#next chapter will be more HIGH ADVENTURE though

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures In Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: You haven’t been babysitting Dustin for very long. Underestimating his tendencies for rebellious behavior, you realize too late that he’s snuck out, with your dire search for the boy leading you to the last place you wanted to be: Steve Harrington’s house.

Content warning: swearing, inter-dimensional demogorgon bullshit, kind of strangers to friends to lovers (not necessarily all in this chapter), stancy, slow burn

Word Count: 6.5k

Author’s note: This is my first fic and it isn’t super original; it pretty much sticks to the plot of the show, but adds you to the mix! I tend to like fics that put the reader directly into the Stranger Things universe, demogorgons and all, so this chapter roughly follows Steve’s involvement in season 1 episode 8 when he goes to the Byers’ residence. This is more of a prologue and I plan to be more original with the story as it goes on, but it will still largely follow the plot lines of the series, so if that’s something you’re looking for, you’ve found it here!

Series Masterlist | Next Part

***

You knocked quickly on the door in front of you, eyes darting left and right to take in your surroundings. You were out of place here among the upper class houses in the neighborhood, with your hand-me-down and thrifted clothes screaming the opposite of prosperity. You were antsy, weight shifting from foot to foot; in fact, you were almost confident that if any of the neighbors were out and caught a glimpse of your obviously anxious form, they’d put a call in to the Hawkins police in an instant. You didn’t belong here. You scoffed at the thought. Though every fiber of your being was telling you—no, screaming at you—to leave, you really didn’t have a choice.

Not to mention the address you were at housed probably the last person you would ever actively seek out. He probably didn’t want to see you either, if you were being honest.

“Come on. Just answer,” You muttered through gritted teeth as you raised your hand to knock once more. However, before your hand could even make contact with the nice, expensive oak of the front door, it opened and you were met with the annoyed and confused glare of the one and only Steve Harrington. The expression on his face didn’t surprise you but the state of it did. Bruises and cuts littered his otherwise perfect skin, leaving you with a lot more questions than you had originally intended on asking.

“What do you want?” His words were direct, his tone short and clipped, drained from what on the outside seemed to be quite an eventful day.

“I-I, uh…I’m sorry, but what happened to you?” You breathed out. You had more pressing concerns, but you couldn’t help but wonder why King Steve of Hawkins High looked like absolute shit.

“I don’t have time for this,” he sighed as he began to shut the door.

You reached your hand through just in time to catch it as you shoved your way into the Harrington household. You knew his parents were likely on some sort of fancy business trip, so they wouldn’t be there to reprimand you for your actions. It’s what made Steve’s house the prime destination for the biggest parties in Hawkins. Parties you were rarely, if ever, invited to.

“What the hell are you doing?! I barely even know you and now you’re breaking and fucking entering into my goddamn house!”

“Technically, I’m just entering. You opened the door.”

“Are you kidding me right now, y/n?”

You were surprised he even knew your name. You tended to blend into the background, flying under the radar in your attempt to make good enough grades to maybe, just maybe, give yourself a fighting chance at attending college on scholarships. “Will you just hear me out. Please.”

You must have sounded desperate because Steve’s furrowed brow relaxed, his expression softening before he rolled his eyes, sitting down on a pristine white couch saying, “Fine. But make it quick because I have a raging headache and my patience is wearing thin.”

You breathed in a deep breath before you rattled off your reason for trespassing.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story, but I happen to babysit Dustin Henderson—or, well to be more accurate, I just started babysitting Dustin Henderson since Jonathon Byers’ brother disappeared—and everything was going fine one minute, but then I went to check on him in his room because he was being awfully quiet, and then I noticed his window was open and he must’ve snuck out, and—“

He cut you off, “Woah, woah, woah. How does any of this concern me? I mean, it’s not my fault you’re clearly a shit babysitter and can’t keep track of some seventh grader.”

“If you would just let me finish,” you warned through gritted teeth, “I’m aware of the fact that it doesn’t concern you, but I’ve been looking all over for him and I can’t find him anywhere. I’ve checked the Sinclair’s, I’ve checked the Wheeler’s, I’ve checked every location a seventh grade nerd might frequent, nothing. So, yeah, though it doesn’t concern you, I thought I might find Nancy here, given the fact that the two of you have obviously been going out, to ask her where the hell her brother is so that maybe, just maybe, I could find the damn kid I’m babysitting before I get fired from my fucking job. Now, if you could stop being so goddamn selfish for once in your life, I would really appreciate the help.”

Steve paused for a moment while he considered this. Being called selfish stung, but you weren’t wrong. The events leading to the myriad of injuries across his face seemed to prove just that. However, there was something about you in particular saying it that cut deep. You were seemingly so perfect, granted a bit odd. You were nice, you made good grades, but other than that he didn’t know much about you, so the expletive-laced explanation was a bit out of place coming from your mouth.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re a little too late to find Nancy here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she didn’t say it, but I take it things are probably pretty over between us.”

This was surprising to say the least. Nancy Wheeler wasn’t someone who you would have guessed would go for a total asshole jock like Steve, but even you had to admit, he was easy on the eyes. Your heart skipped a bit at the thought, as you suddenly also remembered that you basically broke into the house of the most popular kid at your high school. One whom you’d never really spoken to in any meaningful sense before this very instant.

“What happened?” You asked hesitantly, taking a step towards Steve as your fingers hovered over his forearm. Even though you hated nearly everything Steve stood for—popularity, prosperity, assholery—you felt compelled to comfort him. Something about him was different than you expected. When he didn’t pull away, you let your hand rest there.

“Well, speaking of Jonathan Byers, we kind of got into…an altercation. I would like to say that I won, but I think it’s clear that I didn’t. I was with Tommy H and Carol and he spray painted a bunch of awful shit about Nancy and Jonathan all over town, and I didn’t stop him, so yeah, things aren’t what I would call good between me and Nancy right now.”

Your comforting instinct told you to apologize, sympathize, but you weren’t going to condone his actions. You’d seen the “Nancy ‘the Slut’ Wheeler” graffiti earlier in your mad dash to locate Dustin. Though you didn’t know her super well, Nancy had been nothing but nice to you and she definitely didn’t deserve that sort of treatment.

“Well, how do you…feel about it?” You asked gently, internally cringing at your anxiety forcing you to find something to fill the silence with.

“I mean, definitely not good. I was an ass, and I know it, and as much as I hate that I screwed things up with Nancy, I think I’m more so realizing how shitty I was to Jonathan. I mean, he’s got enough going on without me making things more difficult…I need to make things right.” He stood up abruptly, quickly grabbing his car keys from a likely expensive decorative dish on the side table by the door.

“Woah, wait! You’re just going to leave me?” You asked incredulously. “Steve, I-I….I need help.”

“You can come with me,” he responded as he spun his keys around his index finger.

“What?”

“To the Byers’ house? You know, kill two birds with one stone? I apologize to Jonathan, you ask about the Henderson kid. Hell, you might even luck out and find him there, so what do you say?” He explained as he placed his hand gently on your back, leading you out the front door, down the driveway to his car. You tried not to think about the way his hand felt on the expanse of your back. Before you could say no, he was opening the passenger’s side door for you.

Your eyes met his, your mouth slightly parted as you weighed your options. Sure, you could handle yourself fine on the way to Jonathan’s house…but then on the other hand, Steve had a car and you didn’t, and with all of the weird things going on in Hawkins recently, it was probably best not to be a young woman walking around on her own, especially now that you were losing light. Safety reasons aside, the element that settled the internal argument for you was the look in Steve’s eyes. He wanted to do better. He wanted to be better. Who were you to deny him that?

You breathed in once more, shaking your head as you breathed out. “Alright. Let’s go.”

***

Being in Steve’s car was, needless to say, a bit awkward. You both had your own problems, brought together by chaos and regret, a combination which didn’t make for great small talk.

“So, Nancy Wheeler, huh?” You asked in an attempt to ease the tension, needing to rid the car of the weight of the uncomfortable silence.

“Yep,” Steve muttered, eyes focused on the road.

“She’s pretty cool. I mean, she’s always been nice to me.”

“She’s the best.”

You weren’t sure why, but this comment made your heart sink a little in your chest. Though Nancy had always been nice, you couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of her. She stood out in a way that you never could. She was smart but had the money to back it up, which, in terms of social status, meant that she mattered and you didn’t. You were living paycheck to paycheck, barely functioning, picking up odd jobs all the time just to support yourself in the way your family couldn’t. You barely had the time to study or have fun, becoming the background character to everyone else’s life. Hell, you weren’t even sure you had a starring role in your own. She was also pretty in a way that you could never be, with her big blue eyes and thin frame making clearly even the douchiest of douchebags swoon. Steve was living proof.

“Y/n? Did you even hear anything I just said?” Steve’s voice finally flooded your consciousness, drawing you away from your thoughts and feelings of inadequacy.

You shook your head trying to clear out the negativity. “Sorry! I was-I just zoned out for a second, my bad,” You chuckled, your smile not quite reaching your eyes.

“I asked you why you were babysitting the Henderson kid anyway. It just seems like something that you wouldn’t be interested in.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, you’re…different. Yeah, you’re nice and make good grades and whatever, but you’re also pretty edgy. You seem like one of those weird, alt kids that would be into like pretty heavy music and shit, and babysitting just seems a little too suburban-status-quo for someone like you.”

You stared at him blankly, not really sure how to answer given that his words were more a statement of assumptions rather than a question. You opened your mouth to speak, but he interjected before you could even say anything.

“That came out wrong. What I’m saying is that you’ve always struck me as a little bit intimidating because you’re actually an individual; you don’t follow the crowd which, I mean, is admirable, but babysitting? Come on. I’m as stereotypical as they come, and I wouldn’t even babysit, especially not for some thirteen-year-old misfit who seems like more of a handful than its worth.”

“Well, for starters, you’re a guy, so no shit you’re not babysitting the youth of Hawkins, and also, I just need the money, which I’m sure is a foreign concept to you. And babysitting is kind of a piece of cake…normally. Henderson is a special case; he’s too smart for his own good.”

Steve laughed and you blushed, grateful for the darkness to hide the heat in your cheeks. His words felt like they were trying to be a compliment, but you weren’t sure how to interpret them. You guessed that maybe you stood out at least a little bit more than you had initially thought. By his description, people must be noticing you to some extent. He was noticing you.

You shook your head at the thought. What had gotten into you? Half an hour ago you hated this man, but now you weren’t too sure. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

With Hawkins being a small town in rural Indiana, the drive was not long, so your conversation ended here as you pulled up to the Byers’ residence. You felt a pang in your heart as you saw the tarp-covered hole in the front of the house. From speaking with Mrs. Henderson, you knew how much of a toll her son’s disappearance had taken on Joyce. Both of you got out of the car and you made your way to the front door.

Steve knocked. When there was no response, he banged on the door again. “Jonathan! Are you there man? It’s—it’s Steve! Listen, I just want to talk.”

He continued to bang on the door. You were about to reach up and stop him, tell him that it was enough and clearly no one was home, when the door opened a crack and you were met eye to eye with Nancy Wheeler. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw you, but it only lasted for a fraction of a second before her expression settled and her brows furrowed.

“Steve, listen to me.”

“Hey. Nancy, what—“

“You need to leave. Both of you,” she added as she turned to meet your eyes. She was serious, her expression stern, but there was something else there…desperation maybe?

“I’m not trying to start anything, okay?” Steve pleaded. It didn’t make a difference, as Nancy had clearly made up her mind.

“I don’t care about that. You need to leave. Now.”

“No, no, listen, I messed up…I messed up, and I just want to make things right.” Steve was desperate, you could hear it in his voice. You wanted to try and reason with Nancy, speak on behalf of Steve, but it wasn’t your place. You went to cast your gaze downwards, trying to give the two of them a private moment, but Nancy’s gauze-wrapped hand caught your eye instead.

“Hey, what happened to your hand?” You asked hesitantly, brow furrowed, “is that…is that blood?”

You went to gently reach for her hand but she quickly drew it back and out of sight, but it was too late. Say what you will about Steve, but he was protective to a fault, and in seeing Nancy hurt, any desire to make things right with Jonathan quickly dissipated.

“It’s nothing! It-It was an accident.”

“Wait a sec. Did he do this to you? Nancy, let me in!” Steve demanded as he pushed into the Byers’ home, not dissimilar to how you had intruded upon the Harrington residence earlier. You entered behind him. Under any normal circumstances, you probably would have felt awkward, but instead you were too preoccupied with Steve’s short temper and the fires you knew you would inevitably have to put out.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the premonition to know the literal nature of that preoccupation.

Crossing the threshold of the Byers’ residence, you weren’t entirely sure what you were looking at, but it did make your heart stop in your chest. You momentarily locked eyes with Jonathan as you looked around the room. There were multicolored lights strewn about the whole house, makeshift weapons on the coffee table, the entire alphabet painted sloppily on the wallpaper, and Jonathan’s hand had the same blood soaked gauze as Nancy’s.

“What is…what the…what is all of this?” Steve demanded.

“You need to get out of here. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.” Jonathan grabbed the fabric of Steve’s shirt attempting to force him out of the living room, but Steve planted his feet.

“Is that….is that gasoline?!” You stammered as the rest of your senses finally showed up. Your hands were trembling at your sides, and you felt like at any moment you might have a panic attack. You took a shaky breath as you attempted to calm yourself down.

“Steve! Get out!” Nancy shouted. The distinct click of a gun rang out, and Steve froze, eyes fixed on the revolver in Nancy’s hand, pointed directly at him. Jonathan’s grip loosened on Steve’s shirt as he stepped away, shock registering on his face as well.

Something was obviously very wrong. You pushed your anxiety deep down in your chest, and you took a step forward. If I could just talk to her, you thought, I can deescalate this.

“Nancy—“ you began cautiously, but as soon as you took a step she pivoted and now you were the one staring down the barrel of a gun. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly raised trembling hands in front of your chest. “I think you need to calm down.”

“I think you need to leave,” she responded, her voice icy. Suddenly, Steve bounded forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling you behind him. Once you were hidden behind his tall figure, you allowed yourself to break down a little, pressing yourself against him for some semblance of security.

“Is this a joke, Nancy? Put the gun down!”

“I’m doing this for you.”

“What is this?! What does that even mean?” He yelled back at her, but his words weren’t doing anything to help. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, and his grip tightened. He was holding onto you just as much as you were holding onto him, with a fistful of his shirt balled into your delicate hand as you attempted to ground yourself. It felt intimate, and if it weren’t for your current predicament, you would have been embarrassed.

“Three. Two—“

“Nancy! The lights!” Jonathan shouted, and you peeled your face away from the solace of Steve’s back, watching as the lights flickered with a raging entropy, making it nearly impossible for your eyes to navigate the small room.

“Where is it? I don’t see it!” Nancy cried out and for the first time in the craze of blinking lights and shouting, you saw the fear on her face, her previous stoic facade shattering in the chaos. Seeing the fright in her eyes made your stomach drop, as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

Something was very, very wrong.

“Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?!” Steve shouted and you couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Even with the family room being sporadically lit up like a Christmas tree, you and Steve were very much still in the dark.

No sooner had he said it did the ceiling begin to crack, something large writhing as it made its way into the small house from above. Nancy began shooting at it as you stood frozen. Finally, it burst through the drywall, falling to the floor on all fours. If someone asked you to describe what you had seen, you weren’t sure what you would’ve even said. It had pale skin, nearly translucent, and made an awful chattering sound as it started to gather its bearings.

“Go! Go! Run! Go!” Jonathan started shouting as he grabbed Nancy around the waist and shoved her in front of him as she darted down the hall. Steve turned around and did the same, his hands harshly grabbing at your sides to redirect you as you formed a human chain; Jonathan’s hand wrapped around your wrist, and your other hand wrapped around Steve’s as you made a mad dash to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

In all the commotion you barely heard Jonathan shout “jump!” narrowly missing the open bear trap on the floor. You shrieked and willed yourself to be coordinated for once in your damn life as you hurdled over the metal teeth of the trap, blindly trusting that Steve’s athleticism would kick in and he would do the same. A low growl sounded out just as the bedroom door slammed shut behind Steve, his momentum causing him to collide into you. You would have toppled over if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes, as he reached out to steady your shoulders.

“Shhh, you’re okay. It’s all going to be okay,” Steve frantically whispered, his hands still holding together your shaking form, as you stumbled backwards and collapsed down on the bed. His lips were dangerously close to your ear, and he brought a hand to the base of your neck, drawing his fingers down to your shoulder to reassure you. He was barely holding it together himself, scared out of his mind, but he brought you into this mess and he was determined to protect you first. “What the hell was that?!”

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan yelled in unison. Everyone’s gaze then fixed on the yoyo that was precariously draped over the chair. Your heart thundered in your ears, your eyes welling with tears as you held your breath and waited. The lights continued to flicker, until a jolt of electricity rang out and they became static. The silence was unnerving.

“Do you hear anything?” Nancy asked.

Jonathan shook his head and slowly opened the door. The four of you stepped into the quiet of the hallway, eyes fixed on the undisturbed bear trap in the middle of the carpet. You all cautiously made your way back to the disheveled family room of the Byers’ house, Nancy and Jonathan prepped with their weapons in hand.

“This is…this—this is crazy!” Steve shouted, running his hands through his perfect hair.

You tugged on his sleeve trying to draw his attention away from what just happened; this was already a shit show, the last thing you needed was Steve losing his mind. “Steve, you need to calm down,” you begged, still shaken from before.

“Y/n, how the hell am I supposed to calm down?! This isn’t a situation where you can calm the fuck down! What the hell is going on?!” He continued to shout, grabbing your wrist and shoving it away. You tried not to take it personally, but it still hurt. You hated how quickly he had gone from comforting to cold.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Nancy spoke up, “It’s going to come back! So you need to leave. Right now.”

Steve grabbed your wrist, your body lurching as your trajectory quickly changed, the inertia causing you to stumble while your feet attempted to keep up with Steve’s large strides. Steve fumbled with his keys as you reached the car. His shaky hands finally unlocked the door and he swung it open, about to sit when he realized that you had stopped following him, still positioned in front of the house.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

“Steve, we can’t leave, are you kidding me? They’re in way over their heads. They need help.”

“It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you in there. It’s not up for discussion,” Steve argued, stepping around the door and reaching out to grab your wrist again. You quickly stepped back, pulling your hands out of his reach.

“Y/n, you’re not going back in there. I’m not joking.”

“Neither am I,” you shot back, turning back towards the door. You heard him call out your name again, but you were already through the front door, back in the discomfort of the Byers’ family room.

“Y/n, what the hell are you doing here? I said to leave,” Nancy warned.

“I’m not leaving. You guys need help, and I want to help.”

“Y/n—“ Jonathan began, but his warning was cut short when the lights began to flash again. You quickly grabbed a large kitchen knife from the pile of improvised weapons on the coffee table and met Nancy and Jonathan back to back in the center of the room.

“Where is it?” You asked, trying to shove the fear in your chest down, hoping it was a false alarm, that the wiring was screwy, that you were safe.

“Come out, you son of a bitch!” Jonathan yelled out. You willed your hands not to shake as you tightened your grip on the handle of the knife. Suddenly the lights went out, plunging the room into inky black darkness. You blinked rapidly, a futile attempt to get your eyes to adjust to the pitch black room.

You heard a low growl before Nancy exclaimed, “Y/N!”

You spun around, eyes meeting the nine-foot hulking form of whatever the hell this thing was, standing less than a foot from you. You didn’t even have time to scream as it lunged at you, pinning you to the floor. Your knife fell from your grasp, clamoring across the hardwood. You wish you could go back to when you hadn’t had a good look at the monster. Now you stared wide eyed as its face opened up revealing countless rows of razor sharp teeth as it shrieked, spewing thick drool across your face.

“Help me! Please! Nancy!” You screamed out as you writhed under the pressure of the beast. Its clawed fingers began tightening around your upper arm, ripping into your skin as you cried out in pain. It reared back to scream its ear piercing scream again, but something collided with it, knocking it off-kilter. Its long claws dragged across the flesh of your arm, etching larger gashes as its grip began to release.

You took this opportunity to slip away, scrambling across the floor on hands and knees as you grabbed the kitchen knife, turning around to slash the monster’s achilles. It cried out, turning back towards you, this time far angrier than it had been in the first place. This was when you realized that the collision from before had been Steve, swinging Jonathan’s nail bat as hard as he could at the creature.

He had come back for you.

He continued to swing the bat with all his might, causing the monster to stumble backwards until the resonant clang of metal hitting against metal rang out.

“He’s in the trap! He’s stuck!” Steve yelled out, causing the rest of you to spring into action.

“Jonathan, now!” Nancy shouted. Jonathan hurtled around the corner, the unmistakable flick of a lighter sounding out before he tossed it in the gasoline soaked carpet. The hallway erupted in flames that were almost too bright to bear, as the four of you covered your eyes. You took this opportunity to sprint back to the family room, quickly grabbing the fire extinguisher laid out on the rug, before bounding back to the hallway.

“Get back!” You shouted as you desperately tried to put out the fire before you were all suffocated in a fiery mix of ash and smoke. You all coughed as the smoke cleared, revealing that the monster had disappeared, no longer stuck between the teeth of the bear trap.

“Where did it go?” Nancy hesitantly asked.

“It has to be dead. It has to be,” Jonathan said, though it seemed more like he was saying it to convince himself; to speak it into existence.

Suddenly the string lights started blinking again, this time in a line leading toward them in the hallway. Your breath caught in your throat, and Steve protectively pushed himself in front of you and Nancy. The lights then blinked again, this time in a line towards the front door. This time they weren’t the erratic display of chaos from earlier, but rather an orderly demonstration of cosmos. The four of you cautiously followed the lights, weapons drawn just in case.

“Mom?” You heard Jonathan quietly ask. His eyes welled with tears, and you immediately wanted to hug the boy. He’d been through so much. He didn’t deserve this; none of you did.

You followed the lights outside the house, watching the streetlight gently flicker before all trace of the paranormal phenomenon dissipated.

“Where’s it going?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t think that’s the monster,” Jonathan responded. He didn’t elaborate and none of you asked.

Steve quickly turned to you, gently grabbing your wrist. “Y/n, you’re bleeding,” he said, his eyes widening as they focused on your blood soaked sleeve.

“It doesn’t matter. Where’s Dustin? Please tell me one of you knows,” you turned to ask Nancy and Jonathan, both of them caught off guard by your question.

“Uh, I think it really does matter, y/n. We don’t even know what the hell that thing was! You can’t just ignore—“

“They’re at the school,” Nancy interrupted. She wanted to argue with you too, to tell you that you definitely needed medical attention, but she also knew you weren’t going to listen. Hell, you’d just run back into a house with an inter-dimensional threat so her and Jonathan wouldn’t have to face it on their own.

You turned back towards Steve. “Steve, I promise I’ll let you take me to the urgent care or the hospital or whatever if you just please let me go make sure he’s okay,” you pleaded. Tears were welling in your eyes and Steve realized that he wasn’t going to be able to say no to you.

“Fine, but this is fucked up.”

***

By the time you pulled into the parking lot of Hawkins middle, it was swarming with police cars and emergency vehicles. You felt nauseous and negligent, as you frantically scanned, looking for the curly mop of hair hidden under a baseball cap. Before Steve stopped the car, you flung your door open, jogging across the lot, calling out for the boy.

“Dustin! Dustin Henderson!”

“Woah, woah, woah! You can’t just jump out of a moving vehicle!” Steve caught up with you. He wanted to reach out and put a hand on your shoulder to rein you in a little, but he decided against it, not recalling which one was torn up. You had to be in excruciating pain, but you didn’t show it. She’s pretty damn tough, Steve thought to himself. Suddenly, you both saw the Henderson boy, chatting away with Lucas Sinclair, as if nothing had happened.

“Henderson!” You growled, marching across the parking lot towards the young child.

“Y/n, I can explain—“

“Do you have any idea the hell I just went through trying to find your ass?! Where the hell were you?!”

“You’re not going to believe me, but there’s this alternate—wait, what the hell happened to your arm?”

You looked at Steve, trying to silently decide how much to tell the young boy. He was just a kid; he didn’t need to be mixed up in all of this, and neither did Lucas. To be perfectly honest, neither did the two of you, but you couldn’t change what happened. You broke eye contact with Steve and looked at Dustin, lips slightly parted as you tried to find the right words to say. Before you could even say anything, Dustin broke the silence.

“It was the demogorgon, wasn’t it?”

“What in the fresh hell are you talking about?” Steve asked, growing tired of this kid who had inadvertently caused you to risk your life trying to find him instead of just listening to his damn babysitter.

“Monster, big and scary, likely inter-dimensional?”

“You…But how do you…you know about all of this?” You asked, your heart sinking knowing that you couldn’t protect him from this.

“It took Will, and we’ve been trying to find him,” Lucas chimed in.

“B-but…but there was a funeral. He died,” you stammered, your heart aching this time as you thought back to Jonathan and Joyce and how miserable they had been over the loss of the young child.

“Look, y/n, I’m sorry I snuck out but it was to find Will. I can explain the rest but it’s going to take a while and you might want to sit down,” Dustin hesitantly spoke.

“You’re so damn lucky your mom is out of town for the next few days,” you spoke through gritted teeth, but you sat down and you listened to the boy.

***

After his explanation, you and Steve were, needless to say, a bit stunned and speechless. How the hell did three middle school boys figure all of that out? And a girl with a shaved head and super powers? You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Hawkins Chief of Police Jim Hopper knew about all of this either. What was there that you could trust? Your head started to spin and you were getting a bit nauseous at the thought.

“I mean, this is wild Henderson. It’s borderline unbelievable,” Steve chided. Dustin’s eyes widened and his face reddened, clearly mad that Steve wasn’t buying his story.

“Are you serious right now, Steve? You saw it! You saw the damn demogorgon! How could you possibly deny that—“

“I said borderline unbelievable, shit bird. Obviously I know some strange shit is going on, it’s just still fucking insane.”

You couldn’t agree more with him as you attempted to stand up, but your vision blurred and you stumbled. You would’ve fallen if Steve hadn’t immediately shot up to catch and steady you.

“Woah, y/n, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Steve’s eyes were darting all across your face. He wished he could read your mind but you just stared up at him with those eyes and it all remained a mystery.

“I think she needs to get that checked out. She’s losing a lot of blood,” Lucas chimed in, his brow furrowed under his camo bandana. He pointed at your blood soaked sleeve, and everyone simultaneously realized that blood was now dripping down your hand, the fabric no longer able to hold anymore liquid.

“No, no, I’m fine, I swear. Let me just walk it off. I’ll be okay,” you tried to sound confident, but your speech was slurred and there were dark spots invading your vision. Steve gently patted at the side of your face, attempting to keep you conscious.

“Y/n, just stay with us. We’re going to get you help. Just keep those pretty eyes open for me. Y/n, please!” He sounded desperate, and you fought to stay awake. The next thing you knew, he was carrying you, attempting to make it to an ambulance to get your wounds assessed by a real medical professional.

“Hey, we need you to take us to a hospital right now,” Steve spoke quickly as he sprinted to one of the EMTs on scene.

“What happened to her?”

“It’s a long story. Please sir,” Steve’s voice began to falter. The EMT gestured for Steve to hop in the back of the ambulance where he gingerly placed you on the gurney. Lucas and Dustin swiftly followed suit, going to hop into the ambulance, but the EMT stepped in front of the boys to stop them.

“Woah, where do you think you’re going?”

“Sir, if you could please let them come with us. We babysit them and I can’t leave them here by themselves,” Steve argued. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it was the best he had to work with to convince the guy to take Sinclair and Henderson with them. Dustin looked at him with confusion, mouthing the word “we?” before Steve shot him a warning glance to fix his face before their story was invalidated.

You woke up in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. You were no longer in your blood soaked clothes, your frame fitted with a hospital gown instead. You looked over to your left arm which had since been stitched up and was now wrapped in gauze, the bleeding slowing to a stop.

“Steve?” You called out, hoping he was still with you.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” He exclaimed rushing over to the side of the bed. You’d been out for the past hour. They had sedated you once you arrived at the hospital, saying it would be easier to tend to your wounds that way.

“Today didn’t really go how I thought it would.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Steve chuckled.

“I mean, my worst fear earlier was that I was going to get fired. I can tell you that I have significantly worse fears than that now,” you hated crying in front of people, with Steve being the last person you wanted to be vulnerable in front of, but you couldn’t help it as your eyes welled up and one stubborn tear slid down your cheek. Steve was quick to wipe it away, his hand reaching down to hold yours.

“I know, but on the bright side, I think you might be the most qualified babysitter in Hawkins,” Steve tried desperately to make you smile. It worked as you let out a wet laugh through your sob.

“I mean, I guess so,” you chuckled, your cheeks heating up at the compliment.

“You guess so? I know so. I don’t know anybody who would fight a monster with that many fucking teeth for some kid.”

“Nancy would,” you reminded him, your voice getting small again. The light in his eyes suddenly dissipated and he let go of your hand.

“Yeah, no, you’re probably right. I guess we’d all make pretty damn good babysitters,” he averted eye contact, preferring to look at his hands. In the time he’d been spending with you, he kind of forgot about Nancy. He felt guilty.

“You should talk to her, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sure she’s probably ready to put whatever happened between the two of you behind her. I mean, you really stepped up when it mattered today,” you added. You weren’t sure why you were saying it because the thought of him going back to Nancy made your heart ache, but maybe you weren’t ready for the alternative. You weren’t ready for him to look at you the way he looked at her. Not that you thought he would, but you just felt the need to create some distance. A lot had happened and this wasn’t the way you wanted him to realize you were something special, something to hold onto.

“Yeah, I guess…I mean, I guess I’ll go talk to her. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” He looked you in the eye. Instead of seeing annoyance or indifference, you saw something new for a change: sincerity.

“Promise.”

He gave you a small smile, pausing in the doorway as he took one last look at you. You did a small wave goodbye, reassuring him that you’d be okay. With that, he took a breath and turned the corner, making his way back to the hospital waiting room where him and Nancy would patch things up. There was something about you though; something he couldn’t quite get out of his head.

He also had a sinking feeling in his chest that this wasn’t the end of whatever was going on in Hawkins. He had a feeling that the danger would linger, lurking in the shadows. He pushed the feeling aside and smiled weakly at Nancy, moving to sit in the empty chair next to her.

***

a/n: I hope y’all liked it; in theory there’s more to come (like I said earlier it’s gonna be a slow burn so yeah lol). If you feel so inspired to reboot this post that would also be pretty dope and I’d be eternally grateful <3

[almostheav4n]

Tomorrow Never Came: Chapter 1

masterlist | ao3

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ warnings: unspecified age gap, hints at past SA, no break-out, no y/n, no reader description, discussion of past trauma, reader develops a reliance on him, hints at a ddlg relationship in terms of a caregiver x little relationship (reader is of legal age), joel is a vietnam war vet with a very tough exterior so it takes a bit to get it moving but it does by chapter 2! <3 word count: 5,495 summary: set in Texas in the 1980s, Joel picks you up on the side of the road when headed west, you embark upon a journey of self-discovery with the help of a seasoned man

“Do you wanna see the west with me? Cause loves out there & I can’t leave it be.”

The cold beer bottle contrasts your harsh, warm, two-handed grip on it as your feet sway from the bar stool sat at. Your cross-country adventure had landed you here, in west Texas, penniless & destitute, nothing but the jacket on your shoulders and the pistol in your pocket. 

You had traveled from west to east in an attempt to meet your father who you later found out wanted nothing to do with you. Having had saved up for years to make the trip, not accounting for how expensive shit was, landed you in the middle of nowhere Texas, trying to make your way back to your home in California. Truth be told, you set your hopes high that maybe your father had just desired to leave your mom and not you but you learned very quickly that wasn’t the case. 

Now you sit, in a dusty dive bar, men circling like vultures as you try hard to ignore their glances and as one next to you, leans into mumble something you can’t make out. Instead you focus on the sounds if Bob Dylans ‘knockin on heaven door’ that plays loudly from the busted jukebox. 

“Wanna dance?” You slur a bit, not necessarily because of the alcohol, but maybe an attempt to match the demeanor of the man next to you, who bought you the beer. He isn’t ugly, he isn’t pretty. He is drunk though, maybe drunk enough that you can slip some bills from his wallet. 

He’s eager you realize as his hand lands on the small of your back, tripping a bit over his feet to make his way to the dusty center, the wood creaking beneath your feet as you place your hands to his chest, slightly propping him up, the bourbon on his breath quite rich. 

Your eyes scan the room to find men and women watching, finding it a bit silly. Being from California, quite used to others dancing like no ones watching. Finding that in Texas, people are always watchers rather than dancers. 

A watcher catches your eyes, his grayish-green eyes narrowed towards you as he brings a glass to his lips, his face mostly shadowed by a brown cowboy hat as he leans against a pillar. 

You can’t help but be a little taken aback, his aura fogging up the space around him like a puff of smoke, as he tilts his head down, focusing on the drink in his hand, scuffing up his boot on the ground before turning his attention back to you. Swiping his tongue against his bottom lip as he adjusts himself, thumbing his belt loop. 

It fills your belly, the admiration, bubbling up into your throat as you smile, a little quirk of the lips as you stare at him, stupidly and obviously. 

He returns the stare. Not smiling back, but the stern gaze worn on his brows replaced by a softer one, more relaxed. 

You're pulled back into reality as the man’s hand slips below your back onto your behind as you sway to the music, causing you to break apart. Whispering nonsense into his ear comprising of ‘if he wants to get out of here’, knowing he’s drunk enough and will most likely barely make it to his car. 

You’re correct as he piles into his truck and falls asleep halfway out of the lot, allowing you to maneuver the vehicle to the side, eventually slipping into his pockets to pull out his wallet and the forty-three dollars.

Ditching him there, you head for a motel and pay them the $30 fee for one night, giving you enough time to bathe and wash your clothes in the bathtub before eating half of a candy bar and heading to bed. 

The nearest grocery store is a bit of a long haul as you walk a few miles until you head into the small mart. Its the size of a shoe box with people littered up and down the aisles as you make your way to the hygiene aisle, slipping a packaged bar of soap into your deep pockets along with tampons. Wandering onto other aisles, sifting through the snacks before landing on a few breakfast bars, deciding to slide one up your sleeve. Your eyes peeking to the side to find that you’re being watched by a familiar set of eyes. 

You slip up the bar into your sleeve before turning to the man you had seen yesterday, his brow raised curiously, having seen your little trick. 

He strikes you once again in a different light… his worn jeans, scuffed boots, his flanneled shirt, the sleeves rolled up exposing his tanned arms, thick veins roped within them leading to his hands, the one specifically carrying a cart with his own personal items. His dark beard ruffles as he bites on his inner cheek, studying you it seems, his eyes roaming around the aisle and then back to you. The same hat worn yesterday, sturdy on his head. 

You hum a bit, leaning back on your heels, not sure whether he means to turn you in or something else. You simply bring your finger to your lips to create a ‘shush’ sound in hopes he will keep your secret before heading for the exit, stopping to pick up a coke, tossing a quarter to the cashier, and promptly exiting. 

Finding a nearby patch of grass, you pass your time by watching the cars and drinking your Coke until it’s empty. You figure now might be the time to make your way from Texas, heading for the busiest road and sticking your thumb out as you follow along the white line on a dirt path. 

Five cars pass before a blue Ford pickup truck pulls up, the gleaming shine causing you to cover your eyes as they adjust, hearing the driver's door open & close. 

You instinctively take a step back, watching a familiar hat make its way from around the truck as you can’t help but break out into a smile. 

“Third times the charm huh?” You laugh a bit watching him remove a hat, letting it fall to the side in his hand as he runs his other hand through his hair. 

“Uh-huh,” He grunts, leaning against the side of the truck, observing you just as he did in the store and in the bar.

“You a cop?” You question, brows scrunching up to match his hardened gaze. The question makes him laugh, a short release of breath before composing himself. 

“Ain’t a cop darlin’…” He mutters, eyes going to your tattered shoes, biting on the inside of his cheek once more, followed by a clicking sound of the mouth.

“Who are ya then?” you place your hands on your hips, attempting to assert any dominance you have, feeling picked apart by his gaze. 

“Didn’t your mama tell you not to talk to strangers?” He inches closer, calculated, stopping far enough from you to bring you ease, his noticeable large size gaining your attention. 

“Tell me your name and you won’t be a stranger… this being our third meeting I find myself quite familiar with you…” You don’t know why your voice catches in your throat as you speak, but you clear it quickly.  

Maybe because he was unlike the men you came across during your journey. Quite honestly, the men you came across reminded you of the boys in high school. Unsure, dull, weak. A boy in the shell of a “man”. 

He wasn’t a boy in the body of a man, just a full man, through & through. 

“Joel.” He offers, his head pointed towards the ground, focused on a trail of ants, then back to you. It’s difficult to hold his gaze without blushing. “Where ya headed?”

“West… California.” You admit, watching as he nods, eyes searching the sky now, observing as he always seems to do. 

“What’s there for you in California?” He questions, eyes coming back to you as you feel your words stuck in your throat, his stare enough to cause your knees to buckle and weaken. It’s a hard gaze, one you hadn’t noticed as clearly beneath the shadow of his cowboy hat.  

“My mama…” you mutter, words coming out hushed, embarrassed, deciding to focus your own attention on the ants, you stupidly feel naked when he looks at you just bare and open.  

You don’t hear him head for the door, only hear the door opening, your eyes shooting up to Joel as he looks at you, bewildered as if you should know what to do, patiently waiting as your eyes swipe back from him to the truck and back to him. 

“Whatre you waitin on? Get in.” He speaks lowly as you attempt not to feel stupid, the blood rushing to your cheeks with a quickness as you bite your lip back.

“Not gonna kill me right?” You ask, stuffing your hands in your pockets watching as he lets out his same light laugh, just a puff of air. 

“I ain’t planning on it, sweetheart.” He bites on his bottom lip, the thick hair on his beard twitching as he waits. 

You hesitantly approach the vehicle, calculated steps leading you around where he stands by the door, sliding into the truck, the leather seating new indicating a certain amount of wealth that puzzles you. 

To be honest, the men who usually attempted to pick you up were composed of overly excited older men with fast food wrappers & cigarette buds piled up in the passenger's seat and the smell of beer wafting from the vehicle. 

It was rare you ever accepted rides from men, usually finding a chick who could take you a few hours down before dropping you off. 

His truck however seemed almost brand new, and clean, even the trash within it, was still kept nicer than most people who offered you a ride. 

The door shuts beside you with a click as he soon piles in, turning the ignition with ease and one hand steering the vehicle back onto the road with one smooth motion. 

It’s a routine, you think as you watch his legs spread apart along the seat, his free hand fumbling with the volume of the radio as he finds a station playing old country which seems to satisfy him as he relaxes into a manspreaded position. 

The motor and the hum of the songs is all you hear about an hour in as you realize he’s quite quiet. Which is rare. 

He hadn’t pestered you about your past, stared longingly at your exposed legs in the summer heat, or even tried to touch you. 

The few times you had gotten rides for men when you were younger and rather dumb, they had talked your ear off about something irrelevant, asked too many questions, or taken the first opportunity to lean over and try to fuck you right in the seat. 

He is quiet. Joel's quiet… hard set gaze focused on the road, the only constant motion being the rise and fall of his chest & occasional repositioning of the wheel.  

He pays you no mind. You would like to assume he’s gay but you don’t think so 100%

“You pick up strays often?” You break the silence, used to being the quiet one. 

He doesn’t answer immediately, only readjusts himself in the seat. You wonder if he is maybe a serial killer. 

The dirt under your fingernails seems interesting all of a sudden as you focus your attention on cleaning them, the awkward energy looming within the truck, 

“Strays…” He responds, finally, rubbing his hand over his beard before scratching at it with a deep sigh. 

“Don’t usually pick up hitch-hikers if’s what you’re askin’” He grumbles lowly, his Texan accent deep and thick. 

You think for a beat, wondering if his natural nature is stoicism and a cold front or if he’s already annoyed by his pestering passenger. 

“Why’d you pick me up then?” You question turning your head towards him, attempting to read him more. 

God, it takes him forever to respond. You aren’t sure if he’s thinking about the question or just in no hurry whatsoever, but it fills you with anxiety and anticipation. 

“Well…  when you stole from Earl, he sorta went around lookin' for you… Then when I saw you stealin' from that shop, I assumed it’d be best to get you to where you need’ta go so trouble doesn’t find you no more.” He admits shooting you a quick look, a quick raise of the brow in a disciplinary way, he means to scold you, you think.  

“Earl?”

“That man you went home with from that bar…”

“Oh… ha! earl,” you snort a bit remembering him. When you stole, you made sure to never stick around for that reason exactly. 

“Well, my thoughts on the matter are men take advantage of drunk women every day, I’m just leveling the playing field.” You respond in a sassy manner, crossing your ankles to sit up straighter, asserting yourself.  

“I ain’t judgin, I just didn’t want to see him comin’ down to find you.. he’s a drunk & a mean one,” He mentions cracking the window, the summer breeze picking up the strands of his dark brown hair & some gray.  

“You know a lot about this, ‘Earl’ ?” You roll down your window then, the wind blowing over your face a familiar and refreshing feeling, picking up your own hair as it tossles over your face. 

“Knew Earl all my life, worked for me…” He grunts, clearing his throat. 

“You hire drunks?” You giggle, feeling like you caught him, disappointed he doesn’t return the laugh as he only shrugs. 

“Like I said… I don’t judge, ‘f the work is done, it's done.” He switches his blinker on before pulling into a lot filled with shops, your eyebrows scrunching as you eye him. Bathroom break maybe. 

“Bout time to eat and get you some new shoes…” He gestures down to your feet as he parks, slightly far from other cars, maneuvering into the spot with ease as the truck comes to a jolt. 

You giggle dumbfoundedly, tickled by the thought that he thinks you walk around in tattered shoes because you choose to. “Joel… I don't have any money.” 

The sound of his door closing acts as a response as it barely grants you a moment to think until your side door is pulled open. “I am well aware of that, cmon now.” 

He’s confusing, his coldness, and lack of conversation, followed by an offering to purchase new shoes. You feel the need to make it clear to him you aren’t a prostitute. 

“I’m not a hooker,” Your nose naturally scrunches in confusion, ready to bolt if he accuses you of wasting his time or something worse. 

He laughs, a true laugh, his shoulders rising and falling as he tips his head down in a chuckle, the top of his cowboy hat revealed to you. 

“I know darling, now don’t rush on my account,” he teases, still propped up against the door, waiting for you, patiently. 

You bite your lip back to distract from your red cheeks. He’s quick to reach his hand out to help you down from the truck as you take it, calloused and warm. 

You don’t desire to let go, trying to remember the feel as he breaks away once you find your footing. 

His long strides are difficult to keep up with you find, his head moving from left to right then left again, surveying the lot for oncoming traffic or anything else that might come at you sideways in a lot, always on alert it seems as he leads you towards a store reading ‘PAYLESS’. 

The door opens with a jingle as he holds it open for you before leading you down the multiple aisles, past the men's section into the womens. 

You collide with his muscled back as he stops abruptly, your eyes narrowing as you back up slightly. 

It takes a few seconds to realize he is waiting for you. Looking down at you, your eyes connecting up to him as blood familiarly rushes into your cheeks, standing closer to him than you ever have been honestly, allowing you to smell his cedarwood aftershave, makes you wanna purr. 

“Well, you have to go select the shoes now don’t you?” He chuckles as he always does, fast and dry but warm as you look down the aisles, scrunching up your nose in confusion. 

“Where you will be?” It’s stupid to already feel a sort of attachment to him, curious about his well-being more for the safety of your own. 

“I’ll be parked right here,” He gestures to a nearby bench seated across a young child screaming and crying as a mother forces on their shoes. 

You only nod back, not trusting your mouth to form appropriate words as he gives you a nice playful push with his elbow passing behind you, gesturing for you to go on. 

He does just what he said he would and you find yourself slivering between row after row of shoes, eventually finding a nice comfortable shoe that doesn’t cost too much, moving to show Joel before being gobsmacked by a pair of leather western boots. 

You decide to pick both, coming to the conclusion that Joel can decide as you walk towards him with one shoe on each foot.

“Okay, okay, ya gotta choose alright?” You position yourself in front of him, finally getting the chance to be above him, feeling a sort of strength and confidence because of it.

His head rises from where it was slouched on his chest, his hat covering most of it until he takes it off with a puzzled look on his face, probably having just napped you think. 

“I gotta choose huh?” He questions slowly in a drawl, snorting a bit as he rubs his nose. 

“Mhm!” You nod turning to the back of the aisle before walking down the carpet as if it’s a catwalk, giving him a little twirl at the end watching as his brows raise in curiosity. 

He responds with a slow clap as you curtsey to finish it off, eyebrows high as they screw together. 

“Well, aren’t you just the bee's knees…” He smirks a bit turning his head to the side, biting the inside of his cheek in long thought as you rock back and forth on your feet in the silence.

“I say get 'em’ both.” He shrugs. 

“Joel…” you pout placing your hands on your hips, “You’re supposed to choose the best one.”

“Go’n and get both, s’ my choice, like you said… toss that pair on your feet and wear one out of the store. Those shoes have seen better days…” He gestures to worn ones nearby with his foot before sucking his bottom lip in, biting down as you scrunch up your face once again, confused by his generosity. 

You open your mouth to speak until you hear his name called, a gentleman his age heading over with a big smile on his face as Joel gets up to greet him shocked it seems by seeing the man. Before he dives into conversation about some time in Arkansas they shared. 

He seems to forget your presence until he fishes in his pocket before turning to you. 

“Check out baby, I’ll be there soon,” He mumbles, handing you his wallet before turning back to converse with the man about god knows what. 

Baby… 

It sits on your tongue as you repeat the word… baby. 

Once you pack up the western boots & toss your ratty pair, curiosity gets the best of you look through his wallet to find a hefty amount of cash along with a few cards, his ID reading ‘JOEL MILLER’. 

You ponder why he trusted you with it, you could bolt, to be quite honest, live off for months with the amount of cash stored. 

You don’t, finding zero need to. 

Eventually, you realize it could be because he trusts you since he’s the furthest from careless. 

It’s a funny feeling, trust, as you make your way to the checkout stand. A boy maybe a bit older than you reading a magazine as you have to muster up a ‘hello’ to gain his attention. 

“Fuh- Sorry, shi-, I mean, sorry I ain’t see you or nothin’” he nervously rambles taking the boxes, one empty but still necessary to scan.  

“Wasn’t ignorin’ you…” He adds as you smile a bit, attempting to ease his nerves. 

You are reminded of how you are able to make boys nervous, having been able to do so since grade school, and not necessarily because you were some Hollywood star, you simply carried yourself with a certain amount of confidence that had boys sputtering and timid. 

It’s refreshing you find after figuring you don't seem to do that to Joel. 

He is never nervous around you, quite the opposite as you feel as if butterflies are swimming in your belly every time he looks at you.  

The boy with a nametag reading, Ted, begins to bag as you slide the total amount on the counter from Joel’s wallet, your pinky hitting a jar of candy on the counter. 

“These free?” You question eyeing a red lollipop. 

“No, um, you can have it, it’s 25 cents, goes to helping out a kid in need,” He fumbles giving you your change as his sweaty hand releases it into yours. 

You return a quarter and fish out your lollipop, discarding the wrapper into your pocket before plucking it into your mouth. 

It isn’t difficult to notice the boys attention on your mouth as your lips wrap around the sucker as you turn your head a bit, sorta wishing it was this easy with Joel. It makes you smile a bit, the idea of getting this reaction from him but the boy thinks it's for him as he smiles back. 

You make sure to wear a look of disgust to dissuade him from thinking it’s for him, lost in your own fantasies as you stick the lollipop far into your cheek. 

“You uh- need help carrying this back, maybe I can help you carry this back to your car?” He offers a little breathless as you pop the sucker from your mouth. 

“Maybe, uh I don’t know where-” You start

“Sorry bout that darlin’,” the gruff voice behind you is followed by the warmth of a hand on your hip as he picks up the bag with the boxes, ignoring the cashier's hand on it. 

“We all square?” He questions looking down at you in a familiar stern manner, maybe questioning the fact that you didn’t steal this time.

“Uh huh,” you nod, “Bought candy too…”

“Oh yeah I can see that-”

You press the lollipop to his lips cutting him off suddenly, expecting to gain some sort of reaction from him finally, but he only opens his mouth to take it in before stuffing it in his cheek, “Delicious… let’s get a move on.” 

A giggle expels from your mouth as you find yourself bewildered as he leads you out of the store before handing the sucker back to you in which you take it swiftly, before waving goodbye to the clerk who wears the strangest expression of confusion, making you laugh even more. 

You expect to head to the truck, and instead follow him towards a sandwich shop as he holds the door open for an elderly woman before letting you pass in. 

“You know what you want? They got hot & cold sandwiches it seems…” He mutters moving up in the line as there’s a good amount of people in front of you. 

“Umm, just a coke…” you hum happily looking at the glass bottled drink behind the counters before hearing Joel sigh out gruffly. 

“Look at me.” He’s stern when he speaks yet soft as he turns towards you, curling over as he closes the space between your bodies. You attempt to make eye contact with his grayish-green eyes, before looking down at your feet, your stomach turning in on itself. 

It isn’t until his fingers move along your jaw to your chin, tugging it up so you can look at him right there, your face resting in the cup of his hand, his hats shadow covering the both of you, making it feel as if you are the only people in the room as a slow gulp glides down your throat, his eyes searching yours as you can feel his breath on your lips. 

“I need you to get real food, you’re gonna get a sandwich. You understand me?” You open your mouth slightly to breathe in his words, stuck in a trance that has you resting your hands on his forearms for balance. 

You wish to speak, to object but only nod as he seems satisfied before breaking away to move up in line with only two people now ahead of you. 

It feels as if your heart is beating through your throat as you expected him to kiss you then, wanted him to. Yearned for it, lips left unsatisfied as you take them between your teeth to gnaw at them. 

He doesn’t even seem bothered in the slightest as he continues to read the menu, distracted as you size him up. 

His tanned arms roped with veins leading down to his hands, his jeans bolted together with a belt as the jeans hang over his boots, the thick beard that holds specks of gray that creep down his throat. His face littered with scars, the most prominent on his nose… he’s truly one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever come across. 

Why didn’t he kiss you… 

Your thoughts are interrupted as the person making the sandwiches asks what you want. You list off an assortment of turkey and cheese and other veggies before turning to Joel, somewhat seeking his approval as he gives you a little nod. 

You slip his wallet into his jeans before heading to find a table in the back, immediately getting side-tracked by a little kiddie ride shaped as a horse, seen through the glass window of the building, fishing into your own pockets to pull out a little ten-cent coin before exiting through the back door. 

It isn’t hard to settle onto it, clearly made for those younger but something fun to do while you wait as it begins to rock you back n forth, popping your forgotten sucker back into your mouth as you move your hips with the ride, it brings you back to a certain comfort forgotten in your childhood as you close your eyes, listening to the carnival music that exudes from the speaker box next to it.  

“What… are you doing?” You're interrupted by a familiar voice as you turn your head to Joel as he stands by the door, propped up, arms folded across his chest in a questioning way, not judging but curious. 

“Ridin’ a pony…” You hum biting into your lollipop, turning back your attention to the machine as it ceases. 

“Seems like you’re done ridin’ a pony, come on in so we can eat.” He huffs out, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, the summer sun shining down as you remove yourself before heading inside, sliding into a seat across for him, unwrapping your sandwich to find he’s already dug into his own, pastrami it seems. 

Your eyes narrow behind him as you find a group of teen boys, three, eyeing you. 

One spreading his legs open as another makes a gesture to sit on his lap, realizing they had seen you from the glass on the ride, a queasy feeling filling your stomach as you remove your hands from the wrapper placing them in your lap.

It doesn’t take Joel long to notice, his brow raising, chewing on the last bites in his mouth before leaning back in his seat, expecting some sort of reason as to why you haven’t touched your food. 

“Theyre just… starin…” You whisper, hushed, scared to provoke them, avoiding their gaze, and chuckles from behind him. You’re older than them, you know it, but there's more of them, and with men, when there's a will there's a way. 

He’s quick to set his food down, not missing a beat as his head swivels over his shoulder before back to you. 

It’s hard to hide your sickening expression, regretting your choice to reconnect with your inner child, “Can we maybe leave?” 

The stupid tears prick at your eyes as you once more feel dwindled to a piece of meat for the wolves to pick at. 

You don’t expect the reaction, you don’t expect Joel to get up with a loud screech of the chair against the tile that has patrons of the shop turning to see the commotion. His reserved, quiet, & sturdy demeanor, now replaced with a brash, harsh, mighty one as he approaches the table. 

“There a fucking problem?” 

He doesn’t yell… you think it’s scarier that way? His anger low and simmering yet already intimidating, you hope you never see his anger come to a rolling boil. 

The men, younger, stupider, shake their heads, one of them speaking up, “N- no just having fun, just fun…” You don’t hear Joel’s response but watch as the boys scurry out eventually, allowing Joel to return to the table after apologizing to a nearby couple for his language. 

He sits back down, not waiting to take a bite into his sandwich before gesturing to yours as you obey, unwrapping it and digging in to eat in comfortable silence, a strong wave of protection washing over you. An unfamiliar one, one never expressed to you before, it isn’t necessarily the possessive protection from toxic boys in the past, it’s healthy and feels good? 

You don’t notice he’s finished, lost in your own thoughts until you hear his mouth ‘tick’ and then feel his thumb swipe at the corner of your mouth getting at a bit of mustard there before pressing it to his mouth, sucking it off with a quick motion that leaves you biting into your sandwich to subdue the need to press your lips to his, squeezing your thighs together. 

It’s nice just sitting in silence with him, as he sips his beer, and you drink your coke, finishing eventually, keeping the bottle cap.

Eventually, you head back to the truck. 

Truth be told you hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks, making it hard to stay awake for the drive, eventually resting your head on the window as you think of telling Joel just that, maybe to show your gratitude. 

Instead, you drift off deciding whether to or not to. 

You don’t notice you’re awake until you collide with a plush mattress, groaning into the comforter as you come to realize you’re in a bed. 

You spring awake, forgetting the day, forgetting where you are, only knowing you are now in a strange bed placed there by a person…

“Easy…” A familiar voice sounds out as you scramble to get up, a warm hand pressing to your chest to ease you back down as you remember, it’s Joel, you’re safe. 

He pulls back the covers as you slip in, expecting to hear him follow in soon, expecting to feel his body heat warm the cold bed.  

Instead, you watch as his figure strides to the door, confusion setting in. 

“Joel… where are you going?” It comes out in a hush, feeling too vulnerable for your own skin, the exterior of hyper-independence you've worn since grade school replaced by an anxious curiosity.  

“Got a room right next door, just holler f’ya need anythin…” He moves to open the door, a gust of warm wind entering as you realize it’s night, a nearby clock reading 8:32 p.m.

You don’t know why you’re frustrated, it’s stupid. Your hands balling up the sheets as you clench onto them, attempting to figure out what it would to get him to stay. 

He’s being respectful you think, but it makes a certain loneliness you are familiar with, creep its way up your spine. You don’t have the guts to ask him to stay. 

“Okay… if some serial killer comes to get me in the middle of the night it's your fault,” is all you can get out, attempting to soothe your own anxiety with jokes. 

You can see him slightly as he exits the door, the soft moonlight reflected upon him in a way that makes your heart flutter, “Not on my watch baby, get some sleep.” 

The door shuts with a hard thud and soon you get up to lock it behind him leaving you wishing he shared the bed with you. 

You drift off that night imagining what it would look like if he did.

[bvtbxtch]

Angry Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (Part 2: Graduation)

Series Summary: Your best friend Chrissy Cunningham always got everything she ever wanted, even you new friend and crush Eddie Munson. When Chrissy does the unthinkable, Eddie is left to pick up the pieces alone... or is he?

Chapter Summary: Ditching Eddie and Chrissy might have been the best decision you ever made. You were now graduated, had a great group of friends and a new found confidence. But even though it was a great choice, you still felt a piece of your heart missing. With a few mysterious phone calls and a box full of things, maybe you were right in feeling a little cautious about your choice to leave the metalhead alone.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson x Reader (eventually), reader and Chrissy are friends but have a fallout. Minimal usage of Y/N

Series warnings: MDNI 18 +, Smut, fluff and angst (everything all rolled into one beautiful shit show), mentions of drugs and alcohol being consumed, overall adult language and theme. By clicking the read more, you agree that you are over 18! Ageless and minor blogs who interact will be blocked.

Word Count: 11.5k (SORRY)

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON THIS LITTLE STORY. Thank you for being patient with me as well. I was not anticipating in it taking a month to get this part out but I have had some health issues that really had to take precedent first before I could relax and start writing. Thank you so much to everyone who reached out to see if I was okay <3 I did just want to mention that after this part, I will NOT be adding a taglist. You are all so incredibly supportive but I have been (still) getting DMs and replies about being on the taglist and I am feeling a little overwhelmed. I will be making a masterlist and when I do make that, I will add everyone from the AH taglist <3 thank you for understanding!!

Prologue

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

June 1986

You had awaited this day for what seemed forever. You had planned what life after high school was going to look like for you since you were in middle school. Chrissy had infiltrated your plans as soon as you met; you often imagined the two of you moving to Indianapolis, or even to New York. You would get a shitty little apartment together and you would find jobs working in bookstores or coffee shops and have next to no money, but you would be together, and you would be on your own. Eddie also quickly ended up being part of your after school plans. He would move with you, or maybe get an apartment with Gareth and Jeff and then the five of you would go on adventures all over whatever city you overran. That was one of the things you loved the most about Eddie, his ability to find adventure wherever he went and whatever he was doing. Maybe there would be some opportunity for you and Eddie to finally get together-

The two people you never saw your life without were now but distant furniture in your mind. The past month brought you a lot of clarity. You actually hadn’t talked to either Eddie or Chrissy since the day after prom. Chrissy had come up to you the next day, pale face and dark circles around her eyes, but she still was glowing somehow. She laid her head next to your locker and greeted you with a lovestruck sigh.

“Wasn’t prom just an absolute dream?” You slammed your locker and rolled your eyes at her, which made her jump. “What’s up with you?” she pouted. “I want to tell you all about my magical night-”

“Yeah Chris. I know all about your magical night. Okay?” You snapped. She was taken aback. “Go talk about how magical your night was with someone else, got it?” You turned on your heel and walked away from the blonde. You were too angry to be sad. Too empowered to cower under her influence. You deserved better and you knew it. 

“Woah, woah! What is going on? Did I do something?” she jogged after you. You let out a dry laugh and turned to face her. 

“‘He only kissed you back because he felt bad for you” You mocked. Not breaking contact while the light drained from her eyes. Suddenly, her vision clouded with tears. In her drunken haze, she had forgotten the confrontation in the hallway. She knew she shouldn’t have said what she did. Deep down, she knew it was a lie, but she was too insecure to confront Eddie about his feelings for you. Driving you away was easier than her feeling like she was second best.

“Y/N I-”

“You know what Chrissy? I really thought that we were going to be friends forever. I really thought that you would have my back through thick and thin. But you showed me your true colors. You don’t care about me. If you did, you wouldn’t do what you did.”

“Did what I did? You kissed my boyfriend!” She yelped.

“Who you treat like shit, Chrissy! You kept him a secret so you could let Carver think that he had a chance of getting in your pants last night. You immediately took Eddie’s side when he told you what happened, and not trusting your best friend of over a decade.” She shook her head at you in disbelief

“A real friend would have been happy for me to find someone like Eddie -  who makes me happy, and pulls away when he tries to kiss you.” She poked 

“A real friend wouldn’t ever pursue a boy who I’m obviously in love with” It slipped out. You didn’t mean to tell her. You both stood staring at each other through wide, glassy eyes. You took a few breaths and your gaze hardened. 

“I should have said this to you the night you kicked me out of your house. I should have said this to you last night when you let me down. You are a shitty friend, Chrissy Cunningham, and you’re a shitty person. Don’t talk to me ever again.” Before she had any time to respond, you turned and strutted to your next class. Your heart hurt, but it felt so good to be confident enough in yourself, to be able to tell her how you really feel. She was done growing and flourishing, you had just started.

Eddie was too cowardly to come talk to you about what happened. He was so painfully in love with you, he couldn’t stand to see you get hurt again. So he admired you from afar, secretly cheering you on, as Chissy now interlocked her arm with his down the hallways. He was tired of making wrong decisions so he let the decisions be made for him. He couldn’t help feel a pang of desperation as graduation grew closer and closer, and the one person he wanted to be around drifted further and further out of his reach.

You slipped on the scratchy green polyester gown, refusing to fasten your cap to your freshly curled hair until you got to the school. Your wedges felt foreign in comparison to your regular Reeboks and you were compulsively checking your compact mirror to ensure your lipstick was perfect. You were so excited to get the formal convocation over with to go party at Gareth’s house. You strolled into the gym to be greeted by a group of drama friends, you all shared niceties and took a few pictures with the polaroid you toted with you. You had formed a small circle of friends in the last month of classes. Although they weren’t Gareth’s cup of tea, he was happy to invite them to the afterparty if it meant that you had more incentive to be there with him. Since cutting off Eddie and Chrissy, you spend way more time in the theatre during lunches and with Gareth afterschool and before Hellfire. Old you would have hoped that Eddie saw and was jealous. New you didn’t give half a shit. 

You heard a familiar voice call your name and as you craned your neck to make eye contact, you broke from the crowd to run into Gareth’s embrace.

“Wow, Emerson! Thought I would never see you in a cap and gown!” You teased, but beamed up at him.

“Shut up… You look great” he smiled back at you. You quickly took your camera from around your neck and held it up to get both of your faces in frame.

“One for the books” you quipped. He rubbed your back affectionately as the microphone on the stage squealed. You found your seat and begrudgingly put your cap on. As you scanned the chairs for any more friends, your eyes fell to the door, where Eddie and Chrissy came walking in hand-in-hand. As angry as you were, you were happy to see Eddie finally succeeding in graduating. It brought warmth to your cheeks and a small smile to your lips. What you didn’t expect is for him to make eye contact with you. You froze. His gaze was soft, almost yearning. He raised a hand to you and offered a small grin. You waved back, too stunned to smile. He looked good. He looked happy. It filled you with melancholy for a moment before you broke eye contact and put your thoughts back together. You were here to succeed for you. You had friends that loved and appreciated you for you. You were going to go run amuck in a new city and find other people who loved you. And it all started here and now. You were going to grab that diploma, get blasted, and get the hell out of Hawkins. 

Your name was called and you walked across the stage. A louder-than-you-were-expecting applause erupted, along with whoops and hollers from Jeff and Gareth, and the hellfire freshmen that were in the audience. You bowed as your tassel was flipped and caught gorgeous brown eyes staring up at you again, clapping wildly and grinning. He was genuinely proud of you, you could tell. He was sorry, you could tell. When it was his turn to walk the stage, you were one of the few that clapped for him. But you stood up and gave him a loud cheer. You were proud of him, he could tell. As he hopped down from the stage, he ran up to Chrissy’s spot- where she held her diploma in her manicured hands  - and picked her up. He planted a kiss on her lips while he ran out of the gym. As much as you have grown, you wished it was you he was kissing, carrying out. You let the thought leave as their silhouettes vanished. It was time to party and forget about feelings. 

Gareth’s house was bustling. Music was blasting throughout the house and it was rattling in your ribcage. Your head was swimming with the ‘punch’ you had already consumed while playing flip cup and beer pong. You laughed with your friends, so truly glad to be able to forget about the impending doom of real life and have fun with your favorite people. You slinked your way through the crowd over to Gareth, who was tending the punch bowl. He smiled at you and handed you another solo cup. 

“Having fun?” he asked. You wrapped your arm around his waist and rested your head on his chest. He threw his arm around your shoulders, putting a little too much weight on you. He was drunk as well. You giggled

“This is the best party. Thanks for hosting, Garebear” you slur.

“Woah woah, Garebear? Absolutely not.” he scolds, pulling away from you. You let out a full chuckle as you clink your cup with his and down your drink.

Your night progressed to telling embarrassing stories in the living room over a game of Jenga. Your head was spinning and as much as you liked this feeling of weightlessness, you were afraid you were going to drift away. You pushed off of the couch and weaved your way through the crowds to the back door. You slid open the screen and you were gratefully met with a cool summer breeze. It was still warm, but the wind gave you goosebumps. You sighed with content and closed your eyes as you leaned onto the deck’s banister. 

“Having fun?”

Your eyes shot open and you looked over your right shoulder. In the shadows of the small outdoor light, you saw a tall, slender figure, and the outline of long, frizzy hair. Your smile faltered. He stepped into the light and took a drag from his cigarette

“Yeah, um… Sorry for disturbing you” you turned to walk back into the house

“Wait-” he grabbed your shoulders and turned you to him. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt like you were going to be sick. You were too close; Intoxicatingly close. You could smell the cigarettes on his breath.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” You blurted out. He pulled his hands away and took a step back like you had burnt him. He looked guilty but sorrowful.

“Uh, we decided to go to different parties tonight.” He mumbled. You chuckled and glared into his soft brown eyes. 

“So she didn’t want you to ruin the vibes of her ‘perfect party?”

“No, that’s not it! I just- I wanted to come here because… well because I miss you, and I miss hanging out in a group and I just wanted to come apologize, and, and I knew you wouldn’t hear me out if she was here too.” he panted. You could tell from his pleading eyes that he was serious. Your shoulders relaxed. 

“Eddie, you don’t need to apologize to me, for anything. You got everything you’ve wanted. You graduated, and I am so, so proud of you for that. You got your band and your sheep. And… you have Chrissy. She’s a hot commodity... and you’re lucky to have each other. So you have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I hurt you-”

“And I’m over it. Look, I have no ill will against you, Eddie, but I think we just need to run in different circles for a while.” You murmured, eyes glued to your converse. 

“I-is… is that what you really want?” Eddie took a step towards you. 

NO “Yeah. I have a really great group of friends that love me for me. They don’t need anything else from me but me.”

“You’re still hanging around with Gareth, right?” Eddie hardens. 

“Yeah. I am. He’s been the best friend I could ask for. He takes good care of me.”

“I’ll make sure he keeps taking care of you. I’ll kill him if he hurts you…”

“Save it, Eddie. I am so over your knight-in-shining-armor bullshit. You hurt me. You don’t get to decide who I hang out with or how I’m treated. You had a choice… You chose. So… deal with it.” The alcohol gave you more courage than you needed, but you weren’t mad. You were at peace. You turned and went back to the party. You didn’t realize, but that was just the way you needed to end your night. Closure and clarity. You returned to your spot beside Gareth to play another round of flip cup. Eddie selfishly couldn’t take his eyes off you. When he saw Gareth pick you up in a congratulatory hug, he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t stand picturing your story with Gareth and not him. So he slung back his last beer and stormed out the front door. 

July 1986

The Hideout was never your favorite place to be. It looked like nothing more than a shack from the side of the highway that cut through Hawkins. Half of the lights on the neon side were burnt out, you doubted they had been changed since the joint opened in the 50s. The small bar had a few booths as well as tall bar tables, which were moved to create a makeshift dance floor in front of a dingy stage. The drum kit and microphones barely fit onto it, but you were sure that the ragtag group that made up Corroded Coffin would make it work. They always did before. There were three pool tables in the back of the space, behind the dark linoleum island bar. They had definitely seen better days, most of them missing pieces of velvet or pockets missing nets to catch balls underneath them. They were usually used for bikers or regulars to sit girls on them and make out. The bar smelt stale, like rotting wood, old beer and sweat. There are many places that you would rather be, but when your best friend begs you to make their regular crowd of 10-11 people (including staff) a person or two bigger, you go. Gareth treaded the idea of you coming to the show lightly, as you had not talked to their frontman since the graduation party. You felt no ill will and really didn’t mind being around him. You got your closure, and you were there for Gareth. No need to think too much into it. 

You had seen Eddie around Hawkins in the last month. You had gotten a job at Family Video and would regularly work with Steve and Robin, who Eddie frequented. Your heart didn’t hurt when they talked about him anymore, and when he occasionally showed up to Family Video, or you saw him in Starcourt, or in the grocery store, you gave him the same curt but friendly smile every time. He understood the boundaries that you had given him. Friendly, but not friends. He always smiled back, but his heart sank. He missed you more than you could know.

You shuffled yourself into the closest booth to the stage and waited in soft anticipation. You hadn’t been to a Corroded Coffin show in months. It felt odd but familiar. You ordered yourself a rum and coke and absently sipped it as you listened to the Johnny Cash record that was playing on the jukebox.

You heard the door swing open behind you and a bubbly chuckle ring out through the bar. A sound that you definitely would not picture hearing in a place like this. You turned around to see Chrissy. Of course she would be here. Her strawberry blonde hair was curled in perfect ringlets and was held away from her face with a ribbon. Her long legs were framed perfectly under her light pink romper. Her waist beautifully cinched with a thick purple belt. Her lips were lusciously painted a glossy pink and her lashes were manicured to be wispy. She looked perfect, far too pretty to be here. Behind her followed Tiffany and Sarah. The trio picked a bar table that skirted the dance floor, across the bar from you. You, like most of the men in the building, followed their figures to their seats and Chrissy stole a glance at you. She looked at you and waved but you looked away, sinking a large gulp of your drink. 

Chrissy had reveled in the fact that her prom stunt had secured her some extra attention for the last week or so of school. Everyone seemed to be talking about her in the hallways and although not all of it was good, she thought it was better to have people talking bad about you than not at all. Suddenly, all of the jocks were at her locker, or fighting to sit with her at lunch, desperate to show her that they were better than the freak she had somehow landed herself with. The attention shot her ego and popularity to an alltime high and she became the queen bee of Hawkins - there was no more sharing or cliques, everyone was under Chrissy’s spell. Everyone thought of her as either generous for going to prom with Eddie, or a down-to-earth girl next door because she kept associating herself with him. It made your stomach roll but she continued to smile sweetly at everyone in the hallway. She often let her gaze linger on you too long. She had everything she thought she wanted those last weeks of highschool. Everything but her best friend. And little did she know, the newfound fame didn’t reach beyond the month of June and the hallways of Hawkins High.

As she sat at her table, her manicured nails wagged at men who were ogling her from the bar behind her. She flashed a devious grin to her friends and waltzed over to the bar. You watched closely. Last time you had heard, she was still with Eddie… There's no other reason why she would be here. You heard her boisterous laugh once more as she strutted back to her table, a cocktail in her hand. You never would have thought that Chrissy would be the type to take advantage of anyone, but then again, in the past few months, you watched the person you thought you knew the best change into a stranger in front of you. You rolled your eyes and focused your attention to the glass in your hand. 

You suddenly heard the humm of an amp and the vibrations of a bass being strummed. You looked up to see your friends taking the stage; All but Eddie. You cheered excitedly for Jeff, Gareth and Tommy but your heart pounded wildly in anticipation for the lanky metalhead that was missing. The few stage lights flickered as the energy and volume of the instruments rose and they began their set. Right before he started singing, Eddie sprang onto stage. There sure wasn’t a huge crowd, but everyone cheered as he appeared. You felt a lump in your throat as you watched the men perform, your eyes never leaving Eddie’s form. You felt your temperature rise what felt like 10 degrees. There was no doubt that he had charisma on stage, that is where he was born to be; But you felt all too emotional looking up at the man that you used to call your best friend. The man you thought that you might be in love with, the man that you thought you found closure with. You let yourself feel the waves of emotion flow through you with the music as you rocked back and forth with the rhythm. When applause erupted, you let your mind quiet with the music. The lights came back on and you grabbed your bag and your glass and got ready to return it to the bar. As you got up to leave, you noticed a gaggle of green letterman jackets had pushed their tables next to the one Chrissy and the girls were sitting at. Your anxiety spiked. You hadn’t talked to any of the jocks since prom and were fine with being the pariah of the group, but the fact that none of your friends were with you now made you feel nervous. You peered at the group from the other side of the bar and watched as Jason leaned in to whisper something into Chrissy’s ear. She slapped his arm playfully and giggled. You felt sick. You couldn’t wait for the boys to get their gear so you could say your goodbyes.

“Well, how’d ya like it?” The familiar voice instantly broke the tension in your body. You turned and gave Gareth a peck on the cheek.

“It was awesome, rockstar! You all were great” you say to Jeff and Tommy who were now sitting at the bar. They smiled and raised their fresh beers to you.

“So, you wanna get out of here? After party at my place. Got beer and the shit you like.” he wiggled his eyebrows at you. As much as you wanted to celebrate their show, you needed quiet. You needed to just go home and shower off the gross conflicting feelings you had.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think I just need to go home tonight, Gar.” he studied your face. The sheer amount of time that you had spent with him meant he could read you like a book. He scanned the dingy room and found the source of your anxiety. His gaze hardened at the green jackets infiltrating their space. 

“They better not have said or done anything to you, I’ll kill them-”

“No no no they didn’t, just weird to see them all here” you reassured. Both of your gazes softened as you found the dark battle jacket amongst the lettermen. Eddie was scoffing loudly and flailing his hands. After a fantastic show, you expected to see him beaming, but his face was set in a hard scowl.

Eddie was slowly losing his patience. He had practically begged Chrissy to come to his gig tonight. He knew that there would be potential for the Hideout to start paying them for regular gigs if they brought in a crowd, but this was the opposite of what he wanted. When he was on stage he met with two pairs of eyes, your beautiful bright eyes and her glazed over blue ones. He was disappointed to see one of them. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you the whole set. He had forgotten how much he missed having you in the crowd. He could feel your energy from 20 feet away. It made him want to perform better. When he looked over to Chrissy’s table, he lost his spark. She looked disinterested. She was busy gabbing to her friends the whole time. Then, when he saw the meatheads walk in, he wanted to jump right off the stage and end the gig right then. But he pushed because at least they would be helping their audience numbers. Once Eddie took a moment to mentally prepare himself in the green room after the show, he plastered on a fake smile and sauntered over to Chrissy. He went to give her a chaste peck, but she turned her face for him to kiss her cheek. 

“My lipgloss, Ed!” She giggled. Eddie rolled his eyes, shot her a sickly sweet smile and planted his lips on her cheek. The girls sitting next to Chrissy oohed and ahhed and the jocks kept to their own conversation, but their presence seemed like it was to mock him. He instantly got caught in his own head, wondering if their intent really was malicious, or if he was just reliving past high school trauma. He was pulled out of his trance when Chrissy’s manicured hand pulled on the lapels of his vest. 

“Hey, rockstar! I’m talking to you!” She teased. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“Sorry, babe. What were you saying?”

“There’s a party out at Lover’s Lake, Jason’s parent’s cabin. Do you want to drop off your band stuff first then we can head out? We can grab some blankets and just sleep in the back of the van because I don’t know about you, but I want to be fully alone when we-” she blabbed, Eddie cut her off by taking her wrists in his hands. 

“Woah, woah! I told you, the band is having their after party at Gareth’s house. You promised me we would be there. Come on, Chris.” Eddie pouted. She had been ditching him more often to go out with other people. He tried not to let his insecurities get the best of him, but it felt like he was losing her interest. This was something he wasn’t going to budge on. This was his night. She was supposed to be there for him. He couldn’t help but think that if it was you in Chrissy’s place, there wouldn’t even be a debate. He wouldn’t have even had to ask you to show up in the first place.

“Oh, come on. Don’t you want to go out to the cabin?” She searched for any kind of agreement she could get from any of the jocks. They either politely smiled at her or avoided her eye contact. The invitation was for Chrissy not Chrissy and Eddie. “It’s going to be, like a million times better than sitting in Derek’s-”

“Gareth’s” Eddie seethed. 

“Gareth’s - whatever - Gareth’s dusty garage. It’ll be romantic. We can have the whole ride up there just you and me…” She cooed, she moved her lips to the lobe of Eddie’s ear “and I can tell you how wet you made me watching you up on that stage” she whispered. Eddie knew that he should be turned on. But he was so angry with her that he couldn’t oblige her. Not this time. 

“I’m not budging, Chris. We need to go to the afterparty. I need to be there with my boys, too. We have cause to celebrate and this is really important to me.”

“But, Eddie…”

Eddie was tired of the games, he was fed up with her tonight. 

“Either we go to Gareth’s together, or we won’t be seen at any parties anymore.” Eddie challenged. He hated that he had to give her an ultimatum but if that’s what it took., then so be it. He didn’t want to be the tag along. Not tonight. Chrissy’s stare hardened at her. He had never challenged her like that before. 

“Alright, Munson. You win. We’ll go to your little party.” Eddie rolled his eyes and told Chrissy he was going to check in with the rest of the band to see what the plan was. She nodded and Eddie turned away, giving the rest of the table a tight smile. He moped his way over to where you and Gareth watched silently. He seemed to light up a bit when he saw your inviting smile.

“Hey, congrats rockstar. You did an amazing job up there” You wrapped a hand around Eddie’s bicep. Eddie felt a shiver run down his spine at the contact.

“You think so? Thanks.” Eddie blushed. He was always one to be so sure of himself, this lack of confidence threw you off. 

“Hell yeah I think so! It was the best show I have seen you guys do yet!” You exclaimed. 

“Are you gonna come to the afterparty?” Eddie asked, hope splayed in a smile across his face. 

“No, I gotta sit this one out. I have to open Family Video tomorrow.”

Eddie looked dejected. He was so happy to see you in the crowd, he had hoped he would be able to talk to you at the party and really apologize.

“Trust me dude, we’re all bummed. I’ve been trying to change her mind for the past 15 minutes. I even offered to call Robin to ask her to cover myself!” Gareth offers. You give the men a sorry smile. 

“You’re gonna have a great time without me! It’s your night. Don’t let me ruin it.” God, you were so selfless. He couldn’t help but admire you in the dim light. So kind and so beautiful. It wasn’t fair how things ended between you. He was an ass. You turned away from him to walk to the door after sending kind waves to the band.

“Y/N” Eddie grabbed your wrist and pleaded with his chocolate eyes. You got lost in them almost immediately. You knew what you felt when he was on stage and you’re pretty sure he knew and felt it too. “Wait, please come to the-”

“Eddie! Are we going or what?” you hear a shrill voice from behind the man staring down at you. Chrissy looked pissed (in more ways than one). Her hands rested on her hips and she tapped her foot on the ground as she swayed. Eddie groaned and let go of you. The heat in your chest quickly faded. You peered around Eddie to smile tightly at the blonde. Her eyes widened and softened at your gesture. She slowly raised her hand to wave to you. You looked back to Eddie.

“You-you better go” you smile sadly at him. “You’re girl’s waiting for you. Have fun tonight, Eddie. Again, you deserve it.”

For the second time, Eddie watched you walk away and he fell into the impatient arms of a girl that he thought  he loved. Eddie’s eyes were glued to your figure as you slipped out of the bar into your car.

As you got in, you let out a big sigh and punched your steering wheel. You knew you made the right choice by leaving and not entertaining anything with the man that trapped your heart all over again, but it would have been so easy to fall back into his arms and pretend like Chrissy didn’t exist. But you didn’t want to stoop to their levels. You didn’t want to get trapped in what was easy versus what was best for you. So you turned the key in the ignition and you quietly drove back to your apartment, retiring to a warm bath and a book, before crawling into bed and letting loneliness and the thought of Eddie on stage singing to you lull you to sleep. 

September 1986

Your first summer of freedom did not follow the plan you thought you had perfected before graduating. Some of those things on your list looked similar, but with different people. You often went joyriding with Steve and Robin after closing Family Video and spent long nights out at Lover’s Lake with old drama club friends. It felt liberating that you didn’t feel a hope about a certain mop headed boy, even though you had been frequenting band practices and summer Hellfire meetings to casually see him as much as possible. You found some independence and even though you often felt lonely without Eddie and Chrissy, you knew you were doing fine without them.

You had just gotten home from a shift at Family Video. The last bit of humid summer air kissed your skin. You shrugged off your vest and other clothes and tossed them into your hamper before starting a steaming shower to wash away the day. You had been looking forward to treating yourself to a face mask, a steam and ending the night by curling up into bed with the newest Stephen King novel. You flopped down on your bed, dawning your favorite oversized tee shirt from your dad’s auto body shop and a pair of sleeper shorts. Your hair was tied loosely in a towel and your face felt clean and soft. You sighed with content as the night was finally yours. You don’t remember how long it took, but you dozed. You awoke to the record you had started playing being long hushed; your glassy eyes opened in accompaniment to the shrill ring of your phone. You grabbed at it and groggily answered. You were greeted by preppy sobs ringing through your ear. 

“H-hello?”

“Y-Y/N” Chrissy wailed. You could smell the alcohol wrecking her through the phone. “I-I need you to tell me I’m not a bad person.”

You paused and almost laughed to yourself. “Chrissy, why are you calling me?”

“I, I just need someone to tell me that I am not a bad person, okay? No one likes me anymore.” You could hear hiccups between her sobs and shuffling from whatever party she was at.

“It’s late, Chrissy. You should go home and go to sleep-” You move to hang up the phone but her cry stops you. 

“I did a really bad thing, Y/N and I need someone to tell me that I’m worth keeping around because no one likes me anymore. No one wants to talk to me and no one looks at me and I want boys to look at me and like me and-”

“Chrissy you have the boy that you love right now. What are you talking about? You have everything you could ever want…” You scoffed. 

“Y/N, I, I don’t think I love Eddie. I don’t think I ever did.” Chrissy whispers. The phone stays quiet save for the party behind her. Her sniffles break the silence every few moments.

“What did you do, Chris?” Your head was spinning. How could she not love Eddie? One of the easiest people on the planet to love. He was the boy who knew how to make anyone feel special and wanted just by looking at them. He would drop anything and run to Chrissy if she ever needed anything and you knew that for a fact. You knew that he was eager to take others’ pain away and make it his to help. He was perfect, a treasure that deserved to be protected at all costs, not be treated like this. Eddie was probably alone in his trailer right now, worried about his girlfriend, or waiting to give her a ride home, while she’s calling  you to tell you that she doesn’t love him? How dare she? You wanted to believe that the girl that you used to know was still in there somewhere. That Chrissy would never do anything to hurt someone that she cared about - even if she didn’t love him…

“Well.. there’s this party going on and, and all the old jocks are here you know? A-Aand Jason and I, well like we were always ‘will they won’t they’ you know? And i saw him at this party and Eddie was being a total jerk and didn’t want to come with me and he just doesn’t look at me like these guys do and-”

“What:” you scoff. “Like a piece of meat?”

“Y/N please. Like I am wanted, like I am attractive. Like I am a prize, okay? Eddie looks at me, but it doesn’t feel as good as when Jason or Andy or Patrick looks at me - like in high school-”

“Chrissy, that’s really fucked up and pathetic. Why are you calling me?”

“Because you’re my best friend - well, you were… and I-I-I miss you, I shouldn’t have stopped being your friend, and I’m sorry I let stupid Eddie come in between us.”

“Stop. Chrissy, Eddie didn’t come between you and me, You came between Eddie and I, and the shit you pulled was fucked up. So tell me what you want so I can get off the goddamn phone and I can rinse the disgusting feeling I have off for talking to you about this-”

“I cheated on Eddie”!” She blurted out. “I’ve been cheating on Eddie for months now. And I’m a bad person but it feels so good to be wanted, Y/N I can’t explain it.”

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say, Chrissy. That’s fucked up, even for you. You have been the lowest of fucking low, but I never thought you would be the type of person to totally fuck up your relationship like that. I don’t know why you wanted to call and tell me this, but I don’t feel sorry for you. Not in the slightest. Goodnight.” You slammed your receiver down on your phone and felt tears prick at your eyes. Not your Eddie. Eddie doesn’t deserve this. You sat in contemplative silence - unwilling to believe the conversation you had just happened.Your phone rang again and you jolted in panic. 

“Hello” you whispered. 

“Hey, Y/N… Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up” You heard his gruff voice and your breath hitched. 

“E-Eddie, why are you calling me?”

“Sorry, sorry I just - I’m kind of freaking out because I haven’t heard from Chrissy in like three days and I just got a call from her I think and she was sobbing your name before the line went dead… I - I was just wondering if she had called you or if something happened I guess. This is stupid I shouldn’t have called you” He sounded exhausted and like he had been crying. 

“Eddie, are you okay?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m just tired of these disappearing girlfriend tricks I keep getting fucking trapped in.” He lets out a dry chuckle. 

“I don’t know where she is but I think I know where to find her… I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Okay?” You hear his long sigh over the phone and you wish that you could forget the boundaries that had built up between you and run to him. Tell him that you were there for him and kiss away his pain. Your heart was breaking for him (even though you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction… you had warned him.).

“Hey, Sweetheart?”

“What’s up, Eddie?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about everything-” you heard his voice crack.

“Eddie, it’s okay-”

“No. It’s not.” he cut you off. “I’m so sorry for the shitty person I had been. I fucked up one of the good things I had in my life because I got selfish, and in my own head. I never wanted to hurt you.. I - I just… I don’t know why I chose her. I wanted it to be you so badly, but I forced it.. And I just hope that I can convince you to be my friend again someday.”

“We’ll see what we can do, Ed.” with that you clicked your phone back to the receiver and threw on a flannel. Although you hadn’t been in quite some time, the only place that the meatheads frequented was the Carver residence on the other side of town. You never felt your place there, but you knew how to navigate it. You hastily started your car and set off for your destination.

Jason’s street was littered with abandoned station wagons and empty solo cups. You could hear the music blasting from the beginning of the cul de sac - your head already began to pound. You snaked your way to the end of the manicured driveway and slammed your car door shut. You trudged to the open front door, keeping your head down. As you passed through waves of people, you could feel stares into the back of your head and giggles of your name. You scowled and trained your eyes to search for a pair of tanned legs and a blonde ponytail. You paused in the kitchen, desperate to find Chrissy and your chance to leave when you felt a hand wrap around your waist and warm breath sneak up to your ear.

“I didn’t remember inviting you to my party… outcast” a baritone voice huffs.

“You didn’t, Carver… I’m picking something up and then I will be out of your hair. Don’t let me ruin your night.” You pull away from him but his grip on your waist becomes bruising. 

“Aww, come on, outcast. Why don’t we party like we used to. You’ve been hanging out with the freaks for too long… Forgot how to have fun. Why don’t you let me show you what you’ve been missing, huh?” Jason spun you around so his piercing blue eyes were boring into yours. 

“I would literally rather poke my eyes out with hot knives. Where’s Chrissy”

“Oh, god you really are a desperate frigid bitch, aren’t you? You know I didn’t want to believe Chrissy when she told me but, I guess she was right” The blonde sneered. 

“Yeah, yeah, Jason. I get it. Go take your steroids and show the rest of your friends how manly you are… I’m not interested. Now do you know where I can find her, or did you lose the brain cells for facial recognition too?” Jason stared at you slack jawed, then his grin slid across his face. It made you sick.

“Well, when I left her an hour ago, she was - ahem - cleaning herself up in my room. Feel free to go look there if you’d like… But be warned, you might not like what you see up there.” He giggled. He brought his face into your cheek and your blood froze. He puckered his lips and planted them to the side of your face. 

“It was… so good to see you again, Y/N. Glad to see you really did peak in high school… ugh and that says something, doesn’t it?” He breezed past you to leave you to physically recoil and regather. You wanted to turn around and leave… fuck Chrissy and fuck all of these people… but you had to do this for Eddie. You turned to the staircase facing the kitchen and pace up. Although it had been a long time since you had been in the Carver house, you still felt like you could clear the top floor in a good time. You past couples pressed against hallways and huddled into rooms. You hear giggles and beds creaking and girls crying, but no Chrissy. 

You were ready to give up hope, having tried all of the door handles and being met with locked doors or your apologies for intruding. The last door at the end of the hallway opened as you went to reach for the door and you were met with the girl you had been searching for for the last ten minutes. Her eyes widened in horror and relief to see you. She looked like a mess. Her usually neat slicked ponytail was slated on the side of her head, flyaways crowning her. Her eyes were glazed over eyes were smudged black with mascara and eyeliner. Her flush in her cheeks made her intoxication very apparent and her lips were kiss-swollen and smudged. She sported one of Jason’s old Hawkins raglans in replacement of whatever tiny top she had worn to the party. You felt bad for her at first sight; pity running through your veins as her lips quivered. Her paused tears resumed as she wrapped you in a hug. 

“Thank you so much for coming, Y/N. Thank you so much.” she sobbed. 

“Yeah, Chris. This is fucked. Let’s go, okay?”

You guided the girl down the stairs and out of the house - refusing to look anywhere but the floor in case Jason returned to try and claim you as a prize again. Chrissy had blabbered nonsense all the way to the car while you tried to prevent her from going horizontal. You closed her door and paced back to your side of the car. You were greeted with silence and the smell of vodka.

“Who else, Chrissy?” you whispered. 

“Wh-wha-”

“Who else did you fuck, Chrissy?!” you yelled, your eyes never left her figure, her eyes did not leave her feet. 

“It was just Jason… tonight.”

“For fucks sake! Are you kidding me?”

“Can we just go? I know I’m a piece of shit okay? But some of us need the attention! Okay! I’m not alright with walking around feeling like I am fading away into no one and that no one cares who I am anymore! I want someone to look at me like other girls get looked at! I want to be like you where you can find other friends and you can go out and be effortlessly yourself and everyone loves you!” “What the FUCK are you talking about? You have a boyfriend, Chrissy. He should be the one that makes you feel like that. HE looks at you like that! He is the one that you should be loving because he loves you!” Chrissy let out a dry laugh.

“Oh come on now, Y/N you and I both know he doesn’t love me. He doesn’t look at me like that because he is too busy looking at you like that! You had me and you had him and it wasn’t good enough! So we both needed to settle for second best! And I am just not okay with being second best anymore!”

“You are the one that gave me up for all your popular friends, you and Eddie both chose each other over me! And look who is here picking up the pieces after you handed yourself out to the basketball team, and while your own fucking boyfriend traverses the streets of Hawkins because he has no idea where you are! I was fucking right. You both deserve each other.” You shoved your car into drive and rolled your car into the road. Chrissy silently sobbed while you focused your eyes on the night ahead of you. 

Your ride was long and awkward. When you pulled up to your house, Chrissy seemed surprised. 

“I can’t let you go back to your house like this, Chris. We need to get you cleaned up.” She nodded a silent thank you and the two of you retreated to the second floor of your house. You got Chrissy a change of clothes and a toothbrush while she was in the shower and put her alcohol drenched outdfit in the wash. You waited for her in your room. When she sheepishly entered, you gestured to the bed you had made for her on the floor. She settled into her blankets and an awkward silence covered you once again.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me… I don’t deserve it.”

“I know, Chrissy. But you need someone to help you make a couple good decisions tonight. That was a fucking mess, at Jason’s” You heard her breath catch in her throat. “You have to tell Eddie what’s been going on, Chrissy. And he’s going to hate you. But you can’t do that to him. You might not love him but you and I both know that he deserves better than this.”

“I know,” she conceded quietly. You laid your head on your pillow. Your alarm clock read 3:39am. You tossed and turned in your sleep all night, pictures of Eddie’s heartbroken face haunting your dreams. 

You awoke to Chrissy folding blankets and stacking pillows onto your dresser.

“Hey, morning. How are you feeling?” you croaked. 

“Well, I’m here and that’s a way better place than I thought I was going to be staying” Chrissy chuckled dryly. “Thank you again for last night, Y/N. I really owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it. I just hope that if the roles were reversed you would do the same for me.” The air between you seemed palpable, it reminded you of when Chrissy would be doing the very same thing after a weekend long sleepover. You both gave each other testing smiles and short giggles.

You dropped Chrissy off after stopping to get coffee for the two of you. Chrissy looked at you apologetically and unclasped her seatbelt. 

“Thanks for the ride” she offered

“Welcome. Good luck with Eddie” you mumbled. As badly as you felt for your old friend, you could not wait for her downfall. She didn’t deserve Eddie and he didn’t deserve to be hurt like this. But the light of old times seeping through the walls that you had rebuilt felt nice, even if it was artificial, fleeting. You flashed the girl a comforting smile.

“Thanks. I think I’m really going to need it. I really fucked up.” she looked down and began to pick at her nails.

“But this might be a learning lesson for you at least. I hate to say it but Karma can be a bitch sometimes.” you grab her wrist and squeeze. Your hands warm her veins and she relaxes into your touch. She pats you on the hand as she wriggles out of your car and trots to her door. She looks back at you before she closes the door behind you. She really stares into you as she raises a hand and waves. It was goodbye for good.

You got cut early from your shift at the video store.You were little to no help to the gorgeous head of hair working with you anyways. You tell Steve about your night, about Chrissy’s admissions and your call with Eddie. You were unsure of what your expectations were at this point. You call with Eddie shifted the dynamic of friendly strangers and you again found yourself battling between easy choices and choices that were good for you. Luckily for you, you were wasting time with Hawkin’s most eligible bachelor and love-life-advice solicitor.

“I don’t know, Y/N all I’m saying is there are so many guys in this town that would actually take you out and treat you right, you don’t deserve this shit” the boy quipped. You loved how honest Steve could be. He had quickly given you more examples of what a good friend looked like. “Like what about that Gareth kid?! Have you seen the way he looks at you? Worships the ground you walk on. Get a guy like that” Steve folds his hands on his hips. You scoff at him. 

“Gareth and I are just friends. Trust me, we’ve gotten into all of that relationship stuff a long time before.” Steve’s eyes grew to saucers. You giggled. “It was one kiss this summer and both of us knew it wasn’t gonna happen, okay?” You rolled your eyes as you slid a box of freshly rewound tapes to him.

“Alright, alright - poor guy. I’m just saying. Munson? He should be old news. He and Chrissy deserve each other…” 

“Maybe I should test drive a guy like you then, Harrington?” you sneered. He dropped the box, his back turned to you but you could tell his cheeks had flushed. “Or…Hargrove?”

“Hey!”

“Or-”

“Alright enough!” Steve chided. You suppressed your giggle. “You think you’re so funny, huh? I just worry about you, that’s all.”

“I know, Steve. Trust me, I wish I could move on. The two of them do deserve each other… But every time I think of them making up and going back to being good,  it makes me want to rip my hair outI can’t stand it.”

“Damn kid. You really are down bad” Steve jabbed you in the side of the arm and you shrieked. “If you really feel that way then I guess you gotta let him know.”

“What if they do get back together and I laid it all out for nothing? Or what if I’m old news to him, Steve? I cant handle that…”

“Dude, if he makes the same mistake as he did at prom he won’t just have Gareth to deal with, okay? He’ll have me, Buckley and half of the Family Video clientele coming after him.” Steve glanced at the clock and gestured to the door. “Now get out of there and fix your bullshit life” he winks. Your smile lightens your whole face. You grab your bag from behind the counter and scurry out the door after planting a kiss to Steve’s cheek. He was left to the fluorescent aisles, shaking his head. You really did deserve better.

You pulled into your driveway, ready to spend the afternoon in Gareth’s backyard smoking weed and watching as many horror movies that you could before inevitably passing out. As you sauntered up to your door, you realized your plans for the day had been eviscerated. Sitting on your front step was a cardboard box that had been taped together neatly. Sitting on top of the box laid a note scrawled with purple ink:

“Y/N, I didn’t know who else to trust with this, and I am so sorry to ask.

Please take this box and give it to Eddie if you see him. I can’t bear to give it to him myself and I can’t tell anyone else about what I did. 

Thank you for being such a good friend even when I didn’t deserve one.

Chrissy”

You let out a large sigh as you picked up the box and opened your door. You didn’t want to call Eddie, you were scared to find out how much he knew. Part of you wanted to leave the box on the doorstep for him to quietly pick up without notice, but you knew that your heart couldn’t handle knowing he was so close and you did nothing. So you picked up the receiver to your landline and dialed a familiar set of numbers.

“Hey champ! When you coming over?” A peppy boy answered. 

“Hey, Gar. Something came up and I don’t think I can come over.”

“What did he do, Y/N?” Gareth’s tone hardened immediately. You could feel his anger radiating through the telephone.

“Nothing, it's more like what Chrissy did…” You spent the next half an hour telling Gareth about your encounters yesterday. Gareth huffed bitterly in response. Eddie Jeff and Gareth hadn’t been the same since their gig at the Hideout. Eddie began dodging band practice to be with Chrissy. He sacrificed DND campaigns and hellfire meetings to hide under the bleachers to go to the mall with Chrissy, or go to dinner with the jocks. Eddie became the most popular recluse. The three musketeers became strangers and the practices they had now - if any - were full of tension and unfamiliarity. Jeff and Gareth resented Eddie for the way his world revolved around Chrissy, and Eddie resented the two for not being happy for him, for not supporting him in what he wanted. In the middle was you. Eddie longed to be close to you again, but Jeff and Gareth refused to let him too close, you wouldn’t be hurt again, at least not on their watches. Although hostility ran high, all of you craved so much to be a group again, to be able to forgive and forget. But as all of you had figured out, that was much easier said than done.

“I’m coming over. I don’t want you to be alone when he shows up.”

“Gareth, I will be fine. I need to talk to him anyway” Your voice got quiet

“Talk to him about what?”

“I-I just need to know what happened between him and Chrissy. I need to know what that means for me, Gareth. I’m sick and tired of wondering if it could happen.”

“Y/N that’s a bad idea. We should just be done with him”

“I know, Gareth. He doesn’t deserve us. But I’m tired of being strong and stubborn.  I just need to talk to him. I need to see him.” There was a silence over the phone. Gareth’ heart broke for you, but he knew that he couldn’t protect you from this.

“If anything happens, you give me a call and I will be over in 5 minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” You chuckle.

“Hey, now! I mean it”

“Gareth?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you, you know?” there was a loud sigh over the phone.

“Yeah I know. I love you too.”

“Everything’s going to be okay.”

“It has to be.” With a click, you were left to listen to the dial tone. You place your phone down and get yourself ready. You didn’t know when Eddie would be over, but you wanted to prepare before he did. 

You sat in the shower until the water ran cold. Your skin felt scrubbed free from any imperfection, but it felt tight with stress. You forced yourself to make food but could barely eat. The rest of your evening consisted of staring at the same open page in your book while reruns of Match Game bled through the living room. The sun had set, along with the hopes that you would get closure tonight. Later, you heard the rattle of an engine outside accompanied by the thrash of Ozzy Ozbourne. You shot off the couch and toed your way to the front door. On the other side, you could hear a cacophony of swears and pacing footsteps. A few moments later, three hesitant knocks on your door. You took a couple of breaths and turned the handle. You were greeted with a tousled mop of hair and fair skin. His jeans hung low on his hips and he wore a thinning band t-shirt. His pale arms gripped his shoulders, flashing patches of inky figures across his forearms. His face, usually soft and blushing, looked pale. Dark circles encapsulated his coffee coloured irises. His nose was red and his lip was quivering. As awful as he looked, he was so tragically beautiful, like a muse. His lips still puckered and dared you to dart out and kiss them. His frame towered over yours and threatened to encapsulate you whole. You wanted nothing more. You gripped the inside of your doorframe in grounding, afraid you were going to evaporate into the cooling evening.

“Eddie, Hi” You squeaked. The boy looked dully at you as you took in his appearance. “I-I saw Chrissy’s note… the box is just inside I’ll-” You turned to leave but Eddie’s sigh held you in place.

“Fuck the box, Y/N” Eddies voice was just above a whisper. It rattled as if he were scared that if he spoke too loudly, the whole world would collapse in on him. His eyes lined with tears again. “What happened last night?” He demanded.

“I found her at a party… she had called me and, well I couldn’t just leave her there so…I took her home with me and she told me she was a bad person…” your eyes were trained to the floor. “I took her home in the morning and then the box was waiting for me after work, so you might have to fill in the rest of the blanks for me.”

“She fucked me over. That’s what happened! She went out and she fucked half the basketball team while I fucking waited for her to come back into my fucking arms! I tried to give her everything but nothing was ever good enough!” Eddie seethed. “ ‘I need more attention, Eddie’ or, ‘come out to this party, Eddie’ ‘ I want to do this instead, Eddie.’ ‘Why aren't you more like Jason, Eddie?’ FUCK I should have fucking known better, but I’m the fucking freak, I don’t get what I want. I don’t deserve to be happy because this is partially my fault too…” Eddie fisted at his hair while he paced on your front step. 

“Eddie. I don’t know what to say-”

“You don’t need to say anything but I told you so. That’s what I fucking deserve. You shouldn’t be sitting here pitying me. You should be laughing at me” Eddie whimpered. You had never seen him so small, so fragile. You wanted to rub the tension out of his shoulders and kiss his furrowed brows until he looked like your Eddie again. 

“Yeah but I’m not because I care about you Eddie.” You reach out to touch him but he pulls away like you burned him. “I’m really fucking sorry that this happened. No matter what I think of you, you don’t deserve this.” Eddie stopped in his tracks and trained his eyes on your meek figure. You shuddered when you looked up and made eye contact with him. Your eyes were wet and his eyes were pools of sorrow, But his gaze held a foreign glimmer to them. You let Eddie study you in silence. 

“What can I do to make it better?” 

“I… I don’t know, Eddie. That might be a conversation to have with Chrissy and you-”

“I’m not talking about me and Chrissy.” Eddie held his gaze on you as he stepped closer to you. He smelt of weed, beer and cheap aftershave. 

“Eddie-”

Swiftly, the boy grabbed your cheeks and collapsed into you, smashing his lips with yours. As much as your brain screamed at you to push him off, your bones melted in with his, finally giving into the temptation that your body so desperately craved since your kiss in the theatre. Eddie’s weight moved you backwards into your house and he closed the door behind him. His hands migrated down your torso to your waist as he spun you to pin you back up against your front door. You moaned into his mouth as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. Your hands found their way to Eddie’s chest and you gripped his shirt. He was shaking. It felt like there were only two of you. Kissing Eddie was the most natural thing to happen. Every move he made, your body had the perfect response. He gripped your hips as you slid your hands around his neck into his hair, earning a moan from the metalhead. A pit in your stomach formed at his lips vibrating against yours and you thought your legs would give out. Eddie pressed his body deeper into yours and you swore you could feel his heartbeat in your own chest. As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, you pulled yourself away from him, his eyes still closed and lips slightly parted, also very much in shock as to what had just happened. You gaze up at him as tears unwillingly spill down your cheeks. A mortified expression painted Eddie’s face, immediately thinking that he had overstepped again. He waited for a slap to the face or for you to push him away and begin yelling. But you looked up at him through your glassy eyes and his heart backflipped. His hands returned to your cheeks, thumbs desperately swiping at your tears. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Eddie, we can’t lie to each other. You and I both know I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a long time” a sad smile crept across your face.

“Fuck. I’ve been doing this wrong the whole time. I’ve wanted you this whole time, Y/N. This whole time, not a day has gone by where I wish I could go back to prom night and make the right choice. I am so fucking sorry.”

“I accept your apology, Eddie. But I don’t forgive you” Eddie’s heart sank. The flush he had earned left his face. His hands dropped to your wrists and he gripped tightly, like he was afraid you were going to disappear in front of him. “Not now at least. You fucked me up, Eddie. I waited for you and I watched you break my heart, and I will not be anyone’s second best ever again. I won’t be your second place again.” Eddie shook his head in understanding.

“What can I do? Please tell me what I can do.”

“You can work on how to make good choices again, Ed. Be my friend first. Prove to me you deserve that. Because I am not okay with being a rebound either. Prove to me you want me and this isn’t just a way to get over Chrissy, because my heart can’t take it.” you sob into him and he wraps you into a hug.

“I promise you, sweetheart. It’s you. It’s always been you, and I will spend the rest of my days proving how much I need you.”

“Okay, Eddie. I believe you.” You pull away from him and step away from him. “But we can’t do that again.” You both were too afraid to say anything more, so you stood in silence, taking in each others’ space. Eddie then reached for the door.

“I, I should really go, I guess. I’m not sorry for kissing you, but I’m really sorry if it upset you.” You grab the hand that Eddie had on your front door. 

“Eddie, I know you aren’t exactly sober right now, or in the right state of mind to really be alone. So as your friend, I would really like it if you stayed here tonight, so I know that you’re okay.”

“As a friend?” 

You nodded firmly.

“I would really like that,” Eddie smiled softly at you.

“Let’s go put a movie on and try and get some sleep.” You grabbed Eddie’s hand and led him up to your bedroom. Eddie climbed onto your bed as you leaned over your TV and punched in The Shining. You joined Eddie on the bed, both of you under the farthest edges of the blanket, too scared to cross a thin boundary that had been set. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Ed?”

“I was wondering If I- If It would be okay, could I maybe hold you?” Eddie murmured into his lap that he was staring at. “I just feel really cold. I don’t mean anything by it I promise. I just need… to feel something good.”

Wordlessly, you shuffled over to the middle of the bed. Eddie followed suit. You slid down so your head leaned on his chest, his arm draped down your back, his fingers drew circles  on your hip. Your arm wrapped around him as a silent reassurance that you were not going anywhere. The steady pounding of Eddie’s heart and the rise and fall of his chest quickly lulled you to sleep. Eddie spent next to no time watching Jack Nicholson and Shelley Duvall, too busy studying every detail of your body that he could see. As he heard your soft sighs signaling you had fallen asleep, he silently cried into your temple. 

Eddie Munson knew he was an idiot, that he fucked up. As much as his heart broke, he couldn’t help but be willing to break it over and over again if it meant that he got to call you his one day.

taglist: @mxcheese @anislabonis-love @zenathebeautiful @h-ness1944 @nymphetkoo @tlclick73 @darknesseddiem @nega-omega @them-cute-boys @eggo-segual @browneyes528 @ali-r3n @micheledawn1975 @partydulce @eddies-puppet @elvendria @itsjustwous @littlemisslovestoread @kjcmama @chloe-6123 @navs-bhat @loveforreading @thegirlthatsfalling @metalhead-succubus @moth-maam56 @ohmeg @secretdryrose @cloudroomblog @harmfulb1tch @buckybarnessweetheart @littlelunarfox @duncanhillscoffeecups @deathnote6666 @fangirling-galore @eddiesguitarskills @alexa4040 @arsonfrogger@sleepydragonx @batkin028 @eddiemunsonsgf22 @stairwaytozai@littlestarfighter03 @kimmi-kat@bleachbetch@sashaphantomhive@maybeitsthemoon @sluggzillaa @siriuslysmoking @littleesilvia @munsonssecretblog@dreamerjj @goth-cowgirl-03@middle-of-the-earth @idkatee@animechick555@hargrovesswifee@fall-myriad@foreveranexpatsposts

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

See The Road You're On

Elks Chapter 1

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: Life in Jackson is quite comfortable and simple for you. You love teaching your students and running your library, you love the comforts of living here, perfectly complacent with the company of your two cats, guitar, tattered CD book, and a few friends. You like comfortable and simple, though the feelings you feel whenever you see Joel Miller are quite the opposite. Once you meet him, it seems like he needs you in his life as much as you need him. Reader Background: Reader is in her 30's and comes from Colorado. No other physical descriptors besides her having long enough hair to put up. Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's father... and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home. Chapter Warnings: Outbreak mention, timeline editing, reader has anxiety, reader trips and falls, Joel bandages her knees, SO MUCH softness. Words: 5,300 A/N: Whoa! Hi! Welcome to the first chapter of Elks, my first multi-chapter fan fic. I'm excited for you to meet my reader, and come along on the adventure of her falling in love with Joel Miller. This reader and Joel are in my previous work, Golden Walkway, so you know that later down the line things get REAL good between them. I'm selfish and need super comfort reads about Joel, so except this to be quite soft with very little angst. 🫡

Next Chapter

Masterlist Playlist

***

“Caring Is Creepy” - The Shins

The world ended the day after you bought your homecoming dress, a long deep forest green sequined sweetheart a-line gown. Chosen by you because the neckline perfectly showed off your prized gold daisy pendant. The biggest issue of September 26, 2003 was turning in your biography of Renoir for AP English and remembering to grab your guitar out of your locker after art club. Little did you know that as you walked home after school with your headphones on and your guitar in hand, you were hearing the last lyrics that you’d ever hear before everything changed.

“Hold your glass up, hold it in

Never betray the way you’ve always known it is

One day, I’ll be wondering how

I got so old, just wondering how”

Twenty years later, hardened by life in the Denver Quarantine Zone and gently softened by your now comfortable life in Jackson, you’re still waiting for your first dance.

Life has always revolved around art and music for you, never allowing anything to take away your creativity. You create for yourself using art as a way to soothe your thoughts and anxieties, you create for the Settlement of Jackson to give back to the town that has given you a good life for the past five years, and most importantly you create for your students at the school you’ve taught at since your arrival. 

Teaching was never your idea for a career, much preferring the company of animals to kids. You always planned to escape your small Colorado mountain town and move to Denver to attend veterinary school… then the cordyceps came for everything. You did find your escape in Denver, though it wasn’t to grow up and find new friends and learn new things, it was to survive… everything and everyone else gone besides your protective neighbor Helen, your school backpack, and art club messenger bag. 

The fifteen years spent in the Denver QZ tried to steal your colors and mute your songs, joy becoming more difficult to find as each year behind those giant iron gates passed. The only happiness being supplied by your small group of friends and your students in the desolate school you spent ten years teaching at, only working there because you were young and still remembered most of your high school education. 

You arrived in Jackson five years ago. Taking the opportunity to leave Denver happening when Helen’s sister made contact, the two of you escaping through the wasteland of the world for a better life up north.

Now, your life has color, supplied by the paint you make or what the patrollers bring you back.  Your life has music from the CD player in your house and your guitar you strum. Jackson has filled your life with so much purpose, your weekdays spent teaching your impressionable students, your Satrudays spent working at the library you run by yourself out of your classroom. Yes, it's comfortable here, you spend your evenings with your mismatched art supplies and song book, but once the moon sits high atop the mountains, your nights are spent alone with only your cats Ripley and Penny in your small cottage. Laying in bed every night you try to silence the thought that there’s nobody in your life who creates beautiful things for you. Too many nights you find yourself thinking about the man that lives down the street from you… Joel Miller. 

He’s so intimidating, beautiful and caged off, like an art piece you’d pay admission to be able to stand near. The most handsome face you’ve seen, soft and full lips always hidden under a frowning mustache resting below his large hooked nose, his brown eyes always focused forward in thought underneath his furrowed brows. Dark brown wavy hair matching his eye hue with gray streaks painted throughout. A strong and broad body hidden underneath his tan flannel lined jacket, tall and big, so big, somebody you’d imagine was born a protector. His hands, also large to match the rest of his features, capable hands that you can tell are efficient of any task you ask of them, thick yet dexterous and handy. His skin golden toned, born that way and bronzed by years spent outdoors. You sketch him in your notebook, your precious pages being depleted by trying to master the lines on his face. Maybe you could get the minute details if only you could stop being so afraid of the feelings he stirs inside of you.  

You’ve been enamored with Joel since he first showed up to Jackson, your life, and everything you’ve tried to avoid for years, being upended by the presence of one handsome stranger. Walking into the Tipsy Bison to drop off some extra shoelaces and push pins for the community swap basket, your eyes dart over to the long communal table where Maria and Tommy are seated with two strangers. Your first spot a small teenage girl with a tight pony tail and a tattered sweatshirt talking animatedly with her mouth full. Sat next to her bent over a plate of stew untamely clutching a fork is a man with a curly mess of graying hair and a permanent scowl plastered on his handsome face. You note his strong jaw as he chews his food, his eyes stare straight forward void of kindness, you wonder when was the last time somebody created something beautiful for him. You know then he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, so intimidatingly sized and looming even in his seated and hunched stature. You quickly flit over to the corner where the basket is and deposit your items. You turn around to head back to your home when you notice the handsome stranger looking at you. His eyes dart away and you make your hasty retreat out of the tense room. You go home that night and write a song about a once warm and inviting cabin sitting in the woods now cold and desolate with tattered floor boards and a cracked window.

That girl you see at the Bison with him, Ellie, shows up in your class the next week. She quickly becomes your favorite student thanks to her love of art and her smart mouth. She’s always eager to learn in the mornings before heading out with the other older kids for patrol and community training. She doesn’t shut up about your handsome stranger, Joel, he’s from Texas, he’s grumpy, he hates scrambled eggs. He’s not her father, but he’s her protector, everything she tells you makes you think about him more. 

Sometimes you’ll pass him on the street, always tucking your head down and continuing to your destination eyes planted on the ground. One night you see him with Tommy at the Tipsy Bison in the corner drinking whiskey, your eyes staring unblinking before you realize how anyone could look over and see the way you’re ogling, quickly making up a reason to your friends why you need to head home. Seeing him stirs up so many foreign emotions inside of you, but you like the rush. You like having your little crush, as long you can keep your distance from him.

“Jeez, what were they thinking when they named those bands? The Shins? The Strokes? The Yeah Yeah Yeahs? Did every band just pick a random word and put The in front of it?” Ellie questions as she peruses your CD collection while you grade papers. With training for the older students cancelled due to the Winter snow outside, Ellie decides that you needed company.  

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” you answer. “I’ll have to play them for you one day, those were some of my favorite bands when I was your age.”

“Really? Wicked! I’d love that!” She excitedly says smiling at you. You return her smile, happy for the bond that the two of you share. 

You look back down to continue grading papers as Ellie returns back to your CD book. “Joel loves music too, wonder if he’d like any of these,” Ellie mentions not noticing how your pen pauses at the mention of his name.

“I’m sure there’s something in there for everyone,” you tell her as you stand. “I think we should get going El, before the sun sets. You go head home while I close up the school.” 

“Okay, thanks for letting me hang with you, this was really fun,” she says as she grabs her backpack.

“Of course El, see you tomorrow morning.”

“Bye, teach.” 

As you watch her happily stroll out of the room, the thought plants in your head that she’s only a couple years younger than the age you were when the outbreak happened. You know she’s in good hands with Joel, but you also want to hold her closer and nurture her.

Winter turns to Spring and the sun stays up longer, allowing patrollers a better chance to scavenge and bring their finds back. There's a wish list posted in the Bison above the communal basket. Residents ask for a broom, a TV input cable, a glue gun, crayons, other utilitarian items to help make life easier. You think about writing down the one thing you wish for the most, a new CD player. Your prized possession finally spinning its last song a couple of days ago making your home much quieter without your constant companion of music. The irony not lost on you that your just as old guitar lays silent against the wall, the crack on the neck finally breaking from overuse and rendering it useless. You don’t write down your main wish, instead writing down that the school needs chalk and you need a new oven mitt.

“Thought I told you not to touch my stereo kid,” you hear the deep timbre of a Texas accented voice behind you. It causes your heart rate to rise and goosebumps to spread along your body. You freeze in your seat on the floor as you try not to let your internal panic show. Joel is home. Of course he’s home, this is HIS home and you’re in it breaking HIS rules listening to your favorite mixed CD on HIS stereo system that’s much grander than your pitiful broken CD player. Why did you think this was a good idea?

“I know! Relax! I’m being active in the community like you asked me to,” Ellie responds as you both turn your heads to look up at him. His deep brown eyes bore right into yours, he gives you a half smile as you stare back at him mouth slightly agape. Joel Miller is in Joel Miller’s house with you. 

“This is the teacher I told you about, her stereo broke and I know how important music is to her… kinda like how it is to you… I invited her over so she could play me some of her stuff,” Ellie reasons as you start to pack your backpack up and stand. 

“Mm,” Joel grunts out before turning to you and reaching his hand down. “Nice to meet you, I‘m Joel.” 

His big hand envelopes yours as you softly grab it to say hello. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. I really appreciate her offering to help me. My stereo broke a couple days ago and she knew it upset me.” You nervously stammer feeling like a 13 year old in trouble again as you begin to fiddle with the gold daisy chain around your neck.

“Don’t worry, about it, please,” he urges looking over at Ellie, “I can of course look past it kid if it means you’re getting out of that damn garage.” 

“She has way better music taste than you have old man. None of that twangy sad music you like.”

You start to feel antsy as Joel crowds the small space around you. 

“Thank you for this, Ellie, I really appreciate it, I do need to head out though, I promised Helen I’d help her at the Tipsy Bison.” You’re not due for another hour but you can’t fathom the idea of being in Joel’s house with him inside.

“Oh, okay. Well, you’re welcome back whenever you want, right Joel?”

“Uh— of course. S’pose any friend of Ellie’s is welcome here,” Joel hesitates with a smile, his deep brown eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Thank you again Ellie, I’ll see you tomorrow, make sure you bring your notebook,” you say as you turn to walk out the door. 

You smell the distinct woodsy smell of Joel’s house on your clothes and you hope it’ll linger for awhile. You almost trip when you realize you’ve left your favorite mixed CD in Joel’s stereo.

Weeks pass, and the weather gets warmer. Your mixed CD is now a victim of your inability to be anywhere near Joel. Either Ellie decided to keep it for herself, or Joel's decided you don't want it back. It's actually kind of a nice feeling, like old times when you'd forget a CD in your friend's car or in your locker over Winter break. It's not like you have anything to play it on still, your house is still silent, save for the purring of your cats or whatever song you can hum to yourself.

It's a day hotter than usual in the Spring and all you can think about is getting home and taking a long bath after helping out at the community garden. Your hurried footsteps pitter patter against the warm asphalt in front of Joel’s house. Your heart always begins to race as it comes into view, once in awhile you'll get to steal a glance of him leaving for patrol at the same time you're heading to school, you like those mornings. Today you’ve certainly lucked out. There he is, in his yard working on repairing a broken fence post. Your steps begin to slow as you see him set the hammer down, wipe the back of his hand across his sweaty brow, and stretch his back. You panic at the sight. The thought of him seeing you in the state you’re currently in, skin all sweaty and covered in dirt with your hair a mess. You pick up your pace not seeing the divit in the road. A trip and a fall ends with you landing hard on your stomach and knocking the wind out of you. You can just make out the sound of heavy boot steps over the noise of you gasping for air.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you okay darlin’?” Joel asks as he bends over, his broad body looming above you. “S’alright, s’alright, breathe.”

You look up at him, and notice how the sheen of sweat against his skin makes it glow almost golden, the freckles on his neck underneath his gray t-shirt more prominent in the sunlight. You’ve never seen him without a jacket or flannel, and now you get to see how his biceps strain the fabric of his short sleeves when he reaches out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder. You can’t tell if you’re still panicking from your fall or the stress of Joel seeing you as pathetic as you think you look. He called you darling and you feel like a fool. 

“I’m okay. I’m sorry. I’m okay.” You gasp out as you try and stand up before it hurts too much and you let out a whimper from the pain. 

“Hold on, hold on, there’s no need to rush, you took a mighty fall. Ya’ got a big cut on your knee, let me help you.” 

“No, no, I’m okay really, I… I’m really okay.” You try to calm yourself, losing terribly against your raising embarrassment.

“S’alright now, I have some peroxide and bandages in my house, Ellie’d kill me if she knew I left you injured.” Joel implores as he reaches his hand out. "I want to help you, come here."

“I— okay,” you grab his hand, “I— don’t want to bother you.”

“Now, I’ll have none ‘a that, come on.” Joel helps you stand and steadies you with an arm around your waist, the adrenaline of being as close to Joel as you are now making the pain fade. 

You slowly make your way up his walkway, Joel's hand splayed against your stomach, your head close enough to feel the dampness of his sweaty shirt against your cheek. The realization not lost on you that now you're headed back into his house for the second time.

“Here you go,” Joel says as he helps you over to his couch. "Just relax for a second, I’ll go grab everything."

You take a look down at your bare legs, marred by dirt and gravel bits mixed with your blood. Nice job, one knee doesn't look good at all.

The last time you were here you were far too anxious to focus on anything besides Ellie and the music coming out of Joel's stereo. Your solitude now allows you a chance to look closely at Joel’s living room.

For somebody with so many stories swirling around town about his gruffness and irritability, his home sure is warm and inviting. Wood carvings on shelves, a couple of old sports magazines stacked on the coffee table, a chipped owl mug sitting atop a book on the side table next to a chair. Very domestic and comfortable for a single man and his adopted daughter, you like it.

Your eyes roam along his walls, pausing where you spot a painting of yours hung up near the front window. How did he get it? You’re sure you traded it to Tommy for a small flask of whiskey a few months ago. 

“Don’t have any large bandages but I got a gauze roll,” Joel startles you as he takes a seat on top of the coffee table across from you. 

“That’s my painting?” You question aloud surprising yourself.

Joel turns and follows your eyes to the small piece of paper on his wall. “S’good. Had a painting like it above my bed before… everything. Saw it on my brother’s wall and asked him if I could have it. Reminds me of my old home and my life before… everything.” The last word coming out as a huff, like he still doesn't know what word to use for the last twenty years.

“They remind me of home. I was always drawn to painting the wildlife I grew up around,” you say as your eyes remain on your painting. “Herds of elk used to live near my Dad’s home in the mountains, I used to hear their calls during the mating season.”

“S’nice to remember those small moments, and I guess your painting helps me.” Joel admits as he delicately lifts one of your legs up into his lap, your attention returning back to the reason why you’re here. You feel the soft strength of his thighs cradle your leg, your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest, you rapidly breathe in and out hoping he blames your panic on the threat of the peroxide. 

“S’gonna sting,” Joel says as he tips the bottle and pours the clear liquid onto your knee. Your breath catches in your throat as it hits your sensitive kneecap. Joel bends forward and gently blows on your wound, you suppress a whimper feeling slightly dizzy when he glances up at your face. “Doin’ alright?"

You nervously chew on your bottom lip and nod. “Yes, sure, yes,” you mumble, “I-I’m okay it just hurts a lot to move them.”

"That asphalt is a sucker," he gently reassures as he picks up your other leg and places it on top of his lap.

“S’bouta sting again,” Joel warns. 

The peroxide lands on your knee as you still try to control your breathing. You focus your thoughts on the burn and not on Joel’s fingertips resting against the depression on the back of your knee. You’re sure your lightheadedness is only from his touch. He blows on the peroxide as it bubbles again,  your heart skipping a beat when his deep brown eyes meet your eyes. You sense that he knows exactly why you’re responding the way you are. His brows furrow as he picks up the bandage, focusing on the task at hand, lifting your knee higher to begin wrapping it.

“Place a finger here so I can wrap your knee,” Joel instructs you, his direction just as gentle as his touch. “Let me know if it’s too tight for you.” His hand tightens around your knee as he uses his other hand to slowly unravel the gauze around your leg. “How’s that?” He asks as he places your wrapped leg back on the floor and lifts your other leg higher to start on it.

“Feels good, thanks,” you say as you bend it back and forth.

“'Course.”

You place your finger on top of the other bandage without Joel asking, he smirks at your help as he begins to wrap the gauze around your other leg. 

“I’d try to take it easy the next few days, give you a chance to heal,” Joel utters as he tucks the gauze in and smooths it down. 

“I know, I will,” you say as you move your leg out of Joel’s hold and put it on the floor. “Thank you, again for all of your help. You really didn’t have to.”

“Please, you don’t have to thank me. Like I said, Ellie’d kill me if she found out I left you hurt in front of my home,” you both share a smile at the mention of her name. “She sure talks about you a lot. Should be thanking you for giving her a reason to love goin’ to school. I’m thankful for you being there for her.”

“She’s one of the best parts of my day," your cheeks heat as he secondhand compliments you.  "I love having her around, she’s always so eager to learn."

“M’glad to hear you like her as much as she likes you. She's always showing me some new art way she learned from you or talking about a band she wants to hear that you told her about.”

Your smile grows as you hear how much you matter to Ellie, especially spoken out of Joel’s lips. “I didn’t know I meant that much to her. She’s a special kid.”

“She is.”

You both nod and smile at each other, the moment turning more awkward as you both maintain eye contact. It feels like he’s looking at you under a microscope, as you softly clear your throat.

“Well, I should get going, I’ve already taken up enough of your time. I really appreciate everything,” you cut the tension as you start to stand from the couch.

“S’no problem at all.” Joel quickly gets up and places a hand on your back to help you steady yourself while you move towards the door. 

He opens it and helps you down his walkway, still keeping a hand on your back. You glance over at his abandoned tools strewn across the lawn. “I hope I didn’t keep you from finishing your fence.” 

“I’ll manage. Take care of yourself.” 

“Thanks Joel, you too.”

You try to walk as confidently as you can towards your home as you feel his eyes follow you. You’ve never been so thankful to see your little cottage, escaping behind the protection of your front door.

That night you paint another photo of an elk, this time with golden toned fur and deep brown eyes. 

Saturday mornings are always busy for you, never allowing you the luxury to eat pancakes at the mess hall like everyone else on the weekends. Usually you're always turning to the left while everyone takes a right heading to breakfast as you're rushing towards the schoolhouse to start setting out books for the library. This Saturday you’re moving slower thanks to your injured knees and the large box of books that patrol have brought you from their runs. 

“Mornin’," Joel says as he quickly heads towards you from the mess hall exit. “Lemme take those for you.” 

“Oh, Joel, hi,” you pause in your tracks as he stops in front of you and grabs the box out of your hands. “You really don’t have to take—"

“None ‘a that,” he shushes as he effortlessly lifts the books higher. "Where are we going with these?"

"Oh, just over to the school house for the library."

Joel nods as you both head towards the school, Joel slowing his gait to walk alongside you.

“How are the knees doing?”

“A lot better, thanks.”

“Glad to hear.” 

You fish the key out of your pocket, unlock the door, and let Joel follow you down the hallway to your classroom. 

“Just right in here. You can put the box on my desk,” you say as you turn on the lights on.

He walks in and places the box on your desk. You notice the way his eyes roam around the bright mural on the wall you’re currently standing in front of. “Wow,” he says moving his eyes to yours. “I haven’t seen something like this in a long time.” 

You smile at him then turn and face the mural. “Goodness, thank you. I just finished it a couple of weeks ago. I really wanted to make sure the kids had something fun and colorful to focus on while in my class. It was hard working in this plain room.” 

Joel slowly walks over and places his hand on the cold cinder block wall. “Bluebells. Texas’ flower,” he faintly whispers.

You watch him as his large finger traces the outline of your painted indigo petals. You feel like you shouldn’t be allowed to see such gentle tenderness coming out of such hard and strong hands. You remember how delicately he touched you as he bandaged your knees. You realize that there once was softness surrounding all of Joel, the permanent grimace and rough reputation for him brought on by the harshness of the world he now lives in.

He feels your eyes on him and turns to you. “Where you from?” he asks, curiously gazing into your eyes.

“Colorado… I was in the Denver QZ.”

“No, where were you from before everything?”

“Sorry, still Colorado, just more in the mountains,” you say focused on the columbine next to the bluebell. “Florissant to be exact. It’s a little town famous for dinosaurs. My students love to hear all about dinosaurs. I was very lucky to be where I was when everything… happened.” You grab your daisy chain and hold it between your fingers as you look over to meet his eyes focusing on you. 

“S’a nice state. Went skiing there once as a teen, had plans to go again before… everything.” Joel turns to focus in on the bluebells again.

“Big of a Texan to compliment Colorado,” you joke as you grab your library supplies from your desk.

He smiles a genuine smile, forehead wrinkling as he chuckles and shakes his head. “Good one. Did y’know you forgot your CD at my house?” 

“Sorry about that. I figured Ellie just decided to keep it for herself. I don't mind, not like I have anything to play it on right now”

"I ended up listening to it. S’different music than I listen to but it's good. Had your name written all over it in Sharpie, forgot all about mixed CD’s.”

“I know I’m really fortunate to still have my CD’s, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost them,” you say as you begin to place down your hand painted placards on different desks. 

“Can I help you?” Joel asks as he watches you work. 

“If you’d like, just pick up a pile of books and put them on their respective tables. Children’s, Mystery, Romance, Non-Fiction, Sci-Fi, Miscellaneous.” 

“You do this by yourself?”

“Usually, I sometimes have help but I think everyone here works so hard during the week they like their slow Saturdays, I can’t ask them to give up sleeping in.” 

“Hm. Sleeping in. Must be nice. Can’t do such a thing. Ellie would sleep all day if I allowed her.”

“You’re right,” you say grabbing more books. “Must be nice. I’m wide awake at 5 almost every morning.”

A soft chuckle from Joel's mouth makes you hide a smile, you like when you make him laugh.

“I take it with a title like ‘Burning Tenderness’ it goes in romance?” Joel jokes. You like it.

“Well, I’d fire you on the spot if you placed it in non-fiction.”

The two of you expeditiously work around each other setting up the library finishing a half hour before its opening. 

“I’ve never gotten done this early before. This is the third time you’ve helped me this week,” you say as you sit on the edge of your desk giving your aching knees a break. “I feel like I owe you something. Is there a way I could repay you for your generosity?” 

“Those bluebells you painted,” he pauses and breathes out, “do you think you could paint some ‘a those for me on a wall in my house?” This is a new look for him, shyness, as he focuses back in on the mural behind you.

“Oh wow. I’d love to. I can start it anytime. Just let me know when you’d like me to come over.”

“D’you want to come over Monday after you’re done at the school? I told Ellie I’d spend the day with her tomorrow.” 

“That sounds good,” you reply not believing your luck that Joel Miller is inviting you over to his house.

The two of you are stuck again in a silent agreement. Both of you not knowing what to say, yet also okay in the shared quiet.

“Should probably head out and start my day. Taking this as payment for my work today,” Joel says holding up a book.

“‘As I Lay Dying?’ Didn’t pin you as a Faulkner fan,” you say as you open your logbook to note the title down.

“Liked the horse on the cover.” 

“It’s a good book. Enjoy it Joel.”

“See you Monday. Good luck today.” 

“Yes, Monday,” you respond as you try not to smile too hard. “Thanks again for all your help.”

“'Course,” he says as he stands in the doorway, his large form taking up most of it. 

Back home after a busy day you sit in your favorite chair and your cats on your lap and sketch bluebells until you fall asleep pencil in hand. 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Chapter 2 will be posted within the next week. Obviously I’ve edited the timeline a bit. In my head, Joel and Ellie never went to Colorado. I know, I know, but like I said, I’m being selfish and want Joel to have his happy ending. If you’re looking for angst and/or conflict, this is not the fic for you. This is the story of Joel Miller’s ideal life after the past 20 years tortured him. Also, for all you smut nuts (!!!) chapter 5 or 6 will be explicit. I want them to take their time because once they sleep together, all bets are off.

[fushipurro]

In the Shadows of Love

Chapter 1 - Green Flag

Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

☆ Synopsis: You've lived most of your life trying to convince yourself that you're happy, but let's face it, you're far from it. Time continues to pass you by, leaving you feeling stuck — losing hope that life will ever get better.

That is, until a new neighbor and his son move into the vacant spot next-door.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, depression, fluff, angst, insecure/intrusive thoughts, mentions of smoking

☆ Word Count: 3.9k

Four in the morning. That’s the time displayed on your phone.

For many, that’s roughly the time others wake up, gearing up for a day of work or school. You however, that’s when you hope to be asleep by. The time just before the sun has a chance to peak above the horizon or the birds start their morning symphony.

It wasn’t always this way, nor do you remember when this routine became your norm. You tell yourself the life of a night owl is one of ease ─ a better way to live. You have unintentionally conditioned yourself into this lifestyle without knowing any better, and even then, you still can’t deny the positives feelings you get from it.

The nights feel as though they move slower than the day, and to you, it beats the alternative of selling your soul away to the 9-5 corporate job. Sure, you still had to go out and get a job ─ it’s an inevitable in life to those born without generational wealth to fall back on. Instead of some soul-crushing office job, you chose to become a model.

Not some high fashion runway Vogue or Louis Vuitton model, of course; that’d be a bit too much for your self-esteem to handle. Nor would you even want to be one, either.

You chose the side of modeling that gears more towards marketing, styling, or the occasional photoshoot here and there, but overall, as much work-from-home as you can get.

Your days typically begin sometime in the afternoon.

A cycle of waking up, feeding your cat, work, chores, whatever else you need to do before a night of indulging yourself with all your many hobbies before starting the cycle all over again.

Reality can be a blur at times with late night thoughts that make you question if you’re truly happy with how things are or if that’s just what you tell yourself to get through to tomorrow.

Putting your phone down on your nightstand, you made yourself comfy beneath layers of blankets in the highlight of your home, your bed.

Sleep is one thing you always look forward to. No thinking necessary or responsibility, just allowing your many dreams to consume you and feed that lust for adventure life can’t guarantee you. You’re more than ready to see what awaits you tonight. Maybe you’ll see dragons and knights, four-armed monsters and cursed beings, the possibilities are endless.

What more could you want?

All your hopes for that and more come crashing down when you wake with a jolt after having just fallen asleep, only to hear that the crash wasn’t a metaphor.

You groan, your voice burdened by your tired state. “Nooo, Tsumiki… come back– fuck.”

You stretch your arm out, feeling for your cat who decided to ditch you from the sudden noise and into one of her many hiding spots. The time on your phone now reads nine in the morning ─ a painful reminder to the cons of being nocturnal.

You’re the minority.

Through the thin walls of the old apartment building you live in, you can faintly make out whoever is disturbing your vampiric slumber, “What do you think, kid?” Their voice is deep, and smooth like honey yet ignites goosebumps down your back.

But wait, kid? As in a child?

Wouldn’t that be your luck.

You’ve been safe for a while with one side of your walls being vacant, but it seems luck has run out, and with a family no less. You only hope their day-to-day noise level is less than that of all the boxes and furniture being thrown around every second.

And just like that, your spare pillow is now your new best friend, sandwiched between your head and your arm to drown out the world.

At some point you managed to fall asleep again ─ if you can even call it that. A better description would be the state in-between, where you’re barely conscious yet still able to rest. By three in the afternoon, the alarm on your phone is your second rude awakening.

So much for any dreamworld adventures to make you forget the crushing weight of reality.

It’s beyond tempting to hit snooze and give it another shot, and maybe you could this time around, given the lack of noise emanating from the other side of the walls. Tsumiki however, says otherwise. With pinpoint accuracy, her tiny paws dig harshly into your bladder and every other vital organ as she impatiently mewls for her afternoon feast.

“Fine, I’m getting up,” you drawl out with a sigh, throwing aside the covers to your oh so warm cocoon…

No, no. Tsumiki needs her breakfast. Her needs always come first before your own, no matter what.

You crack open a can of wet food, adding in all your special additives to ensure she’s getting everything healthy her growing body needs. Once she’s good to go, you follow up with your own lackluster toaster meal, devoid of any extravagant sides. A trip to the grocery store is in order, but that can wait until after you’ve finished your work for the day.

Nothing beats getting all your chores done in the hours after waking up. That way, the rest of your day (read: night) is all for yourself and no one else. What better way to get everything finished too than by singing along to all your favorite songs with the occasional break to stretch.

By seven at night, you’re finished and dressed for the store. Some days you can bring yourself to look the part of a model, other times ─ like today ─ you’re too exhausted to care. So, you fit yourself in your choice of comfy clothes, designed by laziness, and without so much as a red sole on your preferred footwear. You’re going to the store after all, not some Hollywood premiere.

A glance through your peephole reveals an empty hallway, perfect for your liking. The less neighbors you have to pass by or talk to, the better. Once past the threshold, you spot the remnants of boxes just next-door, further proving to your dismay that you’re now stuck with someone on both sides of your home. Getting down the stairs and out the building proves just as easy. Excellent timing on your part to avoid homebound traffic, earning some peace and quiet on your walk to and from the store.

So you hope, at least.

On a better day you would’ve chosen an actual grocery store to go to, but for now, the closest convenience store will have to do. They’re convenient for a reason, might as well utilize it.

Despite only buying enough to last a few days, at best, you still end up with your arms full on the trip back. Each step you take leaves you cursing under your breath for not being able to afford a car. The world’s too expensive for a young, single woman without any family to get help from.

It’s already hard enough leaving the safety net of your home, and your tired arms now feel as if they’re ready to fall off. To top everything off, a lone man comes into sight, resting on the stairs to your building with a cigarette in hand.

He doesn’t look familiar, and in fact, a closer look from the nearby lighting reveals that he’s… actually quite handsome. Hell, he could be a model if he wanted to, and you’d be surprised if he wasn’t one already. His black hair falls neatly over his face, his physique unmatched from what you see around the hems of his black sweater. The scar down his lip adds an air of mystery, that at the same time raises some alarms in your head.

There’s always the chance he lives in the building. It’s not like you’re familiar with every tenant in the complex. But at the same time as previously established, you’re a young woman who’s walking all by herself, long after sunset. Anyone can be a murderer or kidnapper for all you know.

Best to just avoid him, and hope for the best.

You attempt to shuffle by him up the stairs, keeping your head held down and away, but his voice stops you right in your tracks sending a chill down your spine, “Need a hand with those?” He gestures to your bag with the hand that holds the foul cancer stick. There’s something familiar about him, but you can’t place it just yet. Not when your anxiety is shooting sky-high.

The bags tremble slightly in your arms as you turn partially to the man. “N-no, I uh…” You thickly swallow, mumbling softly after, “I’m okay, thanks.”

You move to continue up the stairs, but misplace your foot, fixing to tumble downwards only to be caught just in time by a pair of hands on each side of your shoulders.

“Woah, easy there. I don’t mind helping, doll,” he insists. You don’t protest when he reaches for the bags in one arm, too frozen in place to react beyond budding embarrassment. He opens the door to the building but stops, looking back at you. “You comin’?”

“Y-yeah.”

Great instincts, now let’s hope he’s not about inflict every crime in the book there is upon you. Ending up on the morning news in a body bag is not the type of modeling you had in mind.

His green eyes follow your form as you walk past him, silently thanking him for being chivalrous enough to hold the door open. You take the lead up the stairs, trying not to make it too obvious when looking back over your shoulder, praying he doesn’t pull a gun on you.

The smart choice would be to lead him to some other home in the building. For instance, someone that you’re familiar with to offer a sense of security. Unfortunately, you have about as many friends as you do cats.

Which in this case is… one. If you can even call your boss a friend.

Perfect.

The man quirks a brow as you arrive in front of apartment 4-C, your home. “Huh, looks like we’re neighbors.” He nudges his head to 4-D, the previously vacant housing. “Just moved in today,” he adds.

“Oh,” you reply, visibly stunned. Well that alleviates more of your worries and explains the familiarity you felt. The voice you had heard earlier in the day belongs to him. “I guess we are,” you laugh nervously, stumbling to unlock your door with unsteady hands.

You step inside, keeping the door parted for him to enter. He wastes no time following after, placing the bags down on the countertop in the kitchen alongside your own. Tsumiki runs into the room moments after, stopping to take a cautious sniff of the man’s ankle.

“Who’s this?” he asks, leaning down to pet the now-purring kitten with one thick digit. “Friendly cat you’ve got here.”

“Her name is Tsumiki,” you tell him, still unable to help how meek you sound. You can’t help but feel a bit more at ease with your cat’s quick approval of the man.

There’s a low hum from his throat with approval, “Cute name.” He picks her up into his arms, huffing out of amusement at all the air biscuits she starts making with her tiny little paws. His eyes meet yours unexpectedly, about stunning you in the process. “What’s yours?”

“Huh?”

He simpers. “Your name?”

You avert your gaze to your groceries, playing with the fabric of your sleeves as you tell him your name, no louder than a whisper.

“Even cuter,” he remarks, thankfully not making any comments on how flustered you must look right about now. He does wink however, not that you’re even looking his way to see it, but he does.“Name’s Toji Fushiguro.”

“Nice to meet you, Toji.” You offer up a smile, trying to keep your voice steady. “Thanks for helping with the bags, by the way.”

Toji’s eyes spark with subtle interest. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.” He pauses, momentarily looking around. “Guess I should get goin’ now before I’m late for work.”

At this time of night? Though it’s not like you’re one to talk, let’s be real.

He places Tsumiki gently back onto the ground, turning back to leave. You end up having to pick her back up in order to stop her attempt at escaping with him.

Betrayed by your own cat.

He tells you his goodbyes, turning the key into his own home, finalizing the fact that he is your new neighbor and not some degenerate criminal. Well, hopefully. You never know these days.

Maybe this whole thing won’t be so bad after all.

Tsumiki meows with evident disappointment, pawing away at your front door once back inside. It looks as though Tsumiki’s deemed him a green flag with her pawprint seal of approval. “Well, you seem to like him. Don’t you, girl?” She meows in response, and you can only imagine what her mews translate to in your tongue. The most likely answer would be a series of complaints for not making him stay longer to give her more attention like you don’t do that enough.

The remainder of your night is spent as usual, mostly tucked away on the couch, enjoying some quality TV time and whatever else you like to do. Tsumiki’s bakery works wonders on your stomach, kneading and purring away until the covers of sleep pull themselves up and over you, whisking you off to the world of dreams.

The next day starts with a slew of curses leaving your mouth that could put a sailor to shame.

Your sleep deprivation caught up to you with impeccably awful timing, paired with a few missed calls from your boss, and a voicemail to match.

“I apologize for how late notice this is, but I need you in the office at three o’clock. We have a meeting with a prospective client, and they would like to meet you.”

Your eyes dart to the time registered on your phone as you listen in. The meeting is at 3 and it’s… 3:30.

Lovely.

You shoot up from the couch and into some much nicer clothing and whatever makeup you can scrounge to cover the bags resting below your eyes. With your purse in hand, there’s no time to even think about running into a neighbor as you leave. You exit the building like a bat out of hell, flying past Toji and his son on the sidewalk without even realizing.

He calls out your name, but you don’t respond nor even hear it over the sound of blood rushing in your ears, drowning out any and all outside noise.

His son looks on with confusion at the scene. “Rabbit…”

Toji stifles a laugh, “Might as well be one.” He follows you with his eyes, panning down to see that you’re running in heels of all things. It’s a wonder how a set of stairs almost got you the night before.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been running for. Being as late as you are, there wasn’t any time to order a ride. At the very least, it’s not like your agency is situated in the heart of the downtown, so getting there by foot is doable.

By the time you do arrive, the client is long gone, and other employees are leaving their shifts as well. You make yourself as presentable as you can in what seconds you have to spare before entering his office to hear everything you missed.

In the midst of the discussion, you apologize, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Nanami. I swear it won’t happen again.”

“No matter,” his exhale comes in the form of a sigh. “The client is willing to excuse it this time, and it’s fortunate they still wish to advance to the next step with us.” For a second, you can see some underlying frustration in his eyes, believing yourself to be the cause. “There will be consequences if this happens again, I do hope you understand.”

You lower your head in shame. “Y-yes sir ─ thank you…”

Even if it it’s true your sleep was disrupted the day before from outside of your control, you still feel as though you’re the only one to blame. You could’ve set more alarms, taken a nap ─ or better, not stayed up till dawn.

You’re snapped from your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t stress, this will be good opportunity for you,” he reassures. “Now go home and rest, I’ll be in contact.” You nod, taking your leave from the office.

You take your time on the walk home, losing yourself in your mind once more. Staying up at night to enjoy the silence is nice and all, but is it worth setting yourself back? You can’t afford to lose your job, or worse, not be able to afford your bills and all of Tsumiki’s food and care.

Speaking of which, food was one of the last things on your mind, but upon seeing the neon lights of the convenient store, your stomach growls on cue.

“…Guess I’ll grab something then,” you mutter to yourself.

You scan each aisle, grabbing a few simple snacks, and eventually coming across a comfort food that would taste perfect right about now in place of a full meal. It’s nothing too fancy or expensive, just enough to quell your noisy stomach and anxious body.

“You were in a hurry this afternoon,” a gruff voice sounds from behind you. It startles you, enough so that you lose your grip on the item in your hands. Toji catches it effortlessly, observing the contents in his hand. “Shit, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You take a moment to catch your breath, letting the vicious thumping of your heart calm down enough to speak. “It’s okay, I’m sorry.”

Toji gives you a questioning look, examining your appearance with emerald eyes that practically see right through you. “Something happen?” he inquires.

“Oh, uh– it’s nothing important.” You wave him off, shifting your head to the side. You almost forget he’s even still holding onto your food when the next thing you know, he’s putting it into his own basket alongside whatever else he’s buying. “Um, Toji?”

“My treat.” He winks, moving ahead down the aisle expecting you to keep up.

“I can’t let you do that, it’s too much,” you plead.

“Doll, this is nothing,” he claims. “It won’t break the bank for me.”

You don’t try and argue further, resorting to pouting when he turns his back to you to grab a few other items. With this view, you’re able to take in more of his appearance.

This time, instead of black sweats, he’s fitted in dark jeans, an equally dark shirt, boots, and muted olive parka that goes wonderfully with his eyes. You had noticed his scar looked rougher up close, with a few more hide away on his skin, out of sight. Toji looks over his shoulder, inadvertently catching you staring at him. You blush, quickly averting your gaze to the ice cream selection at your side.

After checking out, you thank him, sticking close to his side on route back to your shared apartment complex. Toji stays silent for the first few blocks, occasionally glancing in your direction without you even realizing, as you do the same.

Normally you’d be content with the peace, but your mind says otherwise even if you have no clue what to talk about. He ends up being the first to speak up anyways, “What do you do for work?”

You figure he must be asking based on how your appearance, especially when you know now that he spotted you earlier. “I work in the fashion industry, mainly advertising…” your voice trails off into a more meek tone, “…also some modeling gigs here and there, believe it or not.”

He hums, acknowledging your words while sparing another glance filled with newfound curiosity. Given your self-confidence, you’re not quite sure what to make of the stare, wondering if he’s silently judging you.

“W-what about you?” you ask, mentally scolding yourself for stuttering.

“I’m a bartender over at a joint called Star Plasma. You should come by if you ever want a drink, I’ll make it special for you.” He briefly pauses, keeping his eyes directed at you while scratching the back of his neck. “You look like you could use one, did somethin’ happen?”

You stop dead in your tracks, looking down at the concrete path below. He stops just in front of you, half-turning to see the glossy coating on your eyes. “I…kind of got in trouble at work, all because of a stupid mistake.” One called not setting a proper alarm or having your phone not set to silent, you later realized.

“I know all about that,” he responds, and in a way, it’s reassuring. “Can’t be that bad if you still have a job, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you slowly exhale. The next words out of your mouth are barely that of a whisper, almost completely inaudible, “I’m hating myself for it…”

Toji doesn’t say anything in the immediate moment, turning his head up to the flickering streetlamp overhead. After a minute he goes on to say, “Don’t beat yourself up, we all make mistakes.”

Tell that to a perfectionist.

“Come on then,” he urges. “Before the ice cream melts.”

You continue walking, muttering, “Right, sorry.”

“Don’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

The two of you are quiet the rest of the way home. Once outside the front doors of your respective apartments, he holds out one of the bags for you to take.

“Here you go,” he says as you accept it from his hands. “I threw in a thing of ice cream too. Figured you might like some with the way you were staring earlier.” He smirks.

You glance into the bag and find a small tub of your favorite flavor tucked away. Your mouth parts in shock, the surprise evident on your features. “How did you know I like this flavor?”

“Lucky guess, I’m glad it paid off.”

Toji’s front door suddenly opens from the inside, and a young boy comes running out, latching onto the older man’s leg. One look is all it takes to see that he’s the spitting image of his father, save for the trademark scar on the lip and hair kept under control. The boy sees you and decides to shield himself behind his father, peering around his leg with a cautious expression.

“Megumi,” Toji kneels down, rubbing his hand along the course of his son’s spikey hair. “Meet our new neighbor,” he says, your name punctuating the sentence.

You smile, lowering yourself to his level. “Hi Megumi, it’s nice to meet you,” you greet.

He shuffles more behind Toji’s leg, and you can’t blame him for being nervous around strangers. He mumbles out, “Rabbit lady,” before darting back inside his home, leaving you surprised.

Toji eyes the door, sighing, “Sorry about that, he’s shy around new people.”

“No worries, he’s adorable,” you softly giggle, standing back up to normal height. “Thanks again for the food.”

Toji looks at you with slightly wider eyes, stunned by the sudden display of laughter. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll see you around then, neighbor.”

You wave goodbye, entering your own home and greeting Tsumiki who must’ve heard you through the door given how she’s right there waiting. Toji was right about the ice cream. Between that and the conversation you had with him; you’re already starting to feel better about the earlier turmoil.

Maybe being neighbors with him won’t be so bad after all.

☆ Notes: During my revision of this series, I gotta admit that my original upload was messy as HELL... i had waaay too many ideas and no cohesive plan for where i wanted the plot but that's all fixed now and i'm super excited for how this series will develop over time and i hope you all enjoy the new version of this series!

sorry for the name change whiplash btw, i've been thinking for a while that "light in the dark" was a little too basic and then thought of this new one on a whim so here we are :)

[dearbraus]

Good Luck, Babe ! - Chapter 1: You'll Need It.

— Aizawa Shōta

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, fem!reader, sfw, reader has hair that can be run through, reader is a teacher, reader is a slight author self insert, first meetings and a not so cute meet cute. ⊹ Run time. 4.2k ⊹ Note. This has been marinating in my brain for a while! So I decided to bite the bullet and write it, enjoy :3

❝It's your first day on the job, teaching at the overly prestigious hero school, U.A Academy, what could go wrong? Apparently a lot.❞

masterlist || next part

September's early morning chill was a bitter reminder that summer would soon come to an end. An unwelcome reminder that with summer gone so too would the precious tendrils of young adulthood. It was a frightening truth. Though you’d been one of the lucky ones. Employed only six months after graduating from university, with a fairly cushy gig that most could only dream of. The pay was good, you had an ample amount of sick days and vacation days. It was far more than you’d been expecting for a glorified student teaching position.

Still, the prospect of embarking on a new journey without the support of family and friends felt like too much for you to bear. Your stomach twisted itself into knots that refused to be undone no matter how many little reassurances you chanted to yourself. On the brink of thinking yourself sick, you forced your gaze upwards to the campus ahead. It was the stuff of legends, only something you could have dreamed of as a teenager.

The U.A High gates were an imposing sight to behold, far more akin to that of a fortress wall than your run of the mill boarding school. A twinge of pain shoots through your neck when you crane your head to drink in every last bit before you brave the next big adventure– actually going inside the building. Sweat gathers within the palm of your hands, you reflexively drag them down the length of your shirt, hardly flinching under the scrutinous stares of the passing students who need no invitation to head back onto campus after a weekend away. Your nerves fail to scatter the longer you peer upward but your eyes begin to burn as the sun shifts from behind the building.

“No big deal, this is no big deal,” you mutter beneath your breath, “This is just the start of your career, it’s not like failure is going to make or break it.”

You blanch for a moment, your mouth running dry.

Failure could ruin your career, it wasn’t everyday that the ministry of education hand selected educators to work with a school as prestigious as U.A. Rarely, had they taken interest in newly graduates with too many opinions like yourself. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to prove that all your hours spent researching pedagogy, writing papers on the merits of student-led learning, and focusing your dissertation on why hero courses were intrinsically detrimental to their social and emotional development, weren’t wasted because you couldn’t hack it in the classroom. Smoothing out the rumpled fabric of your dress shirt, you fought the urge to nervously swipe your sweaty hands against cotton once more. 

“There’s nothing to worry about, today is going to be a great day!”

Your voice carries farther than you intend for it too, it catches the attention of two students who loiter nearby. They cast you a perturbed glance before shuffling toward the school. You offer them a toothy grin in response, hoping it’d disguise your nerves and give those kids the impression that you belonged here. It was laughable. You belonged at U.A even less than the countless number of journalists who milled about in search of an exclusive story. That lot hardly gives you a once over, as if they could smell the mediocrity wafting off of you. Your quirk wasn’t very interesting and you hoped you looked too old to be a student. So, there was no need for anyone to chase after your coat tails when you finally pried your feet from the cement, and walked past the school gates.

The sidewalk feels as though it’s fused to the soles of your oxfords, your legs like lead as you attempt to shuffle forward. You're rendered still by the nerves that eat away at your belly even as the clock tick closer and closer to eight. Sucking in a deep breath, you force yourself to step forward though the pace is still painstakingly slow. You regret not shaking out your nerves before you arrived at the school. Tension gathered in your joints and painfully fused your limbs together. You couldn’t rid yourself of the stress that clung to you not matter how many deep breaths you sucked down.

The main building possessed the same grandeur as the gate. Its front doors are ornate, with gold lettering detailing which door was designated for each year. You quickly yank open the door with the large letter one atop it, hoping you’d made the right choice. The email you received for this position stated you would be working with a first year class so, this seemed like the most logical choice by far. 

If it wasn’t, you’d fake it ‘til you made it.

You remember a professor of yours telling you that confidence was key. Nothing could go wrong if you looked like you knew what you were doing, others would trust that you did. If you looked like you belonged, no one would question why you had a seat at the table. Holding your head up high, you walked towards the administration office, thanking whatever cosmic force that despite all its quirks, the ground floor layout was the same as most high schools in the area. The principal, a small marsupial looking man, Nezu pops his head out from the office before you’ve finished rounding the corner. The scar that cuts into his short white fur and left eye was slightly disconcerting, somehow more so than a talking animal.

Based on your googling during your commute, he’d once been an ordinary animal that developed a quirk– truly one of a kind, sentience and an IQ that surely surpassed your own was just the surface level of what Nezu had been blessed with. Though, there was little information detailing how and why he was given the position of principal. That struck a chord of concern. You wondered how much empathy he possessed, if he related to his students, and how he went about human affairs, even when they were personal in nature.

“There you are!”

Nezu waves you over with a paw.

“I was starting to worry you weren’t going to show!” He exclaims with a laugh, “Didn’t happen to get lost, didja?”

With as much confidence as you could muster, you shake your head, “No! No, of course not,” you mutter with a wave of your hand, “I was just taking a quick tour and didn’t realise how much time had passed!”

Nezu nods sagely as if there was some unspoken wisdom to what you said, “Oh, good! So I take it you’ve unloaded your things at the dormitory then, how proactive!”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I follow?”

“As of this year, U.A High is a boarding school as I’m sure you may know,” Nezu explains with a flourish, “As such, all educators must reside on campus, including temporary staff such as yourself.”

“Oh, right, yes, I was actually planning to do that after classes today!”

You chuckle unconvincingly, offering an awkward smile. Well, that solved your problem of where you’d go after your lease was up in two weeks. Still, the pressure of throwing yourself completely into this job weighed heavily upon your shoulders. You were still unconvinced that this was truly happening. Even if you did everything perfectly, there was still a chance the teachers here wouldn’t take too kindly to you bulldozing years of lesson planning all because parents, and the ministry of education were starting to listen to people like you. You didn’t want to believe that all heroes were as egoist as the media painted them out to be, but the thought still made your hands shake with anxiety every time you imagined what this new job would entail.

The smile Nezu offers only unsettles you further, something about seeing an animal's face contort like a humans, “Very well, come along now classes are starting shortly.”

He presses an ID card into your hands, a black lanyard dangles from it. Your smiling face peers up at you. The photo’s been swiped from your university's website, along with the other information– including your new job title– since you don’t recall submitting your picture to them. Slipping it into the front pocket of your pants, you follow Nezu through the halls. Your shoes click against the blue tile flooring. You’d been expecting scuffed linoleum but the tiles were smooth and recently buffed if your reflection was any indicator. The sound soothed your frayed nerves, and almost allowed you to forget how out of your depth you were. Almost.

The grandiose scale of the environment you found yourself surrounded by was intimidating. Everything at this school was large, given how massive Cementoss and Ectoplasm seemed on your tiny phone screen during the sports festival, the building must have been made to accommodate those of all sizes. Even the door to class 1-A made you feel dwarfish in comparison. It stood a good two feet over the top of your head, made of fine maple wood that had been painted brown and red. 1-A was printed in the negative space, denoting which class this room belonged to. You’d never have to worry about entering the wrong classroom, that soothed the butterflies in your belly.

Dragging your hands down the front of your shirt, you smoothed out the invisible wrinkles you swore were pressed into the fabric, “Deep breath in,” you whispered to yourself, your cheeks hot with embarrassment, “Deep breath out, you got this!”

Using the window pane of the door, you raked your fingers through your hair. Cursing to yourself when they got caught and tangled on a few strands. Pushing your hair behind your shoulders, you mechanically cranked your lips upward until a cheery smile replaced the anxious expression you wore like a second skin. Your shoulder blades slid backwards as if on cue, your spine straightening.

“Now then, go on, don't be shy,” Nezu says, nodding his head toward the classroom, “Introduce yourself to the class, tell them why you’re here, their homeroom teacher should be waiting for you inside.”

The doors hinges squeal as you struggle to open it all the way. Still, you force on a smile the way your teachers had instructed you to. Apparently, students could sniff out fear and anxiety like a bloodhound. You tried not to appear too miffed by how strenuous opening the door was, quickly stepping towards the front of the classroom. All twenty sets of eyes were glued to your frame, their conversations running to a harsh stop as you clapped your hands together. 

“Good morning, class!” Your voice is chipper and perfect even just like you rehearsed in the mirror this morning, “It’s so nice to meet you all!”

The classroom was plain, devoid of any personality or signs that students had occupied the space for the better part of six months. The desk sat in four rows of five, their table tops practically sparkled beneath the sickly yellow fluorescent lighting. From here, the lack of student graffiti was evident. You supposed you could take it as a good sign. Though, following the rules and not defacing school property seemed like an entry level requirement for prospective heroes.

Principal Nezu offers your leg a pat before swiftly scuttling back out the door. There was no sign of the class’ home room teacher, even in the form of a yellow lump on the ground. Wringing your hands together, you flash the class a grin. The students stare blankly back at you in confusion. Some exchange a worried glance with one another before returning to eyeing you up.

“Are you going to be our new teacher?” A boy with unruly green hair asks. He raises his hand after he finishes speaking, a sheepish expression when he realises he spoke out of turn.

Midoriya Izuku.

You remember him from the set of student profiles you were emailed last week and the intermittent news stories he appeared in. He was a relatively good student, with only a few minor infractions here and there on his permanent record detailing unsanctioned usage of his quirk. That was out of your jurisdiction. Aside from his penchant for working himself to the point of exhaustion and his habit of breaking his bones, Izuku wouldn’t cause you much trouble within the classroom. His records from middle school told you that much.

“Ah no, actually-”

“Don’t get all excited,” a gruff voice rumbles behind you, you don’t have to turn to know it’s Aizawa, their homeroom teacher, “You lot are still stuck with me.”

A mass of loose black clothing and messy black hair begin to fill your periphery as the man steps closer to you. You hardly have a chance to greet him before he’s placed himself between you and the first row of desks. Dark circles line a pair of ebony irises that are nearly hidden by his heavily lidded eyes. The pale skin of his jaw disappears into a thin, wispy beard that Aizawa compulsively scratches at as he eyes you up. Pinned beneath his scrutinising gaze, you suddenly feel silly, like you were five years old again, caught playing dress up in your parents closet. The corduroy pants and nice dress shirt you took several hours picking out last night seemed over the top and childish.

“What are you doing in my classroom?”

“Oh!” You quickly offer your name with an apologetic smile and a bow, “I’m here on behalf of the ministry of education to audit your classroom and work alongside you for the foreseeable future.”

Aizawa looks unimpressed, but when you offer him your hand, he takes it. His skin is calloused and rough, yours, comparatively, are soft to the touch. The callouses that formed from writing seemed so insignificant to the history that marred his skin. Clearing your throat, you steel your gaze on him, smiling in hopes of covering yourself in an air of indifference.

“Did Principal Nezu not inform you that I’d be here today?” You nervously question, pulling out your brand new ID card, “He told me that you’d be expecting me.”

“Why don’t we go chat outside?” He suggests, taking your ID card to inspect. You suspect you don’t really have a choice in the matter.

You nod, ducking your head down to avoid his intense gaze.

“Start preparing for your next class,” Aizawa addresses his students, his tone even and unwavering, “Yamada sensei will be here soon for your English lessons.”

There's a mumble of agreeance that breaks out amongst the throngs of desks. You’re certain that if the walls were thinner, you’d hear far more from them once you stood outside the classroom door. Kids were nosey, you wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them pressed against the door and strained their ears to catch even the smallest morsel of information. You’d almost prefer to be chewed out in front of twenty teenagers than be left alone with the ire of a pro-hero.

“Look, I don’t know what Nezu told you but I don’t need help managing my classroom,” Aizawa says as soon as the door has clicked shut behind you, “And I certainly don’t need help from a child.”

His arms are crossed over his broad chest. Your skin prickles with insecurity as he regards you. With his hair hanging over his face, you’re unable to discern what it is that lays in the depths of his eyes. If there’s an ounce of pity or just annoyance, you’re unsure. Whatever it is, its intensity makes you squirm beneath his gaze.

“I’m not a child,” you pause, attempting to counter but you stumble a bit over your words “I have two degrees and was hand selected by the ministry of education to be here, to work alongside you.”

Straightening your shoulders, you puff out your chest. With the way Aizawa tiredly slouched, he wasn’t as intimidating as he could be. If anything, if you could imagine him to be a petulant student. It wasn’t so hard. You’d dealt with worse during your days of being a TA. Hungover frat boys were far worse than a grouchy new colleague who didn’t appreciate having their authority tested. Not that you wanted to do that. You were looking forward to working with him, even if he was resistant to change.

Aizawa hardly stifles an eye roll before he narrows his gaze, “You were just about to call me sir, see child.”

“You’re not that much older than I am,” you retorted, frowning. Of all the things you’d heard of the elusive Eraserheard, you didn’t expect him to criticise you so harshly because of your age. Your lack of experience in the classroom? Sure, fair game. But, your age meant nothing in the grand scope of things, “Even if you were, I’m still qualified for this position.”

Your face grows hot with embarrassment. Six months. That’s how long you’d been a real adult, no longer a student. Calling anyone with even an inch of authority sir or ma’am had become second nature. How quickly Aizawa had caught on, made you wonder if he was right, if you were too far out of your depth. You feel it again, the nasty little pang of self-doubt that made the new lipstick you wore feel like you’d rummaged through your mothers things rather than the understated elegance you thought it gave you.

“Still, I have far more experience than someone who's never stepped foot in a classroom,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Nezu made a mistake, and I’ll be sure to tell him myself.”

“So you don’t take naps during lessons and allow your students to do as they please?” 

It’s a dirty, underhanded comment. But, you’re struggling to find any solid ground in this conversation, anything that would prove to him that you belonged in this school. Your throat feels like it might collapse in on itself as you suck in a nervous breath.

“That’s not-” Aizawa starts with a mild look of distaste.

Shaking your head, you continue on,“True? Well, Nezu listed it amongst some of your other questionable teaching practices such as threatening expulsion?”

Your hands tremble with remorse. U.A prided itself for its unique delivery of course content. They allowed teachers to do as they pleased within their classroom, even mid-semester expulsion if they saw it fit. Which Aizawa had, on multiple occasions. Apparently, he’d even expelled all twenty of his students on the first day of school a few years ago. Most of your peers dreamed of having that kind of authority in the classroom, they became starry eyed at the mere thought of being able to employ whatever pedagogical methodology they wished without having to adhere to curriculum expectation. You weren’t sure how they’d feel knowing you were expressly against such power.

“Are you trying to suggest that I’m a bad teacher?” The hurt in his voice is evident, the sincerity of it further fills the bucket of guilt that hangs off your neck.

“Not at all, just that you trained to be a hero not an educator.”

Tomorrow, or even twenty minutes from now, you’d regret reaching forward to place a hand on Aizawa’s crossed arms, “I don’t doubt that you care for those kids” the muscles in his throat tighten as he swallows and you’re keenly aware of his capture weapon sitting mere inches away from your arm, “And I’m not here to doubt you abilities, I’m just here because the ministry of education is concerned about the wellbeings of the students in the hero course.”

“They’re concerned?”

“It’s kind of hard not to be, they’re constantly in the news,” you say, sympathetic to the near constant villain attacks they had endured, “And the optics of a kidnapped student never look good no matter how it's spun, even if they’re a hero student.”

Aizawa rubs his chin with a sigh, “There’s no making this go away, is there?”

“Afraid not.”

You’re sure he feels your body shaking as you press closer. Your breath hitches.

“Besides, you’re really in no position to get rid of me,” you cringe when the words come out of your mouth but you can’t stop yourself from speaking, “Principal Nezu agreed, and if you really send me packing, it wouldn’t look too great on your end, it’d be all the more reason to question what goes on here.”

You’re right, he knows you’re right. You can tell by the way he sighs and tries to disguise it with a cough. You’re sure the way you invade his personal space doesn’t help your case or sweeten his opinion of you but it keeps you standing straight and prevents your knees from buckling beneath you.

He looks past you and down the hall, almost wistfully, “Would it really be so bad?” You ask, bouncing all on the balls of your feet, “Having me around would be a smaller workload for you to take home each night.”

The expression he wears tells you yes, it would be so bad, “You’re a civilian,” is all he says, a puff of air passing his chapped lips as he turns his gaze toward you, “If something were to happen, if there was another attack, you’d be in danger. You know that, right?”

“There are plenty of civilian students in the building, are you worried about them too?” You stupidly ask, crossing your arms over your chest. You’re sure you appear petulant, you feel petulant. You have to stop your bottom lip from jutting out in annoyance. Professionalism was still a bit of a struggle.

Your quirk wasn’t particularly flashy, but you had learned to use it for self defence as a teenager. Turns out, most didn’t enjoy being struck by lightning. They liked it even less when it came in the form of a spear— being a human sized taser had its perks. In any case, you were a nobody. No villain would take particular interest in you if their recent attacks were any indicator of their motives. They seemed to get their kicks terrorising teenagers.

“I’m worried about you,” Aizawa says with such conviction, that you’re not so surprised that he pursued hero work, “Working here, working with my class means having a target on your back. You realise this, don’t you?”

“I do.”

He clicks his tongue,“I don’t think you do,” deeply sighing, “You aren’t authorised to use your quirk even in self defence.”

“If I taught at a regular high school, I’d be expected to put myself in between my students and anyone who posed a threat without using my quirk,” you shrug your shoulders, “I’m prepared to do the same here.”

“This is different, this is serious. If you get caught up in an attack they could kill you or worse.”

Your skin crawls with an unpleasant feeling of dread. Goosebumps made your hair stand uncomfortably. What could be worse than death? You didn’t want to know. Aizawa clearly did. That’s why he didn’t find your blind acceptance endearing or brave. Just stupid.

Shaking away the nerves, you forced yourself to look him in the eyes,“The train I took this morning could have caught fire and killed me,” you say, like the thought of spontaneous combustion didn’t terrify you, as if you didn’t triple check your curling iron was unplugged each morning, “So could the raw flour in the cookie dough I ate last night.”

“You’re being far too flippant for me to take you seriously,” Aizawa doesn’t hide the roll of his eyes this time.

“Villains are dangerous, I get that,” you hope your voice didn’t sound as pathetic to him as it did to you, “I know what teaching here entails, I didn’t take this position on a whim.”

Aizawa’s dark, red rimmed eyes rake over you. He’s studying you, perhaps searching for a crack in your demeanour, for something to give reason for his refusal. A dissatisfied “hmph” passed his lips, they dip into a deepened frown. Whatever he’s going to say dies on his tongue as Yamada Hizashi– the pro hero, Present Mic– comes bounding down the hall, a tune humming under his breath, his head in the clouds. He sported his hero costume, seemingly more comfortable while dressed up than you did. His hair stands nearly straight up, a shock of bright yellow amid the calming pale blues and whites of the U.A hallways. Confidence oozes off of him, painting his aura in an alluring shade of something magnanimous. 

Yamada wore the hat of hero well, sending you a toothy grin when he caught your stare.

You suddenly get the state of being star struck. His presence was startling.

“You should go unpack your things,” Aizawa suggests when he takes notice of your gaping– though, this was not a suggestion. The thin press of his lips and finite tone that edged into his voice told you that, “We can talk further, later, after the school day has ended.”

You nod numbly, slightly shocked that you hadn’t been fired before you’d even had the chance to start. This was happening. Perhaps not in the way you’d envisioned but still. You hadn’t failed, not completely, not yet. The megawatt smile you throw at him makes your cheeks ache but you can’t stop it from forming.

“See you later, Aizawa-san.”

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: It's time to collect a debt

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 4 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been

Time whisked by faster than a hound chasing a rabbit through tall grass. A week had already slipped through Kate's fingers since she first became a part of the camp. Initially planning just a brief stay, she found herself relishing the comforting routine it offered. There was always a warm fire to gather around, a hearty meal to share, and the camaraderie of her newfound friends. But amidst the stability, a yearning for adventure tugged at her heartstrings, urging her to break free from the confines of camp, even if only for a day.

Arthur's comings and goings became a familiar rhythm in the camp's bustling routine. Rarely catching more than a glimpse of him before he vanished on another errand for Dutch, Kate couldn't help but miss his presence. She admired his unwavering dedication to the gang's needs, even if it meant sacrificing his own rest and relaxation. The man seemed to be perpetually on the move, always ready to answer the call of duty, no matter the hour.

Determined to bridge the gap, Kate promised herself to lend a hand the next time Arthur returned to camp, as long as it didn't involve any unsavory activities like killing folk. Meanwhile, she found solace in the company of her fellow campmates. Abigail, Tilly, and Mary-Beth had become her trusted confidantes, bonding over laundry duties and exchanging juicy tidbits of camp gossip. Kate couldn't help but chuckle at the wealth of information she'd amassed about John, courtesy of Abigail's candid revelations. She could probably write a book with how much dirt she had on him. 

Kate also found companionship in the likes of Sadie and Lenny, often engaging in games of poker or dominos to while away the hours. Karen and Molly remained enigmatic figures, preferring to keep to themselves, though Kate respected their need for privacy, understanding the complexities of the situation, and Molly’s relationship with Dutch. 

Despite their infrequent interactions, Kate held out hope for a chance to connect with Charles, intrigued by the silent strength he exuded. Perhaps a shared hunt would provide the opportunity for meaningful conversation. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The girls were gathered around the makeshift wooden table, indulging in a lunch of meat and cheese when Micah swaggered over, looking for trouble as usual. Kate had endured the displeasure of conversing with Micah only twice in the past week, and neither encounter had been pleasant. She noticed his penchant for making inappropriate comments, particularly targeting the other girls. When he wasn't being lewd, he took pleasure in needling the other gang members, especially Lenny, Javier, and sometimes even Arthur. Kate knew Arthur would have put him in his place if Dutch hadn't always conveniently intervened. She fought the urge to punch his greasy face when he made a jab about Arthur's weight, as if he were one to talk. After all, Arthur deserved to eat his fill for all the hard work he put in. Micah was always stirring the pot, and today seemed to be no different.

“Which one of you ladies wants to feed me my lunch?” He said smugly, resting both hands on his gun belt and standing uncomfortably close. The girls chose to ignore him. 

“Is this how you treat the men who provide for you?” He exclaimed with annoyance. 

Kate kept her head down and continued to eat as she spoke, as if Micah were less than an ant, “What exactly have you provided for us Micah? I’ve never seen you bring in food, or money for the matter. You leave and come back with nothing.” 

Micah scoffed and sauntered to stand behind Kate, trying to intimidate her, “I provide information sweetheart, I risk my life out there getting leads for jobs.”

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “you poor thing ,” she mused, “I’ll keep you in my prayers.” The other girls giggled at her comment. 

Micah stepped closer to her back, she could almost feel the gut of his belly against her hair, “watch your mouth woman.” He threatened. 

Kate sighed and leaned her chin against her palm, bored with the conversation, “or what Micah?” She said with an eye-roll. 

She heard him take a deep breath, or rather felt it, as he threw personal space at the wind at this point. He bent down to her ear and said lowly, “maybe I should take you to my cot, and fuck that attitude out of you whore .” He growled.  

Kate dropped her fork and whipped her elbow around, turning her whole body with force. Micah yelped as her elbow met his nose with a soft wet crunch, bright red blood dripping through his fingers as he looked up between his brows in anger. She had wanted to do that since the day she met him, fed up with how he talks to the women of the camp. This act was for the girls. 

“You dont have a dick to fuck me with Micah. You’re a lousy fucken’ excuse for a man,” she declared standing tall, “talk to me like that again and I’ll make sure I’m holding my knife when I swing next time.” 

The other members watched in stunned silence as Dutch emerged from his tent, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Enough of that!" he shouted, his gravelly tone signaling an end to the confrontation.

Micah spat at Kate’s feet and walked away, still trying to stem the blood pouring from his nose. She couldn't help but smirk at the sight – it was definitely broken. Sometime during the commotion, Arthur returned to camp, entering from the tree line as Micah left. She nodded in greeting as he approached.

Before she could walk over to him, Dutch intercepted her, clearly annoyed that their squabble had disturbed him. “Kate, my dear friend,” he said in a brusque tone, “why don't you find some work outside of camp today? Hm? Go make yourself useful.” He patted her shoulder.

Kate furrowed her brows at his insinuation. How was this her fault? Micah had clearly started it; he was always stirring up trouble and never finishing it.

“Arthur!” Dutch called out to the approaching cowboy. “Take Kate with you today. On, whatever it is you’re doing.” He waved them off, sounding like a parent trying to pass on their troublesome child to someone else.

Arthur approached with a shrug, “uh, sure. But I just got back-”

“Herr Morgan!” interrupted a voice, causing Arthur to visibly sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The list of chores never seemed to end, and Arthur was always the one sent to handle them.

“Strauss,” Arthur acknowledged with a tired voice, turning around to greet the wiry old German.

“How is the debt collecting coming along? Have you collected from that fella Downes?” Strauss inquired.

“No…I have not,” Arthur answered flatly. 

“Well, as you know, Mister Morgan, we lent him quite a sum, and it seems he has little intention of paying it back,” Strauss explained as he followed Arthur, who was trying to grab a meal for himself after working all day. “You have not seen him yet, I take it?” 

Kate stood back, observing the conversation unfold, patiently waiting to talk to Arthur. He was clearly irritated by Strauss’ interruption but tried to maintain politeness as he continued the conversation. “I-I’m sorry, Strauss. I’ve had a lot on my mind. I’ll go give him a gentle reminder.” 

“Not so gentle,” the German corrected. “I don't like his kind. They think they are superior. Please take care of this right away.” With that, Strauss made his exit. Kate knew he wasn't trying to be rude or demanding; it was just another task that, for some reason, Arthur was deemed best suited to handle.

As Arthur finished speaking with Strauss, he turned back to Kate with a tired yet apologetic expression. "Sorry ‘bout that. Looks like Dutch has volunteered us for another errand," he said with a weary smile. 

Kate grinned in response, unfazed by the prospect of more work, though she had sympathy for the man, he was clearly exhausted. "No worries, Arthur. I'm always up for the adventure," she replied casually, “wanna saddle up after you finish eating?” 

"Sounds perfect," Arthur nodded appreciatively, carrying his plate back to the table. The other girls had already cleaned up and returned to their tasks.

“That was a nice swing you pulled on Micah,” Arthur remarked between spoonfuls of stew, “ ‘bout time someone made that asshole bleed. Just wish I could’a done it sooner.”  

“I certainly enjoyed it,” Kate admitted with a smirk, “I hate the way he talks to everyone.” 

"Yeah, me too," Arthur agreed, his tone filled with frustration,  pushing the contents of the leftover stew around with his spoon. "I don't know why Dutch insists on keepin’ him around," he added, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard.

Kate leaned against the table, her gaze following Micah's path. "He ain't good for nothing aside from causing trouble," she remarked, her voice firm.

Arthur brought the bowl to his lips and drained the last of his stew and stood up, determination in his eyes. "I'd give anything to watch that shit-stain hang," he declared as they headed towards their horses.

Kate nodded in agreement. "Amen to that."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The Downes ranch was a short ride west, Arthur taking the lead as Kate rode beside him. Lorena whinnied with excitement at the chance to stretch her legs and run again. 

“How did things go with Mary?” Kate inquired, breaking the comfortable silence. She had been wanting to discuss it with him but hadn't found the opportunity amidst their busy lives.

“It went alright, I guess,” Arthur began, maintaining a steady trot as he settled into the saddle. “Saved her little brother from some crazy cult,” he added with a huff.

“A cult? Good Lord, I hope it wasn't those bastards with the pointy white hoods,” she exclaimed, a hint of concern in her voice. 

Arthur chuckled. “Nah, nothing that serious. They called themselves Chelonians, followers of the turtle or something,” he explained, shaking his head with amusement. “Hell if I know, they seemed like they were ready to jump off the cliff when I found them.” 

“Yikes, poor kid probably just looking for some kind of purpose in his life,” she remarked with sympathy. 

“Yup, ain't we all,” Arthur agreed, scanning the horizon before turning to Kate, “you a religious woman?” he asked curiously. 

Kate pondered the question for a moment before responding, “Sorta,” she shrugged, “I used to be, I was raised catholic. My mother was pretty involved in the Vatican before she came here, so she carried a lot of those beliefs with her.” 

“Pardon my ignorance, but um, what's a vatican?” 

Kate smiled at his question, “it’s a city, in Rome,” she answered, “s’posed to be the Center of Christianity.” 

Arthur’s eyes lit up with interest, “Rome? I thought you said you was from Boston?”

She couldn't help but laugh, “I am, my mother was from Rome,” she clarified, “anyways, after she died the whole religion thing didn't really stick. Although sometimes I still find myself prayin’, just don’t know to who.” 

Arthur nodded at her answer, taking in the new information. Kate spoke up again and reciprocated his question, “are you a religious man?” 

He shook his head firmly, “nah, I don't believe in nothin’.” 

“Oh c’mon, you gotta believe in something. What do you make of this mess we call life?” Kate teased, trying to prompt a more serious answer from him. 

He sighed, “I believe everything must happen for a reason, otherwise, what's the point of it all?” 

“Well that’s much better than nothing” she said with a smile, “but I bet that belief will drive ya crazy too,” she thought about her next question for a moment before finally asking it, “what do you make of death?” 

Arthur kept his gaze forward as they trotted, seemingly avoiding the question. After a moment, he spoke up again, his voice sounding small. “I don’t know anything ‘bout that either.”

Kate exhaled softly. “If I remember correctly, that agent, Milton, said you were wanted for murder,” she paused, “who’d ya kill?” She knew she was probably pushing her luck, but if he didn’t want to answer she wouldn’t pry. 

Arthur shot her a look from under the brim of his hat. “Damn, woman, you sure are forward, ain’t you?” His lips twitched in a small smile.

Kate shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just asking!” she said defensively. “You’re an interesting man, Arthur. The first time we met, you were robbing a stagecoach, telling me you're a railway worker. Next thing I know, I see you again, and suddenly you got a $5000 bounty on your head. Forgive a woman for asking.” She laughed.

He laughed and shook his head, “I’m afraid that's a story for another time friend,” he said, nudging his mare's side and picking up the pace, “c’mon it ain't far now, I’ll race ya.” He added, changing the subject. 

Arthur wasn’t afraid to admit he had killed people; he knew she would have left the gang a while ago had she felt she was in danger. But he worried about what she would think of him when he told her the whole truth. He felt like a fool; he wasn't pretending to be innocent, but he liked what he had with her. It was easy, it was natural, and he feared when she knew the truth, she would think differently of him, think less of him.

Kate yipped, and Lorena sprang into action, beginning their race along the final stretch to the ranch. As they rode, Arthur pulled on his reins ever so slightly, letting Kate take the lead. He watched as she whooped and hollered, riding past with a grin plastered on her face.

A heavy cloud settled over him; this wasn't just some silly horse race with a pretty lady. They were riding to collect a debt, a debt that needed to be repaid because his gang needed money. And money was what got them into this mess in the first place. If things had gone differently in Blackwater, they wouldn't even be here. Arthur shook his head at the memory, suddenly reminded of his situation. He’s a wanted man, an outlaw; he’s here on a job, and he would make damn sure it got done.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate admired the small ranch as they hitched their horses to a fence post out front. It was a cozy house with a neat garden, and sprawling plains for grazing animals. "Not a bad spot to make a living," she thought.

A woman sat on the porch swing, sewing something in her lap, while a young boy tended to the chickens nearby. In the garden, a man was busy with his vegetables. Arthur marched toward the man, presumably Mr. Downes, prompting Kate to quicken her pace to catch up.

"Thomas Downes!" Arthur's voice boomed, startling Kate. His tone was starkly different from how he usually spoke. She realized he was putting on a show of strength. Annoyed that he hadn't planned their approach together, she followed behind him.

“Thomas Downes!” He repeated, “you owe me money!” As Arthur swung open the garden gate with force, dirt kicked up into the air. 

Mr. Downes stood up, hands raised defensively, clutching a rake to his chest as if it were his shield against the impending confrontation, “oh, no-no I-I’m.” His voice trembled. 

Arthur approached him with heavy steps, each one more intimidating than the last, “c'mere you maggot,” he spat. With a swift motion, he ripped the rake from Mr. Downes' grasp, leaving Kate stunned into silence.  

"Please, sir, I-I have family, please," Mr. Downes pleaded, backing up against the opposite fence post. Kate followed them into the garden, her heart racing with unease as she witnessed Arthur's actions.  

As Arthur swung his fist into the man’s face, Kate gasped in horror. At the same moment, Mrs. Downes came running from the porch, her voice filled with desperation. "He’s not well! Please, mister, he’s not well!" she pleaded, her eyes wide with fear. She was about to join them in the garden when her son held her back, silently signaling that it was better for his father to bear the brunt of the punishment. Kate’s mouth tasted like vinegar, this was wrong. 

“You think I give a shit about your family?” Arthur spat, his voice dripping with contempt.  

“Why does it have to come to this?” Mr. Downes cried, shielding himself from Arthur's blows. “Please! Be reasonable!”  

“We ain't a charity, Mr. Downes,” Arthur lowered himself to the man's level, his tone softening slightly. “Believe me, I didn’t want this either,” he added quietly, his regret palpable.

With a forceful grip, he grabbed Mr. Downes by his collar and shoved him against the post, the impact enough to break one of his ribs.  

“That's enough, Arthur!” Kate roared, stepping closer, her eyes blazing with anger.

“I-I don't have the money,” Mr. Downes panted, struggling to catch his breath.  

Arthur looked around at the scene, his frustration evident. “Then sell your wife,” he spat out, his voice laced with malice, “sell your house, I don't care!” He raised a fist and stopped when he heard the familiar click of a revolver. 

He turned around to see Kate, pointing her gun at him, the expression on her face made his heart sink. There was no need for him to tell her the truth now, she saw everything she needed to see already. 

“I said, that’s enough,” she repeated, her voice firm. “Put him down.” Arthur released Mr. Downes, who collapsed to his knees, coughing up blood. His wife rushed to his side, her face etched with concern.

“You gonna shoot me?” Arthur's voice was filled with bitterness. “Shoot me and take the $5000? Huh? That's your plan,” he continued, growing more agitated with each passing moment. “Well, get on with it!” he shouted.

“How much does he owe you?” Kate's voice cut through the tension, devoid of emotion.

Arthur lowered his hands, “what?”

“How much does he owe you?” she repeated, her tone impatient.

“$20,” Arthur answered reluctantly.  

Kate holstered her weapon and pulled a wad of cash from her satchel, she counted out twenty bills and grabbed Arthur’s hand, shoving the money into his palm. 

“Here, no sense in killin’ a man over $20,” she turned to the family, “Mrs. Downes, I suggest you take that man to a doctor. I heard you say he was unwell, and he probably has a broken rib or two now.” 

Arthur stared at the money in his hand, his thoughts swirling like a storm. He wanted to hurl it to the ground and watch it burn.

The family lifted Mr. Downes and made their way to the wagon, “th-thank you,” she said, fear still evident in her voice. 

Kate watched them depart, her gaze lingering until the sounds of the wagon faded into the distance. Turning to Arthur, who stood before her like a statue carved from stone.

“What the fuck was that?” she scolded, her tone sharp like a whip.

Arthur opened his mouth, then shut it, grappling for words like a fish out of water.

“You don't even have a reason do you? Beatin’ on a sick man like that? For $20?” Kate’s voice rose with each question.

As the seconds passed by Arthur felt embarrassment creep up his spine, his shame quickly manifesting into anger. “We ain’t a charity,” he finally muttered, repeating what he had said to Mr. Downes. His voice barely above a whisper, struggling to maintain his composure.

“So you resort to killing him,” she remarked, her voice tinged with disappointment as she observed his expression.

“I’m an outlaw Kate, I shoot first, ask questions later,” he spat. 

“Yeah well that's a dumb fucken philosophy,” she retorted sharply , “you’re sure as shit an outlaw. But you ain’t a fucking monster Arthur. That man was sick , he had no way of defending himself. Strauss could’ve waited for his money.” She finished, striding towards her mare. The sense of disillusionment weighed heavy in her heart. She had glimpsed Arthur's tough exterior when they first met at Emerald Ranch, but she never imagined it would lead to this. It made her stomach churn.

“If you don't like the way we do things then you can leave,” Arthur's voice came from behind her, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Kate stopped in her tracks, why does this hurt so much? She’d known them for only a week, but the thought of leaving filled her with dread. It wasn't just the familiar and simple daily tasks of cooking and cleaning that anchored her to the camp; it was the friendships she had forged. They were the closest thing she had to a family in a decade.

She drew in a shaky breath and regained her composure, not turning to face him yet, “do you ever stop and think about what all this senseless killing will turn you into?” Before he could answer she finished for him, turning to meet his gaze, “When you kill an innocent, you become a little less of a man and little more of an animal.”

Without missing a beat Arthur had his answer, “then what you’re looking at ain’t human.” He sauntered over to Kate with slow purposeful steps. His anger was still present, but as he drew closer she saw the look in his eyes. They looked dead, and devoid of color. The sun was setting behind the mountains to the north, and a frigid wind brought in dark heavy clouds. As if the sky was a reflection of the turmoil in his heart. Darkness covered him like a blanket of shame. A heavy, suffocating blanket just waiting to bury the truth. 

“My hands are so stained with blood,” he began, his voice wavering, “that I can’t even remember the face of the first innocent I killed,” he drew in a breath and looked at his boots, “that ain’t something you can change.” 

The wind picked up, carrying tiny bullets of rainwater that tickled against her face. She watched him, and her heart panged. She wasn’t ready to tell him, and perhaps she’ll never get the chance to. But she related to the outlaw, more than she ever anticipated. Her mind raced, bringing back memories of faceless bodies and blood stained skin. Kate pushed the memory down, swallowing it like a spoon of molasses. 

“I don’t intend to change that,” her voice, sounding like a whisper against the heavy wind. 

“Then what do you intend Kate,” his voice sounded coarse, like his throat was thick, “why does a woman like you hang around a bunch of outlaws?” 

Now it was Kate's turn to gape like a fish, she still didn't understand herself why she chose to stay. She wanted to think of them as family but she knew it was absurd, and most of the gang probably wouldn't feel the same way. 

Arthur waited for her answer. “It’s better than being alone,” she finally said, thunder rumbled in around them like a giant beating a drum. “And I like them, they're good people.” She added feeling like an idiot for having no real reason for her to stay. 

Arthur sighed and shook his head, turning to leave. 

And suddenly, she realized the answer was walking away ,“and, I like you.” 

When his eyes met hers, they were pleading, like it pained him to speak to her. “Then you’re a fool Kate. There ain’t nothing to like about me. I’m a bad man, and I ain’t gonna change.” He spoke as if he were reciting a poem he had memorized, the words flowing with such ease one would think he was trained, no , he was raised to believe it was true. 

“I can’t escape this life. I don’t know how to live any other way,” he sounded like a small child. 

“I don’t believe that Arthur,” Kate knew there was good in him, she’d seen it. And she considered herself to be a living testament that it’s not too late to change. She wanted to shout at him, to embrace him, to beat his chest and tell him to pick himself up and break the cycle . 

Instead, she stood silently as Arthur shook his head once more, walked over to his horse, and left her at the ranch. Without a word. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The journey back felt like a whirlwind, the cold rain pelting down relentlessly, soaking Kate to the bone.  She looked up to the familiar sound of a rowdy piano and drunken laughter, and was surprised to see herself outside the Valentine saloon. Having not paid much attention to her ride, her mind racing with thoughts, almost all of them about Arthur.

“Guess I should take the hint huh?” Kate chuckled wearily to Lorena, patting the mare's neck as she dismounted. She tied her under a small awning, sheltering from the downpour while she went in for a drink. 

As she knocked the mud off her boots, a familiar voice called her name. She turned to see Charles waving from the nearby gun shop. In the dim light, his silhouette was unmistakable as he jogged over to meet her.

“I thought I recognized you riding in,” he greeted. “This storm’s a real beast. What brings you out here?” concern evident in his voice.

Kate contemplated her response. It's a long story, is what she wanted to say. “I could ask you the same,” she replied with a faint smile.

“I was just getting some supplies for hunting,” Charles explained, gesturing to the rain. “Planned on leaving tonight, but it seems I'm stuck here for now.” 

“Bummer,” Kate remarked, her exhaustion seeping through her words. She craved a neat glass of whiskey to warm her aching bones. 

Charles narrowed his eyes, sensing her distress. “Are you alright?” he asked gently. 

She looked down at her boots and sighed, no sense in lying to him. It was clear she was upset. And she had been looking to talk to Charles more anyway. 

“Honestly,” she huffed, “no, I’m not. Arthur and I collected a debt today and Arthur was just-” she trailed, unsure what to say. Charles was his friend, and she didn’t want to bad mouth him. 

Understanding washed over Charles's face as he nodded sympathetically. “Arthur was being Arthur,” he murmured.

Kate bit her lip, “yeah.” Her disappointment deepened as she realized she had Arthur all wrong. 

“Let me buy you a drink,” Charles suggested, holding the saloon doors open with a warm smile.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

In a secluded corner upstairs, Kate slouched in a rickety chair, whiskey warming her insides. Charles, equally deep in his cups, listened attentively as she recounted the events at the Downes ranch.

“And then he told me I shoot first, ask questions later ,” she mimicked in Arthurs familiar southern drawl, “it's barbaric!” 

He chucked taking a swig of his drink, “that’s a dumb fucken philosophy,” he agreed.

Kate laughed as she slammed her glass on the table, “that's exactly what I said!”

They both laughed together over the coincidence, Kate’s heart felt lighter. It felt good to vent to someone, someone other than the girls. Not that she didn’t love them, but Charles was refreshing, he was new, and he was close to Arthur. She felt safe knowing that Charles saw a different side of him too. 

His laughter quieted and went back to his usual deep comforting tone, “I’m sorry Kate, Arthur is,” he hesitated, searching for the right answer, “a complicated man.” 

“I can see that,” she said quietly, her face still hot from a mix of whiskey and laughter. 

“The man has a heart of gold,” he added, “but it's buried deep beneath his outlaw code.” 

Kate didn’t understand, Charles was part of the same gang, but even he disapproved of his code, “I don’t get it,” she began, the words seemingly harder to pronounce, “you’s an outlaw too.”

Charles shook his head, his gaze steady, “I am, and I’ve had my moments, I’ll admit,” he lifted a hand as if he were swearing on a Bible, “but I don’t hurt innocent people.” Kate said nothing, choosing to stare at the water stains on the wooden table, her drunken vision making them twist shape. 

He leaned in closer, “there’s a good man within him Kate. But he is wrestling with a giant, and the giant wins. Time, and time again.” 

She thought she mumbled something along the lines of I know what that is like but the words barely came out. A heavy tiredness taking over, the alcohol bringing her down like a vessel struck in water. Kate heard a chuckle from Charles, in the next moment he was under her arm and leading her to a room. 

“Stay here tonight, get some sleep on an actual bed,” he urged softly. Kate made no protest as her head sank into the feathered pillow. Her body melted into the sheets. 

“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he murmured from the doorway, “you should come hunting with me.” Kate tried to say yes, but all that came out was a hum, like a cicada quieting its song as darkness descended.

[foreverdolly]

godspeed your love | protective austin!elvis x reader

this is part three of the 'my bestest girl' series. i highly recommend that you read part one and part two before reading this one.

summary: you and elvis are driving back to graceland after a show in arkansas, when something happens that terrifies you both. having been so close to losing you, elvis throws his original plans for a flashy romantic gesture out the window. he knows for certain that he can't live without you, and having been so close to it? he can't bear the thought.

pairings: austin!elvis x reader

word count: 6,282

warnings/notes: SMUT! in previous and upcoming chapters, elvis is a simp but what's new in this series, just a whole lot of tooth aching fluff, i'm so excited to post the next part- can't even tell ya.

masterlist | requests are currently closed!

Elvis never could stand driving in a car without the radio blasting. After the show, not caring how his hair ended up, he rolled the windows down, singing along to the song “Unchained Melody” by Les Baxter. You would think that after a long night of performing that the man would grow tired of using his voice, but he was no better than a songbird. After the song had ended and the radio announcer began playing something else, Elvis reached out, turning the volume down on the radio. “I would love to perform that song one day. Whatcha think?” He turned his head, looking at you out of the corner of his eye before turning back towards the dark road. It was a hot spring night in Arkansas, and the wind felt good on your cheeks. You had tried tucking your hair behind your ears to keep it out of your face, but had given up after the first ten minutes of the drive. Elvis kept looking over at you, his cheeks a soft pink as he admired your beauty. You always looked so well kept- always had. You were raised up on good Southern values, and always took extra care in your appearance. Even before you started dating Elvis, you had been the belle of your school, which was probably why the ebony haired boy was always stuck to your side like glue. He had been too scared to let you out of his sight, even with the title of “best friend”, he never did like other boys around you. Elvis thought you were absolutely gorgeous like this. Your hair mussed, your eyes alight with excitement and adventure. You were just as high on the adrenaline as he was after the show, him having you sit on the stairs of the stage after the last little incident from the Fairgrounds tour. You preferred being down in the crowd so that you could have a better viewpoint of your beau. Alas, Elvis was extra strict in his protection over you after everything that had happened. 

“I think you’d sound wonderful, Elvis. Really! All it needs is a little more soul, and you’ve got plenty of that.” He smiled widely, lifting up in the seat so that he could get a good look at the rearview mirror to make sure that Scotty and Bill were following close behind. You turned your head too, searching for their headlights in the distance. Once he had made sure that his bandmates hadn’t gotten lost on one of the backroads, he turned back to face the empty road. “The building orchestra is beautiful, but I’d want to keep it a lil’ more simple. Just the piano- at least until the buildup of the song. If I sing it with enough heart, I don't need anythin’ fancy like that.” You nodded, leaning your head back against the cushioned headrest of his pink Cadillac. “A choir.” You hummed out, slipping your heels off so that you could tuck your feet underneath yourself, turning to face him with a wide grin. He sounded the best when he stuck to his roots. Even though you liked everything he ever sang, you felt like the Colonel was beginning to pull him in a new direction. He sounded godly when it was just him, Bill and Scotty- that rhythm guitar of Elvis’s shining through. His eyes quickly widened as he removed one of his hands from the wheel, snapping a few times before pointing at you excitedly. “I could give it more of a gospel feel. Jesus, baby! I’m marryin’ a genius.” You felt your cheeks flush a bright red, and you were quick to stare down at your lap. Even after the first night that the two of you had spent together, marriage had been something that had been discussed. Some would call the two of you crazy for moving so fast in your relationship. After knowing Elvis for so long, you knew what kind of a person he was. You were certain that he was the person for you, and he seemed even more convinced. He had been fully dedicated to you since day one. 

You were one of the only people that truly understood Elvis down to his very core. You saw him, and loved him for who he was, not what he did. When you had first met him back in school, the most he had done with his musical career was win fifth place at the Mississippi Dairy Fair singing “Old Shep” when he was ten. The man never doubted your intentions with him, and you never doubted his either. He was in a hurry to wed you, and he let your parents know his intentions after he dropped you off at home one night. It had only been the second official date the two of you had been on together, and he had walked straight up to the door and shook your father’s hand. Your dad had been shocked by Elvis’s sudden formalities, having known the boy since he was in the eighth grade. “I’m dating your daughter with the intention of marriage, and I wanted to get your blessing, sir.” Though both your father and mother had been stunned into silence by his bluntness, they had happily agreed. There was no one else that your parents had ever imagined you ending up with, and same with Gladys and Vernon. Gladys had called you up that very same night, letting you know that her boy had told her the good news. Elvis still hadn’t proposed yet, and you supposed that it was because he wanted to make it special. He was the type of man that put value behind everything he did. He never half-assed anything. Even if it was just a random board game, he always made sure to win. Sometimes he’d take that attitude a little too far, having you help him cheat during the card games he played with family and friends. 

Sometimes Elvis would drop hints that he would be popping the question soon, like right now. He liked to keep you on your toes though. Part of you felt like he was waiting until you moved in with him to finally ask you to be his wife. He had practically begged you to move to Graceland when he had first bought the house back in March, but your parents weren’t budging. No matter how many times you tried to explain to them that you wouldn’t be staying in the same room until marriage, they seemed to be against it. You weren’t married yet, so you weren’t allowed. Sleepovers every now and again seemed to be fine with them, especially whenever he was on the road. They knew that you would probably go crazy if you had to be without him for too long, and they respected that. Of course they didn’t know that the two of you had been sleeping in the same bed since the very beginning. You had lied and told them that the Colonel had gotten you a separate hotel room. 

What they don’t know won’t hurt them.

You enjoyed spending the weekends at Graceland. Your parents hadn’t been too keen with the idea of it. You had promised to call them routinely in order to quell their nerves. After getting nightly calls from both you and Gladys, they seemed to quiet down and get used to it. Letting you live there full time, seven days a week, was pushing it with them though. Your mother and father weren’t budging. Even Elvis’s mother had tried to reason with them, going out to lunch with your mother in the hopes of buttering her up to the idea. “So. . . Have your parents had a change of heart about Graceland? They’re invited to come over just to see it. Maybe if they saw how many rooms there were they might change their minds.” Your boyfriend reached out blindly, his hand searching for yours in your lap. You gave him a quick squeeze when he intertwined your fingers. “No matter what I say or do, my mother won’t seem to change her mind on it. She’s bein’ difficult.” When was she not being difficult though? You tried to ignore the disappointed frown that pulled at the corners of Elvis’s lips, but failed in doing so. You rubbed your thumb against the back of his hand, moving in slow circles. He seemed to relax after that. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed smoke curling up from over the hood of the car. You blinked a few times, wondering if it was perhaps just your mind playing tricks on you, but the smoke gradually began to thicken a bit. “Uh. . . Baby? Is it supposed to be foggy out right now?” Elvis turned to look at you like you were crazy. “It hasn’t rained or anythin’. I don’t see why there would be any fog out, why?” He squinted his eyes, trying hard to see exactly what you were looking at. His lips parted in shock when he finally noticed the grey cloud rising up from under the hood of the car. His blue eyes widened a bit before he groaned loudly. “I just want to get back home, god damn it!” He complained, pulling the car over.

 For a second the both of you were fully convinced that it was just a mechanical problem. Your father’s car had smoked up like that before, after it had gotten overheated. Back then all he had to do was wait for a couple minutes before cranking the thing back up. He was able to get it back to a shop, and all they had to do was pour more fluid in it. Your parents, prior to Elvis insisting that he bought them a new car, had the same car for nearly nine years. This car was brand spankin’ new, so there was no way that there could be something seriously wrong with it. Right? Elvis sat up in the seat so that he could reach over into the back, reaching for a jug of liquid that you thought must be the same sort of fluid that your father had used. You listened to him muttering to himself, cursing his own luck. “We’re not even near a damn hotel, so Bill and Scotty are going to have to drive us all the way home to Memphis. As much as I hate to say it, I don’t think I can stand being in the car with those knuckleheads for two hours.” You agreed with him. Elvis loved horsing around just like any boy his age, maybe even more so. He was one of the funniest men you’ve ever met- but Scotty and Bill took it too far sometimes though. They were extremely loud, and the two of you could only take them in small doses. You prayed to the heavens that you both could get the thing started back up. You weren’t too far away from Tennessee, and you had promised your parents that you would call them in the morning after you had gotten back to Graceland. 

Elvis kept rattling on, pushing your suitcases to the side so that he could search under the seats. “Where the hell is that damn coolant?” It was at that exact moment that the smoke began changing colors. Before your very eyes, what had once been a soft gray smoke soon turned into a thick black smog. Your heart began to pound loudly, panic soon seizing you. This wasn’t normal, was it? You were quick to reach out, turning the ignition off before it could get any worse, but it was too late. There was a soft popping noise from under the hood, and then an explosion so loud it made your ears ring. Elvis jumped so violently that his head hit the roof of the car, and he was quick to sit back down in the seat. Elvis yanked the door to the driver's side door open, hurling himself out onto the grass, his shoes slipping against the wet dirt as he tried to get over to your side. “Baby!” Never in your life had you ever heard him so panicked. You were frozen with fear as you saw the bright orange flames lapping up against the pink hood of the car, illuminating the pitch black backcountry road. “Y/N!” He screamed your name, yanking at the car door handle. It was the pure, unadulterated fear in his voice that snapped you out of whatever fear induced haze you had been in, and you were quick to reach out with shaky hands, trying to undo the lock. It kept slipping in your fingers, not budging. “T-The door is locked!” Elvis was crying now, his face twisted as he tried desperately to yank the door open, not having any leverage against the wet ground. You sucked in a deep breath, limbs feeling weak as you climbed over from the passenger seat to the drivers. You tried his door, but found that it must have locked automatically- some sort of newer safety feature with the fancy car. You were trapped. Both of the windows were open about halfway, but it wasn’t large enough for you to crawl through. “You’re going to be okay, darlin’. Okay? I’m gonna get you outta there.” It sounded like Elvis was hyperventilating, damn near talking to himself as a way to soothe his own panic. 

Because he had to get you out. You had to be safe. He had been doing such a good job at ensuring your constant protection ever since that incident from a couple of months back. Hell, the man was so crazy about your safety that he called your house phone every night that you weren’t by his side, wanting to hear your voice and know that you got home from work safely. The cab of the vehicle was beginning to grow stiflingly hot, and the smoke was making it difficult for you to breathe. “E-Elvis! E-Elvis, honey. . . it’s gettin’ hard for me to breathe.” Your boyfriend had run to the side doors, yanking on them for dear life. Nothing. “I’m going to break the window, baby. I want you to scoot back on the opposite side as far as you can. Cover your face.” Your foot hit the gearshift as you frantically pushed your body against the hot side of the car, pulling your knees up to your chest so that you could bury your face into your skirt. Elvis searched the ground on his hands and knees, looking for a rock big enough that he could use. After about twenty seconds he found what he was looking for. He gripped the thing as hard as he could, rearing his arm back before bringing it down against the window as hard as he could muster. You jumped as you heard it crack, shaking like a leaf as you heard the fire roaring just beside your ear. 

Were you about to die? Sure, you’d gotten yourself into trouble before, but never like this. The ebony haired boy ripped off his blazer, wrapping the fabric around his hand as he clawed at the broken glass, pushing it into the car so that you could safely climb through. “C-Come to me, baby. Come on, little one. I’ll pull you out.” Your hands got cut up by the shards of glass as you crawled over the leather seat, but you couldn’t even feel it with your adrenaline pumping the way that it was. Elvis’s hands were underneath your arms in the blink of an eye, and he yanked you so hard that the both of you fell to the grass. He clutched you to his chest with one arm, using his other to slide you both away from the car and into the forest-line behind you. He didn’t stop dragging the two of you backwards until the both of you were halfway into a bush. The man was shaking so hard that he was practically convulsing. Scotty and Bill showed up just thirty seconds later, having only been a mile behind the both of you. They had seen the fire from the top of the hill you two had been driving down, and had gunned it to get to the both of you. For a second all that the four of you could do was stare with wide eyes, both you and Elvis’s face stained with soot and tears. “How the hell did this happen?” Scotty asked when he shuffled over towards the both of you. He offered Elvis a hand, but he was too stunned to take it. Either that or he didn’t want to let go of you yet. He was holding you so tightly that it felt like your back might break, but you reveled in it. Elvis had saved your life. Elvis Aaron Presley had just saved your life. 

“I don’t know, man. I-I really don’t know. It was runnin’ just fine the entire way to the show, and then it just burst into damn flames! S-She nearly died…” He trailed off, squeezing you a little tighter to him before he slowly relaxed his arms. The shock was beginning to wear off of the both of you, soon being replaced by horror. You both could have been gravely injured in all of that, but other than some scraps and bruises, the both of you had come out of it just fine. Sure, your lungs hurt from inhaling so much smoke, but you were sure that it would be better within the next couple of days. You weren’t sure how Elvis had been able to act as quickly as he did, especially given the level of panic he must have been feeling in the heat of the moment. You slowly stood up on shaky legs, completely barefoot and grass stained. Elvis looked even worse than you did. Even his hair had mud in it. He was quick to reach out for your hand once he had stood up, not even bothering to brush himself off before he pressed your small hand against his chest. His heart was still beating a mile a minute, his pulse pressing hard against your palm. “I never want to go through anythin’ like that again,” Scotty and Bill started walking back to the car, realizing that whatever Elvis was currently going through, he definitely didn’t want them hanging around and listening to his vulnerability. The second that they were far enough away his bottom lip began to quiver. “I-I thought you were gonna die.” His voice cracked as he tried to hold back the tears. “I’ve never felt like that in my entire life.” Your boyfriend didn’t break down very often, but when he did it was only around you. You were the only one permitted to see him like this. 

“I thought I was gonna die too. . .” The fire was starting to die down, but you knew that the front seats were completely scorched by now. If you had been in that car just a minute more, there was no way you wouldn’t have been burned up by the fire. Either that or from smoke inhalation. Both of those possibilities would have been a horribly painful way to go, and the thought of Elvis having to see that happen to you? God, you had both been through something terribly traumatic. “Let’s get home, alright?” Graceland. Home. You wanted to go home and crawl into bed with Elvis and hold him as tightly as your bodies would allow. “Yeah, let’s do that honey.” Elvis started to walk to the car, but paused as he noticed that you weren’t wearing any shoes. He looked down at your dirt stained feet, biting down on his lower lip. Without saying a word he bent down, scooping you up into his arms so that he could carry you across the dirt and grass to the other car. He helped you inside, scooting in next to you in the back. “I’ll pay to have your car cleaned, Bill. Don’t mind the mess.” You two were absolutely filthy, and you were sure that the seats would look like a crime scene by the time that the two of you were back home. The boys brushed it off quickly, Scotty turning around in the passenger side seat to face the both of you. “It was already pretty filthy back there anyways, isn’t that right, Bill? After what the both of you went through, don’t even worry about it.” 

Most people would be surprised to learn that Elvis was a very polite and well mannered person. He was raised in a Southern Christian household, and he upheld those values, even with all of his newfound fame. He might have been five seconds away from a mental breakdown, but that didn’t mean he didn’t value his friend’s belongings. 

The four of you were only ten minutes into the drive, but your anxiety was mounting all over again. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to be in a car after everything that just happened. You had at least an hour and a half left into the drive, and you didn’t think you could mentally handle it. Elvis noticed your quivering, and was quick to look down at you, his eyes wide with worry. “B-Bill? Change of plans. The airport is about ten minutes from here. Can you drop us off?” The car plummeted into silence as the boys tried to grasp just what their bandmate was trying to say. “It’ll take you even longer to get home by plane than it would by car. Not to mention that your girl doesn’t have shoes. . .” Elvis shook his head, quickly turning down the offer. “I’ll make somethin’ happen. I can’t be in a car right now. My nerves are shot.” Your heart warmed as you realized that he was trying to blame this on his own feelings, and not yours. He knew how nervous you got about feeling like a burden or a bother. “I’m sorry, darlin. You’re okay with that, right?” He looked down at you, raising an eyebrow. For a second all you could do was smile at him, and he returned it, flashing you a knowing wink. You quickly nodded your head, excited to get the hell out of the car. 

Elvis stuck to his word. He made it happen. He was able to buy a pair of shoes off of a woman the second that he had entered the airport. The price? An autograph and a five dollar bill. The shoes were slightly big on you, but you made it work. The front desk clerk was shocked to see the state that the two of you were in, but Elvis quickly gave her a condensed version of the story, and after pulling some strings behind the scenes, you two were seated on a plane within the hour. It was a miracle. 

When you and Elvis finally arrived home, Gladys was already waiting up in the living room. “Mama? What in the hell are you doin’ awake at this hour?” Elvis asked as he shuffled in through the front door, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He had to hold you up, practically carrying you through the front door. You could barely keep your eyes open. “Elvis! Y/n! My babies!” She launched herself out of the chair she was perched in, wrapping her arms around the both of you in a hug that was so tight, you felt your upper back pop. “S-Satnin? You okay, momma? What’s got you actin’ like this?” Gladys was the type of woman that fell asleep around ten o’clock at night. She was a creature of habit. You hadn’t caught sight of a clock in the last three hours, but it had to be two in the morning. “I-I had a dream! About you two. Oh, it was awful. Something was wrong, and I wasn’t able to get to you in time. I told your daddy that it was an omen. I just. . . I just knew that somethin’ wasn’t right.” The second that Gladys had pulled away, both you and Elvis shot each other a look. ‘How did she know? No one had called her, had they?’ She rubbed her hands together nervously, looking at the state of you both. You two looked like absolute hammered shit. “What in sam hell happened to you?” The ebony haired male, at first, tried to play it off as simple car troubles. The roads were muddy, and the two of you got filthy. She wasn’t buying it for a skinny minute. She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently on the ground. “Don’t you lie to me, boy.” 

After giving you a quick glance he jumped into the story, explaining everything to her in detail. When he described how afraid for you he had been, the male teared up, unable to even put the horrific sight into words. “I could see the smoke building up in the car. I felt so helpless, mama. It was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t think I’ll be able to ride in a car for weeks.” And you didn’t think that you would be able to either. Being locked inside of that tiny space, hearing the fire crackling right by your ear and feeling the heat against your skin? It wasn’t something you think you’d ever be able to get over. Gladys held you in her arms as Elvis retold the story of the night's events, stroking your hair and placing kisses against your soot covered forehead. Finally, after Elvis was done, you turned your eyes up to look at him. It was obvious that he was overcome with emotion. Seeing you in that position, not knowing if he would be able to save you or not, had been a nightmare come true for him. “You kids are going to kill me one day. M-My heart just can’t take it.” Gladys grabbed onto your shirt, gripping you even tighter to her small, soft body. “It was a freak accident, mama. I don’t know of anybody that somethin’ like this has happened to.” She sniffled by your ear, slowly letting you go. You stood up a little straighter, moving to stand by Elvis’s side. His body was beginning to sag with exhaustion. “We’ll talk about this more in the mornin’, okay?” He reached down to take your arm in his, pulling you in the direction of the stairs. Gladys looked like she wanted to argue, but shuffled off in the direction of her and Vernon’s room. 

Elvis took his time cleaning you off in the shower, his hands running over your body delicately, washing away the grime of the night. He was gentle with you, touching each and every inch of you. He even insisted on washing your hair for you, making sure that no soap got in your eyes. When he touched you like this it wasn’t sexual. It was almost like he wanted to make sure that you were really there with him. That you were real. Sometimes Elvis would just touch you to touch you. There didn’t have to be any real sexual intensions behind it, he merely enjoyed the feel of your skin. Loved your warmth and your natural scent. Elvis had been in love with you for years, and the fact that you were there with him, loving him back? Well, that was the greatest gift in the world. You returned the favor, grabbing the bar of strong smelling soap, rubbing it against your hands. Once there were enough suds, you took his arm in your small hands, deciding to start there. 

Sometimes you thought that he might break, and it scared you. 

He was a gentle soul with a big personality. He was the type of person that had a deeper way of thinking than most normal people, and it was that constant pondering that got you all shook up in the worst of ways. You were scared that he might get lost in there someday, and that you might not be there to pull him out of the raging waters of his own head. He looked at you like he had a thousand things he wanted to say, but he barely talked throughout the entire shower. He just stared and stared, his hands brushing over your shoulders and down your arms. His fingers pressed against the tender skin under your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands. And then he’d press his palm against the middle of your chest, searching for a heartbeat. You two stayed like that for a few minutes, the warm water running over both of your faces. His long eyelashes blinked against the droplets, fighting so that he didn’t have to close his eyes. He wanted to keep looking at you. 

Wordlessly he pulled away from you and grabbed a towel, and instead of drying himself off first, he reached out for you, pulling you into his arms so that he could tenderly begin drying you. Only after you were completely dry and no longer shivering from the cold did he finally scrub the towel against his dark locks. “Are you alright?” You finally asked, reaching up to pull the towel away from his face. The plush yellow fabric was wrapped around the top of his head, his body still dripping wet, and he stared down at you through his thick lashes. His eyes were sad, his lips slightly pursed. “Yeah.” His voice wavered, and he cleared his throat before nodding. “Y-Yeah. I’m fine, baby. Just thinkin’.” When was Elvis not thinking? You merely nodded your head, grabbing the robe that Elvis had bought for you off of the back of the door and wrapping it around yourself. After tossing the towel down the dirty clothes shoot he opened up the door, padding across the carpet to his bedroom. He liked to keep it pitch black, the thick curtains already drawn shut. You squinted your eyes to see him through the dark, and slowly crawled into the bed. You could barely make out his form, but somehow he still managed to see you. He slipped the robe off of your shoulders before moving down to undo the knot at your waist. “I want to feel you tonight, baby. I won’t try nothin’.” Your parents would die if they knew that you had only ever slept with Elvis in his bed. His parents must have known that he didn’t have you sleeping in the spare bedroom upstairs, but thankfully they never mentioned it to your parents. If anything, they were nice enough to uphold the lie, saying you only ever stayed in the guest rooms during your time at Graceland. Elvis kept his word, pressing up against your naked body with his. Large hands moved against your stomach, then down your thigh, lightly gripping at your flesh. Finally he spoke up, sharing the thoughts that were plaguing him. He did this often. He had to sort through his feelings before he finally found the nerve to share something of a severely serious nature with you. 

“I can’t live without you. I’ve always known that you would be the love of my life. Always been certain of it. Now that I’m with you though. . . I don’t think I can spend a single day without you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, shuddering out a breath. “I feel the same way.” You mumbled, rubbing your cheek against the arm that he had rested beneath your head. He pulled you even tighter against his front, your rear end pressed tightly against his pelvis. Like two pieces of a puzzle, you fit snug against him. “I mean. . . I-I wanted to do this a better way, baby. I had a whole plan, but I don’t think that I can wait any longer. I w-went to your house last week. You were out shopping with mama.” Your eyes shot open as you remembered how strange it was for Gladys to call you up, wanting you to help her pick out a new vacuum cleaner. You know how clingy the woman was, and she had told you that Elvis had made plans with the Colonel that day. You merely thought that she didn’t want to go out alone, and thought nothing of it. 

Why would Elvis go to your house without telling you? You could only think of one reason. . . “You went to my house?” You mumbled, your lips brushing against his arm. Your face felt numb, and your hands shook as you gripped onto the pillow. He tightened his hold on you, pressing his forehead against the back of your head. You felt him nod, his nose nuzzling into your wet hair. “I had lunch with your daddy. I-I told him that. . . that I bought you a ring.” Your breath locked up in your throat. “O-Oh. . . Elvis.” Your heart began to pound in your throat. “I told him that I wanted you to live with me. That I wanted you to marry me, and be the mother of my children. I told him that fame wasn’t gonna change me none. T-That I will always love you. Stay true to you. Provide for you.” You couldn’t believe that this was all happening. You were in shock. He gave the back of your head a kiss before he sat up, untangling himself from you so that he could reach into his bedside table. You heard the drawer open and close, and slowly you sat up, turning to face in the direction of his voice. “I-I want to be able to see you.” You stuttered out, trying to fight off the tears that you were sure to soon shed. Wordlessly Elvis opened up the heavy curtains, moonlight pooling in. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of laying in the darkness, you were able to see him. Your pretty boy. His skin looked paler than normal in the moonlight, and his hair was so black it was practically obsidian. His eyes were pooling with emotion, but he looked so sure of the things that he was saying. The two of you were only twenty-one, but classmates of yours had gotten married far younger. You were ready. 

He was gripping a velvet box in his hand, and he slowly eased himself back down into the bed, reaching out for you. You intertwined your fingers, looking down with wide eyes at the box. “I’ve loved you from the moment I first set eyes on you. A day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t thought about you- even just once. You’ve been my main source of strength, even through all of this recent craziness. You’ve always been there for me when I needed you most, Y/n. I want to grow old with you and make a life with you. I want you to take my last name. S-So. . .” He removed his hand from yours so that he could lift the lid of the box. It could have been a ring that he had gotten you from a gumball machine, you didn’t care. It was the way he spoke so softly to you, almost as if he was unsure of what your answer might be.

It was almost like Elvis still didn’t know how much you truly adored him. Despite the fame, he was still a man. A man that had been in love with the same girl since middle school. A man that still had to pinch himself, in fear that he might be dreaming. 

The ring, even in the dim lighting, was gorgeous. The diamond itself was bigger than anything you’d seen before. Your lips parted as you tried hard to fully grasp the situation . You could tell that he was beginning to lose some of his bravery, finally being able to get a good look at you. “W-Will you do me the honor of becomin’ my wife?” For a second you just sat there, your arms limp at your sides as you stared up at his face. You felt like you were in a state of shock. This was a better proposal than you could have ever asked for. None of it was for show. There was nothing flashy, no clapping spectators or crying family members. It was just you and Elvis. It made you think about the first night the two of you had shared together, back in his old house in the projects. You reached out for him, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders, placing kiss after kiss on his neck. “Yes!” He melted as he heard your answer, his tense muscles relaxing as he realized that he wasn’t being rejected. “Oh god, honey.” Elvis breathed out, laughing nervously. He must have dropped the box onto the bed, because he wrapped both of his arms around you, one of his hands tangling into your hair. “I was scared you were gonna say no for a second there.” You sniffled, laughing through your tears in disbelief. “As if I could ever say no to you, Elvis.You never had anythin’ to be worried about. Don’t be silly.”

@bookklover23 @medleyj @idkwhattthisisss @dharnwjs @slutforsomegoodlettuce @crackerbarrelslut @macey234 @nightfiress @keepdrivingrr @melodydior @luvvrrrrr @mymamalife @wwebby657 @shynovelist @ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic @hangmanswhore @jyvnho @alqvarde @bcofl0ve @mslizziesblog @ggxsan @screaching-cookie @fantuhsise @areuirish @hxllvely @lelifesaver @milaa24 @meladollsims @poppet05 @shrekstheloml @randomwriter888 @idc123sworld @vane28282 @mirandastuckinthe80s @girlblogger2002 @rockerchick05 @screechingstrawberrysong @simpforevery1 @girlabirla @dre6ming @obetrolncocktails @fairyjanes @jensenswinchester @lo-bells @in-my-body-bag @fxntxsix @petrparkrslut @eliseinmemphis @abloversblog @gwuide @blurredcolour @the-little-red-haired-girl @thella @anni-secret-account-75 @ab4eva @starcatchxr @hllfireandtheforce @obbsessivereader @marthablake @julietamidala @unsaidjaelinrose @dark-as-love @lucy27055 @cchl @austinsrealgf @austinbutlersgirlfriend @clearbolts @seventieswhore @silkeiy

[hellfirenacht]

Players Wanted: Session 0

Fic Summary: Various Readers ask to join Hellfire. Eddie Munson x Reader

A new semester meant that Hellfire Club was now open for new members again. It was rare that anyone new joined Hellfire in any permanent capacity during the Spring semester, but not completely unheard of. Grant had shown up in the middle of Spring his freshman year, having been a transfer from outside of Hawkins after all. 

But this wasn’t just any Spring semester, this was the Spring Semester of 1986, baby! This was Eddie’s final year, the finish line, everything that he had worked so damn hard for over the past six years. Nothing was going to stop him, not Higgins, not his dad, not this damn town that was turned against him. 

This was finally going to be his year. 

And with this being his year, Eddie had been working hard on his final campaign. This was going to be his grand finale, one that he had been pouring his heart and soul into over the past few months. The Cult of Vecna. 

Of course, with this being the end of an era for Hellfire Club, Eddie wanted to go out with the best party imaginable. He was going to throw everything he could into this, be as sadistic and hard on his players as he could. They could handle it, they’d been playing with him long enough that he knew exactly what they could handle. His little sheepies weren’t about to back down from a challenge. 

The new semester also meant refreshing club applications for the last time. Normally Eddie didn’t bother, if it wasn’t broke then don’t fix it. The applications had stayed the same over the last few years. HELLFIRE CLUB. ADVENTURERS WANTED. Fill out your name, race, and class and come by the drama storage room on Friday. 

This wasn’t amateur hour though, and Eddie wasn’t here to babysit any new players. For this last campaign, he wanted everyone in his party to be on the same level, same playing field, same knowledge of the rules, so a little tweaking was in order. 

ONLY EXPERIENCED ADVENTURERS!

If he was going to be completely honest with himself, even if someone showed up with minimal knowledge he’d probably still let them in. He needed to train the future leaders of Hellfire how to handle the next generation of Freaks anyway. Jeff wasn’t the most patient with newbies, but he’d have to learn. Gareth was also starting to ask questions about DMing now, and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how Hellfire would fare after Eddie’s graduation. 

If someone showed real interest, then they’d be allowed in. Which brought Eddie to the second new addition to the application. 

*Give this completed form to Eddie Munson in the Hawkins highschool lunchroom 

There. He’d had his share of bogus applicants in the past, just trying to be funny and waste his time. If you were going to join the Freak Show, you were going to show up center stage and ask the Dungeon Master himself. 

Satisfied, Eddie took the stack of applications and set them on the table in the main hall of the high school, next to the other stacks of applications for all the other clubs in school. 

As he turned the corner to head to his first period, he didn’t notice another person pick up the Hellfire Club application... 

Welcome to my mini series! Each chapter will have a different type of Reader asking to join Hellfire club! I am trying to keep it to one type of reader per chapter, so one Shy, one Popular, one Cheerleader, one Freak, etc! However I really want this to be interactive, so either fill out the form and drop it in my inbox or leave a comment to let me know what kind of Reader you want to see, and you’ll get more likely to be picked if you give me more detail! 

-----

Master List

And if you’re thinking “Rachel, don’t you have like, 4 other series you should be working on?” think about other things instead, please. 

Welcome to Hellfire. 

[the-lonelybarricade]

The Other Side Of The Apocalypse

What would you trade the pain for?

Summary: One last grand adventure. Rhysand had promised his father that after this final journey, he would take a wife and resign himself to inheriting his title. As it turned out, Rhysand had other plans, and so did the huntress he'd encountered in the village.

Note: If you've missed Rhys being dumb and horny, then @separatist-apologist and I have a treat for you!

Read on AO3 ・Previous Chapter・Masterlist

Chapter 6/10: Hurricane Heat In My Head

The chains returned to Rhysand in his sleep.

He knew, even as he thrashed against them, that they were not real. Suspended in darkness with no beginning and no end, there was only Rhysand and the icy slither of those chains, constricting around him like serpents of black, heavy stone.

They bit into his skin, drawing lacerations across his biceps, his thighs, his chest, and as he screamed into the oblivion that held him, there was no response. Not even the echo of his own pain.

Blood welled and dripped from his wounds. It was the only color he could see—a dark, foreboding red. The same that rippled in wine and glinted jewels. The color of sharp nails and long, draping hair. Where had he seen something like that before? He swore he could hear sinister laughter on the cusp of his memory, a phantom of a woman with a cruel smile.

She was not real. This place, these chains. None of it was real.

Except for the fear. He could feel it pulsing through him—a second, rampant heartbeat, as if he’d swallowed a war drum that rallied every dormant instinct inside him. Their singular cry pumped through his blood until it leaked out through his wounds, whimpering: Run. Run.

RUN.

Rhysand sat up in bed, gasping. Red light leaked over the horizon, spilling onto the sky and snow in both directions, warmer and altogether gentler than the scarlet that invaded his dreams, but… He placed a hand on his thundering chest, calling for it to still the way he might soothe a spooked stallion.

He was reminded of the stories he’d heard in childhood of men who wandered into Prythian only to be driven to madness. Was this how the minds of those men began to deteriorate? It was dreadful to think that a sunset could unnerve his unconscious mind so greatly. But he couldn’t deny he was apprehensive. A new court awaited him, and he could only assume its dangers were more perilous than the last.

This could be my last sunrise, he thought. He rubbed at his naked chest, absently tracing the whorls of ink and the dread he felt roiling beneath them. He wished, not for the first time, that Feyre hadn’t slept in a different room.

At least then, Rhys could have faced death knowing he’d had the chance to wake up beside her without the fear that one of them was dying. He resolved he would survive this next Court just to have that pleasure. He wouldn’t die without kissing her.

If nothing else, the Mother owed him that much.

He bathed and dressed, rueful that Feyre wasn’t there to taunt him all the while. Privacy was all he’d craved at the start of their journey—was one night apart really all it took? It was absurd and yet he was so agitated that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Where she was, how she slept, if she was awake… if she had company.

The thought struck him violently, causing Rhys to shut his door with too much force as he slipped out of his room. A servant at the end of the hall gasped and dropped their tray of neatly folded bedding.

“Shit, I’m s—“

Their snow-white hair disappeared around the corner, fleeing the hall before he could finish his apology. That was another strange thing. Faeries wary of a human. Rhys supposed he had killed two of their High Lords, the most powerful fae in their lands. He had the marks to prove it, though they were hidden beneath his layers of fur-trimmed clothing.

He was reminded of his sister’s shrill cry whenever a spider had the misfortune of crossing her path.

Rhys! Kill it! Kill it!

They were such small, feeble creatures compared to the size and might of a human. He used to tease her for it.

What are you afraid it’s going to do? Eat you?

But he would always kill them anyway. Because she was scared, and he loved her, and he knew no matter how meager the threat, he’d quell it to soothe her fear.

Tarquin, Kallias, even Eris. They seemed to love their people.

He might survive Dawn, Day, and Night. He might very well liberate all seven Courts. But he knew, as he kicked the servant’s fallen silver tray aside and watched light streak off its surface, that he would not be returning to the mortal lands. Either a monster would kill him, or…

Feyre. He needed to see Feyre and talk to her about all of this. The need gripped him like a fist around his chest. He couldn’t breathe as it pulled him, some vestige of that infernal chain, begging him to find her, to see her, to ensure she was safe.

From the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d felt an inexplicable urge to protect her. But it was worse now, after almost losing her. He knew the glaze of her eyes slipping from the world, and he would do anything to never witness that horror again. He also knew that if he revealed any of this to her, she’d gut him for assuming she needed anyone’s protection.

Rhys stopped outside the front hall, taking a moment to compose himself. The corridor was empty, and apart from the faint torrent of wind clawing at the palace’s bastioned exterior, his beating heart was the only sound.

Then, voices. Distant at first. But in the great, open hall, they carried to him easily.

“I just think we should give him more time before the Solar Courts.”

His heart rate quickened. That was Feyre’s voice, tense and limned in such rare candor that he couldn’t resist ducking through one of the many doors lining the hallway.

A deep, rumbling voice drifted through the thin gap Rhys left in the door. “More time for what, exactly?”

Cassian.

“To rest. We almost died in Winter—I almost died. He’s… we’ve both been through a lot. He needs time to restore his strength.”

Cassian’s voice was gentle if a little prying. “Or maybe you need time. What’s troubling you, Fey?”

“Nothing.”

Liar. Rhys could perfectly imagine the stubborn set to her jaw, the way she squared her shoulders and raised her chin in defiance. But there was no hiding the strain in her voice.

“He’s gotten this far,” Cassian reasoned. “I talked to him last night, and I swore I could feel the spirit of Enalius standing over his shoulder. He’s going to make it through all seven Courts. I can feel it.”

Silence hung in the air.

“Unless…” The word rumbled through the corridor. “That’s exactly what you’re afraid of.”

Feyre’s voice was hoarse. “Cass—“

“We need him, Feyre. He’s our only shot at freeing Nes—“Cassian’s voice cracked. He took a moment to clear his throat. “He’s the only one who can free them, Feyre.”

“I know.” She sounded miserable. “And that’s why I just think we should just give him time—“

“I don’t need time.”

They both turned as Rhys pushed through the door. Cassian raised a brow towards the study Rhys departed, looking uncertain whether to be angry or amused that he’d been eavesdropping.

Feyre was staring at him, looking exactly as stubborn and defiant as he’d imagined. He thought the thing lashing in his chest would settle at the sight of her, but it only pulled harder, twining so tightly that he thought he couldn’t breathe as those starry eyes dressed him down and narrowed to crescents. Her pretty, bow-shaped lips were pursed just enough that he thought he could kiss her scowl away if she let him close enough to try.

He mirrored her crossed arms in an attempt to reign himself in, and said with a cocky grin, “That was the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. I’m ready to take on anything those High Lord bastards throw at us.”

It’s okay, he wanted to tell her. I already know they won’t let me live by the end of this. At least let me save your sisters.

Feyre pressed her lips flat together. Sadness flickered in her eyes, so brief he would have thought he imagined it had his heart not plummeted in tandem. He knew that grief. He still choked on it whenever he passed the ribbons shop in the village, confronted with the unbidden memory of crouching on a lowered stool, braiding satin through his sister’s hair until his back was stiff. The years could muddy the details—the colors of the ribbons and the words they exchanged in those long hours—but never the pain.

Rhysand dropped his arms, intending to comfort her, but whatever sadness had been in her eyes vanished. Only cold, glittering calm remained.

“If you’re ready, then there’s no sense wasting time.”

In reality, he would have very much liked that time with Feyre. Even just a day to know her without the threat of dying. But he would not be the one responsible for losing her sisters. He would do anything in his power if she could escape that grief.

“Let’s go,” he agreed.

Cassian punched a hand into his palm. “I hope it’s another beast,” he said, with an excitement neither of the humans in his company shared. “I’ve been itching to get back in action.”

-

They stayed long enough to have breakfast, a bountiful spread of hot and cold dishes presented to them in the High Lord’s personal dining room. Cassian helped himself to a sizable portion of each dish: smoked fish, pickled vegetables, fresh bread, and a collection of cheeses, each more potent than the last.

Rhysand ate a bit of the fish and bread in the interest of keeping up his strength, though he didn’t have much of an appetite. The gods knew what horrors he would face in Dawn and whether he’d even be able to hang on to his breakfast by the end of it. Feyre seemed in an equally sullen mood, pushing her food around her plate without saying much of anything to anyone.

Kallias seemed relieved to see them go and consequently was more than happy to winnow them to the door to Winter. The blizzarding snow had carried away any evidence of the creature they’d disemboweled. But Rhys could still hear Feyre’s scream against the wind, and he remembered the way her body crumpled against the pine tree, how the beast’s blood warmed his clothes.

She was fine now, squinting against the winter onslaught, her cheeks a bright, healthy color thanks to the benefit of warm clothes and fae healers. Even so, Rhys prompted her to enter the tunnel first, prepared to withstand the blow of any winter beast that wandered by.

There was only Kallias, his fair skin and lighter hair nearly blending into the Winter landscape at his back.

“Thank you for helping my Court,” he said, fisting a hand over his heart. He bowed low enough to make Rhys feel unsettled.

“Thanks for hosting us.”

It didn’t feel like an equivalent debt, but Rhys was unsure what else to say.

Kallias raised to his full height. “Good luck in the Solar Courts.”

You will need it was an unspoken addition, though expressed nonetheless in his grim smile. He nodded farewell to each of them, then vanished in a flurry of ice crystals.

“Shut the door,” Cassian complained. “It’s fucking freezing.”

Rhysand didn’t need to be told twice. He was happy to say goodbye to this Hell-sent Court and never look back.

“What were you doing in Winter, anyway?” He asked with a grunt as he hauled the stone door shut.

The howling wind immediately seized. Rhys blinked against the sudden darkness, taking in the vague, hulking shape of Cassian and Feyre’s much slighter shadow just a step away. It was a ridiculous impulse, but he found himself reaching out to press his palm to the small of her back. He considered it a victory that she didn’t immediately flinch away.

It was cold enough that Cassian’s sigh expelled a cloud of air in front of him. “Azriel and I were on reconnaissance, searching for… a cure. We got trapped in Winter when the borders closed.”

Rhysand frowned. “A cure for what?”

Against his palm, he could feel Feyre tense.

Cassian stared hard down the tunnel. At his side, his hands turned into fists so tight that the brown skin over his knuckles turned pale. “These seals you’re destroying, it’s true that their magic impacts the wellbeing of each of the Courts, but their true purpose was precautionary; to prevent us from lifting the curse placed on the Night Court.”

“And the curse—”

“Enough.” Feyre’s voice sliced through the tunnel. Cold and authoritarian in a way that sent a perverse thrill down Rhysand’s spine.

He didn’t have time to linger in the fantasy of how Feyre might use that voice in the bedroom before she was striding down the hall, each step reverberating against the stone walls.

Cassian winced before pitching his voice in a whisper, “Tread carefully bringing the curse up around her. Tamlin’s the bastard who betrayed all of us, but Feyre… She feels responsible for what happened to the Night Court. To her sisters.”

“I wish she told me,” Rhys said, watching her retreating figure with open dismay. Cassian offered a wry smile, clapping a sympathetic hand on Rhysand’s shoulder before he turned to catch up with Feyre.

Every time Rhys was starting to feel like he knew her, he uncovered a new layer of secrecy. He felt as if he were perpetually wiping the fog away from a mirror and it was beginning to feel doubtful that he would ever see a clear image of who Feyre Archeron was.

He only gave himself a moment to dwell on it. Then he was jogging to catch up with Feyre and Cassian, determined to be the first to step through the Cauldron-damned door this time.

In an effort to return to some sort of normalcy, he asked, “No Eris to wave us off before the next Court?”

Cassian snickered. “I doubt Eris will be leaving his quarters for at least a week.”

“A week?” Feyre snorted. “If Az has any say, it will be months before we see Eris again.”

“Doesn’t he have a court to run?”

Cassian and Feyre shared a look. It was the sort of mutual understanding that could only be found through years of knowing another person. Rhys resisted the urge to ask, but the question burned his tongue. How long has Feyre’s life been intertwined with Prythian?

“You have no idea what it’s like,” Cassian said, finally. A shadow passed over his features. “To be separated from your mate for that long… it’s enough to drive even someone like Eris Vanserra to extremes.”

“Mate?”

Rhysand could guess what that meant. The way that animals found mates. But there was a reverence to the way Cassian said the word that gave him pause.

“A mating bond is the deepest connection you can have with another living soul. They’re your perfect match, your equal in every way. A bond more significant than any vow, even marriage.”

“I see.”

“I doubt it,” Cassian said, not unkindly. “You think you understand it, but…” He shook his head, a far-off look in his eyes. “It’s not until you feel it snap. Until one look at them brings you to your knees. Your entire world, reoriented to their gravity.”

Rhysand was putting everything together too slowly. “Nesta’s your mate.”

There was a strange mixture of grief and pride on his face as Cassian nodded. Rhysand didn’t have the courage to ask if that meant Feyre had a mate, too. Had it been Tamlin? He knew his glance towards her was anything but subtle.

Feyre was glaring ahead, the door to the Dawn Court now in view. It was carved from bright red stone, light spilling from its gaps as though it were single-handedly holding back the might of the sun.

“Are you ready?” Feyre asked, to no one in particular.

Rhys stepped forward, placing his palms against the smooth stone. It was surprisingly warm to the touch. He heaved the stone forward, exposing the tunnel to the torrent of red light waiting impatiently on the other side.

Squinting against the brightness, Rhysand’s hand fell to his sword, readying for another beast. There weren’t any tell-tale signs. No distant roaring or eerie quiet. He expected they would find themselves in another isolated area separate from the rest of the Court. But in fact, as Rhysand’s eyes adjusted, he found himself staring at the deck of a lowered drawbridge. Two guards stood on either side of the gatehouse, wearing royal red and gold livery.

The doors were open on the other side of the iron gate, revealing the fae milling about their day through the gaps in the latticework. The first thing he noticed was the flood of warm, humid air. Not quite as smothering as it had been in the Summer Court, but oppressive enough that he was already sweating in his fur-lined clothes.

After enduring the extreme weather in each of the seasonal courts, Rhysand had nearly forgotten that the Mortal Lands were in the peak of summer when he and Feyre left. Was Dawn also in summer eternal, or was it aligned with the changing seasons of the human realm?

Rhys angled his head toward the sky, marveling at the scarlet clouds that domed over the land in every direction, betraying not a single sliver of blue. Rhys was certain it had been midday when they left Winter, but he couldn’t discern if the sun was somewhere behind the glowing red haze or if it was still nestled beyond the horizon. He supposed that if seasons were eternal in the previous courts, then in the Dawn Court, it must always be sunrise.

Feyre was frowning at the sky, too. He might have studied the oddity longer had his interest not fixed on the way the red light painted her skin the most alluring shade of pink. Like him, she must have been overheating in the Winter clothes. He could see sweat shining at her temple, giving the impression she was glowing. And with her neck arched upwards, practically in invitation, he thought it would be all too easy to lean forward and trace the column of her throat with his tongue.

The only thing stopping him was the pair of guards quickly moving towards them. The blade strapped to her hip might have also been a deterrent, but he found he minded the idea of Feyre pulling a knife on him less and less.

She cast him a quick glance as the guards approached, one that read, Step away and keep your mouth shut.

As the guards stumbled to a halt midway across the bridge, Rhysand noticed they seemed a bit… frazzled. With the borders newly opened, he imagined they were among the first visitors that Dawn had received in years. Humans, no less.

“Feyre Archeron,” one of them said, with what Rhys thought might have been awe.

They ought to be awed at the sight of her. A firestorm of a human woman swallowed in white furs and staring down two armed faeries as though she had nothing to fear.

She tipped her chin. “Tell Thesan that the Cursebreaker is here.”

“The High Lord is expecting you already,” the guard answered. He shouted over his shoulder at the guards in the gatehouse.

A small commotion flitted through the slit windows of the barbican above the gateway, followed by the clink and drag of chains. The metal grating lurched, and Rhysand flinched at the screeching sound of stone scraping together as the golden gate ascended into the tower above. How the guardsmen could stand the noise with their fae hearing was a mystery.

The guard gestured them forward with a jerk of his chin. “The captain will escort you to the palace.”

Great, Rhysand thought upon seeing the male in golden armor, already waiting for them on the other side of the gatehouse. Another handsome faerie staring at Feyre like she was his next meal. Rhys found himself drifting closer to her as they walked through the gates, prepared to draw his sword if the faerie’s smile proved deceitful. In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Cassian hide a smirk.

“Oryn,” Feyre said with a smile that erred closer to politeness than familiarity. This wasn’t someone she knew well, at least. “Thank you for coming to meet us.”

The male’s wings shifted, tucking closer to his body. Unlike the wings Cassian and Azriel bore, Oryn’s were more avian in nature, feathered and shaped like a white dove’s. “I wish we were meeting under better terms, Cursebreaker.”

Feyre’s eyes drifted back toward the red clouds above. “The sky—”

“We’ll discuss it once we’re in the palace.”

Rhysand wanted to snap at the male for interrupting her, but Feyre chose to simply nod her head and press her lips together. She kept her eyes on the red mist above, cautious. As if she suspected a rift would open at any moment and present some horrible creature for them to slay. Rhys flexed his fingers above his sword. He trusted Feyre’s instincts. If she sensed something was wrong, he knew better than to question it.

The captain led them through a series of narrow pink-stoned streets. They were built on a steep incline and boarded on either side by red-roofed buildings. Some billowed smoke into the sky from their chimneys, and Rhys watched as the white clouds rose into the sky above, only to turn a foreboding scarlet color the moment it breached the layer of mist.

He stepped closer to Feyre and murmured to her, “I take it the sky isn’t usually red.”

“The Solar Courts adhere to the laws of nature,” Feyre said back, a certain tightness to her voice that sent warning bells blaring in his head. “The High Lords can’t control the sun’s path or strength. The Courts observe day and night the same as the human realm.”

Rhys exhaled a deep breath. “Please don’t tell me we have to fight something in the sky.”

Cassian, who had clearly been listening in, cut them a wolfish grin and flexed the batlike wings towering over his shoulder. “It’s a good thing you brought me along. Illyrians specialize in aerial combat.”

It was difficult to feel soothed by that fact when all Rhys could picture was needing to be cradled by one of the winged fae while he battled some beast on wings. Hardly the dashing heroics he’d want to recount to an audience once this was all over.

Feyre pursed her lips. She was scanning the city as they passed, tracking each of the fae that quickly moved aside, giving their retinue a wide berth. He noticed some High Fae, like Eris and Tarquin, but the far majority of them were lesser fae, sporting the same feathered wings as Oryn. Feyre didn’t say anything, but he practically heard the observation she was making—for a city filled with winged people, it was strange that there was not a single person in the sky.

Especially when the route to the palace proved to be rather… intensive.

“You’re kidding me.”

They stopped at the entryway to the palace: a double set of doors with stairs that spiraled up, up, up into the towering mountainside. Rhys craned his head to trace the towers and spires that rose high into the mountain, so tall that their peaks disappeared into the red mist.

Cassian let out a low whistle. “And I thought the steps to the House of Wind were brutal.”

“The great Illyrian warrior, felled by a few thousand stairs?” Feyre teased.

A few thousand was putting it lightly. Suddenly, Rhys missed Eris’s abrasive winnowing tactics.

Oryn grimaced. “We are a flying people, and as such, we have built a great deal of architecture above the clouds.”

Cassian eyed the captain’s wings, “And we can’t fly them up because…?”

The captain made no effort to hide his grief as he answered, “Because flying is forbidden.”

The red stones on Cassian’s gloves sparked and flickered, a mirror to the outrage blazing in his eyes. His chest puffed, and he took a deep breath as though he were about to demand an explanation when Feyre pressed a palm to his shoulder. It was remarkable to watch—how that small, simple touch from a human girl somehow managed to reign in the fury of an ancient fae warrior. Again, Cassian looked at her, a million things exchanged between them in that short glance.

He huffed, tucking in his wings as he strode towards the staircase. “Good thing I had a big breakfast.”

Rhysand supposed now was as good a time as any to begin disrobing. Perhaps it made him incivil as a visitor to this court, but if he was going to climb up an entire damned mountain, there was no way he was doing it covered in heavy fur. He was coated in sweat from just the walk.

“Really?” Feyre placed her hands on her hips as he pulled the parka over his head and discarded it on the ground. “You’re doing that here?”

“Were you hoping I would wait until I was in your bedroom?”

Over her shoulder, Cassian placed a hand over his mouth from where he’d turned to wait for them.

The blue in Feyre’s eyes was muted under the red light, turning them more gray than usual, but just as piercing. Rhysand held his breath as her gaze raked over his exposed skin, from the planes of his muscular chest, down his corded abdomen, to the slant of his hips, where he noticed her eyes track the path of hair that disappeared under his waistband. And lingered.

Rhys wanted to make a joke, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He was still overwarm from the Winter clothes, and it wasn’t helping that Feyre was staring at him that way—as if she were debating dragging him into the nearest dark alcove to put her lips where her eyes were. It wasn’t a bad idea. He wouldn’t mind pushing Feyre against the stone wall and tangling her hair around his fist. Heat itched up his skin at the fantasy. It felt keenly as though he were back in the Autumn Court, confronting the firebreath of a dragon. Except then, his trousers hadn’t been so tight.

Finally, Feyre composed herself enough to twist her face into a scowl. He knew it was all for show. Her irritation didn’t pass any deeper than the surface of her features, and beneath it… beneath it, he thought she might have felt a kernel of the desperate, burning wanting that was flooding through him.

She said cooly, “I think I’ll save my bedroom invitations for men who know how to conduct themselves appropriately.”

“And you’re determined to climb all those stairs dressed like that?”

He eyed the fur trim of her parka, the excessive padding insulating her thighs and hips. It was impossible. She would overheat and leave one of them dragging her the rest of the way. Feyre crossed her arms, determined to make this as difficult as possible.

“Don’t be stubborn,” he snapped. “I’m not in the mood to spend another day hauling you over my shoulder.”

“And here I thought you came to my gallant rescue,” she mocked. “No wonder you’re chasing after a bedroom invitation. It seems you can only undress women when clothing is an obstacle to survival.”

Rhysand cocked his head. “Do you want to wager on that, Feyre?”

He would bet there were a decent number of women in this Court who would be interested in the novelty of bedding a human male. And if catching their attention could make Feyre jealous, even better.

“Are you two done bickering?” Cassian was leaning against the archway to the great stairwell, a slit brow raised. “Or should I do this savior of Prythian thing on my own?”

A few steps away, Oryn muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, my thoughts exactly.

With a glare in Rhsand’s direction, Feyre stripped to her underlayers. He was used to the chemises and stays of the mortal realm—tight, restrictive underclothing that anticipated women wouldn’t be completing feats much more exciting than having children and keeping a nice household. Clearly, things were different in Prythian. Feyre wore a panel of fabric that wound around her chest, encapsulating and binding her breasts. The fabric knotted at the back of her neck, tight enough to keep her breasts slightly suspended. It was an effort not to stare, particularly as he noticed the sweat gleaming on her collarbone.

“Satisfied?” She demanded.

Not nearly. Not until he had the chance to run his mouth over every inch of her bare skin.

The hunger must have been plain on Rhysand’s face because Cassian warned him, “I wouldn’t answer that truthfully.”

Feyre only scowled and brushed past both of them, the first to take the stairs behind Oryn. Rhysand’s intention for darting in front of Cassian was hardly subtle; he wanted to be the one directly behind Feyre. Partly in case something happened and she truly did need his help, but also because it meant her ass was directly in his field of vision and he had a penchant for torturing himself.

The novelty only lasted until his muscles started groaning. Up and up, around and around. The stairway spiraled on and on, its monotony broken only by the colorful medley of arched windows through which he could see the city they’d emerged from, growing smaller and smaller as they ascended. The constant circles were beginning to make his head spin. Never mind the sweat he could feel collecting in every crevice of his body.

Through it all, Feyre carried herself as composed and seemingly unbothered as ever. Except Rhys could see the way her braid clung to her neck, and if he held his panting back long enough, he could hear her sharp little breaths that said she was winded, too. He was fascinated, and he passed the time thinking how much he would enjoy the sound of that breathing while she lay under him. What other sounds could he draw out of her?

They climbed on like that, no one wasting breath on talking, for what felt like hours. The scarlet mist obscured the sun and any chance of telling the time, but soon, the sounds and sights of the city disappeared entirely. They were high enough, now, that Rhys could see the adjacent wilted countryside and the long, winding river coaxing through it. Should one of them grow clumsy and tumble out one of the rose-tinted windows, at least they’d have quite the sight to behold while they fell to their death.

Above them, the dark red sky drew larger and nearer.

Finally, they reached an open-air chamber full of fat, silk pillows and plush carpets. A large fountain gurgled at its center, pushing out clear water that arched and fell into the pool below, sending ripples across the red sky reflected on its surface. At that moment, all Rhys wanted was to cup the precious liquid into his hands and douse it over his head.

A High Fae male stepped through the large door on the other side of the chamber. The wisteria draping the doorway swayed as the male glided past on soft embroidered shoes. His tunic was tight-fitting around his slender chest, but his pants were loose and flowing. He bore a smile that crinkled the brown skin around his upswept eyes.

Warm, Rhys thought as he looked at the male. He had the warmest eyes he thought he’d ever seen, the kind that begged him to trust the stranger, though he hadn’t spoken a single word.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice as rich and deep as his brown eyes. “I am Thesan, High Lord of the Dawn Court. Though most of you are already familiar.”

Oryn immediately detached from their group to join Thesan at his side. If the male was winded from their ascent, he hardly showed it. Thesan’s gaze slanted towards the captain for only a moment, but Rhys caught the open affection in the High Lord’s eyes. Thesan reached out his hand, the tension in his body loosening the slightest bit when Oryn threaded their fingers together.

Not just the captain of the guard, then, but also the High Lord’s consort. Mate, perhaps, though Rhys wasn’t certain how to identify such things.

“Thank you for receiving us,” Feyre said. Behind them, Cassian bowed his head respectfully at the High Lord, though Rhys noted that Feyre did not. So in turn, neither did he.

Thesan raised his brows at the impertinence. Rhysand saw no reason why he and Feyre should bow and scrape to adhere to their customs. If they were going to be made to climb up a whole damn mountain to free Thesan’s Court, they at least deserved equal respect. Equal footing.

Even if their current state of dress was admittedly pitiful.

“Thanks,” Rhysand echoed. His breath was still ragged from the climb, and he resisted the urge to wipe away a bead of sweat as he felt it trail down his chest. “Your home is lovely. It’s a shame so few can behold its grandeur, what with the deterrent of those stairs. Or is their ascent a pleasure you save uniquely for your most favored guests?”

He expected Feyre might have thrown an elbow in his side for being uncouth, but she merely turned her head to look at him, something unreadable in her eyes. Her braid was damp from sweat, and the short cropping of hair she wore across her forehead was mussed, the pieces clumped and sticking in places that he knew must be driving her mad, though he thought she’d never looked more beautiful. The observation struck him so acutely that he quickly glanced away, before he was tempted to do something foolish.

Thesan, on the other hand, looked distinctly amused. “This is my private residence,” he said, his voice betraying none of the usual guardedness of the fae. He seemed earnest, this High Lord. A bit like Tarquin but… wiser, Rhys sensed. Someone who had walked on this earth far, far longer than Rhysand’s twenty-odd years and saw no reason to rise to a human’s barbed words. “The deterrent of those stairs is intentional, as it were. I find it limits the risk of surprise visitors.”

There was a story behind that knowing smile, of the times when surprise visitors might have attempted to enter the palace without explicit invitation. Maybe there were a thousand stories, some humorous and some grim. The High Lord of Dawn looked as though he were reflecting on them all as he turned his brown eyes towards the sight of the sprawling Court below, peaking between the marble arches of the open chamber.

And above it all, the red sky loomed like the most peculiar storm cloud. Thesan assessed that, too, and then released an aggrieved sigh. “I do apologize for the exertion. My invited guests do not usually need to climb so many stairs—most can winnow or fly, and my palace boasts the most remarkable moving platform for those who can do neither. However, it’s operated in one of my highest towers, which has become… inaccessible, of late.”

Rhysand narrowed his eyes. “How so?”

“I’m certain the red sky hasn’t escaped your notice,” Thesan said with a frown. “It originates from this palace. From an enchanted lotus, gifted to me by a friend. Or who I once regarded as one. It sits in our highest tower and is responsible for this fog that has plagued our sky.”

“And this… fog,” Feyre ventured. Rhys was trying very hard not to look at her. “Is it dangerous?”

“Yes,” Oryn answered. He was standing at Thesan’s shoulder, still holding his lover’s hand. His expression darkened with a grief that Rhys felt he had no right to be witnessing. “Peregryns have been dropping from the sky since the day it arrived.” He tucked his wings in tighter. “Skilled flyers, suddenly plummeting to their deaths. We’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Is it poison?” Cassian asked. “If they were incapacitated—”

Oryn shook his head. “We have not ruled out poison. But we know they were conscious as they fell. We could hear them—” his throat bobbed.” We could hear them screaming.”

“There were some we were able to save,” Thesan said. “Our best healers could find no damage to their wings, nor any trace of known poisons. It was their minds that seemed altered—agitated by sights and sounds that no one else could witness. We’ve yet to find a cure.”

Not many people in the mortal realm lived to old age, but some did. Some, like Rhysand’s grandfather, who had reached such a state of mental frailty that he could be in the same room and occupy a completely different reality. Often, it was one of a past life, from a time before the plague had taken Rhysand’s mother and sister. His grandfather would relive the grief of that discovery almost every day, before Rhysand and his father decided it was better to play along, to claim that his mother and sister were simply out in the village and would be returning soon.

Rhysand had long thought he’d prefer to die young on one of his beast-slaying adventures than to live to an age when his mind deteriorated so much that he could no longer remember the people he loved.

He was thinking of his grandfather and the ever-distant glaze in his eyes, as he asked, “It turns you mad?”

Thesan nodded, expression grim. “We believe it’s inhalation that causes the illness. Contact of the skin does not appear to trigger the same symptoms, or at least not immediately.”

And there was no cure.

Rhysand’s head spun, trying to think of a way to reach the seal without compromising his mind to do it.

It was Feyre who cut in, voice surprisingly rigid, “Thesan, I would appreciate if you allowed us some rest before we ponder this subject any further. Rhysand and I could do with a bath and a change of clothes.”

It was as though Thesan had only just noticed that they were both half-naked and coated in sweat. He tore his eyes away from the skyline and blinked, before scraping them over Feyre from head to toe. Rhysand tried not to twitch at the scrutiny.

“Of course,” Thesan said. He lifted a hand in the air and a small bell appeared, pinched between his fingers. He needed to only flick his wrist and ring it twice before a flock of attendants flooded in, each dressed in similar loose clothing of blushing pink and orange and gold. “Please show our guests to their rooms.”

Even Cassian breathed out a sigh of relief at the promise of a bath.

They were led through the lavish, winding halls of the palace, all of it carved from golden stone and boasting open views of the valleys and villages below. It was a beautiful, well-decorated maze. Rhysand did his best to track every turn they made past urns filled with flowers, pillow-bedecked alcoves, and elevated courtyards with roaming peacocks, but he wasn’t confident he’d be able to navigate through them on his own.

Eventually they came to a suite built around a lavish sitting area and private dining room. All of it was carved from the same golden stone, identical in color to the first rays of the sun bursting across the horizon. He surveyed the jewel-toned fabrics and cushions, the thick carpets, and the golden cages filled with birds of all shapes and sizes. He was begrudged to admit that this was the nicest Court he’d seen so far.

The attendants directed each of them to their allotted rooms. When Cassian eagerly pushed through the door to his, muttering something under his breath about polishing his swords, Rhys suspected Feyre would do the same. But she stayed, hand mired to the doorknob so she might escape at any moment.

But she stayed.

He hadn’t had a moment alone with her since she’d kissed his cheek. A million things ran through his head of what he wanted to—and wished—he could say to her, starting with how badly he wanted to invite her into his room so they could bathe together. With the way she was drinking in his bare chest, her cheeks the most maddening shade of pink, he thought there was a chance she wouldn’t say no.

Rhys opened his mouth to ask, but she interrupted him.

“You don’t need to break the seal today.”

He needed more than a moment to reel in the fantasy of lathering soap over her freckled shoulders. “I… What?”

“It doesn’t need to be today, or tomorrow. You can take your time. Enjoy the luxuries of this court and your freedom before…” She swallowed, unable to finish her thought. But he knew what she was going to say.

Before you go mad.

It was the first time he thought she’d ever truly acted concerned about him. He asked gently, “What about your sisters?”

Feyre angled her head, staring hard at one of the faelights over his shoulder, blinking like she was holding back tears. “My sisters are frozen in time,” she said. “Literally frozen. They can wait. It makes no difference to them.”

Another time, when she didn’t look like she was about to cry, he’d ask her what that meant. Frozen where? How?

“But it does to you,” he said. “And to Cassian.”

She shrugged. “Cassian’s immortal. He has nothing but time.”

Rhysand strode toward her and was grateful to see her hand slip from the doorknob. She pressed it to his chest before he could get too close, keeping him at a distance, but that was perfectly fine by him.

She didn’t act the demure lady about touching his bare chest, and he wouldn’t expect her to. Though he was pleasantly surprised to see the flush climbing up her throat, and to feel the subtle flex of her fingers as though marveling at the firmness of the muscle beneath her palms. He wanted to feel those calluses scrape the entire length of his chest. Fuck. He wanted to feel them against his cock.

But now wasn’t the time. And he tried to shake those thoughts away, even as Feyre’s breath hitched and he watched her next inhale expand the swell of her breasts, that entrancing flush growing a deeper shade.

Her lips parted, their offer so tempting that he reached to grip either side of the doorframe, holding himself back just as much as she was trying to do with that maddening hand on his chest.

Maybe now was the time for honesty.

“I’m not worried about losing my mind,” he said to her, his voice rough and low like he’d never heard it before. “I’ve already been losing my mind for every damn day I’ve spent on this journey. Feyre, I am losing it rapidly by the second.”

Her next breath shuddered out of her.

“It’s happening too fast,” she whispered. “I just want—”

All of his focus, his entire being, narrowed in on those perfect lips and the words she held back.

“You just want what?” He was practically begging now. “What is it that you want, Feyre?”

He knew what he wanted. He wanted it so badly he would give up his mind for it.

Feyre stayed silent. What he would give to be able to see into her mind, to just know one thing that she truly thought about him.

“How about a thought for a thought?” He tried. “You tell me one thing on your mind, and in exchange I’ll tell you something on mine.”

She considered this for a moment before nodding. “You go first.”

A chuckle rasped out of him. How predictable. “I’m thinking,” he said, leaning in as much as her Cauldron-damned hand would allow. For once he had her full attention, and he wondered how any man was meant to endure the force of her gaze without wanting to fall to his knees. “That I have endured utter Hell since the moment I met you. And all of the beasts and riddles and even the fucking stairs weren’t nearly as agonizing as how I feel right now, trying not to kiss you.”

Her eyes fell on his mouth. Rhysand could feel his heart hammering against her fingertips.

Feyre flicked her tongue across her lower lip and he thought that might die right there.

Then she said, “I’m thinking we could both use a bath.”

He practically purred, “Is that an invitation?”

“No.”

It was like slamming face-first into a stone wall. Feyre dropped her hand like he’d scalded her, and before he could scramble for something to say, she yanked on her doorknob and shut the door in his face.

Rhysand blinked, still gripping the doorframe as he reeled from the rejection. Cassian’s door was still shut, but he swore he could hear cackling laughter behind it.

-

Thesan summoned them all to breakfast the next morning.

With the mist blocking any and all sunlight, it was impossible to tell if it was early or late in the morning, but by Rhysand’s account, it was much too soon. He’d stayed up late pacing his lavish bedroom, debating whether to knock on Feyre’s door to apologize for his brazenness or demand that she apologize for being so Gods-damned guarded. Was it really so hard to tell him one thing—just one—about how she truly felt?

Evidently so, if the way she was spearing fruit onto her fork was any indication of her mood. She’d taken supper in her room last night, leaving Cassian and Rhys to eat together in their private dining room. It was another night bonding over their shared exasperation of the stubborn, elusive Archeron women.

It hadn’t made him feel any better, though. Sitting across from Feyre, watching her javelin her fork at a piece of sliced melon, he still felt as though she’d slammed the door in his face moments ago. A night wouldn’t be sufficient time to get over Feyre Archeron. Nor would a year and, he suspected, even a lifetime.

The prospect of losing his mind to the red mist was sounding more and more appealing by the second.

“If the affliction is only caused by inhaling,” Cassian said. “Does that mean Rhys could just hold his breath long enough to destroy it?”

“Theoretically,” Thesan agreed. “Though it’s possible that a human would be more susceptible to contact.”

Feyre dropped her fork. “And there’s no cure?” When Thesan shook his head, her voice raised an octave. “The Dawn Court is best known for its healing abilities, and you haven’t been able to develop any sort of antidote?”

“My magic has not been able to remedy the afflicted. It’s possible that once the seal is destroyed, their condition will stabilize.”

“So,” Rhys said slowly, “I just need to keep a grip on my sanity long enough to destroy a flower?”

Thesan frowned. “Theoretically, yes.”

His voice implied it wouldn’t be so simple. Rhysand wasn’t fool enough to think it would be. None of the trials had been easy thus far, and he knew the lotus flower would be no exception.

Still, he rolled his shoulder and said, “I’ll take a flower over a dragon any day.”

“The lotus sits in the reflection pool at the center of the room,” Thesan said. “It should be easy to locate, provided your mind doesn’t lead you astray.”

Rhysand’s gaze nearly trailed over to Feyre as he mused, “It wouldn’t be the first time.” The pause in the aftermath was uncomfortably heavy. Enough for Rhysand to push his chair away and announce, “Well, no sense in delaying the inevitable. Show me where to get to this tower.”

Cassian nearly choked around his next mouthful of food. “Now?” He gestured with his fork towards Rhysand’s empty plate. “You’re not even going to eat breakfast first?”

It was easy to summon the boastful, unearned confidence to say, “You can all carry on without me. I should be back before the food so much as cools.”

The mask of arrogance was familiar to default back to, though it didn’t fit as comfortably as it once did. The lordling he’d been when he’d entered Prythian believed he had the tenacity to vanquish the fae and reclaim these lands for humankind. And yet with two High Lords slain, he couldn’t summon pride for his triumphs. Not while knowing that Feyre still mourned for one or both of those High Lords—that she might have withdrawn from him last night for that very reason.

Feyre stood from her chair, sending the wooden legs scraping against the marble floor. “I’m coming with you.”

“Why risk the both of you?” Thesan asked, his brows pressed together.

For once, Rhysand didn’t mind the implication that he was the more expendable of the two of them. He agreed. If he failed, there was no point in them both losing their sanity.

Her expression hardened into uncompromising will. “Because,” she said, meeting Rhysand’s eyes. They were the same blue as a churning storm-swept sea. “We can look out for each other.”

“Okay.” Rhys held out his hand. “We’ll go together.”

She wrapped her hand around his, so much softer and smaller than his own. Holding it felt right in a way he couldn’t quite explain. And she didn’t drop it, not once, as Thesan led them up the winding spiral staircase on the other end of the palace, where they climbed up the bare face of a tower. Every step had Rhys bracing himself, but Feyre’s grip on his fingers remained unwavering. She did not falter one single step.

The scarlet mist became a deeper, more saturated color the higher they climbed, until they came to the final flight, where Thesan stopped.

“This is where I’ll leave you. The lotus is just through that doorway,” he said, nodding up to the large open doorway at the top of the stairs, where red mist poured out and plateaued in line with the highest step. He assessed them both, lips pressed into a thin line. “Do you trust each other?”

Rhysand didn’t need to look at Feyre to answer. “Yes.”

She squeezed his hand in what he interpreted as agreement.

“Don’t.” Thesan’s expression darkened. “Don’t trust anything while you’re in there, not even yourselves. The seal will try to protect itself, and it will use every trick in its arsenal to do so.”

With that inspiring speech, the High Lord nodded his farewell and turned to begin his descent back down the tower. Leaving Feyre and Rhys before the final steps to the open doorway.

“Feyre,” he started. “Just in case I don’t get another chance to say it—”

“Don’t.”

“Feyre—”

“No goodbyes.” She turned those stormy eyes on him, and all at once he was nothing but a helpless sailor succumbing to their pull. “Whatever you want to say to me can wait until after we destroy the seal.”

He didn’t know for certain he’d still remember. But he nodded.

“Don’t let go of my hand. No matter what.”

She raised her chin, staring down the immortal gloom like she might part the mist through sheer force of will. “Take a deep breath,” she said.

It wouldn’t be his last. Rhys knew that with confidence. Even if the fog carried away his conscious mind, his lungs would carry on breathing and his heart would continue pumping. So it wasn’t the gulp of precious air that he savored in that final moment. It was the smattering of freckles across Feyre’s cheekbones. She had more than he could count, but some stood out more than others—the one by the corner of her left eye, sitting in the crease of those rare moments she smiled, was slightly darker and bigger than the others. So was the one on the bridge of her pert little nose. Another, following the perfect arch of her lips.

One day, if she had the patience for it, he would map out every constellation hidden on her body.

He kept hold of that thought as they summited the final steps to the open doorway and plunged into the thicket of the mist. Feyre disappeared entirely from his periphery, shrouded in fog so thick that he could hardly distinguish his own fingers when held in front of his face. The only sign that Feyre was still beside him was the steady pull of her hand, guiding him forward over a long bridge connecting to the other half of the tower, where the lotus flower waited.

They felt their way forward slowly, fingers skimming the cool railing, twined in plants long wilted from the lack of sunlight. His lungs were on fire by the time they emerged into the open chamber, marked by a curved archway—its stone smooth beneath his searching palm.

Straight ahead, he thought. Just get to the pool in the center, crush the flower, and this can all be over.

There was nothing to feel to guide their path. Only empty, open air and Feyre’s hand intertwined firmly in his. Her steps wavered. They were entrenched in a void of red, stretching in every direction. It wasn’t clear which way, exactly, was straight ahead, but they couldn’t afford to waste any time.

His lungs were already seizing, desperate for air. He couldn’t imagine that she was in any better state.

Rhysand chose a direction and strode forward, pulling her deeper into the fog. She tugged back, digging her heels in. They couldn’t speak without wasting air, but he imagined she was telling him, not that way.

He paused, waiting for her to correct his course.

One beat. Two. He was beginning to feel dizzy.

Rhysand squeezed her hand. Which way?

Another beat. And then she began pulling him sideways. He stumbled after her, his vision spotting as his lungs rioted in his chest. He needed to breathe. Needed to soothe the burning before his lungs gave out. He was going to collapse on the floor if he didn’t.

His body betrayed him. He opened his mouth, polluted air flooding in. Feyre paused at the sound of his gasp. His vision swam, whirling from the sudden intake, his head pounding—

And then he blinked. The fog cleared, revealing a pretty chamber of polished marble and golden stone. Outside the open archways, the sky had cleared as well, revealing an expanse of blue sky stretching towards the horizon.

It was like seeing the sun for the very first time. Not because of the light streaming into the chamber. But because Feyre was standing before him, hand in his. Smiling.

The breath whooshed out of him anew. “Do that again,” he whispered.

She did, smiling just for him. It was the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen.

“We did it,” she said.

Rhysand shook his head. “We didn’t do anything.”

“Look.” She nodded towards the puffy white clouds drifting just outside the tower. “The mist is gone. It was another test.”

“We still need to destroy the seal,” he said, turning to look for the reflection pool.

Feyre stopped him with another insistent tug on his hand. He turned to face her and lost track of all thought when he saw the way she was beaming at him.

“We did,” she said, raising her freehand to his cheek. Her skin was impossibly soft, and he couldn’t resist leaning further into her touch. “You absorbed the seal when you inhaled it. That was all it needed.”

“That sounds too easy.”

Those smooth hands glided up his jaw. “The fae underestimated you. They thought a human would be too wary of the risk. Their pride is their greatest weakness.”

Her fingers were in his hair now, winding through the strands. She tugged against them, pulling him closer, and suddenly he couldn’t think straight.

“What now?”

Feyre leaned onto the tips of her toes to close the remaining distance between them. When she whispered, he could feel each syllable ghost across his lips. “What were you going to say to me outside the chamber?”

Something warm and golden unfurled in his chest as he looked at her. His arm slid under her back, holding their chests flush. “Tell me one thing, before I reveal it to you.”

Her smile was more intoxicating than his father’s finest wines. “Anything,” she promised.

“Tell me—” he pressed his forehead to hers. “Tell me, truly, if you might want this one day. Want me.”

“I do,” she said without any hesitation. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Rhysand. I want you. Desperately. I need—”

He should have let her finish speaking, especially now that she was saying everything he wanted to hear. But it was impossible. He was just a man and her lips were so close to his they were sharing breath and she finally admitted she wanted him, too.

How could he stop himself from kissing her?

The most delicate noise slipped out of her when their lips met. Like the sigh of a door being opened for the first time in years. Like relief. Finally, finally, relief. After so much pent-up longing, he was kissing her, and her hands were twisting in his hair, and his tongue was skimming her lower lip, and all he could think was:

Maybe salvation was real.

The golden warmth kindling inside him was growing stronger. He felt the first of its tug when they tore their lips apart, both of them gasping.

Feyre’s pupils were wide and wild. She was smiling again, which made it impossible not to keep kissing her. But first, he said, “I was going to tell you that I am yours, Feyre. I’m yours until my dying breath.”

A blush was rising to her cheeks, spreading beneath her freckles. He leaned to kiss her again, but she broke away with a giggle, tugging playfully at the collar of his shirt. “I’ll be yours, too,” she said, eyes shining. “But I won’t make it easy for you. You’re going to have to catch me first.”

The little vixen. She launched into a sprint, fleeing to the other side of the chamber, and he laughed as he raced after her.

“Rhysand!” She called, weaving between the wisteria-twined pillars. Sheer panels of blushing peach fabric drifted behind each of her shoulders, attached to the elegant golden pauldrons she wore on each shoulder. With the light of the skyline beyond haloing her lithe frame, he felt more as though he were chasing a celestial goddess than a human woman.

She called his name again, the second syllable tapering on the most beautiful laughter he’d ever heard. He vaulted through one of the open archways, desperate to get to her, to taste that laughter beneath his tongue. He landed and slid across the smooth stone, nearly carrying him off the ledge were it not for his sharp reflexes. At the last second, he grabbed at one of the marble pillars and hauled himself back into the chamber.

The sight of the jagged cliff face and the sprawling countryside far, far below was enough to sober him.

He felt another tug. This one more insistent. As if the chain connecting him to Feyre had rematerialized. She was still dancing between the pillars, completely undaunted by the risk of falling if it meant taunting him.

But the tug didn’t pull him towards her.

Rhysand!

And that voice… it was hers, but it sounded so far away.

Another tug. Another Feyre calling his name.

Was it a trick?

“Come here, Rhys,” Feyre purred, turning to face him. Light bounced off the glittering panels of her dress, as if Thesan had seen it right to thread her in gold.

He stepped towards her, despite the taut thread pulling him in the opposite direction. “Tell me again,” he said.

“I’m yours.” Her eyes were like stars. Ceding the game, she prowled back to him, teeth gleaming so white in the full vibrancy of the sun. “I’m yours and you’re mine.”

Rhysand shut his eyes. He pictured Feyre in his mind. The stormy eyes and the withering glare and her beautiful, devastating face. It was an almost identical likeness. But as Rhysand opened his eyes, he searched for that freckle beside her eye, the one which was darker and bigger than the others around it. And it wasn’t there.

He released a heavy sigh. “You’re not real.”

Her soft palm pressed into his chest, void of Feyre’s hard-earned calluses. “I could be,” she said to him. “We could stay up here forever.”

Forever wasn’t tempting to him. Not without Feyre.

The moment he decided, the Feyre in front of him vanished. The scarlet mist returned, as thick and unnavigable as before. He could hear Feyre calling his name, voice raw and panicked. Likewise he could feel a golden tug in his chest, leading him in another direction.

He didn’t know which was real. He supposed they might all be tricks.

Not for the first time, and he suspected not for the last, he thought how much he missed that Cauldron-cursed leash.

Dropping to his knees, Rhysand elected to crawl across the chamber rather than risk taking a wrong step and plummeting to the bottom of the valley. He only hoped that Feyre hadn’t made that mistake, either. Was she also trapped in some blissful vision? A pathetic part of himself hoped he was in it.

Soon, his searching hands found a tiled pool filled with tepid water. He crawled into it, not caring that it would ruin the bright, loose-fitting tunic and trousers that Thesan had lended him. The thin fabric clung to his skin as he waded through the pool and skimmed his arms over the surface in wide, sweeping gestures.

He felt something bob against his elbow and quickly seized it. His fingers met the soft suede of flower petals and a thin, bumpy stem that resisted his initial tug. He yanked until the infernal thing came away with a snap.

Then the lotus flower, as fragile as the minds it twisted, crumpled in his fist.

Rhys had never imagined what it would be like to sit at the center of a stormcloud, but he imagined the experience would not be so different from the violent release of energy that swept through the chamber with a deafening thunder clap, Rhys at its epicenter. The water rippled through the pool and spread beyond it, dissipating the fog in a great sweep of wind that he imagined would carry through the whole of Prythian.

The skin on his chest and shoulder itched terribly. If he looked down, he would likely be able to see through the translucent fabric of his tunic that the tattoo was spreading. But Rhysand didn’t care about his tattoo, nor his wet shirt, nor the entire gods-forsaken Court he’d just liberated.

He only cared about Feyre. He could see she was curled up just a small distance away, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her lips were moving, over and over, shaping words he couldn’t make out.

“Feyre?” He leapt out of the pool with an urgency that sent a wave of water spilling over the sides of the reflection pool. Water dripped from his clothes, splattering haphazardly in his wake as he slid across the stone floor to reach her.

It occurred to him, as he delicately placed his hands on her shoulders, that this could be another mind trick. He had no way of knowing that he’d truly destroyed the fifth seal or that this was truly his Feyre in front of him, besides the inclination in his gut and the warm, inexplicable pull he felt to her.

Her entire body was trembling.

“Feyre?” He said again, softer.

“No,” she whispered. Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears. “No, no, no, no. Not again. Not again, please.”

Her voice was scraped raw, as if she’d been screaming. This was the same woman he’d witnessed slay beasts and stare down High Lords twice her size. For whatever she’s seen to have terrified so greatly…

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “You’re safe now, Feyre. It’s over.”

Those blue eyes focused just enough to register that he was crouched before her. And then her lower lip started trembling, and she shook her head violently, scrambling back as she whimpered, “No, Rhys. Not again. Please.”

He floundered at the fear in her eyes. Whatever she’d been shown in the lotus mist, clearly, he had been part of the vision. And his heart shattered to think he’d been the one hurting her.

“It’s just me, Feyre.” He held up his open palms. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I destroyed the lotus. It’s done.”

Her gaze drifted from his open palms to the markings visible through his translucent tunic. A sob hitched her throat. “It’s over?”

Rhys nodded, extending his hand so that he might help her up. She stared at it a moment, perhaps sharing his earlier doubt that this was another trick. Then she looked at him, studying his dripping clothes and wet hair and what he hoped to be an earnest expression.

Then she launched herself at him.

The momentum barrelled into him was such force that he was sent sprawling onto his back, a surprise grunt pushing out his chest. He didn’t have time to reorient himself, or make sense of what was happening, before Feyre gripped his face between both of her callused hands and kissed him so hard he forgot there was a reason why people needed important things like breath.

He could taste the salt of her tears and the melon juice that was still on her lips from breakfast. Every ounce of rationality dissipated at that revelation, and all he could think was that he’d never had a favorite fruit until that moment.

With a groan, Rhys slid his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head while also angling her closer, so he could lick into her mouth and commit the taste to memory. He no longer cared if it was real or only a vision. He would gladly surrender to the madness if this was his eternity.

He might very well have flipped her over and made love to her right there. She would have looked beautiful flushed in the low light of the morning as dawn finally greeted its namesake. But towards the far entrance, someone cleared their throat.

That was how Rhysand knew this was real. If this had been a vision from the lotus, he would have continued kissing Feyre for eternity, and they certainly wouldn’t have been interrupted by Thesan standing beside an apprehensive-looking Oryn. Over their shoulders, Cassian was grinning like a fiend.

“Celebrating your victory?” He said with a suggestive quirk of his brows.

Rhysand never hated the fae as much as he did in that moment, when Feyre hastily scrambled to her feet. He already missed the weight of her body and her sweet lilac and pear scent. He took his time rising to his feet, and when he reached his full height, he offered her a heated look that said, This isn’t over.

She looked away, heat blooming on her cheeks.

That made it the first trial that actually did feel like a victory. He couldn’t help the pride swelling in his chest, and no amount of his cocky grin was forced as he looked to Thesan and asked, “Is breakfast still warm?”

[pussydestroyer10110]

Jake x Avatar!Reader x Neytiri

Word count - 1.3k

Chapter 6 - The adventure begins

Note: Thank you all very much for the support, this is obviously my first time writing a series so sorry its taking a while, this story might go on temporary hiatus while I focus on my big girl exams but thanks for all sticking with me

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

Jake and Neytiri left soon after, the woman still mildly angry despite her acceptance while Jake trailed behind her like a sorry puppy. You watched them go in an awkward silence as if you were holding your breath until you were sure that they had left. Only once they finally exited the large metal doors did you let out a shaky sigh, proud of yourself for sticking it out but also angry that you looked like a bit of a coward.

You knew you needed to make a lasting impression on the Na'vi couple and their people, this was a whole entire community known to be hostile to humans, you had to walk on eggshells but not too much or they'll think of you as weak yet you have to be bold but not too bold or you'll be arrogant. This was all very stressful so you spend the rest of you day practicing handy phrases in the native tongue and studying which plants were safe to touch, the day rolled by quickly with the promise of tomorrow.

Before you went back to sleep in your now human form Norm pulled you aside-

“No sleeping in tomorrow, Jake said that he and Neytiri will be here at 5”

He says with a slightly mocking smirk, you only groaned in disapproval, flopping dramatically back into the hammock, careful not to go flying out.

“Village life starts early, don't blame me”

Norm justifies with his hands raised in surrender but that mocking grin was still there.

—-------

The next day rolled around too early for your liking, the vibration of a small watch on your wrist serving as your alarm. 4:30am, you didn't think you'd got up this early since high school.

This was the first time you had managed to see the actual rising of the sun and it was a sight to behold. The rich cloak of night was broken by the bright colours of the rising sun, it arose earlier than it would on earth due to the planet being closer to the bright star. The room was still dim though and filled with soft snores and strewn limbs but some strange people enjoyed waking up early and had already left the sleeping chamber. Norm was awake due to his empty hammock so you climbed out of yours, gathering your belongings in your hand and tiptoeing into the kitchenette.

Norm was there at the table, nursing a mug of coffee, looking half dead.

“You decide to join me in my early morning?”

You ask with a cocked brow, surprised considering his mocking tone from the day prior.

“Well what would you do without me in these lonesome morning hours”

He retorts, he was quick you'd have to give him that.

You ate a breakfast of powdered eggs and a bit of fruit along with a much needed cup of tea to not only soothe your nerves but keep you alive for the next undoubtedly grueling hours. After that Norm accompanied you to the link room, giving you unasked for but needed tips as a former avatar himself.

You lied back in the link bed and endured the same routine as you had the times before, leaving your human body behind for that of an aliens.

You had left your avatar body in an inside room the night before knowing you'd be meeting the same place as yesterday anyway, you changed your outfit into something that you hoped looked slightly more native: some strange, green shorts with a woven belt paired with a smaller and more delicate top. Almost all clothes came from the same box due to an avatars irregular sizing so it's not like you could be picky.

Along with an effort on the outfit you replaitted your hair, weaving in a few smaller braids to make the style more intricate and pretty. You were subconsciously trying to impress Jake and Neytiri which you put down to just wanting to make a better impression on them.

Arriving first in the meeting room, you paced nervously keeping a constant stare on the sealed door that led to the Pandoran wilderness. You would frantically check the small clock, 5:03am, they were late, could this mean that she no longer allows you to explore the forest? Could this mean you've angered her and her tribe?

Before you could question yourself further the steel locks of the door shrieked as they opened, in came a relaxed Jake and a weaponized Neytiri. Neytiri had the same narrowed gaze and proud stand as the day before where as it seemed Jake had allowed himself to relax slightly more around you, his shoulders slightly slumped with a small smile.

Jake liked you, he found the nervous way you acted around him and his mate something quite amusing and something possibly quite cute. He could tell you were a strong woman yet a respectable one, you would recognise that you couldn't act like equals to the natives yet but he knew if a situation came to it you'd hold your ground.

Neytiri on the other hand was still wary about you, she thought you were like Jake but with every passing minute she saw differences in your mannerisms and speaking patterns that were a lot softer and more logical than what her mates were at the beginning. As much as she tried to deny it and keep herself believing that she hated you and your kind, she found herself growing ever more curious about you.

Meanwhile you were just standing there like a wide eyed idiot. Neytiri didn't come close and examine you like the day before and instead she just nodded towards her mate.

“Are you ready?”

Jake says after seeing his mates nod.

“I believe so”

You say back politely. Neytiri then motions for Jake to leave first, then you, then her. Trialing between the middle of the pair you felt a heavy silence, you would occasionally glance up at Jake and behind to Neytiri, Jake being oblivious to your apparent discomfort and Neytiri only staring intently at you.

You all reach the end of the narrow hallway, the door ahead leading into the thick Pandoran Bush, Neytiri takes her bow from across her chest and notches an arrow while Jake opens the door. This time Neytiri steps out first, angling her bow in a way she'd be able to shoot at any moment.

Jake follows closely behind, a dagger resting in his palm, Neytiri then slacks her bow and nods for you to come out and close the door. You do so and shut the door behind you, you begin to try and walk to the forest.

Neytiris bow is suddenly pointed at your chest so you look up at her, she looks you in the eye before glancing at your feet, her bow still on your chest.

“You are too loud, take them off”

She commands and you nod, only then did she move her bow back to her side. You leant down and undid your laces, placing the shoes by the side of the door and hoping they'll still be there later. Neytiri saw this and dropped an ounce of coldness from her glare, liking that you had followed order instead of putting up protest like a normal human.

You felt the bare soles of your feet sink slightly in the moss covered ground, the sensation feeling different to your human body as the soles of your alien feet were thicker to protect you from this unforgiving terrain.

Once you had looked back up from the ground the couple were waiting for you, you walk towards them, towards the dense forest. You were about to achieve what Grace had wanted you to do, you were going to explore Pandora.

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 11

Chapter Summary: Steve and you are finally officially dating, the kids are finally in high school and no longer need any sort of official babysitting, and life is overall pretty damn good. You try to push aside the unease settling in your chest, but how long can you ignore it before it manifests into something much worse than you could possibly imagine.

Content Warning: swearing, bullying, trauma responses, intimacy

Word Count: 6.7k

Author’s Note: Sorry this took me longer to get out than some of the previous chapters. Life has been a bit hectic to say the very least (my brother low key got robbed and I was helping him sort some of it out), but I’m glad I was finally able to get this done! I’m looking forward to writing more of season 4!

Message me to be added to the taglist! Also, please send me asks! I love talking to you guys, so even if you want to tell me about something as mundane as what you had for breakfast, I’m happy to hear it :)

Series Masterlist | Part 10 | Next Part

***

Spring break started soon, and despite having graduated and gotten out of the shit hole that is Hawkins High, Steve still drove you and Robin to school. You hadn’t stayed the night last night at Steve’s so you slid into the backseat behind him as you got in the car. Even though you were halfway through second semester, you still weren’t used to Steve not being there to walk you to your first period every morning like he had the year before.

Of course, you stepped right into the middle of an argument between your boyfriend and your best friend. At least they aren’t shoving each other like toddlers this time, you thought as you rolled your eyes and buckled your seatbelt.

“Cut me some slack, please! It is 7:00 in the morning, we have the stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse!” Robin shouted, pushing the skin on her face around as she looked in the visor mirror.

“Oh, you’re worried about a basketball pep rally? You expect me to believe that?” Steve shot back.

“Yeah? So?” Robin’s voice got small as she anticipated the trajectory of this conversation.

“So, we both know what this is about, okay? I’m not buying that bullshit, this is about Vickie!”

“Absolutely not!” Robin defended herself. You scoffed from the back seat, not believing a word of her lie as Steve spoke up again.

“It is, and you know what else?”

“Uh, I really don’t care,” Robin rolled her eyes while she continued to put on her lip balm.

“You gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her, okay? You just gotta—you just gotta be yourself,” Steve tried to give her a pep talk and you gaped from the backseat before chiming in.

“You do realize you are literally quoting her to her, right?”

“Hey, you stay out of this, and besides, maybe she needs to listen to herself,” Steve glared at you in the rearview mirror before turning back towards Robin, “ever think about that, smartypants? I listened to you and now look at me. Boom. Back in business.” He gestured back towards you as he said it and you rolled your eyes. You were, however, grateful that Robin had gotten involved because you didn’t know how much longer you could take Steve not making a move last summer.

“It’s not the same thing, okay. You ask out a girl like y/n and she says no, big deal. Nothing happens—”

Steve cut her off immediately, “what do you mean ‘nothing happens’? In that hypothetical I lose the love of my life, so yeah that’s a pretty big mother fucking deal!”

“For the sake of the hypothetical—“ Robin began again, “—maybe your ego’s a little bit bruised…but I ask out the wrong girl, and bam! I’m a town pariah.”

“Yeah, I’d buy that, except Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl,” you spoke up, leaning forward to feel more included in the conversation.

“We just don’t know that, do we?”

“She returned Fast Times paused at 53 minutes, 5 seconds,” Steve spoke up and you rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where his mind was going. “Do you know who pauses Fast Times at 53 minutes, 5 seconds? People who like boobies, Robin!”

“Ew!” You and Robin exclaimed in unison.

“Gross, don’t say boobies!” She scolded, causing the boy to just repeat himself like the immature idiot that he was.

“Boobies. Not a big deal, okay? I like boobies. You like boobies. Y/n has boobies—Vickie likes boobies! Definitely!”

“Hey, how about you not bring my tits into this?” You asked Steve, smacking his shoulder. “But I mean, I can’t disagree with him…Vickie definitely likes tits, I mean we have all the evidence,” you added as you turned toward Robin. She rolled her eyes and turned up the radio, deciding she was done with the conversation the three of you were having.

Steve pulled up to Hawkins High, parking briefly to let the two of you out. Before walking to the building you stopped at his door and he rolled the window down.

“Don’t go getting fired while I’m in class, okay?” You warned, smoothing out his vest that was wrinkled because often he couldn’t be bothered to iron it.

“I just wish you could be there, you know? The day just drags on and on and on when I’m working by myself, let alone when I have to work with Keith,” Steve responded, rolling his eyes. Since he had treated Jonathan so shitty when him and Nancy were together, Steve tried to move past the jealous side of himself, but now that he wasn’t even in school with you to see which assholes were hitting on you, it made turning over a new leaf all the more difficult.

“I know, but you are a grown ass adult and you can handle it. Besides, Robin and I will be there after school lets out, so you don’t have to miss me for too terribly long,” you reminded him, leaning into the car to place a gentle kiss on his lips. He smiled into it and you debated just getting back into his car so that you could make out in the break room at Family Video, but Robin’s voice rang out, causing you to jump and hit your head on the roof of the car.

“Hey shit birds, cool it with the PDA, we’re gonna be late,” Robin yelled out, and you grumbled, rubbing the back of your head as you moved away from Steve’s car to join her. You waved a goodbye to Steve as you bit back a smile before you turned and picked up the pace to join your friend.

You really hated pep rallies with the entirety of your being…and you knew that Robin would too if it weren’t for being in the band and getting to stand the whole time next to Vickie. You usually tried to stand next to the band so that you could at least talk to her, but your talk with Steve had slowed you down and the bleachers had filled up.

“Sorry! I can get Davis to try and get someone to move if you want me to. People usually listen to him because he’s borderline terrifying,” Robin apologized, gesturing behind her to the sousaphone player who was built like a tank. Hawkins High didn’t have football, otherwise you were nearly 1000% confident that he would’ve been goaded into joining the team.

“No, really it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” you smiled at her and waved her on to go join Vickie in the stands. You started ascending the bleachers, trying to make your way to the back corner as you weaved through people who were cheering on the cheerleading squad (a bit redundant, you felt). Ever since you started dating Steve, you somehow became even less popular at school, which was a hard feat to accomplish. A lot of girls in your grade were still quite enamored with the boy and understandably disappointed that he was no longer available. As such, they quite deliberately chose to take it out on you.

Normally it didn’t really get to you, but recently it had been bothering you more. You had been used to it last year when you watched girls in the hall cast judgmental looks at you as Steve walked you to class…and that was before you were even officially an item. Now, without having Steve to be there to quell your nerves, you just felt lonely whenever Robin wasn’t around either to distract you from immature high school bullies.

You finally made it to the back corner of the bleachers, not without hearing some nasty comments directed at you. You sighed, crossing your arms and closing your eyes as you leaned against the wall.

“I take it you hate these things too?” A voice spoke up to ask you. You turned to see the familiar mop of long brown hair as you realized the voice belonged to Eddie Munson. You had never been in a class with him before this semester but you had become increasingly familiar with him due to the fact that Ms. O’Donell, your physics teacher, had desperately pleaded with you to tutor him so that he could graduate this year.

You had reluctantly agreed, mostly because you didn’t want to disappoint the poor woman, but it had been an exercise in frustration.

“Well, yeah, they aren’t my favorite. Especially since they’re typically full of people who somehow have a shit ton of school spirit but not even a modicum of decency and respect for me, so that is just…totally epic,” you rolled your eyes, frustrated with one classmate in particular, Claire, who had just tried to trip you on your way up the stairs.

“I studied by the way,” Eddie spoke up, when you looked at him with confusion, he continued, “for the physics quiz today? I studied for it.”

Suddenly, your face twisted in panic as you realized that you hadn’t. You’d been so busy with work and Steve and just trying to hold everything together that you had forgotten about the last assessment you had before going on spring break. “Fuck! I forgot about it.”

“Eh, you’ll do fine anyway,” Eddie replied nonchalantly. You were glad someone at least believed in you.

“Dustin’s still doing alright?” You asked the long haired boy beside you. Since Dustin was in high school now, he no longer needed a babysitter, and thus your career, in an official sense at least, had come to an end. You still saw him extremely regularly because Steve and him were still good friends, but you still worried about him. You knew he was a misfit, and being a misfit yourself it made you nervous that he had found himself in a crowd of…well, misfits. You didn’t want him to go through the same shit that you went through. You didn’t want him to be invisible like you.

“Henderson? He’s fucking awesome! Yeah, of course he’s fine,” Eddie replied, laughing as he shoved you in the shoulder. Even though everyone liked to talk about how much of a mess Eddie Munson was, you were glad that Ms. O’Donell’s arrangement had at least shown you that he wasn’t a bad guy. It was nice to have another friend at Hawkins High. “How’s Steve doing?” Eddie asked, not doing at great job at hiding his distaste for the graduate with the perfect hair.

You rolled your eyes at his tone before answering. “He’s great…I just thought dating the son of a bitch would mean that I’d get at least enough status here for people to not treat me like shit,” you chuckled.

Your conversation with Eddie fizzled out as the basketball team entered the gym. You couldn’t help but smile seeing Lucas on the court. He looked happy, so even though he was surrounded by meathead athletes, you couldn’t really be mad. You knew he was smart enough to make good decisions and he still had you all as a support group, so you tried to shove the worry down in your chest.

Jason Carver took the mic and began going on and on as he spoke. Though you really, really didn’t like the kid, you had to give him credit. He sure did know how to give a speech.

“…you know, I think I can speak for all of us when I say it’s been a tough year for Hawkins. So much loss. And sometimes I wonder, how much loss can one community take? In dark days like this, we need something to believe in. So last night, when we were down by ten points at half to Christian Academy, I looked at my team and I said think of Melissa. Think of Heather. Think of Billy. Think of our heroic police chief Jim Hopper. Think of each and every one of our friends who perished in that fire…”

That was when you stopped listening. Not a day went by that you didn’t think of the loss that you had faced. You didn’t need someone like Jason who didn’t know jack shit about loss to explain it to you. “I have to go,” you whispered to Eddie, and before he could respond, you slipped out of the bleachers, telling a teacher that you needed to use the restroom, and darting out the gym doors.

Robin noticed you leaving and quickly set her trumpet down, taking off her shako, which Vickie graciously took before darting down the hall after you.

“Y/n,” she yelled after you trying to catch up but you didn’t slow down, quickly evading her and turning a corner as you wiped tears from your eyes. “Y/n!”

She finally caught up to you, grabbing your wrist to stop you from running away from her. “What’s wrong?” She asked, eyes searching yours in an attempt to make sure you were okay.

“I don’t even know how to explain it,” you choked out, unable to keep your emotions at bay.

“Could you at least try?” Robin asked softly, running a hand up and down your arm to soothe the strong emotions you were feeling.

“I…I’m-I’m just tired of-of people like Jason trying to explain the loss to me. I get it! I know what it was like; I was there!” You stammered. Robin nodded, and you knew she understood what you were going through. You were eternally grateful that you had the support system that you had; you were never alone in your struggle which was both a blessing and a curse. You wouldn’t wish your experience with the supernatural on your worst enemy, so sometimes it was difficult to stomach the fact that your closest friends had experienced it alongside you.

“What can I do?” Robin asked, wanting nothing more than to make it better.

“I just…I think I need to leave,” you cried, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. Robin nodded, leading you out the doors of school to the pay phone right outside. Fortunately, with everyone tied up at the pep rally, there wasn’t anyone to stop the two of you as you put some coins in the telephone. Your fingers hesitated as you thought about who to call, finally settling before dialing the number.

After a couple rings, a familiar voice picked up. “Hello, this is Steve from Family Video, how can I help you today?”

“Steve,” you cried out and immediately he was on high alert.

“Y/n?! What’s wrong?! Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at school, but-but I’m just…having one of those days you know?” Steve had been your rock through processing the trauma that your experiences with the Upside Down had brought you, so he very much understood that somedays were just too much for you.

“I need to talk to Keith really quickly, but then I’m going to come and pick you up, okay? You’re not by yourself, are you?” Steve asked, concern lacing his tone.

“No, Robin’s with me.”

“Good, good, good. Can you put her on the phone, baby?” Steve sounded frantic, and if you could have seen him, his anxious behaviors would have confirmed it. There he was, standing at the counter of Family Video, not even an hour into his shift when shit had to hit the fan. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself down, but knowing that you were upset was enough to keep him from being calm. There was a silence, before Robin’s voice rang out through the receiver.

“Hey.”

“How bad is she?” He cut to the chase.

“Um, I mean…you heard her,” Robin replied, speaking in vague terms so that you wouldn’t be offended by their conversation.

Steve sighed, jotting down a note on a piece of scratch paper, his version of “talking to Keith.” After he scribbled down the words, he refocused on the phone call. “Okay, Robin, here’s what you need to do. Take her to the nurse or something and find some way to get them to send her home. I don’t need her stressing about missing class unexcused, alright? You know how she is about that sort of stuff.”

“Got it. Just head out now, I should be able to get this sorted pretty quickly,” Robin confirmed, hanging up the phone and turning back to you. “Alright dingus number two, let’s get this all figured out.”

***

When Steve’s car pulled up, you felt relief flood your entire body. You wished that discussions of what happened last summer didn’t affect you as much as they did, but sometimes it all still caught you off guard.

The car halted to a stop as Steve quickly got out rushing over to you and scooping you into a tight hug. “Baby,” he whispered into your ear as you melted against him, tears soaking into his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Steve…I-I’m trying so hard, but then-then Jason started giving one of his dumbass speeches and I just lost it.”

“Shhhh, baby, it’s okay; you’re okay, I’m here now, alright?” Steve pulled away and put his hands on either side of your face to get you to look at him. There was so much sincerity in his eyes that it almost made you break all over again as you thought about how lucky you were to have him. “I’m gonna take you home, alright?”

You knew he was talking about his house, so you nodded. You thanked Robin and she gave you a weak smile before waving and walking back inside. You were grateful that she had stayed with you, but you felt bad that you had prevented her from spending time with Vickie. Steve opened the passenger door for you and once he was back in his seat, he started driving away from the hell hole that was Hawkins High.

“Steve, I really don’t want you to miss your shift,” you spoke up, looking at him innocently. He could just melt right there with the way that you looked at him.

“Y/n, don’t even worry about it, seriously. I’d much rather take care of you and make sure that you’re okay than be at that stupid job.”

“But Keith already kind of hates you…like a lot. I’ve got my uniform vest in my bag, let me just pick up a shift and I’ll work with you,” you offered. Steve looked at you hesitantly, but upon noticing the way that you had calmed down in his presence, he relented.

“Fine, but you’re not going to lift a finger while we’re working, okay? You’re just gonna sit there and look pretty and I’ll take care of everything,” he replied. He desperately wished he could lean over and kiss you right now but the last time he had tried to do that while driving, you’d scolded him and he almost crashed his BMW, so he decided that it wasn’t worth the risk…he had precious cargo.

You rolled your eyes and turned up the radio, biting back a smile. When you got to Family Video, you threw on your vest quickly, before you both entered the store. Keith stood scowling at the counter, holding up Steve’s sloppily handwritten note as if it was evidence in a crime, though to him it probably was.

“Dude, not cool.”

“Keith, did you even read the fucking note? Clearly it was an emergency,” Steve spat, as he gestured to you. He was tired of Keith being a complete ass all of the time.

“Y/n? Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Keith asked, his demeanor suddenly drastically changing. Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed, knowing damn well that this dumbass had a fat crush on you.

“It’s a long story,” you sighed, “but I’m here and I’m willing to pick up an extra shift, so you can leave if you’d like.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Keith spoke up, “but you better keep—“

“Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t fuck up. Yeah, yeah, I know,” you sighed and Steve threw his hands up in exasperation. What the hell did I ever do to deserve this shit?

Keith exited the store, so now it was just you and Steve. Friday mornings at Family Video were usually pretty slow given the fact that most people were at work or school, so there really wasn’t much work to do.

“So, have you gotten any more acceptance letters?” Steve spoke up and asked as he began reorganizing one of the shelves. He held his breath as he waited for your answer. Though he wanted nothing more than for you to be able to attend the school of your dreams, he was afraid of what that meant for the two of you and your relationship.

“Yeah, a couple more actually,” you smiled up at Steve. You had a lot of the same fears that he did about the potential of moving away. It was scary to think about trying to stay together through that huge of a life change. And you knew that you would miss him like crazy. But Nancy and Jonathan are making it work, so of course you guys would be able to…right?

“Have you made any decisions yet?”

“Uh, no, not yet. I’m still waiting to get a few decisions back before I make one of my own,” you spoke up, your voice a little small. You weren’t going to tell Steve, but what you were really waiting on was your decision from Purdue. It was close enough that nothing would have to change. You could still see Steve whenever you wanted. You were neglecting to mention this to him, however, because you knew he constantly felt like he was holding you back. He didn’t want you to make your decision based on him, but you couldn’t help but take that into account.

These were the most stilted and awkward conversations the two of you had. You and Steve could talk for hours about really pretty much everything, but as soon as college came up, it was like your ability to effectively communicate went out the window.

It wasn’t long before the phone rang again, and you picked it up. “Hello, thank you for calling Family Video. I’m y/n, how can I help you?” Your retail voice spilled from your lips sweetly.

“Y/n, this is Dustin…Listen, Lucas has to play in the championship game tonight and we need another player for Hellfire tonight, so could you please, please, fill in for him? Just this once?” The boy begged.

“Um, absolutely not,” your customer service voice disappeared as soon as you knew who was on the other line. Dustin had roped you into playing D&D once before, feeling bad for the kids after Mike had come down with a bad cold and couldn’t play. First of all, Dustin had said it wouldn’t take long. Secondly, it had been the most miserable fourteen hours of your life, so there was no way in hell you were about to do it again.

Dustin started complaining over the phone, continuing to beg you to join, before you decided that you didn’t get paid enough for this shit, handing the phone off to Steve, saying “it’s for you.”

“Woah, woah, woah, cool off pipsqueak,” Steve sighed into the phone.

“Steve! Sweet, okay. Dude, I am about to offer you the most kick-ass opportunity that will ever get extended your direction. I mean, I’m talking immaculate storytelling, a badass group of people, more fun than you will ever have in your life. I’m talking—“

“Cut to the chase,” Steve cut the boy off and rolled his eyes.

“Right, yeah, okay. Lucas has to play basketball and we need an extra person for D&D tonight,” Dustin sighed, sounding a bit defeated, no longer attempting to put on the persuasive charm that he had started with.

“No. Can’t. Sorry. I have a date tonight.”

“Just move your date this one time, come on!” Dustin begged. Why did the two cool older kids in his life have to be dating each other? In Dustin’s opinion it made both of you significantly less cool.

“What, to hang out with you and Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson? Uh, yeah, I’ll pass,” Steve responded. You rolled your eyes at the nickname for the poor boy in your class. He really wasn’t that bad, but you weren’t about to lecture Steve about it.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause I have another older male friend,” Dustin retorted, attempting to get under Steve’s skin.

“Ew. Ugh, whatever. Besides, you know, I really dig this girl...who knows, maybe she could be the one,” he added, smiling at you as you beamed right back at him from your perch on the countertop.

“You two are fucking disgusting,” Dustin replied, scoffing.

“No, we’re cool as fuck, dipshit,” Steve shot back. The door suddenly swung open, as a group of three girls entered the store, the bell above the door chiming to its familiar tune. “Oh, I got some customers. Call you back, bye.” Steve hung up the phone, ignoring Henderson’s protests.

“Welcome to Family Video, how can I help you today?” You smiled at the group of girls. They were definitely from Steve’s graduating class, home on spring break already. They cast you a judgmental look before turning to Steve.

“Steve! Oh my goodness! It’s been so long since I saw you last,” one of the girls spoke up. When Steve stood staring, unsure of how to respond, her face fell a bit as she added, “it’s me…Alice.”

“Oh, right…how are…things?”

“Oh, life’s been just so peachy! It’s just, us gals need to have a little fun this spring break…you know how it is,” she laughed flirtatiously. “We were just hoping that you had a good movie recommendation for us.”

Steve looked at you and could tell that you weren’t happy with the way these girls were talking to him as if you weren’t even there, so he spoke up, wrapping an arm around you and hugging you close to him. “Yeah, actually. My girlfriend, y/n, and I went and saw Back to the Future together on our first date, and I would really recommend it. I can already tell it’s gonna be a classic, you know?”

At this, Alice frowned, glaring at you before plastering on a fake ass smile. “Aww, that’s so cute that you two are dating! It’s just so surprising, I never would have put you two together. You always seemed like you’d want to go for the more mature girls…the ones with more experience, you know? But I’m just so so happy for the two of you.”

“Yeah, we are really, really happy. Honestly haven’t met a better person than her. But thank you so much for the well wishes, Alex,” Steve responded with a smirk as he grabbed a copy of the movie from the counter. He knew exactly what he was doing, and didn’t feel a bit bad about the way the girl’s face fell as she looked between her two friends. “So, are you ready to check out your movie or what?”

“Actually, I think we’re going to make other plans for this evening,” she spat, “and it’s Alice.”

“Well, I’m sorry we couldn’t be of service to you today,” Steve narrowed his eyes as she turned around, sauntering out of the store with her two friends following closely behind. You rolled your eyes, but you were grateful that Steve at least recognized that the girls had ulterior motives.

“Thank you for that,” you chuckled awkwardly, putting the copy of the movie back on the shelf. You wished you could tell him that the girl’s words hadn’t gotten under your skin, but that would be a lie.

“She was a bitch in high school anyway. Hasn’t changed a bit…mature, my ass,” Steve grumbled, glaring at her car as they pulled away.

“So, we have a date tonight?” You spoke up, reminding Steve of what he had told Dustin. His words had been a surprise to you.

“Yeah, actually!” Steve beamed, “I was thinking we could go to the championship game for basketball tonight. You know, I just miss some of that stuff about high school sometimes, and I know that you miss seeing the kids as often, so I thought that it might be nice to see Lucas play…even if he is a bench warmer…And we’d get to see Robin! And maybe we could even help her with talking to Vickie and—“

“Steve,” you chuckled, “of course I want to go with you, so you can stop trying to sell me on it. That was very thoughtful of you.”

He moved towards you, grabbing you around the hips and pulling you into him until your hips were flush against his, “besides, I was thinking that afterwards, you could spend the night at mine, and we could…hang out some more.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You had been officially dating Steve for eight months and he still was able to make you weak at the knees with only a few words. Your mind flashed back to what Alice had said, about how you were inexperienced, and you thought about the fact that you and Steve hadn’t…gone all the way. You knew that he wanted to, and at first you were holding off because, even though you knew he changed, you still sometimes worried about his history of being a player. However, now that it had been eight months and you two still hadn’t had sex, you were pretty confident he was going to stick with you. Now your insecurities centered more around the fact that you hadn’t been intimate in that way with anyone before. What if he realized that you weren’t good enough and the spark disappeared? What if he didn’t want you anymore?

“Hey, is anyone in there? Earth to y/n, what’s going on?” Steve joke as he knocked his fingers gently against the side of your head. You giggled and leaned against his chest.

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” you closed your eyes. He was just so perfect and you always felt like you were seconds away from losing him. He made you feel so comfortable, which sometimes paradoxically put you on edge. You pulled away, running your fingers through his perfect head of hair as you smiled up at him.

“I love you, y/n. I really, really do,” he looked down at you with his big brown puppy dog eyes.

“I love you too, Steve.”

***

Steve placed a gentle hand to your back as he guided you up the bleachers, making sure that you found a spot close to the band so that you could chat with Robin. You had barely gotten to your spots when the principal took the mic, his words ringing out through the gymnasium.

“Everyone now please rise for our national anthem. Singing for us tonight, we have a very special guest. All the way from Nashville, our very own Tammy Thompson!” The audience cheered as she walked into the gym, waving as if she was some sort of celebrity. You gaped as you and Steve looked over at Robin.

She began singing extremely off key, feedback from the microphone resonating through the gym. Steve leaned towards Robin, whispering, “told you…muppet!” You smacked him in the chest, and he looked at you in disbelief as you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, she does sound like a muppet,” Robin whispered back. Vickie laughed beside her and you smiled as she replied, kickstarting a small conversation between the two of them.

Tammy finally finished her screechy, godawful rendition of the national anthem and the game started. It was a nail biter, but you weren’t on edge until a player on your team got injured and suddenly Lucas Sinclair, season long bench warmer, was on the court.

“Oh my god, Steve,” you said, staring wide eyed at the court as you lazily slapped him in the chest to get his attention. He looked at you incredulously, given the fact that he had been paying much closer attention the whole time than you were.

“Let’s go Lucas! You’ve got this buddy!” Steve yelled out. Sure, he acted like the kids were just a massive pain in his ass, which they were most of the time, but he loved them more than life itself. Watching Lucas play, Steve couldn’t really believe the coach hadn’t put him in all season.

There were three seconds left in the game, and suddenly Lucas had the ball. Hawkins was down by one point, and Lucas shot the ball. You watched with bated breath as the basketball bounced around the rim. You grabbed Steve’s wrist, as you watched with a furrowed brow. Is this what it’s like to be a sport parent?

The ball finally sank into the hoop, and you began jumping up and down as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. You turned and hugged Steve around his neck, needing somewhere to place all your anxiety-turned-adrenaline, now that the game was finally over. Even though Steve was a bit bummed that he hadn’t won a championship of his own, he was damn proud that Lucas had.

The whole basketball team surrounded Lucas, and you quickly made your way down the bleachers. After the team had celebrated and there was finally a break in the crowd, you approached Lucas, pulling him into a hug.

“Lucas, you were amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks, y/n!” The boy beamed. He had been bummed that Dustin and Mike bailed on him, but seeing you there was an unexpected surprise, considering he knew how much you hated basketball.

“I assume the team will be celebrating?” You asked him with a knowing look. He looked at you sheepishly, which confirmed your assumption. “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but please try and make good decisions. And if you need anything at all, just call Steve, okay? He can pick you up, it down’t matter what time it is, you just call, alright?”

Lucas rolled his eyes, somewhat annoyed at your maternal tendencies, but the way you cared about him still made him feel good, so he decided he’d forgive it. “Yeah, okay, I got it. Thanks again for coming guys,” he added, shaking Steve’s hand as Steve patted him on the back to congratulate him. Lucas jogged off with the rest of the team, leaving you and Steve to head out of the gym together.

Once you got to the parking lot, you saw the Hellfire boys exit another wing of the school and you marched off towards them, ignoring Steve’s protests.

“Hey, guys…how was the campaign? I see you found someone to fill in,” you chuckled as Erica gave you a hug. Despite her sassy attitude about 80% of the time, she could be really sweet on the rare occasion.

“It was awesome, y/n!” Erica beamed as she told you.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” you smiled down at her.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the miraculous Ms. Y/n…you missed O’Donell’s quiz,” Eddie spoke up, looking at you with crossed arms.

“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling too well earlier, so I had to leave early,” you didn’t elaborate, “how’d it end up going?”

“It was pretty good. I actually don’t think I failed it this time, so thanks for the help. You know, I’m really fucking determined to graduate this go around.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m glad I could help,” you replied and Steve reached for your hand. You interlocked your fingers with his before you added, “well, we’d better get going…we have an early shift tomorrow, so I’ll see you suckers later.” You saluted with your free hand while Steve grumbled a goodbye and dragged you towards his car.

You got in the passenger seat and as he started it, you could tell he was a little frustrated. “What’s got your panties in a twist, huh?”

“It’s just, I didn’t know you were such good friends with Eddie,” Steve grumbled and you rolled your eyes, chuckling. He looked at you exasperated, in disbelief that you would laugh, but you just leaned in and caught his open mouthed expression in a kiss. He immediately softened at your touch, muttering an apology as you pulled away.

“Ms. O’Donell just asked me to help him with some of his physics shit since he’s dense as fuck. I promise you there is absolutely nothing going on between us…he’s just a friend.” Steve tried to shove his jealousy aside. He knew you wouldn’t lie to him. He just nodded as he drove off, brow still furrowed. You were getting worried that he wasn’t saying anything, but you were terrified of breaking the silence.

When you got to his house, he yanked your car door open, helping you out before grabbing your wrist and pulling you in his house and up the stairs to his bedroom. Normally he was pretty gentle with you, but this time he was a little rougher as he guided you to his bed. You sat down with a huff as he let go, looking at you with wild eyes.

“Steve, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did wrong,” you spoke up beginning to tear up at the way the night was going. His expression softened a bit in surprise, but he reset it, sitting next to you and pulling you onto his lap to straddle him before placing his lips to your neck. He sucked harshly at the skin and you let out a gasp, melting at his touch.

“I’m not mad at you, baby…I could never be mad at you,” he assured you as he breathed across the expanse of your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. “I just get a little jealous sometimes is all…and I want to make it abundantly clear to everyone that you are 100% all mine,” he added as he sucked on your neck again, leaving visible marks and love bites.

You breathed out a small moan that was like music to his ears as he flipped you over so that you were lying down, continuing to kiss across your neck. He began to unbutton the first few buttons of your shirt, placing gentle kisses across your collarbones and down your chest, but your hands quickly darted up to stop him. He immediately let go, looking you in the eyes, searching for what was wrong.

“Steve, I’m sorry…I-I’m just not ready,” your voice cracked as you whispered, your eyes welling up with tears again. You hated disappointing him, and you were worried that he was going to lose interest in you.

“Y/n, please don’t cry…and don’t apologize either. I don’t want to do a damn thing until you’re ready for it, okay?” He assured you while you both sat up, looking you in the eyes with so much sincerity it made you want to cry all over again.

“It’s just….I-I keep thinking about what that girl said at work earlier…she was right you know? I am inexperienced and it’s embarrassing, and I just wish that I could be less weird about all of it and—“

Steve cut you off, “woah, woah, woah! I don’t give a fuck what that girl said. And who cares that you’re inexperienced? I swear that I don’t. Besides, it just means that when you are ready, I get to make sure I really take my time and make it real special for you, okay baby?”

You smiled up at him, leaning in to place a sweet kiss on his lips. He smiled into the kiss as it deepened, before pulling away to look at you again.

“I’m the luckiest guy on the planet, you know that?” You smiled at the praise, before he leaned in to place more kisses down your neck. Life was just so perfect.

Your heart rate quickened at the thought as your breath caught in your lungs. You knew better than to trust things to stay that way…a bad feeling settled in your chest as Steve continued to kiss and nip at your tender skin.

You pushed the thought away as you took a deep breath and allowed Steve to continue kissing you. If shit was about to hit the fan, you’d be damned if you let it cut this moment short. That was a problem for another day, you decided as you melted under Steve’s gentle touch.

***

a/n: Thank you so much for reading! If you wanted an easy way to make me smile, feel free to reblog ;)

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @maeve-wileyy @palachannie @chaerfull @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1 @kissmxcheek

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Running from the Flames {1}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Summary: Brianna Vowles grew up on the paddock. It was what filled every weekend. There were endless trips around the globe with her father and Uncle Otmar in Formula One, until she went to college. Suddenly her life revolved around studying and boys, one of whom wasn't as nice as he had appeared. Five long years later, with a hiatus in between, she graduated with her engineering degree and had decided to use her VIP pass to see if life in the fast lane had changed. Warnings: 18+ only, domestic violence survivor, lots of drama and fluff, this is a work of fiction and the events are not based on reality. Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || under construction

The air was thick with the fumes of high octane fuel and the smoke from burnt rubber tyres. The high keening of the engines reached deafening levels as the race cars left the pits and took to the track. Flags of all colours waved from the stands in support of the drivers from a dozen nations.

It was an absolute assault on the senses.

I couldn’t believe it had been five years since I last submerged myself in the chaotic atmosphere, but there had been more important things to worry about and I had been to the off-track events now and again to keep in touch. 

Fresh off from graduating with my degree, I was ready to take some time out and have a bit of fun before starting my next adventure. Though the job I had lined up wouldn’t wait forever, they had given me the summer to enjoy. And enjoy it I would, I deserved it.

These weekends used to be what I lived for. Uncle Otmar would set me up with my own chair and headset along the pit wall of his team while my dad worked behind the scenes in the FIA. The team was my family and the paddock was a home away from home. 

Sometimes I regretted leaving and going to college but I had been envious of the other young adults having a normal life. Then I realised that no matter how hard those years had been I was given the greatest gift that I wouldn’t change for the world, she was worth the pain and suffering I endured. 

I grinned at my daughter perched on my hip but she was too absorbed in the action around us to see. The tiny pair of earmuffs looked huge on her but the roar of the engines was too loud to go without the safety gear and I couldn’t wait to reach the pits and get my own set. 

“Bri!” Kelly called out as I was passing the door to Red Bull and I barely had time to greet her before she was pulling Adelaide from my arms. “Look how big you are getting, belíssimo,” she cooed as Addie clapped excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“To be honest, I hadn’t really planned on it,” I answered as I gave her a kiss on the cheek and hugged her daughter Penelope. “Coming back though, I really missed this.”

“Good, then you’ll keep coming and I can get my smooches from this gorgeous wee girl. Yes, you’ll be a Red Bull girl won’t you?”

“Otmar won’t get you any Christmas presents if he hears that.” Adelaide has no idea what either of us were talking about but at two years old she was just happy to get all the attention. “Speaking of, I should hurry up and find where he is.”

“I can look after Addie,” Kelly offered, unwilling to hand her back just yet. “Then you can catch up without a distraction.”

“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly, not wanting to be a burden.

“Can she play with my dolls, please?” Penelope begged and Kelly nodded with a smile that eased my concern.

I tucked a long strand of hair behind Penelope’s ear and said, “Of course she can.”

My steps away were slow and I looked back twice after saying goodbye to Addie but, aside from a short wave, her attention was on Penelope and the Barbie doll she was offering. If anything changed Kelly had my number and she would be able to find Alpine’s pit stop easy enough. 

“Brianna, there you are.” Otmar’s voice was barely audible over the noise in the pit lane but I found his hand waving from where he sat at the Control Centre along the pit wall.

It had only been a few weeks since I last saw my uncle, though it was a loose term when we were not related by blood. Otmar was my father’s best friend and a constant in my life until I left for college. The two had grown up together, practically like brothers, and I had been raised with Otmar’s kids - homeschooled on the road during race season. 

When I reached him, Otmar spared a quick second to give me a hug before handing me a headset with a welcoming smile. “Where’s little Addie?”

“With Kelly. It’s a cleverly disguised strategy to distract Red Bull from the race.”

Otmar laughed heartily and shook his head at the fib but he also knew if Addie was around him while he was trying to watch the qualifiers she would definitely distract him so maybe it was a smart move. 

“How are we looking?” Otmar asked as I glanced over the readings on the screen in front of him and listened to the drivers give commentary on the drive.

“Looks promising,” I said with a pat on his shoulder, proud of the work he had done with the team since joining them, “but you know how Monaco is.” 

“It’s all about the starting position,” he finished with a serious nod before giving all his attention to the lap times.

Otmar had always been a man of few words when I was younger, but when he spoke it was always well thought out and meaningful. That did not apply when he was in his seat at the pit wall. Curses tumbled from his mouth with each lap and I realised how sheltered he and my father had kept me from this side of the sport. Hearing each swear word just made me smile wider.

The heat of Monaco was beginning to get to me when Otmar’s Alpine drivers finally made it through qualifying without any major incidents and respectable starting places of 5th and 9th in the grid for race day. If they could hold those positions and get points then the team would be in a good place for the Constructors Championship. 

“Come, come,” Otmar said as he took off his headset and tossed it on his chair. “When was the last time you came to a race?”

I pursed my lips as I thought back through the years. “You were still with Force India, maybe 5 years ago?”

“Ah, so you won’t have met my drivers.” He grinned as he led the way into the workshop and through to the cooldown rooms that lay beyond, accepting handshakes and congratulations along the way. “5th place, well done, good spirit out there,” he bolstered excitedly as he reached a man still kitted out in his riding suit and clapped him on the back. The man turned around and I saw the embroidered name Pierre on his suit but I had seen his pictures like the other drivers on posters around the paddock. 

Pierre grinned at his boss and shook his hand before the pair of stunning green eyes turned to me with a hint of confusion. All of the other people in the workshop were wearing Alpine uniforms or jumpsuits like the pit crew but I stood out in a floral day dress better suited for the warm weather on the Mediterranean coastline.

“Pierre, this is my niece, Brianna, she will be with us for the weekend,” Otmar introduced. “So give her a good show.”

Pierre blinked a little stunned at the news but nodded and held his hand out with a polite, “It’s nice to meet you. I didn’t know he had a niece.” 

His French accent rolled beautifully off his tongue and his palm was hot in my hand from the gloves he had worn on the track as I shook it. “He doesn’t,” I corrected with a smile. “He grew up with my dad and spent so long at my Nan’s house she pretty much adopted him as her own.”

He smiled at the statement before wincing and rubbing his jawline. Concern washed over me as he looked pained and I stepped closer out of reflex, my motherly instincts kicking in. “Are you alright?” 

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” he dismissed with a blatant lie before repeating it to Otmar. 

“If you’re sure,” Otmar double checked with a pointed look. “Okay, go see Kim for your warm down then meet us in the den for debriefing. Bri, come meet Esteban.”

I waved to Pierre as I was led away to the other driver in a matching jumpsuit but his had been half opened and was tied loosely around his waist. This driver was far more reserved as Otmar introduced me and I could see he was too wrapped up in replaying the laps in his head to converse properly but his lower starting place compared to his teammate was weighing heavily on him. 

Seeing the lacklustre effort the young man was putting in, Otmar sighed and clapped him on the back before giving him the same instructions as Pierre and sending him on his way. Once he was out of ear shot, Otmar leaned in closer and murmured, “We are working on rebuilding his confidence but I have high hopes for him this season.”

“He’s still on track for points, if he can just get out of his own head I think he’ll make you proud.” Otmar clapped his hands to get the attention of the others scattered around the room and called them into the den which was just a large room full of chairs where the engineers and pit crew could discuss where improvements could be made before tomorrow's race. “Just a little more of your time today folks, then we can go and rest before the team dinner tonight.”

A lot of the teams went their separate ways after leaving the pits, going back to their private motorhomes or hotels and getting an early night but Otmar believed that a team was a family and that extended to mealtime being a shared event. It was an odd belief to hold in such a competitive sport but it made me respect him all the more for trying to build trust and loyalty into the team instead of just the will to win. 

“May I sit here?” Pierre asked politely as he appeared in a skintight shirt and jeans, his hair still damp from the quick shower he took. 

I gestured to the empty seat, though there were plenty of other ones around the room including one on the other side of Otmar. “Be my guest.”

All through the debrief I couldn’t help but notice Pierre shifting beside me, constantly rubbing at the stubble that shadowed his jaw and wincing. I couldn’t concentrate on the information that was being shared knowing he was in pain and everyone else failed to see it. 

Finally when the room began to empty I placed a hand on his arm before he could follow and leant closer since he obviously didn’t want anyone to know. “You should talk to the medic,” I whispered into his ear.

“I told you, I’m fine,” he assured me as he turned to face me, the citrus scent of his body wash filling my lungs. 

“Fine, if you won’t talk to them then talk to me.” I gave him the same look I give my daughter when she has been caught red handed and he looked away as it worked its magic.

“My, er, the big teeth at the back?”

“Wisdom?” I offered, with a grimace as I remembered the pain of having them removed.

“Yeah, wisdom teeth, they are coming through. Guess I am finally getting wise.”

“Better late than never,” I teased as I opened my handbag and rifled through the pockets before triumphantly pulling out a small blue tube. “Here, try this.”

“Bonjela?” he read before flipping it over and seeing it was for teething babies and cocking his eyebrow at me.

“It works for adults too, just rub some on your gums and it will numb them for a while. It’s a miracle worker, trust me. I have a-” I was cut off by a familiar voice calling out for me and turned to see Kelly weaving through the Alpine crew with her Red Bull hat standing out. 

“Mama!” Addie broke away from Kelly and rushed forward. 

“Sorry,” Kelly apologised. “She was missing you.”

“It’s alright,” I said with a smile as I bent down to catch Addie’s flailing arms. “Addie, say thank you to Ti-Ti for looking after you.”

Adelaide turned to Kelly and thanked her the best she could for a two year old and waved to Penelope before they headed back to the Red Bill garage where Max was waiting.

“Who is this little princess?” Pierre asked as he knelt down beside me to Addie’s height. 

“This is my daughter, Adelaide. Addie, this is mummy’s new friend, Pierre.” 

“Hi Pear,” she copied and he laughed at the attempt before looking around like he was expecting someone else. It wasn’t uncommon.

“He’s not in the picture,” I said quietly while Adelaide told a convoluted story about the Barbie doll and Penelope. Pierre’s encouraging smile for Adelaide to continue her story wavered when he looked across at me with his eyebrows pinched. “It’s a long story and not a pretty one.”

He sighed with understanding and placed a light hand on my knee. “You can talk to me if you ever need,” he offered before waving the blue tube in his hand. “I owe you.”

The heat of his hand was like fire on my skin and I let it fall from my knee as I stood up and stepped back. A fog had filled my head and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say as I stood staring at him. It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried dating since Adelaide was born but I could never get past the point of physical touch. Not after Erik. He had tainted me. 

I would have been frozen in that state all afternoon if Otmar hadn’t come to see Addie. His arrival shocked me out of the moment and released the breath I had been holding, trying to slow the rapid beating in my chest. 

“Sorry,” I muttered when I finally dared a glance at Pierre who chewed on his bottom lip, those striking green eyes full of concern. I had to break away from them and regain my composure so I turned to Otmar instead. “I’m gonna go take Addie to the hotel for a nap, but I’ll come find you later for dinner.”

Otmar pouted playfully as he handed Addie over from the cuddle they were having and said he would send a car to pick us up at 5pm. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and struggled to say goodbye to Pierre without my cheeks catching fire while I relived the embarrassing moment over in my head. 

“Bye Otty,” Addie called out over my shoulder. “Bye Pear!”

Pierre’s reply was instant and I almost stumbled as he spoke in his native tongue, “Au revoir, princesse.”

Click here for chapter two.

[shepherds-of-haven]

Sorry if this has already been asked before, but have you ever thought about writing a sequel to SoH? I know you said it would be a stand-alone book, but I think a sequel where we explore different continents would be extremely cool. I just love these character so much and idk if I’m ready to say goodbye. I know we still have a bit left but still…

Hi there, this message has been sitting in a long queue of messages I've fallen behind on answering for a while now, but I just wanted to say thank you for taking the time to send it! It ended up being extremely thought-provoking for me, and you may have single-handedly made me reconsider my stance on a Shepherds sequel! XD

I always planned on this entry being a standalone game, though I was toying with the idea of eventually writing a sequel that follows a separate cast of characters (aka different protagonist and companions, though with room for potential cameos with the old characters). Pretty much like how Dragon Age does it! I won't go into the potential plot details now, but I was thinking it might take place sometime between 10-15 years in the future, and it would follow "a new generation" of Shepherds in a different locale. I've sort of hazily cobbled together ideas for the story/main premise, but companions outside of the main protagonist have eluded me at the moment--I really need to focus on this game, its DLC, and my next book first, so I haven't given it too much thought!

However, your comment has unearthed some feelings I've been having about a potential sequel, too! It's hard for me to feel like I'd be ready to say goodbye to the cast, as well... It's so easy for me to write them because they've been in my head for so many years, and starting an adventure in the world of Blest with different and new characters admittedly feels a bit strange. It's like having to hang back a grade while all of your friends graduate high school and then looking around at the incoming freshman class like "welp, I guess you guys are my friends now! 😒" lol. I'm torn on the issue: I don't want to not challenge myself or refuse to move out of my comfort zone as a writer--in short, I don't want to be the kind of writer who recycles the same characters and material because doing something new is daunting to me, and I don't want you all to feel like I'm making endless sequels/trying to recapture old magic and should just move on to something new, either--but I do love my cast and I'm not sure yet if I should definitively say, "No, their chapter is done with this game and it's on to the next!", because I can see so many adventures happening to them even after this story is over!

The problem lies with endings--there are so many different endings planned for this game that I hesitate in treating any of them as the true or canonical one, but otherwise trying to account for all of them in a sequel feels quite impossible to accomplish when I wasn't planning on a continuation--along with other logistical concerns that I can't get into at the moment. Like, what if you end the game with all of the Shepherds except Halek dead? What if your friend ends the game with all of them alive, but the MC is dead? This game alone is already 1 million words, but a direct sequel would probably wrack up hundreds of thousands of variations based on all of these choices in its first chapter alone! 🤔

That's why I figure DLC is the happy medium here: you can expand on or create new content and adventures for the characters, but slot them into the timeline wherever you wish, like in between Chapter 7 and 8, etc. And episodic adventures might keep things small and streamlined enough that I can update them more consistently, rather than hacking away at one giant sequel game!

Aaaaaanyway... All this is to say: I have a lot to think about! Absolutely nothing has been decided yet (not even close), but these are just some of the things I've had rattling around in my head. Thank you again for your sweet and honest words: I'm glad you're so fond of these characters and would miss them. I would, too! But whatever ends up happening, I know this game won't be the last time we see them. :)

Thanks again!

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 24 | A Waking Nightmare

Chapter Twenty-Four | A Waking Nightmare

Parker couldn’t believe how awesome this new place was. There were so many big spaces and new areas to explore. No longer was the kitchen connected to the living room which was connected to the dining room. The bedrooms were upstairs instead of on the same floor as all the others.

There was a separate spot for Parker’s mom to have an office instead of her having to use part of the living room or her office. There were carpeted parts of the house as well as tile and hard wood. There were two whole bathrooms and even a balcony that overlooked a back yard.

All of this was new and amazing for Parker.

Sure, he still had his space that he would be staying in, but Parker was already making plans to make some transportation structures for easy access from his room to the kitchen and bathroom.

One of those things included an elevator that he would get put into the wall. It would be a simple cut out from the floor to part of the wall in the kitchen. The actual mechanism would be inside of the wall.

Parker knew his mom was probably going to have some objections to it overall just because she probably didn’t want holes cut into their new home and Parker would be designing the pulley system himself. Still, he was confident that he could persuade her if he pointed out he would be climbing the stairs manually.

She didn’t like when he climbed too high.

It was an open and shut case.

So, as Parker helped unload all of the various cables and started setting up his area, he began scouting the floorboards and the rooms for the best place for him to put some of the contraptions he wanted to include in the home.

As he did, there was an odd feeling in the air that he couldn’t quite place. It was like the same sensation he got right before his mom entered the room or the sensation that overwhelmed his mind when he woke up from his reoccurring nightmare, which was happening more frequently recently.

It was the same dream every time, though some of the details changed from time to time.

The dark clouds. Some kind of boat. Someone calling to him as he was suddenly dragged under the waves. Not being able to breathe. Fear. Cold. Darkness.

Just the thought petrified the young teen.

Parker had to remind himself it was just a dream. He had actually posted about the dream a few times on his blog and a few people suggested it might be more of a memory than a nightmare, but Parker couldn’t remember anything like that in his lifetime. He did have to acknowledge the fact that some studies he read up on about dreams said that dreams couldn’t pull from information a person didn’t already have.

It was weird, and the more he thought about it the more it made Parker’s head hurt. Putting the dream aside, there was something about this house that set Parker’s senses on edge. It almost felt alive. Every time he approached the walls while hooking up his cables, Parker felt like a magnet drawn to steel.

Perhaps it was just his adventures that one night into the walls that compelled him to venture into the walls again. Perhaps it was just natural curiosity that drew him to explore what was unknown. Or, as another crazy thought, perhaps Parker wanted to compare the walls of his old home to his new home to see what differences there were.

He remembered the interior walls next to the drywall being unusually tidy and the little sketch mark still had no official translation. Were there marks like that in this house too?

Parker kind of wanted to know.

But did he really?

Conflicted, Parker continued hooking up all of his wires until, finally, his space was fully operational. Other than the water, which his mom hooked up after he informed her everything else was in place, all Parker had to do was help organize the drawers and chat with his mom.

They talked about everything while they worked. School. Future study plans now that midterms were over, and Parker would have to start thinking about what he wanted to study in the spring semester. They also talked about Lyn and how she was doing.

It made Parker just the slightest bit uncomfortable that they were talking about her simply because his body started doing funny things when he thought about his female classmate. Sure, she was a couple years older than him, their group of friends celebrating her sixteenth birthday just last week, but there was something about her that made Parker feel warm and tingly, excited and nervous, confident and seen.

It wasn’t until the movers came with all of the other furniture that Parker noticed his mom act a little strangely. She quickly ushered him up to his room and told him that she didn’t want him to get hurt.

“I’ll be okay, mom,” ensured Parker. “I’ll be on the counters and on the windowsill. They won’t hurt me. They’re not kids.”

“Parker, I would rather you not be out and about while they’re bringing everything in. There’s going to be so much movement and things swinging around and possibly falling. I would just feel better if you just took a break and relaxed in your room. Don’t worry. You’ll be able to help put everything when you want it when they’re done,” countered his mom.

Parker wanted to continue the discussion but ended up complying with his mom and retreating back to his room. There was something in her tone that sounded panicked and uneasy. It was like she didn’t want him to be seen and didn’t want him to talk to the movers.

That’s weird. I know she’s protective, but I thought it would be different now. I’m older. I’m almost fifteen. I can look after myself. I’m careful.

Parker huffed a huge sigh and flopped down on his bed where he found himself daydreaming about meeting Lyn for the first time. He thought about what she would say about his height, which he already had some lines for, or so he thought. He imagined what it would be like to hug her. He even dared to think about what it would be like to kiss her.

This brought about a whole range of emotions that made Parker squirm uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure where that thought came from, but he quickly shook himself out of his fantasy and turned his attention to his books and finishing setting up his room.

It was hours later when the sound of thumping and talking voices finally subsided. There were a few times when the voices sounded close to Parker’s door, but no one entered his room. In fact, Parker felt his hair stand on end and he actually retreated further into his space when he heard the voices.

It was another weird sensation of wanting to talk to new people and meet them but also wanting to retreat and hide away.

It made his head hurt, but he didn’t spend time dwelling on it. Too much time had already been dedicated to it in the past, and Parker didn’t find any use thinking about stuff he couldn’t solve. There were too many other books and subjects for him to learn about anyway.

Parker eventually emerged from his room, actually soldier crawling under the door to get out of his bedroom and climbed down the stairs. He wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but he snagged a few thumb tacks and taped them to his shoes and the used the carpet fibers as solid handholds as he climbed down each individual step.

The young teen was rather pleased with himself by the time he made it down to the bottom step and carefully took off his shoes before walking into the kitchen where he saw his mom unpacking plates and bowls.

“Hey mom,” Parker called. She stopped moving immediately and scanned the floor for Parker, smiling when she found him.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Were you calling for me? I’m sorry. I just thought I’d put these things away really quick before coming up to see what you wanted to eat for dinner,” said his mom as she knelt and extended her hand.

“No worries. I just got down here,” said Parker. Amanda glanced down at her child as she lifted him onto the counter.

“How did you get down here?” the thought that entered her mind changed Amanda’s expression to one of worry and disbelief. “You didn’t climb down them, did you?”

Parker sat quietly and averted his gaze bashfully. There was no denying what he had done, so he decided now was as good of a time as any to bring up his idea about the elevator.

“Um… well… I did have to climb, but I was really careful!” Parker insisted. His mom gave him another worried look and shook her head. “No! I really was! I used some thumb tacks on my shoes and made sure I had a tight grip on the carpet before coming down. Which! I actually had an idea for. Since I’m on the top floor and my room is across from the kitchen, I could implement my elevator idea.”

“Parker…”

“I know you’re worried about the idea, so I decided to draw up the plans and try it out on the desk. All I need to do is build it and then you’ll have a chance to see that it’s a solid design,” insisted Parker. Amanda sighed heavily as she set her hand onto the counter. Parker could see his mom would need far more convincing. The reluctance was tangible.

So instead of pressing the issue, he decided to start dragging away the paper and stuffing that was in between the dishes while he listened to yet another safety spiel his mom had rehearsed. It was a conversation he had dozens of times before, especially when it came to him climbing and experimentally inventing contraptions. She was usually very supportive of everything else except for the two specific topics of certain climbing inventions and visiting friends in person.

Honestly, he tuned out most of what his mom had to say simply because he had heard it so many times before. Parker instead diligently worked and nodded, agreeing mindlessly. He would have continued to do so except something caught his attention that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Just for a moment, the teenage boy could have sworn that he saw the electrical cover on the other side of the counter move on its own. It didn’t shift down as if falling. It shifted up – as if being shifted back into place.

He shook his head as his heart skipped a few beats. He felt like he was on pins and needles. Everything felt electrified in his body. His head swirled uncomfortably as if he was about to pass out, which Parker had never done before.

“Parker? Parker?” His mom’s voice shook him out of his temporary stupor. “Is everything okay? You look a bit pale.”

Parker looked over at his mom and then back to the electrical cover.

“I… sorry. I thought I saw the electric cover move,” Parker said in a daze. There was immediately a look of concern on her face as she looked over at the island behind her. Before Parker could say anything, his mom walked over and jiggled the cover. Sure enough, it was a bit loose and actually came off.

“Well, that’s not good,” she muttered. “I’ll have to screw that in tighter.” There was something about seeing that electrical cover open that drew Parker to it once more. Though the island was a place he definitely couldn’t reach, Parker suddenly found himself on the edge of the counter looking down at the sheer drop beneath him. The sensation was thrilling and terrifying as he looked down at the vertigo inducing distance.

“Anyway, what do you want to have for dinner? You get to pick,” said his mom as she snapped the cover back into place and turned to face him.

“Um… Chinese? It’s been a while since we’ve had it,” suggested Parker.

“Wonderful. I’ll go ahead and order it. And to watch after dinner?”

Parker decided he wanted to watch The Matrix. It was a bit of an adult movie, but he had been allowed to see it before while his mother censored some of the “naughty” bits. The concepts of defining what was and wasn’t real while also delving into the technology that existed in the world was fascinating to him.

Parker thought it might be fun to get into computer programming simply because he wanted to be able to write code and maybe create mods for the games he enjoyed playing. Lyn evidently knew a little bit about programming and mod creation, and Parker was more than eager to pick her brain about it.

The thought of what made the electrical cover shift slowly faded in the teen’s mind as his mother occupied him with other chores and preparing for dinner. The movie and the food were both phenomenal, but during both Parker couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Something kept drawing his eyes upward toward the trim at the ceiling or by the other electrical covers around the room.

There was something that felt alive about this house, and Parker didn’t like it. When it came time for bed, Parker actually brought it up to his mom.

“Do… you feel weird in the house? Like… are you getting a weird feeling?” asked Parker as his mom came in to wish him a good night. Amanda had been getting a weird feeling, but it wasn’t until Parker said something that she fully elected to acknowledge the sensations around her.

“Well, a little, but I think that’s normal. This is a new house. Maybe we’re just not used to it yet,” suggested his mom. Parker sighed and nodded as he tugged at the hair on the back of his neck and rubbed just beneath his hairline. “Do you feel uncomfortable? Like you don’t want to be alone?”

“Maybe,” he muttered. Amanda, seeing her son’s discomfort, had an idea.

“Here. One second.” She went down to the living room and retrieved the old baby monitor that she and Parker used. It was something she hadn’t used in years, but it certainly aided her when she couldn’t be near Parker. When she brought it up, Parker recognized the contraption immediately.

“The baby monitor? Mom, I’m not a baby,” grumbled Parker as his cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

“I know you’re not, but the radio still works. If you need anything, you can just shout, and I’ll hear it in the other room. Just for now until the feeling goes away. Sound good?” asked Amanda. Parker considered the electronic device for a minute before deciding to relent. It was a good idea, and it was more of a radio than anything else.

The teen agreed reluctantly, and Amanda quickly set it up in the hallway just outside of his room for relative privacy’s sake. Then, with a kiss, Amanda wished her son the best dreams and went off to bed herself.

Parker curled up into bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours before feeling an inkling of being tired. There was something about this place that made him uneasy. Perhaps it was just the relative unease of moving to a new home. It was the first time he had moved before after all.

It was these thoughts that Parker eventually fell asleep to.

Sadly, his dreams were not the best or the sweetest one he was asleep.

The nightmare appeared once again, but there was more to it than last time.

Parker could feel the chilling rain surrounding him. Someone’s arms were wrapped around him and telling him that they were going to be okay. Walls of water surrounded him, and he clung to the person tightly. He couldn’t describe it, but he trusted whoever it was that held him with all of his heart.

Another wall of water crashed over him. The darkness of the sky lit up just in time for him to look into the faceless features of the person who held onto him so tightly. All at once, he was dragged away, swallowed by the wave of water and spat out in the mud and leaves.

He turned in time to see the person being held back as they too were dragged under the waves of endless water surrounding him. Someone called out something to him that he couldn’t hear.

Fear.

Primal terror.

Loneliness.

Parker clutched something to his chest as the dark shadows surrounded him. He whimpered and tried to get away, but one shadow emerged and grabbed him. He threw out his arms and tried to push it away, but immediately Parker knew something was off.

For one, he registered that his hands made contact with something. Times before in his dreams, there was never resistance.

Most unnervingly was the fact something – someone – said his name.

“Parker? Shush and wake up!”

Wake up? What on ea-…

Parker opened his eyes and, to his horror, spotted a shadowy figure looming over him. From the sound of the voice, it was a girl speaking to him. For a second, Parker thought this was still part of the dream.

Vision sharpening instantly and sleep banished from his eyes, Parker pulled his legs free from his blankets and kicked, launching the figure across the room. She grunted in pain and gasped for air with the wind knocked out of her. Parker was on his feet in an instant and practically threw himself at his touch lamp, smacking it unnecessarily hard as the room illuminated.

There, standing up with difficulty, was a teen about the same age as him, possibly younger. Her hair was dark brown, and her eyes were basically black. She had mismatch pieces of fabric for clothing as well as a collection of weird contraptions at her hips. Her hair was in a low ponytail, which only kept her hip length hair out of her face. She forced herself to her feet and gasped for air again as she glared at him.

“You kicked me!” she hissed accusatorily. “Whatever. Come on! We have to go! Now!”

Parker knew two things.

One, he was drenched from his nightmare.

Two.

There was no way this was a dream. The way his heart pounded and the sensation of landing not one but two solid blows on the girl. His entire body trembled violently, and nausea immediately punched him in the gut.

What was this?

What was going on?

Panicked at seeing this stranger, let alone one his size, standing right there in front of him triggered an instinctual response that Parker couldn’t begin to understand.

He started to shout.

“M-mom! Mom! There’s someone here! Someone’s in the house!”

He wasn’t sure why he started shouting. Perhaps it was the instinctual fear and the involuntary need to be saved, but his body acted on its own as he called out to his mom.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she shied away immediately, retreating into the shadows of the next room.

“Dude! Shut up!” she hissed. “The human will hear you!”

“H-human? What?” Parker asked. His head swirled again and he staggered to the wall, leaning heavily against it. He gasped several times for air that left his lungs unsatisfied as his vision by the girl blurred.

“Are you coming or not!?” The girl didn’t wait for more than two seconds before turning on her heel and running toward the stairs. The sound of her retreating footsteps summoned Parker’s attention, and he chased after her.

“Wait! What? Where are you going?” Parker shouted. The girl stopped on the stairs and glared at him.

“Stop shouting, you moron!” she chastised as she continued running. Parker’s mind was running wild, but he spotted the baby monitor and did the only thing he could think to do. His mom couldn’t hear him here, but she could with the monitor.

He darted forward and threw his weight into the button and shouted as loud as he could.

“Mom! Mom! Come here! Quick! There’s someone in the house!”

He heard the girl curse as she left his house. Parker barely made it to the window in time to see her give one more fateful glance upward toward him, briefly making eye-contact, before vanishing off of the side of the desk.

Moments later, Parker heard his mother’s footsteps thundering through the hall and into his room.

“Parker? Parker!” she called as she rushed over to the desk, practically ripping the hinges as she threw the door open to look into Parker’s space. Parker shakily staggered toward his mom, mindlessly pointing toward the backside of the desk.

“Mom! There… th-there… there was a girl! There was a girl here in my room! She… sh-she… she was… l-like me. She was little like me!” Parker ran his fingers through his hair as he staggered toward his mom’s open hands. He was heaving in breath after breath, choking back the urge to vomit.

“Is there anyone else here, Parker?” asked his mom as she looked wildly around the room and back over her shoulder toward the stairs leading downstairs.

“W-what? No. I… I don’t think so. B-but mom. Sh-she was my size. She…” Parker let himself fall into his mom’s hands as he tried to calm his breathing. Everything hurt, especially his head.

Amanda, seeing Parker in such a state, looked at the state of his clothes and glanced around his space. Nothing looked disturbed or different. Parker was drenched from head to toe. She had to wonder if he actually saw someone or if it was just a bad dream.

“Parker, are you sure you saw someone? Are you sure it wasn’t a nightmare?” asked Amanda.

“No! Mom! Check by the desk legs! I know what I saw!” shouted Parker. Amanda did as he instructed and looked at the legs of the desk and the electrical covers nearby.

Nothing looked out of place.

Was it just a dream?

Could it have been a dream?

Honestly, what were the chances of there being a small girl living here in the house with them?

Then again, Parker existed, so couldn’t someone else?

What were they doing here?

Were they here for Parker?

Why? Why would they be?

And, Heaven forbid, what if they tried to talk to Parker before she could?

She didn’t want to distress Parker further and decided to compromise for the time being.

“Parker, I don’t know how much searching we can do here in the dark. Come to my room and get some rest. We’ll take a thorough look around in the morning,” said Amanda. Parker, still visibly shaking, looked back at his space. Doubt began to fill his mind.

Did he see what he saw?

Was it a part of his imagination?

No… it couldn’t have been….

And there was something else too…

There was something in his mom’s tone that made Parker the slightest bit uneasy. Did she believe him? And, if she did, why wasn’t she doing something about it now? Was she trying to dissuade him from looking? Was she trying to hide something from him?  

Head throbbing, Parker tentatively agreed to stay with his mom for the evening. He wanted to sleep without the threat of waking again; but he wouldn’t forget this sensation.

He needed to do some of his own investigating tomorrow first thing when he got the chance.

Tomorrow… he would try and find his own answers.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

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Beginning

[cocogrrrl]

my princess (choose your own adventure!)

a choose your own adventure story where you, a princess, spend the day getting to know your soon-to-be husband, prince kyle.

prince!kyle x fem princess!yn (arranged marriage + royal au) cw: near breakdown bc of sensory overstim for one of the routes wc: 1157 for this chapter, 9201 for all parts

an: omg its done!! :'] please wait from me to attach the links if you're early btw HAHA while there is no bad ending, there is one ending i consider to be the canon one because i may or may not make a part 2 ;0 ps: i made the parts in very different states of mind LOL + take a shot everytime it says word hum, muse, and silence

For most princesses, their fate was often sealed by the decision of their parents. You were no different.

Last week, your parents told you that you would be wed to Kyle Broflovski of Larnion. First and foremost, it was to form an allegiance with his family, seeing how your kingdom’s, Halcyon, military was quite advanced and strong while Larnion was very wealthy. Second, he and your parents have known each other for a long time, so it was a no-brainer to set your children up, I guess.

 You’ve never met Kyle, to be frank, but you’ve definitely heard of him. He was stereotypically perfect—physically active, studious, and ambitious. People praised him for the person he was. You weren’t stoked to meet him, but you weren’t upset either. You knew of your fate ever since you were a child, and what you got didn’t seem so bad.

What did he think of you, though? Most, unsure if he was one of them, viewed you as an educated, well-spoken, and graceful young lady. You weren’t well-spoken, though, you just knew when to shut your mouth. You didn’t like the very feminine appearance you had in public, yet some thought you were a bit too smart for your own good. They did get to you sometimes, but you believe that it’s best to just brush it off. However, the main thing you were worried about is if you were going to be wed to a person like those people.

The carriage turned by the circular driveway of the palace, where you would stay for the next week. If there was only one word you could use to describe the place, it would most definitely be posh. It looked like it supported only lavish lifestyles. You wouldn’t call it aristocratic, but it was shocking just how sophisticated and elegant the place was decorated.

Your parents, with your following behind them, proceeded to head to the throne hall, where you spotted Prince Gerald and Queen Sheila—two familiar faces you saw from time to time growing up. Beside them sat, what you could only assume, is Kyle.

For the most part, he looked what you expected his to look like, just a lot more lanky. You heard he took quite a few sports growing up, including football and horseracing, so your best judgment was that he was super buff—which didn’t exactly stoke you. You were happy to see that he didn’t look like a bodybuilder with a small head popping out at the top. It was the opposite, he did seem fit, but his body seemed faintly toned. Sleeper build, you guessed.

Greetings and compliments were exchanged between your parents. You stood there, smiling and waving to Mrs. and Mr. Broflovski. Kyle had gotten up to say hello to your parents as well. As the four of them chatted by the side, Kyle made his way to you, a polite and welcoming smile on his face.

“You must be YN?” was the first thing he said.

“And you must be Kyle.” Your head was raised high, nodding at him.

“I am” he hummed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” He got on one knee as he took your hand to gently lay a kiss upon it.

You caught your cheeks heating up, taken aback by the action. You expected this, but that didn’t mean you were prepared to actually deal with it. “Please, the pleasure is all mine.” You curtsied as he stood back up.

“There’s our soon-to-be,” a voice chimed from the side. You two turned to look see who it was—it was Kyle’s mother.

You exchanged a look with Kyle, both of your eyes sending a ‘What do we do?’ to what she said. Luckily for Kyle, you spoke first.

“Oh, Mrs. Broflovski,” you swoooned as you feigned innocence and embarrassment with a chuckle.

“Please.” she grinned at you. “Call Gerald and me, Mom and Dad.”

“A-Already?” Your surprise was genuine, but your tone continued to remain soft and calm.

“We insist, dear.” She walked towards you, stroking your hair.

Your father joined Sheila. “You may call us Mom and Dad as well, Kyle,” he said as he pat his back.

Kyle seemed to laugh it off, but with a quick glance at him, you could tell he felt a little awkward about the whole thing. The tense in his shoulder and the way he look everywhere but at the people in the room said it all. “Haha, thank you very much…”

“So, you two are aware why we’ve brought you two here today, yes?” Gerald spoke. Although you knew Sheila, or now Mom, to be the sterner one between the two, Gerald had a more serious tone than the rest right now.

You and Kyle simply nodded to his question. You were going to spend time together and get to know each other better in preparation for the wedding. It’s a good thing they didn’t rush you into marriage right away, but it’s not like you had a choice if you didn’t like Kyle anyway.

“There’s going to be a masquerade ball tonight,” your mom explained. “You don’t have to come, but we highly suggest you do.”

A few more words were exchanged between you two and the adults, and, soon enough, you found them leaving you and Kyle left to your own devices.

“See you later, little baby girl!” Your father waved ecstatically as he strolled off. You shook your head, feeling humiliated. Kyle spotted your embarrassment and laughed at it. Maybe a little too loudly for your liking, but any volume of laughter from that was plenty too much for you.

Before Sheila left, she quickly made her way to Kyle. “Take care of YN. Okay, booby?” You tried to hold in laughter. Kyle stared back at you, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, Mom.” He sighed.

“Alright. I’ll be heading out now. See you two cuties soon.” Kyle’s mom smiled, walking in the direction where the rest of your parents were.

“So, booby,” You teased.

The red on his face when he got flustered or angered was cute, you thought. “What is it, little baby girl?” He spat back, not realizing how weird sounded when he said it.

“Don’t say that. It sounds weird.” You rolled your eyes, elbowing him in the arm. He paused, looking at you to process what you meant by that. Once the realization sunk in his face more red than you could ever possibly imagine.

To ease the tension between you two, changed the topic. “Today’s free rein, though,” you continued. “You have any ideas where we could go?” You gave him a smile, hoping to ease his embarrassment even a little bit.

“Well, there’s the masquerade ball,” he hummed, looking everywhere but at you. “I suppose we can also go to the garden or a nearby village here as well…”

Which do you pick?

The Garden.

The Village.

The Masquerade Ball.