#some of the lines from this are haunting me

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | December 30th 2024-January 5th 2025

Welcome to 2025 everybody!! The year of #BuddieCanon!!!

Started working on my favourite fics of 2024 rec, I'm hoping to post it in the next week! And when I'm looking back, I always end up distracted on the way, which is the reason for the ungodly amount of re-read fics in this rec 😅

Little bit unconventional but I'm gonna rec some meta! The Buddie Vers-Switch Theory: a Meta-Analysis is really interesting!

Complete

just like coming home by tinygiantsam/ @watchyourbuck (S7, First Kiss | 1,5K | Teen): Buck and Eddie go on their first date. Eddie wears the 'good cologne.' 

when the clock strikes midnight by tinygiantsam/ @watchyourbuck (Post-S8 Spec, Christmas | 4K | Teen): Future Buck looked at his watch, then at the clock on the wall, then back to him. “In about five minutes, Eddie’s gonna try to kiss you.” Buck’s heart skipped a beat, his throat drying from back to front. He wetted his lips in instinct. “What?” “And I’m gonna need you to kiss him back.” OR: on christmas night, buck is visited by what seems like the ghost of christmas future. he has a very particular request (that he cannot refuse). 

every corner of this house is haunted by justhockey (NYE, Chris comes back from Texas, Getting Together | 4K | General): And now that love is everywhere, is in everything. It’s worn so deeply into the grooves of his skin that it’s changed the very structure of his fingerprint - is burrowed so deep inside of him that it has rewritten his DNA. His love for Eddie and for Christopher is carved into his bones - etched onto his heart like an epitaph: love lived here. Love left here.

Next in line by tinygiantsam/ @watchyourbuck (Getting Together, Post-S6 | 6K | Explicit): “Hold on,” he muttered, putting his finger up and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “So you’ve been dating this man for six months, b-” Buck cut him off. “Yes.” “But,” Eddie continued, “he’s not your boyfriend?” “N-No.” Eddie’s frown deepened. He tried to keep it in; he really did. “Okay, well, does he want you or not? Because he’s holding up the fucking line!���

Let me give you my life by paleredheadinascifi (Post-S8S6: Confessions, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I am. Fuck. I am freaking out,” he agrees, lifting his head to look at Buck helplessly. “You’re in my lap.” “I’m so extremely aware of that. You’re not wearing any pants,” Buck adds. A smile tugs at the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “I am also very aware of that.” Or, another take on what happened after the couch scene. Eddie *wants*. They're both brave about it.

a lighthouse in the fog by greenbergsays/ @greenbergsays (BT Break-Up, First Kiss | 7K | Teen): The one where Buck wakes up after surgery and realizes that Tommy doesn't meet his emotional needs. The break-up doesn't go quite like he expected.

It Still Gets Cold in Texas by jukoist/ @beforejuko (Post-S8A, Eddie moves to El Paso, Outsider POV, Getting Together | 9K | Mature): Cara Alvarez of the El Paso Fire Department knows exactly two things about her new coworker Eddie Diaz. One: Diaz has a husband named 'Buck', who he left back in LA. Two: Diaz is Extremely Annoying about how much he misses his husband, the aforementioned 'Buck'. Or; Eddie moves to El Paso, and his new coworkers come to certain assumptions. Eddie... does not correct these assumptions.

🔥 If Only In My Dreams by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S8A, Eddie goes to El Paso, Christmas, Getting Together | 9K | General): Evan Buckley had never been good at knowing when to let go of things. So when Eddie Diaz told him on a chilly Friday afternoon that he had put his house on the market and started packing, Buck told himself that this time, he wasn't going to cling to someone trying to leave him behind. This time, Buck would understand what rejection looked like, and he would let someone he loved walk away with dignity. OR Eddie moves to El Paso a month before Christmas. Buck goes a little bit insane about it.

see both sides by snorlaxer (Post-S7, Mind-reading | 9K | Teen): When Buck overlooks a small injury to the head during one of his shifts, it turns out to be a very big problem once he starts hearing the internal voices of everyone he walks by, including his best friend, who seems to be undergoing a silent life-crisis. As Buck listens more and more to the thoughts that surround him, he becomes increasingly more confused with his own. OR Buck can hear other people's thoughts, and Eddie's are everything and nothing like he expected.

Wherever you find love (make it last all year) by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Canon Divergent, Christmas | 12K | Mature): Buck first met Eddie on Christmas. This is the story of seven Christmases they spend together.

🔥 i can't see you (the light is in my face) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S8A, Eddie goes to Texas, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 15K | Explicit): "Have you even tried making friends?" "God, Abuela, what am I in kindergarten again?" "No, you were much more outgoing in kindergarten. Made friends with the whole class. Teachers too. Now, your only friend is an old lady. If you're really moving here, Eddie, you need to make some friends. You can't just rely on me and Christopher to keep you company." "I know. I know. I think I'm just scared to put roots down. It doesn't feel real yet, you know? Every time I wake up, I keep waiting to see my ceiling from home, walk past Christopher's room on the way to the kitchen, find Buck in the kitchen making pancakes. I don't think I want it to feel real. Plus," he adds with a brittle grin, "the last time I made a new friend, Buck almost broken my ankle." And then slept with said friend, he thinks. "I'm not convinced he couldn't give me a bloody nose from eight-hundred miles away just by thinking real hard." (OR: eddie makes a new friend, she makes some assumptions, eddie spirals about it in his patented life-ruining way)

🔥 all the ashes I've earned by greenbergsays/ @greenbergsays (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Near Death Experiences | 22K | Teen): A horn blares. Buck looks in time to see the truck barreling right for him. Something a lot like relief washes over him. Good, he thinks. At least now he doesn’t have to watch Eddie walk away. -- OR: Spiraling about Eddie's announcement, Buck gets into a car accident and falls into another coma. This is Eddie in the aftermath.

🔥 wake up, boy, you're far from home by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S8A, Christmas, Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 23K | Explicit): Eddie is miserable in El Paso, having seemingly made things worse. Buck is miserable in Los Angeles, without him. When Buck agrees to go home to Hershey for the holidays, everything implodes.

WIP

🔥 Finding Mr Christmas by JJK/@trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Canon Divergent, Reality TV, Christmas | 9/11 | 52K | Teen): "Welcome to Finding Mr Christmas! You’re all here chasing the same dream, to star in a Hallmark Christmas movie, and over the next few weeks we’re going to be putting you through your paces to see which of you has the most star quality and that ‘it’ factor that makes you shine above the rest." 🎄🎄🎄 An AU where Buck and Eddie meet as contestants on Hallmark's Finding Mr Christmas competition (and fall for each other).

🔥 Cadence by Nejinee/ @nejineeee (Future fic, Getting Together | 1/2 | 6K | Explicit): When the credits finally finished rolling and Buck was left in the shrouded silence of Eddie’s house, he sighed. He turned his head slightly, feeling Eddie’s unbelievably soft hair brush against his cheek. Eddie’s cologne was all but gone after a day like today. Eventually, he’d need to shower and get ready for bed. Buck wanted to wait a moment; he wanted to sit in this silence a little longer.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, Divergent Post-S6 | 141/? | 454K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 10/? | 63K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

Podfic

[podfic] and we can stay all day by be_brave13/ @djemsowhat // fic by trippedandfell/ @trippedandfell (Zoologist Buck AU | 20-30min | Teen): “So let me get this straight,” Hen says, once she’s stopped laughing at him. “Your nerd crush-” “-Evan Buckley,” Eddie miserably interjects. “Your nerd crush,” Hen repeats, waggling her eyebrows. At the kitchen table beside her, Chimney is grinning like Christmas just came early. “Read your drunk tweet and then sent you animal facts via DM?” or: Buck's a zoologist. Eddie's pretty sure he's in love. (Part 1 of zoologist buck)

[Podfic] What's love got to do with it? by Pretzel26 // fic by ColorMeParanoid/ @color-me-paranoid (Platonic Boyfriends to Lovers | 1/30 | 10-20min | Mature): "Hear me out," Buck said. "Clearly, both of us are sick of dating other people. And we're a good fit, in pretty much every way that matters. So what if we're not in love? We don't need to be in love to be happy together." Eddie frowned. "So basically, we'd be boyfriends, without benefits?" "Yes!" Buck snapped his fingers. "Like platonic boyfriends! We'd get all the benefits of a relationship and none of the heartbreak." And maybe Eddie had finally lost his mind, or maybe it was from all the alcohol clouding his judgment, but the idea of it didn't sound half as crazy as it should have. *** After Buck’s and Eddie’s dates both end with disasters – proving once again that maybe dating just wasn’t meant for them – they decide to simply settle for each other. If there was one person in the world they'd ever trust with their hearts, it was each other. And who was a better person to date other than your very own best friend?

Re-read

🔥what if i can't have us by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Post-S7E5, Getting Together, Sexuality Crisis | 47K Explicit): In which Eddie is dating Marisol; Buck's dating Tommy, and Eddie has feelings about that, which he simply does. not. understand.

🔥 The Heart Opening Sequence by Leslie_Knope (Post-S3, Getting Together | 34K | Mature): Eddie’s handsome, that’s obvious, Buck clocked that the second he met him. Part of him still can’t really believe that the guy he was so threatened by at first ended up as his closest friend, which is why these weird twinges are so unsettling. Buck isn’t sure if they’re real, for one, these odd flashes of what it would be like to lean over and kiss Eddie while they’re watching a movie or brush a hand over his back while they’re in the kitchen. And for two, it’s so far out of the realm of possibility that it’s barely worth thinking about.

🔥 drink the river dry by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Post Shooting, Getting Together | 32K | Explicit): It wasn’t until they were discussing his discharge paperwork and painkiller schedules that it really sunk in for Eddie that Buck would be staying with him and Christopher. That he would be around 24/7 except for his shifts at work. That he’ll sleep on the couch, where he’s been sleeping for days now to look after Christopher. The worst part is that it’s necessary—Eddie isn’t going to be able to do a damn thing for himself for the next couple of weeks. He’s lucky if he can put a shirt on by himself a month from now. Yeah, that’s going to be a problem. Or: Eddie gets shot, breaks up with his girlfriend, and pines like there’s no tomorrow.

🔥Plus or Minus by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress (S5 | 10K | General): “Why are you cleaning out the kitchen? Why is my stuff in boxes?” Eddie slows, then stops. “Figured you’d want it back.” It’s quieter. Pained. When he says it. “I haven’t decided anything. So unless you’re kicking me out—” “Buck. Come on.” He’s not angry or snapping. It’s still quiet, and somehow that hurts even more. He’s resigned and defeated, and Buck is a scooped out, gutted, hollow shell. “I know how this ends the same way you do. You want to be loved, you want to be married. You’re going to leave. Might as well…” His voice cracks before he can finish and get it under control. “Shouldn’t drag it out.” ~ Taylor is offered a job across the country and asks Buck to go with her. Buck has to figure out if he wants to start over or if he has a reason to stay right where he is.

🔥 The Pain Will Leave You Once It's Done Teaching You by fruitsdoesnotknow (Canon Divergent, Daniel Lives-kinda | 40K | Mature): “Hi, I’m Buck, a firefighter with the 136,” for now, the thought crashes through Buck, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. “Uh, you’re both welcome to take a tour with us, if you’d like.” Buck awkwardly scratches at his neck, running a hand through his hair, unsure what else to do, and it spurs the man in front of him to take a large step forward up to Buck’s bed. “Eddie,” he says, thrusting a hand to him, and Buck reaches over without a second thought. His whole palm feels electric, it smarts and carries the touch of Eddie, Eddie, that Buck feels it completely. He has no idea what’s happening to him. “Edmundo Diaz, but just Eddie though, uh, no one calls me Edmundo. Right. I’m a new nurse here, at Cedars-Senai. Oh –” *** When Daniel Buckley lives a little longer, Evan Buckley dies a little more. And this is how Eddie Diaz saves him, a little later on.

i find you in everything (but its here you find yourself) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Buck takes another sig of beer, "she left." "Sorry, man, I know you liked her. Guess where most people are scared of death, a death doula is scared of life." "Wow, that's actually pretty poignant," Buck says. "Didn't know you had it in you." Eddie just rolls his eyes. "Its weird, though, her being scared off by a donor baby." Eddie frowns over at him. "Chris didn't freak her out?"

and if someone asked me if I love you (I'd lie) by forgetmyname/ @kingmieczyslaw (Crack | 10K | Explicit): Eddie has a concussion. Suddenly he can't lie. It would be fine if he wasn't trying his best to not confess his undying love for Buck.

🔥 the kiss that lingers by greenbergsays/ @greenbergsays (Getting Together | 10K | Explicit): 5 times Eddie kisses Buck's birthmark & 1 time he doesn't.

🔥I'm Hearing Secret Harmonies by Chash/ @ponyregrets (Canon Divergent, Witch Eddie, Coffeshop AU | 18K | Teen): When the firefighter walks into Eddie's coffeeshop, Eddie immediately knows two things about him: he's not human, and he's the love of Eddie's life. Oh, he knows a bunch of other things too, obviously. He's about thirty, a few months younger than Eddie himself. He has a scar on his throat, like he got stabbed there, and one of his legs has some metal rods in it that must have come from a bad injury. The guy doesn't know he's not human, which is a tricky thing to figure out, but Eddie's almost positive. Most of the non-humans he knows have always known they aren't people, but there are exceptions, and they tend to carry themselves differently. The firefighter moves like he knows he doesn't belong, but not like he knows why. Like he's afraid of taking up space, afraid of being noticed. As if Eddie is even capable of not noticing him.

you are so gorgeous it makes me so mad by bellabrady (Post-S6, Getting Together | 5K | Not Rated): Or: Eddie is annoyed with Buck for being so very kissable but his drunk self isn't the best at phrasing things.

🔥 This May Be Practice, But I'm an Experienced Idiot by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Fake Dating, kinda, Getting Together | 10K | Teen): Buck overhears a conversation between Eddie, Hen, and Chim and misunderstands it all. Or, the one where Buck thinks Eddie’s only asked him on a date for practice.

[bueckersstuff]

REMEMBER

Note: Angry typing all my emotions away cos of last game and a bonus part at the end because paige seems fine. Enjoy!

Chapter 2: A Thin Line Between Dreams and Nightmares

Your breath catches in your throat, and your chest tightens. The weight of her gaze presses down on you like a storm you can't escape. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of anger and pain, bore into yours as though she's searching for an answer—or perhaps confirmation of something terrible.

Your mind races. Did you wrong her? Did you hurt her in some way? The silence between you is deafening, an unspoken accusation hanging heavily in the air. You want to speak, to break the tension, but no words come. All you can do is stand there, frozen, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

What do you do? What can you do?

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she asks, her voice laced with venom.

You stand there, just staring at her, unsure of what to say or do. The woman in front of you is a stranger.

"Oh, you're not talking again? You're making me look stupid, that's what you always do!" she spits at you, her words sharp as daggers.

"I—I'm sorry, I don't—" You start, but you’re cut off by the sudden ringing of your phone. You check it, and it's your dad calling.

"I'm sorry, but I have to take this call," you say quickly, turning away from her as you start to walk off, the anger in her eyes burning into your back. You make your way home, your dad's calls urgent in your mind, leaving the woman standing there, seething with rage.

At home, hours passed, but you barely noticed. Your movements had become mechanical, like you were a puppet on strings—each action automatic, without thought or feeling. Your mind, however, remained anything but still. It was consumed by her. The woman. The stranger. The one who had been haunting your thoughts since the moment your eyes met hers. Each time you tried to focus, her face would flash before your eyes, clouding everything else. You couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to understand her—why she seemed to know you, how she could have been a part of your past.

Yet, the more you thought about it, the more confused you became. Could she have been a friend once? Maybe. But everything felt like a fractured puzzle, and you were struggling to make sense of the pieces. All you knew was that deep down, you needed someone to talk to. Someone who might understand what you were going through. Someone who might hold the key to all your missing memories. But how could you even begin to open that door when her very presence felt like a threat? She could tear through your thoughts like a storm, leaving nothing but destruction in her wake.

Your thoughts circled in endless repetition, until everything felt numb. The passing hours became nothing more than a blur of exhaustion and silence, a hollow echo of the storm inside your head.

And then, somehow, it was night.

The world outside had grown quiet, and you had drifted off, too tired to resist. But when you awoke, the room was darker than it should have been, and you could feel the shift in the air—a strange heaviness pressing down on you.

Why was there a woman sitting at the edge of your bed? Her back was turned to you, her attention fixed on something in her hands—your paper planes. She was gently tossing them into the air, her fingers delicate and precise. The scene was almost surreal, as if your mind had conjured her from the depths of your dreams.

Your vision blurred, the edges of the world softening as sleep still clung to you. But there was no mistaking her—blonde hair, blue eyes, and a face that felt so familiar, yet so far away. You cleared your throat, unsure whether this was real or another twisted illusion, and she turned toward you.

It was her. The woman from earlier that day, the one you couldn’t forget. But this time, her expression was different—there was joy in her eyes, life in her smile, and for a moment, everything else faded away. You tried to sit up, eager to reach out to her, to hold on to whatever connection she might offer. But as you moved, your bed suddenly caved beneath you, and you felt yourself falling, spiraling into a darkness that had no end.

When you opened your eyes again, you were standing on the abandoned basketball court. The same girl was there, shooting free throws. The ball came flying toward you, and she smiled—a smile so full of passion and happiness, it made your heart ache. She walked toward you, but something was pulling you away. It felt as if invisible hands were dragging you back, away from her, and you watched helplessly as she fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

It hurt. It hurt so much. You felt like your ribs were cracking, like your insides were being torn open, and someone was ripping your heart from your chest.

"Hey, hey, sweetie, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re just dreaming, you’re okay."

Dad?

It was all a dream?

You were crying in your sleep. You didn’t even realize how loud you were sobbing until your dad’s voice cut through the haze, waking you up.

"What is it, honey? You can tell me," your dad said, his voice filled with concern.

“It’s her, Dad. She’s haunting me…” You choked back a sob, the weight of it all almost too much to bear. You were so affected by her, and you didn’t even know her name.

"Who, honey? The one who plays basketball? Paige? You remember her?" Your dad's brow furrowed, a look of worry crossing his face. He didn’t seem to mind the slip of the name.

Paige.

The name hit you like a physical blow.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your chest tightened. Paige. The name felt like a shard of glass lodged deep in your heart. It was her—Paige. The girl from your past, the one you couldn’t forget, even if you tried. The one who, no matter how hard you fought to move on, still haunted you in ways you couldn't explain.

The tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, but you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Saying her name out loud made everything feel so much more real—the distance, the years, the loss.

Paige—how could you forget her?

You didn’t answer, though, because the thought of speaking her name again was too much. It felt like the air itself was pressing in on you, suffocating you. If you spoke it, you feared the memories would overwhelm you, dragging you back to a time when things were simpler, but so much more painful. The years of silence, of distance, of not knowing how she was...

“Maybe... maybe you won’t see her again,” you thought, trying to convince yourself. It had been so long since you left Minnesota. Your dad was right—she probably had the perfect life by now. The kind of life that didn’t involve someone like you. You had been given a second chance, a new life, and you had to make it right. You owed that to your mother.

“She’ll just learn to forget me,” you whispered to yourself, the thought searing through you like a brand. But even as the words left your lips, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was a lie.

Paige's POV

I was on a break from school, so I went home to spend time with my brother, Drew. He's getting taller, probably from all the ice cream at the shop down the street from the old basketball court. I usually order from DoorDash now, but something about that place felt so… familiar.

I didn’t expect to notice anything odd, but the first time we passed the court, I saw her. A girl, sitting on the bench, just watching the empty court. I thought it was strange, but I didn't think much of it at first. Why would anyone just sit there? I wondered. Why not play?

The second time I saw her, I started to get concerned. Was she sad? I thought. Does she just come here and sit alone because no one will play with her?

I couldn’t explain it, but I couldn’t stop looking at her. There was something about her, something I couldn’t shake. And by the fourth time I passed by, I saw her clearly. She was sitting sideways, and I finally saw her face.

Five years since you left, and now you just casually pop up here?

It made no sense. It couldn’t be her. But deep down, I knew. I knew it was.

I had so many questions for her, but my pain got the best of me. It was strange, though—she didn’t back down from any confrontation before, but now, she just looked shaken, confused. And before I could say anything more, her phone rang, and she left me there with nothing but two empty "I’m sorry"s.

Back home, I couldn’t sit still. I replayed the moments over and over in my head. I wasn’t exactly affected by her sudden appearance, I just needed answers. I needed to understand everything she’d done to me—and then move on with my life. Things had changed. I wasn’t the same Paige anymore.

But then, why am I here? Why am I standing at this godforsaken basketball court again? And why isn’t she here?

Taglist: @sjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj @0phantom0 @glamourdaya

[storiesbyrhi]

Part One: A building gets torched

Eddie Munson x Reader Series Masterlist 1710 Words

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

Warnings: canon typical violence, references to sexual assault, swearing, drug and alcohol use, sexual references, child neglect, death/grief, references to organised crime

Note: A majority of the characters from The Crow have been replaced with Stranger Things counterparts. However, a few remain in their original form (e.g. Gideon, Grange). Some major characters have been written out, as they don’t work within the context of this story (e.g. Myca – who is one of my favourite characters). I have taken material, including direct quotes, from the film and comics/graphic novel.

After Sunset, October 30, 1994

Jim Hopper stood next to the broken window. He’d been there before. He recalled how he felt when he first saw that window. How its grand scale and clean glasswork made the rest of the ratty apartment seem worth it. The window framed the city in a way that made it seem almost beautiful. Almost.

That had been a couple months before Devil’s Night. There had been whispers that the building was going to be sold off. Hopper hoped it was true. Maybe a new developer would demolish the place. He didn’t want to think about how many ghosts haunted those walls. Between the overdoses and the organised crime related violence, a lot of trips to the morgue began there.

Unfortunately, the buyer was not the up and up real estate type. Hopper heard it was more of the top of the bad guy hierarchy type. Martin Brenner owned half the city and not by any legal or ethical means. In the police files, intel on him was filed under the codename Top Dollar, like even the cops were too scared to put their name to anything that could be used against him.

 When Hopper caught wind of that, he’d paid the apartment a visit – paid you a visit.

“You gotta cool it with this stuff,” he’d warned, gesturing to where you’d been working on a new petition for everyone to sign.

“You’ve never told me to cool it before. Never shown up at my home before,”

“Before when you were feeding the homeless? Helping little old ladies cross the road? This is different. Come on, kid. Don’t play dumb.”

You sighed, but it sounded more like a huff. It hadn’t been feeding the homeless. You’d fundraised to keep the local community kitchen from shutting its doors. And, there had never been little old ladies. Maybe little old raccoons and opossums you’d built little wooden houses for…

Hopper shifted on the spot. “Look… I know you’re tryin’ to the right thing… I know you don’t want to have to move-”

“It’s not about moving. It’s about-”

“The principle, I know,” Hopper interrupted you right back. “I know. But the guy who’s eyeing the place, you don’t wanna mess around with him.”

Even then, you knew Hopper was right. You knew what you were doing was potentially dangerous. Brenner’s name had been mentioned to you before Hopper came knocking. But you were stubborn.

“How’s he even doing this? It can’t be legal. Probably paid off Kline, right?”

Hopper cringed at the name Kline. Larry Kline was the elected official who should have been fighting for the city. Instead, he was lining his pockets with Brenner-shaped coins.

“Eddie know you’re doing this?” Hopper changed tactics. There were three giveaways that Eddie was probably on tour. The first was how quiet the apartment was. The second was the lack of guitars on the wall hooks. The third was that Gabriel, a fluffy white cat, was asleep on the couch. Gabriel only sought the company of others when Eddie wasn’t an option, even though he was technically a birthday present for you.

You bit down on your tongue. “I don’t keep secrets from Eddie,”

“Right, but… Might you have conveniently forgotten to mention who wants to buy the building? Who you’re starting a fight with?”

The conversation had ended with a vague promise that you’d maybe consider ‘cooling it.’ Hopper had left that night uneasy. He never got around to tracking a phone number for Eddie out on the road. Knowing Eddie, which he only kind of did anyway, he’d never tell you to stop doing anything. That man worshipped the ground you walked on.

Hopper stood at the broken window and held a cigarette between his teeth. He looked down to the street below, Eddie’s body being covered with a crime scene sheet while onlookers scrambled to see the carnage.

Behind him, crime scene techs and cops buzzed about the apartment. He turned to survey the scene. The photos on the wall told a story of love. His brain tried to reconcile how you looked in them, compared to how you looked lying on the apartment floor covered in blood. The paramedics were still working on stabilising you, you clinging to life by your fingernails.

Hopper gave the okay to move you while he picked up a thick piece of card off the floor. A wedding invitation for the following day – a sunset event.

“Who the fuck gets married on Halloween anyhow?” one of the cops asked, staring at the mannequin keeping your wedding dress company.

Hopper didn’t answer. He listened to their commentary.

“What’s the count so far?” a rookie questioned.

“143 fires so far… They’re slacking off from last year,”

“Three hours to go; maybe they’re just slow starters.”

Hopper followed the paramedics as they took you downstairs and out to the ambulance. Another detective was there. Detective being a very generous title, as most of the work Phil Callahan was capable of was not of the sleuthing variety.

“This the victim?” he asked.

 “No, it’s Amelia Earhart. We found her, Detective, and you missed it,” Hopper deadpanned.

Before Callahan could come up with something witty to say, Hopper was back at your side. A girl on a skateboard had appeared, pulling at your sleeve.

“Stand back, kid,” he said.

It was Max’s voice that dragged you somewhere close to Earth. “Where’s Eddie?” you croaked.

“Ah… Don’t worry about him,” Hopper told you.

“Tell him to take care of Max.”

Paramedics had you loaded up, closing the back of the ambulance. Hopper stood next to Max for a moment before putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You Max?”

“Yeah,”

“Okay, look… Your sister… She’s gonna be okay,”

“She’s not my sister. She just takes care of me… She’s my friend. Her and Eddie… You lied to her about Eddie.” Max sounded more sad than accusatory.

“I had to,”

“And you’re lying to me about her. She’s gonna die, isn’t she?”

Hopper could deal with a lot of things. A grief-stricken teenage girl was not one of them. He clasped both of her shoulders and held her, looking around the scene with a growing understanding that the misery had only just begun.  

One Year Later After Sunset, October 29, 1995

Max visited the cemetery often. She’d walk along the rows, taking one flower from each bouquet she passed. By the time she was standing in front of the matching graves, she had an offering. One white rose for Eddie, the rest for you.

Losing you and Eddie was bad, but the months since had been worse. Her mother had all but resigned from that role, spending more and more time wherever Neil and Billy Hargrove went. Max hardly saw Susan anymore. The Hargroves, and the people like them, were terrifying.

Max sat down facing the headstones. “I found another one,” she said. “It says that people used to believe that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead.”

In the weeks after that Halloween, Max obsessed over the science of death. She wanted to know how you and Eddie had felt. What would happen to your bodies, buried under all that dirt? Then, once she knew everything there was to know, she moved on to folklore. What stories had been told about dying? What existed beyond the veil?

“The thing though, is that if the person dies unfairly, if something so bad happens, then that is carried with the soul. The sadness. And the soul can’t rest.”

Max had contemplated magic. She saw a Ouija board put out by the trash cans outside her apartment building and seriously considered taking it inside. Her research had slowly veered into the direction of revenge-driven resurrection, for which many cultures had legends and fables of.

“Sometimes the crow can bring that soul back, to put the wrong things right.”  She paused, looking down and pushing the dirt around with a stick. Max shrugged to herself. “I know it’s a fairytale… But it would be nice…”

Thunder rumbled above Max. After gathering her things, she began to walk away. A crow swooped down, landing on Eddie’s headstone. She was sure it was the same one that always hung around the cemetery; she’d named him The Night Watchman.

“Keep an eye on them for me,” she told him, dropping her skateboard and riding off into the drizzling rain.

It was fear first. Terror. Darkness.

He tried to draw a breath in but it didn’t provide any relief. Something told him to get up. Get out. A voice. A voice in his head. Get up. Get out. But get up and get out of what? He thrashed but all his limbs hit solid wall.

Punching, punching, punching. When he finally broke through the coffin’s lid, his knuckles were raw and bleeding. He dug, splitting nails and swallowing dirt. He reached the surface, pulling himself from his grave.

His body couldn’t decide between curling up or being splayed out on his back. It couldn’t decide between screaming or sobbing. He was twitchy and achy. His knuckles had scabbed and scarred. He’d healed but the healing hurt.

At first, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know who he was.

A crow landed on an overhead branch. It called to the man, a deep and piercing caw. It was there to guide him. It was there to bear witness. It was there to share the burden of the second life of Eddie Munson.

Eddie knew to follow the crow. He knew the crow would take him to where he wanted to go. It would take him to you.

He stumbled, pulling himself through the cemetery and out into the city. Nobody noticed him weaving through alleyways and stalking shadows. He pulled at his burial clothes, hands running over the bullet hole scars on his body.

Eddie’s bare feet walked through filthy puddles and over crumbling asphalt. He only stopped when the crow landed on a dumpster, squawking.  Something dark was sitting on top of the trash. Old worker’s boots, too small for Eddie, but he put them on anyway. He stomped onwards.

End Note:

Thank you to the love of my life @jo-harrington for brainstorming and editing help, and for general support and hype girl shit.

The process of writing this series has been a bit of an isolated one, compared to past work. So, I don't know how it will be received. I am more unsure about it than I have been about my other stuff too. Any feedback would be immensely appreciated.

Happy New Year, xo Rhi

Fic Taglist (open): @mrsjellymunson @princesssunderworld @qweencrimson @b-irock @writinginthetwilight @bornslippys @ali-r3n @lexr86

All Eddie Taglist (open):solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner @em0220

[ltadoriyuujl]

your orbit is the best place to be

☆ earth is large and space is infinite and yet you still can never be more than 2 degrees of separation from the boy made of stars that has held your heart in his hands forever.

☆ bakugou katsuki x reader, 7.2k words

☆ no cw, bkg gets jealous, mineta is there as the worlds sleaziest plot device

☆ a/n: wow my first official tumblr fic! a million thank yous to all the oomfs that kept me motivated enough to finish this. @teddybeartoji @ms0milk <3 you guys

“Man, it's been ages since we've been to a station. I don't know about you guys, but I'm so ready to get off the ship.”

“Tell me about it. I'm honestly starting to go a little crazy in here.”

“I'm definitely excited. A buddy of mine told me the, ahem, ‘working girls’ of Iltari-7 can suck the silver off a new cybernetic.”

“Fucking hell, Denki, what kind of degenerates do you hang out with and why are they giving you hooker recommendations?”

Boisterous laughter bounced off the chrome walls of the lounge as your face screwed up in disgust. Most of the crew of the Aldera were scattered around the room, reclining and relaxing in various positions. Kirishima Eijirou, first mate, copilot, and the one who had spoken first, was seated on a stool by the small bar, his muscular back resting against the table so he could face the room. Sero Hanta, the ship's mechanic and gunnery chief, sat cross-legged on the floor, the parts of some new passion project littered around him. And Kaminari Denki, one of the best software engineers this side of the galaxy and the current source of your ire, was sprawled on the old couch positioned directly across from your own chair. 

“C'mon, cut me some slack, Doc. A guy can't get lonely?” Denki’s grin was large and unabashed, even as he tried to feign hurt. The corners of your own mouth started to quirk up. 

“You say that like the rest of us are imaginary or something. I'm touched that you value our friendship so deeply, Denki,” you replied, your tone dry despite the amusement on your face. 

“Love you too, but friendship doesn't get me-”

“And that is my cue to leave.” You swung your legs down from their perch on the center table, a second round of laughter ringing out as you stood. “I'm going to talk to our esteemed captain, see if I can negotiate an extra day in port.” 

Kirishima snorted as you passed him on your way to the door. “Good luck. Cap says 3 days, so really we're looking at 2 and a half. But hey, if anyone could get him to budge it's you, Doc.”

Solidly ignoring the implications of that statement, you pulled open the lounge door, stepped out into the hallway, and slid the door home again with extreme prejudice. The howls of your crewmates were audible from behind the thick steel as your legs began to carry you towards the bridge.

Bakugou Katsuki, captain of the Aldera, was something of an enigma to the larger spacefaring community. Only a handful of people even knew his full name, half of them being the ship's crew and the other half either on Earth or scattered through the far reaches of space. To most, he was the fearsome Dynamight, scourge of the endless night, the man who haunted the nightmares of hardened Federation admirals. The reward for his head was large enough to buy a small moon. He wasn't just a space pirate, he was the space pirate.

He also set the ship's day/night simulation settings to the Tokyo timezone so he could get 8 hours of sleep no matter where he was in the galaxy. He didn't drink, didn't smoke, and his only vice was the adrenaline of a fire fight. You'd been there when his arms were almost blown off, and kept him alive long enough to get them replaced by top of the line implants with veins that carried lighter fluid instead of blood. He'd knocked out one of your front teeth when you were 6 and he was 7, and there was a very faint scar on his left shoulder because you bit him immediately after. When he'd shown up to your dorm in the middle of the night, freshly defected with nothing to his name but a stolen ship and a handful of flight school buddies and asked you to come with him to the stars, you'd been gone before your RA was even awake enough to investigate the racket.

Lost in recollection, you almost ran face-first into the bridge door, catching yourself just in time to avoid being laid out by an inanimate object. Katsuki's first order of business as an outlaw was calling in a couple favors from some below-board mechanics and getting the whole ship remade into the specimen it was today. The Aldera, formerly the S.S. Yuuei, was refitted with brand new guns, shields, and stealth tech. Your captain also had the onboard AI stripped to barely more than glorified autopilot and, despite Denki's grumbles about the boredom of his post, the decision wasn't without merit. It disabled the Federation failsafe of remotely hijacking a vessel through its operating system, but while it was no doubt a great safety measure that had allowed you all to evade capture more times than you could count, even 5 years on the run wasn't enough to erase a lifetime of being used to automatic comforts and there was surely more security footage of you smacking into doors than you'd like. 

You're forced to squint as you step into the navigation room, the sunny “high noon” lighting at stark odds with the inky blackness outside the plexiglass window that dominated the room. Katsuki's form was visible in the captain's chair, right where you suspected he'd be. Vermillion eyes darted to yours as you moved to stand next to him, and with a small huff he dismissed the holopad he was reading and turned his full attention to you. 

“Doc.” Your title rolled off his tongue and fell at your feet, almost slimy with sarcasm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello to you too, Captain. I'm great, thanks for asking. I love that our first conversation of the day is starting off on such a good note.” Your tone was sickening in its faux sweetness, and the snort you received in return made you roll your eyes good-naturedly. 

“We've known each other way too long to bother with idiotic small talk.”

“Yeah, but you should be nice to the person who keeps you and your crew in fighting shape.”

“That person is me, and I've told you how I feel about your wellness tips.”

You flipped him off, though the grin on your face matched his. Talking with him was always easy.

“Seriously though, did you need something?” Katsuki asked, his hands flitting over the ship's console as he minutely adjusted the course. “We should be docking within the next 4 hours.” 

You let out a hum of acknowledgement, your gaze turning to the multitude of stars twinkling outside. “I told the guys I was going to ask you about getting another day in port, but really I just needed to get out of the conversation. Denki was starting to talk about station whores and that is not a topic I have the energy for right now.” 

Katsuki made a disgusted noise. “If that dumbass catches anything I'm venting him out of the airlock.”

“It honestly might be the best course of action. You abducted me before we got to the ‘alien STI’ section of the curriculum.” You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from doubling over in laughter as he groaned. The glare he fixed you with was venomous, but it'd been a long time since his irritation could get under your skin.

“If I recall correctly, and I'm pretty fucking sure I do, you basically tripped over yourself to come with me. You had a bag packed and everything!” 

“It was my overnight bag. Who knew midnight hookups and spontaneously going off-world required such similar supplies?”

A shadow passed over Katsuki's face, his features clouded by an expression that you almost recognized, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He huffed and started to fidget with the controls again, obviously trying to occupy his hands. 

“Whatever, you were still embarrassingly eager. All ‘Oh ‘Suki, I'd follow you anywhere’.” The pitch of his voice rose mockingly and you gasped in indignation. If he wanted to go low, you'd take it to hell.

Bracing one hand on the back of his chair and the other on the armrest, you leaned as far into his space as you were able without falling into his lap. Katsuki fixed you with a hard stare but, bullheaded man that he was, refused to give any ground. Your faces were inches apart, and you could hear him dragging in each breath with purpose, desperate not to let his pulse quicken in your presence.

“Since your memory is apparently so good, Captain,” your voice was low, bordering on sultry, “remind me, which one of us begged? What was it you said… ‘I don't want to do any of this without you?’ At 3 in the morning no less. If we're going to talk about eagerness and desperation, let's start there.”

Your faces were still close, closer than they really had any right to be. Red began to color Katsuki's ears and cheeks, but his mouth was set in a grim, determined line. You two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, unstoppable force and immovable object. Finally, your captain scowled and turned his head away from you, breaking the deadlock. You bit back a whoop of joy at your victory in whatever odd dominance play you two had been engaged in, settling instead for a satisfied smirk as you straightened up again.

“Doesn’t matter who said what anyway,” he muttered under his breath, and you could almost see the wounded animal that was his pride settling hard in his chest. “We’re both here, aren’t we? Five years and you haven’t jumped ship yet.”

Your expression softened, and you reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. “You’re never, ever getting rid of me, I can promise you that. We’re stuck with each other, ‘Suki.” You felt the tension leak out of his frame and something like longing mixed with affection and took root in your lungs. For all the ways he was different, more grown-up and mature, he was also still the boy that drew his own star maps, the one that sat with you on the roof of his house and taught you how to recognize each constellation until you could point them out blindfolded.

His eyes were on you again and you withdrew your hand, suddenly conscious of the change in atmosphere. Clearing your throat, you took an awkward step back and turned halfway towards the door in an attempt to escape before you said anything you'd regret. “I'm going to double-check the supplies in medical. Make sure my shopping list is complete and all that. I’ll, uh, catch you later, Captain.” Your retreat was hasty, despite your best efforts at keeping calm, and you only allowed yourself to breathe once the cockpit door was shut behind you.

~

“Ah, good old station air!”

The Aldera was nestled comfortably into a dock in the Iltari-7 ship port, a small swarm of mechanics already seeing to any necessary repairs. You'd all wasted no time disembarking and Denki looked about ready to kiss the dubiously clean ground.

“You know, it's weird how every single port manages to smell like the same combination of recycled oxygen, burnt fuel, and piss,” you remarked, stretching your arms languidly above your head. “It’s almost comforting at this point.” The men around you let out various noises of agreement before delving into a conversation about whether or not the smell was natural or purposely manufactured. 

You tuned them out, your eyes glued instead to the distant form of your captain barking instructions at some poor dock aide. You couldn't quite make out the words but you’d be willing to bet it was something about making sure there wasn't a paint chip out of place when he got back. He was clad in his favorite faded leather vest (originally from his days in the Federation Academy, it was now so covered with studs and patches it was barely recognizable as Federation property) and a fitted black shirt and pants combo that showed off his figure in a way that was deeply detrimental to your sanity.

Eventually he finished scaring the piss out of the innocent and stomped over to where your merry band was waiting. He reached into the satchel resting on his hip and dug out 4 cards. 

“The keys to our hotel rooms,” he said as he shared them out. “You lose it, I’ll kick your ass and take the money to replace it out of your next paycheck.” 

Kirishima whistled as he turned the small piece of plastic in his hands. “Damn boss, what kind of place did you find that still uses physical keys?” 

“The kind of place that doesn’t ask about shit like existing criminal records.” You glanced down at your own key card before slipping into the small satchel you kept hidden under your coat. The mild inconvenience of having to worry about a physical object was a small price to pay for peace of mind, especially considering how during a pit stop last year you’d all woken up in the middle of the night to Federation officers in the lobby of the inn you were staying at. Personally, you weren’t eager to experience another mad dash to the hanger in nothing but your nightdress.

Katsuki rolled his neck, a series of pops sounding out as he did. “Alright, housekeeping. We’re here for 72 hours, no more than that. I don’t give a shit what you do with that time as long as you don’t get sick and don’t get arrested. If I call you to check in and you don’t pick up, I’ll hunt you down and you won’t like what happens when I find you. Any questions? No? Great, scatter.”

Sero and Kaminari didn’t need to be told twice, the two of them practically bolting down the street. Kirishima gave an exaggerated salute before heading off as well. You were just about to start making your way to the nearest depot when a large, familiar hand enveloped your elbow. You looked back and cocked a quizzical eyebrow at your captain. “Not you, Doc. You’re coming with me.” You scoffed and tugged your arm out of his grip. 

“I have actual plans, you know. Since when do you have business where my presence is necessary?” The look on his face did little to inspire any measure of confidence in you.

“Word on the net says the guy who's offering to fence our haul has delusions of chivalry, or some shit like that. Apparently he doesn't scam chicks, so if you're at the meeting with me we might actually get a better deal.”

You blinked once, twice, brain desperately trying to interpret the words that had come out of his mouth in a way that didn't make you want to beat him over the head. “You want me,” you began, the words rolling slowly out of your mouth, “to be your date…to a haul negotiation.” 

“Date is a strong word.” The blonde man didn't look nearly bashful or penitent enough for the request he was making, and you felt a muscle twitch in your jaw. “You'd just be there to help smooth things out.”

“Ah, so you want me to be eye candy. That's such an improvement.”

“I'll buy everything on your shopping list.”

“My shopping list is full of medical supplies. For the ship. That we all fucking use.”

“That new headset you've been itching for, then. With the fancy AI and diagnostic capabilities.”

“The one you said was unreasonably expensive?” 

“I won't even bitch about it.”

You crossed your arms and looked away from him, a scowl painted on your features. On one hand, the request was demeaning and just subtly misogynistic enough to really get under your skin. On the other hand, more money was always a good thing, and you were honestly a little curious to meet a man with such an interesting set of principles.

Plus, you really wanted that headset.

“You also owe me a favor that I can cash in at any time.” You fixed Katsuki with your best “dead serious” glare. He threw his hands up in surrender, but his grin could only be described as shit-eating.

“You drive a hard bargain, but we have a deal. Now come on, let’s see how fast we can get this over with.”

~

Whatever you'd expected the mysterious fence to look like, it wasn't anywhere near the reality. The man on the other side of the counter was short, so short he needed a step stool to make eye contact with you. The rest of him looked honestly pretty human, no extra limbs, digits, or facial features. The most bizarre thing about his appearance was the texture of his hair (or whatever it was that was on his head), which resembled large squishy purple balls.

“Well, well, look who it is!” His voice echoed through the space, briefly covering the noises of the small gadgets and trinkets littered around the “pawn shop”. “Dynamight, can I just say what an honor it is to have you in my establishment? I mean, you're something of a legend to us guys on the, ahem, other side of the law.” 

Katsuki grunted in response, his nose twitching like he was trying his damndest not to wrinkle it in distaste. The other man either didn't notice or didn't care, his attention switching immediately to you. 

“And what fine company you've brought as well!” He was still addressing “Dynamight”, but his smile was directed entirely at you. “It's a pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm Mineta, the owner of this here establishment and a professional…well I like to refer to myself as a ‘procurement specialist’ in polite company.”

“You hear that, ‘Suki? We're polite company.” You couldn't keep the smirk out of your voice as you responded. “Is ‘smuggler’ too dirty a word for you, Mineta?”

To his credit, the small salesman didn't rise to your barb, his customer service smile still fixed to his face. “Well no, but it doesn't exactly look great on a business card, does it?” 

You chuckled airily. “Fair enough.”

Your captain, apparently fed up with the back and forth banter, leaned on the countertop with an unimpressed expression. “Are you two going to yap all day or can we talk business?” The words seemed to snap Mineta out of his casual demeanor and into work mode, and he zeroed back in on the outlaw before him. 

“Of course, of course.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a holopad, setting it between all 3 of you. The shopkeep pressed some buttons and a number was projected into the air. “20,000 credits” read the hologram, for sure not an amount to scoff at, but one look in Katsuki's direction showed he was less than enthused. 

“Is this some kind of joke?” The blonde's voice wasn't quite a snarl, but definitely close. “I sent you a scanned content list and you decided 20k was a decent number for a haul that good?” 

Mineta frowned, but his tone was still calm as he replied. “Well, this is a negotiation. If you think I'm lowballing, you're welcome to put out an offer.”

“50.” Your eyes almost bulged out of your head at the number he spat out. The cargo was valuable for sure, but not 50 thousand fucking credits worth, and Katsuki of all people should know that. Then, his eyes met yours, and your role in this particular dance finally clicked into place in your mind. 

You pressed against the counter, arms folded over your ribcage to subtly push your chest up. You gave the blonde your best chastising look and pout combo, setting the stage for your performance. “‘Suki, come on. Aren't you being a little unreasonable?” You paused to shoot Mineta a warm smile. “Ignore him, he's woken up on the wrong side of the bed every day for 5 years.”

Mineta's expression instantly brightened, and you didn't miss the way his eyes darted to your tits and lingered there. Hook, line, and sinker. “I understand,” he began, slightly lifting his heels off the stepstool to lean closer to you. It took all your composure and professionalism not to move away. “It's a grueling line of work you two are in. That said, you seem to bear it with nothing short of the utmost beauty and grace, miss.” Someone was laying it on thick. You forced yourself to giggle and hoped it came out halfway believable. 

Katsuki grimaced at the exchange and moved closer to you, but you paid him no mind. Your eyes were fixed on the prize, now. “How about we try again, hm? I do think 50 is a bit much, so maybe we can try 40?” In truth, you didn't believe the items you brought to the table were worth a dime more than 25k, but if batting your eyelashes and playing ditzy lined your pockets with a little something extra then you were going to milk this, goddammit. 

Mineta still looked unsure, but was obviously more receptive to the high offer than before. “Well, considering it comes with the Dynamight name attached to it, I suppose it is worth a little more, yes. I'd have no trouble reselling…can we compromise at 35?” A good number. A great number, in fact, but you wanted to see how far you could push. 

“37, final offer. We worked awfully hard to keep this raid quiet, you know. The feds don't even know about it, which means they won't be on lookout for the stuff. Don't you think we deserve a little extra for making your job easier?” You kept your tone light and playful, going so far as to reach out and run your index finger under Mineta's chin, tilting his head up slightly to meet your gaze. A full body shudder passed through the man, and again you suppressed the desire to recoil.

“I think,” the salesman's tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I think that's fair.” You retracted your finger as Mineta began to fiddle with the holopad again, the 20 swiftly replaced with a 37. 

You beamed as you retreated from the counter, allowing Katsuki to occupy your spot and handle the specifics of closing out the deal. The smile on your face was the peak of self-satisfaction, and it only grew when you heard the telltale chime of a money transfer. As you made your way out of the shop, you sent a silent prayer of thanks to whichever god was responsible for handing out perfect racks. You also shot a small kudos to the patron saint of sleazy idiots, for good measure. 

As soon as you were both definitely out of hearing range you whirled on Katsuki in delight, but your expression faltered when you caught sight of the storm brewing in his features. He looked irritated, on the edge of downright pissed off, and it effectively dampened your own mood. Tugging on his arm, you steered him into a nearby alleyway in an effort to avoid prying eyes and ears.

“What's up with you?” you asked once you were sure there'd be no unwelcome intrusions to the conversation. “I thought the deal went great.”

He scowled and crossed his arms as he leaned against the rough synthetic brick of the alleway. His face was casted down, very pointedly not looking at you. “‘m not pissed off about the deal,” he mumbled, and your confusion only grew.

“Then why are you pissed off?”

Your captain scoffed. “Maybe because that bastard looked like he wanted to fucking eat you,” he ground out through gritted teeth. 

For the second time today, you contemplated strangling him. You raised a hand and pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to gather your patience. “I thought the whole point was that my job was to be arm décor. Was the end goal not to get him to think with his dick and not his head? I mean, you brought me as a sex object and now you're mad that the guy wanted to have sex with me!”

“I know what the fucking objective was, I just-” His mouth snapped shut, but the look in his eyes and the set of his jaw told you everything you needed to know. He looked the same as he did earlier when you mentioned your past hookups, the same as he always did when he caught you in the hallways of wherever the crew was crashing at, waving goodbye to whoever had warmed your bed the night before. Same dark eyes, same twisted up mouth, same neck twitch. You'd assumed before that he was just being protective, but the truth was glaring in your face brighter than any neon sign.

Bakugou Katsuki was jealous and you were pissed the hell off.

“How long?” you demanded. His expression morphed from petulant to confused as he looked at you. 

“What?”

“How long have you had feelings for me?” You willed your voice not to crack, though the equal parts anger and yearning that bubbled to the front of the emotional storm brewing in your chest made it a herculean task. This wasn't fair. He didn't get to do this to you, not 5 years in, not when you'd finally made your peace and were on your way to killing the pesky adoration you'd spent far too long grappling with.

“I- That's not what this is about-”

“Don't even try to pull that shit. This is my favor, I'm cashing it in right now. Tell me the truth, how long?”

You stared at him. He stared back. The alleyway was silent except for the low whirring of the machinery under Katsuki’s skin. The foot of distance between you felt impossibly charged and volatile, like one false move would trigger a city-leveling explosion. Just as your eyes started to burn from strain and the pressure of the tears behind your eyes, Katsuki ducked his head again, breaking the stalemate. Normally, winning two battles of will against him in the same day would inflate your ego to unmanageable heights, but the moment was too bittersweet to fully appreciate your victory.

“I don't know.”

“That's not an answer.”

“It's the truth.” Crimson eyes met yours, and the naked vulnerability in them almost took your breath away. “I don't remember how long I've wanted you. Feels like forever.”

Your knees felt weak and your mouth was dry and every night you spent staring at the cold chrome ceiling of your ship quarters with longing and want ripping through you came rushing back in cold clarity. The storm in your chest broke, and the roiling waves of emotion threatened to choke you. You needed air, and space, and maybe to slap him then kiss him stupid. 

“Right.” The word felt foreign, almost wrong, on your tongue. It wasn't what you wanted to say, but it was all your traitorous vocal cords would allow you. Katsuki's brow furrowed and his lips parted, and you were far too emotionally fragile to hear whatever he was about to say. 

Beating him to the punch, you blurted out, “I’ll see you back at the hotel,” before spinning on your heel and striding out of the alley as quickly as your legs would carry you. Half expecting him to follow you or call you back, you were filled with both relief and disappointment when he made no move to go after you. His gaze burned against the back of your skull until you disappeared around the nearest corner. 

~

It was well past sunset (or “whatever star this trash heap orbits”-set) when you finally made your way to the hotel. The building itself was nondescript, the paint on the outside was faded, and it was altogether generally unimpressive. Only the flickering sign that matched the stamp on your keycard signified it as the place you were looking for. At least the inside was free of any foul scents or mysterious stains, which automatically put it above at least half of your past accommodations. 

You trudged up the steps to the second floor and prayed on all that was kind and good that this place had hot running water. You'd calmed down significantly since you'd ditched your captain, but a hot shower would give you the chance to sort out the last stubborn remnants of your emotional turmoil. You turned the corner into your hallway and were wholly unsurprised to see the last person you wanted to acknowledge standing right next to your door.

Katsuki had dressed down since you'd last seen him. His worn leather vest and fitted shirt were gone, leaving him in only a white undershirt that was definitely a size too small. Desire flared in your gut, unwelcome, and you forced yourself to suppress a groan. Clearly he had no intentions of making the conversation you two needed to have easy for you.

His head snapped in your direction as you approached, and your heart clenched at the flash of uncertainty that ran across his face before he managed to school it back into careful neutrality. You stopped in front of your door, placing a hand on the handle as you turned to look at him.

“We should talk.” His voice was low, gentle, like he was scared you'd run again if he disturbed the air too much.

“Is that an order, Captain?” you asked in response, fluidly inserting your keycard into its slot until the light on the door turned green. Pushing it open, you looked back over your shoulder, one eyebrow arched. Katsuki’s jaw clenched as he visibly swallowed. 

“No. It's not an order.” You hummed and jerked your head towards the inside of the room, signaling for him to follow, before pushing the door open wider and stepping in.

Flicking on the light, you surveyed the space. It was decently furnished, with a large couch taking up the opposite wall and a loveseat slightly adjacent to it, a hard light projection of a coffee table the centerpiece of the room. There was a small but seemingly functional kitchenette off to the side, and a door set into the wall on your right that you assumed led to the bedroom. 

You moved towards the small table in the kitchen, shucking off your coat and draping it on the back of one of the two dining chairs present. Your satchel followed, tossed carelessly onto the table as you strode towards the couch. The color was likely a rich navy blue once, but time and wear had turned it much lighter in places. It was comfortable, at the very least, and you sprawled over it, head resting on one armrest while your legs were tossed over the other side.

The man you'd known almost all your life slumped into the loveseat, his arm inches from your head. You shifted to be able to see him properly. He was sweating bullets with the harsh blue glow of the coffee table illuminating half his face from below. One of his best looks, in your humble opinion. 

He inhaled, long and deep, before exhaling just as thoroughly. He opened his mouth, glanced at you, glanced away, and closed it again. It struck you that while you were aware of both his feelings and your own, you'd never actually expressed to him that you reciprocated his affection. Come to think of it, fleeing the second he confessed probably hadn't done his confidence any favors. You winced slightly as guilt squeezed your insides, and reached out to drop a (hopefully) comforting hand on his knee. His eyes snapped to the appendage, and his gaze crawled up your arm until he finally managed to settle on your face. You tried your best to project encouragement, and he drew in another deep breath. 

“10 years.” You blinked, your features suddenly clouded with confusion. 

“What?”

Katsuki huffed like you were the one being difficult and adjusted his posture, leaning over the arm of his seat to be closer to you.

“You asked me how long I've had feelings for you, so I did some soul-searching or whatever the fuck and decided 10 years was the answer. Ever since you showed up to my house on my 16th birthday, clutching that crystal telescope lens that I'd been eyeing for ages. I asked you how the hell you afforded something like that, and you told me you'd saved 4 months’ worth of allowance plus walked every dog in the neighborhood 5 times over. You had this big goofy grin on your face like you hadn't dropped a crazy amount of money just so I could have a clearer view of the same star systems I'd already memorized.” He paused, working his jaw as he contemplated whether or not to continue. A squeeze from the hand on his knee seemed to thoroughly convince him. 

“I honestly almost told you to take it back, to return it and get your money back and use it on literally anything else. But you were just…you were so fucking happy about it, going on and on about how I'd finally be able to personally count Jupiter's moons or something like that. I didn't have it in me to reject it, I mean, it was literally the nicest thing anyone ever did for me up to that point. And when we finally got the chance to slip up to the roof and slot the new lens in…the sights were beautiful. Better than I'd imagined, better than the ads. Your shoulder jostled mine when you went in for a look and it was like I'd eaten a whole swarm of butterflies. It was the first time I'd ever felt like that around you, around anyone really. I guess that's when I knew.” 

10 years. You're not quite sure how you expected him to answer, but what you got was certainly more than you anticipated. Every interaction between the two of you in the last decade flitted through your mind, colored by this new information, and your chest tightened almost painfully. 

“Wow,” was all you managed to say when you finally opened your mouth. His whole body tensed, and you blurted out your next words before he could get too deep in his head. “Do you want to know when I came to terms with my feelings?”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes boring into you like twin suns. “Your feelings?” His voice was almost a whisper, and you offered him a gentle smile.

“What, you think you have a monopoly on pining?” He huffed out a laugh as you repositioned yourself, pushing upright and shifting until you were leaning over your own armrest, putting the two of you eye to eye. 

“When we were 17, and I was sitting with you in the nurse's office at school and watching you get your knuckles wrapped because Enzo-”

Katsuki's groan was loud, cutting you off mid-sentence. You snickered, amused that the mention of your first boyfriend was still enough to get him riled up.

“Can I continue, or do you still have curses to pile on him almost a decade later?”

“I definitely do, but you can keep going as long as you don't say that idiot's name.”

“Well, what do you want me to refer to him as?”

“Preferably ‘that worthless bastard’ but you can get creative with it if you want.” You rolled your eyes, but you were fighting a losing battle trying to keep a smile off your face. 

“Fine, whatever, moving on. You were getting your fists taken care of because you'd fucked them up in the process of beating my ex's face to a pulp.” Katsuki tsked in annoyance at your word choice but you forged on. “On account of him cheating on me with one of the student trainers.” 

“And I'd do it again too.” 

“Am I ever going to get to finish my story?”

“Sorry.” The man across from you at least had the good sense to look sheepish at your scolding tone. You shook your head in exaggerated exasperation.

“Like I was saying, you, me, school clinic, split knuckles. The nurse was ripping you a new one while she bandaged you up, and all I could do was sit there and replay the moment in my head. The way we ran into that prick at lunch and I immediately got choked up and hurt all over again. The expression on your face when you looked at me. Next thing I knew there were like 3 people pulling you off him, and he was a sort of groaning person-shaped heap.” Slowly, as if  handling something wild, you moved your hand to settle on top of his. Your thumb brushed gently over the long-healed skin and his breath hitched as a faint shiver ran through him. 

“Even when they threatened you with expulsion, you never looked regretful or remorseful. As far as you knew, the end of your space pilot dream was staring you in the face and you didn't so much as flinch. One look at me and you'd been ready to throw it all away. That's when my crush kicked into full gear, and saying it all out loud is making me feel kinda stupid for not realizing how you felt about me sooner.” 

You chuckled, but the sound turned into a soft gasp as Katsuki flipped his hand up to grip yours, the hold firm but not painful. Your eyes moved from where your palms were connected to his face, and the intensity you found there made your heart beat faster. 

“You wanna know when I knew I loved you?”

For a brief, beautiful moment, every mechanism in the universe ground to a screeching halt. The stars stopped burning, the planets stopped spinning, your breath caught in your throat and your heart paused mid-beat. His words rung in your ears like church bells, deafening in glorious cacophony. Even after the natural order resumed, you still felt nailed to your seat. You nodded mutely, not trusting your voice to be steady enough not to shatter the moment. 

“When I woke up,” he began, his grip on your hand tightening marginally, “in that shady implant center, brain fried from hours of pain and being in and out of consciousness. Everything hurt like hell, and my new arms felt heavy and weird. Then I turned my head to look at the ceiling, and there you were. Your eyebags had eyebags, your hair was a mess, and you had a nasty bruise peeking out from under your collar where a laser blast had hit the protective mesh in your coat. Despite all that, you were beaming like you'd won the lottery. Plus you were directly under one of those old-fashioned fluorescent bulbs and it was casting a flickering halo around your head. I swear I thought you were an angel. Sometimes I still do.”

You made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh as you blinked back the tears gathering at your waterline. Unthinking, you stood from your seat and moved to stand in front of Katsuki. Your hands were still intertwined and he used that connection to tug you forward, his other hand moving to settle on your back as you fell gently into his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs.

“Never took you for a sap, ‘Suki.” Your unoccupied hand drifted to play with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck and you laughed softly at his exaggerated eye roll. You liked this version of him, the type that existed for your eyes only, bathed in artificial light yet deeply human.

“Yeah, whatever.” His hand on your back was big and warm, and you felt almost embarrassed by how much it affected you. The synthetic nerve endings in his arms were bad at detecting heat, a necessary failsafe to facilitate his explosions, but now all you could think about was if he could feel the warmth of you through your shirt.

“You know, it’s sorta funny.” Katsuki’s head tilted slightly, his eyes fixated on you. The center of his attention was both a wonderful and slightly terrifying place to be. “You liked me first but I loved you first.”

“That so?” he asked, a smirk curling his lips as the palm at your back slipped under your shirt to trace patterns over your spine. The feeling of his digits dancing over your bare skin almost robbed you of rational thought entirely, but you pushed through.

 “Call me cliché, but the night you showed up to my dorm and begged me to run away with you was so romantic from my point of view. It’s a miracle I didn’t swoon into your arms like one of those fainting damsels in a shitty romance novel.”

“There you go again, saying I begged. I asked politely.”

“Call it whatever you want, starboy, you were the one who made an objectively unnecessary detour while you were an active fugitive just to fulfill a promise you made when we were kids.” Your expression was as smug as humanly possible, but he seemed wholly unphased. You weren’t sure when in the course of the conversation his attitude had pivoted from nervous wreck to playboy.

“I promised we’d see the galaxy together, and we have. I’m a man of my word.” It was your turn to roll your eyes in an exaggerated arc, tugging lightly on his hair in reproach.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe I didn’t clock you earlier. Denial is truly a hell of a drug. You want me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Katsuki scoffed and pushed you even further into him, eliminating almost all space between your bodies. “Don’t throw stones from glass houses, Doc.” 

You huffed and pulled your hand away from his at last, both palms moving to cradle his face. His newly free hand immediately took up a position at your waist, mirroring its twin. “Say my name.”

The first syllable managed to slip past his lips before you crashed into him.

You poured almost half a lifetime of longing into the kiss, and your other half responded in kind. It was deep, desperate, and more than a little messy. His lips molded over yours like they belonged there, like the very notion of parting from you was absurd. Your fingers curled over his jaw and left small crescent indents on his cheeks as his tongue poked at the seam of your mouth, a request that was eagerly granted. His hands tightened on your sides and you were grateful for the sensation, for something to ground you as you dived into him over and over. 

When you finally parted, lungs strained and panting, you were sure there were stars in your eyes. He pressed his forehead against yours, unwilling to let you pull away too much, and you happily obliged him. The two of you spent a minute simply trading breaths, the world outside your intimate bubble entirely unimportant. You turned your head to press a kiss to his cheek, chaste and almost shy. You could feel the muscles in his face moving as he smiled.

“...so about that headset-” He sealed his lips over yours again, and you’d never been happier to shut up in your life.

[sadmiserablechv]

I think that we can collectively agree that song "Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call" by Bleachers is owned by Jason Todd.

And I saw that many people interpreter lyrics as conversation of Bruce and Jason, or just take "Merry Christmas, please don't call" as line for Todd.

But! I think that we all need to think in another way too. Because it's not dialog, it's monologue.

«To the tempo of your uptight Is the flicker of a street light You know this moment don't ya And time is strangely calm now 'Cause everybody's gone it's Just you and your anger»

His fist meets the red helmet, gloves consume the most of the pain in his knuckles.

But all Bruce can think of is that it is his son.

Who died. Who now go against all principles that Wayne tried to teach him.

And failed miserably.

«Oh, golden boy, don't act like you were kind You were mine, but you were awful every time So don't tell them what you told me Don't hold me like you know me I would rather burn forever»

He receive a bullet just moment ago, but adrenaline and that mud of emotions inside of him preventing Batman from acknowledge anything.

He tries to erase any thoughts other than his mission right now. And it is "get red of the Jason Red Hood".

It's so wrong. But Bruce can't do anything. He thinks of pain in his hand from the times he'd hit Grayson. And it's all repeating. Over and over and over again.

Repeating, leading to this moment.

«But you should know that I died slow Running through the halls of your haunted home And the toughest part is that we both know What to happened to you Why you're out on your own Merry Christmas, please don't call»

He remembers how rage consumed him. How his little boy was limp and cold in his hands when that bastard took him away from Bruce.

He wants to say that he tried. To avenge. To bring some sense of right completeness. But it wasn't right justice for his code.

He choked back words that he can't say.

Bruce always was bad at talking. And he think that he really tried.

But looking at his sons bloodied face behind broken helmet, Wayne again need to face painfully simple truth.

He failed. Again.

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (04)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 04 - Player 001

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 05

PREV : Chapter 03

After the voting, the guards began distributing lunchboxes. You reached the front of the queue and took one from a pink-clad guard. Stepping out of the line, you noticed player 390 behind you, and the two of you headed toward a quiet corner between the bunk beds on the right side of the hall.

Player 456 was already sitting there, his eyes fixed on the floor. His meal and drink sat untouched beside him. You sighed softly at his distant demeanor.

“You two are friends, right?” you asked player 390, slowing your steps.

“Huh? Me and Gi-hun?” player 390 glanced at player 456. “Oh, yeah. His mother liked me.”

You nodded, assuming they had been friends for a long time. You asked, “Has he always been this distant and quiet?”

“Not at all,” player 390 said, shaking his head. “He was actually really cheerful. Also very loud. He used to laugh at stuff no one else thought was funny. And you know what always set him off?”

Curiosity piqued, you asked, “What?”

Player 390 grinned. “Losing at betting on horses.”

“You two used to bet on horses?”

“Well, we did,” he said with a shrug. “But three years ago, he disappeared. I couldn’t reach him, and his mom was worried sick. She was already physically sick, too. She passed away not long after he vanished.”

“Three years ago? He said he played these games at that time.”

“Yeah, now that you mention it,” player 390 replied. “He should’ve contacted me after winning. I really thought he was dead.”

You lowered your voice. “Well, in a way, he does seem dead yet alive right now.”

Player 390 turned to you with a small smile. “Anyway, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Jung-bae, and that is Gi-hun.”

You smiled back, giving your name in return. By then, the two of you had reached Gi-hun’s spot and sat down on either side of him.

You began unboxing your lunchbox while Jung-bae turned to his long-time friend. “Look at this lunch. It’s just like my mom used to make. What’s in yours?”

Gi-hun didn’t respond. His silence hung heavy, but Jung-bae pressed on.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Jung-bae scooped a spoonful of rice with some fried egg and held it out toward him. “Look, you’ve got to eat. You know what they say, ‘Eat up, even on your deathbed.’ Just do your thinking while you eat, or afterwards. Here.”

Still, Gi-hun ignored him. Jung-bae sighed and pulled the spoon back.

“Forget it then,” he muttered before taking the bite himself. With his mouth full, he added, “This might be for the best. I don’t know about you, but that 20 million wouldn’t even cover my interest. If we play just one more game…”

“Jung-bae,” Gi-hun finally spoke, his tone heavy. He stared solemnly at his friend. “Last time I was here, someone said the exact same thing. And in the end, that person died here.”

Jung-bae chewed quietly, his earlier enthusiasm fading. You watched the two of them, a quiet curiosity growing. What kind of experience had he gone through here? Had he lost friends? The thought that everyone he once knew in these games had died was haunting. But why is he back?

“Help us then, sir.”

The voice drew your attention. You, Jung-bae, and Gi-hun turned to see player 001 approaching your corner. Behind him were player 100 and a few others. Their presence immediately shifted the atmosphere.

“You said you’ve played these games,” commented player 001.

Gi-hun stared at him briefly before lowering his head, as if retreating into himself. You thought he might ignore them altogether until player 001 spoke again.

“I pressed the O button because of you.”

Gi-hun looked up at him, surprised. Player 001 continued, “Honestly, I was scared. I wanted to quit and leave. But you made me think maybe I could play just one more game.”

“Me too,” another player behind him chimed in.

“Same here,” added another.

You glanced at Gi-hun and murmured, “Looks like it’s a bad idea revealing you’re a previous winner.”

Gi-hun turned to you, exhaling through his nose. “I thought it would make everyone understand… that everyone here is doomed to die as long as we stay here.”

You nodded slightly, your gaze shifting back to player 001, who was already looking at you. Feeling a bit awkward, you quickly averted your gaze and pretended not to notice.

“Sir,” player 001 said, leaning closer to Gi-hun. “You know which game’s next, don’t you?”

Several players leaned in, their curiosity evident. Even you couldn’t help but wonder. Jung-bae put down his lunchbox and turned to his friend. “You’re a previous winner, so you should know. What are we playing next?”

Gi-hun avoided eye contact, his voice low as he finally answered. “The second game was Dalgona.”

The bed beside you creaked as someone shifted on it. You glanced over to see player 388 leaning toward your corner. “Dalgona? The sugar candy with a shape you can carve out?”

“That’s right,” Gi-hun replied. “We had to choose one of four shapes and carve it out.”

“Four shapes? Which was the easiest one?” Jung-bae asked quickly.

“Triangle.”

“Which was the hardest one?” Jung-bae pressed further.

“Umbrella.”

“Umbrella?” player 001 scoffed. “Some people chose umbrella? Those unlucky bastards must have bitten the dust.”

At his words, Gi-hun stared at him silently, his expression unreadable. There was something in his gaze that felt like judgment, maybe even offense. You noticed it but chose not to dwell on it, focusing instead on your lunch.

“So that means we should all just pick triangle,” player 388 suggested. “Everyone could probably pass with that.”

“Hush now!” player 100 stepped forward, positioning himself beside player 001. “If all 365 of us survive, the prize money won’t go up at all. Then we’ll have risked our lives again for nothing.”

“That’s true,” a few players behind him agreed, nodding.

Player 100 continued, “Listen. We should probably keep this information to ourselves. What do you say?”

Player 001 stayed quiet, while others eagerly nodded their agreement. But before the discussion could settle, Gi-hun spoke up, his tone firm. “We can’t do that. I’m telling you this to save everyone’s lives.”

“And we don’t even know if the next game will really be Dalgona,” you added, scooping another spoonful of rice.

Gi-hun nodded. “That’s right. If it’s confirmed that the next game is Dalgona, I’m going to tell everyone what I know.”

Player 100 scoffed, rolling his eyes before turning and walking away. The group of players who had followed him quickly trailed behind, leaving the corner quieter and less tense. You exhaled softly, relieved to have the space back.

Player 001, however, remained. He shifted his gaze to you, Jung-bae and Gi-hun.

“So, which shape did you pick?” Jung-bae asked with a curious raise of an eyebrow.

Gi-hun looked at him deadpan, offering no response.

You chuckled softly at the exchange, drawing their attention. Their curious stares settled on you, but you feigned innocence, focusing on your lunch as if you hadn’t been following the conversation.

Still, the words slipped out.

“So, did you choose umbrella?” you asked, your tone playful.

Gi-hun turned his gaze toward you, his expression flat and unimpressed. For a moment, you thought he might actually answer, but then he looked away, ignoring the question entirely. His silence was pointed, as if he’d chosen to pretend he hadn’t heard you at all.

You and Jung-bae exchanged knowing glances, both of you stifling a grin. It wasn’t until player 001 spoke that you realized he had been watching the entire interaction.

“May I ask you something?”

All three of you – you, Gi-hun, and Jung-bae – turned your attention to him. Player 001 moved closer, sitting down on the stairs beside your group. He directed his question straight at Gi-hun.

“Why did you come back to this place?” he asked. “You said you won and made it out. Then you must have received 45.6 billion. Did you spend it all?”

Jung-bae’s eyes widened as realization seemed to hit him. He asked Gi-hun incredulously, “Did you bet on horses again?”

You side-eyed the pair, amused by Jung-bae’s immediate assumption.

Gi-hun shook his head solemnly. “That money doesn’t belong to me. It’s blood money for the people who died here. The same goes for the money up there.”

You couldn’t help but silently agree. Survival guilt had clearly taken a toll on him, and you imagined the weight of it must have been crushing.

“You don’t have to think of it that way,” player 001 said, his voice calm. Gi-hun looked at him in mild astonishment. Player 001 continued, “It’s not like you killed those people, and saving that money won’t bring them back to life.”

Gi-hun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His tone turned sharp as he replied, “If you had pressed the X, everyone here would’ve changed their mind by tomorrow. All of us would’ve made it out alive.”

Player 001 held his gaze, his expression unyielding. “That’s right. I was the last to press the O button. But there were 186 more people who wanted to stay.”

“And there were also 185 people who wanted to leave,” Gi-hun countered.

You and Jung-bae exchanged glances, sensing that neither man was willing to back down. Their differing perspectives created a palpable tension.

Player 001 broke the silence. “Let’s say I pressed X and we all got a chance to vote again tomorrow. Would everyone have been happy? Do you think a majority of O players would change their mind and thank me?”

Gi-hun’s brow furrowed deeper, his glower showing he was searching for another argument.

Before things could escalate further, Jung-bae intervened. “Enough, you two,” he said. “There’s no point in placing blame now. You know the saying. A widow understands a widower best. Let’s just focus on the game tomorrow, okay?”

He gestured toward Gi-hun and said, “He has won all these games before. If we stick together, we’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“But we can’t always rely on him,” you interjected. “He doesn’t need more pressure from everyone expecting too much from him.”

Gi-hun and player 001 both turned to you, their gazes quiet but intent.

Jung-bae nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, but he has the experience. Any advice he has will help.”

“He’s right,” another voice chimed in. The four of you turned to see player 388, who had been eavesdropping from his bed. He hopped down and stood close. “We have to stick together. I’ll be with you all the way.”

Jung-bae frowned in skepticism. “Who are you?”

The man came to a stop in front of you all and gave a quick bow. “I’m Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho.”

Dae-ho extended his hand to Jung-bae, a clear offer for a handshake. Jung-bae didn’t take it, instead replying dryly, “Oh, Dae-ho. Have we met?”

Dae-ho’s expression faltered briefly before he glanced at player 001, who kept his head low, and then at Gi-hun, who looked at him with indifference. Finally, his gaze landed on you. Seeing no skepticism in your expression, he extended his hand toward you.

You blinked in surprise but took his hand. He clasped yours in both of his, nodding gratefully as you introduced yourself. You could feel the others watching the interaction closely. After a moment, he let go of your hand, looking slightly more at ease.

“Earlier during the game, Mr. 456 here was like,” Dae-ho began, pausing to mimic Gi-hun’s urgent warning style from the first game. “Freeze! And I became his fan.”

You grinned at his enthusiasm while Gi-hun turned his gaze away, clearly embarrassed. Undeterred, Dae-ho continued eagerly, “I’d like to get to know you all better. Please give me a chance!”

Jung-bae stood suddenly as Dae-ho mimicked Gi-hun again. “Freeze! That was so cool!”

You chuckled softly, but the sound caught Gi-hun’s attention. He glanced at you with a look that felt half-judgmental before shifting his gaze elsewhere.

“Hang on,” Jung-bae said abruptly, grabbing Dae-ho’s sleeve and pulling it upward to reveal an ROKMC tattoo. Dae-ho looked at him, confused, as Jung-bae asked, “You were in the Marines?”

“Yes, why?”

“Class number?” Jung-bae countered, his tone sharp.

Dae-ho gave him a once-over before letting out a wheeze of amusement.

“Oh, you’re laughing?” Jung-bae challenged, unzipping his jacket and pulling up his sleeve. He revealed the same ROKMC tattoo on his forearm.

Dae-ho’s amusement vanished. He stepped back, clearly caught off guard, as Jung-bae stood tall, even combing his hair back dramatically with his fingers.

Suddenly, Dae-ho snapped into a salute, raising his voice. “Victory at all costs! I was in Class 1140, sir!”

Jung-bae saluted back, his grin wide. “At ease! ‘Dae-ho.’ I knew there was something about you.”

The sudden burst of military camaraderie caught you off guard. Are they really going all military here? Their loud banter is starting to draw attention to your corner.

“Do Marines get tattoos like that?” you asked to no one in particular, genuinely curious.

Player 001, who had been observing quietly, spoke up. “It’s not officially required. But for many in the ROKMC, getting the tattoo is a tradition.”

You nodded your head in understanding. “Oh.”

Dae-ho, still stiff in his stance, screamed, “Yes, sir!”

Jung-bae laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Class 746 here. Let’s make a good team.”

“I won’t let you down, sir!” Dae-ho barked back, standing straighter.

Jung-bae guffawed, patting him on the shoulder again, earning another resounding “yes, sir!” from Dae-ho. The exchange repeated a few more times, each louder than the last. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the spectacle, while Gi-hun watched them with an expression that screamed secondhand embarrassment.

You turned away from the comedic display of Jung-bae and Dae-ho, who seemed more like overenthusiastic military recruits than grown men, and began cleaning up your lunchbox. As you took a sip from your water bottle, you noticed player 001 shifting slightly in his seat nearby.

Lowering the bottle, you glanced over and asked casually, “Have you eaten already?”

Player 001 looked at you for a moment before a warm smile crossed his face. “Yes, I have.”

You nodded, returning his smile. “Good. The food they prepared for us was worth it. It’s a waste not to eat it.”

Turning toward Gi-hun, you pointedly glanced at his untouched lunchbox. “You need to eat, sir. It’s better to mull things over with a full stomach.”

Gi-hun hesitated, meeting your gaze briefly before nodding. He opened his lunchbox without a word and began to eat.

After a brief pause, you leaned slightly closer to player 001, lowering your voice. “By the way, do you know where the ladies’ restroom is?”

Player 001 gestured toward the door on the right side of the main double doors. “That one there. The other door is for the men.”

“Oh, thanks. Wouldn’t want to get lost and get shot by the guards.”

Player 001’s smile widened. “I’m sure the guards would bring you back here if you are lost.”

You chuckled softly. “That’s comforting to know.”

The exchange put you slightly more at ease, but player 001’s expression soon turned contemplative. “If you don’t mind me asking… why did you come here?”

Your smile faltered for a moment, and you caught Gi-hun turning his head just slightly, clearly eavesdropping. Straightening your posture, you replied with a practiced smile, “I needed the money.”

Player 001 nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “That’s all of us. But if I may say… I’m surprised. A lady like you shouldn’t have to bear the burden of crippling debt.”

You looked away, lowering your gaze to the floor. The practiced calm you had maintained slipped, replaced by a somber expression as his words hit a nerve.

Noticing your change in demeanor, player 001 spoke gently. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

You shook your head and managed a faint smile.

“It’s fine,” you replied softly. Your gaze stayed on the floor as you added, “The debts are my parents’, actually.”

Player 001 stared at you, his smile fading into something more solemn. Gi-hun, who had been eavesdropping, remained silent, his expression unreadable.

“You motherfucker!”

The shout shattered the quiet, pulling your attention to the other side of the dormitory. A commotion had broken out. MG Coin (player 333) was brawling on the floor with Thanos and his friend (player 124).

With player 124’s help, Thanos delivered a hard punch to player 333. Even as player 333 lay injured on the floor, they didn’t stop. Kicks rained down on him mercilessly while gasps of horror rippled through the watching crowd.

“I lost all that money because of you, fucker,” Thanos snarled, punctuating his words with another vicious kick. “Be grateful and fucking eat what you’re given!”

Despite the violence, no one moved. Players stayed rooted in place, their expressions a mix of fear and disgust. Jung-bae and Dae-ho, sleeves still rolled up with their tattoos visible, simply watched, making no move to intervene.

You sighed in frustration. “Good thing I finished eating. Still, ganging up on him is just unfair.”

Before you could consider stepping in, player 001 stood up. He walked past Jung-bae and Dae-ho with measured steps, heading straight toward the chaos. You rose from your seat instinctively, a mix of concern and suspense building. Gi-hun stood as well, his eyes narrowing as he watched the scene unfold.

“Boys, what are you doing in the middle of mealtime?” player 001’s voice carried as he approached Thanos and player 124. “No fights during mealtime. There are elders present. Mind your manners.”

Thanos and player 124 paused, letting go of player 333. They turned toward player 001, whose calm demeanor seemed to unnerve them. “And two against one? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Thanos sneered and stepped closer, his posture challenging. “You’re lecturing me when you ended up in this shithole too? Uncle, stop running your mouth and take care of your own damn kids.”

The dormitory fell silent as everyone watched. Player 001 silently asked, “What did you say?”

Thanos leaned in, his tone mocking. “I said save the lecture for your own damn kid—”

Player 001’s hand shot out, gripping Thanos by the neck. The hold wasn’t a full choke, but his thumb pressed into a precise spot that made Thanos stiffen immediately. The calculated grip made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. And it looked painful.

Thanos’ hands clawed at player 001’s arm, but the older man’s hold didn’t waver. His bravado crumbled under the pressure of the unyielding grip.

Player 124 advanced toward them. “You son of a—”

Before he could finish, player 001 swiftly kicked his shin. Player 124 let out a brief scream, immediately grasping his leg in pain. Without missing a beat, player 001 delivered another kick, sending him sprawling to the floor, clutching his injured shin. The speed of it all left several players gasping in shock.

Player 001 released Thanos’ neck, standing still in the same spot, his posture calm and steady. It was a stark contrast to Thanos and his friend who were already heaving in pain, struggling to recover.

Just as you thought it was over, Thanos stubbornly got up and advanced toward player 001 again. Raising his arm for a punch, he barely got the chance before player 001 landed a precise blow to his chest in the blink of an eye. Thanos doubled over, clutching his chest in visible pain.

“Wait,” Thanos choked out, holding up a hand in surrender.

Player 001, unfazed, grabbed Thanos’ outstretched hand and twisted it. With a calculated move, he brought Thanos down to the floor and delivered two sharp kicks to his chest, sending him sprawling.

Before Thanos could fully process what was happening, player 001 stood over him, gripping his neck once again. His free hand rose, forming a fist poised to strike. The dormitory’s atmosphere turned chillingly tense as everyone held their breath.

“I’m sorry,” Thanos choked out, his voice barely audible.

Player 001’s face remained emotionless, cold and detached. His grip tightened momentarily, making Thanos gasp for air. His purple hair seemed to match the growing discoloration of his face as the players around them watched in stunned silence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, player 001 let him go. Calmly, he stood up as if nothing had happened. A smattering of applause broke out, quickly growing into full-on clapping and cheers.

“You’re the man!”

“Nice!”

You joined in, clapping in genuine awe of his combat prowess. He had taken down two bullies without breaking a sweat. What is he, really? He must be an expert at something combat-related.

Player 001 looked surprised by the positive reaction. With a small, appreciative nod and a faint smile, he smoothed his hair, clearly a bit embarrassed and shy by the attention.

As he walked back toward your corner, where you and the others were still clapping, Jung-bae leaned over. “What is he?”

“Is he an ex-Marine too?” Dae-ho asked.

You smirked and pointedly remarked, “If he is, you two might want to roll your sleeves down. He actually stopped the bullies, not the tattoos.”

Jung-bae and Dae-ho exchanged sheepish glances before simultaneously fixing their sleeves. They continued clapping enthusiastically for player 001, pretending they hadn’t been called out.

Player 001 returned to your corner, his calm demeanor intact despite the tension moments ago. You, Jung-bae, and Dae-ho couldn’t help but look at him with a mix of amazement and curiosity.

“Sir, that was incredible,” Jung-bae said, his voice tinged with admiration. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Dae-ho chimed in, “Seriously, the way you took them down without even breaking a sweat. Are you some kind of martial artist or what?”

Player 001 gave a wide smile. “Let’s just say I’ve picked up a thing or two along the way.”

Jung-bae exchanged a look with Dae-ho, both nodding as if they had just decided player 001 was the coolest person they’d ever met.

“Man of mystery,” Dae-ho muttered appreciatively.

You leaned forward slightly, your gentle tone more concerned. “But you’re not hurt at all, right? You seemed upset.”

Player 001 turned to you and his smile softened. “Not at all. I left and came back the same.”

His composed response only added to the awe emanating from Jung-bae and Dae-ho, who continued to marvel at him. The brief chaos from earlier now felt like a distant memory.

You couldn’t help but grin as you turned to player 001. “You know, I just told them to roll their sleeves down because you were the one who stopped the bullies, not those tattoos.”

Player 001 let out a steady laugh, the sound warm and disarming. Jung-bae and Dae-ho immediately looked embarrassed, glancing at each other before quickly shifting their attention elsewhere.

“Hey, the tattoos still count for something,” Jung-bae muttered, rolling his sleeve back up halfway just to save face.

“Sure they do,” you replied, still smiling as Dae-ho tried to look nonchalant.

The four of you sat back down at the corner. Gi-hun, who had stayed quiet throughout the commotion, gave player 001 a subtle nod of acknowledgment. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a truce of sorts after their earlier disagreement.

Dae-ho, ever the chatterbox, broke the quiet. “So, Mr. 001, you’ve got to teach us some of those moves. What was that neck grip thing? Looked like something out of a spy movie.”

Player 001 gave a faint smile, shaking his head. “It’s just a simple technique. Nothing fancy.”

“Nothing fancy?” Jung-bae scoffed. “You had that guy gasping for air and looking like he was about to cry. If that’s simple, I’d hate to see complicated.”

“I want to learn how to do that too,” you added. “It would be useful to protect myself out there.”

Player 001 replied with a widening smile. “Sure, I could teach you. We just have to focus on winning the next game and leave this place for good. I’ll teach once we’re out of here.”

“Sir, don’t forget about me though,” said Dae-ho. “I want to learn that too.”

Jung-bae chimed in, “Me too.”

Player 001 nodded, “Got it. I’ll teach you three, then.”

The conversation drifted into lighter topics, with Dae-ho recounting an overly dramatic story from his military days that had Jung-bae laughing and shaking his head. Gi-hun stayed mostly quiet, his focus shifting between the group and the room at large.

NEXT : Chapter 05

PREV : Chapter 03

Story Masterlist

I would love to know what you think so feel free to comment as long as you could!

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[brklynbxby]

"If you weren’t happy, then why the hell did you stay with him?" Milo’s voice cracked, a little louder than before, breaking through the tension that had hung between them like thick fog. The raw emotion spilled from him, untethered—no longer contained, no longer carefully hidden. He had never been this honest with himself, let alone her. "After I’d literally told you that I loved you, Mena. You know deep down that I could’ve given you more than he ever could."

His chest tightened with the weight of his words, the air around them thick with unspoken things. He paced for a moment, trying to ground himself, but the truth still burned in his veins, too hot to ignore.

"So I lay my heart out on the line, all open, all raw, and all you had to say was that you loved me too, but you couldn’t say anything... because you were scared it wouldn’t work out?" Milo’s laugh was dry, humorless. It felt like an echo of something they had both been running from—repeated over and over, haunting them both as though it was just some distant, forgotten moment. But it wasn’t. It was everything. And now, he was left to replay it again, not because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t stop himself.

He turned back to her, the air growing heavier as the space between them seemed to shrink, the tension crackling. "I didn’t leave you behind, not in the way you think. I wasn’t just walking away. I was trying to protect myself, trying to survive you." His voice softened, but there was no doubt in it. The honesty hung in the air like a storm about to break. "Do you know how hard it is to see you? To see your face and feel this… this pull, like gravity? Every part of me screaming to be close to you, to kiss you, to hold you. And when you touch me, Mena, it feels like I’ve found home in your skin. Every time you speak, it’s like the whole world falls away and I just want your voice to be the only thing I hear for the rest of my life. I am so in love with you—so completely, impossibly in love with you—that I can’t even begin to imagine a world where I don’t think of you.” He stopped, his chest heavy.

Mena. The way he said her name was enough for her to unravelled, to doubt everything she had done and thought. Milo was the only one who could say her name and create such a turmoil and in that moment, she hated it. It was breaking the barrier of her anger and instead exposing something that run much deeper and made her far too vulnerable for her liking. She was exposed, her heart for everyone to see and yet, it seemed like Milo was blind to it, that he couldn't read it and her like he had once been able to. She shouldn't have followed him, should have left him to turn her back on her for a second time.

She knew there was a huge part of all this that was unfair to Milo. If he meant what he said that night, what he did, Mena knew that her not leaving James right away must have felt like a betrayal. Even then, as she stayed with her boyfriend, even if her heart and body were no longer in it and kept far from him, she knew that to Milo, it could seemed otherwise. That was the problem, they hadn't talked about it, about them. The moment between them happened and then it passed and they did nothing. "I wasn't happy," she murmured. "I was withdrawn from him." Not that any of that could erase any of the hurt it had done to Milo.

"I was choosing you Milo," she shot back at him. It was true, the time she was thinking was to mull everything over but she knew the choice she wanted to make. "I was afraid of what it would do to us, what would happened if it didn't work out." And that was why she had been slow to act. But as she said the words, she realized for the first time the weight of it all, that what happened between them had ruined what they had. "You left me behind Milo. If that isn't making me feel like I'm not enough, I don't know what it." There was no anger in her words, no bite to them, only the bare truth of what it had done to her, the rawness of her feelings. "What we did broke everything we had. Maybe we were never meant for that." It hurt to say the words, the ones she had thought often but never wanted to be true. She loved Milo like she had never loved anyone else. For years he had made her feel so good and had been everything she held on dearly. But now, as she looked at him, possibly as broke as she was by their actions, she didn't know how they could ever go back to the people they once were. Their feelings hadn't been enough to hold them together, hadn't been the glue she wanted. "I loved you," she said softly, knowing that it hadn't been enough or shown at all, unsure of which one it was. All she felt now was that the love she had was not enough to sustain them.

[tinyozlion]

I'm continuing on my journey through the broader Gundam franchise, and I think War in the Pocket might be the best and most complete Gundam/MS/ real-robots genre movie one could make. It's feels like a perfect summation of the themes of the series, the world building, the atmosphere, the moral ambiguity, the horror, melancholy, and bittersweet hopefulness born out of grief and human perseverance. It uses the audience's awareness of danger and concern for the characters to passively build up tension the same way the best horror stories and classic tragedies do; it makes the stakes feel SO real and it delivers such an absolute gut punch with each fully-earned consequence. It's one of those perfect stories that fills in the all important empty space between major events and main characters that reaches its maximum poignancy because it takes place in the background of larger events that are already familiar. It answers the question "what was happening all the time, everywhere else, to everyone else."

I think if there's anyone watching gundam shows who finds themselves taken out of the story because they're hung up thinking like, "yeah but what would MS combat really look like if you didn't pull any punches?" (exactly as horrific and gruesome as most mechanized violence is, combined with the unique awfulness of space physics), or "what would it really be like to live on a space colony where mobile suit battles were a constant threat to your way of life?" (you'd become worryingly desensitized and resigned very quickly), or "what if the various scifi militaries operated with the same bottom-line utilitarianism that you'd expect them to?" (they'd make decisions that are uncomfortable to watch), then this will answer all those questions-- and offer a pretty clear demonstration why that level of graphic violence is generally hidden behind the fig leaf of clean, circular explosions. But War in the Pocket let's you know exactly what's being omitted, in a way that makes one uncomfortably conscious of human fragility in reality as well as in the fiction, as I think any anti-war story properly must. It is incredibly beautiful, brilliantly and subtly told, and fucking devastating.

Man. It genuinely shook me. What an incredible entry into the franchise and what an incredible film/OVA all on its own.

[raticalshoez]

SECRET LIFE SPOILERS!!!

Some Secret Life traditional sketches of Session 6! My digital art was looking doodoo so I tried to fight artblock by going back to paper. MY CAMERA SUCKS THOUGH. Maybe I'll transfer to digital someday.

Edit: FUCK. I FORGOT JOEL HAS THE LIFE MERCH ON THIS SEASON.

Close-ups under cut!:

[bb-eb-db-bb-eb-b-ab-f-b-ab]

i’m going to ask something that no one is going to like. do we really believe kavik outlived yangchen

[introspectivememories]

NICO: WE SHARED THE LIFT THIS MORNING! I WAS GOING TO THE POOL TRAMPOLINE WITH MY TWO DAUGHTERS AND HE WAS GOING TO THE RACETRACK. PINKHAM: VERY DIFFERENT LIVES YOU'RE CURRENTLY LEADING.

[vaguely-concerned]

I was just ambushed within the turbulent halls of my own mind by some headcanons about rye ingellvar's childhood that did 15000000 points of psychic damage to me and my heart personally and also made me almost sure of how I want to play it all at the end (very very differently from how I imagined going in!). some 'oh holy fuck this changes everything' rocking my own world bullshit going on in my neurons right now I'm reeling

[timothyslucy]

“you scared me." 🤝 “yeah i about had a heart attack.” 🤝 “i can’t lose you the way i lost her.”

the holy trinity.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

idk if theres any character trope that makes me more insane than the knight/guard dog…… the character who is eternally devoted and entirely loyal to one specific person to the point where its self destructive but they genuinely do not care even a little bit

[hermit-frog]

god the visuals and sound design in this movie, i want to scream. think that last time i've been this hyperaware of my own body was while watching the martyrs (2008). (my dad made me to watch it when i was in the middle school lmao yay trauma) it haunts me to this day. but my distress was caused by the visuals and the idea itself, while with the nosferatu movie, it's the sounds (visually, didn't find the movie scary). got so focused on his breathing that didn't even notice the soundtrack, which is unlike me. it's the ✨Count Orlok effect✨ jk, but if you've seen the movie, you know what i'm talking about. nosferatu, the chasing scene, possession… not going to lie, i was struggling with those parts because of how conscious my breathing felt, which made the whole experience suffocating and dizzying. have you ever felt claustrophobic inside your own body?

[silverislander]

actually i am going to elaborate on that psychoanalyzing blorbo post from days ago lol. long story short i've been trying since abt september to kind of start getting my shit together, maybe get into some kind of club or hobby that will help me work on my anxiety, maybe do some bucket list kind of stuff i've been putting off. and then last month mom got diagnosed w breast cancer

my Consistent response to things going wrong in my life is avoidance, isolating myself and trying to repress shit, so i gave up on all of those plans immediately bc i felt like it would put strain on my family and i started trying my best to focus on literally anything else bc i have shit to do + people/a job that needs me + i really couldn't face the reality of it right away

and that news came literally days after act 1 aired. so watching caitlyn then go on to try to repress any and all of her emotions/wants in favour of trying to be the person she believes everyone around her wants her to be and seeing exactly how badly that fucks up her life. felt extremely fucking pointed let me fucking tell you