#but it’s worth it ig | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

poppy-metal · 4 months

Note

MARRIAGE COUNSELING W ART PLEASEEEEEEEE GOD THE DEVASTATION THAT TAKES PLACE ON THAT COUCH

i think about it alot. tashi staying with patrick, her injury never happening. your arts college girlfriend and now you're married and it feels fucking stagnant, your relationship. but neither of you wants to give up. neither of you wants to reveal to the other true feelings.

under the cut because this got long and i have a whole au in my hear around this concept

you're only in counseling because of tashi. because shes still in your lives, her and patrick. and she recommended it to art when they were having one of their 'friend' lunches. and now here you are, because of course art took her advice.

he hasn't said anything, though. despite pleading for this. saying he wanted to save your marriage, that he wanted to love you how you should be loved but he didn't know how.

so here you are, on opposite ends of the couch, with the counselor staring at the empty space between you like that in itself is very telling. you suppose it is, in a way. couples who want to stay together should be unified, shouldn't they? you imagine how it would feel, if art had sat next to you. put an arm around you. squeezed you to his side. would you even be able to relax into him? its been so long since you touched eachother that way.

"so im picking up on some distance here," your therapist says. shes a small woman. almost swallowed by her chair. her glasses are perched on her nose as she gazes imperiously at empty space separating you and art. "not just physical either, though thats rather obviously there. but emotional distance. do either of you wanna comment on that?"

you cut a glance at art, expecting him to speak up since this was his idea - well. tashi's. but he just looks down at his lap, quiet. spins his wedding band around his finger.

you feel an anger so intense it pricks your eyes with tears.

"well, i guess you could start with the fact that coming here wasn't even either of our idea. it was his friends."

and now. here art speaks. his head jerks up and she shoots you an annoyed look. "you don't have to say it like that. you always say it like that. her name is tashi and she is my friend. and it was her suggestion, yeah, but it was a good one."

you look at the therapist - janet. raise your eyebrows in arts direction like, get a load of this guy. your legs cross and you start picking at a stray string from the couch.

"first words of the session and its to talk about another woman."

arts inhale is sharp and you can feel his eyes on you but you dont look at him. you can't. you wont. you're right, anyway. he can try to deny it all he wants but you know - you know what you are to him. you know where all your problems stem. you dont need to be here to make any grand discoveries over a fact you've resigned yourself too.

"i see." janet says. "and art having a relationship with this other woman upsets you."

"everything upsets her." art cuts in, sounding tired. his elbow is braced on the arm of the couch and hes chewing on his thumb in one of his nervous gestures. he always did that, as long as you've known him. he was a nail biter, he'd chew his lips raw, he'd nibble on straws, the ends of his pens. he was either lost in thought or agitated. your guess was the latter. "nothing i do makes her happy."

"is this true? are you unhappy with art?"

your skin feels hot. you shift around in your seat. the attention is all on you, and it feels like you've done something wrong, even though you know its literally janets job to ask questions.

"more like i know I'm not what he wants and that makes me...... really fucking sad."

art knees almost knock against yours as he turns his body to face you, giving you his full attention the first time today. you cant meet his eyes still, so you look at the faded spot on his jeans. light blue, like his eyes. you wonder how hes looking at you. cant make yourself look up to see.

"what." he stops. seems to gather some thoughts. tries again, with a steadier tone. "what are you talking about."

you try not to roll your eyes. your arm flings out limply.

"just that this whole thing is a joke, art." and you let out an exasperated laugh, even though nothing is funny. nothing has been funny or light between you two in a long time. "we're only here because the girl you really wanted to marry, told you to get your fucking shit together. you didn't ask us to come here because you wanted to mend something, you're here to please tashi. because if playing a good husband is a role she wants for you - well, you want to play it right, dont you?"

its quiet after that. in the silence you cant help but think about those early days. when you'd been full of love and light and art seemed to be really happy with you. you'd go on dates to the movies, walk through the park together with your hands swinging between you. laugh together and steal kisses whenever you could. you felt high back then.

it didn't even matter that art had a crush on tashi, because hell, you had one too, at the time. but she'd started dating patrick, and they seemed to mesh well together. they were both so intense and passionate. back then, you'd been alot closer to tashi yourself. patrick too. you remember the way she'd rant about how much she fucking hated him, pacing around your room and calling him every name under the sun. and you'd sit there with eager curiosity, and ask her why she didn't end it then. if he makes you so angry, why stay?

and she'd get this faraway look in her eyes. kind of wistful. kind of sad. kind of happy.

"because he makes me feel fucking alive. hes like a - like a drug or something. i cant quit. its addictive, you know?"

that stuck with you. it still sticks with you. you remember being envious of that kind of passion. youe relationship with art had always been so easy. you dont think you'd ever fought by that point. you loved art. you felt safe with art. but were you addicted to him? if you broke up - would you feel withdrawal symptoms?

sometimes you layed awake at night and thought about starting a fight - breaking up for no reason. just to see if he'd fight for you back, if the missing of eachother would be so intense one of you would cave.

but somehow you knew that wouldn't be the case. thats just not how you and art operated. if you got angry, he wouldn't rise to meet you, he'd back down. if you ended things, he wouldn't chase you, he'd let you go.

patrick and tashi were fire and brimstone and you and art was ice and you were....... dirt. solid. walked upon. dependable and not at all exciting.

when art had proposed to you after college graduation it wasn't spur of the moment as it had been with patrick when he'd swept tashi up with a ring and a elopement to vegas. it was talked about and agreed upon and you knew it was coming.

you still said yes.

"you think," and arts voice has a barely concealed tremble to it that makes you look up, finally. you're shocked to see he looks wounded. so many of his expressions you can count on one hand - and this - this wasn't one of them. his eyes are dark, stormy. "you think i dont care about our marriage beyond what someone else has to say about it? you really think that?"

you hate the sliver of guilt you feel, because its not a crazy thing to feel.

"yeah, i really do."

because well, that's the truth of the matter isn't it? you and your husband stare at eachother. and it feels like you're looking at a stranger. not the man who's freckles you used to kiss. who's fears you knew. who's hands you know every callous of, every divot and fingerprint.

"it seems you two have very different views of how the other views this marriage." janet cuts in, sounding curious. she taps her pen against the open notepad on her lap. "art, would you like to chime in on why you wanted to come here? even at the suggestion of someone else?"

art stares at you for a long moment. his face is unreadable to you. his jaw works before his chest expands on an exhale and he looks away.

"i guess i - i just didn't realize how..... stagnant things had gotten until it was pointed out to me. harshly." he winces, and you wonder exactly what tashi had to say to him. you haven't talked to the other woman for some time. contact fizzling out after your marriage to art. he flicks a glance to you, then away again. "im not the best at being aware of shit going on around me." his hand comes up to rub nervously at his neck. "i guess you could say im good at brushing things under the rug. going through the motions. that sort of thing."

janet nods like this makes sense to her. well, great, you think. you know my husband more than i do.

"you're not a fan of confrontation, are you?"

art actually laughs. a genuine one. one that brings a dimple to his cheek and flashes his teeth. you stare at it, like its an exotic animal, and you wont see it again. quickly you catalog the expression in your memory, so you dont forget what he looks like when hes happy.

"yeah, no." he shakes his head. "but I think thats part of the problem. I've obviously let too much shit get put under the rug and now its so full other people are noticing."

you look down at your hands, lips pressed together. your face burns at the knowledge that tashi and by extension - patrick - know your marriage is in shambles. how embarrassing, to be caught lacking in such a momentous way. to come up short and have your husbands friends know about it. you wonder - does he talk about all the ways you make him miserable with them? does patrick shake his head, say, "she's sucking the life out of you, man." does tashi look at him with pity? like hes some poor abused cat that needs to be let in from the rain?

the rain of your marriage.

the rain of you.

you're the storm. you're the problem. you're not enough. art needs fire. you're not even dirt, you're glass. and you can feel yourself breaking.

"that clearly hit a nerve, my dear." janets voice is soft. soothing. she hands you a tissue and you realize you'd begun to cry. "do you want to explain what you're feeling about what art said?"

"i...."

you dab dab dab at your eyes. sniffle. look around the room, trying to collect your thoughts. they feel like flyaway dandelions. you dont know which of them to grasp.

a warm hand settles over yours in your lap and you startle. its arts hand. warm and calloused and tan, covering yours. the gold glint of his wedding ring winks at you, the engraved words etched into them, "my soft epilogue". a shortened version of your favorite qoute i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love.

at the time, that's what art was to you. your life before him hadn't been easy. being with art had felt like coming home from a long day and falling into a soft bed. it had felt like being able to land after weeks of being made to fly.

you turned your palm up, so he could slide his fingers between yours. he squeezed your hand.

"i think, i. i think i just think - I'm a failure." your bottom lip wobbles. you look at your enterwoven fingers and it makes you so sad that you haven't done the simple gesture of holding your husbands hand in months. "the two most important people in your life are. are so passionate and loud. and i see. i see how happy they make you - and i cant - i cant b-be that for you. we aren't - im not - you dont need me. im not a limb for you how they are. you could extract yourself from me and be. be happier."

your breath shudders out of you.

"you don't need me." you echo.

you wait for him to pull his hand away. this is more than you thought you'd share. some of it you weren't even aware of till the words were spilling from your lips. but they ring true.

without patrick and tashi art would drown. without you..... he'd float just fine.

"and that's important to you." janet says. a statement not a question. "you want to feel needed by art, and you feel as though you aren't. that his needs are met better with his friends than with you."

you nod slowly.

"baby." the word sends a shock through you. not the word itself but how its said. art calls you baby all the time, in a monotonous kind of way. routine. now he says it softly. with feeling. he lets go of your hand in favor of cupping your cheek, still damp with tears, turning your face to his. he looks pained. "of course i need you. i know i haven't been good at showing it. i just - you shut down - after we got married. you've been like a fucking ghost. like you dont want me to touch you. like i could dissappear for all you care and you'd just carry on. i don't know. but i need you, okay? i. need. you."

both hands cup your face, he makes you stare right into him. the conviction in his voice takes your breath away. theres a fire burning there you've thought long put out.

"obviously we have shit to sort out, and we will. but you've got to. you've got to know that. tashi only pushed me to do this because she how - how desperate i was. that's all."

you inhale deeply. exhale. swallow hard. tears cling to your lashes. you reach a hand up to clutch at one of arts wrists. eyes fluttering automatically when you do. you feel grounded again. less like you might float away.

"okay."

"yeah?"

"yeah...." and you smile. it trembles across your lips. but its there. "we'll sort our shit."

art lets out a relieved breath. kisses your forehead, lingering there. the gesture so tender you get emotional again. you want to crawl into his lap, have him wrap you in his arms. you want to feel held by him, like you used to.

"our time is up." janet sets her pen down. smiles. "but i think that was a wonderful first session. i can see the love between you hasn't faded, and that's more i can say for alot of couples who come to see me. keep your chin up."

#ask #poppy fic #i guess?#see its complex right because reader definitely isn't crazy art DID feel some kind of way abt tashi #and still does #but hes in love w us. he is.#its just different. like.#its complicated but its like. art cant allow himself to feel passion because he thinks its too much #and you WANT passion like patrick and tashi have. you want it mixed in with the comfort and stability w art.#but arts self worth is low so hes like. why fight passionately for anything if im not enough im not enough ig #and thats sm he needs to overcome #because its making you feel unwanted #also theres definitely some feelings for patrick and tashi on your side as well #tashi definitely misses you and wishes you would talk to her #so many more thoughts on this #anyway #art donaldson x reader #reader and art just need to FUCK real rawdog real sloppy #art donaldson #challengers x reader #art x reader #failmarriage au

860 notes · View notes

livwritesstuff · 4 months

Text

It’s late in the day when Sam Owens first approaches Eddie.

Eddie is sitting in a lawn chair on the edge of Joyce and Hopper’s backyard in Hawkins, Indiana, and sort of trapped there ever since his and Steve's daughter Moe had dozed off in his lap a little while ago.

For the record, Eddie and Steve don’t live in Hawkins. They’d have to be insane to stick around after everything this hole of a town put them through, never mind willingly choose to raise a child there. No, Hopper had bullied them into making the trek home to celebrate Moe's first birthday (Jesus H. Christ, she's one) and by the looks of how crowded the yard is, he'd done the same to practically the entire rest of the Party too.

Eddie isn't actually trapped either. It's true that he doesn't really want to tempt fate by waking Moe up from a nap that he and Steve had sort of resigned themselves to skipping that day, but he could get up if he wanted to. He's a whole sap in his big age of thirty-six though, and extremely aware of how quickly Moe’s first year of life had flown by. He'd be a damn fool to not relish in these moments, when Moe is a baby still, when she's little enough to fall asleep in his lap like this.

So he's sitting and he's letting his mind wander down whatever rabbit-holes it ventures upon because he's not just a sap these days, he's getting retrospective too.

Twenty years after all the shit that went down in his Hawkins, Eddie considers himself a secondary character in it all (even though it hadn’t felt like it at the time – that’s for fucking sure).

Honestly, he'd really only been involved in about five days out of several years of that shit – not in the know yet for the first part, and unconscious for the end of it – secondary character stuff, in Eddie’s opinion (and as a two-time published novelist, he’d be the one to know).

It's probably for the best, to be honest. He barely survived even the secondary stuff — with a mostly-full picture of everything that happened over those three years he feels pretty positive that if he’d gone through anything more he wouldn’t have been so lucky.

And these days, in July of 2002, he’s feeling pretty lucky too.

“Doc,” Eddie nods as Owens takes the empty chair beside his own.

Owens is another one of these secondary characters in everything. Owens is…Eddie isn’t sure who Owens is, to be honest. A doctor in some capacity, he's fairly certain, and also a scientist too in some capacity given how he’s still in Hawkins doing research on all that shit — and he roped Dustin into it too (though as far as Eddie can tell, Dustin is a more-than willing victim in it and goddamn thrilled to be taking over his work someday too).

Someday soon, Eddie would wager, because Owens is well and truly reaching retirement age – he probably should have retired already, honestly, but Eddie can also sort of see why it might be difficult to step away from the kind of work he’s spent his life doing.

“Mr. Munson,” Owens greets him in return. Eddie watches his eyes flick down to Moe for a moment, “Or is it Pops these days?”

“That’s Steve, actually,” he replies, tipping his head in the direction of Steve, who’s standing at the grill with Hop (they’re listening to Dustin ramble about something and wearing matching beleaguered expressions).

Owens seems to understand the implication, because his only response is another one of those wry smiles and an exhaled laugh.

“Well, congratulations either way. I was very happy for you when I heard the news about the adoption.”

“Still keeping tabs on us after all these years?” Eddie asks, mostly joking because he knows the answer is yes. He knows they’ll have eyes on them for the rest of their lives for one reason or another (which he’s nearly made his peace with by now).

“Well, old habits die hard,” Owens replies somewhat tiredly, “Or something to that effect.”

Eddie doesn't really have anything to say in response, so he opts to say nothing, instead running a hand over Moe's hair — it's getting long these days, not quite long enough to style yet but long enough that she shakes her head to get it out of her eyes and knocks herself off-balance which is so so cute.

“I’ll admit," Owens continues after a while, "When I first met you, this isn’t where I thought you’d end up.”

“Yeah, you and me both, Doc," he laughs, because it's true.

“What I mean to say," he pauses, "It suits you.”

Moe chose that moment to finally stir, snuffling a bit as she lifts her head and looks at him with those beautiful brown eyes of hers.

"Good nap, bug?" he asks quietly.

She responds with a bleary, "Dada" (which she had only just started saying a few weeks ago and it goddamn kills Eddie every single time) as she nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder.

He hears Owens let out a soft chuckle.

“You’re really milking this, bug," Eddie says as presses a kiss onto the top of her head, "I think he gets it.”

#the level of strong-arming i went through with this one might not have been worth it tbh #whatever #take it and run ig #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #eddie munson #sam owens

227 notes · View notes