#i'd be like “look at this man you love him and his band in 5 years”

[sleepanonymous]

[the-kr8tor]

Talking Iron

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.4k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW blood, TW death, CW guns, CW injury, CW food mentions, CW vomit mention, CW violence. Cowboy AU, old west AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 2 >>> CHAPTER 3

You haven't been this close to him in 5 years. Breath to breath, heart to heart, you watch yourself in his jade eyes like how one sees themselves for the first time.

“I've finally found you.” Eyes shining, smile brighter than the sun bearing down, you grasp his face tenderly—as if your own eyes deceive you, as if you're dreaming. “Hobie?” You call for him when he doesn't move an inch above you.

Hobie's green eyes just stare at you, or through you. Mouth agape, breath stuck in his throat. To get his attention, you place your thumb softly over the corner of his eye, rubbing gently like you always did when he needed to wake up from a daydream.

For a split second, he leans in your touch. But as fast as he leaned in, he flinched away just as quick. Hobie scrambles away on the dusty ground like you've burned him. You might as well have when he felt how cold the golden band around your middle finger is. Soil dirtying the thick leather he wears, he stands up shakily. With the sun behind him, you have a hard time seeing his face, seeing the face you've longed for. A shadow cast around him, a halo of light around his head, the shadow blanketing him, as if you're not allowed to bear witness to all his glory.

Instead of ‘I love yous’ or ‘I miss yous’ falling on his lips, harshness flows out of them. “What are you doin' ‘ere?”

Hands bound, you try to sit up but fail. “Looking for you of course!” You say cheerfully, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It is to you, for him, it's the most confusing statement.

“Why?” Hobie's hands clenched into fists. He's not going to hurt you, he'll never hurt you—but he really wants to punch something. Just when he thought the past won't haunt him, just when he pushed the past behind him, you came to him like some miracle.

You almost scoff. “W-why? To see you, just like you wanted me to.” Finally succeeding to sit up, you huff. “Five years of no communication,” you say forlornly, “of course I'd come and see you the moment you sent word.” You smile again, and he looks away. Anywhere, anything else than the curl of your lips.

“Sent word?” He shakes his head. “I've never sent you anythin'” His words would pierce your heart but your excitement and relief triumphs over the feeling.

“A-are you sure?” You blink slowly, reaching up with your bound hands. “Can you help me up, please? I'll show you the letter.”

“Letter?”

“Can you stop asking and just help me up, Hobie? Please, the ground is hot.” With a quick nod, eyes still glancing away from you, he grabs you by the rope around your hands, avoiding touching your own; lifting you up rather quickly. The moment you're back on your feet, he yanks his hand away from you, to which you're too happy to even notice. “It's in my skirt pocket, the right.” You instruct him since you can't reach it with your hands tied. Hobie reaches to your left, hand roaming around your empty pocket, careful not to graze your thigh. “My right, Hobs.” He freezes in place, he hasn't heard that nickname in years. Without another word, he takes his hand back, then he searches for the neatly folded paper. “I've never pegged you to be a law man. Are you gonna turn me over, sheriff?”

Hobie scowls at the title, “not even close.” He sees how much it's been folded, like you've read it a thousand times. Opening the letter, scanning the contents, the pause gives you time to admire him fully. The whole ‘american cowboy’ shtick suits him, you think. You ogle him unabashedly.

Each word has his jaw tightening. It's in his writing, he remembers the exact words that's full of longing and sadness. It's full of the words you expect him to say. Yet, he wasn't the one who sent it. He's sure he didn't, especially that it was written when he was drowning in his amber filled glass. “Where'd you get this?” His eyes flick over to you, your smile faltering for only a second.

“A mail carrier?” You chuckle, “it was delivered to me.”

“I didn't send this to you.”

“Oh.” Your smile crumbles but you fix it back up almost immediately, optimism winning. “Maybe you just forgot? Remember when you forgot to put on a sock that one time and—”

“This isn't some sock, Y/N.”

“You didn't ask for me? Was it forged?” You ask quietly, heart shattering with every question.

Hobie shakes his head, sucking in his teeth, he pockets the letter. Taking the rope that hangs on your bounded hands, he tugs you back to the shop. “C’mon.” Boots thudding on the ground, he's going to do what he's good at—his job.

“W-wait! I haven't seen you in five years and you're seriously taking me to face charges? Not even a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you doing?’” You yank back, heels digging in to stop him.

“Hello, you're not goin’ to jail, I need the ten bucks. You seem fine so ‘m bringin’ you home.” Dragging you inside, the shopkeeper grins and even claps at the sight.

“That is so much worse! Hobie—” You plead, you don't remember ever pleading with him before.

“Good job, Mr…?” The moustachioed man asks, ten dollar bill in hand.

“No one.” Hobie snatches the bill, then immediately dragging you towards the front of the shop. The bells chime as he opens the door, but you're too polite to not say sorry to the man.

“I'm sorry for pointing the gun at you, but you shouldn't have shot at someone who cannot shoot back. It's rude—!” You get yanked outside, the man looks confused at your words.

“Don't apologize to him.” Hobie says, hands placed on your hips, a feeling that isn't foreign to you, but something you missed dearly.

You grin at him, expecting him to say the words you long for. Instead, you get lifted up. Yelping, connected hands flying to his wrists, he places you on his horse. Hitching your hands around the horn of his saddle.

“I think we're good, Hobie, you got his money. Can you untie me now?” You start to get nervous. The brilliant black horse looks over his shoulder, black marbles staring at you, paying you no mind. “Hi, I'm Y/N. It's a pleasure.”

“The horse doesn't talk, lov—” He stops himself before he could complete his sentence. Hobie lifts himself up, sitting behind you, legs next to yours, arms cageing you in while he holds the reins. “Thought you'd know that. Or is it because the horses back in England learned to talk after I left.” You still have no idea why he left, you're waiting for the right time to ask, for now your main concern is why your hands are tied.

“I know horses can't talk.” You roll your eyes, “I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm sure you're close to your horse, correct? You were always fond of animals.”

“His name is Buckeye.” Hobie says, with a slight kick and a click of his tongue, he holds the reins precisely, steering Buckeye towards the train station further out of town.

“Cute!” You exclaim despite the hunger, you're still happy that you found him. Or he was the one who found you. Hobie always has a knack for that it seems, whether you're hiding away or can't be bothered to be perceived by anyone but him, he always finds you. Always. “It's a cute name. Buckeye, fitting name for a horse that's as gorgeous as you, huh?” You lean down just in time for Buckeye to look back at you. He neighs like he understood you. “Yeah, you agree.” You giggle, the dark horse looks like he enjoys the attention.

Hobie is baffled by the whole interaction. “Stop cooing at my horse.”

“Why not? He seems to like it.” You touch his mane as best as you can with your hands still tied. “Right, Bucky?” The horse has an extra pep in his step with you figuring out his nickname. You continue to giggle, Hobie has no idea how Bucky warmed up to you so fast. “Where to, Hobs? Home?” You ask excitedly.

“Yes, your home.”

“Wait— What?!” You almost fell off with how fast you looked back at him.

—

All your questions were left unanswered, but you still think he's playing some sort of joke on you, a joke that is getting older with every tick of the giant clock that hangs above the railway station. A tumbleweed passes by on the train tracks, a warm breeze passes by the near empty train station. Hobie stands next to you, leaning on a pillar, eyes roaming around the barren place. He's far enough that you can't reach him and tell him all the words you wanted to say to him since he left. Yet, he's close enough that you can admire all the physical changes.

From the scruff of his growing beard, to the peeking scar around his neck—he looks like he grew up. The smoke from his cigarette curls upwards to the brim of his hat, parting ways down the middle like theater curtains that show his chiseled face. His jade eyes are as green as the grass at home, as green as the fields you used to run around with him. It reminds you of home, and at the same time, it reminds you of the years that went by without those green eyes by your side.

“You look really good.” You finally say something that isn't a question. Fingers playing with the gold band around your middle finger. “Seriously, what's your secret?” Your behind hurts from the hard wood of the bench. Travelers are sparse and far in between, you notice them staying away from you.

As predicted, he doesn't answer.

You copy his voice and demeanor just how you remembered it last. “Well, love, the secret is to bathe in cow's milk at least once a week. And to stay away from the sun.” You keep your smile despite the silence from your companion. “That's probably what you'd say.” He barely even looks at you. “Well, five years isn't that long,” you lie, it was an eternity without him. “I always thought you'd age well—”

“Five years is a long fuckin' time, Y/N.”

“Finally, a word from your mouth.” You reach towards him, impatiently showing him your tied hands. “Can you untie me now? I can't run from you, with my ankle still hurting and the fact that I'm starving and dehydrated, I won't be doing any running for a while.”

“You're starving?” There's a glimmer of worry in his eyes.

“Yes,” you almost exclaim. Hobie takes one step towards you, instead of untying your binds, he takes your bandana that hangs around your neck. You flinch in response, an act that has him questioning what happened to you in those five years he left.

Hobie kneels in front of you, more careful of any sudden movement, a vision of a younger him passes over your mind's eye. He lifts your skirt up, enough to show the wound on your ankle. Gloved hands wrap gingerly around your foot as he places it on top of his thigh.

“The bleedin' stopped,” not once has he looked in your eyes. While you stare at him affectionately, a soft smile on your tired lips. Hobie wraps your bandana around the wound, tying it with a knot that you're familiar with. You grin at the memory of him using it all the time. “There,” just as you thought, he taps your foot three times, a habit of his that you're fond of. Hobie realizes what he has done subconsciously, straightening up, he takes a wrapped biscuit from his pocket. Grabbing your hand, he places it unceremoniously on your palm like your skin burns him like a sinner to holy water. “Your people will be here any minute.”

“We've been waiting here for two hours. And who—? What people?”

“The people who want you back home.”

You almost drop the biscuit. “But I don't want to come home! I want to stay with you—!”

“Why are you really ‘ere, Y/N? Hmm? Great aunt not givin’ you enough allowance?” He flicks the cigarette butt away.

Your heart cracks, voice as small as a dormouse. “Why are you being like this?” Hobie inhales sharply. “I told you, I came to see you because of your letter where you wrote that you missed me and wanted to see me. I–I have so many of mine right here—” A train whistle rings out before Hobie could reply.

The smell of burning coal itches your nose, blackened smoke billowing out of the metal beast that creaks and shrieks on the steel tracks.

A small crowd exits the train once it fully stops. You notice Hobie standing closer to you, hand placed on the back of the bench. His eyes search for someone amidst the travelers while you take big bites of the dry biscuit, desperate to satiate the rumbling of your stomach. Damn all the etiquette lessons drilled into your brain, you're starving.

“Can I have some water?” You cough out, palm covering your mouth for some decency. “Hobie?” His head is on a swivel, eyes scanning the stranger's faces. You tug at his coat, he curses under his breath so you retract your hand quickly. “I'm sorry.” Your small voice startles him.

“What?” He looks down at you, your eyes are glued on your lap, palms up like you're waiting for punishment. His jaw tightens, knuckles shaking. What happened to you after he ran? “‘ere,” passing a canteen of water over to you, he places it on your open palms gingerly.

The cool metal of the canteen hits your skin, instead of stinging pain. “Thank you,” you take a drink, Hobie doesn't miss how your hands shake, almost spilling water all over yourself.

“Stop sayin' that.” He says it through a softer tone, “don't be so polite.” He's not trying to chastise you, but you don't know the difference.

“Sorry—I'll stop.” You close the lid to the canteen, giving it back to him without lifting your head up.

As the crowd thins, Hobie controls his breathing. It was better when you were looking at him, at least then he could see how happy you were.

“No one's here.” He finally says, the hands on his sides stretching, joints aching from the previous tightness of his knuckles.

“Because no one's looking.” You hope that was the case. Or at least it was just her looking for you, not him too.

“The reward on your head says otherwise.” Hobie wishes he didn't say everything that passes by his mind when you look at him like a heartbroken fawn. “C’mon.” He takes your arm, helping you stand up. He's ill equipped to handle emotions right now, especially if he can barely control his own.

“Where are we going?” You ask, shoes thumping across the floorboards.

“The post office, it's right around the corner.” Sure enough, the post office is connected to the railroad station. Convenient, you thought. Stopping next to Bucky on his post, he neighs at the sight of you. You smile at him, even though he can't possibly understand your expression. Hobie taps his saddle, subtly asking your permission to lift you up. You nod once, as if you could say no. With one strong lift, you're back on Bucky's saddle. “Right, stay ‘ere, scream if you're in trouble.”

“You're leaving me here?”

“No, I need to check my telegram. I can see you through the window, yeah?” He points at the foggy windows of the post office. “I'll be back in five.”

“What if someone comes?”

He's already halfway to the office. “Scream.”

An old woman with a cane and a trendy dress passes by, seeing your bound hands, she tosses Hobie a look of disapproval.

“It's fine, she's my wife and she likes to roleplay.” Once upon a time, he thought that he'd call you that for real. That was a different time. “Ain't that right, sweetheart?” He opens the door for the woman who looks at you for reassurance.

You give the stranger your best smile. “Yes, my love.” His finger twitches, breath hitching. “Don’t worry about me, ma’am, it's all good.”

The older woman scoffs, muttering a ‘the youth and their weird sex fantasies.’ She enters the office first while Hobie gives you an approving nod.

“The excuse wasn't even good.”

“It worked right?” With a smug smile on his lips, he enters the office while you settle on Bucky.

“Your rider's weird.” You whisper to his horse who huffs in response.

Hobie grabs a form on a table placed near the windows. He has the perfect view of you chatting with Bucky. A smile creeps up on him, to which he tamps down immediately. Writing all the necessary information, with a fake name and address of course, he gives it to the man at the counter who wordlessly reads it and searches in the back for any letters for him.

He watches you smile at his horse, desperately trying to remember how your laughter sounded. A real one where you would almost choke at your own spit because of a joke he told you. The smile curls around his lips once again.

An envelope slides out of the slot, his fake name, Larry Smith, is written in neat writing. He rips it open immediately, eyes skimming the contents. The words ‘change of plans’, ‘moved south’ that are followed by an address that he's familiar with in the southern area has him taking his hat off, hands rubbing along his hairline from how crappy the situation is. Judging by all the detail on the letter, it would take him weeks to get you there, months if something unsavory happens on the road. He has a feeling that something would happen based on the reward increase that's listed next to the address. From five thousand to six.

Your piercing scream rings all the alarm bells in his body, bolting straight away, he sees you try to fight off a couple of men that are quickly riding off with you. They're moving three ways from Sunday, their laughter fading out. Hobie's blood boils.

Buckeye neighs loudly, waking his rider up from his blind anger. Hobie unhitches the dark horse, long leg swinging over the saddle, boots immediately placed inside the stirrups, hands tightly curled around the reins. And off he goes, leaving the railroad station in the dust, galloping incredibly fast.

He hears you yell his name just before you were abruptly cut off by a cloth shoved in your mouth. ���Y/N!” Desperately calling for you, anger rolls off him like an avalanche in the winter. Taking his pistol out, with one hand he aims. But with the speed and the jostling around, he can't aim straight—especially if there's a chance of him shooting you instead.

The phantom pain around his neck aches.

Adrenaline rushes through him, he sees reason, aiming at the other man that isn't holding you. With a click, and a squeeze of the trigger—he shoots. The bullet whizzes by with a piercing sound, hitting the man's shoulder, turning his insides out, spraying warm crimson everywhere. The pained yell he let out would haunt your dreams. Moreso of the sorrow filled scream his companion let out.

With a thud, the limp body falls, his own horse running him over. You shut your eyes, mind crawling back to the one place you were happy staying forever in, Hobie's tiny flat back home. Back when afternoon tea consists of him rambling about some new invention he thought of, back when his hands would roam over your skin softly. Back when you held him close to you as he whispered promises in your ears.

Now it's all rough leather against your hand, jade eyes avoiding your own, mouth permanently etched into a frown. You know him, deep down the Hobie who would press feather light kisses on your lips is still in him. That deep down he has built a façade to survive this lawless land, and it's hard for him to break that carefully made façade in one day. You'd find his softness again, but you have to survive this first.

The horse you've been thrown on has finally stopped running. Your chest hurts from all the jostling, you were placed stomach first on the saddle—where the jagged leather uncomfortably rubbed against you and the spine of the horse hit you over and over again. The strange man yanks you away, now you're completely standing up with a gun pressing on your temple. A cry inches up to your throat, the cloth in your mouth chokes you. The man smells of cow shit and iron.

You watch as Bucky halts to a stop, dust flying around like the fireflies back home. The hat on Hobie's head hides the anger in his eyes, trigger finger itching to shoot again.

You cry, his name muffled by the cloth. You didn't mean to cry, but everything hurts. The warm barrel of the gun digs into your skull, whilst your hands grip the stranger's arm, your nails hopelessly trying to claw him away from you. The stranger smells like death.

“You killed my brother!” The man screams in your ears, breath rancid, warm air tickling your cheek. Amidst the loud rushing of your blood in your ears, you hear hurried footsteps behind you. They sound like there could be dozens of them, all pointing their guns at the man you loved. Still love, even now.

Hobie doesn't get off his horse. He sits still, frozen like a bronze statue. The only indication of him being alive was his labored breathing.

“What's happenin’?” A gruff voice asks from behind, thick southern drawl making him stand out from the rest of the gang. “Who's this, Jacky?”

“The broad, the broad from the telegram. Henry and I recognized her, thought we'd be rich. We saw her first!” Jacky acts like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Where's Henry then?” The older sounding man asks.

“With a bullet in him,” Hobie's voice is calm, cold and calculating, none of the warmth you were used to. “He's laying in a pool of his own blood a few ways from ‘ere. I bet the coyotes have him now.”

“You fucker!” Jacky presses the gun closer, you cry out in pain. Hobie's hand twitches. “I'll fucking shoot her! I swear I'd shoot!”

“Do you think that's worth it? Getting her blood all over your nice camp?” Hobie's unfeeling tone makes you weep harder. “Killin’ your mark? My mark?” He speaks commandingly, teeth gritted.

You look up to the heavens, blue sky engulfing your vision. A part of you wants to go home, a part that regrets running away in the first place. But there's a bigger part of you that's glad that you saw him again, even though you face your imminent death. It was worth it, you suppose. At least now your heart can rest after seeing him alive. You close your eyes when the pistol next to your head clicks.

“You talk big, a life for a life then.” A tear slides down your cheek. Hobie aims for your captor's head.

“Wait a damn minute!” You hear footsteps come from behind, the older man steps between them. “I know I remember ya from somewhere.” He tips his hat at Hobie, just in time for you to see him stare at you back intensely. “Yeah, I know ya. You're the one who took out Culver's men in one night, ain't ya? Thirty fuckin’ men all dead in one night.” Gasps are heard from the dozen or so people from behind. You hear whispers of the name ‘spider of the west’ behind you. “Christ, you're him.” With his hands right next to his head in surrender, he looks over his shoulder over to you, you see fear in the old man's eyes. “Let the little miss go, Jacky.”

“An eye for an eye, Arthur—!” Jacky pleads.

“Let her go or I'll be the one putting a bullet to your head, boy!” His scream has you flinching.

Jacky reluctantly lets you go, you almost crumple to your feet but you still stand, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. Your hands tremble as you take out the musty cloth inside your mouth.

Arthur walks over to you, hand ghosting over your back. “‘m sorry about that, sweetheart.”

You walk with your head held high. “Don't say sorry.” Your tear filled eyes flick over to the bearded man. “You’re not the one who hurt me.”

“Still, I'd like to say sorry on behalf of my belligerent men.” He looks up at Hobie who's still sitting on his horse passively. But the older man seems to know the deadly storm brewing behind those emerald eyes. “I apologize for the…miscommunication. If my men knew who you were, they wouldn't have tried anythin'. Jacky and his brother are too big for their breeches. ”

“The next time I see any of you on the road, I won't hesitate.” Hobie says, eyes bright, burning like greek fire.

“As is your right. You take care now.”

You silently lift yourself up on Bucky, with the help from Hobie, hand sliding away the moment you successfully tug yourself up behind him. Hobie doesn't see how vacant your stare is. You refuse to hold on to him, you're afraid of what he did, not of him. He thinks it's the other way around, it's his worst nightmare.

As you both gallop away, the last thing you heard above the hoofbeats is the unmistakable sound of a gun going off.

—

You're getting further and further away from the town you were in. The sun sets next to you as you look at the blood caked under your nails. You no longer shake or cry, just numb.

Buckeye passes by a lone graveyard, metal fences jagged and angled awkwardly. The dilapidated chapel cracks and falls under its own weight. Crows have made a home on the old tombstones, their cawing and beady black eyes raise the skin on your arms. The names of the dead are barely readable on the tombstones—rotten pots of flowers lay on the bed of graveyard soil, black petals going back to where they came from. You look away, afraid that if you don't, you'd see yourself among them.

The large rock formations loom overhead, jagged lines curved and sculpted by time. The holes dotted along its large walls act like a thousand eyes watching over you. Beady limestone eyes twitching, bleading, and crying. The sun fades away behind the horizon, cold replacing warmth, shadows replacing light.

Everything aches, your legs are still shaking from the encounter, the rustling tumbleweeds makes you jump. Eyes frantic, breath quickening, hands going numb—mind reeling back to the bloodied dead man.

“Stop.” You say too quietly. “Stop the fucking horse!”

Hobie reigns in Bucky, halting to a stop. You slid off ungracefully, knee hitting the ground as you scramble away. Bile rises in your throat, acid expelled out of your mouth because of your near empty stomach.

Familiar footsteps walk behind you, you wait for him to close the distance, to hold you close like he has always done five years ago. Yet, he stays far, stopping just a few feet away from your trembling body.

With shaky legs, you stand up, back still facing him. You wipe your mouth clean with your sleeve, Hobie's hand twitches for the handkerchief inside his pocket. He doesn't give it to you. He doesn't know why he didn't. Sniffing, you cough, eyes still stinging.

“Did they hit your head?” He finally says something, his words echoing in the vast empty space.

“No, I'm fine.” You pass by him, hands braced on Bucky's side.

“Y/N—”

You whirl around, “I said I'm fucking fine!” Heaving, chest aching, you rub your tired eyes. “I'm fine, don't worry about me, okay? Can we go?”

“We'll camp ‘ere.” With Hobie's statement, you look back at where you came from. Your captor's camp is miles away from you now, but you swear you can still feel the barrel of his gun digging into your skull, and the rotten smell of his mouth. “They won't follow us.”

“He knew you,” your eyes don't shine with the same optimism he was greeted with. “He looked scared when he remembered you. Hobie, W–what did you do to get him to fear you like that?”

“A lot of things you shouldn't worry about.” He walks past you, grabbing his pack from the saddle. “The less you know, the better.”

You nod, tears brimming in your eyes. He's not the old Hobie you remembered. He would've told you, he used to tell you everything. The gold ring in your finger feels heavy. And all the unsent letters you've hidden inside your skirt feels empty, the flowery words you've written inside are unrequited.

As day fades away to night, the moon shines bright as the stars twinkle above you. The warmth of the open fire settles into your fatigued bones, the pads of your fingers slowly regains feeling. The air is crisp, breeze blowing your lashes, cooling down the hot can of beans in front of you. The scene in front of you reminded you of the time you used to sneak out into the woods to meet with Hobie. He'd light a small fire and huddle close to you while you point out constellations. The beans are new, you wish they were bread instead, like the ones you used to nick from the kitchen.

This time, he sits across from you, far away from you as the fire cackles in between you both. The flames dance in his green eyes, a beautiful sight that you love—yet, you can't help but stay away from it.

“Cold?” He asks, hands properly warmed up from the hot can.

“No,” you answer flatly, legs tucked into you, chin placed atop your knees while you watch the embers flicker away into the dark. The cold helps, it helps numb you down.

“Alright.”

In another time he would've offered his coat, not just the shabby itchy blanket thrown over your shoulders. It all seems like a lifetime ago now.

You have no idea what caused him to leave without a goodbye, whether it was you or your unfeeling family, or for a pursuit of something better—but you know in those five years he has changed, you know he's still the Hobie you love, but you can barely recognize his heart anymore. You came to the new world for a new life with him, away from your predetermined life, because through and through you still love him. The promises he once whispered into your skin repeats in your head like a broken record. It's what's keeping you warm, sane, and in the present.

He eats silently, while you wallow into yourself. You've braved the ocean to see him, rode a dozen trains to get close to him, lost so much and gained so little just to see him alive. Was it all worth it? Worth all the calluses on your feet from all the walking? Worth all the tears you shed just to realize that maybe he doesn't love you anymore? That he fell out of love in those five grueling years?

Does he know that you still love him?

The man sitting across from you is a stranger. Not the one you promised your heart to.

“Hobie?” You call for him, heavy eyes staying on the ashes in front of you.

“Hmm?” He hums, barely audible for you. You silently wish that you don't get used to all his halfhearted replies. You need to hold on to a part of him from five years ago or you'll go crazy and run off into the barren lands of the west.

Against better judgment, against the screaming voice in your head, you finally look at him right in his eyes. “Why'd you leave?”

He quietly sighs, “I had to.” Those green eyes you love so much swirl with unsung emotion that you're not privy to. “Why'd you run away from home?”

“I had to.”

Hobie nods once.

You take your dinner in your cold hands, biting down the bitterness and the feeling. With an inhale, you smile through the pain of your realization. It's better not to dwell on it, or you might lose yourself. Instead, you take the opportunity to live in the moment with him��Relish your time with Hobie or whatever time you have left with him on the journey home.

[wiltedprayers]

i know Bastogne is universally recognized as the Best Band of Brothers episode and listen, I get it and also agree in the sense that the story portrayed is the most interesting and overall it's incredibly well written. but I'd just like to point out the excellence that's episode 5, "Crossroads."

(Crossroads is the episode that focuses the most on Dick Winters — ep 1, 2, and later 10 also do but it's not as centralized as it is here — We follow Dick through an anachronistic series of events, and the episode ends with E company moving towards Bastogne. It's directed by Tom Hanks.)

I love this episode because of all the different creative choices it has and how it stands out visually and sonically in comparison to all the other eps. so in technical aspects, it's my favorite of the bunch. this distinction is exemplary in the sequences that go from Dick writing his report quietly in his office to him leading the attack on the SS companies. It's very interesting to me how loud and obnoxious the typing gets for both Dick and the audience after a while; in the battlefield, there's nothing to pull Dick out of his concentration, always the focused leader. he has a mission to do, and he intends to carry it out as smoothly as possible (as seen in this episode). in the office, though, he's distracted, losing track of time, almost physically feeling the noises of the typewriter as if it was the sound of a gun going off inside his ears.

the back and forth between time periods is amazing. the sound design in this episode is my personal favorite (in a show with explosions and rifles, you wouldn't think a clacking typewriter and a man out of breath would be the reason for this). the combined sounds of Dick writing with the gunshots going off, the change in paragraphs with the tearing of the tape? Dick and the company running towards the enemy (clearly screaming) with nothing but the sounds of their breaths and footsteps making noise? just excellent sound design.

also, the cinematography. I could talk for hours about how good this episode's photography and lighting are. there's this particular moment I love after Alley is shown to be hit and bleeding on the barn table, where we immediately cut to Dick writing about this in his report. it's all about the stark contrast between the lived experience of seeing one of your men badly wounded and then simply writing and reading about it.

the night shots as well. it's very easy to fail in making a night scene both properly lit but also indicative of the time (some shows make it look dark as shit basically), but Band of Brothers does it well: in the first pic, you only have the moonlight as illumination, which is not much, but it helps to get you into Dick's perspective of having to go through this mission in the depths of night with such a limited field of vision.

there's several night scenes in this episode, most notably the battle on the Crossroads, but also Operation Pegasus, the night Moose is shot, Dick in Paris, and then Easy company going into Bastogne.

finally, the color grading. band of brothers is a strange show that's always changing in its color grading — maybe the different directors had no prior discussion before filming the episodes, as it happened with the writers' room, but I doubt this — nevertheless, Crossroads' color grading stands out, specially in the long-awaited scene of E company charging against the SS companies.

the high contrast of the dark shadows with the desaturated greens (and later reds) make for quite a sight, especially if you compare it to the warmer tones of the present scenes of Dick writing. the show wants you to know how different these moments are for Dick, who under fire is collected and focused but is ultimately crumbling under the bureaucratic pressure.

also I freaking love all the shots and framing of the typewriter. nothing to say other than they're cool as hell.

and this isn't even covering the emotional and character-driven aspects of the story! (that's a post for another day, maybe). for me Crossroads is a masterpiece of an episode in what it means to use camera, lighting, and sound to make your story as immersing as possible; it connects beautifully all technical aspects of filmmaking and, in my opinion, delivers one of the show's best episodes (that's accompanied with a great script.)

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: Velvet Love 🔞

The things he says never match the smile he's got on his lips.

Tags/Warnings: Yandere AU, Idol!Jungkook, graphic description of gore (briefly), twisted kook, description of mental insanity

Length: Short

Belongs to: Velvet Heart (but can be read as a standalone)

!! Disclaimer: I do not believe Jeon Jungkook to be like this, God no. This is pure fiction and meant to be seen as nothing but entertainment. Thank you.

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"Alright how long will it be?" Jungkook asks as everyone gets ready for the shoot. "I really need to be home by 6 tonight, latest, or I might have to murder someone this time." He chuckles, voice light as he taps away on his phone, the stylist's hands stuttering a bit as everyone glances away uncomfortably from the idol. "What? Am I not getting an answer?" He asks innocently, looking around.

"I-we can't tell yet how long it'll take." The director says. "But we'll try and get it done as quickly as we can." He hurries out at the eye contact Jungkook holds with the man, dark orbs unmoving as they focus on the older man silently.

Before the singer smiles.

"No problem, I just don't wanna go home so late again." He shrugs, slumping down into his seat a little.

He's in a good mood today. That's not the norm- no one can really ever tell what kind of emotions go through him each day. While he used to be like this almost all the time back when he was younger, something had changed these days. Now, no one can tell if the words he says are to be taken as a joke, or as a threat.

Sometimes, like today, it feels like nothing's wrong again. As if the old Jungkook had returned, wiping away all the scary and unnerving changes that happened over the course of the last few years away, turning those things into nothing but a bad dream.

The shooting is fun. Everyone's light hearted again. The air feels easy.

"You think the challenge will be easy for you?" A staff member asks Jungkook in the back of the car as they all play a game of hide and seek in a way. He's supposed to find the rest of the members with small cues and nothing else. He chuckles.

"Easy." He laughs. "I'm good at games like these. No one gets away from me." He chuckles, and again, the mood shifts for a second.

He smiles. He's teasing, joking- probably. But no one is able to not hear any underlying implications He might be putting into his words.

So when the shooting ends, and its barely 5, Jungkook grins brightly as he leaves to go home.

And only then does anybody dare to breathe freely again.

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"Do you think he'd ever..." Jimin mumbles, sitting with the rest of the band backstage as they eat something, Jungkook not attending as usual. He's almost always rushing home to you right after his schedule, never staying behind for longer than necessary as if he'd run out of oxygen to breathe if he was to be apart from your presence for too long. "..I- you know what I mean, right?" Jimin says quietly, and Namjoon sighs.

"I'd like to believe he wouldn't." Hoseok says lowly. "I want to.. believe he wouldn't do that." He says, but he's not believing it.

But he, as well as others, have seen what Jungkook is capable of.

He choked Taehyung before, to the point of the singer's face turning blue. Jungkook doesn't shout, doesn't yell, never seems to voice out his anger, but rather acts on it instead. He breaks furniture, smashes holes into walls, but his favorite is always to hurt. He does it with such a calm nature that it's truly unnerving to see.

It eliminates any way of truly telling if he's ever joking or honest when he tells one of his more twisted jokes.

"But I think we're all aware that he's very much capable of it." Namjoon says with a lot more control than the others. "No one's ever safe around him. You've heard how he talks; at this point, I believe every word he tells about violence." He explains. He knows Jimin is worried for you- after all, he's the only one who ever had any true interaction with you- he knows the singer feels for your safety, wants to somehow get you out of your situation.

But he also needs to remember that if Jungkook ever found out about this, he'd probably be a dead man.

"Dont you think we should do something then?" Jimin says, just like Namjoon had expected.

"The only thing you can do is not think about it." Seokjin offers soberly. "Then it'll hurt less."

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You're beginning to try and speak more, and Jungkook worries it might become a problem at some point.

He can't have you babble about what goes on behind closed doors to others after all- what if you tell someone your address by accident, or how he's bought you a collar with a tracking device just to check where you go each day?

Of course, technically, he doesn't need it. You never leave the house after all, because you're just a good girl like that- and because the stories he tells you have made you afraid enough to never dare set foot beyond the apartment door ever. He doesn't ever make his stories too gruesome- mainly because he knows it'll make you a little too clingy, so he always depicts himself as the immortal God that cannot be harmed by any of the things he makes up. But you can be killed. You're mortal. A bag of flesh, ready to be devoured by the beasts that roam the streets outside of the safety of these walls.

You need him to survive. And he needs you to believe that.

He enjoys that you don't speak much. The noises you make and the gestures you've created to communicate are nothing shy of adorable to him after all, and any progress at proper human communication would ruin that feature of you for him. He doesn't want that- you're perfect just like this, like a pet, simply existing for him only, surviving because he wants you to.

You're alive because he allows it.

"I'll be home the entire week baby." He hums to you on his chest. "They've kept me hostage for way too much recently. I'll be with you for the entire week, I promise." He says, and you just smile, mesmerized by whatever he's saying. "You've got no idea what I'm telling you, stupid little thing?" He chuckles, and you smile as well, happily receiving his affection.

He loves it like this.

And he'll do everything and anything to keep it this way.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Would he ever kill? Truly take a life so it never returns?

He doesn't know. He's never been pushed to that degree to find out if he's capable of it. But he knows, he sometimes gets the somewhat of an urge - if not himself, then his brain rather comes up with sick and twisted thoughts of you.

His mind starts to bend memories of you into shapes unfamiliar, his hands no longer holding yours but rather bending you over his thigh until your spine cracks and breaks in half.

He gets scared of these thoughts. It's like they're not his.

He becomes fearful whenever he dreams of your chest split open by his own hands, fingers tracing each of your exposed ribs while he can't see anything but red. He knows you'd been broken before, mentally at least. Would he end up being the one to break you physically?

Maybe it's his fear of possibly losing you.

He makes love to you painfully slowly, carefully, and yet he sometimes can't help himself but to make you up as his. Never to the degree of inflicting true damage, but just to show his own actions are still under control.

He's a rabid animal, a pet once loved but now sick and deseased, truly on the verge of wasting away.

And no one around him wants to admit it.

Not while there's still traces of the old him inside.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Bonten - With Debbie Jelinsky Male Reader Pt.2

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

I wanted to give the reader a husband that he actually likes for a bit of a change, so this is pretty early on into the relationship. I've also decided that this one is very important to Bonten, so they wouldn't kill him nor be okay with the reader killing him. I hope you enjoy this, 🫓Flatbread Anon! —Benny🐰

Part 1 Part 2

                                                                                                   

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"Shuusuke? What's wrong?"

[Name] asks his new boyfriend, confused, as the man had stood abruptly from his chair, causing it to jerkily skoot back.

The man in question, Tanabata Shuusuke, a young billionaire who owned a very popular tech company operating out of Sendai. The blonde man had reached the peak of his success at the age of 28 and it kept climbing for the next 5 years to where we are now. Now 33, his company, Tanabata Technology™, was the second most popular in all of Japan.

The young and wealthy bachelor was pretty easy on the eyes as well. In fact, many news stations and magazines voted him as the most handsome billionaire of 20××. To furthur estimate his popularity; Tanabata Shuusuke would get at least 13 letters of love and admiration from random strangers every single day without fail.

"[Name]....—"

Softly speaks the blonde as he gracefully walk around the table; coming to a stop in front of his seated e/c eyed lover.

"—....Every day from the moment I met you has been a whirlwind of pure bliss for me. You've made me feel like noone has ever made me feel before. You complete me, truly. So I want to ask you...—"

He slowly gets down on one knee as he gently takes [Name]'s small hands into his; carefully he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a royal blue cube shaped box. Flipping it open, Shuusuke reveals a gorgeous ring, consisting of gold band with the words 'Our Love Is Eternal' intricately ingraved on the inner side and a large heart shaped diamond implanted into it.

"—... Matsumoto [Name], will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! I'll marry you!"

"I still don't understand why we have to find this fucker in the first place. We already have Kokonoi, why do we need another person like 'im?"

Complains a surprisingly sober Sanzu as he lazily sprawls out on one of the sofas in Bonten's common room.

Bonten had been searching for the serial killing gold digger after a while of letting him go, which was a very strange decision on Mikey's part, considering they usually never let people go.

But now it seemed that their boss had regretted that decision thus ordering his men to try and find him again. What prompted the sudden change of heart was left out from their orders and they won't exactly ask either, lest they get offed for questioning leadership.

"I don't exactly mind finding him, he had a great ass. I'd love to see him again."

Ran says from his place behind the sofa that the pinkette was occupying as he smoothly inserts himself into the conversation with a sly look on his face.

Kakucho, who was seated in the sofa opposite to Sanzu, deadpanned at the elder Haitani's response. He silently rolled his eyes along with Rindou who was sat next to him scrolling on his phone. The two gave each other a side glance that held so many words of exasperation and expectancy.

"Of course you would."

Rindou groans, finally done with his side-eye conversation with Kakucho.

Ran looked at his younger brother with a teasing expression as he simply shrugs as if to say 'what can ya do'. Prompting yet another eye roll from the jellyfish haired man.

"I found him.—"

Says a previously silent Kokonoi as he reads the information off his screen.

"— Looks like we were right, he got married again. And it's to another one of our partners, but it's an important one, so we need to get to him before he decides to kill the guy."

"Ah! That vanity is vintage! Be more careful, will you! You can put it in the lounge."

A robe clad [Name] huffs at the clumsy movers as they accidentally bump his furniture into a nearby wall.

It had been a few days since Shuusuke had proposed to him in that restaurant; the billionaire asking him to move in right then and there. Which leads us to now, where the last truck full of [Name]'s possessions were being moved into their now shared home.

The h/c-ette vaguely remembered his now fiancee telling him earlier that he'd be meeting with some people today. Perhaps he was still talking with them, it would certainly explain why he wasn't present. Surely if he came and got his wonderfully rich husband, Shuusuke wouldn't mind him interrupting whatever meeting he was in. [Name] was his fiancee now after all, he needs must be tended to.

The e/c eyed man nodded to himself as he made his way to the home office, his eyes carefully scanning the halls so he wouldn't get lost again. Even if he'd been given a tour of the entire estate, it would take a while to really know where he was going.

Reaching the intended door, [Name] gave a brisk knock, entering before an answer could be given. He made a b-line for his blonde fiancee, paying no mind to his guests, and planted a kiss on the man's forehead. He was startled though by his lover's nervous expression.

And then he heard it.

"Well, well, well... If it isn't the cutie from Minato.~"

Shit.

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🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[poppykreslina]

Robert Hawkins info Post :

He was a big music fan, here’s a list of artists Rob liked.

1. MushroomHead

2. HIM band

3. BlackStreet

4. Misfits

5. Dr Dre

6. DMX

7. Lil wyte

8. Judas Priest

9. Dope

10.Wall

Anything besides country music

His close Friend he was living with at the time told me about the time when he seen Rob return to school after being sent away. He said “ So a couple years go by and l'm in computer class and he's just like heyyyy what's up man and I go holy shit Robby what's up like where have you been. And I remember him telling me he was like man I got sent away like I tried to kill my step mom because she was being a bitch I sprayed raid on her food. And to me at the time I was like kind of laughing like are you serious and just it sounded so stupid it was kind of funny and l'm just like wth hell but we started talking again just immediately picked up right where we left off we were laughing like hyenas never laughed so hard in my life”

“ We would tell jokes and stories and make fun of people and this time it was like we were best friends I'd see him in the halls and say hi but we never hung out out side of class”

His friend also told me about Kaci. The girl he cheated on like twice

“ I knew Kaci and we were talking and they met then rob asked me if Kaci could come over and yeah they hooked up in my basement lol

I could hear it and it was the funniest thing ever”

“ I remember when he got her too like I was jealous because I had a crush on her for the longest and she was hot she liked me but as soon as she met Rob she was just like omg he's the sexiest person I ever seen and I'm like who rob and you look at him and he's all feeble and like ohhh h-h-heyyyy”

“ My friends were there too and yeah... He put the work in on that poor girl

She was screaming his name and you just heard this smacking noise we were like damn rob”

The girl Rob threatened

“ So the girl that he threatened or whatever was his ex girlfriend and I don't know what they were arguing about but I think it was because he wanted to go back to his girlfriend Kaci he cheated on her with that girl and then he apologized to Kacie said he loved her and didn't want to be with the other girl and she flipped out or something and he just said like leave me alone or l'm gonna k*ll you

He”

About Robs mom Molly

“ That's what really pissed him off too is his mom didn't want anything to do with him at all until she found out he was living with us and he even told me like man my mom's being all nice I think his mom was just jealous or she thought we had money or something but she tricked him into letting her back in his life and she let him borrow that jeep and he was so happy he's like man I finally got wheels my mom is talking to me then she did what she always did she turned in him told him how pathetic he was and that she wanted all her stuff back and that what did it. He couldn't handle it anymore and he snapped

Idk what that lady's problem is but shes evil”

Friend telling me what it was like when living with him

“ I just remembered like sitting down at the dinner table with him and my parents and we would be eating steak like regularly my dad always got good beef and grilled all the time he would always say how good everything was

And he like our dogs was always petting them”

Fake Fight Scene Vids

“We did like fake fight scenes and off roading four-wheeling we go to gun range film us shooting stuff we made a manikin and threw at people from inside the woods

I had this crappy purple truck but I cut the exhaust off it and put mud tires on it and we like tricked it out we put big huge stereo speakers in the back and black lights“

1. He was 5’7 (I asked a family member so don’t question it 😐)

2. He taught his sisters how to do the “blood” sign

3. His friends grandma made him a blanket and Rob said it was the best thing ever given to him. When the grandma passed away he even cried.

4. He had a stonery type voice lol

5. He would smoke a pack of cigarettes in one day

6. He worked at McDonald’s and Runza

7. Day before the shooting his friend tested out his gun while Rob was at work because he thought they were going to the shooting range the next day . When Rob found out about it he was furious telling his friend “you’re not supposed to touch that” going off on him.

Concerts Rob Went to

MushroomHead (2004)

Kottonmouth (2006-7??) Rob and His friend got kicked out of the venue because they were both caught smoking pot

All info found out by me

[justiceforapollojustice]

the best thing about Klapollo is that no matter how you interpret their awareness, it's always hilarious.

if Apollo is oblivious, that means that he's got no concept of what its like to be flirted with. If he isn't oblivious to the flirting but doesn't realize he likes Klavier, he's like "why does he have to call me Herr Forehead in the same breath that he calls me cool? why do i keep looking forward to seeing him across from me in court? he just asked if he can buy me dinner and told him i'd rather die. he makes me nauseous? but in my chest?" If he's completely aware of his own crush but oblivious to the flirting, he suffers from "i like a straight boy :( how do i handle this?" meanwhile Klavier's band has a song titled "My Boyfriend Is The Prosecution's Witness" that he probably wrote himself. If Apollo is fully aware of both his crush and Klavier's interest in him, it's even funnier because Klavier will be like "i think we should kiss" and apollo goes "never say those words to me again" even tho he badly wants to say yes.

If somehow Klavier doesn't realize his own crush, he's like "huh. i've never felt like this for a man before. but now isn't really the time to examine Emotions so let's ignore that." If he doesn't realize Apollo likes him back, he's like "hey you're looking sexy today" and apollo is blushing while saying "this is a murder trial and i can't focus when you talk like that" and Klavier's probably like "aw he rejected me :(" then flirts again 5 seconds later anyway. If he's fully aware of apollo's mutual interest in him, he's probably going crazy trying to figure out why Apollo keeps turning him down. Like, he asks apollo out and apollo goes "not even if you were the only other person alive" and Klavier is either thinking "hell yeah, i'm so good at this" or "i KNOW he likes me. why doesn't he ever admit that he at least tolerates me when i'm trying to tell him i like him back???"

If neither of them are aware of their own crushes, Klavier is openly flirting without realizing it and Apollo is like "oh woe is me, a beautiful man is saying nice things to me and it doesn't mean anything because i'm straight. but he's objectively sexy. this is a fact and not indicative of my sexuality." If both of them are aware of their crushes, Klavier is like "hey go out with me" and Apollo is like okay this is easy. just say yes. and goes "Ew no" and is mentally kicking himself over it.

And if they're actively dating while still acting like this... Oh boy, that's always amazing. Klavier: have i ever told you i love you, herr forehead? Apollo: i'm straight. (WHY DID I SAY THAT?) Klavier: ... Why did you say that Apollo: because you're annoying. Go away Klavier: No ❤️ Apollo: (Good. He didn't leave.)

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 ꒱ 손영재

summary : you broke with eric a long time ago, and you thought you were over him until you saw him with another girl

genre : angst, eric x afab!reader, non-idol!au, bestfreind!chanhee, for plot purposes everyone mentioned is around the same ages of 23-25 tws : language, mentions of sex, depressive episode author notes : no happy endings with me ♡ word count : 2.3k

“chanhee, i didn’t even want to come.”

“well, neither did i, y/n, but kevin said he’d send his attack-snake out on me. and i don’t want to find out what that even means.”

“huh,” you said, shoulders motioning with your voice, “kinky.”

"of course you'd think that," your best friend of a couple years (but felt like a million, in a good way) started, rolling his sharp eyes, "you haven't fucked in —"

"alright!" you stopped him, taking the creese of his elbow, "i get it, i'm lonely. damn, what about you though, king? when was your last relationship? because if i'm remembering correctly, it ended before eri —"

"y/n!" running up to the pair of you was the host, a bright and inviting smile plastering his face. although, you weren't sure why you kept walking around like a knife was lodged between your shoulder blades still. "i'm so glad you could make it!" because the moment you saw a familiar stranger, a brunette clinging to his strong arm with a green cocktail between her manicured fingers, your heart suddenly was on the floor.

you don't know why the scene of the liquid covering her perfectly blown-out hair flashed through your head. or why you could imagine the little christmas tree decoration in it scratching the top of her mouth until it stung when she would talk. you could hear her musically-tuned laugh ring through the air at a joke you couldn't imagine was that funny.

"what the hell am i, chopped liver?" chanhee joked, oblivious to what you spaced out on, "you only wanted me to come because you knew i'd bring along my emotional support fish."

it seemed you were always on a one-way street you just couldn't turn off of, because no matter how many potholes you hit, you keep driving; and if your tires popped, you weren't sure the car would stop.

you shouldn't be allowed to be appalled by the sight of your ex having moved on, simply because you broke it off when he wanted to make it work. you dropped his heart when he let you hold it. and when he should've played his cards close to his chest, he let you join his team just to fold. you were making the ship sink, so how could you have the audacity to be mad when he jumped from it while you went down?

he loved you, but at the time you weren't sure what you wanted. sure, you blamed it on being 19, but it was because you were scared to commit to someone so committed to you. you didn't want to be, selfishly, tied down to one person — and now that you've purged it from you system, you, selfishly, wanted the same commitment he had given you 5 years ago.

now you stood in the foyer, two different faces from those kids, attached to another man, thinking about if he looked over, would he get the wrong idea? would it make him as jealous as you felt?

you've loved, had loss and even forgot it. but faced with the void you could never fill was more debilitating than you cared to admit. you wanted to be two ‘i miss you's’ that just needed a push, but evidently only one of you felt that way, as the other was happily coupled up during cuffing season. but then again, you had no right after half a decade to think like that.

you just had to be brave and pretend like it doesn't bother you. you can do that. you can do a lot... right?

chanhee rammed into your side, his desperate attempt to get you back down on earth, instead of inside your never-not-on brain. "did you even hear what kevin just said?" he asked, and you looked to said man, "he said the bands getting back together." your bestfriend made a joke, which did cause you to loosen up and laugh. you thought that as long as he was there, you'd inevitably be okay.

"well not exactly, a couple people couldn't make it — which is fine, but most of our old friend group is here." kevin explained, lacing your free arm with his so you were sandwiched between the two of them. "it seems like you and chanhee were the only ones who really hung out like we all used to."

you reminisced the old times for a second. you remembered when your name was connected with eric's, when you hung out like old times with them and him. you remembered the stupid parties kevin's frat would throw freshman year, that eric would drag you to, just for you and him to have a great time. you remembered when you'd have quiet study sessions with jacob and younghoon in the school's library, or juhaknyeon and sunwoo's soccer games. it made you feel a little messy, because after you and him broke up, it's like you broke up with them all. you habitually stopped hanging out, only being dragged by chanhee who was attached to you since first introduction.

you actually owe your level-headedness all to him. he's the person who convinced you that you didn't need to have a run-of-the-mill to finally find something good. he's also unfortunately the reason you remember eric like it was yesterday, even if you don't front like it. you knew you had someone so devoted to you, yet you let him go and now you had the audacity to feel bad about it.

"well, is sunwoo coming?" you asked, which earned a nod from kevin, "and what about younghoon and juyeon?"

"juyeon got a girlfriend!" chanhee exclaimed excitedly, his voice lowering when sangyeon's attention was caught on the three of you, "like last month."

the oldest of your friend's face lit up, "y/n!" he said, making you force a smile though you were cringing; because just a couple feet away was the love of your adolescence, with the presumable love of his.

standing next to him was hyunjae, "how've you been, oh my gosh, it's been like years hasn't it?" you voiced, bringing him in for a hug, which he reciprocated before you moved to sangyeon to repeat the process. it had been years since you've last spoken to them other than a happy birthday or congratulations once in a blue moon — you honestly wouldn't be surprised if their numbers had changed and you'd been texting a random person.

"good, good," hyunjae replied, sipping a bright red cocktail, "i actually just finished my business degree, thinking of either opening my own or investing in some else's."

"and I just got engaged, though she wasn't able to make it here tonight — ceo stuff — she's getting ready to go international after fully getting elected as the heir."

you couldn't help but compare, sure you had your teaching license, but it wasn't as impressive as either one of them.

they were making it hard to believe that the world was spinning too fast, and that you weren't stuck watching the same film over and over again.

chanhee began talking in your place, forcing you down into the barstool between them all. kevin went over to younghoon and juyeon who had just made their way through the door: a synthetic blonde attached juyeon's arm.

"what's her name?" you blurted, the three boys looking down at you, "she's pretty."

hyunjae was nonchalant, pretending he didn't know exactly what you actually meant. however, sangyeon replied awkwardly, "w-who? kim minyeon? or jang nari?"

"juyeon's girlfriend, n-not eric's."

"o-oh! that's minyeon."

nari. the feminine name meaning lily; new beginnings and rebirth. just fucking perfect, wasn't it? pretty, perfect and delicate, just like the flower.

you sighed and excused yourself, disguising it as having to use the bathroom. in honesty, you weren't sure how much more torcher you could take, and it's barely been twenty minutes. you thought you'd be fine, as long as chanhee stayed by your side, but the longer you watched the pair through your peripherals, the more you just ached.

you cared more than you'd like to have admitted. and the worst part is you had no one to blame — to be mad at — because everyone had rightfully assumed you both were over it.

like you were supposed to be.

it was pathetic, the way you stared yourself down in the mirror. you found yourself resembling someone you've never met, or maybe someone you had just forgotten in all the growing pains. nevertheless, you found yourself disgusted by the fact that you were disgracing your mother's eyes, father's nose, and sister's cheekbones with the self-pity. there was nothing more selfish than crashing someone else's party with one of your own.

so you choked the tears back, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. you took a powder from the purse slung over your shoulder and fixed your creasing makeup. you reapplied a red lipstick, fixing your hair and outfit. you thought that if you couldn't have him, maybe you could make it wish he had you instead — god, you were letting the delusions look too good under the fluorescent light.

however, you stooped lower than throwing a pity party. you exited the bathroom with part of your dignity still intact, but the moment you sat against the plush-cushioned bench against the wall your phone was illuminated with pictures of the pretty brunette.

you couldn't get yourself to stop once you typed her name out. it's like you were boarding the gossip train all the way back in high school.

you scrolled like you were obsessed, brain blanking out everything around you. you saw her go through a cherry red hair phase sometime in 2022. you found out that her and eric had taken a vacation to hawaii back in 2021, multiple bikini pictures and perfectly sculpted bodies clinging together like models being the tell. you scrolled farther back, dead-set on finding the first picture she ever posted of him… that must've been close to when they met.

why do you even care? you know he was too caught up following you around like a puppy to even believe that he would entertain someone other than you. so, why were you obsessed? maybe you needed a reason to be mad at him. maybe you needed an excuse to shift the blame.

maybe it's everything you needed that he could live without —

"i didn't meet her that far back, y/n. we were still dating then."

your eyes shut, finger hitting the power button. you took a moment, hoping that it was just your cruel subconscious playing tricks with reality. "didn't think you'd cared that much," he took a seat on the complete opposite end of the bench, "it's been five years... and honestly i didn't think you cared back then either."

you were too embarrassed to say anything. and frankly, you didn't know what to reply with. i'm sorry? i did care about you, but just not enough? nothing seemed to suffice.

"i met nari at work. she treats me —"

your vision was blurring over, but you couldn't find the courage to get up and walk away. you were just so damn pathetic, weren't you? you just thought that everything in this world belonged to you, peaking your freshman year of college in comparison to the people who still innocently call you a friend.

"better?"

"different, y/n. she's different than you."

you sighed, "that doesn't make it bet — i mean, it doesn't matter, eric. i'm sorry, i was just curious after not seeing you for so long." your eyes opened, but the scene was blurred over, almost like it was torrentially pouring while driving late at night. there were questions flashing behind your eyelids every time you tried to blink the tears away. you thought that you couldn't stoop lower, but for the past couple minutes you've done nothing but prove it wrong. "i'm so-sorry, i'm just gonna go."

you got to your feet, but his voice made you stop dead in your tracks.

"w-why does it bother you so much?"

you honestly felt like your heart was re-shattering, joining the dust on the floor at your feet. you thought the question would join the heaps of pathetic things you've said and done tonight.

you turned around, phone clenched between your fist. eric was still sat, dark hair styled so nicely you almost thought that it wasn't him — but her — outfit a matching shade to the dress you saw hugging her figure gracefully.

"do you honestly think i didn't care about you?" you asked, to which he raised his head at an alarming pace, "it's true, i know i fucked it up, eric, okay? i know what i did to you and i'm sorry. i-i'm sorry i waited so long to tell you that." clearing the air didn't feel like closure at all. the tears in his eyes didn't feel like hatred at all. and maybe he didn't mean it. maybe he only told himself that because you did break his heart so bad, still holding pieces he's afraid he'll never get back. "you can think whatever you want, hate me even, but please don't think for a second i didn't love you back then. i was naive and made a mistake, but it's too late to take it back. believe me, i've thought about it. but i always fucking cared about you, okay?"

you found it oddly satisfying, though knowing in the back of your head that he would curse you for saying these things while he's happily coupled up, you didn't regret it.

"i'll forever be sorry, so don't hold it over my head."

"i believed you didn't care about me... back when we were nineteen." he replied after a long pause, "but i haven't believe that for a long time. y/n, i've forgiven you."

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[hbyrde36]

No Vacancy

Chapter 10: Lost and Found

WC: 5196 | R: Explicit | CH: 10/12 | AO3 | Now Complete!

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9

*STEVE*

It took Steve a moment to remember where he was when a very loud, very annoying alarm went off right next to his head at the crack of dawn. The man in his arms was familiar, even if the surroundings weren’t, but as he glanced around at the old band posters and polaroids stuck to the wall, and let Eddie’s scent fill his nose, the last two days came back in a rush. 

He rolled over, the sheets sliding down his body as he leaned out to stop the incessant beeping of the bedside clock, and was hit with a sudden surge of nerves. He believed in his heart that the other man had meant everything he said yesterday and last night, but couldn't help the nagging fear that Eddie might wake up and take it all back in the light of a new day.

He felt instant guilt for even thinking it, and did his best to push those thoughts away, to not assume the worst, to give Eddie the benefit of the doubt. That’s what they’d promised each other, right? They were going to do better, be better, both of them. 

Before he could turn back he felt the bed dip, and a warm hand came up under his shirt to rest on his lower back, kneading for a moment before slipping down beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, cupping his ass.

“Mmm g’mornin’,’” Eddie hummed, his lips finding their way to Steve’s side with a soft kiss through the cotton.

Steve had never hated a bit of fabric more.  

At the same time Eddie’s hand ventured even lower, until one finger slid between his cheeks, teasing over his hole. Despite himself, and his still swirling thoughts of doubt, Steve arched his back, pressing into the touch a little, always so ready to be filled by any part of Eddie’s body—fingers, tongue, cock, he loved them all.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he wasn’t so far gone that he forgot where they were, or how thin the walls of the trailer might be. 

Steve took a deep, sobering breath and looked back at Eddie over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t let you blow me last night with your uncle in the other room, did you really think I’d let you fuck me this morning?” 

Eddie grinned, his eyes sparkling with it. “No, but I do love getting you all riled up anyway.”

“Menace.” Steve shook his head and turned back over to face his boyfriend before he lost control and gave in to temptation. 

Eddie wrapped him up in his arms automatically, using one hand to smooth the sleep mussed hair back from his face as they gazed into each other’s bleary eyes. Steve swallowed hard, heart aching with how close he’d come to losing this. 

And something must have shown on his face because Eddie tilted his head, his pleased grin dropping into a small sad smile as he continued to run fingers through Steve’s hair.  “You’re wondering if I still mean it, right? Everything I said yesterday?” 

“I didn’t say–”

Eddie interrupted with a tender kiss to his forehead. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Eddie–”

“Baby, it’s okay. I might be the one always talking about having trust issues and stuff, but I haven't given you a lot of reason to trust me—have I?”

Steve looked away, it was a rhetorical question, which by definition didn’t require an answer but it also felt like a trick or something, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to respond. It should be better now that they’d talked and worked things out, right? So why was he suddenly feeling more insecure than ever?

“Hey,” Eddie said softly, gently coaxing Steve to look at him again. “I knew I'd have to earn it back. I might not have much experience with relationships, but I do know that one conversation, even with those three little words involved, isn’t a magic wand. I hurt you.”

Steve pursed his lips. “I hurt you too.”

“I’m just saying, it’s fair of you to wonder—to be worried. I’m happy to reassure you whenever…”

Eddie leaned in, pressing a series of kisses along the line of Steve’s jaw.

“And however…”

His warm breath ghosted over Steve’s ear as he took the lobe between his teeth.

“You need.”

“I love you,” Steve gasped.

“I love you too.”

In order to avoid another intense make-out session that would only leave them both hard and wanting with no chance of release—or, god forbid, have Steve giving in, begging to be bent over the side of the bed—he insisted they get up and get a move on.

Eddie whined but finally agreed, since he was the one who had insisted on the early wake up call to begin with, wanting to get back early enough to work things out with Chrissy before another night could go by. He was also far too pleased with himself when Steve banished him to the other side of the room while they both stripped down to change. It was only practical since neither of them could seem to keep their hands to themselves right now.

“Do you need to stop for gas or anything before we get on the highway?” Steve asked. “I thought I’d follow you and maybe we could take a look at the map and pick a place to stop for lunch together, stretch our legs and stuff.”

Eddie didn’t answer right away, remaining quiet as he rummaged through his bag, finally pulling a clean t-shirt free from the mess inside and slipping it over his head, jeans already on and zipped up.

“Eddie?”

“Actually, I was thinking, ” Eddie rubbed at the back of his neck, looking suddenly nervous.

Steve held his breath.

“What if I left my van here for now, so we could drive back together?”

Steve’s mouth popped open, eyebrows flying up before he could stop them. “Really? B-but that’s…” He didn’t even know what to say, it was beyond unexpected. 

As casual as can be, as if this wasn’t a huge deal, Eddie sat down on the end of the bed to pull his socks on, glancing up as he said, “I know.”

“Is this just so you can’t run away again?” Steve said it lightly, trying to tease, but in all honesty he wanted to know—needed to know if Eddie had really thought this through. It was sweet, in a way, but he didn’t want the other man to wind up feeling trapped. 

Eddie got up, crossed the room to where Steve stood and took the shirt out of his hand—still so in shock he’d just been standing there half dressed holding it

“Gotta start putting trust into practice sometime.” Eddie said softly, raising the crisp white t-shirt over Steve’s head for him, and pecking him on the nose when it popped through the opening. “And I do trust you. Even if something were to happen between us, I know you would bring me back here if I asked.”

It settled some of Steve's nerves to hear that Eddie knew that and accepted it, because it was the truth. Even if they went down in flames one day, Steve would still do anything for this man.

“Pretty sure Wayne would come get you if you needed him to.”

“And that, yes.” Eddie smiled. “It’s not like I use it much, everything I need is within walking distance of the motel. I can live without it for a bit. Besides, it’ll be worth it to be able to sit next to you for the next however many hours, instead of us both making the drive alone, again.”  

“Okay, if you’re sure. Let’s hit the road.”

Steve worried his lip, sitting behind the wheel of his car, the same BMW he’d had since high school, watching in the rear view mirror as Eddie grabbed a few last things out of his van and jogged back over, tossing it all and his bag on the back seat before sliding into the front.

He was nervous all over again, for an entirely different reason this time as he started the engine and pulled out of the drive, turning left instead of right once they passed the Forest Hills Trailer Park sign.

Eddie didn’t say anything, but eyed him curiously. 

Steve cleared his throat. “I need to make a quick stop by my place on the way out of town. If, uh, if that’s okay?” 

He braced himself, expecting Eddie to ask why, or maybe be annoyed at the extra stop—or the fact that Steve was being a little cagey about the whole thing by not having mentioned it till now—but instead Eddie lit up.

“Sure! I'd love to see where you’re living now. I kinda can’t imagine you anywhere in Hawkins besides school or your parents' old place.”

Steve shuddered. “God, I hated that house.” 

Eddie reached out immediately, a sympathetic look on his face as he placed a hand on Steve's knee, warm and comforting. In their short time together they’d already shared so much about their pasts. Eddie knew all about Steve’s lonely upbringing, and how his parents hadn’t taken kindly to the idea of their only son dating men, something they had found out by accident, and promised to keep secret. Though, Steve suspected that promise had been made solely to save their own reputation, not his, and he’d stopped speaking to them not long after that. Then they’d moved, and hadn’t bothered to leave a forwarding address.  

The little two bedroom house wasn’t far from Wayne’s place. Within minutes they were there, parking just behind the mailbox. 

The outside was nothing special, dingy white siding, browning grass and a barren garden. He hadn’t seen the point in planting anything when he wouldn’t be there all summer to enjoy it, or even water it.

The inside was… also nothing special. Leaving Steve feeling more than a little self conscious as he unlocked the door, ushering Eddie inside. He’d almost forgotten how plain and bare-bones his house was. Sad second hand couch, beige, utilitarian side and coffee tables, a slightly darker shade of beige, and horrible brown carpeting. That one wasn’t his fault though, it’d come with the house.

Nothing hung on his walls. There wasn’t even a single magnet on his fridge, which you could see from the living room because the place was that damn small. The only real signs of life in the space were two framed photos sitting on the table next to the couch. One of him and Robin standing outside her dorm on move-in day, freshman year, the other of his favorite class of middle-schoolers, a group of boys who’d fallen afoul of a few bullies and had trouble fitting in that he’d taken under his wing. They were all in high school now, so he didn't see them much anymore, but he would always remember them fondly.

“How long did you say you’ve been renting this place?” Eddie asked, turning a slow circle, taking it all in—what little there was to take in anyway.

Suddenly embarrassed, Steve wished he’d asked Eddie to wait for him in the car. It all just made him look so… pathetic, and boring, and he didn’t want Eddie to think this is what his life would look like if they stayed together.  

He blew out a long breath. “Three years.”

“Oh.”

“I–uh–I guess I never really settled in or decorated, because I never planned to stay in Hawkins this long in the first place. Like, if I made the house more my own it would be admitting defeat? Or jinxing myself to be stuck here forever.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’m not judging you.”

Steve shot him a look.

Eddie raised his hands. “Okay, I was judging a little bit—I’m sorry! It’s just, you deserve so much better than a shit brown rug and blank walls, y’know? You have this great bright personality, and I wish you’d let it show in your own home.”

“When I find a place I actually want to call home, maybe I'll do that.”

Steve’s heart fluttered at the thought of Eddie seeing him that way. He closed the distance between them, their mouths meeting in a furious kiss as he pushed Eddie back until he was forced to sit down on the couch, and climbed into his lap. 

As if just realizing that they were finally alone, with no one potentially eavesdropping from another room, Eddie pulled Steve down into him, their lips meeting again and again while they ground against each other, both already growing hard in their jeans.

Steve gripped at Eddie’s shirt, pulling back just long enough to yank it over his head before taking his own off too, tossing them both to the floor. He needed this, needed Eddie’s bare skin against his. Words were lovely, but they’d always communicated best with their bodies. Eddie had said he loved him, now Steve wanted to feel it, wanted Eddie to mark it into his flesh—was desperate for it. 

“Wanna ride you.” Steve gasped out as Eddie began to nip and suck at his neck. 

“Gonna need a little less clothes for that, sweetheart.” Eddie reached around Steve’s back, running the tip of his finger along the seam in the ass of his jeans. Steve shuddered, feeling a wave of heat, breaking out in goosebumps all over. 

He stood, eyes never wavering from Eddie’s as he undid his fly, pushing his jeans to the floor in one smooth motion and stepped out of them, while Eddie did the same, raising his hips so he could shove his own pants down to his ankles.

Steve climbed back on top, sighing happily at finally having all of Eddie bare under his touch again. They’d done little more than kiss yet and he was already almost painfully hard, but so was Eddie, both groaning when their hard lengths slid against each other—and when Eddie tapped at his lips with two fingers, Steve didn’t hesitate to take them into his mouth, running his tongue between the digits until they were coated in his spit. 

Once satisfied that they were wet enough, Eddie pulled his fingers out from between Steve’s lips, replacing them with his tongue, fucking it into Steve’s mouth as he did the same to his hole, pressing one finger inside to the knuckle right away, neither having the patience for teasing.

“More,” Steve demanded after a whopping thirty seconds. Usually he was more than happy to let Eddie take his time, prep him slowly until he thought he would lose his mind, but after denying themselves last night, and again this morning, Steve was feeling nothing short of insane already. He didn’t care if it hurt, he just needed Eddie inside him as soon as possible. 

Eddie must have felt it too because he didn’t argue, just worked a second finger in next to the first, scissoring them as soon as he could to speed the process up, as hungry for this as Steve was. 

It burned, but not in a bad way, if anything the pain was feeding his desire for the man beneath him. 

“Please,” Steve begged, as soon as he was loose enough that Eddie could move freely in and out of him. “I’m ready–”

“Okay, baby, I’ve got you–I’ve got you. Do you have lube somewhere? Condoms?”

And Steve really needed to calm down because he hadn’t even thought about it—was ready to just sink down on Eddie bare with nothing but spit slicking him, without hesitation.

“When did you get tested last?” He asked, panting. Apart from his failed hookup with Danny, Steve hadn’t been with anyone since the last time he’d been given a clean bill of health, and if Eddie was clean too maybe they could just—

“Not recently enough to be safe.” Eddie said quickly, not pulling his fingers out but halting their movement. “And I won’t risk you like that, sweetheart. We can do something else.”

Steve whined. 

“No, I've got some in the bedroom. I just–��� He rocked back, eyes falling shut as he fucked himself gently on Eddie’s still fingers. “I wanna feel you, really feel you. Want you to come inside me.”

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie’s hips rolled as he took a ragged breath. “Bedroom, alright, hold onto me.”

Confused, Steve still did what he asked, gripping Eddie around the shoulders, fighting off another whine as the fingers inside him gently slid out. But then Eddie’s hands were gripping him under the thighs and he was being lifted. He gasped, hooking his legs around Eddie's waist.

Thankfully, Steve’s bedroom was the first door on the right, across from what was obviously a bathroom, so It was easy enough for Eddie to find his way without direction, and once they were near enough Eddie threw him down on the bed. 

Steve blinked up at him, mouth half open. “That was so fucking hot.”

“Glad you think so.” Eddie swooped down, pecking him on the mouth as he grabbed his side, grimacing. “But don’t expect a repeat performance, I think I pulled something.”

Steve grinned, Eddie was clearly faking it but he would play along for now—he’d also be filing this information away for later use. He knew the other man was stronger than he looked, but hauling racks of bar glasses was clearly a better workout than he’d thought. 

“Aww, why don't you just come lay down then and let me do the rest of the work.”

Steve went for his nightstand drawer while Eddie crawled on hands and knees up the bed, sitting himself up against the headboard.

Just like they’d been on the couch, Steve straddled Eddie's lap, capturing his lips in another deep kiss as he rolled the condom on, spread a bit of lube over him, and finally, finally, positioned himself above and started to sink down on Eddie’s cock, leaning in till their foreheads touched.

“When we get back would you–” Steve sucked in a breath as he bottomed out only to raise right back up again, giving himself no time to adjust. “C-could we get tested and then–”

“Yes,” Eddie breathed, bucking his hips as Steve rode, bouncing up and down, low guttural sounds being punched out of him with every thrust. “Fuck—yes, yes to all of that.”

It wasn’t long before Steve was coming untouched, making a mess of both of them, too worked up to last. Eddie went right behind him, spilling into the condom while Steve was still clenching around him.

With trembling thighs, Steve raised up, wincing at the sudden empty feeling, and took care of the condom before collapsing beside Eddie to cuddle while he waited for his limbs to feel less like jello.

“As much as I’d love to lay here with you all day, and maybe do that again, we should probably get going.” Steve said eventually.

Eddie made a very unhappy sound that Steve wholeheartedly agreed with, but they both got up anyway and stumbled into the small bathroom, taking turns swiping a wet washcloth over the other's chest.

When they were as clean as they were going to get without showers, Eddie ducked out of the room to grab their clothes, turning to the mirror while he waited, admiring the flush of his skin along with a few very faint but very much there bite marks Eddie had left for him on his neck like little gifts. 

Eddie was back seconds later, appearing in the doorway with his pants already back on slung low around his hips, belt still hanging loose.

Steve frowned.

“Don’t pout, we can’t drive around naked—decency laws.” Eddie shook his head, chuckling as he handed Steve the pile of his clothes.

“Fine.” Steve grumbled playfully, watching Eddie shake his hair out and re-do his bun in the mirror while he got dressed.

“Hey, so what was it you needed to stop for anyway? Or was that just an excuse to bring me here and have your way with me?” Eddie asked when they were both presentable for public consumption again, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve froze. He’d known the question was inevitable, but he’d let himself get lost in Eddie’s body and almost forgotten why they were here.  

The answer caught in his throat. He was about to shine a giant spotlight on the one thing they had yet to address about this whole situation—the fact that the Summer was going to end eventually, and they would both, presumably, need to resume their normal lives—that they might have put each other through all of this for something with a rapidly approaching expiration date.

This was it though, Steve’s turn to put trust into practice, as Eddie had put it. He could not keep something this big to himself again, even if it meant having a conversation they maybe weren’t ready for just yet.

He took Eddie’s hand and led him down the hall into the spare bedroom that doubled as his office, sitting him down on the small guest bed while he rifled through his desk, and pulled out an accordion binder full of papers. 

“My resume and teaching certificate—some other paperwork.” Steve tapped the binder against his leg nervously as he spoke. “I know we haven't talked about what happens after this, when the clock runs out and Summer ends, but um, I want to tell you how my own plans have changed.” 

Steve's heart raced. He took a deep breath as he set the paperwork down on top of the desk, and crossed the room to sit next to Eddie.

“There's an open position at the Elementary School in the motel’s district. Robin told me before the Summer even started, so, I was already considering it. I mean, there’s nothing keeping me here. I’m ready to leave Hawkins behind, and why wouldn't I want to be closer to her? But finding out the motel was in trouble was the last straw. Why keep paying rent to some random asshole in this backwoods town when I could be paying that same rent to two of my best friends to help them stay afloat?”

“You’re moving into the motel permanently?” Eddie’s tone was almost excruciatingly neutral, giving nothing away about what he might be thinking or feeling… about any part of it. 

Steve nodded. “Technically I still have to hand in my resume and be interviewed, but I've spoken to the superintendent and she said it’s just a formality at this point. The job is mine if I want it.”

Eddie didn’t say anything more when he was done. Not that he needed to say anything, but it was nerve wracking as hell. Steve turned, drawing his leg up onto the mattress so he could fully face Eddie and took hold of both his hands, fighting to look the other man in the eyes and not shy away. 

“Let me be completely clear, because I don’t want there to be any more misunderstandings between us. I don’t know what your plans are, or were, and I’m not pressuring you to change them, but I would love it if you decided to stay too when the season is over.”

Eddie dropped his gaze suddenly, looking down at their tangled hands with a furrowed brow for a moment before raising his head again. 

As much as Steve wanted an answer, to know what Eddie was thinking right now, this wasn’t the same as agreeing to leave a car behind temporarily. This was big plans for the future shit, and Steve was acutely aware that Eddie didn’t usually make a habit of staying in the same place for very long.

“You don't have to say or decide anything right now. In fact, please don’t. Just… think about it?”

Eddie opened his mouth as if he were going to say something anyway, but in the end just nodded, squeezing Steve’s hands and simply whispered, “okay.”

Eddie remained quiet and thoughtful for the first hour or so of the drive, staring out the window at the world going by with an unreadable expression on his face. It wasn’t exactly an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn’t comfortable either, to Steve at least, and the only thing keeping him from spiraling was Eddie’s hand on his thigh, his thumb moving back and forth in reassuring strokes.

It wasn't until they stopped for gas, Eddie going into the little shop to stock them up on drinks and snacks while Steve filled the tank, that the whisper of tension in the air started to dissipate. It got even better when Steve suggested now might be the perfect time for Eddie to give him the musical education he was supposedly in desperate need of. 

Eddie jumped at the opportunity immediately, pulling a small cardboard box up front that he’d taken out of the van, which Steve had seen of course, and began rifling through his collection of tapes.

They started out easy with Metallica, something Eddie thought Steve might actually like, and Steve was only a little surprised to find he did, and that he’d even heard one of the songs before—Enter Sandman, it was getting a lot of play on the radio these days. 

For hours Eddie played song after song for him—a few Steve knew, a lot he didn’t—but even if some of them were a little too hard for his tastes, he was happy to listen anyway, and even happier to let Eddie regale him with stories about each band. 

Sometimes he’d talk about seeing a group live, what city it had been in, how he’d had to fight his way through the pit, stuff like that. Other times he’d dish out gossip about the band members themselves. Like how Ozzy Osborne had been fired from Black Sabbath, replaced by Ronnie James Dio—who then left himself to form his own band and created one of Eddie’s favorite albums of all time. 

And maybe Steve didn’t get metal, but he loved a bit of second hand drama.  

They stopped again in the afternoon, well past lunchtime but too early for dinner, so they had no trouble snagging a picnic table for themselves at a rest stop to have a break from the road and eat their fast food burgers together in the sun.

On the way back to the car Steve tossed his keys to Eddie and walked himself over to the passenger side of the BMW. 

Eddie gaped. “But you don’t let anyone drive your car.”

“You’re not just anyone.”

“Steve Harrington, did you just use a line on me?”

“Did it work?”

Eddie pulled his tongue between his teeth. “I dunno, it was pretty weak. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Steve didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until the car shut off, the soothing hum of the engine going quiet abruptly.

“Hey, sweetheart. We’re here.”

He blinked his eyes open, rubbing at them and stretching before undoing his seat belt. “‘M sorry, didn’t mean to drop off on you.”

“You were tired, it’s been a long few days.”

They were parked in the motel lot, facing the front office and Steve could see Robin and Chrissy through the window, standing behind the desk. It didn’t look like they’d noticed his car pull up. 

Eddie blew out a long breath, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how worried do I need to be about Robin trying to assassinate me? Am I going to get a warning and a last meal before I'm executed, or do I need to start sleeping with my eyes open?”

Steve patted his leg and got out of the car without a word, walking slowly towards the building. He smiled to himself, holding in a laugh as he heard Eddie scrambling along behind him. 

“Steve?” Eddie called out, sounding legitimately nervous at the idea of facing his best friend's wrath.

Steve lost it, cackling, and kept walking ahead. 

“Why are you laughing?!” Eddie hissed. “What does that mean—Steeeeve?”

Eddie caught up just as Steve reached the door. Instead of reaching for the handle he decided to put the other man out of his misery and turned, taking Eddie’s hand as he leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “She’ll have to get through me first. Don’t worry, I'll protect you from the big bad lesbian.”

Robin looked up as soon as they came through the door and rushed out from behind the counter.

“Well, I’d ask how it went, but you’re both here, and–” She gestured at their linked hands.

“Robin, who are you–” Chrissy came out from her office in the back, eyes going wide when she spotted them all standing together in the lobby. “You’re back!” She shouted, and came flying out from behind the counter to throw herself into Eddie’s arms. 

“I’m sorry.” She cried as Eddie pulled her into his chest.

“We,” Robin cut in, biting her lip. “we’re sorry for lying about the room and setting you two up. It wasn’t our place… and maybe not our best idea.”

“It’s okay. Not that I'm condoning your act of trickery but…” Eddie glanced at Steve, a crooked smile on his face as he rocked Chrissy back and forth in his arms. “I suppose in this one instance even I have to admit it worked out. And… I’m sorry I went through your stuff.”

Steve threw his arm over Robin's shoulder, both of them watching on fondly as their significant others made up. 

Chrissy shook her head, wiping her eyes on Eddie’s shirt. “I don’t care about that. I shouldn’t have been trying to keep it a secret—not from Robin and not from you. I just thought I could handle it on my own and not worry anyone else, but I got in over my head.”

Eddie pulled back to look at her, gripping her firmly by the shoulders. “You know I love you, right? I’ll do anything I can to help—and in case I never said it, I’m so fucking proud of you and the life you’ve made for yourself, from going to college and graduating to opening this place. You don’t have anything to prove to me or anyone else.”

Chrissy beamed. “I love you too.”

Steve tried to hold it in but a yawn forced its way out of his mouth. It was getting late and even after his car nap he was beat—he also had to be back on the beach again first thing in the morning for a shift. 

Chrissy finally let Eddie go, giving him a little push. “Go take your man to bed.”

Robin snorted. 

“Not like that!” Chrissy giggled, face turning beet red. “He’s tired!”

“Hey, so I know you two made up and all,” Robin began, switching the lights off as they all went for the door. “But now that it’s all out in the open—if you, uh, wanted your own rooms..?”

The question hung in the air as Steve looked at Eddie, leaving the decision to him. 

“Thanks, but I think we’ll stay together.”

Chapter 11

Special thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Reblogs are always appreciated and if you want to be tagged, just let me know! I'd be more than happy to do so 💜

Permanent taglist: @penny00dreadful @hitlikehammers @pearynice @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari

Fic taglist: @manda-panda-monium @hellion-child @dreamwatch @brbsoulnomming @epiclazershark

@estrellami-1 @lokfae @raisedbylibrarians @impala314 @meganwinchester

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@gregre369 @finntheehumaneater

[marvelwifesupernaturalmistress]

So I just finished Good Omens recently and I have a couple things to say and my family and friends are so done with my rants about different movies and TV shows.

1: Holy shit that was a good show! I honestly didn't expect much from the show but holy shit it blew me away with how good it was. It was comedic and I found myself laughing so much and it was so beautifully written the characters are just top tier amazing and wow what I'd give to just continuously rewatch it as if it's my first time watching it.

2: I watched supernatural and I thought wow never gonna find another show like this. One that brings me joy and sadness then I found this fucking wonderful amazing show! AND it made me even more sad like what the fuck how do I keep coming across shows that cause me so much fucking pain. Also can we talk about the parallels between the two shows. Oh look two characters working together to stop the end of the world one a demon and one's an angel, counting Dean a demon solely for this post plus demon Dean did exist, both are oh so obviously in love with each other but neither will admit it, most of the angels are dicks and we all hate metatron, there's a demon named Crowley and many more. I mean look at the similarities between Dean and Crowley. Both are in love with their angel best friend, both are absolutely in love with their car, love classic rock, both are some sassy bitches, both don't want to show their emotions but are big softies, and are both the better looking person in the couple (in my opinion). Then look at the similarities between Aziraphale and Crowley. Both are angels in trench coats who are in love with their best friend, they are manipulated, complicated, traumatized, beautiful angels, both have trouble understanding (some) human expressions, and both struggle with their loyalty to heaven. Also, is it just me or does the first like 10 seconds of End Titles- the one that got left in the car from Good Omens kinda sound like it could be a beginning to a Supernatural opening credits or is it just me?

3: My God David Tennant is FINE like I've seen his face sometimes haven't really seen him in much and was like ok yeah he's attractive and moved on. But then I saw him in this and I'm like wow now I get what everyone's talking about. Like just ahhh this man is fucking attractive! I'm honestly ashamed of myself for taking so long to realize.

4: So TikTok in all its wonderfulness blessed/cursed me with a bunch of Good Omens content the day after I finished watching good Omens. Including a looooooooot of people cosplaying as Crowley. And may I just say the people who cosplay him are fine as fuck! I mean it's really hard to dress up as Crowley and not look attractive I mean Crowley is a style icon. But holy shit the people are so fucking good looking like I just can't. My sexuality does a nose dive off the empire state building when looking at them. I was talking to a friend about it and she said it's a case of wanting to be with them or be them and I disagree. I want to be with them all. Just holy shit you want to look good dress like Crowley you'll look fantastic.

5: The effect this show has had on my life is insane. I have been obsessed with listening to Queen since I finished the show. Which I'm not complaining about at all they were my favorite and still are my favorite band before I even watched the show. I have barely listened to something that wasn't Queen or songs from the show since I binge watched the show. I'm listening to another one bites the dust while typing this. Once again not complaining. Also, did anyone else want to dye their hair like Crowley's when they finished the show? Cause I do. I have been blonde my whole life and never wanted to change it and now I want it red. And I need to know if I'm alone in this or not to determine how alarmed I should be.

6: They had no right making the relationship of Crowley and Aziraphale they way they did. First they made them friends who obviously were in love with each other but hid it then they give us them acting basically as a married couple being so fucking adorable and me just wanting the type of love they have for them to give us that ending of season two! I'm not gonna lie if my dad wasn't up and calmed me down I either would've spontaneously combusted from my literally shaking anger or went on a spree. Not sure what type of spree but a spree of some kind.

7: How all of you wonderful people didn't riot or harm Neil Gaiman is beyond me. First when season 1 ended y'all had to wait 2 years to even get a green light that there was gonna be a season 2 and then another 2 for it to finally come out. And then for the season final of season 2 to happen where then you had to wait even longer for season 3 to be greenlight is just you all have a greater will power than me. I'm coming into this with two seasons and a third confirmed so a round of applause to y'all. And now I completely understand why I kept hearing people say they hated Neil Gaiman and stuff like that.

And finally on a somewhat unrelated note I'm planning to watch Doctor who since I'm about to finish another show where can I find it and what order do I watch it in? I've heard many different answers on the order.

Thanks everyone for coming to my rant y'all are wonderful and everyone have a wonderful day!<3

[starmage-constellar]

anyone talking about the secondary musical reference in thisisnotawebsitedotcom?

i dare say i'm stretching it but

with a capital "T", and that rhymes with "P" and stands for "pool"? or, even, words like.. like "swell?" (trouble, trouble, trouble.)

or, if you want to go even further, he's got a girl in every county [...] and that's 102 counties!

the speech predates the musical by a whole 5 years but i think that's the least of our concerns

(more nerdass explanations down below)

if you're not familiar with what musical is being referenced here, i don't blame you. it was a broadway phenomenon in the late 50s-early 60s in america, later had a (rather stellar) hollywood adaptation, and an at-home movie adaptation in 2003.

it's called "the music man," and the only reason i even know of the musical is because it's one of my dad's favorites.

now, i could just stop here, leave you with the information, and go on my merry way. but as someone who is (for better or for worse) very well acquainted with the story of "the music man," you bet your bottom dollar that i noticed some parallels right quick.

the protagonist of "the music man," harold hill, is a traveling con man who's so well-versed at the art of sales that he can put up with the speedy advancements of society without an issue. he seems to have a particular scheme of promising to set up marching bands all around illinois, then running with the money before they get a chance to check him out for anything.

though, of course, professor hill proves himself not a con man for the sake of one person. a lovely librarian and pianist, marian paroo. she's a skeptic and sees professor hill for the scam artist that he is, and attempts to distance herself from him and prove he's a liar. sounds familiar, doesn't it?

(though, of course, ms. paroo doesn't set professor hill on fire, and emmaline doesn't start dating the pseudo-alive silas at the end of the story.)

now, there's already enough comparison to make here already, even if half-assed, but i'd like to take a deeper look at the specific song that silas was mentioning here. "ya got trouble."

professor hill, a little bit after settling into our story's setting of river city, illinois, is informed that the billiard room was just hooked up with a new pool table. this sets off his plan to rally river city to his side: convince them of the trouble that could arise from such "sinful" activities such as your teenaged kids sneaking off to... play pool!

"Just as I say; it takes judgement, brains, and maturity to score In a balkline game; I say that any boob Can take and shove a ball in 'a pocket And I call that sloth; The first big step on the road to the depths of deg-ra-day I say, first: medicinal wine from a teaspoon ... then beer from a bottle!"

the narrative of the song follows professor hill deluding the crowd into his point: don'tcha see what we've come to? the new pool tables here? heck, pool at all, for that matter! do you want your kids bein' enticed by sin like that, hm? influencin' their fickle, innocent minds with this sort of stuff when they can't fight against the devil, unlike us adults?!

(note, "mass-staria" is a portmanteau of "mass hysteria")

silas does almost the EXACT opposite, in terms of message. isn't conformity boring? society, law; it's all so mundane! conformity's made in order to hide what you're REALLY meant to be: a crazed, sinful animal! you were MEANT to act on your impulses, every desire you've had. stop following the flock, and follow those who renounce society, like me.

take a listen for yourself, too, i'm sure you could find even more to it if you looked deeper, dug further.

and i'm sure i have more thoughts, but i think i might've lost my own plot on this one.

[ana-chronista]

I'd love to hear more about your protective!Jan Jance one shot :)

So I explained about the fic and gave a snippet here, but as I said there's a chance it might become a 5+1. Possibly. If it did, this was an idea I had for a scene set earlier than the one in the last post. It's actually based on a chat we had a while ago about Nace's tattoos and the band's image during ESC:

“I heard what you said to Nace. About his tattoos.” Gregor blinks up from his phone at him. “What about it?” “I don’t get why he’d need to cover them up.” A frown crosses his face before realisation strikes. Then comes that familiar, friendly smile that’s starting to grate on Jan’s nerves with each passing planning meeting. “Ah, I think maybe you only heard half of what I was saying. I meant it would just be better if he didn’t draw attention to them. He only needs to cover them sometimes, or at least partially.” Jan shakes his head. “I don’t think he needs to, even then. They’re just tattoos.” “Jan, Eurovision is a huge audience. There are going to be all kinds of people watching, and with Joker Out set to appeal quite heavily to a teenage girl fanbase, we have to be mindful of these things.” Gregor sighs. “It’s not even them who might have a problem – it’s their parents who’ll be paying their phone bills when they vote or for future gig tickets. We don’t want any negative attention just because of the side man, right?” The words that were fighting to push out of Jan’s mouth shrivel and die in his throat. The side man. How many times had he used that phrase himself, back at the start? Even if it was before he met Nace, before he got to know him, he can still hear himself and all of them. Just for live shows. Some session guy. Supporting musician. He almost misses Gregor continuing. “Look, I promise you, he will have covered up for gigs before. He would have been aware he might need to when he chose to get them done somewhere where they’re so visible. It’s not like he shows them off when he’s on TV, right?” Gregor glances at his phone again, already distracted by another message. “Anyway, we can review if it’s decided that he’s going to be a more permanent fixture.”

Ask me about my WIPs!

[bite-the-bloody-hand]

6 SONG SOUNDTRACK (PART 3 - BLUEGRASS)

Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following: 1. An event that defines your character's past 2. How your character sees themselves 3. How others view them 4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic) 5. A major fight scene 6. End Credits song

This is a very special mixtape. Today would've been my dad's 69th birthday (nice, pops) and in honor of him, this playlist comes from his personal record collection. I cannot stress enough that this man was a deeply closeted bisexual from Chicago who rode a horse exactly once and hated it the entire time. He was the farthest thing from a cowboy you could possibly get, excepting, of course, the loads of pot he smoked (and dealt), but god damn did he love him some country music. So here's to you, Mongo. This is the soundtrack for the gayass cowboy stoner action comedy epic you'd insist you only like for the soundtrack … kinda like how the Mapplethorpe flower print in your living room was 'just because you liked the flower.' <3

Spotify || Youtube music ||Part 1 - Disco ||Part 2 - Post-Punk GothRock

1 THE DOOBIE BROTHERS - Steamer Lane Breakdown [instrumental]

It's always about the leaving with Zell - running away from 'home' in Ustalav was the first huge decision he made for himself. He looks back on leaving with fondness, it was a moment of true joy, a wild and boundless freedom he hadn't felt in a long time.

2 EMMYLOU HARRIS - Born To Run

Well, I take the chances, sometimes I made mistakes But you don't get nothing unless you take the breaks Living is dangerous as dynamite Sure it makes you feel nervous, but it makes you feel alright Makes you feel alright

He's ambitious, but not so much competing with anyone else as competing with himself; finding out who he really is. He's impatient to find out what living really feels like.

3 GREGG ALLMAN - Midnight Rider

And I don't own the clothes I'm wearing And the road goes on forever And I've got one more silver dollar But I'm not gonna let 'em catch me, no Not gonna let 'em catch the midnight rider

Zell's stories of being a wanderer travel as far as the rest of his more imposing reputation; the idea that he's a criminal on the run (not… 100% untrue), a vagabond and roving lover (also not 100% untrue he just didn't believe anyone else was as serious about him as he could have been about them) are romantic ideas that really catch on among the general public. He doesn't disabuse people of this, because he digs how cool it makes him sound and not like. A kinda pathetic loser who's terrified of commitment.

4 THE MARSHALL TUCKER BAND - Heard It In A Love Song

I'm the kind of man who likes to get away Like to start dreaming 'bout tomorrow today Never said that I love you even though it's so Where's that duffel bag of mine, it's time to go

I've always interpreted this song in a playful tone, like the singer has no intention of actually leaving. He's teasing the idea, but knows he's already so far gone that there's no way he's finding anything better down the road; after a certain point, Zell gets the same way. It takes the right kind of person to keep him off the road.

5 NITTY GRITTY DIRT BAND - Foggy Mountain Breakdown [Instrumental]

Zell can't count how many bar fights he's gotten in when this exact song was playing on the jukebox but it's enough that he has something of a Pavlovian reaction to it now.

6 WILLIE NELSON - Roll Me Up And Smoke Me When I Die* (Feat. Snoop Dogg, Kris Kristofferson, Jamey Jonson)

When I'd go, I'll have been here long enough So sing and tell more jokes and dance and stuff Just keep the music playing, that'll be a good goodbye Roll me up and smoke me when I die

One of the most exciting things about finding yourself and falling in love with life is accepting the end will come, and making sure it'll be a damn good party when it does.

*Our outsider track of the list - it came out a few days after Dad passed. This one's close to my heart for that reason especially. We did in fact smoke out and play this at his memorial, it was a wonderful goodbye. I'm getting high as hell at this very moment, in his honor.

[ghostsandfools]

Okay, it's been a couple hours and I'm feeling coherent again, let's talk about that LAES episode.

First of all. 5 in a row???? Are they okay over there????? But also, THANK GOODNESS! I think I genuinely have an issue, I wake up early in the morning and spend my whole day waiting to see if Gemini will be in the lore episode that day, and can only be productive after I have confirmed or denied their presence. And then if they are in the episode I just can't function for the next hour.

ANYWAYS, enough about me. Pollux not talking because she was the one who presented in the trial???? I don't even know how to describe that, i dont know if I'd call it cute, or interesting to her character, or cool, or both, I don't even know I just love her.

Lunar being annoyed about being on probation was funny to me cause like- Yeah. You killed somebody. I'd say that's a pretty light punishment, even if you're being monitored by Taurus.

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON TAURUS.

When he was first introduced, I thought he was super intimidating, but you know what he reminds me of? He reminds me of an older brother who cares about his siblings and tries to tease and mess around with them, but also has a couple impulsive/negative personality traits and ALWAYS takes it too far.

Anyways, in celebration of Taurus finally showing up maybe possibly, sometime soon, here are some cool facts about Tauri (What is the plural form of Taurus?) that I gathered from some quick and probably unreliable google searches :]

Tauruses like stability and don't like their routines interrupted, while Geminis don't like to be bored and can't stand repetitiveness, which is probably why they don't get along.

Tauri are apparently "Sensual, romantic, and charming", which I find crazy because like... Do some zodiacs just have more rizz????? Who decided which zodiacs have the most rizz???????????

Tauri are incompatible with air and fire signs, another reason why he probably doesn't like Gemini, but I'm sorry, Leo is a fire sign???? I don't know why, I always thought Leo was a water sign, but nope! So Tauri and Leos don't get along, despite their clearly stated friendship in the show.

They're very loyal. And they also fear the unknown, so maybe that's why they don't like Lunar???

Tauri are "often described as having a muscular or blocky build", which again, HOW DOES BEING BORN IN MAY DETERMINE THAT??????

Apparently the plural is Taureans????? TAUREANS???? They really missed the opportunity to call them Tauri, like cacti.

They struggle with inadequate self esteem, interesting possibility for future character arcs.

Anyways. All of this was coming from a Libra who's AWFUL at astrology, so if you're an astrology nerd and you see this, take it up with google, not me. I hope Taurus shows up soon, I KEEP DREAMING ABOUT HIM, swear to god I'm acting like Moon, I keep looking up facts about Taureans, I had a dream that I went to band camp with him???????? I need him to show up in the show, DESPERATELY.

Thank you for reading my mad-man ramblings.

[derwahnsinn]

31 Days Idol Challenge - Oliver Riedel

Day 29: At Award Ceremony

One thing I really like about photos of Rammstein from award ceremonies, is how they dress. I love how they just seem to all put on whatever they feel like, so that the more or less always have at least one 'odd man out'.

My photo of choice is this group shot from 1998 Echo Awards, because I really like how Oliver went with a choker. Photo by Axel Kirschof.

I feel like it's appropriate to add a passage from Flake's book Heute hat die Welt Geburtstag (It's the World's Birthday Today), where he wrote about when the band got nominated for their first Echo Award. It is such a good example of "six inexperienced East Germans entering the celebrity circus":

Beforehand we had long conversations about what we should wear. We definitely wanted to all wear the same thing so that people would see we were a single entity. Since this was the first time we'd been invited, we got there on time. On time meant two hours too early. When we walked down the red carpet, there was of course not the slightest reaction from the audience, which wasn't bad, however. The only person who recognized us was the security guard for Die Toten Hosen, who were also nominated and of course actually received an award. We attached ourselves to Nena's manager, whom we knew from the industry tour. We stood around in the lobby with him for hours and were horribly thirsty. Then the ceremony finally started and we thought it was all very exciting. Otto Waalkes was sitting in front of us. I stared at the back of his head the whole time. I thought back to how, when I was a kid, I would go over to our neighbor's place just to watch the Otto Show. Every single gag got rehashed all over school the next day, and I didn't want to be left out. And now I could practically touch him. I was so excited my palms were sweating. All the nominees were introduced with a short film. When they finally showed our film, there was absolutely no applause since of course no one knew who we were. There was only bored silence. I think Aerosmith got the prize. We realized that we'd gotten all dressed up for nothing and felt appropriately foolish. Thankfully though, there was a giant afterparty. We hadn't known about that either. There we could eat and drink as much as we wanted and didn't have to pay. We weren't the only ones who got exorbitantly drunk; those who were still there at four stayed till six. Moses Pelham broke Stefan Raab's nose. The next day, a bunch of zombies stood freezing on the train platform, waiting for the train with their Echos in their hands. Or not, in our case. Then two years later, we got the award. We stood there on stage like six bumps on a log and didn't know what to say. Under no circumstances did we want to toss out an embarrassing litany of thank yous. When it was my turn at the mic, I just talked about my vacation in Sri Lanka - I'd just gotten back two days earlier and was still overflowing with impressions. Plus, while the boring ceremony was going on, Ben Becker had been teaching us that drinking vodka mixed with tonic water was very refreshing. The trophy they handed us was I guess supposed to represent a sound wave - I mean, I don't know what an echo looks like, technically speaking - and it was pretty heavy. It was an unwieldy thing to have to hold onto at the party afterward, so I just left it sitting around somewhere.

Bonus material: 1) 1997, Rammstein getting gold for Herzeleid and Engel. Unknown photographer. Some of the band members, including Oliver, had interesting choices of shoes. 2) 1998 MTV Europe Music Awards. Another interesting choice of clothing for Oliver. 3) 2001 MTV Europe Music Awards. Can't go wrong when you're all wearing stage costumes! Photo by Anthony Harvey. 4) 2001 Mexico City. Very questionable positioning of Paul in this photo by Guillermo Ogam. 5) 2005 Echo Awards. I really love how they showed up and performed in fat suits. Photo by Sean Gallup. 6) 2005 Rammstein Music Awards, I love Oliver's outfit here, too. Unknown photographer. 7) 2009 Echo Awards. Oliver went fully casual, and Schneider showed his total lack of taste in shoes. Unknown photographer.

--

Others doing this challenge:

Till: @endlich-allein Flake: @anwiel13 Paul: @instillennachten

[mrsnancywheeler]

Ok I know NOTHING abt DJATS other than a few blogs I follow (mainly you😭) and the occasional edit of it that’ll pop up for me and let me just tell you looking in on yall from the outside is absolutely WILD lmao. Like what is the appeal of a walking red flag named Billy of all things (5 year old boy name btw) like I’m genuinely asking (Sam claflin isn’t a valid answer to this) bc yall are going feral for the motherfucker so I assume he must have some redeeming qualities???

(This is EXTREMELY lighthearted and I really can’t judge bc I’ve had more than my fair share of questionable fictional crushes but I just had to say smthing bc I see so much abt him and every time I’m like. Him 🤨? Bc from what I understand he is not worth it lmaoooo)

sam claflin isn't actually my answer bc I had a crush on book billy dunne, and personally i think my attraction comes from the fact that at my worst and usual self I relate a lot to daisy and when I'm at my best and most rational self I relate a lot to camila both of whom love billy.

it's to me something to do with passion and the work ethic, he's a leader, he's ambitious, and he's terrified of his emotions, but lets them guide him in the worst way. for me he's like a warning of all the things I shouldn't have, the things I want but would destroy me to be with if I was at my worst which is where I am now, so similar to daisy, and it would ruin me, but I'd feel more seen. and billy dunne is a warning to never let myself actually be with someone like that, but I can explore it through him and writing about him, the highs and mostly lows of it all.

and also um he sings, he's in a band, that's hot, sam claflin was a definite plus (bold of you to assume I wouldn't go feral even if he had no qualities I was down for, I once wrote about american horror story characters)

he's my man and idk yeah, I think that's it, I have daddy issues and low standards so that is that