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tonowaritrash · 1 year

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i can’t remember to forget you

hope you guys like hurt/comfort and pain and suffering.

this ended differently than what i had originally planned. it was supposed to end with tonowari never having gone into reader’s marui , and in my mind that’s still the true ending.

pairing: tonowari x reader

tags: hurt/comfort, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex

minors dni

if there was one thing you understood about the universe it was that you could count on patterns. that no matter how unknown the sea beyond the reef of your home was, you could count on the fundamentals still running their course. you could always count of eclipse ending each night, you could always count on the seasons to cycle through the year, you could always count on the stars telling you where to go. the world may change around you but its core mechanics stayed the same, and that brought you comfort each night.

you wanted to explore, and you’d always told your parents every time you ventured a little too far into the ocean or a little too deep in forest that there was nothing to be afraid of. you knew that if things were unfamiliar you could still count on what you knew. that the fundamentals never changed. perhaps they shifted, but never changed completely. night would turn to day, the stars would stay the same and you would always be able to find your way home.

so when tonowari had taken your hand with a promise adventure to a place beyond the reef, you were more than willing to follow. you were all blushes and giggles and your ilu whistled as though it sensed your excitement. maybe it did, you’d like to think so.

eclipse was approaching when the two of you finally arrived at a lush island about 30 minutes away. it was small but there was a hill in the middle with a large waterfall that was protected by a thick forest and a carpet of flowers. it was more than you’d ever expected.

“i wanted to take you somewhere special,” he said softly, though he was a bit nervous.

“it’s beautiful,” you breathed. “wari, i love it.”

he smiled. “i’m glad. this will make things easier.”

you gave him a curious look but noticed that he was rummaging in his pouch before he took out a string of shells. you gasped.

“i know we’re still young, and my father says it’s too soon to choose a tsahik but…you’re the only one i can see myself being with. it’s not an official necklace, but it’s a promise. for our future. i-”

you kissed him with enthusiasm and he staggered only for moment in surprise before melting into it. he smiled against your lips and when you broke apart he helped clip the necklace into place.

it was a promise. a vow. that his love for you was as reliable as the world around you. that it became a fundamental truth of the universe. just as day would always come and the seasons would always change. he would love you.

that was 10 years ago.

you were so young, so naive back then as teenagers are wont to be. what nobody had told you was that fundamental truths could change, that sometimes the world you knew could become one you didn’t recognise. that people could fall from the sky and take everything. and that promises could be broken.

you were told you would heal after the news broke five years ago. that wounds that were within your heart took time. and you did heal. you were able to leave your marui and contribute to the clan. you could hunt just as well as your peers, and it only took a few months for their pitied looks to disappear. you were able to find a few other men who would court you, though none of them managed to stick around long. it began to get easier when the seasons bled into one another.

you had healed. truly. and you were happy. you had friends who loved you, a clan who took care of you, a whole world that excited you. who wouldn’t be happy?

that’s what you asked yourself as eclipse enveloped your marui and you lit your candles. their fire licked into the warm night as you arranged them, carefully putting them on whatever surfaces you had while humming. you shook out the match you’d made to snuff out its light, but your hand knocked a box off of one the surfaces in the room which caused it tumble to the floor with a mighty crash.

you swore as you picked it up, as it had been given to you by your mother who’d carved an ilu into its side. it held various things you’d found on your adventures: shells, pearls, pebbles and feathers among them. they each had a memory attached.

you noticed that something else that seemed to be a shell had fallen a bit farther and was under a table. you walked up to it and knelt down to grab it, the light too dim to make it out while it was on the floor. luckily it was withing arm’s reach so you pulled it towards you, puzzled by how it seemed to be attached to other things.

as you pulled it toward yourself, however, you felt a familiar dread creeping up your spine. it shook you, but despite your mind wanting to leave it alone, your body seemed to operate on its own.

when it was in full view in front of you, though, you froze. it was a necklace, all too familiar to you with turquoise beads and shells the seemed to glint under the candles’ glow. it was the necklace tonowari had made for you ten years ago, the necklace you wore for years before your world came crashing down on you.

your breath hitched and you could feel the tears starting to fall. this was not how it was supposed to be. you had made peace with everything. you were supposed to have forgotten about him, you even talked to him on occasion when you saw him around.

but you knew the truth, deep down. that every night you thought about him, about what could have been. the thoughts were fleeting but they never went away, as constant as the seasons, your own little fundamental truth. one you tried to reject.

you took in a shaky breath and stood up, walking out of your marui with the necklace in hand. it had to go. you couldn’t hold on to it anymore. you would return it to the sea and let the waves swallow the shells. let eywa deal with it as she saw fit.

the waves lapped at your feet as you looked into the ocean, a familiar sensation. your heart thumped like a drum and your clenched fists hurt as you raised your arm to throw it.

let eywa take it.

you were happy.

you moved on.

you’d forgotten about him.

you…

your hand stilled in the air. the water crashed into itself ahead as the breeze blew you hair in each direction.

sighing, you brought your hand down and turned, stalking back to your marui with the necklace still in your fist. the air that once was refreshing now brought a chill and the previously comforting waves seemed to roar in your ears. the world you’d carefully constructed came crashing down around you in one fell swoop.

you’d never forgotten him. you couldn’t remember to forget him. the necklace was all the proof you’d needed.

it was a necklace of empty vows and broken promises. that love could never be a fundamental truth and that everything you thought you knew could change in an instant.

-0O0-

tonowari fell into a routine.

rise with the day, help his father in the early mornings to prepare for the tasks ahead, assign fishing spots, send out hunting parties of necessary, return home to ronal and attend to her needs then sleep only to do it all over again.

it was monotonous but he drowned himself in it. it kept his mind occupied enough that it rarely wandered and he could stay on task.

but every so often he would see a glimpse of your hair, hear your giggles wafting through the crowd, smell the scent of flowers that you’d kept in your marui and reality would strike him.

in the day he longed to touch you and at night his heart ached for you. he couldn’t seem to forget you.

it wasn’t fair. he’d done everything right, became a capable fisherman that the clan could rely on, served the people just as his father had taught him and then some. he would be olo’eyktan and yet…

he got out of bed, his mind too restless to fall asleep. the world outside of his marui was dark and the sand beneath his feet crunched.

eywa was mysterious in her ways, but was there no justice in this world? a fundamental truth he had held dear as a child was that the good would be rewarded for their efforts, that karma would come around. and yet here he was, a broken man on the inside.

the waves rippled along the shore and he let them surround his feet. the water was cool and he could see a few crabs burrowing themselves into the tide pools. the night was peaceful.

he caught a glimpse of someone a little ways down the coast, a fellow clan member. she looked like she was throwing something bud from this distance it was difficult to ascertain what. curious, he walked closer as it was a strange hour to go about.

after a while she became more visible as she turned to walk back to her marui. he stopped as he realised who it was, blood running cold.

you were holding onto something and you wiped your hand across your eyes as if you’d been crying. he always hated it when you cried. he took a step forward with arm stretched out, a subconscious reaction from years ago, before he stepped on a stick.

you were about to slip back into your home when you turned at the sound. your eyes landed on tonowari who was obscured by a few rocks and you froze.

both of you stared at each other for what felt like hours. tonowari’s heart was racing as his mind filled with a multitude of thoughts that he’d suppressed for years.

“wari?” he heard you whisper.

he staggered forward, nearly collapsing at the old nickname. as though you were a magnet, you took a step too.

“what’re you doing up so late?” you asked.

tonowari’s mouth grew dry. “i could ask you the same thing.”

“i…” you looked down at your hand and tonowari looked as well. there in your hand was the necklace he’d made all those years ago. his heart tumbled.

“i couldn’t seem to let it go,” you said with a humorless chuckle.

you’d held on to it all this time? but…it seemed you were going to throw it into the sea just now. “i thought you’d moved on.”

“so had i,” you replied.

he took another step closer, now he could touch you if he reached out. you were so close but it seemed like you were worlds apart. the last five years…they really took a toll on you.

it wasn’t fair at all. none of this was. future olo’eyktan or not, there was nothing just about how things were. eywa help him.

“i still think about you,” he admitted, despite himself.

“wari…”

“i do. about what we had before i—” he stopped and sucked in his breath. “this wasn’t what i wanted.”

you avoided his gaze and rubbed the back of your neck. this damn necklace. if you hadn’t found it tonight of all nights you wouldn’t be feeling this way.

“you have a duty,” you reminded him. “you’ll be olo’eyktan soon.”

“i know.” he hesitated for a moment before he placed a tentative hand on your shoulder. he felt you tense but you relaxed under the familiar gesture.

“you have to focus on what’s important.”

tonowari frowned at this. all this talk about duty and what was important…it saddened him. “you’re important.”

“the clan is important. you should know that more than anything.”

“i do, but…” he sighed. “it should never have been like this. i made a promise.”

“a promise that wasn’t yours to make.”

the words cut through him like a knife. they shattered him.

“a cruel fate that an olo’eyktan can’t even choose who to give his own love to,” he said with ice. “a bitter irony that i am powerless in the matter that i care for the most. if i’d known—”

“would it have made a difference to the betrothal if you had?”

there it was. the word he despised. the word that had plagued him for five years. plagued you both.

you stepped back, out of the warmth of his palm. the necklace felt like ice in your hand and you breathed in a shaky breath.

“ronal and i…we haven’t mated,” he said softly. “i told her that i wanted to take things slow but i think she suspects there is another reason.”

you bit your lip. “why are you telling me this?”

“i still love you. i can’t seem to remember to stop loving you. i keep…”

“i keep forgetting i should let you go,” you finished softly.

there was a silence between the two of you. the pounding of your heart reverberated throughout your body and you thought it would punch itself out.

“i wish things were different.”

you paused for a moment before reaching out and giving tonowari the necklace that haunted you. you curled his fingers around it securely and gave his fist a soft kiss.

“for what it’s worth,” you said, “i still love you too.”

you gave his hand a final pat and detracted. tonowari held onto it firmly, fighting tears that threatened to fall.

he hadn’t known what to expect when he spoke to you. perhaps he’d thought that things would change, but as you walked back into your candle lit marui he could feel a lone, hot tear fall down his face.

you were right, ultimately. he had a duty to his people. it was best to move on. he knew this. and yet…

and yet as he watched the candles flicker out one by one he couldn’t help but think about how unfair it all was again.

he gripped the necklace tightly as it seemed to burn through his hand. all the pain and hurt and love it contained resonated through him.

to hell with duty.

“eywa, forgive me,” he muttered before walking into your marui.

you turned at the intrusion after snuffing out the last candle, surprised at tonowari’s large form towering behind you suddenly. you’d forgotten just how large he was as he didn’t like to use his size to intimidate others. but right now it seemed liked he took up the majority of your marui.

“wari, what’re you—”

his kiss surprised you into silence. melding his lips with yours you kissed him back almost immediately out of a habit still embedded within you despite years of being apart. it was desperate and hungry, with you frantically grabbing everywhere you could, feeling him.

he picked you up and manoeuvred you onto the table, the sound of displaced objects clattering around you. you didn’t care. his touch quenched your burning desire for him and you drank him in eagerly.

he kissed your neck, remembering exactly where you needed him most. everywhere his lips touched you burned and you panted, swallowing down a moan as he bit you gently.

tonowari shrugged off his clothes and helped you out of yours. he took one of your breasts in his hand and kissing it. you whined as pleasure bloomed from your most sensitive parts.

he moved down to your thighs and you shivered as he held your hand, fingers interlocking with each other. your entire body seemed to burn with a desire for him and your cunt was already soaking by the time he gave your bud a tentative lick. you choked down a sob from how good it felt.

tonowari moaned as he tasted you, and pressed himself into you like he couldn’t get enough. as though he needed this as much as you did. and you firmly believe he did.

you knew you were a goner as soon as he put two of his thick fingers inside of you and it didn’t take you long before you came, crying his name.

he smiled and stood to kiss you gently. you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him as close as you could. you wanted him everywhere. you wanted to drown in him.

tonowari gripped one of your thighs and pushed it back, opening you up to him. you were dripping onto your table, legs quivering from the stimulation.

you felt his weighty cock teasing your entrance. it slid up you slick cunt deliciously and you whined. tonowari chuckled before lining it up and pushing in.

he moaned a little as he stretched your walls and kissed you as you begged him to go deeper. his cock rubbed against you in exactly the right places and you shivered as you felt it rub against your walls. you’d forgotten how incredible it felt to have him inside you like this.

when he bottomed out he paused and you both panted as you held on to him. he chuckled as he looked down at where the two you connected.

“i’ve been thinking about this every day for five years,” he muttered before he cradled your face gently.

you kissed him but this time it was slow and full of passion. you kissed him with all the love you’d held for five years. you’d kissed him with all the pain you’d tried to ignore. and he returned it in kind.

he started moving again and your fingers dug into his back which made him hiss softly. you moved your hips with him as your walls gripped onto him hungrily as he softly encouraged you.

you lost yourselves in each each other in a mess of groans and pants. the grip of your fingers seemed to spur him on as he grit his teeth and thrusted into you with wild abandon.

when you came again you swore you saw eywa herself as the pleasure washed over you. tonowari kissed you everywhere he could, breath hitching as your walls tightened around him. you wrapped your arms around him as your hips still moved against his, selfishly not wanting it to end.

he hoisted you up again and placed you on the floor before moving your legs over his shoulders. your back arched at how deep he was at this angle and you pleaded with him through pleasured sobs.

tonowari nuzzled into your neck, his breath fanning agains you. a deep rumble resonated within him that you could only describe as a growl as he nicked at a sensitive spot on your neck.

your breath hitched, but as you realised what he was doing he bit down hard and a burst of pleasure resonated through you one final time.

he came with you with two sharp thrusts as he said your name under his breath. a shudder rocked through him as his orgasm waned and you couldn’t help but marvel at how his eyes were shut tight, how a bead of sweat rolled down his torso. he was beautiful.

when he rolled next to you to catch his breath his hand grabbed yours again and he kissed it.

your other hand brushed against the mark on your neck as the severity of what he had done caught up with you.

he inspected it with worried eyes, probably worried he’d harmed you, but the mark was fine. it felt good, really.

he reached behind him and you watched in stunned shock as he grabbed his queue.

“tsahaylu? here? now?” you asked. “are you serious?”

he nodded. “i can’t mate with ronal if i’m already mated with someone else.”

you gave him a disapproving glance and sat up. “tonowari, you have—”

“—a duty, yes. but you’re just as important to me as the clan. if being olo’eyktan means throwing away our life and happiness together, then perhaps i am not meant to be olo’eyktan at all.”

“you would sacrifice everything you’ve ever wanted — your whole life — to be with me?”

he placed a reassuring hand on your hip and pressed his forehead against yours. “everything i’ve ever wanted is right here in front of me. my whole life…it’s you.” he paused and chuckled. “i suppose you could say that’s my fundamental truth.”

you giggled at his teasing words before grabbing your own queue. the weight of what was to happen was not lost on you and you looked up at him again.

tonowari nodded and with his unworried reassurance the tendrils of your queue connected.

it was so overwhelming you thought you would drown. there were so many memories and emotions, all so powerful. and you saw yourself through him. you saw yourself ten years ago when he first gave you the necklace, you saw yourself laughing, you saw yourself crying, and you felt the pain the last five years brought him.

most of all you felt love. deep and pure. but never faltering. not for a moment. he truly loved you as he said.

you didn’t know you were crying until you felt his hands wiping your tears. he hugged you tightly and you pressed yourself against his chest, feeling his body shudder around you. it was then you realised that he was crying too. and because you were still connected you knew it was for everything. for the pain, for love, for happiness.

and for relief.

“never again,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “eywa herself would have to take you away from me.”

you closed your eyes at his reassuring words. briefly you wondered about what would happen the next day, about what clan would say. only briefly. because you knew what was true. that you would always love each other.that was something you could count on.

#atwow #avatar the way of water #atwow tonowari #atwow smut #avatar smut #tonowari #tonowari smut #tonowari x reader #tonowari x you #tonowari x y/n #yes i had shakira and rihanna singing in my ear the entire time wrote this

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steddio · 2 years

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steddie vegas au part 3

part 1; part 2

–

“YOU WHAT?” Robin shrieks, nearly smacking Steve in the shoulder with her water bottle as she whips around to face him. They’re about halfway through their morning hike, struggling uphill, and he’s impressed that she even has the energy for such an outburst. Steve is sweating like a pig and trying not to look like he’s gasping for breath.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t know who he was! And he looked kind of lost, and you know I have a tendency to adopt strays! He had these big, sad puppy eyes…”

“Eddie freaking Munson is not a stray, Steve! He’s a bona fide rockstar. Like, double platinum, Grammy-winning, cover of Rolling Stone rockstar. And you didn’t recognize him?!” Her voice is rising into a nearly inhuman register and Steve reaches out to try and calm her.

“Why would I recognize him, Robs? I never know who anyone famous is, and I like it that way. And, he seemed to kind of enjoy me not knowing. Like, his whole attitude changed once we walked past his billboard.”

Robin is gaping at him and Steve uses the opportunity to grab the water bottle out of her hand and take a swig. It’s a testament to her astonishment that she doesn’t even yell at him for it. He wipes his mouth with the neck of his t-shirt, and starts walking up the hill. He kind of regrets telling her about last night. After all, he had promised to keep Eddie’s secret. But telling Robin doesn’t really feel like telling another person. Just like having an internal conversation with the louder half of his brain.

“Besides,” he calls out over his shoulder, “it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s just another hotel guest. I’ll probably barely see him.”

Robin jogs to catch up and grabs the bottle back with a huff. “Steve. You escorted Eddie Munson to an AA meeting. That’s like, intimate.”

Steve shakes his head, “No, Rob, it wasn’t like that. I’m sure he just wants to forget about it. He probably flirts with everyone.”

“He was flirting with you?!” Robin is back to screeching.

“Well yeah, I think so,” he shrugs. “It was hard to tell, but he called me nicknames and complimented my arms.” Robin looks about ready to combust, and he tries to change the subject. “Did you see the photos of Max and Lucas from last night? I can’t believe how much she’s grown up.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do! We’re not done here!” But Robin’s eyes are soft, and she nudges his shoulder, “did you go all papa bear on Lucas?”

Steve laughs. “No, if anything I was trying to encourage Max to go for it. She called me in hysterics freaking out about whether Lucas liked her. As if that boy hasn’t been in love with her for half a decade.”

They spend the rest of the hike going over every detail he knows of his daughter’s romantic life. Robin is equally invested despite having never met Max, and he loves her for it. Even if he can’t be there every day, being a dad is the most important thing in his life. And he can’t help it, he likes to indulge in a little gossip and teenage love lives are nothing if not dramatic.

As they say goodbye in the parking lot, Robin sternly meets his gaze. “Don’t let me down, dingus. If Eddie Munson is flirting with you, you better flirt back, or I swear to god I’ll come down there and do it myself.”

“And lose your gold star status?” he teases, and then dodges her halfhearted punch to his arm.

“Alright, alright, Robs. If he talks to me, and I really don’t think he will after last night so that’s a big if, I’ll pull out the Harrington charm.” Robin gags a little at that and waves him away. He gets into his car, eager for a shower and maybe even a little bit eager to go to work.

–

When he gets into work at 2 pm, the concierge desk is a shitshow. Some beauty influencer retreat is happening in the hotel, and the person on the morning shift is completely incompetent (they’re new, Steve tries to be generous, everyone is new at some point, but goddammit he’s pretty sure Max could do the job better than this Tammy person), and so Steve spends most of the afternoon canceling and rescheduling incorrectly made spa appointments while reassuring a seemingly endless parade of 19-year-old blonde girls that yes, absolutely, they will be able to accommodate the new time, and he’s so sorry for the misunderstanding. As if that’s not enough, they all seem to be trying to one-up each other for the title of Most Ridiculous Flirt, and if Steve hears “he’s such a daddy” stage-whispered across the lobby one more time, he’s going to pull out baby pictures of Max and start waving them around.

Of course it’s in the midst of this chaos that Eddie happens to show up, leaning over the counter, finger hovering over the bell.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve whispers to him with a glare that quickly dissolves into a grin. Eddie reaches out and boops his nose instead, and Steve can’t help but laugh as he swats him away.

The spell is broken by the loud pop of gum and a whispered “holy shit, is that-?” The girls swarm to their shiny new toy, asking for autographs and selfies. Steve bemusedly watches as Eddie handles it all with grace, posing for pictures and signing t-shirts.

He extricates himself with a slight bow and an “excuse me, darlings” that nearly causes several teenagers to go into cardiac arrest, and comes back to Steve’s counter.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Steve replies. “What can I help you with today?”

“The question, Steve-o, is what I can help you with.” Eddie looks mischievous and before Steve can clarify what he means, Eddie is asking when his break is.

Steve replies without thinking. “It was supposed to be at 5.”

“Well, sugar, it’s 5:30 so I think you’re overdue. Can I buy you a coffee?”

Eddie is definitely flirting, Steve is certain of it. He momentarily debates whether he should refuse, but he already broke any semblance of a boundary last night, and today Eddie looks, well, delicious. His hair is pulled up in a messy bun and he’s wearing a cardigan thrown over a tight black sleeveless undershirt and joggers and… studded crocs, Steve realizes. Eddie must catch him staring because he raises one eyebrow and gestures behind him, towards the food court. Steve puts his trusty “Be right back” sign on the desk and ponders flipping the bird at the group of teenagers still staring open-mouthed at them, but decides that he can afford to take the moral high ground.

They weave their way past slot machines and several bars before getting in line at Starbucks. “I know this is basic,” Eddie whispers, his breath hot on Steve’s cheek. “But nothing hypes me up on performance days more than their cold brew. It’s better than cocaine.”

He pulls away with a wink, and Steve isn’t sure he should be laughing at that joke coming from someone who attends daily AA meetings, but he can’t help letting out a giggle. And it’s worth it for the brief look of joyful surprise on Eddie’s face.

They order their coffee and take a seat. Eddie is attracting a few stares, Steve notices, but Vegas is a live and let live kind of place and so people mostly leave them alone. Their knees touch under the small table, and Steve finds himself mirroring Eddie, leaning in close to talk.

Eddie asks Steve about his job, about living in Vegas, about who he was talking to on the phone yesterday. He listens patiently while Steve regales him with stories about Mad Max. Tells Steve about touring, about songwriting, about Chrissy, his childhood best friend-turned-manager.

Steve finds himself smiling more than he has in months. Eddie is magnetic, equal parts charismatic and attentive. Steve hasn’t had a date (is he allowed to call this a date?) go this well in years and twinges with regret when he glances at his watch and realizes that they’ve been talking for way longer than his allotted break time and he needs to get back.

Eddie escorts him to the lobby, and once again leans over the counter, chin on one hand. Steve meets his eyes and blushes at the intensity there.

“Thank you,” he tells Eddie. “I had… a lot of fun.”

“The pleasure was mine, sugar,” Eddie replies softly. Steve tries to think of anything other than the heat that curls low in his belly at the pet name. Eddie starts to walk away, but Steve calls him back.

“Eddie!”

Eddie turns, something earnest and eager in his face.

“Good luck tonight. Or, er, break a leg.” Steve blushes fully at that, feeling awkward under Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie nods, smiles, and then treats Steve to yet another view of his ass, and Steve is on fire, jittery from what he tells himself is the caffeine.

–

Eddie’s pre-show routine has been pretty much the same for a decade. He chugs a giant coffee—today’s had been extra delicious with its side of hunk—throws on eyeliner, and puts on whatever outfit he imagines would horrify his homophobic high school principal the most. Today it’s low rise leather pants with lacing on each hip and an unbuttoned black cowboy shirt. He hairsprays the shit out of his hair, back-combs it a little to get that sex-mussed look, and voila, he’s done.

From there he normally goes and bugs all the other guys. As the frontman, Eddie gets his own dressing room, which can come in handy for post-show escapades but normally leaves him a little lonely. So he wanders down the green room hallway until he finds the rest of the band. Jeff and Gareth greet him with a fist bump, and he nods politely to their new bassist Ray, who’s drawing on terrifyingly huge eyeliner wings.

They shoot the shit for a while, Gareth telling them about a cute girl who was totally hitting on him at the bar and who was definitely not a hooker. Eddie and Jeff are understandably skeptical, but Gareth doubles down until their increasingly agitated debate is settled by Ray, who calmly states that the girl was indeed a hooker because she saw her counting cash in the bathroom.

When the opener goes on, Chrissy swoops in and they run through their set list one last time before huddling up together in a tight circle. This little ritual has been their good luck charm since their first ever set in their hometown dive bar.

Eddie starts them off: “Come! This is the hour we draw swords together!”

Gareth continues: “For glory!”

Jeff adds: “For death!”

“For the babes,” Ray adds, getting a chuckle out of them all.

And Eddie finishes, solemnly, “For Frodo.” They press their foreheads together and jump back with a holler before running down the hallway and into the wings. As they step out onstage and the familiar adrenaline rush fills Eddie’s veins, he can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, like someone who should be in the audience isn’t there.

–

For the next few weeks, Eddie makes a point of stopping by the concierge desk every day. Sometimes he brings Steve coffee or takes him out during his breaks. Sometimes he just stands there and flirts over the counter, making more and more of a fool of himself just to see Steve blush. He learns that Steve has Mondays and Thursdays off. That he hates cinnamon gum. That he’s an expert at being just bitchy enough to shut people down but not so bitchy that people realize what he’s doing. Eddie gets a secret thrill of satisfaction when he watches Steve very firmly decline outrageous requests and people who think that full service means more than it does.

He finds himself looking forward to their daily conversations, unexpectedly captivated by how ordinary Steve’s life is. Because Steve loves to complain. But his complaints are about someone taking forever in line at the grocery store, or the Audi driver who cut him off in traffic, or how he can’t stand the stay-at-home moms who clog up the trailhead parking lots. All these benign moments that Eddie never gets to experience, instead worrying about ticket sales and tour dates and, in his darker moments, whether anyone actually wants to be close to him or if they just want to be close to the spotlight.

Eddie feels like they’re on the cusp of something, waiting to be pushed off the edge. This routine of flirting is fun, and it’s safe, and Eddie’s enjoying it. Steve is hot, and he treats Eddie like a real person, and their banter is sexy but harmless. They could be suspended in this mutual attraction without consequence until the end of Eddie’s residency and that would be that. But the little demon on Eddie’s shoulder that always wants, needs, begs for more tells him to take the plunge, consequences be damned.

He’s mulling this over during breakfast one morning, sipping coffee across from Chrissy.

“What’s on your mind, Didi?” she asks quietly, always observant.

He sighs dramatically and throws one hand over his forehead. “I pine, Chrissy! I yearn!”

She chuckles. “Steve? Again? Why don’t you just ask him out already?”

“I have been!” Eddie insists. “I’ve bought him, like, a hundred coffees.” At her exasperated look, he gets more serious. “Can I, Chrissy? I don’t–. I can’t afford to crash and burn again. What if I ask him out for real and the worst happens? What if it’s Adrian all over again?”

He tries to avoid her eyes, not wanting to see the pity there, but when he finally looks up she’s hiding a grin behind her hand.

“Chrissy!” he admonishes. “It’s not funny!”

“Alright, alright,” she concedes, still smiling. “It’s not funny, but Eddie, hon, you have to put yourself out there sometime if you want something real. And from everything you’ve told me about Steve, I think he’s a good bet.”

Eddie takes a moment to ponder this. Unlike most of the people he’s courted, Steve is markedly unfazed by the whole famous rockstar thing. He’s been meticulously checking his Instagram follow requests every day and hasn’t seen one from Steve so he’s pretty sure the guy’s not on social media. Plus he has that dorky dad vibe going for him, and Eddie is a sucker for a DILF.

“But what do I do next, Chris? I’ve already been flirting my little ass off, and sure he flirts back but it’s not like he’s made any moves to get more serious. Where do I go from here?”

“Leave that to me,” she tells him, and reaches for her phone. A minute later he gets a text notification.

“Chrissy, doll, why are you sending me backstage passes to my own show?” She just looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Oh. Oh. You think he’d really go?”

“Eddie. Think about it. How many people throw their underwear on stage during your performances? He’ll go crazy.” She comes to stand behind him and throws her arm around his neck. “Plus, I think it’s time he sees you at work instead of the other way around.”

–

Steve is in the midst of his Wednesday evening routine of making weekend dinner reservations at every upscale restaurant in Vegas, held under the hotel’s name at first so they can offer them to guests who call at the last minute. He’s just hanging up with Koi when he makes eye contact with Eddie across the lobby. Steve leans onto the counter and watches Eddie’s approach, lets his gaze trace the man from head (curly hair loose and slightly damp from a shower) to toe (the studded crocs, again), and everything in between (slim waist tapering into slinky hips, white t-shirt that clings deliciously, low slung plaid trousers). He knows Eddie can see him staring, and his cheeks heat slightly, but he looks anyway.

This tension between them has only escalated since that first night. He can’t get Eddie out of his head, he wants him so badly, and even more dangerous, he honest-to-god likes spending time with him. He’s funny, and insightful, and he seems to genuinely care when Steve tells him about Max, and not in that fake way of so many of his dates who were clearly just trying to get in his pants and had no interest in a family man.

Part of him wants to throw caution to the wind and ask Eddie out to dinner. But who is he to ask a world famous rockstar out. He’s nobody. Just a divorced guy ostracized from his hometown working in the service industry.

He’s torn out of this morose line of thought by the familiar greeting of, “Hey sugar,” this time followed by “I got something for you.”

Steve meets Eddie’s eyes, and is surprised to see uncertainty there. But Eddie is smiling as he extends his arm, phone in hand. “Here, put your number in.”

Steve does. Wants to make a joke about Eddie finally asking for his digits after the tenth date but stops himself when he sees Eddie’s telltale signs of nerves (rocking on the balls of his feet, chewing his hair). He hands the phone back and waits while Eddie does something with it.

“Okay, sugar, there you go.”

Steve checks his phone, clicks on a text from an unknown number. “What–. Eddie, what are these?”

“VIP tickets to my show tomorrow.” Steve meets Eddie’s expectant gaze with wide eyes. “Will you come?”

Steve takes in a breath. As if he would ever, ever turn this down with the way Eddie is looking at him as if he’s just placed his heart in Steve’s hands.

“Yes. Yes, of course I’ll come! I’ll bring Rob.” Steve sees Eddie’s face fall, looking every bit a wounded puppy, and Steve hurries to correct himself. “Robin. I’ll bring Robin. My lesbian best friend. She’s kind of my platonic soulmate. Crazy, but you’ll like her.”

Eddie’s face brightens at the word “lesbian” and Steve feels his cheeks warm, pleased that Eddie is pleased that he’s not bringing a man.

Eddie “oohs” dramatically. “A lesbian? I’ll have to introduce her to Chrissy. Christ knows that girl needs to get laid.” Suddenly he leans in close, right in Steve’s space, mouth close to his ear. Steve can feel goosebumps where Eddie’s breath hits his neck, and he blushes even deeper.

“Those tickets include backstage passes. I expect to see you there after the show, big boy.” With that, he smacks a wet kiss on Steve’s cheek, turns, and walks away.

Steve is left standing there, red-faced, awestruck, slightly horny, and full of anticipation.

continue to part 4.

read on ao3.

tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @knightofthieves @exhibit-no-restraint @zerokrox-blog @nelotegreitic @samthemissfit @impeachy @mentallyundone @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx @ameliajwho1993 @abstractnaturaldisaster @hellomynameismoo @epiclazershark @dogswithforks @i-less-than-three-you @aveys6 @anaibis @sofadofax @sunswathe

#steddie #stranger things #steddie vegas au #this is... a lot of exposition ha #i will try not to apologize for my gratuitous descriptions of eddies outfits #hes my barbie doll and im dressing him up #also i genuinely believe cc would have the cringiest pre show routine ever #theyre a bunch of nerds #this one is a combo of lotr book and movie lines #as always ur nice comments keep me going #also tumblr eats some of the tags sometime so if you see this and ur tag didnt go through im so sorry!#A writes

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cherryblossomforest · 2 months

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Ooo I forgot to update, although I'm not sure anyone would care...😅

It wasn't covid. I figured it out early enough and retested multiple times just to be sure. It was faulty because it was out of date lol. I was rundown though, my body's engine light was on and I needed a few days to focus on getting it semi okay. Back to my normal I guess..

It was nice to just focus on me and everyone left me alone. It felt good to have that time. I've also finally got into a semi-habit of drinking 1.5l of water each day. One step at a time I'm looking after myself better and better!

Also, I'm back to writing my books which feels very good 😌

Off topic. One thing that I've been very aware of is that since going out more the last maybe 2 weeks (memory hiccup) I've been approached by a loooaad of people just complimenting me. On one of the days when I actually dressed up properly, I started counting - I know it sounds big-headed but I did it after venting to my cousin about my confusion because I generally feel ugly and she told me I'm not and to count - and from what I remembered it was 14. I got called a Goddess, someone compared me to Queen Tuya from Prince of Egypt, someone said I should model. There was just a lot going on! When I was telling one of my male friends on another day and he didn't believe me, someone literally came up 2 minutes later to compliment me and he was literally laughing because he thought I was lying. Now I don't think I'm the prettiest person, very far from it, but to be complimented this much does feel nice but it also makes sense why I avoided this for so many years out of fear, because of my history.

Today I took my sister and the niblings to a huge park and I decided to climb up one of the hills (knowing I'll be in bed for the rest of the week lol) and it was crazy hard. At one point I was on all fours climbing up and my niece was laughing calling me crazy 🤪. Anyway, when I finally got down this random guy came up to me when I was sitting next to my sister. He was like "Did you just climb that hill on a crutch?!" When I said yes, he asked me why and I said why not... because why not?? He asked me how old I was and he was like "Any girl that climbs a hill on a crutch like you did is my type of girl, can I get your number?" My brain started spinning because I wasn't expecting it. I can't remember what I said but he was respectful when I declined and kept it moving. Thankfully.

This is the type of attention teenage me struggled with. People don't believe me when I tell them how much attention I get. Now that I'm a healthy weight and not so depressed, it gets overwhelming fast if my trauma brain is turned on. I'm not complaining in the sense that I want people to feel bad because it's never that deep. Like womp womp! But I think I'm realising that as a kid/teen it actually was a lot. It makes sense that my Anorexia was so bad and that I fell so deep into it. As a teenager having grown men treat me like how I'm being treated now was scary, especially with the things I had gone through. Now I'm learning to embrace it and keep it humble because at times I attract this certain type of It Girl and I'm Not about that. Inwardly, I don't always feel pretty but I know for a fact that I have pretty privilege so this isn't something I feel comfortable talking about most times because I get it... people are genuinely like "Shut the hell up you're beautiful why are you complaining?" And I promise it's not supposed to come off like That. It's more me navigating this with an extensive trauma background. Anyway, I often forget I'm mid to late 20s and not a teen, but as I'm getting more and more present in the now I think that's starting to shift which helps a lot! :)

#idk I'll probably move this to my personal journal because I'm not trying to sound stupid or ungrateful I promise #shouting in the forest

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iris0-0 · 6 months

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I promise I’m here.

Mom!Tess Servopoulos x sh!daughter reader

Synopsis: Tess, your mother has always given you tough love. Trying to raise you to be respectful and grateful. Though when hard times fall upon you, you cannot seem to tell your mother as you feel she will see you as weak and pathetic.

Warnings: Tess being soft, reader is referred to in more female pronouns, blood, mentions of depression, mentions and descriptions of self harm, I do not encourage this behavior and am here for anyone <3 this is definitely not personal

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Familiar sounding music invaded the current deep sleep you were in. Eyes fluttering open, before quickly closing them due to the early morning light invading through the blinds.

The door opens and you feel a harsh pat on your back, “Cmon kid, gotta catch the bus.” Tess says, making sure you’re awake before leaving the room.

Getting up you looked at the old digital clock on the nightstand that read 6:40 a.m. Fuck. If you didn’t pick up the pace there would be another tardy slip with your name on it, and with that a scold from your mother.

Grabbing whatever pants were on the desk chair and a shirt you grab the same black zip-up jacket you took everyday…to hide the scars. Thankfully your mother Tess wasn’t very noisy as long as you didn’t give any “teenage attitude” was what she liked to call it. So she never really picked up on your habits

Self-harm wasn’t something you were proud of. It started 3 years ago when you were 13. Middle school was an absolute bitch, not to mention the other struggles that have happened in the meantime. You tried to get clean….but it never lasted long, it was a tough battle.

Slipping on the jacket and grabbing your book bag you go down the stairs to grab a banana or some shit to say you ate breakfast. Tess was brewing a cup of coffee before she herself was off to work. She eyed you up and down a bit before smirking to herself. Annoyed you give her a look that basically said ‘what?’.

“When’s the last time you washed that jacket?” She asked. “You were it practically everyday.” Walking towards you she tried to get closer to at least make sure it smelled clean, as teenagers could be lazy or dirty sometimes.

Not wanting her to move the jacket in case of any risk of exposing what was below you responded in a bantering manner to try and keep up your cool act. “Mom! Stop it! I washed it this week.” You smile dodging her grasp and walking to the door to catch the bus.

“If you say so.” She shrugs. “Go learn and shit.”

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School. Highschool sophomore to be specific. Grades weren’t that much of a problem, you were told you were ‘a smart kid’. Having average level classes and a work ethic (sometimes) helped. It wasn’t the work, it was the people.

Once again for English there was a project. Why do English teachers have a project nobody likes every week? Everyone got up and looked around to choose partners…nobody chose you. Shocker. ‘Okay, who cares? I’ll do it myself as usual.’ You thought.

But of course it wasn’t okay. Depression shuffled your mind again replaying old scenarios and listing reasons why none of the other kids wanted to work with you.

Putting headphones on and shuffling random shit, mainly tv girl you got to work and try to forget but to no avail. Taking a break in the middle to go to the bathroom.

Always keeping a blade handy you sit in the bathroom stall. ‘Why am I doing this again? Don’t really know don’t really care.’ You think.

Taking the jacket off halfway the view of the old and fresh marks come into place. It was never enough. Addicted was the word, but it’s perfectly fine isn’t it?

‘Doing what I do best.’ Sliding the blade like it was a damn hobby. Did it sting? Maybe a little but the relief was too strong, it overpowered any pain. That was, until you zoned out. Going deeper, was it intentional? Who knows.

Hitting a vein blood trickled down, quicker than the cuts before that would stop bleeding soon. There was too much. And of course depression comes with anxiety. How come you were fine mutilating yourself but the moment you got dizzy all hell broke loose. I need to get out.

Quickly thinking of an excuse out of habit you called the only person you had, your mom. Were you dying of blood loss? Hell no. But you were on the verge of passing out and eating shit on the schools bathroom floor.

The phone rang a few times.

“Please..please..please.” You mutter.

T: “Hello? Im in a meeting did you butt dial me again?” Your mom Tess says, a bit confused.

“I need you to pick me up, please.”

T: “Kid, I’m in the middle of a meeting.” She sighs, though she hears the panic in your voice. “If it means that much to ya I’ll getchu right after, in maybe half an hour?”

“Okay.” You respond swallowing your tears.

T: “You cryin kid?” She asks suddenly concerned.

“No.” You deny, and you can hear her sigh from the other end.

T: “I’ll get you in a bit.” She said sternly.

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About a half an hour passed. The bleeding was under control but you were weak as hell. Loosing blood was no joke, dizzy and nauseating to say the least. ‘I think I just lost more blood than a period.’ You thought.

A text from your mom saying she’s here and you signed out at the front office, slightly swaying in your steps as you walk the short walk from the front of the school to the car.

Tess was sitting, hand on the steering wheel. The glint from the sun shining just over the scar under her eye. You couldn’t read her face. Was she pissed about picking you up two hours into the school day and about you interrupting her meeting. Regardless you opened the car door.

“Thank you.” Was the only thing spoken and Tess nodded to the action keeping her eyes forward as she drove the two of you home.

Walking in the house Tess put up her keys. You tried to sneak upstairs. “Nope. Come back.” Tess said sternly before pointing to the couch. “Sit.”

Annoyed but not trying to test your mother, you sat your ass back down. “Tell me why I picked you up.” She asked and you just shrugged looking at the floor.

“That’s not an answer and you know it. I love you and I’m trying not to be upset with you but kid, I need to know. You called me in the middle of a meeting you knew I was in crying.” Tess said, a bit stern.

“It doesn’t even matter.” You say a bit annoyed at the persistence and not having an answer to the question that you wanted to tell her.

“Look at me.” She says, as you look straight at the ground. “I just didn’t feel good.” You say looking her in the eye, it was hard. She had the type of eyes that made you spill everything.

Staring felt like forever her eyes narrowing, until your left eye twitched. “You’re lying.” She says crossing her arms over her chest. “No I’m not.” Your eye twitches again, betraying you.

“Yes you are! Your eye is twitching like Nemo’s fucking special fin.” Tess responded. “How the hell would you even know if I was lying? You’re always gone!”

“Language! I’m gone providing for you!” The two of you yelled back and forth for ages. Slowly but surely you were growing enraged. Having bipolar disorder and anger issues Tess knew you needed to calm down before you passed out.

“Okay come on you need to calm down.” She says strictly but assuringly. Even though she was upset with the argument as well she didn’t want it to get worse with you passing out for continuing to dig your nails into your arms.

She took ahold of your shoulders and began to guide you to your room. And shortly after being alone you’d calm down and she’d come back and the two of you would talk it out.

But…that did not happen this time. As she tried to move you, you resisted. “Hey stop. Calm down.” She said trying to grab your arms as you tried to get out her reach. With the fresh cuts and the excessive deep one a whine of pain was let out.

Tess paused momentarily and debated on backing off, but she didn’t. You had been acting different and were on the verge of a panic attack.

With harsh short breaths through go your nose you knew there was nothing else you could do to hide anymore, you were too weak. “What’s hurtin’ hm?” Tess states touching your hands, shoulders, and head gently.

But when she glides over your arms you bit your lip. Razor burn was hitting hard. “Okay let’s get this off..” she mumbles slowly taking the jacket off after she sat you down on the couch.

“Oh honey…” was all Tess could say, staring at the cuts, scars, deep, and shallow. She tries to comfort you but too shaked up and overstimulated. “Okay okay.” Tess backs off, leaving for a short moment to grab the random first aid crap in the bathroom.

She comes back and cleans very carefully, trying not to upset or overstimulate you. As well as to not hurt you. “Breath baby.” She holds your face softly trying to calm you down.

After awhile the cleaning and wrapping is done. It was safe to say Tess could understand why. You had bad bipolar disorder and meltdowns. “Why didn’t you tell me hm?” She asks sitting next to you.

“Cause I didn’t want to worry you and give you more trouble cause it started when dad left and-“ You couldn’t finish beginning to sob.

She pulls you into her tightly and holds you. Quietly shh’ing you, cradling you like a baby. “I’m here I’m not going anywhere. I’m not him.”

Tess holds onto you as you fall asleep. And she’ll always be there for you.

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THIS TOOK FOREVER OVER A WEEK I GOT STUCK. Anyways happy birthday to me <3 Love you stay safe.

#imagine #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #comfort #depressing shit #tw sh related #tess tlou #tess servopoulos #tlou tess #scenarios #oneshot

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autisticempathydaemon · 3 months

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Hi Lexi! I saw your match ups and I'm curious who you'd match me up with, if you wouldn't mind?

•What song are you fixated on at the moment? What lyric or verse, and why?

• Okay, so I’ve listened to ‘Rule #34’ by Fish in a Birdcage over and over. The verse ‘You look so good, there on your knees/ Such a good girl knows how to please/ Look at me, look me in the eyes/ Forget yourself, surrender your mind/ Right now, you’re mine/ All mine/ Give in, you’re mine/ All mine (oh)’ I really have no real reason that comes to mind except that it scratches something in my brain.

•What is your Enneagram type?

•I'm an INFJ

•Do you love gargantuan Youtube video essays, and if so, which is your favorite and why?

•I do not, the closest I’d say I enjoy are the Redacted 101 videos

•Tell me about your childhood imaginary friend.

•I actually can’t remember much of my childhood. I think I used to have an imaginary friend but I can’t remember specifics

•What is your go-to way to fall asleep?

•listening to ASMR videos, usually Redacted

•If you had to change your name, what would it be, and why? (In tandem, if you have changed your name, why did you pick that one?)

• Hmmm that’s a good question. I actually like my name so I’ve never thought of changing it. I might go with Amitisia, it’s kinda cringe because it’s the name I gave to a main character of a story I never finished writing when I was a teenager.

•What is your favorite of Redacted’s audios, and why?

•Number one spot goes to “Your Incubus Confesses His Feelings (Again) While You Sleep”. It’s so soft and sweet and makes me feel so comforted when I’m having a bad day. I’ve listened to it a lot before I fall asleep.

Second place would go to “Falling For Your Yandere Childhood Friend”

•What Redacted boy holds no appeal to you, and why? Like, not the one you hate but the one who you don’t get the hype for. (I won’t judge, I promise.)

•Hate to say it but Ollie, he’s so sweet and nice but I was just never interested? And it always seems like we get an Ollie video before something bad happens so maybe that has something to do with it?

•Tell me about that one book/movie/tv show you know all the words to.

•I tend to replay shows and movies I like a lot so there’s a bunch. I guess I’ll go with “Mulan” because it’s my all time favorite Disney movie.

•Which Redacted boy are you platonically attracted to? Like- forget dating, which dude do you want to be your best friend?

•Oh, definitely Asher! Whenever I listen to his playlist I'm just like…You’re cute and chaotic but I’d rather have you as a wing-man.

•Do you have a go-to thing you ramble about when you’re tired, and if so, what is it? (For example, my boyfriend knows I’m ready to sleep when I start talking about space.)

•So, irl I’m a very quiet person, so I get even more quiet when I’m tired. I guess if I picked something, it’d be something I’m currently trying to write?

•Tell me your go-to gas station and drink combo.

•Nachos and cheese and root beer

•Tell me about your favorite playlist at the moment.

•I’ve currently been obsessed with the Epic the Musical playlist. I have to stop myself from singing it when I listen at work

•What’s your guilty pleasure media, and why?

•Reverse harem books, especially if it’s more of a poly situation than a multiple guys are with one girl. I was always frustrated with love triangles in books growing up, because…why can’t they all just be together. It was a pretty blaring flag that I was poly, now that I think about it.

•Extras

•My favorite color is purple. I love cats. I enjoy anime or animated shows/movies over live action. I collect pins, rocks/crystals, and stuffed animals. I hate certain food textures.

There are lots of cute details here to consider and prioritize when I was considering your match, but your being a writer won out. I can’t not pair a writer with Guy, you know?

Despite the same hobby/vocation, I love the small ways you contrast each other as well. Guy’s extroverted, bombastic nature would be such a cute foil to your introverted, quiet self. You’re a cat person; I imagine Guy as a dog person. These differences keep things interesting and balanced but not discordant, you know? I also think Guy is one of the redacted bois most likely to be poly/a romantic anarchist, so that’s another factor that would make y’all work so well. (He’d have similar feelings about love triangles, and a couple that bitches together stays together /hj /pos)

Guy would be such a charming boyfriend- not necessarily an easy one to an introvert but definitely a charming one. You two have writing sessions that are meant to be done quietly, in tandem, and they never are, always interrupted by Guy’s stream of consciousness and sidetracked thoughts spoken out loud. (Somehow, you still always get so much written. He’s very inspiring that way.) You two adopt both a cat and a dog that get along a lot better than anyone would expect. Guy always feels in his bones when you’re not having a great day and comes home with a new rock or pin for collection.

Song:

And that's because I wanna be your favorite boy/ I wanna be the one that makes your day/ The one you think about as you lie awake/ I can't wait to be your number one/ I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine

The song I picked for y’all isn’t necessarily one I think you’d both like per se, though it’s very catchy; I picked it because it’d make a good soundtrack to your love story. It makes me think of Guy falling in love with you, falling first, and being like “just you wait, I am going to win you over”, like he wants to be your favorite boy, your boyfriend, but best friend/roommate is a good start.

Runner-ups:

Huxley is a cute runner-up for you as an ambivert, but I especially love how often he’d bring you rocks and crystals for your collection, maybe even getting you a special shelf to display them on. Camelopardalis is your other runner-up, because he’s one loving partner away from falling in love with cats; he just needs someone to show him the way.

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted #busybee matches

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nothingtoseeherebyeexx · 1 year

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Delicate, Chapter Three: Cinnamon Girl

here we go again! same disclaimers as last time. important talks and a long awaited reunion <3

< prev chapter next chapter >

Narcissa was conflicted, her smile tight as she took in the news.

She and Mary had been invited to a party by Lily Evans.

Lily Evans, who was extremely close to Alice Fortescue.

Alice Fortescue, that who surely going to be present at aforementioned party.

Did Alice know she had been invited? How did she feel about it? Was she the reason Lily had asked for Narcissa, specifically, as Mary’s plus one?

And then, how would Alice react when they saw each other again? How was she? Did she think about her, from time to time?

“You don’t look as excited as I expected. What’s wrong?” Mary interrupted Narcissa’s spiralling, bringing her back to reality. A party at the Potter’s meant a lot of celebrities and therefore the possibility to make oneself known: it was a chance too good for Mary to miss. However, Narcissa was bound to behave in some stupid, pathetic way and she needed Mary to stop her in case she started demolishing her public image by, let’s say, bursting out crying in front of her late teenage love.

“Sit down, I’m going to tell you a story. But you’ll have to promise me you won’t ask any questions until I’m finished, okay?” Narcissa said as she took Bunny from her tank and let her slither around her arm, because for some obscure, probably-rooted-in-her-troubled-childhood reason, it brought her some comfort.

Narcissa sat on the carpet, Mary mirroring her and not speaking a word. She looked worried, and that made something melt in Narcissa’s chest: she hadn’t felt like this since Andy (and Bella, in a way) left, when she was still a little innocent girl sharing little innocent secrets with her sisters. It happened a lot with Mary, an overcoming feeling of nostalgia that was only accentuated by the way the girl seemed to have adapted to Narcissa’s house, by learning in which drawer she kept the spoons, which switch turned on each light, which doors tended to fly open with a smack if you opened them too quickly.

God, she was getting soft.

“You know I went to a conservatory, Hogwarts, right?” Narcissa began.

Mary just nodded, without interrupting her.

“I attended that boarding school for five years, so basically my whole adolescence. I was already professionally trained when I started, obviously, and private teachers were much stricter than the ones at school, so I have always been ahead of my classmates and I found myself with a lot of free time and freedom, especially compared to my life back home. I was never quite able to shake off the feeling my parents were watching me, though, so I never had the courage to really break their rules. That was until a new girl showed up, at the beginning of my third year.” She couldn’t help the smile that naturally bloomed on her lips, her gaze fixed on Bunny.

“Her hair was a mess of curls, her smile a bit crooked, her tie always out of place. Subconsciously, I knew she was the exact opposite of what my parents approved of, so I immediately despised her. However, fate decided it would have been funny to tie our lives together, and since my roommate had coincidentally graduated, the two of us ended up sharing a room. And I’m forever glad it happened, Mary. This is the part where things start to get really personal, okay?”

“My lips are sealed.” Mary replied, raising her palms in surrender. She had gotten a little closer, moved by curiosity.

“They better be. Anyway, this girl took guitar lessons and I had piano, but we still shared singing classes together. Oh, Mary…I will never forget the first time I’ve heard her singing. I remember thinking, and it is a big compliment considering where I grew up, that I was lucky for witnessing the beginning of something so great. You see, I have been raised to become a singer, to use my voice as a means to get richer and greater, but I still felt like an amateur standing next to her. Not because her technique was better than mine, the teachers always praised me more,” Narcissa added, aware she sounded ostentatious, “but she had this energy, this unique style that wasn’t…fabricated, like mine. I stood next to her, and I realised the way I sung might have been flawless and pleasing to the ear, but it could never be anything more. It was never going to feel real.”

Narcissa paused, trying to find the right words to continue this conversation.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Mary tried to come to her rescue, but Narcissa shook her head.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…hard to voice these thoughts for the first time. I’ve never told this to anyone,” Narcissa replied, a bit bashful. “At the time of the story, my relationship with my sisters was already a mess, and we didn’t talk much. But you already know that, the media made sure of it.” She added, bitterly.

She had grown used to it, seeing as she had been under flashing cameras since the day she was born. Mary pressed her lips together, looking regretful, like she could’ve just ignored the news spread by paparazzi.

“Because I was a child, the moment I was confronted with this random girl that I considered so much better than me, I got incredibly jealous. I wanted to hate her, I really did. But she was always friendly, laughing at my snarky comments like they were inside jokes, and even when I pulled pranks on her she retaliated like it was a game between the two of us. I like to remember those days as the the chance I had at a normal adolescence.”

“What did you do?”

“I know you’re the one who put that red sock in my white laundry, Black. Since you like pink so much, I’ve mixed some hair dye with your shampoo. Now we match!”

“You-“

“I was mean, at times, but she always reacted in a way that inevitably made me feel like shit. For instance, her parents owned an ice cream parlor, and when I made a snobbish joke about that, she showed up the next day with a giant bowl of every ice cream flavor imaginable. We ate it all in one afternoon.”

“What were you saying about my parents selling ice cream?”

Narcissa took another spoonful and closed her eyes in delight.

“That it is truly one of the most noble and respectable occupations. Wait, what flavour is that?”

“Mmh…Blue?”

“I fell for her smile, her clumsiness, the songs she wrote. She was a poet. Still is. I wanted to be more like her, so we started spending more time together, skipping the classes we didn’t like, hiding in the yard behind the dorms. She smoked and played her guitar, while I simply watched her. I even started writing songs, which wasn’t expected of me by my parents: all my future albums had already been written, hidden in my future manager’s drawer.”

Narcissa noticed that Mary was itching to ask something, probably what happened after that, but she was stopping herself.

It was a cute effort, cute enough to be rewarded.

“We fell in love. We kept it a secret at school, but I knew she expected to make it official once we were out of there. As you know, however, I had other plans for my future,” then Narcissa added, rolling her eyes, “Well, my parents had other plans. Anyway, we had this huge row, we were both mad at each other, and I said some things that deeply hurt her and that I wish I had never spoken. There, end of the tale.”

Mary was gaping at her, disappointment evident on her face.

“Time for the questions,” Narcissa allowed.

“That can’t be the end! What happened then?” Mary protested quickly.

Narcissa smiled so, so sadly.

“She made a song inspired by the last words I’ve said to her, became worldwide famous because of it, and I’ve had to listen to my worst mistake playing on the radio for ten years. And apparently, we are going to one of her best friends’ party this weekend.”

Mary looked comically horrified. “Oh my God, Narcissa… I had no idea, I’ll just tell Evans we can’t go-“

“No, don’t,“ interrupted Narcissa, “It’s fine, really. Maybe I’m delusional, but…” she sighed, “I just want to see her again. The worst part is that we never got any closure: I just ran away, and she didn’t chase after me. Not like I was expecting her to, obviously.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the complete truth. During the first years after their ‘breakup’, Narcissa had wanted nothing to do with Alice, because she had showed her the promise of what could’ve been their future in another life, and it was too good and too far from her family’s expectations.

In the end, though, all that was left was an aching longing that she had put into words with songs that would’ve never seen the light of day. Or so she had thought, before she left her home on a delirious rampage.

Narcissa had hoped for a call, a text, anything really. And yet, the only way she could hear from Alice was on the radio, or through her headphones. She finally had the chance to speak to her, and she wanted to take it oh, so desperately.

“Lily told me your cousins will be there, too.” Mary interrupted the heavy silence, and Narcissa was grateful for the change of topic. Mary had crossed the carpet that divided them, close enough to hug Narcissa if she wanted to.

She decided to let her head fall to the other girl’s shoulder instead- Narcissa had never been too keen on physical contact, and yet this small display of affection was enough to comfort her. It was enough to make her realize she hadn’t been comforted in years. Fuck.

“I figured. I want to talk to them, it’s been so long. I’m so proud of them. Regulus, especially,” Narcissa let her hand travel on the carpet, while Mary listened in silence.

“He left when he was only 18. And he didn’t even go to his brother first, he preferred staying with this girl no one ever heard of.” Narcissa remembered with a smile.

She didn’t know the details of what happened between the two brothers after Regulus’ undertaking, but Sirius had always been very protective of him, even when things were complicated, so she could only imagine how enraged he must’ve been when he discovered he was bested by a woman he had never even seen.

“I think she’s called Pandora Lovegood,” Mary informed her. “She was rumored to be Regulus’ girlfriend, and people on the Internet started to make these crazy theories about the real reasons behind his escape, saying he did it for his ‘forbidden love’. They never confirmed anything, though, and he keeps bringing her as a guest during social events or parties…maybe you can ask him about it this Saturday.”

Narcissa was glad Mary couldn’t see her face, because she was really close to cackling: Regulus, the 12 year-old boy who had a full breakdown in her room because he didn’t want to kiss a girl on the cheek for a movie, with a girlfriend. Simply hilarious.

“I guess I could, yes,” she agreed, her sarcasm going unnoticed.

Her head was still on Mary’s shoulder, the silence between them stretching long but comfortable.

“Mary,” Narcissa called.

“Cissa,” Mary answered.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Narcissa didn’t really know why she asked, or where she wanted the conversation to go. Mary was extremely reserved about family matters, so-

“Yes, I do. I have two brothers, both younger. One is in middle school, the other a few years younger.” Mary’s tone was fond, and even if she was out of Narcissa’s sight, it wasn’t too hard to imagine a small smile on her lips.

“You never talk about them. You’re always working, either at the café or here…don’t they miss you when you’re not home?” Narcissa questioned, feeling bold.

“Oh, well, it’s not like I see them when I get home, since I’ve been living in a hotel for a while now,” Mary explained, sounding embarrassed.

Narcissa was not expecting that.

“You what? Since when?” she asked, startled, moving away from Mary to look at her in the eyes.

“I’ve wanted to leave that house for a while, so I saved some money with my part-time job,” Mary said, ”I moved about a month after signing the contract, when I was sure I could make it by myself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Narcissa replied, distraught, putting a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “I have asked you to come live with me!”

“No you haven’t?” Mary countered, confused and slightly alarmed by Narcissa’s fervor.

“You want me to come live with you?”

“We spend most of our time together already, I thought it was obvious?” Narcissa answered frantically.

Mary just laughed, uncontrolled and loud. Narcissa pouted.

“Fine, fine! I’ll come live with you, if you’re so desperate to have me around,” she smiled. “I’ll bring my stuff tomorrow, if I can manage. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, whatever.” Narcissa replied, still looking like a crossed child. They sat next to each other on the floor, letting the silence settle for a while. Mary was good at reading people, Narcissa had learnt. She always seemed to know when someone needed some quiet, or preferred to ramble, and adapted accordingly. Everchanging, constantly camouflaging to survive.

“Why did you ask?” Mary asked.

Narcissa sighed, because one, she was expecting that question, and two, she didn’t know, either.

“Sometimes I hate them. Sirius and Regulus, I mean,” Narcissa explained. “Sure, they fight, seem to hate each other, and their relationship isn’t perfect, but at least it’s there. For my sisters, we’re dead to each other.”

“Have you tried calling them?” Mary suggested, and it should’ve been a silly thing to ask, because of course Narcissa should have tried to call them, it was the most logical thing to do. But she hadn’t. Andromeda left when Narcissa was still controlled by their parents and didn’t try to contact her, not even after her escape. Bellatrix was still proudly part of the family, so Narcissa hadn’t even bothered trying.

“No,” Narcissa replied, defeated. “It’s useless, they went on with their lives. I keep up with the articles about Bellatrix, so I kind of know what’s going on, but Andromeda has completely disappeared. I wonder how she did that.”

And why she didn’t bring me with her.

“…Do you resent her?” Mary whispered, quietly. Narcissa turned to look at her.

“For leaving?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, if I did resent her now it would be hypocritical, since I also ran away. But I used to, yes. Why? Are you worried your siblings might grow to hate you?“

Mary leant back, eyes travelling to the ceiling. Narcissa thought she looked so serious at times, with her gaze lost in thought and her lips clamped shut. Preoccupation made her look older.

“I’m not worried. When the time came, I told my parents it was time for me to enter the real world, that I had found an apartment out of town I could afford and that I was going to call them weekly,” Mary smiled bitterly, her eyes bright with tears Narcissa wasn’t going to address. “They didn’t bat an eye. One less mouth to feed, I guess. My youngest sibling, Theo, told me with tears in his eyes that he was going to miss me, while the oldest, Bingley, felt betrayed. He didn’t say it, but I could see it in his face.” Mary sighed, looking at Narcissa’s neck, where Bunny had slowly found her designated place.

“I know they will understand, if not now when they’re older, then. And if they do not understand, I’ll explain why I left myself.”

“…Why did you do it, though?” Narcissa asked, cautious.

“I did it because I deserve to be happy. Back there I wasn’t in pain, but I was miserable. And I couldn’t pretend like it didn’t affect me, so I packed my stuff and left for a place that allowed me to grow. And here I am,” Mary smiled at her, nudging her arm, making Bunny hiss in agreement.

Narcissa was having severe flashbacks of a conversation she never had, a scene in a parallel universe where her family was slightly less dysfunctional and talking felt a lot more natural. She refused to tear up.

“Why didn’t you ask your brothers to come with you?” She asked, or rather, sobbed. Fuck.

“Because it was risky,” Mary answered, seeming to understand that this conversation had more layers than just simple curiosity. “Although it wasn’t the best, my house offered stability, and I can’t support two more people on my own. When the time comes, they’ll be free to leave and come to me, but I’m not a mother, Cissa, and I don’t have to play the role for them.”

Shit, she was about to cry. Shit, shit, shit.

Did Andy feel like that? Did she also consider taking her sisters with her, when she had left that night?

When Narcissa ran away, three different types of illegal substances numbed most of her feelings, so she couldn’t really draw a comparison between their experiences.

“They won’t understand, Mary. You can’t expect them to.” She replied, managing to make her voice sound a lot firmer than it actually was.

“And that’s fine. I’ll explain when the time comes,” Mary replied, sounding so sure, so calm, so mature for a twenty two year-old.

Then she added, smirking, “Maybe I’ll start by calling them.”

Narcissa shoved her.

Lily had informed Alice that she and Mary would soon start working together, but since MacDonald was already quite busy with the release of her debut album, they weren’t going to start writing together for a few more weeks.

Alice was grateful for the delay: Lily was determined to work with Mary, and the girl seemed really close to Narcissa Black.

So, simply put, Alice’s (already trembling) emotional stability was really close to falling apart.

No one knew of their relationship back when they were at Hogwarts, and no one knew that relationship was actually something more than friendship. A something that apparently still meant everything to Alice, and nothing to Narcissa, since after ten years, the first was still unable to move on, and the second had completely erased the other from her life.

But Alice remembered. Oh, she remembered so well.

All her songs revolved around Narcissa in one way or the other: the memory of her, the feelings Alice had for her. Everything, for everyone to hear. She would be lying if she didn’t admit that a small part of her, the weakest, hoped Narcissa heard them, too.

Alice’s creative process wasn’t a journey through emotions or stories she wanted to explore or create, it was an eternal war that always took place on the same battlefield.

The school, the dorm, her lips.

The whispers, the fights, her kisses.

Was it possible for a poet to worship, despise, cherish and reject their own muse all at the same time?

Oh, how a juvenile mistake can change someone’s life. Because that’s was what it was to Alice, a mistake. It should’ve never happened, even if it felt too good to be true, even if it’s what led her to fame.

Even if it felt like love.

Luckily, the possibility of meeting Narcissa were low, even considering Lily’s new project. She was going to work with Mary, not Narcissa, so she was still safe, for now.

Speaking of this Mary, Alice was was looking forward to meeting her: Lily had been talking about her for days, about how fun she was, how talented she was, how she seemed to completely ignore all the rumours about her. So when Lily told her Mary was going to be present on Saturday, Alice was extremely excited.

The party at the Potter’s had already started, and even though the ‘small gathering’ already counted more than seventy people, Peter was still nowhere to be seen: James, Sirius and Marlene had gone to pick him up, so they were going to come back soon. Even Regulus, who was bringing Pandora, still hadn’t shown up, but Dorcas Meadowes was already deep in a conversation with Euphemia Potter and Mrs Zabini, probably discussing Zabini’s next spring collection. Lily was somewhere with Frank and Benji, probably ignoring the champagne glasses in the living room in favour of the vodka shots available in the kitchen.

Since Alice refused to get drunk so soon, she was left chatting with people she didn’t know too well about things she didn’t really care about, but honestly, she was enjoying it. She was just talking to Molly Weasley (neé Prewett) about the challenges and difficulties of growing pumpkins (Molly worked with her brothers in the film industry so what would she know about growing pumpkins, Alice had no clue) when the doorbell rang. She heard Lily stumbling in her heels from the kitchen calling “It’s her! It’s her!”, but since Alice was closer, she went to get it.

She opened the door, and Narcissa Black was on the other side.

And she was beautiful. She looked more mature now, healthier, but her attitude was as confident as ever.

Posture impeccable just like that day they met, when Alice had walked into her future dorm room and had found this blonde girl made of steel and ice staring down at her like she was a stray dog.

Her eyes were bright like every time Alice pulled out a cigarette in front of her, wordlessly convincing her to skip classes and lay on the grass together.

Narcissa looked like beauty and regret.

As time stretched indefinitely, Lily caught up to Alice and leant on the door frame, looking at the girl standing next to Narcissa. Because Mary was there, too.

“Mary, hi! You look gorgeous!” Lily greeted the girl, who thanked her and smiled brightly.

Alice tried to say something to Mary, but she couldn’t get her eyes off Narcissa. Of course she couldn’t, she never managed to.

Then Narcissa did something mad, horrid, monstrous.

She offered Alice her hand and spoke.

“Alice. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Lily was now looking at Alice with faux surprise.

“You know each other?” she asked, innocently. Alice glared at her, because she knew Lily knew, and she knew Lily did it on purpose. Alice also instantly knew Marlene was part of this, too.

People these days, can’t even let you handle your problems unhealthily.

Then Narcissa spoke again, and of course Alice gave her her full attention, because she still reacted to her voice like a dog to whistle. Ten years later, still as pathetic as before.

“…You haven’t told them?”

Oh, she was offended. Now that made Alice’s blood boil.

“Ironic, that.” Narcissa added bitterly, letting her hand fall, untouched.

Alice felt her gaze harden, but kept her mouth shut. Instead, she did what she had learnt to do well in the past years when confronted with Narcissa Black: Alice turned on her heels, and walked away. She vaguely heard Lily taking her two guests to the living room to introduce them to Effie, before disappearing in the kitchen.

Turns out, it was just the right time to get drunk.

#it’s finally here #hope you like it #next chapters are party chapters but i still have to writ them #so that’ll take some time #anyways #marylily #nobleflower #alicissa #mary x lily #alice x narcissa #lily x mary #narcissa x alice #marauders #marauders era girls #marylily fic #nobleflower fic #there was no tag for them #outrageous #fic: delicate

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latenightsimping · 2 years

Text

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff

AN: This was an idea that I’ve had for a little while, and finally getting around to writing it. There will be multiple chapters, and we’ll get to meet the reader in chapter 2. I’m pulling on many references, some of it being my own experiences of being in an inpatient facility a couple of times in my teenage years. Write what you know, and get some catharsis through angst relating to it, innit. I will say though, look after yourselves, and seek help if you need it. Inpatient sucked, but it’s what I needed to keep myself healthy and alive. There’s light at the end of the tunnel, I promise. And if you think it needs extra tags, please lemme know. I can see replies but cannot answer due to this being a sideblog, so keep that in mind. Anyway. Hope you enjoy.

Taglist: (lemme know if you wanna be added): @edsforehead

Eleven vertical steel bars, five horizontal. eighty-seven bricks on the wall just past them. Sixty-four pinstripes on the pillowcase. One hundred and twenty one days since the last breath of fresh air.

There’s only so much counting to be done, before you go as insane as they report you to be.

Eddie had prided himself in independence, before everything went to shit. He could get up when he wanted, go to bed at a time of his choosing. Choose what clothes to wear, when he wanted to shower, what food he ate. But that had all been stripped away. A uniform of white was given to him on arrival. White undershirt, white button down and pants, white vans, white socks. A colour that he typically hated, now forced upon him with no room for argument. The food was shit, the attitude of the staff even worse. Bed so uncomfortable that what little sleep he could manage with the screams and yelps of the damned ringing in his ears, he would always wake up with a soreness that could never be taken away.

He thought he’d witnessed hell. Skies of red and thunder, twisted vines and flapping of wings and razor sharp teeth. But this?

This was worse.

He had woken up bathed in bright light, and for a second he wondered if this was Heaven. Only took a couple of seconds to realise that it was likely that the promised paradise wouldn’t smell of disinfectant and have incessant beepings of heart monitors. A couple of times in his life, he had been in handcuffs. Drug related charges that Hopper had conveniently lost the paperwork for, letting him go with a stern talking to and a slap on the wrist. But this time? This time, the steel that connected him to the bedframe of the hospital bed felt permanent. He was lucky to be alive, according to the doctors, who told him with disgust evident in their features. It should have been you who died, was clear to translate from furrowed brows and the thin press of their lips. Eddie couldn’t help but agree with them sometimes. Nurses would often ‘forget’ to give him the pain medication prescribed, leaving him in a near constant state of agony.

The demobats had really done a number on him; lacerations and chunks of flesh torn from the left hand side of his body, trailing up his neck and ending on his jawline and cheek. More on the right pectoral muscles, the backs of his hands, forearms and upper bicep. If he wasn’t facing the barrel of the death penalty, he would have cracked a joke about losing his nipple. Each and every wound was a constant ache, his jaw near permanently set to grinding his teeth to bear with it. Only when Wayne was finally allowed to visit, hollering his lungs out about how much pain his boy was in, was he finally given those syringes of relief that he so desperately craved for. Not for long, only until they decided to neglect him again. But those moments were the reprieve that were sorely needed.

It had been Hopper’s idea to turn himself in and feign insanity, when he had visited his bedside. Something about a plan, and that he would just need to hang tight for someone high in the food chain to be contacted to fix the mess. He was promised that the chief of police would make sure he wouldn’t go to jail. Just to have trust, have faith, and repeat the words told to him to plead insanity. He couldn’t remember anything past the point of letting Chrissy into the trailer. He couldn’t remember killing Fred Benson or Patrick McKinney. Couldn’t remember attacking Max Mayfield, putting her in the hospital. Couldn’t remember how he got hurt. Deny, deny, deny. It had been easy to convince the cops that he’d lost his mind; easy enough that it was borderline insulting. The last of Vecna’s victims had wounded him to find out about, and had nearly caused him to lose face. He didn’t know Red well, but he’d seen her around the trailer park, looking as lost and broken as he did at that age. Got to know her better over the time they spent together, and had admired the strength and tenacity that was in her, too much of those qualities for a fifteen year-old to carry. He just prayed to a God that he didn’t believe in that she’d pull through.

Many years ago, he had made a promise to himself not to ever turn out like his father. That waste of space that chose drugs over his own flesh and blood. But getting processed in what remained of Hawkins police station, ink still damp on his fingertips as he clutched the name board while his picture was taken, that’s exactly how it felt. The hospital booted him as soon as he was medically stable, no doubt not wanting to harbour a serial killer in the halls that were meant for healing. At least he could be thankful that the station was only a detour, a short stop to what would be his home for God knows how long.

Pennhurst Mental Hospital.

In four months, life had blurred into a monotony that was barely endurable, with no end in sight. He was afforded no luxuries; the cell he was kept in made up of nothing more than necessities. Bed, sink and toilet, desk and a chair. No windows, and the only view past his bars being a dirty grey brick wall.He’d counted the cracks in it the first week in. Counted the ones on the ceilings in the second week. The rest of the time had been spent packing back and forth, like that tiger he’d once seen at some shit zoo. The lack of fresh air had suffocated him long ago. He could swear that he hadn’t taken a deep breath since Chrissy’s body flung itself to the ceiling.

It was the boredom that was the thing that was slowly poisoning him the fastest. The unending, unyielding, mind numbing boredom. Where all he had was his thoughts, and no possible escape from them. Thoughts of the past and the future threatening to pull him under, to drown him in regrets and missed opportunities. He was going to finally graduate from high school. Corroded coffin could have gone somewhere. He was going to start a new campaign for Hellfire. He was planning to finally move out of the trailer, and into a place of his own. Back and forth, the rumination so intense it made his head spin. Made him pace even harder, until he was near the point of over exertion. The only outlet for a man that barely ever stood still in his life.

A nurse that must have had a shred of humanity left passed a book through his bars the first couple of weeks in, evidently having enough sense to realise there was no possible way for him to do damage to himself or others with it, and most likely sick of the sound of rubber soles against cement. The Count of Monte Christo was a book that he vaguely remembered from school, no doubt an essay that he didn’t hand in considering he’d never read it in his life. But by this point? He could have recited it in his fucking sleep.

It was during another countless repeat of reading it that his attention was caught by the calling of his last name, a loud bang of a fist hitting metal that snapped him out of whatever dissociation he found himself lost in. Snapping his head towards the sound, he was met with the unkind face of one of the orderlies, one that seemed to have it in for him since getting here. Eddie had heard him be called Bradford before. He must have caught the confusion on Eddie’s face, considering he followed it up with an eye roll.

“Get your ass over here,” was the gruff response he got, the jingling of keys audible as the one to his cell drove home into the cylinder. “Must be your lucky day.”

Though there were multiple questions ruminating in Eddie’s mind, he knew better to push his luck. Gift horse in the mouth, and all that. The steps he took towards the door were methodical; slow and steady, as if it was all one sick prank, getting him into trouble and thrown into the solitary confinement cells that he’d been borderline threatened with multiple times.

A firm hand planted to his chest stopped him in his tracks, the contact to the still healing scars making him wince and take a sharp breath. It was instinct to lower his eye contact upward, though it quickly dropped to the floor as the man loomed over him. “Any trouble, so much as one foot out of step, and I’ll make it my fucking mission to put you back in here. Do I make myself clear?” the man warned under his breath. The smell of stale coffee and cigarettes hitting him square in the face, making his stomach churn.

Swallow down the disgust and agony, as much as it hurts, the reasonable voice inside him whispered. Don’t do anything stupid. In another life, he would have given this figure of authority hell. A sarcastic quip heavy on his tongue, a middle finger to those who wanted him under their boot.

But this wasn’t that life. And he needed to play it smart.

“Crystal, sir,” he mumbled, fight well and truly snuffed out from the system that wanted him locked up and the key thrown away.

It seemed to have appeased the orderly, for now. The man took sure steps towards the exit, Eddie following his heels at a close yet respectable distance. Head lowered, frizzy curls now wild and unruly falling like a curtain in front of his face. It was near laughable to him that the ability to walk in a straight line further than ten feet was now a luxury. Could finally properly stretch his legs, though the destination was still a mystery.

The shift from dim lighting to sunshine with the ascension of a set of stairs that he’d only travelled down once made his eyes screw near closed on instinct, turning his head away from the windows that let it in. Once upon a time, he enjoyed sunny days. Like the feeling of sun on his skin, and the wind in his hair. Nowadays he didn’t even know what season it was.

Being led through winding corridors, for the first time he saw other patients, all eyeing him with paranoid looks. He couldn’t blame them. But he could feel the tendrils of fear beginning to grip at his gut. Would he end up like these people eventually? How long would it take? A couple of months? Years? A subtle shake of his head as he tried to dislodge the thoughts. He couldn’t think like that. Hopper promised he’d be out of here soon. He just had to have hope.

The orderly came to a stop in front of a door, deep green and paint chipping off with age. The nameplate on the front gave him pause, when he finally spared a glance at it. DR. EDITH MILLER, etched onto the brass. He’d had meetings with Dr. Miller since he got here. Once a week, the nosey bitch would try and get information that didn’t even seem relevant. He’d managed to evade some of the questions, embellished the truth on others. But if he was being summoned to her office? This couldn’t be good.

The orderly’s knuckles rapped on the door three times, a call of “enter,” being audible seconds later. Eddie was ushered inside, the homely looking woman with already greying hair barely looking up at him from her paperwork as she motioned with the pen in her hand towards the chair nearest to them. At least in his cell, he was somewhere that he knew back to front. This was completely different, completely new, and his nerves were already on edge as he shuffled inside.

“Need me to stay?” Bradford asked, hand still grasping the door handle as his eyes flickered around the room. No doubt his mind was already thinking of possibilities of what could happen with a suspected murderer left alone in a room with a defenceless woman. The thought of people thinking that he was capable of atrocities weren’t new, but it still made Eddie sick to the core.

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied, hazel eyes finally shifting upwards to look at the two men. Her monotone voice gave nothing away, face devoid of any emotion either. Bradford faltered for only a second, before Eddie finally heard the door close behind him. Only then was he given the barest hint of a polite smile as she motioned her hand towards the chair again, to which he obliged out of the need to be polite. “How are you feeling this week, Eddie?” she asked, head slightly tilted.

She was the only one to call him the name he preferred. Everyone else just called him Munson. He wasn’t stupid; he knew it was a ploy to get him to trust her. Make him comfortable with small signs of respect, though it was likely she didn’t in the slightest. His hands settled on his lap as he fidgeted with his fingers, eyes glued to the worn tiles of the linoleum and absentmindedly counting the cracks. “Fine,” he replied, the word devoid of any emotion or energy.

The truth would be sharing too much; the fear of being honest bringing the risk of even more restrictions under the guise of safety. There wasn’t a delicate way of saying “I want to close my eyes and never wake up some days.”

He heard scrawls of the pen, no doubt more notes that would dig him a grave of pills and cell bars. A pregnant pause before she spoke again, and an intake of breath. “And how are you feeling with the medication changes? Is your mood still low?”

He had to bite his tongue, to stop his lips turning up into an incredulous smile. The truth again being evaded in the answer. “Fine,” he repeated, this time with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “The pills make me feel sick every hour of the day, make me into more of a ghost than I already am.”

Another scratch of ink on paper. “Your case was brought forward to the panel this morning. We’ve decided that we should ease your restrictions, given that there’s been no record of violent tendencies to yourself or others since the time you’ve been with us.”

That made his ears perk up, the sparks of hope threatening to ignite in his chest. Head snapping up to finally make eye contact with the good doctor, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What does that mean?”

Her eyes studied his face for a few heartbeats, a small smile gracing her features, one that seemed to be an attempt at easing anxieties. “It means we’ve decided to move you to a medium security wing. It comes with certain privileges, but also with expectations, Eddie.”

The words coming out of her mouth seemed to blur together, becoming a background noise to his rapidly beating heart. He was finally getting out of the damnation he had been trapped in, perhaps finally allowed into the light. To be able to breathe lungfuls of outside air from a crack in a window, to not have to sleep just to evade the hollow boredom. It was relief; as if the hand of an angel had reached into the pits of hell, to bring him to salvation. And if that hand was one of the likes of Miller, he’d clasp it with both hands and not let go until the end was in sight.

“-we’ll still need to see improvement to give you certain privileges, but we can play it by ear. How does that sound?” Her voice finally tuned back in, a little hazy at the edges, tears of joy and relief threatening to fall from his eyes.

“When can I go? When do I move?” he blurted, the only question that mattered. Fuck, if she’d asked him to crawl through broken glass right now, he’d do it with a fucking smile on his face.

Her eyes flickered downwards as her wrist came up, a brief glance to her wristwatch as she pulled herself to a stand. “You’re just in time for recreation, and there’s no time like the present.” She rounded the desk, taking sure steps to the door and looking back. “Shall we?”

It was instinct to move as fast as his legs could take him, quickly snuffed out with the realisation of where he was. Slow, sure movements, make yourself as least threatening as possible. Keep hands visible at all times, open and by his sides. Three steps away from the doctor, passing many twists and turns of the corridor and being led through multiple sets of steel doors, until one was finally opened for him that he was expected to step through alone.

It wasn’t until the door slammed behind him that he finally looked up to take in his surroundings. Chipped and scuffed beige linoleum tiles, walls in just as sorry a state. Large windows that bathed the room in natural sunlight, though the bars on the windows were a reminder of where he truly was. A couple of tables and chairs dotted around the room, most occupied with other patients. Who seemed to be in various stages of lucidity. A couple of benches, some more chairs crowded around an ancient TV.

In any other situation, he would call this place what it was; an abject shithole. Somewhere he wouldn’t be if you paid him. But recent events had changed his mindset, had lowered his expectations until the bar was practically on the floor. This was a damn palace, compared to his last recent address. It had the lack of staleness in the air, albeit now replaced with bleach and something he couldn’t place. It had space, and light.

It had hope.

But with the luxury of choice, came the immobilising aspect to it. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Where was he going to sit, or do? Strike up conversation and hope that the person didn’t know about what had put him here in the first place?

He was still making his choice when he heard a voice. A woman, tone bored yet slight amusement playing on the words.

“Are you just going to stand there? You’re making the place look untidy.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #cw: angst

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your-queer-dad · 6 months

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Hey Queer dad, I only just found this blog, but I'm writing you anyway, I Don't want to be anonymous, I want my name attached to my story I fear that I'm probably going to explain myself poorly but here goes anyway I am going to be 24 years old this May, I've been on E since 10 - 2020 Ive had to move out to live with my boyfriend of 3 years and it feels like I've all but abandoned my dreams of going through college as an engineer, things were hard to keep up with when covid struck and now I'm a trans-woman living in Georgia USA, I understand that its not as good as my home-state of New York on trans issues, but I have my BF and his Family who are supportive... I'm SCARED as of late sure I live in a fairly chill part of the state, but i'm SCARED like big time, its making my mental health journey harder, and I'm finding a lot of VERY bad thoughts creeping in, mostly about my appearance and all that, I don't look all that fem when i have trouble taking care of my day-to-day hygiene,

My dad is ""Supportive"" as far as accepting the fact that I'm his daughter now, but he and most of my extended family still doesn't use my pronouns or chosen name. My mom, well she left this world, and me alone in it, sure she was never the best to me, but she would have been the one person to support me. When she left I promised myself and her that I would take the little support I spit on and ground into the dirt as a teenager and actually be true to myself.

I know that at this point I am rambling, but I want to put meaning and journey behind my words THANK YOU, for being here for us. THANK YOU for providing a space for us to ask questions, and get parental style advice when we have no-one else and I ask of you this, how does one find community in this world when one struggles to navigate the fear she feels from the world around her?

Hi!! Thank you so much for reaching out. Honestly, it sounds like you've had such a rough time and I am really proud of you. Thank you for sharing your story, I appreciate it, and I'll do my best to help out.

Personal story time: I myself was (and still am sometimes) in a very similar situation myself. And it is scary, it's really isolating to see so much hate from others just for being yourself, and it makes you want to withdraw and hide. And I hid, for so long- it's really hard to show your true self in a world so full of hate and fear.

But I did, slowly, step by step. A little bit every day. Us humans, we're not supposed to be on our own. We're pack animals, like wolves or lions, we thrive off other people's company (some more than others). With mental health, when all you want to do is hide and let the world forget that you exist, what helps you the most is finding others who feel like it and can help.

Easier said than done right?

I'm still working on it, and there's never going to be a stage where you're perfect at it- but every day, just actively trying to engage with others around you, I found helped me. Not running away when people offer help, speaking to new people, finding my local queer community- just actively being aware of my surroundings and gently pushing myself to talk to new people.

The worlds a lot less scary when you have an army of support behind you.

It takes time, and energy. It's hard. And definitely baby steps, small steps. But there are so many good people out there, who will love you and accept you and value you, you just have to find them.

I'm really proud of you, I'm always here if you need someone to talk to and feel free to reach out anytime. Everything will be okay.

- dad x

#ask a finch!#what a lovely ask #lgbt #finch rambles #lgbtq #lgbtqia #trans #transgender #queer positivity #trans joy

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imaginespazzi · 1 month

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Wowza, I have a LOT of thoughts and feelings about part 7. A real mixed bag. BUCKLE UP.

2033

yaaay they had a sleep over that didn't end absolute destruction of our collective hearts!

I feel the storm a brew'in with Drew. Something is coming and its not gonna be good lol.

Stephie’s quiet for a second, hiccoughing to herself as she searches for something on Paige’s face before she holds out a pinky, “promise you’ll never leave?” oof. my gut. is punched.

Paige is terrified. hmmm ok I like were getting into Paige's psyche a little more. Unlike other anons I don't think she's going to straight up run away or something drastic like that, but I think its totally fair that now that they are over the 'hump' (even though there has been no humping :( ) of admitting their feelings and trying to build something new, it is sinking in for Paige that wow this could be amazing… or I could get my heart trampled again and combust into a million pieces if this dream doesn't work out

Paige laughs, tucking that little tidbit away to tease Azzi with later, “how about you and I go get your Mama her favorite coffee?” oh I love this domestic shit. Paige would be the kind of sweet lover girl to go out and get her woman her favorite coffee even if theres coffee already in the house

Hmmm when is Jose's wedding happening? Will Paige be Azzi's date? Will being at a wedding give her a PTSD trauma response? I normally love weddings but i feel like you aint gonna give us a fluff fest with this one. Or maybe Azzi and Paige have a wonderful romantic time and start talking about what they want to do for their own wedding. happy happy happy fluff yay.

OOoh lawd is Paige gonna let an 'i love you' slip and freak Azzi out

“your daughter has you wrapped around her little finger huh?” “yeah, yeah she does.” SOBBING. But for real by the time Stephie is a teenager Azzi is going to have to impose a monthly limit on how much Paige can spend on random shit for Stephie cause she would be rollin up to school in a G-wagon and a louis v backpack and get mugged/become insufferable lol.

“I got you an iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream,” foreshadowing smut with Paige putting whipped cream on azzi's nips? yes? great.

“Sounds good,” Paige confirms, “we’ll be there!” - awwww cutie paige. Couple mode.

But there’s something about being a secret again, that raises a bitter taste of what killed us then could kill us now in her mouth. hmmmm this is interesting. I often forget about the fact that their first relationship was a secret, and how clearly there is an element of that involved in their breakup. Azzi pulling back again? Im getting sad.

dun dun dun dun the moment we've been waiting for - FRENCHIE!

Hmm ok so Stephie doesn't seem to know clem was not just a platonic friend for Azzi… wondering if its cause they weren't in a serious relationship and it was just FWB or if it was a full blown relationship and Azzi consciously hid it from stephie

I mean Im sure Paige hates clemence already for obvious reasons, but STEPHIE loving her……ohhhhh lawd

Oof ok Clemence traded to atlanta… glad we dont have to have her around for long. I dont want paige to be arrested for homicide. Also Im absolutely picturing Clemence looking like Marine Johannes cause we know Azzi's type is white blond haired blue eyed Guards lol

“just one night.” I feel this night out is going to be an alcohol fueled disaster and IM SO EXCITED

2028

Why isn't Azzi playing for team USA? Stephie was born in January so could she not theoretically be back in it by now? Or did she take 2 seasons off?

OK Olivia. You know I love the whole Olivia of it all and I find the relationship so intriguing and complex. My first instincts about her in this chapter were of course, dear god she is such a bitch. And then I have to remind myself SHES NOT. She is just kind of a dumbass who is in love with someone who isn't in love with her, and its pretty much torturing her. -- “You did it,” Olivia screams, running into Paige’s arms as friends and family start to gather on the court, “I’m so proud of you!” “Thanks Olivia-” Paige is about to say more like… you are congratulating your wife on her winning a game at the Olympics and she can't even get out a full sentence in response cause she SEES the back of her ex girlfriends head. Thats grounds for divorce right there lol.

eeeek i dont like confrontation this would make me pee my pants "“Oh I don’t know about that,” Olivia says airily, sharp nails digging a little too roughly into Paige’s skin as her grip tightens further, “there’s plenty of talent up and coming in the next 4 years.”

"This is a side of Olivia that Paige is only just beginning to unveil, the side of Olivia that makes snide bitchy comments with a saccharine voice." … hmmm just starting to reveal? so theyve been married for like 8 months at this point. Olivia was keeping up a facade for a while ….. or Paige's clear preference for azzi is just getting worse and worse and the woman is finally cracking.

Ok the image of Olivia being LIVID in their hotel room, and Paige is just laying in bed watching tiktoks not listening to a thing Olivia says. Why is Olivia still here?! Take the money and run bitch your wife aint that into you!

gazing down at her phone where another fuckass Clézzi edit has started to play "fuckass clezzi edit' HHAHAHAHAH this is so Paige

Another thing about Olivia is that she seems to have a real issue with Basketball despite you know, being a sports reporter and pursuing a player romantically?? When Paige and her have that post presser spat in the earlier chapter Olivia says something like "There are other jobs than playing basketball" and here again she goes "right, fucking basketball. again". Sorry Olivia but your house, luxury cars, jewelry, are all courtesy of the fact that your wife is a basketball player! Who you met... while she was a basketball player! -OK Olivia, not going to the gold medal game? Bitch gots to go. How did this marriage continue for 2 more years lol

Azzi’s eyes soften, “I came for you. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say that but- I’m here for you.” ok and im crying again. Just get back together right here and now you fools.

I do have a short addition to the end of the chapter, ahem im a little rusty:

And they both know that they’re saying words they shouldn’t say. That when they break apart from this moment, they’ll have to walk away. But for now, being in each other’s arms is the only thing that feels right, that feels golden. Except, at the afterparty their eyes meet again. Olivia had gone back to Dallas in a huff instead of staying for closing ceremonies. Clemence had to go be French somewhere, and didn't want to celebrate the USA win. And despite both being in relationships, the pull towards each other they felt was undeniable. After a couple dirty shirleys, Azzi followed Paige to her now empty suite. Once inside Paige opened a bottle of champagne, realized it was from France, and threw the bottle out the window. She then opened a Budweiser, poured it over azzis tits, chugged he rest of it, and they made passionate and patriotic love. As Paige buried her face in Azzis pussy, sucking on her clit like a goddamn AMERICAN, Azzi chanted 'USA USA USA'! She was reminded how much she loved Paige's Red Blooded American passion. Sure, sex with Clem was nice. But she was always stopping in the middle to bring out a cheese plate, and some preserves, or some croissants that got crumbs all over the place. While they both seemed to understand this was a one time thing, Azzi and Paige felt the Olympic spirit erupting within them, that it was fate they they connected here in LA, and released the tension they had been bottling up for 4 years. As they both squirted simultaneously, it was reminiscent of old faithful, another classic American relic. What a night it was. 🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱

Buckling up m'am!

Paige is rightfully apprehensive about a lot of things. I think with her, when she was trying to convince Azzi, she's wasn't thinking about more than just being together. Now that they are taking step towards that, Paige is starting to have an epiphany of "hey there were actual reasons why we haven't been together for the last 8 years and maybe I needa think about those just a little bit".

The wedding will happen on-page and there's two ways it could go. I haven't fully decided yet so it's just as much a mystery to me I guess.

LMFAO Paige is just gonna give that girl an amex card and let her go ham with it if she gets her way

I'm glad you caught that line!

A lot of people seemed to think Clémence looks like Marine Johannes which is lowkey what I pictured as well and so I'm very amused that we all seem to be on the same wavelength with that lmao

I don't think she took two seasons off because she's definitely playing in the 2028 W season but with Stephie having been born only a couple months ago, I think Azzi, as a single mother, prioritized Stephie over going to Olympic training camps and stuff and so she wasn't on the team.

She is just kind of a dumbass who is in love with someone who isn't in love with her, and its pretty much torturing her. - this is exactly it like she's in a very depressing situation if we look at it through non-pazzi tinted glasses

Olivia is holding onto a dream that's threatening to turn into a nightmare and I don't think even she could tell you why she's holding on except for this ridiculous things called hope.

It's easier to take her anger out on Paige's love for basketball than take it out on Paige's love for Azzi that they're both trying to pretend doesn't exist anymore.

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST BABES!

I just- throwing out the champagne cause it's french? the beer? USA USA USA chanting? cheese plates?

No notes, 10/10 perfection. Please take over my writing credentials.

#ask #fic talk #🤱 anon my personal jester <3 #that last part will have me wheezing for days lmao how do you come up with this stuff

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mytalemyworld · 4 months

Text

Usually when a tv couple is ruined, the butchering keeps going. Like, there's a point you can see where everything goes wrong and is never back on track.

As for Asi & Alaz, they give us a scene that's complete nonsense then give us another scene that's in character and so deep.

This inconsistency is drving me mad. Because they could write but choose not to. And this seriously doesn't make sense. I mean, maybe there's one writer in their team who completely has a different writing style and when it's his/her turn, we get meaningful scenes. This might explain this puzzle. I don't know, I want to understand what's going on.

Like this scene…

I surely think whoever wrote this couldn't have written the rooftop scene or the bar scene. This is so layered, so deep, so aching.

Asi: Alaz, where are you? Where did you hide yourself? Alaz: I am here. Asi: This is not you.

The difference between Neslihan and Asi, while one of them has no idea how to help him out, the other one is already one more step ahead of him. His mother's words never touch his heart because it's lacking, it always comes from a mother's naturally worried heart but it's never fulfilling because aforementioned mother already missed his whole childhood, teenager years and never really sees what he needs. But Asi's words rock his world, his conscience and touch his wounds. Because she knows who he is and what he needs.

Alaz: Don't have any hopes about me. Asi: I don't. I know we're not lovers anymore. You aren't a man whom one could become lovers with. It's over. That's not the point. I can live without you. I lived without a father and mother. Being without you won't kill me. Don't worry. But I won't let you go anywhere until you throw the poison inside of you out. I won't watch you being miserable like this. Do you understand me? Did you hear me? Alaz: You want me to poison you too then. Forget it. You can't handle it. Even I can't handle it. I am in a purgatory. I am fighting but can't get myself out of it no matter what I do. Asi: You don't have to fight alone. Hold my hand and let's get out of this war, this purgatory. Then you can let go of my hand. Alaz: If I hold it, I won't be able ot let go of it. Asi: Okay, I promise that I will. Just get out of that pit.

Neslihan was right about one thing. Asi is the biggest chance/luck for him.

This totally makes sense. This gives us a reason, and better, in a metaphorical way, finally he tells what he fears: Ruining her too.

But seeing him like this already destroys her. Even though she states this is just like a worry for his well being, she still says "let's get out of this war together". Because as long as she loves him, this is what she feels like: Being in the middle of that war with him. Whatever he feels, she feels the same.

She really can live without him but it'd make her feel as if she lost another family member. She is a survivor but at what cost?

He confesses her Çağla was the reason Rüya died.

He is like…now the bomb is in your hands, will you pull the pin and destroy my family, destroy my bond with my brother? Or will you really keep holding my hand, be by my side even though that means you will betray Yaman? Because he warned her about this: If she holds out her hand, he will want more, he will expect more. He is that helpless and he hates himself that much.

He's scared that he will see disappointment and hate in her eyes and she will be burdened. That's why he made sure that she would stay away from him. He didn't want her to make that choice. See, they could give us only these, not the rooftop scene or the bar scene. This itself would make them miserable enough. This is such a deep conflict that's why I don't want to believe that this writer team is the same one that wrote the bar scene. Whoever wrote this knows these characters.

Hating him… He has a sick way of thinking… Showing her himself as someone who betrays Yaman is more harmful than making her believe that he doesn't love her….to him this makes sense. I mean, he clearly said he would never look at Asi's face anymore, it's like he wanted to be that kind of person so she would reject him no matter how he selfishly wanted to go to her door.

Still, the bar scene was out of character. Or the way it was written maybe. There is no need to be that extreme.

They're really giving us delicious conflicts but we all know how they are solved in the end. So, I don't expect anything from this.

#yabani #asi x alaz

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dark-elf-writes · 1 year

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I don't know if you have ever talked about this before but do you headcanon Hizashi as having ADHD? because they really do seem like they need ALL THE STIMULATION. What with the three jobs and all.

Oh absolutely. I see a lot of myself in Hizashi which happens to include the ADHD. Tbh probably not even diagnosed until high school because no one… cared as long as they kept their head down.

Young Hizashi who was labeled a motor mouth because they didn’t know when to stop talking. Young Hizashi who was always in trouble because they could never focus. Young Hizashi whose grades weren’t the best because they kept misplacing of forgetting to do their homework but they aced every test. Young Hizashi who was constantly in trouble for tapping or clicking or swaying, forced to stand against a wall during recess and watch the other kids get to vent their energy in the way they never could. Young Hizashi with a book open next to their notes, reading as they write or else they won’t take in the information at all. Young Hizashi in tears as they try to explain that they can’t just listen and sit still but since they aren’t destructive and can hyper focus for hours no one listens.

Teenage Hizashi who turns to other places for stimulation: energy drinks that don’t make them any less tired but do make their blood feel sparkly, music so loud they can feel it behind their eyes, lighters and butterfly knifes kissing their knuckles and leaving little marks behind as they try to master tricks after only seeing one video. Teenage Hizashi who has class down to a science, personal reading book swapped with a second notebook with lyrics and peons and whatever else scrawled in a mad mash of languages so no teacher could say for certain that they weren’t paying attention. A thousand reminders set for every deadline, knowing full well they would finish it in the early hours of the morning on the day it was due no matter how many alarms they set. Teenaged Hizashi with black painted nails always chipped and the skin around them red and raw from keeping themself from moving and disturbing others.

Teenaged Hizashi who stands before a rat, forcing themself to sit still, as he talks about the one thing they have known was true from childhood but no one believed.

ADHD.

(“You don’t have that.”

“You can’t have that.”

“Stop looking for attention.”

“Just try harder.”

“Lazy.”

“So much potential.”)

Nezu doesn’t say anything like they have heard before and instead folds his paws on the desk between them. “There are many accommodations we can offer to help you learn best, Yamada. It is our job to ensure that you can thrive and that includes finding what works best for you both in education and eventually professionally.”

The cried. Nezu was kind enough not to bring that fact up whenever they reassessed what did and didn’t work for Hizashi’s accommodations.

Adult Hizashi with a laptop open on their lap, a notebook at their side, and phone in hand, doing three tasks at once as they chatter away at whoever was in the teachers lounge. Adult Hizashi who teaches in constant motion wide gestures and pacing and whiteboards on each wall so they aren’t tethered to one spot. Adult Hizashi with no late work policy who accepts assignments at any time whether it be an hour after they handed them out or at the end of term. Adult Hizashi with a desk drawer full of fidgets that they toss to the kids who ask for them with a knowing look. Adult Hizashi who after years of trying finally found someone who understood and promised themself that they would be that for someone else.

#the elf talks #mha #bnha #yamada hizashi #oh #I have a lot of adhd related trauma ig

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 2 years

Photo

*submits this and passes out*

HERE IS THE FIRST HALF OF THE FIC THAT HAS TAKEN OVER EVERY LAST ONE OF MY LIFE OBLIGATIONS FOR THE PAST WEEK AND A HALF

I STG I DID NOT MEAN TO GET THIS INVESTED BUT

@ckhalloween22 spoopy season Elimetri for the “monstrous transformations” prompt, as promised!!! Chapter 2 will hopefully be up later this week!

Fun fact: I actually made that moodboard ages ago (like...early 2021??? Purple Hawk did not even exist yet :O) and just never got around to posting it. Mainly because I was planning on posting this long list of vampire/werewolf headcanons to go with it, and I just...was too lazy to, RIP. But now there’s a whole-ass fic to go with it, so it seemed like a good time to post it XD

Spoilers ig that there are in fact werewolves in Chapter 2 lmao

Hopefully this will be on AO3 soon!!! Just gotta like. Recover from binge-writing this entire 14k-word fic in a few days, whoops. Y’all this was originally gonna be a one-shot and then it turned into a MONSTER (no pun intended) and now it’s a two-shot XD

Anyways enjoy the exact kinda angsty nonsense that I have been using as Daydream Scenarios for months now to entertain myself before I go to sleep. I never thought they would leave my head, but here we are.

ALSO @lizziefanconfessions I vaguely remember you saying you liked my vampire!Elimetri content, so. Come get fed!!! Highkey went all out with this one XD

EDIT: Chapter 2 is HERE!

Nocturnal Chapter 1 - Before Daybreak

There’s a strange smell coming from the hallway.

Demetri clutches at the lavish bedsheets. He should feel spoiled, but he knows it’s just another taunt.

He’s willing to bet Terry Silver has 15 identical guestrooms, all lavishly furnished. Each costing maybe 3 thousand dollars—or more.

A reminder that Terry Silver has enough money to do whatever the hell he wants. Even kidnap teenagers. Even…

Demetri’s hand drifts to the sores on his neck. They still hurt like a bitch.

He tastes the air again. There’s so much more than there used to be, and it’s unnerving. Lacquer. Candle wax. Velvet. Carpet cleaner. Marble. Stonework.

The one in the hallway is new, he can tell that much. Different enough from the olfactory default he’s gotten used to. Now if he could just tell what—

He chokes on his breath.

It’s Eli.

He’s not sure how he knows. Perhaps he’s always been able to recognize it, on a subconscious level. But every scrap of his fucked-up body is suddenly certain.

Eli, leave! Just fucking leave! Demetri wants to scream into his bedsheets.

When he screamed at Silver that his friends would come for him, he was bluffing. Always bluffing. He didn’t want any of them anywhere near this place, Eli least of all.

And yet here he was, strolling in on some convoluted rescue mission and about to get himself killed. Or…worse.

Eli’s scent draws closer. Demetri wants to shout a warning, tell him to get out of here…but with dear old Terry’s cronies and guards and henchmen behind every decorative statue, calling attention to his best friend’s presence would be about the most morally reprehensible thing he could do.

A discordant clicking fills the room, and Demetri realizes Eli must be fiddling with the electronic padlock.

It won’t take long to hack. Unfortunately.

The door swings open, and Demetri forgets how much he isn’t supposed to want this.

Eli’s face is glistening with sweat, scar flaring up red the way it sometimes does when he’s out of breath. Long hair—down, undyed—is plastered to his skin.

He must not have wanted to stand out. He must have insisted on being the clandestine part of the operation.

The one who found Demetri.

He drinks in everything about Eli Moskowitz—wiry limbs, track pants, gray jacket, blue eyes, panicked face. All things Demetri was convinced he’d never see again.

“Demetri.”

Eli whispers his name. A tactical maneuver, meant not to alert any hostile presences nearby.

Nonetheless, Demetri gets the feeling Eli wants to shout.

“I—”

There are too many things he wants to say. I missed you. You shouldn’t be here. I just want to hold you. Get the fuck out. I need you. You’re in danger.

“You need to leave,” he manages. He sounds raspy, unsure, and probably desperate. Fucking pathetic.

“Not…without you?” Eli’s brow furrows in confusion. “I’m rescuing you, asshole.”

Demetri shakes his head, eyes wild. “No—no, you have to stay away from me. You have to. You—”

Eli’s scent is overwhelming now. Something vaguely bringing to mind Mrs. Moskowitz pulling fresh-baked hamantaschen out of the oven.

Tantalizing.

And Demetri wants it. All of it.

“You’re not making any fucking sense!” Eli is scowling, and Demetri shoves the hunger down.

He slides off the bed, starting to back toward the wall. “He did something to me,” he gasps out. “Silver. I don’t know what, but now I want—there’s a part of me that wants—”

There’s a part of me that wants to kill you.

He can’t say it out loud. It wouldn’t be his first thought of Eli that never makes it into the spoken world.

“Demetri.” Eli slowly moves toward him, as though approaching a scared wild animal. Not that far off the mark, really. “What happened to you? What did he do?”

Demetri’s back hits the wall. He realizes with a prick of dread that there’s no way to run to the door without Eli intercepting him.

“Please.” His voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Whatever it is.” Eli is as calm as ever—a jarring change from his usual demeanor. “We can figure it out. Just let me get you out of here.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I can’t go. Something’s wrong with me. I don’t—I don’t know what I’ll do out there.”

Eli steps closer. Demetri’s about to be cornered.

He knows he’s sick in the head, for letting this happen when he knows the risk.

Eli’s blood could be on his hands. A beautifully, terribly layered statement.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what he did to you.” Eli’s voice hardens.

Panic sears through him, and he feels like he’s on the verge of collapse. The hunger is hissing at him to pounce, to slice a hole in Eli’s neck…

Shut the fuck up.

Not Eli Moskowitz. He’ll tear through the rest of humanity if he has to, leave a trail of carnage wherever he goes…but he’ll be damned if he ever lays a hand on Eli again.

“Hey.”

Eli doesn’t break Demetri’s gaze. Another step. Demetri holds his breath.

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

Eli doesn’t sound scornful or dismissive when he says it. Not like the way Demetri spat it out in the comic book store, all those months ago.

He only seems worried.

“You should be,” Demetri says. “I’m not the same. I’m not who you remember, I’m just…” He struggles for an appropriate metaphor.

“I’m just corrupted data.”

“That’s not true.” Eli smiles. “I come in here, and not 10 seconds later you’re freaking out and fussing over me doing some reckless shit you’re not cool with. That’s exactly who I remember.”

Slender fingers wrap around Demetri’s wrist, and he gasps.

Eli’s hand is warm. Not in a burning way, but…a cozy way, almost. Like coming inside on a rainy winter day.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Eli says cheekily. “You have a mental breakdown every time your mom puts too much coriander in the shawarma. One time you stepped on Heracles’s tail and prepared an apology soliloquy. Like, ooooh, I am quivering in terror.”

Demetri laughs, and Eli looks at him with a fondness that makes him ache with longing.

It’s then something clicks.

Eli’s close enough to see Demetri’s teeth, now honed to unflattering points. He’s felt Demetri’s skin, which now looks and feels like a bedsheet left by an air conditioner.

He has to know by now what’s going on.

Why is Eli still here? He’s smart enough to run. At least Demetri hopes so.

Eli’s hand slides down his wrist, slowly weaving their fingers together. It’s the type of soft gentleness Demetri hasn’t experienced for a long time.

And it’s enough to make him shatter.

He crumples into Eli and erupts in sobs. His hands knot into gray fabric, clinging to it like it’s the only thing left in the world.

Strong arms wrap around his back, hands tracing circles along his spine. He almost wants to laugh at the irony.

It’s always been Eli who needs this. When the panic attacks or the meltdowns hit, or when the world just gets to be too much, Demetri holds him until he feels safe again.

Now Demetri’s on the inside of it all, frantically trying to stabilize.

“Shhhh. It’s okay.” Eli’s voice slides out in a soothing whisper. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Demetri shakes, and Eli holds him tighter. Everything about him is warm and steady and secure, and the anxiety and sheer terror of the last several days finally starts to drain away.

“Please let me take you home.”

Demetri knows he shouldn’t say yes. He nods anyway.

***

“So he held you down and…” Eli trails off.

“Drank me.” Demetri shudders at the memory. “Bit a hole in my neck and started gulping down my bodily fluids like they were Mr. Pibbs.”

“Ew.” Eli scowls at him. “Bodily fluids? Just say your blood, dude. I don’t need that mental image.”

Demetri scoffs, bumping Eli’s shoulder. “Still gross, either way.”

“So…what then?”

He freezes, going rigid as the image of snakelike red eyes boring into him comes trickling back. “He, um…”

A thin arm snakes around his neck, and Demetri feels Eli’s hand on his shoulder. A couple quick squeezes, and Demetri can breathe again.

“I guess I was kind of out of it by the end. My head felt all fuzzy. I remember someone dragged me into that room, and then I started feeling…hungry. And I could smell everything.” He turns, smiling weakly. “I could even smell you coming to get me.”

Eli smirks. “Do I smell good?”

“You smell amazing.” He nudges his friend’s side. “An absolute snack.”

Demetri leans into Eli as he laughs. His hand roams up his chest, clutching at the hand still squeezing his shoulder.

“‘Metri.” Fingertips brush against his neck, and he winces at the sudden pricks of pain. “Do they still hurt?”

He sighs. “Not as much as they did, but…yeah.”

“I can get a cream or something. My mom’s got a whole cabinet full of that shit.”

“I don’t know if it’ll work on undead skin, but I guess it’s worth a try.”

Eli walks out of the room, and Demetri is alone with the moonlight streaming through the window. He reclines on Eli’s bed, letting out a long breath.

It’s 3 am now. At least a few more hours before Demetri has to figure out what the fuck he’s going to do about his mom and Heracles. About his Tech Town shifts. About Miguel and Sam and Chris and Nate and Mr. LaRusso and everyone else who he can’t go near ever again.

That was supposed to be Eli too, but he was a stubborn fucker. Getting a redwood tree to budge would be easier.

He stretches out his arms, and his hand hits something plush. He turns, smiling.

He didn’t notice when he first came in, but Raptor Reynaldo, the stuffed hawk he won for Eli at a carnival when they were 7, is perched on his best friend’s pillow. Demetri spent an hour getting the damn bird out of a claw machine, and he’s been a scowling Eli Moskowitz bedroom presence ever since. Eli got his mom to sew a stupid red mohawk onto Raptor Reynaldo’s head during junior year, and he still hasn’t gotten around to taking it off.

Edgy idiot.

Despite himself, Demetri grabs the bird and pulls him in. It’s nice to have something soft to squeeze. Gets some of the tension out, at least.

Besides, maybe Raptor Reynaldo’s ridiculous new hairdo will pop off and go flying across the room. Perhaps into the garbage.

“Demetri.” A tired voice from the doorway. “Please don’t tell me you added Raptor Reynaldo to your legion of the undead.”

“Mmmm. I tried.” Demetri smirks. “Little hard to suck cotton stuffing, though.”

The bed compresses next to him. “Okay, sit up. I need to put this on.” Groaning, he reluctantly complies.

As Eli coats his fingers in some type of unpronounceable soothing lotion, he looks at Demetri with narrowed eyes. “Are you…are you going to let go of Raptor Reynaldo?”

Demetri scoffs. “Make me.”

Soft fingers brush his neck, and his eyes slip closed. They rub gentle spirals and curls, careful to never press too hard.

Demetri has no earthly idea whether the gel Eli picked is actually helping or not, but his best friend has a warmth that he could drink in forever.

His stomach tightens, arms tensing around the plush hawk. He grabs at his shirt and squeezes, trying to banish the thought of how badly he suddenly wants to grab Eli.

Get the fuck out of my head.

He’d sooner run full-speed into the sunrise than hurt Eli again.

“See if that helps.” Eli’s fingers slip away, and Demetri wilts in disappointment. “You want me to kiss your booboo better?”

“Oh my god, Eli.” The taller boy snorts out a laugh. “What am I, five and a half?”

“You sound pretty offended for someone cuddling a stuffed animal.”

“How could you!” Demetri does his best to sound aghast. “Raptor Reynaldo understands me, Eli.”

“I’m sure he does.”

Before Demetri can process it, Eli is swooping in and pressing warm lips to his bitemarks. The fragility he felt earlier comes rushing back.

It’s almost cruel, he thinks, Eli taunting him with what he can never have now. Not that Eli even realizes he’s doing it.

Tears threaten to leak out of him again. He gathers his resolve and holds them back.

Not twice in one night. He needs to have some standards.

“Fuck.” He leans his head on Eli’s shoulder. He feels he’s allowed that sort of small pleasure, at least. “What do I even do?”

“About…?”

“About everything. What the hell do I tell my mom?! ‘Oh, hey, sorry, I need to drop out of high school, can’t go to college, and have to work graveyard shifts at Ralph’s for the rest of my life?!’ And I know fucking Silver’s up to something, too. Betting he bribes the Hunter’s Guild not to go after him. And now he can tell all his buddies in there that there’s a new vampire on the loose. Oh, boy!”

“Demetri,” Eli murmurs into his hair. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again. You know that, right?”

The scent of Eli—so torturously close—wraps around him. Something dark roils up inside Demetri, like a snake making its way through his intestines.

“I shouldn’t even be here with you.”

His voice is breaking again. Humiliating.

What’s even left to break?

“Says who?” Eli demands.

“Uh, says every piece of vampire lore since the dawn of time? I’m a resurrected corpse with no soul.”

“Like you would ever be cool enough to pull off the ‘resurrected corpse with no soul’ descriptor. You’re like…an anxious zombie with less skin falling off.”

Demetri laughs, and some of the stones in his stomach lift. “Then it makes even less sense why you’d want me around. You can’t get into an Ivy League if I eat your brain, Eli.” He jabs at Eli’s temple, and the shorter boy scoffs.

“Oh, please. You’d spend so much time worrying about eating my brain that you’d never get around to actually doing it.”

If he was wondering before, he’s sure now. Eli has no intention of letting him go.

In better circumstances, he’d be flattered. Ecstatic, even. But as of this moment…

If he wants to run away—if he wants to put as much distance between himself and Eli Moskowitz as possible—he’ll have to do it by himself. If he wants to keep Eli safe, there’s no way in hell Eli’s going to help with it.

Eli’s loyal. He’s stubborn. He’s reckless. He’s an utter pain in the ass.

And when Demetri loses him again, it’s going to gut him a thousand times harder than the last time.

He has to leave. He knows this. Anything less would make him deplorable.

The embodiment of the very monster he’s turned into.

After all, who is he to put his own happiness above Eli’s safety?

“I can get the spare blanket,” Eli says. “You can stay here tonight. We’ll…I don’t know, we’ll watch the Star Wars prequels and make fun of them. Get your mind off shit for a while.”

He uncurls himself from Demetri. As he stands up, Demetri grabs his wrist, pulling him back.

If he doesn’t say something now, he might never get the chance.

“I love you.”

Eli turns, eyes bright with shock. “You what?”

“I love you.” His voice trembles as he repeats it. “And every second, I’m so fucking scared that I’m going to lose my grip on this…thing Sensei Targaryen made me into, and I’m going to hurt you. Or kill you, I don’t know. And it’s destroying me.”

A moment of silence. Demetri feels like a clogged drainpipe about to burst.

Then Eli steps back and sinks onto the bed beside him. Wiry arms wrap around his neck, and Eli presses their foreheads together.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he whispers. “You won’t hurt me.”

“How do you know?” Demetri’s voice croaks as he says it, and he feels another sob rising in his throat.

“Because I trust you. Well, I mean…”

Hesitation. If Demetri still had a heartbeat, it would stop.

“Not with Raptor Reynaldo’s hair—I see you over there, giving it the stink eye. Basically everything else, though.”

Despite everything, Demetri laughs again. How strange, he thinks, to be the one who needs to be distracted from his misery by stupid jokes. Stranger still that Eli learned the tactic from him.

Warmth fills his stomach. All those years of his inane comedy routine to get them through the hellhole of middle school and high school, and it’s the first thing Eli pulls out when he’s hurting.

Then again, how could it be any other way?

Demetri was always the one who looked like he had it together. Making wisecracks, rattling off Doctor Who fan theories, steering lunchroom conversations toward Dungeon Lord so Eli wouldn’t notice people staring. Eli was the one who broke easily, and Demetri was the one who put him back together. And when Demetri’s own defenses finally did give way…

Well, it’s not like Eli was around to see.

And now Demetri’s fraying apart like the world’s flimsiest pipe cleaner, and the only model Eli has to pull him out of the darkness again is the only one he ever saw. The only one he knew, for years and years and years.

Demetri’s.

Something about the thought soothes him.

“You’re the strongest person I know.” Eli’s voice grows serious again. “You never gave up on me when I gave you every reason to. You were the only one who got all the squabbling rival dojo kids to see any damn sense. You see the best in people even when they treat you like shit. And some pony-tailed fuck isn’t going to bite you one time and make all that go away. I’m not abandoning you.”

“But…Eli, I…”

“We can work with this. I know it sucks balls right now, but you’re going to be okay. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

His eyes blaze, and Demetri chuckles. “Is that a threat?”

“It might be. Don’t make me follow through. I—I…” Eli chokes on his words. “I won’t let that fucking asshole take you away from me. Not now, not ever. Get used to it.”

Eli takes a breath, and Demetri feels it ripple through his entire body.

“I love you too, Demetri.”

Demetri is still processing this when Eli closes the space between them.

Eli kisses like a hurricane—a whirlwind of ferocity and passion and power, and Demetri’s stomach may as well be swirling right toward the eye. The gales are howling in his ear, and he could swear he’s being lifted off the ground.

He’s not sure if vampires can actually do the bat shapeshifting thing, but if they can, he imagines this is what it feels like. Swooping through cool clouds, wind rushing across his small, lightweight body, starlight shining on his wings, a world of sparkling lights below him and eternal stars above.

It’s the best thing he’s ever felt.

Nonetheless, he holds back. He doesn’t give in to Eli’s vigor all the way.

He’s terrified of how far he might go if he does.

So as Eli kisses him like he’s dissolving, he returns it slower—gentle, steady, slightly tentative. His hand slides up, cupping the side of Eli’s face and rubbing his cheek with a cold thumb.

How funny is it, Demetri thinks, to have their old roles so drastically reversed. He remembers again of when he was the abrasive one and Eli was the timid, fragile one.

There’s a thump, and Demetri pulls away to see a stuffed beak glaring up at them from the floor.

Eli lets out a cry of despair. “No! Raptor Rey!”

“Now you’ve done it.” Demetri shoves Eli’s chest playfully. “Look what you’ve done to our only son.”

Eli sticks his tongue out—a tongue that Demetri now knows tastes very nice. A little bit like the Chinese food leftovers he had for dinner.

“You were the one who dropped him!”

Demetri sighs, leaning off the bed and scooping up the stuffed bird. When he puts Raptor Reynaldo back on Eli’s pillow, he pointedly faces him toward the wall.

“There. We don’t need to soil his innocent eyes.”

Eli snorts. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

It feels strange to say it. Demetri likes the sound of it though.

He scoots across the covers, wrapping long arms around Eli’s waist. Something giddy rises in his chest, briefly overpowering any of the dark impulses still churning around down there.

“You love me,” he says again.

“That’s what I said.” Eli jabs him in the chest accusingly. “What, did Silver bust up your hearing or something?”

He swats Eli’s hand away and pulls him in, stealing another kiss. “You love me,” he hums against his lips.

“Ugh. Don’t let it get to your head.”

Demetri grins. “You love me.” He lets his voice adopt an annoying singsong cadence, and Eli groans. “You love me, Eli Moskowitz.”

He kisses Eli again, and the other boy leans into it. Demetri’s grin grows so big his face hurts.

They slump onto the bed, Eli sprawled on top of him. His arms lock down on either side of Demetri’s waist, effectively caging him in.

Apparently, Eli’s taking precautions to make sure he can’t dart away like a scared rabbit. He wants Demetri to stay that badly.

The thought is strangely flattering, if frustrating.

“You love me,” Demetri whispers in between kisses. Because it’s true. Because he can. “You love me, you love me, you love me.”

If he hadn’t already risen from an early grave, he’s sure he would have died of shock by now.

They end up a tangled mess of limbs and blankets, Eli’s head under Demetri’s chin. He feels Eli trace his chest with one hand and his arms with the other, and for a moment, everything seems like it’s going to be fine.

Demetri kisses Eli’s hair. “I’m sorry I got bloodstains on your hoodie.”

His tears have blood in them now. It’s such embarrassing edgelord nonsense right out of a middle school scene kid’s poetry. Nonetheless, it’s a sad reality he’ll now have to make do with.

Hopefully in a way that doesn’t involve ruining half of Eli’s closet.

Eli only laughs, taking it in stride. “Oh, that? Please. I have like fifteen others just like it. Went out and bought a shit ton when I stopped wearing polos.”

“That’s just as well. You looked a little dorky.” Demetri kisses his head again. “I miss the sweaters, though. Those were cute.”

Eli snorts. “I can’t wear those around you. Do you know how much of a bitch it is to clean blood out of knitted shit?!”

“Well, then, don’t make me cry. Extra incentive to make sure I’m not sad! That, and. You know.” He snickers. “You love me.”

Eli groans again. “God, shut up. Smug asshole.”

He shuffles against Demetri, turning his head slightly. Moonlight glows off his skin, washing it in a sleek silvery-white.

Demetri’s stomach contracts.

Eli’s exposed neck suddenly looks a little too clean. A little too…unmarred.

He shoves the impulse away. Nonetheless, the reminder worms into him, putting the stones right back in his chest.

“It’s dangerous, you know,” Demetri murmurs. “Being with me. Being around me at all.”

“Mmmm, don’t fucking care.” Eli pushes a hand into Demetri’s hair, gently twirling a strand around his finger. “I stole a venomous snake from a zoo, Demetri. I also backstabbed a literal war criminal who could probably make my death look like an accident. And I may have survived rabies. I can handle danger.”

“This isn’t the same.” Demetri shakes his head. “People will hunt me. Maybe…maybe forever. And if they find out we’re together, they’ll hunt you, too.”

Eli scoffs. “Yeah, I know, genius.”

Demetri looks at the boy wrapped around him. Cozy, comfortable, completely relaxed.

Perhaps putting a tad too much faith into Demetri’s Vampire Hunger Regulation Abilities.

He takes a breath. “I don’t know if I’m going to keep being…me. I could still hurt you. Without…without even meaning to or wanting to or anything.”

Eli has no idea what he’s getting into. Not really.

Demetri at least owes him that out.

“I know.” Eli presses into his chest. “But that’s my decision, isn’t it? You can’t make that for me.”

“Maybe not, but you have to know it’s ill-advised to—”

“You’re not getting rid of me,” Eli cuts him off sharply. “Stop trying.”

“Just…if I get worse…” He rubs gentle circles along Eli’s back. “You need to—”

He can’t finish. He should tell Eli to run, but the words won’t come out.

“We’ll worry about that later.” Eli pulls him closer. “Just…let me try and help you. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

“Okay.” Demetri exhales, fingers brushing through light brown hair. “Okay.”

***

A disgusted shout fills the cool night air as Eli’s arm flies over the boat railing. Two bright spoons plummet from his hand, plopping into the starlit ocean.

His eyes lock on them until they sink out of sight, lip curling.

Demetri nervously taps a finger against the railing. “Is that the last of them?”

Eli turns and walks over to the unzipped silverware pack, lying on the deck a few feet away. He crouches down, peering inside.

Demetri can sense his heartbeat slow down a little as he relaxes. “Yeah. They’re all gone.”

He reclaims his spot next to Demetri, staring out at the inky water with a furrowed brow. Demetri inches closer to him, pressing into his shoulder.

He sighs. “You know, Moon wouldn’t like this shameless environmental degradation you’re causing.”

Eli rolls his eyes. “Silver’s a naturally-occurring metal. It’s fine.”

Demetri pulls his lips into an exaggerated pout. “Oh, Eli, the bottom-dwellers are weeping at your disrespect! What, you want the giant isopods to break their teeth trying to eat metal?!”

“If an isopod breaks all their teeth eating metal, I think it’s like…natural selection. The species’ll manage.”

Eli leans into Demetri’s shoulder, and Demetri feels him tense up.

“I couldn’t let that shit anywhere near you.”

Demetri’s hand inches across the railing, finding the other boy’s. He weaves them together in a fluid movement that has become second nature.

“You know I wouldn’t dissolve in a puff of smoke, right?” he murmurs. “I’d probably just get a nasty burn. A little antiseptic and I’d be right as rain.”

Eli grunts disapprovingly. “No one says that anymore. And do you know for sure you wouldn’t turn into smoke?”

“Well, if silver evaporates us, that would’ve been helpful to know earlier.” He throws an arm around Eli and jostles his shoulder, earning a reluctant chuckle. “Someone could’ve chucked one of those $4000 ladles at good old Terrence when he showed up at Mr. LaRusso’s door. Would’ve solved at least half of our problems.”

Truthfully, Demetri shouldn’t have even known what was going on at the LaRusso residence. He should’ve been gone from their lives weeks ago.

But, of course, his attempts to freeze out the dojo have been a resounding failure.

It was easy enough to have his Tech Town shifts “keep interfering” with daytime practice, but people weren’t about to let him get away with bailing on every single social event. The house parties, the game nights, the pool hangouts…eventually nothing short of working 60 hours a week could account for missing all of them.

And by “people” he means Miguel. It was always Miguel.

Another beautiful spectacle of irony, he thinks. That’s twice Miguel Diaz has nagged him not to quit karate…although he likes to believe his reasons are a little better this time around.

Still, the guy missed his terrible puns more than Demetri was anticipating. So to the nighttime events and get-togethers he went, attached at the hip to Eli and wallowing in the strange melancholy of being surrounded by friends who loved a version of him that didn’t fully exist anymore.

“So let me get this straight.” Eli’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. “Terry Silver just…rings Mr. LaRusso’s doorbell, says he ‘hears he’s having vampire problems,’ hands him a box of antique silverware, and then fucks off?”

Demetri shrugs. “That’s what he told me. Sensei Toxic Waste Scandal loves his little mind games.”

Eli wrinkles his nose. “How did he even carry the box without hurting himself?”

“He has minions, Eli. I’m sure they help haul around all the garlic and stakes and crucifixes and anything else he might need to antagonize his many vampire karate rivals. Guy seems good at making enemies, so I’m betting he has at least 15.”

Although Eli forces a chuckle, it quickly gives way to a concerned frown.

“Did Mr. LaRusso know? About you being…”

“Not before that, no.” Demetri sighs. “But it wasn’t exactly hard for him to put two and two together. Me never being out in the sunlight anymore. Only showing up for movie nights and pizza parties. Not eating many of the snacks. Not using that Pizza Hut garlic dip anymore. Making some excuse to leave if someone got a cut. Not…smiling with my teeth for group photos.”

He winces. Eli clutches his hand a little tighter.

“Word gets around.” Demetri shrugs, trying his best to look indifferent. “The whole dojo knows now. Don’t know why they’re still protecting me, to be honest.”

“Because…they care about you?” Eli knits his brow.

“For now.” He lets out a tired breath. “Wait until I accidentally do something creepy, and someone ‘spills’ the garlic dip. I don’t know. They’re going to figure out I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

“You’re not.” Demetri feels Eli’s thumb brush against the back of his hand, and his skin flutters.

“Not…” He looks away. “Not according to Silver, I don’t think.”

“What do you mean?”

Eli’s voice is suddenly terse with worry—the exact kind of concern that would be much better spent on the land of the living.

“Don’t you get it?” Demetri turns back, giving him a morose look. “That’s why it was so easy to rescue me. He let you. He figured I’d go crazy eventually and try to eat everyone, and then Mr. LaRusso would remember who swooped in like a knight in karate armor and gave him the very MacGuffin he needed to save the day. You know, the…vampiric Excalibur. Good way to get Mr. L in his debt, I guess.”

“But…Sam’s family’s already pretty rich.” Eli sounds dubious. “Don’t they have their own fine silver?”

“It was probably more a symbolic thing. But I mean, who better to know what kind of silver is actually lethal to vampires than…vampires?”

A silence falls over them. Demetri stares down at the lapping waves below, following the curves in the moonlight.

Eli presses closer to him, and he drinks in the warmth.

“He was wrong, though. You haven’t tried to eat everyone. You haven’t touched anyone.”

His voice is soft, hopeful. Demetri can’t stand to crush it.

But he knows he has to.

“Not yet.”

“Do you need to feed again?” Eli’s tone is casual. “Because you know, Sam and I could just scam another blood bank—”

“And is that okay?!”

It comes out with more ferocity than he intends.

“Probably more okay than draining our friends? Or…random people on the street?”

Demetri looks up to see Eli’s lips slightly apart, the way they always are when he’s genuinely confused.

“But people need that for blood transfusions. Aren’t we like…indirectly killing them or something?!”

Eli snorts. “Yeah, well, you also need it to not die. Why are you any less important?”

“Because I’m a blood-sucking monstrosity with evil dagger teeth?!”

“If you’re trying to sell me on how horribly undeserving of life you are, you should stop using the coolest possible descriptors for yourself.”

Demetri rolls his eyes. “Not my fault you’re turned on by everything even slightly morally-depraved.”

“Hell yeah I am.”

Eli brushes a kiss against his cheek. Demetri smiles at the boat railing, the edges of his unease ebbing away.

“Cheer up.” Eli bumps his shoulder. “Mr. LaRusso’s not an idiot. He wouldn’t have given us that box to get rid of if he thought you were gonna go on a rampage.”

“Hmmm.” He squeezes Eli’s hand, trying to push down the growing worry. “Maybe that’s his mistake.”

“I think the only one here who doesn’t trust you is you.”

And just like that, Eli is giving him the doe eyes again.

Curse this kid’s faith in him. There’s no way he deserves it.

Still, he can’t help but be grateful.

He kisses the side of Eli’s head. “Thank you. I love you.”

Another silence passes over them. Demetri closes his eyes, letting himself hear nothing but the ocean and the wind and feel nothing but Eli’s heartbeat.

Steady. Slow. Relaxed. Unafraid.

It’s one of the only things that can calm him these days.

“Nice of Yas to help us rent this boat,” Eli pipes up after a while. “Must’ve had to really pull some strings to get the guys to give it to us at 2 in the fucking morning.”

“And nice of her to check if the silver’s real, too,” Demetri adds. “Growing up in the most bougie part of Encino has its perks.”

Eli glances behind them, and Demetri follows his gaze.

The boat cabin is lit up, giggling trailing out of the windows and weed smoke wreathing through the cool night air. Whatever Yasmine and Moon are doing, the girls seem to be having a lot more fun than them.

“You wanna go upstairs?” Eli asks.

Demetri smiles. “Read my mind.”

His boyfriend shoves him playfully. “Don’t I always?”

He clicks his tongue. “Goes both ways, love. Didn’t need fabled vampiric mind-scanning abilities to get access to yours, though. Memorized the keycode ages ago.”

For a moment, Eli looks thrown off.

“Can you read minds?”

“Ha! No.” Demetri snorts. “I’ve already got the enhanced strength and speed and rapid tree-climbing thing. They had to give us some nerfs.”

“Oh, yeah. Otherwise I know you’d take over the world.”

Eli ducks out from Demetri’s arm and turns to the boat cabin, pulling his boyfriend along.

“You know…” Demetri plants his feet in the deck, gaze straying toward the empty silverware box. He lets out a long, weary breath.

“That won’t be the last time that happens. People are going to keep trying, Silver and whoever else.”

Eli scoffs. “I knew what I was getting into, Demetri. I’m not stupid.”

“I know, but are you sure you want to—”

“Yes, idiot. For the millionth time. I…” His voice cracks slightly. “I meant what I said, you know. The night you got turned. No one fucking touches you. And if they try…”

His eyes darken, taking on a sheen that Demetri used to dread. The kind of No Mercy look that’s still hardwired into him.

“I’ll end them.”

“Oh, I know.” Demetri chuckles. “If I know you, you’ll do your damndest. But I suppose not everyone has a giant karate trophy to back up that kind of claim.”

“Not a bad weapon, either.” Eli smirks. “All else fails, I can smash them over the head with it.”

“Oh, that would be a sight.”

Eli laughs, and Demetri pulls him in. He plants a lingering kiss before smiling against his lips.

“Have I ever mentioned that I love you?”

Every time he says it, he means it a little more.

***

“It’s a terrible idea, Eli!”

Eli rolls his eyes, pulling Demetri out the back door. “Come on, man. I’ve done the math. If we stay on the west-ish side of your house, the sun won’t touch you.”

“But—”

“You haven’t seen sunlight in...what? 3 months now? That’s depressing.”

“Fine.”

Demetri’s loathe to admit it, but it doesn’t turn out to be a terrible idea.

The sunrise is gorgeous, all rich golds and peachy pinks. It glints off his neighbors’ windows and bathes the street’s murky trees in a soft glow.

Of course, Demetri hides behind Eli the entire time, clinging to his arm with pale, freezing fingers.

“See?” Eli weaves their hands together. They’re intertwined more often than not these days. “Told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Like seeing daytime again?”

A deep yearning stirs inside Demetri. His fingers twitch, suddenly wanting more than anything to poke out of the shadows.

He kisses Eli’s shoulder. “Yeah. Thank you.”

They stand in silence for a while, watching the sky go from light gray to orange-rimmed to blue. The yearning only tightens its grip.

Before the change, he never had a preference for day or night. You could watch TV or play Crucible Control or read comics in either. But now…

He realizes he missed the sunshine. He missed the fluffy cotton clouds that he and Eli used to watch at recess, lying on the grass next to the playground. He missed the sound of birds, as much as he once complained about them waking him up at ungodly hours.

Sharp pain seizes his toes, and he jumps back with a hiss.

“Shit.” Eli’s brow furrows. “You okay?”

He sighs, glancing down at where the house’s shadow has started to rescind. “Yeah, yeah. Just wasn’t paying attention.”

“You want to go inside?”

Demetri shakes his head. “We can spare a few more minutes.”

They back up, sitting against the wall. Demetri drinks in the growing morning, wondering how he convinced himself he was content to never see this again.

“Dude.”

Demetri frowns. “What?”

“Are you crying?”

He notices the wet sensation around his eyes a few moments too late. His entire body burns with embarrassment.

“I…” He does his best to sound nonchalant. “…have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Look at me, Demetri.”

“No. Fuck off.”

He feels Eli’s hand on his cheek and swats it away. “Leave me alone,” he grumbles.

Vampirism is already bad enough without him bawling like a 4-year-old because the sky turned blue. As in the color it had been Demetri’s entire fucking life. This is beyond humiliating.

Eli reaches for him again. He turns away, only for his boyfriend’s other hand to slip from his own and shoot up to catch Demetri’s cheek.

“Hold still, moron. People are gonna freak out if they see you leaking blood out of your eyes. They’ll think it’s some shit from The Exorcist and douse you in salt or something.”

Demetri lets out a defeated sigh, letting Eli brush gentle thumbs across his cheeks. “You’d better not use this as blackmail.”

“First of all, I’ve got better shit for that.” Eli pauses to wipe off his fingers on the grass, creating what will inevitably end up looking like a squirrel crime scene. “Second of all, like.”

He gives Demetri a searching look as he continues to gather up the tiny, blood-filled droplets. “It’s okay to be upset about this, man. It sucks. I mean the teeth are badass and I’m kind of jealous, but yeah, I mean…shit’s hard.”

Demetri hums thoughtfully. “You should bribe your dentist to file your teeth into little fangs. What with all the hair dye and the tattoos, what’s asking your parents for a few more hundred bucks?”

Eli laughs, giving him a look so soft that he’s now at risk of crying more. Absolutely unfair, not to mention counterproductive.

At some point, Eli pauses, hands resting on Demetri’s cheeks and scarred-knuckle thumbs in mid-swipe.

“I’m glad your eyes didn’t change,” he says suddenly.

Demetri blinks at him. “Huh?”

“I thought they’d turn red or yellow or something. But they’re still green.”

“Are they?”

He chuckles. He’d wondered here and there how different he looked now, but it wasn’t as though his house’s mirrors were going to be much help figuring that out.

“Yeah, like…” Eli inspects him through narrowed eyes. “Slight gold-ish tint, but that’s it. Thank god. I’ve always liked your eyes.”

Demetri’s face goes hot. “Can you stop saying cute stuff for like…10 seconds? You’re making me too flustered to function.”

“No chance in hell, asshole.”

They settle back against the house wall, fingers entwined again. The morning continues to crawl in, and Demetri knows they’ll have to go inside soon.

Regardless, he’ll drink up every nanosecond of daylight until the time comes.

Demetri takes a long breath.

“I told my mom.”

“What?” Eli turns, eyes wide. “What happened? What’d she say?”

He chuckles. “She was…surprisingly unsurprised. I guess it checks out, her growing up in Orestiada and all. All the folklore and whatnot was right next door. She just never put a lot of stock in it. Woman of science, as you know.”

He smiles weakly. He never knew his dad, but he imagines he has Ms. Alexopoulos to thank for most of his good traits.

“I kind of had to explain why I wanted to drop out of school and get an online GED,” he adds, grimacing. “And even before that, um…well, I couldn’t hide this forever.”

He pulls up his flannel sleeve to uncover a crisscross of burned skin, seared into his upper arm. Eli winces.

“Shit, right. What did you tell her happened that night, anyways? No way you’d come home roughed up and she wouldn’t throw a fit.”

“Said we got jumped by some Cobra Kais. It’s the standard explanation for being a victim of violence in the Valley these days.”

“You’re lucky she didn’t look too much into it.” Eli traces delicate fingers across his skin, brushing over the branded crucifix. “On your bad luck arm, too.”

His right arm. The one Eli broke what seems like a lifetime ago.

“God.” He laughs. “It really is.”

“So is she…okay with it?” Eli bites his lip, giving Demetri’s bad luck arm a small squeeze. “Not just the crucifix burn, but like…everything.”

“Seems like it.” Demetri chuckles again. “She did a garlic purge as soon as I told her. Said she was actually a little relieved because she was worried her skordalia had been really shitty lately. I mean, I told her she could still eat it, but she was adamant that she intended never to touch a clove of the stuff again.”

“So she didn’t disown you, then.” Eli laughs. “Thank god.”

“Well. It’s not like I came home and told her I want to re-decorate our living room to look like Mrs. Hasapi’s. Now that is a disownable offense.”

Eli snorts. “What even is your mom’s beef with her?”

“Oh, none, really. She just thinks her armchairs look like they were unearthed from the local landfill.”

They both laugh for a while, leaning into each other and taking in the neighborhood coming to life. Eli rests his head on Demetri’s shoulder, letting out a small sigh.

“I looked into some online colleges, by the way. They’re not bad. UMass has a pretty good online CS program.”

Demetri doesn’t allow himself to indulge in Eli’s hopefulness.

“Oh, yeah?” he mutters forlornly. “And what tech company needs night watch guys, may I ask?”

Eli shrugs. “You could do contract work. Just charge people independently to fix their shit. Might be a pain in the ass to get customers at first, but you’d probably make bank eventually.”

Demetri purses his lips, thinking.

“I…guess it’s not a completely unreasonable idea. But you know you don’t have to do all that for me.”

“Yeah, I do.” Eli’s thumb rubs along the back of his hand. “I love you, stupid. And you’re too busy moping and crying blood everywhere to do it yourself.”

He beams.

He should be used to Eli loving him by now, but he doesn’t think he ever will be.

***

So I was joking with some friends in a discord server before S5 dropped that maybe the reason Dem wasn’t in a bunch of the trailer scenes was because he got kidnapped by Terry Silver and/or turned into a vampire and can’t be in direct sunlight and then it just kinda. Became a fic. Against my will. Like I do not at all have the time to write this AND YET.

Also, yes, Demetri did indeed fight off his vampire impulses just by being like “hey fuck off” and then they did. And that’s on the power of gay love <3

I am an evil god who loves writing Demetri angsting and having breakdowns because if the show will not let him McFucking Lose It, then I will <3 <3 Peace and love on earth!!! Anyways, if Eli’s a lil bit more gentle with him than usual here, that’s why. Boy is Going Through It to the highest degree.

Enjoy the abundance of “I love you”s here, because these idiots are not going to get there for several more chapters of the road trip fic XD Kinda my first crack at writing Established Relationship Elimetri, but don’t worry!!! There will be angst and drama aplenty!!! I am putting them through horrors >:3

This goes with this, this, and this!!! Most I was able to work into the actual story except for the last one :P Also Raptor Reynaldo is from this post!!!

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