#feeling good enough to brave a grocery store

[holylulusworld]

Breakfast for sweethearts

Summary: You only want to have a good time.

Pairing: Jax Teller x Short!Reader

Warnings: angst, bitchy people, fluff, protective Jax

Follow-up to this blurb: Blurb

Looking around the busy diner, you sigh. Your date is ten minutes late, and you are getting antsy. While you sip your tea, hoping he won’t stand you up, someone watches you angrily.

“Miss, could you hurry up and drink out your tea?” A girl asks. She’s dressed to impress, with too much make-up and a dress short enough to leave nothing to anyone’s imagination if she bends over.

You don’t mind. Sometimes you envy girls like her. They are brave enough to wear something you’d never dare to even dream of.

“Why?” You ask, wondering why she wants you to finish your tea. She’s not working at the diner, and you’re not slurping.

“My boyfriend and I want your table. We’ve been waiting for a free table for half an hour,” she snaps at you. “You can’t block a whole table to slurp tea.”

“Excuse me?” You can’t believe she’s yelling at you for drinking tea at a diner. “I’m waiting for someone. You can’t have the table.”

“Listen, Missy,” her boyfriend steps next to her to glare at you. He snatches the cup out of your hands and empties it on the floor. “Now you are done. Make space.”

You feel like someone pulled the rug out from under your feet. It’s the first time you’re completely and utterly speechless.

“Get up and leave,” the girl snarls. She snaps her fingers in your face. You are about to get up and just leave when someone behind them clears his throat.

“Do we have a problem here?” Jax watches you shrink into yourself. You look like you’re about to cry as the girl and her boyfriend turn around.

“Listen, buddy, stay out of—” the boy chokes on his words, facing a furious Jax. Everyone in town knows the Sons of Anarchy, and everyone stays out of their way. “Uh, she wanted to leave. So if you want the table.” He splutters.

“I don't think she wanted to leave.” Jax narrows his eyes at the boy. “She’s waiting for me.” The girl whimpers when Jax sizes her up. “I think you harassed my girl.” He says, nodding to himself. “What do you think I should do with someone harassing her?”

“Nothing, sir,” they stammer. “We didn’t…we wouldn’t.”

Jax puffs on his cigarette. He looks at the boy, and then the girl.

“Jax,” you murmur his name. It’s all too much. You don't want him to make a scene.

“I’ll be right there for you, Y/N,” he blows smoke in their faces, smirking darkly when they cough. “I give you ten seconds, and then you are out of my sight. But first, you’ll apologize to my girl.”

“Sorry, we are sorry.” They stammer before running off faster than you can blink.

"Now, I'm all yours."

“You’re late,” you say, watching Jax sit next to you.

“You’re cute,” he says and dips his head to look you in the eyes. “I assume the tea must be bad if they pour it on the floor. How about I invite you for breakfast at my place? I cleaned only for you, promised.”

“You smoked again too,” you tut. “I told you it’s bad for your health.”

“I drove too fast to get here,” he chuckles, watching your face contort in anger. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Sir, I’ll keep a close eye on you from now on,” you mutter under your breath. “I can’t let you drive too fast or smoke all the time. Last week, you were coughing at the grocery store.”

“You watched me?” Jax grins. “That’s very nice of you.”

“I’m nice,” you nod. “Now, let’s go to your home. Maybe I can help you with breakfast. I bet you only have unhealthy food at home.”

Jax slides out of the booth, holding out his hand. “How about you tell me about all the bad things I do?” He looks down at you, smirking again. “I love it when you care for me.”

Tags in reblog.

[hairmetal666]

cw// cancer mentioned, no character death

Eddie's moving to Chicago with his boyfriend and their best friend.

Eddie's moving to Chicago and it feels like everything is finally coming together.

Eddie's moving to Chicago, Steve Harrington is his boyfriend, and his life is starting.

Eddie's moving to Chicago, but then Wayne gets sick.

He tells Steve that he can't leave, not yet, needs to take care of his uncle.

And Steve, his Steve, perfect Steve, says with no hesitation, "I'll stay. Eddie, I'll stay with you. We'll go in six months. Together, that's the plan."

But Eddie can't let Steve do that; Steve who is everything bright and good and right in the world. Steve needs to get out, even if Eddie can't.

He insists Steve go, insists so hard that Steve can only agree, though Eddie can tell it's killing him.

Before they leave, Steve and Eddie cling to each other.

"Six months, baby. Just six months and then I'll be with you."

"I'll stay, Eds. Let me stay for you?"

"Not in a million years. What's six months in a lifetime together?"

"You mean that?" Steve whispers, the words tickling against Eddie's neck.

"Of course, sweetheart. Never meant anything more in my life."

They cling harder, crying against each other, despite it being goodbye for now and not forever.

They haven't said "I love you" yet, and the words hang on his tongue as the embrace ends, but he can't say it now; not when six months of time and 200-plus miles will separate them.

Except Wayne isn't better in six months. He's not worse, but the cancer's still there, he's still sick. And Eddie can't leave.

Eddie figured something like this would happen. Knew in the back of his mind that Steve and Robin and Chicago were never anything but a pipe dream.

When he calls Steve, he thinks he's ready.

"Okay, so Hopper's letting us borrow his truck, but he needs to know our timeline. You think next Saturday--"

"Steve." He says. His stomach clenches.

"What's wrong?" Because Steve knows, like he always does.

"Wayne's not better."

Steve is silent for a beat. "Okay...that's okay. I'll come back. Right now. Tonight. We'll do this tog--"

"You know I can't let you do that."

"Eddie--"

"No, Steve, don't. Okay? Let's just. It's time, you know?"

"It's not. Eddie, it isn't. Don't do this. Please, please," Steve cries.

"It's for the best. I know you can't see it now, but it is. You need to live your life, Stevie. Get that degree. Be someone."

"Eddie," Steve sobs. "Please. You have to know that I lo--"

"Don't," Eddie snarls. Doesn't mean to but can't hear those words, the three that will break him in two. "This is for the best, Steve. A clean break, yeah?"

"No." And Eddie hears Steve shuffling on the other end, like he's getting up. "I'm not letting you do this. I'm coming back, and we're doing this together. A lifetime, remember?"

Eddie's crying now, can't help it. "Please, don't. Steve, just--it's over, okay? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't do this anymore."

He hangs up the phone before Steve can argue, cries himself to sleep.

5 Years Later

Eddie never gets over Steve Harrington. His golden boy, the brave, perfect, kind, bratty man who has his whole heart.

Wayne is okay. Will never not have cancer, but he's doing good. And Eddie runs a record store in the town over. Visits some bars in Indy when he feels a certain kind of lonely. He's settled, finally, is the thing. He's settled and happy enough, so of course, that's when it happens.

He's at the grocery store, stopped in produce. There's a little girl, maybe 3 or 4--bright pink shirt, chestnut hair, little overalls--sitting in a cart by the tomatoes.

The sight of her sparks something in Eddie's chest, but he doesn't understand what or why, and then she's pointing at him, smiling and wiggling. "Daddy!" She shrieks.

That's when Steve Harrington swoops around the corner, reaching for the girl, his daughter, and Eddie takes a step away, ready to run from this.

The girls says, "That's the boy in all your pictures." She giggles and points at Eddie more. Steve blushes, and Eddie's assaulted by so many things all at once he thinks he may pass out.

"Stevie," he hears himself saying.

Steve freezes, looks at Eddie, so much knowing in those hazel eyes it makes him a little sick. But it still surprises him when Steve pulls him into a hug. Being in those arms again, It's like everything keeping him together falls apart. He sinks into the hold, breathes in deep, feels like home.

It shouldn't, though. Steve's got a kid. Probably a wife. Can't have his ex-boyfriend falling apart in his arms in the grocery store. Eddie disengages, steps back a little. Steve blinks, eyelashes fluttering, and Eddie is still so in love with him it hurts.

"I should--I should go," he mumbles, gripping at the back of his neck like it's a lifeline. The little girl giggles more, bouncing in her seat, and he's overcome with fondness. Can't help but give her an exaggerated bow as he goes.

He makes himself walk to the end of the aisle, but once he's left Steve behind, he runs.

That night, when a knock comes at his door, nothing prepares him for a sheepish Steve Harrington standing on the other side.

"Sorry to drop by unannounced," Steve says, manners still impeccable. "Wayne gave me your address. I'm glad--I'm glad he's doing okay, Eddie."

Eddie's too astonished to respond, nods for a few seconds before, "Th-thanks. Uhh, you wanna come in?"

Steve does and then they're in Eddie's little living room together and what the fuck is he supposed to do?

"Where's the kid?" he asks. He gestures Steve to the couch.

Steve smiles, a soft thing that's a knife to Eddie's heart. "Oh, I left her with Robin. They'll be fine for a few hours. Her name's Ellie, by the way. Ellie Jane Harrington."

"She knows who I am?" Eddie asks.

"Course. I told her about everyone. Showed her pictures. I hoped she could meet you one day."

"Yeah?" Eddie can't stand the thing that unfurls in his chest, blooming with love, so much care it aches in his teeth. "I swear next time I won't run away."

Steve laughs, hazel eyes fond in a way that Eddie can't look at for too long. "You didn't run away, Eds. It was a weird--reunion."

Eddie chuckles, pulls hair over his face. "A little bit. Not every day you run into your ex and his daughter scoping out tomatoes."

"I was hoping to give you a call, ask you out to dinner, or something. Not my kid recognizing you at Bradley's Big Buy."

"You wanna take me out to dinner, Stevie?" He asks before he can think better of it. Steve blushes red, and god Eddie missed him.

"Thought it might be nice, yeah. Get to know each other again."

It's Eddie turn to blush. "Why are you here?" He asks, good of a segue as any.

"Here, like, in your apartment, or here in Hawkins?"

"Both."

"I'm--uh--the new counselor at Hawkins High. Might coach the basketball team."

"But--Chicago," is all Eddie can say.

Steve laughs. "It was fun for a while, but--I don't know, man, it got hard with a kid. Joyce told me about the job opening and I decided to try."

"And Ellie's mom?" Eddie doesn't want to ask, can't stand not knowing.

Steve's eyes fall. "Ah," his hands squeeze into fists. "She's not in the picture. Never really was. After--" he takes a deep breath. "After we broke up, I sort of. Lost myself for awhile. Slept around. One night, I got this call saying that a baby had been surrendered at a fire station, my name listed as the father."

"Oh, sweetheart. I bet you didn't hesitate."

Steve stares at his hands, smiles. "Not for a second. I cried when I saw her, Eds. Just fucking sobbed. She was so beautiful. Then I had to figure out how to raise a kid and finish school."

"But you did it." Eddie can't hide that he's crying anymore.

Steve nods, is crying too.

"I'm really proud of you, sweetheart," Eddie whispers.

They look at each other, tear stained and sad but somehow so happy, and Steve leans forward, presses his mouth to Eddie's. He freezes, shocked to stillness, overwhelmed with the thing he never thought he'd have again.

Steve pulls back, face red and eyes wide. "I'm so sorry. I got it in my head--" he stands, fumbling for his keys. "I should have never--you told me we were done and I know you meant it. But I saw you in the grocery store and I thought, you know, I'm never getting over him. I'm so stup--"

"Steve, wait" Eddie snaps out of it all at once, hurrying to where the man he's never stopped loving is shoving his feet inexpertly into his shoes.

"Don't leave," he says, almost whispering. "Please don't leave. Steve, I'm so, so sorry for how I ended things. I was so young and stupid, and--I didn't want you to lose your dreams for me."

Steve turns then, tears trickling down his cheeks. "You were my dream, Eds. You still are. I should have come back, made you let me stay. But I thought--maybe your feelings had changed. That you didn't--that you weren't--"

Eddie can't help it, pulls Steve into his arms. "I was. I am. You're all I've ever wanted." He presses his face to Steve's hair, breathes in deep. "I loved you then. I love you now. I've loved you every day in between."

"I love you," Steve sobs. "I love you so much."

They kiss, lips slotting together like they never stopped. It's salty with tears, but it's perfect. It's them.

Their mouths part, but they stay in each other's orbit; need the proximity after years apart.

"I have a kid now, Eddie," Steve says into the silence between them.

"Yeah," Eddie nods. "She's beautiful. Looks like her dad."

Steve smiles, flushes again. "She needs stability in her life, you know? She's my priority. Always will be. And if I--if this--"

Eddie knows. Understands his boy just as well now as he did back then. "We'll take it as slow as you need, baby. I want to be there for both of you. When you're ready. And until then, I'll be wherever you need me."

More tears escape Steve's eyes, but Eddie brushes them away. "We have a lifetime to figure it out."

[msfcatlover]

Oracle!Tim has a wheelchair, but hates using it. He loudly insists he doesn’t need to when almost anyone suggests it. He can get around just fine on crutches, and it’s bad enough the way people treat him like that; he refuses to have them literally looking down on him.

Except, see, the thing is… he does need it. By the end of the day navigating on his crutches, Tim hurts. His back is screaming from the shoulders down, his spine feels almost swollen with how it takes over his senses (burning, throbbing, every click & grind of bone like having a knife wedged between the vertebrae,) the skin on his legs feels like it’s trying to crawl off his body, and there’s sharp needles of pain shooting through his leg muscles. If Tim spends the day on his feet/moving around a lot on his crutches, he’s going to spend the next 3 nights trying to be Oracle while flat on his back on the floor. (Tim does try to get around this by having wheelie chairs in all his offices and just not walking around much, but if the weather turns cold or a big storm blows in, even that won’t help.)

He gets better about it over time. Cass drags Tim into helping with her specific charity work, helping other disabled kids in Gotham. Tim ends up giving interviews in which he talks about being an ambulatory wheelchair user, how he’s treated when he goes out in the chair, how people act like it’s all a horrible lie if they ever see him get up from it, and how it combines with Tim’s own pride & internalized ableism to lead to him gritting his teeth and just pushing through. “It’s not worth it,” he tells Vicki Vale, a rueful smile on his face. “It’s never worth it, to go home and lay on the floor in too much pain to move, just so the people at the grocery store don’t see me in my chair. But I do it anyway, and I’m probably going to keep doing it… so if you see me out in public, please ask me if I’m being stupid, because there’s a good chance the answer is yes.” People laugh. Vicki calls him brave for talking about it. Tim says if he can raise just a little attention, make people a little more aware of how they treat people in (and out) of wheelchairs, he’ll have done something good.

Then he goes home. Lays on the floor. And tries not to cry while one of his loved ones rubs tiger balm into his back, because no, people don’t understand, it fucking hurts.

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 14

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Warnings: Violence, attempted kidnapping, stalking, injured arm, mention of weapon, nightmares, angst, period care, fear, anxious Sy, police officers, language

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 

Part 13

My heart immediately sinks to the pit of my stomach and in an instant, I’m running. It feels like minutes as I run watching Colin’s slimy hands wrapped around Emma’s chest from behind as she fights to defend herself. He is gripping her wrist tightly as he pins it to her chest and she’s twisting and yelling, but I can no longer hear her screams over my own raging thoughts. He looks up as my thundering steps approach just as Emma bites his hand. 

“Ouch! You bitch!” He screams at Emma and I use his moment of distraction to rip Emma from his arms. I push her behind me away from Colin and without another thought, I rare back and punch him square in the nose. The force behind that punch was enough to split my knuckles but I don’t hesitate to follow his body to the ground and hit him again. Hard. As hard as I can. I’m completely lost in my rage as the only sound I hear being the blood rushing past my ears as my adrenaline pumps throughout my body. A large hand lands on my shoulder and I’m about to turn and fight whoever has dared to touch me in this state when I recognize Mr. Ellis. Mr. Ellis is a friend of my PawPaw’s and similar in age to him which gives me momentary pause. When did he get here?

“Son, he’s out cold. You’ve gotta stop now.” Mr. Ellis gestures to Colin’s body which is crumpled on the hot asphalt of the parking lot. 

“I… he was…” I attempt to organize my thoughts but I can’t.

“I know, Sy. I saw. I saw him trying to snatch that girl and I was getting my gun out of the glovebox when you came running up. Didn’t think I could take him alone. I’ve already called 911 and they’re on their way.” Mr. Ellis talks to me like I’m a caged predator and I realize, that’s exactly how I feel. God, it felt so good to split my hand open on his face. To feel just an ounce of the pain I’d like to inflict upon him. I maybe only got two good hits in before Mr. Ellis stopped me, but I made them count judging from the blood seeping on the ground from Colin’s obvious broken nose. I hear a sniffle and whip around to see Emma sitting on her bottom leaned up against a dark colored car with tears streaking noiselessly down her face.

Oh God, Emma.

Despite protest from my bum leg, I clamber up and over to her. She’s holding her right wrist with her hand and looks absolutely petrified.

“Sugar, I’m here. I’m so sorry.” I apologize. I want to apologize for her seeing me like this, for leaving her alone, for not getting there soon enough, the list is endless.

“Austin…” She whimpers and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my lap on the asphalt. Sirens are getting louder as police and EMT’s swarm the grocery store parking lot. 

“I was…sso…scared.” She hiccups between sobs and I feel my heart absolutely shatter.

“I know, Sugar. You were so brave. You were incredible. I’m so sorry.”  

EMT’s quickly rush to Colin’s side where he remains unconscious as they transfer him to a stretcher. Much to my dismay, according to the vitals they were shouting, he’s still alive. 

I know several of the police officers and they agree to call Walt for me. Following protocol, they still have to separate Emma and I to hear the versions of our story to piece together what happened. I refused any care for my hand, as the throbbing in my knuckles felt like the perfect reminder that I gave Colin what he was asking for. As a second EMT is taking a look at Emma’s wrist, a police officer that I knew from the ball field in high school named Keith allows me to say goodbye to Emma before driving me to the station for questioning. 

“Is it broken?” I ask the EMT.

“There’s a possibility of a hairline fracture. We won’t know until she gets an x-ray but Ms. Miller doesn’t want to go to the hospital.” She tells me.

“Emma, baby. Go to the hospital and get it checked out.” 

“I’ll give myself an x-ray at the clinic and if it’s broken I’ll call an ortho doc, but first I’m going to answer the police officer’s questions at the station.”

“Sugar, I” 

“Austin, I don’t want to go to the hospital where he will be. I want to go where you are going.” There it is. She doesn’t want to be in the same building with him and I don’t blame her. 

“Okay, I understand. Are you in pain?” 

“I’ll be fine.” She says as she stands up and a female officer joins us. 

“We have to ride separately because of their protocol, but Walt has been called and I’ll send him directly to you so you won’t be alone, alright Darlin’?”

She nods and I kiss her gently. 

“I love you, and I’ll be with you as soon as they let me.”

“I love you too.” She says with a forced smile. God, I don't want to leave her.

I follow Keith to his cruiser and he allows me to sit in the passenger seat.

I call PawPaw on the way and explain what happened before I ask him to go get my truck from the parking lot since he has my spare keys, that’s full of groceries and take them home for me before dropping my truck at the police station. Nothing surprises that man as he just agrees, tells me that he’ll take the dogs back with him so not to rush and to call him when I can.

I also call Walt and he promises that he’s almost at the station and he’ll go straight to Emma when he arrives. He’s a homicide detective so this isn’t even remotely a part of his job description, but he’s well respected in the community and someone I trust entirely so I want him by Emma’s side until I can be.

We arrive at the police department where I’m placed in a monitored room for about twenty minutes before an older man comes into question me. I explain to him exactly who Colin was, Emma’s history and fear of him, and my actions when I walked out of the store. The investigator surmises that my story matches the witness testimony that was given by Mr. Ellis as well as a young mother who was walking into the store when Colin grabbed Emma. 

“I can confirm that the suspect is conscious now at the hospital, but you should know there is a strong possibility he attempts to press charges against you for assault.” 

I scoff. “I dare him to try.” I say truthfully and the detective just leans back in his chair.

“You’re a big guy compared to him. What was going through your head?”

“I probably would have killed him if Mr. Ellis didn’t stop me. He was trying to take the love of my life. Someone he abused physically, verbally and mentally for years before I met her. I was not going to allow that to happen.”

“Off the books of course, I’d probably do the exact same if someone came after my wife or daughter, so I don’t blame you.” He said with a smirk.

“Can I see her?” 

“She’s still being questioned but I can show you where to wait.”

“Walt with her?” I ask.

“He hasn’t left her side, which is unusual but Walt’s taking good care of her.

After waiting for what felt like forever, Emma finally emerges from the room she was in with Walt right behind her. Her arm is wrapped in a temporary brace as she cradles it to her abdomen.

“Austin.” She says with a visible relief as I wrap my arms around her and she cuddles into my chest.

“Thank you, Walt.” I shake his hand while not removing my arms from Emma’s body.

“Not a problem. She did well. We’re pressing charges against the suspect for attempted kidnapping and stalking, in addition to the violation of the restraining order. He won’t get out of it like last time. We’re talking mandatory jailtime if he’s convicted.” I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank God.” I respond aloud.

“We have some paperwork to fill out and then y’all can go.” Walter directs us over to his desk and sends someone to get us coffee.

“The final thing we need to do is a written statement from you, Sy. I got Emma’s in the investigation room. She couldn’t write so I transcribed for her.”

I bite my lip to keep from cursing at the fact that my girl is injured. The poor thing looks exhausted as she cradles the Styrofoam cup of strong black coffee in her uninjured hand. I know it’s bitter after she takes a small sip and places it down with a slight look of disgust. 

“I’ll make this as quick as I can, Sugar.” I say and she nods before looking at the picture of Faye that Walt has on his desk. They engage in small talk as I recount the events of the afternoon starting at the grocery store on paper. My handwriting is just barely legible, but it was good enough for the army to never say anything so they shouldn’t have problem with it either. When I’m finished, I glance at Em who is resting her head against her uninjured arm across Walt’s desk and lightly dozing. I hand the legal pad back over to Walt who reads over it and then has me sign it at the bottom. He adds his signature as a witness to my statement. 

“There was a vehicle in the parking lot near where the assault took place that had an Alabama license plate on it.”

“Was it registered to him?”

“Nope, rental car. I’ve got someone trying to confirm that he was the renter.”

“Was it darkly colored?”

“Black.”

“Damnit..” I mutter. “She said she saw a dark car parked out by her neighbor’s house all night. It turned around in her driveway but she thought it was the neighbor’s kid. I didn’t check the surveillance video when she mentioned it.” I’m such a fucking idiot, I think to myself.

“Was she home?”

“Nah, she was at mine. I should’ve looked into it.” 

“Well, at least she wasn’t there and you’ve got surveillance camera’s up. Send me the video later when you go back and obsess over this.” He knows me well.

“I will.”

“She gonna be okay?” Walt asks and I shrug my shoulders.

“I honestly don’t know. I just can’t believe this even happened. I should have protected her.”

“You did, Sy. That guys face proves it.”

“I shouldn’t have left her alone.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. She’s not a child that needs a babysitter, you didn’t know. Just try to let her process her feelings about it and be there. That’s all you can do in situations like these.” 

“Thanks man. I really owe ya for being there for us. For her. I know this isn’t your responsibility and you certainly don’t have the time to spare.” 

“We’re family, practically brothers. She’s a great girl and I expect to see her officially becoming family one day.” He says with a wink and I smirk.

“I’m just trying not to scare her off or I’d already have a ring.” We shake hands and I gently wake Emma up.

“Sugar, we’re done. Let’s get out of here.” I tell her and she sleepily blinks up at me before nodding. Walt and I are both surprised when she walks around Walter’s desk and wraps her arms around him. 

“Thank you for everything. Next time you have Faye, I would love to meet her.” She says genuinely and Walt smiles, something rare for him.

“You can count on it. As soon as she knows you’re a veterinarian she’ll be asking you a million questions so prepare yourself now.”

“Bring her to the clinic sometime. She can be my assistant for the day.” Emma smiles and I’m surprised at how comfortable she seems around Walt. I’m grateful for it though. I’m closer with him than I am with my own brother and I appreciate her having someone else here she can rely on. Walt’s not an easy man to get to know, so it makes me happy that she broke down that barrier and got him to open up. Breaking down walls seems to come naturally to her. God knows, she worked her magic on me somehow.

We say our goodbyes and make our way to the parking lot where I find my truck parked in the lot, just like PawPaw said he would.

“How?” Emma asked as I opened the passenger door and lifted her in.

“PawPaw. Called him on the way to the station.” I answer before getting in and cranking the engine. It’s late afternoon now and this day seems to have gone on forever. 

“Can we get something to eat on the way home?” Emma asks and I arch my eyebrow at her.

“Sure, but I’m taking you to get that arm checked out.” 

“No. I want fast food, and I want to go home.” She demands.

“Baby, I’m worried that it’s broken. You’re clearly in pain. You’ve been cradling your arm against you since it happened.”

“I just need some Tylenol and a greasy burger. I’ll go tomorrow. After everything today, I just want to go home. Please?” She looks at me with pure exhaustion and almost seems like she might cry. I nod and put the truck in gear. I can't ever seem to tell her no.

“Promise you’ll tell me if it hurts and I’ll take you to the doctor.” I command and she promises.

After securing a bag full of greasy Mcdonald’s, I start making the way towards her house assuming she’d want to be in the comfort of her home. I plan on staying wherever she is, so I’m glad my grandparents took the dogs for the night.

“Where are we going? You missed the turn.” She points out.

“You said you wanted to go home so I figured you meant yours.”

“No. I want to go to yours.”

“Okay, Sugar.” I tell her as I make a u-turn to head back in the direction of my house with a small smile on my lips.

“What?” Emma asks.

“I just like hearing you say you want to go home and meaning my house. I figured you’d want to be in your own bed or something.”

She shakes her head. “Your house feels more like home to me.”

“It is baby. It’s our home.” I tell her as I tuck some hair behind her ear and her smile melts my heart.

After we get home and I explain that the dogs are with my grandparents, Emma takes some medicine before we tuck in to our greasy dinner. Is it really that tasty, or are we just starving from the events of the day? The Wizard of Oz plays noisily on the tv in the background but neither of us seem to be watching it, rather just using it as background noise while we eat.

Emma is quiet, likely processing everything that has happened so I just remain a silent presence as I let her sit in her contemplation, remaining close if she decides she’d like to talk.

I place a bag of frozen peas on her arm when she’s done eating and it startles her almost as if she didn’t notice me moving around beside her. She thanks me quietly as I elevate her arm on some pillows before I run my hands through her hair. We remain sitting in the living room until the movie credits are rolling on the tv screen. Emma is curled against me but seems uncomfortable. I ask her if her arm hurts and she just replies, “cramps”. Damn, in all of the madness today I forgot. This morning seems like it was a lifetime ago. 

“Let’s go take a warm shower and get in bed, Darlin’”. 

Emma nods and I help her up before tossing the peas back in the freezer. I shut off the lights and double check that the doors are locked before we head into the master bathroom and I turn the water on to get it warming. 

“I’ll give you a minute. Need anything?” I ask and she just shakes her head.

I head back into the bedroom making sure I have all of the comfort items I purchased this morning ready for her. I pulled out one of my t-shirts and grabbed some panties from her bag before setting them on her side of the bed. I made sure she had some water and pain relief meds on the nightstand as well. I stripped myself down before knocking on the bathroom door to let her know I was coming back in. Emma was already standing in the hot stream of water so I joined her and wrapped my arms around her. Her bandage was taken off and sat on the bathroom vanity and this was the first look I had gotten of it since she got hurt. I gently placed her arm in my flat palm and looked at the blue, purple, and slightly yellow bruise that had formed along the top of her forearm. 

“I’m okay.” She said as I stared at her arm and tried to reign in my anger towards that bastard of a human. 

“You should see the other guy…oh wait.” She jokes and I can’t help but smirk. Before I can apologize again for not getting to her quick enough, she speaks again.

“Could you help me wash my hair?” 

“Of course, Sugar. Let me.” I take her shampoo that she brought and left over here a few weeks ago and washed her hair before rinsing and conditioning it. While letting that sit, I washed her body as gently as I could. I noticed her knees were scraped but didn’t say anything about it, just gently cleaning them off. After rinsing her hair and her body, I quickly bathed myself before getting us out and wrapping her up in a towel. I attempted to wrap her hair up in a towel as well, but that ended up being more complicated than I realized. She smiled and asked for a moment of privacy so I waited for her in the bedroom as I threw on some boxers. Emma came out a moment later still wrapped in her towel and I quickly helped her put on some panties and my DILIGAF t-shirt that she loves so much. I re-wrapped her hand with the bandage that the EMT’s placed on it earlier today and made her promise that we would get it looked at tomorrow. She showed me how to brush her hair, claiming she could do it with her non-dominant hand, but I was adamant that she let me help her. I gently combed through the tangles over her long hair before settling her in bed with the hot water bottle on her abdomen before crawling in behind her to spoon her.

“Mmm. Thank you for the hot water bottle. And, everything else.”

“I’m just sorry you got hurt. I’ve replayed it in my head a hundred times at least and I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Baby. Don’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m so grateful you were there.”

“What happened…when I went back inside the store? I’ve been trying not to ask but I just need to know.”

“Well, you went back inside and I started unloading the groceries into the truck. Once I got them all in, I went to put the grocery cart in the little return area. I didn’t see him, I just felt someone come up behind me and I tried to turn around but he wrapped his arms around me and told me to stay still. That’s when I knew. The second I heard his voice and felt his breath on my neck, I knew it was Colin. I told him to stop, not do this. All he said was, “I’m going to make you regret turning your back on me.” I noticed he was sort of backing me up away from your truck and that’s when I started really fighting him and screaming. You showed up a few moments later.” She explained.

My hands gripped tightly into fists as I thought about what happened next. His hands on her, Emma’s screams, my urge to get to her.

Emma placed her hand on top of mine before turning over to face me. I helped her move her hair away from her face before she kissed me. Lovingly, tenderly, appreciatively.

“I love you, Austin Syverson. You mean the world to me.”

“I love you more, Sugar.”

“Thank you for putting up with my baggage.”

“Thank you for putting up with mine.” I say as I stroke her cheek before kissing her forehead. Emma yawns and places her hot water bottle on the nightstand before snuggling into me and falling asleep. Her eyelids flutter in the moonlight that trickles in to the bedroom and I lay there admiring her strength while also running through every ‘what if’ scenario in my head.  What if I hadn’t arrived in time and he had managed to take her? What if he had hurt her worse? What were his intentions by taking her? My brain gets carried away and I’m tempted to get up and get a beer, but I can’t stand the thought of leaving Emma alone after almost losing her. I lay there in the dark with the most incredible woman that I’ve ever met curled against my chest and thank God for letting her be okay before I finally drift off to sleep.

I’m awoken with a start at some point in the middle of the night, blinking the sleep from my eyes as I try and figure out what woke me. I hear Emma whimper and see that she’s having a nightmare. Usually it’s me with the nightmares, but this time she’s the one crying and curled in on herself in the fetal position.

“Sugar?” I gently try and rouse her.

“no, please no.” She mumbles and I flip the lamp on and scoop her up against me.

“Sugar, it’s Austin. You’re safe.” I tell her and her eyelids peel open, groggily.

She takes a deep breath as tears stream down her face. My heart somehow breaks even more.

I don’t know what to do or say so I just keep repeating that she’s safe and hold her until her crying calms down and she is asleep in my arms.

I lay in the dark cradling her as I try to keep my thoughts on my perfect girl, rather than that scum that I wish I had wiped off of parking lot to finish him off. I reach for my phone with my intentions clear. I know what I want. I have some research to do and now is the best time to start.

Part 15

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar

[lollytea]

how do think willow and hunter first talked about them being bi/pan? or do you think it's just so accepted on the boiling isles that they probably would never bring it up?

(This ask is from back when we got the bi/pan confirmation and I've been saving it, kinda thinking of putting effort into writing something cute and good quality. However I ended up waking up from a nap while the Q&A was happening and somebody told my confused disoriented ass that Zeno was talking about Hunter exploring his identity and going on dates while in the human realm. And I tapped out something very messy and stream of consciousness-y in my notes app in my sleepy state. So you're getting this instead. I don't feel like cleaning it up.)

Like like like it's. Luz putting together her little coming out slideshow for Camila. And the topic of sexualities comes up. And Amity and Willow puzzle out what theirs are nearly immediately. Gus doesn't but he's unfazed by it. While Hunter is like....I...can't say for certain and its bothering me. Like this is a THING that has a chance of helping him feel like more of a person. He wants his very own flag. He just doesn't know what it is yet. He'd like to know.

He likes Willow. He knows he likes Willow. But...there isn't a flag for liking Willow. (As far as he knows. He's thinking of making one. But for now he's stumped.)

There's a very specific route the kids take to the grocery store to collect stuff for Camila. Hunter likes to take the task because he likes feeling useful. Willow also likes to help but she'd be lying if she said another reason wasn't long walks with Hunter. Usually one of the other kids tags along too. Or more than one. But today it's just Hunter and Willow.

They always pass that damn statue but Hunter always averts his eyes and hopes Willow does too. He doesn't like to look at it. But maybe if he turned his gaze towards it every once in a while he'd notice the boy who always sits beneath the statue with a little handheld game console. The boy who always lifts his head when Hunter strolls by.

This is the day when the boy chooses to be brave. There's no gaggle of friends around him today. Just one girl. This is it. This is his chance. The boy marches up to Hunter and Willow in a way that Hunter immediately clocks as similar to his own Golden Guard body language. When he was trying to feel big but failing miserably.

The boy IS big tho. That's the weird thing. Tall with broad shoulders and chunky arms. A cluster of metal pierced into his left ear and a silver stud in his nose. He looks....so cool. So very very cool. Hunter misses the first words out of this dude's mouth cuz he was too busy looking at him and he needs to repeat himself.

So. Hm. Okay. Well. APPARENTLY. Piercings boy thinks Hunter is cute. Which is a staggering revelation that leaves Hunter a little speechless. And if that weren't surprising enough, he's now pushing a little piece of paper in Hunter's direction, babbling something about talking some time. Or maybe going out, whatever.

While all this is going down Willow just.....watches. Smiling. Nudging Hunter when it's his turn to speak and he's forgotten. It's cute. He gets like that with her sometimes too. It made her feel very cool and pretty that she made such a handsome boy nervous. But now....she's watching this little interaction play out and she's realizing....

Hunter's obvious little crush on her. Just how easy would it go away if he met somebody cooler. Somebody prettier. Somebody who's not clearly living a lie and hiding everything from everyone all the time. Somebody brave enough to actually ask him out.

It seems like just as she's getting comfortable in these kinds of situations, an Amity always sweeps in. And that's fine. She's used to it by now.

And also...she....she really cares about Hunter. He's been getting so much happier and experimental in the Human Realm. She wants him to try new things. She wants him to figure out who he really is. And....maybe that version of himself won't always have a little crush on Willow Park. Maybe he'll realize that there's better people out there. And that's okay. Whatever it takes for him to smile.

There's something very ugly writhing in her stomach and Willow pretends it's not there. Instead she yanks up her smile wider and as the mystery boy strides away, she pounces on Hunter. She teases him a little, she asks why he got so very shy. Is it because he liiiiiiiikes Mr Mystery Boy huh? And Hunter doesn't know what to say. He doesn't KNOW Mr Mystery Boy. Willow counters that's what the number is for. That's what dates are for. After a long back-and-forth discussion, its Willow that urges him to dial that number. They have to borrow Camila's phone. And Willow stands there as moral support as Hunter stumbles through the question.

Hunter has a date this Saturday. Which is very exciting. And also weird. And scary. He blushes whenever you bring it up. But Willow happily hypes him up for it every day leading up to it.

On Saturday, Hunter leaves the house at mid day and Willow sees him off, waving enthusiastically. He smiles softly and waves back at her, still twitchy with nerves. She gives a finger guns and assures him it's gonna go fine. He's a catch! This makes him giggle and she swells with pride.

The door clicks shut. Hunter is gone. It feels like a light has been sucked out of the household. Willow's smile slips.

She could head upstairs and hang out with the other girls. She could go down to the basement with Gus. But....right now she'd prefer to be alone.

Willow cleans the kitchen, which Camila is very grateful for once she gets home from work. And then she settles in the living room, snuggles up on the couch and throws something on the TV. Willow sits there and watches for hours. She barely processes any of it. And yet, she's simultaneously so wrapped up in the television that she doesn't hear the door click.

"Eyyyyy, I'm back," Hunter says in that awkward way he always announces his return. And just like that, a light switches and Willow is all zazzed again.

"Ooooooh Casanova has returned!!" She chirps. "A little.....earlier than I expected....?"

Hunter looks a little sheepish but doesn't comment on that. Willow thumps the couch cushion opposite her. "Cmere boy. Tell me everything."

Hunter sits down beside her and after turning to look at her huge grin, he smiles warmly.

"What?" She asks.

"Nothing."

"You gonna tell me how it went?"

"Fine. Um. Normal. For a date. I think? I dunno I've never been on one but I'm pretty sure I did an okay job."

Willow decides to rip the bandaid off immediately. "Any lip action?"

Hunter's reaction was a funny choking noise and a volatile flush across his neck "No!" He blurted. "Just...."

"Juuuuust?"

"Just hands! He held my hand! He held my hand and it was nice! I liked it!"

"Oh."

It's nice that Hunter got his hand held. He has such pretty hands. She's always thought they were very holdable. She's really happy. She's delighted. Just great.

She's a good person who is happy when good things happen to her friends, Titandamn it. And not a secretly ugly resentful person who wishes for selfish things.

"Yeah and. Uh..." He's scrubbing the back of his neck. "We...um. Ended up talking. A lot."

"About date number two, no doubt...." Willow sings.

"There's not going to be a date number two," Hunter answers immediately, knocking Willow out of her depth.

.....huh?

"I....thought you liked him?" She asks.

"I mean. Yeah. He's. He's nice but...but when I said we talked a lot...I might have told him that...." Hunter trails away.

"Told him what?"

There's a pause before Hunter speaks again, his voice a little higher pitched. "Oh! J-just. Just told him about a ton of stuff. Told him I like birds. And I like to read. And...and about Camila being a vet and....and I talked a lot about my friends. Gus. A-and Luz and Amity. And Vee. And uh. And you. And....we...we both decided that this probably wasn't gonna work out."

"Oh...." Willow....doesn't know how to feel about this. She doesn't have to pretend to be disappointed because she really is. Her friend had a chance to have a sweet little romance with somebody cute. And it just didn't work out. "I'm sorry, Hunter,"

But Hunter shakes his head. "I'm not disappointed. I actually....um. I liked it. I've never been on a date before and it....I dunno, it made me feel like a real teenager. Which is dumb to say because I know I AM a real teenager but..."

He perks up. "Oh! Oh and-and um...." His words tumble one over the other though there's a grin tugging at the corner of his lip. "Josh and I we....we figured it out. Me. We...we figured out me. I'm..."

He catches himself and clears his throat, extending a hand to her. "Hi, Willow! My name is bisexual!...Wait! Wait, no! Hunter! My name is....I'm bisexual and I'm Hunter! I...Agh!! Josh said I should come out to you in a smooth way but...."

Willow is grinning ear to ear, always transfixed by his frequent fumbles over the complicated act of putting words together. "You're bisexual!" She declares happily. "Hunter that's fantastic!"

Hunter's smile is soft but there's a hint of pride there too. "Yeah...thanks. I know it is...."

A pause.

"I have completely forgotten what bisexual means tho," Admits Willow.

"O-oh! Oh it's just um. I-I like multiple genders. Today I found out for certain that boys are....wow...."

Willow smirks. "Boys are wow?"

"Well.....arent they?"

She thinks about it for a moment, raking her eyes across the splotchy blush still clinging to his pretty face. Her insides are in a riot of fluttering flower petals.

"I guess they are," She agrees fondly.

"But also I...." He cuts himself off with a sudden bout of breathlessness. He inhales sharply. "Girls..."

"Girls," Repeats Willow expectantly.

Hunter, who has cut his gaze down to his tangling fingers, looks back up at her, manages to hold eye contact for a few very telling extra seconds and says, very clearly. "Girls."

"I see..." Willow is a little frustrated to find that she's also a little short of breath. "So maybe your next date will be with a girl then,"

Hunter's blush flares. "I'd like it to be..." He mumbles. "But..."

"Buuuuuut?"

There's some sort of internal battle raging on. She can see it in the violent twist and turns of his facial expressions. Finally, his throat bobs. "Nothing." He answers.

"Sorry...." He continues. "For coming home early. I just really wanted to...." Why does he keep trailing off? "It looks like you were trying to have some time to yourself. I can leave if...."

"You stay right here, Mr heartbreaker," Says Willow. "Stay here and watch weird human crystal ball shows with me."

A stiffness she didn't notice until now melts out of his shoulders. "Okay. I'd like that. A lot."

Hunter attempts to shuffle into a comfortable position, but what he's not prepared for is his friend Willow suddenly lunging and knocking him against the cushions in a tight tackle hug.

"Congratulations on your name being Bisexual," She mutters against the fabric of his shirt. "I like being the first one told,"

"N-no problem...." His voice cracks a little.

It takes maybe three minutes of comfortable silence and human realm TV babbling for Hunter to pipe up "And I'm not a heartbreaker. I didn't break anyone's heart."

"You could," Willow answers smoothly, not taking her eyes off the TV. "You have way more power over some people's hearts than you realize."

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

yesss pleaseeee write the stalker!jean y/n as a drabble!!! like Jean is just soo 😫i just know he would be a good asl stalker, especially since he is super tall and mysterious 😫

lurk

pairing: jean kirstein x f!reader

word count: 1.7k +

a/n: i didnt proof read this but also this came out super cute but like also terrifying but ily pookie bear jean

tw: stalking, manipulation, drinking, etc

it was cold tonight, nearly below freezing in shiganshina. you hated the cold, you dreaded being bundled up in a billion layers only to still be shivering. however, it was almost christmas and you were running behind on shopping. fortunately for you, the streets were quiet. nobody wanted to be out in this weather. you weren't afraid of the dark. often times, you embraced the peace that came from walking the street alone at night. despite being a woman, shiganshina was a relatively safe city.

the streets and sidewalks were lined with a thing layer of snow with flurries still falling from the sky. there's a glow of warmth from the street lines as you duck into the nearest store. it's a small boutique that's much warmer than outside. there are mannequins strewn about, various pieces on displays and a small jewelry section in the back. you decide to head to the back of the store and work your way up front.

despite being a small array of options, the jewlery they had was beautiful. you pick up a small white box were two silver earrings in the shape of hearts like. you frown as you slide a finger down the side of the container. they were pretty, but it wasnt something your mother would like and that's who you were here for, after all. you ponder getting them for yourself but your face drops when you remember your budget. you sigh and put them back on the shelf while you put your mother first.

as you set them down, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. no, you were definitely being watched. you slowly turn your head around and an exhale when you don't see anybody with their eyes on you. just a few other women browsing about and the shop owner who's ringing up a tall man's purchase. you shake your head. christmas time was always stressful for you and it's certainly showing now.

after finding a suitable necklace for your mom, you bring it up to the cashier. the cashier is a sweet, older lady who is smiling as hard as she can. you feel bad that she has to be out at work during the cold and make small talk about how you'll need to do your holiday baking tomorrow. she laughs and tells you that she's running behind too, and that she's sure you'll get your cookies done in time.

the walk back to your apartment building isn't so bad despite the howling wind. you remind yourself to be thankful for the snow, knowing the toll global warming would eventually take. on the opposite side of the street, there's a nice black car with tinted windows. you take a moment to wonder who was lucky enough to drive such a luxurious car, as you've seen it around town before. quite often actually. although, you've never seen it on your street before. you didn't live in the nicest part of town and you assume it must be somebody's family member visiting for the holidays. you head into the builiding, unaware of the pair of eyes staring at you from within the car.

unfortunately, the next day isn't any warmer. you're smart this time and decide to go shopping early in the day instead of having to brave the cold, harsh night. you drive to the nearest grocery store; your kitchen was tragically empty and lacking all of the ingredients needed to make your famous christmas cookies.

in the baking aisle of the store, you stare at the plethora of options that could either make or break your dessert. you grab a bag of chocolate chips and peanut butter chips. you spin on your heel, ready to move farther down the aisle. classically, you bump right into somebody and unfortunately the carton of eggs you had tucked under your arm before coming to this aisle heads straight to the ground. the lid pops open and eggs fall out, cracking on the ground. ultimately, they crack and the yolks splatter onto your shoes and up your paint leg a little. you let out a gasp and look up into the eyes of a handsome stranger.

his hazel eyes widen as he looks at splattered eggs on your clothing. "i'm so sorry, i didn't see you there." he looks for a way to help you but he's failing.

"it's fine," you sigh. "it's christmas time and we're all in a rush. plus, i'm a little clumsy." you blush as you feel his eyes give you a once over. you clear your throat and his eyes come back up to land on yours.

"i'm the clumsy one this time. i really am sorry. could i at least pay for your stuff?" he tilts his head. you realize just how tall he is as he looms over you, waiting for an answer.

"no, that's alright, really. it's my fault, i told you i'm clumsy. stuff like this happens to me alot." you admit, turning more red by the second. he laughs and rubs the back of his neck. his laugh is deep and hearty.

"oh, c'mon, how else are those cookies going to get made?"

"how did you know i was going to make cookies?" you ask, raising a brow at him. he clears his throat and points at the bags in your arms.

"you're in the baking aisle, after all. eggs and chocolate chips are also two of the most important things when it comes to cookies." he laughs and you feel embarrassed at your stupid question. obviously he knew you were going to be baking, it's that time of year and you are holding the ingredients for them. you laugh with him and choose to accept his generosity, appreciating not having to spend your own money, especially since it was a little tight right now.

after picking out a new carton of eggs, you and the handsome stranger head to the check out line. "my names jean, by the way." he says as he hands the clerk his card. he looks down at you.

"i'm (y/n)." you tell him. he nods his head. he hands you the plastic bag filled with your now paid for groceries. you two walk out of the store together when all of a sudden, he stops you.

"this might be a little cliche and a little too fast, but would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow? just feel really bad 'bout the eggs 'n all." he shrugs as he makes sure his joke lands.

you know what, what the hell?

"sure, jean."

after exchanging numbers, you two head off in your own separate directions. back at your apartment, the fancy car is still there, just in a slightly different position. you think about how nice it must be to have family come to visit as you head inside.

tomorrow night comes quicker than expected. you had knots in your stomach all morning and you find them still lingering into the evening. you take your time getting ready for your date with jean and you can't shake the feeling of anxiety nestling into your chest.

later on, you park your car at the restaurant jean had texted you to meet him at. it's a high end restaurant and you're relieved you chose to wear one of your nicest dresses and an overcoat. as you make your way to the front door, you see that same black car, tucked neatly into one of the back parking spots. you shake your head as you head into the restaurant.

jean is dressed to the nines. if you thought he was handsome yesterday, you thought he fucking looked deadly tonight. if looks could kill.

jean smiles as you take a seat across from him. you give him a shy smile as you watch him take in your appearance. there's a glimmer of hunger in his eyes that makes you want to sink into your seat. you're self conscious as his eyes devour you but his words come out so calmly. "you look really good."

"thank you." quiet are the words that manage to come from your lips.

you spend the evening making talk of all sort of topics ranging from the weather to the casual, heated arguments about aliens and if they existed or not. you really enjoy your time, finding it n yourself to indulge in a bottle of wine. jean offers to pay for the entire meal as your plates becomes empty. you laugh and make a joke about how rich he must be. he just chuckles in return.

you start to realize just how drunk you are. the heat in your cheeks is radiating and you feel like you're vibrating, just a little. jean hasn't taken his eyes off you once.

"before you go," he starts. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, white box. "i got you something. now, i know we just officially met but i couldn't help myself."

the words go right over your head as you reach across the table for the little container. you take the lid off and gasp. the pair of little, silver hearts from the store the other night. you become a stuttering mess. "h-how did you.."

your brain begins to move a thousand miles a minute, flashing different pictures your eyes have collected the last few days. it's the black car you've seen all over town. the tall man in the boutique. the black car parked on your street. the feeling of being watched. the cookies. the earrings. the car in a different position.

your words fall out in a whisper as you drop the box onto the table. "you..." jean tilts his head and smirks. he can see the realization in your eyes and the hunger in his grows. you feel helpless in this crowded restaurant, not wanting to make a scene. he watches your rosy cheeks turn pale.

"me? what about me, (y/n)?" his words are condescending.

"you've been watching me. stalking me." you hiss under your breath, hoping it comes out as confident but jean picks up on the shakiness on your voice.

"hmm..? what was that?" you can see the thrill he's getting. you don't answer him. you reach to where you set your phone on the table at the beginning of the date. it isn't there. “oh, my silly (y/n.) you've drank a whole bottle of wine. just however will you get home?"

my jean fanfiction

my ko-fi

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Elliott Quotes

sunshine and elliott reunion WHENNNN?? @selene567 he’s hereee, sorry it took a while ♡

“I wanna snuggle okay? Sue me.”

“I was kind of joking earlier when I said they gave off culty vibes, but I don’t think it’s a joke at this point.”

“My powers can do more than just bring you peaceful sleep. I love them for their ability to do that, but they can also bring you wonder, and mystery, and strength, and joy. They’re yours, Sunshine. Always.”

“I’m glad you think it’s beautiful. But if you ask me—and if you won’t, I will—I think you are so much more amazing than any dreamscape I could create.”

“Do I have to send you back to your self-inflicted grocery store hell?”

“Since when do you have to date somebody to cuddle them? I mean that just seems like you are drastically reducing your list of potential cuddle partners for no reason.”

“I mean if I just come out and say it, I’ll be denying us both the opportunity for at least a few more years of reciprocated but undisclosed pining for one another that could easily be solved by an honest conversation but one that neither of us is prepared to make for fear of rejection…”

“It wasn’t a game to me. You aren’t a game and you aren’t some prize to win.”

“I call you Sunshine because that’s what you feel like to me. Like warmth. Like a guiding light. I literally smile when I think about you like some hallmark bullshit.”

“God, you’re fucking cute.”

“You’re all I have now Aaron, please help.”

“Congratulations. You unlocked a portion of my tragic backstory, brave traveler.”

“‘Yes’? That’s all I get? Well sure, it’s enough, but where’s the weeping, where’s the drama, where’s you cutting me off with a kiss like some kind of movie? OW, why are you hitting me?”

“Thank you, Sunshine. Well… for giving me a chance. A decision you very well may come to regret, but if that’s the case, it’s really not my problem.”

“I’m working on it, I promise. For you.”

“I think people are beautiful because they’re complex, and they can surprise you in a million little ways, every day.”

“I’m probably pronouncing half of these wrong, because, ya know. I’m trash.”

“That one there—that’s called Caelum. It’s one of the dimmest ones. It’s not a very exciting one, the name just means chisel. But the word also means Heaven, or Sky. I like that. It’s just a little guy, but… I feel like it’s got some cool secrets.”

“The dreams are always sweet when you’re in them.”

“I just want them to be safe.”

“Sorry, baby. Kiss to make it better.”

“I love my powers. But the waking reality that I have with you is so much better than the things I make. Because that reality is true. And I’ve got you in it.”

“‘Slew’ is a word, shut up.”

“Urgency? You say that like I'm annoyed my Starbucks order is taking a while, this is my partner's life we're talking about, ‘urgency’ doesn't begin to describe it.”

“No. No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I know you, sunshine. I trust you.”

“If they’ve been trying to use you in some way, I’ll make their life a living hell. They’ll wish they could wake up.”

“We’ll… figure this out. Together. That’s the part that I care about. You, Sunshine.”

“Fuck physics, fuck law of nature, just give me M. C. Escher, baby”

“Oh you think I sound whiny now? You don’t know how whiny I can get.”

“Oh good. I wanna hold you as I pass the fuck out.”

“Hey, but then again, we also might just get some looks because people know a power couple when they see one.”

“This feels like the magical equivalent to ‘we’ve been trying to reach you about your vehicle’s extended warranty’, just now with a fun culty, closed-community spin.”

“You feel good. No improvements necessary there. Well I mean maybe there are a few things I could fix—“

“Fuck off, Blake!”

“I know you hate me, you don’t have to remind me.”

“I’m just here for good dreams and good vibes, you know?”

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

[hwajin]

☆°. — 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 : ᴏᴄʜɪsɪᴀ

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, smut

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hyunjin x fem!reader

𝐰𝐜: 10.1k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: big break up (👀), a bit of swearing, unprotected sex, implications of cumming inside, oral (f receiving), painful angst etc etc!! this is a LONG one and i hope you'll like it!! i eat up every bit of feedback!! the next chapter will be the final one so i wanna thank everyone already who has been reading and reblogging this series 🫶🫶

series masterlist | final chapter

You and Hyunjin were friends. The label all but feeling foreign to you now, everything but scary; a few weeks ago it would have been frightening. Holding stable contact with the man wasn’t a hard task if you’d call it one in the first place – not long after the first introductory words and small talk was done, when the basics of a persona had been revealed your conversation had flowed naturally, as though friends for decades. It was as easy talking, texting and calling him as it was when you had first exchanged numbers – when Hyunjin had looked up your number in his system, that is. You enjoyed time when it meant spending it with him, even if you didn’t meet up physically. Hearing his voice over the speaker was calming, often fun – Hyunjin bore a kind of humour that you deemed only came out when he found himself in comfort, not intentionally comedic, simply naturally witty; you never missed a day giggling about whatever with him.

Often it was relaxing. You weren’t always talking when on the phone. Sometimes your words would fade into a comfortable silence and the only sound you’d hear from Hyunjin’s end of the speaker was pencil on paper, or brushes against a glass of water to wash off the previous colours. You’d often ask about his art, whether he was an artist to show it around or one that shied away from the attention towards his pieces; if you could ever catch a glimpse at them. He had argued that, considering it his wanted career, he needed to be brave enough to showcase his work and to accept critique for it – so yes, he’d be ready to show you, if you only asked.

Moments like those, the ones you spent in silence, in a comfortable one that only established itself between good friends and over time, it seemed, felt the most sinful, though disguising as the most innocent. When you weren’t meeting each other physically, and when you barely talked – when in fact, it seemed like you shared the least amount of contact it felt utterly shameful. Because it was intimate. Because it was more than any physical connection could ever build, you thought. Because in moments like those you could be vulnerable, existing in each other’s presence, if only in thought. Allowing yourself for them to wander, allowing sole silence to settle between you. It felt worse than any physical cheating could ever feel.

But then again, it was platonic. You argued it was, internally. You have met once or twice in the store, unintentionally – you had both needed groceries, and had stayed a bit to chat. It had evoked nostalgia, when you’d remembered it was the first place of your meeting. You had talked like friends would when crossing paths without planning to, had laughed and paid at the register together before making your ways home. And yet you had a feeling within that didn’t mimic friendship, that felt somewhat foreign yet strangely and wholly familiar. It was comforting, rather than butterflies that swarmed in the lower pit of your stomach it felt like waves of soft waters, ones you’d lay atop on when visiting a beach. Every conversation with Hyunjin – the physical ones more than the ones when you called, or merely texted – felt like water carrying your body weightlessly; utterly calming, silent, longing. You often tried to ignore it to your best abilities whenever it evoked, but it was not deniable eventually that whatever was developing between the two of you was maybe, just maybe, more than what you’d call a sheer friendship. Because you truly shouldn’t feel as excited, as happy and curious about another man you claimed to be simply acquainted with.

Speaking of, you were everything but keeping Hyunjin a secret from Chan. Despite your situation, dilemma – however you wished to call it, certainly not an easy turn of events, surely – you didn’t have the heart to give up on Chan, not that easily. You had promised to try, and he had too – which all but meant a sudden careless relationship. Arguments occurred, still, ones you didn’t seem to grow out of. Over little things, over bigger things both of you deemed important – Hyunjin was a subject of said disputes, more often than not. You felt guilty, surely, for feeling as content with him as you did. Though you had often argued that you wouldn’t tolerate jealousy from Chan in that matter. You said there wasn’t a reason for Chan to grow protective if you were the very person to admit you and Hyunjin being friends; which in no way was forbidden, Seungmin and you were too, after all; you found it childish thinking of every member of the opposite sex as a potential threat to a relationship, which Chan reluctantly agreed on. You were aware that you weren’t fully honest, not truly, that you were sinning in one way or another – you weren’t cheating, were far from it, and you’d never stoop so low – before anything possibly developed, you’d be the first to break it off with Chan. Yet you weren’t lying when you had promised to try again, to not give up the year long relationship you had been building, had honest intentions in that matter – if anything, you were thoroughly conflicted. Staying with Chan to observe, to see if your bond would reconnect, yet befriending Hyunjin to yet grasp if he was a good match, a better than Chan maybe, altogether; it drained you, internally.

And faster than you could look, four weeks had passed since you had been in the library, since you had lent out the book you were supposed to bring in sooner or later. You had enjoyed reading, had remembered Hyunjin all the while – recalling he had read the book as well, wondering his thoughts on an impactful passage or a nice message you’d read. You enjoyed that you had similar taste – momentarily drawing the comparison that you and Chan could never bond over factors like these, your taste in literature and similar arts fundamentally different. It had never been an obstacle in your relationship, though having another person to enjoy the same things as you did was comforting, you couldn’t lie.

One o’clock on a Monday, and you were excited when you stood before the library, approaching the familiar wooden door. It looked heavy, was heavier when you pulled on it; it opened with a thick creaking, one that dared to disturb the entire quiet of such a silent space. The smell of books filled your senses momentarily, and though the place was utterly clean small particles of dust reflected in the rays of the sun and danced a dance you disturbed by walking right through. Hyunjin was sitting on his assigned desk, as promised working from twelve to six from Monday to Thursday – you had missed his face. You had missed seeing him, had missed observing him during work – not that you have done it often enough to truly miss it, yet excitement filled your body when he caught your eyes and smiled back at you. You’ve seen each other occasionally the last weeks so his smile seemed familiar, warm in nature and showing pearly teeth, and you had missed it. You had missed him. Deeply so – it didn’t scare you.

Eager steps carried you to the man, your shoes clacking softly against the wooden floor and echoed through the tall room of the library. Hyunjin fit into this place like a glove, you though – you could see the appeal it drew to him, could see how someone like him – someone quiet, someone sensitive and life-loving – would enjoy a beauteous, nearly sacred place like this. That he enjoyed typing away on his working computer and listening to the keyboard’s melody as he did, undisturbed and silent room around him, or that he liked grabbing a book or a pencil to kill time while work was slow – it fit him, in the best way it could fit.

“Hey.”

His voice like honey, and you have missed that, too. His voice, you have noticed the first time around, bore soothing fruits that melted on your tongue and got you hooked when you as far as tasted it. Anything about him had such effect, you couldn’t lie, but it was his voice that you learned to enjoy so much over the past weeks. You had missed it, deeply so.

You responded, watched as Hyunjin’s eyes softened at your word, took out the book you had not forget to pack and return. A bit of small talk around it, mutual asking about certain passages, about the ending or the characters and warmth coursed its way through your limbs – it certainly was nice to have someone with similar taste, someone who thought and felt close to the way you did. Chan rarely did, not about literature or arts, anyways.

“Oh, I’d love to see your stuff at some point…”, the conversation had shifted to Hyunjin’s very own art – ever since the party you had wondered what kind of paintings he created, ever since the party Hyunjin had told you you’d be welcome to stop by any time. “…do you like, have studio?”. A shy approach to invite yourself without actually doing so, without seeming pushy, interested instead. Yet you hoped Hyunjin would get the hint.

“Oh, no- not really, I mean. I’ve always wanted an atelier, but I can’t afford it right now…”, a glance up to you, reading your face, wondering if inviting you would be too much at this stage. Risking it anyways. “…I do have a home studio, though. You know, if you want… I’m free in an hour here.”

An exchanged smile, relief from both sides after you agreed and said you’d grab a book to read while waiting for his shift to end. Mutual giddiness bubbling in your chests and you all but could concentrate on whatever novel you picked from the various shelves – in thought already at Hyunjin’s place. You hadn’t expected, hadn’t particularly planned to be invited home to him. Your intentions had been pure, you hadn’t lie when you said you were interested in his art – though you couldn’t lie over the face that being within his own four walls rope a sort of anticipation inside you. Ones home was utterly intimate, felt like a new step to your friendship – a step you should probably be wary to take, one you maybe shouldn’t take altogether. Though you weren’t able to mind it, in all honesty.

Minute by minute went by and an hour felt like an infinity. You’d read barely twenty pages, having to go over paragraphs more often than not in your lack of absorption, until Hyunjin stood before you, finally. Bag thrown over one shoulder, single strands of hair fallen out his ponytail framing his face, soft smile dancing across his lips – he was a sight comforting to look at, and if there’d been any guilt left – about waiting an hour for the man your boyfriend was most jealous of, about visiting said man in his very own home, about taking more interest in his life, his art, his passions than in your boyfriends’ – then it was all gone by now. You didn’t mind anymore, didn’t care. Had decided maybe in that particular moment, with Hyunjin standing before you in all glory, so cautious since aware of your unavailability, yet a promising look in his eyes, one telling to simply choose him, leave your gone love behind and find happiness in a new one, that whatever was left with Chan was long over. Was barely worth fighting for, if not for sheer comfort and habit. That you in fact would stop fighting, for you’d been the only one doing so, after all. That though Hyunjin was yet a land foreign to you, yet to be discovered and explored he was a land of most promising and ripe fruits, of most beauteous nature and sight, of most comfort and secureness.

“You ready?”

___ . ꫂ

Hyunjin had played down the state of his home studio severely — it was as good as an actual atelier would be, to your knowledge anyways. The apartment he shared with his roommates — all gone now, stuck in classes or blowing raspberries at work — bore an extra room too small to be a bedroom and too spacey to work as a simple storage room, and Hyunjin had quickly taken the chance to claim ownership over the space. It’s walls and floor were littered in various combinations of cold and warm colours, stains Hyunjin was likely unable to remove for the overall state of the room was a clean one, despite being the one of an artist – you didn’t know any artists personally, yet had always imagined them to be on the chaotic side. Hyunjin’s studio, stains aside, brought nothing of such – brushes and paint kits stood under a rough system, seemed clean and neat in their position. Yet the studio carried the aura of pure artistry nevertheless — canvases piled up on each other or against the walls, unfinished and breath-taking sketches revealing themselves the longer you laid eyes upon the room, new mystery revealing itself with every closer look you took. There was art everywhere you looked, warm and comforting art you didn’t think you’d ever grow tired upon seeing. Art that made you blush, naked bodies piling upon each other, wondering if Hyunjin ever took live references, art that made you think, canvases filled with so much abstractness, so much variation in colour and texture that it needed you a minute to understand what you were looking at altogether.

You wanted to never leave this place again.

“You made all that?”

Stupid question expectant of stupider answer, though Hyunjin merely chuckled, his cheeks darkening, his fingers fiddling suddenly.

“Yeah... I mean, some of it is like super rough and not really good but... you know, inspiration comes and goes.”

The man gave you a look shy, one you wanted embedded behind a lock within your heart for an eternity – it was pureness, it was innocence that laid in his eyes when he looked at you like this. It was salvation, spoken with a pair of orbs, freedom offered with a single gaze.

And it was art that revealed itself to be a person, laying eyes on Hyunjin, art prettier than pencils and colours could ever create. Looking at him as though your entire world, looking at him as though he was the answer to everything you’d been looking for.

“Oh, shut up, nothing in here is ‘not really good’, I love every single piece…”, exchanged shy look, reddened faces the both of you, and you continued quickly, “I mean, I’m no artist but looking at your paintings makes me, like… feel something. I guess that’s a compliment for an artist, no?”

You chuckled, made your way into the depths of his atelier – it wasn’t anything but, as modest as Hyunjin chose to be about it – and let yourself flood with emotions he had converted onto paper and canvas, allowed yourself to discover colours and shapes, to give them a meaning only guessable – you truly weren’t an artist nor in any right of a good critique, though for Hyunjin you felt ready to learn it all. To understand theory and technique and profession, to dive into a world so unknown to you before, so beauteous you found yourself unable to resist.

A chuckle from him, then; “Yeah, you’re right… thank you.”

Hyunjin wasn’t following you through your journey across his works, stood by his most current piece near the window of the room – he had explained before that natural light was the best to paint with, so grateful the room happened to face the west side. He stood and watched you, enchanted by your interest in him, in his most vulnerable thing, nervous if you’d end up liking it altogether – art was insanely subjective, and while Hyunjin never took it personally nor illy if people and critiques reacted negatively, he needed you to be of an opinion positive. He needed you to like whatever you saw, to maybe understand even, inspiration and emotion, thought-process behind pieces and paintings. Though maybe that was too much to ask for, maybe to greedy of a wish to make. So Hyunjin stood watching you by the open window, hoping for simple contentment with his works from your side. Simple liking, nothing more. Because your validation was all he viewed necessary, from person least knowing of the subject yet of most important value.

Eyes meeting his, and you chuckled out, catching Hyunjin by surprise.

“You don’t talk much, huh?”

Catching Hyunjin by surprise anew – you were impossible to figure out. Admittedly, he had been silent from the moment you started making your way through his works. While he could have explained his inspiration behind certain ones he decided to refrain from it, letting you – hopefully – enjoy the silent satisfaction art brought. He was merely watching you – if maybe because in awe, though you were right, surely. He didn’t talk much, ever, truly.

“Yeah. I don’t really have much to say, I guess.”

Surprised look from your side now, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know. Your paintings say otherwise.”

And with that you kept looking, and left Hyunjin utterly perplexed. It was a statement so base yet so determined in its character, and Hyunjin nothing but blushed at it.

He kept watching your eyes widen at certain works, when you liked the colours or when you did, after all, reciprocate thoughts and feelings, watched as you walked carefully, cautious not to nudge or bump against still wet canvasses and drying paint. Watched and shied when your gaze met his, when you decided to explore him instead of the art all around – and Hyunjin wondered if you felt the same. Ever wondered if the tension he still felt when around had dissipated for you already, if you had gotten used to the pulling and urging and longing your bodies fell into whenever near each other. No doubt that you had felt the same yet wondering if it was still the case, or if he was the one needing to hold a grip of himself – his body plucked by yours in the smallness of the room was unbearable, nearly, made him lose himself if he wasn’t careful enough. Needed constant reminding to not lose himself in the sight of you fully, converting his eyes for a second or two, collecting composition, regaining control. Control you so loved to take away from him, were so eager to steal right through the holes in his heart.

He damned your boyfriend — if it wasn’t for him, Hyunjin would have long made a move, despite his shy, his careful character, would have long spilled out his hearts’ desires for it took his body every last nerve to resist you, the whole of you. As you made your way through his paintings, through his emotions, through the soul of his Hyunjin’s body urged to be with yours, his heart desired your very own.

“You’d be beautiful to paint.”

Words past Hyunjin’s lips, gushing out too fast as to catch them from being heard. Far louder in the small room that he had intended them to be, for he hadn’t intended them at all. Hyunjin hadn’t even finished the thought before the words had materialized into the room – they simply appeared, as much to your surprise as his, and they bathed the both of you with a shower of fluster, of speechlessness. Exchanging looks, though faces burned hot converting eyes wasn’t in neither of your strengths to do – you simply looked at each other, purified disbelief dripping from within your eyes and onto your faces, standing like two idiots caught red-handed; because that was the first time thoughts had been spoken out aloud. Thoughts too secret, too forbidden to share, thoughts nearly sinful, bashful to even think, really. And they occupied your minds entirely – and Hyunjin was the first to admit to them. Though not wanted yet he did, and you’d been scared of the consequences. Scared to move because that would mean realness, scared to shift gaze because that would mean shyness, similar-mindedness; sin.

“I’m – oh my god, I’m sorry. I just mean --- you’d be a good reference, that’s all. I-”

Words a waterfall, and you shook your head, back in the studio after having felt lost, floating somewhere above the room, brought back the voice of his. And roughly, so.

“No, no… don’t apologize… uh- thank you…? I’m sorry, uh, thank you, really.”

Voice as trembling as you felt, and you shook your head all the while speaking, huffing out in attempted amusement, though it came out as a snort and ended up awkward; which made your heart beat faster and your face paint darker, and you cursed Hyunjin for saying those five words, so short a sentence, so small a promise and yet enough to shake your word. Walls you built so carefully before stepping into his home crumbling in their place, any sort of shield around your heart, regardless of its material, shattering into pieces to let free the feeling you had been trying to suffocate beneath layers of pretend. Allowing your body to be pulled by his, allowing the string that connected your hearts to tighten, to bring you closer, to connect you. To truly connect you, because now his word was spoken, now his promise was made. As small a promise as it was, and there was way to go, but it was irreversible.

And he knew it, too. Felt the threads, felt the needle in his arteries poking deeper, felt the fine fibre pulling him towards you and you towards him, felt your heart sink altogether, felt your crumbling composure. Knew even, maybe, entirely what you’ve been thinking – though not a master to mind reading he swore he knew what was going on in yours, felt your thoughts as though they were his own.

“I… actually… I haven’t really painted you, per se, but…”, though shy, resistant, Hyunjin let his mouth speak, as though a stranger to his own words, with no control over his mouth, his body. But the moment called for honesty, and he was ready to grant it to you. Ready to cross boundaries if he needed to – he hated your damned boyfriend, and if the last thing he did was being the reason for your end then so be it. He’d be ready to die on that hill, he’d be ready to die on any hill, if it was for you. Pathetic, because unsure if you felt the same, though not embarrassed, never ashamed. Hyunjin decided maybe in that very moment that he’d fight, as long as you let him. That, as long as you visited him, the library, his studio, or merely your voice at night over the hushed speaker of his phone, when your boyfriend worked his life away, unapologetic of your own, that he would fight for you. For your love. For your heart.

“I made this. And you… were the inspiration, I guess. More like, the feeling I have… when I’m around you. The feeling we both had, I think… when we first touched at that party… God that sounds so stupid.”

He mumbled; you nearly asked him to repeat himself. Though the very moment you laid eyes upon the canvas every thought ceased to exist within you – you had never seen a painting, a work of art as delicate as the one he showed you, brought up from behind a pile of abstract looking pieces. It were hues upon hues, oranges and blues, light and dark composition, moulded together in a way you wondered how was humanly possible. Where one colour ended the next began, mixing where they met each other, connecting in strokes articulate, almost. As though the painting bore the ability to speak, telling you of its thoughts, of its longings and desires, of its love. Of Hyunjin’s love, ultimately – for he was the one who brought the painting to life. With you in thought, with you behind the lids of his eyes, with you before his very being.

And you knew from maybe that moment that it was him. That it had always been him, the empty space within you, the wishing part of you, the one asking for contentment, for delicateness, for love within your life. That it had been him before you ever grew to know him, that it had been him before you’d been placed on this earth, before you had walked the planet, altogether.

___ . ꫂ

“You have no right to be angry at me, and you know that.”

Not screaming though you weren’t too far from it at that point, trying to collect voice because volume surely wouldn’t help.

You had come home, step light and head high, Hyunjin and the past hour occupying your mind entirely – until you had reached your entrance door, made your way into it, and had met Chan on the sofa, angry, upset.

“You have forgotten our date.”

Words as simple as that, and they had made you furious. Furious because he was unbelievable – missed chances from his point and it was fine, the moment you gave him a taste of his own medicine, bitter and unpleasant he reacted. It was unfair on you, and he was crazy not to be seeing it. His hypocrisy, his idiocy.

And you had been impatient. Had nearly not wanted to fight or argue because you saw no point within, knowing your boyfriend well enough to predict no outcome would leave the both of you satisfied. That compromising throughout your relationship, throughout the time you’ve spent together could only do so much, could only work for as long as it has. That you have reached a breaking point, surely, finally.

“You have no right to be angry with me. I can’t even count on fingers how many you have missed and I won’t let you ride my dick for the one that skipped my mind today!!”

You and Chan stood opposite, so far away from each other, and it didn’t feel like enough. You wanted to get away, needed to, because he was suffocating. Suffocating and impossible, loved so dearly once and now hated all the more. You didn’t want to; hate was a word so strong it nearly scared you, though love was as well. The flame with Chan, if there’s ever been one, had burned out, had used out every last match it could find, every last piece of rotten wood it could burn. Left was a cold bundle of ash, asked to be taken out, to be thrown away, to be abandoned. To be finally left alone, because it was tired, exhausted of the constant tries of starting a fire, of getting it to burn again. Pained from the constant nagging, from the fruitless effort, from the overripe dejection.

“I am angry though!? We’ve promised to start to make an effort, and I’m really fucking trying here, I’ve cleared my fucking schedule for you, I’ve cancelled important meetings and appointments I needed to attend and I did for fucking you!? Fucking hell.”

Words intended to make you feel bad though you failed to. Couldn’t, not with a right mind. Though Chan wasn’t wrong in theory, you couldn’t bear the heart to truly feel bad for him; you long stopped to, should have long stopped pretending to. You looked at him, through eyes cold, senseless. You’ve lost all hope with him, all hope for him. There was nothing left within you to feed the love you’ve so carefully tended, nothing that would make you regret your thoughts, doubt them, demonize them. You looked at him and he was furious, shouting words meaningless to you. Telling you to speak, to explain to him, to make him understand. If this was the moment where it was over, where you’d part ways. Where you’d give up. It was nothing but meaningless to you. Didn’t feel bad for Chan even when you saw tears daring to stain his cheeks, his shirt. When his fingers ran through his hair, noticing how thin they’ve grown. Couldn’t feel bad for him when his body sank to the ground, missing the sofa by inches, making contact with cold hardness beneath him instead, letting head fall into hands, chocked sobs emerging from within him.

You couldn’t feel bad for him. Couldn’t because it had been you on that same spot by the sofa countless of times, the reason him, always. You who would choke sobs past your throat, embarrassed of how they sounded through the echo of the apartment, an apartment so lonely you had wondered if it was shared, in the first place. Apartment so lonely you had doubted you had a partner altogether, maybe only a fraction of your imagination, a fabrication of your deepest wishes. To be loved, and to love – you had been missing that even though committed, and you had decided now, watching, listening to your lost love cry, that it was the last time you would miss it. That this point, the breaking one, should have enrolled far longer – though now you’d make the best of it, with what you had.

“It’s over.”

Words so disturbingly loud you jumped at your own voice, jumped at Chan’s reaction to them – his head shot up momentarily, glistening eyes boring into yours, brows furrowed and lips quivering impossibly. He was furious, confused. Started begging, screaming. Seated in his space, not moving an inch from the spot by the sofa. Stayed screaming at you, begging right after, apologizing frantically, crying fat tears that rolled heavy down his cheeks. You couldn’t feel bad for him.

He stayed crying at the spot by the sofa when you started moving, finally, letting your body get used to the sensation, feeling heavy, feeling as though you stood a statue of stone by the kitchen counter, not as much as blinking. You moved towards your shoes, grabbing a jacket as you went, slipping into the right, then the left. Motions automatic, robotic. You couldn’t care about him. Grabbing keys, listening to his pleading, to his cries of your name, to his apologies. Words you’ve heard so very often you feared to grow null towards them, emotionless, careless. Words worth gold though Chan reduced them to mere dirt, nothing more than. Words you now heard behind you, hand on the handle, opening the door to welcome the cool from outside, before it engulfed you whole, before it consumed you fully and never bound to let you go, not for tonight.

___ . ꫂ

He was in love with you. When you had left his apartment, Hyunjin feeling a useless fool, corners of his mouth from eye to eye, the pounding in his heart had never seemed to stop. He had prepared himself dinner, had put on a show he didn’t pay the least attention to, he washed the dishes with a carelessness he never laid upon chores – and then his phone’d chimed up, ringing in a tone familiar, and his heart had nearly made its way out of its confines, snugly laid within the ribcage beneath his skin when he saw your name, a text from you. Maybe she felt me thinking about her, he thought, naively, and cringed at his very own theorization.

00: 18 >> hey, are you free? right now?

Questioning look on Hyunjin’s visage, and he’d responded he was, yet asking whether there was a problem – it was a bit after midnight, and though Hyunjin would welcome you with open arms regardless how late, regardless the reason, he worried. He knew you shared a place with your boyfriend – scoffing at the thought right as he had thought it, body flooding with dislike the very moment – and there was seemingly no reason for your search for Hyunjin, not after having spent half the day in company.

And then hope filled his being, occupied his lungs with so much weight it felt heavy to breathe, made his soul bloom in flowers most delicate, most spacious he was at risk to lose sight of all else – you had texted him in the middle of the night, though it was your supposed boyfriend you ought to be with at such hour. Him who you had come home to, in all likeliness – him, or the traces of him, the loneliness he left the thing you fled from. To Hyunjin, instead. To the guy you surely walked on eggshells around, the very guy your boyfriend must be hating insatiably. And yet you had texted him a little after midnight, and had rang his doorbell.

“I’m so sorry, I know how late it is, I just- I’m so sorry, oh my god.“

You stumbled into his apartment after Hyunjin had opened the door for you, apologies gushing past your lips like mantras. Reassuring you, offering you a seat by his sofa – the apartment was yet empty, roommates having texted they would stay over at their friends’ or partners’, and Hyunjin had been giddy about having the place for himself for a night, not remembering the last time he had had the chance to – yet he was giddier now that you joined his lonesome, though worry overshadowed any excitement Hyunjin could have bared.

You weren’t crying, though the puffiness of your eyes, the red around them, your bruised up lips revealed that you had been before reaching Hyunjin’s place. He knew the reason was the boyfriend, though he didn’t allow his jealousy, his messed-up mind to start a conversation – you would explain if you needed to, wouldn’t if you didn’t have the strength to. Hyunjin would wait it out either way, would grant a listening ear or a simple companion – he’d be whatever you needed him to be.

“God, I should have called Seungmin… I would have called him, I just- I felt like I needed to see you.”

Your voice frantic, though less now than before. Hyunjin sat beside you on the soft cushions, keeping a fair distance though it wasn’t possibly enough – your distraught heart pulling him forward, and he shifted to create more space – he would touch you if he didn’t, would lay a comforting hand on your shoulder, would embrace you in a hug. Figuring it was the last thing you needed he regained control against the waves of pressure your body shot his way, waited simply for your words to take on form, to start making sense.

“No… it’s okay, don’t worry about it… are you okay? Are you hurt, did something happen?”

Soothing words and far more soothing voice, and it nearly shot another heat of tears right past your eyes and onto the wetness of your cheeks. You felt bad, guilty for disturbing Hyunjin’s night, guiltier to come crying by his doorstep. Though there wasn’t an ounce of reluctance within him, it seemed, welcoming you as though it was a normality, as though it was a given for him to take you in. And maybe that made it all the worse, his kind-heartedness, his demeanour, his readiness for you. His drastic difference to you boyfriend – your ex –, his wholly different character, kinder, calmer, softer.

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine. I just… I ended it. With Chan. I couldn’t take it anymore, Hyunjin.”

Silent tears down your eyes, glistening against your skin like flooded rain in pavement cracks, tears as you materialized what had happened prior, as you made real a tragedy so relieving. Hyunjin shouldn’t be happy, oh did he feel bad for wanting to flip over the world in feeling of newly gained strength and energy, of satisfaction so grand he never thought possible. Felt so very bad for not feeling bad for you, not in ways one would think – it hurt his heart that you were pained, understood that despite his despise it was a relationship your own heart had been invested in, so all the more painful now that it was over. And yet he was relieved. For your very own sake, because he was aware of the hardships a one-sided love must have brought, undoubtedly. Screws in his brain rutting, and Hyunjin realized he must offer a place of comfort, despite his flawed thoughts, despite his evil mind. He only hoped you couldn’t read the relief in his eyes as you locked in his gaze with your teary one.

“Fuck, I’m… I’m so sorry. God, you must feel horrible, wait… let me give you a water, are you thirsty? If you have no place to stay you can sleep here, by the way, all the others are gone… you can have my bed and some clothes, just… feel at home… wait, let me give you that water—”

And you started sobbing. Tears gushing out as fast as Hyunjin’s words were, words of utter comfort, of compassion, of kindness. You damned him for it. Damned him for your fragile heart, for the way he was so easy to shake it. Damned him for making his way into your life so unknowingly, so quietly you hadn’t noticed the point where it’s been too late. Damned him for loving him as much as you did, for seeing him when thinking of deepest desires, of love in its very being. Looking at him, eyes milked up yet looking at him. He stared back, perplexed, halfway to the kitchen though stopped in his tracks at the sound of your cries, at the sight of your eyes, your face – he stood looking at your pain, unsure gaze meeting untempt one, seconds feeling like days, entirely too long while anticipating an answer or an explanation altogether, for sudden outburst, for sudden tears at act so kind.

“Stop… just stop being so nice to me.”

Standing up from your seat, legs feeling weak as they moved around the room. Heavy steps towards Hyunjin, careful not to get too close, not to meet his tide, a tide so strong you’d be pulled into wholly if movements grew too risked.

“Please stop being so nice to me, I- I’ll fall in love with you even more.”

Words cutting into every layer of tension that had laid itself upon the room, breaking every damn either of you had built tediously, shooting right through every wall, through every measure of safety you had kept around your hearts. You had taken the knife and stabbed times a million where it was most sensitive, had cut out oxygen from where it was more necessary. And you were close. Too close to him to feel at ease, too close to Hyunjin for his blood to pump in speed it would be healthy – mind and body racing, part of his brain encoding the meaning of your very confession, of your impossible words. Words so powerful it knocked him off his feet, words he never believed to be lucky enough to hear. You were wholly insane, and he was utterly in love.

Stepping closer to you, space between you buzzing, hissing, lighting up as though bodies were electrified, as though highest volts were coursing your veins, your skin. Stepped closer to watch your face paint in agony, so close he was tempted to wipe off the tears grazing your eyes. His hand raised, inches away from your cheek. You shifted, tilted your head to escape his touch. He stayed in position, arm raised, eyes boring into you.

“I can’t.”

Your voice so quiet he had to lip read, his hand ever in position, ready to soothe if you only gave the word. More and thicker tears rolled down the curve of your face, the perky bone, down the plush and onto the dip by your collarbone. He watched it, wished to kiss it away.

“I can’t get into a relationship right away. I know there’s… something… here…”, you let your hands sway through the space between your bodies, your hand breaking through resistance so strong you didn’t believe there was nothing than mere air between your bodies. Had to be something more, something deeper, “but me and Chan, it was so exhausting.”

A choked sob and you regained control, eyes losing his for only a moment before holding gaze anew – his own didn’t wander, every of his senses glued onto you as though you’d break apart if he only as though looked a different direction. He stood listening to you, aching heart and far more aching soul – he was willing to gift you anything, to morph into the very person you needed most this very moment, to become whatever you now desired. Understanding you and waiting to take him as he was, because he was willing to get hurt if it was for you. Tears wettening your shirt, apology staining the room – and Hyunjin’s hands engulfed your face, one big hand on either of your side, palms dampened in tears. The feeling that shot through your bodies was one neither of you could ignore, eyes softening, limbs stiffening, minds short circuiting – it needed Hyunjin a moment to find his words, though sure of them the sensation of touch, your skin against his had knocked out remaining rationality.

“I need you however you’ll let me have you.”

Blinking, his words like sweetest venom in your ear. His eyes expectant, his palms providing warmth, soothing touch to disrupted skin, to torn up heart. You tended to it, tended to him.

“Will you let me hurt you, then?”

And then your lips met. Hyunjin’s answer his mouth on your own, his hands in your hair. Your own finally brave enough to reciprocate touch – you had never sensed him before, not really. Had never sought out to find his touch directly, never actively, so. It was a sensation like no other, a million light bulbs, uncountable fireworks popping in colour underneath your skin, just where yours met his. Fingertips on his neck, by the back of his hair, by the perk of his shoulder. A million fireworks in blue and red and purple and green, sounding through your ears as though going off in this very room, in this very apartment, place so lonely, filled with two lost souls that had found each other finally, though maybe in the wrong moment. Two souls connected the way two snap hooks were, sealed within each other.

Hyunjin lead you through it. His mouth opened to a kiss of teeth and clatter, and you allowed him to, sunk into the feeling of him, his lips on yours, his hands on the vastness of your body. He wasn’t greedy with his moves, needy though as he stopped before his tongue protruded into mouth of yours, asking for permission silently until you granted allowance – only then he continued forward, wet muscles enchanting in a dance addicting, warmth spreading through the entireties of your bodies. You stood in place and kissed each other, a kiss so long awaited it might have been a dream, altogether. A kiss so surreal Hyunjin had to pull away or a moment quick, looking at you, looking at the whole of you – your blown out eyes, pleading, scared. Your lips red, your hands on his chest, his own by the curve of your waist. He had dreamed of this very moment throughout countless nights, when it was only him and his thoughts, and you within them. Had dreamed to kiss you under different circumstances, yet kiss you altogether; and it was sweeter, softer, better than any dream could fabricate.

Staggered breath from both of you as you took the other in, locking blown out eyes and holding trembling bodies, tending running minds, with as much as a look, a touch. And then lips found lips again. As though instinctively, as though it was the very thing, the only thing you’d been born to do. To wrap mouth around mouth, to allow tongues within, to graze upon teeth, to bite down on lips. Softly, experimentally, and then again, when wanted reaction followed.

Hyunjin started backing against the soft of the sofa as your hands made their way through his hair, messing up the softened locks to your liking. He let you, gratefully, toy at him as you wished. Let you explore his body as he explored yours, bunching up clothes in fists, so impatient, so eager. Because this has been all you’d ever wanted, the both of you, everything and more of what you’d desired, since the very moment you’d seen each other in the small of the convenience store, entirely unfamiliar then yet strangely connected. The embrace of the other, lips dancing in sync as though meant to be, hands dancing across body as though born to serve that very purpose.

Hyunjin crouched down, motioning your body softly, swiftly, so you sat on the edge of the couch, his body hovering above yours, darkening your view against the dim light of the living room. His lips never tore apart from your own – the sounds of wet against wet filled the small of the room, joined by softest sighs and gasps for air; you were left speechless, thoughtless with every additional touch, with every further exploring, the both of you. Hyunjin crouched down further, face to face with you and he went lower, yet, pulling your head with him, leaving you to be the one above him after he settled on his knees between your own. Hands on either of your thighs, caressing the plush, groping at the flesh when your fingers pulled against his darkened roots – you quickly discovered him to like it when you did.

Hyunjin broke the kiss, reluctant to let you go, meeting equally reluctant eyes, your lips chasing his for a moment until he connected them to the curve of your neck, minimally dampened in sweat – you must have walked to his place, only now he figured, feeling even deeper discontentment with your ex; until he remembered he was the one kissing you this very moment, his mouth the one attached to the softness of your neck, to the bit behind your ear, to the hollow part of your collarbone. He was the one whose hands steadied themselves on your waist, squeezing to his liking, kissing down to meet your chest. He was the reason you squirmed in his hold, in between his hands, on his couch, in his home – it was him, and Hyunjin would be a fool to grow salty, to let you go. To miss the opportunity, the way your ex did – Hyunjin wouldn’t possibly be so dumb, would give his heart to treat you the way you had deserved to be treated, the years passed. Would show you what love could be like, if it was him you were with.

You grew desperate. Loved the way Hyunjin’s mouth lapped at your body, loved his hands exploring it – but you needed more. Needed the very thing his whole demeanour pointed towards – his body caged between your legs, his hands on your thighs, moving closer to your sex, his face inching nearer towards it. Though he was taking his time. Sweet time to dote on you, to tend you, to love you. Hands only going as far as pulling your shirt high enough to litter your lower stomach in kisses most sweet, and you couldn’t take any more.

“Hyunjin... please.”

Your words as though brought him back to reality, if he had forgotten his surroundings before, merely focusing on you and your body, on the way you sounded, smelled and felt to the touch he now was grounded again, finding himself on his knees before you, finding your eyes looking at him with so much plead, so much desire he might just implode. He understood, your words of impatience, and he mumbled a quick apology, wasting no time now to jumble up the hem of your shirt, to busy his hands with the button of your jeans, hook his fingers into the waistband of your attires. Sliding off pants and underwear in one go after an approving look, and Hyunjin feared that truly, his heart would simply shoot up in a million tiny pieces and out of his body. The sight of you, hovering on the edge of the sofa, body leaned against the back of it, arms working as a prop behind you — lower half exposed, sinfully so; you were glistening in soft wetness, excitement lacing your features, the entirety of you body. It was better than Hyunjin could have ever dare to dream of. This very image having haunted his nightly fantasies ever so often, guilt in the pit of his stomach as his hand had lowered to ease himself every single time — and now he lived it, would no longer have to rely on his mind to fabricate most eager sceneries, wouldn’t need to rely on solely his hand to grand him sweetest release. You lay before him and in flesh, and his eyes glazed over with a sheen of adoration, with a hint of disbelief, maybe.

“So pretty. So, so pretty.”

Words leaving mouth quietly as his lips connected to the plush of your thighs, your body jumping at both the compliment and the sudden contact of warm lips to warmer skin. It felt foreign yet all too much familiar, too known a feeling to be strange, and your lids fluttered close, neck giving in, head lulling to the side. Hyunjin didn’t keep his eyes off you for a moment – watching you intently through deep lashed as he bit and sucked on the flesh of inner thighs, learning most sensitive zones, most erogenous spots. Mouth moving closer to your heat and your legs opened wider at his antics, feeling his lips on the bone connecting leg and pelvis, and your hips rolled forward – minimally yet enough to drive Hyunjin insane, seeing, sensing your need a matter unbelievable to him – you wanted him as much as he wanted you, and he everything but stayed calm at the mere thought alone. A feeling of increased ego, or simple relief – the both of you had walked on eggshells around the other, ever since the day at the store. Had felt feelings reciprocated yet had never been entirely sure, because too cowardly to ever ask – knowing surely now, the desire was of mutual nature – Hyunjin felt utterly helpless.

Mouth attaching to your slit, wetness covering him whole momentarily, hum leaving his throat and sending vibrations right through you, making your back arch into him this much more, your neck throwing back now, eyes shut and hand entangled in coloured hair. Pulling on it slightly to get soft sounds to leave his lips, to feel them against the sensitivity of your clit, to hear his satisfaction in satisfying you. His tongue lapping up your every bit, humming at the taste of you, at your smell. At the sight of you basking in his ministrations on you, focused and determined, wanting nothing more than to please you, the way he’s been dreaming of, imagining too many times to count. It was working, seemingly – shy whimpers leaving your mouth, self-conscious of being too loud, yet unable to deny the feeling Hyunjin provided you, gifted you with. Tongue dancing in kitten licks and sucks against your clit, or prodding at your entrance, and you’ve lost yourself further and further into him, both waiting for release, anticipating it yet dreading it, because the moment would be over, then. Wanted to bask in the impossible feeling of satisfaction that would never be enough only to not let the moment end, altogether – yet Hyunjin didn’t stop, kept driving you to said release, with licks against your slit, with kisses against your sensitivity, detaching only to litter wettened kisses against the vastness of your thighs. Your following whines of protest in loss of touch made Hyunjin chuckle and he went back to bask you in sweetest pleasure, fingers toying at your entrance, sliding into you when your hips bucked to allow him in, when impatient hands grabbed for his wrist, pleads rolling past your tongue in sheer holiest mantras.

Hyunjin was driven, wrist sore from curling up against the spot he had found after moments of searching, knowing he had when your back had arched so violently it had nearly scared him, jaw clacking in overuse though he was the last to care about any of it. Driven to drive you to where you needed him to, until you’d see white, until his very name would be the last thing on your mind, the feeling of him on you the very last feeling you’d die to feel. He watched you as your hands pulled him closer to your middle, as your hips rolled against his face, until you started clenching around the girth of his fingers, relentless pleasure in the way they never missed the softest spot so deep within you, until you started seeing stars. Only mumbling nonsense, utterly lost in the feeling of him, thighs contracting beside his head, your mind free from the frustrations of previous moments – wholly focused on your release that came in waves heavy, stormy, washing over you as Hyunjin sat careful to ride it out, not stopping movements until you told him to, until you squirmed in his hold in overstimulation. Your breath staggered, your chest heaving, your legs tired. Your eyes finding his in a moment of realisation, hearts skipping a beat as you fell back to reality – Hyunjin’s pupils were impossibly blown out, outlined erection visible even through the fabric of his worn-out sweatpants, breath as staggered as yours was. You ought to scream at the top of your lungs at the lust, the desire he watched you with – knowing he wanted you as much as you did, knowing he had felt the same about you the previous weeks where worry’d been all that’s been on your mind, worry about lost love, worry about the risks of finding a new one – he had been there and he had been feeling the very same you had, and you urged to kiss him at mere thought alone.

Pulled him up by his chin so your lips could meet in a kiss passionate, wet and laced with your release, drowned in your contentment, teeth clashing and hands groping wherever they could reach. Sneaking beneath shirts to pull them off seconds later, leaving you wholly naked, Hyunjin in only his sweats. And the kiss was never enough. The moment you wanted to pull away for air, or to ask Hyunjin for more, for his pants and underwear to be gone you simultaneously felt reluctant to, seemingly unable to break the kiss, to detach your lips from his. Having waited to have him like this for far too long it now seemed impossible to let him go for even a moment, if it meant burning with emptiness and desire a little while longer.

Though your bodies could only take so much. Hips longing for friction, yours as much as his, the confines of his pants only paining him, his impatience. And you didn’t let him hurt for too long. Started reaching down his body, tracing lines of abs and soft muscles to hook your fingers into the waistband of his undergarments, pleading for him to take them off, eyes anticipating, hands wanting. He complied gratefully, pulled off sweats and boxers in one go, adding them to the pile of carelessly tossed cloths before his eyes were back on your own – only looking, exchanged gaze as you waited for someone to do the crucial move, the one that would bound you as one for the remaining of time. Both of you too cowardly, hot breath hitting faces, sweat forming to dance on flushed skin.

“I can’t- I can only give you this much. I can’t give you want you want, not right now. I want you to know that, this is- this is the only thing I can give you.”

Voice on the verge of breaking, quiet in your throat, eyes filling with agony. You didn’t want to hurt him, wished to be able to love him the way he wanted you to, the way he deserved it. Wished that Chan wouldn’t have settled into your very being as persistent as he did, making him the only reason for your heart to be reluctant, scared to open up as wide anew.

Hyunjin’s thumb caressed the high of your cheek, head leaning closer, giving a peck to bruised up lips to lean his forehead against yours a moment later. Intimacy dizzying the both of you, closeness and proximity making it heart to reach for air.

“Then it’s enough for the time being. I’ll wait for you, I promise.”

A sigh out of your lungs and a nod, and Hyunjin started lining up with your entrance, precum and your wetness enough for his sinking into you to be utterly painless, for the stretch to be one of unbelievable pleasure. Fireworks setting off in your bodies anew, and only now the relentless pulling seemed to have faded, had turned into a feeling of passion, of pleasure in measures unknown to you times previous. You whimpered out momentarily, reciprocating Hyunjin’s deep groan against your ear, his stuttering hips as he bottomed out within you, so deep your body felt as helpless as they came. All five senses entirely focused on him, on the way he filled you – though for the very first time, you yet felt nostalgia rushing through you, as though this very moment had happened in a past life, as though your bodies, your souls had loved each other the very same way long before you had known it yourselves.

Setting a slow rhythm, embracing each other, holding your bodies close. Chests flushed, heartbeats in sync, hips meeting somewhere in the middle, where your cores connected. Sweat a sheet across your fleshes, breaths hitching in your throats, confessions spilling past kiss-bitten lips – it was connection you had craved for years on end, connection so deep it dared to scratch your heart. And in this very moment, one you’ve anticipated behind closed doors, in most private fantasies, you weren’t man and woman having sex, you were two people, two souls loving the other. Because it were your souls that loved, not your bodies. When you kissed, when you touched, when you let lips and hands dance across bodies where it was most desired your bodies expressed the love your very souls felt, because your souls themselves couldn’t possibly reveal such feelings. So, you took your bodies as a vessel, as a messenger for your love, your desire, your longing. Materialized what souls were feeling – and you grunted against the other, bodies growing more frantic, more feverous, reaching closer the point you so badly wanted to reach, together, in unison.

It didn’t take you much longer – one thrust, a second and a third until you whined out, letting Hyunjin know how close you were, through gritted tears and teary eyes, until he nodded and agreed, telling you, begging you to let go, for you were with him. And you did at the sound of his voice, waves of pleasure gushing over you before they took over Hyunjin, whines filling the stuffiness of the room, confessions following right after. Collapsing on top of you and staying within the hold of your arms – another dream he’s had, so all the more unbelievable, impossible now that he was living it. Shifting on the sofa so you lay comfortably, never letting go of bodies, holding close to warmth. Careless about your stickiness, your sweat covering the whole of you – careless because this moment, you were everything that mattered, Hyunjin was.

“I don’t wanna sleep yet. Because then this moment will pass.”

Chuckling in his hold, and you felt no different. Basking in the feeling of him, laying on his sofa, heartbreak and suffering so far away now you wondered if the last hour had even occurred, or if it was a fabricated memory for your mind to play with you, to hurt you. It was all gone in Hyunjin’s arms, with his body so close to yours. The pulling, the string that had seemed to be connecting your hearts, your bodies wherever you went, from the moment in the store had tightened the two of you together for eternity, finally, eventually. At it was a feeling good, of utter contentment. One of relief, because the matter had been sitting on your shoulders for far too long, for your own good, for your own health. Your hearts had finally found each other, rightfully so, like they were intended to before your bodies walked this earth – and you fell asleep to Hyunjin’s soft snoring, you in his heart and him in your own, ought to be bound with nothing to tear you apart.

@beomkiz @iwannabangchan @hwangful @whatudowhennooneseesyou @inkybird @seungminluv3 @skzddicted @berryblog @beautifullywrecked-aeris @moonlightcandy00 @hyynee @nightrayseishina @shrub31201 @snowwy-night @aemondsrhaenyra @hyuneisbae @lovhyunj @ladytrbl @danyxthirstae01 @someoneinlovve @lili-kims-blog @rachagen @koorminii @good-soup3023 @shiru-chan @blahbluhblahbluh @laryisthinking @knisterlicht @studyingthemind @ppiri-bahng @septicrebel @channiesfavoritebrownie @midsoulz @foivetimesacharm @daceyena @yoonguurt @lovingeaglepeanut @hyuneyeon @therealhyunjingf @llunapastell @dreamstarsandskz @baeksofty @143hyunes @fandems @junebug032

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 25: [HOST] asmo / shopping trips

ao3 link

note: the symbiote is now nicknamed charlie, and i think that's all the extra info you need? also whoaa second to last!! one more and i'll finally have finished this (which i really should've have done ages ago shfbdjshf)

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Asmo is - inarguably - an excellent shopper. He knows his brothers’ tastes, inside and out (not that he necessarily agrees with all of them, but he knows them). Certain brothers are easier to buy for than others, but he at least knows that, given a day, he can come back with something they’ll like - clothes, ornaments, or otherwise. Thus, it isn't a surprise that he’s put in charge of new clothes when the House of Lamentation first takes in its new ward.

It’s simple in the early days: find an old t-shirt, wash it well with a scentless detergent, then shrink it down to the size of a small smock. For IK, it seems comfortable and familiar.

She creeps out of the closet still clutching her old gown and stands there silently. Asmo resists the impulse to clap, and instead asks, “Comfy?”

IK doesn’t seem to know what he means. Moving slowly, he points to her, then to his own soft smile, then tilts his head to the side. After a moment, she nods.

“That’s enough for me,” He sighs, then stands up. “Alright, my darling. You’re doing great. Think you can come down with me?”

Every step up is slow, but it feels like they’re scaling mountains. Asmo spends a week stitching together a simple blouse and skirt, and hopefully leaves it in her room overnight. The next day, IK wanders out into the common room and asks him to help her do up the buttons. On the same morning, she lets him brush her hair.

Every occasion is momentous; every stride without fear is victory. In these conditions, it’s very easy for certain demons to gain false confidence when overlooking these precipices.

Two facts: first, Asmo is an optimist with confidence to a fault. Second, he’s just as capable as certain demons of making poor decisions on impulse.

IK’s first shopping trip is a disaster. Several weeks of excellent progress with forays into the outside world culminate in one impatient customer in a department store. They barge past in the shoe aisle and brush a little too close, a little too quickly, and just as quickly find themselves - and the entire store - surrounded down by a forest of angry black tendrils.

Another fact: Asmo has little sympathy for those who bring ill fortune on themselves. By the time Lucifer and Satan arrive to salvage the situation, Asmo is still berating the pushy demon for starting this whole mess in the first place. To be fair, Lucifer doesn’t help much, as he immediately falls to scolding Asmo, which leaves Satan to attempt to talk things out with an irate manager.

IK is just about the only one who comes out of the situation happy - Charlie, while still wreaking havoc for everyone else, has gotten rather good at self-soothing its skittish host. While Satan loses patience with the manager and begins shouting louder than everyone else, and while that poor pushy demon attempts to get either Lucifer or Asmo’s attention, Charlie leads IK through to the kitchen appliances section and begins happily destroying the place.

It takes longer than everything else to track IK down and remove several sharp instruments from the various extra limbs Charlie has sprouted. They discover in the aftermath that Charlie has also learnt to shoplift, which means IK comes away with a figurine from the front desk that Satan’s too irritated with the shop owner to return.

The bills afterwards are eye-watering. It’s a good thing Diavolo finds the whole escapade so amusing, or else they might never have been able to show their faces in public again.

It’s quite some time before Asmo’s brave enough to try again. So long, in fact, that IK outpaces him - she goes grocery shopping with the twins, accompanies Levi to one of his quieter pop-up cosplay events, and spends a day at a petting zoo with the angels. That terrified little baby hiding under a table feels more and more like the distant past, but for some reason… he’s still cautious.

There are just too many wild cards, and not enough contingency plans for them all. Sure, it’s been a long time since seeing a stranger has been enough to send Charlie into crisis mode, but impatient shoppers manage to set new lows every day.

It’s not about the clean-up afterwards. However brief it is, that flash of terror on IK’s little face always manages to break his heart all over again. It’s worth as many finger-pricks as it takes to avoid that, even if he has to stitch every little outfit by hand.

Still! There’s a first time for everything, but there’s also a second chance at everything. Nearly three months after that cataclysmic first trip, Asmo decides it’s finally time to try again. Redeem himself, so to speak.

They’ll go around some quieter local stores, instead of big chain outlets like the one from last time. Solomon’s had success showing IK around second-hand witch shops and apothecaries, and he knows from Satan that she likes the old shoe-maker down the street from the cat cafe.

Clothes aren’t as much of a concern now that he’s gotten the hang of sewing, but there’s lots more to see. The issue is that IK makes it so difficult to tell what she actually thinks of anything - it doesn’t help that, in all her practising of her smiles, she’s also learnt the Polite Smile. (Asmo’s not sure from who, but he has his money on Simeon.)

“Darling,” He says worriedly when IK nods obediently to the seventh ribbon in a row. “You know you can tell me if you don’t like something.”

She thinks about this for a while, then announces, “I don’t like beetroot.”

“That’s di— I mean, beetroot’s good for you, darling.”

“It looks like chopped blood.”

He sighs. “...never mind. That doesn’t matter. I mean, you can tell me if you don’t want all this stuff.”

“Charlie likes ribbons,” IK says. “They’re fun to rip up.”

Maybe we need to get some dog toys for it. “And what about you, darling?”

IK looks a little lost. A moment passes without a response, and Asmo sighs.

“Alright,” He says after a moment. “We’ll get the ribbons for Charlie. But promise you’ll tell me if you see something you like, okay?”

“Okay,” says IK, still looking gently puzzled. But she seems happy enough when he pays for the ribbons at the counter.

…it’s easy to forget how many more steps there are to go. It wasn’t all that long ago that she was confounded by smiling - though this isn’t quite the same thing.

Charlie likes everything from clacky hair-clips to lollipops with a fizzy centre. IK doesn’t like scratchy jackets or heavy bracelets. It’s hard to tell who’s talking - where one ends and the other begins.

“But what do you like?” Asmo asks what feels like a hundred times, and each time she looks as if he’s asked her a stupid question.

“I like blankets,” She’ll say, and he’ll find a fluffy patchwork quilt. IK will run her hands over it inquisitively, then nod and say, “Charlie loves it.”

He asks again and again, and each time there’s a new answer. “I like riding on Beel’s shoulders.” “I like Simeon’s cakes.” “I like Mammon.”

And he asks again after they leave a haberdasher with several spools of brightly coloured thread. IK must be thoroughly sick of him by now, but she answers valiantly, “I like Momo.”

Momo is her toy panda. Asmo had bought it on his way home from some promotional event, and she’s loved it ever since. Momo is named after Asmo, because IK loves both of them.

Asmo pauses. IK is almost stumbling on her feet. They’ve been browsing for ages - he’s been so determined to find something IK loves, and not Charlie.

“It’s late, isn’t it?” He asks apologetically, and reaches down to carry her, swapping all his bags to one arm with ease. “We should go home.”

IK doesn’t seem to hear him. She answers his first question again, face scrunched as if working hard to remember, “I like Levi’s jellyfish. I like my room.”

“I know, I know…” For some reason, he feels like crying. “You’re tired, huh? Come here, come here…”

His arms are definitely going to complain tomorrow morning, but for now he can hold everything up without much thought. IK clings to him and continues listing, “I like tea parties. I like the Little Ds.”

“That’s enough, sweetheart,” He murmurs, turning onto the main road to start heading home. If anyone tries approaching him, he swears he’ll snap. “I know.”

IK finally goes quiet. She lays her head on his shoulder, inadvertently poking her little horn into his neck. It already feels like there’s something lodged in there, so it doesn’t make much difference.

“I like this,” She says after a moment. “I like you. And Charlie likes you. Okay?”

He pauses in the middle of the street and earns a few side-eyes from the demons around him.

“...okay,” He whispers. “That’s enough for me.”

[seabysiren]

when you're sick

🐬 he worries so much. the body of a god doesn't get sick. sure he could get injured, but even flesh wounds would quickly disappear when he submerges into water

🐬 but when he visits you, he can immediately sense something is off. maybe its the way your scent seems muted. or the bags under your eyes that seem a bit bigger than the last time he saw you.

🐬 he's so gentle. he gives you lots of forehead kisses and wraps you in his embrace. his large, warm embrace. and when he presses yourself against him, he's worried. you feel so much colder than he is.

🐬 it starts with just a cough. a cough that swirls in your chest and makes you hack up a lung when you sit up. the sudden noise startles k'uk'ulkan from his thoughts.

🐬 he looks at you with narrowed eyes as he holds your face in his hands. his eyes roving over your figure, trying to pinpoint the source of such an ailment. he finds nothing. no flesh wounds. no bruises. no rashes.

🐬 you have to reassure him you're fine. its just allergies. the pollen in the air. things like that.

🐬 he huffs at you. that the human body is so frail that a simple change in wind could change your biology.

🐬 the next time you see him he brings a soothing cream. something that is supposed to be spread over the chest to help with congestion. he applies it with such care as you melt under his touch.

🐬 if you have pains, he will curl around you and force you to rest in your bed. in the nest he made for you. full of soft blankets and pillows to prop yourself up on.

🐬 he'll run his hands over your skin and knead away any knots and stress. and he often presses kisses against your temple when you furrow your eyebrows. because he doesn't want you to get a headache.

🐬 he brings you lots of fruit and bread. nutritious, sweet things that are healthy for you. no foods from the grocery store or the vendors in the town nearby. just sweet, soft nectar and pulp of delicious fruit full of vitamins.

🐬 planning to work? no. physically not possible. k'uk'ulkan will pin you to the bed and force you to fall alseep. and if you're having trouble falling asleep, he will tell you stories his mother used to tell him.

🐬 if you become feverish he will panick. very rarily do any talokanil get sick. and even then they recover quick enough. but when you're feverish and aching, he does everything.

🐬 he will raid your medicine cabinet and read every warning label. every instruction. every word. in order to give you what you need to help break the fever. he brings cool water and presses a soft cloth against your forehead. he wipes down your body when you're too weak to do that yourself.

🐬 he will give you honey and strange, awful tasting remedies when he decides that the medicine you have has too many risks. too many chemicals.

🐬 the medicine he gives you is easy to swallow, but incredibly bitter tasting. he coos at you the entire time and tells you how good and brave you are.

🐬 a nervous, fretting mess when you get sick. will scavenge the earth and find any and all healers in talokanil for remedies to cure your allergies. or a headache you got from staring at your screen. or a fever and the aches that wrack through your body.

🐬 and when you get better you shower him in love and affection. other than brushing away the mess he made in your bathroom from all the medicine bottles strewn everywhere. he means well.

🐬 tl:dr. k'uk'ulkan will absolutely sell his soul to the devil in order to cure you. he hates when your sick or in pain, and will do everything in order to make sure you're safe and secure. and most importantly, healthy.

[holylulusworld]

Jeannie in a bottle - Epilogue

Summary: The deal is broken. You are finally free.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Huntress!Reader

Warnings: former genie!reader, kinda social anxiety/anxiety/slight panic attack, caring Dean, mentions of aunt flo

Jeannie in a bottle masterlist

<< Part 4

The deal is broken. You are finally free. What now?

You’re not used to living your own life. Trapped in the bottle you could do nothing but wish for someone to find the bottle to free you.

“What are you up to?” Dean brings you out of your daydreams. You were standing in the garage for the better of half an hour, debating whether to go for a ride in a car or explore the bunker some more. 

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. “I need clothes and toiletries.” You cringe. “Uh-you know…hygiene products for ladies.”

Dean chuckles nervously. He drops his eyes to your crotch and hums. “You got a visit from aunt flo?” 

“Figures. I get out of that bottle only to end up having my first period in ten years.” You huff and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Do you want me to go to town and get you some tampons or pads?” Dean grins when you look at him, surprised. “What? Can a man not buy ladies' toiletries? I’m a tough guy and brave enough to buy tampons.”

“You’re cute and cocky.” Dean’s grin widens at your words. “Would you drive me to town? I’m not sure I can still handle a car, or anything else. Everything feels surreal. Like a dream.”

“If this a dream, I hope we never wake.” Dean slings one arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get you some new clothes and toiletries. You look good in my clothes, but I think you deserve to go on a shopping spree.”

“Dean, I don’t have any money. I can’t go on a shopping spree.”

“Aw, sweetheart. Let me buy you all the things you will need,” he whispers in your ear. “You can pay me back in kind.”

This time, you chuckle. Dean is definitely a cocky guy. “We will see, Dean. Maybe I can give you a back scrub or wash your car.”

“Breathe, Y/N,” Dean softly says as you try to control your breathing. Being inside the bunker with Sam and Dean was no problem. But the moment you stepped inside the grocery store, your legs started to wobble. 

“I can’t…so many people,” you hate the panic in your voice. You never were so scared before. “Dean…please.”

“I’ll bring you back to the car. You just stay inside the Impala, and I’ll get you everything you need. Okay?” He worriedly looks down at you. “Y/N?”

“Okay.” You exhale sharply. “I-I got a list. Can you get the things for me?” You are close to tears, and you feel ashamed that Dean sees you like that. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey…it’s alright. We will go back to the car, and everything is going to be alright. It’s a bit too much, I get it. We should’ve taken things slow. You were stuck in that bottle for ten years.”

You choke out a sob when Dean wraps his arms around you. “Thank you.”

“Sometimes the world gets too much for everything. That’s no reason to be ashamed of.” He guides you back out of the grocery store. 

You take deep breaths, hoping to even your breathing and calm your nerves. “Can you…can you buy me some pie too? I’d die for a slice of good pie.”

“Sweetheart. I didn’t think I could like you more. But I do. I love me some pie too.”

“What?” Dean grunts as the clerk at the grocery store looks at the tampons and pads the hunter wants to buy. 

“Nothing.” The boy grins, glancing at the tampons again. “Do you need chocolate too?”

Dean shrugs. “I already got all I need. Including chocolate for the sexy woman waiting for me in my car. And yes, she’s on her period and I buy her the products she needs to feel better. Do we have a problem here?”

Dean glares at the young man, huffing now and then as the cashier hurriedly charges for the products.

“I got you everything you’ll need,” Dean proudly places three bags filled with all the things on your list on your bed. “I got you a pair of jeans, shirts, socks, and so on too. Nothing special but it will do for the time being. If you want to, you can order clothes online.”

You watch Dean unpack the bags. He smirks as you snatch the tampons out of his hands. “Please excuse me. I need to…”

“I got you pie too.” He calls after you. “I’ll make you some soul food tonight.”

“Awesome,” you poke your head back inside the room, grinning. “Can we watch nonsense on TV and eat junk food?”

“Sure, sweetheart!” Dean exclaims.

Smiling you look at Dean. “I think I like this new life.”

“Of course, you like it. I’m in your life now…”

[bordysbae]

Can you do #8 with quinn please?

“drunk actions are sober thoughts.”

quinn hughes x reader

8. “you cheated on me.”

this is partially inspired by a story i read months ago on wattpad about mat barzal, i don’t rememer the name of the author but this is slightly inspired by that story!

warning: cussing. also, this story does NOT have a happy ending so if you don’t want a sad ending don’t read this, or imagine your own ending lol

word count: 1.4k

the canucks were going on a quick roadie for the next week traveling through california. you hate when quinn leaves for away games because staying alone in the apartment you guys share is never fun. you guys moved in together 2 months ago, so you began to grow attached to living with him, but roadies always take that happy feeling away from you.

quinn left a couple days ago, he first played a game vs the sharks, last night he played the kings, and tonight he’s playing the ducks. as you clear your plate from dinner you glance at the time on the microwave, and realize the game starts in a few minutes. you scurry over to the tv and turn on the game, waiting patiently for it to start. after a close game, the canucks won and you know quinn is ecstatic. sometimes the guys go out after they win, but it’s usually after home games. but since they’re leaving tomorrow, you assume they’re going out somewhere in los angeles. you decide to text quinn asking if he’s going out and to congratulate him.

you; you played so well quinn!! congrats on the win tonight! are you guys going out?

quinn; thanks love! and yes we are going out. i miss you so much, i wish you could come with me

you; i wish i could come too, but i’ll see you tomorrow! anyways go have fun on your last night in california, i love you and be safe <3

quinn; i love you more.

you set your phone down and decide to get ready for bed since you have nothing better to do. you aren’t expecting to hear from quinn until tomorrow, so you shut off your phone and get into the cold, empty bed. you stretch out your body to where quinn usually lays, yet there was no one else in it but you. you listen to the noise of cars driving down the street and people talking outside, wondering what quinn’s doing as of right now.

the next morning you get up on your own time, and decide to cook quinn a nice dinner since he’s coming home tonight. you search for some of his favorites recipes and decide on chicken parmesan. you write down the ingredients and walk to the grocery store only 2 blocks away. you’re wearing sweats and one of quinn’s hoodies, with your hair pulled up in a messy bun. you couldn’t care less about how you look right now, it’s not like you have anyone to impress, quinn is on the road. that reminds you of the fact quinn hasn’t texted you yet, so you whip out your phone on the walk back to your apartment, checking your notifications. you open instagram to see a shit ton of people tagging you in a post of girl with quinn’s arm wrapped around her. your heart skips a beat, and you bravely click on her instagram story. that’s when your heart drops. an image of quinn’s hand entangled with hers and her head resting on his shoulder appears, and you almost drop your phone at the sight. you quickly tap through all of her stories and at the end of the photo dump of her and her friends, another photo of quinn appears. this one is the worst one you’ve seen. him kissing her on her cheek, incredibly close to her lips. she captioned the story with ‘who knew candians were such good kissers?’ that’s when you’d had enough.

you run into the elevator and drop everything as you enter your apartment. you sit on the couch in disbelief, tears pouring out of your eyes. no wonder quinn hadn’t texted. you didn’t even get to cook quinn a nice dinner nor congratulate him on winning 2/3 of his games. when you told him to have fun going out, you didn’t mean that much fun. you know quinn won’t be home for at least another couple hours so you grab your clothes and important items, putting them into two large suitcases. you decide to not text quinn and to just leave. you guys share the same friends, so he’ll find you if he really cares, he knows exactly where you’ll be.

you call one of your friends explaining the situation, and she immediately lets you stay with her. you begin the drive to her house when you receive an incoming call from quinn. your heart skips a beat, and you press decline. tears pool at your eyes, and one blink too hard will lead to an immediate breakdown. quinn calls you again, and the with the blurriness from the tears you accidentally press accept.

“y/n, where are you?” “fuck, i didn’t mean to accept the call! it doesn’t matter quinn, why would you even care where i am!” “can we just talk about this please?” “talk about what? you cheated on me. that’s that.” “i was drunk y/n! please just come home. wait, where’s all your shit? did you fucking move out? y/n come home please.” “no quinn! drunk actions are sober thoughts. don’t pull that i was drunk bullshit. it doesn’t even matter anymore. i left, and we’re over.” “i promise she meant absolutely nothing, she put herself on me.” “i don’t care quinn! you clearly didn’t care enough to tell her you have a girlfriend waiting at home for you. fuck you quinn. there’s fresh food in the fridge for you, make yourself something nice. i left the recipe for chicken parmesan on the counter. goodbye quinn.” you say ending the call, the tears now pouring down your cheeks.

you arrive at your friends house, and she helps you move your things into her guest room. you explain the entire situation to her, showing her the pictures, and she comforts you through it all. her and quinn were friends before you came into the picture, but she instantly became one of your best friends. you look down at your lap and realize you’re still in quinn’s favorite hoodie. so much for never seeing him again. “oh my god, i’m in quinn’s favorite hoodie. ellen gave him this like 5 years ago, i have to give it back to him” “yeah i guess you do, but not anytime soon, he barely even apologized to you. give it back in a few days, you guys both need space.” she says. “you’re right. i’m gonna sleep, thank you for letting me stay with you.” you smile, rising off of the couch. you grab your phone from the kitchen counter and see 3 missed calls and 7 texts from elias.

you hesitantly call elias back, and he picks up on the third ring. “hello?” you say. “y/n. i tried to stop him, i’m so sorry. he’s a fucking mess, but i thought you should know he’s on his way to you right now” “he’s what?” you exclaim. “he should be at her house in like 5 minutes, he just left my place like 10 minutes ago. he’s been a crying mess.” “i don’t really care elias. anyways, goodnight.” “night.” you hang up, more confused than ever. you spin on your heel and walk back over to the couch. “um, quinn is on his way here i guess..” you say. “he’s what?!” your friend exclaims. “he’s..” the doorbell rings interrupting you, “here, i guess.”

you and sigh and walk over to the door, opening it to see quinn with bloodshot eyes. “y/n, i’m so-“ “save it quinn, here’s your hoodie. please just leave me alone.” “i’m sorry. you left your childhood teddy bear at the house, so here it is. i thought you would want it. i know it means a lot to you” “oh, thanks quinn.” you say, taken back. a small smile forming on your lips. “i uh, have a question actually.” he says shakily, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “hm?” “can i get one last kiss? i know it’s weird but i just-“ you shut him up by softly lifting yourself up on your tiptoes, and pressing you lips to his very gently, and then you quickly pull back. you both look at each other with eyes full of love, as you shut the door. as you lock it, your body begins to collapse, and tears fall down again. your best friend quickly scooping you in her arms, holding you the same exact way quinn used to.

[heywardsarchive]

Not the Right Time

or, four times the timing wasn’t right and the one time it finally was

word count: 2.4k

pairing: pope heyward x fem! reader

warnings: none that i can think of

hii it’s been a long time lol:p

first piece of work in more than a year!! anyway hopefully i’m back into the swing of writing

special mention to @mvybanks who was one of the main reasons i got inspired to write again

1

you’d been in love with pope for as long as you can remember. you were a kook and he was a pogue but that didn’t bother you or your families. ever since you started frequenting his fathers shop when you were fifteen, the two of you were joined at the hip. pope introduced you to his friends and you became an honourary pogue.

falling in love with him was easy, he was everything you wanted in a boy. he was smart, kind, brave and put others before him. you looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. it was a surprise he hadn’t noticed because everyone else had. maybe he had noticed, maybe he didn’t feel the same. you didn’t mind, just being in his presence and showering him with love, be it platonic or romantic was enough for you.

the pogues had dragged you to the kegger with them and you sat on a log with kie, nursing a glass of cheap beer in your hand, not really paying attention to the touron next to you who was talking about some horse riding course he did in maine. your eyes were focused on pope who was leaning against a tree chatting up some pretty brunette. you unconsciously let out a sigh which made kie turn to you. she followed your gaze and let out a sound of understanding.

“you should tell him.”

“maybe.” you hummed, still admiring pope from afar. he had a cap on backwards, his rope necklace around his throat and a few bracelets adorning his wrists, if you looked closely enough you could see the green threads of the bracelet you made for him peeking through.

tearing your eyes away from his figure, you stood up, holding your hand out to kie. she looked at you questioningly. “let’s dance.”

pope watched you out of the corner of his eye, the girl he was talking to had wandered off to get another drink. he felt a smile spread across his face as he watched you sway to the music with kie, a big smile on your face.

“he’s looking at you, you know” kie whispered to you, you glanced over your shoulder and your eyes met with popes who raised his glass to you as greeting, sending a smile his way you turned back to kie. “i think nows a good time to do it.” you nodded, but as you turned around to go to him, the brunette returned and pulled pope with her. your shoulders deflated and you shook your head. “it’s not a good time kie, besides i don’t think he likes me that way.” you gave her a watery smile and she wrapped you in a hug, whispering words of comfort into your ear.

2

it’s been years of pining in silence, you’re now 20. 5 years you’ve been in love with pope, waiting for the right time to tell him but it never felt right. you were tired of waiting for him, tired of watching him with other girls, girls who you could never be, ones who were so much better than you in every way.

so when a cute boy struck conversation with you at the grocery store on figure eight, you didn’t reject his advances. he was charming with striking green eyes and raven hair. his name was nathan, he’d recently moved to the outer banks from a small town in kansas.

nathan and you hit it off, you spent a small part of your day chatting with him or meeting him on dates. when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend you gladly accepted. he wasn’t pope but he was special and you could see yourself falling in love with him.

kie was happy for you when you told her the news, glad that you were finally moving on. pope on the other hand was a different story. at first he didn’t believe you then he got a bit upset but recovered quickly, telling you that he was happy for you and sending you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

after you left the wreck to meet nathan, kie leaned on the counter in front of pope. “so you wanna tell me what that was all about?” she raised her eyebrow as sign for pope not to lie.

he put his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. “i just, i don’t know. hearing her talk about him that way makes my heart squeeze in my chest. i think i might be in love.”

“pope, i love you, you’re my best friend but y/n is like my sister and i have seen her spend way too many years being in love with you, so i implore you not to do anything that will break her heart. if you love her, then tell her, if you aren’t sure then please don’t say anything.”

pope nodded. “i wasn’t planning on telling her anything, not right now anyway. she’s happy and i don’t want to ruin it for her. it’s not a good time to say anything.”

3

another five years had passed, you were now 25. nathan and you were going strong. you loved him, he was everything you could want and more but he had only one flaw, he wasn’t pope. even after all these years you ached for him. seeing him smile made your heart flutter and your chest ache. it was wrong, you know it was but how can you fall out of love with someone who was such a big part of your life and interwoven into every intricate detail?

it shouldn’t have surprised you when nathan got down on one knee and proposed to you on a beautiful starry night, but it did. your hands flew to your mouth in gasp and tears collected in your eyes. you said yes but your heart wasn’t fully in it. you knew that you would be happy with nathan and would live a contented life, that was enough.

the news of your engagement spread quickly among your friends. sarah and kie called you up squealing loudly already making wedding plans for you and planning your bachelorette. you should have been beaming with joy and happiness but you wanted to cry.

you knew that pope had probably heard about the engagement but you wanted to tell him yourself. in a way it was to give yourself some closure about a love that should have died a long time ago, but still shined as bright as a candle in the dark.

you knocked on his door, after a moment, popes face came into view. registering that it was you, he stepped out and closed the door behind him. he stood with hands in his pockets, not quite meeting your eyes. “hey.”

you wrung your hands. “i take it that you’ve heard the news.”

“yeah, congratulations on your engagement. nathan is a lucky man.” there was an undertone of bitterness in his voice which you did not fail to notice.

“yeah…” you smiled half heartedly, looking at your shoes.

“why are you really here y/n? i know it’s not to tell me about your engagement.” pope’s tone had changed suddenly, your face shot up and you noticed he had stepped closer to you. any closer and your noses would touch.

“you know why.” feeling bold, you moved closer to him, your breaths now mixing.

“i need you to say it.” he gulped.

“no. you know how i feel. i need you to say it, or don’t say it. i need to know i’m making the right choice!” you cried out, feeling a lump form in your throat.

pope looked at your figure, your eyes were watering and you were biting your lip, a sign that you were trying not to cry. he reached out and wrapped you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair.

“you know i can’t do that, it’s not the time for all that, you’re getting married y/n, he’s a great guy and, and i’m really happy for you.” his voice cracked as he whispered the last sentence into your ears and you started to sob hearing his voice, your tears wetting his blue shirt. you fingers curled around the fabric and you stayed in his embrace for a few minutes, possibly for the last time.

you pulled away from him and turned around, your gaze fixed on the ground. “goodbye pope.” and headed toward your car, leaving the man you loved in the front yard of his house.

4

months had passed since that day in popes yard, it was the day before your wedding. sarah and kie were were the best bridesmaid and maid of honour you could ask for and had pampered you brilliantly. nathan was so loving and you felt guilty for being so willing to leave him all those months ago.

it was dark outside and you sat on your bed, checking that all your jewellery and makeup was in its place for the big day tomorrow. you heard a knock on your room door. “come in!”

you didn’t look up thinking that it was your mother or sister.

“hey.” a male voice called, popes voice. your head shot up at the sound. “what are you doing here?” you inquired, closing the room door behind him.

he had his hands in his pockets and kept his gaze fixed on the ground. “i’ve come here to tell you not to marry him.”

“what?” you almost screamed incredulously.

he cringed and the sound and nodded. “yeah, i’m sorry for doing this to you but you cannot marry him. not when i love you more than anything and i know that you love me too.”

you were fuming with anger. how could he do this to you after everything?

“no. no you do not get to come here and say that you love me the day before my wedding. not when you know i’ve loved you since we were kids!”

popes mouth opened like he wanted to say something. you didn’t let him.

“no you don’t get to talk! how could you do this to me? you say you love me but you waited till the day before i married someone else, someone who is so good to me, who loves and cherishes me? this is not the time for such confessions pope! i want you to leave. don’t come for the wedding, please.” your eyes were red and watery, pointing at the door for him to leave.

he obliged but just before he shut the door he said, “you never said you loved him. only that he loved you.”

you collapsed on your bed and stared at the ceiling. why did everything have to be so complicated?

+1

you barely slept all night, tossing and turning. popes words played in your mind all night. “you never said you loved him. only that he loved you.”

when day finally broke and the light streamed into your room through the gap in the curtains, you sat up in your bed and put your head in you hands, gripping your hair tightly.

so caught up in your own head, you didn’t even hear the door open and your mother enter the room. “good morning honey.” she say down beside you. you looked at her, you were sure you looked like a sight. dark eye bags and you hair a mess from pulling at it so much. “hi.” you muttered.

“what’s wrong?” she asked you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“just have a lot on my mind.” you tried to muster a fake smile, but failed.

“is it perhaps something to do with pope?” she raised an eyebrow. your mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to find the right words. “how did you know?”

she smiled, “i’m your mother, i know you. and besides, i saw him leave the house yesterday looking pretty devastated. now tell me, what’s wrong?”

there was no point in lying so you told her everything. how he told you not to marry nathan, that he loves you and how you didn’t know what to do. you were sobbing again by the end.

your mother wrapped her arms around you. “do what your heart tells you. don’t worry about what the others will say, i’ll deal with them. listen to yourself. this is your whole life ahead of you, don’t throw away what you’ve always wanted because you’re afraid of the consequences. no matter what happens, i’m here for you, your father and your sister will support you no matter what, okay? now come down for breakfast and actually think about what you want. you still have time.” she patted your back and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again.

you freshened up, ate breakfast and were back in your room once again, getting dressed for your big day.

you put on the white gown and looked at yourself in the mirror. it was beautiful but it didn’t feel right. you looked around your childhood bedroom and your eyes fell on the pictures pinned on the bedpost. the photo of you, john b and jj lying on top of eachother on the sand, the picture of you sarah and kiara pouting at the camera and finally the picture of you squishing popes cheeks while he grinned.

you traced your fingers on the last picture.

it was clear now, you knew what you had to do.

****

pope was sitting sadly on his couch, beating himself up for letting you slip through his fingers when he heard a knock on the door.

he lazily got up and opened the door, but when he saw who was on the other side, he thought he was dreaming. you stood there, in your white gown and veil smiling at him.

you looked so beautiful in your wedding gown, he forgot how to speak. “what are you doing here?” he asked, voice breaking as he soaked in your figure.

you walked closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips, one that you had longed for since you were a teenager, he was shocked but recovered quickly, kissing you back.

“i didnt do it, i didnt marry him.” you smiled at him, arms still wrapped around his neck. “what?”

“i couldnt do it. it wasn’t fair to him, nor to me. i told him that i was sorry and that i was in love with someone else. he wasn’t very happy about that of course, but he understood.”

“so what does that mean for us?” pope inquired.

“i means that it’s finally the right time to tell you that i love you” you pressed a kiss to his lips, holding him close.

[marshallpupfan]

Marshall Merchandise Update!

Update #37... or whatever number I'm up to now. Either way, I've got a few new items to show off today! Some new, some old, and some I didn't expect to find!

First off, this Jumbo Gummy Easter candy, from "Galerie"! I just happened to stumble upon it while helping my mother with her grocery shopping. I was in kind of a rush, so I didn't have time to check if they made any of the other pups. I have to imagine they have some of at least Chase and/or Skye. It cost $5 (a little pricey, imo).

To tell you the truth, I don't know if I want to eat this. I might try to preserve it... if possible, anyway. It wouldn't be the first editable piece of merchandise that's sitting among my collection. Probably won't be the last, either. It's a good thing my folks never bought me a Marshall cake for my birthday, otherwise I'd probably try to save that, too. 😂

Next up... this plush! I actually found it while browsing around a Goodwill for something. Before I left, I figured I'd take a quick peek at the toy section, since they tend to have a few PAW Patrol dolls from time to time. I only seen a few of Chase at first, but then out of the corner of my eye, I seen this thing, somewhat buried under a bunch of other dolls. It was only $2, so... sold! :)

Funnily enough, it's actually quite similar to another plush doll I bought a few years back, only smaller. Now that I think about it, these aren't the only dolls I own that have a bigger and little version. I wonder why they do that sometimes? Hm...

Moving on, here's yet another plush doll I found! It's by TY, unless I'm mistaken. This one was found at a flea market, although it was a tad more expensive ($5). However, what's funny is that...

...it, too has a bigger version! And a smaller one, as well (I feel like these are the most common). It's like we've got the eldest brother, the middle child, and the younger sibling. An interesting set!

I was tempted to move the bigger plush for a better side-by-side comparison, but with so many dolls around it, I figured it was best I just keep things where they're at. Otherwise, moving it might give us something akin to a Marshall wipeout, and I don't want to pick them all up from the floor right now. lol

Last, and a rather unexpected find, I must say... a Marshall "Born Brave" ceramic coffee cup! To be honest, I had no idea this even existed until I seen it on Mercari about a week ago. Despite my best efforts, I can't find any indication of where this came from, who sells it, if it belongs in a set, if they made some of the other pups... nothing!

I believe it's official, since most knock-off or home-made products don't include stuff like this on the bottom. It says it was made in 2023, so that tells me it's not too old. Have any of you seen these in stores?

In any case, it's pretty cool coffee cup! I believe it can hold 11oz, which is pretty standard for these things. The picture, itself isn't the highest of quality, but that's no biggie. I actually wouldn't mind using it, since I still drink a lot of tea (and cappuccinos... too many cappuccinos...), but I hate the thought of it getting damaged, so it's going up on my shelf for now. Maybe if I can find another one someday, then I'll use it.

...again, IF I can find another. 😅

That's all for now! I apologize for the inconsistent quality and brightness of some of the pics. I forgot to turn the flash on for the first pic, no flash made everything pink around the gummy, and the flash made the dolls look too dark so I had to adjust the brightness in Photoshop. My TracFone camera just doesn't cut it sometimes... maybe I should invest in something better someday.

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane's Pets Chapter 104: Evolving and Adapting

TWs in the tags

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Before leaving, Puppy reluctantly puts her stuffed animals into her bag, along with everything nonperishable from the pantry that you and Leo didn't pack for yourselves. You think that's a good sign. She also grabs all the medical supplies in the house, which makes you feel really stupid for not thinking of that earlier. Before closing the bag up, she takes out two water bottles and passes them to you and Leo.

"If we're going to need water for the walk you will too," Leo says.

Puppy takes out one more water bottle mechanically and closes the garbage bag, then heads out the front door. You and Leo follow.

"Leo, make sure to let us know if you need a break, or help carrying your stuff." You say.

"I will. I'm not feeling too bad, though."

You believe them. It's been a long time since they were even a little okay, and the difference is very noticeable.

"We should ask the day and year as soon as we get to town." Leo jokes. "Like time travelers."

"Fuck, it'll be so nice to know what day it is again, and what time it is. I've definitely missed that."

"There are so many small things we'll finally get back." 

After a bit of silence, Puppy starts humming a lighthearted song. You feel like your heart could burst from happiness. So many small things…

Unfortunately, you're quickly distracted from that feeling by the annoyance of carrying full garbage bags through the woods. Your bag quickly collects several tiny tears, but luckily none are big enough for anything to fall out. It just means you have to hold the bag very carefully so that extra weight isn't put on the tears, causing them to get wider.

"We really should've double or triple bagged this stuff… or brought the box of garbage bags." You grumble.

Leo laughs. "We haven't gotten that far, we can go back if you want."

"Oh, no, I'm never going back. I'm just annoyed that we planned so much and didn't even think about what carrying this stuff through the woods would be like."

"Yeah, that's what happens when you have a group of three people where one is severely sleep deprived and probably still starving, one is experiencing withdrawal, and one is…"

"Brain damaged." You finish for them. Stupid Bunny.

"Right. Um… I'm really sorry I called you stupid, back in the basement. I don't think you're stupid."

"I am stupid. It's okay."

"B– Li– Austin. You're the one that found a way to kill Jane. You're so smart, and even if you weren't, you're so brave and compassionate. You're amazing. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, even me."

Are you… tearing up? "Thank you. You're… both of you are amazing too."

Leo smiles. "Of course we are. Just a little group of amazing people."

The rest of the walk is quiet. Trying to avoid your bag ripping open takes a lot of mental and physical energy. That'll be the first thing you buy when you get into town– new bags. And something for Puppy to drink to prevent her dying from malnutrition.

You take plenty of breaks, initiated by Amanda more often than not. She always opens her bag during breaks too, without ever taking anything out. When you asked her why, she took a stuffed animal out of her bag and showed it to you, which… didn't answer your question. Leo told you not to worry about it for now.

You feel… tense, stepping into the town. The last time you were in any kind of human civilization, Jane killed a lot of people to punish you.

It's pretty dark. You clear your throat. "Puppy, do you think the grocery store will still be open?"

Puppy shakes her head.

"Okay. Let's find a hotel. In the morning we can go get new bags and something for you to drink, and then… if there's a library we can use the computers to look at all the hotels nearby and see what's cheapest. Sound good?"

Puppy nods.

"So… do we just wander around until we find a hotel?" Leo asks.

You look over the three of you. "That'd be a good way to get the cops called on us."

"Well, what else are we supposed to do?"

"That's… a good question. Maybe we should've waited until morning to leave…"

"I'd rather spend all night in the woods than spend more time in that house than necessary. I… guess those are our options. Wander around trying to find a hotel, stay in the woods all night, or head back to the house. Should we… do a vote or something?"

None of those options sound particularly good. "I don't even know which one I want."

"Yeah… I guess we could split up, too."

You immediately shake your head. "Whatever we do, it should be together."

"But one person wandering around a town at night is a lot less suspicious than three people. Especially if said person leaves their bag of stuff here to be watched by the others."

Puppy stares at her open bag for a moment and then sighs. You guess she didn't bring anything to write with. "I think I'd be the best for that. I look the most pitiful." She lets her hair fall so that her missing ear is uncovered and touches the bandages on her face. "And I'm a scrawny white woman. It'd be harder to interpret me as a threat. Even if the police were called, I'd probably be fine. I've also been here before. I'll have an easier time navigating, even if I don't know exactly where to find a hotel."

These are all great points. "But… what if you get hurt?"

"I know people here. Including a lot of criminals, most of whom probably think Jane is still alive. People are less likely to mess with me than with either of you."

"But… I mean, if we're bringing race and gender into this, isn't it less safe for a woman to walk around alone at night? There are threats besides career criminals, people you probably never would've met."

"I'm not saying there are no risks. It's just the least risky option. Unless you think it's safer to wander through the woods at night, or sleep in the woods without shelter?"

Leo nods. "It does sound the least risky… though, to be fair, even if it does work, we'll have to walk to the hotel as a group with our garbage bags of stuff anyway. I mean, I'm the one that suggested it, but I don't think it makes much of a difference whether one of us finds the hotel, comes back, and guides the others or we just look around as a group for a while."

Leo's the best. "Right! Let's just go together. You should definitely lead, still. Like you said, you know this town the best. We'll look suspicious no matter what we do, let's just stick together."

Puppy hesitates, then nods.

"Perfect! Let's go."

Puppy walks quickly through the streets until you get to an area with fewer homes and more businesses, then starts moving more slowly, inspecting each building. Fairly soon after you've started searching, you stop in front of a building very clearly labeled as a hotel.

"I… think we spent more time arguing than it actually took to find this place." You say.

"Eh. Better safe than sorry." Leo pulls open the door. "After you."

It takes a bit of effort to get everyone's garbage bags through the door without ripping them, but you all manage it. The hotel clerk stares at the three of you the whole time, which you guess is fair. 

Leo sets their bag down and goes up to the front desk. "Are there any vacancies?"

The clerk puts on a customer service smile. "We do. What are you looking for?"

…you never discussed if you were going to share a room, or how many beds you'd want. Luckily Leo seems undeterred.

"The cheapest room available, please."

"How many nights?"

"One."

The clerk types something into a computer and gives the price. Puppy starts taking out some of the cash and counting it. 

"...do you take cash?" You ask. Probably should've asked that sooner.

"We can, but you would still need a card on file."

Shit. Shit shit shit.

"...Do you know of anywhere that doesn't need a card on file?" Leo asks.

"Nope."

The three of you look at each other. What are you supposed to do now?

Puppy goes up to the desk and places down the cash she just counted out. "I have a card."

There's no way that's true, but she reaches into her pocket anyway. She pulls something out, holding it in a way that covers most of it, but you notice a flash of green and realize it's just more money. She passes it to the clerk.

"Are you… trying to bribe me?"

Puppy nods.

The clerk looks at the money, then types something into the computer. They hand Puppy a key. "You'll be in room 104. Check-out is at 11 AM tomorrow.”

Puppy smiles at the clerk and heads down the hall, looking for the room. Leo grabs their bag, and the two of you follow Puppy.

"We don't have to hide," Leo says. "We can go try and get cards tomorrow."

Puppy unlocks the door labeled '104' and leads you inside. It's a pretty small room, and it only has one bed.

"Uh–"

"Puppy and you will share the bed. I know both of you would be fine with all three of us sharing the bed, so since I'm the one with the problem, I'll sleep on the ground."

They already did that sometimes at the house, when they wanted to be close to you but not sharing a bed close, so you aren’t as concerned as you might’ve been otherwise. If they chose to sleep on the ground when they had access to a bed, obviously it’s not that uncomfortable to them. They’re the one that asked for the cheapest possible room, anyway, they must’ve expected this.

"Yeah, let's make you a nest." You find extra blankets in a closet, take most of the pillows from the bed, and start the nest-making process. Leo tries to help as much as they can, but it really is just a one-person job. Puppy sets her stuffed animals on the bed.

“We should all get showered and change,” Leo suggests. “We’re dirty from walking through the woods.”

“Great idea!” You finish up the nest. “Puppy and I should replace our bandages, too.”

“You do that while I shower,” Leo says, pulling a clean outfit out of their bag.

“Perfect.” You bring Puppy to the bathroom and remove the bandages on her face and neck while Leo gets in the shower.

You wet a towel and start to clean her wounds. “I’ve been thinking. It’s okay if you don’t want to sleep tonight, I’m not as worried about that as you not eating. No one’s going to shock you when you start to drift off or anything, so you’ll fall asleep eventually no matter what. If you want to try and stay up tonight, though, I want to keep you company.”

You replace the old bandages with clean ones. Puppy doesn’t say anything. She takes your hand and takes off the bandage.

“Oh, I can do that myself.”

Puppy raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, I guess… you could’ve done your face and neck yourself…” It honestly didn’t even occur to you. “Sorry, I didn’t even ask.”

She waves dismissively and starts to clean the cut on your hand. 

“So!” You say loud enough that Leo can hear you over the shower. “Tomorrow, we’re going shopping and getting ourselves cards. Not necessarily in that order. Then we’ll use library computers to find the cheapest hotel nearby, and… go there. We’ll also research the buses around here.”

Puppy rebandages your hand. “We… need IDs. To get cards.”

“…shit. I lost track of mine after I came to the house, Jane probably took it. Leo, do you have access to any of your IDs?”

“I didn’t even have mine before Jane took me. I assume yours are lost too, Puppy?”

Puppy nods.

“She said yes. And we don’t even remember our names…” You frown. This is going to be a problem.

The shower turns off and Leo grabs a towel to dry themself. That was fast. “You remember your last name, don’t you? There’s that. And me and Puppy know your first name. Do you remember your social security number?”

You try to remember. There’s a shape to it, a rhythm you followed whenever you had to share it… but you can’t remember what actually went inside the rhythm. You don’t know if that’s because of the brain damage or just regular forgetting. “I don’t.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t know mine either. We’ll just… maybe you can get your hands on your school records? Or maybe someone you knew before could vouch for you? I mean, there are people who don’t even get a birth certificate when they’re born and they can still get IDs as an adult, so there’s got to be something we can do.” They get into their clean clothes. “We can worry about it tomorrow. I’m going to bed. We’ll want to get up pretty early tomorrow so that we can leave our stuff in here while we shop.” They exit the bathroom, leaving just you and Puppy.

“Hmm… maybe we should’ve replaced the bandages after showering…” stupid Bunny. “I guess we’ll just do our best not to get the bandages wet? And it’s not that big of a deal if we have to replace them again. Do you want to shower first?”

Puppy nods and leaves the bathroom to get clean clothes from her bag. She was allowed to shower when she wanted unless she was in the basement, so you don't think she'll need a lot of support in this. Having no reason to hang around in the bathroom, you go to hang out with Leo in the main room while Puppy showers.

Leo is playing with the clock on the nightstand. "I'm trying to set an alarm… if we get up at 7, we should have time to shop and stuff, right? Mostly I just want to be able to get back here and re-bag our stuff before we check out. It would be especially nice if we could do the shopping and the library research before we check out, so we don't have to worry about if we'll be allowed into the library with garbage bags full of stuff."

"Will stores even be open that early?"

"...I don't know. We'll have to ask Puppy. I'll leave the alarm at 7 for now, though." They set down the clock. "I really missed knowing the time. This is awesome."

You look over the small room. It's unremarkable in most ways, but… it has a clock. And you can leave whenever you want to. "It really is."

Leo yawns and goes to dig through their bag. "We should all eat something before bed. Or at least drink some water." They pull out a box of raisins and pour the contents into their mouth. "I'll try to convince Puppy to drink some water while you shower. Think you can handle convincing her to sleep? I heard you talking about it, but I didn't catch everything."

"I should be able to. I said I'd stay up and keep her company if she doesn't want to sleep– which I will do if she refuses to sleep– but I think if I just asked her to lie down with me she'd fall asleep quickly whether she wants to or not. It helps that this room is so small, she won't be able to keep herself awake pacing."

Leo nods. "Perfect. I, uh… I wish we didn't have to constantly push her, but we can't just let her hurt herself without trying to help… It's not fair that we get to adjust before working on any heavy-duty deconditioning while she has to be working on it constantly… But putting ourselves through that by taking off our collars or something wouldn't make things any easier for her."

"It sucks." You agree. "It wasn't fair for you to have to deal with withdrawal, either."

"...Yeah. I guess… we take care of each other. We have for a long time. And if we take turns, that's even better, because it means the person who's struggling can get the full undivided attention of the others."

"Exactly." You dig through your bag for some granola bars and have those and some water for dinner. Not the best meal ever, but far from the worst. 

Puppy emerges from the bathroom, her bandages still dry. She couldn't have been in there for longer than five minutes…

"Have you guys always showered that fast?" You ask.

"The water's cold," Leo says. "I… guess we could've waited… but in a place this big it would've taken forever. Better to just get it over with." 

Puppy nods in agreement.

"Okay…" You grab some clean clothes from your bag and head to the bathroom. "I'm gonna have a nice, warm shower, if possible, so… goodnight. Love you."

–

Puppy wishes she had waited, or spent longer in the shower. All she does when she's around is worry the others.

Kitty hasn't started pestering her to sleep or eat or drink yet, though. They look deep in thought.

She's so tired, and the white noise of the shower certainly isn't helping her stay awake. She forces herself to walk in place.

"It's weird, right?"

Puppy has no idea what they're talking about specifically, but she nods. Everything's weird right now.

"I mean… it didn't even occur to me to wait. I just… I guess the pathway in my brain between 'uncomfortable stimuli' and 'endure it' is so well-trodden other solutions didn't occur to me. Did it occur to you?"

Puppy shakes her head.

"Exactly. It's like… those guys that tortured those poor dogs… what's the word… Learned helplessness! That's what they call it. When you can't do anything to protect yourself for so long that you start to assume there's no escape without even checking."

Puppy remembers Master teaching them about that experiment… it's not a pleasant memory, but it could've been worse.

"It's good to be aware, though. I'm glad she taught us so much about psychology, at least. It was to hurt us and taunt us, but now it can be really helpful." They smile. "We'll have to look out for that. Times where we could make ourselves more comfortable easily but aren't."

Puppy is so, so tired. She misses just having to endure. Having all these choices… it's so hard. Things weren't easy before, but they were… simple. She misses that, even if she doesn't miss the torture.

"It'll be hard because we still have to endure a lot of things. We don't know when we'll next get money, so we'll have to settle for a lot of uncomfortable things to make it last as long as possible. So I guess… we just need to think of the reason we're uncomfortable. Make sure it's something we're consciously choosing and not just falling into because we're used to it."

Puppy nods along, but she doesn't really want to be comfortable. Comfort is for when Master chooses to give it, otherwise… it makes her sloppy. Like, if she was comfortable right now, she would fall asleep without permission.

Master is dead. Master is dead. Master is dead so she's never going to get to feel comfortable again– stop that!

"-uppy?" Her thoughts are interrupted. "Would you please sit down? Or… stop marching in place?"

She reluctantly stops moving.

"Thank you. I need you to drink some water, alright? You didn't drink any on our way here."

She feels… guilty. Like a kid getting caught not eating their vegetables. All she does is make people worry!

She grabs the water bottle she was supposed to drink during the walk and chugs it until there's none left. She wordlessly begs Kitty to stop worrying, to be satisfied.

"Thank you." They sound so relieved that she can almost ignore the waves of terror crashing over her. "Let's do something to keep your mind off it. Um…" They look around the fairly barren room. "Wanna play twenty questions?"

Puppy nods. A distraction would be nice.

"Okay, think of a person, place, or thing. You got one in mind?"

Puppy, not feeling very creative, decides on 'hotel.' She nods.

"Okay, is it a person?"

The two of them play a few rounds before Bunny finishes with his shower. Puppy feels a bit better about drinking water without permission again, as long as she doesn't think about it.

"Alright, I'm really tired, are you two going to be okay if I go to sleep?"

Puppy nods.

"Get some sleep." Bunny says. 

"Oh, wait– I set the alarm for 7 AM, do you think anything will be open then, Puppy?

Puppy nods. She remembers checking the hours the grocery store was open to try and figure out what time it was. It's open from 7 AM to 10 PM. 

"Sweet! See you in the morning, goodnight." Kitty gets curled up in their nest. 

Bunny turns his attention to Puppy. "Do you want to try going to sleep?"

She slowly shakes her head. She doesn't want to, but she knows she'll have to eventually.

Bunny sits on the bed, legs under the covers. "That's okay. I'll keep you company, like I said. You must be cold, though, after your cold shower. Wanna get under the blankets?"

She knows what he's doing. It's not subtle. But… being warm does sound nice, and she doesn't want to worry Bunny, and he was right that she'd fall asleep eventually anyway, so… it might as well be now, right? Better than passing out when she's needed.

She carefully sets each of her stuffed animals next to the bed before climbing into bed with Bunny and oh– he's warm. That makes sense, but she wasn't expecting it. She cuddles up close to him.

"Thank you." Bunny says, and that's all. He doesn't try to convince her to lie down or rest her eyes. He just holds her, and runs fingers through her hair, and breathes deeply and evenly.

She didn't stand a chance. She falls asleep within the first minute of sitting down.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list! Let me know if you want a summary of any of these logistics-heavy chapters, I know they're a lot longer than normal and that not everyone finds the logistics of escape and recovery as interesting as I do.

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @thecosmicmap @quins-whump-stuff

@fuckcapitalismasshole @whumplr-reader

[madaboutmunson]

Black Denim Trousers & Motorcycle Boots (Sweet Home Chicago Series - Part 2)

Summary for overview of the whole fic can be found here

For @eddiemonth 

Week 2 prompts used: Times Like These - Foo FIghters, Wanted Dead or Alive - Bon Jovi, Determined, Adventurous, Soulmates, Monsters, Come As You Are - Nirvana

Warnings: None that I could think of, but let me know if you feel any should be added, and I'll do that straight away :) 

Romance/Fluff Word Count : 9.6K

Ao3 Link

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie wakes with a start. An uncomfortable stiffness in his back and a numbness in his arms make themselves known quickly as a coffee mug appears in his view.

“Morning, sweetheart. I wasn’t gonna come in, but you didn’t answer, and I got a little worried,” she sits on the corner of his desk and starts picking up some of the pieces of paper that he can now see are littered all around him, “But when I saw you fast asleep on your desk, I thought I better wake you up. I know you don’t like to be late.” She smiles at him a little knowingly. He knows she can tell. He just hasn’t been brave enough to say it outright yet, and to her credit, she hasn't pushed. But he knows how obvious it is that he loves spending his days at the grocery store. He knows when they are both finally home, and she asks how his day was, he would try in vain to be calm and quiet about it, “Yeah, was good. Got a lot done.” But she’d wait a while to see if any further information would come her way before asking, “Was Steve there today?” that would just start the lengthy gushing about every little thing Steve did that day. It felt fine when he was in the midst of it, but as soon as he paused, he’d feel embarrassed, sometimes guilty. It was customary to be enthusiastic about friends, right? Especially new ones. 

Eddie knew that wasn’t why, and he got the sneaking suspicion his mama knew that too. He just wasn’t ready to have that conversation. He hasn’t been prepared to have that conversation since Wayne caught him with the huge A Streetcar Named Desire movie poster that Eddie had broken into the local cinema to retrieve for his own after learning that most movie posters just got plunged into storage, overhearing one of the ushers in the malt shop. He’d enacted the escapade alone for fear his fellow gang members wouldn't buy the fact that he wanted it for Vivienne Leigh, as he’d never mentioned her before. In hindsight, they probably would have just believed him if he’d told them he’d done it because he could because that's what he did back then. He didn’t need a rhyme or reason to rebel; he just did it to feel something he had control over.

And if Eddie hadn’t had Little Richard blasting out of his record player, if Eddie had remembered to just lock his door, or even if Eddie had just been listening the night before when Wayne had said he was going to be back earlier than usual, because a bunch of jobs got cancelled, then maybe, just maybe Wayne wouldn't have walked in on him running his fingers over the man on the poster. Eddie had tried to bolt, but Wayne had grabbed hold of him and sat him down, asked him to explain, and Eddie had lied. He’d told him he just wanted to be like him, that it was no different to the cowboys he used to draw or cut out of the paper and stick to his wall.

Wayne, god love him, hadn’t got mad, just blinked a few times and apologised for grabbing his arm. Asked if he was okay, “You never need to run from me, son. Not for anythin’.” And because he had no reason not to, he took Wayne at his word, but that moment plagued him for longer and much more profoundly than he cared to admit. As if to play into his lie, he decided to embody a version of Brando. The Wild One. 

He’d worked hard alongside Wayne until he’d saved up enough for an old beat-up motorcycle that he slaved away to fix up. He practically begged Wayne for a new pair of 501s and scoured the thrift shops for old biker jackets, but ended up finding one when scouring a barn for parts with Wayne one day. It was a little big, but Eddie didn’t mind. Got himself a used pair of black boots, one of his Grandpa’s old belts and a hat, and he looked the part. And whatever Eddie did, his little minions followed.

But that wasn’t enough for Eddie. He didn’t just want to look like Johnny. He wanted to become him.

It was easy to act cool when people were scared of you and your gang, and it was easy to kiss girls and make them cry when you were never into them in the first place. That's the thing about rebelling in a small town. Quickly, you run out of things to fight against, and soon, much to Wayne’s displeasure, Eddie had the town almost bending to his will, sometimes through charm but primarily by fear. Guys wanted to be him, and girls wanted to be with him, and that was great when it was impressing your friends, but it didn’t mean anything to him when he lay in bed at the end of the day. Somewhere along the way, this lonesome cowboy on his steel horse lost his north star. He wasn’t the hero taking on a stuffy old town that kept its youth down. He had become the villain. And as always with these sorts of things, he quite quickly became the scapegoat for anything that went wrong in that place.

As he sits up, a piece of paper joins him on the journey to being upright, and he peels it away from where it is stuck to the side of his face.

He tries to remember what he had been working on last night as his mama sips her coffee, and her vibrant eyes move over each page as she picks them up. Then it hits him, and he frantically tries gathering up the papers around him.

“Eddie! What's gotten into you?” She laughs and holds the paper away from him, “These are really good. Why are you hiding them?” 

“Well, uh, well…because they aren't finished. Yeah, they aren't finished,”. He lies quickly, and his mama’s piercing green eyes narrow at him and stare directly into his own.

She hands him back the sketch in her hand, “I just like seeing what you’re working on. It doesn't need to be perfect. I’ll leave you to it.” Eddie’s heart races in his chest as he nervously turns over the piece of paper his mom had been looking at and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees it is a drawing of the hero for his book. A knight who had no name or story yet, but one thing was for sure. He was a hero, a real one. One that wouldn’t lose his way. Perfect in poise and noble in deed.

Eddie shuffles through the other pages. 

The knight changes from armour and brandishing a sword to being dressed in peasant clothes that hug his sculpted body and holding an apple.

A page or two later, and all the false premise is stripped away.

Soft eyes that, even when narrowed by the sunlight, still look kind. The long lashes splay out elegantly, which he’s taken a little artistic licence with because he still hasn’t gotten over them since the first day he met Steve. His fingers trace along the slight crease at the corner of one of the sketched eyes, and soon he’s moving from beauty mark to freckle and back and down until he meets that handsome jawline, moves through the stubble that frustratingly can’t be felt. Only urging his fingers to tentatively brush over the lips that only ever spill gentle words to him.

“Eddie!” His mom calls out, and he nearly falls out of his chair due to being alarmed out of his daydream. He quickly shuffles all the papers together and shoves them in his drawer. “You want some eggs, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Mama, that’d be great!” he calls back, breathlessly clutching his chest. 

Eddie shakes his head and drops his head into his hands. He felt awful. Steve and his mom hadn’t shown him anything but kindness since he got here, and here he was, having these thoughts about Steve. He imagines how horrified they would be if they found out. These thoughts were wrong. He knew that. He just couldn't seem to keep them under control.

Nothing he had read about this kind of attraction made it seem like an accepted ailment or condition. It was something you had to pray or force out of a person. If Eddie had been sick with anything else, he’d go to a doctor, but wasn’t it still illegal? He guessed it didn’t have to be unlawful for the public to take matters into their own hands. Not that he’d ever acted on any of it. Almost a few times, but nothing more than a lingering touch or something that felt like a kiss was on the horizon, but the sun never rose on those opportunities. Just an expanse of unknowns shrouded in shadow.

But as he sits there, he recalls how his dad spoke about Eddie being made out of pure love. So, no matter what layers he or the world draped him in at his core, that’s what he’d always be. A walking, talking personification of love. If that were true, how could anything he felt be so terrible? It would be fine if it was a girl, right? But the fact remained that the world said it was wrong, whether he understood why it thought that or not.

He knows that’s why his mama uses sweetheart above all other terms of affection for him. He remembers how she would say his smile could light up the darkest room and how his scowls only deprived the world of what it needed most in hard times. It was a dramatic statement, but he clung to it when he struggled with these things, like a scraggly worn scrap of a comfort blanket that reminds him that at his centre, he’s good.

He also knows that’s why Wayne didn't berate his bad behaviour when he confronted him about his slightly more-than-friendships with girls. Wayne explained that if something wasn’t for him, he should leave it alone. Eddie had made his point that he could get all the girls he wanted, but he didn’t have to continue to leave broken hearts in his wake any more. To begin with, he thought it was just that, a confrontation to address another tearful girl that Eddie had led on because she found him flirting with another girl the next day. But throughout the discussion, Wayne gently prised open his rebel armour at its weakest points with careful questions and sympathy.

The way he’d started that conversation stone-faced and defensive and ended up a tearful confessing mess against Wayne’s shoulder never failed to make him get choked up when he recalled it. There was no punishment, no lecture, just flannel-wrapped arms holding him tight. Rough, hard-working hands brushing over his hair and kisses on his head between words of reassurance and relief.

Eddie did tone his behaviour down from then on like the confession had freed him of a constant irritation that had been lingering just out of reach for years, but it was far too late. Hawkins had made up its mind, and that might have been his first forced step towards Chicago.

He could start over here. He could leave that old life behind and learn how to live all over again, even if that included learning to hide some aspects of himself. Maybe his dad was just wrong. Perhaps regardless of his parents, he was resigned to a life alone. Would that really be so bad? If he couldn’t love a girl non-platonically, he could aim for something else, couldn’t he? If he could be successful professionally and keep himself safe? That could be more than enough. He could morph attraction into just an appreciation of beauty. He could do this. He could change his stars.

With a deep breath and a renewed sense of purpose, he pushes down the self-loathing and love worries and starts his day over.

The rest of his morning is terrific. Being up early with his mama means he’s too early for the goons on the stairs. He strolls down by the river until the school kids dwindle and then heads to the grocery store. And just like every morning, rain or shine, the canopy is extended, and his personal table is already set up against the window. Steve’s handsome face greets him within moments, offering him espresso and a heart-stopping smile. He accepts both gladly, and though today seems busier than usual, Steve still takes his smoke breaks with Eddie. Flicks through his notes and drawings, but one element was missing today, and Steve’s adorably creased brow isn’t happy about it.

Steve grips either side of the table and wiggles it. Looks to face the same way as Eddie and looks around confused. Then, finally, he looks above him and back to Eddie, “Everthin’ alright for ya today, Ed?”

“Yeah, just perfect,” Eddie beams back at him. Because it is. Everything is perfect when Steve’s around because he eclipses everything else.

The curious look doesn't leave his face as he leans back in his chair to light a cigarette and leans one elbow on the backrest of it, “You feelin’ ok?”

“Oh yeah, the best,” he replies enthusiastically because that was true, too. When he had Steve’s attention, he felt he must be the most special person on the planet.

“ ‘Den, what's goin’ on here?” he waves the hand holding his smoke over the sketches strewn across the table. Eddie looks down at the table as if to check for anything incriminating, but there isn’t anything.

“You don’t like them?” Eddie asks tentatively.

“Oh, uh, I like ‘em plenty, just, uh,” Steve’s honey-brown eyes scan the table again before flicking back up to Eddie’s, “Well, where is he?”

“Well, he’s right…” Eddie shuffles through the sketches. He finds various fruits and their arrangements, coffee cups, an empty version of the chair opposite him, a few trees and a sunset, “Oh,” he says, looking back up at Steve. The realisation the character he’d been working on, the knight, was nowhere to be seen in word or picture.

“You homesick?” Steve asks compassionately

“No, I don’t think so,” Eddie answers genuinely because whilst he does miss Wayne, he does not miss Hawkins.

Steve hums, looks over the pictures again, “Say, uh, did you try one-a da cannoli we send home for your ma, sometimes?” The change in subject is odd to Eddie, but he’s glad of it.

“God, yeah!” Eddie replies quickly, eyes widening at Steve, “I was trying to describe them to my uncle, but I had no idea how because I’d never eaten anything like ‘em. The best I could come up with was it's like a pie tube, with the creamiest sweet filling and candied peel that cuts right through and balances it just perfectly, but, uh, needless to say, he just laughed at me. But when he visits, I’ll make sure to buy him one. Where do you get those from anyway?” Eddie finally takes a breath after enthusing over the delicious pastries that Steve or his mom occasionally put in with his shopping.

Steve smiles hugely, “I know-a-guy,” he takes another drag on his cigarette, “Anyways, you don’t like dis knight no more? Is dat it?”

Eddie shrugs, “I dunno. I guess, um, he’s just not inspiring me today?” he awkwardly smiles at Steve, whose mouth downturns a little, but he nods.

“Oh, did he do sumthin’ wrong…in da story?” Steve asks as he stubs out his smoke, not looking at Eddie.

“No, it's not like that. It’s kinda like, somedays I get up, and all I can think about is the story and everything the knight is, was and could be, and on those days, I can write about him or draw him for hours. But then, some days, he’s just not there. Or he is, but I just don't wanna write or draw about it, you know? It’s just inspiration. Sometimes, you arrange the oranges in a pyramid and decorate the table, right? With grapes and whatever those things are, and some days, you just put the crates out. A spark of creativity,” Eddie overexplains and feels a little embarrassed, revealing something that must sound utterly ridiculous to Steve, who works hard every day regardless of how he feels. He does it because he has to, for his family.

Steve tilts his head, looking Eddie over, probably trying to figure out why he said such strange things or got so animated about them. A small smile reappears, “Figs,” he says finally.

“Figs?” Eddie asks, one of his hands gripping tightly around the side of the chair seat, fearing he might float away straight up to cloud nine if Steve keeps looking at him like that.

“Yeah, next to the grapes,” he points over to one of the odd-shaped things and looks back at Eddie, “Figs,” He repeats, and picks one up and cleans it on his shirt.

The fruit looks a lot smaller in his hands. As he holds it between them, tearing it open easily, he offers half to Eddie, who shakes his head, “Oh, no thank you. I’m good.” It's a strange thing, purple on the outside and on the inside a halo of yellow around a red fleshy centre.

“I ain’t steered ya wrong so far,” Steve says simply, putting one-half of it midway between them on the table. He smiles at Eddie and turns his attention onto the street, raising the fruit to his mouth.

Until this moment, Eddie didn't really know why the story of Adam and Eve didn't sit right with him. Sure, he hadn’t read it in-depth, just vaguely remembered it. Sure, it was a story to explain creation because, at the time, they probably had no other reasons as to why humans were on this planet. But the thing that always bugged him was that they apparently used fig leaves to cover themselves up when their innocence was lost after Eve took a bite of an apple, so surely the nearest tree would have been an apple tree. But as Steve's full lips push against the skin of the fruit he’s flipped inside out, a droplet of juice spills out of the corner of his mouth and races towards his elegant jawline. Eddie realises that maybe something had been lost in translation, and perhaps Eve had bitten into a fig, just like this, because nothing so far in his existence has been this tempting or felt so forbidden, as he watches Steve bite into the fruit to consume it. Desperate for the knowledge of how it might feel to have his lips right where the fig is. He realises he’s staring at his mouth, but as he flicks his eyes up, Steve doesn't appear to have noticed, thankfully. To prevent himself from openly drooling, he picks up the fruit and copies how Steve ate his half, even looking out onto the street to avert his eyes. Though he’s absolutely sure he doesn’t look anywhere near as good as Steve looked doing it. Due to concentrating heavily on trying to compose himself, the sweetness and flavour take him completely by surprise. He makes an involuntary, pleased noise and eats the whole thing.

“Told ya,” A voice softly says in his ear, and he jolts with surprise, only to find Steve leaning across the table into his space. They laugh at Eddie’s over-the-top reaction, “You know it’s said figs are food of da gods. Maybe you’ll feel like writin’ again soon enough, huh?”

Eddie can only smile as his stomach somersaulting like a circus act prevents him from forming a coherent response. Because all his brain wants him to do right now has very little to do with writing or drawing.

His pulse is almost rumbling in his ears, at least that's what he thinks it is initially, until the noise becomes clearer, and the butterflies in Eddie’s stomach vanish and are replaced with a plummeting feeling when he recognises the noise. 

Motorcycles.

Eddie thinks his past has caught up with him. He knew someone would come looking for him eventually, for a fire he didn't even start. He frantically goes to gather his things, but Steve’s hand is on his shoulder, and Eddie can’t look. Was this what this was? Had he befriended Eddie to keep him in place for that motorcycle gang? 

“Hey, easy, buddy. Dese are just my friends. They ain’t bad,” Steve smiles reassuringly, “Dere hygiene and sense-a humor maybe.” Steve’s hand on his shoulder radiates a soothing warmth, almost like a sedative spreading through him from the point of contact, “No more espresso for yous today, huh?” Steve laughs light and melodic, and Eddie finally smiles back.

“Sorry,” Eddie says awkwardly.

“ ‘S ok, buddy. I get it. Remember, you’re safe here, yeah? I-we won’t let anything happen to ya. Promise,” Steve says with such an earnest expression that Eddie can only believe him. He turns his attention to the bikes pulling up, and stands to greet them.

The four guys are dressed in Eddie’s old day-to-day uniform. Leather motorcycle jackets, black boots, jeans. An odd bunch, he thinks. The first guy, who looks like the leader, has the most confident strut, pulls up first and is walking ahead of the rest, his hair in a jelly roll style. To Eddie's surprise, just to his left is an African-American guy with a dimple on his upper cheek as he laughs at one of the others stumbling with their kickstand. His hair was in a pompadour style, cut in that style rather than straightened and styled. Next is a tallish, thin guy with small features. His sandy blond hair is cut in a similar style to Steve’s but a little longer and unruly, and last of all, a Latino-looking guy with the longest braided hair Eddie thinks he’s ever seen on anyone.

The one at the front runs up to tackle Steve, and then all except the sandy blond pile in also, and all four of them end up falling into one of the displays, as Steve laughs along with them, grabbing the little one in a headlock.

“Shit, Steve, not my hair!” he yells.

“Aw, come on, Gaz, doesn’t matter how good your hair looks, you’re always gonna have dat little chipmunk face of yours,” Steve laughs but lets him go.

Eddie feels someone looking at him and turns to find the slender guy staring at him. As Eddie averts his eyes, he notices his name painted in beautiful cursive on his jacket. Jonny. There was a time when Eddie would have stared right back at him, but not this new Eddie. Not his second-chance version of himself. 

Steve eventually prises himself from the others and walks over to shake Jonny’s hand, “Good to see ya, Jon,” he says, but the only reply he gets is a silent nod before walking around the table to stand next to Eddie.

“Alright, ya bunch of assholes, calm down. Dis is Ed. He’s new round here,” Steve looks and smiles at him, and Eddie returns it and gives a weak wave to the others.

“Hi,” is all he can think to say before turning back to the street, “Nice wheels,” he says.

“Thanks, man,” says the one with the long braid, who picks up an apple from the stall and bites into it.

The little one steps forward and thrusts a hand out to Eddie, “I’m Gareth, that’s Jeff, Argyle and Jon, but most people know us by Hellfire. The Hellfire Motorcycle Club.” he says proudly, turning to show the painting on the back of his jacket of some kind of devil with a long forked tongue, surrounded by flames. Eddie nods at each of them in turn.

“So where you from then?” Jonny asks.

“Indiana,” Eddie answers with a smile.

“And you came to the windy city because….” Argyle asks, taking another bite out of his apple.

“I, uh,” Eddie glances at Steve, who gives him the slightest nod and smile, “I wanted to write,”

“What, you can’t write back home?” Jeff laughs, “What happened? They take away all the stationery in Indiana?”

Eddie laughs, “Uh, no. I mean, I want to be a writer, and I thought coming here would be more inspiring, you know?”

“How much does that pay then? Writin’?” Gareth says, curious as he picks up one of Eddie's drawings off the table, pulls an impressed face at it, and shrugs, passing it to Jeff.

“Oh, I dunno, honestly,”

“Doesn’t sound very secure,” Jeff frowns and passes the drawing to Argyle.

“What if you don't make it as a writer? You got a backup?” Argyle asks.

“I honestly haven't thought-”

“Got your own place?” Jeff asks quickly

“No, I live with my-”

“Hmmm, yeah, haven't thought about it, got it,” Johnny says, “You from a big family? You Italian?”

“No, and No, but-”

There is a collective groan from the motorcycle club.

“So whatcha sayin’ is you ain't gotta job or income or your own place, and you ain't even Italian?” Gareth laughs.

“Is that- Is that bad?” Eddie looks instinctively at Steve for reassurance due to the barrage of questions he is facing.

“But what are your views on fruit on pizza?” Argyle asks

“I don’t really eat a lot of-”

“You got a ride?” Eddie snaps his head to Gareth again and shakes his head.

“A girl?” Jeff asks as Eddie's head whips around to him, and he indicates negatively again.

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, you shitbirds. That’s enough,” Steve shouts, and they fall to silence as he turns to Eddie, “ ‘Scuse us for a sec, Ed” he says apologetically, and the gang follow him inside.

Eddie decides to give them a wide berth and looks at something comforting. The motorcycles themselves. God, that was an absolute embarrassment. He could have been much cooler about it, especially with Steve there. Oh well. Eddie looks over briefly and can see them in the window in an intense discussion.

Gareth has a virtually brand new Honda Dream C71, two of them have different year versions of the BSA Bantam, and last of all, someone has his old bike, a 1950 Thunderbird. This one wasn’t customised to look like the one out of the movie like he’d done with his own, but there had been, what looked like, some abandoned attempts. He reaches out, runs his fingers along the gleaming paintwork, and quickly retracts them, remembering how touchy he’d been if anyone even looked at his bike for too long. Whoever this one belonged to took excellent care of it.

The bell ringing over the door gets him to his feet before anyone can startle him. Steve waves him over, “Ed, come ‘ere, da guys have somethin’ to say,” Eddie swallows nervously but tries to put on a slight air of confidence and smiles at them all.

Gareth tilts his head at Eddie, “So, we’s just wanted t’ say, we didn’t mean to make yous feel uncomfortable, OK? You’re just new, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. No issues here,” he puts up his hands and takes a breath, “I was just looking at your bikes. They’re real neat.” He offers the verbal olive branch of changing the subject.

“You like motorcycles?” Steve asks a little oddly. He sort of sounds a little disappointed.

Eddie lies quickly, “I mean, my friend back home used to let me ride on the back of his sometimes. So I think they’re neat, is all.” Eddie cringes at his overuse of the word neat, like some little kid.

“He did?” Steve almost sounds slightly annoyed, but Eddie can’t determine why. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say.

“And this friend of yours,” Gareth says, tearing his eyes from Steve to land on Eddie, “You still talk to him?” 

Shit, what if they think he was involved in some rival gang or something, “No, we lost touch a little while before I decided I wanted to move here.” Eddie, desperate to ease the tension he seems to have created, smiles around the group, “Just different life paths, you know. It goes that way sometimes.” Steve returns his smile, and Eddie's heart almost packs its bags to move into Steve’s hands immediately.

“Also, sorry ‘bout that comment earlier regarding’ your job. Guys like us are happy with our feet on the ground, you know, and I forget sometimes the world needs people to shoot for the moon,” Gareth offers him a shrug of a smile, and he does seem genuine in his apology, but the way Steve nods at his friend, makes him think that maybe Steve had jumped to his defence in the store, and Eddie tries desperately not to grin wildly at that thought.

Steve's eyes cast up for a moment in thought and then move towards the ground before he checks his watch, “I’m sure I could borrow some wheels if you ever miss it,” Steve shrugs, lighting a cigarette, and all four heads of his friends snap to his words, “Ain’t dat right Jonny boy?”

“Yeah, course, Steve, she’s yours anyway,” Johnny quietly agrees.

“No, no. None a dat. It’d just be for today or whateva,” Steve smiles at Johnny and then Eddie, “Unless you got plans?”

“No, not at all. That’d be great. I’ll leave a note for Ma-my mom and be right back.” Eddie says excitedly and packs up his things.

“Hey Arg, can I ask you somethin’?” He hears Steve ask, and the five of them disappear into the store as he walks back to his apartment.

Thankfully, the coast looks clear, so he heads inside, leaves a cute note for his mama, and is about to leave again when he pauses and goes to the bathroom cabinet. Score! There was some cologne in here. As he picks it up, a piece of note paper falls out. He picks it up to put it back and notices it’s yellowing. His curiosity gets the better of him, so he opens it.

For my soulmate:

The most beautiful star in the world

Take me in your arms

Lead me in my dreams again

I'll sell my soul for it.

What is it worth? 

Only you know

Eddie quickly folds it back up, feeling a little embarrassed. It was probably something private of his mama’s.

He adds a few extra pins to his hat to keep it from flying clean off and grabs a warmer jacket.

As he leaves the building, a set of familiar voices make him sigh in exasperation.

“This ain’t Hellfire’s place, Jonny. So why don’t you just go back to riding Steve’s coattails, huh?” Billy snides.

“I don’t know how many times we gotta tell you three morons to leave people alone around here. And for your information, this building is the concern of Hellfire now. So what you wanna do is turn around and go and crawl back into the dumpster the three of you ghouls crawled out of,” Jon fires back, and inside, Eddie has to cover his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Oh yeah, and what if we don’t care about Hellfire’s new rules from its new asshole of a leader?” Tommy seethes.

“Well, how can I put this? If you don’t, the matter is gonna get escalated, and then it’s gonna be out of our hands. So I suggest you just run along now, so no one has to get hurt,” Jon says calmly.

“Oh, I see how it is. You're recruiting this new guy, are ya?” Jason asks spitefully, but Jon just laughs in response.

“Well, you should know, he’s a fucking creep. Was sitting here drawing pictures of Nance and the two Harrington girls,” Billy offers, and Eddie feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh, was he?” Jon says, sounding almost intrigued.

“Sure was, bold as anything, ogling them,” Billy continues, and Eddie can almost see the sly grin on his face. He should just step out there before this gets worse.

“Thing is William. I actually have conversations with my girlfriend and actually have friends. So when Nancy told me about your performance here, she said Rob and Max told her he’d ended up at the store. I called Steve. And guess what, guys,” he says with sarcastic surprise, “He was just drawing the surroundings and saw them first. I’ve seen it, it’s terrific actually. Steve’s Ma has it hung up already, and most importantly, Nancy and the girls never had a problem with him. They, as per usual, just wanted to get away from you,” Eddie hears the venom in Jon’s voice and the rustle of his leather jacket, and he knows that shift in stance, so he steps outside to interrupt.

“Oh, hey, Jonny,” he smiles at Jon, which seems to defuse the situation. He turns to the others with a smile, nods, and walks down the stairs, “Gentlemen.”

As he and Jonny reach the bottom of the stairs, Billy calls out, “Nice to see you still resting on Steve’s hand-me-downs, Jon. First a jacket, then a bike, and then his girl. What next?” Billy and his goons laugh together.

And something about the judgement entirely rubs Eddie the wrong way, and he turns on his heel to face the three of them to say something. But then there is a hand on his shoulder, and Jonny calmly smiles, “Ooooh William, time to get some new material, maybe? You’ve been tellin’ the same joke for years now, and no one with more than one brain cell of their own has ever laughed at it. Come on, Ed. Let’s go,” he says, and they walk back to the store.

Once they are far enough away, Eddie dares ask, “You ok?”

“Yeah, don’t sweat those guys. They bark a lot, but only one has got any bite,” Jon stops before they get to the store, “Just try your best to ignore them, ok? Steve’s Ma don’t like ‘em anyway, and if you end up in a tussle with them, so will Steve, and then well…things will get escalated,” Jon looks at him seriously, “Steve’s a good guy. We don’t want him getting into any trouble, capiche?”

Eddie looks puzzled at him.

“Understand?” Jon tries again, and Eddie nods, “Also, what he said was true. Steve did give me his jacket and old motorcycle, but Nancy, that’s different. They were together but not, you know?” Jon says, and Eddie nods like he understands, but he doesn’t at all, not that it matters. “Anyway, you been enjoying your days at Heartbreak Hotel?” Jonny chuckles, and Eddie screws up his face in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t noticed?” Jon starts but reads the puzzled look on Eddie’s face quickly enough, “The constant stream of pretty girls that keep coming to the store for Steve but just end up leaving with groceries they probably didn’t need?” he laughs.

Eddie shakes his head, “I noticed it was busier today, but I was drawing, so I didn’t register who or anything.”

“Huh,” Jon half-smiles at him and looks him over, “Didn’t look up from your drawings all day?”

“Oh sure, when Steve was on his break,” Eddie says, understanding what he means now.

“But the rest of the time, not one single girl caught your eye?” Jon questions and Eddie begins to see how weird this might seem.

He fakes a laugh, “I just mean, I didn’t really engage with anyone else other than a glance. Number one, I didn’t really come here to date. It's not like I have much luck in that department, anyway. Chances are, if I make the whole writer thing, I stand a better chance, right? If I got tied down now, I’d have to get a job that paid me actual money for bills and dates instead of living off savings. My writing wouldn’t get a look in. And number two, drawing and looking at people only leads to trouble, or at least that’s what I’ve learned the last few weeks,” he pauses, “I’d really like to get the chance to apologise and explain to Nancy, Rob and Max sometime. Just so they know I’m not a creep.”

Jon puts his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him into his side, “You know Ed, I get the feeling you’re gonna get that chance,” Eddie is a bit weirded out by the physicality, but he doesn’t mind it. Jon lights up something that smells familiar to Eddie, but it’s not a cigarette, “If it’s any consolation, what I said was true. The girls didn’t move because of you. Nancy is pretty observant, so if she had felt threatened by you looking at them, she would have moved them all on someplace else.” He adds as they walk to the outside of the store.

The bell above the door rings as they step in front of it, and Steve skips a step or two on his way out and looks between him and Jonny, “You sure made friends fast,” Steve says with a huff of a laugh.

“He’s just a likeable guy, Steve,” Johnny says, giving Eddie a pat on the back.

“He is, ain’t he?” Steve says kindly,  half-smiles and then quickly looks at the bike, “Ready, Ed?”

“Yeah, yeah. Absolutely,” Eddie claps his hands together and is glad for this moment of waiting for Steve to get situated on the bike first because Steve looks gorgeous. That is just the facts. He’s beautiful and kind, and that is more than enough. But he’s looking exceedingly handsome right now. He’s traded his regular footwear for some engineer-type boots, and his hair is combed back into a place a little more, but the jacket is really causing Eddie a problem. It was style-wise just an ordinary leather biker jacket. Except this one was a mid-brown colour that seemed to make the colour of his eyes even more entrancing somehow. Like they were no longer merely functional parts of a human being but impossible, magical orbs that might turn him completely to stone if he looked directly into them. The leather is well-worn but not damaged, just lots of lines of use. The stitching is elegant, and he’s flicked his collar up against the cold.  As he sits on the bike, he fusses with it.

“Guess I’m not as small as I used to be,” he huffs out a small self-deprecating laugh, and Eddie doesn't miss that divine blush that just hits his cheeks. There is no way Steve should feel any less than the most stunning thing on the planet. Not on his watch.

“I couldn’t even tell. Looks like a perfect fit to me. It’s real nice,” Eddie says as he swings his leg over the bike to sit behind Steve, and this already feels like a mistake. Being this close. If the visuals were not enough to send him off into orbit, the smell of leather and Steve’s cologne was a heady love potion on their own.

Steve looks over his shoulder, “Thanks. Uh, you haven't even asked where we are goin’.” 

“You haven’t steered me wrong this far,” Eddie says, trying not to grin back wildly, placing his hands on his own legs. He sits back to create a suitable distance between them, but there are some things he can’t prevent, like the way his knees have to sit on either side of Steve’s hips. It makes him violently jealous of maybe all the past girls who had sat in this seat before him but were able to wrap their arms around him. Rest their heads against his back, maybe even hear his heart beat fiercely for them as they ride off into a perfect sunset.

The journey itself is pleasant. Eddie sees parts of the city he hasn't seen before whizz past him, and due to the steady speed Steve is going, he can fully enjoy the wind occasionally rushing against him as he lets go and doesn't fight the bike with his body in the turns. He thinks about all the times he’d ride at night just to feel the wind rushing through his longer hair under the moon's light.

They stop near a park and dismount. Eddie looks around the vast park in wonderment. Sure, Hawkins had the woods, the lake and the quarry, but this place was so curated.

Steve walks a little ahead of him, does a full turn with his arms outstretched, and shouts, “Welcome to Lincoln Park, Eddie,” he flashes a huge smile as he waits for him to catch up. Eddie can’t even imagine being this proud of Hawkins if their roles had been reversed.

“So, um, what are we doin’ here?” Eddie asks as they stroll along together.

“We’re going to look at what I’ve been told is da most inspirin’ thing in d’ world,” Steve smirks mischievously, and Eddie can’t help but glance over as his heart flutters in his chest at the thought that Steve is such a good person, he’s trying to cure Eddie’s lack of inspiration, “Stars.”

The word jolts Eddie out of his daydream as Steve slows to stop outside a large building, “But it’s nearly two in the afternoon. We can’t see the stars.” Eddie responds, confused.

“Oh yeah, dats right. Well, I guess seein’ as we’re here anyways, I could show you some other weird stuff?” Steve says with a shrug.

“Weird stuff?” Eddie scrunches his nose in bewilderment, but the smile doesn’t leave him.

“Come on, Ed. Live a little. It’s a super scary museum,” Steve jokes, wiggling his fingers at Eddie. 

“I’m not scared,” Eddie says, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oh yeah?” Steve smirks.

“Yeah!” Eddie says defiantly and walks past Steve into the massive building alone.

Apparently, it's the Chicago Academy of Sciences, and the science Eddie had stumbled into was zoology. Around him are many wooden glass-fronted cases of various sizes, all showcasing animal life. Some exhibits were tiny things containing bugs, others were great dioramas of an era or a setting, and then there was the set of large bones that towered over the place belonging to a mammoth.

Eddie doesn't think he’s ever seen anything like it in his life. He can only stand there and gawk at everything because he doesn't know where to go first.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Steve says as his arm envelops Eddie’s shoulders, walking him around the virtually empty place.

“Neat is one word for it sure,” Eddie tries to say as calmly as he can, but he hears how soft it emerges from his mouth, not like he could help it when he's pulled into Steve’s side like this.

Steve’s free hand waves out in front of them across the room as the other grips his shoulder, “‘Dis place, Ed, I thought it might help ya out, ya know? If you wanna create a monster, all da references are right here, ain't dey?”

Eddie knows that all that is holding him back from fully embracing Steve and his kindness right there and then is prison, death and losing maybe the best friend he’s ever had. Why did he care so much about Eddie’s dreams? Didn’t he have one of his own?

“Wanna play a game, Ed?” Steve asks, turning his head to him, and Eddie can only reflect the radiant smile being beamed at him. A lowly mortal in the presence of the embodiment of the sun itself.

Steve checks his watch quickly, “Ok, we got ten minutes to run around here, find an animal, pick a part of it, and draw it roughly, or write it down.” he fishes in his leather jacket pocket and pulls out some paper scraps and a pencil each, “Den, we switch animals, got it?” 

“Um, why are we only drawing bits of the animals?” Eddie laughs as he takes the items from Steve.

“Creatin’ monsters, o’course!” Steve shouts as someone shushes him, and he gives Eddie’s shoulder a final squeeze before running off towards a deer. 

Eddie’s legs feel like they won't budge, or maybe he’s afraid of walking in case they buckle beneath him. He’s sure if he doesn’t soon, he’ll become an exhibit himself.

Lovesick Homosapian 1959 - Donated by S. Harrington.

He walks to the nearest exhibit and starts making a rough sketch of the body of a stag beetle. It's a very minimal sketch because, try as he might to keep focussed on the task at hand, he can’t help but keep looking over at Steve, who is adorably crouched, resting the paper on his thigh to draw. His tongue pressed between his lips, and his brow furrowed in concentration. Steve must sense his stare and turns toward him, “Done already?” he grins and indicates they trade places.

By the end of the ten minutes, they crowd next to one another to pour over the results. They both have some fascinating creatures on their pages, made with elements of beetle, deer, squirrel and flamingo elements.

Eddie went for the body of the beetle, the multiple legs of the deer, the two heads of a flamingo, the arms of a squirrel and the tail.

Steve’s was…well…it was kinda cute, even though it was still weird-looking. The legs of a flamingo, the body of a squirrel, the head of the deer and the wings of the beetle. It’s also quite impressive for someone Eddie has never seen draw. He hadn't even mentioned it. Then Eddie realises he never really asked either.

“Wow, I really like your one,” Eddie enthuses over Steve’s drawing.

“Ya do?” Steve says excitedly, and his face looks almost like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear it, but the expression fades as quickly as it appears. Steve shakes his head and looks down with a laugh, “Ah, ya got me. Good one.”

“I’m not kidding. I do like yours better.” Eddie says, pulling the drawing towards himself from under Steve’s fingers. “Though it doesn’t seem very monstrous. Seems kinda sweet, honestly.” Eddie teases and turns to his friend, whose sweet brown eyes are waiting to cut off his breath, and tries to refashion it into a sigh, which somehow Eddie manages to swallow down, and turns back to Steve’s drawing, rolls it up like a scroll and puts it in his inside breast pocket, “Seems only fair, you already have one of mine.” 

Steve doesn't say anything, just keeps that gentle smile on his face as he lightly tugs Eddie’s elbow to follow him, but sadly doesn't keep hold of it.

Steve stops outside a huge, tilted back, painted, partial globe. Protruding from it is a rectangular box with seats in it. At a complete loss, Eddie turns to Steve, who looks at Eddie from the corner of his eye, looking pleased, but says nothing.

An elderly man approaches them, and his face lights up, “Steve?!”

“Da very same,” Steve answers happily.

“I haven't seen you in a while. Everything ok?” He says, coming forward to kiss Steve on each cheek, and his eyes fall on Eddie, “Nice to meet you, welcome to the-”

“No. Don't tell him,” Steve quickly interjects, “It's a surprise. He’s not from here.”

“Oh, ok, no problem.” The man opens the door to the rectangular type box, steps inside and seats himself, and waves them in.

Steve nods towards it and goes in next. Eddie follows him inside. As he sits down next to Steve, he barely has time to enjoy the sensation of brushing arms with him when the whole thing starts whirring and the box they are sitting in starts moving into the orb, and as they do, the globe begins to close over them, until they are plunged into complete darkness.

And that's when Eddie starts to see them, the stars.

The machine whirs, and the sky turns, allowing them to see more constellations. And Eddie is entirely in awe even lets out an audible gasp a few times, causing Steve and the greying gent to snicker. But Eddie couldn’t care less. Here he was basking in a marvel, the ability to see the stars any time of day, irrespective of weather, and this was all happening due to the incredible man shuffled up next to him. A feeling of disappointed acceptance begins to gnaw at him and threatens his unabashed joy. He’d found this amazing person who goes to such lengths to help him with something that most people would find trivial, yet he could never have him as his own.

He’s glad it's dark in here, so Steve can't see the frown that sets onto Eddie’s forehead as he thinks about how furious society makes him, that it asks him to be kind and loving but be tough and never show emotion. Asks him to show love freely, but only in the confines of heterosexuality. Tells him to take his time to appreciate the world around him but forces him to hurry along and keep his head down.

Steve shuffles next to him, breaking him out of his momentary lousy mood, and reminds him that whilst he can’t have everything he wants, he can capture moments like this and keep them for his own forever, and no one could take those away from him.

The machine whirs again, and light fills the space as they exit the contraption, “The Atwood Sphere,” The greying gent says as they leave, looking amused at them before waving them goodbye.

Eddie clears his throat, “That was amazing! Did you come here a lot as a kid?”

“Yeah, and no. My pa used to bring us here after he’d come home after da war. The navy used dat for training navigation, ya know.” Steve replies.

Eddie feels the question on his tongue but is frightened to ask, so he rephrases it, “What an incredible thing to share with your Pa. Bet he knew a lot about the stars and things like that?”

“Oh sure, yeah. Wish I could remember more of da stories he told us dat lived in the night sky.” Steve says a little quieter, “Did your pa do the same?”

Eddie chuckles to lighten the mood a little, “Couldn’t shut up my dad up. He had a story for everything. Especially if it had anything to do with my mama.”

“A romantic, was he?” Steve chuckles, and it's like music to Eddie’s ears.

“That is an understatement. Pa’s crazy about her.” 

“Yeah?” Steve asks curiously.

“Oh yeah, think I found a piece of his poetry to her earlier,” Eddie smiles and glances at Steve for his reaction. To see if he frowns or ridicules at the softness of a man towards his wife, but Steve only smiles and nods.

“What was it about?” Steve happily asks.

“Something about a star and a soul,” Eddie tries to remember, and Steve hums as they walk. They enjoy the quiet for a few steps outside the building before he continues, “You ever heard the story about soulmates?”

Steve turns to him and raises an eyebrow, “No.”

“Well, in the legend. Humans originally had four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. They had started to become quite powerful and threatened to rule over the gods, and Zeus didn't much like that at all. The gods were gonna wipe out the humans completely, but they needed the humans to offer tributes, so they had to come up with something else,” Eddie clasps his hands in front of him, “So they decided to split humans in half as a punishment, to remind them of their place, and at the same time would double the tributes offered.”

“But wouldn’t dat make twice as many humans to rise up against them?” Steve asks curiously, and the fact that he’s actually been listening makes Eddie put a little more performance into the story. Jogs a few steps ahead of Steve and animatedly tells the rest while walking backwards.

“Well, it should have, except for one thing. The humans were miserable, and without their other half, they didn't care if they lived or not. Also making their tributes dwindle,” he stops dead in his steps with a finger in the air, and Steve does too with surprise-widened eyes. Seemingly fascinated in the tale, “But Apollo hated seeing them this way, so he sewed them up, leaving them one physical reminder of their true original form. The humans never quite rose up like that again because even though they were healed, they still longed for their other half, not just their body, but the other half of the soul too.” Eddie finishes with a flourish of his hand and a bow. Immediately after which, he regrets it. This was the part of him he’d been trying to keep under wraps. Showing off was his old self, not this one. But he hears the one thing most performers can’t resist. Applause.

Steve is smiling and clapping his hands, and Eddie feels the heat rise to his cheeks as he turns around and falls into step next to Steve, “So yeah, that's the legend about soulmates.”

“I hadn’t heard dat before. Thanks,” Steve says as they approach the gleaming Thunderbird. He turns and looks curiously at Eddie, “Say, you wanna take us home?”

“I, um, I don’t even-” Eddie starts to lie.

“I don’t think dats true at all. I think you can ride, and I think you had a bike like dis one,” Steve says with smug confidence.

“How did-” Eddie tries to ask, a little flabbergasted.

“Well, because I used to talk to your ma a lot when she worked on things at da store and apartment for us,” Steve laughs but doesn't seem mad that Eddie lied, “You ain’t gotta be anyone else but you ‘round me, Ed. We’re good. Everyone’s gotta past.” 

Eddie realises that perhaps he isn’t just accepting the version of Eddie from before, but also he was inviting Eddie to accept him too. Clearly, he wasn’t just randomly friends with a motorcycle gang, and he didn’t just magically have a bike lying around to give to Jonny. And with what Jonny had said, there was more than just a bunch of kids watching out for Steve.

“Sure,” Eddie smiles, “Sorry,” he adds an apology, and Steve nods, tossing him the keys, which Eddie fumbles to catch as they almost drop to the floor.

Eddie sits at the front of the bike and barely has a few seconds to enjoy the feeling of the handlebars under his grip because Steve is already clambering on behind him, and he has to brace his legs and lean his own weight against Steves to keep the balance. Not that he minds in any way. It's clear Steve is not accustomed to being the passenger as he struggles to get seated, using Eddie as a supportive climbing frame. 

“All set?” Eddie asks as he looks over his shoulder to see a glimpse of Steve, who gives him a thumbs up. But as he turns his glance back to the road ahead, he sees how Steve's thicker thighs are at his sides, and he’s elected to put his hands on his knees and a glimmer of mischief enters Eddie’s mind as he starts up the bike.

He pulls away much too quickly on purpose and feels Steve's large hands grip his waist, “Uh, sorry about that. I’m a bit rusty,” he shouts back as he slows down. Steve’s hands release him but come back to smooth over his jacket where he’d latched on and shuffles forward slightly. 

The city looks different as the sun sets on it, bathing it in both the last remnants of its glow and the coolness of approaching dusk. It feels almost like the city is waking up for its second shift as more lights from homes and signs begin to illuminate as they travel. It should be calming, but that is impossible due to the rate at which his heart is racing.

Eddie can barely breathe when he feels Steve’s legs squeeze around him as he moves, and the mix of his body heat and Steve’s almost makes him feel like he might overheat. But rather than panic, he tries to relax into it, as occasionally Steve leans forward gently to point out the turning he needs to take. It makes Eddie wish it wasn’t just a primarily straight road going home because every time they come to a turning, Steve would extend one arm out to indicate, and his other would rest against Eddie somewhere. His hip, his waist or shoulder, and each one comes with surging electricity of magic that pours through the threads of the fabric of his clothes, seeps into his skin and makes his heart and soul spin like characters on a carousel along to the music of Steve’s occasional laugh when Eddie takes a corner too tightly or pulls away from a light quickly.

Sooner than he’d like, they are nearing home, and Steve points towards Eddie’s apartment, “You sure?” Eddie shouts.

“Yeah!” Steve affirms, and Eddie pulls up outside the apartment building.

They stand near the bike for a while, and it feels familiar. And he knows it's not. It could never be, but it looks a lot like all those times he’d dropped girls off at their houses after taking them on a date. Except he’s not in his usual role. Regret swirls as he thinks about all or any of those girls that might have felt like he does right now, as he looks at Steve smiling back at him from the bike.

Almost like he can read his mind, Steve tilts his head curiously. “Can I ask you somethin’ Ed?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Eddie blurts out as he is dragged out of his thoughts.

“Dat story you told me earlier. ‘Bout da soulmates. You didn’t say what happens when dey find each other.” Steve asks, looking at Eddie but toying with one of the zippers on his jacket, “Or don't dey?”

“Oh well, my pa said that there is no escape,” Eddie laughs gently, “They are drawn together over time, and when they finally do meet. They just know. Like their souls do all the understanding for them, so they don't have to work it out. They’ll feel whole and happy. Like the happiest they ever felt, kinda thing.”

“I like dat,” Steve smiles hugely, “See ya tomorrow, Ed,” he says with a two-finger wave and starts up the bike to ride back home.

Eddie watches him ride the short distance away, and suddenly, the chill in the air makes itself known. He huddles his jacket around himself and climbs the stairs to the doors of the building before turning back to watch as his waiting friends swarm Steve outside the store. His laughter on the breeze makes Eddie smile again, and he finally turns to go inside.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some extra bits of info if you are interested:

Notes: The Building they visited was the Chicago Academy of Sciences in Lincoln Park https://naturemuseum.org/explore/history/

The Atwood Sphere was based in this building until 1997 when it was moved to the Adler Planetarium.