#this one HURT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wlntrsldler · 8 months ago

Note

I know, this is gonna hurt our hearts.

But PLEASEEEEEE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

could you write something that includes

A scene of Y/n and Annabeth after Luke’s betrayal and Annie ask’s Y/n to change her Hair style since Luke isn’t there to do it.

Luke and Y/n were inlove and obviously Annabeth and Y/n are close but Annie made Y/n earn her love just like Thalia did with Annabeth 😭

i wish i hated you | luke castellan

i. hoping life brings you no new pain. i rearrange my memories. i try to rewrite our life.

when annabeth found you in the ares cabin, tears streaming down her face, she looked at you in a way that she hadn't in years. there was anger in her eyes, betrayal and hurt evident on her features. the last time she looked at you like this was when you returned from your quest from your father, nearing death.

you'd woken up with annabeth sitting on the corner of your bed, nearly dozing off as she sat up. luke had been released from the infirmary days prior and was immediately sent off to tend to his counselor duties, much to his dismay. he made annabeth promise him that she'd be by your side when he couldn't be. he didn't want you to wake up alone.

when she saw you groggily wake, she jolted from her seat, face morphing in concern then anger when you had the audacity to smile at her. she burst into tears, repeating the words, "i hate you!"

alarmed, you immediately wrapped your arms around the nine-year-old's body, trying to get her to calm down. she balled her hands into fists, trying not to hit you as you were healing from your wounds.

"annie, what's wrong?" you asked, confused at what could've made the girl so angry. "what's happening?"

"y-you promised!" she sobbed, clutching onto your blood-soaked shirt. "you promised me you'd be careful! you promised that nothing bad would happen to you. you promised."

two days ago, you were thrown around by a minotaur, breaking nearly every bone in your body and were coughing up blood, but somehow, hearing the brokenness in annabeth's voice hurt more than all of your injuries. you thought about the promise you and luke made to her before you went off on your quest; a promise that she would not lose another family-figure in her life, like she'd lost thalia, a promise that you'd return in a few days, triumphant and ready to teach her how to improve her aim in archery, a promise that you'd come back with stories from the city and your first real date with her brother outside of camp.

"they said you died," she cried, rubbing her eyes with her hands, "they said that your heart stopped working."

"annie, i'm okay," you tried to tell her, hoping that your words would bring her some sort of comfort. "see? i'm okay."

"but you weren't," annabeth replied. her big brown eyes looked up at you, bottom lip quivering. she was shaking. "l-luke hasn't slept in days."

your heart dropped at the mention of luke's name. he refused to let you go on the quest without him, even going so far as to bribe the person you chose to let him switch places with them. you refused at first, but quickly learned that your efforts were wasted. once luke castellan made his mind up about something, there was no room for argument.

that's how it was with you. the minute luke realized how he felt about you, there was no pulling back for him. he loved you, truly, deeply, completely. it was something that everyone at camp knew, annie especially. she'd seen the way her brother looked at you, how he cared for you. you were it for him.

so when you and luke returned to camp, unconscious, all annabeth could think about were her first days at camp half blood, watching her brother fight for his life while mourning the loss of thalia. it was a type of pain that was too much to carry for a seven-year-old, and it didn't get any easier two years later.

a year after your quest, when luke returned from his failed one, annabeth said the same words to him when he found her at breakfast. i hate you. but it was the furthest thing from what she actually meant. luke sulked on your bed for days, partly because the whispers and judgment from the campers was beginning to be too much for him, and partly because he felt like he was losing his family again.

now, as a twelve-year-old annabeth marched into the ares cabin, ignoring the complaints of your siblings, those words left her lips again.

"did you know?"

you sat up in your bed, confused, "know what?"

"about luke."

"what about luke?"

she furrowed her eyebrows, head tilting to analyze your face. you looked calm, worn out from the day's festivities, and ready for bed. you wore the bracelet that luke made you for your anniversary on your right wrist, where it permanently stayed on your body since you received it. annabeth bit her bottom lip, trying not to cry. she was exhausted.

"he did it," she whispered, knowing with just one look at you that you had no part in luke's plan. "he stole the bolt."

you froze for a second, then you let out a strained laugh, shaking your head, "good one, annie."

you fluffed your pillows behind you, trying to keep yourself busy because your thoughts were rushing at a million miles an hour. you began thinking of luke's distance, his coldness towards you, his secrets that you knew he kept. you tried to tell yourself it was just because he was tired of being at camp half blood, being 19 and shackled to this life, but you should've known it was more than that. you just didn't want to believe it.

"y/n," annabeth gulped, placing a hand on yours. you stopped your actions, looking at the broken girl in front of you. her tears left streaks down her face.

your eyes pooled with tears, engulfing her in a hug. she buried her head into the crook of your neck, letting go of her tough facade and sobbed into your arms. you wanted to do the same, but you couldn't. not right now. she needed you to be strong.

annabeth slept on your bed while you stayed up, unable to close your eyes to rest. you were afraid of the dreams you would have tonight. your dreams always starred luke castellan, whether they be replays of the memories the two of you made, jumping into the cold water of the lake to escape the summer heat, or training with each other but getting too distracted in the love of it all that your 5-minute breaks turned into hours of pointless conversations, pretending that the both of you lived a normal life.

you weren't ready to have those dreams tainted. not yet.

ii. our shadows dance in a parallel plane. just two different endings, you learn to repair and i learn to keep me in one place.

"annie, what's got you so worked up today?" you asked, nudging the girl. she'd been giving everyone attitude all day, including you, and you didn't know why.

"nothing," she replied, shaking her head. she piled her food on her tray and walked away from you.

you dropped the serving spoon and followed her, "annabeth chase."

annabeth flinched knowing that you only used her full name when she crossed a line. she sighed and turned around to face you. you placed your tray on the table, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited for her to explain.

"it's just--" she sighed, her voice suddenly quiet, "some girls were saying stuff about my hair and i know it's not looking its best right now so i've been really on edge about it."

"who was it?" your tone was cold and it made annabeth's eyes widen.

when annabeth first met you, she was guarded. she was mourning the loss of thalia and she was mad at luke for being so open with you so quickly, as if you could somehow take thalia's place. she pushed you away, partly because she was too scared to care for another person the way she did and lose them, lose you. she learned that in the life of a half-blood loss is normal. it's expected. but it didn't make it hurt any less.

you, more stubborn than anyone she'd ever met, kept trying to break into her world and it wasn't long before annabeth felt her resolve crumbling. how could she not when you cared for her more than she deserved with how she treated you? how could she not when you were the first person to bring a real smile to her brother's face? how could she not when she watched luke fall in love with you with every giggle, every stolen look, every squeeze on his hand?

and you loved annabeth like she was your own flesh and blood. you knew that she and luke were a package deal, a family, and you welcomed her with open arms. you grew protective of annabeth. you became the voice of reason in luke's head when he took his older brother duties too seriously, like the time she developed her first crush, or when she was named head counselor despite her young age. annabeth knew she could count on you.

"y/n, it's fine," she gulped, voice dripping with resignation, "it's not just that, i guess--uh, luke used to do my hair, remember? and since he's been gone, i haven't found anyone to do it for me."

"yeah, i remember," you muttered, looking down at your feet for a moment. you'd walked into the hermes cabin and found luke braiding annabeth's hair a few times. annabeth would be sitting crisis cross on luke's bed, talking his ear off as he nodded along from behind her, only half paying attention to what she was saying because he was too focused on getting the young girl's hair perfect.

you'd lean against the doorframe and admire them until they noticed your arrival. if you drowned out the bunks along the walls of the cabin and muffled the sounds of campers running around outside, they were the perfect picture of a brother and sister living a normal life, close as can be.

annabeth would be the first to notice you and she'd tilt her head up in greeting that had luke grumbling because "she needed to sit still," but then his eyes would follow annabeth's line of vision and a smile would appear on his face. you'd sneak a kiss to his lips that had the girl grimacing despite not seeing it happen, and you and luke would laugh, before you would take your place on the stool in front of annabeth. she'd have the conversation with you then and luke could focus on his task.

"do you..?" you trailed off, clearing your throat. "do you want me to try to do your hair?"

"would you?" she asked, hopeful. it was more than just her hair that she was asking about. those moments when luke and her would sit in the hermes cabin together were some of her favorite memories. she missed talking to him about anything and everything. mostly about his relationship with you. she'd give him ideas for dates, things that you'd like, and he'd enthusiastically thank her, even if he already had those things in mind.

annabeth just needed a sibling. she had plenty in the athena cabin, sure, but she wanted a sibling that wasn't obligated to call her a sister, but rather chose to because they wanted her. you'd never once made her feel unwanted.

"i can try," you said, sending her a shy smile. "i can't promise i'll be great at it, but we can go to the ares cabin after we eat?"

"that sounds good," annabeth replied. there was sorrow swimming in her eyes, a longing that you'd seen when you first met her at camp half blood. "thank you, y/n."

the hunch to her posture made your throat close up. it was a heavy burden for her to carry and if it was up to you, you'd shoulder it on your own to free her from it. "don't mention it, annie."

iii. no matter how guilty i still feel saying it, i wish i hated you.

"y/n?"

you rolled over in your bed, rubbing your tired eyes. in the moonlight, you saw annabeth's silhouette at the edge of your bed. she was wearing her pajamas and hoodie. the braids you did on her two weeks ago cascaded down her back.

you sat up in bed, "what's up, annie? it's late. you should be in your own cabin."

"i know, but i couldn't sleep," she rocked back and forth on her feet. you wondered if you ever looked this young. annabeth was always larger than life when she was with the other campers, a warrior, head counselor, the wisest daughter of athena, but there were moments like this one where it was evident that she was just a child. alone and terrified. "do you think we can take a walk?"

you were slipping your feet into your shoes before you could answer, you nodded and tiptoed out of the cabin, careful not to wake your siblings. you let annabeth lead the way as you softly shut the door to the cabin. there was a bite in the air, a soft breeze that swayed the leaves on the trees. you tugged on the sleeves of the sweater you always slept in, running your fingers over the loose threads from being worn out.

the sweater was luke's. he left it in his drawers when he left camp that night and nobody dared to touch the former counselor's things. his side of the hermes cabin stayed frozen in time; an unmade bed with wrinkles in his sheets, his left shoe poking out from underneath his bed frame, pictures of you and him messily taped to the walls.

"do you think he thinks about us? about camp?" she asked. her voice was so soft you almost didn't hear it. the hooting of the owls was louder than the voice of the girl beside you. "do you think he regrets what he did?"

your mouth felt dry. you blinked a few times, pulling down the sleeve of your sweater to touch the bracelet that you still couldn't bring yourself to get rid off. you licked your chapped lips, wincing at the pain from the cracks, "i-i don't know, annie. it's hard to say."

"well what does your heart tell you?" she tilted her head to look at you. "you know him better than anyone else. what do you think?"

"i like to think that he does," you settled for that. you didn't know if luke regretted his decision. you haven't seen him since that day, not since he placed a longing kiss to your lips, which felt like an omen now that you look back at it, before disappearing to talk to percy.

it was hard to think about what luke was feeling now, but you like to think that he did miss you, miss annabeth, even percy. you know you would if you were in his position. but maybe luke had changed. maybe he wasn't the person you'd grown to love anymore. the thought of it made you ill. would you recognize him if he appeared in front of you right now?

you always believed that in every life you'd know luke. the threads of your life, your being, your existence, would always cross somehow, some way. you believed that you'd recognize him by the sound of his steps, confident and strong, but gentle enough to not incite panic or danger. you'd recognize him by the sound of his breaths, even and calm, except when he would be near you, then it would falter for a second like you'd knocked the air out of his lungs. you'd recognize him by the smell of the air, easy and light, like how it felt to love him.

but you didn't know anymore.

"do you hate him?"

the foliage under your feet crunched under the weight of you as you trudged through the cabin grounds. the sounds of camp seemed to subside as if the whole world was waiting for your answer. your voice wavered when you finally found the courage to speak, "i wish i did."

there was an understanding that settled between you and annabeth as she followed your steps. the world resumed, as it always did. the two of you here in camp half blood and luke somewhere else out there in a place that neither of you could reach. she looked out into the mountains, "me too."

#frances replies #frances writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #this one hurt #frances song fics

143 notes · View notes

mryddinwyllt · 5 months ago

Text

ORV : Chapter 217 | 187

#this one hurt #orv #orv spoilers #orv ch 217 #omniscient reader spoilers #omniscient readers viewpoint #omniscient reader's viewpoint #kim dokja #han sooyoung #kdj #demon king of salvation #73rd demon king

82 notes · View notes

see-arcane · 1 year ago

Text

It's been said before, it needs saying again, @re-dracula is going above and beyond with the audio and it brings the narrative weight crashing down on the listener's head like a gothic sledgehammer.

Even when reading, it's hard to align in your head just how much happens in the span of only a few days. How the bootheel of Dracula's presence and all the horror around him comes smashing into everyone's world like a sadistic child crushing anthills. The few motes of good news--Lucy's memorandum and thin survival, the Harkers' inheritance, the return of Quincey--are just that. Motes that contrast the the lightless atmosphere around them.

Hearing actual voices paint in the details adds dimension to every action and reaction in a way that kind of skated over my head last year, like I was trying to inhale the whole section at once. Listening forces you to walk beat-for-beat along with the characters. No rushing past, no ripping off the narrative band-aid.

Listen to the benign animal get ripped out of its own free will by a monster.

Listen to Jack discover the deadly silence of the house and the rising fear of everyone still left with a heartbeat in that place.

Listen to the possessed hands that wrote the memorandum try to destroy it before it can be of use.

Listen to the distant pain of the Harkers losing yet another life in their already-small circle.

Listen to every. Last. Beat.

All of this, in a day.

More to come in the next.

And you will not run through it, but walk.

#anyway #I'm feeling things this morning and am Not ready for another goddamn meeting #augh #this one hurt #the next one's going to agonize #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

275 notes · View notes

breakfastteatime · 6 months ago

Text

Today's Survivor request is for @noire610 - Don't go.

Cere is the first to leave. Cal can barely look at her, his anger, his disappointment, choking him into silence. He finds her in her cabin, packing up her belongings. Well, she’s missing one, and he holds it out to her; her lightsaber hilt, his crystal removed from it.

She takes it, as mute as he is. He’s not sure what the gesture truly means.

It’s yours, it belongs with you, take it back. It feels right.

I can make my own lightsaber. I’ll find my own way without you.

Thank you, Cere, for everything.

Cere shoulders her pack and heads for the exit. Her final words?

“Be safe, all of you.”

Greez sobs.

Merrin returns her well wishes.

BD accepts a final pat on the head.

Cal says nothing.

Don’t go.

He can’t say it. He’s not sure he means it.

(He does. He does mean it. Don’t go, Cere. Don’t leave – )

Merrin is the next to leave. Like Cere, she takes everything she has, packing it all into a backpack she shoulders without complaint. She gives Greez a hug, accepts one from BD, and takes one of Cal’s hands in her own.

“I will see you again,” she tells him.

Don’t go.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice so harsh he’ll be lucky if Merrin ever looks his way again, let alone speaks to him. “Be safe.”

He can sense her need to say more, a need maybe to explain herself, but even if she screamed it directly into his ears, he wouldn’t be able to understand it.

Don’t go.

They drop her off on Ord Mantell. She doesn’t look back, and Cal doesn’t watch her go.

It’s no surprise when Greez says he’s going too, it’s too much for him, he’s lost his touch, literally, and all this flying from one warzone to the next isn’t doing him any good. He tells Cal to leave him on Nar Shaddaa, he’ll figure it out from there, and yeah, kid, the Mantis is yours, take care of her until I ask for her back, because she’s still mine, don’t you forget it, and by the way –

Don’t go.

But Greez goes too. He goes, and then it’s just Cal, BD, and the Mantis. It’s too big for the two of them. It doesn’t matter than Cal can walk around barefoot or leave dirty plates, cups and spoons all over the galley without reprimand. It doesn’t matter that he can leave laundry wherever he wants. It doesn’t matter if he fails to wipe down the decks. Who cares if he takes caf into the cockpit? No one’s there to yell at him.

Don’t go.

Don’t leave me.

Don’t leave me with all your echoes.

Greez in the cockpit, checking landing coordinates.

Cere, reading in the lounge.

Merrin, making potions in the galley.

All three of them, living ghosts all over the ship.

He sits in the pilot’s seat, adjusted for his height and number of arms, staring out at space, BD beside him on the dash. He swallows, throat dry, belly empty because he’s forgotten to eat. He’s forgotten a lot of things, including how long he’s been staring out at the stars.

Alone, again.

Adrift, again.

“BD?”

BD looks over.

“If you’re waiting for the time to tell me you’re going to, this would be it.”

Outraged, BD squawks and launches himself into Cal’s arms. He’s not going anywhere. Where Cal goes, BD goes.

“You’re sure?” Cal hears a crack in his voice.

Sure? Is he sure? BD thumps his head against Cal’s chest.

“Thanks, buddy. For everything.”

BD suggests they get back to the mission, after Cal’s had some dinner.

“You up for it?”

Of course BD’s up for it! “Great, because I know where Saw Gerrera’s at, and he’ll have a mission for us.”

#fic requests 2024 #star wars jedi: survivor #jedi survivor spoilers #jedi survivor headcanon #jedi survivor minific #the mantis crew #cal kestis #cere junda #merrin #greez dritus #bd 1 #angst #oh the angst #this one hurt #it hurt a lot

86 notes · View notes

vivwritescrappythings · 7 months ago

Text

silence

eddie munson x reader

the five times you asked eddie to be quiet (and the one time he was)

tw: ANGST, but also fluff?, hurt no comfort, blood, death, trauma, reader is gender neutral (i think), kissing, alcohol, mentions of drug use, reader is shorter than eddie.

wc: 8.5k

masterlist

—

The first time you discovered that Eddie Munson was an unstoppable force of nature all bottled into the lanky body of a nineteen-year-old boy, it was at work.

The Hawkins Library was not frequently visited on Friday evenings, your shift often filled with the sound of you restocking books on shelves and the squeaky wheel of the cart you pushed around. So you instantly noticed the loud, raucous voice interrupting the calm evening like a knife through butter.

It fired you up, your brow furrowing as you abandoned the cart of returned books to discover the source of the noise. There were a few people lingering in the plush chairs scattered through the atrium that looked up at you as you stormed past, the jingle of the keys around your neck punctuating your steps.

You were young to be working at the library, you were the only person there who was under the age of forty, let alone just nineteen. You liked books, didn’t mind a quiet workplace, and the Hawkins Library had an opening that you managed to squeeze into. There weren’t any other plans in your future, so you figured the library wasn’t a horrible place to end up.

It wasn’t hard to recognize Eddie Munson. He still wore his denim vest over his leather jacket, the patches haphazardly sewn on in uneven stitches. He made it during your senior year of high school… well, his first senior year of high school. You thought he was on his second round, at least that was what you’d heard from Nancy. The frizzy, curly hair on his head was the same, but he had it pulled into a loose bun at the nape of his neck. Hellfire club was seated at a table, the actual boys having changed but they still wore the same shirts.

“Roll for initiative!” Eddie’s voice had a theatrical fullness to it. There was an authenticity to him that you envied.

“You can’t shout like that in here,” you barked in your best attempt at an authoritative tone, crossing your arms over your chest as you stood behind Eddie. You said it a bit louder than was acceptable, wanting to make sure you were heard over the clatter on dice on the wooden table.

He looked like a kid that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar when he turned to look at you, a kiss-ass smile on his face.

“You need to quiet down,” you said, looking at the minions before their ringleader. The boys shied away from your gaze, looking down at the hands and the hand-drawn map in front of them. Eddie, their fearless leader, approached you and took the full heat of your stare.

“Aw c’mon,” Eddie softly whined, clutching his hands to his chest as he started to plead with you. You noticed that his eyes were puppy-dog brown as his lip jutted out far enough to cast a shadow from the overhead lighting.

You scoffed slightly, rolling your eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the drama room, Munson?”

Hellfire had taken a residency there your sophomore year of high school, meeting every Friday night to play Dungeons and Dragons. Eddie had even gotten himself a throne, the self-declared king of the misfits.

“They’re repainting it and threw us out,” he finally sighed, stopping his approach when he was just a foot away from you. “Please, take us strays in. We’re cold… winter’s here…” His voice trailed off pathetically as Eddie pretended to crumble to his knees in front of you.

You managed to stay stoic for a few moments, your arms still folded over your chest in disapproval as one of your eyebrows ticked up. Eddie had always been talented at making a spectacle of himself.

He finally broke you, pretending to sob as he lightly tugged on your cardigan. His little whimper for your mercy made you roll your eyes despite the fact that you cracked a smile. A soft laugh huffed from your nostrils, making you shake your head.

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he would get up sooner rather than later. “But you owe me.”

He clambered to his feet, adjusting his vest and leather jacket as he flashed you a sincere, boyish smile. Your heart stuttered at the sight of it. His pink lips briefly shut, his tongue pressing into his cheek as he looked you up and down. “How about I make it up to you with dinner? Maybe tomorrow?”

Your cheeks heated up as you slid from bossy to bashful. “Dinner? Um, sure,” you murmured, your fingers reaching up to press at the nape of your neck as a small smile formed on your face. You’d never considered dating Eddie, but as soon as he offered you found yourself readily agreeing.

The Hellfire boys giggled amongst themselves and elbowed one another. The sound of their chuckles reminded you that you were at work, making you draw yourself up once more.

“But keep it down!” you reminded him sharply, some of your composure returning as you started to turn away from Eddie and his retinue.

“Of course we will,” he said in an exaggerated whisper, winking as he placed a finger against his lips. You knew it was a complete lie, even as he crossed his fingers over his heart and jostled the buttons pinned to his breast pocket. After a moment you nodded, leaving the group to themselves as you made your way back to your cart of books.

As soon as you rounded the corner you heard what you came to recognize as Eddie’s Dungeon Master voice booming out across the library.

ii.

It was only your third date when you’d learned that Eddie was thoughtful: an evening spent walking around the new shopping mall completed with seeing a movie in the attached theater.

You didn’t think your dinner would end so well, ending up with you two talking late into the night before you’d parted ways. You found yourself calling him to ask him for a second date, having to leave an awkward message with his uncle.

The second was even better, the two of you watching movies you’d rented from Family Video on your thrift store couch in your too-small apartment. What started with awkward smiles each time your hands touched or knees bumped morphed into Eddie clumsily pressing a kiss to your lips in the blue-tinted darkness.

He started this date with a kiss, curling an arm around your waist as you walked up to his van and pulling you in for a quick stamp of his lips on yours. It was so easy, it felt like you’d been kissing for months rather than the first time a few days prior. You melted into it, finding yourself a bit lightheaded as he opened the door for you and ushered you into the passenger seat.

Walking around the mall included his fingers wrapping around yours, splitting a milkshake in the food court, and a long excursion to the arcade.

You were amazed with just how boisterous he was. Eddie was so expressive, moving your hand with his as he talked about his band and his hopes to someday leave Hawkins. You listened like a disciple, wide-eyed and enamored. Life exuded from his every movement, a broad smile on his face as he jumped up to walk on the rim of one of the planters.

But he surprised you by actually steering the conversation your way, making you go into Waldenbooks to listen to you talk about your favorite books and Tape World so you could pick out your favorite songs. You didn’t know until later that he had gone back the next day to buy everything you’d picked up so he could surprise you��that’s how smitten he was.

You told him about how you liked the library but wanted to feel like you were really doing something with your life. He listened as you rambled, his eyes taking in the way you smiled and looked around when you talked and how you swung your intertwined hands even more aggressively to make your points.

He told you later that it was that moment he knew he was in love.

But, nevertheless, you two found your way to the movie theater and sat down in the back of one to watch The Breakfast Club with a blue raspberry ICEE shoved into the cupholder between the two of you. Eddie had only asked the boy at the snack counter for one straw, forcing you to share it.

He talked through every movie trailer, his sarcastic commentary making you laugh under your breath as the two of you looked at one another like co-conspirators. Eddie went out of his way to ask which ones you wanted to go see when they came out. He planned outings with you in barely-hushed whispers, already asking if you liked midnight premieres or Tuesday afternoon movies and if you liked to sit in the middle or the back of the theater.

Midnight premiers. The back of the theater.

Eddie made sure you never missed a movie you’d been talking about, showing up at your apartment at half an hour to midnight to whisk you away to the Starcourt Cinema. He always made sure you sat in the back, once even making some kids he knew from Hellfire club move out of the way so you two could have a seat. You saw so many movies that you could hardly keep track of them.

But this one was special because it was the first. When the lights went dark he didn’t change his volume, his hot chocolate eyes focusing on you like you were the only person in the world.

“Eddie, the movie’s starting,” you whispered, nodding your chin toward the screen as you leaned toward him. You reached around the cup to hold his hand, the cool condensation clinging to the outside of it smearing along your forearm as your temple nudged his shoulder. “You gotta be quiet.”

“Hmm?” He turned to look at the screen, letting out a soft ‘oh’ as he squeezed your hand once.

It only took him a moment to talk again. “Detention s’not like that, you know,” he informed you, his voice still well above a whisper.

iii.

It was early for a Monday when Eddie had imprinted himself on your heart like the tattoo on your hip.

It was your day off and Eddie’s as he hadn’t started school quite yet. He was still asleep, probably sprawling out on your bed like an overgrown starfish and snoring into the pillow on your side of the bed. You’d discovered that you were the early bird of your pair, you often rose well before Eddie was ready to be cognizant. You held your breath and tiptoed while getting out of bed to brew coffee and watch television with the volume turned down low.

You were clad in his Iron Maiden shirt, having staked your claim on it when you started keeping it in your dresser drawers. It was the tail-end of the dog days of summer, loose sleep shorts on your legs as you sat in front of a fan you’d set up in your living room. Eddie was hogging the one in your bedroom, conveniently setting it up on his side of the bed.

Your coffee had long gone lukewarm, the unforgiving August sun stretching in your living room through the curtains as you sat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. The television provided white noise, some game show playing while you idly sketched on the notepad in front of you.

It was a monster for Eddie’s campaign, he’d been describing it all night and you couldn’t get it out of your head. You didn’t consider yourself much of an artist, but Eddie always praised you like you were Picasso reincarnate. You drew his monsters all the time, he kept the loose pieces of paper tucked away in the beaten-up notebook he always carried around.

The groan of your air conditioner ruined your perfect morning, the machine finally giving out like it had been threatening to for the past few weeks. Cool air stopped trickling through the vent in your kitchen as you fished a partially burnt piece of toast from the toaster.

“Fucking of course,” you sighed, dropping the toast on the chipped Snoopy plate you refused to get rid of. The motions of buttering the bread and spreading jam kept your hands occupied, your bare foot tapping against the tile as you wondered who to call to fix it. You had the landlord’s phone number written somewhere, rifling through your mental checklist of places it could be.

Eddie emerged from your bedroom as you’re rifling through your junk drawer, emptying the contents onto the kitchen counter. What possessed you to keep all this crap? There were too many odds and ends to count, loose batteries and bobbins of thread and scraps of paper and a spring rolling across the ivory tiles.

“What’s got you in crazy tornado mode this early in the morning?” Eddie asked, approaching with slow, groggy steps as he rubbed his eyes. He stood behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“Air conditioner broke.” You jolted when you found the crumpled slip of paper where you’d scrawled the phone number, holding it up like treasure you’d dug out of the ground.

Eddie chuckled, letting you go with a kiss to your temple before he disappeared into the bathroom. Your gaze followed him as he did, noting that he’d taken his shirt off at some point. The swirling black lines of his tattoos were on full display as you dialed the number, twisting the phone cord around your finger.

Seeing Eddie without all his garb felt like a special privilege. The first time he slept over he’d stripped to just red checkered boxers and his socks, letting you stare wide-eyed at the tattoos that littered his skin. The two of you had stayed up talking about them until the sun was rising, Eddie’s cheeks tinted pink every time you reached out to trace the designs.

You particularly loved the wonky stick and poke tattoo he’d given himself above his left knee, big block letters that said DUNGEON MASTER but were slightly wobbly. He was embarrassed when you’d asked him to give you one.

There were no tattoos on your skin when Eddie had you lay down on the floor of his room in the trailer, kneeling over you with a needle shoved in the end of a pencil eraser. You noticed he stuck out his tongue when he concentrated, worried about messing up the placement of the lines. It stung, the first poke making you squirm and forcing him to smooth a big hand on your stomach to keep you still.

You traced the shape of the healed star tattooed just above the waistband of your shorts as you leaned against the wall near your phone, some of the lines were a little crooked but you didn’t care.

“Mr. Frask’s Office.” The shrill voice brought your attention back. Mr. Frask was one of the biggest landlords in Hawkins, some rich investor from Indiana who owned a bunch of buildings they constructed near the outskirts of town.

“Hi, um, my air conditioner broke down and I need someone to come out here and fix it,” you said, turning so your back was to the bathroom door as you twisted the spiral phone cord up and down your index finger. There was a crackle of static on the other end of the line, you could hear the woman shifting around papers on her desk.

She asked you which complex you lived in, making you stretch the phone cord as far as it could go as you leaned toward the big window in your living room. “Um, Appletree West?” It sounded like more of a question than an answer despite the fact that you were staring at the wooden sign at the entrance of the parking lot.

You hardly could process what was happening before your instincts had you moving. A cold, wet press to the nape of your neck made you yelp straight into the receiver as you twisted away from it. Drops rolled down your spine, the cool water making your skin erupt in goosebumps.

Eddie snickered behind you, letting the ice cube he was holding slide down the back of your shirt. You made a strangled noise, completely forgetting about the phone as you yanked your shirt with your free hand and let the ice cube fall to the carpet.

“Are you okay?” The voice on the phone was quiet, fighting over the short distance to your ear as the woman reminded you of her presence.

You narrowed your eyes at Eddie. “Yeah, sorry about that. There’s some crazy guy running around outside, caught me by surprise,” you said, shooting Eddie a glare over your shoulder. He grinned wide, dimples showing as you rolled your eyes.

You smothered the receiver with your palm. “Eddie, I’m on the phone,” you hissed, scolding him as you returned to where the phone hook was on the wall.

He followed amiably like a puppy, standing right behind you as you turned away from him in an attempt to hide your smile. Lanky arms curled around your waist, nuzzling his nose into the back of your neck. His fingertips drummed a beat against your abdomen.

“What unit number?” the woman asked, sounding bored.

“Unit 1-12.” Eddie licked a long, wet stripe up the side of your throat, his warm tongue pressed flat and wide against your skin. You made a strangled sound, his arms keeping you from squirming away as you pushed his head away with your free hand.

“Ask if they can make your upstairs neighbor stop fucking that lady so loud,” he whispered in your ear, making it hard to concentrate on what the woman on the phone was asking. Your upstairs neighbors had been going at it pretty loud as of late, their yowls making them sound more like crappy pornstars than an actual couple.

You covered the microphone with your hand, turning to glare. “Eddie, I’m on the phone. Can you please be quiet?”

He smirked, loving to get a rise out of you. “You never pay attention to me.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to wrap up the phone call as soon as possible as Eddie continued to mutter nonsense into your ear. The property manager would be coming by in a few hours, the woman rattling off information that prompted you to hum and nod as though you were in the room with her.

Eddie’s hands started to snake beneath the hem of the shirt you wore, his calloused fingertips snapping the waistband of your underwear lightly. He pressed wet, noisy kisses down your throat and beneath the spot on your ear that made you shiver.

“Thank you!” you squeaked into the phone, a blush creeping up on your face. You hung up before the woman had time to respond.

You turned in Eddie’s embrace, his shit-eating grin was wide as he backed you up until you were trapped against the wall. “You are incorrigible, Edward Munson,” you scolded, lips scrunching to one side and nose wrinkling in an attempt to hide the smile on your face.

He snickered, his chocolate brown gaze taking in your expression before he leaned down to worm his way into a kiss. It was quick and chaste, when he pulled away you found yourself following his lips as though an invisible string connected you. He tasted minty like your toothpaste. “I love when you talk librarian to me,” he murmured, a huff of a laugh breathing over you.

“Library assistant,” you corrected, tracing the spider tattoo just beneath his left collarbone.

It was already starting to get warm in your apartment, soon the two of you would be too hot to even talk to one another if the air conditioning didn’t get fixed.

He hummed his understanding, nodding. “Library assistant, that’s wicked hot.”

iv.

New Year’s Eve was when Eddie had promised you a future.

The party was a whirlwind.

Hawkins parties tended to be on the stranger side, especially during the holidays. No one had anything better to do, and everyone was back home with their parents for the break. The annual New Year’s Eve house party was an amalgamation of high school and college students crammed into an unsuspecting family’s home. The family of 1985 was the Perkins family, their respectable home in one of the more spacious neighborhoods. Apparently Carol’s parents had gone out of town to celebrate, letting her and her younger sister have run of the place.

Eddie forced you to come along, he had spent the past day rolling joints to sell at a ridiculous markup and didn’t want to go alone. You’d wanted to have a night at home, maybe invite some of your friends over for something small. But he begged, using his sweet puppy-dog eyes against you until your resolve crumbled. Ever the dutiful girlfriend, you went with him under the stipulation that he had to drive.

The music was loud inside the house, the lights were dim and people were everywhere you looked. Eddie had melded into a corner, his metal lunch box at his side. You could feel his gaze on you across the room as you talked with some of your friends, giggling over red solo cups filled with drinks that were too strong.

You’d found your way back to Eddie nearly every ten minutes, his gaze on your spine pulling you over to him like a moth to a flame. It didn’t matter if he was in the middle of a deal, you always clambered onto the couch next to him and nuzzled in close.

It was getting late when you’d flopped onto the couch that time. “Hi Ed,” you whispered into his ear, your voice getting a bit wobbly as the tipsiness settled into your bones. Your drink swirled dangerously in the cup, making Eddie confiscate it with a chuckle and set it on the end table next to him. He pocketed the cash, the teenager scurrying away with a newly purchased joint between their fingers.

Eddie turned to look at you, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as his arm curled around your back. “Hey, how you feeling?” he asked, his voice low as he gently knocked his forehead against yours. You practically beamed under his affection.

Your friends were watching, smiling to one another as they watched Eddie smooth a piece of hair behind your ear. The whole conversation that evening had been focused on how good he was for you, and how you seemed to blossom in a way they had never seen with your previous relationships. Despite his rough exterior, Eddie was the sweetest person you’d ever met: empathetic and kind and boisterous. You’d never been with anyone like him.

“M’good, just missed you,” you mumbled, your fingertips tracing along the borders of the patches on his vest. It was close to midnight, the two of you just a little over ten minutes away from 1986. The energy in the party was already starting to buzz, more and more attention focused on wristwatches and the clocks on the walls.

He grinned, his free hand pulling a strand of his curly hair over his mouth as he started to look bashful. “Yeah? I’ve been right here the whole time, no reason to miss me,” he said, making you roll your eyes.

Another teen approached, making Eddie wave them away with a flick of his hand as he stood. You moved with him, your fingers twined together as he tucked his lunch box under his arm and started to weave through the crowd. “Just wanna spend time with me and you,” he said as he brought you up a flight of stairs off the living room.

You agreed, nodding as he started opening doors in the long upstairs hallway. Bedrooms were full, most of the doors locked or really should have been locked. A fit of giggles erupted from the two of you when you opened a door to see a tangle of limbs on the bed, an embarrassed yelp from the pair and profuse apologies spilling from your lips as you slammed the door shut.

“Maybe I should just start doing that to you out here in the hall,” Eddie suggested, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he cornered you against the wall. He set the lunch box at his feet.

“Shut up,” you said with a laugh, your hands finding his biceps as you stretched up to kiss him. His lips were soft as always, your tongue darting out to taste him. Cigarettes and beer and your strawberry flavored chapstick he kept in his pocket just in case you asked for it.

His hands found your waist, smoothing to the curve of it as he shuffled forward, his Reebocks nudging against your Converse as he pressed the length of your body against his. “S’all dark up here, no one would even know.” He was halfway between teasing and telling the truth, his umber eyes sparkling with mischief even in the low light.

You giggled again, shaking your head. “You can just take me home if you want to do that, Ed,” you said softly, biting your lower lip.

Excited whispers began downstairs. One minute left until midnight.

The thrill of New Year’s Eve had often been lost on you, it was just another day, just another year. It never meant anything to you besides the passage of time, crossing days off the calendar as the clock ticked. New Year’s Eve was just a night where you got a little too drunk and maybe kissed a stranger if you were feeling bold.

But the last day of 1985 was different. You had plans, goals for the first time in a long time. You had college lined up in Indianapolis in August, you and Eddie were going to move out of your hellhole of a small town and actually start your lives. He was going to graduate, find a job at a record store in the city and keep making music with Corroded Coffin. He’d make it someday, you could tell from the tapes you’d been passing around at your college tours–people really liked them.

“I love you,” you whispered in the dark, looking up at Eddie with adoration written clearly over your expression.

A sweet kiss to your nose followed, making you scrunch it up. “I love you too,” he murmured, leaning in further so his frizzy, curly hair blocked your view of the rest of the dark hallway. “Eighty-six is our year, right?”

There was a hint of nervousness, you could see the seedling of fear in him that you would disagree. You didn’t understand how Eddie could think that you’d ever doubt him, not when you looked at him like he had single-handedly hung the moon and the stars.

You nodded instantly. “Of course, nothing’s gonna stop us.”

Everyone was counting down, voices shouting and the shuffling of feet as people figured out who they were going to be with when 1985 morphed into 1986. This was the first year since you were a little kid that you didn’t have to scramble to figure something out, content as you and Eddie blended into each other in the shadows of the upstairs hall.

Your voices were hushed, whispering numbers to one another in a way that was so sappy and soppy that you thought it couldn’t possibly be real. He couldn’t possibly be yours.

Eddie kissed you at midnight, so eager that your noses mashed together and your teeth collided. You were smiling into it, holding him as close as you could as your mouth melded to his. You’d kissed him often, dozens of times a day, but it always felt just as electric as the first time he’d kissed you.

And that was how your New Year’s kiss felt, giddy and eager and had your heart swelling in a way that made you think it would explode. He pulled away first, smiling down at you for another moment. “Eighty-six, baby!” he whooped, so loud that it pulled a startled laugh from you.

“Eddie!” you squeaked, your fingers pressing over your mouth. “You gotta be quiet.” You were never serious when you asked him to hush, he always knew that.

“Eighty-six is gonna be our year,” he said again, albeit much softer as he stooped down to pull you into another kiss.

It was March when you learned that Eddie thought he was a coward.

A fist pounding on your front door pulled you from the clutches of sleep. You had a long day and had passed out early, the bright red numbers on your alarm clock informing you that it was only a few minutes after ten.

It was hard to get out of bed, your mind still swirling with the confusion of waking up abruptly as you sat up and rubbed your eyes with your palms. The knocking didn’t stop, if anything it had increased in tempo. Another moment later your feet were shoved into slippers and you were blinking sleep out of your eyes as you made your way across the tiny apartment.

Your movements were slow and languid until you looked through the peephole: you’d never seen Eddie look so terrified in his life. His eyes were wide, every speck of color drained from his face and his expression gaunt.

It only took you a second to wrench open your door after panic made you fumble with the lock, Eddie’s arms immediately wrapping around you as he nearly knocked you onto the floor.

“Eddie, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice raspy from sleep as you managed to catch yourself. The majority of his weight was leaning on you, his face tucked into your neck as he pulled in labored breaths. You ran your fingers up and down his sides, your arms trapped against your body as he clung to you.

It was Hellfire night, the end of his big campaign. He’d been talking about it for weeks, ranting and raving about Vecna and how hard it would be for the Hellfire boys to beat him. You couldn’t think of anything that would make him react like this.

“Chr-Chrissy Cunningham,” he finally muttered against your neck, pitching you even further into the deep end of the pool. Your brows drew together as you nodded in an attempt to get him to talk more. He’d told you about the weird request she had for something stronger than weed, how he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to sell to her. The two of you had met up after he got out of school, sitting in the back of his van as you shared a bag of chips before you had to work. You’d just shrugged, telling him to go with his gut.

“Did something happen, Ed?” you asked, your voice soft. Worry took root in the pit of your stomach as you whirred through scenarios. It could’ve been anything, really. She could’ve taken too much, or could’ve had an accident or ratted him out. Or said something to him, she was a cheerleader after all and Eddie was sensitive beneath his carefully constructed exoskeleton.

The thought that something else could have happened spiked through you, the recesses of your mind reminding you that Chrissy Cunningham had always been a cute, sweet girl whenever she checked out books at the library. She had stunning eyes, and always asked you about yourself. That could be something Eddie wanted, a girl much sweeter than you. You pushed the thought away.

You swallowed thickly, reminding yourself of the situation at hand. He still held you close, your front door wide open and revealing the clear night outside. “Eddie, you gotta talk to me,” you whispered again, squirming in his tight grip.

He shook his head, a pathetic whimper pulling from his throat in a way that broke your heart. There was desperation in the way he pulled you closer, crushing you into his chest. You didn’t protest, letting him work through his thoughts. A breeze floated through your door, carrying in the chilly March air and making you shiver in your flimsy pajamas.

“She’s dead,” he said, and the floodgate opened as your heart stopped. “I don’t know what happened. I was in my room getting the ketamine and I came out and she was, like, in this trance. And I know it sounds crazy and you won’t believe me but she literally lifted off the ground and her eyes rolled back and–oh fuck–her bones started breaking like it was a horror movie and she fell on the ground and her eyes were sucked out of her head. Idon’tknowwhathappened.”

He didn’t breathe once as he rambled. All the air sucked out of the room as you processed what he was saying. Dead. The kind, sweet cheerleader was dead. Poor girl, cut down her senior year just before life opened up to a whole world outside of Hawkins. She was the town sweetheart, known by all and loved almost as much.

And the last person that saw her was Eddie.

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. “We need to go,” you finally said, snapping back to yourself. Normally Eddie was the one who took charge, he figured out the plans or solved the problems caused by your neuroticism. But in his time of need you found yourself naturally taking up the mantle.

“What?” he whispered, seemingly caught off guard as he pulled back and looked you in the eyes. His huge hands were on your shoulders, you could feel him trembling. “What do you mean?”

You gently placed a hand on his face, watching how Eddie flinched before he leaned into your touch. It made you want to bring him to your room and bundle him up in your quilt to protect him from the world. “Did this happen in the trailer?” you asked, your thumb stroking on his cheekbone.

He nodded, not quite grasping what you were saying. “Then we need to go, whoever finds that body is gonna think you did it.” His eyes widened in a way that told you he hadn’t considered that. “We need to get out of here.” There was urgency in your tone as you slipped from his hold, moving in a blur.

You were dressed with a backpack in hand in minutes, working Eddie’s keys from his pocket as you grabbed his wrist and pulled him after you. He was in shock, clumsy and slow as he followed you. There was the soft whisper of him talking to himself under his breath as you charged down the stairs to your second-story apartment. There was no argument as you got into the driver’s seat of the van, peeling out of the spot as soon as Eddie buckled into the passenger side.

“Reefer Rick’s out of town,” Eddie mumbled after a few minutes of driving, looking out the windshield in the dark. You didn’t know he could seem so empty, like someone had cracked him open and spilled all of his joy out. It made you feel helpless. You nodded, driving toward Lover’s Lake like you had stolen the van, cutting corners and running lights the further you got from town.

The description of Chrissy’s body was stuck with you, her limbs akimbo as she cooled on the carpeted floor of the trailer. You thought about what Eddie said, your brow furrowing as you tried to piece it all together to make a picture that felt like reality. It made no sense, sounding like something out of a Stephen King novel. But you believed that he didn’t do it.��

There was no way your Eddie could do something like that. He cried when he accidentally ran over a squirrel that crossed the street at the wrong time, he wasn’t a killer.

The two of you left the van parked a ways into the woods, hiking the rest of the distance to Reefer Rick’s in silence. Eddie startled every time a stick cracked under your feet, nearly jumping out of his skin as you reached out and slotted your fingers between his. You could tell his nerves were frayed as he barely held it together, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you gently guided him forward.

The house was locked, leading the two of you to the boathouse for shelter. Eddie tested to see if the door was unlocked as you looked anxiously over your shoulders as though the police had followed you there. There was no way they could have, the only people who knew Chrissy was dead were you and Eddie… you kept repeating it in your head. Wayne would find her in the morning when he got home from work, you would have until then to figure something out.

The door swung open and Eddie stepped out of the way to let you in. The boathouse was full of crap, boxes and small boats strewn about, tarps thrown over various items and disguising their shapes.

“We’ll figure out what to do next,” you breathed with a sigh as Eddie shut the door. You realized that you were trying to soothe yourself more than him as you pulled on the chain for an overhead bulb, setting your backpack down as you looked around.

“I didn’t do it.” Eddie’s voice was quiet, he nervously stood in front of you. His rings flashed as he wrung his hands together, brown eyes wide as he settled his gaze on a boat. You traced the silhouette of his throat and Adam’s apple, his pale skin standing out against his dark hair as you looked at his profile.

You walked over to him, pulling him into a soft embrace. “I know you didn’t, Ed,” you whispered, guiding his head into the curve of your neck. “Never thought you did, I promise.”

The sob he let out was devastating, he took big lumbering steps that moved the two of you to one of the boats that had been discarded. He guided you back onto it, crushed beneath his weight as he started to cry into your neck. The tears were hot against your skin, rolling over your throat and soaking into the collar of your sweatshirt as you held him.

You shushed him softly, running your fingers through his curly hair as you tried to soothe Eddie. “I-I didn’t do it, I swear,” he pleaded against your neck, his voice loud enough to make you nervous as you looked out the windows dotting the living room walls.

“I know, I know,” you murmured, pressing your lips to the side of his head. “You gotta keep it down, we don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

He huffed, nodding against you as he pulled you even closer. “I just ran away like a coward,” he sighed, voice cracking as he started to hiccup. “How… how could I do that? Just leave her there? I should’ve done something, should’ve called the cops.”

You shook your head in disagreement. “Ed, anyone would’ve been scared. It’s not like something normal happened.” You didn’t know what else to say, there was nothing you could tell him that would make it better. No matter what, there was still a dead girl on the floor of his trailer. “There wasn’t anything you could do.”

There wasn’t a moment of silence until Eddie fell asleep, you whispered platitudes to him in the dim light. The rough wood of the dinghy dug into your back, but you didn’t dare move a muscle as you felt Eddie start to relax and fall asleep in your arms.

It was only a few days later when your whole world fell apart.

Buying more time.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you burst from the Upside Down version of the Munson trailer, a sickening crunch and Dustin’s scream echoing behind you. The sound of the poor kid getting hurt almost made you stop and turn around. Almost.

But you couldn’t, you could only keep going as you thought about your sweet idiot of a boyfriend. How dare he risk himself like that? Didn’t he know that you couldn’t make it, that you couldn’t live without him? If he did, he didn’t seem to take it into account when he cut the rope connecting the Upside Down and Hawkins, running off into battle.

You screamed as the column of bats took Eddie to the ground by his neck. They were pulling at his limbs, scratching and biting him. What did he think that fucking trashcan lid and broom spear would do? Your legs were moving now, sprinting faster than you ever even knew you could. The ground was rocky and uneven, but you somehow kept planting one foot in front of the other. Some distant part of your brain heard Dustin behind you, his shouts matching your own.

Eddie was screaming so loud.

It was the ugliest noise you had ever heard in your life, each one cutting through your heart.

Then the bats fell, the sudden swarm dropping out of the sky like pathetic rubber toys as you reached where Eddie was sprawled on the ground. You stepped on their carcasses in an effort to get to him faster, almost slipping as their thin bones crunched beneath your feet. Blood covered his face and neck, soaking into the white fabric on his Hellfire shirt as you fell to your knees next to him.

“Eddie!” Your voice was too loud, too tight in your throat. Tears were already leaking from your eyes as you knelt over him, your hands vibrating in the air as you hesitated to touch him. It was like everything was frozen as you took in the sheer amount of crimson. There was so much blood, it pooled in every nook and cranny of his body as he slowly looked up at you.

Dustin was soon to follow, limping as he fell on Eddie’s other side. Eddie’s brown eyes rolled in his skull a little as he looked at Dustin, the teen’s face crumpled in anguish. “Bad, huh?” Eddie asked, films of blood bubbling at his pink lips as he spoke.

Yeah. The worst.

Dustin vehemently denied it, speaking where you couldn’t. There were promises of a hospital thrown out there along with the idea that Eddie would get better. He helped you hoist Eddie up, your arms cradling his torso as you pulled him into your lap. You knew it was over when Eddie cried out for a second, but you nodded, your free hand falling to his cheek as you looked down at him.

God, why did he have to be so selfless?

It only took Eddie a moment to smile as he looked up at you. But you could see the tears forming at the corners of his eyes, the way they slid down his temples and into the frizzy mess of his hair. “I didn’t run away this time, right?” his voice was tight and strangled, the sound of it so foreign coming out of Eddie’s mouth. Rowdy, boisterous Eddie, reduced to raspy whispers.

“No, you didn’t,” you managed to gasp, your voice wobbly as you found your breath. It came in harsh inhales, like you were about to drown. “You didn’t run.”

“You gotta do everything we said we would,” Eddie said, watching as you started to cry. It was still stoic enough, a few tears running down your cheeks. “You gotta go to college and live in Indianapolis and become a writer.”

It was impossible to even imagine your dreams, Eddie was there in every single one. You shook your head, your throat closing as you pressed your lips together in a stubborn line. “I can’t,” you sounded so pathetic, “I can’t without you, Ed.”

Thunder cracked over your head, red lightning illuminating the roiling, stormy sky. It sounded like Eddie was choking with each breath, blood bubbling in his throat. Dustin reached out to you, his hand clasping your shoulder as your heads bowed together, temples knocking as you both tried to keep your misery at bay. At least for now.

“You’re gonna, you’re gonna do it all for me,” Eddie argued, his breaths shortening. “You never needed me for any of it, anyways. You were always too smart for me.”

You whined, hardly even able to breathe. “Shut up,” you mumbled, your trembling fingers tightening on Eddie’s jacket in some desperate attempt to keep him with you for longer. “I need you, I need you with me. I don’t know…” You couldn’t even finish what you were saying.

“Dustin, you promise me you’re gonna take care of everyone, the little sheepies.” There was an unspoken promise that Dustin would be taking care of you as well. He denied Eddie the same way you did, mumbling that he wouldn’t have to because Eddie would be there to do it himself. But, Eddie was just as smart as he was stubborn, forcing a promise out of the teenager.

“I love you,” Eddie said, his gaze shifting back to yours. He was starting to look hazy, his brown eyes having trouble focusing on your face. His vibrancy was slipping away.

“I love you so much, baby,” you whispered, molars digging into your cheek as you tried to keep the tears stinging at your eyes from falling. The iron taste of your blood filled your mouth. “I love you more than anything in the world.” Your bottom lip wouldn’t stop trembling, your entire life falling out from under you as your blood-streaked fingers smoothed the hair curling out from under Eddie’s bandana.

Eddie’s breath turned into choking, Dustin saying his name over and over again. You watched his eyes slip from yours, the furrow in his brow smoothing out. The awful choking sound continued, his throat struggling for hair as his head turned to match the slope of your thigh. “Eddie…” you sobbed as you let the knot in your throat release, watching the last glimmer of light disappear from him, the sound of his labored breath fading to nothing.

You’d never heard a silence so deafening.

He was so quiet, so still. Eddie had never done anything quietly in his life. Everything about him was vibrant and genuine, he spent every moment pouring himself out into the world for greedy people like you to gobble up. There was never a moment Eddie wasn’t trying to make someone laugh, bending over backwards for just a smile. He spent hours dreaming up songs for his band, writing down stories he would then perform for his friends over the Dungeons and Dragons table. Hell, he even talked in his sleep.

It had always been you who told him to quiet down, but you never meant it. A world without Eddie was a world devoid of color, of life.

Now that you knew his silence, you regretted every second you’d ever asked him to be quiet.

Dustin was crying, the noise bringing you back into the present. You didn’t realize that you had been speaking, begging Eddie to come back to you, to say something. It felt like you were falling, tumbling end over end as your whole life was ripped from your fingers.

Did you ever stop falling? Was there ever Wonderland at the end of the tunnel, or did it just go on forever?

You clutched Eddie’s still-warm body as close as you could, rocking back and forth as you screamed your throat raw. You didn’t know that anything could hurt so much, almost convinced that the gaping hole in your chest was real. Dustin was right there with you, an arm across your back as he sobbed into your shoulder.

You wished it was you instead, that Eddie was cradling your dead body on his lap. He would be able to recover, to move on. In your fantasy you could see him becoming a huge rockstar that wrote sad ballads about his past lover. Time would heal his wounds.

But for you? Time felt like it had stopped, the entire world paused to mourn the death of one of its best and brightest alongside you. There wasn’t even thunder overhead, just the sound of you and Dustin.

There was no way to tell how long had passed when Steve pulled you off of Eddie, shouting that you needed to go. Nancy and Robin had already yanked Dustin to his feet, Eddie’s guitar pick necklace dangling from his fist as the teen struggled against them.

“Just… just let me…” you mumbled, flinching away from Steve’s arms as you plucked Eddie’s gaudy costume rings from his cooling fingers and hastily shoved them in the pockets of your jeans. You lifted him just enough to slip his vest from his shoulders, easing his limp arms through the holes where the sleeves had once been as gently as you could. It was bloody, there were rips in the fabric.

You could see where he’d stitched your name beneath the flap in the collar, the embroidery haphazard and clumsy and so genuine that it hurt. Another scream ripped from you, your arms curling around Eddie’s shoulders on instinct as you pulled his limp form back to you.

Maybe if you held him long enough he would come back, laughing about how it was a misunderstanding of some elaborate prank he’d decided to pull. He would promise you that he was okay, making you taste the costume blood just to assure you that it was fake. Then he would grab your face between his hands and kiss your forehead and nose and lips, and you’d make him swear to never do something like that ever again because it felt like a part of you had died with him.

But he didn’t do any of those things.

It took Steve forcing you off of him, arms locked around your waist and hauling you up from the ground. You thrashed and screamed and kicked, fighting him every step of the way as he dragged you back to the trailer. He was talking to you, but you couldn’t understand a word he said over your cries.

Even as Steve forced you back through the gate to Hawkins, you could only think about how you’d never seen Eddie so quiet.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #reader insert #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #this one hurt #cried while writing it #stranger things season 4 #joseph quinn #st s4 #eddie munson fic

80 notes · View notes

murmuringbug · 1 month ago

Text

I made some eggies plus squishy in a box on munchymc gm <3

#Drawing on gm has been so much fun I've made more art than the last few days than I have in the past month #But one of the things of drawing there is it is incredibly unperminant you cant save art at all unless bad is there to do it #Normally this is fine XD I take screenshots and move on. Cant hold onto everything right #This one hurt #Having to leave the map and delete it myself felt like stabbing a knife into my gut #Just aaaaa #I got so many pictures <3 #Bug art 🐛🖍

27 notes · View notes

coldwateronly · 7 months ago

Text

66 notes · View notes

mingbending · 16 days ago

Text

#this one hurt #arcane spoilers #arcane season 2 spoilers #jayvik #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #viktor #viktor the machine herald #jayce x viktor #mine #my edit #arcane league of legends #arcane

26 notes · View notes

sierrasmorton · 1 year ago

Text

ANGEL & DOYLE in HERO 1X09 | ANGEL THE SERIES (1991 - 2004)

#atsedit #btvsedit #angeledit #dailyats #buffyedit #allen francis doyle #glenn quinn #angel #david boreanaz #doyle x angel #tvandcinemagifs #tvcinemagifs #tvgifs #mediagifs #tvandfilmgifs #angel x doyle #THIS ONE HURT #*

202 notes · View notes

wanderneverlost · 7 months ago

Text

Please forgive me... but I am in dread (and maybe denial?) and in no form am I emotionally ready for tomorrow.

Here's a short, spurr of the moment, heart destroying fic.

Crosshair's head faded in and out of black. Ringing sound shrill in his ears. What was going on? He tried to sit up, finding that he was already on the floor. His hand began to shake violently, chest tight, breathing shallow. Why am i shaking so much? Panic rose in his chest as he figured out why.

One word.

Tantis.

They came back. This time, he wasn't a prisoner. But something was still wrong. He breathed in and closed his eyes like Omega had taught him, it helped a little. He looked around to get a grip on what was happening.

Pert of the ceiling had come down, he and...

And then he remembered, he and Hunter were trying to help create a diversion so Omega could let out some creature. Thats when it happened: the beast had gone on a wild rampage and was wrecking havoc in the mountain.

Hunter? Wait. Where-?

He saw movement in the corner of his eye, a slight shift in the debris. Oh, no. Hunters lower half was under the rubble, his torso seeming to be fine. Crosshair rushed beside his brother, immediately relieved to see him still breathing. Unconscious, but breathing. He'd lost his helmet somewhere during the chaos.

"Hunter. Hunter, can you hear me?" Crosshair looked up at the damaged ceiling as the mountain groaned from the destruction. We need to get out of here.

He tried to look for a possible place to gain enough leverage to pull his brother out. When he tried to lift, the rubble shifted and Hunter groaned from the pain. Kriff.

"I hope you weren't planning on leaving." Hemlock's voice was on the intercom, "it's as I've said before," up in a vent, the familiar green gas seeped into the room, "you don't leave, unless I say."

He frantically looked from Hunter to the gas and the debris.

Minutes felt like lifetimes.

He strained and tried to lift the ceiling off of Hunter, screaming in an effort to be as strong as Wrecker, only to be left with little to no change.

No! It can't end like this.

Hunter began coughing from the toxins, and without hesitation Crosshair removed his helmet and pulled it over Hunter's head.

"Hunter," his voice faultered, "I- I'm sorry..." he began to cough, "Please, Maker, I'm-" he tried to choke back his sobs. The eerily familiar numbness was getting to his head, tingling sensation in his hands, he was kneeling next to Hunter. He went to reach for his brother's hand, feeling the world fall away, fingers just barely in Hunter's palm.

"I'm sorry..."

The next few moments were strange. Hearing his name called out in echos. His hand being firmly held. Lights in and out view. A face closely resembling Mayday. Hearing and feeling his heartbeat drum slowly. Each bteath taking ages to get.

And then.

All black.

He felt like a cadet again. Harsh nights when the regs were at their worst. Hunter would spot out a quiet, unnoticeable and dark space for him. He would tell him where it was most times, but on the worst of the worst... Crosshair would just have Hunter lead him to it. They'd hide together, and just let the emotions go. Hunter's arms bracing Crosshair as tears drenched the shoulder of his blacks.

He felt like he was there now. But the room was gone. Just empty space. This would be a good place to leave from.

Hunter was still there. He stayed for what seemed like forever. Too soon, he was gone too. Leaving Crosshair in a dark void.

He noticed, finally. He wasn't shaking anymore. He looked down at his adult hands... they weren't trembling. He placed them on his lap and bowed his head.

So, that's it, then?

And he waited there.

Waited for punishment.

For a guide.

Resolution.

Just waiting.

Strangely enough, the dark void began to shift into lighter colors. Something like a morning was around him. He began to hear familiar sounds, voices of his squad.

Family.

A sharp ache forced his eyes open. Sunlight bled throughout the room of the... ship? He wasn't certain where he was. But he knew exactly whose voice cried out his name and whose arms flew around his neck. His arms naturally embraced her back like he had done it his wgole life.

"Omega?" His voice was more hoarse than usual but no less filled with glad surprise.

She filled him in:

Tantis, destroyed.

Hemlock, dead.

Clones, free.

Children, rescued.

And at some point he stopped listening to her words and just became calmed by the sound and rhythm of her voice. When he tuned in again, she was on about somwthing Echo and Tech were working on. Hmmn, I'll let it alone. I'm probably not awake all the way.

Her voice continued, and he felt Hunter's eyes on him. He chanced a smile. Omega went quite, and he felt his heart throb. Home.

Hunter took Crosshair's hand in his, fingers firmly holding his brothers. Crosshair returned the grip, nodding. He felt tears prick his eyes.

He was home.

Sorry, that was longer and more detailed than I was expecting it to be. I was only going to go up to the first half and stop when Crosshair passed out and then my brain went, "Oh! No, that's not the end. Here just keep going!"

So ta-da!

I kinda got inspiration from one of the 9-1-1 episodes where Buck gets lost in a Sanitizer factory and gets lost and hopeless. Anyways, praying that i wont have a meltdown tomorrow! (Who am I kidding? Of course I'm gonna have a meltdown) 😂😭👍

@lightwise and @andymendez2354 for helping me get out of my shell

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #tbb crosshair #the bad batch season 3 #tbb omega #crosshair #tbb hunter #the bad batch hunter #this one hurt #i'm sad #im not crying youre crying #i'm sorry #im so so so sorry #im really scared you guys!!!

36 notes · View notes

katsigian · 1 year ago

Text

ᴏ ᴄ ' ꜱ ᴀ ꜱ ᴛ ʏ ᴘ ᴇ ꜱ ᴏ ꜰ ꜱ ᴜ ꜰ ꜰ ᴇ ʀ ɪ ɴ ɢ ⁺ ────────── ⁺

⤷ ᴡ ʜ ᴇ ʀ ᴇ ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɪ ᴛ ʜ ᴜ ʀ ᴛ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴍ ᴏ ꜱ ᴛ ?

⤷ 𝖎 𝖙 ' 𝖘 𝖇 𝖔 𝖓 𝖊 𝖉 𝖊 𝖊 𝖕

────⭒ I was tagged by both @shellibisshe and @thedeadthree thank you! ♡ find the quiz here. I'll tag some mutuals and friends below the cut

────⭒ 𝖙 𝖍 𝖊 𝖌 𝖎 𝖛 𝖊 𝖗

❝ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇɴᴇʀɢʏ ᴅᴇᴘʟᴇᴛᴇꜱ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ ʙʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀꜱᴋᴇᴛ. ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ʙʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇꜱ. ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴛᴀɴᴛʟʏ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʟᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴀꜱᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴏᴜʟ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰʀᴇᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʟᴇꜰᴛ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴀʏ ɴᴏ? ❞

Valen has been caught dead to rights in 4K. This fits him so well; Valen has always been someone who gives and gives, even been wiling to go so far as to give his own life. Valen doesn't even require much in return as an incentive to keep draining himself for someone he loves - he's used to only getting the most minimal affection back and that has been taken advantage of many times. Devotion like this, the kind that corrupts him, is how he tells someone he loves them. He can thank his past for that - everyone who he gave his heart to wanted more than just that. They wanted blood. They wanted to see him bleeding for them. And he did. Nowadays he's with a man who doesn't require Valen to come home to him beaten and covered in someone else's blood, but the wish to hurt and be hurt as a sign of devotion is still there.

────⭒ 𝖙 𝖍 𝖊 𝖞 𝖊 𝖆 𝖗 𝖓 𝖎 𝖓 𝖌

❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴇꜱᴛ ʙᴜʙʙʟᴇꜱ ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀꜱʏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴏᴘᴘᴏꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ. ❞

This one hurt, aha. Vesper has always been one of those people who strive for better, who wants the best. He's almost addicted to constantly searching for something more because it means that he, himself, is worthy of more. Vesper's own self worth is, the majority of the time but not always, tied to what he has achieved and owns. Not so much in a material sense, but in a "I did this on my own and no one can take it away from me" sense. Can you tell that someone has used gifts and aid against him before? So, he yearns for things he doesn't have but it's actually hoping for freedom from feeling like he'll have to pay it all back one day. Vesper's content in his love life now, safe and sound with a man who wouldn't ask for anything he gives back, but Vesper still makes sure that he can provide for himself if need be.

────⭒ As always, there's no pressure to do the quiz/share your results if you'd rather not

────⭒ I'm not 100% sure who has already done this/been tagged, so if I'm another tag in a sea of tags, feel free to ignore!

────⭒ Lastly, if you'd like to be tagged next time, let me know and I'll add you to the list! And, if you'd rather not be tagged, let me know, and there'll be no hard feelings!

@rindemption @noirapocalypto @kharonion @calibvrn @wistereia @strafethesesinners @westealtoys @spicyraeman @yharnams @hellborg @opaleyedprince @aelyosos @molochka-koshka @balverine2077 @seluned @togepies @devilbrakers @djfatchip @cetra @thefrostyshepard @ronqueesha @envergothash @enverflymm @ruinbringer @mercymaker @reapersynth @alphanight-vp @hibernationsuit @swanfey @nokstella @quickhacked @dameayliins @estevnys @florbelles @humberg @leota-nexus @peaches-n-screem @minastirithe @vanoefucks @hazellblogs @feykiller @humberg @duskfey @peaches-n-screem @timaeusterrored @ravensgard @glitchinginthegarden @elvenbeard

#thank you again!#this one HURT #10/10 #would recommend #male v #fem v #cyberpunk oc #daywalker oc #vampire oc #uquiz #tag games 💌#⠀- ̗̀ ⸨ 𝔳𝔢𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔯 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔩𝔞𝔴 ⸩⁺☀︎⭒๋#⠀- ̗̀ ⸨ 𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔫 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔩𝔞𝔴 ⸩⁺☀︎⭒๋#⠀- ̗̀ ⸨ 𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔫//𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔢 ⸩⁺☀︎⭒๋#media: gaming #game: cyberpunk 2077 #type: vp

61 notes · View notes

gumnut-logic · 1 year ago

Text

Five times Alan discovered a secret and one time he kept one (Part Three)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

This one was a bit of a challenge. It fought me (that and work had worn me out by Friday, so I had to delay writing until today).

Thank you again to the amazing @onereyofstarlight for reading through and her amazing support ::hugs tight::

And Thunderfam, I know I haven't replied to anyone yet (I figure you probably want me writing more fic instead with what time I have :D ) but I have to say you've all knocked my socks off with your kindness with this one. You are a bunch of wonderful people. The Tracys would be proud.

Warnings for all the angst and hurting Tracy boys. This one hurt to write.

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Everything was numb.

The room was dim and grey. White sheets, blue curtains, and the beep of medical monitors.

Two of his brothers sat around the bed with him, the third lying pale, wan and silent.

It was all in such contrast to his bright and energetic fish brother. He should be sitting there smirking, telling a truly awful joke.

Lying there so still…

Alan felt the well of grief deep in his belly, threatening to reach up and overwhelm him again.

He shut it down. He couldn’t afford to feel anything right now.

He’d already had his hysterics. There were no tears left. His heart was parched and dry, quietly waiting for the rain.

For the good or the bad.

Scott sat beside the bed almost as still as Gordon. His eyes were fixed on their brother, both hands wrapped around limp fingers, holding on as if to prevent Gordon from leaving.

Again, the thought caught his throat.

He must have made a sound, as Virgil looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.

Alan looked away, back towards Gordon’s sheet-draped body.

“Allie, you want to get something to eat?”

Virgil’s soft words disturbed the silence, shifting Alan’s heartbeat.

He shook his head.

Scott looked up and the pain etched into his face cut Alan’s heart to pieces.

He swallowed hard.

Virgil’s attention switched to Scott, but he said nothing further.

“Allie?” Scott’s voice cracked.

Alan moved without any thought other than hurt. He stumbled around the bed and fell into his big brother’s arms.

Strong arms. They wrapped around him and hid him from the reality in the room.

The reality that Gordon might never wake up.

And if he did, he might not be the Gordon he knew.

Scott drew in a harsh breath in Alan’s ear and the sound that escaped between his brother’s teeth was pain itself.

Alan thought he couldn’t cry anymore, but apparently he could.

He squeezed his eyes shut and refused to let out a sound, clinging to his big brother who was trembling almost as much as he.

He clung for a moment before stronger arms were gently wrapping around the both of them. Virgil was saying something, a soft, whispering rumble Alan didn’t have the energy to understand.

Time passed. He had no clue how much, but when he finally pulled away, nothing had changed. Gordon was still lying there; Virgil’s eyes were even more red-rimmed, and Scott’s expression still hurt.

“Sorry.” Alan’s voice was scratchy and harsh.

Neither brother answered him. Virgil gently rubbed his back and Scott’s hand wrapped around his arm.

Scott’s other hand had crept back to Gordon’s fingers and was again clinging to them.

Alan took a step back and cleared his throat. “I think I’ll go and find Grandma.”

Virgil’s hand stopped it’s circular motion but didn’t leave his back. “Allie-“

He stepped away a little more, his eyes drifting to Gordon, ever so grey and still.

“I’ll be back. I just need…I’ll be back.” He turned away from all of his brothers, dislodging both their hands and darted around the bed to the door.

“Allie-“ Scott calling his name hurt, but he pushed through the door and out into the hospital corridor, striding, then running down the hall.

The nurses on duty frowned at him in concern but he ignored them and ended up at the elevators where a small group of people were waiting.

They all looked at him with as much concern as the nurses.

A sign for the stairs and he pushed through into an empty concrete stairwell, the heavy fire door closing softly behind him and shutting out the world.

He stumbled down steps until everything was quiet and he could let himself fall back against a wall and breathe.

He didn’t want to think. Thinking meant hurting and since that call from Aunt Val, that had interrupted Virgil helping him with his schoolwork oh so long ago, the world had been spinning too fast.

Gordon, his amazing fish of a brother had been in an accident. A hydrofoil going faster than it had any right to, an explosion, death, and the remains of his sunshine brother jigsawed together on that bed.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Really? How did he have any tears left?

His throat ached, his head pounded.

The concrete at his back was cold, seeping through his t-shirt.

Just breathe.

It was John’s voice. His space brother teaching him how to control himself. Panic was not recommended in space.

The stairwell swam a little through the moisture in his eyes.

Panic and emotion are dangerous in space. The first step to controlling any situation is controlling yourself.

He could see his brother floating in front of him on Five.

Scott had been ever so proud of Alan that first trip up to their orbiting Thunderbird. He wasn’t allowed up there for long. Long term effects on growing bones and bodies in space had far too many unknowns. Grandma and Virgil had wired him up like a turkey ready for roasting, drawing as much data as possible as to how his body functioned in space. There was no way his family was going to risk him.

At thirteen he was still nodding at most of what his family told him, but there were frustrations. He wanted to be out there like John. John got to do amazing things while Alan was stuck at home doing schoolwork and could only watch.

But Scott had finally said yes to starting his training and that had led to finally being allowed up onto Five to learn with his brother.

It was amazing.

And frustrating even more because it was all moving so slowly.

Control meant safety.

John’s voice, ever so calm, bounced around his head.

Control.

He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. Let it out, let it take his tension with it.

Draw in another clean breath.

Let it all out.

Another.

Slow your heart rate.

John’s voice was melodic, almost hypnotising.

Calm.

Apparently this would all come naturally…eventually. For the moment he was still learning, but he was determined to get into space and make his family proud.

Scott smiled at him, blue eyes glistening.

Alan let out another breath and…

A door banged open somewhere above, and he jumped.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Mr Tracy.” Aunt Val’s voice was sharp and commanding.

“And I don’t appreciate the GDF’s lack of assistance in this matter.” John’s voice reeked of sarcastic formality. “It is clear there are suspicious circumstances. Why aren’t you investigating?”

“As I stated earlier, we do not have jurisdiction.”

“Bullshit!”

Alan flinched. John rarely swore. In English, anyway. That was usually a thing for his military brothers.

“Are you going to sit and watch this one out just like you did with the Zero X?

Alan froze.

“John, I-“

“No, there are no excuses, Colonel. This is about family. How many more Tracys have to die before the GDF actually does their job? No wonder my father felt the need to spend billions to save lives. Someone has to.”

“Mr Tracy.” Her voice was like ice. “I understand the stress you are under, so I will excuse your remarks. However…” Her tone softened. “John, I will do my best. I promise.”

“Since when has that ever been enough?”

There was silence after that, followed by a door opening and closing.

Alan forced himself to start breathing again.

A scuffle of shoes on concrete proved that only one person had left the stairwell. The remaining soul suddenly let out a sob.

Moving ever so quietly, Alan crossed the stairwell and peered up the stairs.

His star brother had his back to the concrete wall just inside the fire door. His head was in his hands as he let himself slide down the wall until his butt hit the floor.

The sound of crying echoed down the steps.

John never cried.

Out of all of them, he was the calm one. Likely because of his job in space and that control and all. That and if he did, he did it in space where no one could see or hear him.

So seeing him crumpled on the floor sobbing into his hands…

Alan put his foot on the first step to climb up…

The fire door flew open with a bang.

Alan scuttled backwards into the shadows.

“Oh, John, honey.” Grandma hurried over and wrapped his brother in her arms. She drew his head to her shoulder.

Alan’s eyes widened as John clung to their grandmother, so far from the calm man Alan knew.

“I should’ve seen it.” The words were rasped out.

“You can’t see everything, honey. You’re not a god.”

“But I should-”

“You were busy with Scott in Japan. You were doing your job.”

“Just like I did with Dad.”

“John!”

But nothing more was said for some time and Alan grew more worried by the moment. His family was falling apart.

John was a huddled mess in the corner of a hospital stairwell, the concrete as grey as Gordon’s room.

Alan’s chest tightened again.

“John, Alan, get back here now!” Virgil’s voice was harsh over comms.

Alan didn’t think, he just moved. John and Grandma made it through the stairwell door while Alan was only halfway up the steps. He cursed himself for leaving in the first place.

The corridor was an ignored blur and he threw himself through it at a run. He skidded into Gordon’s room, past a jagged hole in the door itself that hadn’t been there when he’d left.

His family was crowded around Gordon, his fish brother’s eyes open and staring at Scott.

Voice whisper quiet. “Keep th-the noise down. Tryna sleep.”

Gordon’s eyes closed and his face relaxed.

Alan bit the inside of his cheek and looked up at Scott.

Exhausted blue eyes shone with hope.

-o-o-o-

Part 4

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #alan tracy #john tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #sally tracy #grandma tracy #val casey #nuttyfic #thunderangst #all the warnings #this one hurt

59 notes · View notes