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yelena-bellova · 2 years

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Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: Dry Your Tears

Plot: Joel, Y/n, Henry, Sam and Ellie make their way out of the tunnel system, but Kansas City refuses to let them leave.

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: tlou ep.5 spoilers, implied s*ut, language, canon-typical violence, knives, blood, death, loss of a child, s*icide, (16+)

A/N: Oh, we’re really in it, y’all. This is the last chapter in which you get any sense of happiness, so hold it close to your heart. It all really goes to shit after this…

As always, and I really need people to read this, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist unless their age is listed in their bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

Good night, and good luck, my loves ❤️

———————

May 27th, 2003. Austin, Texas.

The referee’s whistle rang through the air, signaling the play was starting. Sarah had the ball, her team was one goal away from winning the season. If she nailed the shot, she’d bring them to victory.

Now, on his own, Joel was one of the loudest and proudest parents at the games. Adding in Tommy and Y/n had made them their own cheer section.

“Go, Sarah!” Y/n yelled.

“C’mon, babygirl,” Joel clapped, “C’mon.”

“Fuckin’ nail it,” Tommy cheered, earning a light knock to the chest from Y/n, “Frickin’ nail it!”

Sarah wasn’t listening to any of them, she was in the zone. She wound her leg back and kicked the ball, it flew through the air and straight through the goalie’s arms.

Y/n screamed and leapt into Joel’s arms, the whole crowd cheered wildly. Joel spun her around, this felt like a victory for all of them considering how much time they’d spent practicing with Sarah.

After celebrating with her team and taking their yearly photo, Sarah bounded over to her family.

Joel picked his daughter up, not caring if he was embarassing her. Sarah hugged him back.

“You were amazing,” he said, setting her back on the grass.

“You’re so freakin’ good, it hurts,” Y/n grinned, wrapping Sarah in her arms.

“Thanks,” the girl smiled up at Y/n.

Tommy high fived his niece, “Calls for a celebration.”

The four of them drove downtown to the ice cream shop. They parked themselves outside at a table in the shade. In celebration of Sarah’s impending graduation, her recent birthday and Y/n and Joel’s one year anniversary, they were driving down to the beach for a weekend.

“Okay,” Joel said in between bites, “I’ve got the confirmation for the hotel printed out.”

“I’m going to the store tomorrow to pick up the food,” Y/n raised her spoon.

Sarah hummed enthusiastically, swallowing her dessert quickly. “Can you pick me up when you do?”

“Yes,” Y/n nodded, “But you can’t run me into debt.”

“Can I come?” Tommy asked through a mouthful of ice cream.

“You will run me into debt,” Y/n replied with a smile.

Tommy reached into his wallet, theatrically handing Y/n a twenty dollar bill. “Beer money,” he clarified.

“Thank you,” Y/n replied, stuffing the money into her jean pocket, “What time are we leaving on Thursday?”

“I figure 9,” Joel answered, “Try and beat the traffic.”

Practical as he was, Joel was also plain excited. This was the first family vacation Y/n was joining them for.

“We’re leavin’ on a Thursday mornin’,” Tommy interjected, “There’s not gonna be any traffic.”

Joel peeked across the table to Y/n, who met his eyes with an equal level of contained enthusiasm. Celebrating one year of her in his life didn’t warrant waiting a single minute longer than necessary.

“Won’t hurt anybody,” Joel responded, shooting his girlfriend a wink.

————————

Come Thursday, the Millers and guest loaded their bags and coolers into Joel’s truck.

“Sarah?” Y/n called from the bottom of the stairs, they were nearly ready to leave and she was still upstairs, “We gotta go, babe.”

“Coming,” she yelled down, skipping out of her room and down the stairs, carrying something in her hand.

“Whatcha got?” Y/n pointed to the small package.

Sarah waved it nonchalantly in the air, “It’s an anniversary present. For you and Dad.”

Y/n’s heart swelled, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I did,” she gave a small smile, before scrunching up her face, “Just please don’t make out the entire trip.”

Snorting, Y/n wrapped her arms around Sarah’s neck and walked the two of them out of the house.

Joel and Tommy had just finished their thirty minute game of Tetris with the luggage. There were so many bags for only four days and four people.

“No,” Tommy called out, spotting Sarah’s present, “Not one more fuckin’ thing comes into this truck.”

“It’s a carry-on,” Y/n shouted back with a smile, patting Sarah’s arm after, “Be there in a minute.”

Sarah skipped off to the backseat, passing her dad as she did. Joel ruffled her hair before locking eyes with Y/n across the driveway. She looked so natural, standing on his porch with his daughter in her arms, locking up the front door with her spare key. She’d settled into the family so well.

“See somethin’ you like?” Y/n smiled, sticking her nose up in the air and letting the sun hit her.

“Somethin’ I love,” Joel replied, walking slowly towards her. He encircled her waist with one arm, his other hand holding her hip.

Y/n let her hands slide up Joel’s chest, “Your daughter has requested a vow of celibacy from us this weekend.”

Joel chortled, “That’s ‘cause one day she woke up and decided us lookin’ at each other was disgusting.”

“Well, then,” Y/n got on he tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the tip of Joel’s nose, “Save it for the evenings.”

Joel nuzzled his nose against her cheek, savoring the warmth of her skin and the promise of her words.

“What happened to beatin’ traffic?” Tommy teased from the passenger seat.

Rolling his eyes, Joel turned around to his brother and glared at him. Tommy just smirked and tapped his foot against the dashboard.

“Come on,” Y/n intertwined her fingers with Joel’s, pulling him behind her and marching them both to the truck.

“Seatbelts,” Joel ordered as he got in the front seat.

Y/n settled herself in the backseat next to Sarah, who absentmindedly grabbed her hand and started playing with it. Of all the milestones her and Joel had hit in the past year, Sarah’s casual comfort with her was Y/n’s proudest.

“Alright, gang,” Joel started up the car and backed it out of the driveway, “6 hour drive, settle in.”

Y/n and Sarah cheered from the backseat and Joel swore he could feel a physical warmth spread across his chest.

—————————

It took them all day to get to South Padre Island, having stopped for bathroom breaks and lunch on the way, but they made it in one piece.

Their hotel was modest and one of many on the strip that backed straight up to the beach. The view from the balcony was unmatched, nothing but sand and ocean as far as the eye could see.

Their first full day there, they spent all day on the beach. It was early enough in the year that the full force of summer’s heat hadn’t hit yet. Joel stayed with their cooler, messing around on the guitar he’d brought in a beach chair. Tommy switched between relaxing in the shade with a beer and flirting with whatever lucky woman was in their vicinity. Sarah and Y/n walked the shore, searching for seashells.

Leaving Sarah to keep hunting, Y/n walked back to their spot, admiring the sight before her. Joel looked more at ease than she’d ever seen him, strumming away in the cool shade.

“You’re ogling me’,” he said, trying to sound put off.

“You look happy,” Y/n smiled, pushing past the humor.

Joel peeked up over his sunglasses, taking in the wind blowing through her hair and how the sun shone off her skin. “I am happy,” he replied.

Y/n walked around the back of his chair, bending over to encircle his neck. Joel kept on playing, trying to stay focused as she pressed a loving kiss to his cheek.

Looking out on the beach, Y/n’s eyes found Tommy, buying some girl an ice cream at a vendor’s cart. She watched Sarah, crouched down in the sand and hot on the trail of a particular shell. With Joel in her arms, and her chosen family happy, she felt like everything in her world was just as it should be.

Y/n rested her chin on Joel’s shoulder, “Me too.”

—————————

They’d celebrated both Sarah’s graduation and Y/n’s anniversary on Saturday night with dinner on the beach. There’d been good food and good laughter, especially when Sarah tried oysters for the first time, managing to swallow the bite with a grimace.

When gifts were exchanged, Y/n, Joel and Tommy had compiled their money to get Sarah tickets to see her favorite band. She’d leapt out of her chair and bear hugged all three of them. For Joel and Y/n’s anniversary, she handed them a CD she’d burned a playlist to. Songs she’d heard them listen to or that the three of them had sung together in the car or while Joel played guitar.

Deep into the evening, when Tommy and Sarah had retired to their room across the hall, Joel and Y/n celebrated their anniversary privately.

Joel’s body weight Y/n’s down, pinning her hands above her head and pressing soft kisses across her face. At some point in the night, she’d slipped on his t-shirt. He was convinced that if there was a heaven on earth, he was in it.

“Promise me something,” Y/n breathed, her lips brushing Joel’s cheekbone.

Joel rubbed his nose against Y/n’s, “Anything.”

Pressed into the bed, completely consumed by the man she loved, with a soft ocean breeze flooding through their balcony window, Y/n was in utter bliss. There was nothing that could have made the moment more perfect.

“Promise me it’ll always be like this,” Y/n whispered, her urging eyes boring into Joel’s, “Even when it isn’t.”

Joel’s grip on Y/n’s hands loosened, letting her slip out of his hold with a need to feel her arms around him. Neither of them were under any illusion that life was without its problems, they’d run into them eventually. But through it all, Joel knew that the one thing that would never fade was their complete and utter devotion to one another. That was forever.

Joel brushed away a strand of hair stuck to Y/n’s face from the ocean’s humidity. He ran the tips of his fingers along her cheek, down her neck, tracing the path his lips had traveled moments ago.

“Always,” he promised, his voice soft, but determined.

The room’s energy was emotionally charged, bringing tears to Y/n’s eyes as she gazed up at Joel. He looked so beautiful hanging over her, it nearly broke her heart. She was so overcome with love for this man, she truly didn’t know if she could handle any more. Joel overwhelmed her in the sweetest way possible.

The moonlight reflected off a single teardrop that slipped down Y/n’s cheek. Joel adjusted himself in concern, taking her face into his hand, “What’s wrong?”

Y/n smiled, she’d never known one could be moved to tears by the simple act of adoring someone. “I just love you,” she pushed past the lump in her throat.

Joel’s breath caught in his chest. Even though he’d heard her say those words a hundred times, something about this utterance felt new.

He stroked his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the tear’s streak. They lay intwined, coming alive in one another’s eyes. They’d known for months, really since their first kiss, that they’d be together a long, long time…but there, in a beachside hotel, wrapped in lily white sheets and each other, they knew they could never leave one another.

Joel dove back into Y/n’s lips, his hands slipping under his shirt she wore to hold her hips. He prayed that when the day came for him to die, he’d do so in her arms, her kiss stealing his final breath.

—————————

2023. Kansas City, Missouri.

While the tensions were high the whole way, the five survivors made it through the tunnel system with no issues.

“Do you know where we are?” Joel asked Henry as they made their way through a door. He was still suspicious, nothing was ever as simple as a few tunnels and some luck.

“Yeah,” he answered, “The other side.”

Henry shone his flashlight on a dirty sign stating that it was, indeed, the parking lot to the Bank of America building. They’d made it out. Y/n huffed a sigh of relief, it was a much needed win.

The group headed for the street of the residential area, it was dark and empty allowing them the perfect cover. Joel had still insisted on no flashlights, just to be safe.

Joel led the group, with Ellie, Sam and Henry at the rear, and Y/n sandwiched between. She didn’t particularly feel like being near Joel after the conversation with Henry. She was still trying to shake the memories from her brain, twenty years of wasted energy and not a single one had faded.

Joel didn’t quite know what to do either. He felt at war with himself, a poorly docked ship being drawn out to the open waters against its will. It was getting harder to deny the increasing intensity of his pull to her. Not that it mattered, he still considered her a liar and she hated him with a passion that would never die. But seeing her with the kids, showing the humanity still left in her, had left him unsettled. It was like seeing a home he could never go back to.

“No,” Henry said, having just been signing with Sam, “No one is here. No one’s gonna be here because…my plan worked.

“So much damn talkin’,” Joel remarked from the front of the group.

“I’m just saying,” Henry continued, “I delivered. Make this right, go down the street, embankment behind the last house…and we’re out.”

Y/n and Joel wanted to believe that they were home free, but they’d seen more of the current world than anyone else in the party. Things that seemed too good to be true, almost always were.

“So we cross the river and then what?” Ellie asked, “Where ya gonna go?”

“Don’t know yet,” Henry shrugged.

“Well, we’re goin’ to Wyoming,” Ellie announced.

Joel glared back at her, earning a light hit to the arm from Y/n, who glared right back at him.

“What?” Ellie replied, “It’s a huge state, it can fit two more people.”

“Yeah,” Henry stretched the syllable, not any more keen on the idea than Joel, “Maybe we just call this one a success and say our fond farewells.”

Y/n drifted to walk alongside Joel, his stubbornness breathing a little bit of life back into her. “If you’ve got any happy pills left in your pocket,” she muttered low enough for only them to hear, “I suggest you take them.”

Joel shook his head, glancing out the side of his eyes at her. He couldn’t decide if her silence or her snark was preferable.

“No, he’ll change his mind,” Ellie said to Henry, “Trust me. This is how it goes, he’s like,” she dropped her voice and added a twinge of an accent, “‘No, Ellie. Never, ever, ever happening.”

Y/n couldn’t stop the snort before it escaped her, it physically jerked her body forward. When she looked up, Joel’s hardened stare was resting on her.

“That supposed to be funny?”

“It’s hilarious,” Y/n smiled, still trying to contain her laughter, “And you know it.”

“And then I’m like,” Ellie continued, “‘I’m gonna ask you a million more times.’ And he’s like-“

A gunshot flew past them, killing only the levity.

Joel and Y/n ran for Ellie at the same time, colliding with one another in a heap of arms.

“Move! Move!” Joel ordered, shoving both of them forward, “Go!”

The five of them dove for cover behind an abandoned car, crouching on the asphalt.

“Where the fuck is that coming from?” Henry asked, shielding Sam with his body.

“Shut up,” Joel ordered, peeking his head above the trunk of the car to scan the area. As soon as he was semi-visible, another gunshot hit one of the nearby vehicles.

Henry tried to get a look at the house where the fire seemed to be coming from, earning another close call.

“Fuck,” he muttered, grabbing Sam’s hand, “Let’s move. Let’s go.”

“Henry!” Y/n shouted through her teeth.

“What are you doin’?” Joel yelled, not budging.

“Getting the fuck outta here,” Henry called back, barely making it to the other side of the road before another shot blew past them. He rushed him and Sam back to the first car, “What do we do?”

Y/n and Joel’s brains were working overtime, trying to figure out the best possible course of action. Joel, closest to the house he guessed the gunman was inside, peeked out once more and got another near fatal shot. He was right.

“All right,” Joel breathed, “Stay here.”

“What?” Y/n and Ellie exclaimed in unison.

Joel turned to them, addressing Ellie but drifting his eyes to Y/n at the end of each sentence. “If you don’t move, he’s not gonna hit you. I’m gonna go around, try to get in the house through the back, and then I’ll take him out.”

“No,” Y/n blurted out, “No fucking way.”

“Yeah, if you go out there, he’s gonna kill you,” Ellie agreed.

“It’s dark and he has shit aim,” Joel countered, “Nobody’s gonna kill me.”

“Then he’s gonna kill us,” Ellie replied.

Joel’s eyes flicked between the kid and the woman behind her. He addressed Ellie first, “Do you trust me?”

Hesitating, but eventually rolling her eyes and nodding, Ellie answered.

Joel looked up to Y/n, silently begging her to listen to him. He’d trusted her when Ellie had revealed her immunity, now he needed her to do the same.

Y/n wanted to be unreasonable and illogical, to stew in her anger a little longer. But Joel hadn’t failed them yet on their journey, this wasn’t the place to start.

“You go around the left,” Y/n countered, “I’ll create a diversion so he won’t see you coming.”

“You stay here,” Joel replied, his voice turning to steel.

It was the first time that Y/n didn’t want to argue. She withdrew her pistol from her holster, “I wasn’t asking.”

Joel was busting his ass trying to make sure she was safe and she was throwing herself into open fire to protect him. He felt sick to his stomach.

Y/n took Joel’s reluctant nod and mirrored it, hoping she looked more confidant than she felt. They both brushed a hand against Ellie’s arm, who was terrified to let the only two people she cared about run headfirst into danger.

Joel and Y/n crossed past one another, he grabbed her arm to stop her. The pain-stricken worry in both their eyes communicated all that they couldn’t out loud.

They took up their positions on either end of the car, cocking their guns and drawing a deep breath. Joel nodded to Y/n, signaling for her to move.

Y/n jumped out from the car and ran for the one directly across from her. A gunshot kissed the air behind her, she slid into the asphalt behind the vehicle like it was third base. She could feel the fear creeping up her spine, threatening to break her, but breaking wasn’t an option. Tess’ last wish rang in her ears; keep Joel safe.

Spotting the next car, in the row, she made a beeline for it, dodging two shots on each side of her. She kneeled behind the trunk, peeking out just enough to fire a distracting shot towards the house.

“C’mon, Joel,” she whispered.

Joel was making his way down the street, Y/n serving as the most perfect and unwelcome distraction. Every shot sent a cold shot of panic through him, terrified that the gunman was going to be too quick for her. Just before making it behind the house, he snuck a look over his shoulder and caught her racing across the street, dodging more fire. It urged him to move faster.

Y/n was getting closer and closer to the house, praying that Joel had made it. When she made a clean run to the next car, she assumed that he’d put a stop to the fight. A final shot rang out, but it had come from a different gun. Joel’s gun.

Y/n slumped against the car and exhaled, he was safe.

Joel felt grief pass over him, a drop of it trickling down his throat, as he grabbed the old man’s rifle. He was about to stick his head out the window and signal to Y/n that they were clear, until a sound caught his ear.

“Anthony…Anthony…” a staticky voice called, Joel tracked it beside the old man’s body and found a walkie-talkie, “Anthony, hold them where they are.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, rushing to the window, “Run!”

Y/n stood up, Joel’s voice reassuring her they were in the clear before she registered his words.

“Run!”

Y/n bolted back toward Ellie, Sam and Henry. In the near distance, she could hear the sound of a truck. The same one they’d been dodging for the past day.

“Run!” Joel urged, watching Y/n’s shadow run straight towards the threat.

The truck’s headlights shone down the street, shining right on Y/n. She collided with Ellie, wrenching the girl ahead of her and racing back towards the house. Behind them, the fleet of trucks were beginning to plow through the rows of cars.

Determined, Joel started to fire at the truck’s windows, trying to take out the driver.

Blindly, Ellie and Y/n began to fire their pistols at the main truck after them. Without being able to take proper aim, their attempts failed, but they kept trying.

Ellie’s gun ran out of bullets as the truck began to gain on her. Y/n wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pushing her to go faster. Ellie tripped, bringing Y/n down with her. Y/n enveloped the girl in her arms, putting her body between the truck and Ellie.

At that exact moment, Joel had fired a perfect shot, taking out the driver and causing the truck to crash through the front of a nearby house. He’d bought them mere seconds, a whole fleet of cars were behind them and their passengers were about to surround Ellie and Y/n.

“Come on,” Y/n urged, pulling Ellie to her feet, “Move.”

They’d barely made it two steps before they were thrown to the ground again by a blast. The crash had somehow started a fire and both the vehicle and the house surrounding it were set ablaze.

The smoke filled Y/n’s lungs, restricting her airways and letting dizziness to set in. The only clear thought ringing through her head was Ellie, save Ellie.

Joel watched helplessly as Ellie and Y/n lay on the ground. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, waiting for them to get up. Henry, a godsend in that moment, darted out from behind a car and pulled them both to their feet.

Y/n stumbled back to the car Henry had sought as protection, blindly reaching for Ellie and making herself a barricade once again.

“You okay?” Henry asked them both.

“Yeah,” Ellie muttered, Y/n gave a breathless nod.

Up above the flames, Joel watched a group of rebels walk through the smoke with guns drawn on his window, calling out orders to raid the house. They’d found him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, hiding behind the wall. Unlucky for them, Joel wasn’t so easy to throw in the towel and lose his life.

Below, Kathleen surveyed the damage, strolling casually amongst the flames. “Dead end, Henry,” she called, “Gonna step on out? Save us some time?”

“Is that her?” Y/n whispered, Henry nodded in response.

“No?” Kathleen asked, her tone was eerily even, “That’s all right. Doesn’t matter.”

Henry looked to Sam, who Y/n had an arm around, and knew what he had to do. “I’ll come out,” he replied, “Just let the kids go!”

“No,” Kathleen responded, “Sorry. The girl is with the two who killed Bryan, don’t think I don’t know that the woman’s back there with you too.”

Y/n shut her eyes, the back of her head digging into the car. She knew she’d die eventually, she woke every day faced with the possibility of death. But she wasn’t about to die before she could get Ellie out west.

Joel’s blood ran cold at Kathleen’s words, his hands squeezing the rifle tighter. He had to fight every instinct to fire a bullet straight through her head.

“And Sam” Kathleen continued, “Well, Sam’s with you.”

“You don’t understand,” Henry yelled.

“But I do,” she said calmly, “I know why you did what you did. But did you ever stop to think that maybe he was supposed to die?”

“He’s just a fucking kid!” Henry called back.

“Well, kids die, Henry. They die all the time.”

Y/n’s fear turned to shock and that shock turned to rage. Deep, bitter, twenty year old rage.

Joel watched carefully from his spot, feeling the anger swell in him.

“You think the whole world revolves around him?” Kathleen continued her monologue, “That he’s worth everything? Well, this is what happens when you fuck with fate.”

Henry turned to Y/n and Ellie, bracing himself for his own fate. “Get ready to take him, and run,” he instructed.

“No,” Y/n argued, “I’m not-“

“Yes,” he said, his voice like steel, “Do it.”

Y/n gave in, nodding and taking Sam’s hands with Ellie. “You stay in front of me at all time,” she instructed, reaching out for the girl, “If I go down, you don’t turn back.”

Ellie’s eyes widened, “But-“

“You don’t turn back,” Y/n repeated, forcing her voice to sound strong.

“It’s time, Henry,” Kathleen gritted, her soft voice suddenly dripping with venom, “Enough!”

Henry took a few shuddering breaths before getting to his feet, hands raised in the air. Sam anxiously started to go after his brother, but Ellie and Y/n pulled him back to the ground. The three of them sat there, Y/n and Ellie’s pulses racing as they waited for the inevitable sound, their signal to move.

“It ends the way it ends,” Kathleen said, her calm demeanor returning.

Y/n froze as she listened to Kathleen cock her pistol, squeezing Sam’s hand a little tighter.

But the bullet never came.

Instead, there was a terrible creak from the totaled truck. Ellie scrambled to get a peek while staying hidden, Y/n held up a hand to her and poked the tip of her head out. Just enough to see the car sink into the wreckage of the burning house.

Joel aimed his rifle and came to the window, watching it all happen from above.

Three ominous seconds of silence.

And then they came.

Hordes of Infected came sprinting out of the sinkhole.

Henry rushed back to their spot, Y/n and him shoved the kids in between them and sinking against the car as far as they could. One of the Infected leapt on the hood, a well-timed bullet sinking into its skull.

Joel reloaded the gun, waiting for the next shot.

“Come on,” Henry called, the four of them got to their feet and took off in the direction of the embankment.

Ellie obeyed and stayed ahead of Y/n, who was frantically cocking her handgun. One Infected was chasing after them and she couldn’t get her weapon ready in time.

Joel aimed at the creature trailing Y/n and fired. The body lurched forward, falling on Y/n and causing both her and Ellie to topple to the ground.

Somewhere in their fall, Y/n and Ellie had lost sight of Henry and Sam. Y/n kicked the dead body off of them and glanced up towards the house, she knew who was acting as their guardian angel. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a job to do as well.

“Car,” Ellie yelled, having quickly crafted a plan in her head.

“Stay low,” Y/n responded.

The two of them army crawled their way through the chaos, screams of both the living and Infected filling the air.

Joel tracked their movements, shooting down any Infected that even looked in their direction.

Ellie and Y/n ran the final distance and dove into the abandoned car through an open window. As Infected began to crawl across the behicle, banging against the windows, one of Joel’s bullets took each one out.

“Get to the back,” Y/n instructed.

The two of them crawled over the seats, taking shelter in the very rear of the vehicle. Ellie’s eyes were wide with terror as she watched the scene play through the dirty glass.

Joel saw them make it in, but his relief didn’t last long. He watched as one of the Infected snaked through the window and into their car. His breath trembled, taking aim and realizing he couldn’t do a damn thing to help them.

Y/n and Ellie heard the dreadful snarling together, their heads turning to watch the Clicker flip through the front seat of the car. Y/n raised her gun and took aim.

Click.

She was out of bullets.

Joel’s brain switched off, his primal instinct to protect taking over as he fired relentless shot after relentless shot, trying to take the Infected out.

The Clicker acrobatically made its way through the car. Ellie blindly reached for the door handle, whimpering in fear as she couldn’t open it. Y/n kicked it with her boot and it swung out, she shoved Ellie roughly out of the car. Y/n slid out, slamming the door behind them and feeling the slam of the Clicker throwing itself against the window.

Joel had lost visual on them briefly, but saw the swing of the car door and how it was still rocking. They’d trapped it.

Somewhere in the noise, a child’s cry could be heard. Y/n’s eyes darted around them, finally spotting Henry and Sam trying to fend off a group of Infected underneath a car.

“Help! Get the fuck away!“ Henry screamed, kicking at one of the creatures, “Get the fuck off me!”

Ellie looked first to Y/n, who was already pulling out her knife from where she hid it in her boot, before they both looked up to where Joel was. Y/n could barely make out his face with the distance.

Joel looked down, knowing that they couldn’t possibly be making eye contact from so far away, but knowing that they were on the same wavelength.

They had to work as a team.

“Go!” Y/n yelled, and they were off.

Joel shot with more precision than he ever had, this was the most he’d ever had at stake. As Y/n and Ellie moved through the crowd, he took out every Infected that were heading for them. He worked as a machine, but the terror he felt was the most human sensation he’d experienced in years.

Y/n shed her humanity, becoming more beast than woman, mercilessly ripping through the throats of any Infected that came near Ellie. She swung onto one’s back, stabbing her knife into its head, and let the collapse of its body land her back on the ground.

Joel and Y/n worked seamlessly together, ground and aerial coming together to protect the one thing that couldn’t be lost. Or in Joel’s case, two somethings.

Ellie and Y/n finally made it to Sam and Henry, there were two clickers still clawing at them. One dragged Henry out from underneath the car, Ellie got behind it and stabbed it. Y/n wrenched the Clicker attacking Sam backwards, staring into where its eyes would have been as she sliced through its heart.

A bullet whizzed past her head, landing in the monster’s skull. Joel needed to be sure.

“Come on, come on,” Ellie helped their friends to their feet, “Go! Go!”

Y/n shoved Ellie in front of her again and they fled the chaos, climbing into the lawn of the house Joel was in.

“Stop!”

The four of them turned to see Kathleen with her gun aimed at Henry, but her eyes flicking between him and Y/n. They didn’t have time to fear for their lives, they clocked the same Clicker who’d almost gotten her and Ellie creeping up an old piece of furniture behind Kathleen.

Kathleen heard the sound, turning around just as the Clicker shot through the air and latched onto her. They watched in terror as the creature claimed the resistance leader’s life.

Joel hurried out of the house, running faster once he saw Y/n and Ellie. He stopped a second, watching as Kathleen lost everything she’d fought so hard for, but didn’t care so long as his people were safe.

“This way now,” Joel yelled, grabbing Y/n’s arm to urge her forward, “Move!”

The group took off, leaving those who had sought to kill them to their fates. Joel and Y/n ran together, keeping one hand on each other the whole time. Their grudge was suffocating, choking under the weight of their undeniable devotion to one another.

————————————

The motel the group landed was a haven to their weary eyes. They broke into one of the rooms and tried to get it through their heads that they were safe. Joel had made sure that no one followed them, they were miles away from any Infected. They could breathe.

Once Ellie and Sam had been squared away with food, they went into the bedroom and began reading Ellie’s collection of comic books. They were either bouncing back spectacularly fast or burying their fear.

Henry, Joel and Y/n sat out in the main room, trying to come down from what they’d just been through. Since fleeing the hellish nightmare, Joel and Y/n hadn’t left each other’s side. She hadn’t even bothered with putting space between them when she sunk down onto the floor. They were pressed against one another and neither of them minded.

“You think they’ll be okay?” Henry asked, picking at a bit of his food and watching his brother from the next room.

Y/n’s eyes drifted to Ellie, she was growing more and more worried about the girl’s psyche. She’d seen so much in such a short span of time.

“Yeah, I think,” Joel answered, “It’s easier when you’re a kid, anyway,” he met Henry’s stare with intention, “You don’t have anybody else relying on you. That’s the hard part.”

“Well,” Henry looked down at his food, “I guess we’re doin’ a good job then.”

Y/n and Joel both looked to the kids, Ellie was helping Sam to read one of the pages.

“What’s that comic book say?” Joel asked, “‘Endure and survive?’”

“Endure and survive,” Y/n repeated.

Henry chuckled, “That shit’s redundant.”

Joel shook his head, this was as close as he’d come to laughing with another person. “Yeah, it’s-it’s not great.”

Y/n gave a small smile, not quite to the point of being able to laugh about any part of the day.

Joel turned to look at her, drawing her gaze to him and focusing on the two quirked corners of her lips. It used to be his favorite game, making them rise until she’d complain her cheeks hurt. Tonight was the first night that he’d been able to make her smile again, and the little bit of his old self that was on life support took a breath.

Y/n let her eyes drift across Joel’s face, resting in the way he returned it. It was a dangerous fucking place to be, but after what they’d just gone through, she was too tired to fight her way out.

A loud laugh from Ellie snapped them out of whatever moment they were having.

“Look,” Joel turned to Henry, “I don’t know exactly how we’re gettin’ to Wyoming, we’re probably walkin’. But,” he stopped, still uncomfortable with the full spectrum of his emotions, “You know, if you want to.”

“Yeah,” Henry answered instantly, “Yeah. Um…yeah, I think it’d be nice for Sam to have a friend.”

“Oh, trust me,” Y/n smiled, looking on to Ellie, “You won’t find anyone friendlier than her,” she glanced at Joel, “Then again, we don’t set the bar very high, now do we?”

Henry laughed under his breath, even Joel couldn’t stop himself from smirking. “No, you don’t,” Henry replied, “I’ll tell him in the morning. New day, new start.”

“We’re not getting anywhere if we’re carrying them on our backs,” Y/n remarked, dusting the crumbs off her jeans and getting to her feet.

Henry got up with Y/n and heading into Sam and Ellie’s room. He knocked on the door and began to sign to Sam.

“Whatever he’s saying,” Y/n pointed to Ellie, “Same goes for you. Real adventure starts tomorrow.”

Ellie rolled her eyes lightly as Y/n approached, letting her take the comic out of her hand and place it on the nightstand. “Hey,” she said, “Is Joel’s brother like him? All grumpy and constipated?

“He is,” Y/n started, a flood of pleasant memories hitting her, “Way more fun. Not a stick to be found up his ass.”

Ellie snorted, Y/n knew she’d fall in love with Tommy in a minute. Everyone did.

Y/n ran a hand over Ellie’s head, they weren’t close enough for a hug but she wanted the girl to know that she had someone that cared about her. If Joel was her protecter, Y/n wanted to be her comfort. The oasis she could run to in the desert.

“Get some rest,” she ordered.

“Why?” Ellie cocked an eyebrow, “So you and Joel can have more time to cuddle?”

Y/n knew she’d be paying for her unconscious choices as long as Ellie was around to witness them. She lightly pushed her forehead, sending Ellie back on the bed in a fit of giggles.

“Will Livingston dies a slow and painful death if you ever bring that up again,” Y/n retorted, giving Ellie a pat on the leg after, “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Ellie called in a teasing tone.

Y/n stopped by Sam’s bed, tapping his hip to get his attention. She signed ‘endure and survive’ back to him, Sam nodded with a smile.

“Practicing,” Y/n beamed, earning herself a thumbs up, “Goodnight.”

She left the room before Henry, Joel hadn’t moved from their spot against the radiator. The door had been open the whole time.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, “‘Stick up my ass?’”

Y/n leaned up against the wall and crossed her arms, almost relaxed. “I said what I said,” she smirked, “She called you constipated.”

Joel shook his head at her, fond memories of her and Tommy ganging up on him filing his head.

He wouldn’t tell her that he’d heard the whole conversation.

Henry exited the room, shutting the door behind him. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m exhausted,” he said, staking out the far right corner of the room for himself.

“Yeah,” Y/n sighed.

Joel rose up from the ground, already dreading trying to do another bed time shuffle with Y/n. He glanced over at her, first spotting the blood seeping through her bandages.

“Your hand,” he said, crossing the space between them.

“Huh?” Y/n furrowed her brows, holding it up to examine it, “Oh, shit. I didn’t even feel that.”

Joel was hesitant to grab it, but was itching to fix it up. “Adrenaline,” he settled for.

“So much for sleep,” Y/n grumbled, bending down and picking up her backpack.

Joel followed, setting the corner table back on its feet along with the two nearby chairs. Henry was already asleep in his corner. Joel sat down across from Y/n and watched as she pulled out the first aid kit. As she unpacked the supplies, his fingers began to twitch with nervous energy.

Y/n picked up on his fidgety state, stopping what she was doing to look at him. “Are you really that much of a control freak that you need to do this?”

Joel didn’t know what he was, just that he needed assurance that she was going to be alright. The only satisfactory way to do that was to do it himself.

“Fine,” Y/n scoffed, sliding the kit across the table to him, “Have at it.”

Joel unpacked the same supplies they’d used yesterday as Y/n unwrapped her hand. He was glad she’d taken extra gauze from his stash back in Massachusetts, they were running low.

“How long do you think it’ll take to get to Wyoming on foot?” Y/n asked as Joel grabbed an alcohol wipe. She’d already clotted, but the sites still needed to be cleaned.

He bristled, “A long fuckin’ while.”

“And are we measuring that in miles or kilometers?” Y/n asked, her tone deadpan.

Joel nearly smiled, gently rubbing the wipe over the bloody surface. Y/n hissed as it made contact with her skin, digging into her chair and drawing a deep breath after.

“Killed, like, four Clickers,” Joel decided to joke, never looking up from his ministrations, “Can’t handle a little wipe.”

“Says the man who can navigate his way across the country, but couldn’t explain a siphon to a fourteen year old,” Y/n remarked, matching his wit.

Joel peered up, a small smirk playing on his lips, mimicking the one on Y/n’s. This was the longest they’d gone without fighting during a conversation. One shift could turn the almost peaceful moment to a shipwreck.

“What happened out there tonight?” Joel asked, his mind still spinning from anxiety.

“Ran out of ammo,” Y/n answered, she know immediately what he was referring to, “Perfect timing, huh?”

Joel scoffed and ran a second alcohol wipe over her wounds. “Yeah,” he muttered, unsure of what else to say.

“But there was this weird guy hiding out in an abandoned house who took care of things,” Y/n remarked, her eyes traveling from her and Joel’s hands to his face.

Joel paused and met her stare, surprised that she was acknowledging his effort at all.

“Thank you,” Y/n continued.

Joel shook his head, returning to his work, “You don’t need to thank me.”

“Would you rather me say ‘Fuck off, you dick. I can take care of myself?’”

“That would fall in line with what you usually have to say,” Joel replied, reaching for the gauze pads.

Y/n nodded in reply, a smile pulling at her cheeks. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing, only that she was traumatized, tired, and in need of someone to talk to. If that someone came in the form of Joel, then so be it.

Joel tried to focus on Y/n’s wound, breaking it down into steps. Sterilize, gauze, wrap. He couldn’t get caught up on the fact that they were getting along. As benign as the it sounded, it was leaps and bounds ahead of where they’d come from.

Y/n, on the other hand, had nothing to do but sit and wait for him to be done. She watched how precisely he placed the gauze pads, as if one inch off their assigned spots would cost her her life. It reminded her of how precise he’d been with his lips, his hands. Every touch had carried purpose, the ultimate goal to make her know how much he loved her.

This touch, so warm and gentle, felt the same to Y/n.

Much like the day before, it took a lot of effort on Joel’s part not to get caught up in the feel of Y/n’s hand against his. He wrapped a fresh strip of bandage around it, weaving the roll between her thumb and under her palm. Back at the house, watching her narrowly avoid Infected had choked him. Every five seconds, she’d been brought to the edge of death, only for one of them to strike back at the very last moment. It had drained any and all energy left in Joel’s body, and had brought on a whole new set of questions.

If he were to lose her or Ellie at this point, what would it do to him?

He anchored the bandage down, sealing Y/n’s wound, and tried to escape the scenarios his mind was creating. They were alive, they were safe, and they would make it to Wyoming. If that was what he needed to keep repeating to himself the whole way west, he would.

“At the risk of inflating your ego,” Y/n examined his work, “Well done.”

Joel didn’t respond, he simply handed her the supplies to pack up. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, or rather, what he wanted and what he knew he couldn’t have.

Y/n threw the kit back in her backpack and came back to where they’d been. Joel was already kneeling down on the ground, removing and balling up his jacket. She didn’t want to land herself in another situation where cuddling up to Joel was a possibility, she also didn’t want to infringe on Henry’s personal space.

“You mind keepin’ an ear peeled?,” Joel asked, it was like he could read her mind, “In case I roll over on the wrong side again.”

“Yeah,” Y/n replied, coming to sit beside Joel with just enough space between them. Close enough to protect, far enough away for clear minds.

Joel stretched out one arm just above Y/n’s head. It wasn’t the closest they’d been in the past day, but it was certainly the most intimate. Y/n was facing him, the top of her hair nearly grazing his forearm. Every signal in his brain told him to roll over, put another wall between them, but there was a stronger thought that cancelled the noise.

He simply didn’t want to.

Y/n adjusted herself on her jacket and was left with nothing left to do but stare at Joel. The lines on his face were deeper, his features had grown sharper, yet somewhere underneath it all…she could still see the man she’d fallen in love with in the heat of an Austin summer. Perhaps that was what was playing with her mind the most; how she got glimpses of Joel as he was before morphing into the new version. She used to wonder what age would do to them and she knew that if Cordyceps had never mutated, Joel’s frown lines would be smiles lines. The skin underneath his eyes would wrinkle from deep laughter. And in the times where his brow would crease with concern, a single kiss from her would have relaxed the muscles.

It was enough to bring her to tears.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asked, his voice gruff but his words filled with concern.

It was all wrong. All of it. Everything that had happened to them. Everything the world had become. Risking their lives every day for a future that wasn’t guaranteed.

It was all so horribly wrong.

“I’m just tired,” Y/n spoke past the lump in her throat, “Really fucking tired.”

Joel wanted to reach out, place a finger underneath her lashes to catch her tears before they fell. In another life, he’d have taken her in his arms and grazed his lips across her ear. He’d have called her Rosebud and told her to sleep, that he wouldn’t let anything hurt her.

But he’d lost the right to act on such feelings a lifetime ago.

“Get some sleep,” he replied, it was the only part of the urge he could listen to.

Y/n shook her head, smiling with sadness, “It’s not that kind of tired.”

Nothing else needed to be said. Joel understood those six words better than any other. His exhaustion went so far past his backaches or cracking knees. His soul was seeking rest that it would never find.

It wasn’t lost on either of them that it took nearly dying for them to start drifting back to one another. The hate faded into background noise, or ceased to exist at all. They picked up their anger when they were safe, because it took effort. It took effort to stay mad, a fire requiring constant attention. But protecting one another was natural. At the end of the day, all that had transpired between Joel and Y/n would never come in the way of saving one another. Hate was a choice, care was an instinct.

Joel’s soft gaze traveled across Y/n’s face. “Try,” he encouraged, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded, her eyes still resting on Joel. She knew if she stared at him a minute longer, she’d no longer be able to choose hate.

Though she’d never know it, Joel felt the exact same way. He was becoming weaker and weaker for her with each moment they spent together.

They didn’t bid each other goodnight, they didn’t even fall asleep at the same time, despite sharing the same exhaustion. Joel stayed awake a few extra minutes after Y/n drifted off. He watched her frown relax, her brows unclench and her chest rise and fall, keeping the same steady beat that used to lull him to sleep.

—————————

Y/n had scooted closer in her sleep, her and Joel’s bodies still not touching but their breaths mingling together.

Had they awoken with the sunlight peeking through the blinds, strips of the warm glow across their eyes, urging them awake, they wouldn’t have backed away. It would have been the first time in twenty years they’d have woken up to one another. They wouldn’t have been mad.

Instead, they startled awake to the sounds of screams.

Joel and Y/n sat up in time to see Ellie fall out of the door, a snarling Sam jumping on her and pinning her down. Henry woke not two seconds after them, barely able to register the sight.

Sam was infected.

Joel was the first to reach for his handgun, but Henry was quicker and yanked it away. He had it aimed at Y/n and Joel before they were even on their feet.

“Nope, nope, nope,” he warned.

“Joel!” Ellie’s heartbreaking scream filled the room, “Y/n!”

Joel and Y/n took one step in Ellie’s direction and Henry fired a shot at their feet. Joel shoved Y/n behind him, she clung to his arm.

“Joel!” Ellie shrieked again, begging for help from either adult, “Y/n!”

Before they could have a coherent thought, it was all over.

Henry turned his gun on Sam.

He fired a single bullet.

Sam collapsed to the floor.

Ellie sat up with tears in her eyes.

Joel lowered his hands, but Y/n still kept a firm grip on him.

“Ellie,” he breathed, his heart was racing, “Are you okay?”

The girl looked to her guardians, shocked and heartbroken.

They took a cautious step towards her, but Henry put a stop to it as he trained his pistol back on them. Joel threw his arm back out in front of Y/n, not knowing what the man might do.

Distraught seemed too small a word to describe the expression on Henry’s face. He was gutted.

Joel ensured Y/n was still fastened to him before he cautiously held out his hands to Henry, “Easy, easy, easy,” his voice was barely audible, “Henry, gimme the gun. Henry, gimme the gun.”

“What did I do?” Henry choked out.

Joel shushed him, as one would a wild animal on the verge of attacking.

“What did I do?” Henry asked again, “What-what-what did I do?”

“Henry,” Y/n nearly whimpered, her breath trembling as she did, “Henry, stop, please.”

Henry stared through his tears at his little brother’s body, blood spreading across the floor, “Sam?”

Joel urged with a new desperation as the realization deepened, “Henry, gimme the gun.”

“Henry, please,” Y/n let go of Joel, taking a calculated step forward, “I know. I know.”

“Gimme the gun, Henry,” Joel continued.

Henry’s eyes, still focused on his brother, glazed over as he raised the gun to his temple.

“HENRY, NO!” Joel cried out.

Y/n rushed past Joel, “HENRY, I KN-“

It was too late.

As it happened, Joel jumped forward, wrapping his arms around Y/n and pulling her into him.

“No!” Y/n screamed, she lurched forward as if she could still save him.

Y/n’s eyes were flooded with tears, her sobs tearing her apart so hard that they came out silent. When the noise finally came, it was a guttural cry that might come from a wounded animal. Y/n’s knees gave out on her, Joel caught her and helped lower her to the ground. He kept his arms tight around her as she wailed.

When Y/n came to, and she realized Joel was holding her, the rage reignited. “Get off me,” she yelled, clawing her way out of his embrace.

Joel let her go, shrinking back slightly at the sudden reaction. Ellie watched, consumed by terror as her rock crumbled under the weight of the trauma.

Y/n crawled towards Henry, avoiding the blood, and clung to his shirt. She wept into his still warm body, wishing that he’d have let her finish her sentence. It could have changed everything.

The three of them sat there, waiting for their grief to come to a managable level.

“We gotta go,” Joel said eventually, the words feeling heavy in his mouth.

“We can’t leave them here,” Ellie muttered, wiping her sleeve across her eyes.

Y/n was sitting beside Henry’s body by then, waiting for him to breathe air that would never reach his lungs.

“Gimme a minute,” Joel said, getting to his feet and moving mechanically out the motel room door.

Time moved slow and all at once to the three of them. Joel went into the maintenance closet and found two shovels, bringing them back to the room where nothing and no one had moved. Him and Y/n, trying to spare Ellie what little trauma they could, carried Sam and Henry’s bodies across the road and to a patch of grass. The two of them began to shovel shallow graves, burying their friends.

The job was nearly done, they were just patting the soil back down when Ellie returned. She’d retrieved the few posessions they still had, dropping Y/n and Joel’s coats and Y/n and Henry’s backpack at their feet. She came to kneel at Sam’s grave, taking it in before setting his magnetic pad atop the dirt.

Standing back up with a weight no child deserved to carry, she turned to Joel, “Which way’s west?”

Joel looked off to his left and nodded, Ellie set off in the direction.

Y/n could feel herself slipping into a heavy numbness, a grief filling her that few could understand. She felt like she had one nostril, barely taking in oxygen, above the waters that slammed into her. But as soon as she saw Ellie’s handwriting, the words ‘I’m sorry’ written across the magnetic pad, she lost the fight.

She understood Henry’s fight.

She understood his decision.

And she understood his guilt.

She dropped her shovel where it was, picked up her jacket and slung her backpack over her shoulder, following Ellie and leaving Joel by himself. He was the last person she could stand to look at right now.

Joel watched her leave, any softness that had existed between the two of them a few hours ago had disappeared.

He leaned against his shovel, staring down at the dirt and Ellie’s makeshift headstone. Having done what they’d just done, having known Henry and Sam, watching them interact….it gave Joel the answer to the question he’d pondered the night before.

If anything happened to Y/n or Ellie, he wouldn’t know how to carry on.

And that was the most terrifying feeling he could have had, because he’d had it before.

Ellie had snarked, sassed and snuck her way into his heart. Y/n had always been there, his affection never fading over time despite her perceived betrayal. But he’d buried her, another name in the long list of people he’d lost over twenty years. To have her come crashing back into his life had been unexpected and unwanted. He couldn’t stop himself from letting her consume his mind, just as she had the first time.

Now here he was, a child and the woman he’d loved relying on him, killing for him, and he wanted to run.

“Let’s go,” Ellie called out, she was even beginning to sound like him.

Joel startled, looking on to see Ellie and Y/n waiting for him. Y/n refused to look at him. They were right back to where they’d begun their journey. Perhaps even further, she’d met his gaze even after the ambush that had brought them back together. Something had shifted in her that Joel couldn’t figure out, nor did he think it was best to look too deep.

He put on Henry’s backpack, feeling the weight of it, and slipped his jacket through the strap. He gave a parting glance to the brother’s graves and headed off to join the women.

Despite their failure to keep their pasts hidden, the three of them had scars the others didn’t know about. Intricate pieces of them that had made them who they were in the Cordyceps dominated world. But past the secrets, there was a loyalty too real to deny. They were too deep in to quit on each other. Trudging westward, with grief still fresh and fragile in their palms, they were all each other had.

If one of them died, they all would.

———————

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stardewremixed · 1 year

Text

First Kiss with Shane

@hellhoundmaggie requested a first kiss scene with Shane. He was the first guy I romanced in SDV, mostly because it was easy to in the beginning and I wanted that first-year flower dance so badly. 😂 🌸

🎈 In case you missed it - First Kiss with Harvey. 🎈

While Harvey holds a special place in my heart and is generally my go-to husbando, I didn’t want to leave my “first SDV squeeze” in the lurch. I’m trying to expand my experience with writing romance in general. Hope you enjoy. It’s a freakin’ novella. Haha. I don’t do short, and I wanted to show how he fell in love with the Farmer, and she with him.

This is female farmer x Shane = first kiss. This one might be a little more PG.

😉❤️‍🔥🔥

Sweaty palms. Greasy hair. Chubby cheeks and legs. Is this what she sees in me?

Shane stared bleakly at his own reflection in the refrigerator door. It was quiet. Nearly noiseless in the back aisle of the stark JojaMart. A lull in the daily traffic around 4pm on the dot. When his shift ended.

Shane pressed his forehead against the glass, grumbling to himself about his infinite lack of progress on losing weight. Ever since he started going to therapy and quit drinking, he felt confident that his life would turn around. Like magic.

However, life outside the rehabilitation center was much harder than he remembered. He was still stuck in the same dead-end job. He was still bumming a room off his aunt with his piddly rent And he was still rather plump around his abdomen.

Every time Morris ordered him around, in that pompous high London accent, Shane wanted to give up. To give in. To snatch a beer outta the cooler and gulp away his frustrations.

Instead, he settled for cussing under his breath, and resolving to keep his head down. At least until he could find another job. No one seemed to be hiring in this dying town. The recession was still hitting hard. And he knew he was lucky to get his old job back after nine months in detox and rehab.

It was worth it. It would be worth it. He convinced himself as he puffed a lazy strand of hair out of his eye and continued stocking cartons of overprocessed milk, nothing like his aunt’s fresh bottles or the farmer’s delicious cheeses.

While he was still grossly underpaid, Shane worked out the math. In six more checks, he could repay her. The Jolly Rancher. Just thinking about his silly little nickname for the farmer lady to the north gave him a warm feeling. The kind that alcohol used to give him, only better, more real. Her smile was sweet.

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When she first arrived in town, Shane genuinely disliked her. All her bubbly, bouncy, jolly persona encroaching on his flat, boring, grumpy existence. He had cultivated a philosophy of "me myself and I" and was perfectly content being alone, sulking into a pitcher of beer at the end of the night. But not really…

Her jovialty grew on him, especially when he would see her around town, helping people out. At first, he figured she was just another city do-gooder come to convert the backwater people to a more modern lifestyle. But her joy and kindness was genuine. Even when he yelled at her to go away, she still murmured a heartfelt apology for disturbing him and then brought him freshly grown peppers or tomatoes the next day like nothing had ever happened.

The Farmer purchased cows from Marnie so she could make her own specialty dairy products. He was seriously impressed. Because what city girl just ups and buys cattle?

Sometimes when he was restlessly tossing and turning in bed (and if was honest, lonely), Shane would wander around in the wee pre-dawn hours. He always seemed to make his way to her ranch. Most of the time, she was out in the barn milking the cows and talking to them like they were her babies, with just a lantern illuminating her soft face. She was so beautiful.

Raising cattle was no simple task. He knew this from watching his aunt. And Marnie had horses, pigs, goats, rabbits and chickens to think of too. He wasn't sure if the new rancher in town, with little to no experience (save her degree in veterinary medicine), was stupid or brave. Over time, he determined she was the latter.

Out searching for a lost cow in a thunderstorm. Not thinking about her own welfare. Only wanting to reunite a terrified animal with its herd.

Fixing fences after wolves knocked down the back posts time and time again. Her fingers bleeding and scarred because of her lack of self-awareness sometimes. And chasing of “’dem there wolves” with sheer willpower... and... a big stick.

Rebuilding the barn from scratch when a wildfire spread down from the mountains. She saved every single one of those animals. And needing treatment for smoke inhalation because she went back in for the tiniest frightened newborn.

He remembered the time she got kicked in the head by one of the cows. Shane was so worried about her, even if he wouldn’t admit it when he carried her to the Clinic. Thankfully, it was only a minor concussion. (And it was an excuse for him to deliver Marnie's special basket of goodies to her twice daily so she didn't have to worry about feeding herself during her recovery).

The rancher struggled for a whole year, after arriving in the Valley. But even when things went wrong, she was up and back at it the next morning with a lightness in her heart and step. It. Was. Admirable.

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Shane resolved to do better. To be better. She made him think about how things could be different if he wasn't a self-sabotaging jerkwad. The number of times she dragged his sorry ass home after getting plastered at the Saloon was too high to count, even if it was out of her way, even if she said she didn't mind. She wanted him to be okay. To be safe. She said so.

And she half pushed, half dragged him to the Clinic the night things got really dark. When he faced the edge of the cliff and thought "No more!" When he thought death would be a welcome reprieve from his pathetic life.

She never judged him. She didn't enable him like his aunt. She didn't fall apart into a puddle of tears like Jas. She didn't lecture him on the evils of his ways while twirling his moustache like Harvey. Okay. Shane chuckled to himself. Maybe that last part was an exaggeration and unfair to the good doctor.

She. Simply. Cared.

Through her actions.

In the beginning, it was little things. A happy hello. A robust handwave. Then she started pulling up a barstool next to him in the Stardrop. She would ask him about his day and he would always answer the same way. But "go away" somehow morphed into a sarcastic "just peachy" and then eventually a half-hearted "fine, you can sit there." Once she jokingly called him Peaches.

He didn't want to be bothered with her questions and idle chatter. He didn't want to listen to her ranching successes and woes, retold in a much-too-chipper voice. He didn't want to know about Bluebell and Daffodil and Daisy, how Mister Munster was nursing a hoof injury and how Mrs. Butters was expecting her second calf. Why did she think he cared about such details?

But it grew on him. Those rosy, ruddy cheeks, enjoying a hard-earned glass of whatever Gus had on tap. The way her eyes lit up and sparkled when she talked about her animal friends. The way her pale pink lips pouted when she lost a game of Journey of the Prairie King in the saloon arcade. Again.

Shane found himself drawn to her energy. And he found himself missing her on the nights she didn't stop into the Saloon. Which was a rarity, but did happen.

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Shane knew she was someone special when he would watch the entrance door, breath caught, hoping she would breeze through, and then she didn't. Two days in a row. He started to feel disappointed, but brushed it off. Three days. He started to get concerned. On the fourth night, he went looking for her. And that's when he learned she was sick.

He practically broke down her door when she didn’t answer.

“Aww you were worried,” she laughed weakly, and coughed.

She looked rather pitiful, bundled under the blankets, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes droopy and dark. She thought Marnie would have told him. His aunt had sent a few of her ranch hands to help their neighbor out while she was under the weather. so her cattle weren’t forgotten

No, Marnie never did. He suspected it was because she didn't know it would matter to him. But it did matter. She. Did. Matter.

Without a word, Shane went to the kitchen and returned with a cool towel. He didn't even think. He laid the back of his large hand against her delicate forehead. He could've sworn the little Miss Jolly Rancher blushed. Or maybe it was the slight fever she was running. She audibly sighed as he placed the wet cloth against her burning cheek, closing her eyes and mumbling her thanks.

He wanted to know the last time she ate. She grunted and said something about some cereal earlier that morning. She didn't know for sure. She had slept most of the day. He promised he would be right back.

She told him not to bother, as she struggled to lift her body off the bed, propping up by a shaky elbow. He insisted she lie back down. She was a stubborn one. Her protestations didn't last long as her head was too foggy to think straight. He microwaved a bowl of soup. She tried to sit up again, and he fluffed her pillows so she could prop up.

Her grip on the spoon wasn't firm, her trembling hands an indication of just how weak she was. So he caught the escaping silverware and lifted the soup to her lips. She turned red as a hot pepper, but he eased her with a surprisingly tender words, "Please. Let me take care of you for once, Miss Jolly." His own face and ears were probably red too. But she accepted.

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Since then, he began the habit of calling her "Miss Jolly." She flushed every time, but he enjoyed flustering her. It was nice… to care… about… someone.

She returned the “favor” and called him Peaches. At first, jokingly, just to annoy him. But over time, even the ridiculous fruity nickname grew on him. She was invading his thoughts and heart and he couldn’t stop her.

He knew he had to change. He had to get better. Alcoholism was a disease that had ravaged his life and he was ready for something better. He couldn’t live like he had been any longer. She had changed everything for him. And he wanted to change in return.

Disappointment smacked cold. He had researched so many places. But the one place that seemed to fit his needs and desired treatment plan was out of reach. Prohibitively expensive. He sold his dad’s watch. His car. He worked longer hours. Maybe in a few years he could make up the difference.

She knew how much he wanted this... and how badly he needed this. Every glance at his savings account wanted to drive him to the bottle, the hopelessness of a solution just out of reach because of his crappy medical insurance. They wouldn’t cover it. Even though he was pretty sure Joja was the reason he drank so heavily.

No, that wasn’t true. It was his own insurmountable guilt. Of surviving the accident. When they didn’t. Of leaving Jas without a respectable father figure. Or a mother. He didn’t even fight when the courts wanted to give him jail time.

His aunt got a lawyer and gave him a place to stay when he got out. She helped him put together a resume and practically shoved the application for overnight backroom clerk in his hands. He had to face the music. He wasn’t cut out for any other job. And it was basically a glorified “stock boy.”

Approaching middle-age, recently released from prison, and overwhelmed with a crushing lack of self worth, Shane interviewed and got the job. He should be grateful. But the hours were grueling and monotonous. Customers were rude. Employees were ruder. Except that Sam kid. He was a ball of sunshine. And his boss was sucking the life outta him.

So he drank. He drank to forget. Because he couldn’t forgive himself. And every time he looked at Jas’ little pained expression, he drank more because he felt... so... damn... worthless.

The Rancher changed things for him. He felt more positive. He got up earlier. He brushed his teeth. He combed his hair. He put on his uniform for the world’s lousiest low-paying job and went to work hoping things would be better.

Faced with the inability to actually “get better” was... frankly... terrifying. What if he went back to being that same old pathetic blob of a human again? After ten agonizing days, he finally confided in the one person he knew he could trust. His “Miss Jolly.”

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He couldn’t believe he had been moved to tears. She surprised him... again. With her thoughtful generosity and selflessness. She promised to pay for the difference. Whatever he couldn’t afford. She told him it wasn’t a big deal. It was a VERY BIG deal! She still had some of the inheritance money from her grandfather. What she hadn’t spent on fixing up the farm.

“So I don’t get those gingham curtains I’ve had my eyes on for the past month,” she quipped.

It was serious. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. It was too much. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted. He was stubborn. He could refuse.

But she was more stubborn. She insisted it would be a loan, not a gift. He could pay it off over time. Without interest. Or he could work it off - sweat equity - on her ranch. Maybe with those chickens he liked so much.

In the end, he caved. He packed up what little he could take with him. And she walked him to the bus stop. Kissed his cheek. Squeezed his hand. And said the words that simultaneously made him laugh and warmed his heart.

“Go get ‘em, Peaches.”

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That was a year ago now. When he came home, she threw a big surprise party for him. A few people from town, his aunt, Jas. And she never looked more beautiful. She even found chicken shaped balloons. Because... what guy doesn’t want balloon animals from the girl he’s crushing on?

Crushing on? He smirked. I sound like a middle schooler.

He split his time between the market and her ranch. Gradually spending more and more time on her farm. Gathering eggs before his shift. Feeding chickens on the way home from work. Sipping peach iced tea in the shade of her porch and thinking this life wasn’t half-bad. But he wanted more.

She started bringing by lunches on his longer shift days. Homemade sandwiches and fresh-pressed juices and handpicked peppers. The kind that burst with sweetness or that spicy kick he needed to get through the rest of his day.

She learned to roll her own dough. Once a week, on hot summer evenings, she would make him pizza with her own special spicy red sauce. Wearing that cute little red and white checkered apron around her jean shorts and just below the edge of her tank top. Too hot to be standing around the stovetop making pizza sauce or the oven to bake the dough. But she did it for him. Shane looked forward to it after a long and grueling Saturday shift.

He still stopped at the Saloon most nights, but now it was just to drink soda and share a pepper poppers appetizer. Gus started bottling root beer, made from bark and flowers and herbs from around the Valley. It wasn’t alcoholic. And it was an acquired taste. Getting better with time.

She would breeze in and offer suggestions and feedback. Shane enjoyed watching the two “play” squabble over the choice of leaves. The kindly saloon owner and the girl he liked collaborating to make him a refreshing drink became a welcome nicety.

Most nights, they didn’t stay long. Heading out for long walks around town. Shoes scuffling along cobblestones. Kicking up dirt on wooded paths. Kicking off on the beach to feel the mushy sand. Talking about nothing important, but always special. Any time with her was special.

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like her. To have a woman of her rare caliber show him any attention at all. She got past his defenses and he welcomed it. And deep in his heart, Shane knew - this was love.

With today’s paycheck, he could finally take her on a proper date. Somewhere out of the Valley. Someplace where they could have fun together. He felt the excitement and nervous anticipation rising in his chest. Somehow he fumbled through an “ask” on her front porch this morning, managing to invite her to join him... if she wanted... at the bus stop... around 5pm. He had tickets to see the Tunnelers play.

Shane finished his shelf, glancing at his watch. Ten past four. Just enough time to get home, showered, and changed. He disposed of the empty boxes in the dumpster and delivered the cart to the back room. Opening his locker, he hung his apron on the hook. Instantly, he felt lighter. Like that thing was a noose around his neck. A ball and chain. He really needed a new job. And in fifty, no, forty-six minutes, he could see her...

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"SHANE!"

The shrill obnoxious tone pierced his moment of peace. The voice could only belong to one person - a holllow husk of a corporate shill, even more unlikeable than him, if that was even possible. Shane frowned, his eyes clamping on the store manager barreling toward him at full speed.

“A whole second shipment came in just now,” the man grunted. “Like I need this when I’m short-staffed, as always,” he offered an exasperated sigh.

I can’t imagine why... Shane thought to himself, bemused. The boss was insufferable. Always barking orders. Never praising his team. Paying peanuts. Polishing his baby - a silver Rolls Royce in mint condition - parked in the only covered spot in the entire Joja lot - every night - instead of doing paperwork like he should. How was he still employed? No one at corporate cared.

“Not my problem, Morris,” Shane replied.

“No, no, no,” Morris fluttered his short arms. “It is your problem. I need you to stay late and help Sam empty the truck.”

The man continued to ramble something about “this is why I pay you” and “you think you can do better somewhere else?” He badgered Shane about his “work ethic,” even if Shane had been a near model employee since returning from rehab. Even if his former colleagues actually welcomed him back, much to his shock. Shy little Claire even commented on how he was “different” than before.

Shane had been nominated for employee of the month, no doubt, angering Morris. The man had it out for him. Sticking him on graveyard shifts. Making him mop baby puke in the aisles. Forcing him to attend a “hospitality” seminar so he could learn to be nicer to, in Morris’ words, “bored housewives who somehow like your prickly personality.”

Morris, a man who prided himself in appearance, with his neat little bow tie and perfectly ironed jacket, couldn’t believe how the ladies bought more after a rough encounter with Shane. It was good for business, of course, and Morris would take all the credit. That hospitality seminar wasn’t cheap, he constantly reminded Shane. Like rehab hadn’t made him a better person already. Or his relationship with little Miss Jolly.

“They just fawn over your monotone delivery of the daily sales,” Morris droned on. “Yoba only knows why. You haven’t been educated at the finest university this side of the Pond with an impeccable taste in... well, everything.” Morris puffed his chest.

“I just don’t understand why they giggle at the register about the ‘handsome’ stock boy when they could have me recite the daily sales in Shakespearean English for heavens sake. Well, no matter. I can use what I’ve got. You.”

The man thinks I’m a frickin’ pack of meat.

“Now in order to have sales, we must have stocked shelves. And in order to have stocked shelves, I need to have you stay longer. Because shelves don’t stock themselves... and what are you staring at?”

Shane rubbed his jaw, catching his reflection in Morris’ little glasses. Could I really be that handsome? Morris wasn’t wrong. The market had been a little busier than usual in the mornings and around lunchtime. Shane came back from breaks early sometimes because customers “requested” him. He could reach the “tall” shelves.

But he wasn’t that tall. And most times, he needed a ladder. Unlike Sam. But even Sam told him he had been relegated to “cute” because the female patrons wanted to check out the new guy (on the ladder) because Shane possessed a look of danger and mystery, and had that "hot dad bod."

Like that’s really a thing I wanted! Shane rolled his eyes. It's all a little disgusting. Being oogled. Because what? Dangerous? Dad bod? I’m just me. There was only one gal he wanted checking him out. And he needed to get going if he was going to meet her.

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“No can do, Boss,” Shane removed his Joja cap and hooked it alongside his apron. “Got plans tonight.”

“No, no, no,” Morris’ voice grew tight, his eyes becoming tinier. “That won’t do. You must cancel your plans.”

“Do I get overtime?” Shane asked, half-distracted by the photo occupying the inside of his locker.

It was the only thing he had ever decorated with at work. A photo of him and Miss Jolly at the Moonlight Jellies festival about a month ago. It was the one time he actually thought he was photogenic. How could he not be happy? With a gorgeous gal by his side, smiling and laughing as the photo was taken, a woman who believed in him, rooted for him, and cared for him. Shane’s expression softened as he thought about how much she had impacted his life.

“You know what?” Shane ripped the photo from his locker wall with gusto. “I quit.”

“Are you even listening?” Morris was saying. “And no, I’m not going to approve overtime. You left early by one minute the other night. One minute!"

"And one time last week, you were late by three minutes. I will not approve overtime for someone who nearly runs over a flock of geese with his bicycle and is late to work."

"If you’re going to keep up with this lazy attitude of yours...” he huffed and straightened his jacket. “I may have to reconsider my decision to rehire you... even if you bring in the ladies... I mean... sales...”

“What?” Morris’ eyes grew wide as saucers beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and then his expression darkened, as if Shane poured bitter coffee all over the plates. “You cannot quit. Are you joking?”

“Well I do, and I’m not,” Shane shoved the old rusty lock that never latched properly into the other man’s hand, a smile crossing his face. “With pleasure.”

Shane waltzed out of the soul-sucking store, leaving a dumbfounded former boss as the double doors whooshed behind him. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp of sea-salt air and sighed. He felt free.

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When she met him at the bus stop, his heart skipped a beat. She looked radiant in the setting sun. Her eyes sparkling like stars. And her sexy little denim skirt was a nice touch too. The way her hips swayed ever so slightly on approach. He forced his gaze upward.

"Hiiii... Miss Jolly. I'm glad you decided to come," he greeted, his tone a bit stilted and formal.

What am I doing? He rubbed the back of his head.

"Of course, Peaches. I'm excited," she grinned. "This will be my first game."

"You'll love it!" he replied, wrinkling his nose at her childish nickname for him. And I will too with you by my side.

"Is that cologne?" she asked when she reached his side.

Her fingers curled around his hoodie strings as she closed her eyes and took a whiff. "I like it." She grinned and winked at him. "A bit spicy."

"Yeah yeah," he murmured and ushered her onto the bus, but he hopped up the step behind her, feeling a little lighter on his feet.

"You're in a good mood," she remarked as they wandered toward the back of the bus.

The atmosphere was charged. Rowdy. Everyone seemed excited for the Tunnelers game. He nodded to a few familiar faces before settling in next to her seat. The back was better than the front. Cool kids sat in the back. What am I? In the sixth grade?

Still he was relaxed. Smiling even. She repeated her statement as if he didn’t hear her the first time. Damn straight I’m in a good mood. Because I get to spend time with you… maybe even tell you how I feel tonight… He decided the overcrowded bus wasn't the best place for that confession. The vehicle lurched forward and so did the conversation.

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"I quit my job."

Her eyes widened and a slow smile played at her lips, drawing his attention to them. I bet they're juicy. He had fantasized about kissing her, ever since she planted one on him at this very bus stop twelve months ago when he shipped off to rehab. Out of respect for their “business arrangement” and friendship, he held off on the liplocking, but it didn’t mean he still didn’t wonder what it would be like if he had just turned his head to meet her mouth that night.

“Good for you,” she laid a hand on his shoulder.

Her gentle touch bringing him back to reality and away from his lustful la-la land.

“I knew that place was killing the light in you. I just wish I could've seen Morris' smug face when you finally told him."

"Light in me?" he repeated, ignoring the statement about his ex-manager.

"Yes," she slowly slid her hand up to his cheek, blushing a little while she moved. "You look better. Brighter."

"That's just the shower talkin'," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No, it's you, Shane," she replied, dropping her hand far too soon for his liking.

He wanted to beg her to keep it there, against his cheek. But present company dissuaded him, and he remained silent, nodding his thanks. The way she said his name... he bounced his leg a bit in nervousness as the bus bumped along the road... it made his knees weak and his head clouded.

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"Did I miss anything?"

Shane descended the last step, returning to their seats in the stadium, snacks in hand. The game was tied up, the teams neck and neck in their scoring with each other. It was one of the most thrilling games he had ever seen in person. Even more exciting because she was there. With her incessant questions about the rules. Her exuberance at the Tunnelers' first goal. Even the little wrinkle around her eyes when she didn’t understand what was happening. He loved every minute of it.

And he loved explaining things. Even if he worried about boring her to death with his encyclopedic knowledge of gridball, he couldn’t stop talking. This was something he loved and he was sharing it with the woman he loved... even if she didn’t know it yet.

"Only the announcer making bad jokes," she smirked. “And that guy...” she pointed to one of the pros. “...doing a silly little dance for the fans.”

“Yeah, he’s known for that,” Shane laughed awkwardly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy that another man had caught her eye.

“Not that he’s any good at it,” she laughed too. “Not like our little grooves in the Saloon.”

“Oh?” he quirked a brow. “By the way, I got us some nachos. I asked the vendor to add some hot peppers… just like we like it."

"Like we both like it," she said in unison. "Thanks,” she snagged a chip and did a deep dip into the sauce. “You should've let me pay for snacks since you paid for tickets and the bus fare."

"Naw, we're on a date," he shrugged. "The guy pays. Plus, I wanted to."

Shane averted his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. "Did I tell you how much… I l…love…. Gridball?"

She stopped and looked at him as if surprised by his old-fashioned thought. I shouldn't have been so careless, he grimaced. Then he immediately wished his face wasn't so readable.

It was a date. A real date. But somehow they slid from acquaintances to friends to best friends and then... somehow something more, without ever defining the relationship.

Did she want parameters? Did he need a label? Were they... ever going to be what he hoped to be if he ever got his head out of his ass and asked her for real?

"Yes, only the thousand or so times on the bus," she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I knew you played in high school.”

Just like that, she slipped back to a more neutral topic. And he mentally flogged himself for the missed opportunity.

“Yeah, blowing out my knee pretty much killed my chances at playing pro,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me from enjoying the games though.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” she inquired. “Going back. Maybe the minors or even just a pick-up team. I bet you looked great in a uniform,” her eyes twinkled mischievously. “And I wouldn’t mind the view of you in those white pants.”

Red flooded his cheeks. Is she messing with me? How does she do it? Go back and forth between friendzone topics and flirtation? She made it look effortless. She was toying with him. She had to be. Dancing around the subject. Hoping he would ask. Or was he imagining things?

Her hand hovered dangerously close to his side. Brushing the hem of her skirt. Nearly touching his shorts. He gulped, feeling flattered, but strangely unprepared for her seductive little smirks. He handed her the soda he fetched, and she thanked him, gulping back the liquid as if it were a small instead of a large. Saying something about all the cheering making her thirsty.

He was the thirsty one. Eyeing her up and down and wanting to close the distance between them. Taking it from flirty friends to... faithful lovers. He never wanted a woman more than he did right now. To devote all his love and passion and energy and goodwill into being there for her just like she had for him.

For the whole second half of the game, he nursed his cola. Distracted by her every move. The way she would raise her heels in anticipation of a score and lower them back to the ground when they didn’t quite make it. The way she spoke with that happy voice of hers, the kind that could lull him to sleep or rally him to make his best efforts. The way she repeated back facts she was learning about the sport, that he had literally just taught to her that night. He was completely mesmerized... so much so... he forgot to actually watch the game. For once, he liked the distraction.

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When the Tunnelers scored again, she nearly flew off the ground, wildly cheering for their unexpected interception. He caught her hand as she was jumping back down. She squeezed it and continued whooping and shaking her fist victoriously in the air, never taking her eyes off the game. It was now or never.

"Hey," he said loudly to be heard over the stadium noise. "I've been meaning to tell you… thank you.”

“For what, Peaches?” she said, teasingly. “Did you see that? How many yards was it? Seventy-five? Eighty?”

“I mean it, really,” Shane cleared his throat, leaning closer to her ear. “ For sticking with me through everything."

She turned to face him, her expression growing more serious.

"My… anxiety… depression… you know," he continued, fumbling over his words. "The alcoholism… I mean, I wasn't exactly the funnest person to be around back then."

Did I just use the word funnest? He rubbed the back of his head, hoping to read her expression, but for once, he couldn't.

“You do that... when you’re nervous,” she remarked. “That head rub thing...” she reached up and ruffled his hair. “It’s... cute.”

“Uh...” Shane trailed off. She was not making this easy. But he needed to say the words aloud now or he never would.

"You… uh… still helped me. You've been a really… good… friend to me," he shared, and then immediately regretted his word choice.

"Oh," she said, quietly.

Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?

He hurried his words. "Anyway this is your first gridball game, huh? Well? What do you think?"

Smooth, Shane. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Changing the subject again, you frickin’ chicken.

"Oh…" she said, glancing back to the field, sounding a little confused. "Fun. I guess, Pelican Town seems pretty boring in comparison. Unless you count Sam's punk rock blaring at 11pm, breaking noise ordinances." She forced a chuckle.

Is she…? Am I imagining things?

"I'm surprised," he replied. "Didn't you move to the Valley to escape the noise of the city?"

She's looking at me again with those beautiful heart-melting eyes. He rushed through his words.

"I mean… don't get me wrong. I totally understand. My life in Pelican Town is pretty bland, you know. And now that I don't have a job, I gotta find something meaningful to do with my time again. A guy's gotta eat, right? Heh?"

"I was thinking about that," she replied, without looking at him. "I think it would be nice to have you around full-time."

"What?" he blinked.

"I've got one ranch hand now to help in the back pasture and one that helps out with the milking and all, but if I'm looking to expand, and if they ever take a sick day, I could use some extra hands," she continued. "Maybe your hands?"

I couldn't. Possibly. Was she blushing?

"You've already… done so much for me," he hated the hesitancy in his tone. "I… uh…"

She ignored his last comment. "This would be a business thing. We could do it temporarily to see if you like it. And if it's a good fit for both of us. I can be a bit of a…" she narrowed her eyes, mischievously. "Hard taskmaster."

"Oh? Yeah I've heard that from your current employees," he smirked. "But you are still a jolly one."

"Yeah…" she smiled, almost shyly, tucking a hair over her ear. “Your Miss Jolly.”

The noise level in the stadium increased near ten-fold. All he could think about was how she said the words. She was begging him, wasn’t she? Walking right up to the brink and leaving him there? He reluctantly ripped his gaze away from the farmer to the field.

"Gah!" he screamed, his volume matching the crowd. "The Tunnelers are on the attack."

"Yes! Yes!" she shrieked. "Oh my Yoba! Final seconds. They're gonna…" she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "They're gonna break the tie."

"GOAL!" they yelled in unison.

He never felt so happy. He was going on six months sober. He quit his horrible job. The farmer was offering him another one so he could see her every day. And he got to watch his favorite team in the world in the closest game in history with his favorite person in the world. Sharing this moment together meant everything.

"Thank you Shane!" she said, trying to catch her breath. "This was the best evening ever with you!"

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed. "Probably one of the best moments of my life."

Before he could stop himself, his lips were against hers. Surprise flickered in her eyes. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart. She was flushed. The warmth of her lips. The taste of root beer. The delight overwhelming the alarm bells. He took a step or two back, stumbling as he came to his senses.

"Oh?" he gasped for air. "Uh… um… sorry. I guess I got carried away there. Maybe I had one too many... sodas. All that sugar. Ha!"

Shane reached up to rub his head like he always did when he was nervous, just like she had noticed. Except this time, she strutted toward him, confidence in her eyes as she grabbed that hand and tugged him down. As they kissed for the second time, he felt her melt into his arms as she offered a faint “finally,” barely audible amidst the roar of the crowd.

Encouraged, Shane grinned, hoisting her off the ground. She giggled and kissed him more fervently. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he only needed actions to show her how he felt.

And she was reciprocating. A dream come true. Their eyes remained locked in a loving gaze as he pulled back from her lips. When he finally set her down, he breathed heavily.

"You really do love the Tunnelers?" she teased, disentangling her hands from his hair.

"No," he shook his head, determined not to let this moment go by. "I really do love you."

"Come on, we'll miss our bus outta here," she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the exiting crowds.

“Wait,” Shane pulled her back for one more greedy kiss.

She happily accepted, but he felt a fleeting ping of sadness even as they kissed in the stairwell, people pushing around them. He wondered if she even heard his confession. Maybe it's too soon? We just had our first kiss. She probably didn't hear me.

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When they reached the parking lot, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in, they were too late. The bus huffed away with a puff of smog. They had just missed their ride back to the Valley. And there wouldn’t be another one until morning. If he hadn’t been so carried away and enamored by his date, maybe they would’ve left the stadium sooner.

“Guess we should call a taxi,” she broke the silence first. “Or... actually... find a hotel.”

“A hotel?” he repeated, his ears perking at the thought of sharing space with her.

"Yes," she replied, without skipping a beat. "I mean, if we're gonna be stuck together in Zuzu overnight, we should get a hotel. A taxi ride would be really expensive and I don't think we have enough time to get across town to catch the train."

"Oh right," he said softly. "Uh… I can't let you pay for a hotel too."

"It's no trouble," she pulled out her cell phone and started scouring the internet for places. "And a hot shower sounds nice after all the sweat and grime of us in there,” she nodded back toward the stadium. “...jammed in like sardines."

"Uhm…" he blinked rapidly. You're a grown man. Get it together.

"This place looks nice," she showed him a picture after a minute or two, while he awkwardly plopped on the edge of the sidewalk. "And it's got a 4-star rating." She sat next to him, dropping her hand on top of his. “Oh look it’s got an in-suite jacuzzi.”

"Uh… sure," he shrugged, uncertain about what to do with his hands that so desperately wanted to kiss her again. "Well, that definitely was a good game."

"Yes, and it's going to be an even better night, because it doesn't have to end here," she smiled sweetly. “Since we’re getting a hotel,” she winked.

“Oh yeah... and we won too,” he stammered. “The Tunnelers, ya know?”

“No... no, I didn’t. Really? They did?" she smiled sarcastically, and leaned closer. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What?” he gasped, feeling shocked as her blase attitude toward his favorite team.

“I mean, it was great... and all... and their win was pretty spectacular,” she acknowledged. “But I feel like I won the lottery with you here.” She interlocked arms with him. “Did you mean it? Shane? When you said you loved me?”

So she did hear me! And the way his name fell from his lips caused his heart to soar and he found his confidence.

“Yes, I meant it. I love you,” Shane replied. “But I wanted it to be special. Better than this... stranded in a parking lot with trash all over the place.”

“It is special,” she replied.

“But it wasn’t perfect,” he grimaced. “I was planning on telling you when we got back... when I walked you back to your place tonight.”

His head felt hazy with love and desire as she kissed him again. This time, she draped a leg over his, pressing against his chest. He audibly moaned, leaning into the kiss. His hand naturally slid down her back to help her balance, and he squeezed softly, like he had wanted to for a long time. She matched his intensity with a clutch of her own, and he groaned again, reluctantly breaking their touch.

“I don’t need perfect, Shane. I just need you."

His heart leaped from his chest as she continued.

"I love you too. I want you.”

“Ahhhh... then let’s get to that hotel,” he said, the heat of her breasts against his chest creating a near uncontrollable fire within him.

“Fine,” she playfully pouted. “I’ll behave... Hot Stuff," she fanned herself. “...for now... since we’re in public.”

“Believe me,” he replied with a heavy sigh, feeling a healthy growth between his legs. “I want you all to myself.”

She giggled and tapped her phone. "Done. Got us booked.”

“That fast?”

“Yes, It’s only a two and a half block walk. Now… shall we?" She jumped to her feet and darted away briskly.

“Someone’s impatient!” he smirked. “What if I had said no?”

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh really?” he liked teasing her as she brought out his confidence. He started into a jog away, passing her on the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Shane!” she laughed and chased after him.

Of course, he let her catch him. She playfully punched his arm, but then lingered. She was beaming. And he was too. Shane took her hand, looking down at the woman he loved, and smiled, brighter than he ever had in his entire life. She loved him and wanted him… just as he loved and wanted her.

“Shane?”

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Tonight, he was going to make her fully his, and he would be fully hers.

"Yes, my Miss Jolly.”

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 1 month

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Jimin is soo freakin relatable though like my guy doens't give a shit about anything. The way he was sleeping outside when the whole staff was right infront of the house recording him, the way he be wearing those shoes which looks a bit torned in the front (could be that he spilled something on it but he was wearing those same in hobi's listening party so...) The way he wears his clothes for literally years like he could be wearing shirts from 6-7 yrs ago or more. He enjoys the free merch he gets and wears them everywhere. He was wearing yg's and TH's concert nd album merch during his own album practice..like i LOVE him more for that.

Only thing is someone should throw out those big ass boot/shoes whatever those r called that he be wearing like that's fking Ugly. Throw those dirty jeans or wtv that fashion is and end his dior contract like boy go free that dior only put his slim body in those ill fitted suits. Having park jimin as ur embassador and making him wear that shit?

A K-kookminer called him an environmental activist 😂. But at least he knows the value of quality clothing. In a consumerist and fast fashion world, I think he's doing a good job. And it seems that he likes to give some of his clothes to his friends, which also helps. Apart from official appearances, Jimin just dresses like a regular guy who has a washing machine. But I agree, some of those shoes he'd be wearing in the last 2 years are a fashion crime. Although it is clear that his natural state is to be barefoot and shoes are seen as only a necesity. Probably like clothes, knowing he wears them just to take them off.

But speaking of relatable and the beginning of your ask, it reminded me of a moment in the second episode of AYS. It's when they come out of the store on their last day and Jimin starts eating the chicken right then and there. I could never, sorry. At least I'd wait until I get to the car. But that entire look, from speaking while eating, the fact that he was still wearing the same t-shirt he had on during dinner and while sleeping, it really showed such a different picture. If he had sat down on the pavement nearby, opened a can of beer and light a cigarette, it would complete the look.

#m thoughts #jimin #jikook travel show #jikook are you sure

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piratekane · 5 months

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what r some of ur fav kacy moments?

a FANTASTIC question. here's a top ten in no particular order:

the parking lot scene. kate is not the bad guy! let's kiss under the parking lot lights! they did not go get that beer and i love that for them.

that one scene in season 3 where kate is bringing ernie mochi and lucy says that kate is looking fantastic today. something about that whole interaction just... got me. the grin on lucy's face. the way kate smiles back over her shoulder. pls tell me about your acting choices and why they made that 15 second scene endearing.

first date reenactment. those freakin dorks, i swear to god. kate's "well, i don't seem like a lot of things" lives rent-free in my head.

OF COURSE the scene in 3x04 where they have to dip into that storeroom to avoid the bad guy and they're, like, 2 inches away from each other. maybe i've watched that a few times.

the first kiss in the pilot. i'm split equally between the original airing with the smash cut kiss and the extended scene because i originally thought that lucy initiated the kiss, but finding out that kate was the one... mind-blowing.

the 2x01 episode kisses (plural!) because i love domestic kacy. i could write about that allllll day. i was not expecting lucy to straight up (ha) get into kate's lap at the outro of that episode. sigh. that was such an opening episode.

kate waiting at lucy's desk in 1x10 after the whole finger business. i just loved how kate said she was more comfortable with things at dinner and then just casually sits at lucy's desk waiting for her to come back (which is why 1x11 is so fucking crushing).

the scene in that episode in season 2 where lucy is helping Joe, the sailor with the memory problem. and joe elbows her in the jaw and lucy and kate are in the kitchen in the office and kate is snippy because she's worried. i'm not mad kate says, definitely not happy.

and speaking of lucy being beat up... the scene in 1x07 (? maybe) where lucy agrees that secrets can be fun and kate ducks her head and says something like, "want to tell me more about secerts" or whatever (i am not searching for the lingo, sorry). like, goodness. kate. relax.

the 'move in' scene where kate is so far behind on the conversation and she's just blinking as lucy explodes. i love a good "why are we fighting?" "we're not!" in shouty volumes and then the break in the tension where they realize they're definitely arguing scene. and they did this one perfectly.

okay, that was a nice little walk through my mind. now i need to go watch all these scenes (shoutout to the people who upload their scenes to youtube, they're the real ones).

#kacy #ncis: hawai'i #this was fun to think about thank you anon #now i want to go watch them and write them and i am a little sad again but i will go do something else #maybe read

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nhothicket · 4 months

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ON MY KNEE IM IN LOVE WITH YOUR BAND AU ON MY KNEES BEGGING FOR ANYTHING ELSE YOU HAVE TO SPARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A FANFIC, FANART, JUST A SIMPLE LIKE ANYTHING TEXT POST SOBBING AND WEEPING AT YOUR FEET!!!!!!!!

I decided to do both some art and a fic because you asked so nicely!! Thank you for the nice ask, I hope this is what you were looking for ^v^

I couldn't come up with a good title for this fic whoops.

Words - 1.4k

No warnings, they're gay and they act gay

Summary - Etho finds himself dragged away from the safety of his tour bus and into the den of very scary and very cool rockstar, Bdoubleo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wash up on your six." Pause lightly elbowed Etho with a snicker. "Comin' right for ya."

"Hurry up then." Etho tried to push his bandmates into the bus, but the chase was over before it began.

"Etho!" The threat approached.

"Beef, move-"

"Sorry man, you're on your own." Beef climbed on and turned to give him an entirely unapologetic smile. "You guys have fun now."

"Hey-" The bus door shut right in his face. "Beef! Pause! Hey!"

"Ethooo!" Two arms slung around his neck from behind, awkwardly pulling him down and backward. Etho gagged and turned around. Face to face with the tiny menace of the festival grounds. "Long time no see!"

"Hey, Bdoubleo."

"So formal, you're no fun, sweetheart." Bdubs puffed his cheeks out. "It's been like a y- like whole year, c'mon, loosen up!"

"It's been a few months and I'm busy."

"No you ain't. I saw your buddies ditch ya." Bdubs offered up all the charm he could muster. "Wanna hang out in my van?"

"Not creepy at all." Etho's protest was weak willed. He leaned down and ruffled Bdubs' hair without even thinking about it, it came as a second nature at this point. "Yeah, sure."

"You just can't deny me. I'm irresistible!"

"Uh-huh."

"Your sarcasm is no use!" Bdubs dragged Etho across the lot to his shabby old van. Etho would judge, but if it weren't for Beef and Pause, he'd be touring out of the back of his ancient pickup. Bdubs threw the back doors open and hopped inside. "Didya see my set this morning? I know it was a bit early for someone like you."

"Of course I did." Etho gracefully ignored the last comment. Perched on the edge of the trunk, Bdubs' enthusiasm was contagious, his prideful smile was so genuine it made Etho smile a bit under his mask in a shallow imitation. "Loud as always."

"You know it!" The back of Bdubs' van was surprisingly clean. Two seats sat on each side and a mini fridge was pressed into the back corner. A soft mat was rolled up opposite to it, presumably Bdubs' bed. Bdubs got up to flop onto a seat and pat the spot next to him. "Beer?"

"Uhh..." As soon as Etho sat down an arm settled around his shoulders. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"That's what I like to hear." Bdubs opened up his little fridge and tossed Etho a can. He refused to remove his arm from Etho's shoulders and instead used his teeth to crack his own can open, kicking the fridge shut. "Off with the mask! I'm not some fanboy, I'm the real deal! Itsh been so long, I've missed seeing your dopey face."

"Bold words coming from the goofiest solo act I've ever seen."

"I am not goofy! I'm hard!"

"Oh?" Etho pulled his mask down just to show Bdubs his smug smirk.

"Don't- don't give me that! You know what I mean!" Bdubs growled. "I'm a rockstar!"

"You were like decades ago."

"And still going strong!" Bdubs took an obnoxious gulp from his beer. "You are awfully mouthy for a man who plays a freakin' keytar, what decade is it for you?"

"You'd know, old man."

"I am not- Okay, old lady! Fresh outta the 1600s!"

"Boomer."

"That's my name! Don't wear it out, Ethel!"

They glared at eachother for a moment, locked in a silent staring contest. Bdubs and his obnoxious doe eyes were forever unbeatable though, and Etho was forced to blink. A very ungraceful winner cheered and crushed a can to further punctuate his manly dominance.

"I'm never forgiving Pause for telling you."

"Aww, but its so cute." Bdubs pinched Etho's cheek. "What, your parents wanted a girl or something?"

"Sure, something like that." Etho sipped from his beer, sliding a bit down the seat so Bdubs could more comfortably pull his charm. As small as Bdubs was, it was always comical watching him stretch to take up the more dominant flirting positions. Etho knew he'd sit there with his arm up around his shoulders until it went numb if that's what it took.

"You haven't told me you missed me yet."

"I forgot I even knew you."

"Ouch! Rude." Bdubs leaned closer and winked. "I think about you all the time."

"Yeah, because you're the most jealous person I know."

"Guilty as charged!" Bdubs chirped. He easily slid right back into joking when his attempt at flirting was met with more banter; Etho wasn't sure he'd be able to recover that quickly himself.

"Plotting my downfall, huh?"

"I'll get you some day."

"I'm rooting for you."

"Thank you, sweetheart! You're always on my side." Bdubs tapped his can to Etho's. "To ruining your career."

"To ruining my career."

The pair fell into a lull, Bdubs kept chatting, but it was mostly white noise. Bdubs talked just to talk and Etho listened just to listen. It was only a few beers later and the lull transitioned into a comfortable buzz. Bdubs got a bright idea. He reached over the seats in the middle of the van, clumsily pulling over his decorated acoustic guitar.

"Any requests, Easy?"

"Anything but one of your own." Etho absent-mindedly dropped his arm around Bdubs' shoulders, reestablishing the connection that had been broken when the shorter man went to get his instrument.

"You are so mean to me." Bdubs puffed his cheeks out as he thought. "We should do some music together sometime."

"You'd be eaten alive." Etho considered the reputation Bdubs had. "I can see it already— you fighting with all the people online."

"It'd be worth it." Bdubs played a few random chords. "We could do a love duet."

"With Pause? I'm not a vocalist, Bdubs."

"You didn't deny being in love with me."

"I wouldn't have to love you to sing a song with you."

"I'd write it about us, baby."

"Uh-huh." A brief silence started to build, but Bdubs quickly broke the tension with a snicker, Etho followed suit. "You're an idiot."

"C'mon! You got a good voice. We could do an epic rock ballad."

"I'm good."

"Your loss!" Bdubs turned back to his guitar, but Etho could see the mischief brewing on his face. "You still like Paramore?"

"Don't play it."

"I learned a song just for you!"

"Don't play it, Bdubs." He already knew what the sappy romantic had in mind.

"You are so unappreciative. I go out of my way to learn a nice song from the 'music' you like." Bdubs threw up air quotes and Etho just rolled his eyes. How a man who'd sold his soul to the system could stand to be so critical of what counted as music was beyond him.

"Give me your guitar."

"No!" Bdubs got two chords out before Etho pulled it from his hands. "Hey! Hey! Give it here!"

"I'm not letting you try to serenade me with a song you heard on the radio."

"You know it would work! C'monnn!"

"Absolutely not." Etho held the guitar away from Bdubs, but regrettably, he couldn't hide his smile when his mask was around his neck.

"You come into my house! Sit on my bed! And dare disrespect me like this?"

"We are in the back of a van, Bdoubleo."

"My home away from home!" Etho leaned across the trunk and dropped the guitar onto the other seat. Bdubs immediately tried to lunge for it, but Etho caught him in a bear hug before he could even stand up. In fact, being hugged instantly stopped Bdubs in his tracks. "Woah, hey- guess I didn't need to serenade you at all!"

"Sure." Etho pulled away so he could see Bdubs' face. Alcohol warmed cheeks, dark eyes, and a stupid smirk.

"Like what you see?"

"Maybe."

"Shomehow, you manage to dry text when you talk." Bdubs rolled his eyes. He leaned up and kissed Etho, his patience worn thin in his buzz. Etho pulled him closer. "I missed you."

"Me too." Etho finally admitted. They sat with their foreheads pressed together.

"You could afford to text back more often, I know you ain't that freakin' famous."

"Isn't the anticipation more fun?"

"Don't play coy! I know you're just lazy."

"Guilty." Bdubs pressed a flurry of kisses to Etho's jaw.

"You're lucky I even allow you in my pre- in my presence, I don't usually kiss fans."

"It's a good thing I don't care much for sellouts then."

"Kiss my ass."

"Ohh, the bad boy said a curse word."

"Get out of my van, I'm sick of your stupid face already." Bdubs grumbled. Yet, his arms stayed locked around Etho's waist. Etho made no attempt to change that.

"Gonna be at our set tomorrow? It's past your bedtime."

"You're worth stayin' up for." Bdubs cooed. "Better dedicate a song to me."

"We'll play twinkle twinkle little star for you."

"On your nerdy little fake guitar?"

"On my nerdy little fake guitar."

"Adorable."

#dreading needing to come up with a title when I inevitably add this to my Ao3 oneshot book #this is my first time directly putting fanfic onto tumblr - i hope I did it okay #band au #bdubs #etho #pause #beef #birdie art #birdie writing #bdoubleo100 #ethoslab #bdouble100 fanart #ethoslab fanart #ethubs #hermitshipping #hermitcraft

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vigilante-3073 · 7 months

Text

Love Story

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Reader gets Dean a very special birthday present.

TW: FLUFF, pre-established relationship, Dean's secret obsession with Taylor Swift, concerts, extravagant gestures.

Dean's 43th birthday had been celebrated in the bunker with friends and family. Everyone had either gone home or made their way into one of the empty rooms to spend the night after the many beers and shots that were shared.

The table was covered in scattered empty pizza boxes and pie tins. Dean moved around the room, stuffing the trash into a garbage bag.

"You know, you don't have clean up after your own party," Y/N said, making her way over to him.

"Someone's gotta," Dean said, "Might as well get it out of the way before morning," He shrugged, dropping another paper plate into the bag.

"Can you take a break? I have something for you," Y/N said, pulling a white envelope from the back pocket of her jeans.

"You didn't have to get me anything, sweetheart," Dean sighed, setting down the garage bag and stepping over to her.

"You deserve it," Y/N said, holding out the envelope.

Dean took it from her hands, carefully tearing the it open and peering inside. He reached into the envelope and pulled out two shimmering tickets.

He stared down at them, thumb tracing over the surface carefully as Y/N watched him. She shifted on her feet as she tried to gauge his reaction.

"Are these real?" He asked softly, green eyes meeting with her's.

"Yeah," Y/N replied with a nervous smile.

He stepped forward, pulling her into his arms quickly. Dean held her tightly as a wide smile spread across his face, "This is amazing," He laughed.

She wrapped her arms around him, "Are you happy?" Y/N asked.

He pulled away, "Happy? Are you kidding? We're going to the Eras Tour! I'm over the freakin' moon!" Dean said.

Y/N laughed, "I left your VIP package on your bed. Go check it out while I finish up here," She said, tilting her head towards the messy table.

"Baby, you are- you are awesome," Dean said, cupping her cheeks and pressing his lips to her's in a quick kiss.

"I love you so damn much, sweetheart. We're going to see Taylor Swift! Hell yeah!" Dean grinned, rushing off down the hallway.

...

Dean had been eagerly anticipating the concert since his birthday. The usual silence in the bunker had quickly been replaced by the nearly continuous sound of Taylor Swift's discography. He was determined to know all the words to every song before their concert.

Dean had even insisted on dressing up and making friendship bracelets to share with other concert-goers. His costume was relatively simple, a plain white shirt with the word 'karma' written across the chest in red sparkly letters. The color matched perfectly with Y/N's dress and boots.

Dean and Y/N packed their bags before they made the trip down to Nashville, blasting Taylor Swift's music and singing along the whole way.

They checked into their hotel room on the day of the concert. Feeling jittery and excited as they ate an early dinner of takeout burgers before starting to get ready. Dean had put on his shirt before laying down in bed to watch television while Y/N finished up her hair and makeup in the bathroom.

He flipped through the channels, looking over as Y/N stepped out of the bathroom. Her hair and makeup were done, skin sparkling under the dim motel lights. He tossed the remote aside, focusing solely on his beautiful girlfriend.

Dean whistled, "You look phenomenal, baby," He said, eyes running over her body. The bright red sparkly dress hugged her curves perfectly and the boots of the same color glittered with small gems.

"Thank you," She smiled, spinning in a circle to show off the outfit in its entirety.

"Gorgeous," He grinned, standing up from the bed and making his way over.

Dean unbuttoned his shirt, holding open the flannel to display his t-shirt.

Her smile widened, arms wrapping around him as she leaned into his body, "Karma is my boyfriend," She sighed happily.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her's in a slow and passionate kiss. Dean's hands found her hips, pulling her body closer before reluctantly breaking off the kiss.

"I love you so damn much," He said.

"I know," Y/N smiled.

...

The stadium was dark, the music was loud and the lights were flashing as people screamed out the words to every song. Everyone was dressed to the nines in bright colors and clever costumes, covered in glitter and gems that shimmered under the lights.

The smile hadn't left Dean's face since the first song and he couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

He had traded enough friendship bracelets to have both of his forearms lined with colorful beads. Dean would keep a few for himself, but the rest were for his girl and maybe one for Cas.

His arm was wrapped securely around Y/N's waist as they belted out the lyrics to Love Story. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and she looked up at him with a smile.

Dean leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before pulling away. His hand slipped into the front pocket of his jeans, grasping the velvet ring box. Dean pulled it out, flipping the lid open and sliding his arm from around her waist as he turned to face her. Dean got down on one knee between the rows of chairs, holding up the ring. People around him screamed, pulling out their phones to record the moment.

Y/N looked over, eyes widening before her hands flew to her mouth, "Will you marry me, baby?" He asked loudly. Her eyes glossed over with tears as she nodded hastily.

Dean stood up, allowing her to pull him into his arms as happy tears rolled down her cheeks. She pulled away slightly, pressing her lips to his in a passionate kiss.

Dean pulled away, smiling down at her before plucking the ring from the box and sliding it onto her finger. He pulled her into his arms again, holding her tightly as the song came to an end.

"I love you so much, baby," He said.

"I love you too," She replied, pulling him closer.

...

The women sitting in the row behind them had asked for Y/N's cellphone number and sent their videos of Dean's proposal to her. She was overjoyed to have videos to remember such an important moment and watched the recordings before they even made it out of the stadium.

It was strange watching everyone dissipate from the stadium, making the streets brighter with their costumes while leaving jewels and glitter everywhere they went.

Dean and Y/N held hands as they walked down the street towards their motel room after the concert had concluded. The night had been an absolute dream. It was definitely an experience that they would remember for the rest of their lives.

Dean couldn't think of a time when he had been happier.

No hunting. No danger.

Just him and his girlfriend.

Correction, him and his fiancée.

Y/N video called Sam as they walked down the sidewalk, the line rang twice before he picked up.

"Hey, how was it?" Sam asked, sitting up in his bed.

"Amazing, best concert of my entire life," Dean said.

"Yes! She was fantastic and just absolutely amazing. Best night ever! Taylor Swift is just-" "Iconic," Dean stated, "Yes, iconic," Y/N agreed.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple as they walked, "We got some other news, Sammy," Dean said, smiling down at his fiancée.

"Is your news about how much you spent on concert merchandise? Because I don't want to know if it is," Sam said.

"We're engaged!" Y/N said, holding up her left hand for him to see.

"Are you serious? Is this real?" Sam asked, a wide smile spreading across his face.

"It's real. We're gettin' hitched," Dean said proudly.

"Congratulations, guys. This is amazing! Wait, when did you do it? Did you propose during the concert?" Sam asked.

"During the song Love Story like an awesome fiancé," Dean grinned.

"Some women behind us recorded it and sent me their videos. I'll show you when we get home," Y/N said.

"Alright, have a good night you guys. Get home safe and congratulations again," Sam said.

"Thank you, Sam," Y/N said.

"Have a good night, Sammy," Dean called.

Y/N ended the call, tucking her cellphone into her pocket. She squeezed Dean's hand and he looked over at her to find her staring up at him with a wide smile.

"What?" He asked, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.

"Nothing, just that I only bought this dress so you could take it off," Y/N said casually.

Dean's eyebrows rose, "You flirting with me while referencing Taylor Swift is probably the hottest thing I've ever heard," Dean stated.

"Good," She grinned.

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x female reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader

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eternalsams · 2 years

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WHAT ARE THOSEEE?? ⇴ B.Bradshaw

pairing: bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

warnings: reference to sex, just as mature as a "that's what she said" joke

summary: during a night out at the Hard Deck, Phoenix notices something very interesting about Rooster

words count: 758 (I know it's short, I'm sorry)

a/n: this is directly inspired by a tiktok I saw and immediately made me think of Rooster. Also, english isn't my first language, please take this into consideration.

masterlist

You get out of the Bronco when Bradley opens your door, taking his reaching hand and smiling when he presses a kiss in your hair. When you pass the door, Penny immediately sees you and a smirk appears on her face. "The love birds have finally arrived, thought you weren't gonna make it." You lean over the counter and kiss her cheek as a greeting and Bradley taps the counter. "Whatever she takes goes on my tab." He winks at Penny and leave you to join his friends at the pool tables. "The usual?" The woman asks you and you nod. You put your chin in your palm and watch Bradley get away from you, enjoying a bit too much the view. Penny comes back to you with two beers and follow your gaze before chuckling. "You're never gonna get tired of him, are you?" She rapidly wipes the counter when you take the two bottles. "I don't think I ever will. How could I?" You smile at her and join your friends.

You stand next to your boyfriend and give him his drink before starting a conversation with Payback and Fanboy while Rooster talks with Phoenix. When you finish your drink, Bradley takes your empty bottle and goes to give them to Penny so she doesn't have to come and grab them. Phoenix chooses this moment to grab your arm and drag you away from the others. "Please tell me the bit of ginger in Rooster's mustache is just a hair dye accident." She tries to contain her laughs but fails terribly. "What are you talking about?" You puff, frowning. "You didn't notice?" Her smile only widens. "No, I'm not- What were you doing looking at Rooster's mustache anyway?" You chuckle. "It was staring at me first! Come see by yourself." She takes your hand and drags you back to the group of friends. Bradley had come back from the bar and kept an eye on you and Phoenix when you walked away.

"Everything okay, ladies?" Rooster asks and you take your boyfriend's face in your hands, surprising him. You look closer and gasp slightly when you notice the red hues in Bradley's mustache. "Oh my God, you're right!" You turn to Phoenix and she nods frantically. "What? What's wrong with my mustache?" Rooster panics and brings up a hand to his face, patting his facial hair. "Everything's wrong with that mustache, Bradshaw. Looks like a freakin' dead possum on your face." Hangman snorts. "Rooster's got red hair in his mustache." Phoenix can't contain herself anymore as she busts out laughing and something finally clicks in your brain. Oh my God. You did that. Your eyes widen and you meet Bradley's gaze who seems to understand what's happening too. His facial expression matches yours and he clears his throat as your cheeks flush red.

When you turn to face your friends, you can see that almost everyone is laughing but Hangman is the one to make a comment. "Baby Chicken is turning Irish." You're almost relieved that he didn't get what exactly is happening but Phoenix is there to save the day. "I can assure you Rooster doesn't have a single drop of Irish blood in him. But maybe Y/n can explain what's happening." You stare at her and you swear that if looks could kill, she'd be six feet under. But you can't really blame her, you would've done the same if that happened to her and her boyfriend. You're trying to think of a good lie but you see Bob's eyes widen in realization. "Oh my God! Ew!" He grimaces and that's when you know lying won't get you out of there. Everyone seems to understand and you shut your eyes, thinking that maybe when you'll open them again, all this would be just a dream. A very bad and embarrassing dream. "Rooster, you little rascal." Hangman smirks and wipes a tear as he leans back against the wall behind him.

"Okay, okay... it's not a big deal, guys." Rooster starts and you turn to him, doubting his words. "You perfectly know that we're getting some and now you're just jealous because there's a proof of it." Bradley smirks and you grimace. "I'm not sure that helped, Roo. But thanks for trying." You pat his shoulder and leave for the bathroom. Bradley silently sighs and follows after you. "Try and don't get more Irish this time, Bradshaw!" Hangman calls and Bradley flips him off without even looking at him, earning a laugh from the blonde.

#rooster #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfic #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick x reader #rooster x you #rooster smut #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley brashaw smut

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ciaomarie · 5 months

Text

Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

I recently wrote a post-season 2 story about Carmy helping with Sydney's apartment search. I wanted to back track a little to get into his head space just after the Friends and Family almost disaster, but prior to the apartment hunt, during which he is hopelessly crushing on Sydney. Mostly, it's backstory and gives more context to why Carmen is who he is :)

When Carmy stumbled frozen and broken out of the walk-in the night of Friends and Family, Sydney was waiting for him. However, something in his eyes made her reconsider whatever she had been planning to say. She pointed him to sit on floor against a stove she had turned on and made him hot tea. Wordlessly she sat on the floor next to him until he finished. When he tried to speak, nothing came out. His icy mottled fist began to circle his chest, but Sydney closed her hand over his.

"We'll start over again tomorrow."

Weeks later Carmen asked her why she hadn't quit that night. She said "Your face…it looked like mine did when I lost Sheridan."

In return she had asked him what happened with Claire and if it had been her fault.

"No. She thought she knew me, but she didn't and honestly, we didn't have anything in common."

The more Carm thought about Claire the sorrier he felt about how he'd behaved and the less he regretted the break-up. Claire was his high school dream girl. She was always kind to him, despite being able to mingle in nearly every clique at school. She was as comfortable with the student government club, as she was with the skaters. Everyone liked her and for no apparent reason she frequently stopped at his locker to ask if he had gum or invite him to study. So he always kept a pack of gum for her, but was too shy to join her study group. Once she and two of her friends ambushed him after school and convinced him to come to a party the night prior to graduation. He decided he might as well not end his high school career without ever having gone to one. The party was held in woods behind one of the football player's homes. There was a bonfire, cheap beer, too few cups, and couples making out or swaying to "Die in Your Arms".

Claire found a clean Solo cup and they shared a drink as she gazed into his eyes.

"I love this song"

"Yeah…it's popular".

Natalie had been playing Justin Bieber non-stop for the last few years and Carm was almost willing to give up all music if he never had to listen to him sing another note.

He didn't remember the rest of the conversation, but at some point Claire kissed him. 12 years later when they began dating she brought up the night of the party and how he looked so surprised and blushed.

"You were so cute. I bet it was your first kiss!"

"No, but almost" he said a little taken aback. As pleased as he was that Claire was interested, he felt like her project. Something about their relationship reminded him of a cheesy 80's teen movie. Too sweet. Not enough acid.

He could have saved them both a lot of trouble if he'd not given her any number, much less a fake one. But it was Claire, the brilliant, fearless, beautiful girl he'd used to sketch over and over again and she wanted HIM. He liked her so much back then. She went off to Michigan State and he began peeling mushrooms at a restaurant eventually becoming Carmen Berzatto "the most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant in the entire United States of America."

But before Claire, in 7th grade summer school, there was Kyla Branson. Carmy needed to take 7th grade math again before they'd pass him to 8th grade and Kyla was a transfer student. She had just finished 6th grade, and was taking 7th grade math and English early, because she was a pianist. A whole freakin' prodigy that would be touring with Eric Clapton later that fall. The math teacher had told the class, much to Kyla's obvious discomfort.

On the third day the class split into pairs to do an assignment and Carmy and Kyla were paired. He could barely look at her. Kyla had thick curly eyelashes which framed her large black brown eyes, her hair was usually brushed up into a soft coily bun like a ballerina, she wore small white diamond earrings in her shockingly small ears, and she had an heart-breakingly cute overbite that showed whenever she smiled. Carmy was gone over this little black girl. She was very shy too, but an overachiever so she persevered in making him talk enough to get the work done.

Once she saw his sketches on the back of his notebook and said he was artist. Using his best charcoal pencils he drew a portrait of her in the privacy of the attic at home. On the last day of summer school he gave it to her when class dismissed and dashed out of the room, his face redder than Heinz ketchup. Kyla caught up with him outside and grabbed his hand leading him out of the view of the car pick-up line.

"Thank you Carmen. I think you're beautiful too" Kyla whispered and kissed him full on the mouth. For three seconds. Then she ran back to the car pick up line, got into her parent's car and Carmen never saw her again.

Once he thought he saw her. The eyes and overbite were startling familiar, but the name was different. It was the day that Sydney Adamu walked into The Beef. It was the day that someone saw who he really was again.

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #sydney x carmy #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #syd adamu #fan fiction #fan fic

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punk-in-docs · 2 years

Text

🕷️ Vanilla Tobacco 🕷️

Eddie Munson x Reader

10.9k words

Summary: Based on one of my favourite Eloise songs- this pure mush but please believe me on the life of my dog, the next piece to follow this with smut is coming in so fast I may get whiplash- watch out- also

Thank-youuuu all of you for being such angels and commenting on my stuff all the time it’s honestly amazing. I know I’m a lazy bum and I need to reply to your astounding comments. But pls know I do see each one and it’s just what makes this all so worthwhile to see how much you all love Eddie X Pencils.

Your morning had been hell on wheels.

You slept through your alarm. Stubbed your toe stumbling out of bed in your rush to get dressed. Burnt your tongue on your too hot coffee. Ended up being late for home room. And now you’ve been lumped with an art essay. Perfect.

Self directed. Six thousand words on a particular art movement of your choice. Which somehow made it even harder to pick-

It’s pokey glass shards stabbing into the already festering wound in your side that was your day.

This would mean you’d be surrendering your lunchtime to this honey of a new project which was due in a week. If you got the books and notes gathered for it now, it would be a great help and a load off further down the line.

You trudge out of class, and back down to the hallway to your locker, with an armful of textbooks and sketchbook. A free period now that you’d spend the entirety of in the library.

In the absence of a certain jingly jacketed, metal head, the music you’ve got blasting through walkman headphones right now, is the only soothing thing that’s helping your scratchy mood stay buoyant.

Well. That and one other salient thing-

You can’t help but draw your thoughts back to yours and Eddie’s movie night. That memory certainly lifts and delights. Wraps up your stomach like being bound in sunny butter-yellow silk.

Being tangled up on Eddie’s terrible scratchy orange couch with wandering hands, seeking more, and so much making out it was like you were kissing each other’s lips raw. Seeing Eddie with those beautiful lips all bitten pink certainly tugged on your guts in the most horny way.

You devoured the pizza together, and he’d tasted like hoppy lite beer and salty pepperoni - licking the greasy cheese mess of it off the corner of your lips. Smiling with oily pizza grease fingers gripping your chin.

You’d laughed so much your ribs hurt. Prodded fun at the gore of his selected horror movies - awed by his taste too. Agreed on the worst and best parts of grainy black and white eerie tones of night of the living dead. The ham acting. The swelling suspense.

He’d grinned with the way you’d squirmed and jiggled and scrunched up your feet in unease at the bit in Nightmare on Elm Street. When Tina grabs Freddy’s face and the whole thing slips into her hand in a bloody rubbery landslide, revealing raw teeth and bulging eyes, scarlet black chasm of a nose.

I love this movie. But I freakin’ hate that bit.

Eddie curls around you tighter. Beaming. Chuckling dryly. Ringed fingers splaying over your hip. Nose nestled in the back of your neck.

Squeamish much, pencils?

Shut up

You both watch as Tina cups at the four claw marks in her stomach as she’s tumbled around the bed and jerked up to the ceiling. Crawling sticky blood up the flowery walls.

You hide again with an ‘Ick.’ Which prompts you to twist around and face him. You don’t do well with blood.

He very kindly lets you shield your eyes behind his hand. Rings warm on your skin.

Freddy’ll have to get through me first. Don’t you worry.

I’ll never let you sleep again, Munson. I will blast the loudest Motörhead in your ears. Okay?

Okay sweets. He winked.

You’d flown into swooning bits at the recollection of how you’d spent a great deal of time on that date, horizontal with Eddie’s warm nose buried deep in your neck. Or his tongue in your mouth. Spit wet lips, hoppy beer breath, and grinding hormones.

Later, much later, after two beers, his teeth and lips were plucking hickie’s at your collarbones and under your jaw. Mainly to distract you from Wes Cravens gore. But, funny how even when the movie ended, neither of you seemed to notice.

Too busy scrunching your hands in his messy hair and kissing him back hungrily. His hands smoothing up your back. Your legs curled open over the cradle of his skinny hips. Grinding into the clutch of yours. His hands were blazing hot on your ass where your skirt was rucked up. Fingertips slipping just-so, under the edge of your panties.

Whenever you hummed or moaned it made him smile. Made his hips jerk to yours. You were grinding on each other like this world would end soon. Entirely composed of rutting feel-good hormones for each other.

He pulled back because he was definitely popping a boner in those skinny jeans and you can’t lie either - you’re wet - you’re both very flimsy underwear barriers away from doing some very x-rated things.

He begs you that he doesn’t wanna be cumming in his pants like a ninth grader. You can’t deny with his hips grinding you like that it wouldn’t take much for your orgasm either. But, you both agreed, that for now, you’d keep it to second base.

All bets are off next time though, Pencils.

Deal. You grin back.

He sighed happily, blushed as a matter of fact, as you nudged a kiss under his ear.

You made out and ate and cracked jokes and chatted for what felt like hours. You tired the moon with your talking - and kissing. So much sparky hot kissing it stunned your lips numb.

You’d never get enough of the taste of Eddie. Smoke and beers on his tongue. Fake snap of chemical apple from his shampoo. Some distant lingering cedar and vanilla cologne that was definitely Wayne’s and had definitely been put on to impress you-

Hewalked you out to your car when time came for you to go. Leaving felt like a ripping pain. Like tearing layers of skin away. You kissed for ten minutes before you even managed to fumble blindly behind you for the door. He kissed you up against the door. Next to the door. All over you with your hands sunk and lost in his hair.

Don’t go I’m not done yet. As he cupped your face and waddled you up against the door - again.

Traffics bad this time of night, Pencils. Give it five if I were you.

I’ve heard a really bad storm is closing in.

Every time you levered apart, he was spinning you back with “Okay but how about one more, y’know, for the road…”

Then proceeded to melt you into another thought-stealing kiss.

Made you laugh into it when he palmed your car keys right out your hand whilst you were distracted by his tongue. And fully launched them over his shoulder.

They landed with a jingly thump over his shoulder on the malt brown carpet. He wrapped his arms around your waist even tighter. Muffled your protests onto the silky bed of his tongue. You moaned and curled your arms around him again.

Thinking of Eddie was definitely one part of your day that didn’t suck. That didn’t scrape rock bottom. It actually lifted you off your dragging heels a bit. Laced a spring in your step that you were careful not to let creep out too much around others.

You lose yourself to that, and into the jagged punk carnality, and let it be known Billy Idol’s sneering roar of a voice was a balm to you.

What didn’t help was that when you came to your locker, Linda was stood against it with the nuclear warhead of a mega-bitch that was Carol P.

They’re gaggled close and smirking about something. There should be a cauldron between them for the amount of shit-stirring and poison slinging they do. You’re thankful you can’t hear it. You turn up Rebel Yell just that tad louder.

Carol was the worst when it came to high school hierarchy. Not only an asshole but determined to drag that festering quality out of everything she touches. Withers the people she considers below her like dead leaves. Thought because she was giving blowjobs under the bleachers, and playing spin the bottle since seventh grade, that it somehow made her the epitome of cool.

You think that much like Linda, its just wearing a mask to cover over the craggy potholes and ultimate shallowness of their personality. They turn into mean, bullying people. Dog eat dog world of high school. Eat or be eaten and these are the pedigree girls with shiny hair, sharp teeth and bitchy smiles.

Really they’re just entirely composed of vanity and rot. Shallowness and arrogance entwined.

Linda barely acknowledges your emergence, as you open your locker and swap out an armful your books for the ones in your hands from an earlier class. You kept your headphones on, muffled the world away to rock music.

A hand shoots over your shoulder and annoyingly jerks on your headphones. Tugging them down the back of your head with a clatter. Making your heart flash fast at the jump of it.

You turn with a glare and see Tommy. H jaunt up to his girlfriend. Giving you a stupid grin. Sneering words back at you. “S’up, Pencil neck.”

Pencil Neck. Mother Mary. Those were some of the ingenious little pet names they had picked out for you.

Because you haven’t had sex and you aim for good grades, apparently this makes you worthy of freakdom in their rabid eyes.

Linda purses her lips a little. Smiles like it’s funny, them calling you that.

Carol barks out her shitty grating laughter. Tilts her head at you and those loose Farah Fawcett auburn curls dance around her snarky face. Popping neon pink gum and looking sly.

Tommy loops his arm around her neck. They stand and eye you like you’re something amusing. Freak show in town. Roll up for tickets.

“Original.” You bite back as you reach for your books.

“Ooh.” Tommy chirps at you. “Not in a friendly mood, are we.”

“My tolerance for vitriolic jackasses is limited.” You narrow your eyes at the pair of them.

You detest the way Carol scans you up and down. Judging your hand me down plaid, jeans and sneakers like you got them from a yard sale. Thinking you’re cheap trash, with a trampy single mom.

Just cause her manicured and caustic mother was the sales rep for a big cosmetic company, and she lives on the gleaming streets of Loch Nora, that it made her perfectly able to peer down her nose at the lower echelons.

She pops her gum with a snap looking at you. Then doesn’t even deign to pay you any attention. Looks towards Linda. A decided bitchy ally.

“You’re coming to the house party at Josh’s tonight, right, Martelli?” She grins as she chews loudly. Wet gummy clicks that get on your nerves. Raking an annoying knife up your spine.

You turn to your locker and ignore the bunch of cognoscenti assholes. You were ashamed to say that included your once fond friend among them.

“Sure I’ll be there.” Linda shrugs like it isn’t a golden gilded invitation handed over, direct from the Queen Bee herself.

“You’re gonna bring Jonny right?” Carol leers. Smile filthy. Like she wants to be the one sucking face with him, as opposed to her own boyfriend currently slung off her shoulder.

“If he can sneak out. His dads being a real dick at the moment.” Linda tells with a glum pouty tone.

“Sneak him out. It’ll be so fun. We got tonnes of beer. There’s bound to be some wet n’ wild fun in the pool.” She grinned all bright and naughty. Sticking her tongue out.

House party on a Tuesday night. These dicks really had nothing better to do than suck face, trash the place, or hump. Make a mess like silver back gorillas parading around in the zoo in their natural habitat.

Tommy decided to drag you back into this razor blade and lemon juice studded conversation. Oh joys.

“Probably not Pencil neck’s kinda evening.” He pouts sticking his lower lip out.

“She’s gotta be back in her convent by 9. Wimple on. Back home with her trampy mom like a good little girl.” Carol mocks in laughing. It’s shrill. Brings to mind a hyena.

Somewhere along the line, the fact your mom was mostly absent and single had become the butt of a joke to these people. Because you don’t live on Maple Street or dress like a Pat Benatar wannabe. You defend your ground in your paint spattered clothes, tatty jeans, and oversized hand-me-down plaid from Charlie, and tees from the goodwill.

It stung like acid each time they swiped and spit nasty words aimed at your mom. Needles pushed under your skin when they sniped their mockery.

You rose above it and grit your teeth. Even though it made you want to start swinging clenched fists. Real tempting to shove the wrong end of your paintbrush in carols stupid eye some days. Splat paint on her expensive jacket or jeans. Knock the books out her hands for once. The dream.

Tommy chuckles along. Carol loves pushing your buttons. It’s her defining character trait. Slamming down on them til they crack into spiderwebs like broken porcelain. It’s all she does best.

“I’m amazed you manage to walk like that what with your head being all the way up your ass.” You slam your locker and turn to talk to a very silent Linda.

“See you after third.” You offer blithely. She barely meets your eyes. Doesn’t answer. She shrinks down. Dumbly clings to her own silent cowardice. Shoves her hands in her pockets and looks at a scuff on her shiny white cavalier boots.

“Got bible studies?” Tommy jumps in quick to say.

You roll your eyes over, let his comment go unmatched. You didn’t have the energy for these two.

You heft your books into your arms and walk away. You hear their laughter and more snideness rips it’s razors at your back as you leave. More insults you don’t care to listen too.

You blast more Billy to blot them out. Forget about their stupidity as you head to the library. You hate the way they slide under your skin like it’s nothing.

You push through the doors and pad through the winding warren of the shelves. Thick carpet tiles muffled your steps. The overly harsh lighting almost buzzed above you. Students hunched hushed over tables, or scanning the stacks. A low thrum of noise and activity compared to the teaming hallways.

It’s a soothe for you. A harbour for you to switch your brain into a slow gear, push it into focusing on something else.

You find a table and set out your books and sketchbooks. Loop your bag on the back of the chair and get scouring through the arts section. You find a stack and pile it against your chest. Take them to your table and hunch over a legal pad. Madly brainstorming ideas for what you wanted to pick.

You settle and let the onslaught of your morning grow quiet. Meld as one into pages and passages. Art Nouveau with its goddesses, natural flowing forms and it’s mimicry of flowers under arched curves. The limpid neon minimalism of Dan Flavin and his light installations. Hockney and his searing blue pool paintings.

There’s so many influences crashing through your head. You skip from book to book. Unable to decide. Tapping the end of your pen against your chin. Raking hands through your lose hair.

You’re curled over a punk art book, looking at the ripped Jamie Reid images, jagged text and rude political satire sprayed and bastardised with paint drips, when something soft hits you on the side of your head, grazing by, and skittering down to your desk. Bouncing off your hand.

You twist back in your seat. Bewildered. Scanning the stacks and there’s nothing save for the usual soft footed librarians drifting around, with their glasses chains, sensible skirts, and hushed voices. The same few quiet kids sat at their tables, dotted around. Unmoved.

You frown and turn back around to the crumpled paper. You smooth it out and make out the chicken scratched words etched there. It was a note.

A love note. Etched in Violet sharpie. It sets a blaze in your chest.

Hey sweet cheeks. You look hot hitting the books. Making me jealous that they’ve got your undivided attention.

Signed it with an E with little sprouting devil horns coming off the top - as if he really needed to identify himself.

You smile when you suddenly feel the tickle of long dry hair feathering it’s tips at the back of your neck. Ringed hands drape for your shoulders. Cold rings even through your worn flannel. Smoke comes with him. Fresh too. He’d just had a cig break you’d guess. Reds curled new on cold leather and carried along with apple.

How was it the worlds nosiest metal-head with his jangly wallet chain and apparently limitless racket, could sneak up on you in absolute silence.

Materialising out of nowhere, like a suddenly gathering storm. Subtle as an earthquake. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. Inhaled deep like he was trying to drag you in via his mouth alone.

“There’s my little bookworm.” He hushes. Voice all trying-to-be-low and hissing. Rumbling down on your skull. Nuzzling his nose to your hair. Coconut. That Amber and Lavender perfume of yours. Clean luminosity of honeyed notes, and the plain spice of hearty lavender that drifts off you.

It’s dizzying. Consuming. He’s missed it the way a man could miss food and water.

“You threw paper at my head.” You faked mild insult.

Eddie leans up on his sneaker tip toes to peer over your head and catch onto the book that has you so engrossed.

“You looked very invested. How else was I supposed to get your attention.” Comes a clever curl of a grin.

It makes little flecks of gold stars shine and shimmer in those inky eyes.

His hand that landed heavy with a whump on your shoulder, curled up a knuckle and played with an idle curl of your hair. Cool fingers leaving sparks where he touched the nape of your neck.

“What are you doing in here, anyway? You know this is a library don’t you.” You tease him. Rotating in your seat. Gazing up at him. “Books. Studying.”

“Mistook it for something else. Won’t make that error twice.” He tells with that signature clever grin.

“Although it does have you in here, so I automatically like it very much, indeed.” He preens.

Your smile makes his spine slope into fuzziness and tingle all warm. Where his hand is on your shoulder, you edge and curl your fingers over his own. Lacing them through.

He wasn’t gonna be a complete letch and admire the way the twist of your body gaped the buttons of that oversized green and navy plaid you wore. Teased him with the silky valley of skin running downwards from your collarbones. Sternum. Bra. Tits. Your tits.

Okay he wasn’t gonna look, but he’s certainly thinking about it.

Those sweet slips of collarbones he’d been sucking and mouthing for eons long just the other night and was that-

That’s a hickie on your neck. From him.

His stomach trips and crashes into feral frenzy knowing he’s the one to have placed it there, in a rabid fit of horny hormones. Horizontal on his couch with hands all stuffed in tops or jeans, roaming in places that felt so so good.

Tongues fat with kissing and mouths smashing together, raw. Charred bodies grinding. Your fingers edging his stiff jeans zipper. His squeezing your tits through your top. Delightful touches that burned bliss through you like biting electric bolts. The muggy heat of breath on lips.

“That big beautiful brain of yours at capacity yet?” He asks. Swaying into the back of your creaking hard chair.

“I’ve yet to hear a pinging noise indicating it’s full.” You decided. Tapping your pencil down on your book.

“Can my bookworm take a break?” Eddie asks with a conspiratorial looking grin. You tip your head back and meet his gaze.

That ‘my’ warms your belly right though like bad cheap whiskey.

“Why would that be?” You ask cheekily. All lowering your lashes and peering all coquettish.

“Cause if you’re not at capacity yet. I think there’s a little more to learn.” He teases and his smile is all dirty dimples and schoolboy cheek.

He whirls back from your chair and pauses at the walkway between two bookcases. It hooks a smile right out of you when you watch him jerk his head in that particular, enclosed, direction.

Your smile grows, crawls across your lips and you keep your butt planted in your seat. “Gee. I don’t think I know what you’re getting at.”

“Need me to spell it out for you?” He asks with narrowed eyes and a wide wide grin.

You lean in said chair and cast your eyes towards the librarians. Who coincidentally have their backs turned to you. One at the desk, the other helping a freshman locate a physics book.

“I don’t know. Maybe if you could find it in book form and read it to me.” You rile. Poking him with a stick.

“Sure. Where’s that Biology section at.” He leans in and bites his lower lip and grips your sleeve. He doesn’t grip your skin with his rings. Worried they’d dig. Even when riled he’s still gentle.

Scrunching up his nose all silly as he’s yanking you out the chair. You laugh softly as you swing off the thing and slink after him.

You both pad silently down the row of bookcases. Eddie tugs you along to the end. Nestled into the crook with paper spines and a shelf digging in your back. The touch on your sleeve travels up your arm, he’s holding your forearm and then impressively smooth, he’s cupping your hip. Slings a finger in your jean belt loop - keeping you tethered to him.

“You going to reinforce a lesson for me. Munson?” You ask.

You rest your hands on his t-shirt. The almost threadbare black sabbath one that you could barely read the scratchy logo on it anymore. It’s almost flaked away. All that’s left is this beaten old black tee that hangs softly in creases off him.

“Yup.” And he pops the P. Staring at your lips. Thumb rubbing soothing circles on your worn plaid stomach. Soft aged flannel. “Gonna reinforce my brains out.” He decides.

“They say repetition is the best way to learn.” He adds. Flirty brow raised. Body flush to yours. Wrapping you in leather smoke and apples.

“And please don’t go hurting yourself on my account. I won’t allow it.” You say as you smooth a hand over the crazy hair beside his jaw. Stroking your fingers under that handsome cut of a jawbone.

You feel his nearness like a gut punch. Every damn time. Has you squirming in every single good way you can muster. This crush blazes so fiery strong. It’s swallowed you whole whilst you weren’t looking. You were too busy watching him smile.

You tip to him. Tilt to him. Up on your toes. Arms going for his neck. Circling around as his hands smooth across your belt loops and cup your hips. He rolls your bottom lip between his. Sucks you into this sloppy kiss as his hands cup you sacredly.

The moment you’ve both been longing for.

You’d never grow tired of kisses like these ones. It left a chasm when you pulled away from his lips on your date. And now again, finally, it’s like a cool clear sip of spring blue water after years of thirst.

Eddie nibbles your lower lip and it draws an unexpected squeak out of you. Plush and tongue and molten. He pulls back and his spit shiny smile liquifies your insides. Warm air puffs over your lips. “Careful pencils. Gotta keep it on the down low in here.”

You half heartedly whack at his chest with an open hand.

He sways with it. Sways into you. Barely noticed your nudge. He catches it with his own fingers, twining into yours. Through yours. Knuckles slot together. Fused. Your hand in his. He brings it up and rests your hand on his neck.

Drunk hazy eyes cast all whiskey puddle brown in yours. Soft as butter and he melts into you again. Nose brushing alongside yours. You taste like the fruity sour bite of chapstick and he’ll definitely chase some more of that fake nectar sweetness, thank you very much.

“How can I be expected to keep quiet when you kiss me like that?” You ask. Tilting in again, legs knocking into his as you press your lips to his in a slow smooch. Long, languid. Taking the kiss off his slanted mouth, honey smooth.

Your hand follows his lead. You cup his soft neck. Thumb brushing the join of his jaw. His hands rearrange themselves. Wandering to settle neatly. One bunching an arm around your waist. The other cups your head. Tilts your mouth to him so he can take and take and unleash on you more of these amazing, demanding kisses.

You should be caring how loud your making out is. Sloppy mouth sounds and little grunts he makes mixed with the thrill of your moans. It rises just a little above the din of the buzzing lights and the swipe of book pages being leafed over.

When you part again you gasp for breath and your knees are stunned into weakness. Your bodies are so close it’s pretty damn evident that soon you’ll be making noises you cannot hide in the whisper quiet library.

It didn’t help that the swelling hunger for more is prodding between your legs. As urgently as his own must be in those tight jeans. Every kiss is laced with a hunger that could proceed sex if you let it.

You really want to let it. You’re so ready to let it.

You exhale onto each other lips when you next part and take a huge pull of breath. Warm whispers sealed to mouths. Bodies tangled. Sure a book was jamming your spine, and the shelf behind you was not exactly sturdy. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered that wasn’t Eddie’s kiss bruised mouth aligned on yours.

“We should probably have another one of those date things soon. Don’t you think?” You ask. Fingers sneaking to his cheek to just touch his skin. A little stubbled.

“You reckon?” He smiles all slanted. Eyes twin honeycomb suns. You stare, stuck into them.

You’ve never seen such warmth leak out those expressively deep carob-eyes. You look at the entirely too long flick of his lashes: the raw pinkness of his cushiony lips. Entirely unfair how he was so pretty. It should be outlawed for a boy to look this pretty when kissed.

Really it was a danger to your health. Your school work would certainly suffer. Your essay sat screeching to be started from your desk.

“I really reckon.” You nod. Eddie swoops in and smooched a boyish charming peck onto your mouth almost in thanks. Pulls back from you with a wet smack.

“If you didn’t say it, I was gonna have to insist.” He teases. Stretches out the last word to almost a hiss so you know he means business.

You bite your lip. “Ok Mr. forceful. What did you have in mind?” You smile. Leaving your arms around his neck. To not touch him would be a stinging agony.

“Anything. So long as we can do this for a good 95 - 98% of the evening. I’m willing to negotiate on the exact percentage.” He asks. “But I would ask you wear that chapstick again.” He requests, no holds barred on the flirt, nudges his lips sweetly to yours.

The flick of his tongue on your lower lip makes your brain twirl and cloud. So naughty.

You kiss him quick. Yank his jacket. Pull back to speak which he pouts at you a little for.

“We could go see a Movie. Go to the arcade. Get ice cream. Go to the old quarry and 420 blaze it, and stargaze. The options are endless.” You say as your fingers find his and twist through. Knuckles stroking those worn metal rings.

“Arcade sounds good. Ice cream is a must.” He says, a little reticent. No one has ever asked him on a date. Much less delved into what he actually wanted to do on said date.

“Arcade and Ice cream it is.” You fix with a grin. “You’re easy to please.”

“Yeah but when it comes to ice cream toppings I’m very picky.” He sneaks forwards and kisses under your jaw.

You have to bite your lip cause he knows how it weakens you. Your gasp from the other night when he slipped his lips all over your jaw is etched interminably in his brain. His tongue traces a hickie he knows only all too well how it got there.

The tip of his nose brushes into anther hickie he’s just given to you. Devil boy. He knows very well what effect it has.

“Whipped cream, Cherries. Lots of cherries, sprinkles. The works.” He whispers all muggy hot into your neck.

“Gotta have cherries. Pencils.” He rasps inbetween heavy plucked kisses on your skin.

You shiver all over with the innuendo. He feels it ripple through you. The way your skin pimples with pleasure that pops, stringing along your veins.

You dig your nails into his hands cause holy shit. Every time you kiss you creep closer and closer to the idea of just slipping your hand inside those ripped jeans and going to town- that barrier of your willpower is being worn paper thin with every caress.

“All the cherries you want, pretty boy. Maybe afterwards we could take a, uh, scenic route up to skull rock and be fools, fooling around.” You smile.

It’s dizzying to him. That idea. Better than Colombia gold spreading all vibrant verdant green and dozy through his lungs.

“I’ll bring the jester hat, Mi’lady.” He flat out grins. It’s borderline Munson manic.

“Perfect evening.” You summarise. Shaking your head and eyeing his lips again.

“Perfect date.” He adds on. Biting his lower lip.

“My god. We’re corny. Even meatloaf would refuse to write a mushy ballad about us right now.” You joke. Hands still looped around his neck. Like hell would you wanna let go.

“Need some help with that essay?” He offers. Closing in for your mouth again.

“Mmhmm need all the help I can get.” You whisper. Barely a brush away from his gorgeous lips.

He kisses you again and it’s stunning. Births a wild jungle of fiery mush and kicked butterflies to rioting life in your belly.

“I promise to be such a huge help. You may not even need those books babe. Don’t you know I’m so brainy it’s unreal.” He wheedles at you.

“I never doubted your big beautiful mind even for a second.” You admit. Holding his chin as you lean in and kiss him solidly once more. Coaxing a lovely sounding whine from the back of his mouth when your tongue swipes his lip.

You drag him back out into the open. He goes - somewhat willingly.

Slips himself into the chair beside yours. Hands splayed over your books as he twirls a pen in his hand as asks you probing and philosophical musings about art.

Cubism. I’m sorry. C’mon? Those guys must’ve been on seriously good pills, man.

How about Constructivism then? You ask.

Gesundheit, pencils.

He scrawls some more devils and live hearts with your name, and leafs through another thick old book. The yellowed pages crack with age.

I got a new twisted sister tape. You should hear it.

I like watching you study. It’s freakin hot. You’re so brainy.

Hey, this chicks kinda neat. She looks like a character from Lord of the Rings or somethin’. He decided as he pawed over an Alphonse Mucha picture.

My favourite too. I love the way he uses colour. It’s dreamy.

You’re dreamy.

He laughs when you bite your lip and look bashful.

He will not stop shooting you a flirty smile as he doodles idly on your legal pad. Swirls big loopy letters of ‘I Love Eddie.’ And ‘Hellfire rulez’ and lots of demon faces, and skulls with horns. Lightning bolts and leathery bats.

His restless hands cannot be stilled. He steals a scrunchie from your bag, and it sits looped on his wrist next to his chain bracelet. Lilac borders leather. He makes no intention of giving it back. Magpie manners.

You make a face at him, asking how you’re supposed to tie your hair up for still life class after school.

“I like it loose and wild.” He says as he skims his eyes over your hair. Thumbs a piece back by your ear so sweetly.

You crook a brow. Smile tips lopsided.

He seems to realise that what he said can be taken an alternative way. “Well, no I uh, didn’t mean it like that.”

Your laugh spins his head into adoring craziness.

“Alright. Alright.” He consoles you by picking a W.A.S.P pin out his denim vest and leaning over to stud it into the collar of your plaid. Tongue bitten between his teeth as he concentrates. Fingers brushing your neck. Skin on skin contact leaving kicks and flutters that shoot stars in his wake.

You look down at it. The shiny metal gleaming in the buzzing light. “Okay, that is a worthy consolation.” You offer.

He makes you smile until your cheeks hurt, and you spend more time leaning into him and trying not to laugh too loud over discussing movies, favourite arcade games and music, than you do actually choosing your essay topic.

When the bell rings for next period you actually detest the thought of scurrying away to your Math class. Yet, Equations and trig beckoned.

Eddie walks you out the library. Opens the door all charming, waves a hand to gesture you on through first, like a true gentleman. You thank him and glide past with your books clutched to your chest.

The hallways are bustling but emptying fast. You twist back and tell him you’ll catch him later. Maybe at lunch.

He smiles that wide trouble-stroked grin. Clutched your hand and leaned down all showy to kiss the back of it and shoot you a dirty flirty wink, before he too whirled away.

You smile and it lingers on your lips even as you part. The press of it makes your whole arm come alive. You watch him for a scant moment before walking off down the corridor the opposite way.

You both look back over your shoulders after about five meagre steps away. Eddie gives you a melting grin, you return it. All eyelashes and beaming.

That grin said a lot. Dead giveaway. The hand kiss. The lingering and swirly body movements, not ever wanting to pull apart. Spoke volumes to those who bothered enough to really look and see it.

The feminine flash of a lilac scrunchie on Munson’s wrist. The telltale purple splotches of hickies hiding just below your collar. The heavy metal pin punched through your collar all shiny. Winking like a far off star.

Far enough down the hall that neither of you paid any notice, Jonny Lopez shut his cloud-grey locker door and leaned against it. Lake blue eyes swam cold. Watching the Freak practically skip away.

He saw him kiss your hand. Saw him pull you close by the corner of your plaid, reeling you in, and all warm smiles backed in flirting familiarity. Watched you beam back, and linger to chat a moment. Your hand laid on leather lapel, brushing at his chest.

It didn’t add up. It’s coming out odd to him. You and the Freak? Close? Since when?

He frowned and tugged his backpack on his shoulder.

Strange sight, that.

“Okay. Please please please for the love of god and on all things holy, don’t get weird.” You call out to your mom as you trudge down the stairs.

Not yet coming to the bottom but you could hear her rifling around in the fridge. Billy Joel’s Anthony’s song clunking out it’s piano notes from the stereo in the kitchen that she always has on when she makes dinner

Which is a strong term for when she just scrounges and grazes stuff out of there like a jackal. When she’s so dragged by jet-lag, she only has the energy to slam some pop-tarts in the toaster and throw back a beer for an evening meal.

She was most definitely not a baked ziti or a casserole mom. She overcooks tater tots, or survived on boxed mashed potatoes and a can of limp greens with some breaded frozen chicken.

More than once she’s resorted to a bag of chips for her dinner. Now you know how she stays so trim. And it’s true what she says about your older sister Charlie being the cook in the family, cause that trait had seemed to have skipped you and her, altogether.

After long haul flights like these, she’s usually all set to scarf a meal down in dribs and drabs and grab a beer, to fall asleep with, as her TV soaps blare on. More than once you’ve had to rush in and stub a Newport gold out her dead asleep hand. More than once she’s burned holes in the couch. Covered them up with a crocheted blanket.

Right now, she’s humming and tapping her toes as she eats cool whip out the tub with a spoon. Stood there in her indigo bootcut jeans and oversized cable knit sweater that slid off one shoulder. White and fluffy.

“Alright.” She calls back slowly. Digesting your words. “Colour me intrigued…” She turns the music right down for this. For whatever this was-

You round the kitchen doorway. And it becomes obvious.

Your wearing a dress, and the oversized box-back leather jacket that once upon a time, belonged to her. With rhinestones on the back that spelled out ‘rock n roll’ with a flaming skull underneath. You’d paired it with a red dress that clung and a nipping big white leather hoop belt stretched around your middle. Sneakers and white socks on your feet. Silver wet n wild on your eyelids. Liner and mascara. Your hair all fluffed and kinked

“You’ve joined a rock band? I want front row tickets. I like the jacket. Very Joan Jett.” She grins wide. The flash of that pearly perfect smile. No whiff of how it was hers that you’d poached for the evening.

“No.” You explain.

Her eyes pin you down. Widening under her shiny bangs.

“Intrigue.” As she lopsidedly and untidily stuffs more groceries into the fridge.

“Linda is dragging you to a… club? Or another trashy house party?” She asks.

“Wrong, again.”

“Ok, connect some dots for me cause I’m lost here.” She waves her hand at you as she unloaded tubs of ice cream into the freezer. Peanut butter chocolate chip.

“Don’t get weird.” You point a finger at her. She holds her hands up in surrender.

“Well, weird is my wheehouse kid. My basic operating system.”

“Mom.”

“So intense tonight.” She grumbles all chirpy.

“I actually have a date.“ You lay out.

She looks right at you as she lets the fridge door slam shut. Mouth gaping.

“A date?” She checks.

“Are you a parrot now, or what.” You tease.

“Look at you. Hiding your light under a bushel.” She beams. Hands on her hips.

“Boy or girl?” She asks, blinking.

“A boy. Mom.” You offer up. “But thank you for that.” You wave your hand at her.

“Hey. No judgement here babe. A date. My god.” She looks floored. Hand laying on her chest floored.

“Yes.” You respond. “Well. Actually to be honest, It’s kind of our second date. We had a movie night at his place last week.”

“Second date huh.” She waggles her brows at you like a dirty minded frat boy.

“Well, tell me how it goes. You can leave out all the gross- y’know.” Bringing her hand up to her face and making obscene wet kissing, slurping smacking noises. Cooing at you across the kitchen.

“You are four years old.” You narrow your eyes at her. She grins.

“Do you need me to feed you and put you to bed before I go?” You jest tiredly as you walk to the hall. Check your hair yet again in the mirror.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just be sticking my fingers in the electrical sockets and running with scissors here, totally unsupervised.” She jokes. Picking a rogue hair off the back of your jacket.

“Guess I’ll just have to sit on the couch and watch reruns of Golden Girls on my own. Eat sad Beefaroni and be a tragic spinster mom.”

“Do so quietly.” You wave off.

When you move to get your shoes: she follows. You have a shadow, apparently.

“So this booooyyy- honey tell me about the boy.“ She grins all giddy. Leaning against the door and swaying her body like a preeny high school girl.

Like she should be twiddling pigtails with a lollipop in her mouth. Candy saccharine sweet.

“Is he on the team?” She seeks. And then gasps. “Is he gonna give you his letterman jacket if you get cold?” She clasps her hands and her voice teeters all high and romantic-like.

“Yeah. Then he’s taking me and Rizzo to the sock hop in his Studebaker and then onto some racing for pinks.” You joke with her archly.

“My god. You got your penchant for dragging sarcasm from me.” She pointed out. Unhelpfully. Shoving you half heartedly in the shoulder for being smartly rude. Beer now in her other hand as she drapes herself against the kitchen doorway.

“Not a letterman then?” She scrunches up her nose. She knew well of your distastes.

“If he was I wouldn’t be touching him even with gloves on, and ten f oot pole.” You insist as you make sure you’ve got everything in your purse.

“Less Steff McKee, more Duckie. I got it.”

You smile at the way she’s phrased it. Whatever Eddie was he was definitely way more Duckie territory.

“So he’s not a jock, alright. That narrows it down. Is Duckie atleast cute? Or am I gonna have ugly grandchildren.” She asks.

“Mom.” You hiss with skated laughter as you fluff your hair in the mirror. She winced suddenly.

“It’s not Keith from the Arcade is it? Cause he’s always been sweet on you. You went in last time and I swear he was drooling over you in your Talking Heads tee.”

“It’s not Keith.” You answer nicely. You liked Keith, but he could be sleazy, and a catty kind of mean, and had a bigger chip on his shoulder than you when it came to the preps and jocks.

Plus he would literally date any girl with a pulse that breathed his way. Besides, he was way way deep into crushing on Nancy Wheeler territory.

You exhale into the mirror. Wondering if the sweet sheen of lipgloss was too much. If you should rethink these earrings. You’re a mess. It’s all whirling around a stubborn coil of packed nervousness in your stomach. A fever twist.

“What you kiddos getting up too? Something salacious? Gonna knock off a liquor store? Go to Wild biker parties with lots of vomiting and sex?”

“We’re going to the arcade and grabbing some junk food. Sadly, I don’t think I’ll have time to work a teen pregnancy or a vomit sex party into the mix.”

“Now see here, Mama didn’t raise no quitters.” She salutes towards you with her beer before she swigs back a sip. You know she can’t resist delving a little more into the nitty gritty details.

“What’s he like. Your Duckie. Blonde, tall, short, fat, thin, dark, athletic. Is he in the chess club? Is he trouble? Does he have a motorcycle or a criminal record?” She’s tapping your arm with the back of her hand as she keeps thinking of more things to ask you.

“All good if relentless questions.” You temper her rambles. “You may need to cool it with the Pretty in Pink references.” You chuckle.

“Spill spill.” She encourages.

“Less chess club, more DND club.” You tell her. Fiddling with the earrings. Definitely deciding to take them out. Untangling them from your hair.

She’s gets very excitable about that prospect. “Is he nerdy hot…” She gets close and rasps at you all low.

“Yes. The orthodontic headgear from his braces, combined with his pressed slacks, Mmmm, really gets me going.” You lie.

She smiles wider. You’re all snippy sarcasm and fluffing hair and you keep peering past her at the banana yellow cat clock with the wagging tail and rolling eyes in the kitchen.

“You’re nervous.” She hits the nail right on the head. Rubs your arm up and down. Cups your shoulder.

You let out a deep breath. “Correct.” You tell her.

You can’t lie to your mother. She’s a human lie detector when it comes to you. She’ll sniff it out of you like those bomb dogs at the airport. One whiff and she’s all over it.

“You must really like this mystery nerd Huh?” Shecomes over and strokes the hair spilling down the back of your neck.

You meet her gaze. You scrunch your nose with a kinda giddy smile you can’t hide bursts across your face. “I really do.”

“Why haven’t I heard anything about him you sneaky thing… you been holding out on me? I mean, I know my being out the country isn’t conducive to mother-daughter late night talk over a tub of ice cream… but-” She wonders. Idly playing with the bangs framing around your forehead. The soft yellow light from the cheap yellow flicks off the fine French manicure sleekly and pretty pink on her nails.

“Recent development. I haven’t been holding anything back from you. Promise. You’d root it out even if I did. Not to mention the guy turning up on the doorstep would be a big tip off.” You suppose.

“There is that.” She nods. Standing her beer down on the hallway table. Coming up behind you and idly rearranging your hair where you’d mussed it.

“Any pearls of wisdom I need to give you? Do you need the talk again of where babies come from.” She plays around.

Give her ten ways to say something serious and she’d still be clowning around.

That actually makes you laugh. You meet her solid gaze in the mirror. It’s so warm. It’s like sun skating on emeralds. The crinkled corners of the eyes that are entirely more hazel than yours.

You’d always thought she was the pretty exception. Pearly smile. Dazzling eyes. It didn’t help that Charlie got her stunning silky hair and piercing eye colour too. You got the frizz and the freckles and the big hips. The hair that more belonged on a wiry messy dog. That never laid nicely or did as it was told.

“Is my hair bad? I used too much product. It’s too frizzy. ” You wince as you ask her. Faffing with it still around your ears.

“No. Baby. It isn’t.” She tells you softly with a grin that’s circling somewhere proud and awed. She puts her hands on your shoulders.

Growing up she taught you that women didn’t need to be only pretty to get by. She’d remind you how you were stunning in your unique way and it was entirely up to you what way you made it.

When toxic high school mixed with the uncertain churning of puberty, she was there to reinforce the idea that you could be brainy, and take up space, and spit and shout, bare your teeth, and throw punches and be gritty, all that- be a fierce Amazonian of a woman. Be wonder woman. Be a sultry sizzling Marilyn. Be whomever you wanted-

“You gonna let me meet Duckie when he gets here?” She asks.

“Well, actually, I was gonna lock you in the attic.”

Her mouth gapes. Offended. “What, like I’m suddenly a Kennedy.”

“Tough choice when you’re a Kennedy. How do you even chose which one in the family to hide in the attic.” You ask dead serious.

She closes her eyes and exasperatedly makes a fist with one hand.

“Ok, kid, we’re veering off topic here. Can I meet him, please? C’mon I will only say two embarrassing things tops.” She grins. Holding her fingers up to signal the two things.

“Don’t explode all over him with questions. He’s nice.” You promise.

“Baby, he’s dating you. Of course he’s gonna be nice. I like to think I raised you with standards.”

“You did think I was dating a jock up until two minutes ago.” You level at her.

“Touché my sweet.” She holds a finger up and gives you an invisible tally mark.

“No interrogations either.” You add.

“I’ll put my interrogation lamp away. And no explosions. Promise. Internal implosions only.”

“Try not to be- y’know? Your usual level of insane?”

“Why. He’s not here to date me. I shouldn’t have to hide my eccentricity in the comfort of my own home.” She mocks, looking evil.

“Good grief.” You sigh as you double triple safety sure check you’ve got everything in your purse. Candies. Lip smacker. Money. Coin change for the arcade machines. She leans over and peers into your purse

“Condoms are in the bathroom cabinet by the way.” She winks before tipping back more beer.

“Right. No to that.” You snap. “Go get in the attic. Now.” You tell her with no evident humour. Snapping your fingers and pointing up the stairs.

She pokes her tongue out at you in a very mature move.

You twist to the direction of the door when you hear a clunky rumble of something that was definitely a van engine, music all shredding shriek and rock heavy, easing to a stop. And then the thump of a door.

She practically inhaled all the air in the house when Eddie does one of his fumbly music-riff knocks on your front door. Deep Purple, you reckon.

“I think your nerd hath arriveth. Mi’lady.” She beams.

Claps her fingers together in overdone excitement. Trying to gawk through the blurry glass in the front door to make out his general shape.

Fuck. Now this is all so real and your stomach is clenching, doing those gravity defying swoops like it’s trying to take off without you.

You fluff your hair one last time and step to the door across the spongey purple entryway rug. You take a deep breath. Palm clammy and slipping on the doorknob. You twist it open.

Eddie breaks into a sunshine stroked grin the other side when he sees you. It melts you. Makes something inside glow coal hot at the sight of him again.

He’s wearing his jacket with a Van Halen tour tee. Faded wings of an eagle and band name crackled on old wash grey. The usual ensemble of chains and ripped jeans. But you see the new sight of fancy polished combat boots.

Wayne had made him sit his bony butt down for five seconds and polish them before he whirled out the door to come get you.

“A man takes pride in his shoes when taking a young lady out on a date, Edward.” As he gruffly handed him a shoe brush. Gestured with a lit red in the other hand.

Full name. Serious. Scary.

“Listen I need to get going if I’m gonna make it out of the Victorian Era on time.” Eddie sassed. Elbow folded up. Checking his Casio.

Wayne pushed the brush into his hand. Slammed the silver pot down in front of him. The claggy thick smell of polish coming from the well used army tin he had sat on the counter. Face as stoic as an Easter Island head. He wasn’t taking any bull.

“Less cheek. Get buffing.”

“Child labour has been outlawed you know.”

“Not in the Victorian Era it hasn’t.”

Eddie did as his Uncle ordered. Now here he is.

Smelling like cologne, cigarettes and the unmovable sticky tinge of dark boot polish. Hair having had a briefly tangled

liaison with a comb.

He’s chewed gum the whole way here worried about his smoky acrid breath. Piece after piece shoved into his mouth. Sharp spearmint spiking the bed of his tongue. It didn’t settle the squirming worms in his stomach. Nor the tap of his newly polished shoes in fidgeting.

“Hey.” He smiles. Nervously tucking his hands in his back pocket. His jacket jangles. The chain around his hip and his bandana sways with him as he stands on your porch.

“Hey yourself. You look nice.” You beam back. There’s an undeniable allure in your pretty face. Honey gold smile skated in shiny gloss. He equates to something like pure magic.

“Ditto, Pencils.” He smirks. Veiled flirt. Not letting himself get too eager with it. His eyes flick up your dress, down your legs, and back up.

Holy shit. Good doesn’t even begin to cover how you look right now.

You also cannot ignore the lingering looming presence of your mom as she practically leaps into his eye-line behind you. She’s utterly vibrating with excitement. You can sense her just jiggling with it.

She sidles up behind you and shoves herself into the gap you’ve left in opening the door.

Whatever he was expecting of your mom, he certainly didn’t imagine this whirlwind of a woman behind you.

She’s young too. Must’ve had you in her late teens. Not stuffy. No silent husband like a fixture in an easy boy chair in the living room. Silently scathing with disapproval. She’s not sporting a beige cardigan and a constant threat of neighbourhood watch association snobbery. Sneering at Eddie on her porch like he’s a flea infected stray, yowling at her door.

There’s no way in hell anything resembling stuffy could cling to this woman.

Fierce hazel eyes traced with crows feet, shiny dark hair all free-wild and choppy. She’s old movie star kinda striking. That Colgate grin touted about in the 1950’s. One he recognises as the one that closely and genetically mirrored yours.

Boot cut jeans and a pearly smile and a big fluffy sweater and denim jeans. Entirely mad and friendly and she’s only met him two seconds ago. Some punchy shredding ZZ top blasts from the kitchen and something tells him that’s all her taste too. As well as pair of violet rhinestone cowboy boots sat by the doormat. Whacky.

He thinks how wildly accurate it is that this busy bright, kinetic energy ball of a woman, raised an unconventional and awesome girl like you. That’s no leap there.

“It is so nice to meet you. Duckie.” She out and out grins. You give her one of your looks.

Eddie chuckles. A little lost. “Duckie?” He asks.

“Her grip on sanity is loose at best.” You explain.

She elbows you in the the hip as she takes the grin down to a less terrifying notch. “Ok. Ugly grandchildren are struck off the list. He’s adorable. Look at those Bambi eyes.”

You really wish you had locked her in the attic. She’s exploding all over the poor boy.

“She’s loopy when she’s off her meds. And around new people.” You sigh to him. It gets an easy smile. Buffs the nervous look away.

“Mom this is Eddie. Eddie, I’m so sorry, this is my Mom.” You introduce. Skating a hand to the woman chomping at the bit behind her shoulder.

“Don’t you say sorry for me.” She slithers her arm through the gap you’ve left in the door. Fluffy jumper all cable knit bobbled and fuzzy. She’s a wave of zingy energy smelling like smoky Newports and designer Yves Saint Laurent perfume.

He shakes her manicured offered hand. “It’s very nice to meet you. She’s told me only good things.”

“Then she’s totally been lying. Edward. A pleasure. I’m Veronica but please don’t call me that, everyone calls me Ronnie. Awesome awesome shirt by the way.” She beams as she peers around the door. Releasing his hand from hers. “Like your metal huh?” She asks.

She perched her hands on the doorframe and stuck her head into this pick up between the two of you.

“Only with my oxygen, food and water.” He jokes. A little of his truer wide smile comes sneaking out. Now he knows there’s no need to stand on awkward shuffly doormat ceremony with your parent.

Because he knows he isn’t a meet the parents kinda guy.

He’s the guy parents ring Principal Higgins about. With distaste sour, and judgement nastily spewing off their tongues. He’s tatted, he’s a cheap weed seller, he’s crazy and scraggy weird, and he lives in a trailer park. Stamp mark of future-convict hovered heavy and eternal over his head.

He’s a jump out the window, hide in the closet kinda guy. No one would ever bring him home all hair combed and sparkly clean, pressed button down, to mom and pop, for a meatloaf dinner. Cause he’s no one to be proud of.

Yet here? Perhaps in the eyes of the most unconventional mom in all of Hawkins, something has shifted.

Something feels like it’s been spun off its axis and set down wrong, cause this bubbly woman is smiling at him and excitedly prodding her daughter out the door to go on their date. And maybe she is insane. As you said.

Talk about falling down the rabbit hole. Punctured through the splintered looking glass. He’s not high, but he could swear on seeing white rabbits and mad hatters right about now. It’s fucking nice. He’d never have expected this funky curveball in coming to pick you up.

“Edward? Eddie?” She asks.

“Eddie is fine.” He offers. Nodding, as he slips his hands into his pockets. Self conscious move, even though he didn’t need to be.

She widens her smile. “Where abouts you from? I know DND club and the fact you’re a white male in high school. Other than that I’m out. She’s been stingy with details.” She jerks her thumb at you.

His tongue shrivels up. She’s tolerated him so far. Maybe this is the sour turning point that will tip the introduction on its head.

“I live in Forest Hill’s with my Uncle. My folks, uh aren’t around.” He tells with a tone she can tell is used to receiving nasty scratchy criticism. Eyebrows raise and moods change when he’s said that before.

She nods. Her smile doesn’t leave. Doesn’t even drop.

“Honey. I grew up in paradise trails mobile park in Sloan Nevada. Don’t sweat it. Doesn’t make us lepers.” She shrugs.

Like it didn’t just wash a whole wave of unease aside in his chest.

“People in this town seem negatively charged when I tell them that’s where I live.” He admits with a big clown smile. Your heart bleeds at the true reverence in his tone.

“People in this town, are snooty assholes.” She chuckles wisely.

Debbie Harry is throatily singing one way or another from the stereo in the kitchen now.

“You done grilling my date?” You ask her with a sickly smile.

“If you stick around, there will be a follow up round where I fetch your baby pictures. And invite him in for a beer.” She threatens. Eyes widening. Kubrick crazy.

“Bye Mom.” You say as you step out the door to join him on the porch. She catches it where you’ve left it open. Calls out as you stand in the clear night listening to the cicadas hum and the street lights buzz and blink into sleepy orange. You leave her chuckling.

“Wise move. Now scram before I dust off my pipe, And my old ‘what-are-your-intentions-towards-my-daughter’ queue cards.” Your mom winks at you.

“Enjoy your night, crazy lady. Go feed the cats.” You answer, calling back over your shoulder as you sling your hand into Eddie’s lapel and pull him across the lawn.

“Let’s get away from this house of lunacy.” You tell him.

He stumbles after you waving a goodbye to your mother. Almost tripping over his boots.

“Home by midnight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. No 420ing it without me.” She calls out to you.

Eddie chuckles as you bring him down your front lawn. Sneakers brushing the grass alongside the gentle thuds of his foot falls. Your hand migrated to holding his.

“That’s your mom.” He states. Sounding dumbfounded.

“I know. I should’ve warned you. She’s a whole new spin on the word eccentric.” You offer.

“She didn’t bark at me to get off her porch like I’m some stray, Pencils. That’s a hell of an improvement versus the reaction I thought I’d get.” He says as he looks down.

Avoiding stepping on the dandelions that are scattered across your lawn all yellow and happy. Just trying to grow upwards and peep at the sun.

You slope your fingers through his. He looks up and gazes at you as you fall in step.

“As insane and untethered to planet earth as she is, she’s really not like other moms around here. She likes you already, probably on sight of the Van Halen tee.” You tell him with smiling weight to your meaning.

His grin lopes across his face.

“She’s cool y’know. No stuffiness. No essence of church on Sunday is the law and green bean casseroles.” He nods. He likes it. He really does.

“She had my sister Charlie when she was a teenager. Me a couple years later. Possibly too young for the likings of the pissy bible study moms in this town. She dropped out of Berkeley. Parents chucked her out. She worked three crappy jobs whilst raising us and coping with my deadbeat dad, always hoping for a little better and, being, well, as you saw, entirely unhinged.” You gestured to your house.

“And…” You add. “She’s not a green bean casserole person. She stinks at cooking even by her own admission. Thankfully, we have Charlie for that. She’s the domestic one.”

Eddie smirks. His smile is pure warmth. “You guys are close, though. Tight knit. It’s cute.”

“I love that she’s not a run of the mill mom. Growing up, others didn’t tend to be as kind about it. They see a single parent, they immediately go to trashy, trampy, drunk, who doesn’t give a shit.” You roll your eyes.

Genuine hurt backs your voice though. “They set her and me aside cause we’ve always been different. We don’t have tonnes of money or a fancy house.”

And who knows that better than Hawkins own freak?

He squeezes your fingers. Warm rings all marking their usual grooves in your skin. A thorough loving squeeze that makes your heart go pattering all soppy in your chest.

“People are assholes. So I’m reliably told.” He parrots as he brings to you both to the passenger side of his van. Rings clack on the handle as he gets the door for you.

You stand and smile. “People are assholes. Look at the unfair bad rep they give you.” You point out.

He shrugs. Smirking. “What can I say? My handsome face and awesome personality protects me from total infamy.” He grins all

cheesy.

Yanking open the van door with a hand and turning his palm up to you.

“Here now, I was prepared for a little infamy. Munson. Are you telling me I’m gonna be disappointed?” You smirk as you step up close.

Eddie’s poor little rabbit heart flashes fast with the way your dress is kinda, pretty well low cut. And skimming and squeezing every beautiful curve. When you step close he can smell perfume and cherry gloss and all things sexy sweet.

You’re looking at him directly. Eyes smouldering under your eyeliner and wet n’ wild silver glitter. Angling for a kiss that he’s happy to give you til his lips damn well fall off.

He leaves the van door open. Steps you back just a little. Nudged your hips back to the body of it.

“Think I’m flirting with bad company here.” He smiles. Traces his nose along yours.

“Doubtlessly. Wanna back out now?” You ask in a husky whisper against his mouth. Hearts racing. Pulses whipping fast. Lust stirs.

His chest may implode but he’d be fine with that. Atleast he’d die kissing you. What a way to go-

“Yeah. I’m running for the hills here.” He teases. Cupping your neck and gingerly laying his fingers over your hip. You stroke hours through his long black vines of soft tousled hair.

Then he’s leaning all the way in to kiss you properly, so firmly and urgently on the mouth. Languid spearmint tongue tasting sharp and delicious, playing with your lower lip. You tug him in by his leather collar. Loving the way his body leans against yours. You moan softly.

Maybe you should’ve taken the freakin condoms after all?

Beyond the kissing, you barely hear your front door whine as it’s cracked open. Your mom hollers across the lawn with her beer in hand, and makes the dog down the street bark it’s damn head off.

“Gross. Get a room!”

You pull apart and he can’t help bursting into a smile.

“Let’s leave here. Please.” You ask of him. He can’t contain his blushy laughter.

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