't just make what happened ok o-or erase that moment from time!! It isn't going to change that!!"

"I know it won't change anything," she spoke sadly and she gestured at nothing. "I know I've got this tendency to assume what makes me happy makes others happy too. I get carried away." She admitted looking to the floor. "There have been times where it worked in my favor but it's also just messed things up instead...I had to learn the hard way to stop assuming and do better by my children, and I'm afraid it might've been too late to realize that with you."

"Y-Yeah?...W-Well you're right about the 'too late' part."

"I know, Sweetie. And I can apologize over and over and give as many excuses as I'd like to explain everything but I know that won't make much of a difference if it even does do any. I'm the bad guy in this situation and there's no getting around that. All I can do is try to makes things right now and hope you can forgive me. If you can't...Then you can't."

"Why?...Why didn't you say an-anythin' like that whenever I yelled at ya in front of people!?"

"Because I wasn't going to stop you from expressing how you felt about me," Melony replied back calmly enough, although from the look she was giving him she felt sorry. "If you really felt like that towards me then that's how you feel. There's nothing I could've done to change that, I know I'm in the wrong and I just want you to express yourself however."

She flinched when a sob left Gordie and for once he found himself in a very long time crying. Tears flowing down his face finally from being held back for so long and not being able to anymore. The dam had broken, and the wave of emotions had overtaken any rational thought his brain might've had, letting the waterworks stream down his face, his throat clench up, And his vision blurry.

"D-Dangit, Ma-...W-Why do ya al-always have to make things h-hard?," he asked between chokes and hiccups and behind hands furiously wiping at his face.

The sobbing and tears took over him and he couldn't remember when exactly in the mess it happened, but he found himself being held by someone's arms and another low voice shushing him, but this voice was also crying herself.

"Oh, Honey. I h-had no idea it was affecting you this much. I'm so sorry."

The tears and sobbing still came until after another ten minutes he seemed to finally get a hold of himself and the tears ran out, and he was able to shuffle himself out of his mother's hold to wipe at his face better. But it felt...almost relieving in a way. Almost like a boulder had lifted off his chest and his mind was a bit more clearer than before. Well...this was good. Right? Well now begs the question. Where do they go from here?

"...I-I can't do this anymore." Melony blinked from wiping her own eyes as he placed the glasses back on his face. "Feelin' like this. And living everyday like this for the rest of our lives..I'm...willing to work ..something out with you, Ma. B-B-But...There's gotta be some boundaries. So like I said before...We need to talk."

Spare all the details, but a long, grueling, AWKWARD talk ensued between the two of them and they managed to work something out after all. He would spend one night a week at her house for dinner and in return she'd back off coming to so many events of his and being overbearing in public, she could still show up to some of his events but a phone call or a heads up would be appreciated. And to his surprise it-...worked surprisingly well. It was still awkward, weird, and slow, but it was still a start and things were looking to slowly work themselves out. Things were starting to improve with his little siblings and Melony. But something still didn't sit right on his mind. That chick who stirred up these feelings in him and was ultimately the push needed to send all the dominos toppling over to get his life to where it was now. He wanted- No. NEEDED to talk to her, for a multitude of reasons. To CORRECT her on the statements she got wrong. To CLEAR UP any misunderstandings she may have had. To APOLOGIZE personally for how he acted in front of her. And to THANK her for putting into motion this part of his life. But there was only one problem. He couldn't FIND her. Like...ANYWHERE in Circhestor. And he wasn't sure what she looked like either. Her entire face was covered so all he had to go on was the color of the winter coat and scarf she wore and f/c eyes. Now he did try to look and ask around but it seemed like she just vanished into thin air. She wasn't local as far as he could tell and she didn't seem to be one of the students in the local community college, and he certainly would've recognized her voice at any of the small stores he frequented on a regular basis. Asking around yielded no results either. Everyone knew her as 'The Girl Who Yelled At Gym Leader Gordie' but no names or faces to match and with time that incident faded from memory too. He asked his mom about her in case the mystery chick was in fact just a hallucination made up by him and his hands, but to his surprise his mother confirmed the interaction. To his DOUBLE surprise she even mentioned running into that girl again at the grocery store not too long after their encounter.

"Really!? Where was she?! Who was she!? Where did she go!?"

But his mother only shrugged. "I don't know, Sweetie. I only spoke to her for a minute and she seemed in a real hurry to go. She mentioned something about her and her friends leaving real soon."

She left Circhestor? Well that explained a lot of things. Oh well. Guess he could forget about that idea afterall. But unknowns to him he would actually end up seeing her again for she was the same woman who happened to be Leon's friend, and the one who babysat his little sibs during the Champion Cup, and the one who ended up actually saving Leon in the end from what he heard from both Leon and Piers who stayed in the hospital for a while. But he didn't know that this woman was the same woman he'd met earlier until some time into the next year. There had been another problem. One that woke everyone in Circhestor up with the rumbling and roaring of not one, not two, not even three but EIGHT dynamaxed pokemon running rampant in Circhestor's two gyms! Four in each gym. Don't ask him how or WHY there was suddenly eight dynamaxed pokemon running about but he was more focused on fixing the problem right now. He first helped his mother take care of the pokemon in her gym before returning to his own gym to deal with the remaining pokemon when he ran into a surprise.

The man was startled by the fact you all ran in and held up his hands waving for you all to get back.

"Hey! Get to safety you guys!," he shouted at you just as another roar sound echoed through the sky making him look between the sky and then back to all of you before shooing you all again. "It's not good to be here right now."

"Then who'd you think you're talkin' to then?," Piers asked him and Gordie looked towards him as he reached up and pulled his hood off revealing his long black and white hair making Gordie blink in surprise. "We're here to help not be helped."

"Piers!?," Gordie asked reaching his hand up to raise his sunglasses to look at Piers surprised.

"In the flesh. We figured ya needed a hand an' I happened ta have some extra time nowadays."

"Oh..Un actually." He cleared his throat and put his sunglasses back on. "I didn't realize who I was talking to. I was just thinking over how to handle this. With all of you here we can each take one of them on!"

"One o' 'em?"

Gordie nodded. "Y-Yeah. For some reason four pokemon just like... unleashed or something in my Mom's and mine's gyms!"

"Good Arceus! Is she ok?"

He nodded again. "Yeah. It took us both a while to clear out her gym and I was just trying to figure out how to clear them out before you arrived. But with your help I'm sure we can just get it over with pretty quick."

Piers nodded. "'Course. Should we go in now and take care of it or??"

"Oh! Right! Yeah." Gordie turned and motioned for you all to follow him. "Let's head to the pitch then!"

They moved to follow Gordie and so did you but you were stopped by something grabbing the back of your coat. You groaned and put your head up as you were pulled back and was met face to face by Piers who rose a brow. "And where do ya think you're goin', Y/n?"

"Oh come on Piers!" You gave him a frown looking at him. "You heard him! There's four crazy wild pokemon going crazy in there! You all could get hurt! Hop and Victor could get hurt! I can provide help!"

"I'll take care o' 'em," he said sternly placing you back down next to him as Silver poked his head out of your backpack. "You stay 'ere and stay safe. No buts!"

"....Ugh! Fine!" You pouted as he made a move to follow the guys. "I swear you can be a pain sometimes."

"I'd rather be the pain in your neck instead of those pokemon. Now STAY here!"

You watched them go before looking at Silver and gesturing towards them. "Can you believe this?" Silver gave a chirp. "Exactly!"

He wouldn't lie he was glad for whatever reason Piers and his little mates were there to help him take out those pokemon all dynamaxed in the gym. His own pokemon were already tired from dealing with four other giant pokemon so the extra help was appreciated, and the small group showed back up alright. A little roughed up and dirty no doubt from the field but overall looking rather well.

Gordie sighed and reached a hand up to wipe at his forehead. "Nice work everyone. No one's hurt are they?"

Hop gave a dry laugh. "Ha ha. Just barely. Battling a dynamax pokemon all on your own is pretty hard work."

"Hehe...Well I expected nothing less from you, Piers," Gordie thanked Piers with a smile. "You seem like quite the reliable trainer too, Hop."

Hop blinked at the compliment the gym leader gave him. "I-I do?"....Before giving a bashful smile.

A small laugh rang out. "Looks like he ain't used ta compliments." Piers teased pointing at Hop. "Look. He's got a grin wider than a meowth."

"I-I do not!," Hop protested quickly making Piers give a...wide smile. You blinked at him. "Shut your gob, Piers!"

"Anyways..I'll take care of the pokemon we battled so there's no need for you all to worry. Alright?"

"What will you do with them?", you asked curiously

Gordie shrugged. "Relocate and release them back into the wild probably. Maybe give them to my little sibs? We'll decide once we get them looked at by Nurse Joy." Gordie turned his head towards you. "Either way they'll be-.." he paused. Staring at you all bundled up in your coat with your scarf covering half your face as you stared back at him. After a moment of wide eyed staring Gordie reached up both his hands. Taking off his sunglasses and rubbing his eyes with the other before looking back to you letting you see his face without those glasses now...before he pointed at you. "Hey. You look familiar. Have we met somewhere before?"

Uh oh. Could you still get in trouble for what happened last year when you were first in Circhester? There probably couldn't be anything he could do since you technically didn't do anything other than maybe ban you from his gym which honestly wouldn't affect you much. But could he ban you from Circhester all together?

"Well...I mean I have seen you around once or twice," you answered truthfully. And you did. You saw him about four times now. At the Entrance Ceremony, during your trip to Circhester and Wyndon last year, and now.

In an instant Gordie's face gained a flash of realization and he pointed at you. "Hey! You're that chick!"

"Chick?," Piers asked looking between you and Gordie and narrowing his eyes.

You looked between both gym leaders before sighing and reaching up. Gordie's eyes widening more as you pulled down your hood and scarf revealing your face and head. "Wha-...Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait!..." he pointed again and if he wasn't holding his glasses it might've fallen off his face onto the ground. "The babysitter lady!?"

You groaned before ending it with a sigh and shaking your head as Gordie blinked. "Yeah. I uh....Never got a chance to apologize to you for yelling at you last year."

"Yellin' at 'em?," Piers asked raising his brows surprised and looking between the two of you more. "..Wot are ya two talking about?"

"It's a long story. But I really am sorry," you genuinely apologized. "I shouldn't have done that."

....Gordie blinked again. "Wha- Uh! N-No! Don't apologize!...I mean." He cleared his throat and turned his gaze placing his sunglasses back onto his face. "It's no big deal. Can't expect everyone to be a fan of mine y'know. And to be honest it's not like you're the first girl to yell at me for something."

"Wait....You're serious?" You blinked surprised.

"Yeeeaaahh." he rubbed the back of his neck. "I've had my share of love struck crazies and karens. Can't avoid that when you're kinda famous and a gym leader I guess." I mean...You guessed so. That sounded like something he'd have to deal with. He tilted his head back at you. "In fact.....I kinda owe you one for getting through my thick head." ...You mumbled a huh sound and he sighed. "I mean.." He gestured his other hand. "What you said about me...and my mom r-really stuck with me after that and I couldn't get it out of my head......Buuutt not getting it out of my head meant I was forced to think about it and thinking about it made me realize that....I was kinda being a jerk to my ma."

"I-..." You blinked exchanging surprised looks with Piers before looking back at him. "Wait. You did what?"

He nodded with a sigh. "Y-Yeah. You were right. My mom was really sorry about everything and was just trying to make up for it for so long and I was just treating her like dirt this entire time. I was so deep into the grudge I held over her it took someone verbally slapping some sense into me to realize that I was pushing her away and creating a stressful situation for my siblings. T-That's why I've been trying to make it up to her!" He clarified to you as if he was hoping you would approve of that gesturing his hand to you, making you blink again. "And thing's have been...well it's still kinda awkward, b-but it's better now! We talk and I visit a lot!"

You stared at him..Hey. Didn't Piers mention that Gordie and Melony were getting along better in the hospital? Did you do that? Oops. But hey! It looks like things are turning out for the better! "But...then who's going to take over your mom's gym?"

"My little sister!," Gordie answered proudly, "Elsa's always had more of a knack with Ice Types than I ever did! She'd be a better match for it than I ever could be! And I'm planning on training one of my baby brothers when they get older...." He sighed. "And when they mature more." Before he looked back to you. "But I never got the thought of the chick that helped me out out of my head. ..Hehe. I looked all over Circhester for ya but I couldn't find you anywhere. If it wasn't for my mom and some of my fans hearing you too I would've sworn you were a ghost or something."

"Me?" You pointed to yourself. "Why? I'm sorry if I caused you any grief or anything."

"No, no." He waved a hand. "I-I just wanted to t-thank you. Is all. Y'know. I just..never got to say thank you."

...You smiled. "Hey. Don't thank me. I'm just glad everything turned out ok for everyone. Let's just call it even and say no one owes the other anything."

Gordie blinked surprised for a moment before giving a smile. "*ahem* Y-Yeah. Sounds good. Heh....So uh..." He gestured towards you all. "Are you all leaving now?"

"Actually I suggest we spend the night here before we decide to go anywhere next," Hop suggested. "It's going to get dark soon and we can all use a small mental break from traveling to have a good night's sleep and leave in the morning."

"I second that!" Victor shivered.

"Oh! You're spending the night?...*ahem* W-Well if that's the case..Uh." He gestured to you. "Do you uh...M-Maybe wanna have some dinner at Bob's Your Uncle? They have some really good curry and hot coco. It'd be my treat-"

"Sorry, but I think we'll just get hotel room service. But thanks for the offer."

"O-Oh. Uh...Ok then."

And just like that she was gone yet again. He went to try and talk to her the very next morning but her and her crew had already left, and then he was left wondering why until he was filled in by Raihan to the events that transpired with two weird hairdo guys that was later made to apologize to him and his mother. He tried mentioning her to Leon but never could get to speak with her again so he forgot it for now, that was until he agreed to do an exhibition match with Raihan once his stadium was done being rebuilt.

The roar of the crowds could still be heard from even inside the heavily cemented concrete walls that made up most of the gym. Even with the thick steel door that made a loud metallic noise when strong hands opened the entrance way into the locker rooms and two tall figures entered covered in dirt and sweat from his weather attacks and a difficult battle inquiring much energy. The footsteps echoed throughout the room as they both entered. Lockers lined all along the right wall with showers and a few bathroom stalls and sinks towards the back and left walls, and a few benches were placed in the middle. Thank goodness that the atmosphere in here was. cooler. It helped to cool the two of them off from the work out that was the show they put on. The first thing Gordie did once in there was make a beeline for the nearest bench and tiredly plop himself down on it with a relieved sigh.

"Hhhhhaaaa. Man." Two hands reached up and removed the signature sunglasses from his face while his other pushed itself through his blonde locks. A few grands of sand falling from them courtesy of Raihan's flygon's sandstorm attack. "Been a while since I had a battle that intense."

His answer was to sigh back and reached his own hand up to remove the orange bandanna from his forehead. Allowing his head to feel some relief from it's fabric. "Yeah. Good battle though. You really had be in the last round not gonna lie."

The other gym leader let out a small dry chuckle his way before gazing his eyes towards him. "Yeah but we both knew you were going to win from the start, Raihan. Don't kid yourself." His gaze once again looked back down towards his hand and then grimaced when he spotted the specks of dirt all over the shades' lenses. "I might've as well have just forfeited before I even got here. No one can top the top leader."

"Hmm. True, but then again we both know you won't back down from a chance to make yourself look great in front of all those adoring fans of yours. Seriously, I think the stadium's packed with more of your fans than mine. Did you see how many people were lined outside begging at your feet for just a picture?"

"Tch." A small smile appeared on Gordie's face as he attempted to clean the shades on the fabric of his jacket. "You're just jealous because I can wear dirt and still come out with great hair!"

That made Raihan laugh a little bit back. "Grains of sand is just filed down rock, and who else could look better in it than the Rock Type Gym Leader himself?"

"But of course! But since we're on the topic of fans, I think that crazy group of women were throwing themselves at your feet not mine. Still a ladies' man huh?" Despite Gordie asking that in a joking way his words made Raihan pause and his friend quickly picked up on his lack of movement, looking up at him. "....Hey, Dude. You ok there?"

"Hm?" Raihan blinked at him before holding up a free hand. "Oh yeah. I've been good. Just-...A-A lot's been on my mind lately considering. Y'know?"

With a hum Gordie nodded. "Yeah man. I feel you. I bet things have been stressful. You sure you're not over pushing yourself?"

"No. I'm fine in that department," he assured Gordie with a small smile. "Guess it's just the feeling of all the stress winding down. But how's your family?" He asked changing the subject. "I think Nessa told me your little sister was being trained to take over your mom's gym."

"Huh? O-Oh yeah. Thing's are a bit...awkward sometimes but-" Gordie paused for a moment rolling his wrist. "It's...good. Things are good. A lot better than they were. I have that Y/n chick to thank for that."

"Oh yeah. ...I heard about that from Piers," Raihan mumbled rubbing his neck. He...had mixed feelings when Gordie had told some of them about the girl who verbally slapped common sense into and then Piers had casually told him that chick just happened to be YOU in passing. Gordie seemed to express some genuine interest in you which made him look back at him with a hum. "She's really nice, ain't she?"

"Yeah." A small silence fell between the two of them before Gordie looked back up towards Raihan again. "I uh...Heard you asked her out a few times." Raihan blinked. "H-How-..How'd that go for you?"

"Oh that. It was nice. Real nice if you don't take into account she sucked her drizzlie's water gun on me. HAHA." He ended with a laugh and smile.

"Aw man. Bummer. Sorry to hear that dude."

Raihan shrugged. "It's all good. Wasn't meant to be anyways. SO! What are you doing after this again? A lot of those fans are expecting an encore appearance from us!"

Gordie shrugged with a sigh rubbing his neck. "Not sure myself. I think I just want to head home and have a rest after this event. It's nearly Elsa's birthday too so I might do some shoppin'."

Raihan smirked slyly before shrugging. "Sounds like a plan man. I totally would've thought you'd drop by the college you got over there."

To which this Gordie gave him a confused look. "What? No. You already know I graduated from there years ago dude. The course only takes two years to graduate. Why would you suggest that?"

Raihan shrugged again. "No reason. I just thought you and Y/n were friends since she's attending college there-"

"WHAT!?" Raihan had to bite back the urge to laugh when Gordie whipped around fast enough to make the shades slip down his nose.

"Oh yeah. Lee was telling me all about it. The Chairwoman was really thankful for everything Y/n's done for him so when she heard she was planning to take up college here, she offered a full scholarship to the University up there." he shrugged slyly. "So I just thought maybe you'd already see how she was doing-"

"WHEN!?", Gordie demanded shooting up to his feet and looking at Raihan who hummed.

"Well..The next school season starts in mid August and it's almost the end of July right now, so calculating in how long it'll take to sign up for classes a month before it starts and how much all the books will cost-...I'd say she'd maybe be on her way now or sometime real soon I bet-"

He blinked when Gordie wasn't in front of him anymore and the door leading out of the men's locker room was slowly swinging shut from being thrown open so suddenly. The Dragon Tamer stood there staring at what just happened for a long moment...before throwing his head back and laughing. Oooh you were for sure going to get him for this later, but for now he was going to laugh and see what would happen.

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