#if anyone has already done this with them i am genuinely really sorry

[disorganised-bagel]

has anyone done this yet

[mikanotes]

lost in translation ft. eunhyuk x gn!reader 4.4k words

genre: angst comfort, ‘enemies’ to possibly lovers warnings: deaths, injuries, blood, mentions of kissing and also suicide (?), smoking, cursing, canon divergence idr half of s1, guns, slightly suggestive at the end author’s note: this was requested! i kinda strayed off the original request sorry TT it got a bit angstier than it should’ve but oh well! have this i missed him

summary: The development of your feelings for Lee Eunhyuk in the middle of an apocalypse, and struggles of leadership.

Green Home Apartment is not a place you would ever allow to crumble.

From the very first hours of the outbreak, people saw a leading figure in you. A seemingly natural instinct to guide people and keep them as safe as possible. Someone strict, just firm enough to keep panicking residents in line and gentle enough to reassure other equally terrified people.

The perfect leader, really. It wasn’t exactly the role you would have wanted had you imagined yourself in this situation prior, but you felt you didn’t really have a say in the matter. You were just a college student, and within a few hours, at least ten people in your apartment building had voiced out their agreement on you being the perfect captain for a broken and sinking ship.

So when this guy with a blue flannel gave off the same impression as you apparently did— enough to convince people he would be a good leader, too— you were mildly relieved. Part of you felt like it was a good thing someone else would take the reins for this whole thing. It was too much pressure for you. But another part didn’t feel at ease. After all, you didn’t know this guy. People trusted him for a reason— He did seem mature, headstrong, and determined. Good with instructions and quick-witted. But you didn’t know if that would be enough to let the people here, or you, at least, survive this.

If you were to survive this in a group, you would need to have some kind of authority when it came to making decisions. Surviving alone was fine, but being stuck with so many people meant certain chaos, attempts at democracy leading to stupid decisions, and your life being stacked between at least twenty others with barely a word to say when they would all eventually be led to sure death. You’d damn near experienced it already, and that was more than enough for you.

So you didn’t step away when Lee Eunhyuk, as you eventually learned his name to be, took the place of a leader. And thankfully, it seemed the residents hadn’t expected you to. So weeks ago, you and Eunhyuk were appointed as leaders of Green Home during the monster apocalypse.

“Going there would be suicide.”

“So you suggest we stay here and wait to die? Do you genuinely think the people in the next room over will be fine with that?”

Leaders who get along perfectly.

“I suggest you use your head a little. There’s resources in much more accessible spaces than this. The store at the side, for example?”

“I’m not sending anyone there.” Eunhyuk states blankly, in his usual emotionless fashion. You narrow your eyes and bite back a scoff.

“Right, I almost forgot it’s about sending out people with you. You’re a coward, you know that?” you say, and he glances at you from the side.

“And you’re just as selfish.” he says, turning to face you properly, “Let’s not pretend you’re any better than I am because you act courageous. You’re terrified.”

“And you’re mistaken. Why don’t you go out there and get to the storage room yourself?”

Eunhyuk’s tongue presses into his cheek and his fingers tightens into a fist. He presses his hand to the table and tilts his head a little, nodding slightly. “We both know without a leading figure this group is done for.” he says, tone much calmer than you’d anticipated. The restraint he has over his anger only serves as fuel to your own. You bite the flesh of your lip.

“Am I not a leading figure?”

“You are, but are you a good one?” he asks. There. There it is, the hint of anger. That cutting edge to his tone. It’s nearly imperceptible but it makes you want to bring out all of it.

“Do you believe I’m not?”

You step closer. He looks down to your feet then back up to meet your gaze. “You’re dodging the question.”

“It’s a weird question to ask.”

You’re close enough to punch him, now, if need be. You won’t. But it’s a good thing to note.

“I don’t think it is, all things considered.”

“Uh,” a meek voice comes from behind you. You turn towards the door to see a man from the group stand with a bottle in hand, moving around uncomfortably, “The others are arguing about rations… You should come.”

You take this as the perfect opportunity to clear your head and not to let your irritation get the better of you. You hum absentmindedly and walk past him to get to the store where you expect everyone to be, leaving the man and a scowling Eunhyuk behind.

“Is- Is something wr—”

“Everything’s fine.”

Everything is wrong.

It’s been less than a day since your argument with Eunhyuk when a new problem enters your life. A guy that looks about your age, that you remember walking past when he moved in, who fell from nine floors high in the stairway. He’s lying on the floor with blood all over and around him. Everyone is scrambling to take a look and Seo Yikyung has to be the one to hold them back, because you and Eunhyuk are too busy checking the supposedly dead man’s pulse for the third time.

“He’s breathing.” you sigh, pulling away your trembling hand from his face again. This is insanity.

“It’s impossible…”

“Get a grip.” you shove Eunhyuk’s shoulder, “Impossible isn’t in our vocabulary right now. Weird as this may be, we can’t just leave him here, so start thinking or I’ll make the decisions.”

He’s shaken out of his thoughts, alright, but now he seems another kind of confused that you can’t bring yourself to try deciphering. He calls your name but you don’t respond.

You don’t exactly look down, but you start to kneel to reach towards the body on the floor. You need to carry him somewhere else, where no one will see how bad it is. There’s kids here and the adults aren’t reliable. You can’t let this cause more trouble.

Your gaze is looking anywhere else but at the corpse— Person. Alive. You almost grab him when Eunhyuk stops you with a hand on your shoulder, effectively causing you to flinch.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

He hoists the limp body up on his back with some effort and holds him tightly so he doesn’t fall. “Tell them to go elsewhere. It’ll only cause issues for them to see more than needed.” he tells you, nodding towards the hallway. The blood that gets on his clothes and the state of the one he carries unsettles you a little, but you nod and hurry outside.

“Go to the daycare.” you say, voice hoarse. Everyone’s chattering does nothing to help you calm down. You’re not sure if they didn’t hear you or if they simply don’t care. “I said go! Right now!” you exclaim, much louder. 

The talking silences and everyone reluctantly heads to that place, though clearly still trying to get a glimpse of the situation. You breathe out sharply and stare down at the floor. Your reflection meets you halfway on the tiles, showing you just how little control you currently have on the emotions you usually hide so well. You’ve seen people get killed too many times since this all started but this is was one too many. 

You can’t even tell if the stranger’s fall was accidental, if it was suicide, if… You can’t think.

Eunhyuk passes by you and you barely notice. Or rather, you force yourself not to notice.

So much blood.

The sun sets and rises again. Tension does as well.

“We can’t keep on using him.” you say upon stepping into the security office. Eunhyuk is leaning against the desk, eyes trained on the several CCTV screens when you come in, and he seems like he’s about to leave the moment you start talking. You close the door and he gives up. He seems to know there’s no point in trying to leave, now.

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb. We both know you’re not.”

“High compliments coming from you.”

You sigh and step further into the room. “I’m not in the mood to argue, Lee Eunhyuk. Cha Hyunsu, he… He doesn’t deserve to be treated this way. You know it, too.”

Eunhyuk is silent. You see his thumb tapping against the desk rhythmically, like he’s thinking hard about something.

“Lee Eunhyuk.”

“I heard you.”

“Then say something!” you scream.

Eunhyuk turns to look at you. You take a breath. It’s unlike you to let your anger turn to yelling but you feel hopeless. Cha Hyunsu is just a boy your age trapped in circumstances he never asked for, and forced to do the worst part of the work around Green House. Eunhyuk never wanted to send anyone upstairs, yet he decided to send Hyunsu there. Because he’s a monster? Because he survived a several floors high fall? Because he was doomed to live in-between two kinds of evil, neither of which truly accepts him?

It just feels like it hits you harder today that this world will continue to be this cruel. And you two are not making it any better.

“This is the best way.” Eunhyuk says, unfazed. “The group needs to survive. You said it yourself. Cha Hyunsu’s the best bet we have at getting this result.”

“We saw him die, Eunhyuk.”

“He’s alive. You know that.”

“This is unfair.”

“The world is unfair.”

You look elsewhere, annoyed. Eunhyuk calls your name in the same tone he always does. “Your sympathy is useless.”

“What kind of leaders are we if rid of any compassion?”

“… The kind needed to survive.” he says quietly, gaze cast downwards. “Jisu asked for band-aids. Could you bring them to her for me?”

Anything’s a good enough distraction from whatever spiral you feel yourself falling into.

“Sure.”

Days pass. Your anger subsides.

“But didn’t you say it was okay to go there?”

“No, I didn’t.” Eunhyuk crosses his arms, “Who told you that?”

A name is mentioned in reply.

You sneeze.

“Aye, did you catch a cold?” Eunyu scoffs, laughing smoke at the face you seem to be making. “That’s bad. Catching a cold during an apocalypse? Seriously.”

You and the girl are sitting on the fire escape stairs, on the floor closest to the main hall. She has a habit of disappearing to go smoke, or whatever else she does, and you don’t want her getting killed. She didn’t seem to mind you coming to check up on her the first time, and now you have a habit of disappearing to hang out with her.

“I’m fine.” you click your tongue, “Anyways, you shouldn’t be smoking out there. If your brother was here he’d be pissed.”

“Who cares? Let’s not act like he ever shows it.”

You roll your eyes a little and chuckle. “Sure.” you hum, “Still. What’s the point in smoking? During an apocalypse, too? That’s bad.”

She flips you off and you return the gesture, earning a laugh in return. You don’t talk to many people in this place. Your age differs from nearly everyone. Eunyu’s a bit younger, so you’re mostly watching over her. Then there’s Hyunsu, but there’s a nearly visible wall between him and everyone. You can’t blame him for putting distance between you two especially. As far as he’s concerned, you’re also responsible for the errand-running he’s been told to do.

There’s Yikyung, but you’ve struggled to get close since you told her to shove off when she had Eunhyuk pinned to a wall. You’re not sure why you did that, even now. She’d be better company than him, maybe. And you understand her reasons.

Then there’s Eunhyuk.

“Serious talk, listen up.” Eunhyu huffs, “What relationship do you entertain with my brother?” she mimics a serious sounding voice that’s so unlike her. It makes you scoff in amusement.

“He’s a…” You trail off. What is he? A friend? An acquaintance? Whatever could be considered a coworker, at the moment? A fellow leader? “Uh, a person.”

Eunyu gives you this look that is so clearly judgemental that you consider jumping off the railing promptly.

“Yeah, no shit. Good to know he’s not turning.” she scoffs, “I know you hate him. Spit it out.”

“I don’t recall ever feeling that way.” you lie with an obviously fake smile. Eunyu threatens to throw her lighter at you. “He’s fine, alright? We just work together, I guess.”

“He likes you.”

“Hm?”

“He doesn’t hate you, I mean. You’re not stupid, so you noticed, right?” she says before bringing the cigarette to her lips again. You’re confused and it must show because she sighs in annoyance. “Clearly, I’d say the real leader is you out of you two. Aren’t most decisions yours?”

“They’re ours. Mostly his. Trust me, my opinion isn’t as valued as you might believe.”

Her expression suddenly sours and she curses under her breath. “And I think you’re wrong. Anyways, I’ll leave you with the jerk.” she coughs, pushing herself off of the stairs, “Bye.”

You hum curiously as you watch her leave before turning around. Lee Eunhyuk. Of course.

The first thing he does is shove your shoulder.

“What the hell?” you scoff, scrambling up to your feet before you can lose your balance. It’s such an unexpected move from him that you can’t help the words that slip past your lips. “What’s your deal?”

“Returning the gesture. What’s yours?”

“Huh?”

“The gate to the store alley. I said it should stay closed.” he says, “So why are three people on their way back from there telling me I allowed it?”

“Because I allowed it.” you say casually. “It had medicine, water, and some canned foods. Besides, we needed fresh air.”

He stays silent for at least half a minute before he steps closer to you. Close enough for your hands to touch if your arms were to move an inch. “It’s not safe. I said so enough, didn’t I?”

“Have you ever cared about safety?”

“I have—”

“About the people’s, about the half-monsters’s, about yours?”

Your name sounds tense when he says it.

“About mine?”

“Do you ever stop talking?” he grits his teeth. His eye twitches. You wouldn’t have noticed it had you been further away. No, you… you would have. You know his every feature and emotions too well by now. You would realize the most unnoticeable of changes from him. Any of them.

He’s angry.

There.

“Does that piss you off? That I talk so much?” you say, “Is it a problem because you never do? Does hearing someone so much get on your nerves? Should I leave the leading you? Are your decisions supreme? Am I too talkative? Is that it? Is that it?”

He kisses— He almost kisses you. He stops short of pressing his lips against yours, short of holding your collar and bringing it up to meet his chest, short of everything you only now realized would’ve been so good to have.

For fuck’s sake. “You’re holding back.”

“There’s no point in causing unnecessary fights.”

“You’re a coward.”

“You—”

You tilt your head, like you want him to finish his sentence. You do. He’s realized this much.

He takes a breath to calm down and steps back, much to your dismay.

“I know why you used to be so self-centered.”

“That’s…” you trail off, before laughing in disbelief. “What?”

“You almost got killed at the alley to the store, the one you just allowed to be opened. First day of the apocalypse. I remember it. You looked terrified. Then you put your survival above anyone else’s.” he says, “And yet now, you keep on trying to go. That’s something I don’t understand.”

You swallow, images of that monster nearly killing you with its claws, and dragging away a bloodied, dismembered corpse when it failed to find you. The feeling of someone pulling you back into the shadow so you wouldn’t get noticed, and the chaos that ensued in the main hall so quickly that you never got to see who it was.

… Wait?

“That was you.”

“It doesn’t matter who it was. You changed.” he cuts off any questions you might have, “You used to be selfish. People falsely believed you were a good leader just because you seemed strong. But you didn’t care about anyone’s lives except yours.”

“… So what? What changed?” you ask quietly, “Did you fall for it, too? Because I’m still the same, as far as I’m concerned.”

“You don’t get it.”

“I do—“

“The you I first talked to in the security room would’ve never went out of their way to make sure some high-schooler is doing fine. They wouldn’t have been this upset over a random half-monster running errands. You would have been unbothered. And that store you seem so obsessed with would’ve been emptied of the basics before anyone could get them. But it was full, wasn’t it? The store was untouched.”

You’re not sure what to say. Where is he going with this?

“Fine.” you settle with that. “Let’s say that, somehow, you’re right. Then should we talk about you? That you changed, too?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“You never talk this much. Why are you so obsessed with this?”

“… I just wanted you to know.” he says, but it sounds like he’s withholding another response. “It didn’t feel right for me not to tell you I knew about what happened after all this time. Also I need you to come back now. People are gonna crowd the store too much for it to be left without any rules.”

You look away. Decide. Look back at him. “Fine.”

Lives come and go. The obvious is ignored.

A lot of guns were pointed at a lot of people’s heads today. You’re unsure why the image of Eunhyuk stuck to the floor with a gun pointed to his forehead is stuck in your mind so much. It keeps rewinding— Reminding you that you were both helpless there, that you got lucky he even survived it all.

There’s so much blood everywhere.

Someone says your full name, with a tone much too casual to match what seemed to be politeness and with such ease that it can only be one person. He grabs your arms and tries to catch your gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Are you crazy?” you whisper, looking at him. He looks like a mess. “You almost got killed, Eunhyuk.”

“So did you. Don’t downplay it.” he argues. You expect his grip to loosen now that he’s seen you’re alright enough to talk but it only seems to tighten, “We have a few minutes to get it together before we have to go back to the usual. So be honest for once.”

Being honest…

You look at him, and your eyes are burning. “Fuck, Eunhyuk, I don’t know why I’m this scared.” you cough out, hands tensing at your sides.

He carries something gentler in his gaze, something you’re unfamiliar with. His hand drops to your wrist and he squeezes it. “Breathe.” he says, and you try, but it’s like you’re struggling to get the air in and out of your lungs. It’s burning, too. Why?… You’re panicking. That’s why. Your breaths come out short and that uneasiness who loves to get in the way of your thoughts is back. You can’t do anything, right now— you wouldn’t be able to get anyone to survive, let alone yourself.

Eunhyuk’s hand grabs your hastily and he brings it to his chest. “Slow down. Just breathe. That’s all that matters, right now.”

“Are you breathing?”

“I am. I need both of us to be. So listen to me.”

“Yeah.”

And just like a doctor would, he guides you to something calmer. Your gazes are locked the whole time. He insisted. Don’t look anywhere else, he said, just me. He helps you remember how to breathe again, helps you remember how to think, and helps you remember you have a lot to do immediately.

“We need to go.” you say, back to the closest thing to normal you could manage. “Hyunsu’s gone. Did anyone get shot? You should—”

“You should go grab the medkits. The ones in the nursery. Bring them here. I’ll take care of it.”

You don’t argue. “Okay.

Ah!” — But you nearly lose your footing. You hear Eunhyuk breathe out something that almost sounds like a laugh and turn around to glare.

“You’ll be lightheaded for a bit. Be careful.”

“Oh, yeah, okay.” you scoff. You hear Eunyu yell something along the lines of ‘It’ll be fine, so stop looking and get to work—‘ but you’re too far away to catch all of it.

The skies darken before the light comes back again. Things are eerily quiet.

When leadership becomes worthless, it’s hard to keep a proper sense of identity. Everyone has seen you and Eunhyuk as their leaders for a long while now. But since Jung Uimyeong’s arrival and the clear impact he’s had on the group’s dearest Cha Hyunsu, the atmosphere has suffered a drastic change. It feels tense for everyone but the newfound duo. It’s suffocating.

But instincts remain the same. Survival is key, and that means gathering information is, as well. You need to get what Uimyeong’s plan is before it escalates, but you know he would have no interest in talking to you.

So Hyunsu, it is.

“You don’t trust me.”

“But I do! I’ve always trusted you, Hyunsu.”

The latter keeps on walking and you have to jog to catch up. This is ridiculous, how could he allow a stranger to change him so much? Did he convince him the people here were the real enemy? You wouldn’t be surprised. Still…

“Just stop and have an actual conversation with me.” you scoff.

He does just that, stops in his tracks, and you nearly run into him. He turns around slowly to look at you. Hyunsu’s expression is usually devoid of emotion but now it’s just cold. “I don’t want to talk to you. Everything you say’s a lie. You don’t trust anyone here. I’ll say good luck to the people who still think you’re a good leader.”

“Isn’t that too much?” Eunhyuk. “Especially since you know it’s not true. Or were you influenced by that guy so easily?”

Hyunsu glances at him, then back at you, before directing his glare to Eunhyuk again. “Find someone else to run your errands. I’m tired of it.”

“That’s not—”

“Leave him be.” Eunhyuk says as Hyunsu walks away. You sigh and rub your temples. This isn’t good. “There’s no point in trying to reason with him now.”

“So what, we don’t do anything? Leave things as they are?”

“We do.”

You sigh and turn around to let your head drop on his shoulder. Eunhyuk brings his hand to the back of your head and leaves it there. You’re not sure how or why this change happened between the two of you after the shootout, but neither of you mention it. It might be for the best.

“I’m tired.” you mumble.

“You should get some rest.” he says quietly, “There isn’t much to take care of, right now. You should be able to sleep for a bit.”

“How long is a bit?”

“Until I wake you, approximately.”

“… Fine by me.”

The sun sets—

“Wake up.”

“Hmm…?” you force yourself to open your eyes and look up. God, the world’s blurry. “What?”

“Switch. I need to rest for a bit.”

You nod lazily and sit up on the bed, making space for him to sit. He settles at your side and turns to look at you. “Look here.” he says (demands) with a hand on your jaw. You turn and feel like he’s scrutinizing your face. “Any injuries?”

“Not anything new, no.” you say, “You?”

“The same.” he sighs, dropping his hand. It’s your turn to touch his face. You hold the side of it in your hand and let your thumb graze the skin under his eye. His glasses are good to hide his eyes, you think. But you’re always close enough to see them. After the shooting, you remember something, despite the state you were in.

“You cried.” you say. He hums inquisitively at that. “When those guys barged in and stuff. When you came back after going with them, you looked like you’d been crying.”

“Not really. I was just upset.”

“Because?”

“Is there not enough reasons to be upset in this place?” he deadpans, and scoffs silently when you give him a look. “I couldn’t save Ms. An. I watched her get shot.”

You have half a mind to hold back from squeezing his head to death. “And you didn’t think it worth mentioning? That’s bad, Eunhyuk.”

“I’ve… Seen worse.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

You look at him with wide eyes. “Take it back.”

“Or else?” he asks. Oh. Oh. He’s teasing you. What the hell? This is new. Your hand drops to grab his collar. You get deja-vu. Something similar happened before. He looks down at your hand then back up at you.

“You really want to find out, do you?”

There’s something in the air. Something you would’ve usually described as tension, but it almost feels comfortable. You know Eunhyuk well yet you can’t tell what’ll happen next. You could guess, though. Each word and touch means more now than it used to.

(Maybe they always meant something, maybe you just chose to ignore it.) 

He stares at you for a few seconds then tilts his head to the side, expression unreadable. “I do.”

Your fingers tighten around his collar and he smiles. His hand comes up to wrap around your wrist, slowly pulling it away from him. “Hey…?”

“But I don’t think I’ll find out about anything. You’re a liar, after all. And a coward, just like me.” he says, all whilst gently pushing you to lay on the mattress. He does it so naturally it takes you a moment to realize. He hovers over you with your wrist still in hand. “Is that fine with you?”

“You insulting me or you pinning me down?”

“You decide.” he sighs, pressing your wrist down gently next to your head, “Would I be wrong to assume you don’t really mind either of those?”

You decide to shut him up instead. He takes it well.

“You taste a bit bloody.”

“Deal with it.”

[konpeitonom]

general dating/marriage headcanons for jimmy (mouthwashing).

sfw— lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader - trigger warnings for toxic relationship, mentions of child abuse (what i’d assume his backstory would be) this is jimmy so.. general warning for him i guess. curly is mentioned twice because i am in love with him and so is jimmy ngl.

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^ i have a lot of free time tomorrow so it will get done by then most likely. please send them!!

notes; he’s a raging misogynist so i couldn’t really do g/n reader. i might do male headcanons if people care for such. i’d take awhile though because he/male readers are both a bit hard to write for… haha. eat well the 9 jimmy fans that exist. i hope i did him justice and made him as disgusting as he is!!

— i think he is charming in his own way. i mean, he has to be. he’s kind of the type of guy where you’d cross the street to avoid him, so he has to have some sort of positive aspect that’d make your wanna further the relationship.. no?

— at first he is. very flirtatious and says all the right things. maybe a little off putting, but isn’t every man? i’m trying to focus on the positives because i was so nice to curly in his posts t_t

— calls you sweet nicknames. overtime he kinds of stops, but starts again if he feels you distancing.

— i think he’d be a little rough with you sometimes, and i’d be taken at first as protectiveness. like gripping your hand a little tighter or grabbing your arm.

— when i say curly is a traditional guy i mean he knows to be nice and respectful of woman (to an extent) but jimmy is traditional in a.. misogysntic sense.

— like he’s a ‘sole provider’ kind of guy. at least when you’re married. i’d hurt his ego if you got job, even if it was realistic and practical to. like, “you think i don’t make enough? maybe you just need to shop less” .. if you were just dating/not living together he wouldn’t really care.

— pays for dates but makes you feel kind of bad about it. subtly of course, not enough for you to care but enough to know that maybe you should order a little less or get something cheaper to lessen his harsh comments. but if he notices he’ll think *you think* he’s cheap and get angry at that too.

— if you offer to pay for a date he’d refuse, unless he was in a severe financial situation or the place wasn’t too crowded. he’d still find a way to make you feel bad though.

— sees curly buy his partner gifts and now has to buy you gifts, but x2. sometimes i’d be things you’d like? but also just to make him look good. he isn’t as considerate as his curly. but an expensive gift is a expensive gift, “you’re so ungrateful” he’d say. he is a scumbag sorry.

— things like jewelry. lucky if you like that. he’d consider maybe the kind of jewels or color you like. maybe if you prefer necklaces or rings, earrings. nothing much past that.

— i think he’d open up about about his childhood, either to make you feel bad, make you feel as if you ‘understand him, or just as a genuine he needs it. he was hit as a child, divorced parents, all that. it’s no surpise.

— i don’t think he’d get married to just anyone, though— that’s so much money and commitment that he does not have. i think he’d genuinely have to love someone to go through with that. he does not want to be in a loveless marriage— he’s seen that in his parents already.

— if you end up marrying him (condolences to you) he’d try to get better. he’s a shit person and you both know that. he’d need someone to probably keep him from being an ass. push him around long enough and he just might consider therapy. he’d do it for you.

— he is incredibly insecure. how could a girl like you like him that much. You either have an insane savior complex, or ‘just plain fuckng stupid’. you can’t fix him, but maybe you can make him a smidge better.

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 6: The Aftermath

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, smut, oral and fingering f receiving, p in v sex, the Harringtons make an appearance.

a/n: It has been a while my loves! I really have no excuse but I am excited to get back into the swing of things! Originally, this was meant to be one chapter but I split it in two, hopefully you don't mind! Also, I kinda rushed towards the end so it's not as neat as the rest of it--I'm sorry! I just really wanted to get this! I'm kinda itching to get to the next installment!

wc: 5.8K

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MURRAY: There were doubts about how well the tour would do, especially after all the scandals. But even despite assholes like Chris Palmer—or maybe because of them—the first tour had been way more of a success than anyone had ever imagined. Brenner and his team essentially had dollar signs for eyes by the end of it. They wanted the band to record the second album literally as soon as they got off the tour bus. 

Me and Hopper tried our best to advocate for the kids getting some time off, especially since tensions during the last half of the tour had run hot according to Hopper. The best we could get them was a month. 

Listen, we really, really tried our best for those kids. There were some really nasty fuckers at the label who saw them as nothing more than a product to push, a means to an end but we tried our best to keep them afloat. And sure, part of that is because they were our most lucrative artists, but we also genuinely cared for them and we wanted to help as much as we could. 

Sometimes, though, they made that really hard. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

JUNE 14th, 1984—LOS ANGELES, CA

You’re the last one at Starcourt studios. Everyone’s eyes turn at the sound of you rushing through the lobby door. Everyone looks equally as weary as you feel, having only been back in LA for effectively 48 hours. 

You’re sure you would all rather be anywhere but Starcourt except Murray and Hopper called an urgent meeting that apparently could not wait. 

As you approach the group sitting in the lobby you look around to the tired and anxious faces of your bandmates and eventually you end up meeting Steve’s eyes.

Poor Steve, who showed up at your door the day following his drunken, lovelorn, declaration full of shame and embarrassment that only hangover of an infinite caliber could accompany. He had begged you to forget the whole conversation had ever happened and you agreed readily although the damage had already been done.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

MURRAY: I chose to never have kids because I never wanted to deal with the responsibilities. So, tell me why I was out here parenting a bunch of 20 something’s who were hellbent on ruining their own lives and mine in the process? 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Here’s the deal,” Murray begins, once all the band members were settled into his office, “the label seems to want the album sooner than we thought. We can’t give you the three months off we had originally agreed on—” this announcement is met with the expected amount of jeers and complaints “—but Hopper and I fought for you all to get a month before we start recording again.”  Murray pauses expectantly but is met with silence. 

“Okay, well, you’re welcome for that, ungrateful little fucks. We will be back here in a month’s time to start,” his gaze focuses in on you and Eddie at this point, “except for the two of you. This dribble you decided to call lyrics is absolutely atrocious and I need new material. I’ve marked everything that is salvageable but the rest is scrap. “ 

Eddie immediately erupts into protests that eventually get cut off by Steve who argues for rewrites to happen together while the others take the opportunity to try to barter for more time off.

You’re far too stunned by Murray’s disparagement to weigh in. Sure, some of the pieces needed work but were they all really that bad? 

“This isn’t meant to be a team effort,” Murray says to Steve, “this is meant to be a punishment for these two for not doing a good enough job.”

“Wow these songs must be terrible,” Robin cuts in, “can we see them at least?” She asks as she makes a grab for the papers which Murray barely manages to dodge. This, once again, causes the room to descend into arguments and chaos, forcing Hopper to take over.  

“Enough!” He bellows, deep and authoritatively. “None of this is up for debate. We’re taking a month off and when we regroup, we’ll have an album’s worth of new material to record that hopefully isn’t terrible. Are we clear?” 

There were murmurs of agreement as the hand began gathering their things before your manager cut you off, “Sit your asses down, I have something else to talk to you about.” 

Hopper then spends twenty minutes reading off a list of every instance of property damage that happened over the tour and how much they cost while the rest of you squirm in your seats under his judgmental stare.  Eventually, mercifully, the meeting is ended, and you dash out of your seat in hopes of making it out without any further uncomfortable conversations but of course, luck is not on your side because before you can even stand, Murray has another request.  

“Minx, Munson, hang back for me while you?” 

You and Eddie awkwardly watch as the resort of the band file out and stand silently waiting and their voices grow more and more distant down the corridor. 

Finally, when it’s certain that it’s just the three of you, Murray speaks. 

“So how long have you two been a thing?” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

MURRAY: One look at the music they had sent in, and it was clear, there was something going on there. Listen, I don’t usually get involved in the personal lives of my artists but the was a unique circumstance.  For one, it was very obvious what and who the lyrics were about. Songs about edgy, mysterious lovers and wanting someone you can’t have don’t necessarily scream “Happy, functioning, long term relationship”. 

We couldn’t risk the press, or worse, Heart-Eyed Harrington getting wind of that. It would wreck our credibility and break the kid’s heart and that would’ve been curtains for the band. 

So, I pulled the two aside and told them they would have to rewrite their lyrics to be less transparent and also less bad.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Can you believe he said that?” You ask once the two of you are in the privacy of the studio’s parking lot. 

“Oh well, I dunno, we were definitely phoning it in towards the end. Plus, we could use more cohesion,” Eddie reasons, struggling to keep up with your angry strides. 

“No not that! I’m talking about all the other stuff,” you wave a hand fancifully in the air, “about us having feelings for one another. That’s crazy!” You let out a sharp exhale in place of a laugh. 

“Right,” Eddie trails off, “… and why would that be crazy, again?” 

“Well, for one, you hate everything I stand for, remember?” You laugh as you unlock the front door of your car. 

He peers at you from under his lashes, sunshine weaving through his hair, face stoic.

“You’re right,” he says finally, after consideration, “I do.” 

You nod in agreement and not even a little offended. 

“And that’s why it works so well,” you explain as you lower yourself into the driver's seat, “because we don’t like each other like that.  That’s what Murray doesn’t understand, it’s just sex.”  

“Right,” Eddie echoes, tersely, “it’s just sex.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

EDDIE: It wasn’t just sex for me. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

MURRAY: You would think that two Songwriters’ Hall of Fame recipients wouldn’t need to be babysat to, you know, write music but those two were an absolute nightmare to deal with. It was a struggle just to find them a place to get together to write. Her place was constantly getting hounded by paps and Munson refused even to tell HR where he lived. 

A week in, we realized they needed to get out of town which is why I ended up sending them to a property I owned in Ranch Cucamonga just so they could get out of my hair. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

JUNE 22nd, 1984—RANCHO CUCAMONGA, CA

“What is this place?” You wonder aloud as Eddie unlocks the front door of a very average-looking split-level suburban home. The house is sparse and humble, lacking all the opulence that Murray’s LA residence had in excess. 

“Probably where he meets up with his girlfriend,” Eddie shrugs.

“Murray has a wife.” 

“Yeah, I know. Why do you think we’re all the way in the Inland Empire?”

You open your mouth to argue but you’re stopped by the realization that Eddie is probably right and instead you grip your bag thingy against your body and with eyes darting around to every piece of furniture in sight, you say, “we should probably disinfect all the surfaces.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

EDDIE: It was the perfect spot: quiet, secluded. Plus, we were so grossed out at the idea of hooking up in Murray’s sex pad that we kept it PG and focused.  

MURRAY: It was not a sex pad.  

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“He has a waterbed, Nance,” you relay over the phone later that night, once you and Eddie had settled, “if that doesn’t say ‘sex pad’ I don’t know what does!” 

Nancy gags in response, “Ew, that’s disgusting!” 

You giggle at her exaggerated response, grateful that she answered the phone on the second ring. 

“How’s everything over there?” You inquire, pointer finger coiling around the telephone cord. “How’s…everyone doing?”

“By everyone, do you mean Steve?”

You kick your feet in the air from your perch on the kitchen counter. “Steve is part of everyone, isn’t he?” 

“Well, for starters, I don’t think he’s very happy that Murray sent you off with Eddie.” 

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I can see him in the pool right now. He’s doing laps—butterfly.” 

“Okay? Doesn’t he always swim though?” You were confused.  Back when you were on tour, it was not uncommon to find Steve at the hotel pool in the early mornings.

“He only swims butterfly when something is bothering him,” Nancy explains like it’s obvious. 

“Wow Nance, you sure remember a lot about your ex-boyfriend’s strokes,” you joke.

“And the two of you sure do care a lot about what the other is doing for being in a fake relationship,” she retorts.  “It is still fake, right?” 

“Yes, of course it is.” 

The front door clicks unlocked—Eddie’s back from picking up takeout and you rush to change the subject, “Speaking of relationships, how’s Jonathan?” 

Nancy, mercifully, doesn’t dwell on you and Steve and instead sighs at the mention of her boyfriend.

 “Not great.  Turns out Joyce downplayed Will’s condition while we were on tour. Jonathan’s livid, of course.” 

Even through the static, you can hear the strain in Nancy’s voice as she struggles to keep it steady. 

“Yesterday he got angry with me for trying to get him to talk to her.  Will’s about to go to surgery and it’s not for him to see the two of them fighting.

He’s just so moody and hard to be around. I’m starting to avoid him if I’m honest. Is that bad?” 

 For as long as you’ve known her, Nancy had always been like a well-shot arrow: sharp, steady, and sure of where she was going. It’s strange to hear her at a loss. 

“No, not at all,” you comfort, “things are tough right now and it sounds like you might need space. Maybe you can come by next week? Stay a few days and help us write. It’ll give you both some space.”

 Your eyes find Eddie’s across the kitchen counter where he’s unpacking steaming containers of Chinese food. You can tell he’s been listening in on your conversation because he nods along emphatically at your suggestion. 

“Are you sure?” Nancy asks.

“Yes,” you assure, “I’ve cleared it with Eddie, and he agrees.” 

“I agree!” Eddie shouts in the background and that gets a giggle out of Nancy. 

You bid goodbye to Nancy but not without asking her to seriously consider your offer. 

“Nancy might come and visit,” you announce as you start stacking your plate with food.

“Yeah, I heard,” Eddie responds, mid-noodle slurp. “But just so we’re clear, if Wheeler does come, she’s taking the waterbed.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Maybe it’s the change of scenery, or maybe it’s the above-average Chinese food (or maybe it’s the grade-A hydroponic hash that Argyle has passed along as a parting gift) but for the first time in months, you and Eddie are back in your songwriting groove.

The two of you work into the night, sifting through your existing work, parsing out what can be saved. 

You work until your eyes and fingertips burn and you have no choice but to call it a night before heading up to the guest room upstairs. 

“Night, Eds,” you call out over your shoulder as you stumble up the stairs. 

His response is muffled by your yawns. Exhausted, you cannot wait to get into your (non-water) bed and you flop belly-first onto the mattress, ready to succumb to the exhaustion of the day. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You can’t sleep. You’ve been tossing and turning for an hour and as hard as you will it, you can’t sleep. 

There’s an unfamiliar emptiness settling into the space that you can’t seem to cope with. There are no blaring police sirens or yelling partygoers around to indicate life. As far as you know, you could be the only person on the planet. You balk at the idea and decide to go downstairs in search of life. 

Eddie had decided pretty early on that he preferred sleeping on the couch than on the waterbed in Murray’s room. When he announced his decision earlier over dinner, he had paused, almost as if leaving space for you to invite him to share your bed in the guest room. There was room, after all. But you didn’t make that offer because why would you? The two of you might have been sleeping together on tour but even then, that rarely meant spending the night. Offering to share a bed with him now, with no promise of sex (which you refuse to have for a myriad of reasons including the fact that this was Murray’s sex pad), well, that would seem far too close to what Murray was accusing you of back at the studio and you would rather die than see him be right. 

That’s how Eddie ended up on the couch. He’s still awake when you descend down the stairs, strewn across the sofa joint in hand and bathed in synthetic blue light from the TV. He doesn’t see you at first but when he does, he smiles, slowly and waves a hand lazily. 

“Hey,” he greets as you land at the foot of the stairs. 

“Hey,” you greet back, padding into the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of water. 

You linger in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, debating whether you should stay. Your initial plan was to just grab a drink and go back upstairs, but that was back when you thought Eddie was asleep.  You chew your lip in indecision. Eddie’s pretending not to watch you. 

“Can’t sleep,” you explain as you drop onto the opposite side of the couch after consideration.

 “Why not?” He asks his eyes completely removed from the TV, the old episode of “Million Dollar Man” he was watching forgotten. 

“Too quiet,” you explain, simply, “I’ve never slept in a place this quiet.” 

“Really?” 

“Well, yeah,” you grow shy under his gaze, pulling your knees to your chest and curling a throw pillow into your chest. 

“Not even when you lived in your fancy mansion on the hill?” You can tell by his tone that he doesn’t mean to poke fun with the question; he’s genuinely curious. 

“No. My parents were always having people over, there was always some party my mom would host or some actors staying with us while my dad filmed and even when there weren’t people over—which was rare—my parents would always be fighting. They would yell a lot.”

“What would they fight about? Who got to drive the Rolls Royce?” Eddie laughs nervously, he’s doing that thing where he makes jokes when he’s uncomfortable. 

“Let’s just say that my dad was not nearly as discreet as Murray is about his extra-curricular activities,” you scoot closer to reach for the joint in his hand. You refuse to be sober while sharing childhood details.  

Eddie leans closer and hands you the joint. Your fingers brush. 

“I get that,” he commiserates, “my pop wasn’t around much, but when he was, he and my ma would really get into it. Yelling, throwing plates, the whole thing.” 

“Shut up!” You exclaim, “my parents would throw plates too!” 

You’re not sure why but throws you into a fit of giggles. Eddie watches you tilting your head back as laughter rips through you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, half laughing himself. 

“It’s just, that,” you struggle to say through the laughs, “for all the fuss you made about how opposite we are, we’re not that different after all. In the end, we’re just two kids who grew up watching their parents throw plates at one another.” 

He lets out a chuckle at this now, too, as he leans forward to place the joint on the coffee table, “Yeah, I guess you’re kinda right.” 

The two of you laugh a little longer, probably a result of your exhaustion and the joint you’ve now whittled to a nub and then you sink into a comfortable silence, full attention back on the television. 

After a while, during a commercial break, Eddie leans over and says softly, “You know, I don’t hate you, I just hate everything you stand for.” 

Your shoulders are touching as the two of you have gravitated towards the center of the and you’re so mesmerized by the way his Adam’s apple moves as he speaks that it takes you a second to register what he’s said. 

“Thanks,” you respond sarcastically once his words have sunk in, “that makes me feel so good about myself.” 

His cheeks darken and he ducks his head towards his chest in embarrassment. 

“I meant that as a compliment, you know.”

“That’s a shit compliment, Eds,” you deadpan back.

He sighs, “Yeah, I know but I can never get my words out right when I’m talking to you. What I meant to say is that contrary to what you may think, I do like you and I think you’re very talented… and maybe… perhaps, I was wrong about you.” 

You lean forward as he says this, a gloating grin rising on your face. “Why, Edward, I believe that might be the kindest thing you’ve ever said about me.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The phone is ringing. 

The early morning sun is burning your closed eyelids, which is annoying but not nearly as annoying as the phone ringing. You know you should get up and answer the phone that simply won’t stop ringing but you can’t will your body to move. 

You nestle further into the warm cocoon you’ve found yourself in this morning and wait for whoever is on the other line to eventually give up. 

The phone does eventually stop ringing, just like you knew it would, but not even three seconds later, it picks up again.

You try to ignore it once more, but it is insistent. You realize you have no choice but to get up. 

You’re far too peeved to notice at first, but the warm cocoon you’ve been so hesitant to leave isn’t a nest of blankets like you had originally thought, but a pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders and a solid chest where your head once rested: Eddie. 

You blink wearily up at him. He’s completely unfazed by the ringing. Even though you know Eddie to be an annoyingly deep sleeper, you still try to gently extract yourself from his arms. 

You sit up halfway and catch a glimpse of Eddie’s expressionless face, and, in its peace, you’re reminded of his kind words last night. Suddenly, you lean down quickly and peck a kiss on his cheek. You recoil quickly in surprise scrambling off the couch and quickly pad over to the still-ringing phone. 

“Hello?” You snap. 

“Nice of you to finally pick up,” Murray replies.

“What is it, Murray?”

“I wanted to see how it was going.”

You sigh in response, letting him know exactly how little patience you have.  

“Fine. It’s going fine.”

“How’s the writing?”

 “Fine.”

“And the house?”

“Fine.”

“And the waterbed?”

“Gross and untouched. Is that all?”

“You’re no help. Get me Munson.”

You’re about to tell him that Eddie was asleep when a hand snakes around the back of your head and wraps around the receiver in your hand.

A bleary-eyed Eddie gently tugs the phone from your hand and brings it to his ear.

“You’ve got Munson,” Eddie greets through a yawn.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

EDDIE: The Rancho Cucamonga house was like a bubble where the outside world didn’t exist for us. We were finally able to focus on the songwriting without having to work around a tour or press appearances or the rest of the fucking band. We were finally just able to write, and we killed that shit.

 There was something else too, though. I’m not sure how it started… I guess that first night we bonded—shared trauma, you know? And the next morning when I woke up on the couch, she was in my arms. All that time we were fooling around, that had never happened. When I woke up and saw her asleep on my chest, I just closed my eyes and lay there, not wanting to get up. Corny, I know. Eventually, she woke up—Murray’s fault—and she kissed me, on my cheek. She probably thought I was still asleep.

After that, it was like all bets were off. We started being affectionate with each other all of a sudden. We didn’t have sex—somehow it felt like sex would ruin it. But it was like we had entered this alternate universe where we were just, I don’t know, two twenty-somethings that were in love and living together and making good fucking art.

She would do this thing when she wanted my attention and kiss me on the jaw. She would make me breakfast—Eggos, the woman has never been a chef—but it was the thought that counted. I would make her her tea every night, exactly how she liked it. I somehow knew how she liked her tea. I know it sounds so… mundane and small but all the little things added together is what makes something real.

We wouldn’t talk about it. It would’ve ruined it, we both knew.  It was like if we didn’t acknowledge it, we were giving the other person room to back out.

If you asked her how she’d describe that week we spent in the suburbs, I’m not really sure what she’d say, but if you ask me, right now, I would still say it was one of the best weeks of my life.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Nancy!” you yell across the driveway at the brunette.

The keyboardist turns and waves emphatically before handing her cab driver a few dollar bills for the fare.

You run out towards her, throwing your arms around her neck in delight.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you breathe out, as your eyes scan over her in assessment. She looked more haggard than before, the bags under her eyes were more prominent. Despite this, her smile is genuine.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she says as you lead her up the front steps while Eddie follows with her small luggage.

You immediately launch into a tour of the house while Eddie, generously, has made himself sparse to give the two of you some privacy and goes out for a smoke.

Nancy, being the gracious guest that she was, had no qualms with taking the waterbed and while you helped get her settled into her new space, she fills you in with what’s been happening in your absence.

“Robin went back home; her younger sister is about to start at Marquette. Argyle went back to Arizona for a few days and Steve went with him.”

Hearing Steve’s name was jarring but even more so was hearing that he had traveled to a whole other state without you knowing about it. That was a silly thought, you knew, after all, you hadn’t spoken to him once since you’d traveled inland. Plus, you had been living the last week in a watercolor haze with Eddie, something that only worked when you pushed Steve to the back of your mind.

“How are things with Jonathan?” You cut in, anxious to be rid of any mention of Steve from the conversation. It’s Nancy who then falters. and grows tense.

“He was very supportive of me coming here,” she divulges, lowly. “He seemed kind of guilty when I told him how this was affecting me. That’s Jonathan for you though, constantly carrying the weight of everyone’s problems on his shoulders.”

“Gee,” you let out a mirthless laugh, “I wonder who he has that in common with?”

Nancy rolls her eyes, but her shoulders relax, a tiny bit, and slowly, the information unspools out of her. She tells you about Jonathan’s family—his worrisome mother, his absent father, and his perpetually sick younger brother who was the reason behind anything he did—and about the nights spent in hospital waiting rooms, hopeful for miracle treatments to finally deliver (they never do).

You felt the weight of burden coming

Nancy rolls her eyes, but her shoulders relax, a tiny bit and slowly, she begins to unfurl.

She tells you about Jonathan’s family—his worrisome mother and his absent father and his perpetually sick younger brother that was the reason behind anything he did—and about the nights spent in hospital waiting rooms, hopeful for miracle treatments to finally deliver (they never do).

 She talks about her own family too, and the mounting pressure to be successful in the face of her parents’ disapproval after she had turned down her university full ride in favor of the band.

She also tells you about the growing tension in the band’s shared house and how she’s pretty sure everyone is sick of living with each other, but no one wants to be the first to admit it.

She’s being pulled taunt in every direction and as you listen to her unload her burdens, for the first time, you feel lucky to only have yourself to answer to.

Later, once Nancy’s heart has been borne, and you’re out on the deck with Eddie, you can’t help but share your discovery with him in between cigarette puffs.

“I dunno,” he shrugs stiffly, “I’d like to think that the right person would be worth any trouble they may bring to your life. She seems to think so too,” he motions towards the sliding glass kitchen doors towards Nancy who is currently on the phone with Jonathan, her brow once again furrowed in worry.

You tilt your head, unconvinced, “Maybe they see it that way, but for me, it just seems like a slippery slope to plate throwing.”

He laughs dryly at this, a quick exhale of smoke that frames him in a momentary halo. He’s leaning with his arms against the deck railing and the smoke mixes prettily with the spackling of stars in the night sky bringing out his fine, aristocratic features and making him look like a painting brought to life.

“Just because our folks were pieces of work that doesn’t mean you should give up on love altogether.”

The statement stuns you for a moment—you were sure that in Eddie you’d find a kindred spirit, a fellow love nihilist.

“I haven’t given up on love,” you backtrack, “ I’m just afraid, I guess.” The last part comes out small but you can’t help it.

This peaks Eddie’s interest, “Afraid? I’ve never seen you afraid of anything. What could you possibly be afraid of?”

You sigh, the conversation having veered out of your control but at this point you’re too caught up to stop it.

“I guess I’m scared that I’ll love someone so much I would lose sight of everything else I really want,” you explain. “Or worse, that I would give it all up if they asked me to,” you confide voice small, “that I would do anything they’d ask me to.”

“That’s kinda what love feels like though,” Eddie lights another cigarette, “like you’d let them do anything to you but trust them not to. Because if they really loved you, they wouldn’t make you give up something that was important to you.”

Then, before you can stop it, the question comes tumbling out, “have you ever been in love like that?”

He looks at you hard, like he’s willing you to know the answer. Finally, after what feels like an eternity he responds, “Yeah, once or twice.”

“How was that?” You croak out awkwardly. What you’re really asking is what did you let them do to you?

He laughs, a little softer this time, a little bird endeared and a little bit incredulous. “You’re asking me how it is to be in love?”

You nod, feeling a little silly.

Eddie takes another puff of his cigarette, mulling over the question carefully.

“It kinda sucks,” he eventually says, “you feel constantly exposed, like a wounded animal. And you hate everything that isn’t them. And you would do anything for them, which is terrifying. And you spend the whole time wondering how it will end—because of course, you never feel worthy of them—and then when it does, it’s like a dull knife. But that’s okay because it’s all worth it and I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

You sit with his answer, rolling it back and forth in your mind like a marble on concrete. He watches you, expectantly, once again with that willing expression on his face. You’re trying to read his mind but you’re not sure you can.

Eventually, you say aloud the only thing you can think of, “You should put that in a song.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Having Nancy around is great.

For one, she’s a great songwriting collaborator. Her skill with the piano is unmatched and she has a propensity for ballads that neither you nor Eddie seem to possess.

Also, having her around helps curb whatever was happening with you and Eddie.  Things did not stop, however, they didn’t go further than where they were and you’re certain that if Nancy hadn’t With Nancy around to keep you focused, you’re churning out songs—good quality songs—faster than ever.

Murray asks to see what you have halfway through your stay and you fax him the best of what you’ve written. It’s a struggle between the three of you to get the ancient fax machine in Murray’s home office to actually work but the 30 minutes of cursing on the phone with ‘Murray’s secretary is worth it when later that evening the producers gives you a call to tell you that you’ve finally hit the mark.

“It was like pulling teeth, but you got there. Thank Wheeler for me,” he says over the line and it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a direct compliment from him. He mentions something about sharing the songs with a few others to help with the arrangements and then hangs up without saying a proper goodbye but you barely register that because you’re too relieved.

“He likes it!” you announce and the three of you whoop in celebration. Eddie picks you up and spins you around landing a kiss on your temple that you’re hoping Nancy, by some miracle, missed.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

NANCY: I saw when he kissed her that night, but that was nowhere near the first weird exchange I caught between them that week.

Nothing big, just little couple things, you know? The little minutia that two people in a relationship do like making each other coffee and gentle touches and talking soft and careful to each other.

The type of things Jonathan and I used to do before things got bad.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“What’s going on between you and Eddie?”

Nancy’s tone isn’t accusatory when she asks, just curious.

It’s the night before you are slated to go back to LA and the two of you are on a sunset walk around the neighborhood, it was all very domestic, and you had been enjoying it immensely until Nancy’s curiosity got the best of her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you respond, airily, “nothing’s going on.”

She cuts you a look that says you know better than to lie to her and you deflate and come clean.

After she bore you all her troubles on the night of her arrival, you feel like you owe her some honesty in return.

So you tell her everything from the beginning.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

NANCY: Frankly, for the entirety of our first tour, I thought something was going on between her and Steve, so when she told me that she and Eddie had been sleeping together during the tour, well that totally took me by surprise.

The craziest part was that they had never talked about it. Well, maybe it’s not that crazy, neither of them is really known for being upfront about their feelings.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“So are you two in a relationship?”

“No, I don’t think so?”

“So what, you just sleep together and are affectionate with one another and take care of each other? That’s a relationship.” Before you can argue back, Nancy jumps into the next question, “What about Steve? I honestly thought you two had something going on.”

“Steve is great. He’s kind and easy to be around, and so is Steve. But he doesn’t see me for who I am. He expects too much from me, and I know I’m going to let him down. " You feel stupid and dramatic admitting this, but you want Nancy to understand.

“Eddie knows me, he knows what to expect of me. He’s not trying to convince me to buy into this…  fairytale relationship box Steve is trying to put me in. Eddie just kind of takes whatever I can spare when it comes to affection, and he doesn’t ask for more. It’s convenient with him.”

“You both deserve more than convenience and scraps of affection,” Nancy argues.

“Listen,” she pauses on the sidewalk to look at you, eyes as big as the moon under the light of the streetlamp, “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but we both know this thing is a ticking time bomb.

“You need to spend some time figuring out how you really feel and have some honest conversations with both of them before someone gets hurt.”

That’s the last thing she says before walking away.  

PLAY NEXT TRACK🎤

Taglist:

@rexorangecouny , @persophonekarter @mystargirl-interlude @brinleighsstuff @thegaysaretired @nothing2-see @harrysvirgogf @Prior-antidote @stardustofyesterday @buckleyverse @leather-n-velvet @ivoryrebellionmess @Courts-x

@superas1an @promisewellbealright @primroseluna @stardustofyesterday @www-interludeshadow-com

[euovennia]

I am yet again requesting headcanons for the 141 (or whoever you want <3) with a reader who has an angry resting face. And to add onto that, they are very expressive with their love but it comes off as aggressive (not on purpose) because they always look, you know, mad. Like when reader says "I love you," it sounds like a threat and really, they look like they wanna kill them, but they don’t.

whew, i'm so sorry for the wait on this! i took a small break from tumblr so i could focus on finishing some assignments i had for my classes, but they're all completed and turned in so i should be good for now! also i wasn't 100% sure if you wanted this to be platonic or romantic, so i tried to write it to where it could be interpreted as both. thank you for requesting and, as always, i hope you enjoy :)

warnings: none other than the fact that i don't know how to stop myself from typing more than i need to

summary: the 141 learns to adjust to life with their newest recruit; you.

john 'soap' mactavish

when price first introduces you to the group, he can't help but feel like he's done something wrong

and honestly no one can really blame him for feeling that way

the expression that paints your face when you make eye contact with him practically screams, "sleep with one eye open"

and while it is mildly terrifying, he only sees it as a challenge

because in his mind, if he can get the mighty ghost to warm up to him, he can get anyone to warm up to him

so as soon as price cuts you loose from the brief introductions, he's already right by your side pestering you with various questions

and while it was a bit off-putting, you weren't really surprised because price had already told you all about soap before he decided he wanted you on his team

so you just kinda stood there and let him fire off his questions while answering them with that angry expression and bored monotone voice that he can't help but love

like you're standing there, arms crossed with perhaps one of the most pissed off expressions he's ever seen in his life but all his mind can think is >:(

needless to say, he doesn't take your prickly exterior too seriously and it's because of this he's able to get closer to you a lot quicker than the other members do

and it's because of this he tends to vouch for you a lot more to the other members when it comes to getting to know you

"they're not that bad, i swear!"

"johnny, they look like they wanna rip your arm off every time you're near them."

"but they don't, that's the funny part!"

best believe this man is fighting for his life whenever your rbf gets brought into the conversation

and i imagine that one day you actually manage to overhear one of these little debates/conversations (tbh they could go either way with how divided they can be over it, especially when it's gaz vs soap)

and you can't just ignore the way your heart warms as you hear soap valiantly defend your honor

it's one of the few times you're genuinely thankful for his big mouth

after listening in to the conversation for a few more minutes you eventually decide to walk away, heart full and the smallest of smiles pulling at the edge of your lips

i think it goes without saying that you go a little sweet on him after that encounter

well

as sweet as you can go when you're the human embodiment of >:(

at least in the opinion of soap

you don't really see the resemblance tbh

anyway

you start doing little things for him

things like offering to take watch for him when you're both on a mission because you noticed that he hadn't really bothered getting any rest

sitting by his side and letting him ramble on about his family, especially how he always begged his parents to let him stay with his nan over the summer because she owned a little family farm that he absolutely loved to run around on

and even the time you learned how to make scotch pie using his mom's recipe he had tucked away in his room

no matter how much he may deny it, that last one had him tearing up as soon as he took a bite

but honestly, can you blame him?

the man barely gets to visit his parents back home because of his work and it crushes him

honestly, it was probably one of the first few things he confided in you when you first started talking

so naturally when price announces that the 141 has been approved for a two week leave, you don't hesitate in logging onto the computer and buying him the first tickets back to scotland

what you do hesitate with is actually giving them to him

so you decide to gloss over that part completely and instead opt for shoving the tickets inside an plain envelope with his name scribbled on the front and a small note that simply reads, "go." before sliding it under his door the night before everyone is scheduled to depart from base

the moment soap gets his hands on those tickets he can't help the way he runs through the halls and bursts into your room to give you the biggest hug you've ever had in your life

unfortunately for you both, you'd already left base by the time he discovered the tickets

and so with a heavy heart, soap makes his way back to his room before packing his bags with a new vigor

the plane leaves in six hours, but he's so excited he can't help but want to arrive early

needless to say those are probably the best two weeks of his life

and while the others are interested in hearing all about his trip, he simply brushes them off in favor watching the door so he can be there for the exact moment you walk in

and after making him wait more than what he felt was necessary, you finally walk in

and this man

the way he shoots up from his seat and runs over to hug you

it's almost enough to send you both flying to the ground

but luckily you've got some stellar balance and manage to save yourselves from being teased by the rest of the team

but with the way soap is squeezing onto you while repeatedly whispering, "thank you," into the nape of your neck, you don't doubt they'll make fun of you for that

even with the mild embarrassment you feel, you simply wrap your arms around the scottish man and offer him a few pats on the back

and as sweet as it is for the other men to witness such a tender scene, they can't help but notice how upset you look

it's almost laughable

and as much as they want to step in and tell soap to back off, they can't help but notice the way you cling onto soap with that soft look in your eyes

so they remain quiet as you and soap hang onto each other, hearts full of warmth

kyle 'gaz' garrick

i'm gonna say it now

out of anyone in the 141, he was probably the one most intimidated by you

he's the youngest out of everyone and so it stands that, naturally, he has less experience than others

it's for this reason i think he's so keen on staying close to price

i mean the man practically plucked him off the streets and said, "you're mine now," so i think it's reasonable that gaz grows a tad more attached to price than the other members

so when he catches a few glimpses of you around base barking orders at the recruits and slamming them into the mats during sparring sessions, he's not exactly dying to meet you

even so, he finds he's not too worried about the possibility

with how often the 141 departs base to go on various missions and how you always seem to be too caught up in whatever you're doing at the time to be bothered to even glance his way, he eventually comes to the conclusion that you'll never meet

until one day price strolls into the common area where he and the rest of the team are minding their own business with you trailing right beside him looking aggravated as ever

he's already a bit uneasy with the fact you now know where the team goes to relax, but that unease slowly shifts to downright horror when price reveals that you're the newest member of the team

now gaz is usually a pretty easygoing and friendly guy so any chance to meet and bond with new people is always bound to be a good time in his book

but he can't help the shiver that crawls up his spine whenever you're around

seriously, who or what made you look so pissed off all the time?

anyway

because he's so hesitant of being around you, he tries his hardest not to bother you

which basically means he tries not to be in the same room as you

and while you may not really notice or care, the rest of the team certainly does

especially price

he's the type of man who prides himself on having a team that knows they can all rely on one another on and off the field and so he'll be damned if you and gaz are the ones to ruin his little streak

so guess who gets assigned to accompany you and the recruits on your morning workouts from now on?

gaz!

and while he's not necessarily thrilled about the idea of being forced into such close proximity to you, especially first thing in the morning, he respects price enough to not question his decision and just ends up going along with it

and at first he doesn't really pay you much attention in an effort to not do anything to accidentally make you even more upset than he already assumes you are

but then he starts to notice something

he notices the way the recruits light up whenever they see you, whether it be during the morning workout sessions or when you're walking around base

and it baffles him because you just look so upset, he can't possibly imagine why they're all so keen on sending you wide smiles or enthusiastic waves

but one day he looks just a little bit closer and he can see the faintest hint of amusement on your face as your lips showcase the ghost of a smile

that's when he really starts to pay attention

and suddenly he can't help but feel a little ashamed of himself

because now he can practically feel his heart melt every time you interact with the recruits

like how you would bring extra ice-cold water bottles to the morning workouts for the recruits who'd forget to bring their own

or the way you wouldn't hesitate to slide them some money if they mentioned being hungry while you were around

and especially how you don't hesitate to lend an ear for them if they seemed to be troubled by something

it's in those few little moments that he can see just the tiniest cracks through your annoyed expression and heated glares

you're not angry at all, he decides, just real shit at expressing yourself

and upon deciding this, he realizes you're not so scary anymore

so now instead of avoiding you like the plague, he actively seeks you out

at first it's to help you out with carrying the extra water bottles for the recruits in the morning and planning the workouts for the week

but then it turns into him asking to sit with you at the mess hall over dinner and keeping each other company in the commons area

and as much as he tries not to, he can't help the giddiness that floods his body when you start to show him that aggressive love he sees you dish out to the recruits

shoving snacks into his hands when you notice he hasn't eaten in a while

quietly sitting with him while he goes through paperwork because you both know he has a tendency to get distracted

and his personal favorite, draping your jacket over him when you walk in on him sleeping anywhere that isn't his room

he always wakes up with a smile tugging on his lips

and despite how cold and distant you may look while doing these things, he doesn't give it much attention anymore

not when he can see the love and care that's reflected in your eyes

simon 'ghost' riley

despite you and ghost having similar exteriors, it becomes more and more apparent to gaz and soap that you're actually quite different

which isn't a bad thing, of course! just a bit unexpected

but it's because of this striking difference that you and simon tend to keep a majority of your interactions on the field

and you both are more than happy to keep it this way

gaz and soap however, are not

so naturally they put together a plan; a plan that consists of soap giving you his most treasured tactical pen so you can use it to write away in that little journal of yours on the ride back from missions just so he can later "confront" ghost and admonish him for stealing said pen

and during all this, gaz simply remains on the sidelines just looking pretty

anyway

after laying into simon for a good ten minutes, soap walks away from the encounter with a small smile before walking up to gaz and saying something like, "now we wait"

and they do wait

patiently

but after a full two weeks pass by and neither gaz or soap can find any evidence of their so called "master plan" working, they can't help but feel a little discouraged

unbeknownst to them, it totally worked

just not in the way they envisioned

you see, by the time soap came up to simon to lecture him about stealing his pen, ghost had already come to notice you scribbling into your notebook with it

so once soap had finally decided to leave him alone, he immediately confronted you about framing him for such a crime

but you just kinda stare up at him with that annoyed look of yours before revealing soap had willingly given it to you

and things just kinda click into place for the two of you; soap wanted to get you talking

and while you and simon had to admit it wasn't a bad plan, you didn't want to give the scotsman the satisfaction of knowing it had actually worked

so whenever you and simon find yourselves in the company of the rest of the team, you decide to remain distant

but when it's just the two of you?

you're straight chilling

especially when you visit him in his room or vice versa

like just imagine the two of you drinking tea that simon was nice enough to make and watching war movies while bashing all the inaccuracies and bad calls the characters make

or when the two of you are out and about on base free from the prying eyes of gaz and soap because they're out doing their own thing

you and simon love finding random groups of rowdy soldiers just to intimidate them

i don't know about you, but i can definitely see simon just standing there with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed while you rest your hands on your hips with your lips pulled into a frown

price definitely gets complaints about the two of you

he does nothing about them

and for a while that's pretty much the gist of how you and simon spend your time together

but i like to imagine that after a particularly rough mission, simon would seek you out just to sit with you

and i can see him as a stress smoker so when he finally does manage to find you and take a seat beside you, you slide him a pack of cigarettes and a lighter

he doesn't ask how you know his cigarette preference, but instead gives you a small nod of approval before pulling up his mask over lips and taking a drag

and that's how you spend your night

just sitting beside each other as you watch the evening sky gradually begin to fill with stars

i think it would depend on how bad the mission went in order to determine exactly how long the two of you stay sitting under the stars, but it doesn't matter because it'll end the same way; you reaching over and giving simon's hand a quick squeeze with a small, "get some sleep, simon. you need it," before you walk away

and he finds himself confused to two reasons

reason one: why did you grab his hand why did he like it?

reason two: how can you say such sweet words but still look so mad?

as much as he wants to play that moment over in his head just to make sure he was remembering things right, he decides against it in favor of heeding your words and getting some sleep

but it's after that moment he can't help but notice how your mannerisms have changed

not only are your words of reassurance more apparent than before, he's also noticed you have a tendency to give his hand/shoulder a reassuring squeeze every now and then

he can't help the small smile that threatens to pull at his lips when you do

but he also can't help but notice how distant and reserved your face looks when you do all of these things

he doesn't really mind it though

but he eventually does bring it up to you one day

it's probably after he tells you one of his god awful dad jokes

like he'll look over at you and notice your sour expression and say something like, "don't look so pissed, they're not that bad."

and you'll respond with a tilt of your head as you tell him, "i'm not pissed. i like your jokes."

then he'll nudge your shoulder before telling you, "with that face? coulda fooled me."

and you'll roll your eyes in faux annoyance as you brush him off with a simple, "that's just my face."

and then he'll look down at you, thankful for his mask so you can't see the small smile making its way onto his face

he might even say something dumb and cheesy like, "i know. i like it."

and you give him one of your rare smiles

and i could end it there and say the two of you are bffs

or i could sprinkle in something about soap running up on the two of you chanting, "my plan worked, my plan worked!"

that's for you to decide

[assortedgoods123]

Severus Snape x chatty!reader Soulmate AU

Writers block with stardew valley stuff so im trying something totally different to shake the cobwebs loose

do ppl still need to say they dont fuck with jkr or is it a given at this point? (genuine question)

*meet-cute!!!*

*this reader has titties and gender neutral pronouns*

Walking quickly, your eyes are glued to your phone as you round the corner of a street in London. You are already running late for a meeting but you absolutely refuse to deal with your coworker's bullshit without something caffeinated in your hands.

Just as you are about to look up and find the entrance to the cafe you frequent, you slam into something. You squeak out a nervous gasp when you realize it wasn't a lamp post, but a person.

"Ohmygosh I am so so so sorry!" You say, frantically digging in your bag for your horde of cocktail napkins. Your eyes flit nervously over the stranger, realizing you're both covered in his drink order. Dabbing at his torso with your little napkins, his silence makes you about a thousand times more anxious.

"I really am so so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, it's totally my fault." You stammer out, glancing at up at his face while you pat pat pat his chest with your napkins.

Your poor little heart, already beating like a hummingbird in your chest, leaps into your throat at the sight of the hottest fucking guy you've ever seen in your life. The kind of hottie you would chase down the street to throw yourself at. You've done very embarrassing things to get a chance to know people who are far less good-looking than this man in front of you now. And because you were too preoccupied with your phone, you're almost certain you won't be walking away with his number.

And he's frozen, staring at you with a weird look on his face. Definitely the worst first impression you could have possibly made.

Never one for fits of grace, you frown and say, "People as attractive as you should come with an escape lever." You throw the soggy napkins in the trash nearby and add, "I hate embarrassing myself in front of hot people."

Still not getting a response, you turn and look up at him. "You gonna say anything handsome?"

-

Severus Snape has never been rendered this speechless in his entire life.

The day the courts ruled him not guilty enough for Azkaban was certainly shocking, but even that paled in comparison to what he was experiencing now.

He was leaving his favorite coffee shop when he bumped into a muggle. People are clumsy, it happens. But then, instead of apologizing and running away from the tall scary man, they started talking to him. The sweetest, softest voice Severus had ever heard, telling him he's... hot. Attractive. Handsome.

Every single time anyone has ever shown interest in him in public, Severus has immediately and viciously shut them down. Far better to come across as an asshole upfront than to be humiliated and heartbroken later.

But now, he had this sweet little muggle running their warm hands all over his chest in a matter of seconds. Before he could snarl at them to back off, he looked down and, well.

What was already a very low-cut top was now soaked with tea, becoming slightly translucent. Half of Severus was now laser-focused on the stretch of the damp fabric over your tits, while the other half was screaming at him to get a hold of himself.

You asked him a question, he realizes. Jerking his head around to face you properly, he blurts out, "Huh?"

Oh he's doomed, he thinks.

-

You gasp and grab his arm, "Oh no I'm already so late I need to go right now but listen, here's a bit of money to buy yourself a new drink it's the least I can do I'm so so sorry for running into you and dashing away but I really am late it was nice to meet you bye!"

Hustling away, you sigh and hope you run into him again. Such a shame you couldn't stay and flirt longer. Checking your watch, you growl and break into a jog. Fuck this day, you think.

-

"Fuck this day" Severus mutters, before heading down an alley to dissipate home. Just like him to meet someone who actually thinks he's attractive only for them to be so late they have to literally run.

It was only a fraction of a moment, but Severus knows it'll be the thing keeping him from falling down a pit of despair some nights.

Hating himself as he does it, he sniffs the money you handed him. It smells like your perfume. He sets it aside on his dresser.

Pathetic virgin, he thinks.

Later that night, however, he wakes with a gasp. "Idiot idiot idiot!" He snarls, yanking the covers away from himself. "You were so focused on them you forgot to check your soul mark" He glowers at himself in the mirror before lifting his tongue. There, on the underside, is a swirl unique to him and his soulmate.

His heart skips a beat when he sees it glitter in the dingy bathroom lighting. It's activated. And the only people he spoke to yesterday were you and the exhausted-looking barista.

He thinks of the look on your face when you saw him, how you pouted so cutely when you threw the napkins away. The way your clothes stretched over your body.

I've gone mad, he thinks, as he throws on some clothes and dissipates to an alley in London.

-

I am literally insane, you think.

You've been sitting on a bench outside the coffee shop you almost went in yesterday for about half an hour now. It's too early for anyone else to be up and about yet, it's about 3 in the morning. You woke up last night realizing you didn't check your soul mark after meeting that stupidly hot guy. Sure enough, it was activated.

You twist your fingers anxiously, hoping and hoping that he will show up eventually. You'll be so sad if it's not him.

Suddenly, you hear an odd noise in a nearby alley. Nervously, you run your hands along your pepper spray.

Turning your head to look, you see him. Disheveled and breathing heavy, he locks eyes with you and storms over.

Feeling slightly lightheaded, you rush towards him and lift your tongue up so he can see. Tears of happiness and overwhelm run down your face when he nods and shows you his activated mark.

"Can I...?" You open your arms, asking for a hug.

Hesitating, he steps into your embrace, standing like a stiff board while you sniffle into his shirt and squeeze him tight.

You have a good feeling about this.

(not sure how to end it so ill call it here 🤗)

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 2

🎋The footprints he etched on the earth

Bokuto x f!reader

Prequel : 🌌The stars he left in the sky (can be read as a standalone)

Summary : The stars he left in the sky are nothing compared to the footprints he etched on the earth.

or when you meet bokuto koutarou and wonder if you’ve ever truly known beauty before him.

Words count: 2.9k

chapter 1 - chapter 3 - chapter 4

You think Bokuto’s soul is beautiful in any possible way and the more you get to know him, the more you see it. In how he treats you with such genuine care as if he’s known you far longer than the two or three weeks you’ve spent together. It’s in the infectious joy with which he offers his help and in the way he doesn’t hesitate to stay late just to make sure you’re not overwhelmed by the renovations and whatever work your shop requires.

But Bokuto is beautiful in the most pure, undeniable sense as well. It didn’t take long for you to discover he’s a professional volleyball player, and it’s no mystery where that sport has shaped him. His biceps are magnificent, and his sculpted thighs too (you’re very thankful when he starts wearing one pair of grey shorts that fit him perfectly).

You also take notice of his golden eyes and his sharp jawline. Sometimes you think the latter lends him an edge of strength when focusing on manual work like laying down an uneven plank of wood for the floor of your shop. And sometimes it’s softened by the boyish way he tilts his chin toward the sun and blushes when you thank him for his help.

It’s all of that, this layered beauty, this soft heart in the body of a god that you find yourself thinking of whenever you glance his way.

But that probably doesn’t mean anything, you believe in the beginning, with much naivety.

You haven’t really taken the time to meet many people since moving to Osaka, and as the days pass, you realise just how much your interactions with Koutarou have become your main source of human connection (not that you complain about it).

At first, he only comes when the Miya twins are around—after Osamu’s shift on Tuesdays, or on weekends when he doesn’t have a game. You often remind him not to overwork himself, especially since Atsumu has mentioned how intense the practices are getting.

“Am sorry I won’t be able to come for the next two or three weeks,” Atsumu says one evening, scratching the back of his neck apologetically. “The National League is this summer, so we’ve got a lot more trainin’ now.”

You can hardly fault him; he and his brother already helped far more than you expected. Yet, a part of you wonders if that means Bokuto won’t come as much too. Or worse, if he won’t come back at all. The renovations are almost finished, or at least, the hard work is done. It is mainly details and arrangements now, so there is no reason for the outside hitter to help anymore. And you can’t be mad about that. Still, it makes your heart twist slightly in your chest.

But then, on a bright Saturday morning, as you’re finishing the final polish on your counter, he enters.

“Sam-Sam is in Tokyo this weekend,” he says with a shy smile, his hair down like it usually is on the weekends, “but I was wondering if you still needed a hand?”

“I-hm-sure, please come in, Bokuto-san.”

His lips curl into a kind grin that could disarm anyone.

“So, I used the oven for the first time this morning,” you say, a little nervously. “I’m making pain au chocolat. Want to try some?”

His eyes light up as he nods with enthusiasm (perhaps a bit too much for a Saturday morning). “Yesss!”

You watch him take the first bite, “Oh my gosh,” he mumbles through a mouthful, “itsh delichious!”

You laugh softly, “I can make them whenever you’d like.”

The way he looks at you—his cheeks faintly flushed—leaves you momentarily breathless.

You clear your throat to regain your composure, “Atsumu-san said you have the National League or something soon, you sure you shouldn’t practice instead of helping me? I really don’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re not.” He responds almost too quickly, and you swear you saw not only his cheeks now, but his ears get red, he lowers his head the second after. “But if you don’t want me to stay…I understand…”

What? That’s the exact opposite I want, why would he think that? You say to yourself.

“No, no,” you shake your hands. “Please, it’s a pleasure if you stay. Actually, I enjoy your company.”

He almost jumps in response, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone’s mood shift so fast (not even your former roommate Umi).

It warms your heart.

You start learning more about him after that. He tells you about his childhood in Tokyo—the way the city’s constant agitation never bothered him, which doesn’t surprise you. He tells you about his two older sisters, how they used to tease him, and about the dog he adored but passed away when he started high school. His voice softens when he talks about his family, and you find yourself hoping you will meet them someday.

He tells you about his friends: the calm and reliable Akaashi; Kuroo, a tall guy with bed hair and a knack for sarcasm; and Hinata, his former teammate who left for Brazil about a year ago. Bokuto refers to Hinata as his “student” with such pride that you can’t help but laugh.

“You talk about him like he’s your child,” you tease, and Bokuto grins sheepishly.

“Yeah, he kinda is,” he shrugs.

You learn about his tastes, too—the little things that make him who he is. How he prefers cakes with cream and how his nose scrunches adorably when he tries your lemon tarts. How he reaches for white chocolate when he’s celebrating a win or a great training session but turns to dark chocolate when he’s feeling low.

One night, after a game, you notice his absence and can’t help but call him (not that you miss him, but you just want to make sure he is okay).

“You probably don’t want to be around someone as lame as me,” he mutters over the phone.

“Bokuto-san,” you sigh, “I would never think something like that about you.”

The silence on the other end stretches, but when he speaks again, his voice is softer. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

He ends up coming to your shop later and gobbles up a bowlful of chocolate mousse. You laugh when he gets it all over his nose but doesn’t seem ashamed of it.

(Perhaps, you did miss him and his innocence a little bit).

And then, the relationship grows outside the shop. On one of his rare days off, he takes you to a small okonomiyaki restaurant tucked away in town. You struggle to flip your okonomiyaki, and he doesn’t laugh—at least not too much. His turns out perfectly.

“How do you do that?” you ask as you widen your eyes.

“I-” He furrows his brow in concentration as if he were trying to pinpoint the secret. “I actually don’t know. I just do it.”

And in that moment, you think that’s exactly what you like about him. How he approaches everything in life with genuineness—whether it’s helping you out, talking, or playing volleyball. There’s an honesty in the way he moves through the world, unfiltered and unreserved, and it draws you in like nothing else before.

“I’ll have to teach you how to make a proper one next time,” he says, grinning.

You blame the two or three beers you had for the warmth that spreads on your face (it’s actually because he said “next time”).

Next time does happen—twice, thrice—and within a month, as June turns into July, replacing the sound of thunder with the crisp voices of cicadas and heavy summer rain with the blazing sun and long evenings, you begin to acknowledge the fact that you might have caught feelings for Bokuto Koutarou.

Not that it surprises you, really. It just makes sense. The way you realise how you feel is not spectacular or celestial. It comes to you naturally; it blooms like a flower would bloom in Spring after being watered all Winter. It’s like snow melting drop by drop and finding its way to the river. It’s like Bokuto, authentic and real.

The only problem is, how are you supposed to convey those feelings?

You wish there was a guide, a recipe, something that you could follow step by step and that would lead you to confess.

You had romantic relationships in the past. One that didn’t end well, to say the least, and others that never really progressed beyond casual flings.

So, you’re not what one could call an expect when it comes to love.

Back at university, you were taught to hide your feelings. It’s better if you want to survive in the unfair world that is baking. So, you got used to wearing a mask. And now, you don't really know how to act otherwise.

One day, you almost call Umi to ask for advice on that matter but then remember that everything that you’ve done so far: moving to another country, becoming a pâtissière, saving money for your shop, you’ve done it alone. You don’t need help from others. You’ll manage on your own, and it’s better this way.

You wait for any sort of signal from him (a hand that brushes against yours, a glance that lingers just a bit longer), to finally wear your heart on your sleeve. It’s not that you’re scared that he will reject you, it’s more that you want to confess when it feels right. So, you decide it’s better to wait.

You officially open your shop in mid-July. Unfortunately, it’s in the middle of Umi’s exams.

“I’m so PISSED I can’t come!!!!” she texts you the night before. “But you’ll meet my best friend Airi, she’s coming back to Osaka for a few days. I’m sure you’ll like her. Anyway, YOU'RE THE BEST!!”

You’ve heard bits and pieces about said best friend—how she’s nice, reserved, and used to live in Osaka before moving to Tokyo for work. You find her name pretty, and somehow, you’re looking forward to meeting her.

The night before your grand opening, sleep becomes your worst enemy. Nerves churn in your stomach, and every little detail about the shop flits through your mind restlessly. By 4 a.m., you’re already awake (well, not that you ever fell asleep anyway), pulling on an apron and heading to the shop.

You bake and arrange pastries, taste-test cream again and again, and make sure everything feels just perfect. At some point, time becomes a blur.

Your phone buzzes and you’re surprised to see that many hours have passed since you got up from bed.  

“Hey hey!! Did you sleep at all?” Bokuto���s voice comes through. You wonder if that man can read your mind even through distance. To anyone who thinks Bokuto is a dense man (anyone means Miya Atsumu), you would reply that they’re wrong and that he is, in fact, very much attentive and caring.

“Not really,” you admit, half-dazed, as you wipe your hands on a towel. “But I’m fine though.”

“Can you cooome now.”

“Come where?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Open, we’re waiting. Pleeease”

“We?”

You check the clock again and realise it’s 9.45 am and that you’re supposed to open in fifteen minutes. Hurriedly, you make your way to the door.

What you haven’t realised though, is that a small crowd has gathered in front of your shop. And leading the group, grinning ear to ear, is none other than Bokuto himself.

“Finally!” Bokuto exclaims, his golden eyes seem to gleam with excitement. “I thought you were never gonna open!”

You blink, startled, and step outside. The sight takes your breath away—a line of people stretches along the pavement. You take notice of a few familiar faces (the twins), some of who you assume are Bokuto’s teammates (a guy wearing a face mask, another with light hair and bangs). But also, families and old ladies you’ve seen walking in the neighbourhood or coming to Osamu’s restaurant.

“Wait, what…” You glance back at Bokuto, who looks entirely too pleased with himself.

“I might’ve told a few people about your shop,” he admits. “And, uh, maybe brought a few friends.”

Your heart swells. The fatigue from your sleepless night immediately fades away.

“Bokuto-san…” You don’t even know where to begin.

He leans closer, a grin tugging at his lips. “C’mon, open up already! I’m starving!”

“Hey, don’t listen to Bokkun,” Atsumu chimes in and wraps his arm around the taller man. “I also talked about yer cakes to many many people and since I’ve got a pretty impressive network, you can basically thank me.”

“Then…Thanks, I guess,” you laugh.

“’Tsumu, get yer ass off here, some real customers with real tastes want to enter.”

Osamu gives you a side smile and you decide to let the twins argue.

You usher the first few customers inside and then sneak inside to take your place behind the counter. But even as you move around, taking orders and greeting faces both new and familiar, your gaze keeps drifting back to him.

He’s even more beautiful today with his white shirt, oversized jeans and perfectly styled hair. A little voice inside your head murmurs that maybe he dressed up for you (you hope he did, but if he didn’t, it’s fine. As long as you can enjoy that sight of him, you’re happy).

You only get to have a proper conversation with him later, when it’s past 7 and you flip the “open” sign to “closed”.

“You were so cool today,” he grins, and you swallow hard in response. You're both nervous and flustered by his words.

“The apricot tart was so good. You know, even Omi-Omi tried some even if he’s always saying that sugar is bad for your health. But to be honest, I was so disappointed when that kid ordered the last – how d’you call that again? Millefeuille? I really wanted to try it. D’you think you could make that again?”

“Of course, I can bake anything you want Bokuto-san.”

“Koutarou.”

You open your mouth slightly, “Sorry?”

“That’s my name.”

“I know that but-”

“Call me Koutarou, please.”

You have no other choice but to nod. Honestly, how could you say no to pleading Bokuto with his cute face and pretty golden eyes?

It’s past sundown outside but it doesn’t feel cold or dark with him by your side. You take a step forward and bit the inside of your cheek.

Maybe tonight it is the right time.

“Bo-Koutarou. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

The man tilts his head, confused, but you stand your ground.

“We’ve spent a lot of time together this past month and like I said I really enjoy your company but I kinda want something different now and if you want this too, I was thinking that maybe we could-”

“Bo!”

A soft voice interrupts, you both turn to where it’s coming.

“Airi?”

You frown a little. It takes you a second to remember that Umi mentioned her visit.

You’re about to explain that the shop is closed—not to be rude, but this isn’t the best timing, and meeting your roommate’s friend can wait, right? But before you can say a word, Bokuto moves faster and in the blink of an eye, he’s embracing her.

“Atsumu told me you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were coming”, he exclaims and when his smile is directed at her—his beautiful beautiful smile—you feel a twinge of jealousy.

She chuckles in response and hugs him back.

For someone who’s supposed to be shy and reserved, you think that her attitude is bright. Or maybe it’s because it’s Bokuto?

“Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself,” the girl says to you. "I'm Airi, nice to meet you."

“Actually, Umi told me about you.” You explain after saying your name.

You wish you didn’t look at her fingers when she extended her hand to you, but you did and you saw the golden ring on her fourth finger.

She’s engaged.

Umi never mentioned that. If it was one to one of the twins, she would definitely have told you, you think convinced.

Your hands begin to sweat when you reach out to her, and a weird sensation of uneasiness makes you feel sick. You don’t want to overthink anything, but you can’t help but wonder if Bokuto is the one who gave her that ring, the one dating her, worse, engaged to her.

Well, you probably shouldn't be thinking this, but the thought is stronger than you and you can't seem to stop it now that it has entered your mind.

You’ve been bottling up your feelings for years. Wearing a mask. Pretending nothing could ever hurt you. And you were fine with it. So why, at this precise moment, does it feel like you’re about to burst into tears?

You know it’s probably just a stupid assumption. They seem close, she calls him Bo, he calls her by her first name, but maybe they’re just friends.

“We’re having dinner in Onigiri Miya, you’re coming?”

There’s a long silence that stretches and when your head shoots up, you realise that Bokuto is looking at you.

“I asked if you wanted to come? Is everything fine?”

“Sorry, I-I’m a bit tired. Maybe next time.”

Bokuto opens his mouth, but you don’t let him say more, “Osamu-san is probably waiting, right? You should leave, I’ll clean and go home.”

“But you were about to tell me something just before-”

“I’ll tell you later.” You try to fight the tightness of your throat with a smile.

“O-Okay.” There’s a small pout forming on his lips.

You bid them good evening and turn to the kitchen, pretending to be busy with cleaning.

It’s nothing, you repeat to yourself, hoping it will convince you.

You’re tempted to send Umi a text, or Osamu. They probably know.

But again, you remember, first Umi is busy with exams and then you can figure this out on your own, like you’ve always done. It’s not their problem anyway, it’s you and your feelings.

And if you have to bury them deep inside, then that’s what you’ll do.

author notes: for those who have read my suna x reader and osamu x reader fics, yes airi & umi are back again haha. i guess they are my main oc (if you haven't read them then i wouldn't recommend doing it now because you're gonna be spoiled)

what do you think of this chapter? i was a bit unsure of how to introduce the "plot twist". i'm not 100% happy with it especially since i want this fic to be short so the action needs to be faster than what i usually do, anyway, feel free to tell me if you liked it :)

taglist: @iluv-ace, @obibiwan, @teyvatsunsets

[butwhatifidothis]

I LOVED To Be a Creature, and it genuinely creeped me out to see the things Edelgard and Hubert said to Byleth (though it's the same as the game, stripped out of its voice acting and background music, the dialogue is so much more horrifying). Really makes me wonder if Edelgard's love for Byleth is genuine in any way. Do you think there's any real love there or is it just obsession?

Thank you!!! I had a feeling that placing Edelgard and Hubert's words in a context that isn't meant to make them look flattering would really let their casual racism shine, and I'm glad it's seeming like that is in fact the impression people are getting lol. SO sorry for the late answer btw 😭😭😭

As for whether Edelgard's love is genuine... I got opinions lmao.

got a bit long lmao under the cut it goes

If Edelgard felt the way she does for Byleth on exclusively SS and CF, I could maybe see how this is a "genuine" love (insofar as a love steeped in "I may hate your race but you're special and Not Like The Other Ones because I think you're special to me" can, uh, ever be genuine, in any case). But because Edelgard still feels as strongly towards Byleth on AM and VW where she quite literally never talks to them directly in any meaningful way, it becomes waaaaay more like she's just weirdly obsessed with this person who saved her one singular time ever five years ago from an attack Edelgard set up. It makes the "love" way more forced and contrived and obviously trying to squeeze tears out of the player for standing up against the cute girly trying to murder them. Or, alternatively, it makes Edelgard come off as manipulative, saying that she just wanted to walk with Byleth and it makes her so sad to HAVE to fight Byleth because BYLETH wouldn't stand by HER - and she's saying this on AM/VW to a person she's talked to in conversation a cumulative, what? Hour? Two? Maybe a few days, being nice? Over the course of, being as absolutely generous as physically possible and not counting the five years Byleth was missing... two fucking years? She's shitting herself over fighting this stranger she doesn't fucking know? Yeah, sure buddy, whatever you say - you see what I mean?

And honestly even outside of those two routes, I think it's more that she sees Byleth as being hers rather than actually liking them for who they are. A body to stand next to her and tell her how right she is and comfort her - who doesn't have the background of "I was literally raised to think this is my only purpose in life" muddying the sincerity of the brown-nosing - who also happens to also act as The Perfect Fighter and The Perfect Strategist to actively help her get what she wants. That view of Byleth being a tool doesn't really go away unless they marry her, seen by how they quite literally get nothing for all they've done for Edelgard should they go unmarried to a noble (guess they just weren't meritable enough once their use to her was done).

As well as how much more Edelgard doesn't like Byleth disagreeing with her or otherwise going against her flow than pretty much anyone else in the game - you lose supports points if you don't think the Black Eagle Strike Force name she made is good, she quickly denies the notion that Byleth isn't detached from others/emotions and insists they are just like she is, she gives them the same callous and thoughtless words she was apparently given once in her life while they are in the midst of mourning their recently murdered father so that they get over it already and get back to being useful to her (directly saying she will only reach out her hand when it's time for HER to move forward, not when BYLETH heals from WATCHING THEIR DAD DIE IN THEIR FUCKING ARMS MAYBE A WEEK AGO). She never treats Byleth kindly unless they do everything she wants, which like. Isn't love???? At all????

There's just this... weirdly possessive air Edelgard has around Byleth that always threw me off, especially with how easily she admits to have been willing to kill them so far into CF and how readily she cuts ties with them the second the fighting's done (which is particular because how just how clingy she was to Byleth everywhere else - you know during all that time Byleth had a use to her). Incorporating that into being an intentional part of her character is certainly interesting, but not in a way that's flattering to the idea of Edelgard genuinely being in love with Byleth lmao.

Personally tho, even disregarding almost everything else, the simple explanation is that I don't think you can really sit there and say you love someone while openly hating part of their racial heritage. Wild thought, I know lmao

[marauders-bs]

MCD MCD MCD YOU WERE WARNED

the happy is really good though

just to let yall know this is set on hallows eve. its clear in my mind but eh. ali got it but theyre also like, the other half of my brain

Regulus grabs the sides of James's face, smiling just a little. "Shut the fuck up."

James grins, thinking he might know where this is going. Or he could get hexed.

Regulus surges up and kisses him. James doesn't really get a choice what his hands do; he kisses Regulus back as his hands wins up in the other boy's hair.

They break briefly, both smiling as they pull each other back in.

-

They're running now and it can't be earlier than midnight. It turns out that Regulus told Remus, so he's covering for them as they sprint hand in hand to the forest.

"Why are we like this?" Reg asks, his smile transforming his features and sweet Merlin, James really, really, likes him.

"We just are," James responds, and Regulus laughs and pulls him close.

-

"-Ooh, and I'm so pissed at Slughorn, Salazar he has one job and he can't even do it right!"

James laughs, running his fingers through Reg's hair. "Yeah?'

"'Can't put you in a fifth-year class, sorry boyo!' Ok, dick, just admit you hate me."

"If he hates you, I'll light the Potions storeroom on fire," James says, completely genuine. He'd do it.

"Thanks," Regulus says, and he looks up at James with his eyes soft and smiling, and James is so happy he could- he doesn't even know what.

-

Reg found the Room of Requirement.

"Oh, sweet Godric, Reg, we've been looking for this for years! You're just better than us," James says, looking around at the room.

"We already knew that, though," Regulus says, laughing when James nudges him playfully.

"You're my favorite," James says, pulling the other boy close.

"I know," Reg replies, turning a smug smile up to his boyfriend.

-

"Ooh, for the first time in my life I'm thankful I wan't born a boy," Reg says, bouncing into the Room. "Mother told me over the break that if I was a proper boy I'd have married Narcissa! It's bullshit, she and I are practically identical."

James isn't quite processing. He'll never get used to his boyfriend's - boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend James is going to do a flip - morning happiness. "Narcissa, like your cousin?"

"Yup," Reg answers, curling up into James's side. "It's the Black's longstanding tradition of marrying their cousins."

"That's not- whatever. And you are a proper boy, you know that, right?"

Regulus looks down, hiding his face.

"Reg, look at me," James says. He waits until his boyfriend - James is never, ever going to get over this fact - looks at him to continue. "You're just as much of a boy as I am. Probably more."

Regulus smiles, and James will always love it when that's directed at him. "Yeah."

-

The memories are flooding back. Why can't he have them longer? Why did Voldemort have to show up? Why couldn't Peter have just done his job?

Why can't he ever protect anyone?

Why are his final thoughts so sad?

[blighted-lights]

I just recently saw your stuff for Drift and Ravage and I'm really curious - IDK if you've already already talked about/answered this but how did they become amica endura?

first off i want to apologize for the fact that this took me SO long to answer because. wow. this has been sitting in my inbox for a hot minute. but i finally decided to sit down and answer it now that they're on my mind again!! ALSO! if you or anyone else reading this has any more questions like this then feel free to send them in an ask!! i love talking about this stuff 🫶

in my personal fanon, ravage and drift became amicas before the war even began. they met when they were both living on the streets of the dead end prior to ravage meeting soundwave and gasket's death. it's genuinely been so long since i got this ask that i've forgotten much of the finer details of them becoming amicas, but the short of it is that they initally sparkbonded as more of a practicality at first. being bonded meant that they were at least always in some form of constant contact with one another even while seperated, and when they were really struggling for fuel, they could share spark energy to help give each other an added boost. ravage also does the same with laserbeak and buzzsaw, and later soundwave as well!

BUT. they become officially amicas later on- namely right after the senate falls. at that point they'd been living with each other off and on, had done countless patrols and missions together, watched each other's backs during fights, ect. they got really close! deadlock is the one who ends up suggesting that they make their bond official and go through the proper acts of an amica ceremony. ravage didn't really care for the formality of it, lol, but he agreed because he knew it meant a lot to deadlock. and it ended up meaning a lot to him too!

their entire relationship goes from one of begrudging practicality to one of genuine care and trust, and their amica bond reflects that. their bond ends up being pretty weak by the end of the war, though :/ to the point where it is almost severed by the time they see each other again in the dotl. ravage ends up offering to renew their bond "after they win against the djd" but. um. well, we all know how that ended.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!!! and again, i am so sorry this took so long to answer 😭😭

[carawenfiction]

Will we have an update soon?

Tumblr won't let me make normal posts for some reason, so the update will have to be in form of an answer to this ask smh. Anyway:

Hey everyone!

This post is long overdue, I know. I’m really sorry to those who have been worried about my wellbeing, as well as those who have been waiting around for an update for so long.

I’ve put off writing here because this “update” is something I’ve been wrestling with for a long time. But I can’t keep going back and forth on it forever, which is why I’m now letting you all know that the Shadow Society is officially discontinued.

I know that this might not come as much of a surprise to anyone at this point. I’ve tried to salvage the story by remaking it into something I’m happy with through a rewrite. But I’ve rewritten the rewrite itself more than once, and no matter what I do, I’m just not happy with the result. Rewriting something that’s already published with all the coding it involves is a lot more tricky than I initially thought it would be.

This is not a case of me being needlessly harsh on myself, however; it’s simply a truth I’ve come to realize after struggling to find a way to keep going with the story. I’ll never be fully content with it, or even content enough, unless I’d be able to completely remake and rewrite everything from scratch – and consequentially, I will never find enough motivation to continue because of how unhappy I am with it.

I’ve seen some speculation about my reason for rewriting the story and my long absence, and that they’ve had to do with comparisons to other IFs (well, you know which one). This isn’t entirely the case. While the comparisons did happen and probably still do, and while they were discouraging in the beginning, I can definitely understand where people have been coming from when making them. I talked about this more in-depth in the forums right after the release of TSS.

The main reason for why I can’t continue is that it’s not a series I feel passionate enough about to work on. My tastes have changed, and so has my writing to some degree. I’ve tried to convince myself that I am passionate about it. It’s hard to admit that you’re not when it’s been in your head for so long, when you’ve tried for so long to make this work and when you know that one part is published and that some people are anticipating a continuation. But it had to be done sooner or later.

Other reasons:

-While I don’t think that my writing style has changed drastically, I feel like it is somewhat different from how I wrote back in 2018 (which is a GOOD thing). Whenever I tried working on the rewrite or second book and attempted to emulate the writing of TSS, it just didn’t sound right anymore, and that took a lot of fun out of it.

-With everything that has happened with CoG over the past few years, they are no longer a company I want to write for.

Please know that none of this has discouraged me from writing in general. I still love doing it. If anything, this has taught me a lot about what I actually want to write and the writing process in general. Whether I end up publishing anything else in the future or will simply do so for my own enjoyment we’ll just have to see, though.

I still have the idea of a shadow-like world in my head, and maybe it’s one I will revisit at some point. Maybe there will be another version of TSS someday, albeit very different from the original one.

But for now, I can only thank you all for the overwhelming love and support over the years, and apologize for any disappointment this has caused. If people are interested, I’d be happy to share parts of the rewrite and unused ideas. The Tumblr page will still stay up at least for some time, but I will probably not be answering any asks from here on out.

EDIT: Forgot to add, but if anyone wants a genuinely amazing IF read you should check out my friend's wip here: https://uroboros-if.tumblr.com/ ❤️ Play the demo here: https://mistyriousness.itch.io/uroboros

[cacoetheswriting]

heyy

can you do a angst with fluffy ending with eddie x reader on reader birthday (but not that he forgot pls 🙏🏻) you can decide the rest

thank you so much!! 💖💖

gosh i am sooooo sorry for only getting this out to you now! it's been sitting in my drafts, half-finished for far too long! again, super sorry for the delay - and i hope you enjoy 🤍

-

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.3k content warnings: talk of breakups / heartbreak (eddie & reader are exes), adult language, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol consumption, - very much unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything!

Birthdays weren’t really your thing.

Celebrating getting older stopped being fun when the gifts turned from colourful toys to cards with generic wishes, and when parties went from having bright bouncy castles to drinking cheap wine alone in a messy apartment at the end of an even messier night. From pure, unfiltered joy, to misery and feeling like your life was slipping through your fingers, fast.

There were a few expectations over the last few years — four lucky birthdays to be exact. And these happy memories came into existence thanks to a certain curly-haired, brown-eyed boy.

Eddie first asked you out a few days before your nineteenth birthday and even though the two of you never really talked prior, there was no denying he was really fucking pretty and you had a big fat silent crush on him for quite some time before that faithful afternoon.

He invited you out for burgers, and in the midst of natural conversation, when you let slip that it was your birthday, Eddie also got you ice-cream, asking the waiter to place a single candle in the colourful sundae.

Till this day, it was the most genuine thing anyone has ever done for you. The most romantic too.

And every birthday that followed, every birthday you spent together with the metalhead was beyond special. He made them special.

From balloons and love notes, to heartfelt gifts, various activities during the day and dinners at his trailer or out in town. He even rallied your friends and threw you parties that no longer ended with loneliness. No year was the same. Eddie made them unique and memorable — which you adored him for wholeheartedly.

Unfortunately, the genuine love you shared was not enough and the relationship came to an unforeseen end.

Eddie had big plans of one day becoming a rockstar, practicing guitar in his free time till his fingers bled, and you were studying day and night, working towards your dream degree. Your lives were heading in completely different directions and there came a point where you only saw each other once every fortnight, while your already irregular phone calls were often cut short.

That was three months ago. A breakup as natural as breathing, yet equally as earth shattering.

Even though it was a mutual decision, the pain was ever present and you cried yourself to sleep for weeks after. Eddie took a piece of you when he left and your whole body was in mourning. It didn’t help that everything in what remained of your life reminded you of him. Physical items like the printed t-shirts in your drawer or the mug he branded as his and you never let anyone else use. A Dio song you’d hear randomly or the diner he took you to on your first date. Then there was the emotional side, the soft glimmer in his eyes you remembered when you closed yours and the sound of his laughter you wished you’d hear again.

Things eventually got easier ‘cause it’s not like you saw Eddie often when you were together. Plus studying for an ungodly amount of hours kept you busy, distracted. And after giving yourself an appropriate time to feel everything, there was honestly no more time for heartbreak.

That is until your birthday rolled around.

When you opened your eyes late morning, you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole — which in Hawkins was more than likely to happen. The last four birthdays were nothing short of perfect and now…  

The nausea followed shortly after.

Your plan was to stay in bed all day, and it was going quite well since at six o’clock that evening you were glued to the same spot, until Robin barged into your room, Steve close on her heels, with a glass of water and a poorly decorated cake. Their singing gave you a headache, but you were still grateful for their attempt to make this day end on a better note.

“Now, go get your ass dressed,” Robin orders, glancing at Steve for his rehearsed words of encouragement.

He’s wide-eyed at first, nose buried in icing, but quickly nods at Robin’s words and looks in your direction.

“Y-yes, yes! We have an evening of fun planned!” Steve exclaims after swallowing a mouth full of vanilla cake.

Your roommates, however sweet they were trying to be, failed to realise the one place you really didn’t want to spend your birthday was The Hideout, and that’s exactly where they brought you.

The Hideout, presenting its usual lurking charm from the moment you stepped inside, was the one place in Hawkins you knew guaranteed an awkward bump-in with Eddie. Or maybe a needed interaction? Seeing him in his element could possibly bring some sort of closure after three months of no contact… No. No. Seeing him would only bring back the pain you tried real hard to bury.

A stench of old man sweat mixed with spilled booze hits your senses while you hurry closely behind Robin and Steve. In the dim light, your eyes are focused on the floor below, partially because you’re trying not to slip or trip over your own two feet, but mainly ‘cause you’re fearful of catching a glimpse of a certain head of wild brown locks. You only look up when the three of you approach a table closer to the back, away from most of the noise, and are greeted with hugs from Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle. 

Settling yourself on one of the chairs, you exchange pleasantries with the rest of your friends while Steve orders a round of shots for the group. They all raise a toast to your health, their cheers attracting some attention in the process, but you don’t think anything of it, starting to instead feel glad you agreed to this.

“Birthday girl isn’t allowed to pay for her own drinks, got it?” Robin addresses the group and they all nod in unison. You wanna protest, but she swats at you from across the table before the words escape your lips. Her eyes saying that you need this, your eyes saying that you’re grateful she’s your friend. I know, Robin mouths as Jonathan takes everyone’s drink order.

Every shot you take, you chase with a rum and coke. The liquid burns down your throat. Third, fourth, fifth round down. You’re feeling buzzed, happy. Most importantly, no longer thinking of the boy that would normally also be hanging out with this group — blissfully unaware that he was actually watching your every move from the other side of the bar.

Eddie hadn’t initially planned on going out tonight. After a long day of working at the garage, then band practice right after, he really just wanted to smoke and fall asleep. As he got out of the shower however, instead of jumping into bed, he reached for a clean t-shirt. He couldn’t really explain why. It was stupid to think something inside of him was urging him to come to The Hideout tonight. He was wrecked beyond belief, yet his feet carried him here.

Then he heard it. Your name, followed by a mini-eruption of woohoos.

Head snapping in the direction of the sound, Eddie’s gaze found the source of the noise and then scanned the small group until he reached your relaxed frame. Christ, he thought, palms getting clammy. To say you looked gorgeous would be a vast understatement. And to say he didn’t realise just how much he missed you until this very moment would be nothing short of the truth.

Sure, after the breakup, Eddie found it hard to get through the day-to-day. Constantly distracted, thinking about you and second guessing the decision you both made. But then he reminded himself this was for the best, convinced himself that people can have more than one great love in their life, and things got easier.

There were days he hoped he’d accidentally run into you. At the store, out for coffee, or just wandering the streets of Hawkins. No such luck. When he started working at the shop to save some extra cash, he thought maybe you’d come in with your clunk of shit car since he was always telling you to get it looked at, but again, it never happened. 

Three months passed like nothing.

Eddie would’ve never thought that today, your fucking birthday of all days, would be when he saw you next.

Cold beer in hand, he thought about walking up to the table you sat at with your mutual friends. And he was about to, but then you laughed at something Argyle said and the honey-like sound froze him in place. Clearly, you were having a good time. Eddie didn’t want to ruin that, so he opted for watching you like some fucking creep. 

Four beers later, he’s still in the same spot.

Nancy takes over the jukebox duties. Billy Idol’s White Wedding starts to play as she pulls you to your feet, an excited squeal escaping her lips when you don’t protest. Swaying your hips to the music, you feel elated. Even more so when Robin joins in, singing along as Nancy twirls around the two of you. The boys clap, grinning like idiots, and you know you’re going to remember this moment forever, or at least until you unintentionally go over your drink limit and black out.

A smile tugs at the corners of Eddie’s lips as he continues to shamelessly stare at you. Carefree, is the word he’d use now to describe you and in all honesty, he hasn’t seen you like this in a while. Then his smile falters before it really fully appears ‘cause he finds himself wishing he was the reason for your current mood. Was ending things a mistake?

Mid-song, you spin and as you do, your eyes skim the bar, passing a set of curly hair. The air hitches in your throat as you double back. Just to make sure your drunken gaze wasn’t deceiving you, you tell yourself, but the reality is much different. Please be him, please be him, please be him…

When your eyes do lock with his, your tummy burns.

The copious amount of alcohol trifling through your veins right now gives you that extra push you need to start a short strut towards your ex-boyfriend. Someone’s arm is on you, attempting to pull you back slightly, but you don’t pay attention to it. Then you hear Steve say, “let her go, she needs this.”, and you’re free to continue your journey. 

In a trance, gaze glued to Eddie’s chocolate one, you push through the people until you’re leaning against the bar he was sitting at, observing as his features turn from awe into something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Eddie greets nonchalantly, as if no time has passed, as if nothing has changed between the two of you.

So you follow in his footsteps, carefully hoisting yourself up on the stool next to his, bare knee brushing against his denim-clad one. 

“Wanna order me a drink?”

Eddie smirks. “Straight to the point, as always.”

“Well, since it is my birthday, Robin said I’m not allowed to pay for my own poison,” you tell him, shrugging lightly, “So if you have a problem with that, you gotta take it up with her.”

He huffs out a laugh. 

“I’d rather not go against Buckley.” And with that he orders a shot of tequila each.

When the small glasses are in front of you, accompanied by a lime wedge, he takes your hand without asking, then licks between your thumb and index finger, doe-eyes never leaving yours. 

A shiver runs down your spine at the sudden contact and you try to play it cool, but in reality your heart is racing. Though Eddie doesn’t give you time to think about what he’s done with no warning, pouring salt in the spot he’s just salivated. He then hastily repeats the action on his own hand and pushes a shot glass in your direction. 

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

The toast is short and sweet. He raises the glass in front of his face as the words escape his lips, licks the salt off his own hand (which you’re a little disappointed in, unsurprisingly already missing the sensation that was his gentle touch), and downs the liquid in one go.

You quickly follow suit, not wanting to seem like he got you all flustered. But as the two of you sit and stare at one another while sucking on the lime wedges for a little longer than normal, you realise he’s just as rattled as you are — good.

“I hate tequila,” Eddie announces, discarding the wedge.

“I don’t mind it,” you say, wiping the corners of your mouth.

His gaze drops slightly, to where your finger presses against your puffy lips, and he bites down on his own rather shamelessly. There is a brief moment of silence in which Eddie thinks back to seconds before, when his tongue caressed your soft skin. He hates himself a little ‘cause he doesn’t wanna mess with your head, but fuck did that feel good. He’d like to do it again, if not more. Is that crazy?

And while you continue to look into his eyes, the butterflies in your stomach are going wild since you know exactly what he’s thinking. The only problem is you don’t know how to tell him because there’s so much else to be said first. Three months of catching up, to be precise, but did exes even do that?

“How about we get out of here?” Eddie offers, voice nothing short of a murmur.

You nod. Of course you nod. You’d go to the end of the world if he’d ask.

Before you know it, Eddie’s hand is on the small of your back, leading you through The Hideout crowd and out the front door. You don’t say goodbye to your friends, you can apologise tomorrow for leaving without a word. Instead, you inhale the fresh air, a wobble in your step as you turn to once again look at your ex-boyfriend.

“Where do you wanna go?”

Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in as close as he possibly can. He tilts his head to meet your gaze and smiles. A genuine smile.

“There’s this diner not far from here,” he answers simply and your heart swells. Then once again, tenfold, as he places a kiss to your crown before whispering in your ear, “Back to where it all started, pretty girl.”.

as always, thank you for reading! pls don't hesitate to reblog & tell me what you think - ily!

eddie munson masterlist | main masterlist

[justash02]

“Y/n...”

A/n: bro I started crying so badly, sorry for this.

Pairing; Al-haitham x Fem!Reader.

Plot; everyone thinks the traveler is always strong, boy are they wrong.

Warning⚠️; pure sadness, fluff at the end!

*^*^*

Alhaitham was sitting at his desk as his eyes followed her, does she even know what she does to him? Al-haitham hasn’t known her for a long time but they’ve worked on a mission together because she is the traveler after all. Something about her seemed… right.

Haitham has never felt this way before, the way his cheeks slightly burn as she smiles at him or when he doesn’t get annoyed or upset with her when she asks him something.

Is this what everyone is always talking about? Is this what love is? He started to question himself. Everything about her just seemed, good, perfect even.

“Hey there.” She spoke as she walked into his office, “Is everything okay? You seem somewhere else with your mind.” She asked genuinely, her footsteps echoed a bit through the room as she took a seat in front of him.

She placed her soft looking hands onto her lap and continued to look at the man. He quickly snapped out of his gaze and looked up at her, her beautiful eyes already staring in his. “Yes, I’m fine.” He mumbled before gazing back at his work in front of him.

She seemed to struggle it off and just let him work for a bit, she grabbed one of the books that were on his desk and flipped through it.

Alhaitham looked up at the book, “The fall of Khaenri'ah” Alhaitham knew she wasn’t from this world, She told him briefly about her brother when she was with him on the mission but didn’t tell much. Paimon on the other hand? She unloaded info Al-haitham couldn’t be more interested in her story then he already was.

“You’re studying it because of my brother, no?” Her voice rang through his ears. He suddenly felt a pinch of embarrassment, “You don’t have to lie, I know Paimon told you most of the story.” She said closing the book, she avoided his eyes as she felt tears building up in her eyes.

Her chest felt like it was getting tight, “Do you ever feel so lonely, but have a lot of people around you?” She asked fighting back the tears, she knew that if she looked in his eyes she would break down.

Alhaitham was stunned, he has only seen her at her best, never sad, never discouraged. But this? This he has never seen before. Not from her. Everyone thinks “The almighty traveler” can resist any obstacle.

Al-haitham felt as if it were better to not answer that question, because in fact, he doesn’t care about anyone opinion.

Except for hers, she’s all he thinks about. After Paimon told him about her brother being the abyss prince he couldn’t help but wanting to learn more about their story.

“Who am I even kidding, I’m so fucking sick and tired of everyone using me for their own fucking problems, I do fucking everything for them! What do they do? They fuck me over. You know what they did to help me find my brother? put small flyers around the city thinking that’s going to help. Well, reality check, im this close to just giving up,” at this point she was balling her eyes out, she gestured with her fingers how close she was to just leaving it all behind and it shot worry through alhaitham.

Haitham quickly shoved his chair back and walked over to her, quickly dropping to his knees as he takes her hands into his.

His hands were enveloping hers making her feel warm inside but she didn’t notice it. The sorrow she was feeling was overpowering everything that went well.

“I’ve met the archons.” She sobbed, “they all promised me that they would help me, they all screwed me over, Haitham.” She whimpered. “Nahida’s the only one who would help me.” He didn’t know what to say. He felt his chest tighten really badly as he stared at the clearly done girl.

“Y/n…” he whispered, she started crying really badly as he just wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her into his chest, he decided that saying nothing was probably better and softly ran his hand over his back sending goosebumps over her body.

She continued to sob for a while longer but alhaitham didn’t care, nothing was more important than she was. Work? What’s that? Time? Never heard of that one before. Y/n? The one.

After a while she seemed to have calmed down in his arms, the sobs had stopped and his whole shirt was wet but he didn’t care. The girl in his arms were more important. He carefully gazed down at the girl and saw she was asleep, he couldn’t help but smile a little as he carefully stood up.

He picked her up bride style and walked over to the couch, he gently laid her down and put a soft blanket over her. After a few seconds of observing her features he gently placed a hand on to her cheek and glazed over it.

She snuggled into his hand, alhaitham couldn’t help but move closer to the girl and gently pressed his lips to her forehead for a gently peck.

“I don’t care what’s to come, I’ll always be by your side, Y/n. Never will you feel alone again. I’ll always protect you. I love you.” He whispered but he knew she couldn’t hear him.

Or could she?

[hahaifolded]

Oooooh, you invited more angst talk, I can't wait to chatter about this. I do have an opinion, and it is a little fucked up, but let me trot it out anyway. I think, out of everyone, if I have to pin anyone as fucking up the most, it's Gaz. Not because he followed the order, everyone did that, but because he has by far done the most damage, let me explain why (I am so sorry, I know you probably already thought of most of this but this is about to be a fucking yapfest because I cannot express how much i adore this work). Gaz and IO are the only people of color on the 141. A repeated motif of sorts in their relationship is that they not only listen to, but understand each other. Kyle's also a person of color. He also knows the struggle than IO does. By pushing them back like that, he's not only managed to remove himself as a friend. but as the closest thing to a community that they have. He understands the exact brand of suffering they share, and he knows that IO is going through more than normal, but after the tickets, he doesn't even try to reach out again. Now, this is where my bias is obvious, because I am a part of more than a couple minorities, but his biggest sin is not even trying. There's something to be said about apathy, but the most outright malicious thing that I think a person can do is see one of their own–be it in color, sexuality, level of ability, anything–suffering and not do a thing about it. The best way I can think about it is based on gender, so bear with me. I know other trans people I genuinely don't like. But, if I see any one of them being slighted, I can not stand for it. Because that's my community right there, and if I don't stand with them, then I myself am worse than whoever is treating them bad at that moment. I want to see IO at the very least talk about this, because I just know that ache is something that is so much more thorough. Because they know it's not because Gaz is different from them. It's so much more personal because, in their eyes, Gaz just got them, he understood and he still decided they weren't good enough. He barred them from the understanding they had been extending for months, for seemingly no real reason. (I'm going to cut this here, but please know that I could write like seven different essays on this fic alone)

-Grown-ass dumb-ass :)

I love when people read into my stuff cause this is me when I write…

This is related but unrelated but I hate when people write Gaz being super buddy buddy with the other 141 outside of like the military cause I would hope that a Black man and really any POC is friends with other POC. Because one thing about me and this may hurt some of y’all’s feelings is that if you’re POC and you’re ONLY friends with whites, I don’t trust you.

And I see what you’re saying because I would hope there’s more solidarity between the IO and Kyle because they’re both POC. The betrayal is worse because what do you mean you’re choosing the white men over me/ IO.

Really, feel free to analyze my shit. I love it! Because not gonna lie some of this has been subconscious and when I reread all I can go is damn I’m a fucking genius!

Thank you for your support!

[acti-veg]

hi, I am vegan but I've never really encouraged my family to go vegan which I feel bad about. I think the problem is - my dad isn't 100% with it after having a stroke, so I don't think I would be able to explain to him why to change his mind. My mum and brother are pescetarian. With my mum, she's already got a lot to cope with, so asking her to change her diet just seems like another pressure to put on her on top of everything else. Plus she's really sensitive and if I talk about animal cruelty

(2 - she will tell me to stop talking about it because it upsets her too much (she’s not faking this as an excuse – it’s not that she doesn’t care about animals, she just hasn’t properly made the connection between animal suffering and eating animal products and doesn't seem to realise fish are sentient/suffer. I also really worry for her mental health – being too graphic with her about what happens I think would traumatise her).

(3- Food is also one of her main pleasures and she has tried vegan alternatives before, some she likes but the plant-based versions of things like butter, milk, cheese, she doesn’t like. She’s 74 and realistically I’m not sure if it’s worth me constantly upsetting her to try to get her to eat plant based – I feel like it’d be better for me to focus my energy on audiences I feel would be more receptive?)

(4 - With my brother again I feel this need to protect him. Because of what happens to animals is so horrible I find it really hard to have the conversation with him. I know that it’s obviously much worse for the animals who suffer than just hearing about it, but I would imagine that he would be genuinely upset, but have some kind of cognitive dissonance and still go on eating animal products – he’s probably partly of the mindset that we “need” to.)

(5 - But nothing really graphic (do you have any suggestions??) Sorry this is really really long but I’m just wondering what your opinion is on all this because I feel really guilty but I’m not sure what the best thing to do is and also I feel like if I’m too “pushy” this could actually put people off; also I don't want to come across "holier than thou" because again I think this turns people off from listening to the message. If you read all this thank you so much)

There will always be reasons stacked up for why someone won’t go vegan, you’re unlikely to meet anyone who is exactly prepared for it and understands the reasons why - otherwise they would have already done it. I think you do have to pick your battles (my mum isn’t vegan either and likely never will be), but that doesn’t mean you have to keep quiet and not speak out about things that you think are wrong.

It may be that graphic footage and descriptions of animal cruelty is not the way to go, but that isn’t the only way to advocate, or even the best way. Cook for your family, show them how joyful veganism can be and how good plant-based food is. Show them positive videos of animals in sanctuaries, even take them to a sanctuary if you can, show them health and environmental documentaries. Model what living a good life as a vegan actually looks like

Even if this only leads to a reduction in animal product consumption, that may be all you can do for them right now. But don’t feel like you can’t call out harmful behaviour just because it hurts their feelings - getting called out on harming others is never pleasant. You don’t have to list facts about animal agriculture everyone you see ham in their fridge, but you don’t have to smile and pretend you’re totally fine with animal consumption either.

The bottom line is that you know your family and what is most likely to work. If you know for a fact that explicit advocacy will only strain your relationship with no positive results for you to be telling them to go vegan, then don’t do it, but don’t hide who you are and what you believe in for other people’s comfort, either. You never know what seeds you may be planting from just gentle nudges and showing them how great a vegan lifestyle can be.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hey, I like your writing. Would it be alright if we get Ganyu and Hu Tao with a pre-S/o who obviously has a crush on them but is to shy to confess their feeling. So it's up to them to take initiative. Thank you.

Them with a reader that’s too shy to confess their obvious crush to them

characters: Hu Tao / Ganyu / Keqing x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: I decided to add Keqing because I feel like I haven't written for her in a long time, and frankly, because I could.

If there's something I got wrong about your request, feel free to say and I'll try again once i find the motivation/time to.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Hu Tao

While, at this point, most people would think that Hu Tao had no idea how to read a room, the funeral director was confident in saying that their theory couldn’t be more false, as she simply chose to ignore it whenever she could. So when you started acting increasingly shy and nervous around her, she was quick to pick up on your behavior. And once she noticed how you were acting, her discovering why was already on the horizon.

Of course Hu Tao used this gained knowledge to sort things out for the two of you. Or at least she will… eventually. After she got her fun first.

The longer you stared at the lines of the poem Hu Tao had handed you, the more of a weird feeling you got in your stomach. It was unusual enough for her to write anything that wasn’t at least 50% meant as a joke, so when you saw that it was about love you wished for nothing more than to either sink into the ground or wake up from this awkward scenario. 

What didn’t help was the fact that she continued to stare at you with a grin the whole time, not seeming to blink once whenever you stole a quick glance towards her.

“Uhm”, you tried to find the right words to start, only for Hu Tao to cut you off.

“Is there a problem?”, she asked, almost sounding genuine, if it weren’t for her grin growing bigger.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why didn’t you choose anyone else to proofread this?”, you nervously asked, seeing her playfully tilt her head from the corner of your eye.

“Who else should I hand it to? Xingqiu? Nothing against him, but he really isn’t made for criticizing romantic poetry”, she was quick to respond, letting out a small yawn as the first sunrails made their way towards you, causing you to realize how long it was since she had dragged you out here.

“And I am better at talking about these kinds of texts for what reason?”, you asked with all the sarcasm you could muster, both of you knowing damn well how bad you were with any material about romance.

“Your reactions are funny”, she stated almost matter of factly while raising her pointer finger and pointing at a specific verse in the poem, looking at you expectedly. “Reread this once more and tell me if there’s something to change”, she demanded, causing your eyes to scan those words once again, only for the realization that the person described shared a lot of features with you… Almost too many for this whole thing to be a coincidence.

Before you had a chance to say anything however, Hu Tao snatched the paper out of your hands, giving you a smile before playfully patting your shoulder.

“Oh no, it seems like a new morning has dawned, which means that a new day of work lies ahead of us, so sorry that I have to cut this short all of a sudden”, she feigned sadness, only to give you one of her usual mischievous smiles. “But hey, if you need to tell me anything, you know where to find me.”

Ganyu

When you first began acting awkwardly around Ganyu, going so far as to avoid looking her in the eyes, the more anxious side of her began worrying she may have unintentionally done something that caused your behavior, only for you to blush whenever she mentioned it before trying to assure her that everything was fine.

It was only after one specific, purple haired coworker of hers started to notice the way you two acted around each other and decided that enough was enough, that Ganyu was confronted with the possibility of you having caught feelings. And while the intention of revealing your somewhat obvious crush was to make the half Adeptus stop worrying too much, it turned out to have the exact opposite effect as Ganyu also began to turn into a nervous wreck whenever she was around you.

Taking the initiative in situations like these never was something Ganyu was all too fond of, her own anxiety not exactly helping in making things easier. Nevertheless here she was, waiting for you to meet her as she requested, doubts about this whole thing quickly starting to invade her mind, only for her to try and shake them off once she saw your form in the distance.

“Good morning Ganyu!”, you greeted her, a smile on your face as you made your way over to her, completely oblivious to how much of an anxious wreck she was at the moment.

Or at least you were until she presented you with a rose, barely managing to look you in the eyes as the color of her face started to turn into the same shade of red as the flower.

“I-I’ve heard of a nearly opened shop that sells beautiful flowers, so I wanted to�� buy you one”, she mumbled just loud enough for you to hear, the sudden change in atmosphere causing you to start blushing as well, slowly taking the rose out of her hand, making sure not to sting yourself on any of its thorns.

“T-Thanks, I would have brought something with me too if I knew you bought me something. Please excuse me for a minute, I’ll get you something”, you offered, trying your best to get out before your nervousness took over completely, only to stop when you heard Ganyu speak up again.

“Wait!”, she almost yelled, immediately stopping herself once she realized how loud she was, lowering her voice drastically. 

“There’s something I wanted to tell you.”

Keqing

No matter what way she looked at it, Keqing couldn’t help but feel slightly infuriated. You were her secretary, the first one to hold out for such a long time at that, so why were you spending less and less time around her, preferring to pretend to be busy running errands around the office?

This wasn’t jealousy that was speaking of course, it wasn’t like she started to enjoy having you around her at work so much that she couldn’t help but feel lonely whenever you weren’t, but if you had a problem with her, you should simply tell her that face to face instead of trying to run away.

And so, the Yuheng decided to ambush you somewhere private, fully intending to resolve whatever issues you had in a direct way.

“O-oh Keqing. Is there something you need?”, you asked, nearly jumping as Keqing appeared from behind the corner, cutting off your way suddenly enough that you nearly ran into her..

“Yes. I need you”, she stated, her tone sounding slightly frustrated, only for her eyes to slightly widen once she realized that her words could be taken another way, quickly adding a few more. “-to do your job as my secretary.”

While Keqing may have been full of resolve when she set out to confront you, the longer she had to wait for you, the more she began to actually fear what could happen. What if you really had a problem with her? Would you resign? Did you not enjoy working together as much as she did? At this point it was fair to say that she was feeling somewhat nervous, increasingly hoping that this all turned out to be some kind of misunderstanding.

“I can’t help but feel like you're avoiding me. Even now I had to basically ambush you to get you to even speak to me”, she explained while crossing her arms, checking your face for any reactions before taking a deep breath and continuing, “If you have a problem with me, just say it”, Keqing tried her best to continue her confident facade, only for it to slowly giving way with each and every word, her nervousness making its way onto her face.

“I don’t have a problem with you”, you quickly blurted out, only to almost instantly be cut off by the Yuheng.

“Then what is it?”

Her question almost instantly managed to shut you up, causing you to look around nervously as you tried your best to find the right words to continue with. Eventually letting out a long sigh as you closed your eyes in defeat.

“Could we go somewhere more private? I… have some things I need you to know.”