#the paper plate is a folded bill

[keepingtrackoflosttime]

After her set, she got a beer and took a seat next to him. Casually, "So what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?"

He gave a sudden snort of laughter, caught off guard. So far so good.  "What kind of guy am I like?"

"Good looking. Generous." She waved a paper plane at him.  "Not a grabby asshole like some of these dudes."  She took a swig of beer. "Don't even try to tell me you can't get a date."

He was looking at her, amused, and looking right into her face, too, not at her breasts. "Can't get a date with the right woman."

She laughed. "Well, I don't think you're going to find her here. Most of the girls don't date customers."

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol Switcharoo (pt5)

Stan x reader / ford x reader

Summary: you are forced to question the life you've lived for 30 years.

Warning: none

☆anyone on my tagliatelle who isn't seeing this when I Tag them let me know ik I've been having problems tagging a few of ya'll

~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~

"I'm feeling little over dressed for the occasion." You said stepping into the kitchen wearing one of your best outfits for the date Mable had prepared for you and Stanford.

Stanford stood in the kitchen with a smile. "Are you kidding!? Look at'cha, you're stunning!" Stanford said you smiled as he reached out a hand and guided you to the table, pulling out your seat before pushing you in and sitting down himself.

Mable insisted your first date be at home, Dipper and Soos dressed to a T in fancy waiter outfits the table set with the nicest/ least stained tablecloth in the house. And Mable in a chef hat.

"I promise to take out out somewhere real nice." Stanford whispered as Mable scooped whatever she had on the stove onto plates. You chuckled in response before Dipper and soos presented you with the meals.

Your eyes widened. You looked at Stanford mouthing a thank you for the real date dinner in advance. Stanford managed to get you away from Mable and Into the car for some real food.

"Most fancy places are closed for the night. The best I can offer is burgers." He said, driving down the quiet road. "I love Mable, but anything is better than that." You both laughed. Eventually, you had your food as he pulled up to the lake, and you both sat and ate. Talking Like two teenagers on a first date.

For the following weeks, you found your rooms were now shared, and mornings and evening were greeted with quick kisses. It was a new routine you found yourselves falling into. Mable noted that stan was "a lot less grunkler" since the change. Even when everything was crazy it still worked.

After everything in your lives had finally calmed down, after saving the shack, repairing it, a Zombie apocalypse. You found the house was silent with what felt like the first night of peaceful sleep.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Y/n! I have been trying to reach you for a while!"

The voice that pulled you from your sleep boomed loud enough to startle you awake. You sat up in bed seeing the world around you was greyscaled Stanford fast asleep next to you and a familiar glowing freak above you.

His single eye staring down at you.

"Wh...will?..what are you doing here?"

You asked, sitting up as you did the world around, turned up right, causing you to slide straight out of bed into a chair. "Relax, we're in your dream, and the names BILL though I can't say I blame you, I was a complete and total secret but trust me y/n I know all about you."

You stared at him squinting, you where far to tired to understand what he was saying to you right now.

"What do you want?"

"A truce, I came to apologize for breaking into stans mind and almost killing shooting star and pine tree. And to warn you."

"Warn me?"

"Something big is coming something that will change your life! And I want you to know I'm on your side."

"On my side? Bill, I don't understand what you are talking about!"

"Trust me, you will, and when you do, you'll want a friend to be there for you, I'm offering myself for when everything you know changes. By the way, how well do you really know that stan?" He asked, pointing to Stanford asleep in bed.

"That stan?" You turned back, but as you did, you shot up in bed, clutching a piece of paper, breathing heavy. You looked down at the paper that looked like it had been torn out of something.

"Contact me, BFF!" Was scribbled across the top, and twoard the bottom was a cipher and some sort of incantation. You still fought to catch your breath. Your hand moved to shake Stanford awake, but your hand fell straight through the air and hit the empty space of your mattress.

"Stanford?"

That was a couple of weeks ago. You had folded up the page and tucked it under your mattress, trying to forget about the whole thing.

But every know and then you would get this hotrible feeling, you started to look at stanford weird and did your best to shake off the feeling. Luckily, Stanford had promised to take you out to dinner just the two of you. He told you he had something important to tell you.

"Aaahh, what if he asks you to marry him!?" Mable said excitedly from behind you as you had let her brush your hair. "I highly doubt that. You said clipping your last earring into place.

"Dipper! Doesn't y/n look beautiful! Grunkle stans going to ask her to marry him!" You rolled your eyes and looked at dippers worried face in the mirror.

"What's wrong?" You asked, turning around and crouching to his level. "Y/n There's something important I want to share with you I wanted to come to you first but I went against my better judgment and told stan first now i know you where the right choice."

"Of course you know you can tell me anything, dipper."

"OK you know about how strange and unusual gravity falls is." You nodded thinking to every monster, dinosaur, and ghost you had encountered with the twins even recalling some of the stuff from when you were young. Then the feeling set in again.

"Something big is coming something that will change your life as you know it!"

Rang out in your head. You wondered if what Dipper was about to tell you had anything to do with this. "Ah, c'mon dipdip can't this wait till after y/n and stan get home?" Mable asked, appearing from behind you now covered in makeup. Dipper rubbed his arm. "I guess..."

"Are you sure, Dipper? I can listen." He nodded. "OK, I'll see you in a few hours, ok?" You said ruffling his head. "Call if anything happens.

That was an hour ago already. You sat nervously at the restaurant Stanford promised to meet you at after he finished a few things up at the shack.

You tapped your glass and counted cars as they drove past the window you were sat by and looked at the gifted (more like lifted since it was a stolen antique store in portland) watch on your wrist and saw how late it was getting.

You sighed, resting your head on the table, watching the water droplets race down your glass. And you watched as the glass went up as the hair that fell around your face go cup as well. You pushed yourself up only to find yourself lifting out of the chair into the air before crashing back into your booth.

You paused only for a moment, trying to wrap your head around what that might have been, then ran to call the Pines family.

There was no answer for a long time you hung up and refilled several times before giving up. You grabbed your things and raced to the shack only being stopped by the same phenomenon as before.

Was this part of what Bill was trying to tell you about? Where are Stanford and the kids ok? So many thoughts raced through your head as you ran as fast as you could home.

"WHY would they call him unnamed!?"

"Unless stan isn't really stan"

The two kids looked up at the large painting of their great uncle on the wall behind them in horror.

"But there has to be some explanation as to why he would have all these fake ID'S and why that news paper says he's dead." Mable said trying to rationalize as Dipper continued to pull things from the box

"What about Y/n!? Is y/n even y/n!? What if she's in on this!?"

"In on what?" You asked pushing open the door.

The kids both screamed at your appearance.

"Are you kids ok!? Where is your grunkle and...what is all this?" You asked stepping further into the room to get a better look at what they had laid out on the floor in front of them.

In a different universe, Stanford Pines was an honest man. In a different universe, he didn't lie or cheat. He showed up to his date on time, there was no weird gravital anomalies interrupting your day.

You thought about this alternate reality as you stood over the fake IDs, news paper clipping, pass ports, the screen from the shack security cameras glow portraying a man you only assumed to be Stanford pines carrying gallons worth if toxic waste into the gift shop.

"What is this?"

You asked staring down at it afraid to move. "Is this why there are government vehicles surrounding this place?"

"You mean you don't know why stand has all this?" Dipper asked.

You shook your head.

In another universe, Stanford agreed to visit your family, even to just get away with you. In that same universe, he never changed, you where still hunting monsters and doing science stuff. In that same universe, you move out of the shack into a lovely home you share together, you teach together, and you live a beautiful and adventurous life. And he was still your Frodsy.

You didn't realize, but there was a ringing in your ear that tuned out the two children as they talked. All you could do is let time pass as your brain tried to work out yet another explanation.

Then Mable found the code.

"This isn't like any code I've ever seen before." Dipper said.

"The vending machine." You said quietly.

Your body had a mind of its own as you followed the twins to the vending machine in the giftshop.

"How well do you know that stan?"

This had to be what Bill meant by "that stan"

Without thinking, you typed the code into the vending machine as the kids distracted and fought off Soos, Without thinking...

"He swore he blocked this off..." You going down the stairs you hadn't seen in 30 years.

You felt as though you could throw up. Whe. You saw what was going on in the basement, the portal up and running, and with only a few moments to go. "So this is what's been causing problems... this is where he's been going!?" You half shout half say to the room.

You stare down at the desk seeing two familiar red journal. "The journal..." You and Dipper say at the same time.

"You know about these?" You ask in unison again.

"Your grunkle and I wrote them? How do you know about these?"

"When I said I wanted to tell you something." You watched Dipper pull a third journal from his vest.

"Grunkle stan wrote these?" Mable asked when you took the journal from dippers hands opening all of them to reveal the blueprints for the portal that sat in the room adjacent the one you stood in.

"What is it?" Dipper asked, looking at the pages. You glanced up at the timer and suddenly felt yourself fliat back into your body and realization kicked in "We have no time.We need to shut it off now. Kids stay here. Soos come help me. " You moved quickly. "We can help!"

"No! Please just stay safe! If your grunkle gets back, do NOT let him out of this control room!" You ordered them.

You and soos worked quickly enough to turn off the emergency kill switch just like you rememberd doing years ago. You felt a million emotions trickling inside you. Most of all, you felt angry that he would lie about keeping the portal, lie about working on it, and keep you out of it.

You scanned the room as the portal whipped your hair around you finally spotted it.

30 years never felt more wasted than it did in this very moment the moment it took you to walk from the key switch all the way to the shiny red button.

"Y/n Wait!" You frozen looking over at Stanford in the door way as the kids and now soos pushed him back.

"Don't touch that button, please!"

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!"

the kids couldn't hold him any longer, and he pushed past them running to meet you only to stop halfway, noticing you inch closer to the button as a defense. "Please! Just wait! Don't do anything! I can explain!" You watched Mable and Dipper get up. Dipper made eye contact with you as if he were trying to telepathically tell you something. It only took you spotting Mable trying to sneak around you for you to realize.

You stepped forward, pointing an accusing finger at Stanford. "After everything! You lied to me!? For how long!? When were you going to tell me? DONT YOU REMEMBER ALL THE HORRIBLE THINGS THIS THING HAS DONE!?" You asked poking him in the chest with a finger pushing him away from the button where Mable now stood.

"Yes! I wanted to tell you sooner! I was going to tell you today-"

"Today!? That's why you wanted to have dinner." You were getting off track. Before anyone could say anything else, your feet lifted off the ground, and you were in the air. "Now, Mable, press it now!" You heard Dipper yell.

"Mable, wait!" She froze as Stanford dove through the air for her as she gripped onto the pole.

Dipper soos and yourself took onto the task of catching him and pulling him away from her.

"30 YEARS OF NOTHING! STANFORD PINES! I CANT BELIEVE I WAISTED ALL THIS TIME JUST FOR YOU TO PULL A STUNT LIKE THIS!" He watched your angry tears roll down your cheek then up into the air around you.

"It wasnt waited, just hear me out all of you!" He plead as you held him against the wall. He stared you in the eyes a sad look met your furious gaze.

"I wanted to tell you all, your going to hear some bad stuff about me, some of it's true but believe me everything! Even this is for my family for a of you." He said the last part pointedly at you.

"Hit the button mable!" You yelled.

"Don't trust him!" Dipper followed up.

She looked around at everyone when her eyes locked with stanfords you knew what she was going to say

You quickly made a move to push it before her, but Stanford grabbed your hand and held you back. "I'm sorry! Trust me." You stared at him.

"I trust you grunkle stan!"

~~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~

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[ceilidho]

prompt: ex special forces ghost working as a “travel companion for hire” and reader hires him because she’s too nervous to go solo travelling

-

It’s not the first time you’ve been somewhere on your own, but it’s the first time you’ve realized that maybe solo trips aren’t for you. 

It’s in Germany, three drinks in and stumbling back to your hotel room, paranoia gripping you every time you pass a dark alleyway or take a right onto a deserted street. It’s the man walking your way on the same side of the street that has you stuffing your hand into your purse, clammy fingers gripped tight around your keys. 

On the flight home, you’re wiped. Beat. Finally untethered from a week’s worth of anxiety slowly reaching a boiling point. You’ve traveled on your own before, but it’s the first time you can remember being acutely aware of your vulnerability. Granted, before this trip, it’s not like you’d traveled all that much on your own, especially outside of the country. 

Ghost comes as a recommendation from a friend of a friend. You’d hemmed and hawed about the whole ordeal the Monday after getting home from your trip—working the front desk at an auto-body shop means that there’s no shortage of people to talk to. The guy picking up his car (fender bender, a wicked crack down the front that’s since been fixed) listens to you gripe with an absent look on his face, but you’ve learned to tune those out. People will listen to you even in spite of their indifference when there’s nothing else to do. 

“Y’know, I know a guy that does stuff like that,” he says, cutting you off halfway through another half-baked rant about airline fares these days. Your mouth puckers into something quizzical. Tell me more, it says without saying. “Ex-special forces. Left because of some medical thing, I think. Dunno. Anyway, he’s been all over the world—built like a brick shithouse, that one—and last I heard he was, uh, renting out his services.”

“Services?” 

“Like, he’d go with you, hang back while you do your thing, but basically the muscle. There to back you up if someone fucks with you.”

You’re just fresh enough off your vacation (an entirely miserable week, lest you explain the whole thing all over again) to give him your number. He promises to put you in touch with the friend of a friend who’ll put you in touch with one Simon Riley. He then gives you shit about the price on his bill and you knock ten percent off begrudgingly because the piece of paper with your number written on it is still crumpled in his palm.

No good deed goes unpunished or whatever.

“He’s not actually in the country right now,” Laswell, the friend of a friend, explains over coffee, Biscoff cookies spread out on a little tea plate between the two of you. “Or the continent.”

“Where is he?”

“For the rest of the month? Indonesia. He’s supposed to be back on the ninth. Should I let him know that you’re interested in his services?”

It’s a toss up at first. The thought of sacrificing your dignity (he would be more or less your babysitter) for adventure is tricky. With the way the dates line up—when you plan on traveling and when he gets back to the UK—you also won’t have much time to make his acquaintance before setting off. 

But there are places you want to go, sites you have scribbled down in a pocket-sized notepad folded up in the inner lining of your backpack. So you give her your permission and promise to join her and her wife for dinner sometime (repayment, and also it’s only been a few months since you moved, so you currently have a dearth of friends in your life anyway). 

The first time you see him when he stops by your workplace, you can’t help the double take. It just doesn’t seem possible. You know from Laswell and the guy at the body shop that Ghost is ex-military, but you’d been expecting some buzz-cut, slightly smarmy army reserves guy, maybe six-foot and decently muscled. What you don’t expect is the tatted beast that’s near twice your size. Only the top half of his face is exposed, the rest hidden beneath a black mask; you think briefly of asking him about it, but chicken out under his withering stare.

He doesn’t seem impressed when he meets you. “What’s your list?”

“Um…just around Europe. I haven’t thought about it too much.”

He stares down at you. “You wanna hire me just to run around the continent?”

“I haven’t thought about it!”

“Well, best give it a think fast, doll. Haven’t got all day for you to figure it out.”

You do have to think fast. He doesn’t leave until you’ve spelled out exactly where you want to go, until he’s watched you book plane tickets over your shoulder, heavy at your back while sweat beads at the nape of your neck. He’s entirely too intimidating to be looming over you like that. 

You watch him whip out his phone and fire off a couple of texts; your phone pings with an email telling you that you’ve been reimbursed for his flight and when you protest, he brushes you off by saying that he’ll invoice you for everything at the end of your trip.

Then what was promised falls into place. Free of burden, free of anxiety or restless energy, new possibilities open up to you: countries where you don’t speak the language; countries where the sites you want to see are spread out across a wide enough area that it warrants having a man packed beside you in a too-small taxi, his thigh a hot line against yours; hiking trips through national parks, where you don’t feel like you might slip down a hill and twist your ankle, stuck without water or cell service. 

You only have two weeks worth of vacation, so you use them wisely. A week traveling across Switzerland and Austria, and then a week in Cairo to see the pyramids. 

Ghost hangs back most of the time while you traipse around and do your own thing. You can feel him at your back when you approach the stands where the local vendors have set up shop, perusing silver trinkets and jewelry, only returning to your side when someone stands too close to you. 

He fists a hand in a pickpocket’s shirt when they try for your purse, giving them a shake and sending them off. 

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you mutter in his direction as you watch the young man scurry away. Not sure if you’re blushing or sunburnt. 

“You hired me to deal with this shit my way. Don’t get mouthy now.”

You think it might be the former because while you might not be the best at reapplying sunscreen, Ghost has been gentle-parenting you this whole trip. He pulls you off into corners and growls down at you while squirting a dollop of sunscreen into the palm of his hand to spread across your face. You close your eyes when his rough hands trace over your face and breathe out heavily when he spins you around, big hands engulfing your shoulders and spreading down your back.

You don’t think it could get worse. It gets worse. 

He won’t spring for his own room. You stare at him in disbelief in the lobby of the two star hotel where you’ve booked a room with a single bed. There’s a vending machine in the corner of the lobby that only sells coke (all of the other buttons are broken). One of the ceiling lights flickers on and off, an ominous buzz filling the room. Ghost doesn’t so much as blink.

“You didn’t tell me—I didn’t know that was my job,” you rebuff, anxiety a fist in your throat. You’ve already asked the front desk for another room, but they’ve been sold out for weeks, the woman at the front desk informed you with no small amount of pity. It’s the busy season; even two-star hotels get booked up in the dog days of summer. 

He cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Never had to before. My job isn’t to book shit.”

“I sent you my itinerary.” 

“That’s not how I work, love. Where’s your room?” 

It’s nothing short of humiliating to have him follow you back to your shabby little hotel room. Your hands shake when you unlock the door, opening it to something no bigger than a closet. You’d purposefully gotten a smaller room than you usually would, anticipating the cost of Ghost's invoice at the end of your trip. No good deed goes unpunished. 

He ushers you into the room with a hand on your back, shutting the door behind him. You flick on the only light in the room, a bulbous thing hanging from the ceiling. No bedside lamp. 

When he settles on the end of the only twin bed in the room, the bedframe groans under his weight. Your hands are already clammy. He’s already making himself at home, unbuckling his belt with a single hand; it makes you almost dizzy to look over at him so you try desperately to avert your eyes.

“At least wait until I’m in the other room,” you hiss, rifling through your suitcase faster to get your clothes for after your shower. 

“Quit moping, love,” Ghost scolds, resting back on his elbows and toeing off his boots. “We’ll make it work. Just gonna have to get comfortable together.”

You scurry off to the bathroom with your pajamas clutched tight to your chest, paying no attention to the fact that he doesn’t sound as upset as you thought he might.

[javispunk]

Handsome

Summary: After spending the last 8 months with Joel and Ellie trying to survive every single day out in this post out-break chaotic world, you find yourself seeing Joel in a much different light.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Content/Warnings: Joel being a HUNK, 18+ smut (minors don’t interact!), masturbation (female and male), fingering, unprotected sex (p in v).

Notes: Please excuse any mistakes, as english is not my first language! If you have any requests you’d like me to write please let me know! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you!

After arriving at Bill and Frank’s, as Joel had intended a few weeks ago, you all noticed the house was quiet, still. Joel called out both their names, but got no answer. Quickly he looked at the dining table, plates filled with rotting food still on top of it. He reached for a piece of paper left behind. A note. His eyes analysed it with care, hoping this wasn’t what he thought it to be. Both you and Ellie read the expression on his face, rapidly imagining that the worse had happened.

“So, what does it say?” Ellie pushed. She knew, but wanted confirmation.

Joel folded the piece of paper on his hand, and you could notice the defeat in his expression. “Girls, stay right here please.”

You nodded immediately. Ellie did the same. Of course he would go in first, that’s what he always did. Always looking out for Ellie’s protection. It was sweet. You watched him do this for the course of 8 months, without ever getting frustrated. You could tell he just wanted her to be safe.

With Joel already at the end of the main hall, you looked over at Ellie. “Let’s get on the front yard for a second, I need to get some fresh air.”

“We’ve been getting fresh air for the last few weeks, what do you mea-“ you cut her off.

“Please. Just keep me company.” You put your arm around her shoulder, half hugging her and guiding her outside.

“You two are the same, you know?” You heard her start. “You don’t always have to protect me that way. I can handle a lot.”

“Oh I know you can.” You paused. “Shit, you’re better than me at that. That’s why I’m asking you for company. I’m the one that needs it.”

She looked up at you with a small smile, realising your request. You both sat on the still neatly cut green grass, as you looked over the other side of the road. You noticed Ellie slightly plucking at the pieces of grass that had outgrown the care they’d receive in the past.

“This doesn’t bother you in the slightest?” You asked her.

“Well, it does. But I didn’t know them. I guess that helps.” You nodded back. “But I just wish Joe would let me explore more.”

You sighed. “He just doesn’t want you to find something you don’t have to see.”

“Then why are we both here?”

“Well, probably because he thinks we can’t handle something like that. I know I couldn’t.” You replied. Death was a hard topic for you, how ironic that sounded in the world you were in right now.

“I think he has you on a bigger clutch than me.”

“What? No he doesn’t. He just probably got the idea that I have a light stomach or something. You’re like his kid.” You insisted.

Ellie looked at you from the side with a slight smile. “And you’re like his girlfriend.”

You looked at her with raised highbrows, pure confusion on your expression. “Ellie, that’s not true.”

“Oh please, have you not noticed the way he looks at you sometimes?” She continued. Your face still equal to a question mark. “A few months back, at the museum, when you got stuck on the other side of the wrecked wall, out of his sight, he killed 7 clickers in less than a minute just to get over to you.”

“Ellie, I’m sure he just wanted to protect you the best he could.”

She interrupted you, just to continue proving her point. “Just the other day, at the bay, when you fell over in the water.”

“That was a huge fall, anyone would be concerned, Ellie.”

“No. You didn’t see the way he plunged himself into the water, the fear in his eyes. And you know how to swim!” She laughed.

Her laugh was contagious, so you ended up doing the same. “C’mon Ellie, quit that. It’s not true.”

“Honestly, a blind person could see it. The way he talks to you. He like-” the voice behind you both made her stop abruptly.

“Girls, there’s hot water upstairs.” You saw his figure at the door frame.

“What?” Ellie shouted excitedly. She got up from your side and ran upstairs quickly.

“Second door to your right at the top of the stairs! In and out, Ellie!” Joel made sure she got in the right room. You both heard her reply with a “alright” from the top of the stairs. You also noticed how Joel smiled when she ran past him. She was like his kid, truly. Joel didn’t do that to you, so you pushed Ellie’s words to the back of your mind. Just to prove that, you watched Joel’s expression change from a smile to a slightly more serious face when he noticed your eyes were on him. Your gaze connected for a couple seconds before you broke it.

“There’s another bathroom, you can go now. Second door to your left. I’ll try to look for the car’s battery so we can be on our way.” He offered.

You nodded after smiling his way. “You go. I’ll explore the village a bit, I just feel like walking for a bit. I’ll go after you.”

“You sure?” He insisted.

“I’m sure. I’ll meet you both at the garage.”

***

You haven’t felt hot water washing down your body in months. This shower felt like a miracle to you. You looked down as the water covered your face, seeing the water turn slightly brown at your feet. You tried to hurry, but you also tried to indulge in some time for yourself. When was the last time in 8 months where you could actually spend time completely alone. When was the last time you pleasured yourself? You couldn’t waste this opportunity. They’d both be down at the garage, and you’d have time.

You ran your hand down between your closed legs, still unsure if you should do it. But you thought the release would be good for you. When would be the next time an opportunity like this one would come? You finally indulged, passing your fingers through your slick folds, already wet from the arousal suddenly awoken in you. Your mind wandered off to Joel and the fact that he’d been in the same tub as you were now rubbing yourself. You imagined his naked figure, skin hot from the warm water falling off his body, washing the dirt from weeks before.

In an instant, as you kept your hand between your legs, rubbing soft circles on your bundle of nerves, your mind visualised him standing there, tall and naked, head pulled back as he took advantage of the shower head over him. Would he have also taken advantage of his alone time and pleasured himself? You weren’t made of steel, and you were sure Joel wasn’t as well. You indulged in the thought of him reaching for his hard cock with his hand, pumping it slightly at first. You tried to stop your thoughts, you didn’t want to objectify Joel like this, but you didn’t touch yourself in months, your core aching for some release. And Joel was all that popped up on your mind. You could almost hear his soft whimpers, his needy grunts as he would pump his length faster.

You didn’t even notice, but your fingers were now inside your pussy, eyes still shut, as the sounds of your wetness were muffled by the water running on the shower.

A moan escaped your mouth, as you imagined Joel looking at you, lying there, legs open for him to take you. Would he even like that? What would he even think about to get him off? Some porn magazine he’d find laying around somewhere? Could he get off thinking about you? Was that so strange? Would what Ellie said be true, that he actually might like you or crave you in some way? Your mind was out of sense, as you imagined him close to his edge, as your own also started to form in your stomach.

His breath hissing, his chest moving up and down. Your name slipping from his mouth. Even your head could trick you, but you were so close to your orgasm that you indulged. You curled your fingers inside your core rhythmically, and the knot in your stomach starting to tighten. As a wave of heat crept on you, so did your orgasm and Joel’s name sounded out of your lips, as you rode your high for a few seconds.

***

You ran down the stairs, still adjusting the jacket on your body. As soon as you got into the garage you saw Ellie inside the car, mesmerised by the mechanics of it. Joel out of sight, behind the lifted hood of the vehicle.

“What did I miss?” You questioned.

You heard Joel close the hood. “I don’t think we’ll have the battery ready today.” He rubbed his forehead lightly. “But let’s get in the car, let’s try it.”

Ellie already in the front seat, moved to the passenger’s side, as Joel asked her to. You opened the back door and got in, behind Ellie.

You observed Joel enter the driver’s seat. His hair was clean, still slightly damp from the shower, neatly combed to the back. His silver strands were somewhat less prominent now in some areas, in others more. His skin now clean from any dirt collected in the last few days, his scar on the high of his right cheekbone now more prominent. He was tan, his eyebrows still furrowed in worry. Your view of his profile was perfectly placed, his angular nose seeming more beautiful than it ever did.

He looked over at Ellie beside him. “Put your seatbelt on.” She looked at him confused. “Here.” He gestured to her right, grabbing it and buckling it for her.

“But we’re not even moving!” She protested.

“Just do it.” His worried gaze still plastered on his face. He quickly put on his too. You saw his gaze wonder from Ellie to the steering wheel, where he rested his hands, before finally looking at you through the rearview mirror. You saw his eyes soften, his eyebrows relax. “Are you okay back there?” He asked you.

You took a second to answer him, still caught up in him. You shook your head, humming a timid ‘yes’. God, you could only think about how handsome he was.

He nodded your way, before turning the key on the ignition. The car sounded in a roar, getting started.

“That’s good news.” You said from the back seat.

“It’s not fully charged.” Joel spoke. “Do you girls mind if we stay here tonight? We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

Ellie nodded her head, just happy to be inside a car. You didn’t say a word, but Joel seemed to read your expression without you even noticing, as he spoke next.

“You guys can get going, eat something or rest. I just need to do something first.” He looked you in the eye as he said his last sentence. You quickly understood.

You looked back at him. The air was still inside the car, until Ellie opened the door and got out.

“I’ll go and try to make something to eat.” She said.

You watched her close the door. You opened yours and yelled. “Wait Ellie, I’ll help you.” After that your gaze flew on Joel, who was still clutching the steering wheel. “You don’t need help?”

He turned to you fully. “No, of course not.” His eyebrows closed in worry. “You don’t have to see any of that. But they deserve a proper burial.”

“Of course.”

“Just keep Ellie busy, please. I’ll be in and out through the back door. Please don’t let her see anything.”

You nodded rapidly. “Of course not!” You assured him.

“Thank you.” He spoke softly, before you left to enter the house.

***

It was surprising how Bill and Frank had a fully stoked kitchen, from the essentials, to meat, vegetables, fruits, everything. The air in the kitchen smelled wonderful, eventually spreading out to the next rooms. It was surprisingly easy to keep Ellie in the kitchen, she was probably just hungry, or maybe she understood everything and didn’t tell you.

After a few hours, dinner was ready and while Ellie checked on the oven, you made sure to set the table for three. She started serving her plate, running to the table on the dinning room you had cleaned before. You followed her action, still in the kitchen. Joel appeared on the door frame, you with a still empty plate in your hand.

“Hi.” You said softly. “Dinner’s ready.”

He replied to your greeting before continuing. “It smells great but I’m not very hungry.” He said while holding on to a cloth where he kept cleaning his hand slightly. “I’ll just have a shower. Again. And I’ll probably get to bed. Is that alright?”

“Of course.” You paused. “There’s clean clothes on the bathroom if you want them. I’m sure they fit you.”

“Thank you, for everything.” He looked at the floor for a second, before gesturing to the plate you had in your hand. “There’s three spare bedrooms, upstairs. You know, besides theirs down here. They’re all pretty much the same but I’ll take the smallest one.”

“Okay.” Your voice came out as a whisper.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You repeated, as you watched him turn his back afterwards, and head upstairs.

You filled your plate and joined Ellie in the dining room. You sighed as you sat down next to her.

“Is he okay?” She asked you.

You looked over at her. “I don’t think so. He will be tomorrow though. Just needs a good night rest.”

She understood everything. She was one of the smartest girls you’ve ever encountered. I don’t know why Joel tried to hide anything from her.

“He does that a lot, you know?” She spoke, her fork now down, resting on the plate, now almost empty.

“What?”

“Close himself off when something’s wrong.” She continued to play with her food. “He won’t talk to me about it. But he would with you. He probably thinks you’d handle it better.”

“I’ll stop by later. Make sure he’s okay.” You looked down at her freshly washed hair, running a hand over it. “Now eat and then choose a room upstairs. We have to gather energy for tomorrow.”

***

You tossed and turned on your bed, hoping the sleep would come creeping on you. It never did. You stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, deciding wether you’d let the sheets stay over your body, or check up on Joel. He was a grown man, but still grieving some old friends, you reminded yourself.

You knew he was on the room at the far end of the corridor, the smallest as he’d said. You carried yourself to the door, before knocking lightly on the dark wood material. The sound echoed slightly through the corridor. Joel took only a few seconds to open the door, emerging with only a t-shirt and some pyjama pants that hang slightly loose on his waist.

“Hey.” You said as you saw him. Hair dishevelled from probably lack of rest.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice low.

“Am I okay? Joel, are you okay?” You insisted.

He shrugged his shoulders slowly. “I’m okay.”

“Can I come in?”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at you and opened the door wider for you.

“How’s Ellie?”

“She’s well. Asleep I presume.”

“Some of us have to.” He slightly laughed at his comment.

He smelled good. The effect of two showers in the same day. You decided to tease him.

“So, taking advantage of that shower today, right?” You spoke.

His eyes shot at you, somewhat scared. “What do you mean?”

You looked at him confused. “Oh nothing, just because you used it two times today. For how long haven’t you had a double shower in the same day?” As you spoke the last words, you understood how insensible that came out. He took a second shower because he had to bury two of his friends, stupid. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s oka-”

“No it’s not. Shit, I’m so fucking stupid sometimes.” You insisted.

“Don’t say that.” He spoke softly, but his eyes were worried. His voice showed a sign of hurt somehow.

“But I am. I can’t even help you and now I say this.”

“I didn’t want your help. I know you don’t take death very well.” You paused your worried thinking, looking at him properly. “Just didn’t want you to go through that unnecessarily.”

You looked at him, giving him a slight smile. “How do you know that?”

He shook his head. “I hear you. Your conversations with Ellie as well.” He paused. “I also know you.”

Your heart began beating faster.

“I’m glad someone does.” You admitted, scoffing at the floor.

The two of you on your feet on opposite sides of the room, the distance between the both of you killing you, no matter how small the actual room was. The silence was not uncomfortable, but you decided to break it abruptly.

“You know, Ellie told me something today. I don’t think it’s true but I might as well ask you now.” You paused and his eyes looked at you intently. “She told me you liked me.” You kind of rushed your words. “I don’t know, she spoke about the incident at the bay and how you jumped right in the water. Or that day at the museum- I don’t know.” You sighed, closing your eyes and looking at him after. “Is it true?”

Your heart was pounding on your chest.

“I care about you. A lot.”

“But that’s it, right?” You asked. “You also care about Ellie, very much.”

He looked at you, one hand roaming free, scratching at his lower belly underneath his tshirt, just above the waistband of his pants. You could tell it was a gesture of frustration. You were ready for a rejection. “Not in the same way, no.”

You were not ready for the response he gave you. Your heart almost breaking your ribcage to get itself free from your body.

“In what way, then?” Your body language couldn’t fool anybody. You naturally, without even realising it, gravitated towards him, ever so slightly.

He did the same. “In the way that I would rather die, than to lose you for that goddamn decease.” His eyes stayed on your expression. He was getting closer to you. “But also in the way of making your safety a priority to me. Your happiness.”

“My happiness?” You mumbled under your breath, as he reached a hand to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Happiness, amusement, pleasure. Whatever you want me to. I’ll do it for you.”

Your bodies were glued to each other, Joel was just waiting for your approval.

“Good.” You said before jumping onto him, mouths connected, his arms rapidly catching the behind of your thighs, holding you in place. Your legs wrapped around his center. His hands felt huge on your legs, securing you. You had zero fear of falling, you knew he got you. His tongue asking permission to enter your mouth, which you gladly accepted. The sounds you both made were almost animalistic. 8 months of no physical contact whatsoever, left you hungry for each other.

He sat on the edge of the bed, letting you straddle his lap. You felt your core pulsing when you felt the bulge in his thin pyjama pants. They might as well not even be there. You looked down and could see the entire outline of his length.

Still supported by his hands, you reached over to the hem of your t-shirt and lifted it up, discarding it over your head, throwing it on the bedroom floor. Your breasts hung perfectly a little lower than his eye level. His mouth immediately attacking your right nipple, like he was hungry for you. You moaned, your head thrown back in pleasure.

“Fuck.” He looked up at you with awe in his eyes. “The woman you are.”

“Shit, Joel.” Your mouth hungry for his, hovering his lips. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I’ll make up for it, sweetheart.” He started kissing your neck. “Is that okay?”

“For fuck’s sake, just fuck me Joel.” You didn’t have sex in over 8 months. You couldn’t even be ashamed of asking for it like this.

“Is that what you want, sweet girl?” He grabbed your hair that hang low your back, caressing it from top to bottom.

“Please.”

“You don’t have to beg. You don’t ever have to beg with me.” His hand separated your legs further apart and travelled to your core, pulling your panties to the side, rubbing soft circles on your clit.

You moaned at his touch. “This feels so much better.”

“Much better than what?” He continued his efforts.

“Than me touching myself over the thought of you under that shower.”

“Oh, is that right?” His cocky smile under you, alternating his look between your face and your core, scared he might miss any of them. He slid two fingers inside you slowly but deeply. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Profanities rolling off your tongue like warm honey to his ears. “Do you like that, gorgeous?”

“Shit Joel, yes, yes.”

His fingers picked up their pace, shocks of heat from the top of your head to your feet. He lifted you up a bit so he could have a better angle to curl his fingers inside you.

“You’re so wet, baby.” His voice was low, dragging itself word after word. He took his fingers out of your cunt, only to suck on them as he looked up at you.

You looked down at him, immediately kissing him passionately. Applying pressure on his bulge with your core, you heard him moan underneath you.

You pushed him into the bed, him hitting his back on the centre of it. You got up, taking your panties off with urgency. You moved on to take his pants off, as he took his t-shirt at the same time. His boxers were restraining his length, it seemed almost painful. He noticed you looking over at it, removing them himself, as he sat up, his back on the headboard of the bed.

“How do you want me?” You asked him.

“Any way. I just wanna see your pretty face when you cum. C’m here” his voice sounded deliciously inviting. His cock painfully hard and propped in the air. He was huge, and you were not sure if he would even fit. But you wanted to try to so badly. You quickly straddled him hoping he would take it easy on you. And that’s exactly what he did. He wanted to please you so bad for the longest time possible, but just as you, he hadn’t shared physical touch with anyone in months. You were both famished for it.

You propped yourself on his entrance as he looked at you in awe. You were dripping on top of his head, as if his pre cum wasn’t enough to lube your insides already. You sat down on his cock, the girth like something you’ve never experienced before. The sounds your two sexes made in contact with each other were pornographic. Your moans also didn’t help your case. Joel put a hand over your mouth as you pushed yourself down his cock, all the way down.

“I wanna hear your moans so badly, sweet girl. But we shouldn’t make much noise.”

“Fuck, I know.” Your voice muffed by his hand, covering half of your face.

He removed it, just to help you get your rhythm up and down his cock. After a few seconds of him stretching you out, your walls became accustomed to him. Your fluids making it easy for him to glide in and out of you.

With a faster pace you began to grab at the back of his neck, as he kissed your breasts once again. “Fuck Joel, you feel so fucking good.”

He couldn’t even get the words out of his mouth for the first few seconds of thrusting. “You’re so fucking tight around me, baby.”

And in fact, you could feel every single pulsing vein inside you, with every thrust he gave you. You began to bounce on top of him, applying strength on your feet so you wouldn’t grow so tired as fast. You wanted this to last. It felt like you were made for each other, the way his cock fit inside you so right, the way his hands grabbed each of your hips with just the right amount of strength. The rhythm never slowed down, Joel made sure of it.

You began to feel the knot in your stomach tighten. “Joel…” you moaned.

“I know, sweet girl. You’re so close.” He paused to kiss you. “Use me to ride your high, c’mon.”

“Fuck, I’m so fucking close.” You continued.

“Let me hear my name out of that pretty fucking mouth.” He kept you bouncing on his length.

“Hum…” you paused as you closed your eyes. “Joel, shit. Joel, Joel…”

“Cum for me, gorgeous. Let me see your pretty face.”

Your mouth opened to an O, as the knot in your stomach released in an explosion. You let out a cry, but you rapidly muffled it with your own hand. He removed it immediately, just to kiss you while still riding your high. As you began to pant, trying to regain your strength, Joel grabbed your torso on his arm, in an embrace, and quickly but surprisingly softly, put you under him. Now on top, with his cock still inside you, he continued to thrust into you. You were so sensitive and he knew, but you wanted to let him have his orgasm. His breath became quicker with the urgency of his release.

“Fuck…” his thrusts became more sloppy as he reached his climax.

“Cum, Joel.” Your voice like music to his hears.

He kissed your mouth one last time before pulling out and cum on your belly. His warm release all over you, spilling onto the bed sheets.

“Fuck.” His voice lower than usual. His mouth travelled to your forehead, leaving a kiss there.

Both of you panting, Joel on top of you, pressure that would always be seeked from you. Once you caught your breath, you pulled the covers on top of you both, as Joel pushed you into his chest, your face nuzzled on his neck.

A few minutes of silence were much needed.

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight?” You asked him, hope in your voice.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have let you out anyway.”

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 3

Thank you for the lovely response to this story, it makes me warm and fuzzy inside.

This chapter is just 2000 words of Wayne and Eddie being sweethearts to Steve.

Part 1 Part 2

****

Eddie led the way through his trailer to the kitchen past Wayne, who was sitting in his armchair reading the newspaper, a defeated Harrington limping behind.

“What did I tell you about bringing home strays, Ed?” Wayne huffed, a small, gentle smile on his face.

Eddie shook his head, his curls flying. “I’m just watering and feeding this one before I return it back to its owners.”

Harrington blushed and ducked his head. “I got lost.”

Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. He looked over at Eddie who nodded his confirmation.

“This is my Uncle Wayne,” Eddie introduced them. “This is Steve Harrington, Uncle.”

Wayne’s eyebrows stayed raised. Of all the people Eddie could have brought home, he was pretty sure this was the biggest surprise.

“You got your car?” he asked.

“This dumbass was out running around with his head in the fucking clouds,” Eddie scoffed.

Wayne’s glance at Harrington was far more appraising. He looked him up and down, taking in the sweat on his brow, the limping, the slumped shoulders, and vacant expression.

“You do that often, son?” he asked Harrington, folding up his newspaper.

Harrington just shrugged. “I like running to get out of my head.”

Wayne licked his upper lip slowly, calculating. “Uh-huh.” He looked over at his nephew, who had his hands on his lower back and staring at the floor. “There is some leftover beef from Sunday.”

Eddie jumped excitedly. “Yes! That would be perfect.”

He loped over to fridge and pulled out a Tupperware container. He set it on the counter. He got out two plates and a glass. He filled the glass with water and handed it to Harrington.

“Don’t worry, princess,” he huffed. “Our water comes from the same place as yours does.”

Harrington rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried about you poisoning me.”

“You’d be the first,” Wayne said with a chuckle.

Harrington furrowed his brows and looked between them in confusion.

“Surely,” Wayne said in amusement, “you’ve heard about Ed’s reputation going to that school of yours.”

Harrington shook his head. He looked down at his feet. “I mean, I hear rumors and shit, but I really don’t believe that he chased three freshmen with a hunting knife.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “You would pick the one rumor that was actually true.”

Harrington’s head snapped up. “What? Why would you do that?”

Behind him the microwave beeped and Eddie hurried to get their food out. He piled on the food and handed it to him.

“Because they were trying to buy drugs off me,” Eddie muttered as he handed Harrington a fork.

Harrington blinked at him a moment and then nodded. “Is there an age that you do start selling to high school students?” His eyes went wide and looked at Wayne in panic. “I mean, if you were selling drugs. Not that you do or anything.”

Wayne chuckled and shook his head. “I am more than perfectly aware of my nephew’s side business, thank you. I wish he didn’t have to do it, but he hasn’t had a lot of choices in the legal employment racket, not for someone like Ed. But sometimes a couple of grams sold is the difference between not having to chose to pay the water bill or the power bill.”

“Uncle Wayne and I set down ground rules when I started dealing,” Eddie huffed. “One of them was not selling to anyone under the age of sixteen.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

Harrington ate his food in silence.

“Do you need to call your parents?” Wayne asked. “Won’t they be worried where you are?”

Harrington shook his head. “They’re going to scream the same amount if I was five hours late or on time. I’d rather just deal with it the once thanks.”

Eddie and Wayne shared a worried glance over his head. Eddie was far too familiar with that nugget of parental discipline, because that’s exactly what Al would do with him.

“You ready to go, Stevie?” Eddie asked as he set their now empty plates in the sink.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up, Ed,” Wayne said. “I’ll take care of it while you take him home.”

Harrington blinked up at Eddie after he used his given name. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Thanks for dinner and the water.”

Wayne nodded. Eddie led the way back out to the van.

“All righty,” he said, pulling his door closed. “You’re gonna have to give me directions, pretty boy.”

Harri–Steve blinked at him for a moment. “I thought everyone had been to my house at one point or another.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, dude?”

Steve just curled his hands on his lap and then mumbled directions.

Eddie cursed himself in his head. He had gotten the other boy to come out of his shell a little bit while they were talking to Wayne, but now the lid had slammed shut.

Because Steve was right. Even though he only invited the popular kids, his parties always exploded way past the original guest list. But Eddie had avoided it when it was Steve’s place though. Dealing at Hagan’s or any of Steve’s former pals was easy enough, his van fit right in with all the vehicles no problem. But in Loch Nora? Yeah... that was like showing up to a funeral in torn up jeans and smelling strongly like booze.

“Let’s just say my van is a little more conspicuous in Loch Nora,” he said after they had driven in silence for a couple of miles.

Steve’s head snapped up. “Oh. Shit. Yeah. My neighbors might not call the cops on any of my parties but they would absolutely be on the horn if they saw your van parked anywhere on the street.” He picked at his nails. “I keep forgetting shit like that.”

Eddie risked a glance at the other boy, whose shoulders were rounded against being bullied.

“Dude,” he huffed, “the whole fucking school saw what you looked like when you came back after tangling with Billy that kind of damage leaves lasting affects. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Steve scoffed. “Asshole fucking cheated. Took a plate to my head and then just started wailing on me. Probably would have killed me too.”

“So what stopped him?”

“Being tranq’ed by his step-sister,” he snorted. “She was visiting a friend of hers. One Billy didn’t approve of because of the color of his skin. Billy threatened to kill the kid, so I hit him. Would have won, too, if he hadn’t fucked me up with the plate.” He took a deep breath. “Anyways, they had some tranquilizers because one of their parents were having trouble sleeping. She grabbed one and jabbed it into his neck.”

“Pretty brave thing to do,” Eddie conceded. “Sounds like there were two badasses there that night.” Then he shook his head. “So you got the shit beat out of you for defending little sheep and Wheeler still went for Byers? I don’t know, man, sounds like she wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit her in the ass.”

Steve huffed out a breath of laughter before he caught himself. He hid his smile under his fist. “Something like that, yeah.”

They pulled up to his house and Steve let out this strange little pained noise. Like it was relief and disappointment all rolled into one. A sound Eddie was far too familiar with.

“My parents aren’t home.”

Eddie looked over at him in curiosity. “How can you tell?” Because yeah, the front lights were off and the house seemed quiet, Eddie knew these houses were big enough that if there was a light on in the back of the house, it couldn’t be seen from the road.

“The garage is closed,” Steve huffed. “They only close it when they leave. They have to show off to the whole neighborhood the cars they drive.”

Eddie blinked at Steve in confusion. “Aren’t they worried someone will steal their car?”

Steve shook his head. “It’s insured, plus they don’t believe anyone would rob them in their fancy house while they’re home.”

Eddie looked up at the large house, so big it could only really be called a mansion. “Are they stupid or arrogant?”

“Both.”

“Look, Steve,” Eddie said, stopping him briefly. “I need to apologize and every time I see you you distract me. So I’m just going to come out and say it. I’m the one that shoulder checked you the day you hurt your hand.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed dramatically.

“You see, you had this far off look my uncle gets sometimes and the best thing to do is make a noise or bump into him. Just something that reminds him that his not where ever his mind is and that’s in the present. But I heard these assholes saying that they got their kicks out of kicking your stuff and stomping on your hand and I realized that it was my fault that happened and I’m really, really sorry.”

Steve stared at him for a moment. “Oh. Hey, it’s not your fault, you were only doing what you thought would help. I wasn’t spacing out or whatever. I was just feeling sorry for myself over a stupid holiday. But apology accepted, I guess.”

Eddie nodded, feeling a little bit better about it.

Steve hopped out of the van and he turned back to Eddie. “Thanks for the ride, Eds.”

He slammed the door behind him and walked up to his big, dark, lonely, still house and Eddie felt a small pang of something like pity for the guy. And wasn’t that a kick in the teeth.

When he got home, Wayne was waiting up for him.

“Did that boy get into any trouble when he got home?” were the first words out of his uncle’s mouth. Not so much as a ‘hello’ or ‘by your leave’.

Eddie shook his head. “They weren’t home. I don’t know if they went out to dinner without him or if they just went on one of their infamous business trips.”

Wayne cocked his head to the side. “What’s so infamous about them?”

“They leave so often,” Eddie murmured, “that Steve is pretty famous for the ‘rich kid, empty house’ trope you see movies these days.”

“He’s got friends he can stay with, doesn’t he?” Wayne pressed.

Again Eddie shook his head. “He blew up his friends group awhile back, called them all assholes and bullies over some chick. Then the chick broke up with him over the eldest Byers boy.”

Wayne patted the spot next to him on the sofa. “Tell me about this Harrington kid. You used to all the time, ranting and raving about something or another that he did and then you just stopped.”

Eddie flopped down on the sofa with a heavy sigh. “Like there wasn’t anything to tell after that, you know. He just faded into the background. Gave up his title of King of Hawkins High and then Friday happened.”

“And you found out he was being bullied,” Wayne finished. “I see. That’s got to be rough to go from being surrounded by people to not having anyone there for him.”

Eddie threw his head back onto the back of the sofa and let out a loud groan. “Like it’s my thing. Picking up the lost and the lonely. But this one comes with a lot more baggage than the others and I’m not afraid for me or the rest of my friends but...” He buried his fingers into his hair and screamed.

Wayne nodded. Eddie befriending Steve could make things worse for him and not better. But inaction might hurt the boy in the long run.

“Maybe do something for him that he doesn’t know it’s you,” he suggested to his nephew. “That way he knows he’s not alone, but your reputation won’t make things worse for him.”

Eddie frowned for a moment and then his eyes went wide. “Oh! I think I know exactly what to do!”

Wayne smiled at him. “I figured you would.”

****

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

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10- @slv-333 @ravenfrog

[crownremonique]

Escape Call

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Waitress!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: When a man asks you for help while working, you decide to make a call that might just end up changing your life.

The restaurant was fairly quiet as you neared the end of your shift. It had been a long one, draining you to your core, but anything that waited for you back home wasn't the definition of relaxing in any way. Your tiring days of dealing with snobby customers usually ended in studying for the many mock exams of med school.

The small bell hanging atop the entrance rang, signaling the arrival of a new set of customers, which you hoped would be the last for the day. It was the man who caught your attention first, dressed impeccably in a suit and tie. He had an expression on his face that you couldn't quite place, but it definitely wasn't happiness. A woman entered behind him and followed him to the table he was seating himself at. Unlike the man, she seemed to be quite happy about being at the restaurant.

Convincing yourself that this would be the last table you would wait for, you walked over to them with a pair of menus and greeted the pair with a warm smile.

“Hey guys, what can I get started for you today?”

“I'll just have a water, thanks.” The man said while flipping his menu closed, never bothering to read any of the items on it.

“Are you sure honey? You're not gonna order anything else?” Not giving him a chance to respond, she continued speaking “Well, I'm gonna get something low carb, maybe something like a salad? Gotta watch my weight, y’know..” She trailed off, eyeing you top to bottom.

You felt appalled by her snide comment, but chose not to offer her anything but a tight lipped smile. You left the table to give the cook her order and started working on his glass of water, silently observing the pair sitting across.

The woman was talking expressively while the man just seemed bored. He looked tired, resting his chin on his palm, barely looking at the rambling woman.

You heard a ding from the kitchen, and placed their orders on a plate, walking over to them. You noticed the man writing something on a tissue and folding it up. You were just about to turn around after serving them when you heard a high pitched cry.

“What is this? There's peanuts in this! I can't eat this! I'm allergic” She yelled at you, eyes wide like you had purposely tried to poison her.

“Ma'am I am so incredibly sorry, I didn't know you were allergic-” You couldn't finish your sentence, interrupted by her bowl of salad smashing the ground. You dropped down quickly to collect the shattered porcelain, glancing at the man. He looked horrified, sending an apologetic glance towards you.

After cleaning up and getting the karen a new salad, you hung out by the counter, trying to subtly observe the pair. You saw the man get up from his seat, saying something about using the men’s room, and walk over towards you. He handed you the folded tissue paper discreetly and walked past you to the restroom. You unravelled the note and saw a phone number:

Save me, Please.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

You watched as he walked back to the table and sat down. You knew exactly what he wanted you to do, He needed an escape call. You fished your phone out of your pockets and dialed the number, watching his phone vibrate on the table. He picked it up, and you waited silently on the other line.

“Hello? Yes this is him…. Mhm……What? Oh my god, I’ll be right there!”

He got up hastily, collecting his wallet and dropping a few bills down to cover the tab, and quickly apologised to the woman before rushing out of the restaurant.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You finished clearing the last of the tables and got your bag to head home. Today had been an eventful day, and the stranger you had seen for no more than an hour, was running on your mind since he left. You bid farewell to the cook and the guy at the register and stepped out into the cool night.

You felt a chill run down your spine, though you weren't sure if it was from the cold or because of the figure leaning against the alley in the dark. You took a step back but heard a familiar voice that made you stop.

“I was wondering when you would be off your shift.” The man spoke, coming into view.

“Escape call.” You said, letting him know that you recognised him.

“Yeah…I was desperate. Never going on a second date with her again.” He concluded.

“Second date? I thought she was your girlfriend. Heard her call you honey so i assumed..” You said as you started to walk alongside him.

“Oh no, just a blind date my colleagues set me up with. I'm Tim by the way. Could I get the name of my rescuer?” He held out his hand, looking at you expectantly. You offered him your name and shook his hand, relishing the softness of his palm.

He repeated your name wistfully, as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. You felt your cheeks redden, even if it was only your name he had said. You could only wish your house was farther away.

You both walked the entire way to your house, conversation flowing easily between you two. You learned that he was a cop, which made sense for no apparent reason. His personality was strong and graceful, drawing you in closer than you ever imagined was possible. You could have talked to him forever if you could, but all good things had to come to an end, just like your walk.

You eventually reached your doorstep and slid your key into the keyhole, careful not to wake up your roommate. you pushed open the door, turning back to face Tim. His eyes refused to leave yours, twinkling with a feeling that you could only describe as longing. Your mouth felt dry as you waited for him to say something. He placed his hand on the door, keeping it open.

“Is there anything I can do to repay you? for being my saviour today?” He asked, eyes darting between your eyes and lips.

You felt a smile spread across your face. Maybe you wouldn't have to say goodbye after all.

✨️

[spideyanakin]

10 things i hate about you - chapter 6

eddie munson x harrington!reader

summary - a new rule strikes the Harrington household: if Steve wishes to date ever again, his sister needs to find a boyfriend first. As Steve becomes desperate and thinks of everything in his power to set her up, only one guy comes to mind that will take up a challenge such as that: Eddie Munson.

warnings - the moment you have all been dreading (I'm half sorry), mentions of death, eddie and his questionable dares, joyce buying christmas lights in april, some fluffy fluff, and ofc; a sprinkle of angst

word count - 8.8k

thank you to the amazing @inknopewetrust for proof reading most of this series <3

series masterlist

eddie munson masterlist

"Eds!" Gareth clapped his hands in front of his friend's face. 

“What?”

"You're sulking"

"I'm not sulking."

"Why are you sulking?" 

There was a pause, a short, challenging silence slithering between the trays of food and drinks before Eddie spoke again with solemn words;  "I think I'm in love with her." 

And just as the words left Eddie's lips; Gareth huffed loudly alongside two other Hellfire boys. Gareth sent a piercing glare towards his dungeon master–ripping a piece of white bread from his tray and throwing said piece towards Eddie’s face, making it land in his curls.

“Hey! What was that for?” Eddie swatted the bread away, watching with raised eyebrows as his three closest friends fished for something in their pockets; simultaneously pulling out twenty dollar bills. Eddie watched, eyebrows creasing to a frown as the three twenty dollar bills traveled across the table; right into Oliver’s hand.

"Did you have to say love?" Jeff whined.

"Yeah, the bet was lower at like, or really liked," Gareth gruffed, Oliver simply shrugged while Eddie stared—too dumbfounded to speak. The blonde guitarist counted his money before neatly folding it and placing it in his back pocket.

"I'm going to pretend like you guys haven't betted on me," Eddie said before poking his fork around his plate, attention focused on the carotte he was making dance across the paper. “Anyways, it’s not that bad, you guys should be happy for me!”

"Yes it's bad, terrible even!" Oliver dropped his can of mountain dew, drops spilling out from the harsh clatter of it against the table–and Eddie gulped when he made eye contact with the daggers in Oliver’s eyes.

Unfortunately, all his lost heart could do was look back at him like a lost puppy–big eyes pleading for help rather than judgment, and just for a moment–Oliver caved. 

A short sigh escaped the blonde’s lips, and he leaned back on his chair in thought. That action caused a new silence, one filled with short huffs and glances from the boys; right until Eddie broke it again.

"I know," he pushed his tray away before leaning back, imitating his guitarist, "I don't know what to do."

"Call the deal off?" Gareth suggested.

"Yeah, that's the most obvious thing, Gareth!" Eddie almost screamed. "One problem; Steve keeps handing me bills like he’s a fucking ATM machine. I have three hundred fucking dollars from him that I refuse to use!"

"I thought that's what you wanted, extra cash," Oliver’s voice was dry, and it almost made Eddie flinch.

"I don’t think I ever took the deal for the money…” He closed his eyes, sighing through his nose, “I think she kind of always fascinated me.”

“So, let me get this straight. Instead of just asking the girl out, you made a deal with her brother that he’d pay you to go out with her?”

“Kind of?” He winced at his own words. “I didn’t realise how fucked up this whole situation was!”

“As if we hadn’t warned you!” Olivier exclaimed, tone almost condescending which sent a new pang across Eddie’s chest. 

He didn’t want this. He didn’t need judgment from his best friends, his own internal turmoil was enough.

He was asking for help and Oliver was throwing hard cold judgment across his face like the iced daggers he’d write about for his campaigns.

He felt like Boromir. Tempted by the worst of forces–hypnotized by his mistakes, too enticed to step back–and now he was paying the consequences, as invisible arrows were shot right through his heart.

“Hey calm down Ol’,” Gareth defended, humming in the best soothing tone he could muster; “screaming at Eddie won’t make this any better for him.”

“Right, because he so understood when we told him this was a bad idea three weeks ago,” and with his words, the table fell silent.

Everyone looked at each, carefully assessing the situation and how to proceed. Would anyone dare to break the silence? Even Jeff wondered if he could chew his food and finish his lunch without all eyes turning to him.

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest in subconscious defense—gaze to the side and fixed on the back of a random blue cafeteria chair.

He truly didn’t know what to do. Everything in him wanted to cancel this stupid deal, tell you the truth and just hope that you wouldn’t hate him forever. 

Or maybe he could call the deal off and never say a thing—but he’d have to live with that secret for the rest of your relationship.

But thinking about the possibility that you could discover the deal on your own made him shiver. He knew that would hurt you the most, that you’d most, probably, definitely hate him for the rest of your days, and he could say goodbye to ever even being close to you again.  

“Hey boys,” your sweet voice broke the undeniable tension, and like a bee pulled towards honey; Eddie turned his full attention to you.

He didn’t know if you noticed the energy, but if you did you didn’t say anything. He did notice your shoulder tense as every eye around the table turned to you, an oldy intimidating silence slithering up your spine–but the second Eddie’s hand reached your waist, it dissolved into a content smile.

“What were you talking about, I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“Spring Fling.” 

“Our next performance.”

“A campaign.”

Eddie flinched, internally cringing at the multitude of answers that rang across the table at the same time.

“O-ok?” You raised an eyebrow, hand resting against Eddie’s shoulder–silently asking for clarification.

“Mainly, Spring Fling, babe,”

“Ah,” you squeezed his shoulder, already pouting before the next words came out of you, “will you be mad if I say no to going?”

“I get you for not wanting to go,” Oliver chimed before chugging the end of his mountain dew.

“Yeah, staying home too?” You asked.

“Oh no, I’m going, don’t know why though,” and as the words left his mouth, he eyed knowingly at Gareth. 

“See, Eddie! Olivier is going! Gareth is saved! We don’t have to go!” You squeezed his shoulder and Eddie gulped. This was not going to be easy.

“Y-yeah,” he could barely reply and Gareth shot him a quizzical look. 

Eddie was digging his grave right then and there. 

He really needed to break that damn deal.

~

“Hey Y/n,” Nancy caught up with you, ponytail bouncing as she ran the short distance between the cafeteria door and the lockers.

“What’s up?” You smiled once she was at your level, closing your locker and tightening the notebooks you were holding as you continued your way through the mass of students.

“Have you seen Barb?”

“No,” you frowned. “I haven’t seen her all day, actually, I was going to ask you. She didn’t have lunch with you?”

You watched her frown deepen, “no, she wasn’t there, I sat with Steve and his friends. I–um I haven’t seen her since yesterday at your place.”

“Oh, well I’m sure she’s fine, probably called in sick or something,” but your words didn’t soothe Nancy’s worries.

“I called her mom,” she averted her stare from yours.

“And?”

“She didn’t come home yesterday, or this morning.”

“Oh,” your heart sank down to your stomach, the uneasy feeling threatening to swallow you whole.

“Are you sure she left your place last night?”

“Yeah,” you matched her frown. “You don’t think-?”

“That she disappeared like Will?” 

“I don’t know… This whole situation just seems odd…” You looked around, maybe in search of something, just to be met with the mass of students that walked through the maze of hallways that was Hawkins High. No one seemed bothered; no one looked worried or stirred by what was silently unfolding in the city.

“Yeah…”

You brought your gaze back to Nancy, trying to hunt for a topic to change the subject–anything that could hook both your attentions elsewhere.

Then you saw it: the bright pink and yellow poster for Spring Fling. You huffed, ripping the poster from the wall and crumbling the paper, just to throw it in the nearest trash. An attempt at rebellion, maybe.

“Who the heck would go to that antiquated mating ritual.”

“I would!”

“Do you seriously want to get all dressed up so some rando with a boner dressed up in the first suit he found at Gap can feel you up while you’re forced to listen to a band that by definition ‘blows’?”

She scoffed, “the rando in question is your brother, may I add.”

“My brother?” You raised your eyebrows, “but I’m not going, he won’t be allowed to go.”

“You’re not?” She squeaked, eyes darting to your hands as you unfolded the wires of your walkman. “Steve told me you would. I think he assumed Eddie asked you.”

“Steve has no business assuming what I will or will not do, and Eddie has asked me, I told him no.”

“Why? I thought you liked Eddie.”

“Going with someone I like, still doesn’t change the fact that I find these gatherings dumb,” you accentuated your words by harshly placing your headphones around your neck, and locking your walkman onto your backpocket.

“Are you sure you won’t go? Just for me? Just so Steve will go, and by extension I will?” Her big blue eyes pleaded, lips forming into a pout, and for a split second you faltered, wondering if you could do this for your friend.

“I’ll see.”

“You are incorrigible,” she rolled her eyes, already knowing this meant no.

“Indeed I am,” you looked around, gaze flickering from the lockers to Nancy, “so do tell me, you and Steve last night, hm?” 

“Oh, shut up!” Her shriek made you giggle, and you would have continued teasing her if not for the hands that latched onto your waist, you jumped, shrieking before feeling yourself getting picked up into the air.

You immediately recognized the laugh that echoed in your ear, and Nancy’s smile gave the owner of those hands even more away.

“Eddie, let me down!” You giggled in echo with him, hands wrapping around his own before he dropped you back on your feet.

“Don’t you have a class to get to?” You mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Mrs. Day called in sick, I have a free period.”

“Oh lucky,” you hummed, shoulders slumping at the anticipation of your next hour.

“Eddie?” Nancy spoke, making Eddie’s curls brush your cheek as he turned to face your friend. “Have you seen Barb by any chance?”

“Not since yesterday,” he shook his head and he sensed the way you tense up in his arms. “Everything ok?”

“We think she’s missing.”

“Missing? Like the Byers kid?”

“According to her mom, she didn’t come home last night, and skipping school isn’t like her,” Nancy bit her lip as she looked to the side.

“I mean, maybe she did. I’m not one to say that skipping school isn’t fun,” Eddie concluded, smirking slightly. He knew that this subject was reaching a dead end, and he sighed before turning his attention back to you. “What are you doing after school?”

“Nothing, why?”

“I found this new card game at the comics shop, and maybe if the game gets boring I can teach you D and D.”

“Are you asking me out on a game date?”

“Are you saying yes?” Instead of answering directly with words, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, muttering your answer as you pulled away. 

“If you two will stop face fucking in the hallway, we’ve got class,” maybe it was jealousy that your brother wasn’t as sweet as Eddie picking at her stomach, or the stress from Barb stacking up, but she ripped her stare away from the two of you to stare at bright blue lockers on the other side.

“Sorry,” you giggled, slipping out of Eddie’s arms after stealing one last kiss. 

“I’ll see you after class, Eds.”

~

“What do you think they’re up to?” Your hand gripped Eddie’s a little tighter as you watched your brother and his friends laugh towards Johnathan. The poor Byers brother was being thrown around by the greedy hands of your idiot brother, the grim look on his face turned to disgust and anguish. You watched your brother, a loud chuckle ripping from his mouth. Your frown deepened as Tommy gave him one last push, Steve snatching pieces of paper from his grip.

Jonathan watched as Steve and Carol ripped to shreds the papers, they all laughed one last time; Tommy giving him a last cruel shove that almost made him trip before walking away. 

You took closer steps towards the parking–maybe in a quick attempt to help, but unfortunately, the group was walking right for the two of you, waltzing away from the mess they created towards god knows where.

“What did you do?” You grumbled as your path crossed your brothers, glancing behind his shoulder to spot Nancy jogging the distance between Johnathan and her group of new so-called friends. 

“You’ll never guess, the perv took pictures of us yesterday!” 

“What?”

“He was in the woods by our place, snapping pictures of us in the pool, even snapped shots of Nancy while she was changing.”

“Why?” You raised your eyebrows, squeezing Eddie’s hand.

“Caus’ he’s a perv?” Carol snickered, “and that’s all he’s found to do with his miserable life?” Tommy chuckled at his girlfriend’s words, and they disappeared behind you again, snickering as they left towards the field behind the High School building.

“Weird,” you muttered, watching Johnathan getting back into his car and leaving.

“You think he took my good profile?” Eddie, like always, pulled you out of your thoughts with a dumb joke, making you snort and playfully shove his shoulder. “What?” He offered a new laugh and you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon, let’s go try this new card game, I’ve had enough of this place for the day,” you tugged at his arm, dragging him further towards your car.

“Understandable,” he muttered, watching as you toyed with your car keys. “Hey, how about we pass by Melvald’s first? Grab some snacks and stuff.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” your hand brushed his as you parted ways to climb in the driver’s seat.

Apart from the Metallica blasting from the speakers; the ride was quiet, peaceful almost, as you bathed in each other’s presence. It was nice, seeing the streets of Hawkins with someone you liked by your side–it almost all seemed less… daunting. It was soothing, knowing you’d get to have careless laughter over junk food and a pack of cards, letting the week’s worries and Steve’s torment slip away for just a few hours. 

You almost smiled when the red writing of Melvald’s came to view, stomach already growling not with hunger, but envy for cookies and candies–anything that could be considered a bad excuse for a dinner. 

You parked next to a mattered brown truck, mud stains on its wheels and rusty doors. Eddie placed a hand in his hair as he exited your car, a poor excuse at trying to tame his curls, but you smiled when his hair stayed as wild–it suited him better.

Your hand found his as you walked into Melvald’s. The shop seemed pretty empty apart from a few stray heads bopping out of aisles. 

“Afternoon,” you smiled at the owner behind the counter, he nodded before you both headed for the cookie aisle, grabbing one of those cheap red plastic baskets on the way.

“What are your favorites?” You hummed playfully as you scanned the shelves.

“I’d say Oreos are good, or um,” he thought, fingers going over his lips in thought. “Chips Ahoy! I love Chips Ahoy” 

“The white chocolate fudge ones are the best,” you turned to Eddie and watched his face turn in pure horror. 

“What did you just say?”

“That the white chocolate fudge cookies are the best?”

“I think you hit your head too hard as a kid, sweetheart. The normal milk chocolate ones taste so much better.”

“Hey! That is so not true,” you pressed on.

“They’re so sweet,” he scrunched his nose, “makes you sick if you eat too much.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, jokingly vexed at his hatred for your favorite.

“Oh my god, I used to love these as a kid,” Eddie’s face lit up as his eyes crossed paths with the a small white cardboard box, big smiles drawn over it. 

“Says the guy who called White Fudge Chips Ahoy too sweet,” you narrowed your eyes as he picked up the pack of Giggles from a shelf.

“You don’t want to get them?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No, no. I still love these, put them in,” you grinned, raising the basket so he could dump them in next to the pack of Oreos.

“What else should we take?”

“Drinks?”

“Yeah,” 

In twenty minutes spent in the store, your basket was already full with enough food and drinks for the entire of Hellfire. Cans of coke laying against bright blue cookie packaging and other junk food that had caught your attention. Eddie had ended up carrying the basket when it got too heavy, and now it rested by his feet as you waited in line. 

A middle aged woman was in front of you–a toddler in her arms as she fumbled with the coins in her wallet. The baby’s small hands were fumbling with strands of her red hair–babbling something as he watched his mother pay for her groceries.

You were so enthralled in the scene–trying to see how much strength the toddler could tug on the women’s red locks with, that you hadn’t noticed the familiar face settling in the cue behind Eddie. She was almost hidden behind a pile of boxes that laid upon one of her hands, the other gripping the bar of a shopping cart, and you only recognised her by her anxious sigh as she tried to balance the boxes in her grip.

“Oh, hey Joyce,” you smiled, a gentle smile that bled with your compassion and she suddenly turned her attention to you. 

Eddie also turned his attention to her–immediately realizing who this was. He’d seen her behind the counter more times than he could count, and he was also eighty percent sure that Wayne briefly knew her from High School, remembering their short conversations from the hundreds of times he helped his uncle shop here.

“Oh! Y/n, I didn’t see you there!” She spoke, almost startled by your simple greeting. 

She looked tired, like she hadn’t properly slept in days. Her hair poking all over the place, and she was anxiously tapping her foot against the white floor of Melvalds. You assumed she was off work with everything going on, since she wasn’t standing behind the counter like usual.

But what really caught your attention was the amount of Christmas lights she had gathered. At least twelve boxes had been stuffed in the kart, leaving no room for the five others that she held in her free hand. You couldn’t begin to wonder why she had bought everything out of the clearance section, but your heart ached as you watched her gaze falter to the window for a split second before going back to you. She shifted her grip on the boxes, and a new huff left her lips before she handed you a tight smile.

“Is Johnathan with you?” You wondered, eyes briefly going across the aisle visible from your spot in the line.

She shook her head, “he’s probably home right now,” you nodded at her words and watched as her gaze flickered around again–as if she was suddenly comfortable. Maybe it was the mention of her son; maybe a conversation or two about Will that caused tension to seep between them, when in fact they should be sticking together.

Her gaze faltered, becoming softer as she took new acknowledgment of you again. She sent a smile to you and turned to Eddie who was yet to talk.

“This is Eddie, my boyfriend,” you watched the expression on her face change–impressed, slightly surprised maybe.

“Wayne’s nephew right?”

“In the flesh,” Eddie smiled, politely nodding.

“Also I wanted to tell you,” you spoke again, Joyce’s gaze dancing back to yours. “If you need anything from us, you have my number, Joyce.” Her whole face softened, gratitude seeping in through her eyes.

“Thank you, honey,”

~

Eddie’s trailer felt just as you left it the day before. A cozy haven for the loneliest of souls to find refuge on cold nights. But to your surprise, Eddie didn’t remove his shoes once he crossed the threshold–he even told you to wait for him by the entrance with the multitude of bags filled with the sweets you’d bought. 

You watched as the metalhead bounced across his living space, shedding his leather jacket on the living room chair after he had complained that the spring sun was suffocating him, before he disappeared to his room, and came back with a small blue and orange metal box. His card game.

“Follow me,” Eddie swept past you, grabbing the two shopping bags and jumping the small steps out of his trailer. You raised an eyebrow before following him through the grass patch around his trailer, passing through a laundry line that hosted a few band t-shirts that could only be Eddie’s, and tattered work jeans that you assumed were Wayne’s. 

You intently watched as you both faced a small, thin ladder that climbed up to the trailer’s roof. “Can you take one?” you nodded as he handed you one of the plastic bags.

Eddie stuffed the small card game in his back pocket–you silently questioned him, he could have simply just put it in the bag he was holding. But that didn’t stop him from anything, and you carefully observed as Eddie hummed a ‘follow me’, before starting to climb the rusty ladder. 

You landed on the roof with a huff, and noticed that Eddie had already settled himself on a far off corner, the plastic bag neatly placed next to his feet. 

“Nice view,” you noticed. Smiling as you gazed across the sea of trailers, each painted in their own uniqueness. it was far off from the white picket fence houses–a sea of odd shapes and colors, but it was all the most comforting, lively even. Smoke coming out of barbecue grills, laughter spilling out of small backyards and the light breeze making the bright colored laundry dance. 

“You like it?” He grinned as he admired you trot towards him. 

“I love it,” you settled beside him on the floor, dropping your bag next to the other one and started fishing inside of it for your well earned snacks.

Your hands settled for a pack of oreos, settling it in your lap as you wiggled yourself to be more comfortable. 

"This feels like that one Elton John song."

"Which one?" He raised a playful eyebrow.

"We sat on the roof," your soft voice hummed, slithering into the soft breeze and to Eddie’s ears.

“Kicked off the moss,” he hummed along with you, making a giggle escape your lips.

“You listen to Elton John?”

“On occasions,” he murmured, busying himself with the bag next to him to fish for a can of soda. 

“Wow, didn’t take you for the Elton John type.”

“I’m a man of many mysteries,” he dramatically sighed.

“Shut up,” you giggled, rolling your eyes before grabbing your own can of coke–popping it open before finally speaking again, “so, that game of yours?” 

“Yes!” 

Eddie grabbed the small box from his pocket, eyes sparkling as he opened it and placed the lid at his side. He took the cards in his hands and started mixing them. 

“So, rules are simple, I think.”

“You think?”

“I didn’t read the rules.”

“Eddie, you can’t play a game if you don’t know the rules,” you giggled, grabbing the box at his side and taking the paper out.

“The guy at the shop told me how to play it, I thought I’d remember.”

“You’re impossible,” you huffed, unfolding the little paper and scanning through the words. You raised an eyebrow, reading through the instructions, “ok, so,” you licked your lips in thought before looking at the cards in Eddie’s hands. “We have to start with the card that looks like the cross path thingy.”

“Ok,” Eddie listened before flipping through the cards and placing said card in between the two of you; right next to the oreo pack. 

“Wait, Eddie.”

“What?”

“It’s from three to eight players,” you giggled. “Eddie, we can’t play.”

“What?” His eyes widen, ripping the rule book from your hands. “Oh,” he hummed, realization hitting. “Well, this sucks.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” you giggled, grabbing a new oreo.

He sighed, placing the cards back in their box before dropping them at his side, sharing a gaze with you. 

“What should we do?”

“Dunno,”

~

The sun had started to set across the trailer park, and a tumble of giggles seemed to be the main theme of your afternoon. One lone cookie was left in the Chips Ahoy pack, and the stacks of plastic wrappers and cans were starting to pile up; a show of the evening slowly dying out into night. 

“Ok, ok,” you giggled, leaning closer to Eddie. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” you raised an eyebrow at his reply, a smirk dancing across your lips.

“I dare you to compliment your neighbor’s dinner,” your gaze traveled to the elderly couple eating in the garden beside Eddie’s trailer. They looked happy–a couple who danced through time together. You could faintly hear their conversation in the distance, but barely making out words, and if Eddie shouted just enough he could easily spring a conversation.

“That’s so stupid,” he grinned.

“I know,” you giggled back and Eddie rolled his eyes before turning around to face his neighbor’s garden. 

He took a second to observe. The barbecue grill on the opposite side was still smoking from its use, and he spotted the home made burgers on their plates. That would be easy to compliment. Plus, Eddie didn’t mind, Wayne was on good terms with them, maybe less so Eddie as he often bothered them when playing guitar. But if the odd comment could bring a good laugh out of the two of you, then Eddie would gladly plunge into your dare. 

“Hey! Mr. Carol!” The elder man turned from his grill as the call reached his ear. “Good job on the burgers! They smell amazing!” You had to place a hand over your mouth to stop the giggles from tumbling like a waterfall as you watched the poor man’s face twist in an awkward smile, both of his eyebrows raised to the sky as he watched his teenage neighbor send him a compliment from his trailer’s roof. 

“Thanks Eddie.” The man awkwardly replied and Eddie saluted him before turning back around to you.

“Happy?”

“He looked so confused.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Eddie smiled with you, grabbing another oreo, before mumbling with a mouthful, “truth or dare?”

“Dare,” you smiled, keeping your gaze on Eddie as you grabbed the last Chip’s Ahoy, crumpling the wrapper in your hands and throwing it to the side to join the pile. 

“I dare you to take off your top,” your eyes went wide at his request.

“And flash the whole trailer park?” You shrieked and a loud laugh tumbled from Eddie.

“Well, already you did it for me once,” he dramatically sighed, poking at your ribs, creating another laugh to leave you. 

“I did it to save your ass.” 

“I know, I'm only kidding,” he smirked. “I’ll keep that dare for another time,” he smiled, knocking at you before looking down at the oreo’s in between you, “I dare you to fill your mouth with as many oreos as you can.”

“and?”

“If you manage to put seven in without almost choking, you get a prize.”

“Why seven?”

“Because that’s my record.”

“That’s so stupid,” you noticed.

“C’mon, do your dare.”

You rolled your eyes, keeping eye contact as your hand traveled to the cookies. You grabbed one-easy. The next one slipping nicely against the second one. You couldn’t look at Eddie anymore, the look in his eyes was enough to make you laugh and want to spit out the whole thing. The next two managed to fit, somehow, and you could hear Eddie chuckling, your gaze focused on the blue wrapper in concentration. 

But when you reached for the fifth one, about to place it in your mouth–you caved. Making eye-contact with Eddie. He was laughing like an idiot; watching your chipmunk cheeks with a devilish spark in his eyes. But that look was fatal, and a laugh climbed right through you, causing you to spit everything out to the side. 

Eddie roared even more with laughter and you had to playfully slap his shoulder in order to keep yourself from laughing too.

“You lost, I’m so sorry,” he patted your shoulder, using his grip to bring you further towards him, kissing the side of your mouth.

“What was the prize?” You questioned, chewing the last bit of crumbs that were left in your mouth as you leaned against him. 

“A private concert,”

“As if you don’t willingly do them, all the time.” he shrugged at your comment, making you smile and remember your game, “Eddie.”

“Yes?”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” 

“Tell me a secret,”

“Ok, I hate peas.”

“No,” you giggled, “tell me something real, something no one else knows,” you grabbed a twizzler, pointing to him with it once you had taken a good bite out of it.

“Ok,” he smirked, a mischievous glint passing by his gaze. The grip on your waist became tighter and he leaned even closer to you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear with his free hand before kissing your cheek. “You’re sweet,” he pressed a new kiss to your other cheek “and sexy,” a new kiss to your lips, “and completely hot for me,” you gasped a laugh.

“You are amazingly self assured, as anyone else told you that?”

“I tell myself that every day, actually,” he chuckled before locking your lips into a new kiss, and suddenly an invisible sting pulled him back to the reality of the pact he had made with your brother. “Come to the dance with me tomorrow.”

“Is that a request or a command?” You attempted to joke, but he continued.

“Come on, go with me.”

“No.”

“Why not?” He breathed out a sigh, toying with your fingers.

“I told you already, it’s a stupid tradition.”

“C’mon, people won’t expect you to go.”

“Eddie, why are you pushing this? What’s in it for you?” Maybe you wouldn’t have asked, but Barb’s words suddenly came bouncing into your mind, like an unstoppable bouncy ball hitting the walls of your brain and shuddering through your spine. 

“Nothing, just the pleasure of your company.”

You paused at his words. Mind twirling in the multitude of possibilities. Eddie had been pushing this, but maybe that was just his attempt at trying to be a normal high school couple. 

Would Eddie really want this? Would Eddie really enjoy a gathering full of sweaty hormonal teenagers, with no alcohol, weed or anything else you could think of that he’d use for a good time, all that mixed with awful music? You couldn’t be sure, and you were getting anxious about an ulterior motive.

Barb had made it clear she didn’t trust Eddie, and your heart pinched at the thought. 

You sighed, eyes dancing across the setting sun as it reached further down the sky, casting yet a new glow of colors across the trailer park. 

Your grip on Eddie’s shoulder tightened; “It’s getting late,” you hummed, turning your gaze back to Eddie, “I should go.”

“Y/n-”

“No, it’s fine Eddie, don’t worry about it,” you gave him a tight smile. “Thanks for the evening,” you stood from his grip, dusting the crumbs from your jeans before nodding back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~

The next morning, you opened your locker, just for a bright neon pink paper to slip out of it, flying down just to land on your feet. 

You huffed, gladly stepping on it. It hadn’t even happened yet, and you already had enough of this stupid dance. 

You wanted to throw up, first Will, and now no one seemed to even blink twice about Barbara. Maybe if she had been some popular cheerleader, a Tammy Thompson, or a rising star like Chrissy Cunningham she would have the whole town at her feet trying to find her, caring for her. And a part of you wondered if anyone would even care if you would ever go missing yourself..

"Are they really still throwing Spring Fling when two students are missing?" You gazed at Eddie who was leaning against your neighboring locker, fumbling with his walkman. 

“Is Barb officially missing now?”

“Police thinks she ran away,” you angrily stuffed some books in your locker, Eddie noticing the stress lines forming on your forehead.

“Hey, I’m sorry about yesterday, I should have gotten the hint the first time you told me you didn’t want to go.”

“S’okay,” you hummed, keeping your hands fumbling with the contents of your locker as your gaze stayed focused on its insides. “I’m not mad at you, I’m just- I don’t understand why everyone is acting so calm. Nancy was balling her eyes out on the phone to me last night, assuring me that Barb was gone missing. She went on, telling me her car was still parked not far from mine and saying that she felt a creepy presence in my backyard,” you finally managed to neatly place the books like you wanted, and closed your locker door in a loud, angered thud. 

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” you chewed on your nails and Eddie didn’t know what to say, or what to even do with his own hands. “What if something bad has happened to them? And I mean bad, bad,” you rested your back against your locker. “I can’t imagine what it would do to Dustin, imagine Barb’s parents? I-, I feel desperate in this situation and I feel like I’m one of the only ones to actually care.” 

“We could try and play detective, if you want? I mean, D and D does make you pretty good at piecing things together,” he offered you a short smile and your heart warmed a bit at his words.

“Maybe.”

~

You didn’t understand Nancy. 

As much as you loved her, you couldn’t begin to piece her out. Last night, she was calling you crying about your missing friend, and now she was begging you for a distraction you weren’t willing to give out. 

“Please, please come,” she whined over the phone, and you eyed Steve as he walked across from the kitchen to the living room, giving you his biggest death glare as he did. 

“Nancy, you know my answer,” you groaned–wanting to slam your head onto the wall next to you. “Do you realize that two people are missing, and you’re ready to just forget all of that to go dancing with idiots?”

“Y/n, I think we both need this, we can continue searching tomorrow.”

Was this really the same Nancy you had chatted with the day before?

“You’re in a relationship now, you should understand this!” 

“Understand what exactly?”

“That I want to spend time with my boyfriend. The world is falling apart and I’m stuck home with my thoughts. Wouldn’t you ask the same thing if the roles were reversed? Wouldn’t you beg Steve and I to go to a Ren Fair or I don’t know a Metallica concert if you couldn’t?”

“Spring Fling is far from being a Metallica concert, Nancy,” you chuckled at the idiocy of her comparison.

“But what if Spring Fling is my Metallica concert?”

You fell silent over the line. Were you that selfish? Not letting your friend get that date with your brother and miss out on an event everyone wanted to go to. You sighed, rethinking your life one last time before sighing out; “Okay,” head falling against the wall by the telephone. “I’ll tell Steve to come pick you up.”

“Oh my god I love you!”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too, I’ll see you there,” and with those words you hung up, dread seeping into your bones once again. “Steve! Get fucking ready, you’re taking Nancy to that stupid dance!”

“I’m what now?” 

“You’re taking Nancy to Spring Fling,” his eyes widened, mouth agape.

“Oh my god, I love you,”

“Oh, shut up,” you rolled your eyes, watching Steve scurry away to the upstairs bathroom. You sighed before crossing the kitchen, eyeing for any one of your parents. 

“Hey darling,” as if she knew you had been searching for her, your mom’s soft voice echoed from the laundry room, through the corridor and right to you.

“Right here,” you hummed back, trotting to meet her there.

“Oh perfect,” she smiled, “could you bring this up? Half of this is Steve’s and then the other half is yours.”

“Are you obliging me to walk through the pits of tartarus?”

“If this means, entering your brother’s room to drop off his laundry, yes I am asking you.”

“Fine,” you hummed, grabbing the basket of folded laundry from your mother’s arms. “Also, Steve and I are getting ready to leave, we’re um- going to the spring fling thing.”

“Oh,” her eyes widened. “You’re going?”

“Yeah. Nancy convinced me.”

“Alright,” she let the shock seep through her. “I’ll let your father know.”

“Thanks,” you smiled before scurrying away, jumping up the steps–the quicker you got this done, the quicker you could get ready, and the quicker you were out of the house, the quicker you would be back. 

You dropped everything that was yours on top your bed–not bothering with putting it in your cupboard before waltzing towards Steve’s room. You could hear the stream of the shower, and if you were really careful, you could hear Steve faintly humming a Kate Bush song. You rolled your eyes before opening his door, ready to be met with the utter mess that you remembered his room to be–but to your surprise, it was neat and even smelt nice. 

You blinked in shock, taking in the well done bed, the freshly vacuum carpet and the organized shelves. Even the desk was neat, two pots of pencils stood proudly in the corner, while only a stray eraser felt out of place–sitting next to an opened agenda. His desk lamp illuminating his scruffy writing, creating a halo over the white lined page. 

Once the surprise was seeping in, you blinked; remembering your original mission. You dropped the basket on his bed, sighing before turning back around.

And that’s when you caught the writing across the white paper of Steve’s used notebook.

MONEY SPENT

March 30 - family video $6

April 2 - Maldev’s $2, lunch $5

April 5 - lunch $2

April 11 - Lunch $7, family video $3.

April 12 - Eddie $50

April 14 - Scoops Ahoy $6

April 15 - Eddie $100

The list went on–Eddie becoming a recurrence since ‘April 12’, the money only adding as the days went by. Your heart thumped in your chest–why in the world was Eddie’s name on Steve’s wannabe accountant list, and secondly, where in the world did Steve find this kind of money?

You wondered for a brief instant if Eddie had been dealing to your brother, but then you had only seen Steve high once, and it had been two days ago, at that wretched gathering.

Barb’s warning echoed in your head, and for a mere second you allowed yourself to feel the worst. Was this why Eddie had been bugging you to come to the dance with him?

You refused to make it make sense, but then April 12 had been the day Eddie had first tried to ask you out. 

Your breath suddenly caught in your throat, and you could feel your heart thumping in your ears. No. This couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be sure of anything yet. 

Nonetheless, you didn’t have time to think about it. You were on the clock with a promise made to your best friend, and strolling out of Steve’s room, you noticed a frown on your face you hadn’t even realized was there.

You let out a shaky sigh as you entered your room, being met with your reflection in the mirror.

You had made Nancy a promise,

You’d have to confront either of the two after the dance.

~

“Eddie, there’s a girl outfront for you.”

“Huh?” He lifted the book from his eyes, dropping it on the coffee table before lazily sitting up, limbs cracking as he did. He looked at Wayne in question, not bothering to fix his pyjama shirt as he walked to the kitchen area and looked through the window.

His eyes weren’t failing him–indeed there you were, the window of your car rolled down and Eddie could see you all dolled up in a pretty dress he’d never bet he would ever see you wear. You looked straight at him through the window and honked, a signal for him to come over.

“What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath as his socked feet walked him to the front door. “Hey, what are you doing here?” Even though shock was seeping through him, he smiled at your sight.

“Get in loser, we’re going to the spring fling,” his mouth was wide, agape like a fish as he registered what was happening. He blinked, and stood there a second too long because you honked your car horn again. “C’mon! We don’t have all night!”

You watched as Eddie blinked again before shaking his head and scurrying back inside. You heard faint mumbling from the trailer and his running around. You even thought you heard a loud noise that was most probably Eddie falling as he tried to get the suit of his pants up. 

His hair was wild once he opened the door of the trailer again, but he was brushing it back with his fingers as he walked down the metallic steps and walked to you.

“Where did you get a tux last minute?” You grinned as he opened the passenger door, his slime had made all anxiety wash away from your body and you felt yourself melt a little further into your car seat, butterflies brushing the side of your stomach at the sight of him in a suit.

“Oh, you know, just something I had, laying around,” he shrugged, pretending to be brushing something off of his shoulder “Where’d you get the dress?”

“Oh you know just something I had, laying around,” that made him laugh, eyes intently scanning your figure as you started driving away.

“What made you change your mind?”

“Nancy wouldn’t stop bugging me about it, thought I’d take a break from being a heinous bitch, for a change,” you smiled, and your mind brought you back to the writing in Steve’s notebook an unsettling feeling tugging at your heartstrings as your gaze went back to the boy next to you. 

“Respectable,” he grinned, already opening your glove box for a cassette–fishing out a Black Sabbath mixtape he had made for you.

And for a golden second, as you watched him grin like an idiot over the cassette he had so carefully designed–your worries washed away.

Eddie had been so caring. He had come into your life, bulldozing everything you had trapped yourself in. He brought a new breath to your lungs and you felt yourself again, you felt whole again.

And maybe, just maybe you could let yourself believe that Eddie’s name on Steve’s notebook was something entirely different.

~

Spring fling was everything you had expected it to be. 

Bright colored balloons floating across the air, handwritten banners hanging from every corner, large tables with various beverages and food laying across it. Music was bursting out of large speakers lodged at every corner of the room–and not to mention almost the entirety of Hawkins High. 

Toto’s Hold The Line was ringing in your ears, and you felt your hand grip Eddie’s a little tighter as you walked past a group of cheerleaders, all giggling at something Cameron Ness had said. The star jock was wearing his best suit, a blue ruffled jacket that made all the girls cling to him like moths to a flame. Each of them were in close competition with your brother at the amount of hairspray they had, hairstyles more and more elaborate the more you stared. 

You did not feel in your place at all. 

It all felt intoxicating.

You spotted your brother, long gone into a conversation with some brunette jock named Jeremy. You looked at Nancy–she seemed so happy for once; a bright smile plastered on her face as she leaned against Steve’s navy vest. 

And maybe, just maybe the thought of your best friend getting to have a good time made it less hard to stand the suffocating gym.

“Wanna dance?” Eddie turned to you, a smile on the corner of lips, “while the music is still somewhat tolerable.” Eddie lifted his hand, silently asking for yours.

“Yes,” you slotted your hand in his–butterflies brushing the sides of your stomach as you marched towards the dance floor.

Maybe the evening wouldn’t be so bad.

~

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can you hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom,” you smiled as Eddie was already offering his hand.

“Of course.” 

Eddie’s gaze traveled around the room, and an unsettling feeling crossed his stomach when his gaze met your brother’s. He was at a different spot this time, chatting with Nancy over a cup of punch.

This was it. 

This had to be his chance. 

He didn’t think twice before crossing the room, fingers brushing through his hair before speaking; “Hey, Harrington.”

“My man!” Steve cheered, and wrapped an arm around him. Eddie awkwardly nodded towards Nancy who had handed him a tight smile upon his arrival.

“Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Steve nodded and asked Nancy if she could hold his drink–to which she accepted and nodded them away.

Eddie noticed Steve was maybe more than a little tipsy as he walked beside Eddie, mumbling jokes and saying hi to everyone who crossed their way. He thought this would be a never ending nightmare, and it would probably be hours before he reached a quiet spot. And after torechous minutes of Steve greeting everyone who met his eyes as he was dragged through the mass of students, they finally reached the quiet corner next to the bleachers.

“So-”

"The deal is off."

“What?” Steve suddenly felt himself sober up. “Why?”

“Because I can’t continue like this.”

“But why? I thought you needed the money-”

“This isn’t about the money, Steve,” the name felt bitter in his mouth–maybe because he blamed him for his suffering, or maybe Eddie blamed himself–but right this minute the lines blurred in his mind and he felt his stomach bubble with a new kind of anger. “This is about your sister, it’s killing me to be doing this to her.”

“Why would you care?” Steve snorted, and Eddie almost took a step back at the cruelty he was witnessing first hand.

Did Steve really care so little about you? 

“Because I’m falling in love with her,” the words tumbled out of Eddie’s mouth faster than he could think, and he had to bite his lip once he realized his confession.

Steve’s mouth fell open wide, the room starting to spin—and this time it wasn’t the snuck in vodka that made him feel this way; but the way his plan was biting him back. 

“No, no, no. You can't be in love with her,” he felt the words leave faster than intended, his own interests getting the best of him. 

“Who are you to tell me what to feel or not feel, Harrington.” 

Steve blinked–stunned, “no, you’re right. But you can’t be falling for her! I never said you could actually date her, you’re going to be a bad influence!” 

“Excuse me? Says the guy who hand picked me.”

“Because you were the only one good for the job!”

“Exactly, and that’s why I’m putting an end to the whole thing.”

“She’s smarter than you give her credit for, you know? She’s going to figure it out soon enough, and it’s going to go all to shits. She might hate us both in all cases, but I’d rather her learn about this fiasco the right way.”  

“No-no, you can’t tell her anything! What about me? What about Nancy?” 

“Are you fucking serious right now?” 

“Look, I’ll pay you double, we continue the deal like it was, you continue to date her, and we can just forget this whole conversation happened, okay?”

“Did you not hear a word I just said?”

~

You sighed, fixing a strand of your hair as you looked at yourself in the mirror—smacking your lips together to spread the gloss you had just reapplied. 

You pushed the heavy bathroom door, sighing once it closed behind you–the school hallway staring back at you. You could faintly hear music playing from behind the closed doors, but murmurs from a nearby corridor caught your attention. 

“Did you hear?” Mr. Arnold fiddled with his hat, twisting the material between his fingers. 

“Hear what?” You recognised Mrs. Gilbert–the drama teacher, she was fixing the sleeve of her sparkling dress before a content smile appeared on her lips.

“They found him,” now they had your full attention. Head spiking up like a cat, and breath catching in your throat.

“The Byers boy?” She whispered, the smile getting whipped off her features. 

“Yes,” Mr. Arnold had a grim look in his eyes as he stared down at his shoes. “They found his body at Sattler Quarry about an hour ago… Poor kid drowned himself.” 

Your shoulders tensed and you felt your ears ring

No.

No, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening.

Will, the shy boy you babysitted a few times. 

Will, the quiet one with a mind of gold and an ever growing imagination. The one who came up with creatures, monsters and wizards D and D magazines and Eddie’s campaigns could only be envious about.

Your body hit the back of the lockers, and you could only hope that Mrs. Gilbert and Mr. Arnold didn’t hear the thud that accompanied the movement. Head spinning and heart unstoppably racing as you tried to tame the buzz in your head. You couldn’t hear anything, an uncontrollable numbness hitting you as your fist clenched the material of your dress. 

Why?

Why had a boy full of life like Will had to meet his end in such a way?

What about Dustin? Did he already know? 

Your heart only shattered into more pieces as you thought of him. 

You had to tell Eddie.

You walked back into the gym, the air feeling stuffy again and the music barely hitting your numbbed ears. Seeing everyone so full of life made you sick to your stomach. All these people who didn’t even care that he had gone missing, and now they would wake up tomorrow morning with the news of his death, and move on with the rest of their lives as if nothing happened.

It didn’t take you long to find Eddie in the crowd. He was a few meters away from the door, in a corner talking to—your brother? 

He had a large frown on his features, and your brother was waving his hands around frantically like he did when he got frustrated. You watched as Eddie groaned, a hand flying up to his hair as he tried to reason whatever argument your brother had thrown. 

You moved faster than your mind registered, feet gliding over the polished ground of the gymnasium. Something in you wanted to save Eddie from presumingly a horrid conversation with the gremlin that you were cruelly related to. 

You were about to go through the last small group of people, you could clearly see them from your spot in between the dancing bodies—and Steve’s voice became clearer over the fading music.

“No-no you can’t tell her anything! What about me? What about Nancy?”  

What the fuck was that suppose to mean? 

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Look, I’ll pay you double, we continue the deal like it was, you continue to date her, and we can just forget this whole conversation happened, okay?”

You stopped in your tracks.

Steve’s writing suddenly became clear,

your worst assumptions were true.

Eddie was paid to date you,

And had been since the start. 

[ckret2]

Chapter 33 of human Bill is still the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Stan takes Bill to get fillings from a creepy dentist in the back of a white van. And also they're handcuffed together the whole time.

Hijinks ensue.

Stan was startled from reading the paper by a shrill up-and-down whistle. Bill trotted into the kitchen, his voice a singsong lilt: "Incoming!"

Stan lowered the paper to glare at Bill. "Still doing that, are you?"

"Of course! I'd hate to scare you." Bill took the chair across the kitchen table from Stan. "Gooood morni—"

"Go away." Stan determinedly returned his attention to an article about the deathball arena construction.

Bill laughed. "You're funny. Anyway!" He noted Stan's plate of eggs and salsa was hidden behind his newspaper, and quietly slid the plate across the table as he spoke. "I need you to do me the teensy, tiniest little favor—"

"Nope."

"Take me to your dentist."

"No." Stan didn't even lower his newspaper. "The last time I took you anywhere, you almost made my niece cry, my brother left a Shopliftaholics Anonymous flier on my bed, and all I got out of it was a crummy ring. You wanna go somewhere, talk to Soos."

But, Bill noted, Stan was wearing said crummy ring. "Spend a day with that loser?" He rolled his eyes. "Please. I'd rather pry out my fingernails."

"You'd probably enjoy that, you freak."

"Not the point." Bill stuffed half an egg in his mouth. "Anyway, it has to be you. I need fillings, and Dr. Illing does them for free."

Stan squinted over the top of his newspaper. "How do you know about Dr. Illing?"

"What part of 'all-seeing eye' don't you get?"

Dr. Illing was a wandering dentist who spent the warm summer months in Gravity Falls. He squeezed his van and trailer into alleys between businesses in town, where he both lived and provided dental services until the police caught wind and chased him and his van out into the woods for a few days. On days with good weather, he'd pop open the back hatch of his nondescript trailer and set up a sign that read "COME INSIDE! FREE CANDY (for new patients)". He didn't attract many customers.

What really made him stand out was his unusual pay structure. He charged typical rates for regular teeth cleaning and dental maintenance; but if a patient had a cavity, he gave them a gold filling for free, and he paid them if he needed to pull their teeth.

Stan thought he was terrific. He hadn't had to pay for dental care in thirty years! Granted, he also wore dentures now; but hey, Dr. Illing had helped pay off Ford's mortgage, and at least the dentures were on the house.

Bill said, "You're the only one in the shack who knows all the places Illing might set up shop. Besides, he might be less jumpy in front of a stranger if an existing patient can vouch for it."

"I can see where you're coming from," Stan said. "But my answer is no, because I don't wanna."

Bill scowled in irritation. He sat back and ate another of Stan's eggs as he reconsidered his approach.

"Stanley—I'm a simple shape," he said. "A simple shape who's used to being coated peak to base in pure, lustrous, 24-karat gold. Having skin makes my skin crawl. I don't need any dental work done, these teeth are fine—but I'd really, really like just a bit of gold, somewhere on my body, so I feel a little more like myself in my final days."

Stan muttered, "You're trying to appeal to sympathy I don't have, Cipher."

"And then, once I'm dead," Bill went on, "I suppose I'll be leaving behind a corpse with a mouthful of free gold that whoever's disposing of my remains can do whatever they want with, do you catch my meaning Stanley?"

Stan lowered his newspaper just enough to grimace at Bill. "That's absolutely disgusting," he said. "But okay, I'm bribed!" He tried to fold the newspaper. "If you want your mouth to fund me and Ford's next year of globe-trotting, fine by me. Least you can do for messing up our summer."

"Mhm." Bill shoveled the last egg into his mouth while Stan was distracted by the paper and slid the plate over to Stan's side.

Stan slapped the paper down. "But we're not telling Ford about this. Agreed?" He offered a hand to shake.

"Agreed." Bill took Stan's hand, with the wrong hand—but before Stan could figure out what to do with that, Bill jerked his hand back like he'd been burned. "We'll take this to our graves."

"Or to your grave, anyway!" Stan laughed loudly, slapping the table.

Bill watched him with a forced smile. "Great. Deal made. Let's go get the magic friendship bracelets and—"

"Ohhh no," Stan said. "I'm not trusting a little bit of colored lace and some mystical hocus-pocus to keep you contained. If we're going anywhere, I'm making sure you can't escape."

"Okay," Bill said, a touch warily. "Fine. How?"

####

Soos took the handcuffs out of his toolbox, removed the key and stuck it in his pocket, and asked, "What side do you want it on?"

"Left," Stan said. "Gotta keep my punching arm free." Bill rolled his eyes. 

Soos closed the cuffs on Stan's left wrist and Bill's right, then tightened Bill's half until it actually held his tiny wrist. "There."

"Ha!" Stan grinned at Bill. "Try escaping that!"

"I wasn't planning to escape."

"Sure, pull the other one." Stan pointed toward the door. "Now... to the car!"

####

They stared in dismay at Stan's car.

The El Diablo was a classic of the 1960s American automotive industry—and it was in terrific condition. (Notwithstanding the recent dents, scrapes, and keyed scratches in the paint reading "TRICK-OR-CHEATER!!") It came with the features standard to American cars of the time, like a steering wheel on the left, and a wide front bench that provided space for multiple passengers to sit to the driver's right side.

Bill was handcuffed to Stan's left side.

"Wow. You're stupid," Bill said.

"I'll break your smart mouth."

"What do I care, we're headed to the dentist anyway." He sighed. "Okay! Let's go inside and tell Questiony how stupid you are."

Stan did not want to tell Soos how stupid he was. "No! How do you know I didn't do this on purpose? Maybe having my right arm free is more important than—er... driving."

Bill considered that with pursed lips. After a pause, he ventured, "Do you want me to drive—?"

"No, no, nope, I am not letting you drive my car, under any circumstances, ever! Not a chance!"

"Then how are we doing this?"

####

Stan gripped the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles white and jaw clenched.

Bill was uneasily cuddled up against Stan's right side. The handcuff forced him to stretch his right arm across Stan's chest. 

They were both wearing tank tops. Their bare upper arms were plastered together with sweat.

They were getting cricks in their necks from how far they were tilting their heads away from each other.

On the radio, a hit 50's soul song crooned romantically, "Oh, my sweet love... you're my lovely sweetie... and I never love you more, than when you're pressed to my side... as we go for a sweet loving car ride..." Neither of them could reach the radio dial without touching each other even more. They'd silently decided to pretend as hard as possible that they couldn't hear the radio.

"Welp," Stan said. "Out of all the times I've been handcuffed in a car, this is one of the worst."

####

They spotted Dr. Illing's "FREE CANDY" sign posted surreptitiously near the barrel and crate factory, and circled the block to park the car in front of a business that looked responsible enough to file a missing persons report if the car was still abandoned there by nightfall.

They tumbled out of the driver's side door with a maneuver that looked like a cross between a waltz and a mugging. Stan kicked the door shut. As they untangled themselves, in a surprisingly decent impression of Stan's voice, Bill said, "Gotta keep my punching arm free. How's that working out for you?"

"Bold words from a guy in punching range, you little—" As Stan finally separated himself from Bill and straightened out, he caught sight of Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland halfway up the block. "Oh, great. Cops. Exactly what you want around when you're doing something weird." Stan shook his head. "Well, as long as we go the other way and don't make eye contact—"

"Hi Darryl! Hi Edwin!" Bill stood on his toes and waved wildly. "Hey! Working hard or hardly working? Haha!"

"Oh, hey Goldie!" Durland waved back, and he and Blubs headed their direction. "How've you been, did you have a nice Summerween?"

"Ahh, I was stuck in the house—"

"Bill," Stan hissed. "Whaddaya think you're doing? Do you want them asking questions?"

"Hey," Durland said, "Why're you handcuffed to Stan?"

Bill turned toward Stan. He smiled at him. It was a smile that said I did not think this through.

"You need some help there?" Blubs asked. "I bet we've got a key that matches that handcuff model."

Stan bet Bill would love to accept that offer and go traipsing off with the cops. "Nope! That's fine! Thank you officers, but we're keeping the handcuffs on," Stan said. "Because." He paused. "They're necessary. For... uh... for me."

The cops and Bill watched him expectantly. Bill had that awful gleam in his eyes that he got when he saw an opportunity to make up a story.

"Because I'm old," Stan said. "It's to keep me from wandering into traffic."

Bill laughed, "Yep, that's true!" He jabbed Stan's shoulder with a finger (harder than necessary, he thought). "This guy's cataracts are so bad, sometimes he asks us if he's dying because all he a see is a white light in a dark tunnel! And the way his mind's going, woof—"

Stan growled, "All right you don't have to lay it on so thick—"

"—he's so addled it's like he's completely forgotten the last century of technology, he'll just walk right off the curb and expect the horse-drawn carriages to stop for him—"

"Hahaaa, but we won't bore you with my medical history!" Stan jerked on the handcuffs. "C'mon, Goldie, you're gonna make me late to my heart doctor appointment. You don't want my life on your hands, do you?"

Bill murmured, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Hold on," Blubs said. "You can't see? Didn't we just see you get out of the driver's seat of your car?"

Stan and Bill exchanged a look. Stan said, "Goldie's giving me directions."

"Oh! That makes sense," Durland said.

"All right," Blubs said, "We'll let you get to your doctor's appointment. You folks have a nice day."

As the cops left, Bill called after them, "You too! Hey, I'll see you guys at Rainbow Club!"

"See you there!" Durland turned to Blubs. "Y'know, I think Goldie's a step up from that seeing-eye bear."

Bill and Stan eyed each other. "All right, you're not bad at improv," Bill said. "I can respect a decent actor."

"You too," Stan said grudgingly. Bill looked at Stan like he expected a little more than that; but Stan kept his mouth shut. Bill didn't need the encouragement.

####

Dr. Illing's "FREE CANDY" sign leaned hopefully near a gap in the fence around an overgrown lot by the barrel factory. The gap was large enough that a reasonably limber human could duck through with little difficulty; however, Stan was old and Bill was still controlling his alien body like a rookie puppeteer learning the marionette, so they circled halfway around the lot until they found a gate in the fence to push open. They trod across scraggly grass, a row of dying mushrooms, and years-old litter to reach an unmarked white van hooked up to a camper trailer.

The back hatch of the trailer was flipped up to serve as a makeshift metal awning, and inside, a tall, spindly man was snoring atop a military cot in his underwear, using a white lab coat like a blanket. Stan cleared his throat loudly, and when that didn't disrupt the snoring, knocked on the side of the trailer. "Hey! Doc!"

Dr. Illing jolted upright with a yelp, seized an enormous wireless power drill off the floor to point at them like a gun, lowered it slightly as he registered he wasn't under attack, then realized he was nearly naked and yelped again. He tumbled off the cot, flailed his way to his feet, and turned his back to them as he jerked on his coat and buttoned it. "Just—just a second!" He got on one sock, couldn't find the other, and gave up, pulling on his sneakers with one bare foot. "Sorry, so sorry, I must've—just—nodded off for a second, there—"

"Maybe we should have made an appointment," Bill said wryly. "He looks busy." Stan snorted.

Dr. Illing turned around, smoothing out his rumpled lab coat. He was a jumpy, twitchy man with heavy circles under his eyes, short badly-cut hair, and a 5 o'clock shadow that had evolved into a 25 o'clock shadow. His gaze darted nervously between their faces. "Sorry. Hi, hello, can I help you? Are you maybe here for a tooth extraction, or—or perhaps wisdom teeth removal...?" His gaze caught on Stan's face, and he started. "Stan Pines! I haven't seen you since I pulled your last tooth ten years ago! What are you doing here?" His brows creased in worry. "You're—you're not mad about that, are you—?"

"What? No! The dentures are—fine. They're actually lower maintenance than teeth. Sort of. In a way," Stan said. "No, I'm here to refer a new customer." He pointed at Bill.

Bill made a gesture like he was tipping an invisible hat. "Hi there!"

"A customer?" Dr. Illing said blankly. "Oh—yes! Of course, hold on—" He pulled a hospital curtain over the front half of the trailer to hide a dinette covered in laundry and old magazines, lifted one end of the military cot and slid a step stool under the legs to keep it raised, and tugged the arm of a dental light down from the ceiling to aim it at the chair.

Stan said, "So, do I get some kind of referral bonus, or..."

"Oh—sure, sure. Have a, uhh..." Dr. Illing opened a heavy yellow and black tool bag, pulled out a battered cookie tin, withdrew a gold coin, and offered it to Stan. "One of these or something, here."

"Huh." Stan inspected it. No idea what currency it was, but a gold coin was arguably cooler than actual cash.

The dentist batted aside the hospital curtain to grab a tiny stool from the dinette, shook a damp towel off the seat, placed the stool beside the cot, and sat. "Okay!" He clapped his hands. "New customer! What can I do you for?"

Bill had been gazing in naked longing at the bag hiding the gold coins; but at the question, he looked up with a grin. "I'm here for fillings!"

"Ah! Wonderful. No charge for fillings, of course." He started rummaging through his tool bag for supplies. "Do you know which teeth need them?"

"Whichever you think would look best with some," Bill said. "Driller's choice!"

Dr. Illing stopped rummaging to give Bill a perplexed look. "I—sorry, come again?"

"I said I'm leaving it in your hands." Bill climbed into the trailer and put his free hand on Dr. Illing' s shoulder. "I'll be straight with you, Frankie: all that matters is that my teeth do not currently have any gold in them, and I want that to change by the time I leave. I'm not too picky about the details beyond that."

The dentist stared at Bill, then glanced at Stan for confirmation. Stan shrugged and nodded. "Oh-kay!" Dr. Illing wasn't quite smiling, but there was a strange, eager gleam in his eye. "Super! This'll be fun!" He gestured for Bill to sit on the cot. "Let's see what I have to work with."

He ushered Stan in, and pulled the trailer's hatch shut.

####

"Your teeth are amazing," Dr. Illing said, voice hushed with awe. "Perfectly white. Who's your usual dental hygienist? Did you just get these cleaned?"

"Nope," Bill said, forgetting for the third time that humans keep their teeth and their voice in the same hole and he shouldn't talk with the dentist's fingers in his mouth. Dr. Illing quickly pulled his hand back. "Just basic toothpaste, floss, and dish soap."

Dr. Illing shook his head in disbelief. "Well, they look amazing. And no wear at all, remarkable... Have you ever considered having any of these pulled? Do you mind if I take a few pictures?"

Stan shuddered as the dentist pulled out an old film camera and started snapping photos. "Yeesh. I forgot how creepy you are. Kinda glad I ran out of teeth."

Dr. Illing straightened up, snapped off the dental light, and sighed. "Well, I'm sorry to say that all your teeth are pristine. Not a hint of cavities—not even plaque. It'd be a shame to drill such pretty specimens. You're sure you don't want one pulled...?"

Stan grimaced, but Bill pursed his lips thoughtfully, as if he were considering a perfectly normal question. "As fun as that sounds, I said I want to leave with gold today, and the whole extraction-and-implantation process for gold teeth takes ages. Unless you happen to have a little secret magic trick to speed up the process?" Bill laughed, fixing Dr. Illing with a piercing stare.

Dr. Illing looked nervous. "Er—no."

"Then just the fillings. But who knows, maybe I'll feel naughty and be back in a couple of weeks." Bill laughed again. "Just pick a couple of your least favorite teeth to drill into!"

"Okay, suit yourself." Dr. Illing shrugged and fished around in an overstuffed cardboard box under the dinette table. "Let's gas you up and get drilling."

"You can skip the sedative," Bill said. "I don't mind a little pain. I prefer it, actually! It adds some zest to the experience..." He trailed off as he caught sight of the label on the gas canister Dr. Illing had pulled out. He pointed at a word, "I thought that additive was illegal."

Dr. Illing flinched guiltily. "Not in the state where I got it."

"Oh, buddy. I didn't realize I'd climbed into the party van!" Bill settled back on the cot, laced his hands behind his head, and got comfortable. "You know this stuff has something like sixty percent odds of causing hallucinations? Most people get either haloes around lights, or spiders. Go ahead, gas me—I wanna find out which I am."

####

In five minutes, Bill was overjoyed to report that the dental light had a spider halo. He did not explain what this meant.

Since Stan had typically been under anesthesia himself whenever Dr. Illing operated on him, this was the first time he'd had an opportunity to watch the dentist at work. Stan discovered that when Dr. Illing drilled into a tooth, he didn't suck the resultant dust up with one of those little dental vacuums with a plastic tube Stan was more familiar with. Instead, when a bit of dust had accumulated, he reached in with what looked like a cotton swab, wiped up the tooth dust, and scraped it off into a Petri dish; and only then did he use the vacuum to suck out any saliva and continue. Was he saving the leftover tooth dust? He was an even bigger creep than Stan had thought.

By all appearances, Bill didn't handle the gas well. It wasn't that it made him sick, or that he wasn't having the time of his life. It just made him completely forget how to operate a human body. When Dr. Illing told him to hold his mouth open, he also held his eyes open until they watered; and whenever he lost the battle to keep them open, he automatically shut his mouth too, often to his own peril as Dr. Illing shouted about the drill jostling. Within ten minutes, Dr. Illing had given up on convincing Bill to keep his mouth open and instead started giving him blink breaks when he could shut his mouth.

It helped some, but they couldn't do anything about the fact that Bill had fully forgotten he couldn't talk while getting dental work done, and kept up a regular chatter—during which he cheerfully mentioned he'd died recently, attempted to explain that the entire universe was actually an elaborate hologram projecting from the "true" third dimension, and asked Dr. Illing all about the cruise to Panama he'd recently stowed away on (which the dentist hadn't mentioned). During one blink break, as Bill closed each eye separately, Dr. Illing leaned toward Stan and muttered, "So... what's her story?"

Stan tilted his head toward the Petri dish. "What's with the tooth shavings?"

Dr. Illing considered that, slowly nodded, and got back to work.

####

After several hours, Dr. Illing wiped his brow and sighed in relief. "All right, that should do it. You've got fillings on five teeth now." Under his breath, he muttered, "It would have been two, if you hadn't kept talking while I was drilling."

Stan shook his head in amazement. "Doesn't that hurt?" 

"Yes," Bill said. "I've never felt pain like that before. What a rush."

"If you do come back for a tooth extraction, I'm getting a dental gag to keep your jaws open." Dr. Illing finished pulling out the array of clamps and barriers around the filling sites and wearily dropped down onto his stool. "There. The rest of the sedative should wear off gradually over the next few hours. Usually I tell patients to wait three or four hours before eating to let the swelling go down, but..." He waved wearily. "You can do whatever you want."

"Admit it, you like having an enthusiastic patient!" Bill heaved himself off the military cot, forgot he couldn't float, and immediately collapsed to the floor.

"Whoa there—" Stan helped Bill back to his feet. The handcuffs prevented him from getting an arm around Bill's back, so instead he helped keep him upright by firmly squeezing his upper arm. "I don't know about you, but I'm eating as soon as we get home. You made me miss lunch—and for some reason, I feel like I barely had any breakfast." Bill inexplicably found this declaration hilarious. Probably the sedative, Stan reasoned.

Bill waved at the dentist as Stan tugged him out the trailer's hatch, chattering the whole way: "Thanks for the gold, the sock you were looking for is a bookmark in the March issue of Floss Girls, Atlantis is rising as we speak, you have less than seven years to prepare for the plague, tell the little lady I said hi! Byyye!"

Stan squeezed Bill's arm tighter and muttered, "Would you cut that out?

Bill stumbled across the uneven lot. "I made up the part about Atlantis."

"Okay just shut up and stop saying weird things."

Bill attempted to walk sideways all the way back to the car.

####

Stan gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his arms were trembling.

Bill was sprawled all over the front bench, the dashboard, the seatback, and Stan's shoulders.

On the radio, a hit 80's R&B song with a sexy saxophone was playing, "Babe, the sad things you've been through... I swear I'll make it up to you... If it takes a thousand years..."

Bill was singing at the top of his lungs directly in Stan's ear, "I'LL WIPE AWAY ALL YOUR TEARS, WOO!—sax solo!—BA DA-DA DA, BA DA-DAAA—"

Stan turned off his right hearing aid.

Every once in a while Bill attempted to grab the steering wheel and turn it in time to the song, like a kid playing in a toy car; Stan had given up telling him to stop and instead started just smacking his hand away every time he tried. After another smack, Bill draped his arm awkwardly over Stan again, and announced, "I can't feel my tongue at all! I bet I can chew it off!"

"Don't do that."

"The last time my mouth was this numb, my girlfriend had just gotten done with me, haha." Bill stuck his finger in his mouth to experimentally poke at his tongue. "I couldn' thee for the nex' hour from all the thporeth—"

"I swear if you don't shut up—"

Bill flopped his arm across Stan again. "I just realized I haven't gotten any action since I died. Wow. What's normal for humans, couple times a week until you start the slow lingering decline toward death?" He looked straight at Stan. Stan could feel that side of his face start to sweat. "This isn't a weird time to bring that up, is it?"

"Bill, if you say one more weird thing, you're riding home on the roof of the car."

Bill was quiet for three seconds. And then he started poking Stan's bicep. "Your arm's a lot meatier than Sixer's! What's your favorite flavor of cancer?"

####

Mabel asked, "Why are you on top of the car?"

Bill—eyes wide, hair disheveled, one arm hanging through the driver's door, sprawled out clinging to the roof like his life depended on it—replied, "I don't know, it's all a blur."

Stan opened the car door and jerked on the handcuffs. "All right, get off my car."

Bill shakily climbed off, lay in the dirt, and tried to catch his breath. "That was fun. We should do that more often."

"Not on your life."

Eyeing the handcuffs, Dipper said, "What were you doing, anyway?"

"Nothing!" Stan snapped. "Why? Who's asking? I wasn't sneaking the demon out to get a shady back-alley dental procedure!"

Mabel and Dipper stared up at him.

Stan pointed at them. "What are you doing?"

"Going camping," Dipper said, turning so Stan could see his stuffed backpack.

"Something's been stealing Pacifica's alpacas at night, so we're going on a stake-out," Mabel said. "They took Giorgio. It's personal now."

"We think aliens might be abducting them," Dipper said.

From the ground, Bill said, "It's not aliens."

"Ah, taking the law into your own hands. It builds character," Stan said approvingly. "You need firearms?"

They exchanged a glance. "We're good," Mabel said. "Grunkle Ford loaned us his freeze ray. It seems less lethal."

As the kids headed toward the road, Bill finally heaved himself up. "Well, that was fun!"

"No it wasn't," Stan said.

"Your opinion doesn't matter. Anyway—" He shook his cuffed wrist. "We're home, get me out of this thing. It makes you look like my ugly accessory and I want my hoodie."

"I elevate your whole look!" Stan protested. "And I don't have the key, it's with Soos."

Mabel turned back to shout at them, "Soos is out! He's got a dinner date with Melody!"

Stan grimaced. "Uh-oh."

Bill shrugged and said, with a confidence Stan didn't share, "He left the key behind."

####

"Oh man, sorry dudes," Soos said over the phone. "I totally forgot I still had it. Yeah, it's on my key ring. Is that, like, gonna be a problem, or...?"

"It's fine," Bill said, sitting atop Soos's office desk and leaning all the way across it to reach the phone. "Just pass it through the phone, we'll catch it."

"What?"

"Ignore him." Stan shoved Bill's face away. Bill gave him a dirty look as he straightened out his eyepatch, which he'd finally gotten to put on once they were home. Stan spun the desk chair away from Bill so he couldn't try to join the conversation again. "He's hopped up on psychedelic laughing gas. When are you gonna be back?"

"Uh..." Soos thought for several seconds. "Nooot for a while. Abuelita and I were talking about maybe kind of staying the night?"

"Well—pfff—can't you duck out and bring the key?"

"Uhhh. I would but, this is the first time Abuelita and I are having dinner with Melody's parents, and I'm really worried about impressing them parents, and the casserole's about to come out, and I think they might judge me if I leave, it would probably ruin dinner..."

"Okay, fine. What if we drive over to get the key?"

Far louder than necessary, Bill asked, "Stanley can I drive this time—!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Oh sure, that'd be fine," Soos said. "I'll give you directions, Melody's parents' place is in Portland. You got a pen?"

Stan frowned. "Portland."

"Yep."

"As in, outside the magic bubble trapping Bill in town."

Soos paused. "Oh, right."

Well, Stan wasn't about to make Soos look bad in front of his future in-laws. He'd never had in-laws, but he'd seen enough sitcoms to know how messy that could get. "Never mind. We'll figure something out. You kids enjoy dinner." Stan hung up the phone, sighed, and turned to face Bill. (Bill had plucked a figurine of a bulky robot in a cute girly pose off of Soos's desk, and was staring at it in wonder, like he'd never seen overpriced anime convention merch before.) "You got any other bright ideas?"

"We could still call Darryl and Edwin..."

"No way," Stan snapped. "I am not calling the cops for help! Never gonna happen. I'd rather wait for Soos to get back in the morning if I have to!"

"Oh would you." Bill laughed scornfully. "And what do you plan to do until then?"

####

They got TV dinners and grumpily watched Cash Wheel together.

####

(This entire chapter was just an extended excuse to annoy Stan and Bill as much as possible. But mostly Stan. Thanks for reading, and if you enjoyed I'd appreciate a comment or reblog!!)

[passivenovember]

This just fell out of me, team. I hope you enjoy it!

--

Steve’s wearing a sunhat.

Billy spots it on his tromp down the front steps, a nondescript canvas bag balled and clutched in one hand like wilted butcher’s paper, and thinks it could be a dinner plate on top of Harrington’s quaff. A trick of the early morning light slotting an obvious hole in the world.

It’s a sunhat, though.

The bag crinkles in Billy’s fist. Its folds and edges could draw blood. He tugs Steve’s passenger door open with his free hand and settles into the cab. Catches his breath. Says, “Why are you dressed like that?” When Steve only stares at him.

“We’re going to the Farmer’s Market,” Steve says. “It’s a special occasion.” 

They go to the Farmer’s Market every weekend, Billy doesn’t say. Since March, stretching all the way to last summer; off and on while Billy settled into it like a drowned cat, Steve eventually snapping, “We can do this,” Hands on his hips. Jars of pickled vegetables fresh from his little tote bag, glittering on Billy’s kitchen counter. “We can have this.”

“Non FDA regulated vegetables?” Billy had asked, grinning when Steve flushed, turning to dump Billy’s half of the loot into the refrigerator. 

Billy never asked what ‘this,’ meant. What they could have. Thinks he has a decent idea.

“You didn’t need to put a fuckin’ hat on,” Billy says now. Didn’t need to wear that hat. Particularly. 

He’s cute, though. Younger, where its wide, formless brim hides the salt and pepper that’s been slinking up Steve’s temples for the last couple of years, reminding Billy of the decades that rest like rain slickers on their backs. Floppy hats on their heads.

“It’s supposed to be in the low hundreds today.”

“It’s seven-thirty, pretty boy.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Steve says. He throws the car into reverse, but really it’s more a gentle nudge of the gear-shift until the car rolls with gravity into the street. Harrington always driving like a fifty year old man long before he was one. “I read an article that sunscreen isn’t enough anymore,” Steve says bluntly.

“Isn’t enough to what? Keep you celibate?” Billy digs around in his jeans pocket for his cigarettes. The white lighter that Steve had had an aneurysm over when he first saw it.

“No, to stop skin cancer. These days, how the Baby Boomers fucked up the Ozone, you’ve gotta wear sleeves, and sunscreen, and sunglasses, and fuckin’, sunhats,” Steve yanks the lighter out of Billy’s hand before he can spark up. Ignores the punch Billy lands on the one that came, fresh from 1993, with the car. 

America used to be a country. Smoking used to be good for you. 

Steve shoots him a side-ways glance, as if reading his mind. “You’re gonna kick rocks at sixty, Bill. Way you smoke.”

“They don’t make sun hats for lungs yet,” Billy says. The car lighter pops free so he snags it, waiting patiently for the hot-plate coil to catch his cig. When it does, he puts it back. Inhales slowly, peering out the window as the early morning shoots by at 30 miles per hour, a dying star.

He can feel Steve watching him. Now. Always.

“You could stop,” Steve says softly. “Smoking. You’re still young.”

Billy snorts. “Yeah, and you could mind your business.”

“Fuck you, you are my business.”

Billy’s stomach flips. He’s surprised, still, that his guts aren’t knotted and non-functional after all this time. Decades of friendship; career changes and new houses, new wives that slip steadily into ex wives. Kids. One kid. Billy’s. Decades of Steve, worrying about Billy’s diet and nagging at his bad habits, and. Saying shit like that. Flipping Billy’s stomach over on itself.

Billy puffs on his cigarette, rolling his eyes when Steve coughs dramatically into one elbow. He blows a huge cloud, just to be an asshole.

“Dude,” Steve says, leaning away so the car jerks suddenly to the left. 

Billy yelps, jostling against his seatbelt, “Harrington, you’re driving.”

“This is your lungs on nicotine,” Steve says, “A shitty old car driven by a lunatic middle-aged divorcee. Out of control. Veering into a ditch, or–”

“--It’s just a goddamn cigarette–”

“--With every pack you’re killing babies,” Steve tells him. The next streetlight turns gold. Steve runs it. 

Billy hangs on. His heart thumps with every twist and turn of the road. Hawkins races by, a blur of neon green oak trees and dark, supple earth. The grass is burned away in some places. Steve’s ancient car groans in the rising heat, its tires buff their tread against hot pavement.

At the next stoplight, Steve slams on the breaks. 

Billy almost flies through the goddamn windshield. He sits back against car seat leather. He breathes through his nose, counting to ten before he realizes that he’s covered in cigarette ash. His cigarette isn’t lit anymore.

Steve watches him evenly, soulful brown eyes calm.

Too calm.

Billy frowns. “What the fuck is going on with you, man?”

Steve shrugs. 

“It’s just a cigarette,” Billy presses forward, turning in his seat to give this his full fledged fucking attention. “You’re acting like you did when I was moving back home and you thought you couldn’t ask to come. Right before you broke Tommy Hagan’s nose when he said–”

“I know what that asshole said, I’m fifty, not a hundred,” Steve snaps. “I’m not acting like anything.”

“Yeah,” Billy says, shifting, “Yeah, you are. Like that time Alice wouldn’t let you come visit because she was doing that bullshit Home for 40 Days thing after Serena was born,” Billy tells him. He watches Steve’s face. Notices the crack before it happens because they’ve been friends for decades. 

It hurts him. “Steve–”

“I asked to come eventually,” Steve says, voice soft as feather down, neglecting to mention that he didn’t stay in California. “You moved back after the divorce. When Alice–”

“The light’s green,” Billy says. 

“I’m fine,” Steve tells him. “It’s fine.” He breathes through his nose, pawing at the brim of his dorky sun hat like he forgot it was there, for a moment. Like he wants to rip it off. 

Suddenly, with the force of a riptide, Billy misses the wave of Steve’s hair, still impossibly thick even into their middle age. He wants the hat gone, the sun free of all its massive danger. 

“I won’t smoke anymore,” Billy says, “If you want me to stop, I will.”

The moment hangs between them, and then, behind, someone honks.

“I want you to live forever,” Steve admits. Soft. Sweet.

Billy almost breaks in half. Isn’t sure why they’re talking about this now, in a car, on their way to the Market. But that’s what happens when you get older. Every moment like an oak leaf on the wind, slipping like water through clenched fists. 

He frowns, asking, “What about you?” Because. He wouldn’t want to spend forever alone.

“Why else am I wearing a fucking sunhat, Billy?”

Billy’s stomach knots. He opens his mouth to admit that he’s been in love with Steve for forty years, and he’ll always be the kind of man who burps and says the wrong thing and pushes too hard and smokes cigarettes, but. 

He loves him. 

Steve waits. When the second honk comes, he turns away, pulling his shitty old car onto Menard Street without another word. 

Billy swallows love, the movement as familiar to him as their friendship. It tastes like cigarette smoke. He tosses his unlit fag out the window, feeling like the shit hole scum of the earth when Steve reports that 30% of wildfires start with a carelessly discarded cigarette.

There’s a drought, too, Billy doesn’t say.

He should’ve thought it out. But it’s Steve. He only wanted to suck the wound.

–

Steve’s been twitchy for as long as Billy’s known him. It’s worse when he has something to say, when the skeletons in his closet regrow their ligament to stand on knocking knees, banging on the door, asking for an escape. 

Billy’s been around long enough to know that it’s best not to push, even when that’s all he does, all he’ll ever do. But. When it comes to Steve Harrington, things are different. Always. 

“What should we do first,” Billy asks. Knowing Steve’ll talk when he’s ready.

Harrington parks his car, the last in a long line of hybrids and hatchbacks, near the edge of the park. “I’m looking for honey,” He says, voice pulled tight like an out-of-tune string instrument. In a hurry. One wrong stroke and he’ll snap.

“‘Kay,” Billy says. 

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands once they’re out of the car. He resists the urge to lick his palm for a breath check, knowing he’ll find coffee and burnt toast and filmy pink love; tries to stop himself from tucking his shirt into the waist of his jeans, unfurling into the type of man that stops smoking and goes to Farmer’s Markets every weekend because his best friend asks him to. Against all odds.

Billy trots with Steve over the hill and into the market, his heart in his throat. They find the honey booth quickly and wait in line together, Steve tapping out an impatient rhythm on the cobblestone.

“You’re so squirrely today,” Billy says. He claps a hand on Steve’s neck, trying to squeeze out the tension. Wanting to touch him. 

Steve shrugs him off. 

Dick.

Billy rolls his shoulders and crosses his arms for safe keeping, having learned long ago that his hands will gravitate to Steve Harrington if given the chance. Billy aches for a cigarette, squints into the strengthening sunlight, yearning for his sunglasses, sunscreen, a sun hat–

“Lot of Pride Flags,” Billy says gruffly. His palms sweat, tacking unhelpfully to the hair on his forearms. It’s like he blinked, came up for air, and Indiana got progressive.

Steve stiffens next to him, “It’s June first, I think,” He says, hiding something.

“No shit?” Billy turns just in time to catch Steve watching him, a weird look in his eyes. “Should call Serena this afternoon.”

“Let’s go lesbians,” Steve says, a soft, pink smile on his face. 

Billy wants to ask about Robin, even though he just spoke to her on Wednesday when she called to demand how he keeps his tomato plants blooming into November. He wants to grab Steve by the face and say see, I’m alive. I’m here. I have a garden, and a daughter, and Robin remembers how I used to drink shitty Miller Lite and blast Elton John when you went out with girls. She remembers how much I wanted you. I would carve your name into every piece of driftwood that I threw into the quarry because my skin would scar over. Useless. Old and bereft while the driftwood would float forever, dissolving into the earth with your name sheathed in its very matter, bright and evergreen—

Steve buys two jars of honey.

He buys two of everything, at the Market, one for himself. One for Billy. Billy tries not to think about it.

“Where should we go next,” Steve makes room in the folds of his bag for the first of their loot. 

Billy only ever buys books at this thing. He raises one eyebrow, sidestepping a pair of lesbians that send a shock of tenderness down his spine. Heather and Robin in ‘87. He bites his tongue, though, thinking through their usual haunts. “What about the corn booth?” 

Steve loves sweet corn. He’s a cliche, shrugging his shoulders, “Could do that. We could try something else, too.”

Billy looks at him, grinning, “Okay, what do you have in mind?”

“Well. We started with honey.”

“Yeah.”

“The bakery booth is supposed to be out this week, I heard.” Steve hasn’t shut up about the orange-cranberry muffins he got on a lunch break two weeks ago. He shrugs, thinking better of it. Feigning nonchalance. Billy would fall for it if they hadn’t known each other for years. “Or we could go to the book stand,” Steve says. 

Dangling hope in the starched summer air.

Billy startles a laugh, “Already? We haven’t done your grocery shopping for the week.”

“It’s hot, we don’t have to stay long,” Steve says, watching the crowd thrall around them, “You deserve something for coming out with me today.”

“I come out with you every weekend.”

Steve groans, “C’mon, I’m trying to be nice. Either we go to the book stand, or we’re getting muffins.”

“I’m trying not to eat so much sugar,” A blonde boy skitters into the Market lane, turning to grin past the swell of Billy’s shoulder. There’s a pride flag painted on his cheek bone, smeared delicately by the slide of lips. Billy tries to look away, “Gluten, either.”

Steve gapes, “So you’re not eating sugar or gluten anymore but you’ve never met a cigarette you didn’t like?”

The blonde waits in the sunlight, fingers stretched out in front of him until a boy with huge, soft brown hair knits into all his boyfriend’s empty spaces. 

They kiss. 

Billy looks at Steve, flushed. 

Steve holds his gaze. Finally, “Let’s go to the book stand,” He says, catching Billy off guard. Throwing him a bone.

–

Hawkin’s Public Library was forced, a screaming, tantrum filled child, into the new millennium about a month after Billy and Alice divorced and Serena told the judge she wanted to move back home to Indiana. 

To be with Uncle Steve. That’s what she’d said to the judge. “Daddy and me want Uncle Steve,” Billy had noticed how Alice went ram-rod straight at the name. Like she always did, sour by the way Billy and their daughter, both, couldn’t seem to live without him. “We want to go home.”

So, they went. Alice didn’t try to stop them.

Really, home in the textbook sense was always California. Serena was born in Long Beach. She could stand on a surfboard by the time she was two years old and she abhorred the winter, any item of clothing that sat too close to the base of her neck. The smell of barley. None of that mattered, in the long run. 

Hawkins was home to her. Their clumsy, earnest, well loved vernacular to the court’s stuffy, clinical language.

It didn’t matter to Serena that Indiana was a relic in Billy’s history. She had never moved past sleepy summers spent landlocked, running through sprinklers with Max and Lucas’ wheat-fed kids and eating bomb pops in the swimming pool with a slew of found family aunts and uncles, her halo of blonde ringlets crunchy from too much chlorine. 

Even into her adolescence, the only person she let brush her hair straight out of the pool was her Uncle Steve. The only person she cried to was Uncle Steve. The adult she loved most in the world, except her dad. Maybe.

Billy’s own memories of that time were worn thin. Throbbing with heartache, like a damsel who was bound to find her way back home at the end of some terrible, cruel romantic comedy. He ached on the plane ride to Hawkins. Burned when they moved into the new house. Crumbled as he slept alone every night, grateful in tiny, hidden places that Serena had seemed to process her parent’s divorce and their subsequent move across the country before the first box had been unpacked.

For Billy, things weren’t so easily digested.

He needed time to let the guilt swallow him. The sting of hurt to lick at his fingers. Alice and the tattered flag of their loveless marriage paled in comparison to the way Steve had slipped wordlessly into her place.

It almost killed Billy that they were happier, here. That neither one of them had tried to hold on to their life back in California. 

–

Point is, they used to take Serena to the library together.

Billy’s own mom had believed that books were the key to everything. Children learn by watching colorful characters trail their way through the hills and valleys of friendship. They’re introduced to death and loss in the fold of a page, the monochrome glint of words on yellowing cardstock. They learn to let go by watching someone else do it first. 

Really, Serena hadn’t needed the library. Even at that age she was more level-headed than Billy had been in his entire life, but Steve suggested they go, anyway. “We have to raise a reader, like you.” He’d said. As if Billy was the best thing a person could be.

We.

We have to raise a reader.

–

Hawkins Library sells used books at the Farmer’s Market these days. Budget and funding cuts forcing their hand, Billy caught in a violent spell of fifty-cent paperbacks. 

The memory of Serena holding Steve’s hand, trailing excitedly down every aisle. Even the grown-up ones. Scowling when Steve would snatch every book from her hand, spitting they were, “inappropriate for little girls, Serena.”

Demanding to know when she’d be old enough to read anything with vampires in it.

Billy smiles at the memory, heart fluttering as Steve trails in front of him now in his dorky sun hat, calloused fingers dancing over the spines of every book on the Memoirs shelf. 

Without his salt and pepper showing, and if Steve’s face wasn’t furled in concentration so that his laugh lines gouged deeper into the split around his mouth; Steve looks the same as he always has. 

Billy side-steps another pair of lesbians, running head-first into the LGBTQIA+ Romance section. His heart thuds. He looks around, trying to catalog this territory. Pride flags, Cher playing over a pill-sized bluetooth speaker.

The portable shelf has a flier stuck to it. A disco ball with rainbow streamers falling like wet rags from the words Hawkins Community GSA Presents: Queer Prom. Get Your Tickets at the Booth!

Billy turns, heart in his throat. He watches Steve mouth along to the back of whatever book he’s holding. Catches sight of some president, or something, staring nobly through the break of Steve’s fingers. 

Some twink, sandwiched between the next row of shelves, laughs, and Steve looks up. Catching Billy. He deposits the memoir back on the shelf. “You drug me all the way over here and you haven’t even looked at anything.”

Billy swallows the lump in his throat. “What’s going on, Steve?”

“I don’t know–”

Billy rips the flier from the book shelf, thrusting it into Steve’s wide, waiting palms. 

Steve mouths along to the words. Like he did with the memoir. Like he always has, with the instructions on Betty Crocker Cake Boxes, and the confusing swirl of the How To’s for little girl’s play sets, stretching all the way back to the spring of 1985 when he would pay Billy in saccharine smiles to read Kafka out loud. Write Steve’s essays for him.

“Huh,” Steve flushes bright pink across the bridge of his nose. “Get your tickets at the booth,” He says, artfully avoiding Billy’s gaze, “Cool idea. The instructions aren’t very clear, though, there’s so many booths–”

“You said today was a special occasion,” Billy accuses flatly. It’s getting harder to breathe. “You said you weren’t acting weird, but you’re acting weird, and I–”

“--Will you go to prom with me?” Steve says. Then, Immediately, “I don’t want to freak you out.”

Billy snatches the flier back from him, shaking all over. 

“Okay, alright,” Steve swallows, fingers splayed like Billy’s a junkyard dog who’s backed into a corner. Who’ll attack any minute now. “Look, I just. I thought if I was gonna grow a pair of balls, like. If I was ever gonna do this, I should do it here.”

That doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

Steve inches closer, his lined, aging, familiar, beautiful face open like a sunroof. Like a hole in the sky. “Billy,” Steve says, “Ever since I met you–”

“--What the fuck is going on–”

“--Stop, okay? Just. Let me say this?” Steve waits, patiently, for a confirmation. Billy doesn’t move or breathe or blink. Steve presses forward, “Ever since I met you when I was seventeen years old I thought. You were someone I could spend the rest of my life with.”

Someone exhales all the wind in their lungs. Billy. 

Steve bristles at the sound. He pulls inward, seeming to notice that people are looking at them over the bookshelves with the kind of intensity that puts a basketball court under Billy’s feet. That reminds him of how Steve would defend Billy to the world before he got better.

Before he was worth anyone’s love.

“So,” Steve lifts a hand to his forehead before realizing he’s still in the sun hat. He takes it off, “I had a speech,” He tells the sun hat, folding the brim between two fingers. Hair a mess but still perfect. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“I think I’ll pass out,” Billy admits earnestly.

“I’d catch you,” Steve says, so. Billy takes a timid step forward, flinching out of his skin when Steve looks up and says, “I’m in love with you.”

Once upon a time, Billy thought the world would collapse if they said those words out loud.

It doesn’t.

“So,” Billy rasps, wringing the flier in his fist, “You thought. You could ask me to prom?”

“We didn’t get to go to prom when we were kids.”

“You went with Nancy,” Billy snaps, strangling the flier. “You danced. I watched you dance–”

“--We didn’t get to go together.”

“You wanted to go to prom with me?”

“Of course. Billy, I moved to California because I was in love with you.” Steve says, like just saying it out loud points to the bread-crumb trail of what they’ve been dancing around for all these years. Like ah-ha. Checkmate.

Billy sniffs. Something wet on his cheeks. “You left California.”

“Because I was in love with you.” Steve nods slowly, “You. You met Alice, and. I thought–”

“--I can’t go to gay prom with you, Steve.”

He doesn’t even bat an eye, used to Billy’s flair for the dramatic. “Why not?”

“Because,” Billy says, looking around desperately. All he finds are lesbians and twinks weaving in and out of the aisles, caught in their own little crystal-clear worlds, useless. “Because I’m in my fifties. And so are you.”

“The event is all ages,” Steve tells him, bored, “Well. Really it’s for old people. Because we never got to have one.”

And. 

The fact that Steve went to prom with Nancy, that he bought flowers and pinned a satin pink corsage to her dress, holding her hand while they danced under seafoam lights, but it wasn’t what he wanted. 

Who he wanted–

Billy sniffs. Trying to stamp out the fire in his chest. “I have a mortgage and and a tomato garden, and a daughter in New York–”

“--This was Serena’s idea,” Steve admits suddenly. “She’s the one who sent me the information on Facebook.”

Of course.

Billy nods, “You’re wearing a sunhat.” His chest, opening like a springtime rose. Stupid. “You can’t say you love me and then ask me to prom when you’re wearing–”

“I took it off,” Steve says. A smile in his voice.

“I stopped smoking for you,” Bill accuses. 

Steve snorts, “Like you aren’t gonna finish the pack first.”

Billy laughs, and it’s wet-sounding. It rattles in his chest and then bursts into the air between them, somehow pulling Steve across the cobblestone. He pushes Billy’s hair back from his face, fiddling with the same earring that’s been there for forty years. Changed only once, for prom.

Billy looks at him. Catalogs the years, the love that grew like ivy over everything else. He hiccups, “I never thought you’d love me back.”

“Of course I love you back.”

“But,” He says, thinking of how their lives could have been so different, “Why–”

“--We can have this,” Steve tells him, pulling Billy close. “We deserve this.”

Another thing Billy will have to settle into. 

It’s nice. He wants to kiss Steve, so he does, because Hawkins has turned into the kind of place that hosts gay prom, where lesbians and twinks roam freely in their little rainbow outfits. 

Steve licks into Billy’s mouth and they melt into each other, gone soft by the years, and the heat of June. When Steve pulls away, his lips press like stamps to Billy’s forehead, his chin, both eyes, his mustache–

Billy giggles. “We should get our tickets.”

“I already have them,” Steve says.

Billy pulls back, gawking.

“I ordered them online.”

“You know how to order things online?”

“Serena ordered them,” Steve says, shrugging. 

And.

Billy grunts. Wanting to say that he could’ve said no. He’s still himself, after all, smoke free organic or not, but. Steve knits their fingers together, “C’mon,” He says, and Billy doesn’t ask where they’re going next. It doesn’t matter. 

They’ve been in love since they were seventeen. Billy’s just happy that it gets to live out in the open, now. Glittery with pride.

[mossy-chaos]

These are all of the codes I could find in the Book of Bill!

The order is decoded message-page-type of cipher

Spoilers under the cut (for those of you who decode yourselves):

Black and white-back of the cover jacket-authors cipher

Even his lies are lies-inside the front cover-theraprism cipher

Praise the fallen angle-first actual page-Cipheric (this is the only time Cipheric is used for some reason)

Olaf was here-same-rune (not sure what this is a reference to)

Remember us-same-Bill's cipher

Let him in and break the seal between what's fiction and what's real-books new master-Bill's cipher

The Axolotl thinks he's won but Ciphers games have just begun-handprint page-color cipher

Irregular-fake covers(very top)-color cipher

The one who writes the codes-about me-Caeser cipher

Glotto/slotheny-Magazine cover(7 new sins)-Bill's cipher (I love the new sins lol)

Not a phase-Stanford pines here(on the goth moth)-Authors cipher-love the jack skellington reference (if thats what that is lol)

Warning/Folding this card may/result in crossovers-the universe is a hollogram-rune (Maybe that's how we finally get an owl house/gravity falls crossover)

My optometrist never saw it coming-What is a human-Theraprism

Paper is book skin/Shave your grandma-Skin-Bill's cipher

Love pain-Bill's tattoo knuckles-Same

Lies-How to trick everyone into loving you-same

Regrowing limbs is Axy's art/but can he regrow a ripped out heart-How to cheat death-Bill's cipher (he must really be mad at the Axolotl)

Eye doctor of a different kind/who wants to make his patient blind-silly straws-caesar

The doctor says/three sips a day/will make the visions/go away-Same

Fussy eater/baby Billy/wouldn't drink/unless it's silly-same (love how this implies that he only drank out of silly straws)

Mason-Embarrassing memories-Bill's cipher (love seeing Dipper's real name again)

Booberry-the meaning of life(popsicle stick)-Bill's cipher

One eyed king-the early years-theraprism

Suck it-The good times(liscense plate)-Caesar

Can warp narrativity/protect fourth walls-Alert from time baby-A1Z26

Lone survivor of the Euclidean massacre-Rune (I wonder what happened during that event and what that event actually is)

Tantrum-Bill's Cipher

Which henchmaniac ratted me out-The shaman-Theraprism (I find this one funny)

Titans blood-the dark ages(Wizards hat)-Rune (Love the owl house reference here)

Suck it Merlin-Never trust a wizard-Rune

Daryll-Cipherstitions(lobster lord of the deep)-Theraprism (love how that's his name)

Curse Wittebane-Witchcraft-Rune

It's all made up-America(the dollar)-Caesar

Countries aren't-Bill's cipher

Rubberhose-Animation-A1Z26

Bill cipher-top secret file-Same

Six fingered freak-Lost in the woods-authors cipher

Stanley would have made her laugh-same (he just rolled better charisma dude)

If lost return to Bill-my muse and me-Theraprism (love how he said this means wise one and also more billford hehe)

Forget the past-A voice from the past page 2-Bill's cipher (this implies that Bill wants Ford to forget Stanley so he won't get in the way)

Hopefully F's gloves will hide what Cipher has done to my hands-I was wrong about everything page 2-Author's Cipher (I love this one <3)

Ouroboros-Wakey wakey here's a snakey (on the snake)-Bill's Cipher (I guess this is the snakes name?)

Miss you-try to forget (on window)-bro's secret code

Have I been too harsh all along?-Should I contact S-Bro's secret code

Hotxolotl-Dimensional authority call transcript (on the sauce packet)-Bill's cipher

I can write codes too it's not that hard!-Dipper's page-Bill's cipher (he do be flexing his intelligence there)

(What a buncha) Love ya bro-Stanley's letter-Bro's secret code (love how this shows that they both still remember the code they made up as kids)

Just fit in (repeated)-SSSSTANNNNLEEEYY-Rune

Holy mackerel-color cipher

AXOLOTLLOTAXOLOTLLOTLAXLOTLAXLOTLAXOLOTLLOTLAXLOTLAXLOTLAXOLOTLLOTLAXLOTLAXLO-Theraprism

Wellwellwellbeing-message from the theraprism-A1Z26

Spheremonger, Eternalor, Bill cipher, The Logicube, Paingorious, Jessica, Shadorg, Mr Silly, The beast-recent inpatient names-Theraprism (the hallucination dog is still creepy lol)

Justice for Scrimbles/Remember Grembley-inside Back cover-Theraprism/Rune (JUSTICE FOR SCRIMBLES!!!!)

Those are all of the codes that are in this book! (Or at least that I could find lol)

[lil-ms-darkness]

Skin Like Gingerbread - Bigby Wolf x Fem! Goldilocks! Reader

A/N: Hey, hello, hi, so I did not intend for this to become a full blown story, it was meant to just be a couple of sweet one shots because Bigby Wolf and Fables by Bill Willingham is awesome. Yet, here we are, on part three of an unexpected series.

I don't really know how many parts are going to be in this, but I hope you enjoy. I'll create a post linking all of the parts and I'll update it as I post new chapters, that way they're all in one place for all of you who enjoy this series. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. 'Til Next Time! ^.^

Lil_Ms_Darkness

Content Warnings: Description of dead bodies, description of anxiety/panic

Bigby walks up to a squat brown building sandwiched between two five-story tall buildings. A metal framed door with a small frosted glass window is propped open with a chair under a worn green canopy. There is graffiti on the walls around the two larger buildings and some on one of the windows. Bigby approaches the small building and inside he finds 20 tables pushed side to side to make three long tables. Plastic chairs have been pushed to the tables, where Mundies sit and enjoy plates of food. 

He looks over to his right to find another table with an array of paper plates, plastic utensils, paper cups, and four people work quickly to fill the plates with green beans, mashed potatoes, a large piece of fried chicken, and a small scoop of mixed fruit. The cups are filled with juice that smells of too much sugar. People move around the space, people coming out with more food from a back room, but his gaze lands on a young woman. Her hair is tied back into a ponytail of dirty blonde hair that falls out of a navy bandana with stars and crescent moons, exposing her strong jaw and high cheekbones. Vibrant blue eyes focus on the food as she works, her slender gloved hands generously filling the plates, and by extension, many hungry bellies. He wonders how [Y/N] has never met her, they’re extremely similar. Almost eerily so. 

”Her name is Amelia.” Woody said, looking away from the Sheriff. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Where does Amelia live?” Bigby asked, arms folded.

“Why do you need to know that?”

“To corroborate your alibi, you’re still a suspect. Be grateful I’m not taking you to the Business Office for holding, until I can prove your innocence.”

Woody glared at him and his nostrils flared,

“I already told you, Wolf, I’m not a murderer! I’ve said it, [Y/N] has said it!”

“Where does she live?” Bigby asked again, his thick brows pulling together in annoyance.

Woody squared his shoulders and Bigby clenched his fists, but both of them could feel silent eyes on them, warning them against brawling without a word. Woody sighed, “I won’t tell you where she lives, but she volunteers at a soup kitchen in the Bronx. It opens at nine, and she never misses it.” 

“What’s the name of it?”

“The Cozy Spot.” 

Bigby nodded and his gaze had drifted back to [Y/N], sitting quietly on the couch. She continued to stare out the window after the two didn’t start exchanging blows.

“[Y/N],” he called, and she turned to look at him slowly, silently. Her eyes were distant, wounded. He hated the look of that distance, “-go to the Business Office. Tell Snow you’re to stay there until I get back. You’re under watch until I’m convinced your life is not in danger.” 

She pushed herself up and walked away towards the front door, stopping briefly at Woody’s side. She looked up at him, offering a small smile.

“I’ll see you later, thank you for your help today.”

Now, Amelia briefly looks up at him as he approaches. She offers a kind smile, grabbing a plate before her brows furrow in recognition, then widen slightly.

“Oh, Mr. Wolf,” her voice is warm and inviting, but he can tell she’s nervous. “I, uh, how can I help you?”

“I need to ask you some questions.” he answers, gaze drifting to the others still filling plates. A young man looks up at them, curiously, then focuses on Amelia.

“It’s okay, Mel, I’ll cover for you.” he smiles, softly. She smiles at him in return and his cheeks tint before he returns to work. Amelia removes her gloves and drops them in the trash, then she unties her apron and hangs it on the wall hook. She guides him to the back room, through the kitchen and into a small office like room. She closes the door and looks at him. 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Wolf? I don’t think I’ve ever been visited by you before.” she says, regarding him, cautiously. She takes a step back and sits in the chair, folding her legs and keeping her hands close to herself. He isn’t surprised by her defensive body language, everyone in Fabletown keeps their guard up with him around. It’s both beneficial and a pain in the ass.

“Were you with the Woodsman last night?” 

“Yes, why?”

“He’s a suspect in a case, when were you and the Woodsman together?”

“Oh, uh, I’d say from seven, yesterday evening, to seven this morning,” she examines his face, concern written across her face, “What kind of case is it?” she asks, voice wavering slightly. 

“Don’t worry about it. That’s a long visit, why did he leave so late?” 

“His friend called and said she needed his help. I didn’t ask too many questions,” she shifts, uncomfortably under his gaze. “I’d like to know what he’s a suspect in.”

Bigby shakes his head, “You’re not getting it out of me, so don’t bother unless you want to piss me off;” she frowns as he continues, “Have you noticed anything strange?”

“Like what?”

“Strange people hanging around that you haven’t seen before, an old friend who you haven't heard from in a while suddenly appearing, anything out of the norm?” he asks but she only shakes her head.

“No, nothing like that.”

He nods, She doesn’t seem to be a target. Yet, anyway. But that clears Woody “Thank you for your time.”

She nods and stands, walking to the door to walk him out, but he stops her. “You know you’re not supposed to be interacting with the Mundies like this.” 

She glances over her shoulder at him, “I give back to anyone who needs it, Mundies are no exception.” and she’s out the door. He sighs, not wanting to bother with this when he has much more pressing matters to attend to. As she returns to her station, he makes his way out the door. Standing outside, he walks down the street towards the main street before waving down a taxi. He climbs in the back, gives the address and leans back into the seat. He looks out the window at the passing buildings and people, other cars and street signs. In his mind, a murder map begins to take shape- 

Whoever the killer is, knows [Y/N] well enough to know what she wears to work, knows her scent. Red, the Woodsman, the Bears - but the Bears are at the Farm, if they had left Snow would know about it. Woody was cleared by Amelia, and Red hasn’t been seen in at least a century. He digs a knuckle into his temple as he traces the lines of the map along the glass with his gaze. Who else knew Goldy personally? He thought about her soft eyes, the muffin with butter, the way she spoke to him without a care. He sighs, Who doesn’t know her? She’s not exactly subtle.

The taxi slows to a stop outside the Business Office and he climbs out, steps to the passenger side and holds out some cash.

“Keep the change,” he muses, and the driver snorts.

“Thanks,” the driver grumbles, pulling off. Bigby pushes open the gate and closes it behind him. Trusty John, the doorman, smiles and opens the door for him,

“Good morning, Sheriff.” 

Bigby nods his greeting and steps inside, where Grimble sits, arms folded and eyes drooping. When he sees Bigby, he perks up and nods a greeting, but Bigby has already seen him. He says nothing, though, he’s used to Grimble falling asleep on the job. He makes his way to the large room where King Cole and Snow White keep the Fable community running and beyond human detection. Snow sits at her desk, sifting through papers. King Cole is not here, which is not surprising. 

He looks around, but is surprised to find that [Y/N] is not present, either. A knot in his gut begins to tense. He approaches Snow, and she lifts her face from her work as he steps up.

“Bigby,” she sighs in what sounded suspiciously like relief, “I’ve been waiting for you, a woman is here. She said you told her to come here and wait for you.”

“I did, where is she?”

“Waiting in your office,” He nods, comforted that [Y/N] made it safely, the knot releasing slightly. He turns to walk back towards the door, but the sound of Snow’s chair scraping against the floor as she stands stops him in his tracks, “Do you have any leads on the murderer yet?”

Bigby turns halfway and looks towards her, “I’m still working on it. I have a few possibilities, though. Are all non-human looking Fables accounted for on the Farm?”

“As far as I’m aware, none of them have left, but I’ll call and double check.” she pushes in her chair and a strand of coal black hair cascades past her shoulder. Bigby watches her for a brief moment before he turns and walks out the door, making his way down the hallway towards his office. 

Inside the small room, [Y/N] sits in one of the small chairs in front of Bigby’s desk. She reaches over and gathers some of the pens littering his desk and the pair on the floor. She caps them and carefully drops them back into the pen holder that was laying on its side when she’d entered. She leaves the folders and papers scattered around his desk as they are, lest she make more work for him, or ruin his train of thought for other cases. 

She twirls a strand of hair in her fingers, looking around the room. It smells of cigarettes and must, although it’s not a body odor kind of must. It’s not pleasant, but it’s not unbearable either. She stands and walks around, touching the metal filing cabinets and the lip of the wooden desk. With a bored sigh, she walks around the desk and sits down in Bigby’s chair. It’s not comfortable, and she feels bad for his back and butt. She looks at the files and her hand traces the edges of one of the manila folders, his words echoing in her mind. ”-a woman is DEAD. Dead and gone.” 

She feels her throat tighten and the back of her neck feels suddenly cold. A woman was dead, and everyone thought it was her. Her hand slips up to her throat, as if trying to feel her pulse and prove that she’s still alive. 

She feels bile rise in her throat and the edges of her jaw feel tight, like she’s sucking on something sour. Nausea hits her quick and hard and she leans over, trying to get her breathing under control. She closes her eyes and tries to inhale and exhale, slowly. It calms her after a good few breaths, and she leans back in the chair, desperately trying to keep away thoughts of her own dead body. She wonders if she’s any better than the murderer, the woman was murdered and glamoured to look like her. The woman was a message, and it was her fault. That woman died because of her. 

She wheezes again and the bitter pucker of her jowls returns, Is it the Bears? Are they coming after me after all this time? Could it be-

A low groan from the door startles her and every muscle in her body tenses, goosebumps raising on her flesh as she stands on instinct. The Sheriff steps through the door and she sighs quietly in relief, but then the memory of his rudeness at her apartment comes back up. She doesn’t miss the quirked brows as he notices her on the other side of his desk, but glancing at his desk, he makes no remark about it. She walks around as he nods a greeting before closing the door. Any other time, she’d be delighted to see him, relieved by his presence she found oddly comforting. Despite what everyone said about him, how they made him out to be, he made her feel safe. But now, she’s upset by the familiar relaxation crossing her shoulders. She wants to be upset with him, she has every right to be, doesn’t she?

"A woman is DEAD. Dead and gone" Her chest feels tight again, and she folds her legs as guilt creeps out from her bones. She smooths out the skirt of her dress, “What do we do now?” she asks, quietly. 

Bigby examines her, the slump in her shoulders, the uncertainty in her eyes, the subtle shake in her voice. He reaches into his pocket and grabs his pack of cigarettes, momentarily deciding whether he wants to smoke in front of her or not. It’s his space, but she doesn’t like smoke- since when did he care if someone liked smoke or not? He pulls out his pack and pulls out a cigarette. 

“Now, I decide who’s going to shadow you.” He muses as he tucks the pack back into his pocket, walking around and sitting in his chair. He ignores the low moan the chair gives out under his weight. 

She nods, slowly and avoids his gaze. “Do you have any idea who did this?”

“I have a few theories, but no solid lead yet.” he answers and leans in to examine her. She shrinks back slightly under his intense gaze. 

“Sheriff, I-” she starts and he waits for her to finish, already able to tell she’s trying to find the proper way to say it, “I’m sorry…It didn’t really hit me that someone is…dead. I didn’t mean to make your job harder for you. I really don’t think Woody is the killer, but I’ll stay out of your way.”

He’s surprised to hear her apologize, even more so to find that it sounds genuine. He doesn’t think Woody is the killer, either, and Amelia’s testimony that he was with her is enough to prove he was with her until [Y/N] needed him. Then again- “You were protecting someone you care about. Loyalty like that is hard to come by. I do have a question, though.”

She looks up at him, finally, “Okay.” 

“What time did you call Woody for help?” 

“Oh, I think around 6:30 am? I can check my phone, just a minute,” she reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a small flip phone, navigating through it quickly. Even with how efficient she is, he’s amazed, technology always seemed to be against him, so he chose a mostly tech-less life. As she pushes buttons on the device, she trembles slightly. The realization must have hit her hard “-6:48 am, Sheriff. That’s when I called him to ask for help. He said he was with a friend but he’d head over to help me.” 

He nods, “Alright.” he moves to take a drag off his cigarette, but his eyes spot it- unlit. He’d forgotten to even light the damn thing. He reaches into his pocket to find his lighter. 

“If I may ask, who are you thinking of watching over me?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Woody, most likely.” he pulls out his lighter and lights it, but before he can bring it to the tip of his cigarette, she speaks up again.

“Can I make a request as to who?” her eyes move up to him and he tries to hide his surprise, but he isn’t very successful.

“Depends,” he says, finally lighting his cigarette, “who do you want?”

“You?” her voice is quiet, again, as she looks at her hands in her lap.

“Me? I’m going to be too busy to keep an eye on you.”

“I can come with you to the crime scenes, maybe even help you.”

“You could damage evidence.”

“In my line of work, I know how to avoid leaving fingerprints on icing, and I’m not as clumsy as most people think. Besides,” she nervously shifts in her chair, “you’re the only person I feel genuinely safe with.” 

He takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side before looking at her again. He knows it’s best to say no, to refuse and send her to Woody, but part of him is intrigued. He meets her gaze, and he sighs, wanting to allow it, but it’s not safe. If he’s too distracted by her, he won’t be able to do his job. Flicking some of the ash into an ashtray on his desk, he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. What about Red? It would give you both a chance to catch up.” he says, leaning back in his chair.

She frowns and sighs, but she doesn’t seem all too surprised, as if she’d expected him to say no. “Maybe you’re right, I haven’t seen her in a while. Am I free to go now?” 

He nods, “If anything happens, call the Business Office. Have Woody accompany you to Red’s.” 

She stands, examining him for a moment before she heads for the door. She pauses and looks over at him,

“Please find the person who did this?”

“I will.” 

She smiles, somberly and walks out, closing the  door gently behind her.

He groans quietly, rubbing his face with one hand, a cherry dropping onto the floor by his shoe. 

The body of the glamoured Goldilocks was taken to the Business Office, discreetly, and had been laid on a stone slab with intricacies carved into the body, and a triquetra chiseled into the sides. In the Witching Well chamber, only King Cole, Snow White, Boy Blue, and Ichabod Crane would disturb him, but he knows none of them will do so. The silence is heavy as his steps echo through the chamber, the only sound to keep him grounded. 

As Bigby walks up, he can smell gingerbread and baked bread, sweets, and death. Her skin is paler than when he’d first seen her, and he takes a breath before he examines her body. He brushes some of her curls aside to get a good look at the bruise around her throat, it is darker than the last time he’d seen her. Her right shoulder sits lower than her left, and he wonders how he missed it. He takes a closer look, 

“Dislocated,” his gaze drifts up to her throat, “did the attacker come from behind? When she fought back, her shoulder got dislocated on purpose or by accident?” He carefully pulls down her dress just enough to check for more injuries without leaving [Y/N] indecent. He stops and corrects his thoughts, It’s not [Y/N]. It’s just a glamour. He quirks a brow as he spots a lump in her left breast, and he hesitates, then examines her face. He considers calling for Snow, briefly, then lifts the top of her dress and reaches in. He finds the more solid fabric of her bra, and reaches further before he grabs the item and quickly pulls it out of the victim's undergarments. He looks at her lifeless face, “Sorry, I had to if I want to find your killer.”

He lifts up a small tube and twists off the top, dropping out a single strand of [Y/N]’s golden hair and an incredibly small sack doll that looks like her. His jaw sets and he looks at the two items before the body glows bright green, illuminating Bigby’s shadow on the ground behind him, and bouncing off the wall on the other side. A woman with dark brown hair and pallid olive skin takes the place of the glamoured Fable, and his eyes widen as he takes in the scent.

She’s a Mundie

The bruises around her throat remain just as gruesome as they did before the glamour faded. 

A Mundie was taken, glamoured to look like a Fable, and then murdered. He clenches his jaw, as everything settles in his mind. It’s worse than he thought at first, so much worse. He looks over her body and sighs, not even knowing who she is. He sighs, and his gaze lands on her clenched fists. He reaches down and tucks his fingers under hers, but her fingers are hard and stiff- rigor mortis. He tries to be as gentle as he can before giving up and forcing her hand open, hearing a grotesque crunch as he does so. A small crumpled paper falls out onto the stone slab. He picks it up, unfolds it and reads it. His eyes widen and he growls, “DAMNIT!” He turns and sprints out of the Witching Well chamber- 

We know what you did, Wolf. Your hands are stained. -Red Riding Hood

[flownwrong]

cynosure (due South fic)

AO3 link

Gen, 338 words, timestamp: Burning Down The House Summary: something that is the center of attention; an object that serves as a focal point of attraction and admiration

A/N: A fill for both dsc6d snippets prompt 48, "prescient" and Vocab Drabbles prompt "cynosure".

--

I toss the bills next to the plates—mine, ketchup-stained; his, mirror-clean, wolf-licked—and follow him to the door, but turn back for—yeah, there it is. Two paper sheets, one missing a corner. I stuff them into my pocket, gonna get crumpled, but so what. Curiosity might kill a cat, but a cop, an undercover one, with a wacko for a partner? This can save lives, plural.

In the car—his face, like one of those hologram cards they put in comic books, relief tucked behind the tilt of his mouth, the ghosts around the corners of his eyes flickering in and out with the pools of sodium lights passing by. I watch him watch the road. He takes my hand as I drop him off, and we shake on something I can't see from here, not yet. The heavy consulate doors are silent, or maybe my head is, full of insulation and white noise.

Back home, I elbow away the mail and straighten the sheets out on the counter. They're small in the frame of my hands. Crosswords. He fished a pen out from somewhere and scribbled as we waited for the food. One is done, the second only has two words, letters all neat and snug in their boxes. Across: prescient. Down: cynosure. S, a curling intersection.

My ribs hurt, leaning down like this, my eyes full of sand, my neck itching like sunburn where the heat licked up and around us. There's a sketch in the margin, a tiny car—a Riviera. All smooth lines and firm-handed shading.

An object that serves as a focal point of attraction and admiration.

I blink the red from my eyes. It's too bright in here with the lights off. I fold the sheet, once, twice, flattening the crease with my nail, and slip it into my wallet, careful with the edges.

Out the window, a motorcycle turns the corner, lays rubber, engine a piercing whine. I wonder how fast you can go before you miss a turn.

[jessicanjpa]

errands

A mundane little snippet from this chapter of 1950. In which Edward is in a bad mood because that's always more fun.

I yanked the huge stack of mail out of the tiny post office box and began to flip through it with disinterest. A paycheck for Carlisle, a letter from the broker, a couple of college things for Rosalie and Emmett, and a letter for me from the correspondence school. I tore it open to find that I had officially earned my bachelor's degree in mathematics, and would I kindly send in a check for twenty dollars if I wanted a framed diploma done in calligraphy, versus the folded paper one included in this envelope. Which was torn already, because our family was outgrowing our post office box. We had signed up for it as soon as Alice and Jasper had arrived—the same precaution we had taken for Emmett when he was a newborn.

"Anything else for Cullen or McCarty?" I asked the postmaster as I flipped through the rest of the mail: just a few bills and some kind of European fashion magazine that was addressed to Esme, but had obviously been ordered by someone much shorter.

The postmaster disappeared for a moment, returning with a stack of three hefty envelopes which he deposited on the counter with a thud: my three other courses had arrived.

"Here you are, sonny. But I'll need an adult to sign for them…?" He leaned around me, looking to see if either of my parents were waiting out in the car.

"I'm twenty years old," I muttered. I grabbed the pen from his hand and signed my name with an angry flourish. He jerked away, his heart skipping a beat.

"Have a nice day," he said doubtfully as I scooped up everything and headed out the door.

I headed next to the grocery store, mindlessly filling a cart with random fruits, vegetables, and dry goods. It didn't really matter what I got; most of it would all go straight to the compost pile or the food bank. I did pick up a bottle of the laundry detergent that Esme seemed to burn through, and a can of powdered bleach: always handy for getting out those stubborn blood stains. I topped it all off with a carton of orange juice and wrinkled my nose as I passed the butcher. We would be real vegetarians this week; there was no way I was driving home with a hunk of expired animal flesh sitting in my car.

But as I drove home, I decided that I would do errands like this more often. Esme was so busy lately that she had taken to doing everything at vampire speed, which I knew she didn't prefer. She usually enjoyed going about her housecleaning and gardening at a human pace, humming and enjoying her fantasy world in which we would come home from school, sunburnt and tired and hoping for a plate of cookies fresh out of the oven.

But now there was so much laundry, and so many errands, and she had so many sewing and construction projects going at once, that she went about everything with a sort of fierce energy. She seemed happier than ever, what with her full house, but that didn't mean I couldn't pitch in to help now and then. It wasn't like I had anything better to do.

[ladykailitha]

The People That See You Part 3

The next week saw Eddie carrying a white paper bag to D&D. He tossed it at Brian with a wink. “Just a thank you from Steve,” he said with a grin.

He had talked to the guys about his friendship with Steve and how even though he couldn’t say why or how, Steve had saved his life. So Jeff and Gareth had grudgingly agreed not to make fun of the former king of Hawkins High.

Brian reared his head back in confusion until the smell hit his nose. “Holy shit.” He ripped into the bag. “He didn’t.” He pulled out a soft cookie dusted in cinnamon sugar and took a large bite.

Gareth and Jeff looked at each other in confusion.

“What are those?” Jeff asked.

“Snickerdoodles,” Brian mumbled around a mouth full of cookie. “Like only the best cookies on the planet.”

He dug another one out and broke it in half for Jeff and Gareth to share. He offered one to Eddie but he declined.

“I’ve been eating them nonstop for days...” he said with a grin.

“Official taste tester?” Brian asked with a wink.

Eddie blushed and shoved a large strand of hair into his mouth.

“Holy shit!” Jeff said. “It’s soft and buttery, but not too sweet.”

“Yeah,” Gareth agreed. “You say Steve made these?”

“Yup!” Eddie said, popping the ‘P’.

Jeff looked down at the table. “Do you think he’d be willing to make brownies for the next session?”

Eddie grinned. “I don’t know, I’ll have to ask.”

Jeff looked up. “But you’ll ask?”

Eddie just winked at him.

*

Steve came thundering down the stairs. “Hey, guys, I hear you requested brownies?”

The entire Hellfire Club was there including Steve’s nuggets.

“Steve!” came the chorus from the party and Corroded Coffin. The three that were strictly Hellfire just looked at him in amazement.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Steve said with a grin. “I was trying out something fun with walnuts and caramel.”

There was another chorus this time of oohs and awws. All but one.

The other girl of the club other than Erica, folded her arms and glared at him. “I’m allergic to nuts.”

“Tiffany, right?” Steve asked and she nodded tersely. “I gotcha. I’ll be right back.”

Steve set the two large plates he was carrying on the table with the other goodies (no food food near the character sheets) and turned back around to hop back up the stairs.

Tiffany raised an eyebrow at Eddie who just shrugged. A moment later Steve was back down the stairs another plate in his hands.

“I made these for Robin,” Steve explained, handing the plate to her, “but I can always make more for her later and I would hate to see you left out.”

Tiffany lifted the tin foil and gasped. Underneath was a plateful of the most delectable chocolate chip cookies.

“Did you make these first?” Tiffany asked.

Steve smiled. “Sure did. It should be all safe and if it’s not, bill my dad.” He winked at her.

She laughed as did everyone else.

Steve looked around at the cramped space and winced. “Not a lot of room in here, is there?”

Gareth frowned. “We make do.”

Steve waved his hands. “Oh absolutely. I’m just saying you don’t have to.” He half shrugged.

Eddie tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I have a large finished basement, no parents, and full kitchen,” Steve said. “You guys could have it at my place. At least it would see some fucking use.”

Everyone turned to look at Eddie.

Eddie smiled. “Let’s vote. All in favor of having D&D at Steve’s?” Eddie laughed when all of the junior members raised their hands as well as all the Corroded Coffin bandmates, thereby absolutely killing the majority.

“The ayes have it,” he said turning back to Steve. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal. When can we invade your home?”

Steve thought for a moment. “Not next week, Robin’s got a band thing, so the week after?”

Everyone nodded.

“Great!” Steve said and then waved goodbye.

Gareth turned to everyone else. “What just happened?”

Dustin sighed. “You accidentally activated mom mode. He loves taking care of people. And his house is huge. And it has a swimming pool out back, too.”

Even the ones that would have voted against it were starting to see the benefits of having it over at Steve’s.

Eddie smiled and if he went a little easier on them as a result, well that was his secret to keep.

*

Their first session at Steve’s they were greeted by the smells of something warm and hearty coming from the kitchen.

He ushered them into the front room. “Hey, Dustin, can you show them where they can set up? Eddie’s already down there fussing with his throne.”

“Will do!” Dustin said and motioned for everyone to follow him.

Tables were laid out for the to sit as well as for snacks. And everyone who could contributed to the snacks and drinks. So the table for treats started to fill up and then the main table where Eddie was waiting at the head.

Just as everyone was getting settled Steve came down to check on them.

“I’m glad everyone made it okay,” he said in lieu of greeting.

“Aren’t you worried the neighbors are going to call the cops?” Gareth asked.

Steve shrugged. “I’ve had full on ragers without a peep from the cops, so...no?”

Everyone shared impressed glances.

Steve walked up to Eddie. “When do you guys usually break?”

Eddie shrugged. “Depends on how far they get in the story.”

“Do you think you could give me a heads up of about twenty minutes?”

Eddie pursed his lips. “Could do, I suppose. Why?”

“I’ve got a lasagna in the oven and will need to pop it back in for twenty minutes so it’ll be warm for whenever you guys are ready.”

“Like Stoffer’s?” Tiffany asked.

Steve blinked. “What’s that?”

Even Dustin raised an eyebrow. “You know, the pre-made stuff from the store?”

“Oh, I’ve never had that,” Steve said looking uncomfortable. “I used my grandma’s recipe.”

Brian turned to Eddie. “If you don’t marry him, I will.”

Eddie turned bright pink and hid his face behind his hair.

Steve leaned over and whispered in Eddie’s ear. “You’ll have to ask me out first.”

Eddie dropped the hair and looked up into Steve’s eyes. Yeah, he knew that Steve liked boys. Even had a crush on him, if Brian was to be believed. But it was quite another to be on the receiving end of the Harrington charm.

So before he could answer, Steve was already back up the stairs.

“Did Steve just hit on you?” Will asked.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Previously our intrepid party was traveling down a treacherous mountain pass, with large rocks on either side, towering above them like stone giants, silent and stern.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Tag list: @itsfreakingbats @colorful565 @swimmingbirdrunningrock

[rayshippouuchiha]

Mind if I vent? My dad has a habit of taking all of our dishes/cutlery into his work shop in the backyard, and absolutely destroying them. I'm talking bent tines on forks, oddly flat spoons, folded knives, cracked and chipped dishes, and damn near everything comes back covered in an inch of car grease. Today, he has taken my favorite bowl. It was not especially pretty, but it was the perfect size and shape to curl up anywhere and enjoy a good meal. We only have the one. He stabbed a fucking machete through it as a joke. I realize that this is ultimately a tiny thing, but like. I am the one who has to pay to replace all this crap and now I can't even have my favorite bowl.

that is actually very much NOT a tiny thing? like that's a weird thing, I'm not gonna pretend it's not, but someone routinely destroying your household dishes and cutlery and then not even bothering to be the one to replace them and instead leaving someone else to foot the bill is very VERY much something I find completely understandable to be upset about.

If I was you the next time you're expected to replace the dishes I'd buy fucking paper plates and cups and if anyone complains just point at your dad. Then I'd find another bowl like the one he destroyed and then keep that shit in my bedroom.

[dontaskwhybutarsonsoundsokay]

My Muse|| Sleep Token || 18+ || Fem Reader X Vessel

Vessels hands dance over the piano keys. Getting to sit in on his writing process, even if he doesn’t call it that feels so special. It’s like he is writing the songs to you, even though you know that the song is to sleep, you cant help but feel like some of it is directed to you. You watch all of his movements, as he sloppily writes down chords and notes into his notebook. Lyrics start spilling from his mouth. You watch as a masterpiece is scrawn onto the walls of the bedroom the two of you share. 

He looks at you, “The night belongs to you, my love.” His smile fills the room as if his mouth is full of toxic gas. You feel a blanket of warmth light up through your body. Life has been so special since Ves’ walked into it. The trees are more green, the sun is brighter. His eyes look deep into yours, before he looks back at the keys in front of him. He plays over the song again. Lyrics flow from him, like a freshly tapped well of water. You know he will be at this for a while. You walk upstairs, making sure to go slowly so as to not disturb Ves’ work. 

You reach the kitchen, deciding to make dinner or else Vessel wont eat. You start preparing a recipe from your childhood, some good ol’ fashioned shepherds Pie, and cornbread. Suddenly you hear footsteps approach the kitchen, “What's for dinner?” III struts into the kitchen with a slight kick in his step as per usual. You look at the vessel, deadpan. 

“Whats for dinner?!” you say in a low voice mimicking III, “I’m making this great thing called food.” you laugh to yourself. You missed the playful banter you two always shared. III was almost like a brother to you. 

 IIIs face drops, “Ohh, really???? Who woulda guessed” III flicks your shoulder. You feel his eyes linger over you. “Must you be such a smart ass all the time?” His voice is playful, you forgot how much you missed joking around with him. You shoot him a glance, and that was all he needed. “Okay, okay, I’m going to go get the rest of the guys. Its food time!” He pumps his arms up into the air in excitement over the idea of a home cooked meal. Finally a change from the TV dinners everyone eats on tour.

A sigh escapes as you put the pie into the oven, as well as the cornbread. You grab 5 plates, as well as glasses and silverware. And put them onto the table, making each spot look as nice as one can. You clear off the clutter of mail, bills, books and random scraps of paper. “These boys will be the death of me,” you think to yourself before sitting down at the kitchen island, waiting for the oven to beep. Arms wrap their way around you, the grip on your arm familiar as you look up to meet vessels eyes. 

[ After Dinner ] 

Everyone slowly gets up from the table putting their plates away before walking off to other parts of the house. Vessel, on the other hand, continues sitting at the table, his hands folded together as if he was praying to sleep, which he very well could be doing. You, used to Vessel's antics shrug it off and start heading to the bathroom for a bath. You reach the bathroom, the tile cold on your feet, shutting the door behind you, before turning the lock, you don't need iv trying to join you in the tub. You turn on the water allowing the water to heat up. Slowly you strip, the cool air hitting your skin softly. You dip a toe into the water, testing the temperature, before putting the plug in the tub. You grab the bubble bath II got you for your birthday, the scent of cherry blossoms fill the air when you put a lid into the tub. As the tub fills you hear a soft knock at the bathroom door. You open the door a crack to be met by vessel. His hand pushes at the door, you squeeze behind it, shy to show him your body, even though he has seen you in far more vulnerable positions than this. He enters the room, and softly closes the door behind him. He doesn’t even need to say anything. You slowly make your way to the tub, right before you step into the tub, you feel Vessel's hands slowly encompass your hips. His arms slowly pulling you towards him causing you to slowly fall back into him. He plants a soft kiss into the crown of your head. Before letting go, and allowing you to step into the bath.