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eddies-ashtray · 1 year

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When The Rain Starts To Pour ⌂ Chapter 1: The One Where Eddie Hates Paul

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Pairing: Eddie x Fem!Reader

Chapter Preview:

“You smoke?” You ask, pointing at the cigarette held delicately between his index and middle fingers. You’re feeling a little awkward for some reason. Maybe because you’re not used to Eddie being silent.

Eddie sniffs, says, “Yeah. Trying to quit.” Then snuffs out the half-smoked stick by crushing it against the concrete. He knows the habit might bother you. It bothers the others as well; Nancy has called it a ‘cancer stick’, Steve has often taken to flushing his cigs in protest, and Robin simply informs him that it stinks. He also knows that you have your date with Paul tonight, and as much as he dislikes the guy, he doesn’t want you smelling of smoke for your date.

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you.

There’s a lull then, in which Eddie wonders why you might have come out here. From the sounds of your prior conversation with Robin, you need to start getting ready for your date soon. Why come out here just to stand around with him in the cold?

CW: Brief discussion of financial struggles, vague talk of poor parental relationship (not necessarily abusive though), jealousy, loneliness, reader talks of being unhappy in her previous life circumstances, probably lots of bad jokes, poorly concealed Friends references, age gap (between reader and Paul), lots of tropes, non-canon compliant (duh—but also the upside-down does not exist), kinda pervy/douchey behaviour from Paul (nothing crazy though, just generally douchey).

WC: 17.4k

A/N: Ah! It’s finally here! I am so so so excited to share this first chapter with you after so long. I really hope it lives up to expectations. I just wanna note that while writing, I imagined the coffee shop and the apartments from Friends, so the decor and layout of each of those places are pretty much the exact same in my descriptions of them. Here’s a link to the apartments and coffee shop layouts if you’re interested. Also, I am going to do the best I can to make this era- and setting-appropriate, but keep in mind that I was not born in the 90s, nor am I from New York City (or the US in general), so there may be some inaccuracies. Anyway, enough of my rambling, happy reading!!

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Next Chapter [coming soon]

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“I’m so broke it’s not even funny! Like, seriously, look,” Robin exclaims before placing her mug of tea on the coffee table and proceeding to lean back awkwardly on the couch so she can turn her pockets out. They are indeed empty–a metaphorical sign of her poverty.

Nancy clicks her tongue from her spot on a sage green chair next to the couch, reaching over to place a coaster under Robin’s steaming mug.

It’s a relatively quiet Saturday afternoon at The Ugly Mug, only a couple other patrons milling about and occupying the various other seats around the small establishment. There’s a short woman with long, thin braids seated by the large front window and a stout man in a purple beanie sitting on one of the stools near the coffee bar. There’s also been the occasional patron coming in to pick up a to-go order–bringing in with them a rush of chilly November air–before rushing back out the dark wooden doors.

“I’m fucking screwed. I can’t afford that big, stupid place alone,” Robin complains, retrieving her tea from the table after she’s tucked her pockets back into her jeans.

“You could always get a second job,” Eddie offers from the opposite end of the couch, an oversized red mug half-full of very sugary coffee in hand. “Ya know, moonlight as a rockstar like some of the rest of us?”

Robin rolls her eyes at his over-exaggeration and looks over at him as she replies, “Don’t you guys get, like, one gig per month?”

“No…We get two gigs per month,” Eddie corrects like the disparity between her answer and his had been larger than it was.

When he realizes that his correction wasn’t much of a correction, he adds, slightly more helpful this time, “But it’s better than just working in the restaurant. At least I get a little extra every month.”

Robin sighs. “I guess…But it’d suck to double my exhaustion just to take another job I hate. At least your second job is something you love...I wish I could get, like, a raise or something,” She complains, head falling back against the couch in frustration.

From beside her, Steve’s hand lands on her shoulder, placing his own mug of coffee on the table before doing so. “Why don’t you-”

“No,” She replies before he can finish.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Steve defends and Robin lolls her head to the side to shoot him a deadpan stare.

“I am not putting an ad in the newspaper,” She states plainly.

“It’s a strategy! How else would you find a roommate?”

“I agree with Robin,” Nancy pipes up from Robin’s other side. “It’s not safe, Steve. There’s so many freaks out there; you don’t know who you’re inviting into your home.”

“I live with a freak and I’m fine,” Steve jokes.

“Hey!” Eddie exclaims, mildly offended, and slaps Steve on the arm halfheartedly. “It’s been six years, Harrington, when are you gonna stop calling me that?”

“How about never!” Steve bites back childishly. All too quickly their civilized conversation about Robin’s living situation devolves into an immature argument between two grown men. It’s almost surprising how they manage to live together and not tear each other’s heads off. Despite their silly arguments though, they surprisingly get along quite well–most of the time.

“Hey! Can we get back on topic, please?” Nancy interrupts, mildly anxious about the eyes of the other patrons on them. Normally, she wouldn’t let others’ judgment get to her; she’s aware that she hangs around a pretty rowdy group of adults, but it’s so quiet in here today and she’d like to keep it that way.

“Actually, I’m perfectly content right in the middle of this. I could use a distraction,” Robin says, settling into the couch beside the two bickering men.

Sighing contentedly, Robin gets comfortable and shuts her eyes, the soft light of the café causing the back of her eyelids to glow a soft orange. The boys’ bickering continues to her right as Nancy reaches over from her left to squeeze her hand in reassurance. Robin opens her eyes again to turn to her and gives her a tight-lipped smile.

“I need a roommate,” she concludes, tone solemn. Nancy’s lips part, about to impart some advice when-

The small golden bell above the door tinkles its charming chime as it opens, and in rushes the late November bite, and a frazzled-looking young woman. As she enters the space, she makes such a commotion that Robin startles and turns to take a look at who’s causing the ruckus. The others turn to the door as well (including Steve and Eddie whose bickering has now ceased altogether due to the interruption).

In her tow is one large suitcase, in her hand is a large black trash bag (the plastic material stretching into a grey colour in some areas), and on her back is a large backpack (stuffed so full that the biggest pocket isn’t even zipped all the way).

It must have begun to rain at some point during their hours’ long stay at the coffee shop because the woman appears to be quite damp without an umbrella or hood on her jacket.

Finally, Robin's eyes land on the woman’s face. In a shock, she realizes that she recognizes her. However, seeing as none of her friends are acquainted with the woman, they’re rather occupied by the seemingly magical appearance of this person who looks to be in need of a place to stay at the exact moment that Robin expressed her need for a roommate. The four of them gawk at the woman with the luggage for a moment until someone can’t help himself and must break the silence to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation.

“And I want to be rich and famous!” Eddie exclaims, gesturing widely to the door. Unfortunately, his wish does not manifest as Robin’s had.

Robin passes her tea to Steve, who takes it without question as she stands from her spot on the couch, passing Nancy as she rounds it. The woman is at the counter now, though as Robin nears her, the woman is not ordering a coffee or any other warm beverage.

“Excuse me? Do you know-” You begin, but before you can finish asking the café employee about your friend's whereabouts, you feel a soft tap on your shoulder.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you recognize her voice and turn around. Many summers and phone calls throughout your childhood and teen years had familiarized you with it.

Once you’re face-to-face, relief releases the tension you’d been holding in your shoulders. After over 12 hours of driving across the country (maybe more, you stopped keeping track at some point), countless times getting lost (your sense of direction completely failing you, even with the aid of a map and any living soul you came across), many pit stops at dank, shady rest stops, and a lot of fast food later, you’re just happy to see a familiar face.

“Robin! Thank God! I went to your apartment-” you begin, eager to recount the story of your travels.

“My apartment?” Robin asks, confused that you’d known her address.

“-but you weren’t there! And I almost left to look for you myself, but then your neighbour saw me knocking and told me I could probably find you here-”

“My neighbour?”

“-and I thought, ‘It’s worth a shot,’, so I dragged all my shit back down the stairs and through the stupid rain and you’re here! But, come to think of it, I don’t even know why I brought all this stuff up with me instead of just leaving it in the car. Like, that was sort of presumptuous of me to show up at your door with a bunch of luggage, but I guess it probably wouldn’t have been a great idea to leave it in that parking garage anyway,” You finish your rambling, out of breath now and slightly lightheaded.

That was likely an inappropriate way to greet her after all this time, but you find that you’re exhausted from your travels and electrified with adrenaline from your impulsive decision to come to New York.

At first, it was nice to get out and stretch your legs after spending half a day in your car, and walk around this new city in search of Robin’s apartment, but now you could just collapse right here on this scuffed hardwood floor.

Robin’s brows furrow as she tries to process your word vomit, but still cannot find an answer for her biggest question. Though she’s concerned that one of her neighbour’s so easily gave away her location to a stranger who was banging on her door and curious to know how you’d found her apartment, she’s more interested in your story for now. In learning what got you here after all this time.

“Why are you here? I mean-it-it’s great to see you, but, um-why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?” Robin suggests, leading you gently towards the couch.

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds great,” You agree, navigating carefully around velvet-upholstered stools with your bags in hand.

A man with long hair and tattoos stands from the couch to take a seat on a chair to his right in order to accommodate you as Robin helps you place your bags on the floor next to the woman with the curly hair and high cheekbones.

Finally, you sit down on the plush orange couch next to a happy looking guy with gorgeous, voluminous hair. He smiles at you kindly once you’re settled in and you breathe out, willing yourself to relax so you can attempt to coherently explain your situation to your friend and, apparently, these strangers.

Their eyes on you make you nervous, but once Robin takes her seat next to you, you feel more at ease.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Robin reassures as she tucks her legs underneath herself on the couch. You nod, taking one more deep breath and collecting your thoughts before beginning.

“So-I know this is, like, totally crazy that I just kinda showed up here out of the blue after, what? 5, 6 years?” You begin nervously, looking to Robin for confirmation on how long it’s been since you last saw each other. She nods after turning her body to face you.

“But I just–I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like this but–I felt like I was on autopilot or something, just kind of drifting through my days: going to work at a boring job with boring people, coming home to my shitty apartment, going to sleep, and doing it all over again and again and again.”

In your periphery, you notice a few of them nodding in agreement and feel relieved at their earnest validation. It gives you the strength to continue your story.

“And one day I guess I woke up? I realized that I hated where I was, who I was with, what I was doing, what I wasn’t doing. I just sort of…panicked. I knew I couldn’t stay there–in that life and that apartment cause it was, like, a total shithole-”

“Why was it a shithole?” A voice interrupts from your right; The One With The Tattoos. You’d been so into your story for those 30-some-odd seconds that you nearly forgot that it was more than just Robin you were venting to. He seems genuinely curious and well-meaning, so you’re not perturbed by his interruption, only surprised, which is what causes you to pause before answering his question.

In the moment you take before you respond, you clock the bat tattoo on his forearm (though you’d recognized his inked skin earlier, you hadn’t examined the art close enough to discern what the tattoos were of), among a smattering of many other patchwork tattoos, and hope you remember to ask him about it later (if there is a later with these people–there’s all the chance that Robin could send you packing).

Finally, you shake off your surprise and respond, “Well, aside from the fact that my apartment was definitely mold-infested and my building had a serious rat problem, my landlord was a total creep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” He agrees, brows furrowing.

“Yeah. So, I just couldn’t live there anymore, or go back to work, and I definitely was not about to go back home to live with my mother–phone calls once a week are already more than I can handle, I don’t think I could take her constant scrutiny for more than 30 minute increments,” You explain, scoffing lightly. “But, um-” You stutter, looking down at your lap and pulling at the skin of your hand absentmindedly.

“Anyway…I panicked and I decided that I needed to get out of there as soon as possible, so two weeks ago, I put in my two weeks at work and pretty much packed up my whole life into my car and started driving without a destination…And then I remembered hearing that you’d moved to New York a few years back,” You recall, gesturing to Robin, who smiles warmly back at you.

“So I looked you up in the phone book and when I found your name I just felt like it was the right thing? Which I know sounds kinda kooky, but it was the first good feeling I’d had about something in a long time, so I just decided that I needed to trust it,” You conclude, squeezing your hands in your lap. “And I know it’s a lot to ask of you, especially since it’s been so long, but…is there any chance at all that you might need a roommate?”

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When you step inside the apartment, you immediately love the place. For one, it’s bigger than your old apartment and even has a pretty sizable balcony (that can only be accessed through a window). To your left is the kitchen with exposed brick, a simple small table with four mismatched chairs surrounding it in the middle.

Just past the modest kitchen is the living area, which is just as eclectically decorated as the kitchen with a sofa, a fluffy looking armchair and an armless chair adjacent to each other, a coffee table, and a television set sitting atop a sideboard. Two doors are on either side of the living room. To the left of the living room is a large window (complete with a cozy looking window seat) which looks out onto the balcony.

You marvel at the place as Robin leads through the apartment, the rest of the crew following in behind you two before the door slams shut and you enter what appears to be a bedroom slash storage space. Despite the bed in the middle, there are things strewn about on the floor, seemingly haphazardly tossed in here and forgotten about.

After introductions to the group (you now know their names and the fact that Eddie and Steve live across the hall, while Nancy lives a few blocks away), Robin had informed you the available room at her place might be a bit of a mess since she’s been using it as storage space for a while. The only guests she has live close by enough that sleepovers were a rarity.

“So, this’ll be your room,” Robin explains, rolling your bursting suitcase inside it. Steve enters last, dropping your trash bag full of clothes to the yellow-ish hardwood floor and you do the same with your backpack.

It’s a fairly nice room; a simple square spacious enough to fit the queen size bed and a side table, while also allowing extra room still for a chest of drawers and vanity (which you will eventually add to the room).

Though anything without rats, mold, and a creepy landlord would be an improvement, this place is a definite upgrade from your last and you find yourself containing a joyous squeal as you take it all in. You’ve never been a fan of change–enjoying the comfort of familiarity instead–and have always agonized over every decision you’ve made, but for once, you have no doubts about your decision to come here. This actually feels like the first real decision you have ever made.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When Steve opens the building's front door, the smell of fresh rain and pavement hangs in the air, an oddly nostalgic scent. It reminds you of childhood, of early mornings at summer camp with Robin.

The sun hangs low and bright orange in the sky–it’s getting late so you’ll probably only be able to make one trip to your car and back before the sun goes down, and then have to collect the rest of your things tomorrow.

Though you grabbed as much as you could carry from your car (which remains parked in a garage about three blocks away) before going in search of Robin’s apartment, you obviously couldn’t take everything with you, so the bags you just dropped off at your new place were only a fraction of the things packed away in your vehicle.

Robin’s friends kindly offered to help you drag the rest of your belongings back to her apartment. Since none of them have a car, and it is apparently nearly impossible to find parking in this city, you have no choice but to carry everything back by hand.

You lead the way to the parking garage, Robin at your side and the rest of the gang following behind you.

As you walk through the city, past storefronts, HELP WANTED signs in windows, and people with briefcases in long coats and giant scarves walking briskly like they have someplace important to be, you’re reminded of an imperative piece of information.

“Robin?” You say as you cross the street.

“Hm?”

“I don’t have a job here.”

The whole reason Robin was looking for a new roommate in the first place was because she can no longer afford her place on her own. And you, as her new roommate, have been recruited to help solve that problem for her. But without a job, and a bank account that is less than impressive, you’re on the clock to find a new job–and fast.

“You can work at Hannigan’s with Eddie and I!” She offers excitedly, her hand smacking your arm in her enthusiasm. Sorry! She apologizes quickly before continuing: “We’ve been working there forever, I can put in a good word for you with the owner.”

“That sounds great…But what’s ‘Hannigan’s’?” You ask, because in her haste to offer a solution to your little problem, she had left out vital information. Eddie pipes up from the rear and steps forward so he can walk in step with you and Robin as he answers your question.

The way the sun hits him from behind outlines his body in a soft orange halo, causing his long hair to shine in the early evening light. This lighting softens his features, making him look angelic and pretty as his pale skin glows. You find yourself content watching him as he speaks.

“It’s one of those fancy upscale restaurants. The tips are usually pretty good, but sometimes you gotta endure some light harassment to get them,” Eddie explains, and when he sees the apprehensive look on your face, he jumps to reassure you: “Sometimes we get to take home leftovers though.”

“By ‘get to take’, he means steal,” Steve corrects and you look to Robin for confirmation.

She just shrugs. “They’d go to waste anyway.”

“I guess I’ll just have to invest in some armour, then,” You say, implying that physical armour could somehow protect you from rude customers. Eddie smiles at that, a dimple carving into his cheek. Briefly, you note how charming his smile is, but before you can stare too long, Robin grabs your attention by lightly elbowing you.

“Don’t worry, snooty rich people can’t be as bad as Harrington's snotty children,” She says.

“Oh! You have kids?” You wonder, turning to Steve as he strides along casually a few steps behind you, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets.

“No, not yet. I work at one of the preschools in the area,” Steve supplies.

“Oh, nice. You like working with kids?” You wonder.

His answer is apparent on his face which lights up instantly at the question. “Love it. The kids are really great, and so much more capable than people give them credit for! People are quick to dismiss kids, especially four and five year olds, but they understand more than you think.” Steve rambles, his passion clear.

“Hey, is this the garage?” Robin asks, bringing your attention back to the task at hand.

It is. The place you left your car a mere two hours ago, nervous and unsure of what came next. But now you have a new place, something akin to a job offer, and three kind strangers and one old friend by your side.

Once you reach your car–which is parked all the way on the top floor–you unlock the back seat doors.

“Okay, so, let’s try to grab all the stuff from the front and maybe a few things from the back?” You suggest, then move to unlock the trunk of your car where the boys stand.

“Jesus. How did you pack all this shit in here?” Eddie asks, marvelling at the trunk of your car which is stuffed full of most of your belongings.

“Are we about to find your kitchen sink packed away in here, or what?” Steve adds.

“Uh, I don’t know, really,” You say, answering Eddie’s question. “I packed it all up so quickly I didn’t really notice how much stuff it actually was, but it’s like my entire apartment is stuffed into this trunk.” You say, and it kind of is. You’re surprised your trunk could even shut with how crowded it is.

Robin and Nancy grab the remaining bags from the back seat, while you and the guys grab a couple boxes from the trunk. Then you lock up and start back to your new apartment.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Your first thought when you gain consciousness in your bed is a thought that no one would ever want to have—especially not before eight in the morning. Someone has broken into my apartment.

Your eyes shoot open, staring up at the ceiling–your new ceiling! In your new apartment! That you’ve lived in now for a solid 48 hours. But your time here may be cut short if the intruder has plans that involve you and a knife.

You know for a fact that it is not Robin because you share a wall with her and can hear her shuffling around her room getting ready for the day, and the person out in your living room right now definitely opened your front door and is now shuffling around out there.

Thud.

What the fuck was that?

Most people in your situation might freeze in fear and simply lie in wait for the intruder to come to them, accepting their fate. Others might run and hide. But you, on this random Tuesday in November at 7:43AM were apparently a force to be reckoned with. The Old You might have chosen one of the two above options, but New York You–the new, and hopefully improved, you–has a job interview today and are not going to let some intruder stop you from making it.

You are not about to have your fresh start end so soon. So, you carefully pull the covers off of your body and as quietly as possible get out of bed.

Inching slowly towards the door, you decide you first need a weapon to defend yourself. There’s no use going out there and meeting the intruder if you can’t protect yourself against them. However, since you’re not in the kitchen, you don’t have access to a knife or any other kitchen utensil that could be wielded as a weapon. And since many of your belongings are still packed away in bags and boxes scattered around the room, you don’t exactly have many options.

Quickly, you grab the first object you see that could potentially be used to incapacitate the intruder. Then, you very slowly reach for the handle of your door.

Twisting the handle as gently as you can manage so as not to draw attention to yourself, you begin to open the door, revealing an inch of the kitchen, then another couple inches which reveals a sliver of the living room. Heart racing wildly in your chest, you decide it’s now or never.

Bursting from your room while brandishing your weapon of choice, you let out what some may describe as a battle cry, startling the intruder in the living room. Startling them so much that they bang their head on the coffee table when they try to get up from where they’re laying on their stomach on the floor between the couch and table.

You don’t have a great view of the intruder from where you stand right outside your door, so you slowly step toward them where they lie.

The intruder groans in pain, forehead falling to rest on the rug below them as they bring a hand to the back of their head. A head with long, messy curls that you vaguely recognize.

Oh. Oh, God.

“Eddie?” You question meekly, lowering your weapon as waves of guilt crash over you.

“Uh-huh,” He replies weakly, voice muffled by the rug he’s practically eating.

“Oh, God,” You moan before placing your weapon on the table and rushing to his side. He lifts his head then, and you help him up onto the couch. He groans again as he sits back into the plush cushions and all you can do is apologize.

Taking a seat on the coffee table, you grimace at his grimace. “I am so sorry, I thought you were an intruder,” You explain, squeezing your fingers in your hand. Your heart still races in your chest.

“It’s-It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Kinda did it to myself,” Eddie jokes, still rubbing the back of his head. You nod once, biting your lip, still feeling guilty because, yeah, he technically did do it himself, but he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t stormed out of your room like a crazy person and screamed bloody murder.

As your heart slows to its normal pace, you begin to wonder what he was doing here in the first place—laying on the living room rug for that matter.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but what exactly were you doing on the floor?” You ask, finally taking in his dress now that the situation has deescalated some. He wears red and black plaid pyjama bottoms and a white tank top so see-through that you catch a glimpse of dark ink beneath the material. The sight steals your breath for a moment.

“I was, uh, looking for my rings. Thought they might have fallen under the table,” Eddie supplies, drawing your eyes back up to his face. His eyes are warm and soft. God, you don’t think you’ve ever seen eyes so large and round. He looks like a baby deer or something. A cute, injured baby deer.

“Oh. Did Robin let you in?” You ask, because it doesn’t matter that he looks like a baby deer, what matters is that it is very possible that he simply let himself into your apartment and you’re not sure you’re comfortable with that just yet. I mean, you’ve only just met him and the others two days ago, and have only seen them one other time since then when they had come by to help clear out your new room.

Eddie looks like the guilty one now as he replies, “Uh, no…?”

“Sorry,” He apologizes quickly. “Let me just…try this again.”

You’re not sure exactly what he means until he stands and begins walking backwards in the direction of the front door, all the while making strange noises with his mouth that somewhat resemble the sound of rewinding a tape. He’s literally starting over, resetting, going back in time to try this again because he saw you weren’t comfortable with his uninvited presence in your apartment.

All you can do is sit and simply stare at the strange, yet comical display as Eddie awkwardly reaches behind him, opens the door, reverses out into the hallway, and shuts the door with a slam.

Too stunned to laugh for a moment, you sit in silence for approximately five seconds, thinking that might be the end of it, before a knock sounds at the front door.

You hesitate, staring at the door strangely. But you’re intrigued now by his strange display, wanting to know how it ends. So you stand and stroll over to the door, opening it to, of course, reveal Eddie, who smiles brightly at you.

“Good morning,” He greets politely. “You mind if I come in?”

Stifling a giggle, you nod. “Of course.” And open the door wider, stepping to the side to allow him space to enter. He enters swiftly and you shut the door.

Eddie saunters over to the living room once again, about to resume the search for his rings when he spots your weapon of choice sitting innocently on the coffee table where you left it. He pauses and stares at it for a moment, tilting his head, and you stare at his back as you remain in the kitchen, watching as his dark curls shift and fall to one side, cascading over his shoulders.

The presence of the weapon is new to him since it obviously was not there when he entered the apartment the first time. He also hadn’t seen it even when he’d gotten up from the floor because you’d sat on the coffee table, and therefore blocked his view of the object.

Now, Eddie wanders over to the coffee table, gingerly picking the weapon up like it’s some sort of precious antique, then spins around smoothly to face you. Holding it loosely at one end, he lets it dangle just above the hardwood floor.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at you. You stare back at him, unsure of what’s happening.

“What?” You wonder.

“What were you gonna use this for?” Eddie asks, tone humorous, and dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

“To-to defend myself against the intruder,” You answer, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious about your choice of weapon.

“With a bathrobe tie?” Eddie exclaims, shaking the flimsy terry cloth material around so the long fabric wiggles in the air.

“Y-yes!” You defend weakly.

“What were you gonna do? Spa-day me to death?”

“No! I-I thought it could be used to, like—choke someone?” You say, cringing as the words come out of your mouth.

Eddie barks a laugh. But you can tell he's not laughing at you. He simply finds the situation and your choice amusing. In the little time you’ve spent around Eddie, you don’t get the impression that he’s mean-spirited or judgmental. The exact opposite actually–to you, he’s only been accepting and kind.

“It’s creative, I’ll give you that. But not very practical,” Eddie critiques.

“My robe was hanging on my door, okay? It’s not like I had a knife in there or something,” You attempt to defend, playing along.

“Still!” He laughs incredulously.

“Let me get this straight: first, you break into my apartment, and then I very kindly invite you back in, and you insult my choice of weapon?”

Eddie seems to mull this over, recalling the events in his mind to confirm that, yes, that is indeed what has happened.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so…Ya know, you should really talk to Harrington. He’s the king of wielding random objects as weapons. When we first moved here, he thought we were getting broken into all the time, and this one time he grabbed our floor lamp and-”

Before he can finish his story though, Robin comes out from her bedroom, dressed in some jeans and a striped long-sleeve. She makes it a few steps before she notices Eddie and you standing almost ten feet apart in the living room together, both of you still dressed in your pyjamas, and one of you grasping a purple bathrobe tie. Robin stares for a moment like she’s suspicious of something, shifting her eyes from you to Eddie and back again. They land on Eddie when she slowly asks, “What’s going on?”

“I was looking for my rings. You seen ‘em?” He explains, effectively diverting her attention from the strangeness of the situation.

“Yeah,” She nods, walking towards the kitchen again. “In the dish by the door.”

“Cool. Thanks,” Eddie says, walking towards you now. Before he walks past you to retrieve his rings though, he takes hold of the other end of the bathrobe tie, pulling it taught, and presenting it to you with a slight bow. “Your sword, m’lady.”

Grabbing the tie from him, you thank him, and he continues toward the dish by the door. Eddie’s theatrical and kind of strange, but instead of weirding you out, you find that those traits endear you to him. You’re sick of boring people and to finally be around someone who is so unapologetically themselves is refreshing. Especially someone as interesting as Eddie.

Turning around to the kitchen where Eddie is carefully rooting through the dish for his rings and Robin is grabbing a juice from the fridge, you realize something strange about what just happened. Though surprisingly, none of it has to do with Eddie.

“Um-if you were in your room getting ready, how did you not hear my scream?” You ask, because you doubt that she just didn’t hear it. You were pretty loud.

After taking a sip from the small plastic bottle, Robin explains, “Huh. I guess I’ve learned to sort of tune out the noise. Living across the hall from two idiots who barge into my apartment without warning has kind of become my new normal. Loud, sudden noises aren’t really surprising anymore.”

“It’s worrying how desensitized you are,” You reply, mostly joking.

Robin takes another sip of her juice and shrugs. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there someday.”

“Ya know, I really hope I don’t.”

Robins snorts, approaching the counter where Eddie is still picking his rings from the mess of keys and other small trinkets in the dish, and crouches down to retrieve her tote bag from the shelf below the counter. You ball up and toss your robe tie in the general direction of your room before Robin pops back up and turns to grab her juice from the table behind her.

“Okay, so I gotta go run some errands, but I should be back just after your interview,” She informs and you nod. Eddie goes to leave as well, opening the front door as Robin tells you, “Good luck, you’ll be great!” Then heads for the door as well.

Gratitude swells in your chest. Robin has been more than kind to you these past two days. Before Saturday, it had been years since you last spoke.

You and Robin were best friends at the summer camp you attended as children and remained close as you entered your teen years and later became camp counsellors at the same camp. You were the first person she ever came out to and it often felt like you shared a brain; for many years she was your sister.

Despite your living hours and hours away, you and Robin maintained your friendship during the non-summer months; talking on the phone often and mailing letters back and forth.

Eventually, though, your individual lives got busy and neither of you had the time to maintain the long-distance friendship or attend summer camp as counsellors anymore. Phone calls decreased and letters stopped being written and mailed, until eventually, your friendship fizzled out. There was no major falling out of any sort; the end of your friendship was simply the result of poor management on both ends.

You often thought about calling her up to see how she was, but it wasn’t until last week that you made the impulsive decision to contact her again. And you’re glad you did. She’s given you a new home and she even helped you set up your job interview at Hannigan’s. You’re grateful that she’s given you the opportunity to start fresh in this new city with new, interesting people, but much of your gratitude comes from the chance you now both have to breathe life back into your cherished friendship.

“Hey,” You call, causing Robin to pause and turn to you before she exits the apartment, brows expectantly raised. “I know I’ve already said it so many times, but I just want to say thank you one more time for everything you’ve done for me these past two days. And I know it’s been a long time since we’ve been friends…but you’re a really good friend.”

Robin smiles softly at you. “You’re a really good friend too. You always have been.”

It’s then you rush to her at the door where you embrace her in the biggest hug and hope the action translates the magnitude of your thankfulness and love for her.

“I’ll see you later,” She says after you part, walking out into the hallway.

You sigh.

It has been one hectic morning, and your interview starts at 10:30, so you should probably start getting ready now. But Eddie lingers in the hallway, just outside his front door.

Before you can even say anything, he preemptively apologizes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, eavesdrop, but you have your interview at Hannigan’s today?”

You’re not mad though. Nothing you said was a secret. And so far, you trust Eddie. He cares about the way people around him are feeling and takes action to remedy situations where people aren’t happy or comfortable. That much is clear from this morning. It’s why you don’t dismiss him and leave to get ready. He’s a good person.

“Yeah, I do. Why?”

Eddie takes a couple steps forward so he’s standing just inside your apartment once again.

“Would it help if I gave you some tips? I’ve been working there for a while and I kinda know what they’re looking for, so-”

“That would be great!” You exclaim, because you really need this job if you want to continue living here.

Eddie just smiles brightly at your reaction as you say, “Just let me get dressed and then I’ll knock on your door when I’m ready?”

“Sure,” Eddie nods, grabbing the edge of the door on his way out to close it.

“Oh! And Eddie?” You call out just before the door shuts.

“Yeah?” He responds, popping his head back in the apartment.

“I really am so sorry about this morning.”

“It’s alright. I’m sorry for breaking in…Although you seemed pretty unprepared, so, yaknow, this was probably a good learning experience for you,” He teases, that same sparkle in his eyes that had appeared when he was questioning your weapon returning.

You bite your lip over a smile as Eddie winks at you and disappears behind the door, the heavy wood slamming softly shut.

Getting ready in record time, you end up knocking on Eddie’s door across the hall approximately one hour later, leaving more than enough time for Eddie to give you interview tips and for you to walk over to Hannigan’s to arrive early.

As you stand in the hall awaiting his answer, you feel oddly giddy, a swarm of nervous butterflies fluttering rapidly in your belly. Briefly, you think your butterflies can be explained on account of Eddie making you nervous. But you bat that thought away as you hear footsteps approaching and remind yourself that it’s more likely that your upcoming job interview has caused the butterflies.

When Eddie answers his door, you find he’s also gotten dressed in the hour since you’ve seen each other. He wears a simple black t-shirt with a band name and logo you don’t recognize on the front with a long-sleeve underneath, and some light-wash jeans. His hair is noticeably more tame, his curls flowing neatly over his shoulders. Eddie also wears the silver rings he was searching for this morning; three on one hand, and one on the other. The fluttering in your belly intensifies for a moment, but again, you bat them away.

“You wanna come in or are we gonna do this out in the hall?” Eddie jokes when you make no move to enter his apartment, unaware of this strange battle you’re having within yourself at his doorstep.

Shaking yourself free of your thoughts, you mutter a quick apology and take his joke as an invitation to enter. As you do, you realize this is the first time you’ve been inside his apartment. Which isn’t a surprising fact. You’ve only been here for two full days, and haven’t really left your apartment much since then.

His apartment is smaller and you might describe it as drab, but their decor choices are vibrant in their own way.

The kitchen is immediately to your right as you enter, a table to your left, and as you wander further into the room, a counter separates the entrance slash kitchen area from the living room. In the living room sits two black recliners and a large wood entertainment centre with a television set. On either side of this are two closed doors.

The far right side of the apartment has two windows and a red sofa sitting beneath it. Beside that is another door, this one open (revealing tiled floor and a closed shower curtain).

There isn’t much in the way of wall decoration (aside from a lone dart board hanging on the wall and a few posters), but on some of the shelves of the entertainment centre are framed photographs. Some of the photos feature what appears to be two younger versions of Steve and Eddie, presumably taken in high school. In one photo, Eddie has his arm around Steve’s shoulder and they both hold beer cans in their hands. Eddie smiles cheekily for the camera, while Steve puts on a faux grimace at his friends close proximity.

Other photos feature boys who appear to be much younger than Steve and Eddie (possibly siblings?) and there are also photos that include Robin and Nancy, some recent and others clearly taken years ago. Another includes Steve and Eddie carrying a boy with curly hair–who wears a graduation cap and gown–on their shoulders, all of them smiling widely. You can tell it's candid as they all appear to be laughing and unaware of the camera photographing them.

“Who’s this?” You ask curiously, pointing at the photo as you turn around, finding that Eddie hasn’t moved from his spot at the door and has likely been watching you inspect his living area this whole time. Suddenly you feel like you’re intruding. “Sorry, I-”

“No worries. You can look. That’s what they’re there for,” He shrugs, finally joining you in the living room.

At your side now, Eddie inspects the photo you pointed to and a fond smile crosses his face. His side profile is soft, and you spy just a hint of shaven stubble on his cheeks. It distracts you for a moment.

“Dustin,” Eddie says after a beat.

“What?” You ask dumbly, now preoccupied with the freckles you’ve spotted that dot his pale skin lightly.

You’ve never been this close to him before. All you’d have to do to get right into his personal space is take one short step forward. But of course you won’t do that. Why would you?

Eddie looks from the photograph to you. “In the picture,” He explains, nodding to the framed image. “That’s Dustin. It was taken at his high school graduation, like, two years ago? He’s a good kid…Well, he’s not really a kid anymore, but I guess it still feels like that sometimes.”

“How do you know him?” You hear yourself say. The kid looks like he’s about five years younger than Eddie and Steve, so naturally you’re curious about how they know him.

You’re supposed to be here getting pointers for your job interview, but instead, you find that you’re more interested in the details of Eddie’s life.

“Uh, we were in high school together and I had this club that he was a part of,” Eddie explains, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What kind of club?” You wonder, electing to ignore the fact that he somehow attended high school with this kid.

He seems reluctant to provide you with an answer to your question. Up until now, he’s been a pretty open book; someone who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. But now all of the sudden, he’s guarded?

“I won’t judge, yaknow,” You reassure, because you won’t, but also because his reluctance to reveal what sort of club he ran makes you all the more curious to find out.

Eddie side eyes you, squinting. He must determine that your remark is genuine because he straightens up from where he’d bent slightly to view the photo and provides you with an answer.

“Ever heard of DnD? Dungeons and Dragons?”

You furrow your brows for a moment, vaguely recognizing the name, but not remembering why.

“Oh!” You exclaim after a beat. “Yes! Was that the one that people were freaking out about years ago cause they thought it caused Satanism?”

Eddie snaps his fingers as he responds, “That’s the one.”

Then, he glances back at the photograph, and you think you can almost make out memories behind his eyes. Fond ones. You lean forward slightly, trying to catch his eyes again.

“You still play?”

Your question shakes him out of his momentary reverie, and he looks to you once again. “Not as much as I used to…But Dustin and the other guys and I try to organize a couple meetings throughout the year. It’s hard though because everyone’s kinda spread out now. And busy.”

His tone is wistful as he continues to glance around at the photos sitting on the shelf. Had you just upset him? First, you assist him in banging his head against your coffee table and now you’re potentially causing him some emotional pain too! Good going.

You’re about to apologize or change the subject, but Eddie speaks before you can. “Anyway! We should probably talk about your interview now. How long do we have?”

Looking around the room to find a clock, you spot one by the door. The little hand points toward the nine and the large hand points toward the six.

“About a half hour before I should get going,” You respond, turning back to Eddie as he takes a seat on one of the recliners behind you. You sit down as well.

“Great. So…do you have any questions first?” Eddie asks, unsure where to start.

“Uh,” You say, trying to remember any questions you had, but you can’t seem to recall any as you roll up the sleeves of your thick sweater, the ink on your wrist and forearms revealed as the fabric is pulled back.

Immediately, Eddie’s eyes shoot down to the action and for the first time, he catches sight of the ink.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” He remarks, like it’s something he should have known. As if it’s been more than 48 hours since you met and it’s ridiculous that he didn’t know.

“Oh. Yeah,” You say absentmindedly, glancing down at your arms.

“Tip number one: your tattoos are sick, but at Hannigan’s, they aren’t exactly appreciated, so you should make sure you cover them up.”

“Gotcha,” You say, rolling your sleeves back down the length of your arms.

Suddenly you’re reminded of your first day when you spotted his inked arms. The seven bats decorating his forearm. “Um…Yours are really cool by the way,” You compliment.

Then, “When did you get your first one?” You ask, veering further off topic. You can’t seem to stop yourself and you don’t know why.

“Uh…heh,” Eddie huffs a short laugh, almost as if he’d forgotten until this very second when you’d asked him. “I think I was, like, 16, 17? I did a really shitty stick-and-poke on my leg–the initials of my band name: Corroded Coffin.”

Every new thing you learn about Eddie intrigues you. Of course this long-haired, tattoo-having, ring-wearing, Dungeons and Dragons-playing 20-something would also have been in a band. Your surprise is likely evident on your face.

“You’ll have to come to one of our gigs sometime,” Eddie invites casually, as if it’s not the most cool thing to say in the world. Eddie didn’t used to be in a band, Eddie is in a band!

“You’re still in the band?”

“Yeah, the other guys live out here too, and we do regular gigs a few times a week…but, um, what about you? When did you get your first tattoo?”

Still gaping at him, you must pick your jaw up off the ground before you can respond. Cool and humble. How is he real?

“Oh, um, I was 18…I actually got it cause I knew my mom would hate it and it would probably piss her off,” You say, a little embarrassed by that fact. You don’t know why you reveal the information to him in the first place. Maybe because for some odd reason you know he won’t tell anyone. Even still—his story was way cooler. Especially since it preceded the reveal that he’s in a band. But maybe that’s also part of the reason you share it. You want him to think you’re just as interesting as he is—though you’re not sure who would be impressed by the information you just shared.

“Did it work?” Eddie asks. To your surprise, he seems invested in your answer, leaning over the edge of the recliner's armrest. As if what you’ve said was equally as interesting as his response.

“Did what work?”

“Was she pissed?”

“Oh!” You say, like a total ditz. “Um, yeah. Big time. She hates tattoos.”

“Is that why you have all of them?”

“No, I only got the first one to make her mad. And then when I realized I really loved it, I just kept getting them,” You respond, pushing your sleeve back slightly to brush the one on your wrist with your thumb.

When you look back up at him he’s smiling softly at you, but he quickly averts his gaze and his eyes find the clock on the wall. “Shit,” He says, a little panicked. “We only have 20 minutes.”

Whipping your head around to glance at the clock, the hands confirm that it’s 20 to 10 and you’ve barely discussed what you came here to discuss.

“I guess we’ll just have to lightning round this shit,” Eddie says, determination set in his tone.

And you do lightning round this shit. In just over 20 minutes, Eddie tells you as much as he can about the owner of the restaurant—Cordelia—who is going to be interviewing you. He tells you how to sit, what to say, how to say it, anything and everything he can think of to help you secure a job at this place.

As you two stand and Eddie walks you to the door, he shoots you a few final pointers.

“Obviously it helps that you have experience working at an upscale restaurant, so, um, she’ll probably ask you about that too,” Eddie says, and you nod.

When you reach the door, you turn to him.

“Thank you so much for your help,” You say sincerely. “You really didn’t have to do this, so it means a lot that you did.”

“Of course I did,” Eddie replies, like it's just that simple. Your brows furrow. “You’re a member of this party now, and as a fellow party member, it’s my duty to help other party members out when they’re in need.”

“A ‘party member’?”

You’re sure you catch the faintest blush across his cheeks from your question.

“Sorry, uh, I guess it just means you’re one of us now…A friend,” Eddie explains.

“A friend,” You repeat. And you find the word involuntarily pulls your lips into a soft smile.

“Anyway, you should probably get going,” Eddie reminds with another glance at the clock.

“Yeah, okay,” You agree, turning to open the door. “Oh, um, where did you say the restaurant was again?�� You ask when you’re out in the hallway.

“It’s um…You know what? Why don’t I just walk you there?” Eddie offers.

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Eddie says with a charming smile.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Cordelia was an intense woman. Eddie had warned you of this, though you had wildly underestimated the level of intensity the woman embodied. She was tall, and wore her long, black hair up in a sleek ponytail, not a flyaway in sight. Her office was large and so neat that you thought it looked like some sort of staged set for a decor magazine.

During your interview, you learned exactly one thing about Cordelia: Cordelia does not fuck around. She did not have time for exchanging pleasantries, and a simple handshake and a “take a seat” was the only introduction she provided you with before she began the interview, which mostly felt more like a police interrogation than a job interview.

By the end, you thought you felt good about how it went, but Cordelia was hard to read. You never once saw her smile or provide you with any kind of verbal or non-verbal communication that would indicate that she was impressed with your resume or any of your answers to her questions.

It was likely one of the most strange job interviews you had ever had. It didn’t necessarily leave you full of hope as you got up from the leather upholstered chair and Cordelia informed you that you would receive a call if she decided to hire you.

Walking through the restaurant–which was void of patrons, but had some staff preparing and setting up for opening in a few hours–, you finally come to the large glass entrance doors, and push one open. The late November chill blasts you in the face immediately and the switch from the warmth of the restaurant to this shiver-worthy weather is jarring. Had it somehow dropped five degrees from when you’d walked here?

Turning right and beginning your trek back home, you hear a voice call out your name from behind you.

You ignore it at first, thinking that the person can’t be calling out to you since you know a grand total of four people so far (five if you count Cordelia—but you don’t) and surely there are other people in this massively diverse city that also have your name.

“Hey!” The voice calls again once you’ve made it no more than fifteen feet from the restaurant.

Finally, you stop walking and spin around to locate the source, and what you find surprises you.

Eddie is currently jogging toward you.

He’d waited this whole time? Out in the freezing cold? With that effortlessly cool leather jacket that is an extremely pathetic excuse for a winter coat and is definitely doing nothing to keep the warmth in?

“Hey,” He says again once he reaches you.

“Hey,” You say. “You didn’t have to wait for me, Eddie.” Because he really didn’t and you don’t want to be a burden or make him think you’re taking advantage of his kindness.

“Seeing as you’re going in the wrong direction, it’s probably a good thing I did,” Eddie tells you, nodding back in the other direction with a gentle, c’mon. You feel your face warm even as the wind whips you.

“Thanks,” You say sheepishly, walking in step with Eddie—in the correct direction now.

“So, how’d it go? Did you crush it?” He asks hopefully, head turned to look at you, and his shoulders pushed up by his red-tipped ears as though he’s trying to conserve heat.

The furrow in your brow and your soft stuttering must be enough for Eddie to understand exactly how it went, as he speaks before you can provide him with your best approximation of how the interview might have gone.

“Yeah, that’s normal with Cordelia. That woman is impossible to read,” He says, shaking his head as you both stop at a crosswalk.

“Right? Oh my God. I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” You say, relieved because that means that the interview wasn’t a total disaster. Is that what that means?

“Yeah, we call her Medusa,” Eddie remarks with a sidelong glance at you.

You snort unattractively at the nickname and just as quickly bring your hand to your face, covering your mouth as if the action could force the sound back in.

“Fitting,” You say, coughing as a cover for the noise when Eddie looks at you, brows raised, supposedly amused by your amusement.

Eddie smirks to himself, barely noticeable, before asking, “Did she say she’d call?” As you look both ways before crossing the street with many other bundled-up New Yorkers.

“Uh, yeah, why?”

“That’s a good sign,” He answers, his shoulders shaking with a sudden shiver. That simple statement allows just a little drop of hope to blossom in your chest.

“Are you cold?” You ask because he can’t not be freezing. He’s not exactly convincing you otherwise.

“Yeah. I can’t feel my fingers,” Eddie states plainly.

“Wanna jog the rest of the way?” You offer, mostly joking.

“Please,” He replies anyway.

Though you don’t exactly jog the last few blocks home, you do pick up the pace, and when you get back you make him some tea to warm him up (and hopefully bring back feeling in his fingers).

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Since your interview every time the phone rings you basically leap over any obstacles in your way to get to the phone, hoping it will be Cordelia calling about your waitressing position as Hannigan’s. But each time the phone rings and it’s a telemarketer, or the bank, or anyone other than Medusa herself, you lose just a little more of that small inkling of hope you allowed yourself to have.

At present, you sit on the couch in the living room beside Robin while you eat noodles; the rest of the Chinese spread sitting on the coffee table in front of you or in the laps of Steve, Eddie, and Robin.

On the plush chair to your left sits Steve who is currently chowing down on some dumplings while staring with rapt attention at the television, and Eddie–who announced his newfound aversion to normative seating options upon his arrival in your home–sits on the floor by your socked feet.

Though the TV is on, you aren’t really paying attention. It’s been just over a week now since you moved in and one week to the day since your interview, and by now you’ve lost all hope.

Privately, you decided that you would call time of death on this potential job by the end of today and start searching for a new one tomorrow. You know there’s plenty of other jobs out there, but the prospect of working with Robin and Eddie had excited you and made you a whole lot less anxious about working in this new city.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Hope surges inside of you despite your intentions of abandoning it. Suddenly, you feel three sets of eyes on you. Even Steve—who had been incredibly invested in the lifeguards running in slow motion on the television screen—looks at you now.

They all knew you’d been waiting for the call. They also knew that you hadn’t received one. Not the one, at least. You wish you had time to get up and answer the phone that sits on the side table in your bedroom because you’d really rather not admit to them that it’s simply another telemarketer.

Since you don’t have the time to reach the phone in your bedroom though, you pull in a deep breath, reach over the sofa arm, and pick up the landline that sits on the glass end table.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Cordelia Hannigan from Hannigan’s-”

And after that you think you black out. Because you don’t hear anything after that. Because this is the happiest you’ve ever been about getting a call about a job. Which sounds ridiculous since it’s just a waitressing job. But it represents so much more. It’s the seal that cements your place in this city with these people. It represents your new beginning.

With that realization you decide that you should probably listen to your new beginning. Trying your best to tune into Cordelia’s words, you hear her throwing words and phrases around like strict dress code and uniform and training and first shift. When she’s done, you tell her thank you, and return the phone to the base, hanging it up with a resolute click.

Three sets of eyes remain on you and your frozen body. When you don’t say anything after one second of hanging up, they get restless.

“So?” Steve prompts, leaning forward in his chair in anticipation.

“Was it Medusa?” Robin asks from your side.

You nod slowly, not believing it yourself. “Uh-huh…I got the job.”

“You got the job!” They all shout in freaky unison. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You think you hear Steve mutter déjà-vu to himself as Robin and Eddie continue their cheering and congratulating.

“I-I start training this week and my first shift next week,” You inform.

And then Eddie’s shouting, “Speech, speech, speech!” with his hands cupped over his mouth as if you’re much further away from him.

“Alright, alright!” You acquiesce as the others join his chant, putting your noodles down on the coffee table and getting up to stand in front of the television.

“Um, I guess I just want to thank all of you,” You begin, feeling suddenly sincere, but still maintaining a note of jest. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you. Steve, you helped me transport and unpack most of my shit. And I have a lot of shit.”

He nods in agreement. “And I couldn’t have focused on prepping for the interview if I was worried about my stuff sitting in my car in that garage, so thank you…Robin, you helped me set up the interview with Cordelia-”

“Medusa,” Robin and Eddie correct simultaneously.

“Medusa,” You correct yourself. “And you also recommended me for the position. So, thank you…And last, but certainly not least, Eddie,” You say, smiling softly when you catch his eye. He smiles right back at you, that charming dimple appearing on his face as he does.

“Without your pointers I probably would not have made it through the interview without being turned to stone.”–Eddie snorts–“And I also probably would have gotten completely lost and wandered into the East River if you hadn’t been there when I left. So, thank you…” You tell him sincerely, the partially joking tone you had maintained throughout your cheesy speech erased completely now since your gaze had fallen on him.

“Good night, New York!” You finish, trying to play up the cheesiness now to divert from the seriousness that had snuck into your tone, and you bow dramatically as Robin and Eddie clap and woop. But Steve, you notice, is glancing oddly as Eddie.

You laugh as you take your seat, plucking your cardboard box of noodles off the table as you go.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“Robin!” You hear Steve call from out in the living room, his voice muffled slightly through your closed bedroom door. “The door!”

Robin’s door creaks open before you hear her exit her bedroom.

“You couldn’t have gotten it?” She complains as she walks through the apartment to answer the door.

“No. Baywatch is on,” Steve replies like his answer needs no further explanation. You snicker to yourself as you button up your pressed, white uniform shirt. You swear you can hear Robin’s eyes rolling.

Baywatch was Steve’s favourite TV show; he never missed an episode—except for last week when a meeting at his school ran longer than expected and he’d called Robin to get her to tape it for him. He decided that now–while you were both getting ready to leave for work–was the perfect time to come over and watch it (instead of taking the tape back to his place since your TV is better anyway).

The apartment's front door–which remains perpetually unlocked when you and Robin are home–opens and you listen closely to hear who it might be while you work on tucking your shirt into your formal black dress pants.

“Oh. Hey, Eddie,” You hear Robin greet, though it sounds more like a question with the confusion lacing her tone.

“Hey,” Eddie says, his footsteps tapping against the faux hardwood as Robin shuts the door with a loud slam.

With a quick glance over at your alarm clock, you find that it’s almost time to leave. The realization sends nervous butterflies to flight in your belly. Tonight is your very first shift at Hannigan’s.

Last week you had your training, which was nerve-wracking, but tonight was the real thing. Tonight you would be earning your first dollar, receiving your first tip, suggesting wine pairings, and probably dealing with rude customers. And all of it makes you nervous.

It’s scary for so many reasons, for more reasons than just the fact that new jobs (no matter what they are) are always scary. It’s scary because it’s the next step in the process of making a new–hopefully better–life for yourself here. For that reason, you want it to go well. But you aren’t sure what ‘well’ really means in this situation.

“Y/N!” Robin calls, shaking you from your thoughts. “Cab’s here!”

Blowing out a quick breath, and trying your best to shake out your nerves, you grab your jacket and bag and exit your bedroom, still feeling those butterflies, but determined not to let them shake you. At least not too much.

Leaning against the now open apartment door is Eddie who’s dressed in the same black dress pants and white button-up as you and Robin. He shoots you an easy smile as you emerge from your room, and you smile back.

His long hair, which he usually lets flow over his shoulders in soft waves, is now tied in a low bun. He’s missing his usual chunky silver rings and all his tattoos are hidden beneath his sleeves and a highly buttoned collar.

Though it’s strange to see him stripped of his unique accessories, you find yourself scrolling your eyes over his body. With his hair away from his face, his features are highlighted, revealing the strong line of his jaw and making his eyes appear somehow larger.

As your eyes move down his body, you note the way his arms look in the button up, how his thighs fill out the dress pants. You find yourself missing his rings though. Something twists in your belly, though this time it’s not nerves.

“Ready?” Robin’s voice asks, once again shaking you from your thoughts. She must notice that you weren’t entirely there, that you were lost in your thoughts because she stops shoving things into her bag to ask: “You okay?”

Ripping your gaze away from Eddie and turning to Robin, you reply, “Yeah!” in a voice much higher than your own. You cough quickly as a cover and repeat your words, sounding much less caught out the second time.

“Okay,” Robin drawls suspiciously. “Well, we should really get down to the cab now cause we probably have about 60 seconds before they decide to leave and force us to brave the windchill ourselves,” She informs, pulling her jacket on and shoving her tote bag over her shoulder. “Alright, you’ll lock up and we’ll see you at the coffee house afterwards?” Robin asks Steve.

“Yeah, sure,” He replies absentmindedly from where he’s glued to the sofa.

“Shit, I should probably get my keys then,” You mutter. If they’re going to the coffee house after your shift, then you can’t rely on Robin unlocking the door for you if you’re not together when you get home.

Before you can walk back to your room to retrieve your keys though, Steve pipes up. You’re pretty sure it’s the first time he’s taken his eyes off the television since he got here.

“Wait, you’re not coming?” He asks, his body twisted to look at you with his arm draped over the back of the couch.

“Oh,” You reply dumbly because ‘we’ apparently included you. You were a part of the ‘we’ Robin meant. ‘We’, as in Robin, Eddie, Steve, and you.

It’s not like they haven’t been welcoming since you got here, but it’s only been a few weeks and they’ve been friends and neighbours for years; you thought it might take them longer to accept you into the group since they’re so solid. A part of you felt like they might still see you as an outsider; someone who doesn’t get invited to their after-work coffee shop hangouts just yet. But they’d expected you to come. Sometime within the last couple weeks you became a part of their definition of ‘we’.

“No, I’ll come,” You confirm with a nod in an attempt to appear casual about the invite.

“Awesome,” Steve says, turning back to the television.

“Guys!” Robin shouts and you realize then that she’s no longer in the apartment. Eddie pokes his head out into the hall as Robin says, “Come on, the cab is waiting!”

“Yep, coming,” Eddie says and you follow right behind him, feeling so many things all at once. Nervous about your shift, excited about being invited to the coffee house, and another thing for Eddie that you can’t quite name just yet.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

The fast-paced environment of Hannigan’s is overwhelming, and while normally it might frazzle you, you find that you don’t mind it nearly as much as you thought you might. It’s definitely a different environment than your last job–a desk job that only promoted boredom within you–, but the new challenge of this place is stimulating.

As the night goes on, the din of the restaurant only intensifies; nearly every table and booth is filled with patrons talking and enjoying their 5-star meals, the sounds of cutlery clashing against fine china, hosts and hostesses greeting people at the entrance and making reservations for customers over the phone for months from now, the sizzling, clinking sounds roaring from the kitchen when the swinging traffic doors open, then shushing when the doors close again.

With just over an hour left of your shift and the clearing of what feels like the thousandth table you’ve waited on tonight, you watch as yet another diner is seated in your section. He’s a tall man, his dark hair styled precisely atop his head, and has a short goatee beard, trimmed to perfection. It reminds you of Kurt Cobain’s facial hair, though nothing else about him resembles the rock icon. The man looks rich–though you suppose most people who dine here are. From what you can tell with the distance between you, he might be about ten years your senior.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, you begin to stride over to his table, though you are just as soon intercepted, a large hand gently engulfing your wrist. You turn and find that the hand is attached to Eddie, his deep brown eyes staring back at you, and suddenly the contact brings heat to your face and a zip of something unnamable down your arm. Both of you retract your hands swiftly before Eddie explains his interception: “Why don’t you let me take this table, yeah?”

Confusion muddles your features for a moment. Why on earth would Eddie want to take on another table? It’s busy enough in here as it is. Plus, taking a table that is not in your section is strictly against the rules and as it’s your very first shift here, you’re not quite comfortable enough just yet to bend any rules. Especially not when they were fiercely outlined to you by Cordelia, who you were sure that if she possessed the powers of Medusa like Eddie and Robin say, she would surely turn you to stone if she caught you breaking any of them.

Since you’re not willing to risk getting yourself or Eddie into any sort of trouble, you tell him: “You have your own section to worry about, Eddie. Don’t worry about mine, I got this.” With an easy smile in hopes of further reassuring him, though you’re not sure of what.

You barely make it a few steps in the direction of your table before he’s stopping you again, this time with a gentle hand at your elbow.

“It’s just that…I’ve had that guy in my section before and he’s…difficult,” Eddie explains, struggling to come up with a word to describe him and seemingly being displeased with the one he chose as his brows furrowed together.

Oh.

His explanation causes heat to rise to your face, warming your entire chest with a strange fuzzy feeling. Was Eddie trying to protect you? If he was, that was very sweet of him, but still, you can’t allow him to take this table for you–even though you feel like you could melt to mush in his grasp right now.

“I’ve dealt with difficult people all evening,” You say. “I’ve got this.”

Before he can protest anymore or continue to convince you not to take the table, you’re walking away from him, your soft skin slipping from his gentle grip.

Eddie watches you walk away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as you greet Paul and hand him the menu. The second Eddie sees that trademark salacious smirk creep across Paul’s face, Eddie’s jaw clenches involuntarily, but it’s not like he can do anything about it now.

Had he had any right to try to do anything about it before? To try to take your table? He hasn’t known you very long, so who is he to step in and attempt to protect you from that creep? He shouldn’t even feel this protective of you, this jealous. What the fuck is going on with him lately?

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Collapsing onto the big fluffy couch at The Ugly Mug, you feel yourself instantly sink into the soft cushions. Have they always felt like literal clouds molding perfectly to your body or does it just seem that way after being on your feet for hours?

Now that your first shift is over you can appreciate how truly tiring it was. Adrenaline must have helped you stay on your feet all night, helped you acclimate to the job, but now that you’re seated in the calm, quiet atmosphere of the coffee shop, all that energy has left you entirely.

“Ugh, is it always this exhausting?” You sigh, slumped between Robin and Eddie. Steve sits on a plush chair next to the couch.

“I-” Robin begins, but Eddie interrupts before she can finish.

“Don’t lie to her, Rob,” Eddie says, sensing that Robin was likely about to lie in order to comfort you.

“Fine,” She replies, sighing, exhaustion weighing heavy in her bones as well. “It is. It’s always this exhausting…”

“But,” Robin drawls teasingly, pushing herself up so she’s no longer slumped down on the couch. “It’s not every shift you get hit on,” She says, wiggling her brows suggestively at you.

“What? Who got hit on?” Steve pipes up curiously, placing his pastry down on the round table beside him.

“Y/N,” Robin confirms teasingly, and you cover your face with your hands.

Eddie huffs from beside you as Steve says, “What? No way! By who?”

“One of the rich guys. I think he’s a new regular–Paul,” Robin answers, a childish tone to her voice when she says his name that makes you think she might start singing Sitting In A Tree with yours and Paul’s names any second now.

Steve’s eyes widen comically and Eddie grumbles something incoherent from your side, but you don’t get the chance to ask him what he said before Steve is hurriedly asking: “So? What happened?”

“Well, he asked me out,” You reply, a little embarrassed from their excitement as you adjust so your legs are crossed under you. Paul was charming from the moment you handed him his menu, all smiles and classic handsomeness.

“And you said?”

“I said yes,” You reply quietly at the same time as Robin exclaims, She said yes! She’d cackled when you’d told her about it at your lockers after your shift ended, joking that you could quit Hannigan’s and Paul could become your sugar daddy instead.

Normally, you might have declined such an offer from someone you’d just met–especially if that someone was 10 years older than you–, but the whole point of this move was change. Change required doing things you might not normally do, it required some spontaneity and courage. Both of which were not necessarily your strong suits, but you were trying. The first step was simply saying yes to things.

Steve smiles, impressed. “Alright, Y/L/N!”

And then, realization dawns over his features and he quickly turns his attention to Robin.

“Speaking of dates…” Steve begins, using the same salacious tone Robin had used earlier. “Robin, how are things going with Alicia?”

Looking at Robin, her eyes widen as she replies, “Oh my God, I totally spaced and forgot to tell you!”

Leaning in closer to Eddie on your other side, you whisper, “Who’s Alicia?”

“This girl Robin’s been seeing for a bit,” He answers easily.

You tune back into the conversation just in time to hear Robin inform, “I asked her to be my girlfriend.” Even if you weren’t looking at her right now you’d be able to hear the smile in her voice.

“That’s great, what’d she say?” Steve asks, jumping in even as Robin opens her mouth to continue, clearly not finished speaking.

“She said yes!” Robin exclaims, not even pausing to tease him about his over-eagerness to hear the rest of the story or give him a playful roll of her eyes like she usually might. This Alicia woman must mean a lot to Robin if she’s obliged to censor her usual sarcastic quips.

“Fuck yeah!” Says Steve as he high fives Robin and you chuckle at their odd celebration.

“Robin, that’s great. I’m so happy for you,” You congratulate, hand on her shoulder, remembering when you were teens and she never thought she’d get to have a girlfriend. Robin smiles sheepishly now.

What a satisfying end to the day. You’re exhausted, but at the same time exhilarated. It feels like things are finally falling into place, like you’d been putting together a puzzle and some of the pieces had gone missing. But you’ve found some of them, and now you’re sliding them into their places. And they fit. For the first time, you feel like you fit, and that makes you believe that everything is going to be okay–that you’re going to be okay.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“So,” Robin drawls as she places two juices on the kitchen table in front of you, one for her and one for you. “Where’s he taking you?”

“I don’t know yet, actually. All I know is that it’s ‘somewhere nice’ and he’s going to be picking me up at 7:30-ish,” You reply as you twist the cap off your drink.

“Mysterious,” Robin comments after taking a sip of her juice.

“Your date’s tonight?” Steve asks as he wanders into the kitchen and sticks his head into the fridge, likely scouring the shelves for a snack.

“Yeah, why?”

Steve stands from his bent position inside the fridge and turns to you and Robin, a slice of cold pizza in hand. “Mine too! Gonna bring her her favourite flowers, take her to her favourite restaurant, go see the tree at Rockefeller–the whole shebang.”

Steve takes a giant bite out of his pizza slice, then slides over to the table and steals Robin’s drink. She makes a disgusted face at him in protest and pushes the drink away from her when he places it back on the table after taking a healthy swig.

“That’s really sweet, Steve. I’m sure she’ll have a great time,” You tell him genuinely.

“Ugh!” Robin groans, drawing your attention away from Steve as her head falls back on her shoulders dramatically. “Stop talking about dates! I haven’t seen Alicia in three days and I have a shift tonight,” She complains, pouting.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Steve mutters, taking his slice with him into the living room where he joins Eddie and Nancy–who sit on the armchair and couch, reading and writing, respectively.

“Whatever,” Robin replies, slumping down in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Aren’t you seeing her tomorrow?” You ask though you know the answer because it’s all that she’s talked about since she last saw Alicia. You’re sure you could pick the girl out of a crowd without ever having seen her just from everything Robin has spewed to you about her. It’s nice to see her happy.

“Yeah,” Robin says, tone solemn.

“Why do you sound disappointed?” You wonder with a chuckle.

“Because tomorrow is not right now,” Robin explains and you snort at her impatience to see her girlfriend again.

God, you don’t remember the last time you felt that way about someone; wanting to be around them all the time, missing them the second they left your side. Maybe it was college the last time you’d felt that way? You haven’t really dated since then. That one disastrous blind date your previous co-workers set you up on does not count. You’d actually prefer to block it out of your memory.

Robin sighs. “Anyway, I should hop in the shower before my shift,” She says as she stands and heads to the bathroom. She’s genuinely bummed that she won’t get to see Alicia until tomorrow

“Have fun,” You joke, head falling back on your shoulders as you watch her walk into the bathroom upside-down. You think you hear a sarcastic ha-ha from her before the door shuts.

Also upside-down from your current perspective is Eddie who you see sliding the window to the balcony open before ducking under it and going out onto the balcony.

He’s been off all night. While usually he would be cracking jokes and being his usual over-dramatic, loud self, tonight he was uncharacteristically quiet, keeping to himself. You’ve spent enough time around him by now to tell when something might be up with him.

Standing and grabbing the large throw blanket tossed over one end of the couch, you wrap it around yourself before going to the window, sliding it open again and carefully ducking under it as you step out into the chilly night.

The remnants of winter's early sunset remains on the horizon, lining the city in a dark blue hue while the sky above and beyond that is blanketed by blackness and a dull smattering of stars. That’s the one thing you miss about living in a small town; the lack of light pollution allowed for the stars in the sky to burn bright. Here, it’s impossible to make out a constellation from the street. You suppose the city lights are as close to stars as you’ll get out here.

Eddie leans against the brick and concrete balcony wall, his forearms perched on the cold surface, watching the city as plumes of cigarette smoke swirl around his head. He turns to look at you when he hears you approaching, tucking his chin to his shoulder.

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you.

“Um,” Eddie begins, unsure of how to phrase this so it doesn’t sound like he’s shooing you off. Just because he doesn’t understand why you’re out here with him doesn’t mean he wants you to leave. He enjoys your company, wants to be around you more. As much as possible, actually. “Did-did you need something?”

You hesitate for a moment, before saying, “No. No, I just wanted to come check on you.” Though it sounds more like a question. Like you’re prompting him gently.

“Oh. Okay,” Eddie replies, surprised and not sure what else to say to that. You’re so thoughtful and observant it makes his chest hurt.

Eddie can feel you examining his face closely and he lets you, continuing to stare out at the city below.

“I can leave if you-”

“No,” Eddie replies suddenly before you can even finish your sentence, his eyes finding yours as he says it. Your eyes are wide, expectant. “I mean-no. You’re good.”

“Okay,” You say, settling in beside him.

The conversation tapers off again and you’re left with the sounds of honking cars, the muffled racket of people talking in the street below, the robust sound of a public bus stopping down at the corner. A harsh wind kisses your cheeks, likely staining Eddie’s pink.

He feels awkward. He’s never felt awkward around you before. Not even when you almost strangled him that one morning and he smashed his head against the coffee table. Maybe it’s because of everything going on in his head right now.

An odd tension sizzles between you. He can feel its strength, more fierce than the wind. But it’s elusive, an enigma he can’t quite grasp. He wants not to think about it and tries not to since he can’t do anything about it anyway.

“How are you adjusting?”

“Are you okay?”

You both break the silence at the same time. A smile breaks across your face and Eddie blows a harsh breath out through his nose.

“Sorry, you go first,” Eddie offers.

“I just-are you alright?” You rush out after a brief pause, seemingly self-conscious of the question, though Eddie could never imagine why. “I just thought you maybe seemed a bit off in there…And, like, usually when people separate from the pack, it might mean something’s up,” You explain slowly, that almost inquisitive tone appearing in your voice again.

Eddie side eyes you, your perceptiveness surprising.

You must take the glance to mean that he’s annoyed because you say, wanting to lighten the mood, “...Or they just want to be left the hell alone.”

Eddie snorts, turning his body to face yours now, his right hip pressed into the cold concrete wall with his elbow resting atop it. You mirror his stance, adjusting the fluffy blanket around you as you go.

“But I find it usually means the first thing….And-and a lot of the time I don’t think that people really want to be left alone, even if they say they do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie teases lightly, wanting to shift the focus away from himself. He can’t tell you what’s wrong.

“Mhm,” You nod, playing along with his teasing by holding your head high as if you have all the wisdom in the world to offer. But then your expression changes. Just slightly, but Eddie sees it. What you say next isn’t teasing, what you say next is from your soul.

“I think what they really want—more than anything—is to not have to be alone ever again,” You say, and it’s like a shadow passes over your face. He notes the change in your eyes; like you’re living a past feeling.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees after a beat, tone the furthest from teasing it’s ever been. Both because he knows the feeling, but also because he doesn’t want you to feel alone in it. Because he can tell you’ve been really lonely before. And he hates that his evasion of your question made you recall that loneliness.

That look in your eyes disappears, and you seem to shake out of it easily as you look him in the face and ask, “What are you thinking?”

It’s a pretty innocuous question. But right now, at this moment, it holds more weight.

“I’m thinking that…you’re right. I guess I’ve just been in my head.”

He wasn’t planning on revealing that. He doesn’t even know why he said anything. It’s like you pulled it out of him. It’s like he can’t resist.

“Yeah? About what?” You ask, eyes searching his.

He can’t tell you. He wishes he could, but he can’t. It would be such a jerk move to tell you before your date. And it’s not like he could have told you earlier either. Not after the promise he’d made. He already feels like he’s said too much.

“We don’t have to talk about it. I get it,” You say after he doesn’t reply.

But you don’t sound hurt. Instead, you sound sincere in your acceptance of the fact that he doesn’t want to say anything. It makes him want to tell you even more. Your sincere kindness, your thoughtfulness, it makes him ache. How can he not be honest with you? Especially when you’ve been so honest with him.

In order to honour his previous promise, Eddie layers the truth in a sheer veil of lies, concealing parts of the truth, while revealing others.

“There’s-there’s this girl,” Eddie begins, working out how he’s going to weave lies in with the truth. “But one of the guys from my band–Jeff–asked her out recently…And I-”

“You like her too?” You guess. You’d known from the secret smile that crept onto his face; fond but sad.

Eddie nods slowly, relieved that he didn’t have to say the words aloud himself. Like saying them would make it more real, would confirm what he already knows.

“But Jeff asked her out first. So I don’t have a right to…to feel the way I do about it,” Eddie explains, navigating his way around the truth. He’s lying to you almost as much as he’s lying to himself. “And it would be wrong to tell her now. I’d be betraying Jeff’s trust.” It’s not Jeff’s trust he’d be betraying.

You sigh, stumped. “I’m sorry, that’s hard…tell me about her?” You ask, though your voice sounds strained.

God, you’re so nice. It’s killing him. He feels so guilty. How can he lie to you about you? He can’t. Not when you’re looking at him like you are. Like every word out of his mouth is the most important thing that has ever been said.

“Um…Well. She’s-she’s open-minded and accepting, a little weird,” Eddie describes with a chuckle, remembering the morning you greeted him with your bathrobe tie.

When your eyes connect, he can’t help but soften, impassioned as he looks into them. Wanting so badly to let you know he’s talking about you, he toes the line.

“She’s genuine. Honest. What you see is what you get with her,” Eddie says. The city noise fades away and your breaths become the wind, your eyes the city lights.

“She cares about her friends. It feels like she always knows the right thing to say, even if she feels like she doesn’t…And she’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

Something changes in your expression. Your eyes burn, searching his intently, looking back and forth between the left and the right. His eyes can’t lie, he can’t force them to. They reveal everything. They can’t conceal or contain his feelings.

Eddie yearns to hold your face gently in his hands, to feel your lips against his, to feel your smile as he kisses you.

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as if sudden emotion overwhelms you, your eyes aflame. You wait in anticipation for his next words as wind whistles around you, ruffling your blanket.

“Anyway,” Eddie coughs, dispelling the tension, and glances down at his wristwatch. “It’s getting late, you should probably start getting ready for your date.”

Recognition flashes in your eyes, like you’d forgotten entirely about your upcoming commitment.

The spell is broken. He hadn’t even realized there’d been a spell until it was broken.

You take a step back and it’s then Eddie realizes you were so close your toes were nearly touching. Shit. Why had he done that? That was almost worse than telling you everything he’d said was actually about you.

“Yeah. Right,” You agree, walking back towards the window.

Eddie turns and leans against the balcony wall, looks back over the city. The wind is the wind, and the lights are just lights.

“Oh, and Eddie?” You call. Eddie swivels his head to look back at you, one foot inside the apartment and one out on the balcony with him, straddling the window sill. “I hope it works out with her.”

Eddie gives you a good-natured smile. “Yeah. Me too,” He replies as you duck under the window and return to the apartment. You close it shut softly, leaving him with the wind and the lights.

Eventually, Eddie goes back inside too, locking every intense emotion that had built up inside of him out in the cold.

As he wanders back into the apartment, he finds your bedroom door is now closed and Nancy’s spot on the couch is vacant. Robin is rushing out of her room in her work uniform while she roots through her bag, mumbling about her keys. And Steve, who’s snacking on some grapes from the fruit bowl on the counter, has Robin’s keys casually swinging from his index finger. Though Robin doesn’t notice until Steve ahem’s, and she snatches them from his hand before reaching the door.

“Oh!” She says as her hand twists the handle, and spins around on her heel to face Eddie and Steve. “If either one of you is still here before Y/N leaves, tell her to have a good night with Paul. She deserves it.”

And the door slams shut behind her as Eddie takes his seat on the couch.

He has every intention of picking his book back up where he left off. Though it remains open in his hands as he stares at your door. He can’t stop staring at your door. Which should be infinitely less captivating than the words between the pages in his hands. And yet it is not. It is far more captivating than any book he has ever or will ever read. The thought strikes him like a bolt of lightning zapping a tree and setting it on fire.

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Steve asks, noticing Eddie’s prolonged staring at your door.

Pulling his eyes very slowly away from your door, Eddie replies, “Yeah, I…Yeah.”

When his gaze finds Steve’s, he’s looking at Eddie like he’s trying to do long division in his head.

“...Okay,” Steve drawls, retrieving his jacket from the counter in the kitchen. “We’re definitely gonna talk about that later. But for now, I gotta pick up Joselyn. Later, man!” He calls as he exits the apartment, leaving just Eddie and your door, alone.

He’s not necessarily looking forward to whatever conversation Steve wants to have with him later, but he’s hoping this Joselyn woman will keep Steve busy long enough for Eddie to avoid the conversation entirely–at least for the night.

It’s been 23 minutes and your bedroom door still has not opened. Eddie knows the exact amount of time it remains closed because although he had tried to focus on the words in his book after Steve left, he simply could not stop looking at your door. And wondering when it would open. Hoping it would open. Estimating when it would open by calculating how long it might take you to get ready. For a solid three seconds, Eddie debates knocking on it, before deciding that’s crazy because-

The door opens.

“How do I-”

Eddie stares. Suddenly your door becomes the least captivating thing in the room–in the entire universe–and he can’t believe he ever thought it was captivating to begin with.

Your black dress—which reaches your ankles—is simple, though it hugs your body wonderfully. The straps are thin and the neck is square-shaped.

Eddie could equate your beauty to a thousand other beautiful things. He could equate it to paintings and sunsets and flowers. He could equate it to the most beautiful poetry and the most profound stories. But the truth is that none of his comparisons would ever be enough. None of them could express how he feels when he looks at you; like his heart stops and speeds up in his chest at the same time. Like he’s never seen anything beautiful in his life until this moment or even knew what the word beauty meant until he saw you.

“Oh-Everyone left already?” You question when you realize Eddie is alone. You and Eddie are alone.

“Y-yeah,” Eddie stutters, mouth suddenly dry.

“Oh…alright.”

Eddie swallows hard, trying his very best not to watch you like he’d watched your door. But that task proves impossible. And now it’s quiet. And it’s been quiet for far too long as you stand there fidgeting with your shawl looking like that with no one to tell you that you look like that. No one except Eddie.

“Um,” Eddie begins. Great start. He can’t say what he wants to, so instead he explains his presence: “I didn’t wanna leave without letting you know, since everyone else left...But, uh, what-what were you gonna say…before?” God, he was the worst! If he can’t say the word to himself, how is he supposed to repeat it out loud to you?

“Oh,” You say, looking down at yourself bashfully. “I was just gonna ask how I looked,” You explain, waving your hand in dismissal.

Eddie wants to not be the worst. Eddie wants you to think that he’s not the worst. Eddie wants you to know that you look like that.

“You look great,” He says, slightly breathless. ‘Great’ is a safe word, it’s a friendly word. It’s not the word he wanted to use.

You smile softly, averting your eyes from him and to the floor as you say a meek, but sincere, “Thank you.”

Eddie really shouldn’t say anymore. But he loves the way it feels when you get all shy from his compliments. He loves the way you thank him. Like you know his compliment is true, but to hear him say it means something different, something special.

So he can’t keep it in. But he wills himself to reign in his emotions; to freeze the butterflies in his belly before they take flight.

“You-” look really pretty. “Your dress is really pretty.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” You say, swaying nervously on the spot.

Fuck. Shit. Jesus Christ! There wasn’t a net big enough in the world to contain the swarm of butterflies fluttering in his belly right now. It’s downright embarrassing.

You seek out his eyes. And Eddie knows. And you part your lips, about to speak.

“I-”

Knock, knock, knock.

All too soon, your gaze shifts to the front door. But Eddie’s eyes remain on you.

“Oh, that’s Paul,” You inform, pulling your shawl more tightly around your body before you begin walking towards the door. You make it about three paces before you realize, “Shoot, I forgot my purse in my room, would you mind getting the door?”

“Sure,” Eddie says, minding a whole awful lot. But he stands from the couch anyway and makes his way to the door as you head back into your bedroom.

The door swings open, revealing a sharply dressed Paul leaning against the doorframe. His suit is pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. It’s too pristine, like he’s not moved in it, not sat down.

When Paul lifts his head from where it’s bent on his neck, his salacious smirk disappears the moment he sees Eddie. He’s far less handsome with that ugly frown on his face. He looks like a petulant child.

“What are you doing here?”

Eddie bites his tongue. Then forces a fake smile as he greets politely, “Good to see you too, Paul.”

He expected nothing less from the guy, but that didn’t make it any easier to hold back. Sure, he wasn’t serving him in the restaurant–so there weren’t any clearly defined rules here–but you were about to go out on a date with the guy. So he held back.

“Y/N will be right out, she’s-”

The click of your heels against the wood floors sound behind him. Paul’s smirk spreads across his face like molasses as he eyes you. Though Eddie’s sure they don’t roam further than your chest.

A surge of unrightful possessiveness swells within him at Paul’s obvious ogling.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily and Eddie steps aside, fading into the background.

“Hey, babe,” Paul says as you reach him and Eddie cringes at the territorial nickname. It takes everything in him not to shudder like he’s just seen a child pick their nose and wipe it on a pole in the subway.

You hug and Eddie watches as one of Paul's long arms stretches around your waist, though his hand hovers dangerously low before you pull away and Paul remarks, “Ready to go?”

“Yup,” You confirm, with a sweet smile. With that, Paul guides you out of the apartment with a hand on your middle back and just before you exit the apartment, you request: “Lock up on your way out?”

It shouldn’t feel this good to have your attention on him again. Shouldn’t make his heart skip in his chest.

Eddie just nods, sure that if he tried to speak, he would emit some embarrassing sound instead of a casual sure thing.

You smile at him widely, “Bye, Eddie.” Has his name always sounded that lovely?

“Bye, Y/N.” Has your name ever felt that lovely rolling off his tongue?

The door slams shut behind you.

“Shit.”

Eddie’s belly bubbles with a feeling. Jealousy burns in his gut. He has no right to feel this way. The moment he names it, he wants to un-name it. The moment he names it, he wants to ban the word from his mind, shove it inside one of those dark spots up there, and hope it never sees the light of day again.

He made a promise to Robin. He doesn’t get to feel this way.

So he tries his best not to call it what it is and tells himself that it has to be a simple combination of his hatred for Paul and his knowledge that you are a ridiculously wonderful person who deserves so much better than Paul Becker. But this is all he can allow himself to acknowledge.

What he will not acknowledge is the third part to this equation that adds up to this feeling. What he will not acknowledge is the way he feels when you look at him, when you say his name, when you stand in front of him in a black dress and he can’t tell you how pretty you look.

So he focuses on the one thing that is the most natural to him: the fact that Eddie hates Paul.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Next Chapter [coming soon]

A/N: And that is chapter one, folks! I've been working on this for months now, so I really, really hope you enjoyed it. Please consider reblogging and leaving a nice comment or sending me an ask telling me what you thought!

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acoupofowls · 2 years

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Submissions now open for the first print anthology from our small independent press! Submissions close 30th November!

Other & Different

Encompassing a variety of styles and genres, Other & Different will feature stories focused on the theme of other and/or different - however writers wish to interpret that. This anthology will include only adult (18+) creators from marginalised and/or underrepresented communities or backgrounds.

FANFIC WRITERS ENCOURAGED!! SCRUBBED FANFICS WELCOME!

Born on the wrong side of the tracks? The only human in a robot society? A historical romance between unexpected lovers? What is otherness to you? What makes something or someone different? What does it mean not to belong? How do they fit in the world, how do they see it?

Tell us what is other, what is different.

Depending on the length and fit of selected stories, we are anticipating that this anthology will include between 13 and 20 short stories.

Submissions Open: 15th October - 30th November 2022 Publication: April 2023. Please query us if you’ve not had a response to your submission by the end of January 2023 Word Count: 1000 minimum, 4000 word maximum - hard limits Rating: up to and including R/18+ NO Reprints, NO Simultaneous Submissions, NO multiple submissions Payment: £15 per accepted story.

Who should submit - Please ONLY SUBMIT IF:

you are aged 18 or over

you belong to an underrepresented or marginalised community. These include, but are not limited to: LGBTQIA+, BIPOC, neurodiverse and people with disabilities. Whilst we also love stories about diverse characters, it is not compulsory that your story feature them.

We will be donating the profits from both pre-orders and the first six months of sales from release to the North American non-profit Rainbow Railroad and UK charity Rainbow Migration equally.

Rainbow Railroad is a global not-for-profit organization that helps LGTBQI+ people facing persecution based on their sexual orientation, gender identity and sex characteristics. In a time when there are more displaced people than ever before, LGBTQI+ people are uniquely vulnerable due to systemic, state-enabled homophobia and transphobia. These factors either displace them in their own country or prevent them from escaping harm.

Rainbow Migration is a UK based charity that supports lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, queer and intersex (LGBTQI+) people through the UK asylum and immigration system.

Submission Guidelines under the cut and more details on our website: A Coup of Owls

Submission Guidelines for Print Anthologies:

Format: Please submit your work in a readable manuscript format, such as the Shunn format. Upload your file as either a doc or docx, with the file name [story title] by [author name]. Before submitting please check out our Style Guide.

Content Restrictions:

The work must be original. If retelling an existing story please ensure this is wholly your own work and that the source material is out of copyright (for example, fairy tales, The Great Gatsby, etc)

We welcome scrubbed fanfiction, however it must work as an original piece and not infringe on copyright (see our FAQs)

Complete works only, no excerpts or serials

We only accept stories aimed at an adult readership. By this we mean that we do not accept children's stories or YA, not that the work must be explicit in nature

Rating: We accept all ratings, including and up to R/18+. However, we do not publish plotless erotica. Strong sexual content is acceptable as long as it fits within the story and is not gratuitous.

We do accept strong violence and dark themes, depending on the context within the story. These will be considered on a case by case basis. Please feel free to query us before submitting.

Restrictions on bigotry and hate speech:

We do not accept bigotry in any form. Please do not send us stories that are, or glorify, discrimination based on race, ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, gender, age or disability.

We may consider stories that feature these things but do not glorify them. For example, we may accept a story that features a character experiencing racism or homophobia, depending on the context within the story and its resolution. This will be considered on a case by case basis, please feel free to query us before submitting.

Simultaneous submissions: No simultaneous submissions. Please do not submit to us something that is currently under consideration elsewhere. Please do not submit the same piece you have sent us anywhere else while we are considering it.

Multiple submissions: For our print anthologies we do not accept multiple submissions.

Reprints: We do not accept reprints.

Exclusivity: Payments will be made subject to a signed contract which states that A Coup of Owls is purchasing first world publishing rights with six months exclusivity. If reprinted after those six months, authors should note in future publications where the story was first published. Author maintains copyright to their work.

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cartograffiti · 5 months

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November '23 reading diary

In November I finished 9 books, mostly continuing series. I'm also at the caboose end of being very sick with the RSV, to the point that I actually couldn't comfortably read for more than a week, so this is my encouragement to get the vaccine for it if you've been considering it.

Poison or Protect is the next Gail Carriger novella I needed (I'm going in chronological order), and it was very pleasant, but not more than that. It stars Preshea Buss, who was a supporting character in a clique of mean girls in the YA Finishing School series. I can't say I was particularly compelled by her before, but she's been developed interestingly here, now a grown assassin very annoyed to be attracted to a rival spy at a house party. It should technically stand alone, but I wouldn't start here. Preshea's had a hard life, and if I hadn't read any Carriger before, this character's tendency to distrust strangers by grouping them into broad gendered stereotypes could have made me cringe away.

I thought I was pretty far into the Whyborne & Griffin series, but the massive ebook omnibus I've been repeatedly checking out informed me I was only halfway through as I got into Hoarfrost. I was desperately hoping that wintry title meant they were going to the Yukon Territory, which turned out to be exactly right. This one has a slightly slow-moving classic adventure plot of discovering a lost city, and then Hawk did a breathtaking loop-de-loop to use my genre expectations against me.

A Power Unbound was one of my most anticipated releases of the year, and it delivered. That's it, that's the pitch, go start with A Marvellous Light.

For the Emelan group read I wrapped up the second quartet with Cold Fire, which had an incredible creepy A-plot and a lot of wonderful moments for Daja, but a pretty insubstantial teaching B-plot compared to the rest of the series; and Shatterglass, which has my favorite teaching plot of the quartet, and a solid but kind of impersonal crisis plot. I always think whichever of the four kids I'm reading about at the moment is my favorite, but I really do love Daja and Tris's pov voices, and descriptions of Tris's student glassblowing gave me delightful fever dreams.

The Children of Green Knowe is a very charmingly old-fashioned children's book about a boy sent to live with his great-grandmother, and becomes fascinated with the ghosts that haunt her house. I listened to the audiobook of this and enjoyed the story, which is heartwarming and only a little scary, but I was more struck by how well L.M. Boston integrates storytelling into the action.

System Collapse is the newest Murderbot book. You probably already know whether or not you're interested in this series about a security robot who has hacked itself and has to adapt to living as a free individual. I like it but don't go feral for it, but this one is my favorite so far, and made me want to reread from the beginning. (By which I mean relisten, because I enjoy the audiobooks with Kevin R. Free from WTNV so much I don't want to mix formats.)

Dressing the Part by Hal Rubenstein is the only nonfiction book for the month, a new book about how television shows have influenced off-screen style trends. I found it fascinating, with lots of photos and brief, focused entries for a wide range of shows. I'm not a big television watcher, so the amount of detail was good for me, but it might feel superficial if you're looking for something specific. Unfortunately, I found that it (at least the ebook) has major editing problems, with punctuation errors that confuse the meaning of sentences, and fact-check failures like misidentifying Rita Ora as black.

Masters in this Hall was the only KJ Charles book left on my to-read list, and since it's a Christmas novella, I went ahead and asked a library to buy it for me, and had a wonderful leisurely time reading a chapter or two a night and giggling over the lovers-to-enemies-to-"what do you mean we could have been on the same side all along" plot. Part of a series, but stands alone fine.

My brain is coming back, callooh callay, and I'm hoping I'll be able to finish Storygraph's Read the World challenge this year. I have the last two books picked out, I just need to get through them. Also the new Foz Meadows comes out this week, and I want to inject it directly into my veins.

#November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year #reading diary #bookblr

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jooieluvr · 9 months

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#1 Songs on Xdinary Heroes Birthdays🩵

Ok so ya girl got insanely bored and I just wanted to share my thoughts on these cause birthday hit songs match some people too god damn well😭

Gunil || July 24th 1998

The Boy Is Mine by Brandy and Monica

Jungsu || June 26th 2001

Lady Marmelade by Christina Augilera, Lil’ Kim, Mya and Pink

Gaon || January 14th 2002

How You Remind Me by Nickelback

O.de || June 11th 2002

Foolish by Ashanti

Junhan || August 18th 2002

Dilemma by Nelly ft. Kelly Rowland

Jooyeon || September 12th 2002

Dilemma by Nelly ft. Kelly Rowland

My Thoughts <3

I really love all of them. “The Boy is Mine” definitely sounds like it could be sung about Gunil. Mans is sexy!! Sculpted!! A piece of art!! Face card NEVER DECLINES!! PUT THIS MAN IN A MUSEUM BEFORE I-

ANYWAY… I can see two people arguing over Gunil romantically. If it hasn’t happened already 👀

My other personal favourite would be Dilemma for Jooyeon. I think it fits him slightly better than Junhan but either way it does work. It’s hard to explain but BRO!! I listened to this song last night while looking at pics of Jooie and THE VIBES HIT!! AND THEY HIT ME HAAAARRRRRDDDD!!! (That could just be cause I’m biased tho. Mans has my heart. I love him so much! Aaaahhhh😭🥰 Last time I was down this bad for an idol they ended up being nasty😭but that’s a story for another post if y’all want it🩵)

For funsies, Mine (November 12th 2002) is Lose Yourself by Eminem!😅

“Palms sweaty, knees weak, arms sketti, vomit sweater, ready, mum’s sketti, ✨n e r v o u s✨”

(Yes I’m exactly 2 months younger than Jooyeon, I’ve already freaked out about this)

Source:

#xdinary heroes #villains #xdiz #XH #XDH #jungsu #gaon #gunil #o.de #junhan #Jooyeon #birthday songs #number 1 song #I love these #it’s just really cool

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blessyourhondahurley · 2 years

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On the Run

Destiel month prompts: A/B/O / Flirting Random word: bark

(Read on AO3)

Cas fills his lungs with the frigid early morning air and savors the burn of his muscles in motion. Since choosing to stay permanently human, he's become quite keen on the way his body feels when he exercises. He's trying a longer route today for his run, since the short loop he'd started with has begun to feel too easy. At the intersection where he usually turns left to head back home, this time he goes straight, striking off into unfamiliar, exciting new territory.

“Exciting” might be a bit of an overstatement for the neighborhood he finds himself passing through. It's a quiet stretch of suburban houses – picket fences, aluminum siding, well-tended lawns. He hears a loud bark nearby and quickens his pace in case he's just invaded someone's territory. (He's never been chased by a dog on his excursions, but he's heard horror stories from his friends on r/running.)

He leaves the houses behind and then there's a long stretch of empty fields on either side of the road. The flat Kansas landscape leaves nothing to the imagination; it's frost-tinged stumps of cornstalks for a half mile in all directions. He can see the low buildings of town on the horizon. He focuses on the heartbeat rhythm of his feet on the macadam and watches Main Street get closer one step at a time.

The thoroughfare, when he reaches it, is nearly as silent as the fields were. The torpid November sun has so far failed to take the bite out of the previous night's chill, and it seems Lebanon is in no hurry to open for business. He passes only a couple people as he jogs towards the square at the center of town.

The hush of the streets makes it easy for him to hear the car. The menacing roar of its engine rends the quiet of the early morning like a sheet of pink tissue paper. The noise rises and falls in volume several times as Cas completes his loop of the square and turns his feet towards home, and he pays it little mind at first. Then the rumbling gets unpleasantly loud, and a dark hulk of a vehicle appears from a cross street.

It cruises up behind him, and he moves a bit further onto the shoulder to allow it to pass. The car doesn't pass, though. It pulls abreast of him, then slows to his pace. The passenger side window rolls down and a deep voice yells, “Hey hot stuff, wanna ride?”

He's heard about catcallers on r/running, too, and he remembers the advice he read there: ignore, de-escalate, keep an eye out for escape routes in case it gets scary. He tries to pretend he's alone on the road, but the car is a beast, massive and loud, and it's impossible to ignore. He runs a little faster, but of course the driver has no trouble keeping up with him.

“C'mon sexy, I'm talkin' to ya,” the voice calls. “Hop in, we'll go have a little fun.”

“I'm taken, thank you,” Cas replies primly, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Got a boy at home, huh? Bet he can't keep you satisfied. Body like that, you need a real man to take care of you. Damn, look at that ass bounce, shit,” the man growls.

With relief, Cas realizes that the next cross street is the one that heads back to the Bunker. He waits until they've almost passed it, then pivots sharply at the corner. He's counting on his ability to move with more agility than the ponderous steel behemoth beside him. By the time his harasser gets his car turned around, he should be out of sight.

The plan is a good one, but his recall is faulty – the street he's turned onto is a dead end. The driver handles his machine with breathtaking skill and follows him easily. Cas is now boxed in, the huge car blocking his only escape route.

He rolls his eyes and grabs the handle on the passenger door. It's unlocked. He gets in.

“I told you I was going to be home later than usual, Dean. I was trying a longer route.”

“The bed got so cold after you left, babe. I couldn't get back to sleep.”

“I'm sorry. Tomorrow I'll put the quilt on you when I get up.”

“Now that we're in town, you wanna go get waffles?”

“Okay.”

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destielmonth21

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marindram · 3 years

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full transcription of Marin's blog from Omega Mart!

huge thanks to @b0chelly for recording a scroll-through, which i typed this out from. (and warning for Omega Mart lore/story spoilers. second half is in reblog)

Marinknows.best

Location: Seven Monolith Village

Last Login: 12/31/2019

Profile Views: 101,275

About me: I love listening to music and glitter

Friends (0)

June 26, 2018

Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeee!

So 14 feels way different than 13. For real. I think it's because I was expecting 13 to feel different, but sometimes when you expect something it turns out the opposite ya know?

Plus, 13 is like, "I'm new to being a teenager!!"

14 is more like, "I'm becoming the person I want to be." At least that's how I want it to be. I wanted to start this blog as a record of all that.

I should ask Did you guys feel the same way when you turned 13 and 14?

But probably nobody's gonna read this because I'm just a weirdo in the weird dessert. I mean, I know my best friend Jesse is reading this (hi Jesse). Besides her, crickets.

But yeah, if you are reading this and you don't know me - I live in Seven Monolith Village, a teensy tiny town that you've only heard of if you're into aliens or homesteading. And I'm literally stuck. As in, I'm physically unable to leave. My first memories are of all the adults in my life (Charlie, my great-uncle/father-figure - Rose, my what? Roommate? Mother-figure? Pseudo-aunt? All of the above? and my mom, Cecelia. who doesn't live here) telling me that for some reason, there's something wrong with me that makes it so I can't leave a certain radius of where we live. I got older and thought that they were just exaggerating to keep me safe, but then last year I tried. And it was, let's just say not good.

Anyway. That part of my life sucks, but not everything sucks. This year is all about Marin Dram 2.0. Not new, but definitely improved.

And maybe someday, somehow somebody will read this and care about what I have to say. Somebodies, even. Until then, this is Marin Dram signing off and sending my lame contemplations into the void!

July 1, 2018

Things I Want To Do Before I Turn 20 (and some of these will never happen like are literally unable to happen but JUST LET ME DREAM

1. Kiss someone (who???)

2. Meet HTB (kiss him) (jk he would never) (plus meeting him would be enough)

3. Go to Paris

4. Go to Rome (or somewhere cooler in Italy, look up where is the best pasta???)

5. Go to Greenland (why not???)

6. Go to New York City

7. Go to LA (with a dream and my cardigan lol)

8. Go to the Grand Canyon (this isn't mine, but 9, Jesse is sitting right here and she went to the GC when we were 12 and she's like blah blah blah it's my favorite place in the world and you'll love it. I'm doing this so she'll shut up.

9. Live in a normal house with normal rooms → ideally 12 of them: living room AND TV room, kitchen, dining room, 3 bathrooms, 3 bedrooms, study/library.

-plus an upstairs downstairs

-I'm willing to compromise on the number of rooms as long as there's more than ONE for TWO PEOPLE and I got my own

-plus an upstairs/downstairs

-I'm willing to compromise on the number of rooms as long as there's more than ONE for TWO PEOPLE and I get my own room with an actual door. Very into doors.

10. Go to a mall (Jesse says there's a bunch of bonkers ones in Vegas)

11. Make friends who aren't Jesse (no offense, Jesse)

12. Get Cecelia (my "mom") to teach me about business stuff so I can open my own cool coffeeshop/bookstore someday

13. Learn to drive (ask Charlie to teach me, he's obsessed with his truck) (Jesse says she can teach me because she's Little Miss Mechanic and thinks she knows everything about cars but news flash Jesse: you're you get than me)

14. Figure out my signature style- like I want people to send me pictures of things and be like "this just screamed Marin" and for that to be true

15. Liquid eyeliner??

16. I'm stopping here because I just read over all this and want to die/cry because easily 3/4 of these are literally impossible?

17. Kill me

18. Bye

19. Lololol Charlie just came in and I was complaining about this, not being able to leave and stuff, etc and he said that I should visit new places by... reading books?? And I mean I like to read. But dude. That's the dumbest thing I've ever head.

July 30, 2018

Okay so this is what I want my life to look like:

I want a pink room. Not just pink... P I N K. Cool pink wallpaper (floral? jacquard??), pink carpet, lots of pink flowers everywhere, a four-poster bed with a pink silk canopy, lots of cool pink throw pillows. Like, so pink that

people think I'm being sarcastic! Oh, and BOOKS. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and some of the shelves have, like, STUFF on them that isn't books, like gifts people gave me, or things I've collected on my JOURNEYS. You know, normal stuff that people who live on normal places and do normal things have.

If I lived in in this room, it'd be in awhite three-story house at the end of a cul-de-sac (did you know "culs-de-sac" is the plural? Not "cul-de-sacs"? crazy) and I'd wear very classic girly clothes and my hair would always do what I wanted it to. It'd be one of those towns that people call small, but it's actually a city. just one with a kinda small, cozy feeling. Somewhere that gets cold enough to wear cute jackets but not so cold I have to to like, shovel my driveway. Not a non-place with like 100 people where you can't even go outside without going crazy.

August 2nd, 2018

I guess I should explain where I live, for all my avid fans out there! (lol) (hello??)

So like... I don't live on Earth. At least, not the Earth you think of when you think of EARTH. I live in some some weird off-brand version of Earth called the Forked Earth where there are aliens and magic wells of magic energy and everything is MAGIC but like the crappy kind of magic, where the sun never fully rises and some goo called "runoff" has made everything wacky and oh yeah, my mom is responsible for that and everyone here hates her!! LOL

Also, I can't leave! Like, literally can't! Rose says I'm a "special child of Source" and that's why but that LITERALLY explains tells me nothing, in fact it just raises further questions that no one can seem to answer! AHHHHHHHHHH

Anyway, the last time I tried to leave I felt. When I try to leave I feel like I'm being pulled back by something, like you know those old cartoons where someone's on stage doing something dumb and then someone offstage pulls them away with a giant shepard's crook? It felt like that, and when I opened my eyes I was back in 7 Monolith Village. UGH.

I know this sounds crazy!!!!! But believe me when I say that I am the least crazy person here. Also, """here""" is C R A Z Y. Runoff has made everything the bad kind of psychedelic and then people here actually DRINK IT! Not only do I not DRINK THE STUFF THAT HAS MADE THE WORLD INSANE, I also do not talk to aliens (or whatever Nula are) like Rose or believe crazy conspiracy theories like Charlie, so I believe that qualifies me as the most normal person in the Forked Earth, thank you for this honor, I accept this award with humility and grace!

September 4, 2018

I had the weirdest dream last night?? I was swimming in a pool full of cereal, and when I came up for air, my mom was pouring milk on my head like she was rinsing my hair. She had her hand over my face like I was a little kid and she was shielding me from soap getting in my eyes.

Anyway I have no idea what it's supposed to mean. I went to bed hungry and I need to take a shower? Lol

October 16, 2018

I was trying to hide this entry from Jesse, but JESSE IS A NOSY PERSON. She says that blogs are for readers, and if I wanted something to be private then I should "Just write in a fucking notebook and hide it under your bed like a normal person, Marin." I'm allowed to have secrets!! Anyway, I'm making her a freaking playlist, that's why I wouldn't tell her what I was writing about. but EVEN STILL! I'm allowed to have secrets!! But I have this blog because I wanna get my feelings out, I wanna see everything in my head typed out all nice in a way that doesn't make it look insane. You know? I don't know who I'm asking.) Because, it's not like I go to a normal school or have a normal life where I'm surrounded by normal people I can talk to. No one knows about me! I'm trapped in this crazy place and This blog is my only outlet to the world outside. I KNOW that's heavy but it's true! The point is: Jesse's birthday is coming up. The central consistent thing in pretty much my whole life is sharing headphones with her and listening to music. The soundtrack to my entire existence is her. I wish I had money and could buy her the best presents of all time, but I can make her the best playlist of all time. I want it to be so good it feels like magic. I want her to think I'm magic. I had another dream the other night. I don't remember much, just glitter. I must be crafting too much. Or looking at festival makeup tutorials. Or both.

November 12, 2018

WARNING- Weird thoughts ahead, lol.

I can never tell which feelings are normal, and which are me being a giant weirdo. But for as long as I can remember, I've had this feeling like every part of my body that's possible to have a ribbon tied around it, has a ribbon tied around it. It's so weird. I can't see the other end of the ribbons - how far they go. where they're attached, nothing. And sometimes it's fine, because sometimes I can hardly feel them. I can forget about them for days at a time, weeks, months if I'm lucky. But then other times I can feel them like, pulling at me. It's freaking spooky, to have something pulling at you from somewhere you can't see. I can't tell if it's pulling me toward whatever it is? Or if it's trying to warn me? Or if I'm just insane??

Does that make sense? Does anybody else feel that way? (she asks into the void)

So idk I guess this ribbons-feeling is why I'm really careful all the time. Like I'm just a careful person. Charlie tried to give me a hard time about it, and I can't be like "I don't wanna pull back in the ribbons too hard without realizing it and wreck something!" because he'd be like "WTF Marin, do we need to get you help?" But also, more and more, I want to be the opposite of careful. I want to take a pair of comically oversized scissors and cut the ribbons into so many pieces that nobody can even tell what they are any more.

I don't know why I'm such a freak, only that I am. I don't know why I can't leave 7 Monolith, only that I can't. But there must be a reason, even if I can't see it, and I feel like it makes sense that the ribbons-feeling is part of that reason, right?

There's just a lot.

January 15, 2019

Happy new year! Lol I forgot to write on the actual first day of 2019, but OH WELL!

I got this new glitter nail polish, thanks to the monthly makeup subscription box my "mom" sends me as an outlet for her abandonment guilt. It has like, every color glitter imaginable without quite reading as "rainbow" which is fine just not really what I was in the mood for and it's vaguely halographic and shifts into all these different colors depending on the light. I'm obsessed. Anyway.

I was putting on another layer because I chipped it like 20 minutes into wearing it, and all of a sudden I had this feeling like I recognized the glitter? Like I felt this thing way deep in my gut and for a minute I couldn't breathe. It's the closest thing I've felt to how books and movies make Christmas look. Like I was home, with family, cookies and cider and all that stuff. Familiar and safe. I almost didn't recognize that feeling. And it came from the nail polish. How weird is that.

I mean, I don't want to make it sound like I've had this awful Charles Dickens childhood - Rose and Charlie are the best ever and always there for me and I love them a lot. But things never feel like...home. You know?

My mom always says this cryptic stuff about how I'm "special" and I wanna strangle her because I'm not, but you try getting my mom to stop doing anything she wants to do. Rose told me once that one day, I would "lead the charge into a new era of existence and access" because I'm "of the Source" and I was like uhhhh okay?? Charlie mostly treats me pretty normal, except when I ask him questions about our family. my mom or any Dram. He knows that I want to know more about them and he's my only real entrypoint, but apparently he's like the black sheep of that whole family. He and my mom were close way back right before I was born, but now whenever she comes to visit he barely even looks at her.

So that's to say: nobody tells me anything, ever.

January 16, 2019

Okay this is so weird. I wrote that entry yesterday about glitter and then last night I dreamed about glitter. Then I woke up with purple glitter in my bed?? Like not a lot, so at first I thought it was from my nail polish, but it was just a handful of purely purple glitter that looks nothing like my nail polish. SO WEIRD!!!!!!

February 14, 2019

Rose has an old book full of "ye olde" style fairy tales, and I flipped through it for the first time in forever today.

Not so weirdly, I've always been drawn to the story of Rapunzel.

Rapunzel couldn't leave the tower, or else she'd break her neck and die.

Same.

February 19, 2019

I was reading this article the other day in one of the teen magazines my "mom" gets me a subscription to and it was all about body positivity, which is great, but it was basically just like "wear a crop top if you wannna wear a crop top! it doesn't matter what size you are! You go, girl!" And like, sure. Yes. I am all for that. But doesn't it seem like there are some steps missing in there? Like, I can physically put on a crop top and wear it outside. But how do I convince myself that everybody isn't looking at me and making fun of me in their minds? How do I unlearn the last almost-fifteen years? How do I get actually positive about my body, not just put on a crop top and fight the urge to cry all day?

It's the same thing like when my mom sends me brochures from the CEO camp she ten when she was my age (her dad started the camp for her, which is an insane thing just by itself, but she did all the work, which is even more insane) and she's like "Marin, you lack direction for your life" and I'm like, cool mom. Yeah. I can see that. What I can't see is how to get there from here.

March 2, 2019

This is what I want my life to look like, volume 2:

The walls of my room are covered in Polaroids of me and my friends. There are lots of mirrors in all kinds of shapes. hearts and moons and stars. There's a record player and a lot of vintage records by Billie Holiday and Lena Horne and Peggy Lee and Nina Simone. And Christmas lights! Everywhere! Lots of of pink and purple Christmas lights everywhere.

If I lived in this room, I'd have so many friends and be part of so many clubs. My best friend would have a collection of vintage cameras, and every place we go to that has a photo booth, we'd get photos taken. Every time I'd look at myself in one of those mirrors, I'd feel happy at what I see and never weird or sad. (Jesse hates taking pictures, so even when I actually do normal stuff with her there's no evidence. What even is a life supposed to be without evidence? That's not an actual question you need to answer Jesse, it's just a question)

Anyway, if I lived in this kind of room, my mom would probably be like, an art history professor at a liberal arts college. That's how come everything looks so cool, because I would know stuff about art. My mom and I would love to try new recipes together. We get each other new cookbooks for every special occasion, and right now we're working out way through a Moroccan one. Moroccan Mondays.

In actuality, there's a dust storm happening outside and my eyes sting.

March 9, 2019

Here's what I'm obsessed with lately.

Can. You. EVEN???

February 3, 2020

Omg I totally forgot this blog existed!!

I lost the password and instead of just resetting it I got in one of my super stubborn moods (Taurus moon lol) and just kept putting in guesses and jokes on me, it locked me out. Anyway, that's a boring story.

But my friend Ximena is really good at hacking and stuff, so she got me back in. Yeah you read that right - I have friends. Obviously a lot has happened since my last post. Ximena moved out here a couple months ago (X's family used to live here but they moved away a while ago) and she introduced me to Lora who I sorta-not-really already knew, and Jesse and I have been hanging out with them a ton. Jesse kind of more than me. Which is fine!!

Anyway I'm 15 now? If I lived somewhere normal I'd be psyched about almost being 16, because I'd get a car and have a Sweet Sixteen and eat a huge PINK cake, but I don't!

February 16, 2020

I read this fanfic the other night that was written in the second person so everything was like "you." "you're doing this" etc you know?

So... You go to a drive-in movie with Heartthrob Boy, and he spills soda on you by accident. And you take off your shirt ( you have a tank top on, don't worry) to clean it up, bit you're still all sticky and self-conscious about being sticky and HTB like... used his tongue to get it off??? AAHHHHH I'M DISGUSTING

but also I wonder if a boy will ever touch any part of me with his tongue

March 2, 2020

Hi I don't know if you heard but I have friends :)))

March 15, 2020

I think I'm so into painting my nails and doing my hair because those are things that always fit. I don't have to worry about places not carrying about a size 8, or places that carry XLs but when you read the measurements they're actually size 8s too and it's like jesus if that's an XL what am I

My "mom" was confused why I needed new pants because mine still look new, but I showed her the thigh holes and she was like "that's a weird place for a hole, how did that happen" and I realized that when your legs are a certain size, you just don't know about thigh rub and what it does to clothes. Pants could just last for years.

No matter what, I can paint my nails with a different color nail polish on every finger, and I can always do a braid crown. And I know I'm cute as hell, etc, so this is not a Marin Needs to Learn to Love Herself thing. It's just an UGH thing

April 17, 2020

So Rose does all these Source experiments on plants and flowers and stuff. Tbh, it's just one if those things I hardly even register anymore because it's just always there. She's explained to me a million times what Source is/does/means, but the way Rose explains things sometimes is just a LOT to take in and she refers to me as a "child of Source" but I kinda figure that's like "child of God" right? What else would that mean?

But anyway, it's really annoying because dried flowers are a part of my new aesthetic and I pinned a bunch of them up on my wall but I woke up this morning to a freaking jungle of very alive flowers. I freaked out. on Rose, and she Rose said she didn't do it and I was like WELL THEN WHO DID and she said that I did??

Which like. Obviously that doesn't make sense. I asked her what she meant and She just shook her head and said " It's happening. We should have known" which is some horror movie shit that she refused to elaborate on. I love to feel safe and normal!!

Or maybe it's not a horror movie at all. But maybe it's a superhero movie? Maybe there's some kind of origin story I don't know about yet, and all of this will be worth it once I figure out my powers. I wonder what my costume will look like. Lol.

April 23, 2020

Is it possible to die from longing? I know that sounds melodramatic, but I'm also kinda serious?? Because it seems like one of those things that could fester and get infected and kill you. It's like when you fall down and bang up your knee, and you need to put a band-aid on the scrape for a while, but THEN you need to air it out - but how do you know when you're supposed to do each one of those things? And if you do either one too much, your knee gets infected. What if I smother my heart with band-aids for too long and it gets infected? This isn't about anybody. I just keep having these dreams about someone I never expected to have dreams about and they're so intense that they keep leaking into my life and I wonder if I need to do something about them.

May 2, 2020

So Jesse's gotten really into metal music, and I tried to get her to play me something since, AS PREVIOUSLY ESTABLISHED, that's what we've literally ALWAYS DONE with music and each other, and she kinda looked at Ximena out of the corner of her eye and said like "I don't think it's really your thing" And it was the meanest thing anybody's ever said to me.

So later I looked up Zenion, the band she was talking about, and I listened to every single fucking song they've ever recorded turned up as loud as it could go with my own headphones that are better than hers anyway, and I loved it. And I didn't love it just because she said I wouldn't. I loved it because it was loud and weird and wild and when I listened to it it made me feel like it's not crazy when so feel stuff so hard it's like my heart's gonna vibrate out of my body. And I would have told Jesse all this and we could have shared it, but I guess she thinks just because I like HTB and glitter and stuff, I don't have the capacity for anything else.

She clearly doesn't know me at all. So much for any kind of whatever, why would she ever want to kiss someone she clearly sees as like a stupid baby.

May 7, 2020

The dreams are getting weirder and they're happening more. I'm getting scared to go to sleep. Not that the dreams are always scary (they almost never are, or not scary like in a typically scary horror movie way). I mean, I've only ever been me. I don't know what other peoples' dreams are like.

The other night in one I was jumping on a trampoline, which is something I've never done in real life. I told Rose about it when I woke up, and she said "do you even know how to jump on a trampoline?" and I said "Rose, it's not like riding a bike. You don't have to learn. You just jump." and then we got into this whole thing about how some things we just know, and jumping's one of them, and how that's so weird. Sometimes I really like talking to Rose about stuff.

May 19, 2020

So, it's prom season in the real world. If I lived somewhere normal, my prom dress would be pink with lots of tulle and silk flowers at the shoulders, and it would fit perfectly and trying in dresses would be fun and not anxiety-inducing.

But since there are only like 10 teenagers currently in 7MV, were not having a homecoming. Cool.

May 27, 2020

So, mom came to visit this weekend, and I asked her about her prom. She was Typical Cecelia at first, very "Prom is a waste of time and money, Marin. It's a night when lesser people play dress-up to engage with their aspirations of grandeur." And I was like eyeroll forever and just stopped talking. BUT THEN she actually talked to me like a human being. She was like, "I actually didn't go to my prom" and when I asked her why she said that she didn't have a date, and was very self-conscious about it. I almost passed out at her admitting that she's ever been anything less than perfect.

(gonna continue this in reblog)

#omega mart #marin dram #omega mart lore

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juminsmysticmc · 3 years

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hey! i'm the pregnant christmas anon aha. my request was that it was around the end of November and mc was worrying about what to get jumin for christmas because he is IMPOSSIBLE to shop for and also gets the best gifts for her and although she can always find something small to get him that he can put on his desk she wanted to get him something good and he noticed something was off with her and said he was worried and should go to the doctor because she hadn't just had a checkup in a while and then she finds out she's pregnant and she was shocked because she was having trouble getting pregnant. "You're getting your christmas present one month early and eight months late, i'm pregnant" (lmao I didn't think it would be this long but pls feel free to change anything about it, I love your writing <3)

Late Christmas Present

You sighed once again as you turned another page. The luxury magazine you were currently reading couldn’t help you at all, and of course Yoosung, who sat across from you, noticed that you were getting nervous. The blonde man decided to forget about his studies and instead asked you if you were alright. You looked up and pointed at the magazine ,,I’m trying to figure out what I could give Jumin as a Christmas present, but there is nothing that I could give him,’’ you whined. Yoosung chuckled. ,,But Mc, it’s October! Christmas is still so far away! I mean, it’s still warm outside,’’ he laughed. You smiled and told him that you always got presents pretty early. ,,I never buy them at the last minute. I always buy them months before so that nothing can stress me out. For my mother, for example, I once bought her Christmas present in August, ahaha,’’ you laughed as you remembered the day you ordered her present even though you were still enjoying the warm sun at the beach.

,,Besides, if I can’t give him an heir for C&R, I could at least get him a good present, but I can’t even do that…’’ you suddenly whined. Your mood changed as you looked outside. ,,Jumin said that it’s okay that it’s harder for me to get pregnant and that I shouldn’t worry about the company, but I know that he wants children. I mean, the way he looks at children when we walk past them already says it all… he’s just too kind to me and I, as a wife, can’t give him anything…’’ Yoosung stayed silent as you whined, but suddenly he commented that you were maybe too stressed. ,,You should try to relax a bit more. Maybe you will have success!’’ he told you, never failing to smile at you. ,,Me? Stressed out? Jumin gives his best to make my life as comfortable as possible. How can I be stressed out? But you....YA YOU SHOULD BE STRESSED OUT!’’ you suddenly nagged at him, your voice raised as you watched his studies.

,,Ahhhh, but I don’t want to!’’ he whined, his eyes on his medical books again. The deal was that you would watch Yoosung to make sure that he would study since he once whined that he couldn’t handle it on his own. And since you were the only house wife and pretty good at understanding things, you agreed to help him. But studying with Yoosung was very hard. The young boy could get himself distracted in just a few seconds! But after you nagged at him, Yoosung luckily went on with his studies, and so the afternoon passed. After Yoosung left the penthouse, his words kept replaying in your head. Thinking that you could use a day to relax, you decided to put some hot water in your bathtub and relax with a little bit of wine and a good facial mask. The water kept flowing in the big bathtub as you looked through your candles to make the atmosphere better. You chose the ones that smelled like flowers and put them all around the room. You even put some rose petals into the water, as well as some nice smelling lotion.

Of course you first showered before you relaxed in the hot water. The wine was standing on your right as you slowly put your shoulders into the water, feeling the relaxation overcoming you. Classical music was coming from your laptop as you enjoyed the beautiful moment. You didn’t know how much time passed, you just knew that the feeling was just so beautiful. When the water began to become colder and your wine was empty, you slowly decided to get up, careful to not hurt yourself as you climbed out of it. Your hand reached for a towel as you exited the room afterwards, just to see your husband who just arrived home. Jumin looked at you as you stood half naked in front of him. ,,I like the way you come to greet me,’’ he laughed as you blushed because of the wine. You were never the type to get embarrassed. Your husband slowly approached you and began to kiss you. He first kissed your lips, then your neck, then up to your ears, and your cheeks. You chuckled at his warm lips and hugged him with your still wet arms. ,,My love, let’s love each other in our bedroom…’’ he whispered in your ear, going ahead to your shared bedroom to put away the towel from your body and kiss every single part of your body… ,,I will just take this frame so that he can put another picture of us on his desk,’’ you said to Yoosung as you scrolled through your phone.

A month had already passed and Yoosung couldn’t believe that you were still worried about the Christmas present for your husband. Suddenly you jumped up, feeling very nauseous. You walked to the bathroom and opened the door, just in time to empty your stomach into the toilet. Your hair fell in your face as your head was over the toilet. You hated this feeling. You felt sick with every second that passed. And not even Yoosung was a big help. The blonde man tried to grab your hair and patted your back as you finally finished vomiting. ,,It’s ten in the morning. You didn’t even eat so much. Why…?’’ he whined. You let your tired body fall on the ground as you supported your head on the wall. Suddenly your head was throbbing and you felt weird. You were scared. You felt kind of hungry and at the same time, sick. ,,I think I have a fever,’’ you whispered, looking over to Yoosung who was panicking over the phone by now. ,,She said that she has a fever,’’ he whined. ,,Jumin, I think she’s dying on me! She’s so pale! What? I didn’t kill her!’’ he by now sobbed. You rolled your eyes ,,Don’t say that I’ll die or he’ll worry! I’m just sick!’’ you tried to nag at him, but you were too sleepy. You had no energy anymore… You didn’t know how much time passed, but Yoosung was by your side the whole time. At some point he even brought a blanket to make you feel warmer while you were sitting on the cold floor since he wasn’t able to carry you to the bed. When you just wanted to get up, you heard the door opening with your husband rushing into the bathroom, followed by bodyguards and men in white coats. ,,My love!’’ he gasped and took you in his arms, your hand weakly around his neck while he carried you to a more comfortable place. ,,I can feel how hot you are…’’ he said meaning that your burning face was pressed against his neck.

,,Mr Han, please take care of everything else outside. We will take care of her,’’ one doctor said. ,,She’s sleeping, but her fever went down immediately. She will probably feel hungry, so make her soup or a bowl of rice. We took a sample of blood and checked her. As soon as we know something, we will let you know,’’ the doctor said and quickly went out to check what illness you had right away. No one knew at that point that you didn’t have any sort of illness… ,,I love you, my wife,’’ Jumin whispered. ,,I wish I could stay here with you, but I need to go to work. I will be back in a little while,’’ Jumin said. The next morning you vomited again. You were also a bit hotter, but everything else was okay. ,,The doctor will probably call here. I hope you have nothing serious, but don’t worry. I will take care of everything,’’ he said and smiled again before he went out of the room, ready to drive to the company. You on the other hand, weren’t that worried. You probably just caught the flu. And so, when the phone rang around twelve, you expected to be right with what you thought, however, the news they gave you made you even happier.

,,Thanks, Doctor. Please don’t tell him anything. I want to surprise him. I can’t believe it… how was that possible?’’ you sobbed happily on the phone. You quickly went on amazon and bought the frame. However, the picture you would put in there was completely different from the one you first thought… Thanks to Seven’s help, you even got the chance to go to the doctor without paparazzi seeing you.

A month passed by and Christmas finally came.

You with Jumin and the RFA sitting together, eating snacks and opening the presents. Seven had the task of making a video of Jumin opening your present, but you still wanted to wait with the big surprise. ,,My wife already got a few presents this morning,’’ Jumin said proudly. ,,Yeah, I saw on her Insta. What was it? A new bag and a necklace, Mc?’’ Zen asked you. You laughed and nodded ,,And the six candles from the USA. They just smell so good!’’ you laughed and held Jumin’s hand. ,,But here is one more for Mc…’’ Yoosung said. You were the one who got the most presents, not just because of Jumin, but the RFA itself had a deep bond with you. ,,Wait, it’s boring. Open your presents too! Don’t just give me mine!’’ you laughed and took the present you chose for Jaehee. ,,open it!’’ you chuckled, excited what your best friend would say. ,,A coffee maker? Woah!’’ she smiled and teared up. You knew her the best, she thought as she hugged you. Well, Jaehee was also the only one who knew about your pregnancy and helped you this month to hide it. It was her who always managed to make you eat healthy things at business meetings and whenever Jumin choosed to eat sushi, she tried her best to make him change plans. ,,I heard that lately, raw fish is very bad for women. I’m worried about Mc, but I will book it-’’ ,,No need, Assistant Kang, Look for a place that sells well cooked food,’’ he always changed his mind. Yoosung opened his presents too, getting a new keyboard, a mouse and a few things he wished for.

Even Zen got his beauty box from you, feeling very happy about it. ,,There is one last present,’’ Jaehee said and took the little box from the three. She waited until Seven started the camera since he was too busy observing the cute presents he got from you. One of them was a package of Dr. Pepper… but right now he knew that it was his time to work so he quickly took his phone and started the video while nodding to Jaehee. He didn’t know what was going on. Why did he need to take a video? ,,For Jumin, it says. Mr Han, I believe it’s yours,’’ Jaehee said, giving Jumin the cute little box wrapped in a paper with cats. ,,I think I need to sneeze…’’ Zen commented. Jumin’s eyes softened as his fingers touched the written note on it.

,,Your wife, Mc,’’ it said. He looked up to you and seemed emotionally touched. ,,There was no need for it…’’ he whispered and kissed your cheek. ,,Just open it,’’ you giggled, playing with your fingers, feeling kind of nervous. But you knew that he was going to like it. You were sure. Jumin slowly opened the box, careful not to break anything. ,,A frame…’’ he smiled ,,can I show everybody?’’ he asked you, probably expecting it to be kind of… smutty. You lightly slapped his shoulder as Zen rolled his eyes. As soon as Jumin turned around the frame to see the picture in it, he froze. A little note was over the frame. Everyone became tired as they noticed that the rich black haired man was suddenly crying. So did you. Tears rolled down your cheeks. ,,Finally, Jumin turned his head to you and began to stutter ,,I-is that.. r-re-real?’’ he asked you. ,,We did it, Jumin… you’re going to be a father,’’ you hiccuped, taking his hand and putting it on your still flat belly. ,,Hello, daddy. I’m already here, but I will meet you a bit later. Please accept me as a late Christmas present,’’ you said in a childish voice. The video ended with Jumin hugging you and sobbing in your neck as the RFA itself gave you guys an applause; even Zen.

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

10.04.2021// 01:38 MEST

#Jumin #jumin han #jumin x reader #jumin x mc #mystic messenger jumin #mysticmessenger jumin #zen hyun ryu #Yoosung Kim #jaehee kang #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #Headcanon #Mm headcanons #mystic messenger headcanon #fanfiction #fanfic #mm fanfic

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 7

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

May 2015

“Dominick, where’s the box with my shoes?” Victoria called, stepping over the piles in the apartment they’d consolidated into over the last month and a half. Both their leases were ending, so they decided to go ahead and overlap their leases with a new place for a month. They needed to start fresh, and neither of them wanted to do that in the solitary spaces they’d inhabited without the other. She was nervous now, however, because Olivia had extended Carisi’s invitation to celebrate Noah’s adoption to her as well. It struck her that she was the only SVU spouse, so it might just be the group that spent every day and lots of long nights together and her, someone suddenly thrust into their world. That meant she was exceptionally nervous as she got ready; meeting them on their turf felt more serious than being at Bella’s wedding. Everyone had dispersed within hours there.

“Kitchen counter. Got mixed up for the pots and pans in our room somehow,” he called, and she could tell he was brushing his teeth. She stepped over the not yet assembled shelves she’d gotten, digging each chunky heel from the cardboard box. The wedding heels had been hard on her because the brides wanted stilettos. These she could walk in all day, and she liked reaching Sonny’s shoulder. She went to the bathroom, leaning on the door frame as she watched him style his hair, the tip of his tongue between his front teeth. He caught her eye on the mirror, and his mouth shifted to a grin as he shot her a wink.

“Lookin’ hot, Mrs. Carisi.”

“Why thank you,” she grinned, striking a playful pose. “You look pretty hot yourself.”

“You just like these shirts on me.”

“And your ass in those khakis.”

She felt triumphant as his cheeks turned pink, grabbing her purse and fixing her lipstick. Soon enough, they were knocking on Olivia’s door, and Sonny pressed a kiss by her ear.

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, straightening up as Olivia opened the door.

“Carisi, Victoria, come on in,” she smiled, and Victoria couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the little boy on her hip, putting the gift bag on the counter.

“It’s so great to see you again. We brought a present for you two. Wine for mama and a toy for Noah.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s a celebration,” she smiled, and Sonny watched fondly as Victoria made faces at Noah, who squealed with delight.

“Carisi,” Barba nodded, scotch in hand as the detective opened a beer. “Things seem to be good?”

“Yeah. We’re unpacking the new place.”

“I’m sure it’s a delight.”

“Tor’s back home. Of course it is.”

“Can I give you one piece of advice, if you still want to be an attorney?”

“If you’re going to say ‘don’t’ again-”

“I’m feeling sentimental on this, the celebration of Noah’s adoption.”

“Go on then.”

“You’ve expressed an interest in the DA’s office. Prosecution. It’s all the pain from SVU, plus you have to be the bad guy and demand proof. You’ve hated my guts more than a few times, no?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fuck up again. You’ll need that anchor. I have had two opportunities. One ended up with the friend. The other I drove away trying to keep secrets and seem tough.”

“Liv rat me out?”

“On accident at the wedding. But only because she knew I’d understand. Being able to talk to her will be what keeps you sane during some of those trials.”

“You know, cousin Tony is a real good listener and seemed real into you.”

“He is quite the listener and is quite into me. Now, shut up before you ruin my good mood.”

“There’s the Barba I’m used to.” A roll of the attorney’s eyes told him whatever sentimentality he was going to be at the receiving end of was over, and Sonny felt confident that when he asked to shadow him later, Barba wouldn’t be as put out as he pretended. When he looked back to Olivia, Victoria was chatting happily with a glass of wine in hand. He was excited he still got to make an introduction between Fin and Victoria. It was nice to be able to say This is my wife, Victoria without having to eventually explain they didn’t live together. When he heard a knock, he moved to her side, anticipating his entrance. Once he’d greeted Olivia and Noah, Sonny was pleased with the look on his face. As the detective who’d been there the longest, Sonny found himself caring what Fin thought, and Fin seemed to be forming his opinion.

“Fin! I want ya t’meet my wife, Victoria,” he said happily, arm slung over her shoulder. She extended a hand, which Fin shook gladly.

“It’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much!”

“Nice to meet you too. Your husband ain’t shut up about you in weeks. Once he started-”

“He’s pretty sappy?”

“So you been putting up with him a decade?”

“I mean technically my whole life. We grew up next door to each other.”

“I hear I gotta come to a bakery in Brooklyn now.”

“Oh yeah. You got any favorites? Tell me, and I’ll send a preview with Dom next week.”

“I’m pretty traditional.”

“You want brownies, cookies, or cake?”

“Cookies.”

“Deal. Sonny’ll have you a batch Monday.”

“I like her, Carisi,” Fin said, clapping a hand on the younger detective’s shoulder before going to get his drink and greet Barba.

“It’s not fair. You can make cookies and everyone instantly likes you.”

“You seen your goofy grin? You don’t even have to talk to be likable.”

She was rewarded with a kiss to the temple and the aforementioned grin. Soon enough, Amaro and Rollins were there, and Barba poured the pricey champagne he’d brought to toast. Everyone finally got comfortable after that, Sonny settled on the arm of the couch beside Victoria, and Noah was teetering around the coffee table. Victoria was happy to babble to him, and he could see she felt proud when Noah decided to climb onto her lap. God, she was going to be a good mom if they ever stabilized. Couples therapy would start soon. They’d always said when he finished school, and that would actually be happening the next year. Maybe if they were doing well they could have their own baby. All of his sisters were pregnant or already had kids, and fatherhood had been Sonny’s dream.

As Noah leaned into Victoria, he looked up at Sonny, who was happy to wave down at him. It seemed Lucy liked getting a break to talk to the adults, and he could see the look on Olivia’s face watching Noah. She liked seeing the boy bond with the family she’d made through work. He probably owed a lot of the growth that got him Victoria back to her. The squad was a family with Olivia as their matriarch, and he’d felt safe enough to verbalize his feelings in the first days with her team, when he still had the moustache Victoria had recently informed him really was awful when he tried to defend it.

“I can take him if you need me to, Victoria. He’s out,” she said from her spot beside Barba.

“It’s fine. He’s so cuddly.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Long as Sonny doesn’t mind getting me a glass of wine.”

“On it, doll,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Victoria had always loved when their nieces fell asleep on her like this when they were babies. Mia had been the first one, and they took to each other quickly, even if Victoria had been the neighbor kid at the time. They hadn’t broached kids again, and frankly she was afraid of the prospect, but she’d wanted to have kids with Sonny since they got married. Logically, she knew they had to wait until the time was right. Originally, that was just when he finished school, but now they had to play it by ear again. Either way, she was going to savor the smell of baby as Noah slept with his cheek pressed against her shoulder. She wasn’t as good at the play as Sonny was; every child he encountered bonded with him easily, something that had to be helpful in his job. Victoria was good at cuddling and nurturing though. When the first members of the team trickled out, she settled Noah in his mother’s arms and gave her the best hug she could.

“Thanks for including me. I’m so happy for you, Olivia.”

“Thanks for coming. Noah loves you. Mind being added to the babysitter list?”

“I am honored.” Sonny led her out, hand on the small of her back and a crooked smile plastered across his face. Everyone loved her, like he knew they would. How could someone not? It was near dinner, so without checking, he led the way to a sushi bar near Olivia’s. As he guided her in, she looked up at him with her brow furrowed.

“Dinner date?” He was proud to see her cheeks turn pink.

“I’d like that. You been spoiling me lately.”

“I just been acting like I should. You been pretty damn good to me too.”

“Wanna get saki?”

“Are trying to get me drunk?”

“You only have to go in tomorrow if there’s an emergency.”

“Saki it is.”

“I was thinking I might plan us a trip in November.”

“Yeah? Could be fun.”

“Any place you wanna go? You’ll be who we’re celebrating.”

“Oh?” he asked, brow lifted as he smiled at her.

“Dirty thirty.”

“Dirty thirty? Really Tor?”

“It’ll be fun.”

“I was thinking about New Orleans next year. Could be fun near the holidays instead. Do something bigger for our anniversary.”

“I like the way you think. Plus, July is hot as hell. I’ll tell you the dates when I know.”

“I can’t wait. I’m glad we’ll be together over the holidays.”

“I’m glad we’ll be together on our anniversary. We missed two.”

“One,” he said, puzzled before he winced. “Wait no, you’re right. I was being a bad husband.”

“Nah, you weren’t doing well,” she assured him, hand on his thigh.

“Ninth, we’re staying here. Tenth, we’re going big.”

“Deal. I love you, Tor.”

“And I love you.”

“You were real good with Noah.”

“He’s such a cuddly boy.”

“I told Lieu I gotta hang out with him sometimes. The girl gene runs real strong with the Carisis. Four nieces, no nephews? And then non Carisi niece on her way from Rollins.”

“Only two have been born. Mom thought I was going to be a boy.”

“True. Fingers crossed. Or maybe we’ll have a boy.”

“Dom-”

“I ain’t saying tomorrow. I’m just saying therapy is going good, we’re doing good, couples therapy is soon, and I bet we have a kid in before I’m forty.” She laughed, kissing him softly. “I think it’ll be sooner than that. Maybe in like three?”

“Even better. I can’t wait to feel our baby kick one day. Know they’re there. It’ll happen when we’re ready. Not a minute sooner. God’s got a plan.”

“We just gotta be careful, okay? I want to try to not get pregnant for a while.”

“I know, Tor.”

“Don’t get testy. I wanna make sure we’re ready.”

“I know. Just- seeing you with Noah and Jessie? Set off the ‘I want kids’ bell stronger than last time.”

“Me too. Every time I see you hold the kids.”

“We gotta baby sit more to tide me over.”

“I got a feeling I’ll be getting calls from Liv. You make that clear to Amanda. Then soon enough? Gina’s almost due. Then Bella.”

“True,” he smiled softly. “If we wait they get to be the only Carisi baby that year. Even more attention.”

“You’ll spoil them rotten.”

“That’s my job.”

“We get the day tomorrow, unless somethin’ happens.”

“We do. I gotta go to the bakery for a couple hours at least to help train the newest hire. Margy picked good, but they’re taking weekends for me.”

“I’m really excited about that. I think it’ll be good now that it’s an option.”

“Me too. We both get to be in case of emergency for the most part.”

“Yeah. Liv will rotate all of us taking a Saturday.”

“I guess I’ll just have to find somebody’s baby to play with,” she teased, poking his side and he grinned.

“Y’know, I think we ought to start practicin’ when we go home, doll.”

“Read my mind, Sonny.”

Tag List: @cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x oc #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #writing

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ficsnroses · 4 years

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Friends With Benefits Chapter 9 - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter IX ~ Full Circle.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

❧ Word Count : 3.7K

❧ Warnings : Angst, light nsfw/smut, (I apologize in advance..)

❧ Series Summary : What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.

Notes : Just a couple more chapters after this, series is scheduled to end this month! Thanks for sticking around since I started this in November. I love it with my entire heart, and I hope you do too. Please do leave feedback and comments if ya get a sec. There’s tons of parallels in here from previous chapters, kudos if you can spot em!

Chapter 8 Recap : After leaving Keanu’s house in tears at midnight, Y/N’s car breaks down, and she’s left with no one to call but Keanu. After much persuasion, Keanu convinces her to come back to his house and spend the night; where they end up having sex yet again, only making things worse. In the morning, Keanu reveals to Y/N that he plans on purchasing a new car for her, which offends her significantly, considering their relationship. Y/N ends things with Keanu for good, leaving them both distraught and heartbroken in their own ways.

It all comes down to the last person you think of at night.

That’s, where your heart is.

Day after day; week after week, abiding to dreary half executed routines and less than productive projects. It’s been 3 weeks since you’d weary boned, walked out of Keanu’s house,

and perhaps his life

once and for all demolishing the sole, fraying thread of your damaged relationship. As you roam your seemingly emptier apartment, the air around secludes, chilling wavelengths and brisky cold temperate in the atmosphere. On an oak coat hanger, draped in a corner of the living room entrance, a knitted black coat hangs, the same one Keanu had forced you to wear on impromptu evening adventures downtown the LA scene. Neither of you were much for the crowds, yet social affairs seemed…alright. When in the company of the other.

A lot seemed alright when in the company of one another.

Gray ash clouds outside, the LA afternoon falls dark, the dewy gold gleam of a black pine candle illuminating a halo around its part on the coffee table.

It was his favourite scent.

To the hallway wall, a small chip in the crisp white walls taunts you, his elbow bellowed in a charge too fierce when you’d pushed him to it; satin lips on yours in a feverish kiss.

His baseball cap, long forgotten on the loveseat by the skyline window.

Two wine glasses stowed away in the glass kitchen cabinets.

The lighter you kept on hand for him when he’d need a smoke after sex.

Quiet laughs shared in the moonlit dark within these very walls.

All around, there was him.

You don’t realize just how much someone is a part of you, until they’re gone.

For him, it may have just been sex. For you, you were making love. You were making love the entire time, to him. And now, as you sit alone in your outcast LA apartment, that same love mocks you. Suffocates you. Kills you, because it never really goes away. Just because he’s gone, it

hasn’t

gone

away.

He’d yet to call, and you distrust he will. Lover or not, you know him as the back of your hand. He won’t call, he cares too much. Respects you too much to force himself on you. Loud and clear, you’d made rich, undoubted clarity of the end that dreadful morning. The death of you and him.

And nothing comes back from the dead. All that leaves mark is haunting, cold memories.

Cold comfort. Burning memories of what was. He’s a man of measured words, speaks only when there was reason to. Yet, they’d left you haunted. His words that spoke far too much, far too deep, forced you to fall far too profound when you’d promised each other, it wasn’t ever the end goal.

You’d blinked once; then twice, thrice, until the first tear fell.

Warm, stinging, burning. You’d gotten used to those first couple tears lately; the ones that would come uninvited, without notice.

Even after him, all there was,

was burn.

Out.

You needed to go out, do something, find anything to distract, to quench that burning long inside you. The studio sounded nice, nothing a half finish project to get your brain juices flowing couldn’t fix.

Work had been an outlet; designs, sculptures, drawings, late night sessions locked away in your studio had been rather therapeutic when you’d first moved out.

Therapeutic-before you began finding comfort in Keanu’s king bed, silken sheets and cotton pillows scattered around almost every night.

The lock to the apartment door clinks, keys bustling with a toss into your bag before you start toward the elevator.

This is good. This is okay. The morning is rather low-spirited and desolate, not a soul in the halls or lobby. Perhaps you preferred it that way for now.

Alone. Something so familiar, but revitalising. Or maybe truth be told, right now, for you, if it wasn’t him,

it couldn’t be anyone at all.

His rich chuckle,

His smoky laugh,

That inquisitive, immersed stare with the tip of his lips slightly agape while he listens, breathes in the world around him,

Stop.

With a half executed, drained sigh, you trudge to the brassy elevator doors, sounds of trudging cables and gaudy belts before the doors glide open, the elevator scent of a freshener far too strong, mimicking fresh linen and Californian citrus. The ride down is short, a derisory accomplishment of actually stepping foot out into the world outside your sheltered apartment corridors. With a stop to the third floor below yours, the elevator dings, heavy footsteps and the scent of spiced cologne wafted through the trivial space.

Spiced cologne; a dire contrast to the woodier, pine-ier one of Keanus.

Voice intruding, you pick up deep soundwaves and flashy baritone, a greeting of curious surprise your way. “Y/N?” They speak, snapped out your dreary daydream, thoughts somehow continually reverted back to broken eyes, deadbeat silence from that shattered morning endured three weeks ago.

Curious orbs raised, you perceive him; an old colleague residing in the same complex. He’d been the first neighbour you encountered in the midst of your move here, a heavy box of dishes and cutlery saved by his robust arms carrying them up to your front door that year ago. “Matt?”

“It’s been a while, haven’t seen you around.” He raises, hands shoved into his blue jean pockets, tall frame taking place a mere few inches apart from you.

“Just been busy.” You smile, stray strand of lock tucked behind your ear. Matt had been much help during your move, and you’d kept in touch thereafter. He’d come visit time to time for a piping cup of French coffee; discussions of work and projects mindlessly favoured together.

“Right.” He replies, amiable smile to his full lips. “I saw you’d been working on bigger films.” He starts, admirable sheen to his dark eyes. “Very commendable work.” He praises, a gentle chuckle when the following words flow. “Hey, I have to ask…” The elevator descends further down, main lobby in approach. Sounds of trudging still bellow above, yet the sound of his talk was…nice. It was nice to hear someone.

Apart from failed attempts of your girlfriends to take you out for drinks, you’d heard little rather from the voice that would seep your television; the Netflix catalogue had been getting much devotion lately.

With his brows scrunching, the baritone of his voice raises slight, wondering. “I’ve seen a guy visit you every now and then…was that Keanu freaking Reeves?” timidly chuckled, he takes in your gentle giggle, a nod to his query.

“Yeah, it was.”

“Ahhh.” He breathes, glance at the polished floor. “Boyfriend…?” His voice lingers, a dragged out tone in question, eyes focused to assess your features change.

“Business partner.” You lie.

A cold, dreadful lie that held so much history, so much regard. So much history, thrown away with those two, taciturn words.

“Right.” Matt rakes a heavy palm through his hair, moved to gesture out a peace offering in front of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.” He apologizes, nervous tone thick with unease, yet held to a certain confidence. Matt had charisma, poise, a pleasant presence.

Voice warm, you overtake, smiling in return. “Of course not.” Sincerely, you compliment. “You look well.” Commenting, the elevator rings open, the main lobby arrives. Matt allows you to go first, leading the way graciously.

“You do too, as always.” He praises, eyes glazing over your features in an admirable glow. Hand tucked back into his jean pocket, a timid silence stays put in the air around, your brows raising when at a loss of what to say next. Features contemplative, Matt’s voice gruffs in his throat, gently coughing a nervous pitch to the look of your welcoming gaze. “I’d actually love to catch up sometime, if you’re free.” He proposes. “Maybe a coffee sometime this week?”

Your thoughts halt in trek, gaze flickering to the pavement below in the distance for a moment. Company…someone to ease your mind off the storm brewing inside….

You think back,

Two wine glasses stowed away in the glass kitchen cabinets. A half drank bottle of Merlot sitting in solitude.

“Do you wanna come over tonight?” You blurt, uncertain of when the words had even fallen off your lonesome lips. Partly wonderstruck you’d extended an invitation so sudden, you marvel if it was too soon. You’d just met Matt again; only shared a meagre 3 minutes together thus far.

You’d only shut Keanu out so soon ago, yet you knew deep inside, he was still stuck in each part of you. But it couldn’t go on like that forever, this couldn’t go on forever. You need something new, potentially someone new.

Someone that doesn’t come with such baggage, someone who doesn’t come with so many complications.

Matt shifts, charming smile plastered to his lips with a quick glance down. His thoughts collect; gaze locked to yours in an admiration filled sincerity. “Yeah, for sure.” He speaks. “I’d really like that.” Controlled and certain, you nod, gesturing to the roads off sight. “I’ve just got a day of errands and work ahead. But I’ll see you at my place tonight?” You offer. “Is 7:00 alright?”

“Of course.” He smiles, giving you a gentle nod, and if you thought close enough, you’d swore his awed eyes sputtered to your rosy lips ever so briefly,

wondering….

3 weeks. 3 long, tiresome, drained week without her. Without her company, without her voice, without her floral scent; roses and lilies to brighten his days. It had felt as if she’d been wiped away, his motionless mind left with nothing but burning memories of their time together.

Laying in his king bed, Keanu wonders what she’s doing right now. Is she thinking of him, the way he thinks of her? Has she forgotten him, the way they were, the things they did? He prays. He pleads she hasn’t forgotten. Three weeks had passed, and time seemed to mock him at every second. A lifetime spent alone, the lonesome days and months, turned mindlessly to years. Her walking away had been perhaps the most gut wrenching, soul eating occurrence to ever break his mind. Her walking away was the sourest sting he’d ever had to swallow.

Because he knows he’ll never forget her. Not now, not today, not in another three weeks.

She was it for him, he’d known it for a while. If it was going to be anyone, if he had a chance to make it right with anyone, it was solely, unconditionally, her. He couldn’t forget.

Couldn’t forget the things they did.

She’d been a dire reflection of him, mirroring his tepid, half sheltered heart. The heart that longs, for so much more. It was only her. It could only be her.

It wasn’t toxicity.

time passed, the days turned to nights, the tick bestowing further, the time spending away, not making either of them younger, he knew. She was it. It all meant something, it was never just sex.

It could never just be sex. What he felt, she had to feel it too.

She had to. No longer was it feasible to suffer. He won’t suffer. This time, now, finally, he won’t suffer. He won’t let it be.

As he turns his side, an exasperated sigh flees his lips, hand bestowed to his feeble forehead in an aching protrude. He wonders what she’s doing right now, if she’s awake, wondering, thinking, missing him like he is her. Longing for him, as he is for her.

Suffering for him, as he is for her.

A glance toward the bedside table shows, dainty clock illuminating the time. He’d seek her in the early morning, and this time, he’d at least try to make things right. Lay his heart out on the line, hoping, pleading she’d accept it. Enough had been enough, dreary thoughts and lonesome nights, burning away, wondering of what could be would perverse no more.

He wonders what she’s doing right now.

11:38pm.

She couldn’t forget him. He wouldn’t let her.

Couldn’t forget the things they did.

Words not spoken,

Things not said,

Regrets; enveloping you.

A finished bottle of Merlot, a shot or two as well. Something crisp…something that,

burned.

You don’t remember who did it first, who wanted it first, who let it happen first.

His scent lasted longer than you’d liked on your skin, that murky dusk of spiced cologne, his polite, appealing presence. He arrived with a bottle of White, a variety you’d almost never kept on hand in the last couple of months.

Red used to be his favourite; so it was yours.

Perhaps you were vulnerable, perhaps he was too kind. Too charming, too present. But you asked for it, you did it, you wanted it. Or so you think you did.

It always comes full circle.

You needed someone that night, needed to feel someone that night. You don’t remember who made the first move, seemed as if both of you wanted that mutuality, that connection just as much.

Back where you’d started.

His skin grazed yours, gentle thumb soothed to your own; wine glass held in a wavering grip, frail to your boney fingers. You didn’t stop him, didn’t pull away. He moved closer, and maybe you did too. Closer to him, nearer to him.

The gray bedroom walls heard the scene; they saw it all, unadulterated, held the secrets of what you’d done. His lips on yours, his hands on you, your fingers clawing to his back. You let him in, and he took each inch of you. Raw, exposed, desperately attempting to chase that high, that cloud nine feel that came with months gone. You could lay with this man while you thought of him, drawing sorrow deep inside his skin. Scratch his back to forget his face, bite his neck with his name on your tongue, touch his face while you think of him.

It’s an awful feeling, knowing you did nothing wrong.

But did everything wrong, all in the same.

“Y/N…” You cut Matt off by kissing his lips, gracefully on the bed underneath him, hands in his hair with his heavy palms to your hips. Moving diligently, he sulks into your neck, moaning, soft and quiet grunts between bites and nips to your neck. “Faster,” You spill, nerve endings tantalized as he thrusts, your lips stippled to his piercing jawline.

Is it easier for him? you wonder, you ponder,

you guess.

“You’re irresistible…” He whispers, lips browsed to your chest in a warm enhold, skin on skin within the softness of release. Back arching, you lean into his touch, hips bucking along with his when your mind jumbles, an awful realization, the bitter realism. He’s changing your breath with every thrust, working your body in a hot, humid intimacy so foreign, his manhood hastily working your body beneath. So foreign, so…empty.

That familiar stretch isn’t there, the sweet burn isn’t there, he isn’t there. This isn’t him. No matter how hard you try, how tight you clench your eyes hoping you’ll trick yourself into believing it, it isn’t him.

He’s safe, he’s new, he’s different,

But he’s not him. The façade you show melts away.

He’ll never be him. No one will ever be him.

As he slips out in the midnight light, the bed sinks beside you, and you turn with the comforter held to your exposed chest. The only light in the bedroom filters from the cracked window, the illuminated alarm clock on your dainty nightstand enlightening the while,

11:38pm.

The misty LA morning brought new found hope; new found anticipation. The weather had predicted a storm brewing out soon, yet that wouldn’t be enough to stop Keanu.

Not today. Not when he needs her to know. Not when he loves her, and he knows so deep, so profound that he does.

Sunny California had grayed a dark to its golden rays lately, a frigid mist clings to the air. Heavier rains had been the norm recently, damper months in full fledge. A tug of war impends his mind, should he wait until evening? Should he call? Was this an intrusion of her space? Her choices?

Was she really, truly content leaving things the way she did?

He looks in the mirror; beard longer than it had been since he’d seen her; hair shaggier than she’d left him. He hadn’t had anyone to look good for since she’d gone away. Hadn’t had motivation to present himself to anyone since she’d left. Some of Y/N’s things still lingered the empty walls of his home; a lacy bra left in his wardrobe, a crewneck sweater mindlessly thrown under his bed; her copy of a Hemingway novel abandoned in his office, a toothbrush for when she’d spend the night.

It had been there the entire time.

Just sex isn’t this involved.

Friends with benefits aren’t this involved.

She’d been there the entire time.

After a quick shower and groom of his rather untamed features, Keanu snatches his keys and wallet, fear filled drive to her apartment drained on his mind. Y/N had to see this through, had to trust him, understand him.

Y/N and Keanu had never really got it right, never quite found the balance. But it could be found, could be learnt, could be when they’d finally accept it.

The balance was always them. Them together, as whole. Half executed attempts at being anything less would suffice no more. What was, what is, was always more.

It was never just sex.

It was so much more.

The apartment complex is rather fuller than normal, piercing cold and dewy morning air enveloped around. Crowds had stayed in, and the first murky dewdrops of fresh rain speckled his worn out leather jacket on arrival.

This worn out leather jacket….

He’d placed it on her shoulders when the bitter cold threatened her skin. She’d peeled it off him when they did what lovers do.

It was never just sex.

It was companionship.

The wearing pockets had held her special birthstone ring, forgotten in his possession solely for him to have a reason to come to her, sooner than they’d planned.

It was never just sex.

It was the feeling of needing someone; having someone.

The fraying insides and ravelling threads felt the weight of her body holding him, chest pressed to his back along the scenic LA mountains, breezy winds and violet sunsets known all too well on destination less rides.

It was never just sex.

It was connection; intimacy.

This old, worn out leather jacket, a possession of his he’d held for so long, something that had been through it all, held so much of her. Knew so much of her.

It was never just sex.

It was their love. And it was so much more, so much more than just physical.

The ride up and trek to her door seemed endless, racing pace and quick strides in desperate attempt to get to her as soon as he could. Everything had finally fallen into place, he’d finally understood. And he knew so well, that she would too. Takes one to know one; they’d been lonely far too long.

Within moments, Keanu stood firm at her door, abundance of confidence, anticipation, yet a timid nervousness all in one piping cocktail of eagerness flowing through his veins. He hadn’t seen her in weeks; his favourite, the most prized possession in his life, he hadn’t seen in weeks. More than anything, he hopes she had been alright. Taken care of herself, stayed healthy and safe.

A ring at the door bell, and a loud knock.

Seconds, moments, small increments of time passing seem as if an eternity slowly moving by.

Another knock, for good measure.

Hands shaking so slightly, skin crawling, fists clenched with a stare to the floor.

She should be home, it’s only morning.

Trudging elevator belts moving in the distance, footsteps in and around the complex halls, leg bouncing, lip bitten in dreary wait, a nervous sigh when more moments pass until…

Click. The door wavers open, she stands behind, half dressed, features borderline stoic, yet with a gentle hold of sorrowed blues. She looks beautiful as always, and his heart hitches at the sight of her. The woman he loves, so dearly, so much. Hair stowed in a messy bun, fatigue seeps under her eyelids, tired features soft under the artificial hallway lights.

“Y/N…” Keanu speaks above a smooth, buttery whisper; the sound of her name slipping off so naturally, so effortlessly. “I wanted to see you…”

She swallows tight, eyes never leaving his chocolaty, sincere gaze, so love drunk as he stares. He’d engulf her in his arm right now if he could. Hold her for an eternity if time allowed. Kiss her so passionately, so lovingly that it’d take her breath away. Yet he waits; waits to do things right. Do it the right way, for the first time in their tumbling relationship. “Can I come in?” He asks, voice almost choking in his gruffed throat.

She’d hardly moved before he’d caught glimpse; a deep baritone behind her, the sound an intruding shock to his already racing heart. Calm yet collected, Keanu stands, eyes tracing behind as the voice firms in closer,

a man, jacket hung over his left shoulder blade, morning hair just woken ruffled a mess, palm placed to her back with a gentle squeeze as he bids goodbye. “I need to head out, but I’ll call you.” He smiles at her, before locking gaze with Keanu.

“Morning.” He greets Keanu, before giving Y/N’s arm a reassuring, goodbye squeeze, slipping beside Keanu and out the door, disappearing down the hall. Y/N stands in front of him, eyes locked to his still, as if pleading, begging for something…something neither of them could quite understand.

Keanu stills, fists clenched, heart stinging with piercing defeat.

She’d been with another man.

The love he so desperately longed for, the women he knew he needed,

had been in the arms,

of another.

>>Chapter 10>>

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

s/o to ma bish @fanficsrusz for looking over this cluster fuck for me lol. ily

My taglists will be posted in reblogs from now on. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from either this series, or the permanent!

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves smut

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