#this was another one that i'm like wow if i had the mental stamina at all i'd totally make this into a fic

[piyo13sdoodles]

@bi-widower-dads‘s barduil month, day 18: myths

this is one where i have like, a whole background for--basically, it mixes reincarnation aus (my beloved)--thousands of years have passed, middle earth is well into the age of men; but around dale, a myth still persists of an ancient forest king, often considered a patron of archers and growing things.

bard has never really bought into the myths, but one day he goes camping in the woods, and through a series of events ends up in an old, crumbling hall... except the stained glass windows are still, stunningly, intact. on the central one is depicted a figure, white hair and a long black arrow in hand... bard doesn’t know why the sight of this affects him so much, but it does, and he dreams of the mysterious figure all through the rest of the camping trip.

and then the au proceeds with thranduil actually showing up or something, and bard regaining some memories from the past and falling in love all over again. or something :) would love to see this idea as a fic someday lol

other barduil month entries: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] - [19] [20] [21] [22] [23]

[image id: watercolour painting of bard silhouetted against a stained glass window portraying thranduil holding a black arrow. the glass is colourful, with lots of reds, yellows, purples, and greens]

[munson-blurbs]

omg i just read your story about reader being attacked by a fan and i cried so hard like no shit. i was thinking maybe you could do a part 2 where reader having the constant fear of being alone, but since she is in home rest (because of the incident) eddie gets her a black kitten to make sure she never truly alone and comforts her. it’s okay if you don’t want to write about it it’s just a request, love your writting btw🤍🤍🤍

Combining this with another Stalker Part II request!

"do you think you could write a part 2 to that last story you wrote where the reader visits the stalker in prison? idk, what she did was beyond horrible but i kind of feel bad for her since she's obviously mentally ill/unstable yk? and even if the reader isn't sympathetic at all (rightfully), it would still be kind of interesting to see a follow-up."

Warnings: language, nightmares, mental illness (pls note that mentally ill folks are more likely to be attacked than to attack others)

WC: 2k

--

You'd gotten home from the hospital a few weeks ago; "home" temporarily being the Hopper-Byers household, since the apartment you and Eddie shared was being treated as a crime scene. To be honest, you had no desire to ever step foot in that building again.

Joyce and Jim Hopper had been nothing less than accommodating, making sure you were eating properly and going for short walks to get fresh air.

"I'm tellin' ya, kiddo," Chief Hopper said to you once, "I can't begin to describe how relieved I was when you opened that door."

Eddie had been your rock through it all. He'd postponed the remainder of Corroded Coffin's tour to take care of you. At the very beginning, you'd needed a lot of help just getting around, still sore from the intense physical altercation with her. You're now at a point where you've built up some stamina, but the psychological damage is all-too prevalent.

You wake up screaming in the middle of the night, body drenched in sweat from thrashing. Eddie's right there next to you, risking a hit from your flailing limbs.

"It's okay, you're okay," he soothes you. "Baby, you're safe."

And once you realize where you are and the adrenaline wears off, the tears flow. Heaving sobs rattle your chest as Eddie holds you tight. You feel horrible waking him--and probably your gracious hosts, too--but they all remind you that it's not your fault. And when Joyce recommends a therapist for you, you gladly accept.

Finally, Eddie found a new apartment for you both. It was a little smaller than your last one, he explained, but it would work. You didn't care if it was a shoebox, as long as you never had to see your old place again.

"I have a special surprise for you," he says with a wink as he drives toward the building.

"Is it a milkshake from Benny's?" you ask giddily, bouncing up and down on the seat.

Eddie laughs. "Calm down, jumping bean," he places a ringed hand on your thigh. "No, it's not a milkshake from Benny's. It's even better."

You wrinkle your nose. "What could be better than that?"

"Shh," he smushes a finger over your lips, "you'll see!"

~

Your new apartment is on the fifth floor, and as soon as the elevator opens, you spot Jeff, Gareth, and Dustin standing outside your door.

"Hey, guys!" you call out excitedly from behind a box containing some of your clothes. "What are you doing here?"

"Welcoming you home," Dustin answers. "But, y'know, we didn't wanna jump out and scare you, so we decided to just wait out here." Jeff and Gareth nod in agreement.

Their thoughtfulness makes you beam; it's been a long time since you've smiled that genuinely. "Wow, you guys are the best!"

Eddie gently pushes you towards the door, placing the key in your palm. "Just wait until you get inside," he teases.

You raise an eyebrow and turn the key in the lock. You open the door to a fully-furnished apartment.

"Oh my God," you whisper breathlessly, and you start to cry. "Did...did you three do all this?"

Gareth steps forward. "Actually, there were four of us. Max is in the bedroom with the second part of your surprise."

You look up at Eddie incredulously. "Second part?" you question, and his response is just another signature grin.

The bedroom is also decorated and furnished, but that's not what Gareth was referring to. In Max's arms is a tiny black kitten.

She holds the cat out to you with a smile. "Eddie figured you two could take care of each other," she tells you. "She needs a good mama."

“Yeah,” Jeff chimes in, “Eddie knows how much you love to take care of strays.” Eddie elbows him in the ribs, which he receives with an oof.

You take the kitten from Max gingerly, and she mews and curls up on your chest. “She’s so cute and little,” you murmur, kissing the top of her fuzzy little head.

Eddie leans up against you, rubbing his forefinger against the cat’s side. “She still needs a name,” he tells you.

You think for a moment before coming up with the perfect idea. “How about Lovey?” you ask, though you’ve already made up your mind. “Because she’ll remind me of a day I felt very loved.” It’s sappy, but you can’t help it.

Dustin looks over at the cat. “Whaddya think? Is your name Lovey?” Lovey just snuggles up closer to you, making everyone laugh.

“Lovey it is,” Eddie confirms, kissing your forehead.

~

A few more weeks go by, filled with Lovey cuteness and training. She’s getting the hang of the litter box, though both you and Eddie have stepped in your fair share of cat turds.

The day you’ve been dreading finally arrives: Corroded Coffin is going back on the road. Eddie’s hesitant; he knows he has to tour to make money, but he’s terrified to leave you alone. You’re nervous, too. Even though she’s behind bars, there could be more Eddie stalkers out there that you don’t even know about yet.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Eddie asks, gnawing on his lower lip as he rolls his suitcase to the door.

You nod. “I’ll be fine. Lovey will protect me,” you remind him. “She’s officially my guard-cat.”

“Ah, yes,” he teases, “she will lick them to death with her sandpaper tongue.”

“Seriously, Eds,” you take his hand in yours and swing it gently. “I’ve got Hopper on speed dial. We’ve got that fancy new alarm system you set up, and you’re not even in the phonebook anymore. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He scoffs. “I’m going to worry about you. Don’t even try to convince me not to.”

You laugh. “Fine, worry about me! But just know that you don’t have to.”

He gives you a deep kiss, breathing you in. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I left a list of the venues we’re playing, and I installed a phone on the bus, so that number’s on there, too.”

“Thank you,” you say. “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you, too. So fucking much.”

~

The first three days with just you and Lovey are uneventful. You’ve been looking for a new job, so most of your days are spent poring over the Help Wanted section of the Hawkins Post. When you’re not job-hunting, you’re trying out recipes that Eddie would never eat, or playing with Lovey. She’s particularly fond of one toy that’s essentially a ribbon on a stick.

On day four, the phone rings. It’s your lawyer.

“Y/N?” Linda’s aggressive voice bleats over the receiver. “It’s Linda.”

“Yes? Is everything okay with the case?” Your blood runs cold at the idea of the stalker breaking out of jail.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” she reassures you, and you breathe a long sigh of relief. “I just got a call from Stacey’s lawyer, and she informed me that Stacey would like to speak to you and apologize.”

You scowled at her name; you preferred to just think of her as her. “Why?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Well, she might be trying to show the judge that she’s on her best behavior,” Linda explains, “but she is pleading guilty, so I’m not confident that that’s her reasoning.”

“Oh-okay,” you stammer. “So, is she gonna, like, call me or something?”

“No, sweetheart. You’d have to go down and speak to her in person,” Linda says. “She’d be behind a glass wall; you’d talk through a telephone that connects to each side.” She pauses for a moment. “You aren’t obligated, you know.”

You take a sharp breath in. “When can I go?”

~

Linda is able to schedule a visit for the next day. You don’t tell Eddie; he’d just try to talk you out of it. And maybe he’d be right, but you want to do this. You need the closure.

The guards pat you down and check your bag. You wish you could’ve brought Lovey with you. She’d gotten good at calming you down. Your nightmares slightly subsided when you felt her warm little body curled up at the foot of your bed.

You sit in a cold plastic chair, wringing your hands anxiously, until Stacey appears in front of you. She’s wearing a bright orange jumpsuit. Her eyes scream with exhaustion, so different from the villain who’d attacked you all those nights ago.

You each pick up the phone on your respective sides of the glass. All of the words you want to say get caught in your throat.

“Hi,” Stacey says softly. “Thank you for coming.” Like this is a dinner party she’s hosting. You think you’re going to be sick.

Stacey continues on. “I want to apologize for what I did,” she begins. “Y/N, I am so, so sorry for hurting you. I feel awful knowing that I’ve caused you so much pain.” Tears well in her eyes and she sniffles.

You can’t muster up any empathy; in fact, only rage bubbles to the surface. “You feel awful?” you hiss. “I’m the one having nightmares of you in my home, holding a knife to my throat, kicking me in the stomach, violating my safety.

“I see you everywhere I go. I feel like you’re following me in the grocery store. I worry that I’ll walk into an elevator and be trapped with you. That I’ll wake up and you’ll be in my bed.” You can’t hold back your own emotions anymore, and you start to cry. “So don’t sit here and tell me about how you feel, because I honestly don’t give a flying fuck.”

You expect her sinister grin to return, delighting in the spectacle you’re making. Instead, she nods solemnly. “You’re right.” She lightly scratches her short fingernails against the counter surface. “This...this isn’t an excuse, and I hope you don’t take it as one,” she says quietly, practically a whisper. “After I was arrested, the doctors diagnosed me with schizophrenia. I was having delusions...I thought I actually was Eddie’s soulmate. I thought God was putting me through a series of tests to get to him. Y/N, I seriously thought God was speaking directly to me.” She shakes her head at the ridiculousness of the idea.

“So, what did the doctors do?” you ask bitterly.

“They gave me medications that help, and I speak to a counselor here. She makes sure that my thoughts aren’t paranoid or delusional or anything like that.” Stacey looks at you, pained. “I didn’t realize how bad I’d gotten.”

You hesitate before posing your next question, terrified of the answer. “Do you still think you’re Eddie’s soulmate?”

She shakes her head. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t know him. I know his music, but I don’t know him.” A tear runs down her cheek. “Eddie is not anything to me besides a musician I listened to.”

You look at the ceiling. She seems sincere, like she understands the depth of the damage she’s caused. “I accept your apology,” you say carefully, “but I can’t forgive you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to, but I definitely can’t forgive you right now.”

Stacey nods. “I know. I wanted to apologize, and I’m just grateful that you came.”

“Well, okay then,” you clear your throat awkwardly, unsure how to end a conversation with someone who once tried to kill you. “Thank you for your apology.”

~

You call Eddie as soon as you get home and fill him in. He’s not thrilled that you spoke to Stacey, especially without him, but he doesn’t lecture you.

“Do you think it helped?” he asks gently.

“I dunno,” you answer honestly. “I don’t...I don’t think it hurt. It just felt like something I had to do.”

“Okay,” he finally says. “We have a week between our gig tonight and our next gig because the venue had to cancel. I’m coming home tomorrow, and I’ll be there for a few days. I miss you so fucking much,” he admits.

“I miss you more, Eds. And Lovey misses you most,” you tell him as she purrs on your lap.

“I’ll see you both so soon,” he promises. 

“We’ll be here,” you tell him, “safe and sound.”

--