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#so into the drawer in the emotional Closet it goes
boycattj · 2 years
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a collection of soft byler moments :p
close-ups and explanations/headcanons/my thought process of each under the cut :> fair warning : i ramble so they get Long lol
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ok so. this one might b my favourite honestly and its supposed 2 b post-confessions, post-coming out 2 the group, and like. post-end of the world ig? like obviously idk how s5 is gonna end but this is if everything goes back 2 normal or at least as close as they can get 2 normal. like far enough in the future where they r comfortable enough 2 just insufferably b Boyfriends in front of the party ig. like, in my head they r ~17 in this. and i also dont think that the byers end up going back to california but this moment could still work even if they did (think like. they come back for a holiday or for summer or smth like that)
basically this moment is every1 (dustin, lucas, max, el, and any/all of the older kids if u want) are just hanging out somewhere and this is how they r standing while leaning against a countertop. and will doesnt even really notice? he's just still talking abt whatever (dnd probably) until some1 (probs dustin) makes a comment on it (like "jeez mike he's not going anywhere" or smth along those lines) and they get all defensive and flustered abt it :)
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i sorta talked abt this one in the tags when i posted the lineart, but basically i hc that will can Definitely pick mike up and this is like. the firsttime he does it (sometime after getting back 2 hawkins - note the outfits - in the two day timeskip) and dustin or lucas says smth like "jfc will when tf did u get so Big ??" and somehwere in the ensuing conversation, one of them essentially dares him 2 try and pick mike up - which does take some convincing cuz both of them r like "well- i mean- uh- he doesnt have 2- that would b- yknow-" also dustin Definitely notices mikes reaction and is just like. 'hm. noted.' and then uses it against him in the future once byler r actually 2gether lol
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genuinely all this one is is 'its literally the end of the fucking world, let them hug 4 fucks sake' . all i want in s5 is the longest, most emotional, rib-crushing, heart-aching hug-no embrace between them. they deserve it-- will deserves it (especially after the fucking airport thing)
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this is my other favourtite and its another moment of them being insufferably boyfriends around the party. it's set the same summer as the other one (so again- 17 and out 2 all their friends and some family) and they r on the hill w cerebro? the cerebro? idk is that even what its called lmao. i dont remember. the big radio thing dustin made. anyways, the party is on the way back from idk talking 2 suzie? so its late and mikes complaining abt having 2 walk or smth probably so will picks him up like this :p also i could definitely see this as a polaroid that some1 takes of them while the others r like 'ew guys. really. can u not 4 like five seconds. good god' which of course only makes it worse bcuz they r little shitheads lmao
ALSO as u can see i gave will the darker clothes and mike the lighter ones in this and that is bcuz i hc that they 10000% share clothes- possibly even b4 getting 2gether. but i think its more mike than will? like will will put on one of his jackets or a sweater or smth sometimes but mike will absolutely go home in mostly wills clothes 9 times out of 10 after spending the night. i also think they have a designated drawer/space in their closet or whatever of each others clothes . and that when mike comes downstairs wearign one of will's shirts, some1 will ask (karen, genuinely or nancy, teasingly) where he got it from, to which he would reply very smoothly (< lying) that it must have just been smth will left here that he picked out w/o thinking abt it (also at this point they arent even sure themselves on whose clothes r whose)
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this is supposed 2 another one probably in that same summer, or maybe even the one b4, where they (the party + the older kids) go 2 the lake for a day when its super hot outside while most other ppl r at the pool so they can b more alone, (i hc most of them as queer in some way and its a complete fun-vibe killer 2 swim w ur s/o and not b able 2 b . affectionate? ig? w/o fear of judgement, or worse. i know this from personal experience) and this is when they first get there and r wading out in2 the water (holding hands obviously) and mikes behind him so he says "hey will?" and will turns like "yea?" and mike kissses him - queue exasperated groaning and yells of protest from every1 else lol
honestly i might make a small fic of these moments + more if its 2 short 4 me if any1 would wanna read it. it might not b the best as i havent written anything in a While, but lemme know if u actually read all of this and liked it cuz i will write them if even just one person asks lol (also would tag any1 who asks in a post where i link it once its done)
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lonelysatellites · 9 months
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The Sweetness (6)
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Chapter 06 | Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem reader
𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍
𑁍 A night watching Corroded Coffin play at The Hideout goes south 𑁍
Series warnings: 18+ minors dni, eventual smut, angst, mentions of injury, body image issues, physical and emotional abuse, drug and alcohol use
Chapter warnings: descriptions of physical and emotional abuse, injuries, blood mention, swearing, alcohol use, mention of drug use, mention of death
A/N: in this chapter we dive into Eddie’s past a little more, while also learning more about what lead Honey to arrive in Hawkins. As I have warned from the beginning this story will cover physical and emotional abuse against Honey (reader) and in this chapter it is described in a little more detail than it previously has been. Please please be careful reading this is for you know that those subjects are triggering for you. My ask is always open and I’m sending you all love xxx 10.7k
Series Masterlist
𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍
“What are you doing?”
“Huh? I-I’m getting ready. I thought we had to be there by sev-“
“I mean what the fuck are you wearing?”
“I-it’s, it’s new. You d-don’t like it?”
“Are you kidding me? Why’ve you always gotta pull some shit like this?”
“Like what Richie?”
“Like this! Look at your fucking skirt! Who you tryna show off for? You like embarrassing me, huh? You like making me look stupid in front of my friends, so they all think I’m dating some slut?”
“Rich, I s-swear I wasn’t t-trying to-“
“Get changed. Now.”
𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 The black satin slips through your fingers like ink, flowing down to swirl around your calves, the material stretched taught over the plush of your thighs and hips. At first glance it looked fairly modest, but the cut slashed up to your mid thigh revealed a peek of your leg with each step you took. It was stunning really, one of your favourite items you’d ever bought, purchased specially for the engagement dinner of a colleague of Richies. But it never had an outing. That night it had been quickly shed from your body, bundled up into a tight ball and shoved to the back of the closet, replaced with a pair of corduroy flares which were fine, if a little frumpy. But they prevented any arguments from spiralling out of control, so it’d seemed like a worthy compromise at the time.
The fabric is light, moving fluidly each time you turn and twist in the mirror. It fits just as well as it had done back then, hugging to your curves like it was made for you. A small bubble of pride rises in your chest. It looks good. You look good.
But of course, your mind is quick to snuff out any glimmer of self confidence.
It’s too much. The slit is too high, Richie was right, it is slutty. Maybe Eddie will hate it just as much as he did, he’ll take one look at you and cringe, taking pity on the desperate, lonely girl next door, dressed like a whore just to get his attention.
Tears prickle in your eyes, hot and stinging, blurring your vision until your body in the mirror is just a formless blob of black and flesh.
The skirt ends up launched across the room, landing to drape over the lamp by your bedside and dimming the room. Sniffing hard and swallowing down your tears, you root through your chest of drawers, searching for something more appropriate.
The phone rings in the kitchen, a shrill sound that screeches through the house. Even after all this time, you’re still hesitant to approach it, as though the plastic receiver may grow teeth and take a chunk of your flesh when you pick it up.
It’s not him. You tell yourself. It can’t be him. It’s never him. He doesn’t know you’re here.
The repeated mantra in your head usually calms you enough to answer the phone, but you’re convincing yourself that you know exactly who waits for you on the end of the line. The most illogical part of your brain tells you that it can’t be a coincidence that you were just thinking about him, and now the phone is ringing. Like there’s some telepathic connection between you, and merely thinking of the man will alert him to your location.
The ringing stops, the house feeling eerily silent in it’s sudden absence. You’ve made it to the kitchen, the tiles cool beneath your feet, but your body is running hot, panic causing sweat to build at the nape of your neck.
The phone rings again. Exhaling a shaky breath you snatch up the receiver, holding it an inch from your face as you wait for someone to speak.
“Honey?”
“Oh, Baby. It’s you.” You sigh, tension immediately leaving your body. You lean against the wall, tucking the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you pick at the flaking Polish on your fingernails.
“Yeah it’s me. What took you so long to answer?”
“I was just getting changed.” You reply.
“Oh right. You going out somewhere?” She asks.
“Hmmm. To a gig.” You say casually.
“A gig?” Baby’s voice raises in pitch, her interest piqued.
“What band are you going to watch? Surely you don’t have any decent venues around there? Who are you going with?”
You roll your eyes at her endless questions, a smile pulling at your lips.
“Corroded Coffin, it’s not a decent venue, and I’m going with some friends.” You answer in order.
“Corroded Coffin?”
“Yeah. S’Eddies band.”
“Oh.” You can hear Baby’s smirk, can picture so clearly the teasing glint in her eyes.
“You seem to be spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.”
“Stop it Baby.”
“Stop what?” She asks, feigning innocence.
“He’s just a friend.” You grumble.
“I didn’t say anything about him being more than a friend Honey.”
“Yeah yeah, I know how your mind works.”
“But you do like him, right?”
“I’m not looking to date right now.” You lie, ignoring her question.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up.”
Baby cackles with laughter, a sound that has your heart aching to be home. You heard her voice every day, speaking to her more than you ever did when you lived in your old apartment. But in the months that you’d spent living back in your childhood home you’d grown so accustomed to having her around, finding comfort in her near constant presence. Although you’d still felt crippling guilt at your roles being reversed, the younger girl being forced to step up and be the big sister, holding the fractured pieces of your together when you were so sure the pain would have you dissolving into nothing.
“Honey?” Baby says softly, her voice turning serious.
“Hmm?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” You reply.
“Liar.” Baby accuses without mirth.
“You’ve gone all quiet.”
“I’m fine Baby.” You sigh. The line crackles, faint shuffling as your sister moves the phone from one ear to the other. She exhales a disappointed sigh, and you know she wants to press further. But she’s learnt by now when to probe, and when to leave you to it. It was a tact your mom was yet to learn, calls with her could often end with her pushing and pushing at you until you clamped shut like a vice, leaving her and all her good intentions on the outside of your self built walls.
“So what are you wearing then?” Baby asks, thankfully steering the conversation back to lighter topics.
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you said you were getting changed?”
“I was. I’m between outfits right now, nothing looks right.” You grumble.
“Hmm, what about that cute little tank top? The Calvin Klein one? You could wear that with some jeans?” Baby offers.
You shudder. Richie had bought that top for you.
“First of all, it’s still too hot for jeans. And second of all, I haven’t been able to find that top since I moved in.”
“Oh really?” Baby squeaks, her voice betraying her attempt at indifference.
“Yeah. S’funny really. I was so sure I packed it, I remember putting it in my case after you kept waving it around saying how much you liked it.” You tease.
“Oh y-yeah, that is funny. Must’ve got lost in the move.” Baby says.
“Yeah it must have.” You laugh.
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” She offers brightly.
“Yeah I will. Anyway, how’s school?” You ask.
“Fine.” Baby replies quickly. Too quickly. You pause, waiting for her to elaborate, but she remains silent.
“Fine? That’s it? You don’t wanna give me any more details than that?” You press.
“Nope. It’s all fine.” She replies. She’s as bad of a liar as you are.
“Okay, you can tell me what’s going on, or I can hear it from mom? So what’s it gonna be?” You ask.
“I - I don’t want to upset you.” Your sister says quietly. Your heart sinks, a lead weight in your chest.
“Why would I be upset?” You ask softly, the cord now wound so tight around your pinky finger the tip is beginning to pale thanks to the lack of blood flow.
“Because - because I’ve had to start getting rides to and from school. Mom and Dad pick me up, or Bella’s mom gives us a ride home sometimes.”
“Why is that necessary?” You whisper, although you already know the answer.
“Richie was waiting for me a few days ago when I got out.”
Fear constricts around your throat, ghostly fingers squeezing down on your neck, desperate breaths barely making it through your crushed windpipe. Goosebumps erupt across your flesh, the hairs at the back of your neck prickling, and instinctively you glance over your shoulder, eyes locked on the front door where the chain rests heavy.
“I’m fine, honestly! You don’t need to worry, we’ve got it all sorted.” Your sister babbles, trying to offset the rising panic she can sense building. You free your hand from the tangle of the cord, bracing it against the wall to keep yourself upright.
“D-did he hurt you?” You gasp out.
“No! God no, really I’m okay! I think he just wanted to talk to me. But I didn’t say anything to him, I swear!”
“I know. I know you wouldn’t.” You murmur.
“He was waiting by the front gates, just watching everyone, I guess he was looking for me. Then when he spotted me, the fucker had the nerve to smile - and he started waving and shouting my name. He wanted me to go over, seemed to know better than to cross the line into the school grounds. So I just ran back inside, got the office to call Dad.”
“Oh my god. Baby, I - I’m so sorry.”
“What? Why the hell are you sorry?”
“Because it’s my fault.” You sob, hot angry tears spilling down your burning cheeks. Vibrating from head to toe, every cell in your body is shaking with the mix of fear and fury. How dare he? You’d stupidly hoped that maybe he’d given up, it had been a couple of weeks since your parents had seen his car crawling through the neighbourhood, just as long since he’d called their phone and begged to speak to you. But now he’d set his sights on Baby, trying to use her to get to you.
“Honey, please stop crying.” Your sister begs.
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“N-no, it’s okay.” You say, sucking in a deep breath. Bottom lip clamped down hard between your teeth, you tense your shoulders, free hand curled into a tight fist. You focus all of your energy on calming yourself enough to reassure Baby. You can let it all out when she hangs up.
“I’m sorry. Really, it’s okay, I’m not crying anymore.” You sniff.
“But I am so fucking sorry Baby. I’m so sorry I dragged you guys into this mess.”
“Stop it.” Baby snaps.
“You don’t need to be sorry. You haven’t dragged us into anything. You’re my sister for Christ's sake, I love you. If I have to kick that douchebags ass I will.”
She says the words with such fierce determination, and you can’t help but let out a watery laugh. Your baby sister might be half the size of the man she threatens, but honestly? You wouldn't like his chances. She wasn’t one to be messed with.
“What’s so funny?” Baby grumbles.
“Nothin’. Just like the thought of you teaching him a lesson or two.”
“I’m serious Honey.”
“I know. But it’s not going to come to that. And listen to me Baby- if you see him again, you run.”
She starts to protest, and you cut her off swiftly.
“I mean it. You get the hell away from him and call mom and dad. Don’t try to confront him. Please, for me?”
“Fine.” She sighs.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍
The inside of Steve’s car is immaculate, a far cry from the cluttered interior of Eddie’s van. You slide into place in the middle of the back, so conversation is a little easier with the two in the front and clip the seatbelt over your lap, smoothing down the fabric of your skirt that you’d finally had the courage to wear.
“You look cute!” Robin says brightly, turning in her seat to face you.
“Thanks! So do you.” You smile back. A delicate blush blooms over the girls freckled cheeks, and she mumbles a shy thanks as she tugs at a strand of her hair.
“All buckled in and ready?” Steve asks, igniting in the engine.
“Yes mom.” Robin drawls, earning a tut from Steve as he drives down the dirt road leading out of the trailer park.
“Thanks again Steve, for the lift.” You say.
“You don’t need to thank me Honey.” He says kindly, catching your eye in the rear view mirror and giving you a charmingly crooked smile.
“You should probably thank him for having the car cleaned though. That back seats seen a lot of action if you know what I mean.” Robin teases.
“Not recently!” Steve quickly protests. He pauses for a beat, blushing bright red and stammering as he realises what he’s just said. Robin cackles, clapping her hands in joy at watching her friend squirm.
“Alright, alright.” He grumbles, shooting his elbow out to dig into Robins ribs.
“Aww Stevie. You never know, tonight might be your lucky night.” Robin laughs.
“I don’t think I’m gonna have much luck at The Hideout Rob.”
“What’s wrong with The Hideout?” You pipe up, leaning forward between the two front seats.
“It’s always a bit of a sausage fest.” Steve grins, raising his brows at you again in the mirror.
“Also it smells, it’s dirty, the bathrooms are a health hazard, the clientele are-“
“Alright Rob. Don’t put Honey off too much before we even get there.” Steve interrupts.
“Oh, yeah. Don’t worry Honey, we’ll have a good time.” Robin smiles back at you.
𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍
The Hideout is.. well, it’s exactly what you expected. A dingy, dark dive bar, no frills or fuss. The air is thick and hazy, cigarette smoke swirling in the beams cast by the sporadic bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The soles of your shoes stick to the floor with each step you take, puddles of spilt beer splashed across the worn wood. Heavy rock blasts through the speakers set up at either end of the stage, a small wooden platform at the back of the room, illuminated by a couple of spotlights. The back wall is adorned with a large black banner, Corroded Coffin painted in white jagged lettering across the fabric.
Bodies move from the bar, gathering in front of the stage, drinks clutched in hand. It’s busier than you had anticipated.
“Wow. They’ve drawn quite a crowd, huh?” You grin up at Steve.
“This is nothing. They don’t really get that many people when they play in Hawkins, but you should seem em when they’re in Indianapolis. The last show sold out.” He replies.
A frown settles on your features.
“But, this is their home town - I’d have thought they’d have more fans here, right?” You ask.
Robin and Steve exchange glances, each wearing expressions that you can’t quite understand.
“Hey, I think I just spotted Nance! Let’s go grab a drink with her.” Robin says quickly, snatching up your hand and pulling you along behind her as she snakes through the large groups.
You find Nancy perched on a stool at the bar, her purse clutched tightly on her lap, large eyes darting anxiously around the room. When they settle on you, Robin, and Steve, her shoulders relax, her pinched frown softening into a relieved smile.
“There you are! I was wondering where you’d all got to.” She exclaims, hopping down from her seat to hug each of you in turn.
“Are you okay?” Steve asks protectively, a large hand squeezing her shoulder.
“Yeah, m’fine. Just had some guy hanging around me that’s all, offering me a drink, being a little weird.” Nancy replies.
“Who was it?” Steve says lowly, his narrowed eyes surveying the men who linger nearby.
“Doesn’t matter. You guys are here now.” Nancy reassures.
“Now let’s hurry up and get our drinks. They’re on in five minutes.”
The Hideout doesn’t offer a particularly elaborate drinks menu. You settle for a vodka and Coke, the same as Nancy and Robin, and Steve orders a Bud.
“Don’t worry. I’m only having the one so I can drive you home.” He grins, bumping his shoulder affectionately against yours.
“I won’t be in the same state you saw me last weekend.”
Steve pays for the round, handing the bar tender a handful of bills from his wallet, before placing his palm on your lower back, guiding you closer to the stage.
The four of you squeeze into a space in the middle of the crowd, only a couple of rows back from the stage. You’re surrounded on all sides, mainly by large men, clad in cracked leather or old denim, cigarettes clamped between their teeth and beers in their hands. You have no reason to be fearful of them, everyone seems in a good humour, but crowds always had a tendency to make you anxious, and after your earlier phone call with Baby you’re feeling wound up tight, like a taught wire ready to snap.
The music playing slowly fades out, the lights dimming until only the stage is left bathed in light. Your body tenses, and Steve seems to catch it. His arm winds around your waist, pulling you in and tucking you against his side. He looks down at you with a reassuring smile, as you do your best to match it.
The crowd begins to cheer, and you turn your attention back to the stage. A guy with dark blonde curls, a little shorter than Eddie’s, has taken a seat behind the drums, his sticks twirling expertly between his fingers. The guitarist and the bassist get into position, adjusting the straps of their instruments over their shoulders as they look out over the crowd.
There’s one spot left, directly under the spotlight, a microphone stand ready and waiting. You crane your neck, searching for a glimpse of Eddie at the side of the stage, but you can’t make out his figure in the darkness.
The noise of the crowd is disrupted by the wail of a guitar, and they respond with louder cheers. The source of the sound becomes apparent when Eddie steps up onto the stage, playing as he continues to make his way to the centre, grinning from ear to ear at the group of people eagerly anticipating his arrival. He presses his lips to the microphone, long fingers continuing their movements on his instrument as he speaks.
“Hello everybody. We’re Corroded Coffin, and if it’s okay with you all, we’re going to play a few songs for you.”
You join in with the shouts this time, whooping as the drummer begins a steady beat. When the song really kicks in, the bodies around you surge forwards, and you’re grateful for Steve’s hold on you, keeping you upright as you’re pressed in tighter.
All around you people are jumping and shouting, singing along with the lyrics, booming drunk voices threatening to drown out the band. Robin, Nancy, and Steve are all dancing, laughing when Robin bobs a little too enthusiastically and tips half of her drink down her plaid shirt. You’d join in with their fun, if you were able to tear your eyes away from Eddie for a second.
The man on stage is so different from the shy, sweet boy next door. He carries himself with a confidence you’ve never seen in him before, his shoulders rolled back, chest puffed out, head held high. He moves across the stage with a natural, infectious energy, unable to keep still, running back and forth across the wooden platform, occasionally jumping up besides the blonde behind the drum kit, the two friends laughing and shaking their heads in disbelief at the reaction of the crowd. They’ve got them eating out of the palms of their hands.
What surprises you most of all is Eddie’s voice. When his plush rosy lips press against the microphone, the sounds that vibrate from the speakers and carry on the humid air to your ears are almost heavenly. His low rasps and crooning have heat pooling low in your belly. When he effortlessly switches to something more melodic, reaching impressively high notes you feel like you could keel over if it weren’t for the people pressed against you, forcing you to remain upright. Eddie is nothing short of amazing.
Delicate fingers wrap around your wrist, a flushed and bright eyed Nancy pulling you closer to dance with her. You swallow the last of your drink, sharp vodka on your tongue. The combination of the booze coursing through your veins and the electric atmosphere in the room finally allowing the tension to leave your body. You came here to have fun. And so you do.
By the end of Corroded Coffins set you’re a sweaty mess, your top clinging to the damp skin on your back, throat hoarse from singing and shouting. The boys walk off stage to a thunderous applause, the crowd screaming out for more. When the main lights flick back on and the prerecorded music begins to play from the speakers once again there’s a few groans of disappointment, one from yourself too. You could’ve watched them play all night.
“Quick, we need to get to the bar before it’s swamped.” Robin says, hurrying you along behind Nancy and Steve. The four of your squeeze your way into a tiny gap at the sticky wooden counter, thankfully only having to wait a few short minutes to be served.
You take a quick sip of your drink to soothe your parched throat. You swap the glass to your other hand, the icy beverage quickly numbing your fingertips, and wipe the cold condensation off on your skirt. The crowd hasn’t thinned now that the show is over, and despite your best efforts you can’t catch sight of the wild curls you’re searching for amongst the sea of heads.
What you do spot however, is a small table in the corner of the room, covered in T-shirts and stacks of CDs, with a familiar blonde haired drummer sitting behind it.
“I’ll be right back.” You shout to Steve above the din, and he nods, moving aside to let you pass.
The boy grins up at you as you make your way over to him.
“Hi!”
“Hey. You guys were amazing.” You smile.
“Thanks! Have you seen us before?” He asks.
You shake your head.
“Nope. But consider me a new fan.” You grin.
“Awesome. I’m Gareth by the way.” The boy says.
“Honey.”
“Oh!” Gareth’s brows raise, disappearing under his shaggy bangs.
“So you’re Eddie’s new friend?”
The heat that had only just left your cheeks returns.
“Uh, yep. That’s me.”
“Wow. You’re uh.. wow. Yeah, not what I expected.”
“What exactly were you expecting?” You laugh.
Before Gareth can answer, you notice his eyes drop from your face to over your shoulder, and a throat is cleared behind you.
“Hey Honey.”
You spin, beaming from ear to ear.
“Eddie!”
“How’s it going?”
“Good! I was just telling Gareth how much I loved the show!” You exclaim excitedly.
“Y-you did?” Eddie stammers. Even in the crappy lighting of the bar you can see his cheeks turning pink.
“Of course I did. I thought you were incredible.”
“Well if you think we’re incredible then you’re obviously going to want a shirt.” Gareth laughs.
“Duh.” You giggle. You dig through your purse, looking for the cash you’d stuffed at the bottom.
“Woah, woah. You’re not paying.” Eddie says.
“Don’t be daft Ed, of course I’ve got to pay.”
“No way, for you it’s on the house sweetheart. I owe you for the brownies.”
Your heart flutters in your chest, butterflies in your stomach having a frenzy, all from the silly little pet name.
“Did you like them?” You ask shyly, looking up at the boy through your lashes.
“I loved em”. He whispers, his fond smile melting you like the chocolate chips in the sweet treat you’d baked for him.
“So yeah, you’re not paying for merch.”
You pout, but Eddie just chuckles, snatching up a shirt from the table and holding it out to you.
Ignoring the cloying heat in the room you shove your head through the hole in the fabric, pulling the soft cotton down over your torso and tucking it into the waistband of your skirt.
“Whatdya think?” You ask, spinning on the spot.
“You look great. The shirt - I mean, the shirt looks good. On you. You look good, uh, wearing it.” Eddie mumbles nervously.
“Real smooth man.” Gareth smirks.
“Shut up.” Eddie hisses.
Gareth raises his hands in a motion of defence, giving you a grin and a wink.
“Do you want a CD too? Seeing as you’re our new biggest fan?” He offers.
“I would, but I don’t actually have a CD player.” You reply.
“Honey’s yet to join us in the nineties.” Eddie teases.
“You’re one to talk. You still dress like it’s 1985.” You retort, making Gareth bark out a loud laugh.
“Ouch. And here was me thinking that you liked my look.” Eddie says, clutching his chest.
“I do! C’mon, if you won’t let me pay for my shirt you can at least let me buy you a drink. Gareth, do you want anything?”
“Nah, I’m all good. Jeff’s bringing me a beer. It was nice to meet you Honey.”
“You too.” You smile.
Eddie follows you to the bar, but you don’t get to make good on your promise of a drink, Steve already having a cold bottle of beer waiting for him. The group chatter excitedly, gushing praises at the boy. A few strangers approach, clapping Eddie firmly on the back and congratulating him on a great performance, making requests for future covers they’d love to hear.
When everyone’s had their fill of fussing over Eddie, the five of you manage to slip away from the bar, finding a free table near the door. You jump up onto the wobbly stool, settled between Eddie and Steve, Nancy and Robin sitting opposite you. The next hour passes quickly, another round brought over by a bar tender, compliments of the owner. The bubbles in the Coke fizz in your nose as you giggle at Robins babbling, regaling you with stories of Steve’s failed love life when they worked together at an ice cream parlour, her teasing merciless but not unkind. You’re completely relaxed, feeling a pleasant warmth buzzing in your chest from the vodka, and the feeling of belonging that this group of friends have bestowed upon you.
But it all comes crashing down when the door to the bar swings open.
The three men stick out like sore thumbs immediately among the rockers and metal heads. They’re all pastel polo shirts and pressed khakis, flashy watches and slick hair. They’re a little dishevelled, clearly heavily intoxicated already, stumbling through the doors into The Hideout. Their eyes immediately lock onto Eddie.
“Oh no, boys! It looks like we’ve missed the show!” The boy in the blue shirt shouts.
“I don’t know about that.” Grins the man to his left, the sleeves of his butter yellow polo stretched to the seams over bulging biceps.
“I think we’re just in time.”
Eddie stiffens beside you, his arm frozen, beer bottle brought halfway up to his lips. On your other side Steve adjusts his position on his stool, one foot dropping down to the floor as if he’s preparing to stand.
“Do you know them?” You whisper to Eddie.
He doesn’t respond, just watches the group approach, vultures circling their prey. They form a semicircle around Eddie’s stool, looking down at him with cruel eyes and taunting smirks.
“Munson. You’ve got some nerve, don’t ya think?” Blue shirt sneers.
Eddie gulps, adams apple bobbing in his pale throat. His hand shakes as he lowers his bottle back to the table.
“I don’t think you boys really want to do this right now.” Steve says lowly. He rises to his full height, moving to stand next to Eddie.
“Oh yeah? And why’s that Harrington?” The tallest boy, wearing white asks.
“Look around.” Steve says, gesturing to the other patrons in the bar.
“You’re outnumbered. This isn’t going to go the way you think it is.”
You glance around, realising that the entire bar has fallen quiet. Metallica still blares from the speakers, but there’s no chatter, no movement. Everyone’s still, watching the situation unfold.
Yellow shirt laughs, a hollow mocking sound.
“Our issue isn’t with any of those freaks, or you Harrington.” He says.
“But I think we made it pretty clear last time to Munson here that his little band wasn’t welcome to play in this town anymore.”
“That’s not up to you, is it?” Steve spits.
Eddie is still yet to say a word, his shoulders rounded and slumped, as if he could fold in on himself and hide from the hostility aimed his way. You glance across at the girls for some kind of explanation, but neither of them are looking at you. They’re watching the men, Nancy’s jaw clenched tight, Robins knuckles whitening as she squeezes her fists.
“L-look.” You say quietly. You flinch when the men turn to face you.
“We don’t want any t-trouble. We’re just trying to have a nice night.” You plead.
“We’re just trying to have a nice night.” Blue shirt mocks in a high pitched imitation of your voice.
“Come on Munson. Are you gonna be a man, or just have your bitch fight your battles for you?”
The following moments pass by in a frenzied blur.
One moment Eddie is sitting at your side, the next he’s jumping down from his stool, the chair toppling and clanging against the floorboards.
It’s all the go ahead the boys need. Blue shirt swings hard, his fist connecting with Eddie’s jaw, sending the boy staggering back into you. Your own stool tips back, both you and Eddie crashing to the ground with a thump, your tailbone connecting with a metal leg of the chair. Instinctively you grab Eddie, but the soft leather of his jacket slips through your fingers as white shirt yanks him by the collar, pulling him up to his feet. The noise is overwhelming, shouts and screams, the space by the door crowded with bodies, all trying to break apart the fight.
You struggle to your feet, hand rubbing over the bruise that’s surely blossoming already at the base of your spine. You can just make out the back of Eddie’s head, the boy surrounded on all sides, his attackers trying to get in as many punches as they can before they’re pulled away. Steve’s in the mess too, fist wrapped around the collar of the man in blue, choking him as he tugs him back from his friend.
Your feet move before you can stop them, carrying you forward into the sea of bodies, desperately fighting your way through to get to Eddie and protect him. You reach out, fingertips barely brushing his shoulder before a rough hand wraps around your wrist. You’re pulled and twisted, smashed into yellow shirts chest, his hot whisky breath washing over your face.
You’re no longer in The Hideout.
You’re back in your apartment in Chicago, spine pressed against the living room wall, a fresh hole punched clean through the plaster beside your head.
“Richie, p-please. Please stop.”
Your boyfriend pants in fury, eyes wild and glazed over, devoid of any emotion or warmth.
“You just can’t help yourself can you?” He snarls, spit landing on your cheeks as he speaks.
“I fucking told you. I fucking told you not to embarrass me tonight. But you just can’t help yourself.”
“W-what did I do Richie? Please, I didn’t mean to.” You sob.
“You know what you did!” He roars, the hand around your wrist tightening again.
“You think I couldn’t see? You think the whole damn party couldn’t see it? You were all over that prick, right in front of me! You’ve got no respect.”
“I swear Richie, I w-wasn’t. I wouldn’t d-do that to y-“
“Stop fucking lying!”
The hands that used to hold you so tenderly, like you were precious, delicate, now twist, one fisted in your hair, the other turning your arm to an unnatural angle. You hear the snap of bone before you feel it.
With a blink you’re back in the bar, the face of the man holding onto you distorted by the tears that pool in your eyes.
“Hey! Get the fuck off of her!” Steve yells. He grabs your arm roughly, not in an attempt to hurt you, he’s just trying to pry off the vice like fingers around your wrist, but you’re too far gone to notice the difference now, wincing at his touch. With a firm shove yellow shirt staggers backwards.
He laughs, dark eyes locking with yours as he points an accusing finger in Eddie’s direction.
“You wanna watch yourself around that one girl. You’ll end up dead in a ditch somewhere before you know it.”
Before Steve can lunge at him in retaliation, a stranger grabs yellow shirt by his collar, dragging him towards the door, tossing him out into the street behind his friends.
“Are you alright Honey?” Steve asks softly. He reaches out to touch your shoulder, but you flinch, recoiling from him.
“Steve.” Nancy says, not unkind, but firm. He pulls his arm back, giving her a quick nod before turning away.
“It’s okay. You’re okay Honey.” Nancy whispers. She motions to your previous seat that Robin has picked back up.
“Come sit down.” She murmurs.
On trembling legs you stagger to the chair, leaning on the sticky table for support as you pull yourself up onto the seat.
“Rob, can you go get Honey some water?” Nancy asks. Robin nods, heading to the bar, weaving between the men now trying to put the room back together. Nancy pulls up a chair beside you, her proximity making you wince.
“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna touch you. I’ll just sit here, I’ll stay with you.” She says gently.
“Th-thank you.” You whisper.
“Honey?”
You tilt your head back, finding deep chocolate pools, round with fear and glistening with unshed tears.
Eddie’s shirt is torn at the neck, a couple of raised red welts on his collarbone where the nails that grabbed him must have scratched. A few bruises are already forming on his cheekbone and jawline, a small cut on his lower lip shining ruby red.
“Are you okay?” He whispers, taking a step towards you. You nod, but the tears that stain your cheeks betray you. Eddie reaches out to touch you.
“Eddie, don’t-“
Nancy’s warning is cut off by you jumping down from the stool. You throw yourself into Eddie’s open arms, your own snaking around his waist and holding him tight. Warmth envelops you, your nostrils filled with lingering cigarette smoke and spice, bergamot and tangy sweat. You cry harder, face buried into Eddie’s chest, letting yourself sink into his hold.
Eddie tilts his head, letting his cheek rest on top of your hair. His arms shake around you, and you feel the shuddering in his chest as he fights back his own tears.
The way that he holds you rewards your for your boldness. So far every touch between you has been fleeting, quick stolen brushes of finger tips on cheeks, hands entwined for a moment of shared understanding. But now, with your weight sinking into his, his chest a firm and unyielding presence beneath your heated cheek, you know you’ve crossed over the lines of the boundaries you set for yourself. Dusted chalk lines on a sidewalk, drawn around yourself for protection, washed away by warm summer rain.
𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍
You’re unsure of how much time passes with Eddie’s arms around you. When you do finally draw back, the room is quieter, calm returning. A glass of ice water waits on the table by your elbow, Robin must have placed it there and quietly backed away, giving you and Eddie a moment of privacy in the crowded room.
“Are you hurt?” Eddie whispers, round eyes tracing hesitantly across your features. The throbbing in your wrist has subsided, and you answer him with a slow shake of your head.
“Are you?” You breath, knuckles tentatively brushing against the swelling on his cheekbone.
“I’ve had worse.” He replies. He smiles as he speaks, the words intended to offer comfort and reassurance. Instead it sends a sharp pain through your chest, realising that the world has been cruel and harsh to this sweet boy, in ways you can only begin to imagine.
The doors to the bar swing open once again, and Eddie jolts, turning fast to look over his shoulder, his hand still resting on your waist squeezing protectively.
A tall broad man steps into the room, a shining badge pinned to his shirt, pistol hanging on his hip. Deep frown lines etch his rugged face, a thick bristling moustache hanging over lips pressed into a tight line.
“Munson.” The man says in greeting, coming to a stop beside Eddie.
“Hop.” Eddie replies.
The cop studies Eddie’s face for a moment, his expression unreadable to you.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asks.
“H-he didn’t do anything officer. It wasn’t his fault.” You squeak out.
The man glances at you, bushy eyebrows twitching upwards.
“Who’s this?” He asks.
“This is Honey. She’s a - she’s a friend.” Eddie answers.
The man nods, and for a second you catch the corners of his lips curling into an almost smile.
“Don’t worry Honey. I’m not about to put your friend in cuffs.” He says.
“Not this time anyway.” Eddie chuckles nervously.
“No, not this time.” Hop responds with his own laugh. He pulls out a chair at the table, lowering himself to the seat with a groan. He waves over his shoulder at the bar, the owner nodding. A moment later a beer is placed in front of him.
Eddie motions for you to sit, and you perch yourself hesitantly on a stool next to him, opposite the police officer who casually swigs his drink like he were here for pleasure, not business.
“Come on then, what happened?” He says, wiping the back of a large hand across his wet lips.
Eddie sighs.
“Just some idiots, starting trouble. Like idiots do.”
“Do you know these idiots?” Hop asks.
Eddie remains silent.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” The older man sighs.
“I don’t want t-“
“Yeah, I know.” Hop interrupts.
You watch on in confusion, some kind of silent conversation taking place before your eyes, one that you’re not privy to.
“I’m just wanna go home.” Eddie says.
“You okay to drive?” Hop asks.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Well I’ll escort you. Just make sure everything’s all good.”
Eddie nods as the man drains the last of his beer, tapping the empty bottle down on the table with a clink.
“D-do you wanna come home with me?” Eddie asks you. He doesn’t miss the surprised look on Hops face.
“S-she lives next door to me.” Eddie explains quickly, cheeks flushing a delicate pink.
Hop smirks as he stands, resting his hands on his hips.
“I’ll be outside.” He says. You watch him walk away, stopping to clap Steve on the back and murmur something to him, Robin, and Nancy, before he disappears back out the doors.
“Shall we go?” Eddie whispers.
“Y-yeah.” You reply.
You follow him to where his friends stand.
“We’re heading out.” Eddie says.
“Okay. We’ll go too. Is Honey going with you?” Steve replies.
“Yeah, she is.”
“What about all your equipment?” He asks.
“I can come get it tomorrow.” Eddie shrugs.
𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍
As you take a step outside, cool air greets you, a pleasant relief from the sticky humidity in the bar, so many people crowded into a small space.
Hop is already in his car, thick fingers tapping a beat on the steering wheel, as he watches you and Eddie say goodbye to your friends, then walk the short distance to his van.
When Eddie pulls away from the curb you glance in the side mirror, finding Hops headlights behind you, a steady watchful beam.
“I’m sorry. About tonight.” Eddie grimaces, breaking the silence.
“Why? It’s not your fault Eddie.” You reply softly.
“It’s just not how I thought things would go. I wanted you to enjoy yourself.”
“I did.”
Eddie gives you a look that tells you he doesn’t believe you.
“I did!” You insist, poking him in the ribs, savouring the smile it finally pulls from him as he squirms in his seat to get away from your fingers.
“I had a really good time. Sure, things got a little.. scary at the end. But I enjoyed the show. And spending time with you. W-with you and the guys.” You add the last part quickly, panicking that your admission might have been too much.
You’ve obviously said something wrong. Eddie’s smile fades immediately, his posture stiffening. He keeps his eyes firmly on the road for the rest of the journey, the time passing in total silence.
The van slows to a stop in its usual place, the police car that had followed stopping just behind. Eddie wordlessly exits the vehicle, and you do the same.
You watch as Hop wanders slowly around the perimeter of Eddie’s home, his flashlight scanning across the line of trees at the back of the park. Once he’s happy with his assessment, he comes to a stop in front of Eddie, glancing between him and you, where you hesitate, not knowing if you should stay or go.
“All clear. You alright if I go?” The man asks.
“Yeah. Thanks Hopper.” Eddie says.
“Don’t worry about it. If you need anything you know you can call me, any time.”
Eddie nods, giving Hopper a small smile as he walks back to his car.
“Take care Honey. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” You reply.
Eddie and you stand side by side as Hoppers car disappears down the road, the crunching of gravel beneath the tires the only sound that breaks the silence. Eventually the crimson glow of the vehicles back lights fades, and you’re left in the dark, only a thin beam of moonlight breaking through the clouds to illuminate you.
When you dare a glance over at Eddie, you find him staring at the front door of his home. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, fingers twitching where they hang by his sides. He looks scared.
“Eddie?” You whisper.
It takes him a moment to shake free from his trance, like his name falling from your lips crept slowly through the air to reach him. Long lashes blink rapidly as his eyes focus on your face.
“You’re worried, right? That those guys know where you live?” You ask softly.
“They do.” He says bitterly.
“Would they really come here?”
Eddie shrugs, his lips forming a sad pout.
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s come looking for me at home.” He admits. His head drops, the scuffed toes of his sneakers kicking against the dirt.
You can’t make sense of it. You don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt Eddie, why they’d seek him out in the solace of his home, why they’d attack him in a bar. The words the man in yellow had spat at you ring loud in your head.
“You wanna watch yourself around that one girl. You’ll end up dead in a ditch somewhere before you know it.”
What could that possibly mean? There’s no way you could ever believe that Eddie would hurt you. Of course, you’ve been wrong about that assumption before, so maybe you’re not the most reliable judge of a man’s character. But your gut instinct still tells you that there’s no reason to fear the man before you. You just want to protect him.
“Come stay at mine.”
“What?” Eddie asks. His eyes are wide and intense. You fight the urge to shrink away from his gaze.
“Stay at mine tonight. That way, if anyone does come, they won’t find you.”
“Honey, I c-can’t ask you to do that.” He protests.
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” You insist.
“Besides, I won’t sleep well if you’re at home. I’ll be too busy worrying about you.”
Eddie opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes, he just stares at you for a moment slack jawed. You breathe a sigh of relief the moment you can see him decide against protesting further.
“Okay. Th-thank you.” He murmurs.
You smile at him sweetly, a tilt of your head indicating for him to follow you.
𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍
With a flick of a switch your living room is cast in warm amber light, enough to guide Eddie in so he doesn’t trip over the stack of books you’d left by the coffee table. At your instruction, he takes a seat on the couch while you slip into the kitchen.
You return a moment later, two decaf coffees in hand, and take a seat at the other end of the couch, leaving one cushion between you. You hadn’t wanted to invade Eddie’s space, he was still stiff and tense, but as you both silently sip your drinks you regret leaving the gap, your body longing for the warmth of him pressed against your side.
Eddie doesn’t look at you, just stares into the dark steaming liquid in his mug. Your eyes flit to him periodically, trying to search for any clue as to what’s going on in his head. Your own mind is racing, the questions you want to ask getting louder and louder. You swallow harshly, trying to force them back down. But it’s no use, like a scab you can’t help but pick at, you can’t leave it alone. You have to know.
The soft clearing of your throat has Eddie finally turning his face your way. You can read his expression now, he’s bracing himself for what he knows you’re going to say.
“You don’t - you don’t have to tell me, obviously. If you don’t want to. B-but I’m just.. confused, I guess? About why anyone would treat you this way.”
Eddie grimaces, pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping none arm around his legs.
“I - I j-just.. fuck.” He sighs exasperatedly. His head tilts back to keep in the tears that pool in his eyes.
You close the gap between you, shuffling across the couch until his toes are touching your thigh. A single drop falls from his eyes when he looks back down at you.
“Eddie.” You sigh, putting your hand over his. His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t pull away.
“You can tell me. I won’t judge you.” You say firmly.
The boy shakes his head in disbelief, a few more tears spilling. His voice breaks when he speaks again.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” He croaks.
The squeeze of your fingers is a silent reassurance. I’m here. I’m here for you.
Eddie’s chest expands as he sucks in a deep breath, readying himself for his admission.
“W-when I was in high school, things were tough. Around here, I mean. Wayne worked a lot, but it didn’t pay well, s-so I wanted to make some money to help out.”
You nod, stroking your thumb over the veins in the back of his hand.
“I, s-shit. I sold drugs, okay? I was a drug dealer.”
Eddie cringes, closing his eyes to avoid your reaction. While you’re surprised, you certainly don’t feel any disappointment in Eddie. More than anything, you’re just sad, that his life had been so difficult and he’d been forced to make those kind of choices.
“A-and I was stupid. So fucking stupid, I had to resit my senior year, twice.” Eddie spits, self loathing spilling from every pore.
You want to comfort him, reassure him that struggling at school doesn’t make him stupid. But you’d daren’t open your mouth, not wanting to interrupt him as the truth begins to rush from his lips like he can’t bare to contain it anymore.
“When I was in my third senior year, this girl asked me to sell to her. It was weird, she - she wasn’t the type, y’know? She was cheer captain, homecoming queen, the darling of the whole damn school. But she just came to me one day, all upset and asking to buy. H-her name was Chrissy. I only carried weed at school, b-but she wanted something stronger. So I drove her back to the trailer.”
Eddie let’s put a pained sigh, his eyes closed tight, face contorted with anguish. What you don’t realise, is that he’s not just suffering from the pain of reliving the memory. It’s the gut wrenching guilt he feels at having to lie to your face. But it’s the closest he can get to telling you the truth. He’d signed so many contracts and forms in the aftermath, agreeing to a concocted story that would save his skin, so long as the truth never came to light.
“When we got here, there was a car parked outside. It was her boyfriend - Jason. He was an asshole, stereotypical jock bully, and he had a nasty temper. H-he got the wrong idea, about why she was with me. They started arguing, a real nasty fight, right there in front of me. A-and I didn’t know what to do. They were just yelling and screaming at each other, and I didn't want to stick around and watch, so I left. I just got back in my van and drove off.”
“I just thought.. I thought they’d just do what they always did. Have a blow out, then calm down and make up. But that didn’t happen this time.”
Eddie clears his throat. When he speaks again his voice is nothing but a strangled whisper.
“Her… her body. They found it. Behind my trailer.”
It’s like the air has been sucked from the room, pressure pushing down on your chest until all the oxygen in your lungs is forced out in a quiet gasp. A shiver rolls down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck rising to attention. You hadn’t had much time to consider what Eddie’s admission could possibly be, but you know that the truth is worse than anything you could have come up with.
“It was easy for people to think they’d figured out what happened.” He continues.
“The freak of Hawkins murdered the pretty prom queen. All these fucking crazy rumours were going around, people were saying that it was s-some kind of satanic sacrifice. Everyone was convinced I’d done it. So I couldn't go home, I knew they’d never believe me when I said what really happened. So I ran, and I hid. Like a coward. The cops figured it out eventually, but before they could arrest Jason, the earthquake hit.”
You nod solemnly. You’d seen the memorial downtown, lines of names etched into the grey stone, a name for every life lost when the town fell apart.
“He died in the quake. The cops caught up with me eventually, and I wasn’t in any trouble. But it was too late. Even when they released all the statements, told people what really happened, it was too much for some to believe. The damage was already done. Most people accepted it eventually, but there’s still some people convinced that I did it. That I h-hurt her. They don’t like seeing me walk around free. They don’t want to let me forget.”
The sobs Eddie’s been fighting against overwhelm him. He chokes on his cries, tears soaking his cheeks, snot hanging from his nose. He whimpers and whines like a child waking from a nightmare. But he can’t wake up from it, not really.
“Eddie. Eddie’s it’s okay.” You whisper. You take hold of his shaking shoulders, pulling him firmly until he collapses, head pressed to your chest. You stroke your hand over his head, smoothing down his wild curls as he lets it all out.
“I - I didn’t, I didn’t do it Honey. I s-swear, I never-“
“Eddie. I know. I know you didn’t.” you reassure.
Eddie sniffs loudly, pulling back enough to tilt his head back to look up at you. His cheeks are flushed red, glistening in the low light from the lamp, lashes clumped together, dewy with tears.
“Breathe Ed. Just breathe, okay? With me, can you do that?” You say softly.
He nods. You suck in deep through your nose, holding the air in your lungs for a moment before blowing it out slow through your mouth. Eddie copies the motion, his bottom lip trembling.
“That’s it. You’re doing so good.” You murmur, cupping his hot face in your hands, wiping away his tears with your thumbs.
After a few minutes Eddie begins to calm, his breathing returning to a less panicked rate. You use your gentle hold on his face to bring him closer, pressing your forehead against his, his fluffy bangs tickling your skin. When he finally speaks again, his voice is a strangled whine.
“I didn’t want you to know. Not that I want to keep secrets from you, b-but I’m not used to someone treating me like you do. You - you’re the first person, in such a long time, who hasn’t looked at me like I’m a monster. Like you’re s-scared of me.”
Ignoring the ache in your chest, you brush the tip of your nose against his.
“I’m not scared of you, Ed.” You whisper.
“I - I feel safe with you.”
It’s a startling admission for you both. Safe wasn’t something you’d felt in a long time.
“You said you were scared earlier. In the bar.” Eddie says sadly.
“But I wasn’t scared of you. I was scared of what those pricks tried to do to you. I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt either.”
“No one’s going to hurt me.” You say, not really believing your own words.
“Someone might. It’s n-not safe, to be my friend. If you’re around me, then people might-“
“Eddie.” You cut him off abruptly, regretting it instantly when he flinches.
“I don’t give a shit what anyone in this town thinks. I want to be your friend.”
Eddie sniffles, wiping a rough palm over his wet cheeks.
“You could have better friends than me.” He whispers.
“I don’t want better friends. I like the ones I’ve got.”
Eddie finally returns your smile. Even if his is smaller, and his eyes are still glassy, you’ve at least done enough to convince him you’re not going anywhere.
“You need to get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.” You say softly, brushing a loose curl back from his forehead.
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“I’ll go get you some pillows.”
“No, it’s okay.” Eddie says, patting the couch cushions.
“I’ll be alright like this.”
“You sure?” You ask.
“Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”
“Okay, well if you do need anything I’m just down the hall.” You offer.
The couch creaks as you push your weight up, the nerves in your legs tingling from being curled up beneath you. With one last soft smile, you make you way down the hall to your bedroom.
𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍
Despite your best efforts, sleep evades you. Your mind is too loud, too many thoughts swirling and churning together, until the tangled mess is indecipherable.
Eddie had been so vulnerable with you, exposing a part of himself that was raw and painful, letting you in to see a part of what had shaped him into the man he was. While a part of you felt that you owed him that same vulnerability in return, there was no way you could tell him now what had really brought you to Hawkins. Your own experiences paled in comparison to the horrors he had faced, and the longer you lay awake, the more you convince yourself that telling Eddie what had happened to you would make you sound dramatic and self pitying.
You kick off the covers, even your thinnest sheets feeling too much for your body right now, your skin dewy with a fine layer of perspiration. Your mouth feels like cotton, but when you lean over to reach for your nightstand you realise you’ve forgotten to bring in a glass of water. With a sigh, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, exhaustion and the humidity making every movement feel laboured.
You turn the handle of your bedroom door slowly, trying to soften the click of the metal hinge. On bare feet you tiptoe down the hall, peering around the corner into the dark living room. Eddie’s body is just visible on the couch. Unsurprisingly he’s shoved the fleece blanket off, the lilac fabric lying tangled with his jeans on the floor. He’s still wearing his shirt, body curled over facing the back of the sofa, soft curls hanging loose across his shoulders, which rise and fall with each slow breath.
Being as quiet as you can, you creep into the kitchen, picking up a clean glass from the draining board and holding it under the tap.
“Can’t sleep, huh?”
“Jesus Eddie!” You gasp, cold water splashing up your arm as you turn on your heels.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He says softly, sitting up on the couch, his back pressed against the arm rest.
“I’m sorry I woke you.” You reply with a small smile.
“You didn’t, I was already awake.”
“Oh.”
You pause for a beat, until you realise the tap is still running, the plastic tub in the sink now overflowing. You twist the valve to shut it off.
A quick gulp of the water alleviates the scratch in your throat, and buys you enough time to work up the courage to voice your thoughts out loud.
“If you can’t sleep too, m-maybe we should just hang out. Might as well be awake together.” You say quietly.
“Y-yeah. Okay.” Eddie nods. He pulls his knees up to his chest, making room for you beside him.
“I uh - I was thinking, maybe we should hang out i-in my room?” You whisper.
Even in the dark you can see Eddie’s eyes grow wide like saucers.
“L-like-“
“Like in my bed. That way if we fall asleep, there’s enough room for both of us.” You explain quickly, hoping that your offer will sound as innocent as you intend it to be.
“Are you sure?” Eddie asks.
You nod, trying to ignore the way your glass shakes in your hands. Walking around the kitchen counter you give a nod of your head for Eddie to follow you. As he stands he moves to scoop up his discarded jeans from the floor.
“You don’t need to put your jeans back on. Wouldn't be comfy.”
“O-okay.”
Eddie’s feet pad over the carpet in time with yours, and he follows you into your room. The lights are still off, so he can’t see much, but as you put your glass down on your bedside table his eyes scan your space for what he can see, taking in the trinkets and books that line each shelf and surface.
The mattress groans when you climb on, shuffling across to the side against the wall. You smile nervously up at the boy, lingering hesitantly in the middle of the room. You pat your hand on the empty space next to you in invitation.
Eddie’s careful as he climbs on next to you. He stays sitting stiffly, his back pressed against the headboard, hands held tight together on his lap.
“You can lay down Ed.” You whisper. You stretch your own body out, rolling onto your side, cheek nestled against the cool pillow.
Eddie slides down the mattress, but he doesn’t look anymore relaxed. He avoids looking at you, his eyes instead sweeping your room, while yours indulge in studying his face. The small sliver of silver light that creeps in between your blinds highlights the light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, tiny constellations born from the summer sun. With each slow blink his thick lashes kiss his cheeks, taunting your lips which long to press there. His own lips part, and he sucks in a short breath, his whisper finally breaking the silence.
“You’ve read Lord of the Rings.” Eddie states.
“I have. Have you?” You ask.
The boy grins, finally relaxing enough to roll onto his side and look at you. His rosy cheek is smushed against the soft cotton of your pillowcase, his movement stirring a slight waft of jasmine fabric conditioner, mingled with the smoke and beer from him. You silently pray his scent will linger on your sheets when he’s gone in the morning.
“Only like a million times. It’s my favourite.”
“Really?” You gasp, excited by the sudden discovery of something new that you share in common.
“Really.”
“Who’s your favourite character?” You ask.
“Aragorn, obviously.” He says, with a playful roll of his eyes.
You tut, your tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth.
“Alright then, who’s your favourite?” Eddie asks, prodding you in the ribs with a ringed finger.
“Samwise.”
“Why him?”
Eddie lifts his head slightly, his eyes round and eager as he waits for your response.
“Because he’s loyal. He’s kind, and brave. He’s just.. good.”
Eddie nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Makes sense. That he’d be your favourite I mean.” He murmurs.
“How so?”
“‘Cause Sam’s sweet. And so are you.”
“You think I’m sweet?” You ask. You try to say it like a tease, but the breathiness of your voice gives you away, your cheeks warming from the compliment.
“Of course I do.” Eddie confirms.
You grin at him them, all sickly sweet and dopey. With a groan, you bury your face into your pillow, trying to hide your reaction from him.
“Where’ya going?” Eddie laughs, gently pushing on your shoulder in an attempt to remove you from your hiding place.
You let him roll you back onto your side. He doesn’t remove his hand, letting his palm lay flat and warm against your skin.
“Why’re you so nice to me?” You blurt out.
Caught off guard, Eddie falters for a moment, his mouth opening and closing but making no sound. He finally clears this throat, a gravelly whisper following.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m nice to you because I like you. A-and you deserve people to be nice to you. You’re a good person Eddie.” You say softly.
Now it’s Eddie’s turn to melt, his own smile just as saccharine as yours moments ago.
“Right back at you, sweetheart.” He says.
With a contented sigh, you shuffle yourself a little closer to him, your head now joining his on the same pillow, noses less than an inch apart. You can feel his warm breath tickling your skin, all cinnamon gum, rich coffee, and smoke from his Camels.
You’re pleasantly surprised that Eddie doesn’t pull away from your closeness. He doesn’t remove his hand either, just lets it slide over your shoulder, until his arm is draped across the top of yours. You feel his fingertips brush hesitantly across your shoulder blades, until he finally summons the courage to hold it there, the rough pad of his thumb stroking the skin exposed above your vest top.
“I-is this okay?” He asks quietly.
The hand not tucked beneath your cheek dances slowly across the small expanse of sheets between you, up over his stomach until it can come to rest on his waist. Eddie smiles, getting the confirmation that he needed.
The long night begins to catch up with you, a deep yawn escaping past your lips before you can stop it. Eddie chuckles.
“Maybe we should try to get some sleep now.” He murmurs.
You hum in reply, your eyelids already beginning to droop.
“Okay. Night Eddie.”
“G’night Honey.”
𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍 𑁍
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saeist · 9 months
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there was a faint tapping on his window late at night again, interrupting nagi's rare late night thoughts of missing his own home back in kanagawa. nagi sighs and walks over to his window to open it a bit to let you in.
“you look like shit” was the first thing you say upon entering his dorm room late at night. nagi rolls his eyes and closes the window. “hello to you too i guess” he mumbles. nagi watches you drop your bag on the foot of his bed
“what brings you here today?” he asks, eyes watching you maneuver your way around HIS dorm room like it was yours. to be fair, his dorm was basically your dorm now too. 
nagi recalls every little thing you left in here whenever you decide to crash at his place just like your spare toothbrush in his bathroom, your fluffy slippers hidden in the depths of his closet. (god forbid reo ever finds that or else nagi will never hear the end of it), your unkept notes just lying there on his desks and drawers and many more
“i’m always here” you smiled lazily, finally settling in on your side of his bed. nagi simply hums and crawls inside his duvet. pulling them just below his nose where half of his face is covered. 
you take a peek at his lying figure. he was staring up at the ceiling and not playing on his phone for once in his life. usually, he’d be yapping about how the reo forced him to run five laps around the field that day or how his team in the game sucks literal ass but tonight, he was too quiet for your liking.
obviously it bothered you quite a bit. he was your best friend after all 
“you okay?” you ask. breaking the quiet tension in the room. it took a while for nagi to respond. “... i guess” he answered quietly. you sit up and watch him beside you silently. 
you observe how his breathing was shallow almost as if he’s calming himself down. you opted on just keeping him company without saying anything. one of the very few activities you two do together. 
not like he’d admit it out loud but nagi does like having you around. you don’t suck the energy out of him unlike the rest of the world that basically drain him for no apparent reason.
but that goes out the window when you hear quiet sniffles. you scoot closer next to him, hovering over his lying state. “sei?” you call. nagi clears his throat and mutters a quick “what?”
“are you really okay?” you ask the question once more. there’s no point of lying to you now. nagi was always there for you when you need someone to talk to and now here you were, returning the favor.
“.. i'm not sure” he confessed. sitting up so he could look at you with puffy eyes. it was rare for him to open up his emotions to someone. he thinks you might be the second person who has seen him this vulnerable. the other being reo.
your heart aches at the sight of him like this. he was usually the laid back person in the room, the ‘i don’t give a single fuck’ type of person but everyone has their limits.
after a few minutes of silence, nagi speaks up. “i just feel a little overwhelmed recently” he opens up, scratching his ear as a nervous habit. 
“things have been pretty overwhelming during practices sometimes.. i don't know, i really don't know..” nagi rambles, brows furrowing in annoyance just thinking about everything
you don’t say anything as you let him continue rant about his own misfortunes for the past few weeks. it’s all you could offer. by the time he finishes, he was panting. his shoulders tense as ever and it looks like he won’t be sleeping anytime soon.
nagi's eyes snap open when you wrap your arms around him. he barely noticed you creeping closer when he was going off about everything. hesitantly, he hugs back. his long limbs circling around your frame. 
nagi catches a whiff of your hair that smelled faintly like mint, just like his own shampoo. even if it was just for a second, he got distracted that you do in fact use his stuff in the bathroom. strangely enough he feels the weight on his shoulders slowly lift just by a simple gesture from you. his mind going blank the longer you hold him. 
you are warm. the exact opposite of nagi. to nagi, you make him feel like he's okay. maybe that’s why he liked being around you. maybe that’s why he lets you stay over at his dorm room at any given time. maybe you bring a sense of home to him that nagi yearns for
you are nagi's safe space and tonight is the night he realizes that. 
another rewrite from one of my old blogs :p
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leclerced · 4 months
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Lando givesaq his girl a plush toy on one of their first dates. He wins it for her or just buys it from a local shop with souvenirs and she’s absolutely obsessed with the little toy. She has it in her bed every night and cares for it as if it’s was definitely more valuable than it is in the eyes of other people. After some time of dating and going back and forth they decide to move in tighter so she ofc takes the plushie with her and when Lando sees it he’s like “why did you keep it? It’s years old and not even pretty” but she tells him that she loves it and has loved it since he gave it to her. When he was away she’d hug the toy and think about him, maybe even she stole his perfume one time and sprayed the toy so it would also smell like him. And suddenly Lando gets emotional because it was such a small thing and it meant the world to her. He asks if she kept anything else and she laughs and tells him that she has everything that he gave her throughout the relationship. Every note, every box, every ribbon even. She shows it to him and tells him from where and when the item came from
lowkey thats so me tbh i have adhd real bad and will keep things for years. i have a pencil with a brain eraser on it that i got nearly ten years ago. ive never sharpened the pencil or used the eraser. its purely for the vibes. a guy gave me a circuit board that he made for a car and i kept it for like 4 years.
they go to a local carnival and he wins it for her !! he completely forgets about it because it’s just a teddy bear from their first date, and he knocks it out of her hand and it falls in a puddle so he tells her she can toss it. then they’re moving in, she’s doing all the decorating while he unboxes the big things and arranges furniture. he goes to their bedroom while she’s unpacking those boxes and sees it on their bed and asks, “okay i hope this isn’t weird but does your childhood stuffed animal have to stay on the bed we have sex in?? it kinda creeps me out.”
she wants to cry because he doesn’t remember and he thinks its creepy. he sees how sad she looks and starts apologizing but she explains that it’s not from her childhood it’s from their first date and he suddenly remembers winning it. and suddenly hes like oh thats so cute oh my god!!!! he falls more in love with her then asks why she kept it bc if he remembers correctly he dropped it in a puddle of mud and told her she could toss it bc its just cheap trash. she tells him she hand washed it as soon as he left and he asks why bc it was their first date? she’s kinda embarrassed but she’s like “i’m just sentimental i guess? i keep everything.” and he’s suddenly worried he’s moved in with a hoarder so he asks what she means by that.
she disappears into their new closet and comes out with a wooden jewelry box, he’d seen it before but never looked inside. she sits on the bed and pats the spot next to her so he takes it and she places the box between them. she starts with the lowest drawers, and it’s an assortment of polaroids they’d taken. he has a few himself, tucked in his wallet and in the visors in his car. the secret few of her in lingerie or naked, or his cock in her, hidden safely away inside his suitcase inside a little locked box. those are his keepsakes. but she has every other one they took, tucked away inside this ordinary jewelry box. the first drawer is completely pg13, but the one next to it… he picks through and takes a few of them himself to take with him when he leaves again. and then the ones above that are full of slips of paper, sticky notes, cards from floral deliveries, any kind of love note he ever gave her is organized inside with dates written on the back in her own handwriting so she’ll have an easy way to keep them organized.
in the drawers above that, every random keychain he’s bought her from each city he’s been to is stored. he noticed she always used the newest ones and assumed she trashed the older ones. above that is full of rings, and then bracelets. the top compartment, he expects necklaces, but it contains cards from every birthday, anniversary, christmas, love letters, post cards from the cities he’s visiting. anything that didn’t fit in the drawers below is squeezed into the upper compartment. she tells him about each one and how she looks through it when he’s been gone for awhile, how she rereads the letters he sent her, reads all the love notes he’d hide around her home. how she’d search for hours on end when she had nothing else to do, hoping to find more, which reminds him to start doing it in their new home.
he’s so surprised by it bc he saved a few things, but she saved every little reminder of his love that he’d ever given her. then she’s getting up and getting another jewelry box and tells him it only contains jewelry because he buys her so much she had to get another, and then she’s telling him which ones are her favorites and he’s noticing patterns in the styles she likes the most, which gems and cuts. he asks her about the clothes he buys her and she admits she didn’t keep all of them, just his or her favorite items, because she didn’t have a lot of space in her old apartment but now that they have a walk in closet, she’ll be keeping just about anything he gifts her, so he better think wisely unless he wants to see her wearing a hideous sweater he jokingly bought he that she loves simply because it’s from him.
instead of being scared she’s a hoarder, he spends hours going through each one trying to guess the year and month he gifted it to her, she’s finding the box of snow globes he buys at souvenir shops, and he’s guessing on those too. he loves how much every gift he gives her matters to her, whether it’s a post it note hidden in the cutlery drawer that just says i love you or a matching set of diamond earrings and necklace.
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gaysindistress · 1 year
Text
Sad Girl - two
summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with. 
pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader
warnings: cursing, guns, violence (it is a mob au after all), Bucky’s smartass 
word count: 1.5k
part one: 1 | series master list
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disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest
Once she’s in her room, she slams the door and slides down it, sobs leaving her mouth. Her body shakes in effort to release all of the emotions she’s feeling. A hand clasps over her mouth in vain to keep her quiet but anyone within a 20 feet radius of her door would be able to hear her. Suddenly the necklaces that decorate her neck feel suffocating and she blindly claws at her neck. Her nails catch on the diamond “S” her dad gave her for her twentieth birthday and she rips it away from her body as if it’s burning her. It clatters on the floor, sliding across the room but it’s not enough. She stumbles to stand and stomps her heel down on the charm as hard as she can. Cracking and crunching combine with her sobs to create the saddest song she’s heard in a long time.
Finally satisfied that she’s destroyed the charm, she kicks the pile of ruined jewelry and drags herself to her closet. A black hard-shell suitcase is yanked off the top shelf and she begins to shove whatever clothes she can into it. The tears make it difficult for her to see what exactly she’s packing but a part of her knows that she’ll either buy new clothes or James will have all of her belongings brought over. She slams it closed and hauls to overpacked suitcase to her bed. In her haste, she doesn’t hear the knock at the door or the following sound of it opening. Rifling through her night stand drawers, the person who entered takes a seat in a corner chair she only keeps to throw clothes on when she’s trying to decide an outfit. 
“Fuck!” she yells to herself when she can’t find the pistol she keeps hidden in her nightstand. 
“You father said you’d go looking for that so I had his men take it,” the person says from the corner. 
She whips around to see James sitting with his ankle on his knee, that very pistol resting in his lap. 
“Glad to know you went through my panty drawer before agreeing to kidnap me.”
“First of all no one went through your panty drawer. Second you father had someone take it and lastly I’m not kidnapping you. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. The decision is yours.” 
“Yeah right. I stay here and my father risks losing his contract and god knowns what will happen to me. I go with you and I’ll be locked away in some bullshit cage for the rest of my life. Sounds like I have some real great options,” she mumbles as she pulls a safe from under her bed. 
“I never said that they were good choices, just that you had them,” James examines the safe, “A safe under the bed seems too predictable doesn’t it, Doll?”
She doesn’t answer him, only rolling her eyes and grabbing out the few documents and jewelry box that sit inside of her predictable safe. Shoving them into her overcoat pocket, she puts her blazer and overcoat back on. At this point, she isn’t sure what the hell else to pack and she doesn’t feel like thinking about it anymore. She grabs her phone charger and shoves that into the purse she left here before storming her father’s office. Next she goes to her own desk on the opposite side of the room from James. 
James tilts his head in observation, making an inventory of the things she’s grabbing:
Computer 
Charger
Files
Pens 
A book that he makes a note to figure out the title
His list taking is broken by the sound of heels and rolling wheels coming his way. The woman stands in front of him, hand out stretched and asking for the gun he holds. Shaking his head, he stands and slips it into the back of his waistband. 
“I know you’re more than capable to handling your guns but I’m not giving you the chance to prove that,” he chuckles lowly and grabs the rolling suitcase from her. 
“After you, Doll.”
_______________________________________________
Descending down the stairs that lead into the house, James has a hand placed on the small of her back with her suitcase in his other hand. She keeps her head down, hair creating a barrier from the real world and the one she’s trying to construct in her head. Her father is standing at the bottom of the stairs and in the way of the car door. Steve is talking to him, keeping him occupied so James and her can get into the car quickly. James stops to hand the bag off to one of his men and gently nudges her away so she can slip in before her father stops her. 
“Where is my goodbye hug, darling?” Mr. Stark exclaims with his arms wide open, daring her to make a move. 
Sighing, she grabs the gun James tucked in his waistband earlier and points it at her father in one movement. 
“Fuck you,” she sneers, leveling the gun and her gaze in between his eyes. She is seconds away from squeezing the trigger but James wraps a hand around her wrist and pulls the gun away from her. 
“Don’t. It won’t make you feel better,” he says to her, passing the gun off to Steve and ushers her into the black SUV. 
The world is blur as she climbs into the middle seat, tears starting to well in her eyes again but she can’t let them see her cry again. James slides into the place next to her and muffled voices can be heard from around the vehicle. The truck opens and her suitcase is tossed in, the conversation becoming clear that Mr. Stark is less than pleased with her ‘goodbye’. Steve is the next to get in on her right side, saying something to James and then to the driver. She stares at her hands, rings staring back at her. Internally she’s hoping that her hair is providing enough cover that no one will notice her tears or the blank expression she’s wearing. 
A hand comes into her view, placing itself on her knee. She knows that it isn’t Steve’s because there isn’t a watch and the signet ring has a “B” engraved on it. She doesn’t hear what James is asking her because she’s too focused on his hand and whether or not she should push it off. It squeezes her knee and she barely steals a glance at him. 
“Do you want me to have someone pick up the rest of your stuff tomorrow?”
She nods. 
“When we get to my house, I’ll have Nat show you around and if you want, you can join us for dinner. You won’t offend me if you choose to just stay in your room.”
She nods again, staring at that “B” signet ring. 
The rest of the drive is silent aside from the occasional comment from one of the men in the car. She doesn’t say a single thing and the signet ring doesn’t leave her view.
_______________________________________________
“I’m not sure what you want to see today but this is the kitchen. Feel free to take whatever you want,” the red head explains pointing to her right as the two women make their way through the dark industrial house.
“Down there is his office. He has this door policy but he can explain all of that later. Your room is up here,” she leads the quiet woman up the stairs, “His room is over here and this is yours.”
They stop at double black doors and Natasha opens them into a rather simple bedroom. There is a bed centered along the back brick wall, a desk in front of the window with the closet next to the bathroom. There aren’t any decorations, leaving the brick and black walls bare. It feels sterile compared to her old room but she doesn’t believe she’ll be staying in here for much longer. 
“He wanted to leave it as simple as possible so you could change whatever you wanted. Tomorrow some of the guys will go get your stuff so you can make a list or they’ll just pack everything,” Natasha tells her, “he said he already told you but dinner will be at 7 so you can join us or I’ll have someone bring it up for you. He really does want you to feel comfortable given the circumstances.” 
She nods and sets her purse down on the desk. Tossing her suitcase on the bench in front of the bed, she turns to Natasha. 
“Thank you. I think I might just stay here for a while.” 
Natasha offers a sad smile and closes the doors, locking the fallen Stark daughter in her cage. 
She sinks to the floor and draws her knees into her chest as she finally lets out the sob that she’s been keeping in since her father’s house. 
From outside of the door, Natasha’s heart breaks at the sound of her sobs. Expensive shoes hit the stone stairs loudly and draws her attention away from the door. James appears at the top of the stairs, giving her a questioning look. She just shakes her head meeting him and leads him back down the stairs. 
“I would just leave her alone for the night. She isn’t in the mood to handle visitors. And yes I pointed out your office and room if she felt like seeing you,” Natasha answers before he can even ask. 
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creamyavocadosoup · 2 years
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𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭
a/n: ello! :] we are here today again for another angst imagine. haven’t written for diluc before so hopefully all goes well o-o characters: gn!reader x diluc tags: angst. implied cheating
✧・��: ✧・゚:
The wind was relentless as my feet hurriedly carried me outside the gates of Mondstadt and towards the winery. 
I was numb. 
The image of Diluc in a shamble to wipe away the glossy sheen on his lips, wide-eyed and panicked, was seared into my memory. He shouted apologies and excuses behind me, the cover of night allowing him to act in such a state, and promptly leaving Jean behind in Angel’s Share. 
I knew this would happen.
Slamming the heavy wooden doors open, I rush upstairs and drag out all my belongings out of the closet, drawers, and off the tables, completely ridding myself of my presence in the cold mansion. Loud footsteps weren’t too far behind mine.
“[Name], wait-” he spoke but it only quickened my actions, not even noticing the endless stream of tears on my cheeks being so focused with packing up and leaving as soon as possible.
He stepped closer, grabbing a firm hold on my arm, “Let me explain, [name] please. Let me-” 
“Explain what, Diluc?!” I turned to him, harshly ripping my hand away from his grip, “That you have always liked Jean? That you were only with me because you couldn’t be with her?” I laughed, furiously wiping away my tears as I glared at the crimson-haired man.
He was wide-eyed, all the color draining from his face and the expression was all the confirmation you needed. You had refused to believe it at first, thinking that Diluc wouldn’t do that, he was too nice. But the summer spent with him had proved enough times that his affections would always lie with the Acting Grand Master.
“There is no point in staying here anymore, Diluc, you know it, you just don’t want to admit it. You think you love me but you don’t, not like you do with her.” my voice faded into a whisper, the tension in the room feeling oh so suffocating. Finishing the last of my items, I carry them into the foyer taking one last look around for any other stuff I may have missed. 
He followed me into the room, standing still in the middle as his gaze followed my every movement. After making sure I had left nothing, I returned to stand near my bags, mustering up the courage to say goodbye to the man I had loved all my life. 
His eyes glistened with tears, his vermillion hair in absolute disarray. My heart squeezed at the sight, but I ignored the feeling. “Goodbye, Diluc.” my voice echoed amongst the empty room.
Picking up my bags, my body halted as I heard him speak, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it, “I’m sorry, [name].” His voice was garbled, obviously thick with tears.
I sighed, “Don’t be,” Turning to face him, I hesitantly walked towards him. He only stared at me, unsure as to what my intentions were but allowed me to do as I pleased. I reached both my hands to his face, gently wiping away the stray tears on his cheeks. 
“I remember the start of the summer, thinking I had you when you asked me out on a date.” Recalling the memory only had your chest ache and you stomach burn, “But the truth is, you were never mine to lose, ‘luc. It was always her.” 
Painting a smile on my face, I cover up the bruises made by the soul-crushing reality that he would never be mine. But Diluc, ever the perceptive man, was no stranger to the emanating darkness of pain in my eyes. It made him question so many things but one thing was clear. He hated seeing you in pain. 
“I’m so sorry, [name]. I hope you can forgive me.” he took my hands in his, squeezing them in an attempt for comfort but it only felt strange to you now. Salty tears ran down his face and he could feel his legs weaken, the wave of emotions almost too strong for him.
Breaking away, I pick up my bags once more, “Don’t worry. I don’t think I could ever hate you, Diluc. Not even if I tried.” Shaking my head, I drag myself and my belongings outside, the moonlight serving as my only light to the journey ahead. 
I didn’t look back, mostly afraid of what I would see, and I pushed forward with the burning hope for the future. And just as swiftly as I was shrouded in the darkness, August had been sipped away like a bottle of wine leaving only the memories forever to be carried with me.
✧・゚: ✧・゚:
a/n: Ha. In honor of the start of August, I decided to write around the idea of the song. Been in a Taylor Swift mood lately so she's all I've been listening to. I hope u enjoyed it lovelies &lt;3
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Note
So you’ve mentioned I think TFA Optimus saying the matrix of leadership was lost a long time ago so Prime no longer had the same meaning and became just a military title.
What if, while he’s acting Magnus, it just shows up one day? And doing the whole mystique calling scrap and TFA Optimus is first awed because it’s the literal matrix of leadership then becomes wary because he had an idea of what it means for him and he just kind of “nopes” out of the first meeting.
He doesn’t want to permanently lead Cybertron so thanks but no thanks.
But it doesn’t leave him alone. Like it follows him and pops up everywhere.
His habsuit, his closet/locker, someone else’s home unnoticed when he goes to visit!
Wheeljack comes for a visit and TFA Optimus opens a drawer to get something for his dad and there it is all sparkly and asking him to put it in his chest plate.
Wheeljack’s surprised both by its sudden appearance and TFA Optimus not even blinking and with an aggrieved grumble just slams the drawer closed and causal tells Wheeljack he’d get whatever later.
TFA Optimus doesn’t even want to risk touching that thing.
Wheeljack is so proud and so concerned when he learns how long it’s been following his son and that Alpha Trion has been encouraging him to take it.
Nope!
Hey! :)
Now, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned the Matrix of Leadership existing in TFA. I’ve always been under the impression that it didn’t, and that TFA Optimus would be confused when it was brought up—as Primes aren’t demigods in TFA, that’s just a high military rank that they earn.
I do know that, in the past, I’ve talked about how the idea of a Prime from TFP would confuse and alarm this poor boy—so, if it turned out that a Matrix did exist in TFA and it chased him down just like adult responsibility chases me…
Oh, yeah—he’s gonna run for it.
Like, seriously: think about it.
By the time Optimus is running Cybertron, he probably knows all about Wheeljack’s version.
He knows that TFP Optimus was this demigod with ancient wisdom and mystical powers who was granted the Matrix by Primus himself, and that the poor guy had to carry worlds and a war on his back because of that. He had to learn how to regulate his emotions and take everything on so that no one else would have to be so burdened, and he even ended up dying or almost-dying a few times and even got his memories wiped once.
Then, he meets TFP Optimus and he’s stunned—but he also sees that relentless, unending tired.
TFA’s Optimus is already under enough stress.
He doesn’t need any mystical bullshit, okay?
And this is a guy who is just fucking done. He’s gonna be the sort of boss who smiles and acts chipper around his employees because he knows from experience that they’re trying their best but needs half of the planet’s supply of caffeinated Energon before he can deal with a twenty-minute meeting with even a single stuck-up council member and his cheeriness falls to sarcasm.
The ‘bot seems to be around his mid-twenties to early thirties based off of his behavior, and he has gifted child burnout AND got fucked-over by the system. Now, he has to deal with all of the drama and paperwork that comes with holding the reigns of a world just long enough to put some legislation in place so it won’t burn to the ground.
He just wants to be a vigilante on Earth.
He is so ready for retirement, you have no idea-
So… if the Matrix appeared to him one day while he was working in his office, please understand: it would be ridiculously validating for Optimus.
All of that talk about him not having what it took and pontifications about programming and being worthy, and the Matrix of Leadership chose him.
He’s not a screw-up or mistake.
But then, he’s gonna think about it.
He knows what the Matrix did to his alternate.
And-
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He’s out of there.
He’s clocking out early.
Great work-day everyone, we’re going home.
But no, no, no—this is the call to adventure and responsibility! You can’t just “nope” that!
Well… Optimus damn well tries!
At first, he’s a little frantic—the Matrix won’t leave him alone. Everywhere he goes, that damn thing shows up—shining and beckoning him to accept the mantle of a true Prime, his destiny!
But y’know something?
If there’s one thing Optimus has learned over the course of this whole crossover series, it’s “fuck whatever anyone else tells me I have to be”. That can apply to someone like TFA’s Ultra Magnus, or even the damn Matrix of Leadership.
So, he doesn’t get scared anymore.
When that thing shows up, he’s petty.
It’s on-sight.
Everyone who knows about this is astounded by how casually Optimus will look at this glowing, mystical relic and proceed to smother it under a seat cushion to continue a conversation.
He won’t touch it.
He barely even looks at it.
He just tries to ignore it.
Certainly, some ‘bots will try to tell him that he should accept the Matrix of Leadership.
Alpha Trion may be one of them. Sentinel will probably have a dramatic reaction until he sees just how stressed his former classmate is.
But TFA’s Ratchet will be left howling with laughter while Bumblebee makes a video compilation of the greatest rejections.
And Optimus tries everything. He goes to Jazz, consults Prowl’s spirit, even asks Bulkhead if he can make a device to try and trap the thing.
No good.
So, it just becomes a part of Optimus’s life.
Wake up. Trap Matrix in the shower. Go to work. Padlock the filing cabinet to keep the Matrix in. Refuel. Tip his tray to dump the Matrix into the trash. Go home. Tell the Matrix that if it wants to stay, it needs to start paying rent. Stasis. Repeat.
Wheeljack doesn’t learn about this until he comes to visit and watches his kid open a drawer, see the Matrix, groan as it shines and beckons to him, and then slam the drawer to continue speaking.
TFP Wheeljack: Uh… Prime?
TFA Optimus: *exhausted* Don’t pay attention to it. You’ll only encourage it.
Naturally, Wheeljack’s going to be impressed but also pretty worried. I mean, a mystical artifact is pretty much stalking his kid. That’s… not good.
So, naturally, he’ll phone up the resident expert.
TFP Wheeljack: Hey, so—turns out that the Matrix exists in this reality and it’s hunting my kid. How do we make it go away?
TFP Optimus: *pretty much got sneak-attacked by the TFP Matrix* Good question.
TFP Optimus: *swipes a shelf of data-pads onto his cart* I am on my way. Whatever you do, do not let it out of your sight.
TFP Optimus never asked for any of this. The council made a decision, and then Primus just kinda threw the Matrix at him.
If TFA Optimus wants nothing to do with the mystical bullshit, that’s his choice.
And if TFP Optimus shows up while someone is trying to pressure his younger alternate, whoever that person is will definitely be getting The Look.
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Of course, that person already be dealing with a pissed-off Wheeljack. That’s fun-
TFA Optimus is just visibly at the end of his rope as his elder alternate arrives. He’s leaning against a storage closet, keeping the door closed as light shines from underneath it and echoing whispers talk about destiny and responsibility.
TFA Optimus: *deadpan* Please, tell me that the world won’t end if we kill this thing.
TFP Optimus: *concerned noise*
Eventually, they either contain the TFA Matrix or they convince it to back the Hell off—and TFA Optimus can just go on living his life.
He still double-checks every time he opens a door or drawer, though. “Destiny” is calling, and he wants to sit back and let the light blink.
His future is his own.
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wrathfulrook · 9 months
Text
WIP Wednesday
Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton and @direwombat. Ty!!!
Tagging @trench-rot @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @vampireninjabunnies-blog @strafethesesinners @deputyash @josephseedismyfather @v0idbuggy @voidika @schoute @shallow-gravy @afarcryfrommymain @inafieldofdaisies @direwombat @jacobsneed @stacispratt @purplehairsecretlair @derelictheretic and anyone else with something to share! I love seeing everybody’s wips!
A bit of Wrathling I wrote yesterday:
Patience stared, mouth slightly parted in surprise as John moved fluidly and comfortably through his large walk-in closet, pointing out what was hers.
He’d procured for her a full new wardrobe. An assortment of jeans and shorts in her size. A number of tank tops, t-shirts, button-ups, and jackets. A few dresses in various colors and styles. Shoes, socks, even underwear. She blushed in embarrassment at the thought of him buying bras and panties for her.
“I based the sizes off of the clothes you had on you before your confession. If anything isn’t right, let me know and I can get you something else. And let me know if there’s anything specific you want.” His voice turned suddenly serious, and he leveled his gaze to meet hers before adding, “These things are yours, Patience. They belong to you, and no one will take them or get rid of them without your say-so, okay?”
She nodded and clenched her jaw in an effort to control her expression. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She wouldn’t tear up over a gift from John fucking Seed. Especially when she knew it was a blatant manipulation based on the mini-breakdown she’d suffered downstairs. She had to give credit where it was due: he clearly had these things waiting for her, but masterfully twisted their reveal to prey on the vulnerability she’d been unable to hide just minutes ago.
She swallowed heavily and finally managed a “thank you.”
His face lit up and he gave her a beaming grin. “You’re welcome. Come,” he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the closet and into the en-suite bathroom.
Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head at the size of the room. A huge standing shower with a rainfall shower head and room enough for three or more people to stand comfortably stood beside the door. Against the far wall was a jet tub bigger than any she’d seen in a person’s home before. The vanity had double sinks and dark marble countertops.
None of that was what he wanted to show her, though, as he let her go and walked to the vanity, pulling out drawers and opening cabinets under the far sink. He pulled out the items within to show her each: a wood-handled boar-bristle hairbrush, a large rectangular plastic hairbrush, a new package each of hair ties and blonde-toned bobby pins, pads, tampons, face wash, face cream, scented body lotion, and on, and on.
“I don’t know what you use,” he told her, placing the items back in their respective spots. “Let me know if there’s any specific brands or products you need and I can get them for you. If there’s anything here you don’t want or need we can gift it to someone else in the Project. The same goes here as with the closet. This is yours and you can rearrange or dispose of whatever you want. No one else will mess with it.” The stupid smile stuck on his dumb, bearded face.
Patience nodded, face flushing red in a mixture of emotional overwhelm and pure anger. She was grateful to finally have things that belonged to her, things that she needed, and that pissed her off beyond measure. How pathetic had she become that she was grateful to the man holding her against her will for anything?
She knew John was the face of the cult. She knew he was their main recruiter. She knew she had shared some of her most intimate secrets with him under duress, and she couldn’t even remember everything she’d said. He was trying to manipulate her into handing over her trust and control and he was good at it.
A single tear fell down her face, and Patience couldn’t even be sure if it was an angry tear or not. She hastily wiped it away and thanked him again anyway. The smile on his face, the sparkle in his eyes, didn’t fade for an instant.
John excused himself and left her to shower after showing her where the towels were and teaching her how to work the controls. The shower was as luxurious as it looked and so she let silent, angry sobs wrack her body as the warm water flowed over her. She went through the motions on autopilot. Washing. Drying. Moisturizing, brushing, braiding, dressing…
And when Patience looked in the mirror, she actually recognized herself for the first time in too long. Hair braided down her back, black studs in her ears, choker around her neck. Grey tank top under an open olive button down. Dark skinny jeans tucked into black boots. Grey eyes, pale skin, tan freckles.
She looked like herself. But more than that, she felt like herself. For the first time in months, she felt like more than The Deputy. She felt like Patience Joy Ekner.
At home in her own skin, in John Seed’s bathroom.
She picked up the large glass bottle of fancy French lotion she’d just rubbed into her skin and whipped it, hard, against the wall above the tub. She didn’t even watch it collide with the stone tile. She heard the shatter and met her own gaze in sprawling mirror. She opened her mouth and screamed. Loud and long, until her face was red and her breath was gone.
~ ~ ~
John did not even look up from his book when he heard the sound of breaking glass followed by a piercing, wrathful scream. He simply smiled.
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barry-j-blupjeans · 1 year
Note
ooooooo prompt time :DDD
so, for your recent prompt list; magnus and merle with 5?
5. Oh so you spend your money on plushies? Like, often? You spend your money on plushies and can lay them all out on your bed and flop into them and get so snuggly and cozy? I’m. not jealous at all I’m so mature haha I don’t have a single plush friend to snuggle at night, like you do, 
--
Maybe the worst thing about moving up to the moon was that Magnus had to move all his shit up with him. It's not like he had a lot- most of the most important things he owned could fit in a travel pack and Magnus wasn't about to carry his woodworking tools on him at all times. Though, seeing how weird this whole mission turned out, maybe he should. Did the Bureau have wood-based enemies? He'd have to ask.
No, but the "moving all his stuff" thing was awful. Partly because of the emotional burden of it all. Whatever had been left of his- of their home in Raven's Roost had been sent to live in a new house with some people who had lived a few doors down from where Julia grew up. He didn't live with them now, per se, but he did kind of store all his stuff there and, y'know, hung around between adventures. But Magnus definetely wasn't ready to go digging through all of that.
Mostly, it was just tedious. You could only fit so much in a giant orb that fell from the sky and not being able to tell your friends where it came from or why it was there or where the hell you were going next was hard. In the end, Magnus managed to fit a few suitcases full of clothes and miscellaneous objects into the sphere, along with a large box of stuffed animals.
He wasn't the first to arrive back in the room. Robbie was out (more like passed out, dead to the world on the front steps of the Fantasy Costco), but Taako was chilling on the top bunk he had claimed for himself. He peeked out at Magnus when he barged his way into the room and eventually left because Magnus was "ruining his Saturday afternoon vibe session."
Magnus was squeezing all his clothing into the two drawers he had been allotted. Robbie's drawer was on the bottom and was oozing something that smelled minty. Magnus had bartered with Merle to get two drawers after Taako had staked his claim on the entire closet. Merle was left with a single drawer on top, which he couldn't reach without a stool, but he'd only agree to give Magnus two drawers if he took the one next to Robbie's.
Merle himself came back in only a few minutes after Magnus had sorted through all his stuff and laid fast-first down on his top bunk.
"You dead up there?" Merle asked, heaving a large box up onto his bed. He was stationed under Robbie, because he was slow at nose-goes (and they refused to explain to him what nose-goes was until after).
"Pretty much," Magnus said.
"Can I have all your stuff?"
"Ehhh," Magnus said. "Fifteen percent."
"I'll take it," Merle said, popping his box open. Magnus turned, stuffing his face back into his pillow. The bed creaked a little as Merle moved his stuff around and he heard the stool move. There were a few minutes of silence before there was a louder creak and Merle sighed. Then,
"What'cha got up there with you?"
"Your mom."
"Ughhh," Merle said. "Awful."
"I know," Magnus said, a little smugly. And then, he turned on his side and looked down at Merle, who was laying across his own bed. His clothes were about half put away. "I've got some blankets."
"What about the little guys?" Merle said, gesturing a vague hand towards him.
"The stuffed animals?" Magnus asked. He picked up the nearest one- a large greyhound he had named Terry. "This is Terry."
"Isn't that stuff, I dunno, kinda for kids?" Merle asked.
"No!" Magnus said. "It's for everyone! Are you telling me you wouldn't sleep with an army of your closest friends and companions if you could?"
Merle frowned, obviously thinking it over. Magnus sat up and the bed wobbled slightly under him. He picked up another stuffed animal- Rodrick, a corgi with a chef's hat. He held it out for Merle to see. Merle's frown deepened. Magnus knew that look.
"You're jealous," Magnus said, delighted.
"No, I'm not!" Merle said. "I just-"
"That's your jealous look!" Magnus said. "Don't deny it!"
"How d'you know what my jealous look is?" Merle questioned. "Huh? We've known each other for like, two weeks at max. You don't know anything about me."
Magnus backed down slightly, holding Rodrick and Terry to his chest. He flopped onto his back. Merle sniffed. They fell into silence again.
"I am a little jealous," Merle said after a few minutes. Magnus looked down again to see Merle twiddling his thumbs. "I dunno, it's just like- my dad didn't exactly want me to have- well, to have much of anything I liked, ha! So- so yeah, I'm a little jealous. They look nice. You've got a- a real good collection there, Mags."
Woah. Magnus wasn't expecting emotional honesty. He pushed himself up on his elbows and fumbled around the bed to find the stuffed dalmatian puppy with a flower in its mouth. Without a word, he tossed it over to Merle. It landed with a little more creaking of Merle and Robbie's bunks.
"Oh," Merle said. "I- thanks, pal."
"Don't mention it," Magnus said, laying back down. "Seriously. Tell no one. I have an image to maintain."
"Can't let the people know the terrifying robot killer likes puppies," Merle said, shuddering in horror. Magnus rolled his eyes, with a little more fondness than before.
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goldturnedgray · 1 month
Text
i just finally got in bed at almost 3am after a cleaning spree that started after i finished breakfast around 1:30pm and finally just ended
i've really been struggling to keep my studio clean or organized for the last 9ish months and it has gotten so bad in the last 3 months it's like all i can think about. ocd brain cannot even keep up a conversation with my friends because all it can focus on is disorganization and mess and dirtiness and clutter and feeling just so unbelievably claustrophobic in my own home
but today a new organizer arrived - a vertical shoe rack - which initiated a whole domino effect that allowed me to reorganize things in ways i've been planning to for literally years at this point. like it's crazy how much i did today. and i walk by and don't even notice some of it because it's just what i've been imagining for years.
but it's finally real and even if it looks so normal it FEELS incredible. so much weight lifted already. there is still weeks of work left. but going to bed now i actually feel lighter, i can breathe easier, it feels like i have more emotional space.
my therapist is on vacation this week and next so I'm making a list here to talk about in our next appointment bc this is crazy and who knows how much more i'll have done in two weeks!!
assembled shoe rack and put currently most used shoes on it
vacuumed entryway and hand scrubbed the floor
put switch & dock back behind tv and did some cable maintenance of everything there
moved former entry corner shelves into kitchen by baker's rack & moved buckets from bottom shelf of rack onto corner shelves, then moved bus tub onto bottom shelf. all were cleaned, sorted and reorganized. i had this idea literally years ago bc the bus tub took up so much floor space but i just needed it to hold stuff and now everything is in line!
moved drinks behind corner shelves
put away items sorted out of buckets & bus tub
refilled oat jar & reorganized popcorn jars
cleaned & reorganized main baker's rack shelf
replaced single fallen command hook for bathroom string lights after like 1.5 years
cleaned & reorganized top of closet cart, including mask storage and finding out i literally have 60% charcoal masks. why. i only wear rainbow or black how did i ended up with this many charcoal masks
set up smart plugs with string lights & set schedules
collected sooo many cardboard boxes from all over to be broken down and recycled sometime this week
i threw away soooooo much trash and junk and expired stuff and i am so pleased. just gotta keep it up!!!
figured out where to hang the lid holder and how to do it with magnets instead of screws 🧑‍🔧
organized away almost everything on folding table in kitchen
cleared off island next to microwave
set up mini shelves there & started organizing stuff onto them
put all papers/mail from desk and couch piles onto table ready to be sorted
cleared off so much desk space & put away computer stuff there
collected dirty laundry
labeled spice drawers
sorted wired baskets & refilled bars & tea bags
cleared off top of countertop dishwasher
opened cork coasters and put plants out and about
so many other tiny one off things that just couldn't be done bc the room for them hadn't opened up till now
what an insane list and there's more!! a 14 hour cleaning frenzy!! i didn't even stop for dinner. the first time i looked up and noticed the time it was 11:30pm. i was in a flow state
tomorrow i would like to:
do laundry. mandatory due to menstruation ruining my life this morning
sort papers & get ready for taxes
tidy headboard & specifically earrings
keep. chipping. away. at. floor. space.
unpack gifts from trip DIRECTLY INTO THE BOXES I'VE BEEN HOARDING for gifts from trip. can write notes and address later.
figure out where my ding dang backpack goes now. i really don't want to get rid of my wreath for an over door backpack holder but. that may be where we end up. if we do the urge to buy a new pretty backpack will be so hard since it will now be the decorative focal point of my entire studio. i've been so strong holding out for 2 years but my backpack is ripped in every single compartment and losing zippers and falling apart and also just so. fucking. ugly. it's not me at all but alas. money.
okay i've been writing this post for over 40 minutes now which is most of a therapy session so i think i must be good now. writing it all out calmed me down and i think i can go to sleep easier now
hopefully another productive day tomorrow!!!
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chaoticlicense · 7 months
Text
No More Than a Memory: Chapter 07
Chapter Summary: Miles visits Skye's old room with the hopes of finding something useful during interrogation but what he finds is something far more valuable.
Word Count: 2k
Tags: SFW, Miles Quaritch, Recom Miles Quaritch, Miles Quaritch x OC, Recom Miles Quaritch x OC, Female OC, AFAB OC, Mention of Sex Toys, Mention of Vibrators, Mention of Sex, Emotional, Angsty
AO3
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Chapter 07
Previous Chapter
Now—Miles' POV
There’s barely a trace left of Skye in her old room. No scent. No real telltale signs of her living there. And why would there be? It’s been nearly twenty years since she set foot in here. 
As Miles steps foot inside, he wanders through the space with slow steps and looks at everything he can find. He goes through her closet, fingering her shirts and sweaters before moving to her nightstands. He opens up all of the drawers and rifles through some of her things. 
In the top drawer are some old vibrators that she had brought with her all the way from Earth (he remembers finding them during one of the first times they slept together). He smiles at the memory of when he held one up and asked, “Seriously? Of all the things you could have brought with you from home, you brought vibrators?” She had just shrugged, saying, “What can I say? I have needs.” Luckily those vibrators came in handy during sex over the years. He had enjoyed using them to overstimulate her, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of her until she was a moaning mess.
With a soft laugh, he shuts the drawer and moves to sit on her bed. The mattress creaks with the weight of him. Placing his hands on either side of him, he spreads his fingers and feels the soft fabric of her blanket under his palms. Closing his eyes, he breathes in the damp, musty scent of the room and exhales with a long sigh.
His attempts at getting Skye to open up have gotten him nowhere and he’s on the verge of giving up. If she wanted to talk to him she would have done so already but it’s made clearer each day that she has no interest in doing so. He’s frustrated, furious really, that Lyle of all people managed to get her to talk even though the conversation was less than helpful regarding their mission. 
But it got him thinking that maybe he needs to try a different approach. An approach that is less focused on pulling information out of her and more focused on reconnecting with her. Instead of thinking like a soldier, he needs to think like a man. A man that is still holding on to the part of himself that still has feelings for her. A man that has been fighting against those feelings ever since he found out she’s alive. 
When he saw her standing there, ready to defend Sully’s kids, he was hit with an overwhelming sense of relief. Relief and hope that not all was lost after the way things ended between them. And so, he decided to come to her room, hoping to uncover something that might help him find his way back to her again. If he succeeds, he may be able to get her to side with him.
Opening his eyes, Miles glances around the room once more. He takes note of her desk sitting with scattered pages of notes as well as an old tablet sitting upright. He walks to the desk and moves the chair out of the way so he can kneel. Looking over the device, he tilts his head, curious. The tablet is covered with dust just like everything else in the room but what interests him the most is the small storage device still connected to it. He plucks the device from the tablet and looks it over. There’s a small label on it with the words Personal Logs written on it.
Bingo.
This is exactly what he needs. 
He turns the device over in his hand. It looks intact despite the layer of dust on it. He hopes as he pulls out his personal tablet from his pocket, that it’s intact enough for him to use. Once his tablet is up and running he plugs in the storage device. It’s slow, but eventually, he accesses her old video logs. There are thousands of videos all organised in diligently labelled folders. 
It takes time for Miles to make his way through the majority of the videos. Most of them are about ten minutes long, others are nearly an hour, and then there’s the odd one that’s only about a minute or two in length. He skips over those. After several hours, his knees begin to ache from kneeling at the desk but he pushes through the pain and watches as many as he can. 
A lot of the video logs are about her research relating to the Na’vi. Despite finding these of minimal interest, he can’t help but watch the way her eyes light up when she goes over her findings, talking about the Omatikaya and their culture. She looks so enamoured with the Na’vi that it’s hard to skip over these logs. But the ones that stand out the most to him are the ones where she talks about her relationship with Miles.
It’s clear from Skye’s earlier entries that she did not like him whatsoever. She said in one video that, “he has a stick so far up his ass it’s a wonder he can walk straight”, which makes him snort. She also talks about how much she enjoyed riling him up on a daily basis, driving him up the wall with her endless antics. Apparently, she got a kick out of being an absolute menace towards him over the years. 
But over time, her attitude towards him changed. The timestamps on her video entries indicate that it took several years before Skye started to see him as more than just a soldier. She saw him as a man, a man she could love.
"I hope, in sharing some of my research with him, that I can make him see things differently. Maybe in doing so, I can help him see this world through my eyes. If I can just show him the beauty of this planet and its people…maybe he will learn to love them as I do. At the very least, I have to try."
When he hears her say that, something inside of him breaks down. What memories he has of spending time with her in her room while she passionately talked about her work are clouded by his lack of interest in what she said. He didn’t care about her research, not in the way that she so clearly hoped he would. He cared that she cared about it but that was it. It never went beyond that. 
Now, with the knowledge that she was trying to connect with him, to bond with him…Miles’ stomach turns at the thought of how he all but disregarded her.
As the videos progress, that sickening, guilty nausea in the pit of his stomach only grows. Moreso when he comes across the one where she confesses her growing feelings for him after all this time.
“I never imagined that I would fall for a man like him. But time has shown me that he’s more than just a soldier. There is a whole other side to him that he keeps close to the chest to avoid appearing weak. Men like him tend to believe that showing their feelings equates to weakness but I disagree. Our feelings are our strength. Without them, what are we? When I first met him he was…incredibly uptight and focused on one thing: security. The mission. But I truly believe there’s a side to him that he keeps to himself. 
Unlike most people around here, I’ve heard him laugh—I mean really laugh. I’ve seen him smile so genuinely that it lights up the room—which is rare if you know him even on a casual basis. And I’ve seen the way his eyes soften whenever we’re alone. There’s tenderness buried deep down inside of him that only comes out when we’re together.
At first, it was just sex. Sex between two people attracted to each other and who happen to enjoy each other’s company. But…it’s more than that now, for me, at least. I hate to say the words but I think I’m falling in love with him. And, to be honest, that scares me because I don’t want to fuck things up and lose whatever it is that we have…”
As she says this, Miles notes the way her gaze softens as she comes to terms with her feelings. Scared or not, her eyes contain multitudes of affection. Affection for him of all people. The idea makes his stomach flutter.
With each passing video log, he watches Skye become more vibrant and full of life. There is so much joy in her eyes no matter what she’s talking about. Whether it’s about him or her work or even the shenanigans she got up to with Lyle. He sees the light in her eyes as she talks into the camera. 
And then, in the very last entry, that light is nowhere to be found. 
Skye paces back and forth in her room with tears streaming down her face, only ceasing to sit down at her desk where she expresses her hatred for Miles after what he did to the Omatikaya when he blew up Home Tree. 
“I’ve been so stupid. So goddamn stupid. I should have known better. I should have known that all Miles cares about is his position and his so-called honour. I should have known that he could never love anything or anyone other than himself. Not me, not my work, not us or what we had. The only thing he’s ever cared about is his fucking mission…”
Miles stares at the screen as the final log ends. He rewinds the video by a few seconds and pauses it when her face comes back into view. He stares at her tear-strewn cheeks, at her eyes so full of hate, and it all comes crashing down on him at once. 
The realisation that all he has are his memories of her. One-sided, biased memories that don’t even begin to cover the truth of what she had gone through. He didn’t know how he had hurt her, how he had betrayed her and the love she offered so willingly to him. He didn’t know how she’d fallen for him or how hard she’d loved him over the years. 
She had opened her heart to him in the most subtle of ways; sharing her research with him, sharing her passion for Pandora and its people, and sharing her joy when she discovered something new. Skye gave her heart to him and all he gave to her in return was pain. He never once told her how much he loved her. Never once pulled her into his arms and said the words he so desperately wanted to share with her out loud. Why? He doesn’t know. But what he does know is that he regrets it more than anything in the world. 
Miles can’t help but feel angry at his actions. Though they were not directly his own, he now carries the weight of what was done on his shoulders. It pains him to think of how he had treated her. How he had done so much wrong by her in the end. He had something wonderful in the palm of his hand and he let it all go in the name of the mission.
Grimacing, he slams the tablet down and pushes himself back onto his feet. 
He won’t let it happen again. He won’t let Skye slip through his fingers. He may not be the same man that she talked about in her video logs, but he can be better. He can atone for the sins of his past and find his way back to her. Now that he knows her side of things, he can work on doing right by her. He has no idea where to start but what he does know for sure is that his love for her rages inside of him. 
At first, he fought against it because he knew what would happen if he let her get in the way of his mission but now? Now he embraces it with the hope that in doing so he can be a better man. For Skye and himself. 
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All written content belongs to ©chaoticlicense // you do not have permission to use any of my works // do not repost or modify/edit // all content is written for adults by an adult // any characters unless stated otherwise, belong to their rightful owners // Skye Miller is my OC and all rights to her character belongs to me.
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nonchalantee · 9 months
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Ooooh, all of those asks look good, but I'll go with BTS for 'not strong or brave' please!
ooo hmmmm this fic is so long :'D it's hard to pick a scene, but i'm gonna go with a dan & lucy one, the morning after they help maddie come down from a panic attack.
They got home late which Dan takes for granted means they’ll sleep in late, but Lucy is up and moving way before a reasonable hour. He watches her dig through her side of the closet and through her drawers, throwing together an outfit more formal than her typical wear: gray suit pants and a matching vest over a white blouse with an exaggerated bow at the neck.
i do like the costuming a lot in this show. lucy's usual clothes are super casual, very comfortable, with a slightly sporty flair. this kind of outfit is more like armor, i think. WASP armor.
“Do you have a job interview you didn’t tell me about?” he asks, sitting up in bed. “Bobby’s gonna be heartbroken if he just got you and is gonna lose you right away.”
what i like a lot abt this is that dan immediately picks up on lucy doing something sus; he's coming in with a joking tone, but this is a query for more information coached in non-confrontational tone. dan's thing is being supportive, so he does try to avoid confrontation as much as possible.
Lucy rolls her eyes. “I didn’t tell you this last night because you needed to sleep,” she says lightly, conversationally. “But I promised your parents I’d take them out for breakfast. It was the only way they were gonna leave without making some kind of fuss.”
lolol lucy knows danny's reaction is gonna be bad. she comes in super casual when she knows the other person is gonna have a big response. there's something else going on with this, too; the night before, dan asked lucy to take care of the parents. it was a pretty big ask and dan wouldn't have made it if maddie wasn't literally having a panic attack in front of him and wasn't literally just about to give birth.
lucy took care of the situation and dan didn't ask any questions - he should have - and this little information bomb is lucy's mini payback for that whole thing. she's not actually mad at dan (or even at maddie), but that whole situation was bullshit and she's still annoyed about it all, her patience is short, and she's not willing to have a long conversation/debate on this. she was asked to handle it, she handled it, and she's still handling it, stay out of her business, etc.
“Uh, no,” Danny says. “We aren’t seeing them-“
“Yes, you’re right, we definitely aren’t seeing them.” Lucy goes into the ensuite but leaves the door open so he can still hear her. “You’re staying home. Or going into work, or whatever, I actually don’t care. I’m going to breakfast, alone.”
“Lucy, come on.”
i don't rly buy into the idea that every relationship dynamic has a boss and a follower. that being said, in this relationship dynamic, lucy does tend to win when they have disagreements. she just has more practice at it as the youngest in a very large family. dan's family ignores or runs away from fights, so he has less skill in that department.
he also just really doesn't like arguing. he's a very big guy and he's always aware that when he gets mad, it has a different vibe than when anyone else gets mad. so when he gets into arguments, he's always kinda hobbled by the control he has to keep over his emotions. he is pissed off here, but because he keeps a tight lid on it, it just comes off as exasperated/annoyed. it's hard for your side of the argument to come across as strongly as you want it to when you can't show the true emotions/depth of emotions. not saying lucy would be scared of dan if he did show all his emotions, but just that this is a very ingrained control habit for dan at this point; he almost always dulls the presentation of his more negative emotions.
She pokes her head out of the bathroom to give him a deeply unimpressed look. “Do you think I want to do this? Do you think any of this is fun for me? Don’t make it harder by fighting me on it. I said I’d do it, so I’m doing it.”
lucy coming in with a mild guilt trip. it's not great, but i wouldn't call it toxic. she's rly feeling the whole "back off now" emotion and dan catches the brunt of it.
“I’ll go with you, then.”
dan rly doesn't want his parents around lucy. it's kind of a knee-jerk protective instinct; he got too used to seeing his parents hurt buck, the other person he feels most protective over. consciously he knows they won't hurt her/are incapable of hurting her in a real way, but he still needs to shield her from them.
“Yeah, no.” She goes up to the head of the bed and kisses him on the cheek. lucy understands this protective instinct immediately lol. she thinks it's sweet but unnecessary. “The only thing worse than giving them something they want is giving something else they want even more. And the only thing even worse than that is hurting you. Stay the fuck away, or else I’m ratting you out to your therapist.” now this is lucy being protective. there isn't a lot out there that can actually hurt dan. mostly it's just his family and himself. here she's protecting him against both.
Dan grabs her hand. “Lucy, you really don’t have to do this. They break promises all the time. It’ll just be a small bit of karmic justice if you don’t show.”
i wanted the physical details of them making small contacts in this fight, like she kisses him, he takes her hand, etc. even when they're in disagreement, they can't stop from making conciliatory gestures to each other - seeking connection, showing affection. it's not a big thing, it's just ingrained. it's like bedrock of their dynamic, almost unconscious, so those things always need to be peppered in. as soon as the hostility falters even a little, one or both of them is reaching out to give the other a small gesture of love.
“Just because they act that way doesn’t mean I get to,” Lucy says. Her code of honor has been invoked.
lucy is the most heroic character type in this fic, in like the classic sense. she's chivalrous. she stays true to herself and to her personal code of conduct at all times.
Dan shuts his eyes and groans, defeated. dan is aware of this, and knows there's no swaying her, no matter what he says or does or who he invokes.
She kisses him on the other cheek, and he lets her go so she can finish getting ready. When she comes out, she’s put on heavier makeup than she usually bothers with and she’s braided part of her hair and put it all in an up-do, something that looks fancy and complicated that Dan has seen her perfect on the heads of half a dozen nieces. Princess hair, they call it.
again i just rly like the idea of dan paying such close attention to her that he can tell all the little differences and knows what they might mean.
“Are you trying to impress my parents?” he asks, not knowing exactly how to feel about that.
“Is that your way of saying I look nice?”
“It’s my way of saying you don’t look like yourself.”
Lucy grins. “You got me.” She does a little twirl. “But I look good, right?” she's trying to deflect him haha. there are some things dan doesn't understand about being a woman and he'd listen if she wanted to tell him, but she's not that interested in talking about it since it isn't often a big part of her life. she has a work uniform, and outside of work, she 99% of the time only wears the things she wants to wear. this is the 1% of her life where clothing matters in a way he's not gonna rly get, and she's honestly fine with him staying oblivious.
“You always look good. But you don’t have to look good for them. Seriously, just throw on a trash bag, maybe they’ll be too embarrassed to be seen with you.” dan understands nothing. he's cute but yeah.
“Yeah, I’m not doing that.”
A bolt of inspiration strikes, then. “Why don’t you give Chimney a call and invite him along? Make it an in-law breakfast. Means you’re not alone with them.” dan is actually very good at compromises. he's like, ok, i can't be there to be a human shield, but i can throw another person in the mix to be a human shield!
hmm the fic also hasn't rly gone into the dan & chim dynamic. they are on good terms - they vaguely knew each other for a few years before buck showed up, just by dint of various lafd things in the city. when buck was 118's probie, dan vetted them a bit tho. chim clocked what dan was doing and talked a little bit about how hard it is to have a brother in the service, and they had a good bonding moment. dan visited him in the hospital with the rebar incident and donated some sick days to the recovery pool for chim.
it got a little weird when maddie showed up, though, because maddie & dan took a while to reestablish contact. chim was obviously instantly team maddie and felt a little indignant on her behalf every time dan snubbed her, though she always said it was justified; but after the doug incidents, they were more or less all happy families. dan feels comfortable trusting chim to have lucy's back, which is actually one of the highest compliments he can give someone.
Lucy pauses. “That’s actually not bad,” she says. lucy is actually not a masochist. she will take any non-dan, non-buck, non-maddie human shields she can get her hands on. “I will call him on the way out there. He’s a guy, your type can get ready in like five minutes, right?”
“I don’t know, Chim can be kinda vain. Maybe give him ten.”
“Good looking out.” i just like it when they banter, i think they're cute
Dan gets out of bed to walk her to the door, and he catches her hand before she leaves. “Hey, you look pretty,” he says, mostly just to see if she’ll blush. dan's the kind of guy who likes to compliment his wife just 'cause
She doesn’t. She winks, forgets her hair is up and tries to toss it, then laughs. “I know.” lucy is a goofball. she covers it up with being badass and hyper competent, goal oriented, whatever, but also underneath all that she's a goof. it only rly comes out with dan tho; her big silly moments tend to be around/with him.
He watches her drive away, then closes the door and walks to the living room and lies down on the floor. He hates this so much it feels like his soul is leaving his body. He hates that his parents have been in town less than a week and already they’re edging their way back into his life. He meant it when he told them he was done with them. But he knew, even back then, that they meant it when they said they weren’t done with him. dan has lived under this particular doom ever since he went no contact with them. it's been a constant dread lol.
They’ve just always loved him too much. Loved him to the point of monstrousness. dan's problem is he does understand his parents and he does love them too. it's just that he doesn't think it's an excuse for the things they've done. he can understand someone and not forgive them - this is the main big diff between dan and buck. buck forgives people once he understands them; dan doesn't. He knows that love is in him, too; that capability. It’s part of why he fights so hard for control, and here is where dan is like eddie! haha, they both loooove to be in control, and are always chasing control/clinging to it. in eddie's case, he doesn't trust the outside world; in dan's case, he doesn't trust his interior self. they both have such a focus on control that it is a basis for how they relate to one another, actually, not that they'd exactly put it in those words. for moderation. He knows what it turns into when love has no limits. dan really doesn't trust himself. i think i've hammered that fact down really hard for most of the fic, esp in the convo with frank, but it is the core of his personality. he doesn't trust himself, he thinks of himself as a monster, he thinks of himself as complicit in abuse, he thinks he's a risk to be an abuser in the future. he has a lot of repressed self-hatred and a fairly bad self image. the way he thinks of himself would horrify anyone who loves him, honestly. he doesn't forgive so he can't forgive himself, it's a whole thing.
why i wanted to commentary this scene in particular is bc i think it's one of the only scenes where lucy and dan actually argue with each other. i wanted to show how they navigate that kind of thing, what discord looks like between them, and what comes out in each of them when they're in conflict. they both get manipulative in slightly different ways. lucy tends to go to an "obviously things are x way, have you only just noticed?" as a rhetorical weapon (you see her deploy it in another disagreement with dan later on), which is p obnoxious and feels very youngest sibling of her. dan would rather lose a fight than show a negative emotion he isn't 100% in control of.
i just also feel like u learn a lot about characters when they do things they don't normally do. so lucy & dan don't normally fight, but when they do, u learn more about their base personalities, their reactions, how they navigate their way out of the fight and back to status quo, etc. so i thought this scene did interesting things and i had fun with it, and it also helped me with writing their later scenes as well bc i felt like i had a better handle on their emotional sides.
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monosrojo · 2 years
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📂 will (and robin too if you want)
Will likes to listen to music while he paints, sometimes he goes through Jonathan's collection to find new things to listen to
Will, El & Jonathan all share clothes. Like there are no boundaries, anyone can go into anyone else's closet w/o asking and pick out things as long as they give them back. El is really bad at remembering to give them back though lol. Jonathan's style has changed a little recently, so he doesn't mind just giving both his younger sibs his clothes anyways.
Will still has a difficult emotional reaction to being too cold. He usually layers, and always makes sure to have a sweater or flannel with him just in case. He wears really thick, cozy socks always
Jonathan is a killer cook, and will & El, and even Joyce always request special dinners. Lately Jonathan is .. more prone to experimenting with his food lately while getting the munchies though. The reactions to these are mixed, El always loves them though, no matter how bizarre. Will not so much
Will helps El cope with some of her feelings through art. She doesn't have the skill he has, but she enjoys herself regardless, especially sculpture. El inspires Will to be more confident in himself, even if it's more subconscious.
El really likes playing board games like monopoly and stuff like that, Will and Jon are kind of over those types of games, but they play with her anyway. Usually they all order pizza and invite argyle over to play too
Will really wants to put his walls down with El, but he really struggles. I think he struggles with this even more than opening up to Mike & Jon. He feels connected to El on a level so deep he worries she can read his thoughts sometimes, this makes him anxious and he accidentally pushes her away because of it. El loves Will unconditionally, and sometimes gets confused about why he won't let her in, even though she can tell something is on his mind. She doesn't push him though, she usually just tries to make him smile or laugh in these types of moments.
Joyce buys everyone matching pajamas for Christmas one year. She was so excited because they had a sale at Sears. Jonathan begrudgingly puts them on with a bit of an eye roll, but Will & El are over the moon about it
Will is protective over Joyce when it comes to Hopper. He's really timid about it, but in his mind he thinks he's really intimidating. Despite this, he still really loves hop. He just doesn't want Joyce to ever get hurt again. Hop would buy Will ice cream or pizza after they went to Dr. Owens in s2. They don't have much in common, but they still try really hard to relate to one another, and love each other as family. Hop would absolutely deck Lonnie if he tried coming anywhere near Will, Jon, or Joyce ever again.
Will still has his Will the Wise costume. Sometimes he wears it still, and he made El a mage outfit as well. She's not really into dnd, but she still enjoys playing along with the dress up. The 2 of them make absolutely the most incredible duo Halloween costumes every year.
El tries encouraging Will to be a little more rebellious, deep down Will really wants to.
Jonathan still has Larry the Lego in a drawer somewhere.
Will looks up at the sky at night when his insomnia strikes and wonders what the party is up to back in Hawkins. He wonders especially about what Mike might be up to in those moments when he really can't sleep.
Will never used to be afraid of spiders as a little kid, but now he flinches a little if he sees one.
Definitely more in my brain but this is long enough whoops! Sorry I didn't get to Robin!
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cherrygyusworld · 2 years
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[7:29 pm] (n. jm)
cherrygyusworld
please don’t copy or rewrite/post as your own. none of the following images are mine; copyright goes to owner! if you’d like to take this idea and use it, that’s fine, but I’d ask that you don’t make the scenario exactly the same and use a different layout. enjoy!
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summary | you’re mentally exhausted of dating jaemin, but he just can’t seem to accept the fact that you two need to let go of each other. 
 category | nonidol!au, angst, sad, breakup!au
warnings | breakup, mentions of cheating, crying, broken promises, leaving, arguments 
 word count | 960
pairing | njm x fem reader
You sighed as you folded away the last of your clothes, staring into the empty wooden bottom of the closet drawer. You and Jaemin had build it yourselves the moment you'd decided to move in together. It was a huge step, but at the time, you couldn't have been happier.
Now, the emotions were dull and barely alive. It felt like your relationship was broken, almost suffocating. You didn't know when it began to fall apart. All you knew was that one day, the spark was just lost. Maybe it was when he decided to start going out more often and hitting on other girls. Maybe it was when you had accepted a promotion, causing you to be out of the house more often. Maybe it was just because you two weren't meant for each other at all.
You'd tried numerous times to leave. But in the end, it just wasn't possible.
The familiar sound of distant footsteps and jangling keys grew closer to  your apartment door. Closing your eyes softly, you felt tired of the upcoming argument already. Jaemin was stubborn and would never agree to simply let you go, but it was the only option left. You bent down, heart heavy, and zipped up the suitcase.
"Y/n, I'm home!" Jaemin's sweet voice filled your ears, sing-songy and happy. Was he truly happy, though? You shook your head out of your thoughts just as the bedroom door opened and Jaemin walked in with a marvelous smile. His eyes first went to you, looking distraught, and then down at the bags and the messy floor. His smile dropped.
"W-What are you doing, baby?" He hurriedly walked into the room, eyes already glossy. He looked down at the suitcase. "Y/n?"
"I'm leaving." You whispered, voice hoarse.
Jaemin shook his head, tears dripping down his cheeks. "No, no you're not." He muttered to himself, and quickly took the suitcase and shoved it into the corner of the closet. He scooped up all the remaining clothes off the floor and threw them on the bed, then shut the door immediately, as though you were going to bolt off into the distance while he was distracted.
You let out a burdened sigh. "Jaemin, we can't do this anymore. I'm tired of all of it." You said, rubbing your eyes.
Jaemin shook his head even more furiously, only keeping his teary eyes on you. He walked to the door and stood in front of it, arms spread out. "You can't leave. No. We're meant to be with each other, remember?"
You started to silently cry, remembering all the broken promises he'd made. How he would stay by your side forever, take your hand in marriage someday. How beautiful your family would look, how people would stare at you two enviously. You were tempted to run into his arms and just stay there forever, but those thoughts died when reality hit you again.
How you two had stayed up late at night on each side of the bed, facing the other direction and feeling uneasy. Knowing that he was texting another chick as he smiled to himself giddily in the living room, or how he made up quick excuses about hanging out with the boys to walk out. Arguing for hours when you two were together, not knowing the last time you'd peacefully and lovingly gone out on a date with him. You'd had your fair shares of beautiful memories, yes, but it was simply time to move on.
Jaemin, on the other hand, couldn't seem to understand. He desperately took your hands, looking into your hollow eyes. "Y/n, remember that time when we first met? You looked so pretty in your white shirt and jeans, but I accidentally spilled coffee all over you. And we met again later at the hospital, and I had no idea you worked there. We began to hang out more, and a few days after your college graduation, I asked you to be my girlfriend under our oak tree in the park."
That oak tree had died a week ago, too old and beaten down to hold on any longer. Just like your love.
Jaemin didn't let go of your hands. "Remember when we went on our first official date? The carnival. You said you wanted your first date to be special, not some boring movie dinner date thing. And afterwards, you said it was the best thing you'd ever been to. I had sugar all over my face and you even convinced me to buy you strawberry cake." You couldn't meet his eyes.
"Y-Y/n, remember when you met my parents for the first time? They loved you--they still do. They were impressed that you were all alone by yourself with barely any family, yet struggling and making a living off of working numerous jobs a-and doing well as a medical trainee. They were so supportive and so happy when you made it through."
You slowly looked into his eyes, about to start breaking down. Jaemin, shook his head, pleading. "Y/n, remember how much I love you? I'll stay by your side forever. I promise. I'll do whatever you ask of me. Please. I need you."
But Jaemin just stared into your eyes, heart sinking as he saw how bleakly they stared back into his. Hollow, emotionless, faded and worn out. You were gone. You'd given up on him.
Jaemin collapsed to the ground, shaking with quiet sobs. He knew. He knew that he'd messed up and it was time for him to let go.
The only thing he heard was the soft cry you let out before covering your mouth, then the heavy footsteps walking out the door, followed by the sad rolling of suitcase wheels.
You were gone.
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blahandwhatever · 9 years
Text
What are we, really?
What is it all about?
These have become such pressing questions. I’ve always wondered about this grand-scheme-of-things stuff philosophically, psychologically, but it’s different now. It’s more bothersome now. I feel like someone at a senseless, faith-shaking end of life.
I’ve learned so much about all the things that can go wrong with us. With our bodies and brains, and consequently minds and selves. Learned about all the things that can damage us, especially (well, in some ways - there’s always some tradeoffs) in this modern world - the food we eat, the air we breathe, the things we touch and put on/in ourselves, the radiation and other sneaky intangible things we’re exposed to, the sleep and exercise we don’t get, and stress and depression and loneliness and all negative emotional states.
I wonder what a mind I could have had, what beauty, what relationships, what accomplishments, what a life, what happiness… if it weren’t for everything that damaged me. All this cumulative destruction. I feel screwed upon screwed.
And those are just extras on top of the inevitable, unstoppable deterioration that happens to us all over time. This process affects the brain as much as anything, and there’s nothing we can do about it; we can only slow it down by taking good care of ourselves.
No one seems to notice anything going wrong with their mind until some threshold has been passed; until there’s clear (and it’s not always clear, because Jesus, memory is so malleable and fallible in under-the-radar ways and it always feels so real and unquestionable), life-impacting memory loss or something like that. Suddenly you’re developing Alzheimer’s, or something, after all these years of being just fine (but probably not really). Your atrophying brain is never a problem until it’s a diagnosable disease. You can’t see brain atrophy the way you can see lines on your face, nor does it cause any pain. Our minds and selves always feel impervious, to a large degree, to whatever is going on with our bodies - a feeling aided by the fact that the physical seat of these things is hidden entirely from our perception and, unless we’re self-studying neuroscientists, unavailable for objective inspection (besides, it’s so massively complex and scantily understood compared to all other organs that even objective inspection mostly yields vague, uncertain information).
It’s hard to be excited for the future with this knowledge. I want my self to be something I’m always cultivating and improving. I want to get better and better and bigger and more. But is that objectively possible - when, objectively, everything is shriveling and deteriorating? Can my mind become more beautiful if my intelligence is dropping, my imagination is dwindling, my memory is faltering, my emotions are dulling, and everything is becoming more fragmented? And how can I even trust myself to judge that, or anything, if my judgment is also impaired in the process? Will my self-awareness and sense of perspective also be impaired?
Maybe the brain is like a room, like this room of mine, with its ever-evolving collection of contents. With its drawers, its closet, its shelves, its walls, its floor, and everything that fills it all. With its door that lets me bring in and take out what I want to - and sometimes allows things to get pushed in or out by others. With its window that lets me see and hear what goes on elsewhere, all those windows to other rooms out there. With its myriad objects - practical, beautiful, interesting, sentimental; some trash, too, and some things without much purpose. With its pleasingly curated arrangements in some parts and senseless mess in others. With all its incongruities. With all its different sources of light.
Maybe, even if there are limits to what we can fit in this room, we still can do a lot to arrange things harmoniously and maximize the value of what we store here. And try to make good tradeoffs between what we add and what we get rid of.
Right now, my mind feels like my room at its most chaotic. So much mess, so much clutter spreading out of control, and nowhere near enough time to keep up with it all. Boxes of stuff I haven’t decided whether to keep, clothes scattered everywhere, sheets falling off the bed, plants withering, books awaiting quieter times, dishes and bottles and crumbs and receipts and an apple I’ve been meaning to eat for a week.
In any case, I will try hard to always keep in mind what really matters. My loves, my values, the things that have always been at my core. At least don’t take that away from me.
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casspurrjoybell-25 · 7 months
Text
November - Chapter 19
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*Warning Adult Content*
- Oliver -
As His flight makes it’s way from Washington to California, Oliver spent the time thinking of Cooper and remembering how they met on a plane.
He would have given anything to have Oliver next to him, taking up too much space and letting him hold his smaller hand when the plane took off.
Oliver looked at pictures from the trip, lingering on the ones of Cooper and him.
All along he had been sharing pictures on social media and Oliver had more than one text asking who Cooper was.
His friend Cameron was going to want to know all about it.
It was surreal landing back in California.
The palm trees were nice but Oliver missed the dark green spires of the evergreen trees in Washington.
The sun here seemed too bright after Washington's rain and clouds and everything was loud and busy.
It would take some getting used to after the quiet, laid back pace of the Olympic Peninsula.
Oliver still had his key to Brad's condo but it felt weird to use it now, so he knocked.
He was hoping his ex-boyfriend wouldn't be home but he knew there were a couple things they needed to talk about.
Brad would probably be glad to hear Oliver wasn't going to stay for the month he'd given him to find a new place.
To his dismay, the door opened and Oliver was faced with Brad standing there, impeccably dressed as usual.
The younger man felt his heart speed up at the sight and he couldn't deny his attraction to him.
Oliver had so many mixed feelings about seeing Brad again, everything from sadness to anger to anxiety.
"Did you lose your key?" Brad asks.
"No, I have it. Just thought I'd knock instead of barging in."
Brad stepped back and hold the door open.
"How was your flight?"
"It was fine. I'm planning on packing up my stuff and staying with Cameron until I find a new apartment."
Brad was silent as Oliver leaves his bag by the door and goes into the bedroom to start taking his clothes out of drawers and the closet.
He didn't realize Brad had followed him and it startled him when he spoke.
"I saw the pictures from the rest of your trip," he says, leaning against the doorway to the bedroom with his arms crossed.
"Are you with that redneck now?"
Oliver did his best to take a deep breath before he turns around and glares at his ex-boyfriend.
"No. Cooper lives in Washington, so how could I be? And he's not a redneck. Don't call him that."
Oliver begins putting his stuff in piles, on the bed, wishing Brad would just leave.
It was weird to be here with someone he had once loved and shared his life with for two years.
Oliver hated that he was still attracted to Brad and that he still made him feel like he had something to prove.
"Look, Oliver..."
Oliver turns around again and Brad is standing right in front of him, his expression serious.
"Maybe we acted too rashly. I've had a lot on my plate with work lately and the stress impacted my mood during our trip. I wasn't myself."
Confused, Oliver stared at him.
"What are you saying?"
"The week apart gave me time to think. I do love you and I don't want to lose you. I think it'd be best if you didn't move out yet. I need to get through a couple of projects that are coming up but then I'll have more free time. Time I can spend winning you back, taking you out to dinner, spending weekends in bed in different cities, going out to clubs like we used to."
Oliver couldn't believe what he was hearing and a wave of anger washes over him.
After everything Brad put him through, now he was going to toy with him like this?
‘Did he expect me to come running back to him?’
"Are you serious right now?" Oliver asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Like I said, I think we acted rashly."
"Not me, you. You broke up with me," Oliver yells, losing his composure.
Oliver wasn't normally an angry person and he knew he was letting his emotions get the best of me but he couldn't believe the nerve of Brad to act like this had been a mutual decision.
"We both weren't happy," Brad said.
"That's one thing you're right about. I wasn't happy. I was fucking miserable, Brad and it took time away from you and having someone treat me well in order for me to realize it. I'm not something you can discard when I'm inconvenient or you have better things to do. I'm not someone to line your pockets by paying half the rent while you put me down for my job not being good enough and not making enough money. I don't deserve to be just an option to you, instead of a priority."
"Is that what you think I did, took advantage of you by asking you to pay your half?" Brad asked, incredulous.
"And you think I don't prioritize you?"
"You don't. You act like it's a chore to be with me. You held the trip over my head as something you were doing for me but you made sure to let me know how much you sacrificed to make it happen. It should have been fun, not a guilt trip."
Brad stares at Oliver with a flat expression and cold eyes.
"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. Clearly we haven't seen things the same way and we'll have to talk about that. But I'll say it again, I'm sorry I wasn't myself during the trip."
Oliver shook his head, chuckling to himself even though nothing about this was funny.
"No, Brad, who you were during the trip is exactly who you are. It's who you've been for a long time. I kept clinging to how it was for the first six months, hoping you'd be that man again but I finally realized that man isn't coming back."
"People grow and change, Oliver. If you can't accept that, you're in for a rude awakening."
"You don't get it," Oliver says, frustrated.
"I don't think you ever will. But we're not compatible and we shouldn't be in a relationship. You got it right the first time when you broke up with me in Port Angeles."
Brad closes his eyes and sighs and Oliver remembers how his ex-boyfriend would do that whenever he was losing his patience with him.
It was another thing Oliver won't miss about him.
"Please just go," Oliver told him.
"You made your decision and now I'm making mine. We're done."
"Fine," Brad snaps and begins to walk out but then stopped in the doorway of the bedroom.
"You're making a mistake, choosing him over me."
"And you're making this about another man, when it's about you. I wouldn't come back to you even if Cooper didn't exist."
"Suit yourself," Brad  huffs.
Good luck dating an uncultured, uneducated redneck. I'm sure that's going to work out great for you."
Brad finally walks away and as soon as Oliver hears the front door close, he leans against the wall and slides down until he was sitting on the floor.
He was shaking after everything he'd said to Brad but he blinked back the tears, refusing to cry over him anymore.
Oliver wanted to get his stuff and get the hell out and never see Brad again.
But more than anything, he wanted Cooper.
He needed a big bear hug from him and he wanted to hear his voice and his booming laugh and see his smile.
But he lived a thousand miles away, which meant Oliver couldn't be with him when he wanted to.
And he couldn't blow up his life over a guy he'd known for all of two weeks.
It wasn't going to work out between them, no matter how many times they called each other or tried to visit.
That was no way to try to start a relationship.
Oliver knew all of this but it didn't stop him from taking out his cell-phone and calling Cooper.
Everything sucked right now and he was miserable and just wanted to feel better, even if it only lasted for a few minutes.
Cooper answered after a couple rings.
"Hey. You home? How was your flight?"
At the sound of Cooper’s voice, tears welled up in Oliver’s eyes again.
He didn't trust himself to speak.
"Oliver? Are you there?"
The young man cleared his throat.
"Yeah, I'm here. Sorry."
"Is everything okay?"
"No. No, it's not," Oliver confesses.
"I came back to Brad's condo to get my stuff and he had the nerve to suggest ‘we acted rashly’ and that ‘we shouldn't break up’. As if I had any part in that decision in the first place."
"That's ridiculous," Cooper says, already sounding offended on Oliver’s behalf.
"I know. He expected me to just forgive him and have everything go right back to normal after he ignored me on our trip, broke up with me and stranded me there."
"Are you still at his condo? Is he there?"
"No, he left. I went off on him and made it clear that we're not getting back together. I just want to get my stuff packed up and put this all behind me and forget about him."
"I'm sorry," Cooper says.
"I hate that you had to see him again and deal with his bullshit but I'm proud of you for telling him off. He doesn't deserve you. Never did."
"You know I have you to thank for this, right? Don't get me wrong, Brad made me feel like shit sometimes and I knew that wasn't okay but I didn't realize how much better things could be until I met you."
"You deserve the best," Cooper insists and then his voice softened.
"Are you going to be okay tonight? Do I need to get on a plane and fly down there?"
Oliver laughs through his tears.
"God, I wish I was with you right now. I'd give anything for one of your bear hugs."
"I miss you already," Cooper replies.
"I was happy to see it was you calling, even if it wasn't for a great reason. You can call me anytime."
"Same. I'd really like to hear from you. And I want to stay on the phone with you for the rest of the day, but I should focus on packing up my stuff so I can get out of here."
"I agree. Get everything moved and go be with your friends."
Oliver smiled to himself.
"Thanks for listening. I knew talking to you would cheer me up."
"Good. Whenever you need cheering up, call me. I can tell you stupid jokes."
"Sounds great," Oliver says, laughing.
"Have a good night and say hi to your family for me."
"Will do. Have a good night, Oliver."
After Oliver ends the call, he opens up one of the pictures of Cooper in a ridiculous pose on a hike and made it his phone background.
He knew he would need something to make him smile over the next few weeks.
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