#because now i have the habit of checking if people have Liked my playlists | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cyberels · 2 months

Text

later, loser.ᐟ ᯓ★

˗ˋˏ 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ˎˊ-

☆ ellie discovers the quickest way to get a girl underneath her

daily click! palestine masterpost

☆: sometimes i start writing without a plot in mind to get myself out of a funk and and and this is what i came up w lol so sorry if it’s doodoo ass

☆ warnings -> mention of blood, injuries, all that good shit that comes with skateboarding, probably really inaccurate skating talk, drugs, tbh probably really bad writing but bare with me here, no concept of stranger danger from reader when she sees a hot girl (ellie) for plot reasons lol

☆ skaterboarder!ellie yayyy she wears glasses because i said so &&&&& also ellie works at a vinyl shop and reader works at a bakery :)

☆ ☆ ellies playlist! ☆ ☆

u don’t have to listen but i made it to listen while i write and i thought it’d be fun to add

my masterlist

ellie was no stranger to making mistakes, she’s human, it happens… however, she usually doesn’t make this many stupid choices within the span of one single hour.

today, ellie was running late.

mistake number one.

she practically flew out of the door and hopped on her board, mumbling a half assed apology to her neighbor who she accidentally shoulder checked on her way out when she put on her headphones.

she’s probably going way too fast, but she’s been skateboarding for years, she can handle it. she still has the penny boards that she started skating on when she was 12 hanging up in her living room, right beside some of her other boards she’s had since then that she’s either destroyed or replaced. she weaved in and out of the people walking practically effortlessly, not caring if she was pissing anyone off, they’d live. she’d never have to see them again, anyways.

she opened her phone to turn on her music.

you, on the other hand, were taking your time; you had a good while until you had to be at work. you’ve created a habit of looking for ladybugs in the bushes outside your apartment complex after you noticed that the plant is home to many of the little insects. usually you just glance at the plant as you pass by, but today, you fully stopped to look.

unfortunately, you were unaware of ellie being just feet away from you.

guess you’re no stranger to mistakes, either.

granted, ellie would have had enough time to stop… if she was paying attention.

which she was not.

mistake number two.

you hear a string of curse words behind you. you barely manage to turn around before you’re pushed into the bushes by a girl who promptly lands on top of you. her skateboard rolled away pathetically. it’s almost like it was embarrassed, too.

if there had been any ladybugs, they were definitely squashed now.

you open your eyes slowly to find the other girl hovering just above you. her necklace dangles temptingly close to your lips as she pushes herself up. she's still on top of you, her face just inches away from yours. she blinks a few times, slowly taking in the situation. she seems lost in thought, the wheels in her head turning painstakingly slowly as she tries to comprehend what's happening and her part in it.

she’s taking way too long to get off of you, though, which only serves to frustrate you more.

“hellooo? can you get up?” you mumble through gritted teeth to the girl above you, turning your head to the side to avoid her gaze.

in hindsight, you probably should’ve asked if she was okay, but right now all you wanted to do was get up and pretend like this never happened.

you don’t even want to know how many people saw you fall.

“oh— oh fuck.” ellie stuttered, taking one last glance at you before she moved herself onto the sidewalk, not finding the strength to stand up fully just yet.

she grabbed her headphones that had been flung off in the impact. small scrapes lined the side of them, but at least they probably still worked. she put them around her neck, letting her head fall back in her hands. she took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her emotions and the situation.

you sigh as you get up, and ellie can tell you’re mad based solely on how the exhale of air sounded.

“uh… you good?” you ask after an uncomfortable pause, eyeing the other girl. it was obvious you didn’t really care, but at least you tried to be polite.

you were still taking your time collecting yourself, brushing leaves out of your hair and wiping blood from your hands onto your jeans (thank god you wore black jeans today). you were definitely going to be sore tomorrow, but other than your scraped up hands, you were fine.

just really pissed off.

ellie looked up at you and then immediately looked back down, running her hands over her face once more. “yeah, i’m… good.”

you roll your eyes as you hold your hand (the one with the least amount of scrapes) out towards ellie, offering to pull her up. you can't help but feel pity as she sits on the sidewalk. not in a sympathizing way, but more of a "damn, this girl looks pathetic" way. she hesitates for a second, but then grabs your hand and smiles weakly.

“thanks.”

as much as you know that this situation partially is your fault, you’re still annoyed. you had spent so long getting ready today just to have some idiot push you into dirt.

when you speak again, your words come out harsher than you intended… not that you minded. “yeah. watch where you’re fucking going next time.”

ouch.

okay, maybe (keyword: maybe) ellie had caused the worst part of this, but she wasn’t going to sit here and take you blatantly being rude when you’re just as much to blame as she is. “maybe if you didn’t think you owned the sidewalk, i wouldn't have ran into you.”

you reach down beside you and grab her, now shattered, phone and her (also shattered) glasses. you raise your eyebrows as you look over the broken screen.

“maybe if you were paying attention.” you pause, wiggling the phone in front of her face. “you would’ve realized i stopped walking.”

she snatched her things back, she didn’t have a comeback for that.

her phone was fucked… usable, but the screen was shattered so badly that if she scrolled on it she’d probably slice open her thumb. small price to pay, she figures.

it’s not like she’s gonna buy a new one… but she would have to cough up the money for new glasses, though. damn it.

“why the hell did you stop walking anyways?”

you hesitate, looking back at the bush sheepishly, vaguely gesturing towards it as you speak again. “i— not that it’s any of your business— i wanted to see if there were any ladybugs on the leaves.”

“…oh.”

well now ellie just feels like a dickhead, because that’s actually really cute. that was not the answer she was expecting.

you continue looking away and ellie sighs, attempting to push past you to grab her skateboard.

mistake number three.

the second she takes a step, she falls into you again, her ankle completely giving out underneath her. you catch her, your arms wrapping around her hips as you hold her up.

ellie has never wanted to die more than she did at this moment.

her face was literally sandwiched in between your chest. she pushed herself back, hopping slightly.

what the fuck just happened?

“oh my fucking god. i’m so sorry. i– oh fuck, this is so awkward.”

yeah, awkward was one word for it. you stare at her blankly for a moment before you kick her skateboard towards her.

you could feel her touch lingering on your body like she was still there. if your hands were just a little lower you would’ve…

“its– it’s fine. dude, are you sure you’re alright?”

you sound more like you care this time, at least.

not that you do care, or anything,

just trying to make sure she wasn’t seriously hurt.

that’s all.

“i’m fine.” it was an obvious lie, but she was preoccupied with thinking about how she was going to skate to and from work if she could barely walk… she’d have to deal with it, she decided. there wasn’t any other option for her right now, she was already late.. “i’ll be fine.”

“very convincing.” you reply, looking her up and down. “you’re not seriously about to get on that thing again, are you?”

“not that it’s any of your business, but i don’t have any other choice, i’m gonna be late to work and this is all i have to get me there.”

you narrow your eyes at her.

no way this girl was reckless and stupid.

“what? you can’t be serious… you’re still going to work? are you an idiot?”

ellie doesn't answer right away, glancing down at her skateboard for a bit. you’re right, she should call out, but she hated the prospect of missing a day of work. money had been tight, even one missed day would be hell for her and her bank account.

“you gonna give me the money i’d lose if i called out?”

you opened your mouth to reply, but she was already flying past you, very clearly having a hard time but also very clearly not caring.

“don’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk next time, dumbass!” she yelled, leaving you standing in the same spot just watching her leave.

…and kinda wishing she’d come back.

just so you could get the last word.

when you walk into work, it’s unfortunately obvious that you’re pissed off, if the way your manager immediately asks what happened as soon as you clocked in was anything to go by.

you’re thankful for the excuse to rant, though.

“god, abby, where do i even start? i literally just walked out of my apartment and some girl on a skateboard slammed into me and we both went flying into a stupid plant. got a face full of bush and not even the good kind.”

“jesus,” abby laughed, picking a leaf out of your hair. “was she hot?”

“was she hot? is that seriously all you’re gonna say?”

“...well?”

“i hate you so much… but yeah, she was.” you admit, defeat obvious in your tone. you’re well aware that this would’ve been a lot easier for you if you didn’t find the dumb skater attractive. you’d been close enough to her face to see every detail… her freckles, her eyes, her lips— damn it. you couldn’t get her out of your head.

this felt like a sick joke.

abby clapped her hands together. “this isn’t a completely bad thing! did you get her number?”

“no, abby, i didn’t get her number. i was too busy trying to get her away from me because she was stupid and annoying.”

“you’re no fun, could’ve got yourself a skater girl.” she frowned. “are you okay though?”

“you should’ve led with that question, you know?” you huff, looking at the scrapes on your palms again. “i’m fine.”

“yeah, yeah. i should’ve.” abby tosses a pastry towards you. “here, for your troubles, on the house. go sit down in the break room for a little bit, you look like a mess.”

“gonna ignore the last part. thanks, abs.”

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

“jesus fucking christ.” ellie mumbled to herself, hopping off her board before she opened the door to the small vinyl store she worked at.

“late again, williams— oh. oh wow. you look like shit.” austin, the owner of the shop spoke, nudging ellie as she walked by. he was wearing a stupid smirk on his face which made ellie more aggravated.

asshole.

“real nice.” ellie grumbled, putting up her skateboard and backpack. “sorry for being late, won’t happen again, i just— some people are so stupid, you know?”

“by ‘some people’ do you mean you?” he laughed, spinning on his chair. he mocked the way ellie spoke, doing a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like her.

god, he was a 30 year old man-child, but he pays her… so… whatever. she’ll deal.

“ha-ha. good one.”

“ya gonna tell me what happened or are ya gonna leave me guessin’?”

“what happened is people don’t know how to walk anymore.” she scoffed, taking stock of the money she had to count before putting it in the drawer. “so fucking stupid.”

“by the looks of it you don’t know how to walk anymore, either. you gonna be able to work? i’m not payin’ ya to sit around, so if i need to call someone else in…”

she glared at him, trying to see if he’d explode if she stared hard enough.

he was right though, unfortunately, ellie was walking like she had just learned how to. it wasn’t the worst injury she’s ever got from skateboarding, but it was definitely inconvenient.

“yeah, i’ll be fine.” ellie snapped, shifting her weight to her good foot to avoid making her injury any worse. “jesus christ, it’s a twisted ankle. i’m not missing a limb.”

“but—“

“drop it.”

he put his hands up in mock surrender, the smirk still on his face. “oooookay, okay. whatever you say williams. you were still late though, let’s go back to talkin’ about that. what’s the count at now? is this the fifth or sixth time this month?”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. shit’s hard when you don’t have a car.” ellie sighed, punching in the numbers on her register. “i’ll do better. today was not my fault, though.”

“am i gonna have to be more strict with you? everyone else shows up on time, you know?”

“yeah, yeah. whatever.” ellie rolled her eyes, trying to focus on work and push the pain out of her mind. “everyone else has a car.”

ellie really did not like austin. his whole holier-than-thou attitude irked her to no end.

still, it beat being jobless, so she knew she shouldn’t complain.

“don’t let it happen again.”

“i won’t, i swear. i’m really sorry.”

“right, okay, i’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, you alright out here?”

she bit her tongue, holding back a groan.

austin ‘going to the bathroom’ was his way of saying that he’s gonna get really fucking stoned and then sit around and do nothing all day. this was a daily occurrence, at this rate.

“yeah, yeah, i’m good.” ellie mumbled, shoving away the annoyance she felt when he walked past her.

austin was a dickhead, but he was never outright mean, not really. he just… he thought he was better than everyone. a classic ego-centric prick.

as much as she hated him, she did like having a job— and being able to afford a place to sleep at night.

“ohhh, ellie, i gave you more shifts, like you asked.” he said before he walked out, smiling at her. “take a look at the schedule when ya get the chance.”

he has to be kidding.

she’s been begging for more shifts since god knows how long ago, and he decides to give her more now? when she doesn’t even know how she’s gonna be able to make it to work?

amazing. just what she wanted!

“great.” ellie muttered, shooting him a glare even though he was already gone. “more hours that i don’t know how the hell i’m gonna get to.”

she shook her head, austin wasn’t worth getting this pissed about— especially when he did try to do what she asked.

the store was never busy in the morning, so she sat in austins chair, finally taking a second to herself. she went over her options on how this was going to go.

she could have asked dina for a ride, if dina wasn’t off on some work trip about three hours away for the next two weeks, taking her and jesses shared car with her.

terrible timing.

she’d take public transportation if it was reliable and also if she didn’t have a few bad experiences with it already.

that wasn’t really a good option.

uber was definitely not an option. she already was going to have to buy new glasses and eventually pay for her phone to get fixed, she wasn’t about to drop $50 a day on ride.

she was screwed.

nothing was working out for her right now— the universe was laughing at her, just like it always did.

she wanted to kick and scream, but that wouldn’t help anything, plus she wouldn’t be able to kick very well right now.

oh well… she’d be fine, she’d just have to push through it.

her phone buzzed in her pocket and she winced when she seen the cracked screen again, it was so wrecked that it barely let her type in her password.

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

was ellie stupid for agreeing to go out of her way when she was already struggling to walk? yes.

does she care? no.

jesse was a good guy, he’s done a shit ton of favors for her, so this was the least she could do.

she’d never been to the bakery, but she always smelled it when she’d pass by, and it always looked like it’d be good. she did deserve a little treat after the day she had, anyways.

thank you jesse and jesse’s money.

when ellies shift is over, she feels so much worse than she did earlier, and austin repeating that ellie looked like shit over and over again wasn’t helping.

ugh.

“you’re a wreck, williams—“

“—goodbye austin, byeee. i’m leaving, out the door, shifts over. see you tomorrow.” she slammed the door shut, letting out a frustrated sigh as she got on her board again. “god. fuck off.”

the bakery wasn’t far, it was literally right across the street, but it felt like it was miles away to ellie. she leaned on the wall for a second to catch her breath before she walked inside.

it was a cute shop, one of those places you see on pinterest or instagram, with the led light signs and fake plants, it was actually really nice. she doesn’t know why she never came here before.

“let me know if i can help… oh god. it’s you.”

she looks over at you and she starts to wish the fall had just killed her on impact.

“please… pretend like this morning didn’t happen. i don’t want to deal with arguing right now.” ellie sighs, not giving you time to reply to her before she goes into saying her order.

she looked at your name tag as she paid, she could barely see what it said, her eyes squinting slightly as she tried to make out your name.

you scribbled little smiley faces and stars around your name, which was cuter than ellie would like to admit.

“go sit, i’ll bring your stuff to you after i box them, ‘kay?”

“i can wait here.“

“sit.”

“fine.”

she sat at one of the booths, attempting to use her phone without losing a finger. she wasn’t even paying attention to the content, just scrolling mindlessly as the memories of this morning replayed in her mind over and over again.

she was hoping to never see you again.

maybe coming here was a mistake.

“here.” you say after a few moments, placing the boxes on the table. “enjoy.”

you were being kind, but she could read behind the curtness of your tone.

you thought she was dumb. she could always tell by the way you talked to her; that look of disdain on your face.

“thanks.” she said, and then the silence took over again. it was obvious that neither of them wanted to start another conversation after the way the last one ended.

ellie couldn’t help but notice how just scraped up your hands were. you had bandages on them, but the blood that seeped through was bright red, like it was demanding to be looked at.

demanding ellie to feel bad for what she did.

damn it, she really should’ve just paid attention this morning.

would’ve saved her a lot of trouble.

she got up, sucking her teeth and hissing as she shifted her weight. she leaned on the table for balance as a few curse words left her mouth.

“god, you’re the dumbest person i’ve ever met.” you declared, confirming her suspicions.

she scoffed, trying to shake the pain away from her ankle.

man, this sucked.

“shut the hell up.” ellie snapped. “you don’t have to be so snarky, you know? i’m already dealing with the consequences of my shitty morning, you can drop the whole, ‘i’m better than you’ bullshit. if you listened earlier, you’d have known i said that i have no other choice.”

“i did listen, idiot. i don’t mean to sound like i’m trying to be better than you, okay? i’m sorry. but you seriously don’t have anyone that can help you out? do you have friends?”

“i have friends, asshole. they’re just either busy or i don’t want to inconvenience them. what’s it matter to you anyways?”

you don’t really have an answer, you’re not sure why it matters. maybe it’s because ellie looked really miserable, or maybe it’s because it had been partially your fault that she’s hurt… or maybe both. but you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt about the situation she was in.

“i have a car.”

ellie paused, looking up at you. she wasn’t sure if she heard you correctly, or if this was just some weird, shitty joke.

“okay? congratulations?”

“don’t make me spell it out.” you reply, annoyance clear in your tone. “i’m saying, you’re obviously hurt, and it’s kinda my fault, so… if you needed a ride…”

“no.”

“don’t be stubborn. look, i get it, we’re not on the best terms right now, but i can’t just let you go like this without at least offering, y’know? plus, you seem like you could use the help.”

ellie’s mind was screaming at her to accept— it was logical. you offered a ride, she needs a ride, she should accept your offer.

“i could be a serial killer for all you know. you don’t even know my name.”

“yeah, okay. you? a serial killer? i’d just run away. not like you’d be able to chase after me.”

“hey, i can run pretty damn fast, you know?” ellie hissed. if she wanted, she could definitely chase you down… but she’d rather not do that at the moment. that was probably not a great idea. “hell, i could be an axe murderer.”

“what’s your name?”

“huh?”

“are you dumb?”

“…it’s ellie.”

“‘kay, ellie, now i know your name and if you’re observant— which i doubt but i’m gonna play devils advocate— you know mine. nice to meet you. now we know each other. i’m not gonna sit here and play 21 questions, do you want me to take you to your place or not?”

“what if you kill me anyways?” she asked, she was kidding, she just wanted to piss you off.

“i am not gonna fucking— you know what, you’re annoying. never mind.”

“wait. i’m sorry.”

fuck.

maybe this whole thing about you wasn’t so bad. you were just— abrasive.

she swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. “i’ll take a ride.”

“what’s the magic word?”

“die.” ellie hissed. “you’re not funny.”

“almost! that’s four words. do you want a hint?”

ellie stared at you blankly for a few seconds before answering. “i am not saying please.”

“you just said it.” you grinned. “look, i get off at 6:30, that’s like… 20 minutes from now, if you don’t mind waiting. i’ll come get you when i’m off, sound good?”

“yeah. that sounds good.”

this is such a bad idea.

#max writes ☆#btw #ladybugs symbolize positive change #and luck #will make a part 2 eventually maybe i’ll actually finish this series #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #wlw #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x f!reader #sorry i know jesses ooc but i rewrote it like 10492 times i can’t get it to sound good

1K notes · View notes

hillbillyoracle · 4 months

Text

You Should Get A Radio

I want to convince you to get a radio. It can be a pretty cheap one - you can sometimes thrift them even - just something to listen to the music and shows that are literally streaming completely for free all around you right this very moment.

Libraries get a lot of love - deservedly so. They are such a frugal resource for entertainment and the community at large. I would argue that radio is very similar.

Find New Music

Radio can introduce you to music you never would have run across otherwise. Spotify and the like have a goal of getting you to listen for as long as possible. This incentivizes the alorgithm picking your music recs to stay very safely within your known listening profile. But since a radio station is broadcasting to a large number of people, not you individually, you're more likely to run into music you personally wouldn't have picked but actually enjoy.

Not to mention that if you're in the US at least, you're very likely within range of a public broadcasting station which not only has local and national news, but various music shows as well - World Cafe is a treasure. College radio stations, if you have one nearby by, can be hit or miss, but in general, it is a great way to find local and very niche music you wouldn't hear played anywhere else. If you're in a city, you very likely have a couple of hyperlocal low power FM stations - many who serve communities who don't speak English and who have their own unique music programming. I also enjoy a lot of the adult contemporary and "oldies" stations I can get near me.

The Ads Aren't Targeted

On most stations, you'll hear some ads. Some stations you'll hear more than a few. But none of those ads are based on an ever growing mass of information being collected about you and your listening habits to decide what specific ad you're most likely to actually act on. They're just...an ad. When you turn it off, it can't follow you around until you actually buy it.

Also, if you're listening to local stations, a lot of the ads are for local businesses in your community; places owned by your neighbors and the people you live with. For me, it's been a nice way to be reminded of what places exist in my community since I usually go to my regular haunts and nothing else.

Frugal and Fun

Radios can be pretty cheap. I see them in thrift stores pretty regularly around here and you might be able to try Marketplace for one. Mine was a birthday gift and I paid a little more to upgrade the antena later. Mine uses rechargeable batteries but I think they make ones that are just straight up rechargeable now.

Since I can't control the music, I'm not turning to it to skip through music or pick a different playlist or look up a given artist I want to hear because I just remembered they existed. I'm more present, whether I'm just listening to the show or pairing it with something else (recently it's been knitting or solitaire games).

Similar to the way that libraries can be one way you decrease your reliance on subscription culture, radio is another. Especially for public broadcasting stations, the programming is always changing, there are new shows every week, and there are often ways for you to get involved. It's another form of entertainment that often gets overlooked.

It's Screen Free

Not much to say here. It's just a big plus to me. I'm trying to take more breaks from screens and make the time I do spend on screens less addictive. I like that I can throw on a radio station and listen to a show without ever having to resist the urge to check email or something.

Vital in Emergencies

Have you thought of how you'd get information during an emergency if the internet goes out? Radio is a great option and still regularly saves lives. In the event of emergencies, local radio stations are often some of the very first people to get information on where shelters are being set up, where resoruces are being distributed, and how to stay safe through the course of the event. Depending on the event, emergency managers will actually bring in radio equipment to keep broadcasting going if there's been damage to a tower and even set up temporary/mobile station up to get the word out if there's not a local station they can partner with.

On days when the weather isn't looking so great, I often have the weather band radio turned on so I can get the latest NWS forecasts and hear when a watch is issued - phones usually only get warnings unless you go out of your way to sign up for more. And out where I live, I usually don't even get those since cell signal is spotty.

It's a great investment in your safety that you can also enjoy whenever.

Conclusion

Buy a radio. Especially if you're looking to get away from subscriptions and cut costs. You can own your radio - you can't own Spotify. It's also just something I think everyone should have since it's such a vital resource in emergencies.

ETA: I am a young millinial. I grew up with radio and remember a time before the internet so I'm not saying any of this as if I'm discovering it. It's more I've been not only enjoying it a lot lately but reminded that a lot of people aren't aware of everything it offers so I wanted to share that in case it was news to anyone.

#I don't know what to tag this #radio #frugal #social sobriety #low screen #no screen #it's just a very good idea okay #cord cutting

486 notes · View notes

comicaurora · 6 months

Note

I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!

Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"

I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.

To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.

But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!

I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.

#asks #not aurora

458 notes · View notes

slavicafire · 10 months

Note

żmija i have a possibly slightly stupid question: how did you start working out? i genuinely enjoy physical exercise and i want to gain some practical strength, have more fun with life and get into the habit of exercising regularly before i go on testosterone but i never know how to start and because of that im scared about doing the exercises wrong and hurting myself in the process. should i just sign up for a gym and try my best?

nothing stupid about this question at all, worry not. the main question you need to ask yourself is simply: what do I enjoy? what do I like doing, what feels good?

there's nothing worse than a workout that feels like a chore, that frustrates you, one that you'd rather not do. there will be, of course, days when your usual beloved exercise will loom over you and the very thought of doing it will annoy you, but those are - and should be - a minority. life's too short to commit to something unpleasant.

for me the answer to this question was that I like swimming - and that I like challenging myself in a way that doesn't bore me.

I hate routine. I hate repetition, I hate predictability, I hate plans and having to do something in a very set way at very set times. while working out of course necessitates a certain level of compromise when it comes to this, at the core of my approach lies switching it up and combining things when they can be combined so that they feel less boring.

so I go swimming when I can, that's simple. then I get some simple exercises I can do at home in - ones I hate on their own because they bore me, like sit-ups and pushups and all other sorts of ups and downs and outs and arounds - while there are other boring yet necessary things happening. so when I wait for the pasta to boil, for example. or when I floss, or when I wait for the hair rinse to cool down or for the lotion to get absorbed by my skin, or when I want to clean the litter box but urwis decides he absolutely must poop and play archeologist at that very moment. the idea is to make it less boring and to get a lot of movement throughout the day, even if in very short sessions.

and yes, if you can afford it, absolutely start going to the gym. this is again an answer to the boredom and routine problem that I had: going to the gym is already a separate event, a nearly ritual moment that requires different clothes, a different mindset, a different dedicated space that you enter and then leave. and you can make it even more fun by choosing a different playlist or podcast each time and getting yourself a small treat on the way to or from.

with gym equipment, if it doesn't have instructions on it (many machines will have those) and you don't feel like asking people how to use it (who amongst us likes to do that, really) it's simply a matter of a quick google check. even googling 'gym machines' will give you multiple answers and explanations on what's what, how to use it, which muscles are getting engaged, and what to look out for. leave the dumbbells and benches alone for now - focus on machines which let you choose weights and have your back when you suddenly feel dizzy or overestimate your strength. most of them will make a horrible noise if you give up suddenly half rep - but won't hurt you.

then just get on a machine of your choice and choose the lowest possible weight. it might feel silly sometimes, especially if you're a bit stronger on your own and the lowest weight doesn't feel like anything - but try a couple of reps with that lowest weight, especially if it's your first time using the machine. pay attention to how your muscles feel, how your breathing changes, how the tension works when you engage and when you return to the starting position. go slow, be mindful of your body, look at the muscles getting engaged if you're able to.

on your first visit, try out two or three machines. don't go wild, stay on the lowest weights - go home, sleep on it, check how you feel tomorrow. sometimes 30-40 reps of the lowest lowest weights on a machine that engages muscles you don't usually use too much will leave you absolutely sore.

check different machines out, switch them up, see which ones are fun and which ones engage the muscles you'd like to focus on. add a bit more weight next time. sort them into categories of your choice and divide your workouts between them.

take a friend if you can, it's always less awkward. bring water with you. eat! always remember to eat! take a closer look at your protein intake and adjust it if it's too low - your muscles will thank you.

and if it truly starts feeling tedious - change it. look for something else. this is something that you should enjoy, in whichever meaning of the word that you personally prefer. and best of luck!

85 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 1 year

Text

leather and lace masterlist | leather and lace playlist

Chapter Summary: Your first day back in Hawkins is interesting to say the least, involving several unexpected reunions - good and bad.

8.1k words

Warnings: we'll be kicking up the angst from here on for a bit, but with plenty of fluff in between I promise (but I won't mention this necessarily after this as a heads up), mentions of reader celebrating Christmas, weed mentions/use, police/ "arrest" mentions | please see masterlist for overall warnings.

A/N: Thanks for your patience as I worked through mega writer's block in getting this out friends. I'm *extremely* excited to keep going with this series and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Endless thanks to my hive mind and @boomhauer for beta'ing.

Side A | Track 02: "Escape" by Metallica

“Yes, well, I don’t know Margaret, she said she got laid off and now she’s home.”

Your body tenses at the sound of your mother’s hushed voice drifting lazily past the living room entryway. Sure that if you opened your eyes, you’d find her with the phone cord and receiver in her hands, pacing, just like a gossiping high schooler.

Counting to five to make sure she’s passed completely, you roll over on the scratchy living room carpet, ending up face to face with your drooling and snoring little brother.

Late last night as you blinked sleep heavy eyes, you had hoped to sneak into your childhood home unannounced and avoid any confrontation with the family until morning, but you should have known your brother wouldn’t let you slip in quietly. He was out the door and running barefoot through the snow before you could even take the keys out of the ignition.

It’s interesting how easily you were able to fall back into old habits as he flung himself into your arms and you ruffled his too long hair. Hip checking and semi-wrestling with each other, whispering ‘you look like hell’ and ‘what took you so long’, when you really meant ‘I love you' to each other. And then you entered the living room to find a pizza and several VHS tapes already laid out on the coffee table. He turned to you looking far too old and yet younger than he ever had as he pointed and in a stern whisper accused, “You promised.”

And you had, so you stayed up too late, catching up, eating food that was bad for you both and watching terrible movies—ending with both of you passing out right there on the floor just like old times.

Glancing around your family living room, it truly was like nothing had changed. Aside from a few updated decorations that you’re sure your mother was pressured into buying by other moms in the neighborhood, it was all the same.

"Maybe she could get a job here. She's just so stubborn..."

Exactly the same.

Suppressing your sigh, your eyes land on your brother’s now open ones and that terrible pitying look that you wanted to avoid at all costs is plastered across his face as he whispers, “She means well, you know that.”

He isn’t wrong, you do know that deep down. But just because someone is your family, and you love them, it doesn’t mean you have to like them all the time. Even if you were able to choose them, you use that magical word ‘family’ to describe them even once and you’re stuck with them. The word, and by definition who you’re describing when using it, is a funny thing. Family is a core value for many, a word to summarize people - and almost a feeling that can't be described. Sayings like 'Home is where the heart is' and 'We don't have much but at least we have each other' on pillows like the one behind your brother’s head or embroidered hangings on the wall come to mind. A group of people that get you in a way no one else ever will because they lived the same places with the same people, experienced the same or similar things. Their life is not yours nor yours theirs, but that connection will always be there. Not a choice for most, and if you're lucky, you may end up with a pretty great one. Which, even the most blessed people will forget every once in a while. Forgetting how lucky you are to have them, guilty when you remember how quickly it could all be different - how it could all change. Sometimes it's tough, and you really have to work to remind yourself that they're your family and you do love them.

Which is perhaps why you choose to ignore your mother’s penchant for gossip and neither confirm nor deny his statement and instead poke his side and whisper, “Your breath is absolutely horrendous.”

He grunts in protest at that, whacking the back of your hand in sibling code for ‘get away from me or else’ as he hisses, “Your face is horrendous.”

You poke him again and roll away from his retaliating kick as you pout, “Wow, pretty rude to say to someone who will get you a donut for breakfast and a ride to school…”

He grins, knowing you’ll still do both of those things even if he kicks you and is about to say so when your mother’s voice is loud above your heads, “Oh good! You’re both up!”

Though upside down, you can see your mother dressed in her morning work out clothes from the electric blue leg warmers to the lime green sweatband simply used for poofing up her already styled curls, telephone pressed to her neck to avoid the speaker and a bright smile on her bubble gum pink lips. It only makes sense to the people of Hawkins to wear a full face of makeup to exercise. God forbid you look like a normal human being while working up a sweat.

Despite her early morning gossiping centered around your predicament, you are happy to see her and you jump up to hug her, though she tries to push you away. “Oh no, honey, I’m all sweaty! Let me hug you hello when I’m- oof!” breath knocked out of her as you push past her protests, she laughs into the phone, “Margaret let me call you back!”

A little bit of the mother that didn’t revolve around the other moms, the town or its gossip and pecking order - the mom who lounged in her sweats and drank coffee all day makes a resurgence as she clicks the phone off before Margaret can even reply. She hugs you back tightly, whispering, “Welcome home, kiddo.”

It is easy to forget, if only for a few seconds, why you were home when you’re in your mother’s embrace. Easy to pretend it’s all okay while she runs her hands through your hair three times before she kisses the top of your head, just like she had always done.

But as she takes in a deep inhale, signaling the onslaught of questions and pity that she is about to bombard you with, you remove yourself from her grasp, spinning towards the stairs. “Glad to be back. I’m gonna take the dweeb to school, so I’ll see you later?”

She frowns, arms still outstretched like you were still in front of her but she nods, recovering quickly and smiles as you disappear up the stairs two at a time.

Escaping into your room, you fall against the door, closing it with a soft click, and let yourself exhale as you look around the space that feels a little like stepping into a time machine.

Your posters of bands you loved in high school line the walls, bedspread still the bright yellow covered in daisies, polaroids pinned around movie tickets and a dried corsage from prom that you swore you threw in the trash. Even your cassettes are littered across your desk, like your family couldn’t bear to change a single thing about the space in your absence.

Fingertips brushing over the stack of them, you smile as you find one of your favorites. Easily slipping back into old habits, you pop it into your stereo. Blasting it loud enough while you get ready for the day that your brother has to bang on your door to get your attention several minutes later, “Y/N! Jesus! Let’s go!”

Smiling as you swing your door open, he rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head. You race him down the stairs, ignoring his protests about cheating and head starts. You argue the whole way to get donuts about the best kinds of frostings and sprinkles or no sprinkles, filled or not filled, new music and movie opinions making cameos in between. You’re happy to pretend everything is okay, but you know it’s not and it all starts to sink in as you get closer and closer to Hawkins High.

While your brother babbles on about Dungeons and Dragons, driving down the familiar streets to that school, it’s like your failure is blinking in a flashing sign above your car. Stomach twisting in knots as you recognize spots that once held happy memories, now just reminders of what you left behind willingly because you believed you were above it all - better than the town and the people in it.

Pulling into the parking lot, you blow out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “What time is your game over? I can pick you up.”

“Um, it’s not just a game and -” he turns to hold a one second symbol out to the group of familiar friends. Their hats pulled down over hair too long just like your brother’s, hands shoved in puffy winter coats and scowls across their faces until you’re grinning widely at them and waving. Slight nods from all of them and half-hearted waves back. Some of the boys turn bright red, ducking their faces down as two girls shove elbows into them all, shaking their heads. Your brother groans and mumbles, “Idiots.”

Ruffling the top of his head as you laugh, "Relax dude. Whatever it is, I'll be here. So again...what time does it get over?"

He's digging in his bag, opening the door halfway, the chill from outside swirling around the car and making you shiver as he mumbles, "No, I don't need a ride, Steve usually gives the few of us without cars all one home. Speaking of which," he dumps five VHS tapes into your lap, "Can you return these for me today? Steve and Robs will pluck Mike's eyeballs out if they’re any later. He took the - Hold on!” he shrieks out the door at the grumbling from a few feet away before continuing, “Anyways, Wheeler said he forgot but really it was my fault and…”

So lost in so many different questions, you don’t hear the end of his sentence as you blurt out the first thing you can think of, "Steve? Who's this Steve that gives you rides?"

He blinks at you like it's obvious, his tone even and slowed down as if he's sounding it out for you as he replies, "Hair - ing - ton."

"Steve Harrington gives you rides home from your Dungeons and Dragons game?"

He rolls his eyes but nods, half out the door as he zips his bag back up, "Yes he does and -"

"The Hair? King Steve?"

He huffs, “He doesn’t really go by that-” the school bell's shrill ring sounds out and he groans, jumping out of the car fully.

You shout an apology behind his body and the closing door and then, “Wait! Harrington works at Family Video?!”

He waves you off as the door slams and he’s racing past the group that’s all shouting at him as they all scurry into the building, shoving each other as they go. Somehow, despite their broader shoulders, longer hair, and taller bodies, they were still that group of awkward misfit kids to you.

Glancing down at the tapes in your lap, you can’t help but wonder how the hell your little brother got wrapped up with Steve Harrington. You push your car into drive, ready to find out.

The trilling chime you’re expecting as you step inside Family Video halts after one ring and you glance up to see a tiny piece of string pulling the bell back - just enough to stop it from hitting the door hard enough to ring out repeatedly.

Glancing around the familiar rental store, you see no customers and more importantly, no Steve Harrington.

As ‘Temple of Doom’ blasts from the TV’s hoisted in the corners, you make your way towards the counter and set down the stack of tapes your brother dropped on you. A shiny bell sitting on the counter with a post-it attached that reads ‘ring me and you die’ crossed out with harried and blocky writing that says ‘she’s kidding’ and another note below it saying ‘no I’m not’ piques your interest and you tap your finger on it despite the warnings.

Pausing for several seconds, but when nobody appears you tap it again, and for good measure a third time right in a row, causing a loud groan to echo from the ajar door leading to the back. Shuffling feet and a high pitched and irritated voice calling out, “Steve, I swear to god, if you ring that bell to get my attention one more time-”

A girl about your age, maybe a little younger, stops dead in her tracks as she rounds the corner. Bright red and scuffed chucks knocking into a cart as she flails, trying to catch herself. At about the same time you go to help her, the door lets out the pathetic singular ding and a deeper voice yells out, “Oh shit!”

The girl has toppled over the cart and is blowing her bangs out of her eyes as she hisses up at the boy, “Yeah ‘oh shit’ Steve! Can you-” she gestures to you, picking up the jumbled tapes, voice dripping with fake polite sweetness, “just help the customer please.”

He nods and finally turns in your direction. He’s got a giant soft pretzel in his hand, a dab of mustard on the corner of his lips, and the famous brown locks atop his head. Steve blinks at you, clearing his throat before squinting and asking, “Y/N?”

Nodding as well, you take in his appearance further. He’s different and yet the same as you remember him. A small amount of stubble around his jaw and upper lip that he quickly wipes at the corner of with the sleeve of his deep green sweatshirt - but you can see the collar of one of his familiar polos peeking out underneath. He’s taller, taller than you now, and his hair - he’s learned how to steer into the mess of it, it seems. It flops in all the right ways. It's not stiff from product and he runs his free hand through it in a way that tells you he does it all the time and makes you a little envious of the hand. He still seems to very much be the King Steve you recall from high school - the one who was popular enough to have seniors over at his house. The one you and your friends included in hot or not lists and flirted with constantly, the one girls bought bikinis strictly for pool parties hosted by him for. The one who still drives a maroon BMW that makes your little rusting bucket currently sitting out next to it look like a piece of shit.

How did that Steve turn into a guy who gives your brother rides?

He’s still holding the pretzel and his mouth opens to speak again when the girl stands from her stack of tapes on the floor, cheeks blushed pink and a scowl on her face, “Oh good. You know each other, I’m going back to finishing my essay and you,” she shoves the stack into his chest and he cradles it between his one free arm and chin. She snatches the pretzel and takes a bite before speaking around it, “can finish putting these away.”

She seems to have a lighter skip in her step as she takes another bite of the pretzel and he shakes his head at her retreating back before dumping the perfect stack onto the counter behind him, all of them toppling over and out of order again. He turns back to face you and extends his arms towards the now fully open door, “Don’t mind her, she’s dealing with finals and super cranky and-”

“I heard that, Dingus!” echoes from the room.

“You were supposed to!” he shouts back before turning to face you, rubbing the back of his neck, “Um, so, what…how…you’re…”

He starts too many questions for you to even attempt to answer when the door chimes again and you feel all the color drain from your face. Fingers and toes becoming numb as you see the hoard of bright fuschia, patterns, teased and poofed hair, and denim jacket clad women coming towards you. You were not prepared for all of these reunions on your first day back.

“Y/N?!” one of them shrieks and then the whole crowd descends, shouting out squeals of ‘I can’t believe you’re here’, ‘what are you doing here’s’, ‘oh my god we miss you’, ‘did you do something different with your hair?’

Overwhelmed does not even touch the tip of how you’re feeling and you blink at Steve, who none of the girls have even spared a glance towards. He’s quietly opening the tapes you brought back, cheek pulled in as he bites at it.

One girl steps forward from the pack and your stomach rolls. Brittany Hartman, your best friend growing up, laughs and waves her hands down at the others. “Oh my god, ladies, let her breathe!” She turns to you, a full wattage smile poised on her face, tossing her perfectly curled blonde hair before her arms extend and pull you into a suffocating hug, hairspray filling your nostrils and something overtly peachy as she squeezes you and squeals, “It’s been so long! How are you? Are you home for Christmas? How long are you staying? How’s your mom?”

A snort to your left and you see the girl from earlier is now next to Steve and she covers her mouth and turns quickly to face the back counter, ears turning red and Steve bites his lip trying to hide a smirk.

Brittany rolls her eyes before turning back to you, her fingers running through your hair absentmindedly with a slight look of judgment as you stumble through all of the responses to her questions, “It has been a long time, yeah, um…” you pull your sleeves over your fists at your side, “Home for Christmas, she’s good, thanks for asking.”

Some of the girls have dissipated between the shelves, twittering amongst themselves about Tom Cruise and what movie to pick. Brittany leans against the counter, elbow knocking over some of the tapes. Steve’s jaw clenches as he catches it and turns to the computer, typing in something. She twirls her hair and nods, her smile stiff as she asks, “How’s the big city? Still living the dream? How long do we get you for?”

Unsure why you didn’t prepare some sort of response before going out in public in this town, you’re kicking yourself for not realizing you’d have to answer this question eventually. Shrugging as you reply, “It’s great, I love it there. I…um…well,” you can feel your throat tightening, the pit in your stomach only growing as you look anywhere but at her as you spit out a half truth, “I’m actually gonna be home for the rest of the school year…”

Her eyes go wide at that, her head tilting to the side, “You can take that much time off?”

The familiar prick of tears you’ve been avoiding is hitting behind your eyes, body suddenly feeling hot in all your layers and then you catch Steve’s eyes. He offers a small smile and you know he knows and you’ll kill your brother if you make it out of this situation alive. Your eyes land on the counter as you blink them repeatedly and mumble, “Actually, I don’t have a job right now?”

Cursing to yourself that it comes out like a question, you swallow harshly and tighten your fists as Brittany gasps, some of the other girls letting out quiet ‘oh no’s’ and ‘that’s terrible’. Brittany’s fingers tap on the counter as her voice drips with fake disdain, “Oh my god, that sucks! What happened? Was teaching really hard?”

Her tone, the situation, some of the girls hiding their smiles behind their hands has your blood boiling over as your head snaps up, trying to control the shake in your voice, “Excuse me?”

She laughs, cold and a little heartless as she waves her hand, “Oh I just, I remember your mom telling my mom that you were teaching? So if you’re not, it must have been hard? Or did something happen?” she gasps again, eyes wide, “Oh my god, did you get fired?”

Words fail you, you’re trying, you really are, to tell her that she’s wrong. That you’re good at your job. That it wasn’t your fault. But she’s technically right, and as her eyes lock with yours, you both know it.

She frowns, mock pity that you’re familiar with from your years of friendship thick in her voice as her fake sincerity slips out of her lips, “I’m so sorry. Some people just aren’t cut out for city life, I guess.”

The girl behind the counter with Steve lets out a scoff and Brittany tilts her head again, bright blue fingernails tapping on the counter as she questions, “Something to say over there?”

The girl turns, honey with a hint of red small curls that fall from the bun atop her head swaying with the sharp movement as she mocks the tilt of Brittany’s head and shrugs, “Oh, just wondering how you would know that?”

Brittany sneers at the girl whose name tag says Robin before glancing at Steve and responding, “You’re so right. Silly me. It’s pathetic to stay in Hawkins and work here, huh Harrington?”

Unsure of how a dynamic this big could have shifted between a girl like Brittany and Steve in the years you’ve been away, you’re shocked when he stands, smiles and hands her a tape, “Pretty pathetic, Brit. I’ll see you next week, same time.”

The girls around the counter clear their throats and Brittany snatches the tape before turning to you. Her eyes soften, but you know the malice that lies behind them and she isn’t fooling anyone when she squeezes your wrist, “I really am sorry. Let’s catch up soon, okay? I wanna hear all about it and be there for you.”

Squeezing your fingers, but before you can even reply, she’s turning and the hoard of girls follows behind her, calling out their goodbyes.

The sound of the movie's credits is the only thing that fills the store for several minutes as you stare blankly out the glass front doors. Ashamed you couldn’t stick up for yourself. Embarrassed that you were once best friends with her. Gutted that somehow, still, after all of these years, a shallow level inside of yourself seeks and wants their approval.

Feeling the need to make your apologies - for freezing, for not defending Steve, for your past friend’s behavior, for your brother clearly not rewinding any of the tapes as you watch the girl named Robin plop one in the rewinder. She shakes her head, "Don't you even think about apologizing."

Blinking at her as she smiles and waggles a finger adorned with a ring attached with a small silver chain to a bracelet, "It's all over your face," she leans onto the counter, crossing her arms, "And you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about."

Steve nods once in agreement and flops down into the rolling chair, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling, "Except maybe not teaching your brother how to return things in a timely manner."

Robin kicks his shin and he doesn't even flinch, and your eyes bop between the two of them - curious who this girl is, why Steve and Brittany don't get along anymore, and how Steve is not doing any of the things you once imagined he would be and is instead, working here.

He rubs his temples and Robin extends her hand to you, "Robin Buckley."

Shaking it, you introduce yourself and she smiles widely, "Oh, I know who you are."

She must sense your embarrassment of not knowing who she is or trying to recall if you've met before and just forgot because her smile softens and she shrugs, "I was class of ‘86 and we didn't exactly run in the same circles. Besides," she shifts and jumps up to sit on the counter, "A senior hanging out with freshmen? Who'd do something so crazy?"

Steve pulls his head up and rolls his eyes at her which reminds you why you're in the store in the first place. Tapping your knuckles on the counter, ready to interrogate him, Steve replies before you even ask, "It's a very long story, one I'm surprised your brother hasn't told you already, but," he waves his hands and then leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, "Would you...we can...coffee?"

Robin rolls her eyes at him and you can't help but smile at the jumbled question. The smooth talking younger boy is not as full of confident charm as he once was as wide and hopeful hazel eyes stare up at you.

Shrugging, you reply, "Sure. Since I know the dweeb clearly told you, and you would've found out from that lovely encounter," you nod your head out towards the parking lot before letting your arms fall open at your sides, "I have plenty of free time on my hands."

Steve smiles and nods, "Cool, I'll call you."

"Cool."

Robin's eyebrows raise and she whispers, "Cool."

Biting the inside of your lip as you try to fight a smile, you start to head towards the door, and spin back to face them, "This is going to sound incredibly lame and you're going to think I'm a total loser who really doesn't have anything going for her anymore but um...do you...do either of you know..." you rub the back of your neck before finally spitting out, "Is Rick still..."

The pair share a glance and then Steve stands and nods, "Yeah, he's still at the same spot out by Lover’s Lake. He's more of a...supplier now though?"

Your eyebrows raise and Steve grins, "The town is booming, didn't you hear?"

Laughing as you back into the door, "Clearly I underestimated Hawkins potential should have never left," you push the door open and then turn to say sorry for what occurred with Brittany.

Robin holds up her finger, "Nu-uh! What'd I say!?"

Grinning at her, you nod and let a tiny, "Sorry," slip out before turning towards your car, as the door falls shut you hear her groan.

The parking lot covered in icy sludge makes you shuffle slowly to your car, wincing as the door hinges squeak, before settling into the front seat.

Determined to turn the day around and quell some of the anxiety from the interaction with Brittany, you turn the key in the ignition and make the trip out to the one person who supplied anyone in town for their parties with the good stuff you haven’t been able to afford for the last year - hoping your “friend” can cut you a deal for old time’s sake.

Making the familiar drive out to Rick’s house, you hate that your thoughts are still swirling around Brittany, the town, and how long it will take for her to tell everyone about what happened. What about if anyone sees you going into Rick’s and the assumptions they make?

Knuckles tightening their grip on the steering wheel until they’re drifting to your stereo, turning up the knob fully in hopes that the wailing guitar will drown out the anxiety that’s threatening to pull you under.

Pulling into his drive, you throw the car in park, pressing your forehead to the top of the steering wheel and take several deep breaths. Did it really matter what they thought of you anymore? Why do you care? Sick to your stomach that it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours back in this town and already you were falling back into their clutches of controlling stereotypes.

Thoughts continue to eat away at your nerves, you bite at your thumb as you pull the keys from the ignition and slam the door. Stepping up the front steps, your head ducks down to shield yourself from the biting wind now that you’re closer to the lake.

Pounding on the door a few times, you hear a muffled ‘one sec’ from somewhere deeper in the house and you mentally prepare yourself for the conversation with Rick - one that would be longer than necessary due to being interrupted by his large bong rips most likely. Hoping he was in a good enough mood to offer you some sort of deal and maybe, somehow, you could still escape with a little of your dignity.

When you don’t hear any further footsteps to signal he’s coming, your fist connects with the wood harshly again, worried he was too high and had already forgotten that someone was at the door.

A louder voice cries out, “I said I was come-” the door flies open and his sentence falters off much quieter, “-ing.”

As if the day could not get any worse, Eddie Munson stands before you, a bag of chips between his teeth that drops to the floor when his mouth falls open as he blinks at you.

Crossing your arms, your eyes narrow into a glare as you stick your chin up, “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes, bending down to pick up the chips as he sighs, “Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He turns back into the house, leaving the door open but not telling you to follow him.

Debating if you really needed the weed that badly, your resolve is paper thin at this point and you step inside and close the door behind you. Eddie turns to look over his shoulder, eyebrows raising as he sees you standing in front of the now closed door.

He tosses the bag on the kitchen counter as he opens cabinets, “So, really, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Chicago?”

Curious how Eddie Munson knows you lived in Chicago - the town is small, but the people who knew where you lived definitely wouldn’t have been going around telling “the freak” about it. Scuffing your shoe against the floor, you go with a half truth again, “I’m home visiting for Christmas. Is Rick here?”

Eddie laughs as he closes the cabinet, “Really? Cause I heard you got canned and had to move back home,” he winces with fake apology, “Tough break, shortstack.”

How the hell did he know that? And how dare he use that nickname now, after all of these years.

Seething at the thought of the one person you couldn’t stand almost as much as the town knowing your failure, your voice is cold and sharp, “Well if you knew that, then why the fuck did you ask?”

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his black denim jeans, tapping it on the counter as he squints at you, “Someone is bitter…” he drags out the last word as he pulls a cigarette from the pack and lets it dangle between his lips.

Eddie is similar to Steve in regards to not having changed much - appearance wise. Still long and unruly dark curls cascading over an old band t-shirt, a band you hated to admit you liked too. His jeans have the same holes in the knees, he’s got a little stubble on his jaw, just like Steve had, a reminder that you’re all a little older. The difference between Eddie and Steve is that Eddie seems to not have changed his personality at all.

“Glad to see you haven’t changed - still an asshole. Again, is Rick here?”

Eddie pulls the unlit cigarette from his lips and places it behind his ear as he shakes his head, crossing his arms and leaning up against the counter, “So what happened, shortstack? All those book smarts didn’t give you enough street smarts for the big ol’ city?” He pouts his lips and blinks his eyes in false pity.

Picking at the skin on your thumbs with your forefingers, you try to keep your voice level as you retort, “At least I got out of this town and did something, Munson. What’s your excuse for doing absolutely nothing with your life?”

Eddie tucks his tongue into his cheek, big brown eyes hardening into a deeper shade, almost black, as he practically growls through a clenched jaw, “Says the girl who failed and had to move back in with mommy and daddy.”

“What the fuck is your problem Eddie?” you shriek at him.

He stands taller, fingers pointing into his chest, taking a step closer and towering over you like he always has, voice ringing out through the house, “What’s my problem?! I’m not the one who’s had a stick up their ass since we were twelve, sweetheart!”

Shoving a finger into his chest as you take a step closer, “You’re the one who humiliated me in front of the entire tow-”

“You are un - fucking - believable! Are you kidding me?” he interrupts, whacking your finger from his chest with wide hands.

“Woah, woah, woah, dudes - your volume is not appreciated right now.”

At the sound of Rick’s voice and cough, you physically jump back from Eddie like he shocked you. Feeling the muscles that had tightened and coiled in your body at the growing tension with him start to untangle themselves. Rick looks between the two of you, holding a finger up, and a small, “Ah, yeah, I forget, what happened here?”

Eddie and you glare at each other, both of you mumbling and turning from the other. Eddie a quiet, “I don’t know,” and you an even quieter, “Nothing.”

Rick shrugs like he couldn’t be bothered to know or not and he falls into the plush couch, kicking his dirty barefeet up on the coffee table littered with rolling papers, and baggies full of bud and nods towards you, “What do I owe the pleasure of this house call, former princess of Hawkins?”

Recoiling at the nickname and everything that goes along with it - you hate that that’s how people can still think of you. You were never the queen, or as popular as someone like Steve, but you did run with that crowd. A princess and a pawn in their kingdom you begrudgingly have to admit. You risk a glance at Eddie who immediately looks at the floor, pretending you didn’t just catch him staring.

“Well, I’m in need of a couple of those bad boys,” you gesture to some of the rolled joints resting in a tin and flash him a smile that always used to work wonders, “Had to come see my favorite guy for them.”

Rick laughs, flicking a lighter in his hand, “Well, I don’t really do that anymore,” he nods his head backwards to where Eddie is filling his old metal lunchbox with baggies on the counter, “My guy took over a few years ago so I could wash my hands of all the messy sales stuff. Gave away too many free joints to the pretty ones,” Rick winks at you.

Disgusted with yourself, you pull out the old charm for the man four years your senior and flirt like your life depends on it, “Oh really? I thought that was something you only did for me, Ricky?” you pout your lips, clasping your hands in front of you.

Eddie makes a choking sound and you ignore him, gesturing to the door, “But that’s okay, I understand. I’ll just tell my friends we can’t get the good stuff tonight and -”

Rick holds out his hand stopping your retreating, “Wait!”

Eddie groans, “No. You seriously did not fall for that pathetic excuse of-”

Rick picks up the tin and shoots Eddie a glare before turning back to you, dopey smile on his lips, “Alright, one free joint for the once upon a time princess who’s always been too sweet to me,” he hands you a joint and you smile at him, batting your eyelashes.

He pulls another one out, “A second free one for the inconvenience of driving all the way out here and not knowing your old buddy took my gig and his mean yelling earlier-”

Eddie cries out, “Oh my god! Come on, man!”

Rick holds up a third one, “A third and final free joint to save for a special occasion - for old times sake,” he winks at you as you steal it, backing away before Eddie can convince him to change his mind.

“Thank you Rick! It’ll be our little secret that they were free, and I’ll spread the word that you still have the best stuff in town!” blowing him a kiss that he pretends to grab and slap his cheek with as you laugh.

Eddie stands behind him shaking his head, hissing as you turn your back on the pair of boys, “Rick, this is exactly why you hired me to sell. What the fuck was-”

Rick’s voice follows you out and you wish you were quicker to close the door before hearing, “My man, you of all people should know the power that girl’s smile has on a guy.”

“I thought you didn’t remember-”

“Dude. Everyone remembers.”

Upon returning home, you quickly shuffle up to your room, and click the lock before heading over to your closet. Digging around on the top shelf for the old shoebox covered in collaged pictures and magazine cut outs to hide your newly acquired contraband like you used to in high school. Opening the lid, your stomach churns at the contents of the box you forgot you had kept and hidden away. You dump all of it out and onto the floor and slip the three joints inside, placing one of your old t-shirts atop them. Deciding you’ll smoke the last bit of flower you had been saving first and ignore the pile of tainted memories.

Placing an old cassette tape into your stereo, and turning the volume up, you blow the smoke out your window and let the high take over, everything that’s gone wrong that day melting away as your muscles relax fully.

Body and mind lulled into a blissfully unaware and relaxed state, you slowly unpack the things you brought back home. As you take down posters and hang new ones up, replacing framed photos of you and the girls from Hawkins with your polaroids and frames of Chicago, you don’t notice the sun shifting squares across your floor throughout the day or the number of tapes you replace as the songs click to their end. Pausing in between your slow unpacking and decorating to light up the last little bit in your bowl, hollowing your cheeks and sucking in the definitely burnt and past its prime drug.

After the last suitcase is emptied and shoved under your bed, you turn to the pile full of tokens from memory lane hell you had dumped on the floor. Photobooth pictures of you and Brittany where he enters the last frame kissing your cheek. Lace from the bottom of your prom dress that was tailored. Ticket stubs from date nights. A small box that you knew if you opened would be a necklace with his initial dangling on the gold chain. Slowly dropping items into your wastebasket, you pause at a few of them. A pop bottle cap necklace you allow to return to the box. A polaroid of your brother and Dustin Henderson shoving ice cream cones in your face, a handmade card full of drawings your brother made, and a ticket stub to The Breakfast Club all make the cut too. Folded pieces of notebook paper are all that’s left. Several have tiny hearts and your name on them that you quickly shove into the trash, but most of them have striking doodles of dragons and knights, a crown, frogs and various favorite animals from over the years on them made in black sharpie that disappear into the creases of the strategically folded paper. Those you return to the box as well with a lump in your throat and pull out one of the new joints.

The items sobering any sort of high you had been feeling, you notice the sky darkening, the once gray and bright day fading into a hazy blue twilight as the front door thudding closed and echoes of boys filter up the stairs.

Excited to greet all of your brother’s best friends with more than a wave from the car, you stick the joint in your pocket and race down the stairs, jumping down the last two and practically falling over at what waits for you in the entryway.

Your brother grins, “Hey! We brought home pizza!”

Lucas Sinclair holds up the box and grins at you as well and you gulp as you wave at the young boys, greeting them as your eyes remain on Steve’s and then Eddie’s, “Hey guys, long time no see.”

Dustin Henderson, the closest of your brother’s friends races forward to give you a hug, practically your little brother too and you laugh as you hug him back, “Holy cow, you all got so tall!” You ruffle the top of his head as he pulls away and frown, looking around, “What’s with all this long hair though?”

Eddie narrows his eyes at you and leans a shoulder against the wall and you fold your arms, glaring back at him.

Steve looks between the two of you and then at your little brother who looks like he’s in pain when Mike Wheeler hitches his thumb at Eddie, “He thinks it’s because of him.”

“Yeah, he’s always been pretty full of himself,” you reply without looking away from Eddie.

Eddie opens his mouth to respond and maybe it’s some lingering effects of the weed, but you beat him to it, not caring about the audience you have, “Why are you here?”

Lucas speaks around a bite of a slice he slipped out of the box that Dustin snatches from him and closes, “Eddie runs Hellfire.”

Will Byers pipes up at your blinking when Lucas’ mouth remains full, “Our DND Club? He’s the best Dungeon Master Hawkins has ever seen.”

Turning your gaze to your brother, he rubs the back of his neck and whispers, “Did I not mention that Eddie still ran DND?”

Shaking your head at him, it’s all the final cherry on top to your massively awful first day back in Hawkins, “Nope, must have slipped your mind when you were too busy telling everyone about my mistakes and failures instead.”

Steve clears his throat and nods at the younger boys and the kitchen, slowly shoving them out of the entryway as your brother starts to apologize, “I didn’t mean to tell them all, I was just happy to have you back home and-”

“Whatever, it’s too late now, but,” you point at Eddie who hasn’t moved from his spot leaning, “You’re not hanging out with him anymore.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t fight you on your order, surprisingly, it’s your brother who does, “Excuse me?”

Shoving past Eddie, you start to pull on your shoes and coat, “You heard me.”

He scoffs, “Hate to break it to ya sis, but you’re not my mother. Why can’t I hang out with Eddie? Just because you don’t like him? He didn’t live up to the Hawkins princess’ standards, right? Cause it sure as shit can’t be because of the pot like you used to claim since we can all smell how you’ve been spending your day without a job.”

The words land across your skin in a harsh slap, cold and biting, just how they were intended and you see his shoulders fall and the immediate regret on his face, but it’s too late, and he can’t take them back.

The kitchen turns silent, Steve closes his eyes and rubs the back of his neck and Eddie stands up straighter, all three of them opening their mouths.

Shaking your head as you open the door you mutter, “Save it,” and slam it behind you.

Fingers fumbling with your keys, you hold in the tears until you’re in your car and down the block, letting them fall silently. Aimlessly driving around, desperate to escape the town you had worked so hard to get out of already, until you end up at a diner along the highway just outside of Hawkins.

Opening the center console, you rifle through your tapes until you find your favorite Metallica one. You turn the knob so the opening soft chords of ‘Fight Fire With Fire’ fill your car. The cold pads of your fingertips swipe at your tear stained cheeks and you let the metal music fill your brain, trying to let it take over the thoughts sending you into a spiral of self loathing and pity.

The joint sitting in your pocket seems to be burning a hole there as the lyric, ‘the gods are laughing’ cuts through your wallowing. Pulling it out, you place the joint between chapped lips as you search for your lucky bright yellow lighter. You can’t help but think about how different this scenario is from your previous smoke sessions in Hawkins. Boys always lighting them for you before Chicago, only daring to have a few passes from fear of being labeled a stoner like classmates around you. Now, your hands work with a mind of their own, the steps to smoking alone are second nature, twirling it to get an even burn and as the paper catches the flame, you hollow your cheeks and let yourself become numb.

The smoke leaves your parted lips as ‘For Whom The Bell Tolls’ starts and you adjust the volume a little louder, letting your body relax into the smoke and sounds filling the car. The events of day replay in your mind like some private showing of a sick and twisted horror movie starring yourself as the paper slowly burns down and the album continues on. As you hear, ‘no one but me can save myself, but it’s too late’ you can’t help but feel like you’ve made a colossal mistake in coming back and a fresh wave of tears starts to gather on your lashes.

Reminding yourself it wasn’t exactly by choice, but you’re sure if you would have picked up a third job, found roommates, something, you could have made Chicago work. But you gave up, your expectations and the bar you set for yourself lower than they ever had been. The fact of the matter is, your entire confidence was shattered as the dream you’d always reached for, the perfect life in the perfect city, came tumbling down around you after one setback. You’d had it extremely easy for most of your life and though you worked hard in school to get a scholarship, worked a job throughout high school to save up for the same brands other’s simply purchased with family credit cards, you were doused in privilege and naivety. Somewhere along the way you let yourself feel unstoppable until the universe reminded you that you’re nothing special and the world is not always going to be fair.

Maybe everyone was right. You were a princess of Hawkins, a part of a crowd that had life handed to them and you were no better than anyone else. A hypocrite. A failure. And certainly no role model for your brother.

The tears finally fall and you quickly wipe at them and snuff out the butt of your joint. You’re not sure how this day can get worse, and you’re wondering if this is your rock bottom. Surely you can turn it all around, climb your way back up. Nudging the volume up again, you’re determined to not continue to wallow once your favorite song comes on and you sing out “Out for my own, out to be free…” closing your eyes and headbanging along to the fast guitar as you remember the girl you were when the album came out. First year in the city and full of drive and ambition - full of hope.

Three quick, loud raps on your passenger door window snap your eyes open. A man with a large mustache and decked out in a uniform doting big blocky letters spelling out the word ‘Police’ is glaring at you and you now notice the swirling red and blue lights in your windshield through the lingering hazy smoke.

As the diner full of families glare out through frosted windows as you’re escorted into the back of the cop car, you let your head fall forward, fighting off the laugh that was threatening to escape your chest at the universe’s cruel sense of humor.

Correction.

Maybe this was your rock bottom.

🖤 Thanks again for being here - any interaction is so appreciated & I’d love to know what you thought about it! If you’re able, please consider reblogging to help get my work seen.

tag list: @boomhauer @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @christalcake @marymunsonloves @big-ope-vibes @hellkaisersangel @aysheashea @aftermidnightwriting @idkidknemore

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #enemies to lovers

153 notes · View notes

xoxomoonlightxoxo · 6 months

Text

P&C | Ch. 2: Hey Flip Flops

➪ Playlist (Spotify) l Series Masterlist

6:30 a.m.

"Mira, Miraya, wake up!" I sigh as my body is awakened by the sound of my alarm clock and Jiah's voice.

"It's time already?" I whine, stretching my body for what seems like an hour. I can barely make out Jiah's words as they're interrupted by her yawns, but I'm pretty sure she said something about breakfast.

We quickly get ready. Check each other out for the 50th time, making sure we both look to die for because that's what boss ladies do, before finally heading out. It rained the night before so the air is extra crisp, which I love. Would rather have this than the 10-month winter season I had to endure back home.

Jiah was right, the knee-high boots definitely pulled the whole look together, we both look like two French girls. Talking about fashion, people in Korea (especially girls) know how to dress well. Everything, and I mean everything, from their hair down to their nails is polished and well put together. Mindblowing as back home I could be seen wearing the same Harvard sweater for 5 consecutive days, with absolutely no shame or will to change. So the fact that these boots are now in my possession should in itself cause a commotion, but for now, I'll settle for Jiah's reassurance and cute compliments.

Unfortunately, though, our little date had to pause as it was time to depart to our respective faculty buildings. See, Jiah is a Business major with a minor in accounting, aka money is basically going to follow her 24/7. While I'm majoring in Nursing, by choice mind you! I was going to go into Dietetics before realising that my eating habits are questionable at best, so I spared humanity this one (you're welcome). But now, if you see me in your local hospital in my cute scrubs but absolutely no clue what I'm doing, just mind your business.

Anywho, we said our goodbyes and wished each other luck. Fast forward to about five minutes, and there I was, standing in front of the building that will probably make me cry, scream, laugh, and all of the above throughout the next 4 years. Nonetheless, I have come this far right? The possibility of everything I worked for going down the drain is the only motivation I need right now to do my best.

As I walked out of my last class of the day, the sun was already beginning to set. To be honest, everything went pretty well, I mean as well as it could go on a syllabus day. My professors were all pretty chill except for one lady who intimidates the crap out of me for absolutely no reason. She has over 30 years of experience in this field and deals with new cohorts, which means she might be my supervisor. If that's the case I will have to pregame each clinical to not pass out in her presence.

I wanted to grab a quick coffee on my way back to the dorm when I felt my phone buzz.

Jiah: Heyy lovely, how are you? Have you eaten? Jimin invited us to a little get-together with his friends, so I'll pick you up at 7.

Mira: Hey babes, I'm great. How are you love? Sure, I'll let you know when I'm ready.

Oh my god, my first party. It's no big deal but my body has definitely become more tense. I mean I know literally no one else aside from Jiah. I haven't even met her boyfriend, barely know what he looks like. But, I trust her, so as long as I stick by her everything should be fine, right? I mean what's the worst that can happen?

I was so caught up in my thoughts which were abruptly interrupted by a body that slammed past me as I tried to open the front door of the dormitory. Ouch. I didn't have time to check who it was but they also made no effort in checking if I was okay. Looking back all I could see was a tall guy with a black hoodie who seemed to be in a rush. Jeez, people these days are just something else I swear. Whatever, I thought, maybe they were having a rough day. Nonetheless, I straightened up and made my way up to my dorm, trying to forget whatever that was as I had bigger things to think about.

Knock Knock Knock

"Miraya, open up, I'm here!" I could hear Jiah's screams from my bedroom as I tried to quickly unlock the door. One hand on the doorknob, the other on my dress strap. As the door swung open, Jiah was left in absolute awe.

"Sheesh, miss girl who allowed you to look this good?" she exclaimed, coming in for a tight hug.

"Girl, look at you! Screw your boyfriend and come live with me," we both giggled, knowing dam well that we both looked quite good. I mean go big or go home right?

"I'm almost done, I swear. But please, can you help me with this strap? It unclipped and I almost lost my mind, I don't know why this dress requires 10 people to assemble, but hey, it looks good!" I joke as Jiah quickly clasps the dress back into its position.

"Hey, what's this? Are you okay?"

"What?" I ask, as she walks me to a mirror and points to a bruise on my forearm.

"Oh, yeah, so silly. This guy bumped into me as I was trying to get into the building today. But, it's no big deal. It doesn't hurt." I assure her, letting out a small chuckle.

"Are you sure? Next time you see him let me know, I'll run straight into him." she urges with pure determination on her face. I can't help but smile, reaching out and going in for a hug. We talk about our day for a little while until finally leaving the dorm.

"So, this party? Who else is going to be there?" I quietly ask as we make our way down to the elevators.

"Oh, just, my boyfriend, his friends, and some other people from this dormitory," Jiah responds with a smile, as she presses the Basement floor.

While my nerves were somewhat calm during our elevator ride, they sure as hell were not once the doors opened and I saw the amount of people just at the entrance. My eyes were wide open as I gave Jiah a quick glance, she looked back with a mischievous yet nervous smile.

"Come on Mira, let's have fun. Let loose!" she exclaimed, pulling my arm towards the entrance. There was no time to answer or to protest so I had no other choice but to follow her into a huge studio room with disco lights and music blasting from each corner. Small gathering.

"Baby!" Jiah screamed, as her hold on my hand loosened and she ran to a boy in a black cap. Jimin. Well, at least, now I know what he looks like. It was cute watching them reunite. They have definitely missed each other, from the way their bodies melt into one another and their eyes lock.

"Miraya, come here let me introduce you to everyone," Jiah waves for me to come closer as I can now clearly see the faces of the other guys surrounding Jimin. Oh my god, no.

"Oh, hey flip flops!" Tae scrunches his nose as he waves at my yet again flushed face. I dare not to look up, hoping that if I can't see them then they won't be able to see me.

"Flip flops?" Jimin and Jiah both ask, letting out a chuckle at the funny nickname.

"Yeah, it was so funny because when we first met I was at the elevator and she ran ..."

"Ok, that's enough thank you for your input but really, it's not that serious. Um so Jimin, how was your vacation" I quickly try to change the subject before Tae sends me into another nervous breakdown. Everyone just smiles and looks at Jimin, while Tae laughs at my quick remark.

"Yeah, I mean it was honestly so nice, the boys and I went to Bora Bora. Heaven on Earth! Babe, next time, we should all go," he says looking at Jiah who has snuggled into his embrace.

"Oh by the way this is Jungkook, we drove all night yesterday from Busan, so excuse his appearance." Jimin smiles, pulling on Jungkook's hoodie to come forward and introduce himself. The poor guy seems absolutely drained but manages to let out a tiny hello with a nod. Something about him seems familiar but I can't tell what exactly.

Previous l Next

#bts #bangtan #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #bts x yn #jungkook fanfic #fanfic #jungkook smut #romance #young love #college love #slow burn #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x female reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine

25 notes · View notes

tessatales · 1 year

Text

Is That What You Think? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: Hey! This is a quick Song Fic because I’ve had this song on repeat and I had a vivid image of several of the marvel crews reaction to hearing Reader sing this song. I picked one character to write for rather than a ‘Marvel character react’ kinda post (did that make sense?)

Anyway! Enjoy!

Theme: Comfort, Bucky helps, words of encouragement, you can read this as a mutual pining/love story or as a platonic friendship (up to you lovely’s)

Warnings: non really, swearing (mainly in the lyrics) negative self image.

*Bucky’s POV*

‘I don't go out much

'Cause parties are too much

And I don't need any more judgement’

Bucky didn’t make a habit of listening in to people singing in their room, but something about the lyrics mixed with the emotion in Y/N voice made him pause.

With trained silence, Bucky crept closer to the door, stoping when the muffled sounds through Y/N’s bedroom door became clearer.

‘So, you keep your gossip

You're cool and you're toxic

Already got someone who does it’

Bucky went to knock on the door, only to have his hand dangling in mid air as the door creaked open with the first tap. Through the now ajar door, Bucky watched as Y/N continued to sing, their large headphones deafening them to their visitors knocking.

‘It's me, and that voice in my head

Telling me that I'm better off dead

If you think that you can make me cry

More than me, myself and I

Well, go ahead and try’

Better off dead? Bucky thought, his body going still with the shock of the statement. Backing away from the door, the ex assassin took a deep breath as he felt the wall make contact with his back.

‘If you talk to me like I talk to myself

I'd give you the finger, I'd say, "Go to hell"

You can be mean, make it sing pretty well

But you can't say shit I don't say to myself’

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Bucky whispered as he moved slowly away from Y/N’s door.

‘Yes Mr Barnes?’ F.R.I.D.A.Y whispered back, the female voice so close that if the person existed, they’d of been right beside Bucky.

“How do I find that song?” Bucky asked, his voice returning to normal as he entered his rooms.

F.R.I.D.A.Y was silent for a moment.

“I could get the song up for you Mr Barnes. Or you could listening to it via Y/N’s public playlist” F.R.I.D.A.Y replied.

Bucky thought for a moment, before taking his headphones from the stand by his bed.

“Send it to my headphones please”

“Of course Mr Barnes” F.R.I.D.A.Y confirmed.

*A few hours later*

‘I wish you could hurt me

So maybe when I bleed

I could blame somebody else

But she's sick and she's twisted

A bit masochistic

There's no point in calling for help’

As the chorus played again, Bucky made another note in his journal, his handwriting barely legible, as he scribbled to keep up with his own thoughts.

‘Like you're useless, you're stupid

You're hard to love

No one likes you, you're crazy, you're totally fucked

If you talk to me, like I talk to myself

I talk to myself’

Bucky paused the song, barely able to keep his emotions in check as he re-read the lyrics he’d noted down. Useless? Stupid? Hard to love?

“How can you think this about yourself Doll?” Bucky asked the silent room, his heart thrumming against his chest uneasily. With a sigh, he pressed play, hoping the song didn’t get any worse.

‘It's me

Yeah, that voice in my head telling me

That I'm better off dead

If you think that you can make me cry

Well, me, myself and I

Make me wanna die’

As the chorus played for the final time, Bucky could hardly see, his eye a blur as he read and re-read everything he’d written in his tiny black book. The Winter Solider sat motionless and unseeing for a moment, allowing himself to process everything he’d heard before reaching for the red pen he kept spare on his nightstand and getting to work.

*Your POV*

“Whoever’s knocking on my door at 1 am better have a good reason!” You shout as you stumble sleepily to your bedroom door. After a particularly turbulent mental health day, you’d hoped the extra sleep would help prepare you for a better tomorrow, but apparently the person at your door didn’t care about your beauty sleep.

“Who- Bucky?” Stunned at the Winter Soldiers presence, you stop your angry rant before it comes. Bucky looks disheveled in your doorway, the weak hallway light barely hiding the messy hair and stress lines on his face.

“Who died?” You asked, only half joking. Bucky didn’t blink, only stepping forward to envelop you in a hug. You hadn’t realised how ally you’d needed one until you’d felt his arms cross your body firmly, holding you tightly against him as you felt your legs buckle slightly.

‘We love you Y/N” Bucky whispers into your hair, placing a kiss on your forehead before letting you go.

“Of course i do, why are you saying that?” You replied, frowning at the man in front of you.

“We all don’t say it enough. Here” Bucky said, handing you what seemed to be several pages from his notebook.

“What?” You said, barely getting the word out before Bucky walked away.

“Read it” was all he said as he retreated back down the hall. Closing the door, you stared at the tiny bundle of notes in your hand, confusion shaking you fully awake.

Sitting on your bed, you unravelled the notes, looking at each page scrawled with black and red writing. Some of the writing was almost eligible; although it only took you a few moments to realise what you were looking at.

The song

You could see it now, the lyrics you’d woken up with playing in your head; letting you know that today was not going to be a good day to be in your own head. But something was different.

You could see the original lyrics, all of them scribbled in deep black ink but it was the red notes on the side that crisscrossed between the margins of the song.

Like you’re useless, you’re stupid What a ridiculous statement!

You're hard to love Bullshit! We love you, I love you.

No one likes you, you're crazy, you're totally fucked If i could climb into your head and tell you how all of this is totally wrong, i would. But I’m not asking Stark or that ant dude about the science of that.

Further down, where the lyrics talked about death, your breath hitched at what Bucky had wrote.

Well, me, myself and I

Make me wanna die.

How long have you felt this way? Do you feel this way all the time? Or just sometimes? Why don’t you come to us? Why don’t you come to me? You know we’d be here for you. You are loved, you are smart. You couldn’t be hard to love if you tried! Please read these notes when you need them. Please don’t suffer alone. We’re here. - Bucky.

It was the little red heart scrawled next to his name that broke the dam inside. Your tears spilling over until they spilled onto the page. You dabbed at the paper quickly, stopping the liquid before it distorted the only below.

‘Thank you’ you whispered into the darkness. You’d express your thanks, your love and your gratitude in the morning, but right now, all you wanted to fall asleep to was the deep red letters etched on the paper in front of you.

A/N: Hey guys! I wasn’t sure really how to end this one- you know when you get a half baker idea but it just won’t go away until your write it down? Yeah that was this story- yet no matter how much I though- the rest of the story wouldn’t bake! So apart from that, I hope you guys enjoyed this little story- I hope to make some more one shot fics soon

101 notes · View notes

perpetuelledaydreaming · 2 years

Text

Cruel intentions | chapter fifteenth

summary: honestly, harry's surprise that you lost peter. Peter's trying not to break anything and petty people had nothing better to do. on and you're in awe with peter parker.

warnings: swearing. a lot. innuendos.

listen to: Mr. Bad Guy - Freddie Mercury | Love to hate me- Blackpink | Goldrush - Taylor Swift(playlist here)

word count: 3.6 k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

“Didn’t think you would come!” Harry says as soon as your gazes meet. The two other people that you found at Harry’s larger-than-life dinner table were Kate Bishop and Kamla Khan.

Harry quickly cleaned his nose as you entered the room with a glare. You glanced momentarily at the girls who were watching you carefully, you immediately caught the way Kamala’s eyes glared at you and you couldn’t help but winced a bit. At the end of the day, you’d very recently caused a growing relationship to break up because Harry had asked you to. When you’d fucked Frankie Richards, you’d effectively managed to end whatever love affair he was having with Kamala.

Then, you glanced at Kate who, as sweet as she always was, smiled as soon as she saw you. Kate had become a good friend in your life to the point that you’d invited her to multiple Avengers dinners, where she had annoyed Clint to the point that she’d managed to force him to go to the training center so he could see how she shot arrows and give her his point of view on her technique. She wasn’t from the inner circle per se, since she wasn’t a dick like everyone else. Mostly, she was a breath of fresh air between everything that was related to the group. Nonetheless, after your coma, you’d pulled away from her to the point that you only exchange polite smiles and small talk.

It was upsetting but you never thought that she would want the mess that you brought everywhere with you in her life.

“Hi Kate,” you said softly as you stood up next to Harry. “Kamala,” you nodded curtly.

Kate’s cheeks turned a bit pink. “It’s so nice to see you,” she said with a beaming smile.

“Can’t say the same,” Kamala scoffed as she turned around and started to talk to Kate.

You ignore her as you turned to Harry. “I need you,” you warned him, eyes narrowed.

Harry sighed as he rolled his eyes. You were aware that he was prepping the ground with Kamala, he was going off on his little flirty charade that he always kept up with girls about a week or so before he decided to fuck them. It was a predictable habit that you’d learned through your friendship with him.

“y/n,” Harry pouted.

“Harry, don’t forget I’m not afraid of opening my mouth right now,” you fumed, standing up now and trying to tower over him, not that you could.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Fine!” he yelped, causing Kamala and Kate to carefully watch you but Harry quickly took your hand and dragged you through the party to his bedroom. You knew the path but you allowed him to touch you, wondering if it could center you a bit as you glanced at every person and check if Peter was there.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was a coup d’etat?” you finally barked when Harry closed the door to his bed.

“Because I didn’t think they would pull it off,” Harry sighed as he sat on the bed next to you while you plumbed down with a groan.

“Fuck,”

There was a beat of silence as you felt Harry’s eyes on you, they were trying to read you as you let out a frustrated huff. This was a shit show, you knew that if some of the people that were in the party talked about you with Parker, the plan and whatever growing relationship you’d with Peter would be dead.

“Oh my god,” Harry whispered. “You really lost Peter Parker in less than five minutes since you walked in,” he snickered.

It wasn’t true perse but you didn’t have time to tell Harry that he was wrong.

“Shut up and tell me where he is,” you warned him.

“Jess wants to fuck him,”

The statement was quick and sharp as you snapped your head at his words. Your heart was pounding. You could feel your pulse in your ears. Your blood rushed through your ears as you looked up at Harry, a knot forming on your throat as your nostrils were flaring.

“She didn’t even know who he was!” you yelled.

Harry rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t care, just wants to fuck you over,” he explained as you stood up.

“Where’s he?”

“I don’t know but Frankie Richards wants to talk to you,” Harry said nonchalantly as he leaned closer to you, patting you on your back as if that would calm you down.

“Is it part of the plan?” You said with your jaw clenched. Harry leaned down to the shell of your ear suddenly, goosebumps appeared on your skin as you felt his lips against the shell of your ear.

“Oh yeah,”

In that second there was a knock on the door before it opened and there he was, as you lived a breath, Frankie Richards after two weeks in a rehab center. He looked good as he always did and your mind went back to the last night you’d spent with him, he’d been high out of his mind but you still recalled his grunts and his hands on your hips, pulling you down.

“Y/N?” he asked.

Then your gazes met. There was no longer a soft glance in his eyes but instead, there was a glint of scorn in them.

You rolled your eyes as your hands turned into fists.

Fuck.

That was the same thing that Peter was thinking as he realized that he was trapped. Peter Parker had been lured out of the dance floor with the pretense that a girl needed his help in a room and he followed her because he guessed that it was true. The thing was, that the help that the girl was talking about, was holding her hair as she sniffed a line of coke.

The room was filled with people talking and leaning down at the table where the white power was, the girls in the group that he’d been brought in insisted that he should do a little. He rejected them multiple times and he almost managed to slip away out of the room to look for you, knowing that he might’ve taken a bit of time there and you were probably looking for him. But he was caught but a new girl, she had big doe-eyes and long black hair, and her olive oil fitted nicely with her honey eyes but Peter immediately knew by the glint on her eyes as she glanced at him and then back at the girls, he knew that there was something up.

She then quickly dragged him to the kitchen close to the dancefloor. There were more people in the kitchen as she placed him close to them. Peter tried to look for you, he really did but he couldn’t find you in the dark, you were no longer on the dancefloor and Peter was starting to become annoyed.

“So, why are you here with someone as shitty as y/n?” the girl that had later introduced himself as Kamala as she dragged him to the kitchen asked.

Peter gritted his teeth.

“She’s not,” he muttered as he lay against a countertop, his eyes falling quickly on the dancefloor.

She rolled her eyes at him while she offered another girl that was sitting at the center table, she’d introduced herself as Kate. “We beg to differ,” she muttered as she glanced at him while pouring more tequila into a glass cup. “Just drink a bit more maybe it could change your mind,”

Peter held the urge of rolling his eyes. “Yeah, no,” he said as he still looked for you. He was not really interested in conversing with her and now he just felt wrong.

The girl immediately tensed up at his reaction but if he was being honest, he couldn’t care less if he was making the wrong impression on the people that you’d called friends. There was something, Peter couldn’t say what it was but his tingle was tensing him up.

“So, you’re not dating?” she suddenly asked, waking Peter out of his haze.

“No,” he said flatly, his eyes sharp on the girl before he looked back at the dancefloor.

She scoffed.

“So you’re just friends?”

“Yes,” Peter answered.

No. Maybe, he thought. Peter Parker was just y/n Stark's friend, a new friend. Spiderman, on the other hand, had worked with her, saved her, and kissed her. Did that constitute a friend or something more?

He almost didn’t want to meet her eyes, he was aware of the fact that they wanted to roast him, they wanted to know things about you and Peter knew that they weren’t asking for the right reasons.

“Can’t believe she has the self-control,” Kamala muttered as she took a sip of her drink Peter’s eyes snapped at her, his jaw clenched as he took at you. Kamala noticed how Peter tensed up right away and Kamala’s eyes gleamed with cruelness. “She has slept with half of our group,” she insisted.

Peter felt his whole body tensing up, his gaze darkened and his hands clenched in fists on the countertop, knuckles turning white as he tried to do his best to keep it together. He hoped that they didn’t notice, Kamala didn’t but Kate? Kate’s eyes were already on Peter’s hands.

“Don’t listen to them, it’s not true,” she insisted as if it would calm him down. It did, the anger washed away a bit.

Kamala scoffed.

“Kate, stop defending her because you have a crush on her,” she muttered and Kate snapped her head at her with a glare.

“I do not,” she insisted.

“Oh come on,” Kamala stated as she stepped away and looked at the other people raised their hands.“Who here has hooked up with y/n Stark?”

People turned around, and over four people raised their hands. Peter was silent looking at them almost as if he was hoping that they and Kamala were joking. They weren’t. He sighed as he looked through them, he could see from a mile away that they were privileged assholes and he wondered how the hell you, who had helped when you were so young to save the world, how would be with someone like them.

“See?” Kamala started with a forced smile.

It was a low blow because Kamala was trying to acknowledge a fact that Peter had tried not to think about. They were your type, Peter wasn’t, and neither he nor them could find a reason why Peter would actually be someone you chose. He was the opposite of what you usually went for, maybe Spiderman wasn’t, but Peter Parker was.

But he pulled himself together as he started to get a little bit more fed up. They were staring at him as if he was out of place.

“I don’t really care who she has slept with,” he stated, finally crossing his arms over his chest. “And as I said, we are just friends,” he said as his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“She doesn’t have friends,”

“Harry,” Jessica intervened, the girl that had interrupted your dancing as she suddenly walked in.

Kamala rolled her eyes. “They’re different,” she stated, her face tight. “They are like brother and sister with a weird sexual tension,”

Jessica laughed at Kamala’s comment while taking a glass and placing tequila on it as she winked at Kamala who nodded at her as if they were hoping to see him crack a bit at the jab at you.

“So, where did you two meet?” Kate asked, ignoring Kamala’s and Jessica’s interaction as she glanced at Peter.

Thankfully.

“I work for her dad,” Peter explained as he tried to calm down.

Kamala and Jessica laughed in unison, their voices making Peter uncomfortable.

“Oh, so she’s dating the help,” Kamala spat and Peter was starting to see red.

Kate scoffed and jumped from the center table to walk next to Peter. She nudge at Kamala who was frowning at her reaction. “Don’t mind her, she lives off her trust fund,” Kate explained and Peter immediately smiled.

“Kate!”

Jessica laughed even louder and a small giggle escaped Kate’s lips as she shrugged. Peter knew that he liked Kate, she was kind and not at all like the people that were surrounding both of you.

“What is true?”

Jessica shook her head as she got closer to Peter, she placed a hand on his chest and he tensed up immediately at the intrusive touch. He also saw how her eyes widened as he realized that he was strong and Peter felt a knot form in his throat and gut.

“You are like a sweet guy though,” Jessica purred and Peter suddenly felt sick. “You truly don’t deserve to put up with the shit that she’s going to make you pass,”

Peter gritted his teeth as he listened to Jessica. He was debating if he should walk out right there and then or simply push her away. He chose to move out of her way, and her hand fell to her side as he move passed her and took a glass, he poured the tequila on it, and he felt a bit of trepidation.

But it didn’t stop her.

“You deserve to have fun,” she insisted as she now touched his spine, dragging her finger down it. “And I can give you fun,”

“Not interested,” he growled but she didn’t notice.

“Oh,” Kamala suddenly stated, he turned to her. “There she is,” she stated with a smirk as she pointed at the dancefloor.

“See?” Jessica said softly as she leaned into him, lips nearly pressed against his ear.

Peter’s gaze snapped towards the dancefloor and there you were.

But the fact was that you weren’t alone, on the contrary, there was some tall lanky guy pulling you to the dancefloor. He was conventionally attractive, Peter could see it and although you seemed extremely uncomfortable by the way he was whispering in your ear, you weren’t exactly swatting your arm at him.

Some tall lanky guy is pulling you to the dancefloor and although you seem extremely uncomfortable by him, you’re not swatting your arm at him.

Peter had always tried to control himself, even more, when he’d gotten bitten. He had to learn how to control his strengths, how to control his senses, how to control his emotion that seemed to have been up by a thousand when he was bitten. He’d learned to do it so fast too, he’d always been a good kid and he knew that it could be dangerous if he didn’t learn to control himself.

But sometimes, he couldn’t help himself.

Like at that moment, when he just let go for a second and then, the glass he was holding snapped in his hands.

Peter didn’t realize it for a second, he only noticed it once your eyes met his. There was a commotion around him, gasps and screams, not to mention the sound of the broken glass hitting the floor before he knew it he glanced down. His hand crimson and he cursed to himself as he realized that he’d become the center of attention right there and then. He knew it would heal itself by the morning and just then he realized he hadn’t fucking even hissed or reacted at the pain on his hand and it felt a bit too late for it as Kate hurriedly walked to his side as she plucked some of the glasses that were piercing his skin before dragging him to the sink and placing water over the injury.

Then he hissed.

“Peter,” you called his name and he turned around to see your concerned gaze.

You’d been trying for a while to escape Frankie’s claws but then, you knew that whenever he would suggest ongoing, there will be Peter. They were trying to make you look bad to Peter, they were trying to reveal yourself to Peter as if you hadn’t already been the most vulnerable you’d ever been with someone. Therefore, you’d agree to go to the dance floor with him, hoping that you might find Peter on your way but Frankie, more than sticking to the plan seemed to have a plan on his own. He’d been talking dirty and trying to kiss you all the way down to the dancefloor from Harry’s room and you felt your skin crawling every time he’d tried to pull you into a kiss and you turned your cheek, he was drunk and you could tell. His glassy eyes would look at you with interest before chuckling to himself and telling you that you shouldn’t be playing hard to get.

You hated it.

“Peter, are you okay?” you asked again, concerned as you glanced at his hand, taking over from Kate but as your eyes remained steady on his hand, you noticed that the cut wasn’t as big as it was just seconds before, at least, not for the amount of blood that Peter had spilled in the kitchen.

“No, he’s not,” Jessica scoffed from her side of the kitchen as she drank more and glared at you. Clearly upset about how her plan hadn’t exactly worked, how her coup d’etat had failed rather miserably.

“Cleary because of you,” Kamala continued taunting you.

“Because you are a fucking who-”

Peter saw red.

“Shut the fuck up,” Peter growled from the sink and suddenly all of the noise died down in the kitchen. “I’m really not interested in the shit you have to say about y/n,” he said finally turning around to face Kamala and Jessica while you stared at him in awe. “You really have nothing better to do, right?”

He chuckled hollowly to himself as they stared at him too, their jaws open and everyone whispering on the side, even the music had died down. “You are pathetic, living in high school still, having nothing better to do than to try to put down a girl who’s better than you in every. single. way. If I were you, I would maybe start to spend a little bit of that trust fund money in therapy to fix that victim complex that you have. See if you have anything better to do in your miserable lives than trying to take down a fucking Stark, would you?”

The whole room stayed silent after Peter’s speech, it seemed as if everything had frozen and people had even forgotten that they were at a party as they stared at Peter who was breathing harshly as he glared at the girls, who looked as if they’d seen a ghost.

While you? You were still in awe.

Peter was the one who reacted first as he took your hand with his good one and your hands laced with his. Peter felt a bit hot and his breathing was harsh, he was still frowning as he pulled you away from the kitchen. Only then, as the whole party was seeing you leave, you turned around and stopped him for a second, you quickly cupped his face and muttered at him to wait for you for a second.

You walked back to the kitchen, feeling powerful with each step that you took as you walked towards Jessica and Kamala, who seemed to still be processing what Peter had said. You forced a smile as you stared at them, holding their gazes and you could see it again.

The fear.

“And in case you didn’t have it clear, crossed me again and I’ll take you down,” you stated, your voice quiet but clear before you ran to Peter’s side, holding his good hand and pulling him through the penthouse. You started to giggle and run and Peter started to smile too, both of you quickly took your coats in your hands, and as soon as you reached the elevator you just managed to start laughing. It was as if you couldn’t stop, not even as you reached the lobby and ran through it before walking out in the streets.

The hot summer air hits you as soon as you reached the street and you continue to laugh while you ran through the street until you reached a corner between raggedy breaths, you let Peter grab your hip.

“Thank you,” you breathed out as you stared at him, feeling his hand burning your skin.

In that second it all came back to you with full force as you heard Peter’s words while he snapped at Kamala and Jessica. They felt as if he actually knew you as if he’d known you for a lifetime and you recalled how much time you’d spent wishing someone would actually know you, know the real you. Not the mask that you used for each occasion, not the wild it girl, not the hero, but you.

But now that it was happening you suddenly felt off guard.

“For what?” Peter asked.

You wondered how much time you could repress your feelings for Peter Parker. Of course, you knew that the feelings were there but you’d tried to ignore them but you couldn't anticipate them blooming so quickly on your chest, you hadn’t anticipated the toll they had on your heart. You couldn’t believe he knew you, the real you. He also was tall, his freckles spanning the skin under his eyes like constellations, his soft honey eyes made you want to melt in them.

But suddenly, you grew scared. You couldn’t be in love with him. You couldn’t.

“For defending me, I’m aware of what they were saying and it’s just like-” you stated as you tried to talk a bit more but then you saw Peter’s gaze shift.

“Shut up?” he suddenly stated.

You frowned.

“What?”

Peter grabbed your hips as he flipped you and pressed you against a pole. He was strong, he was so strong but he didn’t give you time to think about it, he leaned in.

And Peter kissed you.

***

author's note: this chapter was waaaay to long. I truly wonder if I had to cut it short but I know it was important to leave it like thissss, the next chapter's going to be shorter but also more interesting. As always thank you so much for everyone being so nice and reading this!! and in KO-FI TOO I LOVE YOU ALL. as always lmk what you think, I love to read your theories and thoughts!!

taglist: @walkintheprk @jeonzll@hoetel-manager@pbeckn26@novaspietro @s-we-e-t-t-ea@spideys-world @3louisee @lnmp89 @coffeeandcrimeshows @dreamsarecloserwithyou @danslamer-eternelle @mayleenicole5676 @teamspideyman

***

feedback is always welcomed

help me with my laptop or buy me a coffee? thank youuu

#spiderman series #spiderman headcanon #peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker headcanon #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker avengers #peter parker fluff #peter parker series #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine

155 notes · View notes