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beom1e · 8 months

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come home tonight

this, of all things, was supposed to work. that’s what you told yourself, repeated in your mind every night as you sat alone in the half-empty bedroom, every possession of beomgyu’s now missing. it was always going to be him for you. why didn’t he feel the same way?

pairing choi beomgyu x fem! reader

genre long-term relationship, lovers to exes, angst, slight fluff

warnings breakup, cursing, signs of depression

at the start of adulthood, you grew to love the year’s end.

the cold air would bite at the tip of your nose and your cheeks, and as much as you could hate it, the reddened skin was a sweet reminder of the season. it was cold enough to have a few extra blankets on your bed and maybe a hot water bottle too, and then to wake up and slip on some fluffy socks and a cosy hoodie. there was imagery of orange leaves and shades of brown coming into fashion, hot drinks rising to the top of the menu and a warm meal in a cosy cafe replacing the ice cream in the park cliché of a passing summer.

people came together for so many celebrations, families being reunited and the larger population becoming more generous in favour of the seasonal charities. a wave of students would move away from their childhood homes, only to return shortly after for a loving dinner around the table and matching pyjamas and movie marathons.

you especially loved october. halloween, pumpkin, scary movies, autumn fashion, pie, soup, knitted jumpers. and you had met the love of your life then, a random october evening on what had seemed like just another ordinary day.

every year, you had to buy decorations for your dorm, both arms holding heavy bags but you were totally unbothered due to your childlike excitement. and that was when one of the bags had broke open, everything falling to the ground at your feet in a mess of orange, purple and brown decor.

the kind stranger had rushed over to help you, collecting decorations in his arms before they could roll off onto the road. that was the day you had fallen for beomgyu’s smile and stubbornness to help you carry everything home. he teased you about your love for the annual holiday, admitting he had no plans to decorate his own dorm. so of course you offered to help him do it, and the innocent trip to a decoration store with him quickly became your first date of many.

he reminded you so much of the colder months. when you could see your breath in the air, the way the wind blew your hair forward into your eyes, wool hats and thick boots, grabbing a bite to eat from the nearest hot food truck. despite his bright personality, he had always been the calm autumn after the hectic summer in your eyes.

and, inevitably, he was how you grew to hate the year’s end.

october 11th,

‘soobin’s halloween party is coming up,’ beomgyu called from the kitchen, over the sound of water running and filling up the glass in his hand. ‘do you want to come with me?’

‘sure,’ the tap was turned off in time for your reply. ‘do you want to come with me to pick up some decorations?’

‘what’s the point?’ he turned into the living room, sipping from his water. you turned back to look at him, a costume magazine in your hands. ‘i mean, if we’re not throwing a party and won’t actually be home for halloween, why do we need to decorate?’

‘it brings me comfort,’ shrugging, you turned back to your magazine and folded the corner of a page that interested you. beomgyu leaned over the back of the sofa to see what you were looking at, a scoff escaping his lips. ‘what’s wrong?’

‘don’t you think we’re a little too old to be dressing up for halloween?’ his tone was mocking, one that you really didn’t care for. in all the time that you had known your boyfriend, he had never been against letting you celebrate halloween in the way that you loved. the shift in his attitude was a telltale sign that something was up.

‘we’re not going to cut eye holes into bedsheets, beomgyu,’ you shot back. ‘we can be a couple from a famous horror series or something. like sabrina and harvey, for example.’

‘why don’t you just get some cat ears and wear all black?’ he rolled his eyes, moving around the couch to sit beside you.

‘is there a problem?’ snapping the magazine closed, you leaned and tossed it onto the coffee table. ‘we’ve done this for the past three years. why do you have an issue with it now?’

‘i just think it’s a childish idea,’ he explained. ‘most girls dress like a playboy bunny, or just find any excuse to wear leather.’

‘so my sabrina and harvey suggestion wasn’t slutty enough for you?’ the look of utter annoyance painted your features. ‘let’s come back to this when you’re done being an asshole.’

october 14th,

the call went to voicemail again. you huffed, placing your phone face down onto the kitchen table that you were sitting at. beomgyu hadn’t picked the phone up in hours, nor was he answering your texts or showing any sign that he was coming home soon. after the small fight the two of you had a few days ago, he began avoiding you as if it had been all your fault.

you thought that things would change for this particular night.

around thirty minutes after the last attempt to call him, the door into your apartment clicked open. in came the topic of your thoughts, phone in hand and screen brightened due to movement. clearly he was just ignoring you, and had no genuine reason to avoid your calls.

‘oh,’ he looked up, taking in the sight. you’d set the table with candles and wine glasses, cold food untouched on your best plates. guilt consumed him when he remembered that it was your third year anniversary, and he had been a jerk to you all day. ‘i’m sorry, y/n, i was just busy and forgot what today was.’

‘ok,’ you replied simply, arms still crossed against your chest. it was your mission to avoid his eyes, because you knew you would forgive him if you were to take in his gentle features. and that was the last thing you wanted. ‘i’m going to bed. clean this up for me, yeah?’

beomgyu watched you exit the kitchen and go into the bathroom. you were wearing a dress he had bought you for one of your birthdays, one that he told you was his favourite. your hair and makeup had been done to perfection, and yet there stood beomgyu in jeans and a t-shirt and nothing prepared for you. no gifts, no surprises, not even a ‘happy anniversary’ wish or a bouquet of ‘i’m sorry’ flowers.

‘y/n, wait,’ he followed quickly behind you, pulling the bathroom door closed before you could open it all the way. ‘i messed up badly, i know, but i want to make it up to you.’

‘are you going to build a time machine so that you can go back in time and actually remember our anniversary?’ you laughed bitterly, shooting him a glare. ‘can you just get out of my way?’

he removed his grip on the handle, stepping aside. once inside the locked bathroom, you slid down to the floor so that you were sat with your back to the door and your head in your hands. did he not love you anymore?

‘i know you don’t want to talk to me right now,’ he continued on from the other side of the door. ‘i was an asshole. i started the fight and let you take the blame for it, and i didn’t even remember our anniversary, but you did all of this for me even though you were still angry at me. i’m so sorry, y/n, and i don’t expect you to forgive me.’

‘good, because i don’t forgive you,’ you whispered, tears threatening to fall. ‘i think i’m going to stay with a friend for a while… just until i can face you again.’

‘y/n, please don’t do this,’ beomgyu rested his head against the door, eyes closing in defeat. ‘please don’t leave. i’ll go… i’ll go stay with yeonjun for a week… to give us both some time to cool down and think.’

‘if that’s what you want,’ sighing, you wiped away at your tears. ‘and i won’t be going to soobin’s party.’

‘i wasn’t expecting you to,’ he frowned, lifting his head from the door and pushing away from it. ‘i’m sorry, y/n. seriously, this was all my fault.’ the floorboards creaked beneath his shoes as he walked away. that was your cue to get ready for bed, while he silently cleaned up the kitchen.

after you showered and changed into some warm pyjamas, you headed straight for bed without a worry about what beomgyu was doing. it was clear to you now that he had finally fallen out of love with you.

the hours you had spent making him his favourite meal, the expensive gift you left waiting for him on his bedside table, the dessert still sitting in the centre of the oven, the smile on your face as you found a ribbon perfectly matching the colour of his favourite dress of yours. that was the evidence. he didn’t even care, clearing everything away and spending the final hour of daylight in the living room alone. it was over.

october 15th,

it felt wrong. it felt empty. you’d spent the entire night tossing and turning, something in your muscles and joints and bones aching and preventing you from peacefully drifting off. when you woke up, beomgyu was already watching you with hurt in his gaze. if not for the painful connotations, it would have been sweet. two lovers waking up side-by-side in their shared bed, his eyes scanning over her features. except he was wondering where it all went wrong, and not how he got so lucky. he wanted to speak, but he had nothing left to say.

you rolled over to face away before making the move to get out of bed. the bedroom door closed loudly behind you after you disappeared. he sat up after, looking around the room filled with so many memories of the two of you. he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t ready to lose you just yet.

so he hurried after you, meeting you in the kitchen as you made yourself a morning coffee. you had this unmoving expression on your face, but your eyes were sad.

‘i don’t want to run away to yeonjun’s,’

‘i think we should break up,’

‘y/n, no,’ beomgyu was stubborn, that was one thing you had learned about him during your relationship. whether it was getting the last word in or completing a difficult level on the game he was playing, he wouldn’t give up until he got it. ‘we don’t have to break up to fix this, i want to be with you.’

‘no, you don��t,’ you mumbled, sniffling. he hurried to pull you into his arms, not wanting to see you cry if he was the reason behind it. ‘you don’t love me anymore.’

he didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t even sure if what you had said was true or false. he just let you cry in his arms, tears stinging at the corners of his own eyes as his t-shirt began to soak through. falling out of love was nobody’s fault, it certainly wasn’t his decision. he would never choose to lose you.

it felt like hours before he let you go. the grip you’d had on the material of his shirt left behind creases in two places, some of your hair stuck to your neck from where his head had been buried, tears of his own having inevitably fell.

but after the moment you shared, beomgyu was packing a week’s worth of things into the suitcase you’d taken to jeju last year and you were sitting in the middle of your bed with your knees to your chest. you had promised each other forever and you were willing to give him forever. how could he lose interest in you in just three years? how could he fall out of love with you when you were still so enamoured with him?

the very place you were coexisting in was the home you had built from the ground up. it was just a rented apartment — one that had seen many couples alike come and go — but you had made enough memories in it to make it feel special. the night you moved in, your first anniversary, all of the movie nights under rainfall, the talks you had about growing old together forever. memories that had been locked into the walls and the windows and the couch and the bedsheets. and as you stared at the person who you had created all of the memories with, you felt them all slipping away from you.

all you could feel was anger, embarrassment and heartache.

‘call me if you ever want to talk,’ beomgyu was standing in the doorway then, inches away from leaving your shared home. ‘i promise i’ll pick up every time you call.’

you only nodded weakly, your hand holding the door open being the only thing keeping him inside. neither of you knew what to say. how do you say goodbye to the love of your life?

once the door was closed, he was gone. you didn’t know what the future held for you both, whether he was ever going to come back and beg for you to let him stay. or would you slowly fall out of love with him in the same way that he had fallen out of love with you? maybe this was all a mistake and you were going to laugh about your time apart with friends in the future as they sat around your table in the kitchen with you. but only a fool would believe that.

october 24th,

the first week without beomgyu, you didn’t call. he wasn’t active on social media and he didn’t try to contact you either. it was a week to yourself, time for you to work on personal affairs and find happiness outside of your relationship. at the end of the week, he came back to pick up some more things. he didn’t drop to his knees and beg for another chance, he didn’t even ask if you wanted him to come back. you were walls apart as he washed some clothes and made a snack before packing up most of his stuff and walking out.

all you could do was cry into the pillow that still carried his scent that was slowly fading. the motivation to take care of yourself faded with his presence. you called in sick to work, cancelled on all of your friends, you barely even left the bedroom. if he was to show up again like that, out of the blue, you wouldn’t be able to face him.

november 17th,

weeks turned into a month and soon it was an apartment that was half yours and half nobody else’s. all of the bills had been switched to your name, not even the netflix subscription under his name anymore. the bedsheets and pillows had been washed of his scent completely. all he was to you was an untouched contact in your phone, the last few texts displaying arrangements for him to come pick the rest of his things up the night before halloween.

nobody broke up with anybody, you assumed he called it quits the first night he spent at his friend’s house. you told everyone it was a mutual agreement to break up, they hardly pitied you that way. some would apologise for bringing it up and give you that sympathetic frown, others would claim you weren’t right for each other, but they were wrong. he was the one for you, you’d been sure of that ever since the day you met him.

he was always kind, nobody expected it. he loved to joke around with his friends and play video games as if it was a paying job, but he was mature. he always had a logical solution when you turned to him for one. it was only when he knew you needed to laugh again that he would tease you or make an immature joke that received an eye-roll.

he knew you more than anyone else ever had. your favourite drink that he would always arrive with at the university library when you studied together. your forever loves, the movies you never got tired of and snacks you could eat until the end of time. the way you liked to be held in his arms before bed, the exact technique that would make you fall asleep when he played with your hair. how long you liked to shower, your favourite scent in perfumes and shampoos and detergent. your go-to flavour of ice cream, foods you would never eat even if you were offered a large sum of money.

god, you missed him like crazy. he seemed fine.

your relationship slowly disappeared from social media as if it hadn’t even happened. he was the first to delete the photos and posts about you, even the photos you had taken of him. you simply followed suit, not wanting to seem pathetic. although you archived every one rather than permanently deleting them, and a small part of you hoped he did the same.

everybody adjusted to the break-up, cutting themselves off whenever they mentioned his name around you. they tiptoed around you as if they knew that you would fall apart just thinking about him and what you’d once had. but you didn’t want it to be over. the lack of his presence in your life only caused you more pain, you just wanted him back.

the closest you had gotten to beomgyu since halloween was yeonjun showing up at your door. ‘he wanted me to return this,’ he’d said, holding a key out towards you. it was missing its keyrings, just a key attached to a metal loop. ‘and if you want it, i have his new address.’

of course you declined. he heartlessly sent a friend to return his key to you, but offered you an entrance into his new life without you. you wanted no part in his game, but avoiding beomgyu was impossible. you lived in the same area, shopped at the same stores, had the same friends. eventually you would have to talk, and you would have to find out what exactly happened between the two of you.

visiting the convenience store late at night was a common thing for you to do. you were wearing some old, checkered pyjama pants and a hoodie too big for your frame. it was going to just be a quick run in and out for some snacks and painkillers for your stubborn headache when you saw him standing there in front of an illuminated fridge.

he was staring between two drinks, one in each hand as if he was making a decision. his attire was much more put together than your almost-pyjama situation. he was dressed as if he had been out all day, like he had been out with somebody else, probably on a date considering he was dressed the same as he would when you he took you out on dates.

it was unknown to you, but beomgyu dressed up and came to the store in search for you. then it could be an accident that you bumped into each other, if this time was successful. he was always trying to accidentally bump into you on purpose.

you took off down an aisle as far away from him as you could, eyes searching for the painkillers that you typically bought. once you grabbed them and moved to another aisle, you heard beomgyu heading towards the cashier. thinking you were in the clear, you walked down the aisle he was previously occupying in search of the snacks you craved. as you approached the end of the aisle, the boy you were avoiding turned the corner and stopped in his tracks at the sight of you.

your feet brought you to a stop, just inches away from crashing into him. a sigh of relief left your lips.

‘hey,’ he spoke first, meeting your eyes.

‘hey,’ you whispered, gaze falling to the ground.

‘how are you?’ it was a stupid question to ask, he didn’t know where to start. all he wanted was to be close to you again.

‘well it’s a friday night and i’m about to eat a whole tub of ice cream and watch a movie,’ you laughed shortly, gesturing towards the ice cream box behind beomgyu. ‘what about you, is your date waiting for you in the car?’

‘i don’t have a date,’ the reply was simple and lacking emotion in his words, but you felt a wave of relief. it was reassuring that he wasn’t seeing anyone. it made you feel hopeful. ‘things are just a mess right now with the move and everything.’

‘yeah,’ you breathed out, then awkwardly chewing the inside of your cheek. ‘i better go, the couch is waiting for me.’

‘you forgot your ice cream,’ he twisted his head back towards the ice cream box. you came back down to earth in that moment and remembered where you were.

‘right, yeah,’ another laugh followed as you took a step towards him. he slid open the freezer from the top and you reached in for your favourite flavour. the door closing again cut through the silence. ‘goodbye, beomgyu.’

he didn’t say anything back. he couldn’t. goodbye, like you were trying to get away from him for the rest of time, like you hoped never to see him again. not a ‘see you around,’ or a simple ‘bye,’ but a goodbye. you were walking away by then as he stood frozen, so he followed you to the cashier.

as the cashier read out your total, beomgyu grabbed his card and placed it over the reader on the machine. you were left speechless, stumbling over your words as your receipt was being printed. you thanked the cashier with a smile but felt your shoulders drop with defeat.

annoyed, you shot him a glare and walked out of the store with your things. he followed behind you without grabbing his own things, the door sliding closed behind him. it was just the two of you staring each other down under the stars and the rain, neither of you knowing how to put this to an end.

‘i’m sorry,’ he spoke. ‘for everything. and i love you, y/n.’

he turned away, heading towards his parking space.

‘come home tonight,’ you called out into the dark, not even sure if he could hear you.

‘where do you think i’m going?’ he turned back around to face you. ‘i am going home.’

‘that’s not your home,’ you defended. ‘you know what i mean.’

‘i can’t do that,’ he sighed. ‘we broke up, i’ve moved out, we don’t even live together anymore.’

‘even if it’s just for one night?’ you frowned, your eyes stinging with oncoming tears.

beomgyu didn’t want just one night, he wanted to erase the past month and go back to how it used to be. it was comfortable and familiar and he loved you too much to let you go, but things had changed. the apartment would look different, you wouldn’t show the same side of you that he’d grown to love. you weren’t the same people anymore, you would never trust him the same way that you used to, and he’d fallen out of love with you. loving you could never compare to the way that he had seen you when he was deeply in love with you, like you were the sun, the moon, and the stars all in one.

‘and then what?’ he sighed. ‘this isn’t going to work.’

‘but why wouldn’t it?’ you felt a tear roll down your cheek.

november 27th,

if anybody was to ask what happened when you and beomgyu broke up, you wouldn’t know what to tell them. you were never sure if he was going to come back to you, but you still never gave up hope. that’s what people in love do, hope.

autumn was your favourite time of the year, or had been. you’d already skipped over halloween, and the novelty of orange leaves and brown clothing was starting to rub off. you wondered if beomgyu had been the thing you loved so much about autumn, because it was the time you fell in love. maybe you weren’t anticipating the season of pumpkins and coffee, maybe you were just looking to feel the same way you had when you first met him.

now that he was gone, everyday felt regular. it wasn’t exciting, there was nothing in the air. you didn’t walk around with a wide smile on your lips, kindly greeting strangers. you rolled your eyes at children jumping in leaf piles, scoffed when somebody ordered a pumpkin spice latte and pushed every cosy jumper to the back of your closet.

all that you had left was yourself. at least, that’s what you told yourself, because in reality you had everyone but him, and in reality, that was much worse.

there were so many missed calls and texts left unread on your phone, the device constantly buzzing on your coffee table. you would simply stare at the tv and switch between a million and one sitting positions in order to find a comfortable one. it always ended with your head hanging down from the couch and your legs thrown over the back of it. no plans, no purpose, no motivation, and time passing you by.

beomgyu was right, everything had changed, including you.

#tomorrow x together #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt #txt au #txt oneshot #txt angst #choi beomgyu #beomgyu #choi beomgyu au #choi beomgyu oneshot #choi beomgyu angst #beomgyu au #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu angst

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helloheyhihowdyheya · 1 year

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We're Shit Out of Luck, Munson

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Masterlist Part Two

Summary: You're excited to take a trip north to Steve's cabin with all your friends. That is, until you're snowed in alone with Eddie.

Word Count: ~10.5k (I'm sorry)

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff. Improper knowledge of how a fire stove works. Sort of strangers to lovers? One Bed Trope!!!

A/n: This took way longer than I'd like to admit. I just couldn't get it work, but I hope it's good enough now :) Please let me know your thoughts! Love hearing from you all, and thank you for reading <3

The wheels of Nancy’s car churned up snowy roads under drifting clouds and floating snowflakes from above. In the rumbling backseat of her car sat you in the back, your head leaning toward the window. She drove, her bracelets jingling whenever she turned the wheel, while Jonathan sat in the passenger seat.

Some Fleetwood Mac song played through the old speakers, your head bobbing along as your eyes danced along the white landscape leading your way north – away from Hawkins and away from regular day-to-day life for just a few days. The three of you were planning to meet Steve, Robin, and Eddie there for an extended weekend away at a rarely used cabin Steve’s family owned.

A knit hat hugged against your head, a heavy coat weighing along your body as you thought toward spending time with some you knew well – missing the days of standing doubled over again in laughter together every other day – and others you were excited to get to know better.

Like Robin, who Steve had talked endlessly about how great the two of you would get along – though he seemed to especially say it after you teased or annoyed him. Or maybe like Eddie, your face quirking just a little at the thought.

You didn’t have anything against him, though you had only met him once. But it was just that you weren’t someone who would climb on cafeteria tables like he did back in high school or speak the way he did. You weren’t sure just yet whether his unashamed self put you off or impressed you.

Once your body had begun to ache from sitting for so long, you leaned forward, pushing yourself past the supplies containing clothes, food, movie, board games to rest a hand along Nancy’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re almost there, right?” you asked, peering at the map stretched across Jonathan’s lap.

He cleared his throat, stretching his legs before muttering, “Yeah, we should be there soon. It’s at the end of the road after we turn onto Lake Street.”

“Oh, is there a lake? Maybe we’ll do some ice fishing,” you suggested, humor in your voice as you leaned back into your seat.

Nancy let out a soft laugh, raising her eyebrows in a “maybe” sort of gesture and glancing to Jonathan.

He merely put his hands up. “You two feel free, but I think I’ll stick inside with all of my fingers warm and still connected to my body.”

With a smile, you returned to the view outside, watching it slowly change from straight county roads to winding dirt ones with trees growing thicker on each side. Swaying branches dusted off snow with each passing breeze.

Old brakes squeaked as Nancy pulled the car next to the cabin. Just as you thought about where the others were, Nancy muttered, “They’re probably not getting here until dark, if it’s those three trying to leave on time.”

You put down “chronically late” into your mental descriptions of Eddie and Robin, imagining Steve standing next to the car and waiting for them like the mom he often acted as. Spending time with the kids sometimes required a small escape like this, or at least it certainly seemed from Nancy’s urging to get away from Mike.

She huffed while getting out, but you just took it as a chance to get first pick at the cabin rooms. Grabbing your bag and hauling along food, you walked to the door as Jonathan asked, “Are we sure this is the right place?”

Glancing down, you saw a snowy welcome mat that said, “Live, Laugh, Love” – you turned around and shouted a giggly “Oh yeah.” Though all laughing died down as you tried turning the knob to open it… but nothing. Of course.

“Hey Nancy,” you called back to her at the car’s trunk, “Did Steve happen to give you a key to getting into this thing?”

You pressed your coat closer against your chest, trying to shield yourself from the wind, though the noisy breeze did nothing to hide Nancy’s sigh. “No, he didn’t. He said they’d be here in time, so it’d be okay.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded at the solemn information. Your breaths out made swirling white in the air in front of you as your boots creaked down the wooden steps. You searched around for a window that could be propped open and crawled through, but most seemed too high off the ground. The others refused to budge, even with all three of you trying to pull. Either they were locked or frozen shut out here.

A thud sounded out when your head rested against the cabin, slowly coming to terms with the rocky start to the getaway. Instead, you all were left inside the car, intermittently turning the car on to get enough heat going without wasting all of the gas.

“Go fish,” Jonathan told you for what seemed like the hundredth time, making you mutter under your breath.

Your cursing only increased when Nancy asked you, “Got any eights?” You shoved your eight into her hands, ignoring her smug smile and ready to give up on this game. It’d been a couple rounds of her winning every single one.

All of your heads popped up at the same time as rumbling came from behind, eyes catching a large van pulling up on the other side of the front of the cabin. You breathed a sigh of relief at the unmistakable flowing hair of Steve through the passenger seat window after what felt like an hour. “Thank the lord,” you whispered before the three of you clambered out.

Nancy was the first to speak, her nose red like yours. “Steve, if you don’t open this cabin right now, we’re stealing it from you and locking you out.”

You guessed he would’ve had wide eyes and a surprised response, but he looked tired, nodding with a straight mouth. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, tossing the keys to her.

The wave and smile Steve your way had you returning them as you went to hug him quick. “You’re so lucky that’s all you’re getting from Nancy. Another half an hour, and you’d be getting much worse threats from me,” you laughed.

As you turned to grab your things and finally find a warm blanket or bed or shower – something – he sighed out, “Hey, don’t blame me. Eddie here woke up late and was supposed to be the one picking us up. But I appreciate your kindness.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s good to see you though.”

“Good to see you too,” you said, patting his shoulder. And you meant it. That contagious smile and corny jokes were well-missed by you.

Making your way inside with your things, you wrapped your arms around yourself and grumbled under your breath things about Eddie that certainly didn’t help in his favor toward impressing you.

Stomping off the snow from your boots and slipping them off, you rushed through toward the rooms. You found three, which it didn’t take much mental math to figure out it’d have to be two people per room. Jonathan and Nancy would take one of them, leaving you with Steve, Robin, or Eddie. In the moment, though, you didn’t care too much as you picked a room at random and muttered your way into the bathroom with fresh clothes for a hot shower.

The steaming water dripped along your body, slowly warming your frigid fingers and toes. A long breath emptied from your lungs toward the smooth shower tiles, sending a warm shiver through your body. You weren’t sure how long had passed before you eventually turned the shower off, the leaky shower head dripping water droplets over and over again as you stepped out and dressed.

You exited the bathroom expecting your bags to be right on the bed where you had set them. You had no reason to expect otherwise, until you were met with the chaotic sight in front of you.

Technically, your things were still where you had set them, but they – along with the rest of the bed, most of the floor, the wooden dresser – were covered in clothes, candy wrappers, toiletries, and… were those mini figurines? You only took one step into the room, making the floor creak below you, before a wild wave of hair popped up from the other side of the bed.

Wide eyes stared into yours, big brown ones that nearly made you forget about the mess. That is until Eddie spoke up. “I uh, lost my Walkman. Tryin’ to find it before I go insane listening to their music.” He motioned his head toward the door with an unamused look on his face.

Listening for a beat, you heard music coming from the living room – which seemed to be “Material Girl” playing. Nodding, you looked around while asking, “Are you sleeping here?”

Eddie still rummaged through his bag as he muttered, “By the time I got in this woodsy cabin, everywhere else had been picked, and Robin was already nearly started the place on fire trying to start the wood stove before Nancy stepped in. So I guess?” He turned to you then. “Are we roomies?”

Between his lateness that caused you to sit in the car and freeze your ass off and having to now dig your things out from his mess, you pressed your mouth tight while thinking of your options. “I’ll be right back,” you told him, flashing a flat smile.

You didn’t give him time to answer before you left, seeking out Steve. You found him in the kitchen unpacking some of the refrigerated food. Walking right next to him, giving him a sweet look, you helped him put away some things.

His sigh filled the quiet space between you two. “What is it?”

“Have I ever told you how good your hair looks, Steve?” you asked.

“Of course. Now, what do you want?”

Groaning, you whispered, “I did not sign up for having Eddie Munson as my ‘snowy getaway’ roommate. Please switch with him. Or with me, I’m sure Robin is better.” You looked at her laughing in the living room while watching Nancy try to teach Jonathan to dance, unsuccessfully.

Steve let out a breathy laugh. “If you find uncontrollable snoring and sleep talking better, then maybe. But I already promised Robin I’d room with her. And you have those freezing fingers that I don’t want to wake up with on my back.”

“I promise I won’t do that, even if you are the greatest furnace I’ve ever known,” you begged.

He looked at you, stopping his unpacking and tilted his head. “What’s wrong with Eddie as your roommate? He’s not all that bad.”

You glanced back to your room to make sure he wasn’t listening. “I’m sure he’s not, but he’s been in there for two minutes and already trashed it. And I’m not exactly the type to share a bed with a stranger.”

“Well you could just talk to him. Or get to know him so you’re not strangers,” he offered, glancing toward the room. Your eyes followed, seeing that Eddie was walking out. You had meant what you said, that he wasn’t terrible – maybe you’d even like his sense of humor or laidback personality. But you already liked the rings wrapped around his fingers and the crinkles around his eyes – and all of that mixed with having to lay mere inches from him all night had you hesitating.

You quickly gritted out, “He could just sleep on the couch though” while bringing a smile to your face as Eddie approached.

Steve looked the same, leaning over to whisper, “Or you could.”

You’d seen the couch, a fancy one that looked as if it hadn’t ever been sat on. Your back hurt from just thinking about using it as a bed. There were no other quiet protests you could give before Eddie made it to you two, the chain on his jeans jingling with each step.

“Harrington, you seen a Walkman around here or in the van?”

Steve shook his head, sending his hair swishing along his face. “I’m sure you just missed it when shoving nearly everything you own into a single bag, Munson.”

“Except for extra underwear. I did forget those,” Eddie said with a sad sort of grin, though it turned happy at seeing your twisted face. “Just messing with you, roomie. Though I did forget toothpaste.” He pretended to bat his eyelashes, silently begging for you to share yours and only stopping once you gave in.

His hand patted Steve’s shoulder before walking away to ask the others whether they’d seen his Walkman. With a tight mouth, you just looked at Steve with pleading eyes.

“He can borrow some of mine,” he offered.

You leaned your head against his shoulder in a silent “thank you” before making your way back to the room, planning to unearth your bag to settle in. To your surprise, most of Eddie’s things were cleaned up – or at least shoved to one side of the bed, which you appreciated as you opened up your bag, putting away your things into the drawers.

This was okay. You’d only spend the nights in here, and that was only part of the day. You’d be having fun elsewhere the rest of this time out in the snow or sitting among friends in a nice cabin. This was still going to be a great getaway, no matter what came.

“Oh shit.”

Your head jerked up at the sound, your heart sinking for a moment at hearing Steve say those words. The music quieted down a little, sure someone had turned it down at the outburst. Making your way back, you found everyone else staring at Steve as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Anyone seen the packs of beer?” he asked, his voice low like he already knew the answer.

At everyone shaking their heads, Robin spoke up. “I thought you were bringing them.”

He nodded, putting his other hand on his hip – his classic mom pose. “Yeah, yeah I was. Except they’re back at my house, just sitting on the counter,” he sighed out. “I forgot them when running out of the house when Eddie pulled up.”

Groans echoed out in the space, a quiet “Way to go, Steve” from Robin joining them.

“Well, how about a trip into town? That could be nice,” Nancy offered, clasping her hands together. “Grab some beer, check out the stores too.”

Jonathan peered out the window, pulling open the blinds. “It’s stopped snowing for a bit. Is it supposed to pick back up?”

You shrugged your shoulders like the others, none of you having bothered to check the forecast. “I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s get this road trip going,” Robin said with a toothy grin.

“We already had a road trip,” you said with a laugh.

“Well, a mini road trip then. Maybe there’s a Family Video there, Steve. We could use our double employee discount to get The Apartment for basically free.”

“Robin, you’ve already seen that literally a hundred times,” he responded.

“But not a hundred and one times.”

You smiled at the sigh he gave as opened up his hand to Nancy. “I can drive.”

Nancy nodded, digging out her car keys before throwing them to him. Most of the others started making their way to the door. Though it wasn’t snowing, you weren’t yet ready to weather the cold so soon again.

“I might stick back here, if that’s okay. Stay warm for a little longer,” you told them, giving a small smile.

“Want us to pick you up anything?” Robin asked as she shoved a winter hat on her head.

You waved them off, happy enough to just have the place to yourself for a bit of quiet before everything got going. But your body stilled when Robin turned to look past you, asking, “What about you, Eddie?”

“Besides beer? Nah, I’m good,” his voice sounded. You began to chew on the inside of your cheek, suddenly debating on joining the group after all. Your chances of relaxing went down to zero, instead launching in the other direction of keeping you on edge.

But Steve gave you a pointed look, as if telling you to stay and get along with Eddie. Between his flared nostrils and a breeze pushing through as the front door opened, a fresh wave of frigid air coming through, you just swallowed hard and nodded. You gave them a wave and locked the door after they left, soon watching it pull away.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you slowly turned around, preparing yourself to say something to the near-stranger you shared this cabin (and bed) with. But all you saw was the tail-end of the towel sticking out of Eddie’s back pocket as he walked into the shared room, calling back, “Taking a shower” right before the door shut.

Standing in the middle of the cabin, staring at the space where Eddie had just been, your stomach twisted. This wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought. Leaving you with the empty rooms of the rest of the place, you grabbed a snack from the kitchen and the book you’d left on the counter. Taking a blanket thrown over the back of the uncomfortable-looking couch, you sat in a La-Z-Boy next to it, tucking your feet under yourself. You weren’t sure how many pages you made it through before leaning your head back and slowly drifting off into sleep, the crackling of the fire and winds gusting outside weighing on your eyelids.

–

The second Eddie shut that door to shower, his mouth opened in a silent scream as his palms came up to his face. Only once he started the shower did he release a groan, fingers coming up to wind through his hair. He trashed the room of one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen? God, he must’ve looked so dumb and selfish looking for his Walkman.

Where did he put that damn thing anyway?

And he saw the way you talked with Steve right after, probably begging him to switch rooms. A sharp pang ran through his chest thinking of you running to mother hen Steve to tattle on Eddie – all spiraling because he’d forgotten to set his alarm last night. He deserved a little slack, right?

He would’ve tried to make a better introduction if he knew he’d be meeting you. He was sure someone had mentioned it earlier, but after hours of listening to whatever Steve and Robin deemed “music” in his van before being unable to escape it even here, his mind wasn’t altogether there.

He’d stayed back from the beer run to shelter from more musical soundtracks, but he hadn’t expected you to stay too. So here he was, standing in the bathroom, head resting against the tiled wall as he thought of the least annoying way to share this room – or at least not make you hate him during this weekend.

Eddie’s shower burned against his skin, scalding water dripping down him and washing away the bad start. The curls of his hair grew heavier as he washed it. At least this place had hot water.

As he dried off and dressed, his lungs filled deep with breaths and emptied them fully, preparing himself to face you again. Silently opening the door, squeezing his dripping hair with a towel, he padded across the floor back and forth for a while. He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent arguing with himself on how maybe hash this out, occasionally taking breaks to tidy his things further – maybe that’d help? As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, he threw down his towel he’d somehow picked up again to find you and fix this. And find you he did.

His breaths grew much shallower, quieter, at seeing you curled up in that plush chair, blanket and book resting against your body. Though he knew if you woke up to see him staring at you, there was no way you’d stop hating him. But your chest rose and fell in even waves, your eyelids twitching once in a while, your fingers intertwined with one another. And as he was about to turn around and go back into the room to leave you asleep and content – without him – his eyes returned to yours one last time to find them already staring at him.

–

The scream you let out rang through the air, echoed by expletives from Eddie. Hand clutched to your chest, you gritted out, “Why were you staring at me? You scared the shit out of me!”

His teeth clenched together, eyes wide, as he nearly yelled, “You? You scared the shit out of me. Jesus… just came out to check on you, got a fucking heart attack instead.”

Eyebrows screwed downward, you replied, “Is that how you check on people? By staring at them until they wake up?”

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes, though not quite as menacing as it could have been. “I’ll leave you out here to die next time, sweetheart.”

“Die? From what? The only thing that’s made me fear for my life was finding a mysterious man standing over me,” you scoffed, a hint of an incredulous smile across your face.

That made his face change, a growing smirk replacing his grimace. “Ah, so you think I’m mysterious,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, and your eyes flicked down to his forearms more than once. And maybe at the way his damp hair curled against his shoulders.

“Mysterious like a man wearing a trenchcoat at the end of an alleyway, maybe,” you told him with a hint of laughter in your voice, your gaze rising up to see his face screwed tight.

“Yeah, well at least–”

Whatever retort Eddie had fell flat as the phone rang right next to you. Your gaze went between it and Eddie’s for a brief moment before you threw off the blanket and your book just as he scrambled to it as well. But your hand reached it first, your other pushing him away from getting it.

Your fingers grasped the handle, rasping into it, “Hello?”

“He- hello? Can you hear us?” The voice crackled through the receiver, though it sounded familiar. But Eddie by your side whispered, “Who is it?”

“Robin?” you asked, ignoring him.

“Hey!”

“Where are you all? You’ve been gone awhile,” you said, though only guessing from how much darker it seemed outside.

“Oh yeah, about that. We’re in the middle of butt-fuc– Hey!” The sound of rustling and distant voices talking over one another on the other end erupted into your ear before Nancy’s voice came into focus.

“Still there?” she asked, a bit out of breath.

“Still here, Nance,” a smile evident in your voice.

She huffed out a breath before speaking up again. “We’re stuck here in town. Snow blocked my car in while we were shopping – we can’t get it unstuck no matter what we try–” More noise comes from behind before Nancy’s voice comes from farther away as she says, “We are not using Steve for traction.”

You assumed she said that to Robin, and you’d laugh if you weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nancy let out a long sigh. “No one can come get out to us today… or even a few days if the storm stays this bad.”

Your eyebrows lowered into a deep valley. “Storm?” you asked. You craned your neck toward the nearest window, unable to see much outside with the sun far down now. As you did, you caught Eddie’s face in the reflection looking stern, making you turn to him.

He waved a hand at you, mouthing something that you only caught every other word of. You mouthed back “What?” but held up a finger as Nancy began speaking again – leaving Eddie with his arms crossed and jaw tightening.

“Yeah. Ugh, I was stupid not to check beforehand. But we’re not making it back tonight.”

“Not at all?” You knew the question didn’t quite make sense, but your eyes flicked to Eddie for a moment, your heart crawling up your throat. All it did was make him whisper-yell at you to tell him what was happening. “What about all of your things here?” you asked, your voice much quieter. There was no way they’d be able to walk all the way back, especially if this snowstorm was as bad as she was saying.

You could practically hear the frustration laced through Nancy’s words. “After we walk to the one motel this town has, we’re going to buy toiletries and things. We’ll try again tomorrow and call you, but in the meantime, are you two okay by yourselves? I know you and Eddie don’t know each other too well.”

Glancing at Eddie again brought his patience to an end, his legs bringing him to your side and holding the receiver between both of your heads to listen. The proximity of his body so close to you all of a sudden had you stepping back, eyes merely blinking at him as you tried to answer, but the way he looked at you didn’t make words come any easier. Eventually, you let out, “Uh, yeah, we should be okay. We brought enough food to last us.”

His gaze held yours, his eyebrows raising high at your words. He mouthed, “Why?” but Nancy responded first.

“Good, good. Okay,” she breathed out, “Sorry about all this, but we’ll hopefully see you tomorrow then.”

You didn’t think Eddie’s face could’ve twisted further in confusion, but you were mistaken. “Yeah, see you, Nance,” you said, your own voice feeling distant from where your mind was at. The line clicked to an end after saying goodbye, the receiver falling limply with your hand.

Before you could even collect your thoughts, Eddie spat out, “Can you finally tell me what the hell is going on?”

Your head jerked back just an inch before your eyes rolled. This was going to be a longer weekend than you ever thought. Instead of answering him, you walked to the cabin’s front door, pulling it open carefully so the wind didn’t fling it off its hinges. Standing there, gazing out into the world, you felt Eddie’s feet walk across the floor until they stopped next to you.

With the front porch lights illuminating the way, you could see heavy flakes pelting down onto growing piles of snow. It wasn’t nearly as much of a surprise as to how their car had gotten buried so fast after seeing how much snow blanketed the world.

“They’re stuck – staying in town tonight,” you finally muttered. “They’re shit out of luck.”

He rubbed a hand down his face, fingers tangling in his hair as a groan rumbled up his throat. “No, we’re shit out of luck. Jesus.”

Despite the view of endless stars littering the sky, goosebumps started littering your skin. Your hands grasped the door handle and pushed it shut and locked before resting your head against the thick wood.

“Well,” Eddie said from behind, making you turn and watch him shift from one foot to the other, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “At least we don’t have to share a bed anymore.”

You let out a mostly unamused snort, lifting your head to shake it back and forth. “That’s the least of your problems. They had all the beer.”

“Shit…”

–

The two of you had nearly started a fire and a fistfight in the kitchen while trying to make a late-night dinner. This cabin felt ancient, none of the appliances working how either of you thought they would. Eddie tried to come in to help, hoping it’d mend some sort of relationship between the two of you, but he ended up pulling off one of the dials. Instead, while he piled up logs high into the wood stove for the night, not knowing if any of what he was doing was right, you rummaged through food to make a couple sandwiches.

In silence, you two sat at a creaky dining table and ate a meal that wouldn’t fill you up and that would have you searching for snacks in the middle of the night. But he was having dinner with you, trying to not stare at you too much – though, part of him thought “How could he not?” There was a way you spoke, lived, breathed that had him strangely captivated and wanting to know more.

“So…” he started saying in between bites of his surprisingly delicious sandwich, “do you forgive me yet for scaring you?” He tried to sound sincere, but a wry smile rose along his cheeks.

Tilting your head, you told him, “Might be my memory, but I don’t quite remember you apologizing for it, Eddie.”

As his name rolled off your tongue, he couldn’t stop his face from flushing for a second. But his grin came back almost immediately. “Think it’s your memory then.”

“While how about you refresh it for me,” you said, looking at him expectantly. The crackling of the fire filled the air between you, its heat wrapping around his body while you waited.

A few emotions crossed his face, determining the right way to do this, before he finally said, “Sorry about it.” He shrugged. “Not sure you could blame me for staring me for staring at you, though I didn’t realize you were so jumpy.”

Eddie’s throat felt tighter as he swallowed down the risk he took to say that, but he’d say it a million more times if it meant to see the way you paused, your face turning shy as you looked away.

“See…” you said, your voice returning to you as you pointed at him with your sandwich, “I don’t think that’s a very good apology. Not sure why it’d make me forgive you.”

“It came from my heart.” His hand came to rest on his chest, right above his heart with a solid thump. His fingertips felt the way it beat just a bit too fast for his liking. His apology wasn’t good, but it got you to talk to him some more, and that felt like enough.

Flat-toned, you told him, “Sounds like you should go to a cardiologist, cause your heart gives shit apologies.”

Dramatically, he pretended to stab a stake through his chest. “Great, now you’ve wounded me.”

“Clean up dinner and I’ll forgive you, okay?” You stood up with a smile you tried to hold back, only moving to the living room once he wordlessly nodded. “Thanks.”

He felt glad you weren’t watching at how fast he put the few ingredients away and tidied up the table. He glanced at you while you gathered up your things, your face a bit shyer as you approached him.

“Gonna get ready and head to bed. See you in the morning, yeah?” you said, making a pang hit his chest in a way that left him confused and nearly breathless.

“Yeah, sleep well,” he muttered, hands back in his pockets and playing with the coins left in there.

Standing in the cabin alone as your door shut, only accompanied by the hot fire and chilling winds outside, had Eddie walking to bed with too-loud thoughts. Had he won you over? The way his body seemed to care so much about the answer to that question didn’t help his tiredness as he climbed into bed.

–

Despite the constantly creaking house under the harsh force of the storm’s wind, the night passed quietly at first, only accompanied by your occasional tossing and turning. You went to Steve and Robin’s bed that night, leaving Eddie in the one you were supposed to share with him. You thought of your friends and hopefully what plans they had in store for all of you once they made it back tomorrow.

Robin had a million movie recommendations for the group to watch. Nancy brought games for you all to play. Mostly, you just wanted to catch up with everyone that you hadn’t seen in awhile, happy to finally find a time to be together, but look where you were…

Sleep came and went, and came and went again until you woke up a few hours later with a chill climbing up your spine. Your weary blinks barely did anything, the room soaked in dark. Though if you had been able to see, you would’ve expected to see your breath billow out into the air.

How did it get so cold? Squeezing your eyes shut, you willed yourself to curl tighter against yourself and fall back asleep. But it evaded you, slipping away through chilled fingers and goosebump flesh.

No part of your body agreed, but you slid out of the bed with a blanket wrapped around you. Your feet curled against the cold floor as you made your way to the fire stove, doing your best to not run into anything.

In the dark, you could spot the last embers in the fire stove still dying out. Shit, you hadn’t been paying attention to where Steve’s family kept the logs. While searching in the dark for a light switch or the logs, pain erupted through your toe as you stubbed it against something.

A subdued groan stuck in your throat, one hand over your mouth while the other went to your toe as you bent down. Breaths came from your nose in rough bursts, the cold air only making the pain worse.

Feeling around, you vaguely recognized what you ran into as Eddie’s bag he’d brought out at some point last night. You silently cursed him before making your way to his room, exhaustion fueled by the cold weighing on your eyelids and shoulders, slowing you down.

Fingers wrapped tight around the blanket still, you knocked on his door once, twice, three times… you lost count when he didn’t answer. Fed up, you creaked the door open and whispered, “Eddie?”

Only once you repeated his name louder did he stir, his mouth releasing a groan from beneath the sheets.

“Hey, Munson. Where’s the firewood?” you asked, walking closer to him.

His hand came up to rub at his eyes. “Jesus,” he mumbled, “it’s freezing in here.”

He couldn’t see you roll your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. The wood stove burned out, where’s more firewood?”

“I used the last of it when I filled it. Thought it’d last us awhile.”

You didn’t want to absolutely lose it on Eddie, but the heat of your frustration felt welcome in your cold body. “You used the last of the firewood in a winter storm? Are you trying to get us killed?”

He sighed out, “I’m sure there’s more somewhere.”

“Where?”

“How should I know?” he asked, sleep still laced through all of his words. You envied him and wanted to strangle him. “We can look in the morning or call Harrington, okay?”

“And what, do we freeze until then?” you asked, pulling your arms in closer to your body. You weren’t sure you had enough layers to last you that long.

Shifting himself over, Eddie offered, “You could join me to share body heat or whatever, or you could leave. Either way, I’m falling asleep in the next 60 seconds.”

Your face twisted, nails digging into the softness of your blanket. Part of you wondered whether freezing during the night would’ve been better than sharing a bed with Eddie, the first thing you tried to avoid after getting here.

But his hand flopped over near you, and you could feel the warmth of him washing onto your thigh. With a final shiver through your spine that you blamed on the cold and nothing else, you grumbled, “Let me in. And watch your hands.”

He held up his hands as if to show you he wouldn’t dare, not that you really expected him to. Climbing into the bed, your body relished in being near him. Your tired muscles loosened with the heat as you curled against him while he laid on his back.

“Shit!” Eddie nearly yelped as your cold feet accidentally brushed against the skin of his legs.

“Oh suck it up and warm me, Munson.” You pressed closer to him still despite his protests, and despite the nerves firing inside you. Your blanket stayed wrapped around you like a burrito, acting as a barrier between your bodies at least a little bit. Maybe it’d be enough to let you fall asleep without overthinking all of this.

But the blanket constricted your upper half, so as you wiggled against Eddie to get comfortable, you brought your arm across his chest. Hoping that didn’t go too far, you began to ask him, “Is this oka– are you not wearing a shirt?”

Pulling back a bit, you tried to look him in the eye… and maybe lower. But the darkness obscured any glimpse.

“Got warm when going to bed. Shirt’s somewhere on the floor. S’that okay?” For once, his voice sounded void of teasing. Instead, you could tell he angled his head to try and get a look at you as well.

Settling back against him, laying your head against his shoulder and pressing your body to his, you nodded. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course.” Was it okay? Your fingers rested along his ribs and unable to get the feeling of his bare chest out of your body’s memory.

The weight of his hand resting against your back and the slight tickle of his wild hair brushing along your face warmed more than just your skin. All of this breathed intimate, made you close in more than a physical way.

“Good night, Eddie,” you whispered. Your body began to relax as the chill left in favor of the blooming warmth he provided you.

Against your head, he whispered back, “Good night, sweetheart.”

You thought sleep would be impossible while wrapped together with him, and while calling you those pet names, but the comfort of your breath falling in line with his had you tipping toward exhaustion. And though you seemed to be bursting with thoughts and questions, Eddie had vowed to go back to bed soon, so you shut your eyes to let him sleep, falling into unconsciousness within moments.

–

Eddie did not fall asleep soon, not even close to the 60 seconds that he had told you. Not with you snuggled this close to him, your soft breath sliding against his skin with each exhale. He was sure you’d fallen asleep then, little noises sounding from the back of your throat kept his mind racing and his body all too aware of yours.

When your thumb had rubbed back and forth along his skin, his brain went blank then burst back online when his stomach tingled. Did he really have god damn butterflies from that? At least it seemed he’d won you back over from pure annoyance to mild tolerance.

He hadn’t told you, but he’d been cold too. Eddie absolutely wouldn’t have told you about the way his heart lept into his mouth when asking you to stay in the bed together. Or how wide his smile had gotten when you actually said yes. Each time you twitched, he feared you had gotten cold again or had some bad dream. But there you stayed, in his arms.

No part of him could tell what time it was by the time his tingling nerves finally settled and warmed. Dipping toward unconsciousness, he knew he’d sleep better than he had in a long time. And he did, with you pulled tight against him and refusing to let go.

–

The sun peeked its body up above the horizon. Light streaming in painted the frosting swirls adorning the window in a rainbow of shades. The absolute silence out here in the winter felt welcome against your ears. Through everything this trip had brought, at least you had time to sleep in.

And Eddie took full advantage of that. As your eyes blinked open, you found him out cold – but he certainly didn’t feel cold. The first thing touching your awareness was the feeling of Eddie pressed against your back, the rising of his chest and pounding of his heartbeat. His arm wrapped across your ribs and came to rest his hand on top of yours.

Silently, a soft smile rose on your face as his nose nuzzled against the back of your neck. Who knew he loved to cuddle so much? As each quiet minute passed, you seemed to care less and less about the minor ways he had annoyed you through this trip so far. Well, not completely – but at least this was nicer than bickering with him or being stuck outside.

Despite the chill still in the air, your body ached to stand and stretch. As you slipped from Eddie’s grasp, you glanced back at him. In the morning light drifting past the curtains, you could get a better look at him. But only a short one, not wanting a repeat of what he’d done to you yesterday. Facing you, your gaze took longer than you’d like to escape from staring at his arms and chest or how his hair cascaded across his face and onto the skin of his shoulders.

He had nice shoulders.

Shaking your head, you opened the door to let him continue resting, which apparently he really needed. While he slept in through most of the morning, you’d managed to make breakfast, get washed up and ready for the day (and covered in many, many layers) and actually read this time – with the record player on its lowest volume. Through the busyness of work and college, you found it hard to capture (let alone appreciate) moments like these anymore.

You’d checked outside again and again to see whether the snow had miraculously melted since you last looked. But each time you pulled back the curtains, the blanket across the land still sat there – though snow continued to fall, it drifted slower now. Its quiet and undisturbed body looked peaceful, comforting in a way despite everything.

Though not unwelcome, the soft air broke once the phone rang. With quick footsteps, you went to it and picked up, rushing out, “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Nancy again,” the voice on the other side breathed through the receiver.

Maybe you should’ve asked how she was or how she slept, you skipped past any pleasantries. “Any good news?” you asked.

The sigh Nance let out told you the answer before her words did. “Wish I had some. Everywhere within a hundred miles is facing exactly what we are. No one’s getting anywhere for a bit, barely even plows.”

You swallowed down a deep groan, your fingers tightening around the phone. “There’s no way you’re getting here today?”

“Maybe, if we’re lucky. I’m sorry.” And she did sound sorry, but she was the one stuck in a motel room in a tiny town buried in snow.

“Don’t worry… I’m sorry you’re roomin’ it in that motel for the time being. And with those two children,” you laughed out, breathing easier when hearing Nancy’s laugh too. You vaguely heard her say something else, but you turned to look at Eddie’s room to see the door open.

Your eyes roamed across his sleepy state as he walked toward you, the back of his hand coming up to rub against his eye as he yawned. His hair laid at odd angles, the curls raining down on a faded Judas Priest shirt he now wore, which hung down onto a pair of black sweatpants. You couldn’t quite look away, a warmth in your chest at seeing him in such a state. Only hearing your name through the phone brings you back.

“Sorry Nance, what was that?” you ask, shaking your head and keeping your gaze elsewhere.

“Just wishing you luck on your extended vacation with Eddie,” she said, a slight humor in her voice, almost as if she knew what just went through your head.

You nodded even though she couldn’t see – maybe she could apparently, or you were just that obvious – but you followed up with, “Yeah, good luck too. Keep us updated?”

“Of course,” she said, and your mouth pressed tight. Perhaps from missing out on this time with her or perhaps from the impending conversation with Eddie in a second.

“Oh wait!” you said louder, “Please ask Steve where the extra firewood is. We’ve burnt through it.”

Nancy mused out loud, “We should’ve had one of you there when he explained all this. One second, I’ll ask.” You imagined her whispering to Steve while Robin was still asleep.

While sounds of shifting and moving went through the background, you watched as Eddie grabbed the blanket you’d been using on the couch and wrapped himself in a burrito. You turned away to hide your smile, thankful Nancy came back.

“Hey, he says it’s out back in a log rack. And that you only need to put some in the stove at a time, not too many or it’ll burn out faster,” she explained to you.

You thanked her, and the click of putting the receiver back echoed through the room. A silence settled before Eddie finally asked, “They on their way back yet?”

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, you angled toward him as you answered, “Uh, no. Quite the opposite, actually. There’s a small chance they get back today.” Gesturing to the window with the head, you followed with, “Snow’s probably not stopping soon.”

You allowed yourself to glance back at him while he looked past the curtains, knocking his head against the glass with a groan. “This storm has a vengeance against my quest for beer.”

Letting a laugh out through your nose caused him to stare at you, eyebrows furrowing in a way to ask you what was so funny. Shrugging, you told him, “You certainly have a flair for dramatics.”

He crossed his arms as he stood tall. “Maybe you’re not being dramatic enough. We’re stuck here for a whole weekend.”

With wide eyes, you asked, “Oh, having to stay here with me calls for melodrama and agony?” Eddie’s face looked hesitant, even speechless for a second, until you were unable to hold back your smile anymore.

His eyes roll back, his usual demeanor coming back quickly. “You’re the one that didn’t want to share a bed with me, sweetheart.”

Your fingers came to pick at the hem of your shirt, eyes drifting downward. Your grin fell, throat tight as you struggled to explain yourself. “I, uh…”

His shrug followed with, “S’alright. We made up for it last night.” He let out a small laugh, one that didn’t quite ease your embarrassment. “Where’s this firewood though? Freezing my tits off here.”

That did get a giggle from you and let your shoulders ease a little. If Steve were here, he’d give you an “I told you so” about communication or whatever, but you were just glad Eddie wasn’t too upset.

Still, you couldn’t stop your sigh as you told him, “Firewood’s out back in some log rack apparently.”

Raising his eyebrows and pulling his blanket tighter, all he offered was, “Well, good luck. Have fun with that. I’ll be here to warm you up again when you get back.”

“Ahh… no. You’re the reason it burned out in the middle of the night. So if anyone is going out by themselves, it’s you, Munson.” You crossed your arms, letting the silence grow louder as you two stared each other down.

“Fine! We’ll both go,” Eddie gritted out, shuffling back to his room. You slipped on boots, a hat (or two), gloves, and your coat. You were plenty tired of the all too familiar chill aching through your body.

But as Eddie came back out, you barely contained an explosive laugh at seeing him covered up. A ratty sweatshirt bulged against him, clear that he wore many layers beneath it. And he at least had on two pairs of pants.

“Not one word,” he muttered, about to grab his shoes when you convinced him to wear Steve’s boots he’d left here. You also spent too long forcing him to put on a hat – it would “ruin this perfect hairdo” he told you, but you won out.

You were sure the two of you resembled young children bundled up and unable to move well by the time you opened up the front door. The porch allowed you to open it at all, unlike the back door that had a growing wall of snow barricading it.

Both of your boots crunched as you walked around the cabin. Despite trying to shield your face from the wind that seemed to come from every direction, the view you had certainly didn’t get old. Thick trees weighed down with fresh snow all spanning for miles, looking like a scene out of an old Christmas movie.

Nearing the other side, you spotted a rack with a tarp over it, sure to be piled high with logs. Your freezing fingers clenched at the promise of warmth soon. Just as you were about to look for the logs, you felt a thud against your back along with muffled laughter. Eyes narrowed and jaw tight, you turned around to see Eddie very obviously looking away from you, pretending nothing happened – like he didn’t just pelt you with a snowball.

But in his act, he didn’t see you bend down to form your own snowball between your gloved hands. Packing it tight, you pulled back your arm and let it fly, hitting him square in the chest as he turned toward you at the last second.

There was no stopping the shit-eating grin on your face at his mouth dropping open or the way his gaze steeled. The look pierced past all the ridiculous layers, making you feel a little less cold out there. The way his head tilted to the side, awaiting him to make some cocky comment that’d have you internally stuttering – it kept you still, even as he bent down.

“Oh, you are so fucked,” he told you, packing another snowball.

He had no idea how right he was.

The second he stood back up with his ammo, your legs took off in the other direction, feet slipping through the snow as you ran from him. Though the icy air sharpened against your face, your grin stayed, now accompanied by uncontrollable laughter as Eddie chased you.

Rounding the next side of the house, you slipped around the corner to press against the wall, hiding from his view. His own laughter grew louder as he followed, making your teeth sink into your lip to stop from letting out any noise.

As he ran full speed around the corner, which wasn’t that fast in knee deep snow that wormed its way into your boots, you jumped out at him. Your hands landed on his shoulders with a slap, forcing a scream from his throat and his hand to release the snowball.

But he flew back in surprise, his legs tangling with yours and bringing you both down into the sea of snow. White powder billowed up and around your bodies, some of it wiggling into your exposed neck and wrists.

And yet, you weren’t complaining as you landed with your body pressed against Eddie’s, half of your chest on top of his – your faces only a breath apart.

Perhaps you should’ve scrambled back, apologized, or even laughed at him for screaming, but you admired the snowflakes littering his dark hair like constellations against a night sky. Then you glanced to the soft red covering his cheeks and nose, sure that it came from the cold but hoped it grew from something more.

Eddie’s breathing rose and fell beneath you, pressing close and then all too far a second later. You thought you might’ve caught his doe eyes glancing toward your mouth, yours doing just the same, but as he shifted closer, more snow dipped on the back of his neck and down his coat.

“Shit!” he yelled, flying up to try and shake it out, breaking whatever had held you two together for that all too brief moment.

You sat there with a smile, watching him scramble to rid himself of the quickly melting snow. Letting out a long sigh, you stood up and waited until he calmed before nodding your head back toward the logs.

Moment broken indeed as you began to sweat trying to grab as many logs in your arms as possible – no part of you wanting to trudge back out here. Between the two of you, there stood (balanced precariously, really) a sizable amount of logs to fuel the wood stove for a while.

Your body felt a little lighter as the layers of clothes dropped to the floor, your cold cheeks beginning to warm up back inside and out of the wind. This time, you loaded the logs and set the stove ablaze, declaring the spot directly in front as yours for the next half hour.

Eddie, of course, had none of that. He plopped himself next to you, pressed against your side – claiming “it had the most heat, stop hogging it.”

You didn’t stop, not when the still-warming skin of your arm goosebumped as it touched his. The veins running along his forearm occupied most of your thoughts while you two sat there in silence, only interrupted by occasional complaining of a different body part being cold and cursing of this storm.

“You warmed up?” Eddie asked, turning his head to look at you.

If you turned to him, you’d get caught up in the deep brown of his eyes or how soft his lips looked, so continued staring at the flames in front of you. You’d been plenty warm for some time now, but if you told him that, then you’d have to leave his side.

But before you could speak, he brought a hand up to scratch at his neck as he continued, “Cause I was thinking we could watch one of those movies Robin brought.”

Oh, that you could do. “Yeah. You can pick, I’ll go search for that popcorn Nancy put somewhere,” you said, getting up and finding it before he noticed how scattered your brain was becoming.

The TV came to life as kernels popped in the pan you shook on the stove. As you watched each one burst, the nerves of being with Eddie settled back in your body, sleeping against your spine. This weekend hadn’t gone as any of you expected, especially not with seeing this near stranger as cute, charming even – not that you’d tell him that.

And rather than watch The Apartment as planned, you realized you didn’t want Eddie to be a stranger anymore. So you pestered him with questions, not that he seemed bothered. You loved hearing about Uncle Wayne and the auto shop Eddie worked at, or his D&D campaign he was planning at the moment. Not with that smile when you told him about your family, friends, and how work was going. He even vowed to fight your annoying coworker if he ever saw him in public – like you had promised to check out Corroded Coffin when you made it back.

“Like, I know we fight literal demons in our game, but are you sure Tanner isn’t one of them? I mean, who falls asleep in the only bathroom? And locks it!” Eddie said, shaking his head as he filled his mouth with more popcorn.

“Right?” you said in between salty bites, “But as long he doesn’t show up at The Hideout, I’m coming for your show next month.”

And you’d give him a million more promises if it meant making that look spread across his face again – excited grin, cheeks squishing up to make his shining eyes shut. Wow. Maybe you’d put too many logs in, the air feeling much warmer now.

But it was easy, so surprisingly simple to spend the day with Eddie. He played you some of his favorite songs while you both laid on the ground, heads next to each other but feet pointing opposite directions. Every time he bopped his head to the beats, his hair brushed against you. The way his hands shot up to play an imaginary guitar and softly mouth the lyrics had you holding back giggles.

This time, he tried making you dinner. And he did make a surprisingly good plate of pasta – without burning the whole place down. While eating, he nodded along to what you said as if every word quenched some sort of thirst he had for listening to you, for learning everything there was about you. He had this air about him of confidence, but past that, in those soft moments, you saw him settle into a quieter form of himself – one that calmed you too.

And reaching the end of the night, you awaited his question. Whether you’d be staying in his bed again. The fire was fixed; it’d stay lit throughout the night. But the two of you threw on another movie, maybe just so you didn’t have to confront that just yet in case you would separate ways. Your eyelids drooped and you yawned so hard it shook through your body. And that tiredness made your decision just a little easier.

“Hey,” Eddie whispered, resting his hand on your arm and shaking it gently. “Let’s get to bed, alright?”

Your head had drifted down until it rested against his shoulder, so it ruffled his shirt as you gave him a few sleepy nods. Shutting the TV off, he grabbed your hand and led you toward the bedrooms. As he slowed at the split between the two doorways, you kept shuffling your feet, pulling him into his room. Not bothering with getting ready, afraid it would break the unspoken moment between you two, you climbed into the bed and took the leap, holding out your arm as he had the night before.

–

God, he took the space next to you so quick. But he kept his movements gentle, not wanting to rock you out of your sleepy state in case it woke you from this dream you’d created. Eddie settled in, wrapping himself around you and under the covers. Jesus, he spent all night working up a way to ask you for this.

A deep sigh loosened from his lungs that you had done it instead. Maybe it’d been the way your eyes lit up whenever he made you laugh before they shut as you turned breathless, clutching your stomach. Or how excited you got talking about your favorite show at the time, your hands flying through the air.

It’s not that you were intimidating, but you sure made him feel intimidated – nervous that he’d say the wrong thing and make that beautiful smile drop. But it didn’t. He could still see it in the faint light coming from the hallway, and it only grew as he pressed his body against yours.

Eddie really wanted to stay awake, on purpose this time. To enjoy this time as he stroked a thumb along the soft skin of your hip peeking out from under your shirt. But your heartbeat pumped against him, your breath made his fall in line to yours like a steady conductor – leading him right into sleep along with you. And he followed you without question.

–

It was in the late morning that you it happened, it finally came together. Half-awake, you laid your arm on the one wrapped along your stomach. It pulled against you, bringing you closer to the chest behind you. You weren’t yet aware enough to recognize that you weren’t dreaming, that it was Eddie also on the cusp of sleep holding you.

Not until did his lips connect to the point where your neck slopes into your shoulder did your eyes shoot open, any bit of tiredness inside you disappearing in a moment. Your head turned back to look at him, seeing his own eyes shut before also blinking open at your sudden movement.

He glanced between where he’d just kissed and your face, a blush rising to his cheeks as his mouth opened and closed wordlessly. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, um…” he stammered out before pulling his arm and scooting back until no part of him touched you anymore.

You’d done it – you’d broken the tension in the ugliest way, and you felt cold without him there. Turning to fully face him, you rambled to try to fix this in some way. “No, no, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry, really I should be the one sorry for taking your bed and forcing you to sleep next to me–”

“You didn’t force me–”

“But it’s really okay because it was cold that first night and so it made sense. And we both weren’t really awake just now, and–” You’d gotten up now to pace, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. You didn’t want that extra space between you, but he’d done it first and maybe that’s what he actually wanted.

–

Shit. Shit. Shit. How could he kiss you in his sleep? What a god damn idiot. Though he understood why he did it, watching you pace and float through the room like some angel he felt undeserved to kiss.

–

As you glanced at him for just a second, you saw the way his fists squeezed the blanket between his fingers. Oh, how could you have been so stupid to misinterpret things, and now you’ve made him uncomfortable.

Taking a long breath, you finished with, “I’m sorry, Eddie.” Your hand clasped onto your other one as you shifted from foot to foot.

With a hand rubbing down his face, he shook his head. “I’m the one that kissed you, and you’re apologizing,” he laughed out. “I didn’t mean to do that, especially without asking or something first, Jesus.”

You barely heard his next words that he spoke to himself, but your ears held on to every word. “Maybe my subconscious had gotten into my thoughts…”

Your teeth dug into the inside of your cheek as you contemplated your next sentence, the rabid butterflies ravaging your stomach. Pursing your lips, you quietly asked, “So… you would have wanted to do that if we were both awake?”

And his face shot up, those eyes the color of melting chocolate meeting yours. He climbed from his side of the bed, shuffling toward you – one of his steps for every three of your racing heartbeats. “Yeah, of course. But I didn’t even ask if you wanted that…” he said, leaving his unspoken question hang in the air.

Fighting the smile trying to rise up, you said, “So, you should probably ask then, Munson.” And the kind light shining from his eyes turned brighter into a tall flame threatening to burn you both. There it was, that cocky way he had.

His hand reached to grab yours, giving it a squeeze before he finally said it. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered, gaze unsure of where to stay, definitely your mouth it seemed.

You tried to come up with a million different ways to say yes, to tell him that you couldn’t stand another second without him being pressed against you again. As your mouth opened, a creaking noise came from the front of the cabin, followed by voices.

“We’re alive!” Steve shouted as the group walked through the door and stomped off snow from their shoes. Other words shot through the air, destroying the haven the two of you had made. Dropping your forehead against Eddie’s, you sighed out a breathless “Yes” that fell flat against his cheek.

–

Fuckin’ Harrington.

A/n: Thank you so much for reading. Reblogging and commenting make my day (and make me love you), so I’d love to hear what you thought! <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things

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impeakcharacterdesign · 2 years

Text

Sinclair!Reader and a not so happy family reunion

This was particularly inspired by @loveandmurders sister Sinclair au. While I was reading it I had the thought, “what if the sister was actually happy with her adoptive family?” And then this bug was born and wouldn’t leave me alone

I tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible, avoiding she/her/he/him when referring to the reader but I am fem aligned so this might lean more towards that. I also tried to avoid use of [Name] or Y/N.

Warnings: i like yanderes so there’s some elements of platonic yandere in this. If you don’t know what that is, look it up, see if you’re comfortable with reading that and then come back. Typical movie gore, since I’m not a big Sinclair Slut probably OOC, people getting made into wax statues.

Thinking about Sinclair!Reader. Being separated from your brothers when you were young and reuniting with them as a “tourist”.

But it’s not a happy reunion, at least not for you.

Sibling!Reader has vague memories of life before they were adopted.

You were only around four or five when your parents adopted you, not really old enough to clearly remember anything, especially years later. Some things stick in your mind though, no matter how much time has passed.

You’ll dream of a woman’s incessant screaming and even after you wake up the sound still rings in your head or sometimes you’ll catch a random whiff of an extremely sweet smell. The most prominent memory though is the feeling of burning pain.

Your adoptive parents don’t say much about your biological family, maybe because they don’t know or because you just never ask, but they know enough to tell you that the burns that cover the majority of your legs came from boiling wax, that the burns are why you were taken away.

The only things you have from your birth family are your first name, the memories, and the burns.

The lingering ghosts make you think you're better off never knowing. You never tell your parents about what little you remember and they never ask.

You’ve had a happy life with your family despite the circumstances that brought you to them. You’re treated as one of their own and the fact that you’re adopted is just an unimportant thought in the back of your mind.

The sky is blue, you are your bones, and you’re adopted.

Your brother, on the other hand, seems more curious about your birth family than you are. Over the years he’s tried to convince you to look for them, but you’ve denied him every time. You love your parents and you love your big brother. As far as you are concerned they’re all the family you’ll ever need. You’re more than content to leave your biological family in the past and let sleeping dogs lie.

Thankfully he respected your decision. It wasn’t like he would dig into your past without your consent, right?

....right?

You frequently take road trips with your brother. He’s the outdoorsy type and enjoys camping, and while you don’t care for sleeping outside, you do enjoy the long drives through small towns. It makes you think about how you’re passing through someone else’s life. It’s just a few miles to you, but to someone else, it’s their whole world. It’s a good bonding experience.

You’re passing through Louisiana this time around and if you’re being honest, you have no idea where you’re going. Your road trips are frequent enough that at this point if your brother tells you to hop in the car, you’d slide into the passenger seat without question and take over the radio.

You’re beginning to regret it though. Not only has your brother been oddly excited, but Louisiana is so hot and muggy, it’s almost unbearable. You’ve already ditched your pants at the last gas station for something shorter and more breathable. It’s not often you wear something that shows too much leg, the stares you get on the vast expanse of your burned skin make you uncomfortable.

Right now though, it’s just you, your brother, and the open road for miles. There’s no one around to gawk at you and that's a good thing, you decide.

At least until the engine begins to sputter and comes to an unexpected stop.

You look up from the CDs you were flipping through, “Did we just run out of gas?” You question.

Your brother shakes his head, “No way, we just filled up at the last stop, remember?”

He pops the hood and you both clamber out of the car to peer at the engine.

“What do you thinks wrong with it?”

There’s a brief silence where you both share a blank look. For all that your brother is good with his hands, he’s lousy with mechanic work. You’d be better off asking him how to start a fire with your ass cheeks than how to do an oil change.

As for you? Well, the less said about your mechanical expertise the better.

While your brother looks over the map you keep an eye on the road hoping that a stranger with better sense than the two of you would pass by and be willing to help.

Your brother seemed to have marked an area on the map. He’s insistent that you both walk there and as far as you can tell, it’s 20 miles in the opposite direction of the nearest town.

You’re sweating and in no mood to walk somewhere that’s not marked on the map.

“There’s nothing there!” You argue.

“There is! Just trust me on this, I promise you, it’ll be fine!”

You walk over to the driver's side and sit in the seat, slamming the door. “You can walk there if you’re so eager!” You say to him, “but either we walk to the town that’s actually on the map or I’m staying my happy ass right here ‘till someone else comes along.”

He begins to wave the map in your face and you don’t bother to listen to what he has to say, grabbing at it. He smushes your face and tries to push you away, “Let go! You’re going to rip it, you idiot!”

“I’m an idiot!?” You screech, “Well, then you’re crazy! The heats obviously fried your last brain cell!”

You’re leaning halfway out the window trying to smack him as he yelps when a truck comes cruising down the road, stopping a few feet away from your broken-down car.

Your brother pauses and you use the opening to give him a swat to the back of the head, quickly retreating into the car.

“Looks like we won’t have to walk after all.” You say a little smugly. He simply rolls his eyes at you, rubbing at the spot you hit.

The stranger hops out of his truck and scampers over.

He’s shorter than your brother and you take comfort in knowing that if he was a weirdo, your brother could easily stomp him.

His clothes are worn out, clearly meant for his work.

He’s awkward in his movements and if you’re being honest he reminds you of a possum or a raccoon. Some kind of critter that would dig through your trash.

He sure smelled like he did, you think privately.

All in all, he seemed nice enough.

“Y’all need some help?” He asks, a grin stretching across his face, “I can take a quick peek. See if I can’t get y’all back on the road.”

“We’d really appreciate it....” your brother holds his hand out in greeting, which the man shakes enthusiastically.

“Lester,” he introduces, “the names Lester.”

He pauses to stare at you when your brother gives him your name, like he’s heard it before.

Like he’s seen you before.

You give him a wave, hoping it’ll snap him out of whatever thought he was having.

His grin widens, showing off yellowed teeth, and he returns your wave eagerly.

He moves onto the engine.

You can’t really see what he’s doing but it probably wouldn’t make any difference if you could. You’d have no idea what he was fiddling with anyway.

“Well, there’s ya problem!” Lester exclaimed, “Yer transmission leaking!”

“Is that something you can fix here?” Your brother asks, “we really need to make it to our destination.”

“Not a chance,” Lester replies, pulling out a rag and wiping his hands of grease, “it's leaking and from what I can see, somethings wrong with the torque too.”

Your brother groans and you slump into your seat.

“Gonna have to take it to a shop. Closest ones in Ambrose, 15 miles from ‘ere. I can give y’all a ride there.”

You poke your head out the window, “Ambrose?” You ask confused, “That wasn’t on the map.”

Lester smiles at you, his eyes creasing, “Too small to put on a map. More like one of them tourist traps than a real town.”

At the mention of Ambrose, your brother's mood seems to shift.

He’s excited and immediately accepts Lester’s offer of a ride, surprising not only to you but your benefactor as well with his new energy.

You’re a little more hesitant but it’s not the first time you’re brother’s made an executive decision, so you go along with it.

When you step out of the car, Lester freezes, like he’s seen a ghost.

You assume he was put off by your scars and cringe internally. You hope he doesn’t comment on them like others have before.

He doesn’t thankfully, but he seems to be waiting for something.

You climb into the middle seat of his truck, and between the smell, your brother's weird mood, and Lester’s staring, you have a feeling it’s going to be a long 15 miles to Ambrose.

He doesn’t tell you that the door doesn’t open from the inside until after your brother has already shut it behind him.

“You two on some kinda romantic getaway or something?” Lester asks.

“Absolutely not,” you reply instantly, “we’re siblings and we’re just on a little trip.”

“Really?” Lester asks with exaggerated surprise, “Y’all look so different, I woulda never guessed y’all were related!”

“We get that a lot.” You say blandly and don’t bother to elaborate.

Lester says your name and you look at him. He repeats it a few times, like he’s testing it out on his tongue.

“How’d ya parents pick that name?” He asks.

You shrug, “No idea.” You hope the conversation drops but your brother is in a mouthy mood it seems.

“They’re adopted. They came to us when they were five.”

You shoot your brother a glare, “when they were five huh?” Lester’s knuckles whiten around the steering wheel, “Ya ever meet your real family?” He emphasizes the word ‘real’ in a way that makes your stomach churn.

“No.” You say resolutely, “don’t plan to and don’t really want to.”

The silence following doesn’t last long.

“How’d ya get them burns?” It’s posed like a question but his tone tells you he has an answer and is just waiting for you to confirm it.

You thought Lester was nice at first, but his questions make you uncomfortable in a way nobody has before. It’s like he’s putting together pieces of a puzzle you don’t even know exists and the thought fills you with dread.

You don’t plan on answering but your brother does. “The social worker said it was boiling wax. It had been treated at home but it got infected. Somebody found them passed out in the street an — “

You cut him off by harshly elbowing him in the ribs and he winces. You feel frustration build up in you, even you didn’t know that last bit, so why’d the hell he’d have to go and tell a stranger your business?

Lester seems satisfied with the answers he got and doesn’t bother you with more.

You spend the rest of the drive halfheartedly listening to Lester regale you with tales of his job picking up roadkill.

Inside you’re fuming. Your brother always wanted to know more about your past than you did. He probably took a look at your old records.

You’re gonna tear him a new one when you get the chance.

“Bo?” Your brother asks when Lester tells you the name of Ambrose’s only mechanic, “That short for something else?”

Lester glances at him, “Yep, but he hates it so everyone ‘round here just calls him Bo. Besides,” he grins “Beauregard Sinclair just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

You don’t notice the glee on your brother's face.

Lester stops in front of a station and turns to the both of you, “Listen, Bo, the mechanic, he’s a bit uhh wary of strangers,” he tells you, “Doesn’t like ‘em, so let me go soften him up for ya. I’ll make sure he treats ya right.”

A man in blue coveralls — Bo, you assume — steps out of the shop and stands with his hands on his hips. Lester gets out of the truck, “Y’all stay put!” He tells you through the window and rushes over to the man. Lester grabs Bo’s arm and pulls him back into the shop.

If you had been able to see the future that awaited you, you’d have slid over to the driver's side and taken the truck.

You would have driven and never looked back.

But you can’t see the future, so you don’t move from your spot.

Hindsight is 20/20

“So, what do you think?” Your brother asks in what you think is supposed to be a casual attempt. You know him well though, and can see he’s thrumming with anticipation.

“About what?” You ask.

“You know, about Ambrose? Or,” he hesitates, “About Bo?”

You give him a weird look, “Bo?” You repeat incredulously, “I haven’t even spoken to the man and you’re asking me what I think about him?” This whole day has felt like an interrogation session, you think it’s time you started asking the questions. “You’ve been acting weird this whole damn trip and you still haven’t even told me where we’re going, and don’t think I’ve forgotten how you told an absolute stranger all my business! What the hells the matter with you?”

“Don’t you want to meet your real family?” He blurts out and you feel a headache coming on.

“Oh, not this shit again. What does that have to do with anything? You know what, I am not havin — “

“I looked at your file, and I did some digging.”

“...What?” The world seemed to stop.

“I found your original birth certificate. Before our name, your last name was Sinclair and you were born at home, in Ambrose.”

A cold feeling washes over you, starting from the top of your head and spreading to the tips of your toes.

“You had three other siblings, I couldn’t find anything on two of them, but one of them was in the system too — your brother. The only difference was that they sent him back — “

You feel a growing sense of dread, “Please,” you beg, “please tell me you didn’t — “

“His name is Beauregard Sinclair — Bo.” He gestures towards the shop, “That man in there is your blood brother.”

A sense of betrayal sinks into your bones like lead, your whole body feels heavy with it. “How could you?” you hiss out. You don’t know whether you should scream or cry so you simply settle for being furious. “After I told you no! After I asked you to stop, you still kept looking and you even went as far as to drag me out here!”

You never wanted to meet anyone from your biological family and yet your brother, someone you trusted, put you in a situation like this.

“If you just tal—“

“No,” you cut him off, “you won’t say a word about what you found to anyone, especially not — Bo.” You spit his name out, “We’re getting the car fixed and as soon as he’s finished, you will take me home.”

You look him in the eyes, “This is not up for discussion.”

Before your brother can argue, Lester appears at the passenger window, Bo standing a few feet behind him, “Good news!” His joy clashes with the somber mood in the truck but he doesn’t seem to notice, “Bo’s not feeling too prickly today, so he’ll help you out and even throw in a discount!”

Lester opens the door to let you out, mentioning that he’s the one that has to go back for your car with the tow.

It might just be your paranoia but when he introduces you both to Bo, it sounds like he emphasizes your name in particular.

The smile Lester gives you is beaming as he drives away in his truck.

Bo stares intently at you — and only you.

You can feel his eyes roving over your face and scars, it’s a feeling you’re used to.

He’s not looking at you with disgust like others do though. No, the look he’s giving you is soft, and full of longing, like he’s been waiting for you all his life and can’t believe you’re standing in front of him.

Your hands feel clammy. You think that maybe he knows who you are, but throw yourself head first into denial.

If he did know and were to confront you about it, you’d firmly deny it.

Your brother watches you both, waiting for you to react, maybe have a spontaneous change of heart now that you’re face to face with your blood family.

Maybe if he hadn’t brought you here without your knowledge, if he had discussed it with you first.

But none of that happened.

So your face stays blank and you make no move to change your decision.

Bo asks questions more invasive than Lester’s, and you hope it’s just a trait all the residents of this small town have.

About your ‘real’ family, why you never went looking for them, what your childhood was like.

You feel sick, like the people around you were all in on the secret.

So, the next question he asks about your family, you snap.

You tell him you don’t care about your biological family, that they don’t matter. You already have parents and a big brother.

You tell him you only need one family.

You briefly consider asking him if he’s some kinda weirdo but decide not to insult the man that’s going to fix your car. He answers that question for you anyway, with a smirk and by swinging a wrench into your brother's head.

You stand there stunned as Bo climbs atop your brother's prone form, and continues to beat him. You watch in horror, only snapping out of it when a spray of blood hits your face.

“Get off him!” You shriek and throw your entire weight at Bo, catching him off guard. You feel hysterical, to the point where you almost laugh at the look of genuine confusion on Bo’s face. As if he doesn’t understand why’d you do something like that to him of all people.

You scramble away from Bo and over toward the only person you consider a brother. You choke out a sob when you see his face bloody and beaten. You tug at his arms, calling his name and urging him to get up, but all he does is whimper pathetically on the floor, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you away and you don’t have to turn around to know it’s Bo. You struggle but his grip remains firm. “Let me go! Get away from us!” You’re full-on sobbing at this point and Bo simply shushes you as if you were a child.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay honey pie, I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He buries his nose into your hair and takes a deep breath.

“We missed ya so much sweetie, we thought we’d never see ya again,” he grabs at your jaw, turning your face towards him. You can barely see him through your tears, but you can feel his burning gaze. “But you’re here now, all of momma’s kids back together,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “she’d be so happy. She never forgot her baby and she made sure we didn’t either.”

You don’t remember blacking out but you must have at some point because find yourself waking up in a child’s room.

You feel a bit disoriented as you sit up in a twin bed with ugly floral patterned sheets.

There’s another bed shoved into the corner of the room, having been stripped of its sheets and left bare.

The room is small and it makes it easy to notice large empty spaces. The room was clearly once shared by two children.

One grew up and moved on and the other ....didn’t

Toys are strewn about the room as if the children who inhabited it simply stood up in the middle of playing and never came back.

Stuffed toys of your favorite animals sit sadly on the shelf. Toys that have long been forgotten by the child they were made for.

There’s a sense of familiarity that comes with being in this room. It brings hazy memories that you can’t focus on, so you instead think about the morning you left home. Your mom pressing a kiss to your cheek and packing you lunch, and your dad sneaking you an extra 100 dollar bill.

The wide grin on your brother's face, promising you a trip unlike any other.

Tears well up in your eyes but you don’t sob like before. You don’t think you have the energy to. You feel drained, the day's events weighing on you like an anchor.

A loud creaking cuts through your exhaustion, reminding you that you’re not safe, that despite the familiarity this is not your home. A curtain of hair is the first thing you notice, then his posture. He’s hunched in on himself but it does little to hide his broad frame.

The man doesn’t say a word as he approaches you. You eye him warily, pressing your back to the wall in a vain attempt at keeping the distance between the two of you. All it serves to do is corner you as he comes closer, biting back the whimper of fear that rises in your throat.

You notice something off with his face, despite the faint wrinkles it’s unnaturally smooth, a mockery of Bo’s own face, you realize. You wonder if this is another unwanted brother.

You flinch as he lifts a hand toward you, but he doesn’t hurt you, instead, he begins to trace your features. His finger follows the curve of your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and the slope of your jaw.

He doesn’t speak a word to you as he does this, gently brushing away your tears when he traces your cheek. It’s meant to comfort you, you think.

He retreats from you but only for a moment, quickly invading your space again. He’s holding a box this time, and he gently presses childish artworks into your hands, colorful and messy works. His body language is expectant but you don’t know what you’re supposed to say.

He quickly runs through the drawings, the sketches improving as they go on, and at one point it becomes apparent that they were drawn by completely different people. While the childish ones depict a variety of subjects — dogs, birds, children playing — The more advanced ones only feature one subject.

You — well, you as a child anyway. You smiling, laughing, perfectly drawn portraits, like they were plucked from your family’s photo album at home.

One of the last sketches makes you pause. It shows variations of what you could have grown to look like. Each one is different but undeniably you, like someone had tried to draw you from memory. In some you have a more prominent nose, deeper-set eyes, or a weaker jaw. You, just slightly different.

He grows frustrated when you react to only one of his works. He shoves a wax figure into your hands, wordlessly urging you to take it. You hesitantly examine it, once again it’s you as a child but you’re not alone this time. You’re smiling happily between three older boys and you recognize their features. The crease of the youngest boy's eyes reminds you of Lester, the infuriating smirk of one of the older boys belongs to Bo, and the final figure you conclude is the man in front of you.

“Is this....us?” you ask, “it’s very detailed.”

His posture perks up and you turn the statue in your hand finding a signature.

“Vincent? Is that you?”

He excitedly nods his head, finally getting the response he desired — recognition.

Then Bo saunters in with Lester at his heels.

And that’s when you learn. Bo describes it much more romanticized but you can put it together yourself.

Your mother, Trudy Sinclair, was an obsessive woman.

She obsessed over her craft, her projects, and her children.

Trudy’s attention was always more focused on Vincent and, by extension, Bo leaving Lester on you with only each other for company. The day you were taken changed that.

She elevated you.

She would hammer into their heads that they should’ve protected you, poor defenseless you. Who would care for you, if not them?

“I do have people who care for me,” you hiss at them, “my parents! I had a protector until you bashed his face in!”

Bo huffs out a laugh, “Then he wasn’t a very good one sweetie.”

You avoid looking at him but he grabs your jaw and turns your head towards him. “I know you’re confused, honey. You spent too much time with those people,” Bo tightens his grip when you try to yank your face out of his hold, “they poisoned your mind, but you’ll see real soon that we’re your family.”

You imagine lunging at him, clawing at his face. You don’t do that, though, instead, you break down like a child.

“Where’s my brother?” You sob out, “I wanna go home, just let us go home!”

Bo is losing patience with you, his eyes hardening, “you ain’t never seeing that boy again,” he states harshly, “we’re you’re brothers, those people are nothing to you. After all,” he smirks “you said it yourself, you only need one family.”

#slasher x reader #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #platonic yandere #sinclair!reader #sibling!reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #slasher fandom #slasher community #slasher headcanons #yandere slashers #yandere slashers x reader #my writing

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hoodharlow · 11 months

Text

No Purple

AN: shout out to @killatravtramp for letting me use her idea 🥰🥰🥰 also well see more of Genesis when I post the actual teacher one shot

Request? No but I did use V's idea

Warnings: general smut lol

Word Count: 1.8k words

Genesis sighed and walked over to the water station. The two moms in charge of making sure there was water at all times were gossiping with the other two volunteers at the orange slices table. She opened another pack of the mini water bottles and placed them on the table. She took a deep breath then went back to her station. She made note of the moms that weren't doing what they signed up for, so they could help with the take down at the end of the fun-run.

The elementary school she worked at was organizing a fun-run to collect money for a school wide field trip to the caverns at the end of the year. Genesis had no idea how but she got roped by Dr. Reed, the principal, and helped organize the entire thing. She spent the last month calling places for donations for the fun-run, designing t-shirts for each of the grades, making volunteer schedules and all that on top of her actual work. She got lucky and Jack's parents were able to make the t-shirts as a donation. Jack offered pay for the field trip himself, but Genesis turned him down. He also tried to donate to her class specifically, but she said no.

Genesis sat back at her table and counted up the tallies for the fourth grade class. She took out her iPad and pulled up the spreadsheet she had for the fun-run and went through each student's paper. She heard a commotion, but paid no mind to it. She wanted to finish the tallies so the students that got per lap donations could take their forms home to collect their donations.

A to-go container was set next to her, making Genesis look up from her iPad.

"Hey," Jack said, bending down to give her a chaste kiss.

"No purple." Martín, a student from Genesis's class, said as he walked past the table to get to his friends.

The school was having a free day where students could go to the library to read, go to specific classrooms to do arts & crafts or play games and watch movies. The final option was to just hang outside in the fourth and fifth grade play area. Where the fun-run was taking place.

Genesis covered Jack's hand before he flipped off the five year old. "Leave, Lizbeth's kid alone." She whispered to him.

Lizbeth was one of Genesis and Jack's friends from high school. She was the first (and only) to have a kid out of their friend group and ever since Martín was born, Jack has had some sort of one sided beef with the kid.

"If purple is between a guy and a girl, what about gay and nonbinary people?" Jack asked her.

"Nonbinary people are yellow and I'm not too sure about gay couples." She answered him. She locked her iPad and turned to him. "Why are you here?"

That morning he picked her up from her apartment and drove her to school. He went to deliver the t-shirts Genesis ordered. He told her he couldn't stay because he was going to be at the studio the rest of the morning.

"Damn, I can't see my girl." He scoffed.

Genesis smiled shyly. After her cousin's wedding they decided to give dating a chance. Jack had a few weeks off and they've been spending as much time together before he had to go on the road again. When they told their friends and family they all let out a collective finally.

"I also brought pizza for everyone." Jack pointed toward the new canopy set up. There were piles upon piles of pizza boxes on the tables. He brought his hand down and patted her take-out box. "And I got your boujie ass flats."

"I'm not boujie." She frowned.

"Don't deny it, it's one of the many things I love about you." He said.

"You're annoying," Genesis rolled her eyes at him.

She went back to her work with the tallies then she moved on to making certificates to those that ran the most laps. By then it was time to take down the fun-run.

"You got sunscreen?" Jack asked.

"In my Harry Styles tote." She pointed at the chair next to him.

"Why don't you use my tote?"

"Because yours doesn't have bunnies."

Jack rolled his eyes. He lathered some on his face and made sure to get the back of his neck. He put back the sunscreen and went to go help take down the canopies.

Genesis watched as Jack talked with Dr. Reed. Another person he had beef with. Apparently when he was in fifth grade he went to the school where she worked and when he tried out for the school's annual talent show, Dr. Reed, who was Miss Fox at the time, stopped his performance of Fergalicious and told him he couldn't perform at the talent show. He called her one of his original haters.

At some point Jack took off his jacket and tied it around his waist, showing off his arms in the tight white tee he wore under. It got Genesis worked up. And the way he wore his baseball cap backwards wasn't helping her at all. She thought back to the times he would crash frat parties when he was in town and wore his hats like that. There was something about how curls curved over his hat that made her feral. She took a generous sip from her Hydro Flask as he took off his hat to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Jack shook his head, fluffing his curls, and put his hat back.

After everything was taken down, all the teachers took their students back to their classrooms. There was about fifteen minutes left before school was over.

Jack joined Genesis and sat in the back of her class. He entertained himself by organizing the large crayons in their designated colors. He occasionally looked over to Genesis. She had her class sitting in a large rug as they went around the circle, talking about what they did during the day. He smiled to himself watching how she was in her element. He knew she was one of the few people meant for teaching.

The bell finally rang.

"Alright, have a good weekend and if you got your envelope back please bring it on Monday." She told the students as they got their backpacks. "Also, everyone tell Jack thank you for the pizza and t-shirts."

"Thank you Jack." The class said in unison.

"Pay up." Martín told Jack. He pointed at his paper. "I did this many."

"You did six laps?" Jack asked as he pulled out his wallet.

At a kickback Martín went around the group asking for donations. A few just gave him twenty bucks but Jack told him he'd pay him a hundred for each lap.

"Yeah, pay up." The five year old said in a sassy tone.

"Here." Jack said, placing a thousand dollars in the envelope.

"Miss Ramos, I finished." Martín said, handing Genesis back his envelope.

Genesis frowned at Jack. "Seriously."

"He asked me." Jack said defensively.

"Of course he did."

When they finally pulled up to Jack's house, all bets were off. Genesis climbed over her seat and straddled Jack. She claimed his mouth and began rutting her hips against his.

"G, wait until I turn off the car." Jack laughed. He turned off the ignition and pulled out the key. "Where were we?"

They went back to making out. At some point, Jack had to pull away and led them inside. He picked up the back of her thighs and carried her upstairs. He gently set her down on his bed and began removing his clothes. Genesis followed suit.

"Keep the hat." She said, pushing down her brown cargo pants.

"Yes ma'am." He grinned, sitting against the headboard.

He knew that hat had some sort of effect on her and wore backwards to get her attention. Even before they started dating, she would sit on his lap and play with the ends of his curls.

Genesis straddled him and cupped his cheek, kissing him. She stood on her knees over Jack’s cock. He held her hips and guided her down his cock. Both let out a satisfied moan. Jack gave her hips a few squeezes, letting her know she could move. Genesis held the back of his neck and leaned back on one hand, slowly riding him.

She gently tugged on his curls as she moved her waist. One she was used to him, he lifted his hips to meet her thrusts. She was a moaning mess for him. He pulled her closer to him. Their lips moaning into each other. One of her hands gripped his bicep while the other traveled down to her clit. She rubbed herself.

“Come on, G, let go for me.” He encouraged her.

With that Genesis came. She repeated Jack’s name over and over until her high faded.

"I can take another." She said breathlessly.

She knew Jack hadn't come yet. He nodded and pulled his length out of her and positioned her so that only her ass was in the air for him, so she wouldn't be on all fours. He knelt in front of her and aligned himself to her entrance, slowly pushing himself in her once more. His hands gripped her waist as he slowly rocked into her.

As the minutes passed, his thrusts got rougher, and Genesis couldn’t hold back. She begged Jack to keep fucking her at that irritatingly slow and rough pace she loved. He leaned over, his chest against her back. His lips kissed all over her neck as he continued to fuck Genesis. She rocked back against him, lazily meeting his thrusts.

"That’s it, G." He groaned in her ear.

Jack shifted his hips as he thrusted into her. The new angle hit her in that spot that made her beg for him. She caught sight of Jack in the mirror doors of his closet and nearly came undone by just looking at him. The way his curls clung to his hat. How he tightly gripped her hips as he roughly thrusted into her. How his KY necklace moved erratically with every movement. It made her egged her on.

Genesis pushed back her hips rougher to meet his thrusts. He gripped her hips with one hand while the other went back down to her clit. Jack worked his fingers roughly as he pushed his hips into Genesis. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her sweet spot. Her quiet praises filled the room, egging him on. She quietly whimpered his name, lazily meeting his thrusts before her orgasm took over. Jack’s orgasm followed soon after, pushing himself deep inside.

Jack pulled out and laid on his side. Genesis pulled off his hat and ran her fingers over his drenched curls.

"How was that?" He asked, hovering over her body.

"An A." She giggled.

"Only an A? Let me do some extra credit for an A+ then." He mumbled against her neck.

"You're never gonna quit with the teacher puns are you?" Genesis asked him.

Jack placed her thighs over his shoulders. He looked up at her and grinned mischievously "No, I'm only getting started."

Taglist: @cherry4everrr @heavyhitterheaux @carma-fanficaddict @youngharleezy @youngharleezyxo @babyharleezy @that-90s-girllll @alinaharlow @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @webinurcloset @gassyandsassy1 @jackharloww @awhore4moree @noescapricho-essentimiento @a-moment-captured @neon-lights-and-glitter @purecinnamonextract @whywontyoulovemecami @camificrecs

#jack harlow #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow smut #jack harlow oneshots #jack harlow oneshot #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

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maybege · 2 months

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okay okay okay but I’m not done with matchmade!boba yet

Imagine him inviting you to HIS family reunion which is a few states over so it means it’s a road trip with him and his two kids which are very excited for you to be joining them cause they’ve shipped you with their dad ever since he came back from that first meeting and mumbled something about how nice you were 🥺😂

Which also means - absolute car and motel shenanigans including but not limited to:

acting like they’re asleep to give you guys privacy in the front of the car

investigating your taste in music and trying to assure you that their dad’s “old” taste in music does not impact his value as a potential partner

insisting their dad stop at the scenic landmarks for a family photo only to then decide they don’t want to be in a picture anwyays - but hey, since you’re already out of the car maybe you and Boba should take one together

having the rare sibling bond to decide to get along for a night so they watch a movie together in their room - determined to, under no circumstances, disturb their dad and his not-yet-but-soon-girlfriend

#matchmade!boba vibes #boba fett x reader #he’d be so nervous too but so excited to be traveling with you 🥹

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katyswrites · 2 years

Text

'tis the damn season

PART 3 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), angst (LOTS of angst), friends-with-benefits, parental neglect/abuse, smoking, alcohol use, two fools who can’t just say what they feel

Wordcount: 10.4k

Childhood friends-to-lovers-to-strangers-to-lovers again, broken promises, and roads not taken, lots of angst, soft smut, illicit affairs, what-ifs, and it’s always been you. And it all leads to your hometown, during Christmas break.

PART 3 | call me 'babe' for the weekend

THEN, Autumn 1985

You hummed to yourself as you unzipped your suitcase - the bed was already set up and made, thanks to your mother. Your parents had insisted on coming to New York to help you move, despite your protests about how far it was to travel for them - don’t worry, sweetheart, your dad had said. We’ll get a hotel, and make a trip out of it - do all of the sightseeing.

I want to see Cats! your mother had added cheerfully. You had grimaced, but in hindsight, thanked your lucky stars that they had been there. The line for the elevator was unbelievably long, with frantic families and excitable students lugging their lives upstairs in the form of boxes and bags. The late August heat seeped through the walls, the air conditioning doing little to combat the crowding of bodies in the downstairs lobby. You had opted to try the stairs while your parents waited with the bigger luggage, until you realized what a feat climbing to the 14th floor actually was. Halfway through, you had given up and stood defeatedly in the common space of the 8th floor, awkwardly elbowing your way into the half-full elevator stopping on its ascent. In the end, you only beat your parents to your dorm by about 10 seconds, just far more exhausted and sticky with sweat.

Now, hours later, you were taking some time to set up the rest of your room while your parents checked into their hotel downtown. Freshman orientation was later in the evening, and you wanted at least some time to yourself before getting swept up in the madness of freshman weekend. You hauled your belongings out of the box - while your parents had fussed about things like making your bed, building a bookshelf, and unloading your clothes - these were the personal things, the stuff that would make the bland dorm feel like home. A few of your favorite books, your Polaroid camera, a tattered teddy bear (shut up), your journal… and your memory box. Small things - movie ticket stubs, handwritten notes and drawings from Robin, old birthday cards, and photos - so many photos. You and Robin in your pep band uniforms; your parents on vacation five years ago; a group trip to the county fair in middle school, back when you and Robin were closer with Nancy Wheeler and Barb Holland; and, Steve. Of course, pictures of Steve.

One of you as kids, dressed as Dorothy and a scarecrow for Halloween, one when you and him “got the married” when you were 5, a white tutu on your head as a makeshift veil, with a pretzel stick bouquet. And, more recent ones. One that your parents made you take with him at graduation, still a bit distant, being only days before that fateful night at the party. Some of just Steve, taken by you over the summer - him in just his swim trunks, standing on the edge of a dock with the glittering lake behind him; him, asleep in his bed, hair mussed and bare-skinned beneath the sheets in the morning light; and, one of the both of you, your faces squished together, faces bright thanks to the flash against the dark night sky. He had insisted you take it with him, despite your protests, having just come out of his pool, soaked and slightly sunburnt from earlier that afternoon. It’s maybe your favorite picture of both of you - it’s a moment in time, and while only about a month ago, it’s already fading, despite how desperately you try to hold onto the simplicity of the past summer. It was the kind of summer that made you wonder if it was possible to be nostalgic for the present. Taking pictures of Steve had become your favorite pastime - all just polaroids, no artistry to them, just snapshots in time. It’s what you had always loved to do - pictures from the last decade or so filled the box, like a piece of the town you were leaving behind.

You taking these with you? Steve had asked a few days ago, sifting through your pictures as you were packing. You had nodded, frantically searching through your closet for those sneakers that you knew had to be somewhere.

Good, he had said. Don’t want you to go forgetting about this pretty face over in New York.

That had earned him a pillow thrown at his head.

You sat up on your knees on your bed, carefully clipping the pictures to the clothespins hanging off of a string lining your wall. You were so occupied with your task, that you hardly heard the keys jingling in the lock of your door. When the door did open, you nearly jumped enough to fall off the bed.

You turned quickly, hand to your chest to see a girl in the doorway, presumably your roommate.

“Oh! Jesus, sorry - you scared me!” you said shrilly, accompanied by nervous laughter.

The girl grinned, and gave a small wave. “Sorry! I meant to be here hours ago, but… early hasn’t really ever been my thing.”

“Right,” you said, shifting to sit crisscrossed on the mattress.

The girl lugged a duffel bag and suitcase through the doorway, plopping them on the empty bed on the other side of the room.

“Looks like you beat me to the better view!” she said, glancing at the window near your bed. It was a beautiful view, Lower Manhattan sprawling before you, with its high rises and busy blocks, the skyline visible over the apartment building in the foreground.

“Yeah,” you said sheepishly. The last thing you needed was to piss off your roommate from the jump. “Sorry, I probably should’ve waited -”

“Nah,” she said, waving her hand. “All good. The city’s not going anywhere.”

She hopped up on her bed, unzipping her suitcase. “I’m Debbie, by the way,” she added. You told her your name, and she nodded, setting herself to unpacking her bags.

You took her in - she was a redhead, hair permed with volume for days, with freckles and a curvy frame. She was relatively short, but moved like someone with a six-foot stature. Her nails are painted with chipping black nail polish, her worn t-shirt adorning the name of a band you weren’t too familiar with. You glanced back at the door.

“So, uh, do you have more stuff? Are your parents coming up behind you?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Nah. My folks aren’t exactly the ‘hands-on’ type. Besides, I pack pretty light. But, first -”

She dug through her back pocket, and fished out a pack of cigarettes. She hopped off the bed and bounded towards the windowsill at the end of your bed. She hoisted herself to sit on it, settling near the open window, propped earlier by you to let some fresh air in.

“You mind if I smoke in here?” she asked, already pulling a cigarette from the pack. “Promise I won’t set off the alarm, I’m a pro.”

“Oh, yeah - I mean, if you’ve got a spare one, that is.”

She grinned. “I’ve got a feeling we’re going to get along,” she declared, handing you a cigarette as you joined her on the sill.

She passed you the lighter after lighting her own, leaning back against the beam.

“So, where are ya from?” she asked, blowing smoke out the window.

“Hawkins,” you said. She raised an eyebrow, prompting you to add, “It’s in Indiana, maybe like an hour outside of Indianapolis.”

“Oh, nice,” she said, feigning interest. It was boring, and you knew it, so you chose to just reciprocate.

“You?”

“Long Island,” Debbie replied. “If you had a nickel for every person who tells you that this semester, you’ll probably be able to pay the tuition.”

You found yourself fascinated with this girl, with the way she pronounced it a Lawn Guyland, her words stretching and curling like bubblegum wrapped around a finger. Nothing seemed to be a problem, nothing was a big deal to her. Maybe you could be like that, too, in time.

You laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think there’s enough nickels in the world for that.”

She smirked, and took another drag. “You’re not wrong about that.”

“Well, I’ve never been to Long Island,” you said. “So, that sounds pretty cool to me.”

She scoffed. “Trust me, it’s not. Though, maybe if I was from Indiana I’d change my tune.”

You can’t even feel too offended, not when getting out of that godforsaken town was what you’d been working towards your whole life. So instead you chuckled dryly, staring out at the cityscape below you. It still didn’t feel real - the next part of your life, starting right then, in the city you’d dreamed about for as long as you could remember.

“What’re you majoring in?” she asked. “I’m in Gallatin, and yes, that’s the bullshit school, before you get a chance to say it.”

You held up your hands in defense. “Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything - besides, that sounds cool - I mean, Individualized Study, it means you can forge your own path, you know?”

She shrugged, which was enough for you. You flicked some ash out the window, as you added, “I’m Journalism, though I think I’m going to minor in Creative Writing, too.”

“Oh, nice, she’s a writer?” Debbie says with piqued curiosity. “I see you, Indiana.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call myself a writer, yet.”

She shrugged. “It’s the yet that’s important, Indiana. I mean, that’s why we’re here, right?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, shutting your eyes. “Why we’re here.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the city drifting up from below.

“Who’s the guy?” Debbie asked after a while, lifting her head towards the pictures hanging on your wall. You turned, seeing how Steve’s face was scattered throughout the memories pinned above your bed.

“That’s my friend from home, Steve. We’ve known each other a long time.”

You looked wistfully out the window, towards the west, as if you could see him, back in Hawkins. Debbie raised her eyebrows.

“Just a friend?” she asked, her voice suggestive.

You felt your face heat, and stared down at your shoes. “I mean, kind of. He’s - it’s complicated, I guess.”

She shook her head incredulously. “Nah, I don’t do complicated.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think I did, either.”

Then, Debbie got a mischievous glint in her eye. “But, to be clear, he’s not your boyfriend? It’s just, he’s kind of all over your pictures.”

You nodded cautiously. Then, she looked giddy. “Perfect. That means nothin’s stopping you from coming out with me to a party tonight? It’s at my friend Michelle’s place, but her older brother’s in Stern, invited all his friends too. I mean, I can’t be the only one flirtin’ with the upperclassmen.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but then she was hopping off the windowsill and heading back to her bed.

“Oh, I don’t know - I mean, it sounds fun, but it’s the first night -”

“And? C’mon, we can think of it as roommate bonding. What’s holding you back, Indiana?”

You thought for a moment, then felt a cheeky smile start to form.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

THEN, Winter 1985

“So, tell me all about it!” Robin said excitedly.

You sat with her and Steve in Gateway Diner, your go-to hangout spot in high school. You poured syrup over your pancakes, dousing them until they were drowning in the stuff. Steve smirked next to you, Robin rolling her eyes.

“You want some pancakes with that plate of syrup?” she asked sarcastically. You kicked her under the table, earning a scowl from her and a laugh from Steve.

“Fuck off,” you grumbled, sipping your coffee indignantly.

“Jesus, I really missed you around here,” Robin said, shoveling some of her veggie omelet into her mouth.

“What am I, wood?” Steve asked.

“I’m stuck with you everyday, dingus.”

You smiled, the familiarity of it all feeling so right. Being here, in this booth, the din of chattering customers and clinking dishes, the smell of eggs and coffee, the stickiness of the vinyl seat and linoleum table as reminiscent of home as your childhood bedroom. You and Robin would always come here after late-night band rehearsals, or on lazy Sunday mornings. And, this past summer, the three of you would slide into this booth, with Robin and Steve becoming closer at Scoops Ahoy, while you and Steve…

If Robin knew about you two, she wasn’t giving any indication. You had only arrived back in Hawkins yesterday, and made the promise to meet up with her in the morning. Spending the night at Steve’s hadn’t been in your plan. But, when Steve went to pick Robin up, with you already in the passenger seat, she hadn’t questioned it. It didn’t matter that Robin’s house was technically on the way to yours from Steve’s, not the other way around. It didn’t matter that you were keeping your red wool scarf wrapped tightly around your neck, well-aware of the bruises Steve had left on your neck and collarbone the night before. And, it didn’t matter that you smelled like Steve’s shampoo. Because the three of you were here, and it was familiar, easy. Because, deep down, you had missed home these last 4 months more than you’d liked to admit.

“Well, tell us everything!” Robin exclaimed, leaning forward on her elbows on the table.

You smiled as you took a bite of your pancakes. You felt Steve’s eyes boring into you, but you avoided looking at him - he had heard a lot of this yesterday, during your aimless drive around town, and last night, curled into his side, tangled in his sheets.

“Well, I mean - it’s amazing,” you said, trying to find the words to describe your life from the last semester. “At first, it was hard - I didn’t know anyone, and I kept getting lost - I made so many rookie mistakes, like taking the subway in the wrong direction - and, people can totally tell when you’re not from the city, I felt like an idiot. But, I at least got used to how to get to my classes pretty quickly, then I had my roommate show me around - Debbie, I told you about her, right? Anyway, she’s from Long Island, which is not the same as the city, I learned, but she at least showed me around.”

You took another gulp of your coffee to wash down the sticky pancakes. Under the table, Steve’s fingers brushed the side of your thigh, and your breath hitched. You did your best to keep looking at Robin and keep your face stoic as you continued.

“Debbie’s really cool - you guys should meet her. When that storm came in at Thanksgiving, I was so devastated that I couldn’t come home, so she was beyond kind and let me take the train home with her to her house - I mean, I think it was just to piss off her parents, but that’s neither here nor there.”

And you went on from there, to talk about your classes, and how even though they were mostly boring gen eds, you were excited to be enrolled in more actual writing classes next semester. You told stories of your best and worst professors, the best food spots in the city, how you were making friends with people in your classes and some theatre kids from the Tisch school. You went on and on, talking animatedly about how wonderful and scary it was, how different it all was.

“They mean it, when they say it’s the city that never sleeps,” you added. “I mean, I didn’t get a good night’s sleep until about two weeks in - you get used to the noise, eventually.”

As you spoke, only occasionally interrupted with a question from Robin, you were so aware of Steve - how his hand was traveling up your leg, his knee knocking into yours, the feeling of him by your side, becoming increasingly impossible to ignore. You realized it was a game to him - how soon until Robin connects the dots? But, two could play that game, you decided.

“So, have you, like, met anybody?” Robin asked.

You hesitated for a moment, confused. “Well, I just told you - there’s Debbie, and Ann, and Jake from Tisch, and -”

“No,” Robin said, smirking. “I mean, did you meet anybody? Like, not exactly friends?”

You felt your face heat, well aware of Steve next to you. His hand, now on your knee, stilled, waiting for your answer.

“Oh! Uh, no - not really. I mean, Debbie’s always trying to get me to like, ‘get out there,’ or whatever. But, um -”

You stole a glance over at Steve, just half a second. He was looking at you intently, but his face rather neutral.

“- I just, didn’t meet anyone that interesting, I guess. I mean, c’mon Robin - I’m there to be a student,” you added, albeit facetiously.

“Right,” Robin said. “Remind me, which bars are the ones that don’t card?”

You crumpled up your napkin and threw it at her, causing the three of you to descend into a laughing fit so contagious that other diners turned to look at you, annoyed. And, for a few moments, it felt as if you had never left Hawkins.

******

Steve dropped Robin off first, later that afternoon. She had briefly asked why, knowing that it made more sense to stop by your house on the way back to his. Steve had made some excuse about going on auto-pilot, and missing the turn. You played along, playfully slapping his arm and calling him an idiot. Inwardly, your heart was doing somersaults. After Robin bid her goodbyes, and you promised to visit her at work, you and Steve were driving away, silence falling between you two.

“You know,” Steve finally said. “What Robin asked, back at Gateway - it’s okay.”

You shifted to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s okay?”

“You know - if you started seeing someone. Or, you just wanted to have some fun, or whatever. It’s all good.”

You felt your face grow hot, staring at him as he continued to look ahead at the road.

“Well, yeah - I mean, I know. Was I supposed to think it wasn’t?”

“No! No, definitely not. That’s part of this - this whole thing. As long as it’s fun, it’s all good. Just - if anything got more serious, with some other guy or something, you’d tell me, right?”

You paused for a second, taken aback. “Yes, of course. I told you that, last night - if there was someone else, really someone else, I’d tell you. I mean, same goes for you, right?”

He glanced over for a moment, nodding ferociously.

“Yeah, of course I would.”

“Good!”

“Good.”

You stared out the window for a while after that, a million thoughts running through your mind. Steve didn’t own you, you knew that. And, you knew that there weren’t any promises between you two - why should there be? That was the whole deal. And, if you had wanted to seriously flirt with someone this past semester, you could’ve - you just chose not to. That was the easiest way to think about it, the most sensical. But, for a moment, you thought about Steve seeing other girls while you were gone, and you wanted to throw up. You did your best to shake the feeling, choosing to stare at the reflection in the rearview mirror.

For a while, neither of you could think of anything to say. It was a somewhat comfortable silence, a familiar one. Still, this strangeness hung in the air, unanswered questions. You let your ears become attuned to the radio instead, hoping the music would drown out the noise in your mind. Crackly Christmas music filtered through the car’s speakers, occasionally cutting out when service got spotty. Soon enough, the familiar, synthy sound of Last Christmas started playing, and you started humming along. You leaned across the console and turned it up, earning a groan from Steve.

“No, not Wham!” he cried.

“C’mon Steve, you know you love it!”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. You leaned across the console towards him, mimicking holding a microphone as you sang:

Last Christmas I gave you my heart

But the very next day you gave it away

This year, to save me from tears

I'll give it to someone special

You were being annoying about it, and you knew it - you were singing with a stupid grin, shoving the imaginary microphone in his face. He laughed, and eventually joined in with you, despite his faux-protests. He drove through the neighborhood streets, passing houses with white-picket fences and frosty, browning lawns, begging to be covered with a blanket of snow in the coming weeks.

At a stop sign, Steve seized the opportunity to fully turn to face you, matching your energy to scream-sing in your face, both of you overpowering George Michael. As he did, he reached across the console and placed his hand on your thigh. Unlike the restaurant, it didn’t even seem intentional - no, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. But you did.

Your voice trailed off, the sound of the song fading as your ears roared, the blood rushing to your face.

He stopped too, after a few moments, his smile falling, softening into something else.

“What is it?” he asked. You let your eyes flick down to his lips, just for a second, and you shook your head softly. You brought your hand up to cup his cheek, and leaned in closer.

“Pull over, Steve. Somewhere private.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

THEN, Autumn 1986

“That was -”

“Mm hm,” you said, breathing short. You pulled the sheets up around you, turning on your side to look at the man next to you.

Dave smiled, resting his arm behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

“I mean, wow,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m glad I convinced you to grab that drink.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, scoffing.

“Yeah, well, only after like, the eighth time.”

“Worth the effort,” he joked. You giggled, nuzzling further into the sheets.

He cleared his throat after a moment, glancing over at you quickly.

“Um, you’re good, right? Like, do you need me to do, uh, anything else for you?”

It took you a moment to realize what he was getting at, and you felt our face heat.

“Oh! Uh, no! You’re good! It was - it was nice!”

The answer was actually yes, I got pretty close, and you really should go down on me for an hour to make up for it, but it feels like a moot point now. But, that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun, or enjoyable - it had felt pretty good. You had just been a bit spoiled up until now, you decided. That had to be it.

Besides, Dave was great - handsome, a bit mysterious, and a senior, who shouldn’t be interested in a sophomore like you, but he was. He was nice, and interesting, and bought you a few drinks - how could anything be bad about that?

“Okay, just making sure,” he said, sitting up against the headboard. He reached for his bedside table, fishing through the drawer until he fished out a pack of cigarettes. He stuck one in his mouth, then extending the carton to you.

You accepted it gratefully, taking one out for yourself and letting him light it for you.

After a few moments passed, he said, “So, uh, d’you live far from here?”

You glanced over, exhaling smoke before you answered.

“Oh, um, not really - I’m in Lafayette this year.”

He frowned, flicking some ash into the tray beside the bed.

“I mean, that’s way over close to Chinatown, right? It’s kind of a hike this time of night.”

Oh. What he was really asking was how are you getting home?

“Oh, I mean, I can take the subway. Not a big deal.”

He cocked an eyebrow, then shook his head.

“No need - I’ll call you a cab, yeah?”

You felt your heart sink a little, but then again, what were you supposed to expect? That he’d let you stay over, on a weeknight, in his apartment that looked like it cost more than your parents’ house? It had only been a first date, for Christ’s sake. You suddenly felt so out of place there, so small, but you feigned a smile.

“Oh, sure - that’s really nice of you.”

He waved his hand, fishing through his discarded jeans for his wallet.

“Don’t mention it - you’ve gotta get home safe, you know?”

You nodded quietly, stubbing out your cigarette in the tray on the windowsill. He stared at you for a moment, expectantly. You got the hint, and nodded.

“Yeah, uh, just give me a minute to get dressed, yeah?”

He nodded, leaning back against the headboard as you searched around for your things. You excused yourself to the bathroom, hurriedly getting dressed. This was probably how the real world was, you decided. What you and Steve did - that wasn’t the norm. Nothing about your situation with Steve was exactly normal, you supposed. But, what did this make you now? Do you even tell Steve about Dave, next time you’re home? Wait, why the fuck are you thinking about Steve right now?

On your way out, after Dave handed you some cash for the cab, you stood with him in his doorway.

“Well, uh, thanks for the cab,” you said, fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied. Then, after a moment, he added, “I - I had a good time tonight. And next time, maybe we’ll do an actual dinner? On me?”

Next time?

You nodded, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

“Yeah! Yeah, totally! You know where to find me!”

He smiled endearingly, and when the taxi honked outside, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. And, when you got in that cab and gave the address, you felt… confused. But, you couldn’t think anymore, not right then, so you pressed your head against the glass, and traveled home in silence.

THEN, Winter 1986

You sipped your drink slowly, the crackle of the prosecco mixed with cranberry on your tongue tasting like just like Christmas. The Harringtons’ house was warm, full of chatter and laughter as guests clinked their drinks and snacked on appetizers. You had made a beeline for the bar, set up in the kitchen on the counter. Poinsettias seemed to be the drink of choice, and despite having only been there a few minutes, you were getting towards the end of your second.

You had been home nearly a week, avoiding Steve with various excuses - you had promised to visit your aunt in the city, you had to go shopping with your mom, you needed to spend a day baking to prepare for Christmas Eve. There were a few times he had called, too, and you had told your parents to lie and say you weren’t home, claiming you didn’t feel well and didn’t want to see friends at that moment. None of the above was true, not really.

You were being a coward, and you knew it - you just had to tell him. It wasn’t a big deal, you had known this would happen -you were just shocked, more than anything, that it had happened to you first -

“Hey! There you are!” you heard a familiar voice say. You turned, and felt your face break into a wide smile when you laid your eyes on Robin.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around her.

“When did you get here?” she asked as she pulled away.

“Oh, just a few minutes ago -”

“No, I mean in Hawkins. You never called to say you were back!”

A pang of guilt hit you - you should’ve told her, but if you saw Robin, you’d have to see Steve too. You opened your mouth to answer, until you saw Robin wave over your shoulder to someone - you could’ve bet a million dollars who it was.

“There he is!” Robin said excitedly. You paused, and plastered a smile on your face as you turned, only to come face-to-face with Steve.

His eyes widened, just for a moment, his gaze roaming up and down your form.

“Hey,” you said quietly.

“Hey,” he echoed, face soft. “I, uh, tried calling - you never said when you came back to town, exactly.”

He sounded wary, like you might bolt if he wasn’t careful.

“Oh, yeah - I’ve been back for a few days, but it's been crazy busy. You know, with my family, and stuff.”

It was blanket-thin, and you knew he saw right through it. But, he just flashed a quick smile and nodded.

“Oh, cool - well, it’s great to see you. Seriously, really glad you could make it.”

Your heart ached a little - you hadn’t seen him in months, had hardly called him all semester. Had hardly called home at all, really. And, God, he looked great. Pretty, even, in the warmth of the Christmas lights.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Me too. I really missed you guys,” you added, glancing over between him and Robin.

“Well, enough of the sentimental crap - let’s get drunk, and stuff our faces with a bunch of sugary junk?” Robin said, clapping Steve on the back as she headed towards the dining room. You moved to follow her, but stopped when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey - are you okay?” Steve asked. You stared ahead for a moment, before taking a step back to meet his eyes. “When I hadn’t managed to get ahold of you, I - I mean, are you pissed with me?”

You shook your head fervently. “No, no, Steve, I - I’m sorry. I should’ve called you, the day I came back. I just -”

You sighed, and gently shouldered his hand away. He frowned, but waited patiently for you to gather your thoughts.

“Steve - I really didn’t know how to tell you this, but… I’m seeing someone. Well, sort of. But, it’s been going on a couple of months now, and - you should’ve known about it sooner, and I’m sorry, it’s just -”

“Hey, hey -” he cut you off, placing his hands firmly on both of your shoulders. “It’s okay, seriously. I mean… we knew this might happen, one way or another. I mean, I think it’s great.”

You furrowed your brow - he sounded sincere, and looked it to.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I swear - I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I was looking forward to -” he glanced around, suddenly aware of the house full of friends, family, neighbors, “- well, you know. But - we’re still friends, right?”

He sounded small towards the end, the question coming out timidly in a way that was so uncharacteristically Steve. You suddenly felt guilty, and incredibly stupid for ever thinking that this conversation would have gone any differently.

“God, yes, of course, Steve,” you said gently. “We’ll always be friends. I think we shook on that, a long time ago.”

He smiled fondly at the memory. “Good to know you’re still gonna be a pain in my ass, then.”

You both laughed, and you sipped more of your drink, your head finally starting to feel a bit fuzzy.

“Well, let’s find Robs - I mean, she might start a rumor that we’re sleeping together, or something.”

He rolled his eyes and chuckled, before moving to follow you towards the dining room.

“Hey,” he started, “What’s his name?”

You stopped, turning to face Steve again.

“Who?”

“The guy, your boyfriend, or whatever.”

“Oh - Dave. He’s a senior, a film student.”

Steve nodded, swirling the beer in his glass.

“Well, I hope he’s a great guy - you deserve someone great.”

He was looking down as he said it, not quite meeting your gaze. You just nodded, face sympathetic.

“He is - I mean, he’s good to me.”

Steve smiled at that, genuine and warm, and a moment of understanding passed between you two. For you, it felt like this great weight had been lifted off of your shoulders, this thing that had been in the back of your mind for weeks suddenly not a big deal. And, it was Christmastime, and here he was, the same boy you’d always known. The drinks were flowing, the fire was warm, and you were home. And maybe, for the week, you could pretend you were 17 again, because it was easy to do that when you were with Steve. It was always easy with him - and in that moment, you were certain it always would be.

THEN, Summer 1987

That summer, when you came home to Hawkins, Dave had promised to visit. You had stayed behind in New York for a while after the semester ended, so you could cheer him on at graduation. Well, he didn’t have enough tickets for his section, so you sat up in the nosebleeds at Yankee Stadium. Nonetheless, you were able to go out drinking with him and his friends after, thanks to the fake ID he had acquired for you.

He said he’d come to Hawkins at the end of June, and properly see where you grew up, and the people who had been there with you through it. Part of you had been terrified, embarrassed by the rundown, small town, by your overbearing but loving parents, by your goddamn childhood bedroom that still had dolls standing on the dresser. Still, as much as you had been trying to distance yourself from Hawkins, to leave it behind and never look back, it was where you had come from, the place that molded you - if he loved you, then he should love Hawkins, right?

But, all of the worries you had were pointless - Dave would never get on that train, would never set foot in Hawkins, or your childhood home. He would never meet Robin, or Steve, or anyone else who mattered. Because, after weeks of hardly hearing from him, you tried to call him directly. And, some woman named Lisa picked up. You knew damn well where his phone was, right on his bedside table. You also knew how early in the morning it was when you called, hoping to catch him before he left for work.

When you showed up on Steve’s doorstep that night, with tear-stained cheeks and red, tired eyes, he didn’t question it. And, when you asked to stay over, he didn’t give the slightest indication that he minded. And, when you finally told him what happened, he held you while you cried.

You deserve better than that asshole he had said soothingly. One day, you’re going to find someone who thinks the world revolves around you, who can’t breathe when they’re not with you. I swear.

And, when you started kissing him, he had protested at first - c’mon, you’re crying, you need some time to deal with this.

And, Steve was probably right. But, you had taken his face in your hands, and whispered, Please, Steve - I need you, I missed you - make me forget all about him.

And he did. One, two, three times that night. And the next morning. And, nearly that entire summer - twisted in Steve’s bedsheets, driving around in Steve’s car, and everything was Steve. Throughout that summer, you spent your days in his passenger seat, taking late-night drives to Lover’s Lake, eating sweet, sticky breakfasts at Gateway, singing along to Tears For Fears until you can’t hear your own thoughts. That summer was sunscreen and cheap beer, chlorine and Steve’s cologne, sweet strawberries and the soft morning light that filtered through his bedroom window. Just like before, no promises were made - you couldn’t do that, couldn’t cross that line. But, it was fun, and it was easy, and for just a passing moment, you almost didn’t want to go back to New York in August. Almost.

THEN, Winter 1987

“So,” Steve said, blowing smoke out the window, “How serious are you about this guy, exactly?”

You were sitting in Steve’s living room, the fireplace crackling as Christmas music played from the radio in the kitchen. His parents were gone, attending his dad’s annual office Christmas party. According to Steve, it was really just for everyone to receive their holiday bonuses, but it was also an excuse for them to get drunk and stupid. Once again, you had to break it to Steve that you had started seeing someone new - it had only been a few dates, but the guy was kind, and treated you like a gentleman, and Steve may as well know now, so it isn’t a surprise down the line if it ever became something official.

You raised your eyebrow, flicking some ash off of your cigarette.

“Who, Paul?”

He nodded, taking another drag while keeping his eyes on you. You shrugged, taking another swig of beer as you considered your answer.

“I wouldn’t say ‘serious’ is part of the conversation right now,” you said, measuring your words carefully. “I mean, we’ve gone out a few times, and - he’s really great. Like, a really nice -”

“I’m sure he is,” Steve replies, flicking some ash into the tray on the windowsill.

You sighed. “...but?”

Steve shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just - I don’t want to see you get hurt again, that’s all.”

You bristled, folding your arms. “Don’t worry, Steve - I’m a big girl, I think I can handle myself.”

“Oh, I know - but, that shit that Dave pulled? I don’t want to see that happen again, you know?”

“This is different - Paul is great -”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.”

His words were short, voice sharp. Silence fell between you two for a few moments, tenuous and awkward. You stared down at your feet, avoiding the way Steve’s eyes burned into your skull. You heard him huff, and even though you were avoiding looking over at him, you could imagine the way he was running his hand through his hair, thinking.

“Look,” he said, more softly this time. “I just - I’m looking out for a friend - I mean, you just deserve someone who treats you right, that’s all.”

“He does treat me right,” you shot back, meeting his eyes again.

“Good.”

“Great.”

Neither of you spoke again for a while, just letting the quiet night and hum of the television fill the air. You took another drink, quietly debating how to move on from this topic. You remembered that you hadn’t called Paul yet since you’d arrived home, and a pang of guilt hit you - knowing him, he was waiting by the phone, hoping that you had a nice flight and that you were already missing him.

“I really do like him,” you added, feeling stupid and small as soon as you said it.

“You know,” Steve murmured, “you shouldn’t just be going out with someone nice.”

You rolled your eyes. “Didn’t you literally just say you don’t want me to get hurt, and be with someone who treats me right, all that shit?”

“Yeah, I did - but, nice isn’t enough. Not for you.”

He shifts, scooting closer until he’s right next to you.

“I mean, nice… that’s a given. But - you deserve more than that. I know you - you need excitement, and fun, and someone who thinks the sun shines out of your ass even when they’re unbelievably pissed off with you - the real stuff. It should just, like, feel like you’ve been struck by fucking lightning, when you’re with someone. Not nice.”

The last part came out forcefully, perhaps more than he had meant. Your breath caught in your throat, and you whipped around to look right at him. His eyes were wide, pleading.

You placed down your bottle, slowly, not breaking eye contact with the boy.

“Is that so?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. His knees were brushing yours, the two of you shoulder-to-shoulder. Your heart was pounding, threatening to break through your ribcage and fly away at any moment. Before you could think, or say anything at all, he closed the distance by pressing his lips to yours.

There was nothing slow or gentle about it - he was kissing you fast, desperately, fervently. And, you let him. He immediately brought his hands to the sides of your head to pull you impossibly closer. You were breathing him in, it’s all gnashing teeth and tangling tongues, quiet moans and shaky breaths.

The last few months of distance, of toeing the line of something-like-friendship, were dissolving in an instant. As you breathed him in, tasted him, you were telling him I missed this, I wanted this.

You shifted until you were swinging your leg over his, straddling him without breaking the kiss. It was when his tongue entered your mouth that you moaned - he tasted like cigarettes and cheap beer, smelled like mint and cologne, and it was so Steve.

It was when you brushed against his clothed bulge that he groaned, earning a deep fuck from him.

You pulled back, both taking a moment to come up for air, and maybe to your senses. You looked into Steve’s eyes, a question hanging between you both - we shouldn’t do this, not again - right?

But his eyes were like chocolate and honey, his lips tasted like home, and god dammit, he just looked so pretty right then. So you were kissing him again, practically devouring him, doing everything short of melding your body into his. It set him off, and before you knew what was happening, he was taking charge.

He wrapped his arms around you and gathered you into him, picking you up off his lap and moving until you were on your back on the floor. He held himself over you, kissing you with everything he had. There wasn’t time to move up to the couch, let alone his bedroom upstairs - there wasn’t enough time, you needed each other now.

He reached down for the button of your jeans, fumbling with it until it popped, and you shimmied them down your legs as he sat up, pulling his shirt over his head in one swift movement.

It was a whirlwind, a dizzying haze - you weren’t sure when the rest of your clothes came off, or his - all you knew was that you were needy, enough that you whispered touch me, Steve, please into his mouth. And he did - oh, he did.

He brought his hand downwards, fingers brushing along your slit as he swore.

“Fuck, you’re so wet baby - so wet for me -”

You nodded eagerly, bucking your hips up into his hand. He got the message, not even bothering to make fun of you for being desperate. Instead, he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing slow circles there. You gasped, canting upwards until your forehead was buried in his shoulder.

“Feel good, baby?” he asked.

Baby. He only ever called you that in moments like this, and you had missed it more than you wanted to admit. So you just bit your lip and nodded, whispering. “Yes, my God, feels fucking amazing.”

Nobody could make you feel like Steve did, not without being told. But he knew your body, knew you, better than anyone. So when he sped up his ministrations on your clit and started kissing you lazily, you let him. When he slid in a finger, two, three, you let him. And when he hit that spot inside of you that made you see stars, you let him.

He moved his lips down as he touched you, sucking a bruise to your collarbone. You cried out, and he smiled into your skin.

“You close? Yeah, are you gonna come on my fingers, baby?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathed, eyes screwed shut as you arched up into his hand. “Right there, don’t stop - fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck - oh my God -”

Then you were coming undone, his name a strangled scream on your lips as you came.

“There you go, Jesus, just like that -” he whispered in your ear, sucking on the soft skin behind it as you came down from your high.

You had forgotten what it was like, for it to be like this - nothing compared to losing yourself in Steve Harrington. That was why, while your heart was still racing, chest still heaving, you were kissing him again, already wanting more.

“Inside me - please, Steve, I need you -”

“Fuck, yeah, I know. I do too, hang on -”

He frantically pulled down his boxers, the only piece of clothing left between you two. The carpet was itchy against your back, the floor hard beneath it, but you didn’t care - not with Steve above you, ready to give you what you wanted.

He leaned back on his knees for a moment, looking down at you, his expression so soft that you thought you might melt under it.

“What is it?” you asked quietly.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. He started to bring himself down over you again, then froze.

“Shit,” he said under his breath.

“What?” you asked, aware of how whiny you probably sounded.

“I don’t think I’ve got any condoms,” he grumbled, pressing a hand to his forehead. Your heart sank for a moment, because God, you were certain that you’d die if you didn’t have him that very moment.

“Steve, hey -” you whispered. “I mean… I’m on the pill. I have been, for a while, I just never… I mean, I know you, so - if you wanted…”

His eyes widened, and he lowered himself, propping himself up on his elbows as he brought his face inches from yours.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded slowly. “I trust you, Steve.”

And you did - you really did. He looked like all of his Christmases had come together at once, and he kissed you again, with ferocity.

“Thank God,” he rasped, “because I think I’d die on the spot if I couldn’t fuck you right now.”

Your stomach flipped at that, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it, because he entered you in one swift movement. You groaned, the sudden intrusion a welcome one - you were so full, Steve fitting you so perfectly, so completely. You had forgotten just how good he felt. He dropped his forehead to yours, breaths ragged.

“Fuck - you feel fuckin’ perfect -” he breathed. “Please tell me I can move,” he pleaded.

“Please do, Steve.”

That set him off, and he started rolling his hips into yours slowly. You just sighed into his mouth, his nose nuzzling yours as he set a slow pace. He pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in. Without being told, his hand traveled down to where your bodies met, his forefinger rubbing your clit in agonizingly slow circles.

You gasped, fingernails grazing down his back for purchase. You clenched around him, and he let out a strangled groan that nearly killed you.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, picking up the pace a bit as he thrust into you. “You’re takin’ me so well, you always do - fuck, nobody takes me like you -”

“It’s not - ah, shit - it’s not like this with other people,” you whined, pressing your lips to his shoulder. “You just feel so good, Steve, ohmygod -”

You were both messes, babbling dirty words and sweet declarations into each other’s ears. And semblances of rational thought had vanished, because all you could feel was each other. All you felt was his cock, stretching and filling you so perfectly; his hands, touching you in all the right places; and his voice, saying all the right things, like you’re so fuckin’ amazing and I needed you so bad.

You were saying things too, crazy things, desperate things - it was hard not to, Steve was like a drug, one you’d never get enough of. Maybe that’s why what happened next did, you told yourself later. You would later try to rationalize it in so many ways, beyond the most obvious one. Because, when one moment changes everything, isn’t that what you do?

It was when you had shifted positions, both of you upright. He held you to him as he sat up, pulling to onto his lap as he continued to fuck up into you. His hand found your clit again as you started to bounce on his cock, the new angle hitting you just right.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you cried, meeting his thrusts. He buried his head into your shoulder, sloppily pressing his lips there as he groaned.

“Thank God - I’ve been close ever since you started kissing me, baby.”

You laughed, moving faster as you chased your high.

“Where can I finish?” he asked, suddenly aware of the lack of the usual barrier between you two.

“I told you,” you breathed, the sounds of your slapping skin growing louder. “I trust you - come inside me, Steve.”

He sounded like he actually died right then, pulling you impossibly closer. Your breasts brushed the hair on his chest, and it was driving you crazy, being that close to him. He started babbling nonsense towards the end, like he often did.

“Oh my god, baby, fuck, it’s like this pussy was made for me - ya know I mean that, fuck - just like that, yesyesyes -”

You were so focused on yourself, and the tightening coil in your belly that was threatening to snap at any moment, that you almost missed what he said next - almost.

“I’m almost there - fuck, I missed this, missed you - God, I love you, you know that? Ohgodohgodohgod -”

Before you could say anything, the coil snapped, and you were coming, so hard you nearly went blind. You screamed, throwing your head back as he continued to thrust into you, his cock twitching inside you. He followed a moment later with your name on his lips, and there it was again - fuck, I love you.

You felt him come inside you, a new sensation, warm as he filled you up. You shuddered at the feeling, his cum seeping into you as you continued to clench around him, the aftershocks of your orgasm coursing through you.

Both of your chests were heaving, breathing almost in unison. You still sat in his lap, arms wrapped around each other. You felt his heartbeat against yours, hard and rapid as he peppered gentle kisses along your shoulder.

But, as you came down from your highs, you were frozen - did you hear that right? No, you couldn’t have - there was no way that he really said -

“Wow,” he whispered. “That was -”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “It was.”

You felt him start to soften inside you, and you moved to clamber off of him. He gripped your back for a moment, as if to say not yet, stay here for a minute, but it was too late - you extracted yourself from his embrace, seating yourself on the living room carpet. You still felt him inside of you, threatening to trickle out of you. He must’ve realized too.

“Oh, shit,” he said. “Let me, uh, get you a towel or something - I didn’t even think of that, sorry - I’ve just gotta run upstairs, I’ll be right back -”

Before you could say anything, he was pulling on his boxers and standing up. Before he left the room, he stopped and left a quick, chaste kiss on your lips - something he hardly ever did after sex. Something new. He did it without second thought, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then, he was running up the stairs, taking them two at a time to the bathroom.

You sat there for a moment, alone, and held your head in your hands. Shit.

I love you - that’s what he said, twice, loud and clear. And, he doesn’t even seem to know. You’re not sure if that fact made it better or worse. There was only one thing you knew for sure - that feeling, settling deep in your chest, so big and overwhelming that it threatened to split you in two - it was fear. This wasn’t supposed to happen - that was the whole point. Here you were, naked in Steve Harrington’s house, after having sex on his living room floor - what were you even doing? Then, you thought of Paul, who you hadn’t even bothered to call since you got home - and it set you over the edge. Your head felt light, the room spinning as a dull ring filled your ears. Before you knew it, tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes, and then they were falling, hot and fast.

You didn’t even hear Steve come back into the room, wearing pajama pants and holding a towel in one hand and a blanket in the other, presumably for both of you. Not until he dropped on his knees next to you, hands brought to your shoulder.

“Hey, hey - what’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I do -”

But you shouldered him off, reaching to grab your clothes. You pulled on your panties and clasped your bra, avoiding eye contact with the boy, despite his desperate pleas.

“Wait, what’s going on? What happened? Hey -”

He gently grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stop and look at him as you were pulling your jeans back on.

“Talk to me - whatever it is, it’s okay.”

His eyes were panicked, concerned. You sobbed, fresh tears rolling down your face.

“Hey - Chicago,” he said firmly. Well, fuck.

You just stopped, and took a deep breath. “Did you mean it?”

He furrowed his brow, puzzled. “Mean what?”

Your breath hitched, and you shook your head.

“Forget it,” you conceded, pulling your sweater back on over your head.

“Forget what? Seriously, what the fuck?”

You straightened up, and looked him in the eye. You let your face become stoic, at least to the best of your ability, before saying, “We can’t do this anymore. Sex, I mean, you and me. It’s a bad idea.”

His face fell. “What? What are you even talking about? Was it like, not good for you? I thought -”

“No! Jesus, it was fucking great - that’s the problem?”

He only looked more confused, and you pressed the heel of your hand to your forehead as you shut your eyes, frustrated.

“Okay, shit - I mean, I’m seeing Paul, okay?”

He looked taken aback at that. “Wait, that’s what this is about? I thought you guys weren’t that serious, not actually dating or anything -”

“Well, it’s not fair to him. Or you, or anyone involved, really.”

“And that’s for you to decide?”

You crossed your arms indignantly. “I didn’t say that. But, I’ve got a life back at school, and I just don’t think -”

“Oh, I see,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “That’s what this is about.”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “What?”

“Look - it’s no secret that you hate Hawkins, and you want to get the Hell out. And, I don’t blame you. And, you’re doing it. But, let’s not pretend like you haven’t always thought you were better than this town, and the people in it.”

You straightened up and took a few steps towards him. “That’s not true -”

“C’mon, I’ve always known that you’ve looked down your nose at me, Miss NYU,” he spat out. “I mean, you’re talking about what’s fair? Have you ever thought about how much this has been killing me?”

His stare had hardened, his voice heavier.

“How much what is killing you?”

“Us! This!” he said, gesturing between the two of you. “I mean, what? You go have fun out in the city, in college, have this whole new big life, and come home only to use me for a quick fuck for the holidays?”

Your blood was boiling - his words were biting, neither of you bothering with niceties.

“How dare you -”

“You’ve never actually cared about this, us,” he stated. “Admit it.”

“Steve, that’s not -”

“Tell me this - if your parents didn’t insist you came home for breaks - would we have ever even seen each other at all after you left for New York?”

You stopped, thinking of how to answer that, but the moment of silence was enough for him.

“Yeah - that’s what I thought.”

You rolled your eyes. “Steve, don’t act all high and mighty - you could’ve always taken a trip out to see me, I told you that you could -”

“Yeah, as if you actually wanted me there.”

Your heart sank at that, despite being unbelievably pissed with how this conversation was spiraling.

“Of course I did - why would you ever think I didn’t?”

“Well, it’s not like I could just up and leave Hawkins! What, did you think I’d just uproot my life and hop on a plane to come and like, watch you study?”

Tears were making your eyes burn again, your throat sore and heavy. You were tired, and frustrated, and maybe that's why you said what came next - still, no excuses could ever overcome the regret that would follow.

“Uproot your life? Be serious Steve - you couldn’t take a week off from your minimum wage job, chauffeuring a bunch of teenagers, and maybe being Daddy’s punching bag?”

The words tumbled out of your mouth, spat at him like venom, and you gasped as soon as you said it. You could feel the regret, immediate and heavy, filling your mouth and mind like the metallic taste of blood, threatening to drown you.

Steve’s eyes widened, and you could’ve sworn they were glistening, in a way that could only mean one thing. You immediately wanted to apologize, to take it back, but you knew that was impossible.

“Fuck you,” he said, voice icy.

“Steve, I -”

“Please get out of my house.”

His words were short and sharp, and he wasn’t even looking you in the eye anymore. He laughed, mirthlessly, as he ran a hand through his hair. You couldn’t help but notice that it was shaking.

“Yeah, okay,” you said quietly. You turned, and made a beeline for the door, slipping on your shoes as you shouldered on your coat. It was maybe the fastest you had ever done anything, desperate to remove yourself as soon as possible.

Steve still wasn’t looking at you, staring at the crackling fire, back slumped.

You stopped in the doorway, and after a moment, he turned to look at you. He was trying his hardest not to cry, to crumble, and an indescribable shame hit you. It was so visceral, it threatened to suffocate you.

“Steve,” you murmured. “I -”

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “I can’t - and to think that I -”

He shook his head, chuckling dryly as he stopped himself. “It doesn’t matter anymore, I guess. Have a nice Christmas.”

And that was it. You nodded, head hung in defeat as you headed out the door, slamming it behind you. And, that was the last time you saw Steve Harrington for over a year.

NOW, Winter 1988

A few hours after the incidental run-in at Family Video, you’re still curled up on your bed, nuzzled under the covers. It’s the middle of the afternoon, and there is so much to be done - Christmas is only a week away, and you have hardly prepared anything - no shopping, no decorating, no baking, nothing. Still, nothing stirs you from your sulking until you hear a gentle rap against your door.

“Mom, I told you -”

“It’s me,” Robin’s voice says from the other side. You just sigh, followed by a loud groan.

“Yeah, okay, I’m taking that as come in,” she says, swinging the door open and moving right in until she’s standing at the end of your bed, hands on her hips.

“Okay - what the fuck?”

You groan again, pulling the covers over your head and attempting to burrow down as far as you’re physically capable.

“Nope, uh-uh, none of that,” she says. You feel the mattress dip next to you, and the comforter is pulled back off of you.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say, sitting up and crossing your arms.

“Yeah, well, you’ve got to - because my two best friends aren’t speaking, and can’t be in the same room as each other, apparently.”

You roll your eyes, then decide to meet Robin’s stare.

“Well, what do you want to know?” you ask, aware of how pouty and pathetic you probably sound.

“Well, what the fuck happened with you two? You guys were so close, and then Steve suddenly wouldn’t even bring up your name anymore - I mean, he was a mess all afternoon, after you left, and he won’t even talk to me about it -”

“We were sleeping together,” you say bluntly. Robin stops mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open.

“Oh - I, uh - wow.”

“Yep,” you say, starting to pick at the threads in your comforter.

“Um, when? How long? And why the hell didn’t you tell me? Sorry, shit, that’s making this about me, which it totally isn’t, but I’m just saying -”

“Okay, look - Robin, I promise, I’ll explain everything. But, promise me you’ll just listen, and - at least try to understand, okay?”

Robin nods, and crosses her legs on the bed, settling in for a while. You take a deep breath, and begin.

You tell her everything - that night at the party, the rekindling of your friendship, and something more; Steve taking your virginity, and the agreement that was forged between you two; your ongoing illicit affair, the break you took when you dated Dave; then, that fateful night last December, and the things said in that horrible argument, the words neither of you would ever be able to take back. You only leave out one part - when Steve had said he loved you. It doesn’t feel fair to tell anyone that, not even Robin - Steve himself doesn’t even remember saying it, after all. And, you explain how this is all part of why you didn’t come back to Hawkins this past summer, and extended your internship in New York - and why, once you graduate in May, you’ll probably stay there.

After all is said and done, Robin sits there for a moment, her face contemplative. You let her process it, think about it for a few minutes.

Then, she only says one thing.

“If you let that boy go over all of this, you’re a fucking idiot.”

You stare at her for a moment, then sag.

“I know.”

Taglist: @cityofidek @decadentwastelandtrash @fallingwithoutcaution @selfdeprecatingnerd @scream-still-screaming @le-who-zer-her @freezaz123 @andrewgarfieldsupremecy @shireentapestry @divinelovers @thatstoomuchman @buckleysbitch @evansflowers @untoldshortsofthefandoms @godcreatoreli @hotelfohn @thesillynonsense @itsfloorcry @dullsocietyy @draynmelol @the-winter-spider @suniloli @livid-euphoria @iknowrocknroll @tsundere-exe @palmtreesx3 @boxofsmittens @bradleysgirl @etherealforever234

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Note: The final part of this series is coming soon. Thank you to everyone who's been enjoying it! Your comments are always appreciated.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader angst #tis the damn season #ttds #ttds fic

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audreyhepburninblackandwhite · 9 months

Text

Audrey Hepburn's cover story for Illustrated's 2 June 1951 issue.

Carefree, off and on duty.

Audrey — The Other Hepburn

Photography by Joseph McKeown Story by Charles Hammlett

After four years of theatres, cabarets, and films, a young dancer takes a day off from career building

The Sphinx of Hollywood, otherwise Katharine Hepburn, actress and movie performer, recently spent a few days in this country wrapped in rain and mystery, and wearing an old pair of eye-catching, publicity-snatching slacks. As one of the country’s legends, Miss Hepburn has earned the right to flinch at the rustle of a reporter’s notebook, or to duck at the sound of a photographer’s footfall.

Even as pressmen determinedly pounded the Hepburn beat, a few miles away at Ealing Studios another Hepburn was quietly performing in front of the camera—as yet blissfully unaware of the hysterical mobs and frustrated fanatics who often make the lives of Hepburns, Stanwycks, Gables, or Turners unendurable.

This other Hepburn was Audrey—Britain’s answer to every filmgoer’s hungry dreams. Twenty-two, brainy, beautiful, tantalizing, and talented, she is a girl of simple tastes to travel to Ealing by Underground from Marble Arch, takes Sunday afternoon strolls in Hyde Park, and stops to listen to the geniuses of Orator’s Corner.

Restful spirit at Rottingdean . . .

Over a gate for home . . .

She rides on buses or browses in the Charing Cross Road bookshops. Visits to cinemas and theatres are still fun for her. Given a day off, she will rush to the coast and join countless other holidaymakers. Audrey Hepburn is also a hard and fast worker. Just over two years ago, Jack Hylton selected her from 2,000 other girls to dance in High Button Shoes. After this “break,” Audrey tripped into the chorus of Sauce Tartare. There she caugh the eye of producer Cecil Landeaus sufficiently to be given a solo part in his sequel Sauce Piquante. This, in turn, caught the attention of the theatre critics and the public.

Among the regulars who went to see Audrey’s performance was film producer Mario Zampi. He went fourteen times. Like many pretty showgirls, Audrey had frequently been told she ought to be in films. Zampi not only said it, he gave her a small part in Alastair Sim’s Laughter in Paradise. Other “meatier” parts followed in The Lavender Hill Mob and Young Wives’ Tale. She obtained a contract with Associated British Pictures and a leading part in Ealing’s The Secret People—before her first three pictures were released. During the next few months, filmgoers will be able to make up their own minds about Audrey. They will see a lithe, dark-hair, large-eyed girl who slightly resembles Jean Simmons. Unlike Jean, however, Audrey has a cosmopolitan and somber background.

Secret performances for members of Dutch Resistance were some of Audrey’s experiences during the war. Now, at twenty-two, she takes the part of a refugee dancer in the film The Secret People.

A mixture of Scots, Belgian, and Dutch, she was in Belgium at the outbreak of war. After the Belgian capitulation, the family moved to Arnhem. Their house there was shelled during the airborne landing.

It was at Arnhem that she made her first public appearance as an entertainer. Black, or secret, concerts were given in private houses by performers who had refused to join the German sponsored “Chamber of Culture.” Audrey, then fifteen, was invited to appear at one of these concerts. Her mother helped her to make costumes from old curtains and chair covers. Later, conditions became so bad that cothes and jewellery were sold to provide food for the family.

Looked at from the Mayfair flat where she now lives with her mother, these days seem unreal. Though she entered show business as a dancer, Audrey is rapidly developing as an actress. Unusually tall for films—she is 5'7"—she has passed the stage where producers can brush her off by telling her she is “too lofty for camera work.” A girl with her potential star value can be as tall as a giraffe and still get by.

Audrey Hepburn could gracefully occupy a star’s chair in Britain’s studios. She might even attract some of the international attention now lavished on “Katie” Hepburn, and enable that much harassed star to pursue her life far from the madding crowd.

#audrey hepburn #vintage #classic #style #photography #fashion #old hollywood #old hollywood glamour #1950s #1951 #readings #audrey hepburn readings #magazines #vintage magazines

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sweeter-innocence-fics · 1 year

Text

My Sweetest Downfall - Chapter Three

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Work Summary:

Eddie’s back from the Upside Down, but things aren’t exactly how he left them. Hawkins is in pieces, his friends are scattered and the love of his life is… pregnant?

Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Epilogue

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2738

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @eddiesgirlforever @harrys-tittie

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes:

warnings for pregnancy stuff, mentions of vomiting, grief

---

~ FOUR MONTHS EARLIER ~

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay on your own?” Steve was perched on the arm of the couch, dressed in his Family Video uniform, looking down at you with concern.

“I’ll be fine,” you said, although you didn’t feel fine at all. You were curled up on the couch, sweat gathering at your brow, a sick bucket beside you. At least Steve had braided your hair to keep it low maintenance and out of the way. “Go. Be an adult. Make money.”

“Fine. But you know the store’s number if you need to call me, okay? I know Robin won’t mind covering for me.”

“I know, you already said. You should go or you’re gonna be late.”

As soon as the front door closed behind him, you tugged your blanket tighter around yourself. You had a plan, but you needed Steve to be further away before you put it in motion.

It involved you making your way to the pharmacy without him knowing. There was no use in worrying him over nothing. It wouldn’t be too difficult, assuming you could stop puking for long enough to make it there and back.

So you waited. You turned on the TV. There was nothing on that was of any interest to you, but you found yourself mindlessly watching whatever channel it had landed on, checking the clock every two minutes.

When it had been half an hour since Steve left, you dragged yourself off the couch. The pharmacy was a couple of miles down the road, and you didn’t have a car, so you took your bike. You didn’t let yourself think too hard about what you were doing. You were just being cautious, that was all.

You couldn’t make eye contact with the pharmacist as you put three boxes of pregnancy tests on the counter in front of him. You could feel him watching you, but you said nothing as you paid and scooped the boxes into your backpack.

Overall, the trip took you about forty-five minutes. You went straight into your bathroom when you got home and unpacked all the tests. As you read over the instructions, you realised that they were more complicated than you were hoping for. Still, you set to work.

The process made you feel a little like you were in chemistry class. It involved pipettes and test tubes and a lot of waiting. Two hours of waiting, to be precise. You set the whole thing up and then went downstairs to make yourself some lunch. At least the feeling of sickness had subsided by now.

You tried not to watch the clock. You knew it would only make things run slower. Resolute, you raided the cabinet where your family kept their VHS tapes. There were a few old classics that you were sure would bring you closer to your time limit, but you found you couldn’t focus.

You stopped the first movie fifteen minutes in. When you switched to another, you barely made it ten. After trying and failing a third one, you gave up, feeling agitated. Nothing could hold your attention.

You found yourself staring at the phone. But who could you call? You didn’t want Steve to cut his workday short to come and look after you. Like you said, you didn’t want to worry him over nothing. Robin was at work with Steve. All your other friends either had their own problems going on, or they’d drifted away from you with the passage of time.

In your heart of hearts, you knew who you really wanted to talk to, but that was no use. He was gone.

Steeling yourself, you dialled the number of your father’s office. His secretary picked up on the third ring.

“Mr Harrington’s office?” she said. You didn’t recognise her voice, but that was no surprise. Your dad never kept one secretary for long. Your mom didn’t trust him to.

“Hi, I’m Mr Harrington’s daughter, I was wondering if you had the number for the hotel he’s staying at.”

There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, I can’t give that information out without his authorisation.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m his daughter.”

“So you said, but I’m afraid that I can’t just take your word for it, but I can pass on a message on to him?”

“Don’t bother.” By the time he called you back – if he called you back – your two hours would be long over. You set the phone back on the receiver and covered your face with your hands.

What were you doing? It wasn’t as if you even wanted to talk to your parents, but at least it would give you something to do.

Feeling defeated, you went back to the stack of VHS tapes and rifled through them once again.

When your timer finally went off, you’d been staring at it for ten minutes. You took a deep breath, turned off the television, and got to your feet.

The array of test tubes in your bathroom were exactly as you’d left them. You don’t know what you were expecting. It felt strange that while you agonised downstairs, they’d just been sitting here. With trembling fingers, you picked up the instructions again, and compared the test tubes with the pictures provided.

Your stomach dropped. This couldn’t be right. You were only taking the tests to put your mind at ease. You couldn’t really be pregnant.

Eddie was the first guy you’d slept with in a long time, and you’d only done it once with him.

Oh god.

Eddie.

A tremulous sob broke free from you. All of a sudden, the floodgates were open. The numbness that had hung over you since Eddie had died was gone now, and you were feeling the sharp edge of every emotion that came with it.

“Eddie,” you said aloud, like it might somehow ease your pain, and then you began to sob harder. The instructions fell from your fingers. Your knees buckled. Slumped on the floor, you hugged yourself.

You don’t know how long you spent sitting on your bathroom floor, but when you heard your front door close, you realised that you were sitting in the dark.

“Steve,” you said, but your voice came out cracked and hoarse.

Somehow, you managed to get your feet under you. You clung to the wall as you made your way down the stairs, your vision blurred with tears.

Distantly, you could hear voices, and you realised that Robin was here too. Part of you hesitated, not wanting her to see you like this, but a bigger part of you needed Steve right now.

You stepped out into the living room, and they both turned to face you. You watched their faces fall as they took in your dishevelled appearance.

“Steve,” you whimpered, and he crossed the room in two strides, putting his arms around you.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured, stroking your hair. “What’s wrong?” Your emotions had caught him off guard. He, like you, had grown accustomed to your numbness. Robin was staring at both of you, mouth agape.

“I’m gonna go get you some water, okay?” she said, her voice strained.

When she disappeared into the kitchen, Steve guided you over to the couch and then pulled you into his lap. It was like you were children again, with him comforting you when a mean girl made fun of you. It had been years since you’d been this close to him, with school and popularity and different social circles pushing you apart. Right now, you needed him.

“What’s wrong, sweetpea?” he murmured, rubbing your back. He hadn’t called you that in years. Your reply was muffled by his shirt. “What?”

You leant away from him and took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.” You watched the horror dance across his face, and winced.

“A-are- Are you sure?” he stuttered.

“I did three tests.”

“Fuck.” He leant back against the couch. “Can I ask who-” He didn’t finish the question. The way your face crumpled was answer enough. “Fuck. Fuck. Sweetpea, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that you two were… like that.”

“We… weren’t. Not really. It was just one time.”

Robin reappeared a moment later, holding a glass of water. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she said, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you. “But I kinda heard everything you just said.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay, Robin. I trust you. But please don’t tell anyone yet. I don’t want this getting back to our parents.”

Steve put his arm around your shoulders again and squeezed you. “You know I’m here for you, right? Whatever you want to do. Whatever you decide to do. I’ll be here for you.”

“It probably doesn’t mean as much coming from me, but for the record, me too,” said Robin.

You sniffled a little, but a smile curled up the edges of your lips. “Thank you. Do you guys wanna watch a movie?”

The three of you settled down into an impromptu movie night. There was popcorn and soda and all the trimmings. After the second movie, Steve dropped Robin back home.

While you were alone, your mind went back to what Steve had said earlier. ‘Whatever you decide to do.’ You knew what he meant by that, but it wasn’t something you’d thought about yet.

Instinctively, you drew your knees up to your chest, hugging them close. An image flashed across your mind of a little boy with dark, curly hair and big brown eyes. Your baby. The little piece of Eddie that was growing inside you. All that was left of him in the world. With a shaky breath, you realised that you couldn’t get rid of him.

When Steve got home, he found you tidying up the living room. This revelation, while it had broken you, had electrified you too. You had more energy than you’d had since Eddie died.

“You don’t have to do that,” said Steve, trying to take things out of your hands, but you shrugged him off.

“I want to. I’m not that useless.”

“I don’t think you’re useless.”

“Well, I’m trying not to be.”

Steve watched you as you set the bowls, plates and glasses in the sink and then turned on the hot tap. Silently, he came and stood beside you, and as you washed the dishes, he dried them.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m keeping the baby. It’s all I have left of Eddie. I can’t get rid of it.”

He set down the bowl that he’d been drying and pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“You can’t tell mom and dad. You know what they’d say.” That you were throwing your life away. That you should get an abortion. That you’re an idiot and a slut for sleeping trailer trash like Eddie.

“I know.” He squeezed your shoulder.

~ PRESENT DAY ~

You didn’t let go of Eddie for a long time. Your baby bump was pressed against his stomach and your face was buried in his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair as you held him close.

He couldn’t help but cling to you too. He couldn’t imagine what you must’ve been going through over these past few months, and he’d be damned if he was the one to pull away first. Your body was warm, and you smelled like shampoo. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, breathing you in.

“Eddie…” Your voice was soft and strained. You leant back, and he felt bereft. He didn’t want you to go, but you were just leaning back far enough to look him in the eyes. “We have a lot to talk about. My- My baby-” Eddie’s eyes darted down to your stomach. “I’m sure you’ve probably figured out that it’s yours. I understand if you don’t want to have anything to do with her, you didn’t sign up for this-”

“Her?” Eddie interrupted. “We’re having a girl?”

He watched the anxious lines of your face smooth out as you gave him a cautious smile. “Yeah, we are.”

“Babe, if you think I’m gonna be anything but 110% there for you and our daughter, you’re nuts. I’ll do whatever you need me to. If you want me involved, I am there every step of the way.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Of course I want you there, Eds. I just didn’t wanna foist a baby on you when you didn’t ask for it.”

He stroked a lock of hair out of your face. “You’re not foisting anything on me. I promise.”

You smiled at him. Your eyes widened suddenly. “I think she knows we’re talking about her.” Before he could ask what you meant, you grabbed his wrist and pressed his hand against your belly.

“What- Oh.” He felt movement underneath his fingertips. “That’s her?”

“That’s her. She’s saying hello to her daddy.”

In distinctive Eddie fashion, he dropped to his knees and put both hands on your belly, staring intently at it. “Hi, baby. I’m your dad. I know I haven’t been around so far, but I’m here now. I know I haven’t met you yet, but I want you to know that I already love you more than anything.” He dropped a swift kiss on your bump and then got back to your feet. With a jolt, he realised that you were crying.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stroking his hands down your arms. “Was that too much? That was too much, right?”

You shook your head and pulled him back into a hug. The two of you stayed like that until an awkward cough from the doorway made you pull back from him.

Steve looked incredibly awkward, one hand on his hip, the other leaning on the doorframe. “Sorry to interrupt. The guest room is made up. We should all get some sleep. I need to call Dustin first thing in the morning. He’ll be upset if he’s the last to know that you’re alive.”

Eddie grimaced. Dustin was a great kid. It pained Eddie to think about how all this must’ve affected him. “Of course. Right. And I need to call my uncle Wayne.” A thought occurred to him suddenly, and he turned to you. “Does he know about-”

“He knows I’m pregnant,” you said. “I told him about it. I figured that he had a right to know that he was gonna have a little grand-niece. He’s been good to me. We met up for lunch a few times, before...”

“Before?” Eddie’s heart gave a little squeeze.

You grimaced at him. “He moved away from Hawkins, Eds. He couldn’t bear it here anymore, not with you being gone and everyone calling you a murderer. He almost didn’t, though. When I told him I was pregnant he wanted to cancel his plans and stay to support me. But he was clearly devastated. I didn’t want him sticking around on my account. So I told him that he should move if it would help, and he made me promise that I would call him if I needed anything.”

Eddie squeezed you. “He’s a good man.” If he couldn’t raise his own kid, then he knew that Wayne would step up and do everything he could. He was more of a father to him than his own father.

You stifled a yawn. “Come on. It’s bedtime. I’ll show you to your room.”

Eddie glanced around, but saw that Steve had already gone. Part of him hoped that, no longer under your brother’s watchful eye, you might invite him into your room so you could talk some more, but instead, you walked him to the guest room and bid him goodnight.

Maybe it had been a foolish hope, but he thought that after everything, this would be the start of a new phase in your relationship. But maybe you didn’t feel the way he did. Maybe that one night at Reefer Rick’s had been just that: one night.

If that was true, then it was a memory he’d cherish forever. The taste of your lips, of your skin, and of other things. The way you felt wrapped around him. The way your pretty mouth formed an ‘o’ as you came. If that was all he got, then he was luckier than most.

Next Chapter

#eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x sister!reader #eddie munson x harrington!reader #Eddie munson x you

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vivalas-vega · 1 year

Text

real friends / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part three

hehe two parts in one day. it’s my weekend and I was on a roll. here’s a long fluffy, kinda sad but mostly silly chapter!!! turns out cobra is a bigger softy than she lets on ;)

real friends / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part three

add yourself to my taglist

one / two

word count: 4k

warnings: language, hangman is whipped

tag list: @potato-girl99981 @olliepig @roosters-girl @angelbabyange @loveforaugust

The air was growing suffocating in your car as you pondered your options… sat along the side of a deserted road just outside of the city you cursed yourself for not springing for a new car when you had the chance. Something about saving the money for something else because your old girl had never failed you. You opened your phone as you manually rolled the window down and clicked Rooster’s contact.

“Hey honey, what’s up?” he answered, sounding out of breath.

“Hey Roo, I need- are you okay? You sound like you’re being chased.”

“Well… that’s because I am.”

“Uh… okay? Why?” you asked, laughing a little.

“I’m actually- uh, oh fuck.” You frowned a little as you heard grunting on the other end, “I’m on a date. Had the idea of taking her to laser tag but I’m getting my ass beat. Did you need something?”

“No, nevermind, enjoy your date. Use protection.” you said, sighing as you hung up. You mentally ran through your list of options… Phoenix was spending time with her girlfriend, Coyote and Fanboy were seeing a movie they’ve been talking about for weeks on end, Bob had taken a quick trip to see his family, Payback had said something along the lines of ‘if any of you call me over this break I will personally see to it you’re shot out of the sky’, which only left you with one option. You could call a tow, but it really only seemed as if you needed a jumpstart, calling would be a slightly over dramatic and costly reaction to your current predicament. With a groan you clicked Hangman’s contact, bringing it to your ear as it rang.

“Well I’ll be, a phone call? In the middle of the day? Knew you’d realize I was irresistible sooner or later.” You could practically hear the smirk.

“Can it. I need your help.” Your nerves were fried as you opened your car door, stepping out into the San Diego heat which was only a few degrees cooler than the inside of your car, not giving you the respite you were hoping for.

“What’s going on, are you okay?” Any sense of teasing was gone and was instead replaced with urgent concern.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine but uh… well my car is not. I drove out to La Jolla and took a wrong turn somewhere and old Betsy thought this was the best possible place to give out on me. I think I just need a jump,” you sighed, walking around to the front of your car and leaning on the hood.

“Betsy?” he questioned, and you could already hear the sound of his keys and his car door closing in the background.

“Betsy is my car, I’m taking no further questions on the matter.”

“Alright, drop a pin I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You hung up and did what he asked, looking around you and trying to figure out what to do to pass the time while you waited. You walked around to the back of your car, propping the windshield up, dropping the tailgate and hopping on. You rooted around in the back, grabbing your emergency kit and pulling out some long expired granola bars, a change of clothes and a few bottles of water. You quickly chugged an entire bottle before grabbing the pair of gym shorts and walking around the side of your car, quickly removing your yoga pants and slipping them on after taking a few glances in either direction. You returned to your previous perch, opening Instagram and mindlessly scrolling, leaving a rather lewd albeit supportive comment on Phoenix’s most recent selfie, and a thumbs down emoji on Rooster’s gym pictures.

Checking the time you’d realized it’d been about fifteen minutes since texting Hangman and hoped he’d be here soon. The heat was really starting to get to you and you pulled your oversized tee off and threw it somewhere in your car, desperate to feel even a little bit of a breeze as you sat now just in your sports bra and shorts. Sure enough as you were struggling to turn an abandoned book into a makeshift fan you heard the crunch of gravel as a car pulled up, and you walked around your car to see Hangman with what looked like an ice cold bottle of water.

“Sorry it took a while, made a pit stop because I thought you’d want this,” he said, tossing it to you and you caught it with ease, immediately pressing it to your neck.

“You thought right, thank you,” you said, watching as he popped the hood of your car.

“Alright, let’s see if we can get this old bat running.” You watched as he connected both of your cars, scowling when he swatted your hand away as you tried to help. “What were you up to today?”

“Hike, there’s a really beautiful spot in Torrey Pines. I’d heard about a good brunch spot away from the beach but apparently my navigational skills are shit when I’m not in the air.”

“Should be good, go give her a whirl,” he said as he got into his truck and started the engine. You let out a groan as your engine made a valiant effort to come back to life, but ultimately decided against giving you a win today. You shook your head at him as he watched you through his windshield and he turned it off and hopped out, disconnecting the cables and taking a look around. He pulled out your dipstick, absolutely barren, spare the last half inch that had a glob of dark brown sludge hanging onto the end and he just looked at you in horror. “Sweetheart, when was the last time you got an oil change?”

“Uh, well…” you took a moment to peer inside your car, looking at the sticker and reading when you were supposed to get your last change, “says here I was supposed to get it at 183,457 miles.”

“And how many miles are you currently at?” You checked the odometer.

“189,433.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, replacing the stick and putting his hands on his hips as he looked at you with what you assumed was his best ‘disapproving dad’ look. “It’s honestly a miracle it just died on you and you didn’t blow a gasket or worse.”

“I forgot,” you shrugged.

“The sticker is right there! Like, literally, right in front of you every time you’re driving.”

“I’m a responsible driver, I don’t look anywhere but the road.”

“Responsible driver,” he mumbled, shaking his head and pulling out his phone, “so responsible you go almost six thousand miles past your oil change requirements,” he continued mumbling as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” He looked at you like you had two heads.

“Who am I- a fucking tow truck.” he said exasperated and you raised your hands in surrender. You listened as he gave directions to the tow company and sighed as you looked at your car, knowing the last time you took her in for work the mechanic strongly recommended you let him keep it for scrap. “Come on, they’ll be here soon,” he opened the passenger side and you climbed in, grateful when he turned the AC on.

“Thank you for coming to witness the death of my car,” you said, giving him a small smile.

“Can I ask why you’re still driving that junker around?”

“Watch your mouth, Betsy is an old bird but she still has a heart… feelings,” you said, pointing a finger at him and he chuckled at your angry expression, “I’m serious!” You leaned across the console to hit his chest. “I’ve had her since high school, she was my mom’s car before she got passed along to me. I have a lot of memories in there, her driving me to and from practices, school dances… I had a lot of my firsts in there once I got her.” You looked ahead at Betsy, in all her glory, with her hood propped open and covered in dust from the unpaved road.

“Okay, so take a photo and keep it in a scrapbook.”

You sighed, “you don’t get it… I’ve shipped her everywhere I’ve been stationed, she literally saw me through diapers to where I am now. Every version of myself has been in that car,” you said sadly.

“Honey, she’s unsafe at this point.”

“I know, I just… I didn’t want to let her go.” Just as you said this the tow truck pulled up and you rushed out to meet him, the two of you standing off to the side while he examined the engine.

“Sorry kid, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do.” You nodded, looking at Hangman before turning back to the mechanic.

“Can you uh, I just need a minute.” you said, getting into the car and closing the door. Your hands gripped the steering wheel as you took a deep breath, “well, old girl, looks like the time has finally come.” You looked into the backseat, feeling emotion bubble up as you saw where your car seat had once rested, where you sang along to Britney Spears with your childhood friends, where Luke Something had deflowered you on your prom night, where you crammed a few boxes and a suitcase before departing for the Naval Academy. You pulled the mix of high school graduation tassels, your first set of dog tags, and a horribly tacky necklace Henry had bought you from a gumball machine from the rearview mirror before grabbing any relevant items from the glove compartment and front seat. You held the mix of items in your lap, taking one final moment and affectionately rubbing the dashboard. “Thank you, Betsy. You’ve been the best adventure buddy a girl could ask for.”

You got out with a sigh, wiping a few tears away with your freehand as you precariously held the mix of memories and your purse under your arm and Hangman quickly grabbed them for you, placing them in the cab of his truck. The mechanic had since closed your hood, and you took a moment to do what Hangman had suggested and snapped a photo, fighting back another round of tears as you approached the mechanic to give him your information to bill for the tow.

“Don’t worry about it kid, don’t think I could charge you in good faith when you’re this torn up.”

“No, I don’t want to waste your time-”

“I’ll get money from the scrap, word of advice… get a new car this go around, and change the oil.” he said waving you off and you couldn’t help but start crying.

“Honey, it’s just a car,” Hangman said, pulling you into his side as you watched the man and his helper load her up onto the back, “you still have the memories.”

“They’re taking her for scrap. She’s going to be stripped and sold for parts,” you all but blubbered and he soothingly rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around him. “What a terribly dishonorable way to go.” He continued to hold you as they began to pull away, and you buried your face in his chest, not being able to bear the sight.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, squeezing you tight. He couldn’t help but find the whole thing adorable, your deep attachment to the car and the way you cried as if it was a dear friend ripped from you too soon, and not a car he would have guessed was on its last leg about five years ago. “Okay honey, here’s what we’re going to do,” he pulled away slightly once you’d calmed down, wiping the tears from your cheeks and noting how you kept your arms right where they’d been, tightly wrapped around him. “We’re going to head down to the nearest car dealership,” you started shaking your head, feeling another wave of tears coming on, “no, no no,” he wiped them before they could fall, “we’re going to go to the dealership, we’re going to find the car that reminds you the most of Betsy, and we’re going to get you all squared away with her, okay?” You sniffled and nodded, finally detaching yourself from him and dejectedly getting into the truck.

“I’m sure this is not how you planned on spending your day,” you finally said as you made your way back into the city.

“Certainly not, but I’m glad to be here in your time of need. It’s what friends are for,” he said, shooting you a smile before returning his attention to the road and you nodded.

“It must look rather silly, getting so worked up over a car.”

“Not at all, you had a lot of big milestones with Betsy, I know it must be hard letting her go.” He reached behind the seat at a red light, grabbing two pieces of metal and placing them in your lap, “had the mechanic take that off for you while you were saying goodbye.” Your fingers wrapped around the metallic word of the make of your car, the identifying emblem that was covered in nicks and scratches, the foil peeling around the edges and the dusty license plate.

“Jake,” you sighed, looking over at him, “that was… this is really thoughtful, thank you.” You smiled at him, fighting another wave of emotion. You pulled into a car lot, surrounded by newer, shinier cars that in your mind didn’t hold a candle to your own but figured they would have to do. He reached behind the seat again, rooting around in his gym bag and procuring a well-worn Top Gun shirt.

“Not that I don’t love this view,” his eyes glancing down at your chest, “but I’m sure you don’t want creepy car salesmen thinking the same.” You were momentarily disappointed, remembering you’d left your top and yoga pants in the back of the car but let it go before slipping the shirt over your head, trying not to dwell too much on how it smelled like Jake.

“I don’t want you thinking it either, Bagman,” you muttered, accepting his hand as he helped you jump out of the truck.

“Hey, there she is,” he nudged your shoulder as you walked in the front door, immediately greeted by an overly eager salesman and his rather pungent cheap cologne. He led you over to a table where you rattled off a list of things you were looking for… Four wheel drive, AC, noted that upgrading to a bluetooth system wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world and before you knew it you were strolling through the lot looking at potential options.

“What about this one?” Hangman asked, gesturing towards a Jeep, and the man opened the drivers side so you could hop in.

“It smells new,” you observed as Hangman got in next to you.

“Well, that’s because it is.”

“I want the faint cigarette and weed smoke smell I dedicated my entire high school career to embedding into the upholstery.” He chuckled at this, beginning to point out all the cool features.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have your GPS right here, instead of dangerously on your phone?” he asked, pointing to the screen in the dashboard.

“It’s so fancy.”

“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you but this is actually pretty standard as far as new cars go.”

You scoffed before taking a moment to look around, “I guess it’s not terrible.”

“See? And it's not quite the same shade of green as Betsy, but it’s close, right?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, fiddling with the rearview mirror.

“What do you think? I think it’ll be great for all your new adventures and new memories.” he prodded, trying to get you excited about it.

“It’ll do,” you nodded and he pumped his fist, deciding to take what he could get as you climbed out of the car.

“She’ll take it.”

-----

You later found yourself at the Hard Deck, nursing a spicy margarita as Hangman desperately tried to raise your spirits. Rooster and Phoenix walked in, talking about the sexy Jeep in the parking lot and you groaned, head colliding with the wooden bar top and they both looked at you confused.

“What did you do to her?” Rooster asked, placing a hand on your back.

“Me? What did I do? Oh, I don’t know, just rescued her off the side of the road and spent the better part of my day trying to get her stoked about her new ride.”

“The Jeep is yours?” Phoenix asked, accepting a beer from Penny.

“Yes,” you mumbled against your arm.

“And we’re upset about this?” Rooster asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We had to put Betsy to rest, it’s been a rough day.” Hangman explained and you just made an unintelligible noise.

“Betsy?” Rooster and Phoenix asked at the same time and Hangman just shook his head as you stood from the bar suddenly, ignoring the headrush and making your way to the jukebox.

“It’s like you people don’t even know me,” you muttered.

“I think this is a good time to mention this is her fourth margarita,” Hangman said, watching as you fumbled with the buttons.

“Fifth,” Penny corrected, causing the aviators to all look at her, “she pounded another one when you went to the bathroom.” They returned their attention to you, blinking incredulously as the sounds of Angel rang throughout the bar, causing every other patron to look your way confused and slightly annoyed.

“Oh my god,” Rooster said, mouth agape as he took in the scene before him.

“I didn’t even know this was on the jukebox,” Penny said. Phoenix stifled a laugh, watching as you leaned against the piano, clutching your drink with your eyes closed.

“I don’t think she was this upset when I almost died,” Rooster said, eyes growing concerned as you swayed before catching yourself and sinking onto the piano bench.

“Dude, you didn’t even see her on the side of the road. I’ve never seen her show so much emotion that wasn’t anger,” Hangman said.

“I can hear you.” you half-yelled, taking another sip of your drink and humming along to the song. “In the arms of the angel, fly awaaaay from here,” you sang drunkenly, and horribly out of tune and Rooster couldn’t contain it any longer, turning towards Penny as he laughed.

“Oh, this is bad,” Phoenix said, also succumbing to her giggles.

“Guys. Guys, guys,” you whisper shouted, gesturing them over and they slowly approached you, “a toast, to Betsy.” you said, sticking your now nearly-empty glass in the air.

“To Betsy,” they all said almost in the form of a question as they clinked their glasses to yours.

“It is customary,” you paused to hiccup, “at a wake to say nice things.” You looked at the rest of them expectantly, who looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Uh, Betsy was… well, she was a great car, very… vibrant?” Rooster said, hoping it would satisfy you and you nodded along.

“Yes she was,” you mumbled.

“Truly a dependable car, there when you needed her,” Phoenix said.

“You have no idea,” you sniffled.

“I was only there for her final moments, and she went with grace.” Hangman finished and you held your glass up, Rooster biting his lip to contain himself as you cheers’d again.

“What the fuck is going on?” Fanboy asked, as him and Coyote walked in the bar and Penny just shook her head.

“Apparently a wake, don’t ask.” She said, setting two beers in front of them. The rest of the evening went by smoothly, the gang slipping into their usual routine with the added running of interference to keep you from playing sad songs on the jukebox. You watched as Rooster and Phoenix played pool, drinking the water Penny had insisted you switch to as your eyes grew rather heavy.

“You ready to head home, sweetheart?” Hangman asked, stepping in front of you and taking your glass to set on the table and you just nodded. “Did you come with Rooster?” he asked Phoenix who nodded and he fished your keys from your purse and pulled the car fob off to toss to her, “drive her car home whenever you’re done, I’ll cover your Uber.” He scooped you up as you half-heartedly waved to everyone, smiling as they told you to feel better.

“He’s so whipped,” Fanboy said, chuckling as the group watched you leave.

“Jake?” you asked as he buckled you into his truck and he looked down at you expectantly, “you’re a pretty good friend.”

“That I am, and you’re hammered, princess, so we’re going to get you home, okay?” He closed the door gently and jogged around to the drivers side, sighing as he saw you already falling asleep against the window. On the short drive to your house he thought to himself that he should have been annoyed, spending a day fetching you from the side of the road in the blazing heat, placating you as you cried, taking care of you while you drank yourself numb to toast the memory of a car but he wasn’t, not in the slightest. He honestly wouldn’t have rather been anywhere else than by your side during your time of need, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about the way his heart clenched when he saw your sleeping form in his truck, looking so peaceful in stark contradiction to the slight rings of mascara around your eyes. Even as he carried you to your porch, precariously balancing you as he fumbled to get your front door open he couldn’t find it in himself to muster a Hangman-esque comment, all he wanted to do was get you into bed safe and sound.

You whined as he set you upright on your bed, forcing you to stay sitting as he crouched before you to pull off your sneakers, “are you a socks-on or socks-off person for bed?” he asked.

“Off, do you think I’m some sort of psycho?”

He chuckled, “after today I’m not really sure what you are, darlin’.” He slipped them off and helped you crawl under the covers, disappearing momentarily to get you a glass of water and root around your kitchen cabinets until he found the ibuprofen, which he set on your nightstand when he returned. “Okay, honey, take those first thing when you wake up. I’ll call you in the morning,” he patted your shoulder as he went to take his leave and you forced your eyes open to look at him.

“You’re going?” you asked, your voice so small he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It appears my duties have been fulfilled.”

“I don’t think so,” you responded and he looked down inquisitively, “will you stay?” you asked, patting the bed beside you.

“Luring me into your quarters at this time of night? What do you take me for, a floozy?” he joked, placing a hand on his chest.

“That’s exactly what I take you for.”

“That’s insulting, sweetheart. As tempting as you’re making this sound, I think you should get some rest.” You just pawed at his hand gripping it and looking up at him with the saddest puppy dog eyes you could muster. He sighed, leaning up to turn your lamp off and walking around your bed, where he internally debated whether or not he should keep his shorts on. He decided to slip them off, already knowing you’d pitch a fit if you felt the rough chino fabric rub against you in the night and slid in beside you, careful to keep a safe distance, but that went out the window as you curled up against him, his arm instinctively raising so you could rest your head on his chest.

“Jake?” you asked and he hummed in acknowledgement, “thank you for today. It was really very cool of you.” You felt his chest rumble below you as he chuckled.

“Anytime, sweetheart, get some sleep,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and rubbing along your back as he waited for the sound of your breathing to even out. Looking down at your arm wrapped around him, head nuzzled into his chest he wiped his free hand along his face as he sighed.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

previous part / next part

#Jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #hangman #hangman x reader #Hangman x Y/N #hangman x you #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction

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confusedfoam · 11 months

Text

Some dndads travel headcanons, because why not it's summer and it's traveling season for lots of us. only did s1 dads because they unfortunately still own my heart.

Darryl

- He has left southern California like twice in his life, and both were just going up to northern California. once for his and Carol's honeymoon, and another time when grant was like 8ish to finally go visit Casey and see her brewery.

- Absolutely despised sleeping anywhere that's not his home. the few times he's had to stay at a hotel / families house he just can't sleep at all

- He has never been on an airplane and has absolutely no desire to do so. If he ever did go on an airplane he would be a disaster internally and externally that would come out as being extremely over prepared and way too early. also he would Suffer in airplane seats.

Ron

- Was dragged all up and down the west coast and some of the interior as a little kid before Willy got completely sick of traveling with his wife and kid and dumped them back in Stud's old house that he technically still owned but had been let sit for years.

- Good at short and long road trips, weirdly bad at anything in the 4-6 hour range. it's not long enough to him to really settle into the drive but is too long to be remotely casual.

- Deeply fond of sketchy dates motels and kitschy roadside attractions. Will absolutely buy cheesy tourist t-shirts if presented the opportunity.

- Also not really an airplane guy, never had much of an opportunity until he was grown and then had no one to travel with. But if he did fly he would be that guy who doesn't bring anything to do with him and just watches other people's movies over their shoulders. also he'd forget to take his belt off going through airport security.

Henry

- Never left the Oakvale area as a kid, so his first trip was a Big One

- Spent his early earth years road tripping around the US, hitting different national parks and such. Falling absolutely in love with the diversity of nature when you don't spend all your time in one patch of forest. He absolutely Lost His Mind at the Grand Canyon

- Continued to travel a lot as he and Mercedes got older and had the kids and everything, they loved taking the boys to different parks and camp sites and such.

- Also really enjoyed traveling internationally once he got his whole paperwork situation sorted.

- Was pretty freaked out about flying the first couple times, but now he's a pro. Unfortunately he is an incredibly chatty seat mate and also one of those people who wears sandals without socks on an airplane. so he puts his bare feet all over the floor at security

Glenn

- Traveled a very average amount as a kid, just little family vacations. Tagged along with where ever Bill was going during summer breaks as a younger teen.

- Drove all over the freaking country as an older teen / young man seeing various shows and trying catch The Glenn Close Trios big break.

- Shares Ron's fondness for weird little tourist traps and questionable attractions / restaurants

- Extremely pro car camping, if only for all the hazy memories of doing so in his youth.

- Would make sure that somehow he could block out a week or so to take a road trip with Nick somewhere during summer break.

- Flew a few times as a kid and such. Absolutely hates flying as an adult, it brings out the conspiracy theories in him hardcore and he absolutely cannot do it sober.

Jodie

- Hell does not have vacations

- Traveled many realms as a young and wild demon, having misadventures of the sort that get you trapped in a guitar

- as Jodie Foster the human cop and married man they only took incredibly basic family vacations to the stereotypical vacation spots like once a year.

- Has no feelings on airplanes in any particular direction, besides he would like more leg room.

#hey look actual semi normal content and not weird physics theories what do you know #sitting next to any one of these men on an airplane is a chilling idea in a unique way for each of them #glenn hates planes so much he would rather take the mulitday roadtrip if he wanted to go to Disney in Florida #henry oak #darryl wilson #ron stampler #glenn close #jodie foster #jodie foster dndads #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndaddies

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kimbapisnotsushi · 1 year

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sou !! hello !! this is also random and specific but i saw the datekou headcanon post and i was wondering. might you have any inarizaki road trip hcs?

i didn't until you asked me so LET'S GO

oh god you thought dateko was bad??? they were only stuck in the car for thirty minutes at MOST

(or something idk i haven't quite mapped out their geography yet but miyagi is a coastal prefecture and sendai isn't like SUPER far inland, so i'm just making assumptions out here)

but anyways. kurosu is driving obviously as much as he moans and groans about it

shoutout to the coaches btw they are CARRYING these headcanons

realistically i guess they'd road trip to another school for a training camp or like idk. maybe hot springs for some r&r bc inarizaki def has the budget for it but in my heart they road trip to suna's hometown during one of the breaks so suna can see his family <333

i guess it also kind of depends on WHERE in hyogo and aichi they are but we could get a solid 4-5 hours of driving if it was from, say, asago to tahara

kita makes a list of all the snacks everyone wants and rounds up aran, oomimi, and akagi to help him raid the market/convenience store like the old hunter-gatherer days

they end up with two massive tote bags of drinks, chips, cookies, and other miscellaneous snacks and one cooler for things like puddings and cakes and whatnot

oomimi sits shotgun because kurosu needed someone to help with directions and everyone else was on "make sure the miyas don't kill each other before we get there" duty

they all thought that kita was brilliant for making atsumu sit in the back and osamu up front because even tho they're separated the twins will NOT stop bickering and trying to throw random pieces of trash at each other. poor riseki gets caught in the crossfire the most often

they all converged to make one giant road trip playlist so you've got the weirdest mix of pop rock/bubblegum/k-pop/city pop, lofi, indie soft rock, show tunes and soundtracks, and more

(i named those genres with certain charas in mind so like. have fun figuring that out!)

nobody's willing to take a nap in fear of what the twins might do to each other when they're not looking

they play really stupid games like the alphabet-chain game and i spy and even try for a few rounds of truth or dare because, hey, there's nothing like being stuck in a car with your fellow teenagers for four hours to set the mood for emotionally vulnerable bonding time, right?

anyways. everyone learns that gin is afraid of heights and all sorts of horror movies, akagi would like to get his ears pierced some day, kosaku got rejected in middle school in front of his entire class and has refused to fall in love since, and suna takes pictures to capture the memory of a place he does not want to forget

(sorry i'm being emo about suna missing home again i'll stop)

kurosu is sweating BUCKETS in the front seat btw. "oh my god what do i do with this information am i supposed to talk to them i'm their TEACHER i'm supposed to guide them i do NOT get paid enough for this - "

a shame, really, considering inarizaki could definitely afford to give that man a raise

it's okay they get some really funny dares like daring gin to text his crush a totally random and weird question

(and thank god atsumu has his phone tucked away in his bag)

there's not a whole lot of dares they can do in the car tbh so they get really creative like daring osamu to eat this absolutely evil concoction of mixing tiramisu pudding into a bag of spicy chips and eating the whole thing

he does. nobody knows how he survived it

and then riseki dared both osamu AND atsumu to shut up and sit down and not even so much as GLANCE each other for the rest of the trip

this was at, like, the 1.5 hour mark btw

and okay he didn't say it EXACTLY like that because riseki is a sweet respectful underclassman but that WAS the closest to snapping he's ever gotten

they do stop occasionally here and there to get out and stretch their legs, but this makes their trip even longer bc it takes like thirty minutes each time to wrangle everyone and get them back in the van

also akagi is trying out his most terrible pickup lines. or antipickup lines. either one works

akagi: "are you lactose? because i can't tolerate you ;)" aran: "PLEASE, MAKE HIM STOP"

the only reason aran feels like he isn't completely suffering is because gin is sitting next to him and gin is kind of soothing like a cute pet would be. not that aran is thinking of gin as a pet nooooo ahahaha that would be weird

meanwhile gin is wondering why aran keeps trying to feed him crackers

they finally get to suna's hometown after being on the road for SIX AND A HALF HOURS

and while everyone is happy to be outside soaking up the sun and fresh air, they're all going to miss the bonding of being stuck in a van perhaps just a little bit

it's all right, they've got the return trip to look forward to

(made 100x worse when akagi busts out a drinking game and proclaims they should play with juice boxes, but that's a story for another time)

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tianarpowell · 2 months

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all about tiana

Intro Post—read more to learn about tiana powell!

Character Information

Tiana Powell is a savvy, sensible twenty-four-year-old woman who aims to open her own restaurant in Redwood Hollow. She may not have the money for it yet, but every day she works hard as a cook and waitress to improve her craft and eventually reach her dream. Her passions are cooking, baking, and poetry (reading it, not writing it). Her life may seem quite singular, considering her all-consuming pursuit of a distant goal, but Tiana finds joy in places you may not expect. One such unexpected joy is her friendship with rich socialite Charlotte La Bouff. Another is Tiana’s pet rabbit, Doris, who Tiana makes sure to pet fondly every morning before work.

Tiana is hardworking to a fault. Many of her peers have tried in vain to turn Tiana from her work for a single night. She’s missed new movies, potential dates, and even her own birthday party that she herself organized for the sake of her jobs. Does Tiana just love cooking that much? Well, yes and no—she adores cooking, but more than that, she values effort for the sake of a worthy goal. This doesn’t mean she would have disliked those new movies or potential dates. Rather, Tiana has become comfortable—perhaps too comfortable—with sacrifice. Her father and mother raised her with kindness and respect, so kindness and respect are what she gives to others. Those who overly burden others, however, will see a sterner side of Tiana.

Some in Redwood Hollow are well-off, but Tiana is not. She has never lived that lifestyle, despite her close friendship with Charlotte, so aspects of a comfortable life will strike her as strange. Furthermore, her father died when she was a child, so Tiana may come across as sentimental during certain moments (on her father’s birthday, for example). Finally, Tiana is a determined person but has little actual experience in a lot of areas (athletics, romance, and social media, to name a few). She will not dazzle if she enters these arenas for the first time, so be warned.

Wanted Connections

a fellow cook—Tiana loves to talk shop with other chefs, whether amateur or pro. If your character loves to cook for friends and family or even just likes baking cookies, Tiana would appreciate a chat with you!

a fellow poetry fan—Poetry is something that brings Tiana happiness. If you love poets like Langston Hughes (Tiana’s favorite) or E.E. Cummings, hit Tiana up!

a romantic connection—Tiana is unique in that she is so intensely focused on work, to the exclusion of other things in life. This makes any chemistry she has with another person more slow-burn, with an emphasis on tension. Let me know if you’re interested in giving this a try!

Wanted Plots

road trip—Tiana has no interest in leaving Redwood Hollow, but her dream vacation, if she were to ever take one, is a “road trip” of sorts—going from one side of town to the other over the course of a week, discovering shops and restaurants along the way. She would love a handful of girls to accompany her…in the event she ever takes a work vacation, that is.

animal lovers needed—When Tiana’s pet rabbit Doris stops eating, Tiana needs to figure out what the problem is. But, more importantly, she craves the comfort of fellow pet owners who know how it feels to have a sick pet.

new hobby—Tiana’s life is very mundane. This would change with a new hobby, be it knitting or gaming. Though Tiana doesn’t have much free time, she would actually love to learn something new from a more seasoned hobbyist.

Taken Connections

best friend forever—Charlotte La Bouff is Tiana’s closest friend, her greatest confidant, her shoulder to cry on. The friends have been inseparable for years now, and Tiana is grateful to Charlotte for everything she’s done, big or small.

i know you’re trouble—Tiana may not know very much about Naveen Maldonia, but she’s convinced that he’s the most arrogant man she’s ever met. She is sure that he feels very little empathy for people like her. This angers her.

Other

Wanted Character: Cabell Facilier—Tiana and Facilier have a fascinating dynamic in The Princess and the Frog, and I would love to see them clash over their very different values.

Wanted Bio: Moana of Motunui—Tiana and Moana would understand one another’s pursuit of a lofty dream. I can see the two becoming good friends.

#happiestplacetask #happiestplacetask11 #tw death

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lifeofpriya · 5 months

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New Traditions - Justin Herbert

[gif credit goes to @justinherberts]

summary: new year, new traditions...

The air is crisp and the sky a vibrant shade of blue, almost as if it's been dipped in a pail of freshly squeezed paint. It was another regular day during the month of December, and the world around you is alive with the anticipation of the holidays. But you're not really feeling it. Not like everyone else seems to be.

You've never really celebrated the holidays, not in the way you've seen others do. There was never much to celebrate in your family. It wasn't until Justin Herbert, the 25-year-old quarterback from Eugene, Oregon, came into your life that you even began to understand what the holidays were truly about.

Justin was different. He grew up in a big, loving family where the holidays were a time for coming together, for sharing stories and laughter, for creating memories that would last a lifetime. He had always dreamed of sharing that kind of experience with someone special, and when he met you, he knew immediately that you were the one.

So, over the past few years, Justin has been trying to create traditions with you, to help you feel the magic of the holidays. There have been snowball fights and hot chocolate by the fire, homemade cookies and Christmas carols. But something is still missing. You can't help but feel a bit out of place, like you're watching everyone else from the outside.

Justin sensed it, because one evening, as you're curled up on the couch together, watching a holiday movie, he looks at you with those big, green eyes and says, "Hey, what do you think about doing something different this year?" Your heart skips a beat, hoping that he's finally figured out how to make you feel truly a part of this world.

He continues, "I was thinking, since we can't be with our families this year, we should create our own tradition. Something that means something special just to the two of us." You feel a warmth spread through your chest at the thought of having a tradition that is unique to you and Justin. "How about we go on a road trip?" he suggests. "We could drive up to Portland and visit the Christmas markets there. Maybe even find a small town nearby and spend the night in a cozy little bed and breakfast."

The idea of exploring a new place, experiencing the holidays through Justin's eyes, fills you with a sense of anticipation and excitement. "That sounds wonderful," you say, unable to hide the smile that spreads across your face. "I've never been to a Christmas market before. It'll be really special."

Justin beams at your response, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. "I'm so glad you think so. I want this to be our thing, you know? Our tradition. Something we can look forward to every year, no matter what." His words make your heart swell with happiness and gratitude.

You spend the next few days preparing for your trip, packing warm clothes, cozy blankets, and, of course, plenty of snacks and hot drinks. Justin has been poring over maps and guidebooks, plotting out the perfect route to take and making reservations at their bed and breakfast.

\\\

Finally, the big day arrives. You wake up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of Christmas carols playing softly in the background. Justin has set up a small Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, adorned with handmade ornaments and strands of twinkling lights. He hands you a mug of hot cocoa as you stretch and yawn, and you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation and excitement bubbling up inside you.

The drive to Portland is long, but the scenery is beautiful, and the conversation between you and Justin never seems to flag. You talk about your hopes and dreams for the future and the things you're most looking forward to about your trip. As you near the city, the air grows colder and the sky takes on a hint of snow. You feel as if you're entering a magical world where anything is possible.

When you finally reach the city, you're greeted by the intoxicating scent of evergreen and the twinkle of millions of lights. The Christmas markets are a sight to behold, with rows upon rows of vendors selling handmade ornaments, gifts, and holiday treats. You wander hand-in-hand through the crowds, stopping to sample hot cider and gingerbread cookies, and marvel at the massive Christmas tree in the center of the square.

As night falls, you make your way to your bed and breakfast, a cozy, old-fashioned inn located in a small town just outside the city. The innkeeper, an elderly woman with a kind smile and twinkling eyes, shows you to your room, which is decorated with garlands of holly and mistletoe. A crackling fireplace warms the room, and a platter of cheese and fruit sits on the nightstand.

You climb into the huge, four-poster bed, nestling close to Justin, and look out the window as snow begins to fall outside. The sight is so peaceful, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment washing over you. You gaze into Justin's eyes and know that this is exactly what he meant when he talked about creating a tradition just for the two of you.

As you drift off to sleep, you're lulled by the sound of the fire crackling and the snow gently falling outside. In the distance, you can hear the faint sounds of carolers singing Christmas songs, their voices harmonizing perfectly under the starlit sky. It's a sound that feels like it's coming from another world, one where time stands still and everything is magical.

\\\

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of breakfast being prepared downstairs. You crawl out of bed, throwing on a cozy sweater and wrapping a scarf around your neck, and make your way downstairs to find Justin already seated at a table by the window, sipping hot cocoa and gazing out at the snow-covered gardens. The innkeeper sets down a steaming plate of pancakes in front of you, and you can't help but feel grateful for this perfect start to your day.

As you eat, you watch the snow fall outside, painting the world in a soft white blanket. Justin leans in to kiss you on the forehead, and you feel the warmth of his body against yours. You realize that even though you're in this new, beautiful place, all you want is to be with him.

After breakfast, you and Justin bundle up and set out to explore the town. The snow has stopped falling, but the ground is still covered in a thick layer of it. You walk hand-in-hand, admiring the old-fashioned storefronts with their twinkling lights and colorful holiday decorations. You pop into a local candy shop and sample some fudge and caramel corn, then wander into a cozy bookstore where you spend a few hours browsing through the shelves.

Later, you find yourselves at a small park, where a group of children have built a snowman. You sit down on a bench, watching them laugh and play in the snow, and you can't help but feel a sense of contentment washing over you. This is the kind of moment you'll cherish for years to come, you think to yourself. As the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the snow-covered landscape, you realize that this trip isn't just about sightseeing or checking things off a list. It's about creating memories with the person you love most.

That evening, you and Justin dress up in your finest holiday attire and head to a cozy little restaurant in town. The place is decked out in garlands and twinkle lights, and the air is filled with the scent of roasting turkey and pine. You feel like you've stepped into a winter wonderland as you're seated at a table near the window, overlooking the snow-covered street below.

You spend the next few hours savoring delicious food and each other's company. You talk about your favorite memories from the past year, your dreams for the future, and all the things you're grateful for. The conversation flows effortlessly, and you find yourself lost in each other's eyes, forgetting about the world around you.

After dinner, you stroll back to your inn, taking in the sights and sounds of the town decked out in holiday splendor. You pause for a moment outside the inn, taking in a deep breath of the crisp, cold air. "I'm really glad we came here," you tell Justin, looking up at him with a smile. "It's been so perfect." He returns your smile, pulling you closer and kissing you softly on the lips.

You spend the rest of the evening curled up by the fireplace in the inn's common room, sipping hot cocoa, making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. You can't help but imagine yourself here again next year, making more memories with Justin.

As you drift off to sleep, you're lulled by the sound of the fire crackling and the soft murmur of the wind outside.The next morning, you roll over to find Justin still asleep, his chest rising and falling gently with each breath. You lean in and kiss him softly on the lips, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours.

\\\

You decide to take it easy today and enjoy a leisurely breakfast in bed. The innkeeper brings you a tray laden with freshly baked croissants and steaming cups of hot chocolate. You savor every bite, relishing the cozy atmosphere and the fact that you have nowhere to be.

After breakfast, you and Justin dress in comfortable clothes and head out for a walk through the snow-covered gardens surrounding the inn. The air is crisp and clean, and the snow crunches beneath your feet as you wander hand-in-hand. You stop to admire the snow-covered trees, their branches heavy with icicles, and breathe in the fresh, pine-scented air.

You stumble upon a small gazebo hidden amidst the gardens, its walls adorned with colorful wreaths and twinkling lights. You decide to take a seat inside, out of the cold, and cuddle up together on one of the benches. As you watch the snowflakes dance through the air, you can't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you.

"I think I'm going to miss this place," Justin says, breaking the silence. "It's so beautiful and peaceful here."

You nod in agreement, taking in a deep breath of the crisp air. "Me too. It's been such a great trip, hasn't it?" You reach over and squeeze his hand, grateful for the time you've spent together.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, content just to be together. As you watch the snowflakes dance, you can't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. This place, this moment, feels like home.

You glance over at Justin, admiring the way the snowflakes cling to his eyelashes and hair. He looks back at you, his eyes soft and warm, and you're suddenly aware of how much you love him. In this quiet, serene setting, it's easy to forget about the stresses of everyday life and just focus on the here and now.

The two of you sit like this for what feels like hours, lost in your own thoughts but still connected by the invisible thread of your love. As you gaze out at the snow-covered gardens, you imagine what your life will be like once you get back home. You picture the two of you curled up on the couch, watching movies and eating takeout. You imagine the laughter that will fill your home, the adventures you'll go on, the love you'll continue to share.

Justin breaks the silence, "I never want this moment to end." He looks at you, a mixture of sadness and contentment in his eyes. You know exactly what he means. You both want to stay here forever, in this perfect bubble of happiness, away from the real world and its stresses. But you also know that you have to go back, that life waits for you with all its challenges and joys.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the snow-covered gardens, you and Justin stand up. You lean in for one final kiss, savoring the taste of each other's lips. "Thank you for this trip," you whisper, your voice hoarse with emotion. "It meant so much to me."

He smiles down at you, his eyes shining with tears. "Thank you for coming with me. It was perfect." He takes your hand in his, entwining his fingers with yours, and leads you back to the inn. The warmth of the fireplace greets you as you step inside, and you can't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving this cozy haven behind.

As you make your way back to your room, you can't help but feel a sense of nostalgia washing over you. This trip has been a whirlwind of emotions, but through it all, one thing has remained constant: your love for Justin. You know that no matter what life throws at you, you'll always have each other to lean on.

You spend the evening cuddled up on the bed, watching a movie and reminiscing about your favorite moments from the trip. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Justin's arm is draped over your shoulders, and you can feel his warm breath against your neck. It's a comfortable, familiar feeling that you never want to end.

As you drift off to sleep, you're grateful for this time together, for the chance to escape reality even if only for a little while. In the morning, you'll have to say goodbye to the snow-covered gardens and the cozy inn, but you know that the memories you've made will stay with you forever.

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert imagines #nfl imagine #nfl imagines #los angeles chargers

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robinbuckleyshotgf · 2 years

Note

PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU PLEASE WRITE THIS. Okay, imagine reader is like besties with Jonathan and Argyle and y’all are taking a road trip. You’re in the car playing really funky and chill songs while you’re getting high out your minds. It’s all completely giggles and happiness. You guys stop at a roadside motel and rent out a shit ton of movies to watch while you’re high and you all just pass tf out

ooh okay! sorry if this is so late, i have had writers block for the last few days :)

pairing: platonic!jonathan byers x platonic!argyle x fem!reader

enjoy!

[🐾] you walked out of your house and sat on the doorstep, waiting for Jonathan and Argyle to show up. they asked you to join them on a joyride, Jonathan doing most of the talking and Argyle just giggling in the background. you had never gotten into drugs and stuff like that. if your mum found out you inhaled a tiny bit of cigarette smoke, she would go crazy. probably ground you for life. then loud revving sounds made their way down your street, making your ears pop. then a honking noise was made as the two best friends were jamming out to music in the front seats. you hopped in the backseats and made yourself comfortable. the smell of weed was imminent throughout the surfer-boy pizza van and smoke filled it up so you couldn't see out the windows.

''so boys, what are we doing?'' you asked, patting their shoulders and holding them tightly. they both looked at each other with mischief in their eyes.

''we are going on a roadtrip!!'' Jonathan said, raising his hands up enthusiastically. you giggled at his funny gesture and smiled a cheesy grin at him. he then rolled a joint and lit it with his trusty old lighter, that was given to him by his mum, Joyce. you watched as he put it between his lips, and then pass it to Argyle, who put it between his. you looked at how much fun they were having and you felt left out that they were smoking and getting high and you weren't allowed. so you took the joint from Argyle's fingers and put it in your mouth. both of the boys looked at you in shock, knowing that the old you would never take a joint and just start smoking it. Jonathan cheered and clapped at you as you took the joint away from your lips.

''now, who wants to rent some movies?!'' he screamed, startling Argyle. you put your hand up really high and waved it about, signalling that you wanted to pick the movies. after at least an hour later, you and Argyle walked out of a local Family Video and hopped back in the van. as the trip went on, funky tunes were played and your horrible singing along. then, Argyle stopped at a roadside motel, and made you and Jonathan unload the van. when you entered your room, you immediately passed out from getting too high.

best roadtrip ever.

#argyle #stranger things 4 #stranger things #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers #eduardo franco #charlie heaton #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader

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mychemicalimagines · 1 year

Text

Ray of Sunshine-Dwayne Hoover-Chapter 6

Summary: Seventeen-year-olds Dwayne Hoover and Tyler Walker (or Ty as she’s affectionately known in the Hoover house) have been best friends since they were born. His mom and her mom are best friends too, so they had every chance to be together. They only have each other and are madly in love. However, the other person doesn’t know about their friend’s feelings. Will a chaos filled trip to California for his little sister’s beauty pageant allow these feelings to surface and let the childhood friends become more or will the the inseparable duo keep them bottled inside, not wanting to risk that cherished friendship that’s always been a little more?

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Language, Talk of Underage Sex, Mentions of Attempted Suicide - not by Dwayne or OC, Fat Shaming of a Seven Year Old, Absent Parent, Death of Character - Not Dwayne or OC, ALL Warnings for the movie apply to this series!

Words: 3,848

Tag List: Reblogging

A/N: I’ve been waiting to post this since I asked for 5 comments and I only got a few. I wanted to get this series finished so here’s a chapter. This is a big one! Feedback gets us to write more!:]

To be tagged: Comment, Message Me, Submit an Ask or Tag Yourself in My Bio.

Third Person POV

After stopping at a McDonald’s for dinner, the Hoover family plus one are ready to relax for the rest of the night. Richard walks to the front desk and checks them in, only getting three bedrooms, two of which have two double beds. When he comes back, everyone grabs their bags from the trunk before making their way up the stairs toward the rooms.

“Here’s eleven. Frank, you’re twelve.” Sheryl says, turning around to hand him the key. “And Grandpa’s thirteen.”

He smiles down at her before walking toward the room.

“Mom? Can I sleep with Grandpa?” Olive says, glancing up at her.

“Well, you’ll have to ask Grandpa.” She answers, looking at each room number.

“I got two beds. You could still use some rehearsing.” He says, following behind them.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” She says, smiling up at him.

“Alright everybody. We have a long day tomorrow. So, I’ll knock on your doors at 7 am. That means no lollygagging! We have to be packed and on the road by 7:40.” Richard says as everyone stops at their doors.

“Are you sure you’re okay with Ty staying with you guys?” Sheryl asks, looking over at her brother.

“Of course. It would be weird otherwise.” He shrugs, putting his plan into motion as he opens the door.

“Thanks, Frank.” Tyler whispers, bumping in with her elbow before walking into the bedroom.

Everyone says their good nights before all three doors close. Tyler turns around to look at the two men in the room.

“Do you care if I use the shower first?”

Dwayne shakes his head but his uncle voices his opinion.

“No, go right ahead.”

“Thank you!” She says, rushing toward the second door in the room.

The two guys put their bags down and sit on their claimed beds, facing each other. Dwayne knows she loves the right side of the bed so he doesn’t even have to ask her what side she wants. Frank waits for the shower to start before looking at his nephew.

“Dwayne, can we talk?”

The younger male raises an eyebrow before nodding at him.

“Do you like Tyler?”

The younger boy pulls out his notepad and writes a few simple words that almost pains him for writing.

‘She’s my best friend.’

“No. I don’t mean in the friend way. Do you LIKE her?” Frank says, holding the notepad out to him.

He doesn’t take it as he freezes in his spot and looks away from him. It takes him a second, but he shrugs, not wanting to admit it to him. His uncle sighs and leans forward slightly, wanting to make sure he hears him clearly.

“Dwayne, I see how you two are. I know you like her.”

The teenager just glances up at him as he crosses his arms and licks his lip, shrugging again.

“She likes you too.” His uncle says, causing the boy to look up at him quickly. “Like I said, I’ve seen you two together. I may have only been around for two days, but I’ve been around you guys almost every second since. You just have to tell her how you feel.”

Dwayne takes the notepad from him and flips the page, scribbling a few words.

‘What if you’re wrong?’

“I’m not. Do you want to be with her?” He looks at his nephew who nods at his words. “Then this is what you’re going to do. You’re going to write down all your feelings and when she comes out of the bathroom, you’re going to invite her to go outside and you’re gonna give her that notepad and wait.”

He looks down at his notepad and sighs silently. He’s thought about doing this a million times in the last few years, even before his vow, but he always ended up throwing the paper away. Before he can start writing, a normal pen is put in his eyeline. He looks up to see Frank standing there holding a hotel pen.

“I think it would be better to write with this. So you have more space.” He smiles.

Dwayne takes in a deep breath and takes the pen from him before writing down his feelings onto the pad. His uncle watches before walking to his suitcase. Tyler’s been in the shower for about twenty minutes and Dwayne has finally finished his note to her. He has read it over and over again, nervous of what she is going to say when she reads it.

When she walks out of the bathroom, she’s wearing shorts and one of his old t-shirts. She drops her bag down on her side of the bed, looking through it for a moment, not seeing her best friend watching her. He smiles to himself, thinking she looks absolutely beautiful.

“My turn.” Frank says, grabbing his own bag before walking around her toward the bathroom.

He stops behind her to look at Dwayne who looks up at him.

“Do it.” His uncle mouths with a smile before closing the door behind him.

Dwayne takes in a deep breath before flipping a page in his pad. Writing down a sentence and making sure she can’t see anything else, he holds it up to her, capturing her attention.

‘Want to sit outside?’

“Sure!” She smiles and slides her tennis shoes back on.

He discreetly flips the page back over, his feelings staring back at him for a moment before they walk to the door. He opens it for her and allows her to walk out first after he makes sure he has the keys in his pocket. Closing the door behind him, he leans against the railing in front of their room. Tyler looks up at the night sky, smiling to herself.

Neither notice that Frank left the bathroom and is discreetly watching them from the window, wanting to know if it worked…or if his plan completely backfired. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Dwayne finally gets the courage and gently elbows her. She looks over at him with a smile before raising an eyebrow at his notepad.

The words are smaller than his usual writing so she takes it from him and begins to read. Her heart starts pounding as each word is entering her brain, flipping the page when it gets cut off.

‘Tyler Walker, I have liked you for years. Even though we spend every minute together, you never leave my mind. I constantly think about you all the time. Whether we are sitting alone in my room reading or walking to our special spot in the woods. I’ve been too scared to tell you how I feel because I don’t want to ruin our friendship. You have been by my side since we were born and because of that, I can’t even pinpoint the exact moment I knew you were right for me. I wouldn’t want anyone else in my corner. Especially now. Will You Please Be My Girlfriend?’

She bites her lip and looks at him to see him watching her closely.

“A-are you serious?” She whispers, praying to God that it’s not a prank.

He takes in a breath and nods nervously. A smile slowly appears on her face as she leans toward him, looking into his eyes.

“I like you too, Dwayne. I have for a very long time.”

His eyes widen slightly before he tilts his head, silently asking her a question.

“Yes, I’m serious and I’d love nothing more than to be your girlfriend.”

He smiles widely before standing straight up from the railing, towering over her slightly. He reaches up and gently cups her cheek. She blushes slightly, looking up at him. Gaining even more courage, he leans down and gently presses his lips against hers in their very first kiss. She smiles into the kiss, closing her eyes as she returns it, sparks flying through them.

In their motel room, Frank is silently cheering, throwing his hands up that his plan has worked out. Their kiss continues as the world slowly fades out around them. Nothing matters to them at this current moment as their lips mold together and move in sync. Not the beauty pageant. Not the stupid Nine-Steps.

Nothing.

Sheryl opens her door before she closes it slightly, watching as her son and his best friend kiss in front of their door. Making sure to stay quiet, she closes the door as a smile appears on her face for the first time in hours. ‘Finally’ is the only thing running through her head before she, herself, cheers silently, almost forgetting about the fight she and Richard had earlier that hour.

Dwayne and Tyler finally pull away, panting slightly as they look into each other's eyes. Smiles appear on their faces again as she leans up and quickly pecks his lips in another soft kiss.

“Come on.” She whispers, hating to ruin such a wonderful moment. “We have to go to bed.”

He nods slightly before leaning down to kiss her again, wanting one last one before they have to go back to the real world. After all these years, they could have been together. It doesn’t matter now. What does matter now is that it happened and that there is nothing that can possibly ruin it.

Despite the wonderful night of cuddling and kisses, well…secretive kisses, not knowing that Frank already knows what happened, the next morning, everything goes downhill. Olive had woken up her parents to inform them that Grandpa wouldn’t wake up. After everyone had gotten changed, they rushed to the emergency room, where they are now waiting for any kind of news.

Frank, Sheryl and Richard are sitting down in the lobby’s chairs while Dwayne and Tyler are standing in the corner, staring out the window, holding hands. Olive, not understanding what is going on, is grabbing medical flyers from the cubby hanging on the walls.

“You want to take an eye test?” She asks, looking toward her brother and his now girlfriend.

Both of them shake their heads before looking back out the window.

“Uncle Frank? An eye test?” She asks again, to which her uncle shakes his head with a small smile, knowing she doesn’t mean anything by it.

“Olive, come here. Put those away. We’re gonna have a family meeting.” Sheryl says, waving her daughter toward her. “Dwayne, family meeting. You too, Tyler.”

Dwayne gently pulls her over to the chairs next to his mother, his hand leaving hers when they sit down. Sitting down next to each other, Tyler gently picks up Olive and seats her on her lap before wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her close. Dwayne reaches over and takes her hand again, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, wanting to comfort her despite the man not being her Grandfather.

“First of all, the doctors are doing everything they can to help Grandpa right now. He’s had a long…” She searches for the right word. “Eventual life, and I know he loves the three of you very much. Yes, Ty, even you. I know he has joked, saying he had three grandkids.” She takes a deep breath as a small but heartfelt chuckle escapes her lips. “If God wants to take him, we have to be ready to accept that, okay?”

The three of them nod, the older two knowing how severe the conversation was. Sheryl takes another breath and continues her speech.

“Whatever happens, we’re a family. All of us. What’s important is that we love each other.” She tears up. “I love you guys so, so much…”

She covers her face as she starts to cry. Frank immediately leans forward and puts his hand on her knee, silently comforting her to which she grabs his hand, squeezing it slightly. Dwayne quickly lets go of his girlfriend's hand and pulls out his notebook. Flipping to an empty page, he writes down three simple words before showing them to his sister.

‘Go hug mom’.

Olive slides down from Tyler’s lap before walking over to her mom. She wraps her arms around her neck. Sheryl wraps her arms around her daughter, holding her close.

“Are you the family of Edwin Hoover?” A doctor says, breaking their small moment.

Everyone’s head snaps up toward him as he walks further into the room.

“Yes.” Richard says, walking toward him.

The Hoover family, now including Ty, stands up and looks at him, wanting to know any kind of news he can give them. The small expression on his face reveals everything they need to know but he continues anyway.

“I’m sorry. We did everything we could. He was…” He looks down to see Olive and quickly changes his words, not wanting her to know exactly what happened. “It was too much. He probably fell asleep and never woke up. I’ll have someone come talk about handling the remains.”

“Thank you.” Richard nods slightly, his heart crushed at the news.

The doctor nods and turns away, yelling for a woman as he leaves the room.

“Mom?” Olive speaks up, looking at her. “Is Grandpa dead?”

Sheryl sits back into the chair she previously occupied and sets Olive on her lap.

“Yeah, honey. He passed away.” She whispers to her.

They both start silently crying, comforting one another. Dwayne pulls Tyler to the window, not wanting to show any emotion, but still needing her comfort. She tears and bites her lip as she wraps her arms around his waist. He quickly wraps his arms around her neck and holds her close to him, resting his head against her own. Edwin might not have been her actual grandfather but she always treated him as one.

She doesn’t know her own and it’s still devastating. After what seems like hours but was only a few minutes, a woman walks into the room with a folder of papers.

“Hello, I’m your bereavement liaison, Linda.” She says, causing Richard to stand up and walk over to her. “My consolations for your loss.”

“Thank you.” He whispers as he shakes her hand.

No one in the room pays attention to their conversation until Linda raises her voice at him.

“Sir, you are not the only one that’s had somebody die here today, okay?”

His family looks up at them, Frank raising an eyebrow at her words. Who does this woman think she is?! Tyler shakes her head and digs it further into Dwayne’s chest as he holds her. Richard takes a breath and glances at his family before an idea pops into his head.

“Is there any way…that we could view the remains?”

Everyone walks down different hallways as she escorts them to his intensive care room.

“Now, we haven’t had a chance to move him downstairs.” She says, stopping in front of a curtain. “Someone may come by in a few minutes to take him to the basement but just tell them who you are. They’ll wait.”

“Thank you.” Richard nods at her.

“When you’re done with the paperwork, I’ll be in the nurse’s station.” She continues.

“Okay, great. Thank you, Linda.” He nods as she moves the curtain for them to walk through.

After the curtain is closed, Sheryl and Olive stand on one side of the bed while Richard walks to the other. Dwayne, Tyler and Frank all stand at the bottom, separating the husband and wife. They all stare at the sheeted body laying there for a moment until Richard reaches out. Not wanting to freak out Olive, he lifts the sheet on his side to see his father laying underneath.

Tyler looks down at the floor, not wanting to see the deceased man. Frank and Dwayne both follow her movements without realizing.

“Goddamn it, Dad.” Richard whispers before dropping the sheet. “Goddamn it.”

He sighs and turns away, slamming his hands down on the counter behind him, mumbling ‘Stupid’. Sheryl hugs Olive and strokes her hair, both girls trying not to cry. The older woman bends down slightly and looks at her daughter.

“We’ll do Little Miss Sunshine next year. Okay, honey?” She whispers causing the young girl to nod slightly. “Next year.”

There’s silence throughout the room until Richard turns around, a determined look on his face.

“No. No, we’ve come seven hundred miles. I’ll be damned if I’m not making that contest, Sheryl.”

“Well, Richard, we can’t leave him here.” She whispers, looking at her husband.

He picks up the papers that Linda had given him not even ten minutes before and throws them into the nearby trash can.

“We’re not going to leave him.”

He then walks over to the curtain and opens it slightly to see how many people are in the hallway. Tyler looks up at Dwayne who is just as confused as she is before they both look toward Sheryl who is watching her husband.

“Richard, what are you doing?” She whispers to him, but he ignores her.

Richard walks back into the room and puts his hands on his lips.

“Fuck…”

He looks desperately around the room before walking to the window above the counter. When he tries to open the window, he finds it locked and rushes to the window above the bed where his deceased father is laying. When he finds that he can open it, he turns toward the teenagers who are staring at him with wide eyes.

“Ty, Dwayne, go around outside…” He gestures when his wife cuts him off.

“Richard, what are you thinking?”

“We’re gonna take him with us.” He says, continuing to mess with the window.

“No, no. That is not happening.” She shakes her head and rubs her fingers through her hair. “It’s not happening.”

“He’s better off with us than with these people.” He says, pulling his keys from his pocket and tossing them to Tyler since, among the teenagers, she’s the only one who can drive. “Ty, you get the car. Dwayne, I want you to go around outside and underneath this window. Frank, you go with them.”

Tyler’s eyes widen as she looks toward her mother figure, confused and nervous beyond all hell. Her boyfriend is shocked at what his stepfather is suggesting.

“Don’t you dare move.” Sheryl points toward them before looking at her husband. “Look, you stay here. We’ll take Olive. Tyler or Frank will drive!”

“Sheryl, we’ll be there in two hours. Listen, I’ll call a funeral home once we get there.” Richard says, before looking at his family. “If there's one thing my father would’ve wanted, it’s to see Olive perform at the Little Miss Sunshine pageant.” He begins to push the sheet around his body. “I believe we’d be doing a grave disservice to his memory if we would just give up now. There’s two kinds of people in the world: winners and losers. And what’s the difference? Winners don’t give up. So what are we here? Are we winners? Or losers?”

Dwayne nods at his words, understanding what is trying to put out for everyone. Frank keeps glancing toward his sister, knowing he’s only going to follow her lead. Sheryl looks toward Olive before looking at the teenagers and her brother. She takes a breath and nods.

“Okay, okay. Let’s do it.” She says throwing her purse down onto another counter before putting her arms under her father-in-law. “You guys go. Olive, watch the curtain.”

Dwayne gently pushes his girlfriend toward his uncle who is walking out of the curtain. He makes sure to close the curtain once he makes it through before following Frank. Together, the three of them walk down the hallway, trying to seem unsuspicious as they move past Linda who is talking on the phone.

When they make it to a door, Tyler pushes the button for them to open before they rush outside, surprised they’re stealing Grandpa’s dead body. The three of them make it to the window when Richard and Sheryl start pushing the body through.

“Wait, wait.” Tyler whispers loudly, noticing an older couple walking out of the door.

The husband and wife pause all movements until the couple walk in another direction.

“Okay, go ahead.” She whispers, watching as Richard starts pushing the body through.

With Sheryl and Olive running outside to help, they get the body down after the sheet rips slightly. Frank, Dwayne and Sheryl all start carrying the body, trying not to raise any suspicion with Olive keeping watch. Tyler rushes toward the bus, opening the trunk. They make it to her only a few seconds later, and they hoist the bundle in.

It’s very difficult with how large he is so they have to maneuver him in.

“Keys?” Richard says, running up.

Tyler tosses him the keys while Sheryl and Olive run around the side of the bus toward the sliding door. Richard starts the bus as the teenagers and Frank get Grandpa situated. Just as the bus is ready to move, they close the back hatch and start pushing. Olive is already inside so Sheryl jumps in after the wheels start turning.

Tyler jumps in next while Dwayne pushes his uncle to move faster, just like every time before.

“Did I mention I’m the pre-eminent Proust Scholar in the US?” Frank asks, breathlessly as he runs causing his nephew to silently laugh as they both jump in.

After a little bit of driving, the bus is completely silent. Frank is staring out the window as Olive listens to her CD player. Dwayne is leaning against the side of the bus with his right leg bent so his foot is on the seat with his head tilted down looking at his girlfriend. Tyler is laying down with her head on his left knee as he plays with her hair.

“Dad?” Olive speaks up, pushing her headphones back, capturing his attention. “What’s gonna happen to Grandpa?”

Richard just bites his lip, not knowing what to tell her. After sitting in a few more minutes of silence, Olive looks up at her uncle, mumbling his name. He looks down at her, curious as to what she’s going to ask.

“Do you think there’s a heaven?”

“That’s hard to say, Olive. I-I don’t think anyone knows for sure.” He says, glancing up at his sister who never turns around.

“I know but what do you think?” She looks up at him.

“Um…” He pauses. “Well…”

“I think there is one.” She says, cutting him off.

“You think I’ll get in?” He asks, watching her.

“Yes.” She nods with a large smile.

“You promise?” He asks, a smile appearing on his own face.

“Yes.” She nods again, grinning away at her uncle.

Tyler looks up at her boyfriend who is watching her with a small smile. His sister is so innocent. He’s thankful she has something to believe in before this world starts going to shit for her. Almost as if she knows what he is thinking, she gently takes his hand and places a small kiss on his wrist.

He continues to play with her hair, thankful that she’s by his side, especially now.

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