#we can spruce it up later

[midwestvalleygirl]

#LUCYGRAYBAIRD: LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO ! 🐍🥀🕊️

[villainsidestep]

got sad abt fawn’s little motel room again 😞

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven | two

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter l next chapter

summary: While helping set up the barn for the summer party, a friend tells you that Tommy wants to set her up with Joel and feelings of jealousy come into play; you ask your niece Dina for a huge favor; you share a memorable moment with Joel and Ellie on the dance floor.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. commune throws party, Esther makes an appearance, reader gets jealous, mentions of reader’s husband, husband name reveal, hints at their strained marriage, Dina and Ellie interaction, Joel dances, cute moments between Ellie, Joel, and reader. mention of food, consumption of alcohol.

word count: 6.6k

You glance around the barn, both hands planted firmly on your hips.

It’s late in the afternoon, around three or four if you had to guess since you’d accidentally left your watch in your satchel bag back at the stables.

After spending the morning making your usual rounds and tending to all of the horses that needed some attention, you’d offered to pitch in and help prepare for the night’s upcoming festivities. In one corner of the barn, Seth’s setting up the small bar where he and his sons would be bartending and serving up beverages. Over in another corner, Tommy Miller is helping set up the large, flat top grill and his wife, Maria, stands right beside him, keeping everything organized as she directs several members of the commune and assigns them with a number of tasks that still need to be taken care of before the social event could begin. The food had also started to arrive—quite a few people had kindly volunteered to bring in their homemade dishes to share, all sorts of delicious little pickings from a variety of savory sides to go with the bison steaks that Tommy would be grilling later on in the evening, to an array of sweet, baked desserts meant to be enjoyed afterwards. Maria graciously thanks everyone for their contributions, then points them over towards the long, rectangular shaped table that would serve as something of a buffet.

“Do you think we brought out enough chairs for tonight?” you ask, curiously cocking your head to the side slightly as you silently start to do another count of the mismatched chairs around all of the tables that surrounded the perimeter of the makeshift dance floor. The barn itself was incredibly spacious, and the group who’d been assigned the task of cleaning it up earlier that morning had completely cleared the inside, leaving more than plenty of room. Still, you try to be mindful about making sure the improvised venue isn’t too crowded with tables and chairs. “Or do you think we should bring out a few more?”

Esther scoffs in response. She had been sitting at one of the tables, digging through a woven basket filled to the brim with freshly picked wildflowers for the center pieces she had promised Maria that she’d make. She improvised with a different variety of glasses, plastic cups, and even old, empty food cans, using them as vases for her arrangements. In a tiny effort to spruce them up, Esther had tied a long string of twine into a bow around each one. “Listen, nobody is going to be sitting on their ass tonight, at least not for very long,” she remarks, brushing her long, golden blonde bangs out of her eyes with the back of her hand. She then gestures towards the stage where a couple of guys are bringing out instruments and setting them up. She shimmies her shoulders playfully. “Everyone is going to be way too busy dancing and shaking their tail feathers. Now quit worrying about chairs and help me with these damn things, will you?”

You giggle at her antics and lightly shake your head as you sit down in the wooden chair directly across from her plastic one. You grab an old, empty Campbell’s chicken noodle soup can and peel off the label, carefully checking the inside to make sure it’d been washed out thoroughly before grabbing a handful of flowers from the basket. Esther made a good point. The much anticipated and long awaited first day of summer had officially arrived in Jackson, and the entire town was buzzing with pure excitement over the gathering—an incredibly rare time to unwind and let loose, you knew everybody was more than ready to put on their best and dance the night away.

Sure, throwing a party while living in a world like this one seemed like nothing but a complete waste of time—not to mention, a complete waste of valuable and precious resources. But the good people of Jackson worked themselves down to the bone in efforts to keep the community going, to keep it growing and flourishing now that it was well over forty families strong. Taking just one night out of the year to have some carefree fun did a lot more good than it did harm. It provided a much needed sense of normalcy for everyone, but most importantly, for the children and members of the younger crowd who had been born after the outbreak. It was a small taste of what life used to be like before every single day became nothing but a fight for survival, before the worries of infection, clickers, and murderous raiders became god awful nightmares that had come to life. While Jackson was certainly a safe haven, it wasn’t completely immune to those very real threats, and that scared people. Seeing the way the summer party lifted spirits and boosted morale, Maria had made it an official annual tradition, something to look forward to when the tough got going. Anyone who thought it was a stupid idea was more than welcome to spend the entire night on wall duty instead.

“I wonder if he’s coming tonight.” Esther’s voice breaks into your train of thought after a minute or two.

You glance up at her, confused. “Who are you talking about?”

“Tommy’s older brother,” she replies, placing some daisies into a tall, slightly chipped glass. She bites her lip and says his name shyly. “Joel.”

Without thinking anything much of it, you nod and find yourself assuring her, “He said he would come.”

Esther’s hands fumble, clumsily knocking the glass over in surprise, her flowers spilling out. She manages to catch it just before it falls off the side of the table and grips it in her hand. “Wait a minute, you’ve met Joel?” She gasps lightly, her eyes going wide with curiosity. “You mean, you’ve actually talked to him? Are you fucking serious? When did that happen?” She sputters out each question, one after the other.

You bite back a grin as you recall your encounter with Joel Miller. Even now, a full day later, the feeling of his hand holding yours still lingers. His skin had been rough and calloused against your own, but you’d enjoyed the way it had felt. You shouldn’t have. But there’s no denying how much you had liked it, how much you wished for another chance to hold his hand in yours again.

Still waiting for answers, Esther nudges your leg with her foot under the table. “Well?”

You shrug your shoulders in the most calm, nonchalant manner that you can muster, as if the mere thought of the man isn’t making your insides flutter wildly. “Well, I actually just met him for the first time yesterday afternoon.” Seeing the genuinely stunned expression on Esther’s face, you begin to elaborate a little further as you start arranging a bouquet of flowers into the empty soup can in front of you. “Ellie, the girl he’s here with, well she spends a lot of time with me at the stables. Joel came looking for her after lunch hour and we got to talking for a bit. Before he left, I ended up inviting him and Ellie to come to the party.”

“Wait, what? Ellie spends a lot of time with you? Really?” Esther lets out a scoff of pure and utter disbelief. “I can hardly even believe it! That girl avoids everyone around here like we’re the damn infected. It’s really rude, don’t you think so?” She doesn’t even give you the chance to respond before adding, “She’s got quite the mouth on her from what I’ve heard, too. Cusses up a storm left and right, and she lacks the most basic manners. Poor Joel, I wonder how he ended up getting stuck with someone like her. Whoever her parents were, they clearly failed in disciplining her.”

Frowning, you glare at her across the table, not too fond over the remarks she’d just made about Ellie. “She’s actually a really good kid, Esther,” you all but snap at her, a seething edge to your tone. “You know something, I really wish people wouldn’t be so damn quick to judge before getting to know someone, especially when they have no idea about what they’ve been through. Maria has taught all of us better than that over the last few years.”

Your friend holds up her hands in defense. “Well in all fairness, it’s kind of hard to try and get to know someone who purposely chooses to keep to themselves all the time, you know. She isn’t even giving anyone the chance to get to know her. Except for you now, apparently.” She pauses for a moment, realizing she had just landed herself in a bit of hot water with you. She tries to deviate the conversation slightly into a less sensitive territory and asks, “Are they both coming tonight?”

“Joel said he’d be by with Ellie,” you confirm, still feeling a bit irate. You know Esther doesn’t really mean any harm, but her comments, and the way she’d said them, had definitely struck a nerve. “He might have his work cut out for him trying to talk her into coming with him, but I’m sure that he’ll manage to convince her somehow.”

“Well, at the very least, I sure hope that Joel sticks true to his word and comes out to join us,” she smirks, propping her elbows up on the table as she leans towards you and makes a confession that you’d really wished she hadn’t. “He’s certainly someone that I would like to get to know.”

You manage to keep a straight face, uttering a small, “Oh really?”

“Of course! He’s so damn handsome,” Esther gushes with a twinkle in her sky blue eyes. “Joel is exactly my type of man, you know. Tall. Rugged. Big, strong hands that I bet would feel incredible all over me,” she swoons back into her chair in a dramatic fashion at the thought of it. “And he has this mysteriousness about him that I really like too.” She stops, looking around to make sure nobody was within earshot before leaning over towards you once more. She lowers her voice just in case anyone happens to pass by the table. “Tommy stopped by my place after dinnertime yesterday. He told me he was thinking of setting Joel up with somebody and he asked me if I would be interested.”

Your heart sinks. “He did?”

It’s difficult to ignore the feeling of envy that’s prickling at your nerve endings. It’s incredibly stupid to feel this way, to feel disappointed, especially knowing that you didn’t have the slightest chance in hell with Joel Miller.

Esther’s a single woman up for grabs—and you’re not. 

You’re married.

Still, the thought of Joel with Esther, it bothers you.

After talking to him in the horse stables the day before, you’d found yourself thinking about him a lot more than a married woman should probably be thinking about another man who wasn’t her husband. It was wrong, it was dangerous, and it wasn’t like you at all. But there was just something about him that had caught your attention, long before he’d even spoken a single word to you.

Now that you’d become acquainted with him, you were screwed.

So frustratingly and devastatingly screwed.

“You know what, I’m going to try and talk to him tonight,” Esther concludes, nodding her head as if she’d just convinced herself into doing it. “I might need a strong drink or two in me to give me a little bit of liquid courage, but I think I can do it. After all, Tommy thinks that Joel would really like me. He told me so last night.”

You lightly clear your throat and somehow manage to give her your best, encouraging smile. “I’m sure you’ll make a great first impression on him, Esther.”

“I think so too,” she agrees, giving the flower in her hand a gentle sniff. “By the way, I forgot to ask you—is Luke coming by tonight?”

The mere mention of your husband’s name makes you feel nauseous.

Averting your gaze, you shake your head. “No, he isn’t. He’s been so tired from work lately and he’s really not in the mood for it.” You hope she can’t detect the hint of relief in your voice as you explain that your husband wouldn’t be joining in on the night’s festivities. “He’s going to stay home and catch up on some rest.”

“What a shame,” Esther tsks with a frown. “That man works way too damn hard, you know. He needs a break. You should really try and get him to come to the party. He could use a night out.”

“I’ll try and talk him into it,” you lie straight through your teeth knowing damn well that you would do no such thing. The truth of the matter was, the less you were around Luke, the better. Him being at the party with you would only make it unenjoyable for you—if he came, you wouldn’t be able to be yourself, not unless you wanted to end the night with another explosive argument because you’d been too this or too that. Too chatty, too annoying, too embarrassing, too much.

Knowing Luke, he would expect you to be glued to his side all night long and play the role of his quiet, obedient little wife, and when that didn’t happen, it would cause all hell to break loose once you two were back in the privacy of your home. It was the one place where the image of the perfect, loving marriage that you and Luke had created over the last few years came crumbling down into pieces.

From your periphery, you catch a young girl with long, raven black hair walking by with a burlap sack of green apples in her arms. “Excuse me for a minute.” You stand up from the table and catch up to the teenager, calling out her name. “Dina!”

She stops in her tracks and turns around. As soon as she sees that it was you who’d called her name, she smiles warmly. “Hi there, auntie.”

You wrap an arm around her in a hug. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Dina shrugs, setting down the heavy sack at her feet as she smiles at you once again. Since you’d met her, she had always been a quiet kid, friendly but very shy. As she transitioned from childhood into adolescence, she had slowly but surely started coming out of her shell. “I’m excited for all the good food, that’s for sure. What about you?”

“I’m really looking forward to the live music,” you reply, nodding towards the stage where a young man is tuning up his bass guitar. You peer curiously at her for a moment, hesitating slightly before finally saying, “Listen, I’m glad that I caught you. I was wondering if you could do me a really big favor tonight?”

Eagerly, she nods. “Of course! Anything for you, auntie. What do you need?”

“You know that new girl, right? Ellie?”

Dina’s face falls instantly. “You mean the one who doesn’t talk to anybody?”

“Yeah. Her. I was thinking that maybe we should do something to change that,” you suggest to her. “I’d really appreciate it if you would try and talk to her tonight during the party. Maybe try and get to know her a bit.” You immediately notice the look of disdain that crosses her features. “I honestly think that you two would get along great. She reminds me a lot of you, you know. Minus all the cursing, of course,” you quickly add as an afterthought.

“You’ve talked to her?”

“She’s actually been hanging out with me these last couple of weeks.” You almost laugh at the shocked look on Dina’s face. “I wouldn’t ask you to befriend someone who I know you wouldn’t like. But I mean it, Dina. I really think you’d like Ellie. Something tells me that you two could wind up being good friends.”

“But she yelled at me on her first day here,” Dina recalls, anxiously biting her bottom lip as she shuffles from foot to foot.

“Okay, so maybe you two might have gotten off on the wrong foot,” you state, remembering that winter afternoon a few months ago when Dina had told you about how Ellie had barked at her for staring at her in the mess hall. “But that doesn’t mean that you two can’t start over, you know. Clean slate?” You grin and tuck a lock of her long hair behind her ear, grazing her cheek softly as you did so. “It would really mean a lot to me if you at least tried to talk to her. Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Dina thinks it over for a minute, then sighs in defeat. “Fine. I suppose I can give it a shot.”

You take her face in the palm of your hand, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Dina quickly pulls away from you and wrinkles her nose. “Auntie?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going home to shower before the party tonight, right?”

“Yeah, of course I am.” You furrow an eyebrow at her. “Why do you ask?”

“Because.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “You smell like a dirty horse.”

You chuckle, giving her another squeeze. 

Oh, Ellie and Dina were going to get along just fine.

Joel stands in front of the bathroom mirror and frowns at his own reflection as he runs his thick fingers through his graying, dark brown curls for what had to be the thousandth time. Whether it was with his hands or with a comb, he couldn’t tame his locks to save his fucking life. He breathes out a long, irritated sigh and decides to give up on his hair altogether before walking back out into his bedroom in nothing but the dark blue bath towel wrapped around his waist. He pads over towards the foot of his bed where he’d set out his pile of clothes.

He quickly tugs on a pair of boxer briefs and his clean, dark wash blue jeans before reaching for one of the shirts Tommy had dropped off for him earlier that afternoon. His brother had given him a number of options to choose from and Joel had chosen the one he’d felt was the nicest—black with a gray paisley print and long sleeves. He shrugs into the shirt and buttons it up, rolling the sleeves up to the middle of his forearms. He glances over at his pistol on the black oak nightstand beside his bed. Though he’s fairly positive he wouldn’t be needing it, he picks it up and tucks it into the waistband of his jeans, purely out of habit.

After slipping on his cleanest pair of black leather boots, he leaves his bedroom and makes his way down the long hallway towards Ellie’s door. He gives it a light knock and calls, “Ellie, s’time. You all ready to go?”

It takes her a minute, but Ellie finally opens the door.

“Y’didn’t wanna dress up for tonight?” Joel questions, observing how she’s chosen to wear her usual long sleeved shirt, faded blue jeans, and tattered red low top sneakers.

She narrows her eyes at him and huffs, “Fucking really, Joel?”

He holds up his hands, shaking his head. “Right. That was a stupid question,” he realizes out loud. “Alright. C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get goin’ before it gets late.”

“Do we really have to go to this stupid thing?” Ellie whines with a small groan as she follows him down the stairs and out the front door. “It’s the end of the fucking world, man. Who in their right mind throws a fucking party? I mean, what are we even celebrating, anyway? The fact that we’re all fucked for the rest of our lives?”

“Y’know, a little change in attitude would be kinda nice,” Joel remarks as the two of them make their way across the commune, following another group of people who also appear to be heading towards the barn. “This could be real good for you, Ellie. Hell, it could be good for me too. It could end up bein’ a real good time for the both of us.” He doesn’t quite fully believe that, and the truth is, Joel really doesn’t want to go as much as Ellie doesn’t want to go. Still, he hopes that by exposing Ellie to people at the social event, she’ll have an easier time adjusting, and perhaps she could even finally find her niche. Or at least make a friend. Seeing you also happens to be a perk of going. “This could be fun.”

“Since when are you into parties, Joel?”

Joel shrugs his shoulders. “I ain’t into parties.”

“Oh, wait a minute. The only reason that you even want to go to this fucking thing in the first place is because you know who is going to be there. Isn’t that right, Romeo?” Ellie smirks and wiggles her eyebrows at him in a suggestive manner. Noticing the perplexed expression on his face, she scoffs, “Don’t look at me like you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. I heard the way you were chatting her up at the stables yesterday.”

“First of all, she was the one who was chattin’ me up, thank you very much,” Joel mutters to her gruffly. “And second, what the hell were you doin’ hangin’ around and listenin’ to us? I thought I’d told you to go get lunch, not stick around and eavesdrop.”

“I didn’t wanna miss anything good,” Ellie replies, peering up at him. “You know that she’s married, don’t you?”

“Ellie,” he says her name warningly and looks around, hoping no one had been overhearing their conversation.

“Just making sure you knew that, Joel.”

“Yeah, I know she’s married,” he says, hoping that the teenager couldn’t pick up on the sour edge to his tone. He glances at Ellie, and wonders what all exactly she knew about you. Though he knows better than to ask her, he stupidly does so anyway. “You meet the guy yet?”

Ellie bites back another wide smirk, taking note of the way Joel had so easily let his curiosity get the better of him. “Nope. I’ve noticed that she doesn’t really talk about him much, either.” She shrugs, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “And from what I know, they don’t have any kids together.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at her. “Didn’t ask you if they had kids.”

“No, but I know you were wondering if they did,” Ellie states in a matter of fact tone. “Whether or not she’s happily married, I can find that out for you too, if you want me to. Just call me Sherlock fucking Holmes and I’ll crack the case.”

His mouth falls open slightly at what she’d been implying.

 As if he would actually go after a married woman. 

Joel finally speaks, his voice rigid. “Ellie, that ain’t funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny, believe it or not.” She notices the way his jaw clenches and shrugs her shoulders once again. “What?” she bats her eyes innocently, as if she had seen nothing wrong with the statement she had just made. “Oh come on, Joel. You can’t tell me you’re not the slightest bit curious about her marriage.”

“I ain’t,” he lies straight through his teeth. “It ain’t none of my business, and it sure as hell ain’t none of yours either, so don’t you go pokin’ your nose where it doesn’t belong, you understand me? Don’t need you goin’ around and causin’ trouble.”

“Alright, alright. Sheesh. Don’t get so worked up, man. Can’t be good for your blood pressure.”

“Little shit,” he mutters.

Joel and Ellie make it to their destination just after sunset and by that time, the party had started and was already in full swing. The commune’s barn had been completely transformed, cleaned up and cleared out—a dozen tables or so surrounded a decent sized dance floor and bright lights had been strung from the rafters as well as all along the outside of the structure, bringing the place to life. There’s a live band playing music on a small, makeshift stage and the scent of delicious barbecue wafts through the air, causing Ellie’s stomach to grumble.

Joel glances around, hoping it isn’t obvious to the kid as to who he’s looking for, but she’s far too busy processing everything to even notice.

“Whoa. This is so weird,” Ellie mumbles under her breath as she takes in her surroundings. Though she had seemed to be thoroughly confused by it all, he detects the glimmer of curious fascination in her wide brown eyes.

“Joel! Ellie!”

Grinning, you wave your hand as you weave your way through the crowd towards them.

Joel’s throat bobs and goes sandpaper dry at the sight of you. It feels like someone had just driven their fist into his gut and knocked all the wind out of his lungs.

The pale yellow frock you’re donning is strapless with a subtle sweetheart neckline, short with a flowing skirt that falls to the middle of your thighs. You’ve dressed it down, pairing it with tan brown cowboy boots that look like they’ve seen better days, and a cropped denim vest. Your hair is loose around your shoulders and there’s a delicate white daisy tucked behind your ear. Simple, but it’s enough to take his breath away. “Hey!” you greet them, excitedly. “You guys made it!”

“Whoa, nice dress, princess,” Ellie nudges you, offering a playful grin in return. She’d been so used to seeing you in your flannel and jeans at the stables—though she’s teasing, there’s a twinkle of admiration in her eyes as she looks at you. It’s a world of a difference to see you when you’re not dirty, sweaty, and wearing boots covered in horse shit.

You nudge her right back and then turn to Joel. “You look very nice,” you compliment, subtly admiring the way that his shirt fits the broad planes of his chest and his shoulders.

“He showered for once. Doesn’t he look pretty?” Ellie jeers, causing him to roughly smack her shoulder. She rubs the spot where he’d hit her, making a face at him. “Relax man, it was a fucking joke. Jesus.”

Ignoring her, Joel shifts his attention back to you. “You look real nice too.”

“Thank you, Joel.” There’s a hint of shyness in your smile.

He couldn’t be too sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn he’d just seen you give his form another once over.

“I’m really glad you two decided to join us.” Gesturing around with your hands, you ask, “What do you guys think?”

“It’s some shindig, that’s for sure,” Joel remarks, taking another glimpse around. He aches to take another look at you, let his eyes glaze over every last inch of you, but he knows better, especially with his loud mouth kid standing right there in the middle.

“It’s like I told you yesterday, Joel. People still know how to get down and party,” you wink at him and his heart skips a nervous beat. “Come with me, I’ll get you guys a couple of drinks.”

“Drinks?” Ellie’s face is hopeful. “What kind of drinks?”

“Nonalcoholic for you, missy.” You flick her shoulder, causing Joel to chuckle. “The drinking age in Jackson is eighteen, although some kids can have a drink or two at sixteen on special occasions as long as their parents are around to supervise them.”

“Well, I’m fifteen. That’s close enough to sixteen. And I’ve got my supervisor right here.” She jabs her thumb over her shoulder at Joel. “I can have a real drink tonight, right Joel?”

He snorted. “Not a fuckin’ chance in hell, kiddo.”

She scowls. “Fucking party pooper.”

You lead them over to one of several coolers that are strategically placed around the barn and pull out a bottle of fresh squeezed lemonade for Ellie and a bottle of beer for Joel. Twisting off the cap, he takes his first sip of the homemade brew and makes a face, coughing and sputtering at the taste. “Jesus Christ, that’s fuckin’ awful.”

“Sorry, I should have warned you that Seth is still trying to perfect his beer recipe,” you giggle into the palm of your hand. “His whiskey is a whole lot better, but it’s really strong. I wanted to start you off light.”

In the distance, you see Esther watching Joel with hungry eyes from across the barn. She’s turning heads in the skintight, cherry red dress she’s wearing underneath her denim jacket—the material hugs every single curve tightly, accentuating her perfect figure. She’s nursing a glass of something or other, probably still working up the courage to introduce herself to Joel. You’d hoped that by the time she was finally ready to make her move, you’d find it in yourself to accept it with grace.

Or be somewhat drunk enough not to care.

The band on stage finishes up their rendition of Life is a Highway and everyone in the barn breaks into whistling cheers and thunderous applause.

Impressed with their talent, even Ellie finds herself clapping her free hand against her thigh with genuine enthusiasm.

The band moves onto their next song and the familiar tune of one of your favorite songs, Dancing in The Moonlight, instantly takes your mind off of Esther and lifts your spirits.

“Oh, I love this song!” you exclaim. “Ellie, dance with me!”

“Wait, what in the fuck—” Ellie gasps as you grab her hand and started tugging her along behind you. She immediately glances at Joel for help. He simply chuckles as he plucks her lemonade from her hand and lets you drag her a few feet away to a spot on the dance floor.

Smiling, you spin her around a couple of times and then take both her hands in yours as you start leading her in the dance. It takes Ellie a minute or two, but she eventually stops resisting and gives in, moving along with you.

“Yeah, there you go!” you beam, encouraging her. “That’s it!”

“Oh, I’m so gonna fucking kill you for this!” Ellie threatens, however, her eyes are sparkling and she’s laughing. Her fingers squeeze yours. “Hey, this song’s pretty fucking cool! I like it!”

Taking a swig of his beer, Joel watches as you and Ellie dance together.

He feels a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as his eyes drink in the sight of his girl smiling brightly—she looks happy, so ridiculously happy, and he wishes there was a way for him to bottle up this memory just like a scent, one that never faded or grew stale. He would give just about anything to have it stashed away, available for him to open up whenever he wanted so he could relive the moment all over again, for as many times as he needed.

“Everybody here is out of sight, they don’t bark and they don’t bite,” you sing the lyrics to her as you twirl her around once more. “They keep things loose, they keep ‘em tight, everybody was dancing in the moonlight—”

“This is so fucking weird,” Ellie laughs again, mustering the courage to finally take a turn and spin you around. She grasps your hand tightly in hers and her opposite hand flies to your waist. She eventually finds the constant beat to the song and connects rhythmically with you, her moves falling in sync with yours, though she would still take a clumsy step here and there.

As the band moves into the next verse of the song, your gaze meets Joel’s from the dance floor and you lean forward, whispering something to Ellie.

She eagerly nods her head, shouting, “Fuck yeah! Do it!”

Ellie drops her hands away from you and you leave her alone on the dance floor for a moment. Rushing up to Joel, you take his bottle of beer and set it down on the table beside him before reaching for his hand.

The contented smile on his face vanishes. “Darlin’ what are you—?”

“Come on! Come and dance with us!” you chirp, dragging him over towards where Ellie’s waiting, an amused smirk plastered onto her face as soon as she sees the flabbergasted look on his.

“I—I don’t dance.” Joel quickly tries to tell you. He makes an attempt to stop you from pulling him any further, but you’re a lot fucking stronger than you look and he doesn’t stand a chance. “I can’t dance!”

“Don’t be silly!” You dismiss him over your shoulder, shaking your head. “Everybody can dance!”

“Come on, Joel!” Ellie shouts, taking his other hand in hers. “Let’s see you shake what you got!”

In his peripheral vision, Joel notices a few people gawking, watching in bewilderment as the two standoffish newcomers dance with you, the town’s resident sweetheart.

“Joel, relax,” you call out over the music, shaking his hand. “Don’t be so uptight! Loosen up a little!”

He tries his hardest to do just that. Though he’s too embarrassed to fully comply with your request, at some point, he does find himself moving a little less like the tinman. 

The three of you sway to the upbeat music together in your own little corner of the dance floor.

Holding your hand in one of his and Ellie’s in the other, Joel finally decides to let go and allows himself to enjoy the moment, regardless of how terrible of a dancer he is. He moves with the two of you along to the music, a deep belly laugh escaping him as Ellie tries to spin him around—their significant height difference makes it impossible, and all she does is mess up his hair as her arm brushes right over his head.

You try spinning him too, but you’re not all that much taller than Ellie. Joel bends his knees slightly and ignores their protest long enough for you to give him a twirl.

When the song ends, the three of you move off of the dance floor and back over towards the table where their drinks are waiting for them.

“Gotta give you credit. You’ve got some moves, old man,” Ellie states, taking a sip of her lemonade. Beads of sweat drip down the side of her face and she wipes them away with the sleeve of her shirt. “Little on the stiff side, but not bad for being fifty six with creaking knees.”

You muffle your snort of laughter with your hand.

Joel glowers, but truth be told, he can’t even be mad at her for the jab. He’d finally caught a glimpse of Ellie being truly, genuinely happy, the way she deserves to be—and it was all thanks to you. 

“Hello!”

Glancing over your shoulder, you smile as Dina comes up to the three of you. She seems nervous—you can tell by the way that she’s already pulling at her sunflower printed dress.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You kiss her cheek and then introduce her. “Joel, Ellie, this is my niece, Dina. Dina, this is Joel and Ellie.”

Ellie flushes a deep shade of red as she recognizes her from her first day in Jackson. 

“What about her manners?” She remembered snapping when she’d noticed the dark haired girl hiding behind a wooden pillar in the mess hall, staring at Ellie as if she were some kind of freakshow.

“Ellie,” Joel mutters her name, jabbing his elbow into her shoulder. “Say hello.”

“Oh—um, hey,” she greets her awkwardly with a wave of her hand.

“Would you like to go grab something to eat with me?” Dina offers shyly as she gestures over towards the grill.

Ellie nervously glances up at Joel, as if she were silently asking him for guidance on what to do.

“Go on,” he encourages her. “Just stay out of trouble, alright?”

She hesitates, but then turns back to Dina and nods her head. “Okay.”

Reluctantly, she follows Dina over to the other side of the barn. The girls each grab a plate, get in line, and make their way up to Tommy, who not only seems pleasantly surprised to see Ellie, but to see her with someone other than his brother.

“Niece, huh?” Joel questions, taking another sip of his beer. 

You’re not surprised.

Dina doesn’t look all that much like you, he’s probably thinking.

“Technically, she is. My husband is her uncle,” you explain, briefly. “After her parents passed away, he and his other niece, her older sister, Talia, they both raised Dina together. We were all living together under one roof until Maria decided Talia was old enough to be assigned a place of her own a couple of years ago.”

“Speakin’ of your husband.” Joel anxiously shoves his free hand into his pocket. He wasn’t sure how he’s only just now noticing the thin, gold wedding band around your ring finger. Seeing it causes an odd feeling to begin boiling in the pits of his stomach—the ring only confirms what he wished wasn’t true. “I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet. He, uh—he around here somewhere?”

“No, he isn’t. He decided to stay home tonight. Luke isn’t a big fan of these kind of things—besides, he’s always tired from working.”

Joel observes the way you uncomfortably shuffle from foot to foot and he wonders if maybe it’s because you’re missing him. The thought only makes the foreign feeling in his stomach intensify. “He’s the doctor around here, ain’t he?”

You nod. “He is.”

Before you have the chance to change the subject, you catch a glimpse of Esther making her way over towards you and Joel.

Your heart sinks deeply in your chest, similarly to the way it had earlier when she’d told you about Tommy wanting to set them up together. Again, you’re forced to remind yourself that you don’t have any right to feel this way.

She slinks up to the both of you—it’s clear she’s already tossed a number of drinks back and had quite the buzz going on. “Hi there,” she practically purrs at Joel. She glances at you, as if she’s waiting for you to introduce them to one another. Of course she would assume that you’d be her wingwoman. Hell, what reason would she have not to think that you would be willing to lend a hand and help set her up with him?

She’s not the one with a husband waiting at home. 

“Joel, this is my friend, Esther,” you finally speak, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as shaky to either of them as it does to you. “Esther, this is Joel Miller. He’s Tommy’s older brother.”

“Nice to meet you.” Joel takes her hand, giving it a brief shake before quickly dropping it.

“Now, I know you didn’t give him Seth’s shitty ass beer to drink. We all know his whiskey is way, way better,” Esther comments, shaking her head as she offers him her best, flirty smile. “Come with me, cowboy. Let’s go and get you a real drink over at the bar.”

“Oh no, that’s alright. M’perfectly fine—” Before Joel can finish protesting, Esther takes his bottle, hands it over to you, and then grabs his hand, dragging him off towards the bar.

Frowning, he looks over his shoulder at you and you have no choice but to make an encouraging gesture with your hand as if to tell him to go and have a good time.

Once Joel and Esther are out of your sight, you lift the bottle to your lips, draining every last drop of his beer in one swallow. You pivot on the heel of your boot and start towards a group of friendly, familiar faces in hopes that some mindless chatter would be enough to get your mind off of things and tame the jealousy that’s clawing furiously at your insides.

[kkpaaw]

AU Incoming!

Oh oh oh I'm so excited to introduce this AU to yall! It came to me after reading some Au fanfiction where Branch is taken care of by one of his brothers wether they be with him wherever they are at or whether they go back home to care for him.

It occurred to me that I have yet(at least I haven't found any yet) to see any au's where Bruce is the caretaker and once that idea started I spiraled from there.

SO in this Au (officially titled Runaway!Au) Branch, having lasted 6 years (timeline later) with the pop trolls after escaping the troll tree, one night after an devastating incident, realized just how unwanted and unloved he was by the entire village(with the exception of a very very small few)(more on that later) and decided to runaway and find a new home a home where someone unwanted by everyone can live in peace.

He struggled through the forest for three years before an incident causes him to get washed away by a heavy lake current which knocks him unconscious, leaving him to drift through the waters.

The lake eventually leads to the ocean where he then drifts for days until he drfts close enough to vacay island to be found by some surfing Vacaytioners who take him onto the island to medical assistance.

Bruce is notified since he's like the only troll on the island right now and doesn't immediately recognize him(since he's gray and dirty af) with the aide of Bruce they care for Branch and eventually he wakes up, recognizes Bruce(calls him spruce tho), which causes it to click for Bruce who this trolling is and is distraught to see his baby brother in such horrible conditions and just like yall, is wondering what happened.

This leads to him eventually taking Branch in. 11 years after that we have reached the 1st movie and I'm gonna stop there. There's so much to tell before the 1st movie even happens and I'll share it all with yall!

So yea fun AU that I can't wait to develop more! If u have any questions about the AU feel free to ask me! I may or may not answer depending on what it is :3

[moog-rt]

GO TO HELL [ch. 2]

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

Previous: Chapter One

➨ Chapter Two

Next: Chapter Three

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

Warning(s): daddy issues, invasion of personal space

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER TWO

Once again, you found yourself having no clue what you signed up for. At this point, it was on you. You should have learned your lesson the last time you put your trust in someone.

This time, instead of being booted through a portal into hell, you were being dressed up like a doll. The outfit you arrived in wasn’t ‘hellspawn’ enough so Charlie was throwing a plethora of outfits at you and seeing what stuck. You had to admit, you liked how the new clothes looked on you, but Charlie would scrutinize them before changing them again.

Personally, you thought you were being a pretty good sport about it. 

Just when you thought it was over, she dragged you in front of her vanity before darting out of the room. This worried you. It was safe enough to assume she was going to do something with your hair or makeup, but what did she need that wasn’t already here?

You began looking around her bedroom, taking in the details of the rich maroon wallpaper and the way the wood paneling complemented it in both shape and color. Her bed was truly something to be envious of, though. It seemed to be even bigger than a king, and the canopy frame allowed her to have translucent and opaque purple curtains draped in layers above it. 

It was possible the entirety of the hotel could look like this once it was thoroughly scrubbed down and decorated. A diamond in the rough, if you will.

You could probably afford to stick around for a day to help deep clean. They were doing so much for you despite being a stranger who had (politely) broken in. Had you been in their shoes, you would have done them in with an iron skillet first and asked questions later (in the courtroom).

You jumped as Charlie came scrambling back in with what seemed to be tubes of paint. You couldn’t help but feel concerned for what was to come.

The paint was squeezed into a bowl with a squelching sound similar to a ketchup bottle towards the end of its life. She reached across you to grab a makeup brush and began mixing it together.

Where did she think she was gonna put that?

You barely had time to react before she dragged the cold wet brush across your cheek. It only took her a minute to completely lather your face. You dared to look at yourself in the vanity mirror as she moved on to cover the rest of your exposed skin. Her gentleness tickled as the brush swept across your arms. She kept it rather neat to your surprise.

“Don’t worry. We just need to get the base down, and then we can spruce it up!” she chirped.

When you asked what there was to get ready for, this was not what you imagined. You could understand not wanting to look like a bum when meeting new people, but to go this far… Meeting a parent shouldn’t even matter if you’re not dating their kid. There was nothing you had to prove to Charlie’s father. Especially since you wouldn’t see him again so long as everything went according to plan.

The actual reason Vaggie suggested this was far more reasonable.

No, they weren’t just doing this to make you look pretty. They wanted to hide you completely. The idea was to make you look like a demon to the best of their ability in hopes of avoiding any unwanted attention. You understood why. Your first hour or so in Hell was pretty traumatic to say the least.

Vaggie went on to list all the things that could happen to you if you were found as a human, which did not help your nerves one bit. You could end up on someone’s dinner plate, or your teeth could be sold on the not-so-black market for a pretty hefty price. Your bucket list may be lengthy, but having your parts being used as someone else’s decor was sure as shit not on it.

Charlie tried to reassure you that her childhood home wouldn’t be so dangerous. However, she couldn’t promise her dad would have a positive reaction to a human wandering around, so it would still be safer to go in disguise. It would also draw far less attention from the staff, meaning you wouldn’t be stuck there so long.

You really got the vibe that she had daddy issues from how much she emphasized it being a quick trip. Not to mention her reluctance to go in the first place…

Charlie finished up the base coat of paint and moved on to add details to make it more realistic. She then adjusted your hairstyle to cover your hairline where the edges of paint were most noticeable.

“Okay, okay, now the final touch…” she said as she bounced over to her closet behind you.

You couldn’t see what she was grabbing. You only felt something being placed on your head. Before you could look in the mirror, Charlie invaded your view and shoved a pair of glasses onto your face.

You were dragged over to her golden cheval mirror.

“Grand reveal!” 

You certainly didn’t look human anymore. Your natural complexion was completely hidden, and the thing Charlie placed upon your head was a pair of fake horns, which she was bobby-pinning in place to ensure they’d stay put. The outfit itself you really liked, but the glasses she had chosen were in the shape of large hearts with bold red tint.

You felt so goofy.

You’d rather be offered up to one of the demonic cannibals than be caught looking like this in the living world. Your only solace was that the majority of people in Hell looked even stranger than you. That, and the amount of coverage you had made you feel like you were wearing a mask that you could hide behind..

“You look…amazing!” Charlie sang, hopping up and down a little. You may have felt a little embarrassed by your get-up, but the joy on her face nearly made it worth it. “Come on, we have to show Vaggie!”

You trailed behind her down the stairs where Vaggie was waiting to send the two of you off. She couldn’t tag along due to prior arrangements. If you remembered correctly, she was going to be interviewing potential guests for the hotel. Real guests rather than a human who had washed up on their doorstep. 

“Vaggie, Vaggie, look!” Charlie called. “You would never guess she was human, right?”

Vaggie looked you up and down analytically before locking onto your face.

“It turned out pretty good, but, uh…” She gestured at her own eyes rather than pointing at you. “What’s with the shades?”

“Well…Her eyes were the only thing I couldn’t really disguise, so the sunglasses will keep them from being visible!” Charlie said with a big grin, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “They’re also so cute.”

She and you must have very different tastes, but who knows, this could be what was trendy here in Hell. Even if it wasn’t, she made a good point. Of the few demons you’d seen, none of their eyes looked like a typical human’s.

Two beeps from outside the hotel were your cue it was time to head out.

“It’ll go great,” Vaggie said to Charlie, rubbing her back.

“Right…we’ll be back soon!” Charlie said as she led you outside where a white and pink limo was waiting. 

Oh. So she was rich then.

You figured the hotel itself wasn’t too cheap, but the condition it was in didn’t make it seem like it would break the bank. This was a clue into Charlie’s status that had yet to be revealed to you.

The drive through town allowed you to take in the sights rather than watching it all blur by whilst running for your life. There was a good range of shops between ‘normal enough’ to ‘I’d expect no less from Hell.’ Some sold electronics and furniture while others advertised hitman services.

You were pretty sure you passed a vending machine that sold hard drugs.

Watching the denizens made you thankful that you were in the safety of the car. A woman in a business suit doing lines off a public bench before waltzing into the city library. A sketchy dude hanging around the outside of a rundown playground… He seemed to be mocking one of the kids before it launched itself at him, going straight for the jugular.

You looked away before you witnessed something you’d regret.

Charlie caught your eye, shooting you a wide grin. You did your best to smile back.

You wondered where her father would fall on the spectrum of people here. Would he be out for blood like the majority of folks you’d seen? If so, you’d be with Charlie trying to get out of there as quickly as you could.

“Park down here, please!” you heard Charlie say to the driver after a while.

Your surroundings hadn’t changed much from where you started out. The city did seem to be a bit more residential in this area, but the level of chaos remained the same.

You followed Charlie out of the vehicle, expecting to walk into one of the many townhouses lining the uneven street. Instead, she took you down a few blocks and around a corner. It was as if she didn’t want your arrival to be known. To be fair, you didn’t either. The thought of any interactions with Hell-dwellers beyond Charlie and Vaggie made you nervous.

You found yourself standing in front of tall golden gates attached to a stone wall that encircled a grand manor. It was massive, at least twice the size of the hotel, with elegant gold detailing around the windows and pillars. Even though it was gorgeous, you were a little thrown off by its odd shapes and red stripes that reminded you of a circus tent.

It was quite the niche aesthetic…

The front door opened as soon as the two of you reached the top of the stairs, greeted by a small red demon. He had black and white striped horns and wore a cute little suit that reminded you of a butler.

“Welcome back, miss,” he said, dipping his head a bit as he stepped aside to let us in. “I was unaware you would be visiting. Is your father expecting you?”

“Oh, no…” Charlie began fiddling with her hair. “We were just passing by when I remembered I wanted to…pick something up! It’s good to see you. I wish we could catch up, but my friend and I are on a tight schedule.”

Her laugh was forced as she grabbed your shoulders and began pushing you down the hall, ignoring the way you stumbled along. She told you that there would be a room where her dad kept an array of magical tools and artifacts. Most were gifts to earn his favor, she explained.

It made you wonder what sort of industry he was a part of where people were trying to suck up to such a degree.

Pictures lined the hallways with the majority having Charlie as the subject. Their golden frames contrasted nicely against the striped red wallpaper.

You couldn’t help but stop to look at one from when she was in an awkward preteen phase of her life. She was quick to notice and pull you away with a red face. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

Your relationship with Charlie was nothing deep. The two of you had only met the day before, afterall. But seeing bits of her past like this felt intimate in a way one would share memories with a friend. You hoped it didn’t embarrass her too much.

Maybe you would show her some of your baby pictures to make up for it later.

“Oh, this was my old bedroom! One second, there’s something I do want to grab,” she said as she pulled you to a stop before darting inside.

You peeked in through the doorway. It was similar to her current bedroom in some ways, another canopy bed with a plethora of drapery around it and a beautiful vanity with a soft glow emanating from behind it. Yet it was clear that it once belonged to a child from the stuffed animal collection and softer color palette.

Charlie had wandered over to a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, rummaging through it as she searched for whatever it was she remembered.

You waited outside the doorway. It felt inappropriate to enter a place so sentimental to someone who was largely still a stranger to you. Seeing so many portraits from her past already seemed like a breach of her privacy even though you couldn’t help it. It’s not like you could wander around the halls with your eyes closed.

As you turned away from her room, a small man came strutting around the corner, donned in all white save for a red waistcoat and black knee-high boots. He was about to proceed down the hall perpendicular to yours before skidding to a halt.

His head whipped around to face you, and you froze.

Shit.

His pale blonde hair, ghostly white skin, and rosy spots on his cheeks made him nearly identical to Charlie. He had to be either the father or a brother that she had yet to mention.

He stared into your damn soul, unmoving. You wondered if he could see right through your disguise. Through the paint on your skin to the blood that pulsed underneath. Past your skull to the thoughts racing through your mind.

You stood stalk still in your spot, as well, staring right back at him. You felt it was the only thing you could do. It was either that or book it, but you weren’t paying attention to the turns you took to get to this point. You’d be lost in a heartbeat. Imagine how stupid you’d look then.

So you opted to harness your inner statue. You didn’t dare move a muscle in case–by some miracle–he could only detect movement. If you were lucky, he would shrug and continue strutting away.

Manifest…manifest…manifest–

“Who are you?” He demanded in a deadpan voice as he jabbed his cane in your direction.

Shittt.

“I’m–uh…” Your eyes darted to the side before landing back on him. “Who are you?”

Meeting the parents was never your forte.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Dad!”

Thank fucking god.

His eyes lit up and a massive sharp-toothed smile spread across his face, completely forgetting about you the instant Charlie entered the hallway. 

“Charlie!” he practically screamed, arms spreading wide into the air. You had to duck out of the way as he threw himself onto his daughter. One would think he was attempting to squeeze the life out of her with how tightly he was holding on.

She looked miserable.

You did your best to hide your smile at the exchange. You could remember all the times you were embarrassed by overly affectionate loved ones shamelessly kissing and cooing at you in front of your peers. You were sure that at least half the time it was done so with malicious intent.

On the flip side, it was always quite enjoyable to witness it happening to others.

“I know, Dad. It’s good to see you, too…” She was patting his back, an attempt to signal she was ready to be let go.

“Why didn’t you tell me you would be visiting? We could have planned something fun to do ahead of time–”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing! We weren’t originally planning on dropping by, but I remembered there was something I wanted to grab, so…” she lied.

You were unaware she hadn’t given her dad any sort of heads up at all. You felt bad that you were sneaking in without his knowing. Especially since he seemed so overjoyed just to get to see her.

“Speaking of,” she redirected, stepping aside and turning to you. “This is one of my friends–”

“Ah, it is so nice to meet you!” he eagerly cut in.

You were only going to exchange a small wave, but he practically jumped on you, grabbing your hand and shaking it with exuberance.

“My goodness, Charlie never brings her friends over. This–this is so exciting!”

He was so close that it gave you goosebumps. He looked less human than Charlie, but not quite animalistic like the other demons you’d seen. His red pupils were much smaller than hers, bordering on snake-like slits, and all of his teeth were akin to daggers. She must have gotten her more human qualities from her mother.

You did your very best to smile as genuinely as you could.

“It’s nice to meet you, too–uh–Sir.”

He drew back, finally giving you space. Then his eyes lowered to your mouth.

You quickly sealed your lips.

Was he looking at your teeth? They wouldn’t give you away, would they? Charlie and Vaggie had mostly dull teeth aside from their abnormally sharp canines. If he asked, you could tell him you wanted to see how far you could file them down…

Worrying about your appearance made you uncomfortably aware of the paint coating your skin. It felt so thick all of a sudden. So sticky but also dry. And the fake horns were so heavy. God, you wanted nothing more than to rip it all off.

Your heartbeat was picking up speed.

Did his eyebrow just twitch?

His eyes narrowed slightly but that grin held fast. He briefly looked down to his hands before returning to your face, rubbing his gloved fingers together. It was as if touching you left an uncomfortable feeling behind that he was trying to get off.

“I’m glad we got to run into you, but we’re on a bit of a time crunch, so we should get going,” Charlie said, laughing nervously as she tugged on your sleeve.

“It was nice meeting you,” you repeated with a dip of your head before following her down the hall.

You could feel his eyes on you while you walked away. As you turned the corner, you glanced back to confirm you were just paranoid. 

His red eyes were locked onto you. He hadn’t moved from his spot, and his smile was gone.

Relief washed over once you were out of his line of sight. There’s no way he knew you were human. He couldn’t have been able to tell from just your teeth.

But then why did he look at you so strangely?

Your anxiety began to let up more and more as you got further away. Glancing over at Charlie, you could tell she, too, was bothered. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips pursed. She kept silent until you finally arrived at the room you came here for in the first place.

It was filled with shelves that held a wide variety of objects. From books, to statues, to strange glowing orbs on pedestals…

If you could find what you needed quickly, none of this would matter. You wouldn’t have to worry about Charlie’s dad figuring you out. You would be back home, safe and sound.

Where it was a good thing you were human.

Where the only things you had to worry about were bills and boy troubles.

“Alrighty,” Charlie said, closing the door after you. “I’m not really sure where to start, but some of these should have labels or descriptions or something.”

That was reassuring.

You each got to work, filing through piece by piece. She wasn’t wrong about some being labeled, though their names often told you little to nothing about what they actually were or what they could do.

As you went to flip through an old book similar in appearance to Devon’s, it was engulfed in purple flames. You gasped, backing away and colliding with something behind you.

Spinning around in hopes of preventing whatever you bumped into from falling, you came face to face with Charlie’s father.

Your heart stopped.

“Might I help you find something?” The smirk adorning his lips as he leaned closer was not comforting whatsoever. You were beginning to understand Charlie’s distress. This man had no concern for personal space.

Wide-eyed, you glanced over at Charlie who looked nearly as alarmed as you to see him there. You side-stepped away so that you were no longer sandwiched between him and the shelves.

“Dad…” Charlie drawled. “Don’t you have something more important to be doing right now?”

“What could possibly be more important than my favorite daughter? It’s been so long since I’ve last seen you!” he said, facing her.

“I’m your only daughter,” Charlie groaned.

“Uh-huh, which is why I want to spend as much time with you as I can~” he sang as threw an arm around her shoulder. “Say, have I gotten to show you my newest ducks yet?”

“No…look we’re really busy right now.”

“Right, right. Looking for something that you need,” he said, waving his hand in the air as he recalled her previous words. “In this room of all places?”

That made Charlie stiffen. 

“Ah, well–uh…”

“She was just showing me around while we were passing,” you spoke up. You were so thankful that your smile didn’t falter when his half-lidded eyes turned to you once more. “It would have been a shame to have missed out on so many amazing relics.”

“I’m sure,” he hummed. “If you’re curious about any in particular, I can tell you all about them.”

He relinquished Charlie to step up to you again.

“Were you a historian when you were alive?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Ah…No…” you said, looking off to the side. There was a moment of silence before you realized he was probably expecting you to specify your occupation. “I was a clinical technician. Items such as these would be interesting to anyone though, I’d imagine.”

“And what did you do to wind up here in Hell?”

What?

“Um, I didn’t…”

“Many would assume working in the medical field would earn you a one-way ticket straight to Heaven, so what could you have possibly done to land yourself here?” His tone turned serious, eyes narrowing.

You needed to calm yourself down. He was probably just interrogating you to ensure his daughter was keeping good company. You’d likely do the same if your child was surrounded by a bunch of sinners with some of the worst track records known to man.

What answer could you give him that was justified enough but didn’t make you sound like a psycho?

You stole a bunch of human blood and used it in a satanic seance.

He didn’t need to know that.

Premarital sex?

No, he had no business knowing about your sex life either.

“I cheated on a test once,” you answered with a guilty smile.

He gave you the most deadpan stare you’d ever seen.

“Premarital sex, too.”

“That’ll do it!” Charlie chimed in.

“That’s the whole reason Charlie and I met actually,” you said, trying to redirect the conversation. 

Both gave you odd looks. That probably wasn’t the best way to follow up that statement, but oh well. 

“She told me all about how I can redeem myself at the hotel she’s running! I hope to one day reclaim my virginity until I find that special someone.”

You smiled sweetly in hopes that it would earn you a few more brownie points. Weren’t you just the most precious little sinner?

“That’s right! She only recently got here, and she’s already seeking redemption! Isn’t that fantastic?” Charlie placed herself at your side, presenting you as if you were a class project. “She hasn’t even heard about the extermination yet!”

“The what?” You turned to face her.

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved you off.

Her father had both hands propped upon his apple cane as he squinted at the two of you. You were clearly hiding something but he had yet to figure out what.

Trumpets began to blare from right beside you, causing even more strain on your frantic heart.

“Hehe, sorry, one second,” Charlie said, pulling her phone out of her pocket to check whatever notification caused that horrid noise. There was a moment of silence as she read the message before her eyes widened, and she went slack jawed. “Shit.”

Well. That didn’t sound good.

Her father looked concerned about her reaction, as well, placing himself at her side with a hand on her arm as he looked up at her.

“Is everything alright, sweetie?” he asked in a soft tone.

“It’s nothing,” she shook her head, pulling away from him. “It was nice seeing you, Dad, but we really have to go now.”

She grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the room with her, leaving her father behind without a second glance.

Next Chapter

♡ ♡ ♡

tag list: @spookysisters @for-hearthand-home @crescent-z

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles - Update 08/Sept/2023 Phew, doing draft after draft of plan is a lot!

I know that putting in all this effort now will pay off  when I actually come to write it (though I may have already loosely drafted a couple of scenes because I can’t help myself… :D) as well as make it a lot smoother when I get to it…but knowing what is coming is making me SO eager to write already, hehe! :D

This week, I spent some time looking at how to add in the villain romance. It’s definitely got a much different feel than the romance-y Unit Bravo ones, lol! But then I want it to be unique with it’s own feel, so it definitely works.

The more I plan in, the more I think it’s a definite that I’ll be adding it.

But I also want to make sure there are points where you can end that romance if you want to, especially because it might get too intense for some people. Definitely want that exit option in there at multiple places!

Planning this romance also means a very different shift in mindset from the vampires’ romances, not only because they’re a not a good person, lol, but also because it is a one book romance. I need to switch from thinking about the romance as a long term thing that can grow over multiple books, to something that needs to start, get involved, and then end in one book! It’s not that it can’t be done, especially with the intensity that’s burning between the MC and the villain if the character goes this route, but I don’t want it to feel like it’s rushed :D

I also spent last weekend, and will be spending all weekends, on starting the spruce up of Book One! That’s been seriously fun to read back through that! It’s not going to be anything major, catching any remaining bugs and spelling errors, matching things up better to later events, etc. But I did realise just how much Book One feels like a different style than Two and Three, so I want to update it to feel more like how I write now, which is a bit of an undertaking. My plan is to make it not too obvious but make the whole series feel more cohesive!

Just shows how much our styles can adapt and change as we evolve as creators!

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, but I’ll talk to you all again on next week!

[cultofdionysusnet]

Thrill of the Hunt - Masterlist

Art assembly by @anyamaris, contributed by all the staff

Introducing! The Fae Realms

The Fae Realms beauty is divided into three kingdoms: the gracious Day Court, Latha, with its long mountainous range, the curious Dusk Court, Ciaradh, containing valleys and cities, and finally, the dangerous Night Court, Oidhche, stretching into marshes and fields.

The inhabitants will never lie to you, simply spruce themselves up a bit, and please leave all iron belongings at home when visiting. The Fae Realms also can boast of time moving differently than in the mortal realm, so please leave us a five-star review on the added benefits of visiting our lovely lands. *

Enjoy our attractions such as The Wild Hunt!

Looking for an exhilarating and once-in-a-lifetime experience? The Fae Realms offer a thrilling adventure full of heart-pumping and blood-chilling moments. Race through a forest, a meadow, anywhere your heart desires as a Fae pursues you tirelessly. There is no end to the chase…unless you want to be caught**. Because here in the Fae Realms, we have a motto: we hope you never leave! Because you won't be able to.

Imprinting: written by @mint-yooxgi

The most important mark a Fae can bestow upon another is that of an imprint. Consisting of a simple bite mark, usually located in and/or around the neck area, the mark designates a special connection between the one who is bitten and the biter. These bonds can be either platonic or romantic, but always depend on an intense emotion from the giving Fae. Once bonded, the mark symbolizes to others that one or more bearing such markings should not be touched by other Fae, for they are under the ‘protection’ of the Fae that has done the marking. Once given, the mark cannot be undone unless another with much stronger emotions comes along to reclaim the mark bearer, and negates the original bond. As such, we have a variety of imprints, ranging from best friends, to former lovers, to even those who enjoy claiming what’s theirs! Hopefully you don’t get stuck with one of those ones…

Here's a list of our Sponsors!

Jan.1: @anyamaris (Once upon a Crimson Moon) Yeosang, Ateez Jan.2: @strawberryya (The Art of Seduction) Yunho, Ateez Jan.3: @biaswreckingfics (Merry Dancer) Beomgyu, Txt Jan.5: @flurrys-creativity (Enypnion) Changbin, Stray Kids/ Yeonjun, Txt Jan.6: @mint-yooxgi (Fight or Flight) Ateez, Mingi Jan.7: @wooyoungqueen (Until the Edge of Dawn) Stray Kids I.N/ Ateez, Wooyoung & @sanjoongie (Honey Lies and a Sweet Bite) Stray Kids, Hyunjin/ Ateez, San Jan.8: Anya (The Games We Play) Stray Kids Felix Jan.9: Nea (Too pure for heaven but fallen nonetheless) Txt, Taehyun Jan.10: @kpop-stories-21 (Better than Before) Txt, Soobin & (Stains of Crimson) Ateez, Jongho Later Dates: Flurry (Panacea) Stray Kids- Bang Chan, Jisung and Seungmin

*Any and all humans who cross into the fae realm are subject to torture, dismemberment, etc etc, we have something for everyone!

**The fae of this realm are not liable for any damages, emotional or otherwise once you cross over!

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

Splatoon 3 Version 6.0 Patch Notes Breakdown

Been a little bit since I did one of these, but Nintendo released the Chill Season 2023 patch notes about three hour ago, and while in terms of balance changes this is one of the smallest patches ever, it's got a ton of quality-of-life changes, so let's dig in, shall we?

So let's start from the top. In terms of new content, this patch includes a new catalog, two new stages (Robo ROM-en and Bluefin Depot), two new Specials (Splattercolor Screen and Triple Splashdown), nine new weapons, two new multiplayer songs, the new King Salmonid Megalodontia, and eleven new Tableturf cards.

Additionally, you'll note that they're including a line about giving you one Sheldon License at the end of each season. This is actually really relevant to a change coming down in line, so tuck that in the back of your mind for later.

The balance changes are all buffs, but they're relatively minor, and only six Main weapons and one Special are seeing any changes this time around.

Starting off, .96 Gal is having its ink efficiency buffed by 8%. It currently gets 40 shots on a full ink tank, so I wager this increases that number by about 5-10, but it's 5 AM my time at time of writing and I am bad at math, so I don't know for sure.

Ranged Blaster's explosions get a 15% paint buff. Note that this applies only to the final explosion and not the trail, so it's not a straight 15% paint buff.

Dread Wringer gets a 10% ink efficiency buff, and since it currently has ten sloshes on a full tank, that increases that number to eleven.

And finally, for Main Weapon changes the Heavy Edit Splatling now paints more. Unlike the Ranged Blaster's paint buff this is a lot harder to gauge, but Heavy Edit's paint can be kind of spotty and inefficient, so this is undoubtedly a good thing for it.

After that, we've got only two points-for-Special changes.

Jet Squelcher and L-3 Nozzlenose both get some points shaved off their Specials, taking their Ink Vac and Crab Tank to 180p and 190p respectively. On one hand, I am biased and hate the Jet Squelcher, and I think this buff was completely unwarranted and unnecessary, but on the other hand I love the L-3 and want only good things in life for it, so they balance each other out, in my book.

And, for the final balance change of the entire patch, we've got a Reefslider buff, as it now makes you invulnerable during its startup 13 frames faster. The thing about this change is that like, it's a buff, and that is good, but the problem Reefslider has is not getting the Special off, it's that you very rarely survive the aftermath of using it, and this does nothing to solve that. With Triple Splashdown on the horizon I think things might be rough for this Special in the future.

And that's all of the balance changes! There being so few of them indicate two things to me: That Nintendo is overall happy with the the state of the game, and that they are wary of touching anything unless they have to. And one hand I get it, after all, competitive players are currently saying that there really isn't a meta at the moment, just picking weapons you're good at and playing well, and that's probably not an environment you want to shake up too much. But on the other hand, there are a lot of things like Line Marker, Undercover Brella, and Reefslider to name a few, that could really do with some sprucing up to help them keep up with the just the middle of the pack. I think raising the bottom bar a bit higher would be to everyone's benefit.

But we've got two Specials being added, so I suppose now's not the time to rock the boat too much. We'll see how things have shaken out come the mid-season patch in January.

But the balance changes are a very small part of these patch notes, and nowhere near the most interesting, so let's keep moving on.

Anarchy Series and X Battles are receiving a whole slew of changes, the most prominent of which are some new badge rewards for win streaks and attaining high X Rankings. Additionally, matchmaking in X Battles is being changed to more strictly separate people with high and low X Ranks, as well as allowing more team compositions. To cut a long story short, weapons have a set of internal values that the game uses during matchmaking to try and balance the team compositions. Matchmaking in high-power X Rank infamously takes a very long time, so I have to imagine that this change aims to speed things up by making the matchmaking more lenient on that front.

Salmon Run, in addition to the new King Salmonid, is getting some significant changes, starting with some changes to the Specials:

Kraken Royale and Triple Splashdown are being added to the pool of available Specials. Additionally, Mr. Grizz has finally agreed to always provide at least two workers on every team with a long-range Special to handle all the pesky Stingers and Flyfish. Be sure to thank your local union representative the next chance you get.

This change is particularly spicy. Your Salmon Run stage badges will now boost your starting difficulty on their respective stages, adding more incentive to play beyond the two superbonuses, as well as making the grind for future badges easier. This certainly gives me more motivation to go for those VP 400+ badges.

You'll now be able to tell what King Salmonid is present during each Shift, and the Salmometer will change to match it, as well. Can you believe they didn't change that when they added Horrorboros?

Also I am curious what this means for those Shifts where the King Salmonid was random. Will the Salmometer become a question mark? Are they not gonna do those anymore? We'll have to wait and see.

But this next change, is a big one, and it's for, what else, Big Run:

Big Run trophy requirements will now be set in advance, and no longer scale off top 50%, 20% and 5% player results.

I am in two minds about this change. On one hand, I always thought that people complaining about overfishers in Big Run were kind of petulant and entitled, especially when the rewards were as minor as locker decorations and badges. Maybe that's mean-spirited of me, but there was never a way for me to read it as anything but people demanding to be given the same reward as the people working the hardest without putting in the effort themselves.

But on the other hand, the 5% cutoff has been steadily rising as overall Big Run participation decreased, which is just a natural result of time passing and casual players falling off the game, nothing weird there, but this means that the top becomes more stacked, further disincentivizing casual players as getting even the bronze trophies becomes harder and harder for them. Giving the players much clearer and more achievable goals will likely serve to pull a lot of people back into Big Runs, and that is undoubtedly a good thing.

And hey, I said the rewards weren't worth getting upset over, and by that same metric, I don't think it's worth getting upset over more people getting them, either. All the better, if it makes more folks happy. And as for the people who do want to grind their hearts out, well:

There's still some recognition for that, too.

So that's the gist of the Salmon Run changes, so let's finish up with some miscellaneous changes.

Remember how I told you to keep that bonus Sheldon's License in mind for later?

Players who own every currently available weapon will now be able to trade extra licenses in for Shell-Out Tokens. In other words, that extra license serves as a failsafe so you don't lock yourself out of buying future weapons by spending all your licenses on gacha rolls.

The Splatfest Battle Pro queue is receiving the same matchmaking changes as X, presumably for much the same reasons.

And finally, the most important change of all:

WANDERCRUST IS BACK!!! YEAH BABY!!!! WOO!!!

[keystonepublishing]

We Have Eldritch Horror at Home by WinterEnchantress

Have you ever embarked on a new project and thought, "well, this shall be easy-peasy!". But then you start to think about sprucing up the text and placing thematic imagery and two weeks later you are screaming, "OH MY LORD WHAT AM I GETTING MYSELF INTO."

Hi there. It's me.

After my previous original fiction binds, I wanted to dip back into fandom via a small bookbind and this fic has been on my list for quite some time now: We Have Eldritch Horror at Home by WinterEnchantress. I genuinely tried to dial down on my experimentation on this project - I initially wanted to wrap the covers in my usual wrapping paper, but then decided "NAH. WINGS WINGS WINGS!!!"

As is my style, I decided to use marbled and patterned designs as endpapers and story/information dividers. I also continued the use of images to set the mood and tone at the beginning and end of the fic. Since the front and back covers are practically bedecked with wings, I decided to experiment: can I place a title strip across an endpaper and make it look good?

Turns out, yeah!

The wings are some of the harder parts to place. Given the rise and fall of the story's moods, and the few chapters that are interludes from different perspectives, I decided to go for different wing designs according to perspective shifts.

The wing images are nabbed from Google and layered over one another to give more impact. Most of the fic deals with Jimmy and others' reactions to him, so such chapters have wings that look like paint strokes. Chapters that have Grian as the main perspective have wing designs with more detail.

The last chapter was special as it deals with self-acceptance, and so I wanted to show that in full by going for a double-page spread of Jimmy's wings. I want to make them look like they're coming out from his back and shoulder blades - if you look at that section from afar, it almost looks like so!

This fic also marks the first time I did any typesetting of eldritch Zalgo text! I want to heighten the sense of awe whenever they were used in-fic, so I purposefully enlarged, colored, and overlapped Zalgo words to convey the 'eldritch-ness' of speech. Meanwhile, the opposite pages have less dialogue and more empty space to balance the effect.

Think of it as having the listeners having room to breathe in awe after seeing and hearing those words.

And as previous binds, I added a comments and notes section to preserve reader reactions and discussions to this fic. Some of them are interesting to read in their own right and the reactions overall paint a good picture of the how people enjoyed and thought about the fic, the author, and the Solidaritek pairing.

All in all, this work took me a surprising amount of time! Almost a month! And I have to say it isn't my better works - despite my liking for the typesetting, chapter headings, and imagery, I also did not center the spine-title enough and the covers are actually quite blotchy and sticky from improper application of varnish. But as it is, I still enjoyed the overall process.

[sorchathered]

Sacred New Beginnings- Chapter 7

A/N- we have a new header photo! Since the story has progressed into mainly Jake and Stormy’s relationship it seemed like it was time. This one is a little short and super angsty, don’t kill me!

Y’all send me some feedback after this chapter. I want to know what you’d like to see happen next!

Pairing- Jake Seresin x reader (OC Stormy)

Song inspo- “never let me go”- Florence and the Machine, “ if you need to, keep time on me”- Fleet Foxes

Summary-Stormy is on her first deployment with her new squad, missing their 6 month anniversary and gearing up for a hell of a mission.

Warnings- language, violence, injuries (it’s an angsty one guys)

The lumpy twin bed on the aircraft carrier didn’t do much in the way of comfort, but damnit you’d been having the best dream. You and Jake at some seaside restaurant, slow dancing and toasting to your anniversary. It had felt so real, when you’d startled awake by your alarm you could almost feel his warm embrace, tears welling up in your eyes as you came back to reality. You were in the middle of the Atlantic, nowhere near San Diego, and today you and Jake had been together 6 months.

You’d gotten your deployment papers and shipped out almost a month ago, infrequent emails and the occasional phone call all you had to hold on to, along with a handful of letters and photos Jake had printed for you to decorate your bunk to spruce up the empty space you’d call home for the next 2 months. Long distance had been hard, but being deployed without him was a whole other level of pain. For years you’d worked together as pilot and WSO, enduring the shitty conditions and battling the homesickness as a team, doing this alone with a brand new team was a choice you’d make all over again but the loneliness stung no matter how you sliced it. Startled by a sharp knock to the cabin door you threw the covers back and called out for them to wait. It was Viper, your front seater who had become a damn good friend the past few months of integrating with your new team. He and his husband had welcomed you with open arms, game nights at their home and family dinners on Sundays were infamous in your squad, you truly did love this group of misfits despite missing the Daggers something fierce.

Flinging the door open to his smiling face you felt a little lighter, “Come on kid, let’s get some breakfast in you, we’ve got a hell of a day ahead of us! You can dream about your golden boy later!” He let out a cackle as your cheeks tinged in embarrassment and patted you on the head, ushering you both towards the mess hall in preparation for another long and tedious day of maneuvers.

—————————————————————-

On the opposite coast Jake is feeling much of the same, he had complete faith the two of you could weather any storm but the longing he felt without you took his breath away sometimes. He’d never loved anyone like this before, and he’d certainly never been the one waiting for his loved one to come back from deployment. How did spouses do this every day? Just sending the ones they love off to far away places for months at a time and praying to whatever deity existed that they’d come home safely, it was a selfless burden he’d never take for granted again. He checked his email as he inhaled his breakfast, seeing an email and photo attachment from you and he nearly tripped over himself to open the message. There you were, half unzipped flight suit with your cleavage on display, blowing a kiss into the camera just for him. But it was the message itself that sent him over the edge, you explaining in graphic detail all the ways you wanted him to take you apart when you were re-united, how much you loved him and couldn’t wait to be back in his arms. He was the luckiest bastard on earth, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. He held his phone up, took a selfie of his shirtless form and messy bed head, sending you kisses from across the world and typing out a quick reply. “Just a little longer Stormy, it’s you and me baby we can do anything, you’re my moon and stars baby girl I love you. Kick ass today, and thank you for the best 6 months of my life. Love, Jake.”

——————————————————————

The day which started relatively normal, went to shit almost instantly. The mission had to be moved up, enemies were in the area; pirates hired by a foreign nation to carry out a terrorist attack against the very vessel you were sailing on. Your COC wanted a team in the air within the hour to take them down and it left everyone scrambling to throw together a plan and get to their aircrafts. You’d had a bad feeling gnawing at you from the moment they described the plan of attack; two much could go wrong and there wasn’t enough information about the kind of weaponry the enemy had trained on them. Viper gave you a pointed look to keep it to yourself, he didn’t feel good about it either but time wasn’t on anyone’s side today, better to keep your head down and do whatever was needed to survive.

It was a shitstorm, between the enemy aircraft on everyone’s backs their warship seemed to have a never ending supply of missiles, raining down explosives from every direction. It was a dogfight no one had expected and with what was truly a miracle you all made it out alive, barreling across the sky back to the carrier. As you all made your descent warning lights began to appear on your radar, something was coming in hot and it was headed for the ship. You were calling out coordinates while everyone rallied into a formation to see if they could take it out, but it was too late; it had been a diversion. Heat seeking missles were drawing in from another round of jets, and it was either take out the jets or risk everyone on the carrier. Just as Viper began to howl in victory over his first air to air kill, an explosion landed on your left side, taking out the wing and sending you both plummeting. You could barely hear yourself screaming to eject, heartbeat roaring in your ears, your last thought before being flung from your fa/18 was of Jake.

—————————————————————-

It had been a boring day filled with lectures and Jake couldn’t be more happy to get the hell out of the school house, a beer and sports highlights were calling his name. He’d made it halfway through the lot before he heard someone calling his name, more like screaming it as they hurdled towards him through the parking lot. It was Cyclone’s assistant, gasping for air as she told him he was needed immediately in the admiral’s office, it was an emergency. He felt his heart sink, the only reason your godfather would need him for an emergency was you, and he took off towards the building as fast as his body would carry him. Flinging the office door open was unprofessional but he couldn’t be bothered to give a shit, he knew something was wrong and when he crossed the threshold Beau Simpson’s normally callous demeanor was gone, tears in his eyes as he looked up at Jake.

“What?!” He gasped, “Don’t sugar coat it Sir, just tell me, where is she?” Jake was shaking uncontrollably now, if you were gone it would be the end of him.

“She’s alive, but her injuries are severe. She’s being transported to Walter Reed as we speak, and you and I are heading there as soon as possible. She’s been placed in a medically induced coma.”

Jake’s knees hit the floor, and the tears began.

Jake Seresin Masterlist

Tagging- @attapullman @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @bobgasm @pinkdaisies9285 @djs8891 @jessicab1991 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @nouis-bum @roosterforme @jostan456 @kmc1989 @dempy @its-the-pilot @86laura11 @mrsevans90 @shanimallina87 @floydsglasses @mygyn @dizzybee03

[mamaestapa]

getting a Christmas tree w Jamie!

Christmas Tree Farm|| Jamie Drysdale x reader

•pairing: Jamie Drysdale x reader

•summary: You and Jamie get a real Christmas tree and a sweet surprise from Trevor

•warnings: pregnancy, some language, trevor makes an appearance, lots of fluff

“Are you feeling OK?” Jamie asked from beside you as the two of you walked down the trail lined with an assortment of trees.

You looked up at your boyfriend with a smile, “I’m all good J.” He furrowed his brows, placing a hand on the small of your back, “You sure? Because if not we can always-.”

“Jamie,” you laughed, cutting off his rambling, “baby, I’m fine.” You grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he laced his fingers with yours. “Now let’s go get our tree because Trevor is waiting for us at home, and you know how he’ll be if we’re even a minute late.”

Jamie chuckled at your words, nodding in agreement as the two of you continued down the trail. Today, you and Jamie went out to a little family owned Christmas tree farm to find your Christmas tree for this year. Since you moved out to California last season to live with Jamie and his best friend Trevor in Anaheim, the three of you started the tradition of buying a real Christmas tree. Trevor had bought a fake one when he and Jamie first stared living together, but once you moved in and insisted on getting a better tree, the two hockey players decided getting a real tree was the way to go.

Last year the three of you went to the farm to find a tree, but this year, it was just you and Jamie picking out the tree together. Trevor decided to stay back and clean the apartment a little bit to prepare for the tree, and get out some of the other Christmas decorations you three have accumulated over the last few years.

You and Jamie walked hand in hand through the trail of trees, pointing out to each other the ones that caught your eye the most.

“What about this one?” You asked, pointing at the tall white spruce tree to your left. Jamie smiled softly at you before he looked at the tree. “I love that one,” his smile turned to a frown, “but I think it’s too tall, sorry sweetheart.”

You shook your head, “It’s alright. We’ll keep looking.” Jamie smiled softly at you as he squeezed your hand.

The two of you continued walking for a bit until you both stopped at the same time in front of a tree. It was the same type of tree from before, but this one was a little shorter and a bit fuller than the last one—perfect for the size of your apartment.

“Look at this one,” Jamie said as he pointed at the tree you were already eyeing, “you like it?”

“I love it.”

Jamie smiled at the look of awe on your face. He loved to see how your face lit up when you found the perfect tree. Jamie took his hand away from yours, wrapping it around your body instead. He pulled you into his side, squeezing you gently when you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“Then it’s our tree, baby.”

About twenty minutes later, you and Jamie were pulling out of the tree farm with your tree secure to the top to the car, and headed off to your apartment to start decorating with Trevor. You arrived at the apartment about fifteen later, you and Jamie both laughed as you pulled into the parking spot. Trevor was out on the rooftop, trying to put up some lights. Jamie turned the car off and got out, yelling up at his best friend.

“How’s it goin’ up there bud?”

Trevor dropped the strand of lights with a dramatic sigh, “I’m so glad you’re back dude,” he picked up the lights and threw them back down. “These piece of shit lights are impossible to hang.”

You got out of the car and stood next to your boyfriend. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips as you looked up at a distraught and slightly agitated Trevor.

“Why don’t you come down and help Jimmy with the tree, Trev? He refuses to let me help carry it.” You suggest, to which Trevor responded with a nod, “Yes ma’am,” he pointed at you sternly, “Hey, even I refuse to let you carry it.”

“Thank you.” Jamie said happily as he looked up at his best friend who was getting ready to come off the rooftop.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you shook your head slightly at the two hockey players. In a matter of seconds, Trevor was now standing out front with you and Jamie. He gave you a hug as you thanked him for helping. You went inside the apartment as Trevor and Jamie maneuvered the mid sized Christmas tree through the front door. They brought it over to the corner of the living room where the red, plaid tree skirt was already placed. Grunting slightly, the two set the tree down into the holder and let go once it was secured.

“Whew,” Trevor breathed out as he put his hands on his hips, “little heavy, but it’s a pretty tree.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, “I thought so too.” You looked over at Jamie as you added, “perfect for our apartment.”

The two boys smiled at you. It was perfect for the apartment.

Once all the ornaments and lights were out of the boxes Trevor had gotten out from the storage closet, the three of you started to decorate the tree. You and Jamie strung the white lights around the tree as Trevor sorted through the ornaments, making sure to pick out the best ones.

“Trevor,” you sighed, picking up the ornament in the box he had handed you, “I am not putting this up on the tree.” You shook your head disapprovingly at your best friend as you held up the pickle ornament shaped like a man’s most intimate feature.

Trevor chuckled as he looked at the ornament, “Awe why not? You don’t want Dickle on the tree this year?”

“Dickle?” Jamie asked with raised eyebrows as he poked his head out from the back of the tree. “Yeah,” Trevor laughed, pointing at the ornament you were still holding, “come on Y/n, don’t you think it’s a little funny?”

You cocked your head to the side and just looked at Trevor with an unamused look. He looked at you with wide eyes and a look that read “come on.” You looked down at the ornament, a smile appearing on your face and a snicker leaving your mouth as you noticed the smile painted on the surface.

“Fine, it is a little funny.” You admitted as your laughter continued, “but we’re not putting it on the tree.”

Trevor sighed, “Fine, fine.” He turned around and leaned down to pick up another ornament. He walked closer to you, holding his hand out and wiggling his fingers at Jamie as he said, “Come here Jimmy.”

Trevor held the ornament out to the two of you, a small smile on his face as he said, “How about this one?”

You gasped as you looked at the ornament Trevor was showing you. Tears pricked at your eyes as they scanned over the words and the black and white picture in the middle. Jamie’s expression matched yours as he looked at the ornament.

“Trevor,” you cooed, your bottom lip pushing out slightly, “this is adorable. How did you get this?” He shrugged, smiling sheepishly, “I have my ways.”

Jamie shook his head, the smile never leaving his face as he flung himself at Trevor, hugging his best friend tightly.

“Thank you Z.” He mumbled sincerely into his friends neck. Trevor smacked Jamie’s back lovingly as he replied, “You’re welcome, bud. I love you guys.”

“We love you too Trev.” You said wholeheartedly as you too wrapped your arms around the blonde. You and Jamie pulled away from him, Jamie taking the ornament from his best friend with a wide grin on his face. The two of you walked over to the tree, hanging up the ornament in the middle of the tree under your initials.

“Perfect.” Jamie said as he stepped back and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His hands traveled to your middle, resting on the small bump that was beginning to form. He stroked your swollen tummy with his thumb as the two of you stared at the ornament in awe.

Baby Drysdale 2024 was written on it in red cursive letters, while your most recent ultrasound picture of your sixteen weeks baby was in the middle of the ornament.

“I love you Jamie.” you sighed contently, as you placed your hands over his. He pressed a loving kiss to your temple before wholeheartedly replying. “I love you too, both of you.”

hi loves!!

some dad jamie because i couldn’t hold back. he’d be such a cute dad🥹

hope all of my jamie girls enjoyed this cute little holiday blurb. i thought it was sweet :) i’ll be posting a couple more throughout the night! i’ve gotten some really sweet requests for him, luke & jack, and joe burrow. so stay tuned!

thank you for all of the love and support. i love you all!😚🤍

[honeybunny-sawamura]

Title: Under the Christmas Tree Pairing: Daichi Sawamura x Fem! Reader Genre: Fluff (PG) Synopsis: Just a lil birthday fic for Daichi. Gets a lil heated but nothing too sexy. Domesticated fluffs Warnings: time skip, established relationship: married with children, holiday season: leaning more towards Christmas, intimacy, Word Count: 900+ Unbeta'd: hope it's alright OxO A/N: it's been FOREVERRRRRRRR since i wrote. but i can't be skipping my love's birthday. so here's something lovely and short for my favorite captain.

“Oh? I didn’t realize there's one more present that needed to be unwrapped.”

Daichi’s chocolate brown eyes move away from the kaleidoscope of lights, tinsels, and pine needles to see you grinning down at him with eyebrows wiggling in a playful tease. His lips turn up to match yours in his own toothy grin and lifts a hand to beckon you with his forefinger.

“You’ll get to unwrap me a little later. For now, come join me under here,”

You don’t hesitate to lay under the tree with your husband; shimmying closer to him so you’re both shoulder to shoulder as you two admire the Christmas tree in a different perspective. Originally, it had been your idea: finding comfort in the prismatic view of the decorated pine after sprucing up the house for the holiday seasons. The sight was mesmerizing and it had Daichi finding you and your two sons cuddling under said tree. Soon, it just became a thing in the the Sawamura household: spending time laying around the tree, talking, giggling, wishing, and basking in the holiday magic.

“The boys are gonna be sad when we gotta get rid of it,” you say. You hear Daichi sigh next to you and you tilt your head so you can gently bump it with his.

“I know, but it’s already starting to lose it’s green color and without the presents, you can find so many needles that’s fallen,”

“Mmm, I’m pretty sure one’s poking my ear right now,”

You two stay silent for a while; just looking up into the tree and listening to the soft music that’s playing on the TV. It's comforting, matching the soft quietness of a snowy night. Daichi slips his hands into yours, intertwining fingers, and then brings it up to brush his lips to the back of your hand.

“Thank you, for the scarf you knit for me. It’s hard to tell that you’ve never done it before. I’m over the moon that you chose your first knitting project for my birthday,” He turns his head to look at you, lights making his eyes glitter and shine, and a smile that has your heart fluttering like when you had your very first date with him. You shake your head in modesty but you smile along with him.

“It’s got some loose sections and the volleyball looks wonky but that green has always been your color,”

“Honey, it’s perfect. I’m wearing it everyday until summer comes. And I thought you said dark blue was my color,”

“Dark blue and green. And Daichi please, you’ll get hot under it in the springtime… You’ll wear it to work too?”

“Of course! I want you to wrap it around me before I get out the door,” Daichi huffs earnestly that it makes you giggle. You turn on your side so you can face him and your husband mirrors you.

“I already put on your tie in the morning. Soon, you’re gonna be asking me to dress you!” you poke at him teasingly, no real heat to your words. You love being in charge of picking his tie and getting it on him. The intimacy it gives you just before he leaves you for the day was something you wouldn’t trade the world for. His loving stare, the rise and fall of his chest, his hands that are sometimes on your waist or tucking a strand of hair away from your face; it was a moment just for you and him.

Daichi’s chuckle breaks you from that sliver of daydreaming, warmth rising to your face when you see the way his eyes darken a little and he shuffles closer to you.

“You have no problem UNdressing me though, so what’s wrong with dressing me in the morning” he taunts then laughs when you squeak out his name. Daichi chortles out apologies as you mock-scold him about saying lewd things aloud with children in the house even though said kids were tucked away in bed for the night.

“Weren’t you the one saying you needed to unwrap me, hmm?” Daichi counters as he untangles his hand from yours so he can set it on your hip then have it follow the curve of your thigh. Sparks ignite in your core as you watch the way his pupils bloom to have his eyes go darker and you swear you can feel the heat your husband gives out get hotter. You place a hand on his chest to try and confirm this but you get distracted by the eager thumps of his heart. This time, his name comes out of you like a temptation. Daichi licks his lips and your eyes follow your tongue before you confess,

“I have another birthday present for you, honey. Though it’s best we have you unwrap it in the bedroom,”

You both get eager grins on your face and Daichi quickly steals a kiss from you that earns him an elated squeal from you. Just as he’s quick to kiss you, he’s quick to get up from under the Christmas tree and tug you up too. You feel giddy at his eager mood with butterflies dancing in your chest and tummy. Like naughty teenagers, you and Daichi hush giggles behind free hands while scurrying over to your shared bedroom. All lights are turned off except for those on the Christmas tree; winking and twinkling for a special birthday and the new year to come.

Tagging some moots who I think would like this too: @tsumtsumland @vs-redemption @ceo-of-daichi @belladonnafleur @undersero @kingdaddydaichi @toonpai @vexx97

[abibliophobiaa]

Begin Again: Chapter Two

Summary: The year is 1988. After the loss of a beloved family member, you find yourself inheriting an old coffee shop. The quiet bartender at the Hideout across the street just so happens to catch your eye.

(18k+ words; eddie munson x afab!reader; sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie vibes)

Warnings: Vignette style (sorta); Eddie’s post S4 trauma; panic attacks; nightmares; family member loss; grief; alcohol use; mild smut in later chapters so 18+; additional warnings to be added.

(AO3 Link) || Master List || PREVIOUS CH | NEXT CHAPTER

*

  Summer, 1988

  *

  Before long, spring bleeds into a balmy summer and the Fourth of July inches closer. 

While spring brought along with it new opportunities, new friendships, and new beginnings, you’re excited for warmer weather. 

Excited for colorful dresses, walks around the town, smelling the freshly cut bouquets at the florist next door, ice cream cones that melt between your fingers, and watching the sunset from your apartment windows. 

You wake with the sunrise on the third, spine cracking as you lift your arms up over your head to stretch the soreness from your limbs. 

Your alarm clock blares bright neon in the early morning sunrise, reading 4:30 where it rests on the pile of books you placed next to your bed as a makeshift side table until you can purchase new furniture and really spruce up the apartment. 

With a sigh, you slap a hand along the alarm clock and start your day. You tug on a pair of jeans, don a summery top with flowy sleeves, and drape your apron over your hips. The lights flicker on in the shop and the place illuminates, ready for a new day. 

You prep the coffee pots and turn on all the machines. Croissants are prepared and placed in the oven, along with various other treats, and you wipe down the surfaces of each table accordingly. 

The sign hanging in the window flips from ‘closed’ to ‘open’ and you assume your routine. 

Every day just like the one that came before. 

But there’s a comfort in it. An ease in which you live your new life here in Hawkins. 

It’s familiar and it’s constant, with little diversion. 

That is, until the girls start their shifts and probe you about plans for the weekend. Apparently one of their friends is planning on hosting a barbecue for the holiday with a small group of their closest companions.

And it seems they’ve invited you.

Max crosses her arms over her chest, one of her braids dancing over her shoulder as she does so. “You never get out of the shop.”

“Because I own the shop,” you remind her. 

El hands a cup of coffee to a customer and glances over to where you and Max are presently cleaning up a coffee spill. 

“It’s a holiday, just come ,” Max says. 

“I don’t even know your friend!” The exasperation in your tone rises, the mop in your hand trailing more water along the floor. 

“He’s your age, so is Robin, and we’ll be there. What’s more to know?” Max reaches down to lay a few towels onto the mess you’ve made, adding, “Plus, they are customers. I’m sure you’ve actually met them before.”

You're considering it. You’re actually considering going. “And he’s going to be just fine with me coming over to his place?” 

Max nods. “His parents are never home, so we basically have the whole place to ourselves for the day. Just come.”

“Please…come,” El says, slipping out from behind the counter. “You’ll make friends. Actual friends.”

Your brow arches at that one. “As opposed to?” El slinks backward, giving you a tight smile. 

“Your customers are not your friends,” Max says. “Well, they are. But these could be real ones. Come on. You’ve been in Hawkins for months and I don’t think I’ve seen you go anywhere even once.”

“I go places!” you reply hotly, your skin burning aflame in embarrassment. 

The Hideout, but they don’t know about it. 

“Okay, fine, so I don’t go places. I spend my afternoons in my apartment.”

“So you’ll come?” Both girls look at you expectantly. 

“Fine!”

  *

  Three months. 

Maybe more. He can’t remember the number anymore. 

The amount of time that has passed since you moved into town and effectively uprooted his life. 

His normalcy. 

Before that, it’s been easy to keep people at arms length—to stay far enough away that they don’t ask questions. 

Most people do tend to stay far away. 

No one wants to be associated with the Freak, the murderer, the man who made a deal with the devil. 

It didn’t matter then when they abolished his name from the news and he was cleared as a free man, and it certainly doesn’t matter now; people still look at him with disdain, whisper when he passes, step away from him when he gets too close in the supermarket. 

He knows, though, there’s something about you that draws him to you. 

Magnetic, you’re magnetic. That’s what it is, this feeling, this tug.

He hasn’t felt that way in a long time. This pull to another human outside of his core group (The Party), this desire to want to open up. 

It’s coupled with fear but the urge is there. 

It hasn’t been in a long, long time. 

Before that, it’s two years. 

Two years since the events of the Upside Down. 

Two years since Chrissy died in his damn trailer home. Two years since he watched her bones break like twigs against his ceiling. Two years since he found out monsters lurked beneath Hawkins. 

Two years since he watched Max fear for her life every day before that day. Two years since he became forever bound to The Party. 

It’s been two years since he heard Dustin’s screams rattle his bones as he cut that rope. 

Two years since he felt the first rip of his own flesh as those mouths full of teeth cut into his skin. Two years since he felt them attack from every angle. Two years since he laid there in hell on earth and pleaded that he’d just die. 

Two years since he felt that blinding, agonizing pain as he shook in Dustin’s arms, taking what he thought were his last breaths. 

Two years since he said goodbye.

Two years since he thought he had died. 

Two years since he wished he had.  

Two years since he woke up in that damn bed, and was poked and prodded by an endless team of doctors with wires sticking out every which way from his body. Since they tried to salvage what they could of his shredded skin. 

It’s been two years, but when he closes his eyes…it’s as if it’s only been two minutes. 

It’s why he doesn’t let anyone close. 

The last time he did so, it set into motion the week that changed everything. 

  *

  You’re not sure what to expect as you get out of your car. But what you definitely don’t expect is the large expanse of property and the gorgeous home that stands there surrounded by endless green lawn on that bright summer day. 

It looms in front of you, intimidating in nature, and not only due to the size. On the patio outside is a group of people awaiting your arrival, a group of which you haven’t met all of. 

Tray of cookies in hand, you start the slow shuffle to the side entrance where Max and El told you you were to enter by. Luckily, the fence already sits open, and the sound of chatter immediately greets your ears, mixing in with the sound of the radio spilling from a speaker and someone jumping into the pool. 

You can smell the food cooking before you see it on the grill. Steve Harrington stands in the distance waving a spatula around as he talks. You recognize Robin next, with her short hair and glowing smile. The girls are in the pool with Will, Mike, Dustin and Lucas. You know the latter portion of the group that is not currently employed by you because they frequently spent time at Sunshine Coffee, trying to get a glimpse of their friends while doing homework together. 

The most surprising, however, of all the guests at the barbecue is none other than Eddie Munson. 

He sits in a lounge chair nearest to the pool, a cigarette between his lips, his bare arms on display for the first time ever , with his hair back in another one of his low hanging ponytails. You notice first the dark ink sprawling along his arms. Some newer than the others, judging by what you know of tattoos. Your eyes catch on the scar you can still see on his left bicep, like a little sun on his skin mixed in with a swirling array of black and gray that shifts and moves as he does. Seemingly aware of the kids now waving to you in earnest, he shifts his head over his shoulder, and though his gaze is obstructed by sunglasses, you can tell he’s surprised you're there. 

I’m surprised too, you think, suddenly uncertain of where to stand, what to do, what to say. You fidget on the spot with a hand curling in your dress, tempering the urge to flee. It’s what you might normally do in a moment like this, what you’ve done long before moving to Hawkins was ever set into motion. 

There isn’t much time to think, however, before Robin’s rushing over to your side and offering to help you with your things. She’s kind and pleasant—surprisingly so. She even goes so far as to give you a tour around the Harrington home, making you aware of where you can use the bathroom, get a new drink from the fridge, or a snack from the pantry. Not that you’ll need it with all the food cooking, but you’re appreciative all the same. 

Once back outside, Steve greets you shockingly enough with a warm hug. Says he’s happy you finally showed up, as though he’s been waiting all day, and tells you food will be done in a few minutes. 

It gives you a moment to get accustomed to your surroundings. Robin remains the perfect host at your side, prattling on about what she’s doing for college. She’s heavily intent on becoming a music teacher, and studying at the local community college. When she asks if you’ve ever thought about schooling, you mutter that you’ve never really thought to try. 

Going to college meant staying in one place for a long period of time, and thus it’s never been a thought in your mind. Maybe in another life, another time, when you felt like you were ready to settle. 

But now…no. 

Now you’re content with your coffee shop, with training up the girls to do all the tasks you need to keep it afloat, and deciding how you feel about Hawkins later down the line. 

She pulls you along beside her to plop down in the lounge chair across from Eddie, her foot kicking against Eddie’s ankle to draw his attention. 

“You’ve met Eddie, haven’t you?” Robin asks, and your eyes shift to his face. It’s hard to see what he’s thinking behind those sunglasses, a mask settled across his features. 

“We’ve met,” Eddie says softly, tipping his head down towards you. 

“Hi, Eddie.” You wave his way and Robin glances between the two of you awkwardly, hands on her knees. 

“Well, there’s the pool obviously, Steve has karaoke for later if we want to do any, you know where the snacks and drinks are, and, uh, food will be ready soon,” she announces, standing tall to her feet. “I’ll leave you both to it, then! Enjoy!”

It’s…well, it’s silent. And though that’s not entirely unusual for Eddie, it’s still striking to you at the moment. His arms rest on either rest, body slouching into the chair. 

“You took the day off?” You practically wince at the small talk, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind in the endless silence that settles between you. 

“Was going to work, but Steve is big on his family get-togethers,” he tells you, taking a sip of his beer. 

So the fact you’re here makes your heart warm. 

“I…uhm, I’m glad you’re here,” you say, turning your head slightly to catch his profile. He’s looking out into the pool, mouth a thin line. You let out a slow breath. “I didn’t know you’d be here, but it’s always nice to see you.” 

He’s quiet. So quiet. 

You get the impression the sentiment isn’t returned. 

You try to not let it sour your mood. “Well, uh, I’m going to see if Robin needs any help. Want me to grab you anything?” You rise to your feet, hands swiping along your dress. “A water? Beer?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” he says, and you catch the faintest curl of his lips. 

Okay then , you think, and march off.  

  *

  You show up to the party in a summer dress. 

Of course you do. 

It’s yellow with all these little flowers all over it. Bright, just like the summer day. 

Suiting for you. 

You, who quite literally radiates the sun, even on the gloomiest of days. 

He remembers the night you slipped into the bar and tried to pretend no one saw you—that he never saw you. 

Even water logged as you were, he’s pretty sure he’s never seen anyone so pretty. 

People notice it. They’d be foolish not to. Whirl around in their seats and look your way, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl with sunshine in her heart. 

But since you’ve met, all the times he’s been around you have been on his terms, and now you’re in the middle of Steve’s patio with a beer in hand and your head tipped back in a laugh as Robin tells you a lively story. 

“You invited her?” Eddie asks, turning his head to Steve. 

“Actually Max invited her. And El,” Steve explains, spatula swirling wildly as he speaks. “She seems nice. We’ve gone to the shop a bunch. Robs and I. But she’s always so busy. This is the first time we’ve really gotten to really meet her. Why? You got a personal vendetta against baristas I should know about?”

Quite the opposite, he thinks, but he’ll never admit that to Steve. 

  *

  They immediately love you. 

Of course they do; how could they not?

You match their golden retriever energy, bodies swaying—and surprisingly so, since none of you are even tipsy—as Steve sings (incredibly off key) along to “Super Trouper,” and you and Robin try to steal the microphone every couple words. All in all, it’s a stunning display of a lack of singing talent, but the kids are loving it, and Eddie hates it because it’s like a punch to the gut. 

It’s been this way since you arrived. Your endless charisma, that light that seeps from you, the way you flit in and out of conversations with everyone at the party.

Everyone except him . 

That’s his fault, he recognizes. He’s not really made it an effort to pull you aside, offering nothing more than little comments here and there. 

He can see it on your face. The way you recognize he’s distancing himself on purpose. 

It’s easier when you’re at the bar.

There, you’re quiet. You’re unassuming. You talk between the two of you, sure, but it’s on his terms. Here, you’ve injected yourself into his world—into this group that he trusts with all the parts of himself that have changed since what happened two years ago. 

They’re a safety net. They’re the only people he feels like he can still be himself around, and you’ve breached that, you’ve entered in and made yourself a home. 

They love you, and they should , but it’s another reminder of the fact the last time he let someone close to him they died in his home. The last time he let someone get close to him, the kids were in danger, Dustin got hurt, Max almost lost her life because of Carver interrupting their plan, Robin, Steve and Nancy almost died.

He can’t let another person get hurt from knowing him. 

He can’t let you get hurt from knowing him. 

He’d never forgive himself.

It’s sometime later that you end up sitting with your dress hiked up a bit on your thighs and your feet in the pool as the kids talk around you. The sun has set in Hawkins and the sound of crickets and cicadas blends into the gentle hum of music spilling from the radio. 

Robin appears with Steve, her chin coming to hook over Eddie’s shoulder and smacks a kiss to his cheek. “Can we keep her?” Eddie groans as she shakes his shoulders, trying to get a rise out of him, and stands at Steve’s side. 

“She’s not a pet, Robin.” He tries to keep his tone neutral. Unaffected. 

“You like her,” she points out, grin turning wide and wicked. 

He shakes his head, earning a look from Steve. “Don’t even start with that. I’m not hearing it.”

She’s practically bouncing in front of him. “But it’s true. I can see it. You can't keep your eyes off of her. She’s beautiful, though, so totally understandable. How did it happen? When did it start?”

“Rob,” he warns, feeling his chest tighten. 

“Eddie, this is good . It’s really good ,” Steve says. Robin nods enthusiastically beside him. 

“And why is that?” He challenges with a narrow stare, standing to his feet. 

“You looked happy today. We can excuse this moment of assholery and chalk it up to your denial speaking, but she makes you smile. I haven’t seen you smile like that in ages,” Robin says, voice high and right with emotion. 

He knows she wants the best for him, knows she wants to see him happy , but he has the guys from Corroded Coffin, he has Uncle Wayne, he has the kids, he has her and he has Steve, and that makes him happy. 

“It could be gas.” His reply is deadpan, sunglasses obscuring the crinkle around the corner of his eyes at the look on Robin’s face that says ‘shut up, asshole.’

“Eddie,” she warns, arching a brow up at him. 

“I'm serious. Steve’s cooking can be questionable.”

“I'm going to choose to ignore that. My cooking is fine,” Steve argues, cheeks aflame. 

“So how long has this been going on?” Robin’s relentless. He supposes he should know this about her by now, but it makes his head spin all the same. 

“There is no this because all this is is that I’m her customer and she visits the bar sometimes and we talk.”

“She visits you at your job and you visit her at hers—that sounds like interest,” Steve says, a little too pleased with himself. 

“Mutual interest,” Robin agrees, beaming so bright she mirrors the summer sun. 

“Look, I’m not even going to venture there because it’s only a matter of time before she figures out why you guys are the only ones left in Hawkins who don't run away at the sight of me. I’d rather not be there when she puts two and two together and hates me anyway.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, fingers at the bridge of his nose to pinch there. “So I’ll keep her at a distance and remind myself that I think she’s annoying as all hell most days—”

Because he doesn’t know what to do with the feelings that stir otherwise. So now it’s push them down, tuck them away, sweep them under the rug. 

The sound of your ankle banging against the side of a lounger greets his ears, and his head jerks your way. Steve and Robin’s looks of amusement drop into sorrow as your eyes flash between them and him, disappointment clear on your features. He catches the way your bottom lip wobbles, how your eyes widen, shoulders dropping. There’s a small “oh” that spills from your lips, as if you’re only realizing now you have stumbled in a conversation you were never meant to hear in the first place, but he can sense your embarrassment all the same. 

You deflate, and Eddie proves himself right once again why it’s futile to get close, because he catches those first glittering tears on your bottom lashes, unshed now, but there all the same. 

And he knows you heard him. 

Let someone close… hurt them. Just as he predicted.

“I, uh, was just going to say goodbye. I have to wake up early to set up the shop.” You step forward to hug Steve and Robin. He doesn’t expect you to come close to him, but it stings all the same when you simply glance away and mutter, “Goodbye, Eddie,” before slipping away, and out of the yard. 

Steve watches him as you go, eyes scouring every inch of his face, head shaking lightly. “Aren’t you going to, oh I don’t know, follow her? Make sure she’s okay? Come on, man.”

“She said goodbye,” he says, catching your fingers struggling with your door handle in your haste to leave. 

“Go,” Steve reiterates, and Eddie grumbles his way across the lawn, catching your door just as you’re about to close it. 

There’s a little huff that spills from your lips and there’s a part of him that has to temper down the thrill that jolts in his chest at the way your eyes narrow up at him expectantly. 

You’re always challenging him. 

Even now there’s a protest in your stare—on your tongue. 

But you focus your eyes ahead instead and lift your chin, trying to conceal the hurt swirling behind your eyes. 

Asshole, asshole, asshole. 

“I have to go,” you remind him. 

“I’ll, uh…I’ll see you around, okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say, and he shuts the driver's side door. 

And as he walks back to his group of friends, he scolds himself the whole way, because the best thing he could come up with in a moment of stupidity was say ‘I’ll see you around, okay?’ 

  *

  Eddie doesn’t come by for five days, and you don’t visit the Hideout for just as long. 

It’s not that you’re angry at him. No—the initial hurt is long gone. Now you’re left with this bitter emptiness. A feeling of questioning, as if every truth you had thought you’d know to be a certainty was really a lie all along. 

For weeks you were led to believe whatever this thing was growing between you and him had been real. This tangibility you could tend to, could nurture. 

Yet at the first sign of struggle, he ran away. Pushed you aside without a second thought. Said those hurtful things at the party. 

He’d run after you, sure, but only after he registered your pain. 

Only after his friends looked at him like he’d absolutely lost his mind. 

You want to believe that there’s more to the story, that there’s a reason why he said what he said and did what he did. 

But the worst part of it all, the part that twists the knife deeper in your chest, is the thought that maybe there isn’t, and maybe you trusted him too fast. Dove headlong into a dead end friendship with the one person in town you felt most free to be yourself around. 

That part hurts the most. 

  *

  Eddie feels like an idiot. 

You are an idiot, he tells himself as he stands in that flower shop near Sunshine Coffee , asking the owners for some sort of arrangement that speaks to an apology of sorts. 

“What kind of an apology?” the husband asks, looking over at Eddie wearily. His wife stands in the back, watering the flowers about the room. 

They must know you’re upset with him, and for good reason, too. It’s normal that he frequents the shop, but for the past few days he’s stayed away, not wanting to see that look of hurt across your features ever again. It’s bad enough that when he closes his eyes he can picture it. 

How your foot tripped over the edge of the lounger, the way your words tumbled from your lips, your skirt rustling about your ankles as you sped away…and sped away from him. 

Steve caught up with him the next day over the phone, trying to talk more sense into him. Trying to tell him there’s nothing wrong with opening up to a new friend, especially when that person was trying to go at his pace, respecting his boundaries, and never pushing him further than he was willing to go.

You’ve always been patient, and friendship is a two way street, where equal participation is expected from both parties.

Steve reminds him that this is a good thing. 

His government ordered therapist does, as well. Reminds him that part of healing is doing the uncomfortable things, stepping out of his comfort zone, coming out from the shadows he’s shrouded himself within. 

He’s not meant to live in solitude.

“It’s for a…I was a total asshole who took advantage of your kindness, and I deserve your rage kind of apology,” he admits, and watches as the older man regards him carefully before thinking to himself quietly. 

“You can do pink roses.”

“Aren’t roses for love?” he asks, wanting to be clear. He’s always seen them around Valentine’s Day when all the couples at Hawkins High wanted to be all mushy and show their undying devotion to one another. “I’m not trying to say I—I love her or anything. I barely know her.”

“Pink roses mean gratitude. Seeing as you took advantage of her kindness and hurt her, pink roses are a perfect way of showing that,” he explains, putting together an assortment on the countertop and tying it off with a ribbon on the front. “Do you want me to write her a card?”

“Can I…take one to go?”

“Sure thing,” he says, ringing him up and sliding a blank card across the countertop. “And word of advice, boy: that girl is wonderful, so you better do better.”

I’m trying, he thinks, slipping out of the building. 

And it starts with the little bouquet he has one of the girls deliver you later that day, with a little card affixed to the ribbon. 

The words on the letter read: Fact of the day—Eddie Munson is a giant asshole. 

Then beneath, in tinier lettering: Do you think you can forgive him, maybe? 

  *

  Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley are always a welcome sight within the walls of Sunshine Coffee. Even before the Fourth of July barbecue, you’ve particularly liked them. The two would come in, often bantering with one another, bright smiles on their faces. 

It always spoke to a close bond between the two; you don’t know them well , but that kind of bond is clear and attests to being tried and tested in the fire, and only made them stronger for it. 

You’re a little shocked to see them here now, however. 

The last time they saw you, the three of you were happy and high off of life, cheeks warm from the summer sun, arms looped around each other's necks as you sang ABBA, smelling of suntan lotion and lips stained from cherry popsicles. 

You glance over your shoulder to Will and ask him if he’s good to let you go on your lunch break, and he’s immediately nodding his reply. The three of you slip out into the street, sights set on the local ice cream parlor, because Robin reassures you ‘ice cream is the perfect lunch for a day like this.’ 

It’s sweltering out. Sweat slicks your skin, the back of your neck, your hands. That first swipe of your tongue along your chocolate and vanilla swirl has you humming in delight, sandaled feet kicking out beneath you. 

“I’m actually so shocked to see you two,” you admit, just as Robin sticks her spoon into her cup. 

“We told you there’s no getting rid of us now,” Robin says, and she’s right, but it makes you smile all the same. 

Makes you warm, and it has little to do with the heat shining down from the sun above. 

“I’m actually planning another get together,” Steve says, tongue already cherry red from his ice. “You’re invited, obviously.”

“Thanks, Steve.” You swipe your tongue along another line of rainbow sprinkles, glancing out into the street. 

You can see the now-quiet Hideout. It won’t be busy for a couple hours now. 

“So, uh, that’s actually kind of why we ambushed you at work,” Steve says, catching your wandering gaze. 

“Hmm?” Your head snaps back their way, wrist lifting to your mouth to catch the ice cream sliding down the side of your cone. 

“He really likes you, you know? We know he can make a fool of showing it, but he does,” Steve starts. 

“Who?” You’re playing coy, hiding your nervousness behind your ice cream. 

Robin’s quick to answer with, “Eddie…we just ask you to give him a second chance, okay? He’s been through a lot. And I’m sure we’re literally breaking a thousand rules of friendship right now by approaching you like this, but he’s already been so much happier since you’ve been here. You, like, challenge him and make him come out of the little shell he’s put himself into and it would really break my heart—both our hearts, really—if that stopped.”

“I planned on it,” you tell them sincerely. But you also know it has to be on his terms. 

He’s already started with his apology, and now it’s just a matter of…waiting to see what happens. 

You can’t force yourself onto someone who doesn’t want you to be prevalent in their lives. And yet, you respect his past; you understand that there are parts of him you’ve not privy to that his friends are, and the fact that they may reveal why he is the way he is at his core. 

Knowing that, being made aware of that, is something you want to happen on its own time. In the right time, and by his discretion. 

It’s his story to tell. 

So the three of you stand to your feet and walk through the town, talking about the upcoming weekend, planning things for dinner and dessert. And you plan for the future with the sun at your backs, bright and vibrant smiles as bright as the beams that dance along your skin, with nothing but hope to guide you all. 

  *

  He doesn’t come the next day. Nor does he come the day after. And soon it’s a week since you’ve seen him in the four walls of your coffee shop. Which surprises you, because he left that apology bouquet of flowers with El to give to you. 

You can only imagine his dark figure hulking as he entered that little flower shop, filling the vibrant room with a streak of black and gray. It makes the corners of your mouth lift simply thinking of it—imagining him having to order the plants and write up his little note card. 

If you beamed when you read his little fact of the day, you’d never admit it. But the girls certainly caught it, pointing and laughing at the way you lit up like a Christmas tree at the prospect of Eddie Munson getting you apology flowers. 

It’s what they babble teasingly at you, at least. All wagging fingers and pouty lips over the fact he had gone out of his way to make a gesture as he had in hopes of getting back into your good graces. 

Only, you’ve not seen him since. 

You thought maybe he would come see you— talk in person about why the way he behaved like a proper imbecile that evening. 

You’re sorely disappointed, and the sting of fresh rejection ripples and dances along your skin, cracks between your ribs and curls around your heart.

Max catches you one evening, hours before you’re set to close up for the day. Normally, it’s your job to make sure the shop closes up. You’ve always wanted to make sure the kids are ahead on their schoolwork anyway, but now with summer here, they’ve offered to stay later more often. 

Extra pay, they remind you. 

Extra help, you remind yourself. 

But on this day she glances over the glass case wherein all your freshly baked cookies lay, a fresh bar towel in her hand as she wipes the case clean and sparkly. You catch the flash of red hair before she huffs out a sigh and tosses the towel onto the countertop. 

“Just go over there,” she says, and you don’t even need her to clarify, despite the way your brows arch in feigned confusion at her words, because you know exactly where she’s referring to. She humors you all the same, nearly barking out, “To the Hideout. And don’t make that face, because we all know you go over there. Right?”

“Yeah, we’ve known,” El says, counting the tips in their ‘College Fund’ tip jar you made for them. 

“It’s…kind of obvious.” Will winces, putting a lid over a fresh latte. 

Max lets out another sigh. “The fact of the matter is, you’re moping around and he’s moping around, and if you’re going to do that, why not just—oh, I don’t know—mope together?”

You level them all with your best stern look, hands on your hips, but they only hide their giggles behind their palms. They’re enjoying this; they’re actually enjoying your struggle in this very present moment. “I think you three forget I’m technically your boss.”

“But…we’re also your friends,” El says, and Will nods in agreement, passing you a smile over his shoulder. 

“We kind of crossed over into friendship territory when you came over Steve’s,” Max reminds you, shrugging. 

“So it was a trap, then?” you tease, backing up until your shoulders press against the glass case. “You three will be good to lock up?”

“You’ve taught us everything we need to know,” Max says, and the other kids nod in agreement. 

“Fine,” you agree, raising a finger to scold them when they all smirk at you. “But if anything happens, anything at all, you come get me.”

“Go!” El lets out an exasperated giggle and you slip out the door. 

The Hideout isn’t as busy at this time, you discover. Normally you’re there past eight at night, and it's just after four thirty now. The sun still has yet to set, but there’s no light in here, except for that of the neon lights that glow blue above. 

There’s only the quietest of conversation around you. A few people spread throughout the place, an older couple in the corner, two acquaintances at the bar. And then there’s you, sliding up onto a stool and pulling out the worn copy of The Fellowship of the Ring Eddie let you borrow. 

He eyes you cautiously as you do so, as if he expects the worst. But you’ve already made up your mind; made it up long ago, if you’re being honest with yourself. “You didn’t warn me that Gandalf died.”

His mouth drops open momentarily at that, but a slow smile spreads across his lips and he props a forearm against the bar across from you. He leans into it to get closer. “That would ruin the story.”

“Yeah, but you know I loved him.” You told him as much numerous times. You were fond of him, the way he cares and loves for the fellowship. The wisdom he harbors. 

“I know,” Eddie says, sounding regretful. “Can I convince you to keep reading…under the promise that maybe things will get better?”

You huff and pout, sliding your finger into where your bookmark presently rests at the back of the book. “I don’t see how they can.” 

“Well don’t you want to know what happens next?”

“I do.”

“Then will you trust me?” He pauses, catching himself before he continues. You watch him rub a hand along the back of his neck, rings glinting in the light. “Actually—don’t answer that.”

“Why not?” You press him, mouth settling into a firm line. 

“Because I…damn it, I messed up, okay?” 

“I know, and I got your flowers. I forgive you.” You nod in earnest, already resolute in your decision to forgive him and move on from it. 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t change the fact I was still an asshole,” he says, sounding a little mournful. “You just…you didn’t hear the whole conversation.”

You try to offer him an easy smile as he walks around the bar and sits down beside you on another stool. It’s the closest you’ve been to him, you think. “Did I walk in at the wrong time?”

“Something like that.”

Your answer is simple then, “Okay…then I forgive you for that, too.”

“You shouldn’t,” he says quietly. 

You shake your head at him. “But I do.”

“Yeah, but why do you do that?”

You’re not understanding. “Why do I do what, Eddie? I’m trying to forgive you for being an ass and you’re not letting me, so are you rejecting your own apology?”

“You’re just…damn it, you’re—and it drives me crazy. That’s why I said you annoy the shit out of me.” He groans at the end of his words, palm sliding down his face. “I’m just—look, I’m not used to people being like you.”

“Like me?” You point to yourself with your thumb, head tilting to the side. 

He’s staring straight at you when he says, “Nice, sweetheart, nice.”

You ignore the little flutter that gives way at his nickname. 

“Why is that?”

“Because of all the shit that happened two years ago,” he drops an elbow onto the counter and rests his forearm along the top. He’s close enough just the slightest shift on the stool will mean his fingers brushing the sleeve of your work tee shirt. 

“I know,” you tell him. “And I’m sorry for that.”

His eyes shift to your face. A worry line forms between his brows, out of place on such a youthful face. “Oh, so you, uh, looked into it?”

“No,” you reassure him softly, resting your hand on the back of his. He flinches at first, but doesn’t make an effort to pull away. You offer him a slight squeeze and continue, “no I didn’t, Eddie.”

“Why not?” It’s as if he can’t believe you wouldn’t. 

As if he wonders why you haven’t. 

“I figured one day you’d tell me,” you reply, thumb shifting against his palm in a slow swipe before you pull away to rest against his book instead. “When you’re ready, of course.”

“Oh…o-okay.”

“Yeah, so will you let me accept your apology? This way we can start over.” 

“I’d like that,” he agrees, moving to stand to his feet as a customer taps a few dollars against the bar. 

“Go—back to work for you,” you tease, adding out in a quick rush, “and get me the second Lord of the Rings book!”

“So you are going to read?” 

“You asked me to trust you,” you remind him, watching as he starts walking to his customer. “This is me trusting you.”

  *

  Things… change after that. 

You were friends before your mild tiff, sure—but Eddie starts to change from that point on. You wonder if it’s a wish to try and maintain what he says, about trusting him, about him trying to appreciate what you’ve been to him these months. But your adventures travel outside the four walls of the Hideout and Sunshine Coffee for the first time one humid Saturday a few weeks after you restart your friendship. 

After Eddie lends you The Two Towers and you breeze through it in a week’s time, you tell him you really want your own set of the books. “You know, to mark up and stuff,” you tell him, to which he calls that, “A crime that requires jail time, unless you buy two copies so you have one to keep for rereading and one to annotate,” and you shove at him as you sit beside him in his van on the way to a thrift store just outside of Hawkins in search of a new bookshelf. 

You briefly wonder if this is the town he lives in, what with the way he navigates so smoothly, no question to what roads to take. 

You don’t press him, however. 

You’re patient with him. You want to see him grow in your presence. To pull back those layers of his rough exterior and find the gold within. You know it’s there; you’ve seen it sparkle numerous times now. Can sense it behind every secret smile he offers you. 

Your first store leaves you empty handed. You slip and out of aisles in search of the perfect piece to put in your home, but find nothing to your liking. Nothing that would even do well with a nice coat of paint or a good staining. 

The second shop has a nice carpet you end up purchasing, with Eddie’s awaiting arms there to carry it back to his car, but again no bookshelf. So it surprises you a little when you both climb back inside after Eddie shuts the back doors and says, “I could try and build you one?”

“Really?” You shift your head to look at him. He’s gone with a short sleeve shirt today. Red, the vibrant deep kind that makes your marrow sing because of how stark and stunning it is against his skin. “I couldn’t ask for you to do that. It’s too much, I—”

“I want to. How hard could it be?” 

It leads you back to your apartment, where you sneak around the back so as to not disrupt the kids that you’ve left alone for the day while you enjoy a day off. The first in months, really. Eddie watches you fumble with the key, chuckling when your trembling fingers struggle a bit. 

“Here,” he says, moving around you and filling the space beside your bodies with his own. His chest brushes your back, fingers dancing against yours as he pulls the keys from them. With a swift ‘click’ the lock slides open, and he pushes inside. “Good to know the lock still works.”

“The guy who installed it is really humble,” you tease and his eyes roll, shoving past him to inspect the apartment. “Look—I…it’s a little bit of a mess. I haven’t gotten around to fixing the place up yet. Taking care of the coffee shop comes first right now. Hence…all the stuff laying around in piles and boxes.”

When Eddie looks around, however, there’s no judgment there. Only curiosity in his dark stare as he glances around your space. You catch the mess in the sink, the boxes on the countertop beside it. There’s your unmade bed, with its burnt orange pillows and white bedspread, kicked down toward one end. To the side of that are your piles of books with your alarm clock and lamp set on them. Luckily, your clothes are unpacked and stored away in your closet, kept hidden behind a curtain you remembered to pull shut that morning. 

“Well, here’s…my place,” you raise your arms in a sweeping circle. “It’s not much, but it’s…well, it’s mine. Needs a good coat of paint, some furniture, and a little love, but it does what it needs to.” 

“I could help, you know?” he offers, giving the place another once-over. 

“Eddie, you’re already here to measure a space for a bookshelf you’re going to build with your own hands,” you laugh out, a little shocked by his offer. “I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“We could do it together, lighten the burden,” he says evenly, hands on his hips. Suddenly it strikes you as odd seeing him there. The quiet boy from across the way, now your friend offering to help you get more comfortable in your new home. “We’ll need to go to the store and pick up wood for the bookshelf anyway. Why not grab some paint while we’re there?” 

“Really?” you ask, and he nods. “I—if you’re sure. I’ll make you all the cookies, just wait.” 

He smirks. You think you like that look on him best, because one of his dimples pops when he does so. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

  *

  You plan for the next weekend, then. 

You don a simple tee shirt made to get dirty and a pair of shorts as you climb down the back stairs and slip into the coffee shop unannounced. 

The kids seem a little intrigued by your plans two weeks in a row as you hurry to put together a coffee for your friend, but you remind them that you’re, “Simply conducting business, as usual.”

Max gives a little smirk to Will and El. “Oh, I'm sure there’s loads of business happening.”

The kids all burst into a fit of giggles as you splutter out a huff, tossing a pair of sunglasses over your eyes and calling over your shoulder for them to have a good time while you’re gone, and slip out the front door. Eddie’s there with the windows rolled down, metal music streaming from his windows, his hair free and in wild waves today. He’s gone with a ratty white tee and jeans, and he thanks you softly as you hand him his cup of coffee and whips down the road. 

“Who is this?” you ask, listening to the words spilling from the speakers. “Take a look to the sky, just before you die. It’s the last time you will. That’s…well, it’s really chilling.”

“Metallica,” he says, chuckling as you wrinkle your nose in confusion. “A metal band. One of my favorites. You can add that to your collection of random facts about me.”

“Already written down,” you say with a soft roll of your eyes at him. “What does the song mean?” 

“It’s based on the poem by Ernest Hemingway. About the Spanish Civil War. There’s basically this moment where the soldiers are surrounded on a hill and it’s their last moments before…well, before dying,” he explains, sounding a little far away. “I think the song all in all is about death, though. I mean, the part you mentioned is a thing someone does right before they die. That last look up at the sky, knowing it’s the last time they’ll see it.”

You almost want to ask him ‘ how do you know,’ but he continues quickly with, “If you like this one, I’m sure you’ll like more of their stuff. We may turn you into a metalhead, or at the very least someone with a little more refined taste, yet.” You open your mouth to give him a witty retort when he pulls in front of a hardware store and pushes his door open. You reach over to unbuckle yourself and grab the door handle, but he’s already there, offering a hand to help you down. “Okay, what color are we thinking of for the walls?”

You shrug as the two of you walk toward the store, bell jangling upon entering. “Maybe off white to match my bed?” 

That’s how you learn there are approximately a thousand different shades of white to choose from. You suddenly regret asking Eddie to come along with you, even despite it being his idea, as the two of you stand in the store and thumb through a book full of different colors to choose from, turning what you thought would be a quick trip into an hour-long stay. Each one looks only minimally different from the one before it, and each one leaves you all the more confused. 

“What about this one?” you ask, nudging Eddie with an elbow. 

“It looks just like this one,” he points out, rubbing a hand along his jaw, his coffee cup still in hand though it’s long empty now. “How about you close your eyes and just…I don’t know, poke whichever one and go with that? And while you do that, I’ll go ask that nice looking employee over there what kind of wood we think we’ll need for your bookshelf.”

The two of you rejoin some twenty minutes later with your cash at the ready as a nice cashier rings up your purchases and glances between the two of you, smiling softly. 

“Sweet that you’re building this young lady a bookshelf,” the older man says, eyes more on Eddie than you. He’s the same man who helped Eddie pick out the supplies he’d need to make you one in the first place. A pretty dark wood, with a gorgeous grain. “That young, summer love. I remember when I was your age.”

“We’re, ah, we’re friends,” Eddie clarifies with no delay, cheeks red at their highest point. 

“Just really great friends,” you tell him, thanking him as he hands you back your change. 

“My apologies then,” he says, but there’s a smirk along his lips that makes you believe his words were definitely intentional. “Have a great rest of your day, you two! Stay safe out there; it’s a hot one.”

It’s certainly getting warmer here, you think to yourself, sliding your money back into your little purse. 

Still, you pick your paint up off the counter and watch as Eddie palms the handle of the shopping cart, spirit bright as you wish him a wonderful day and head out the front door. 

And if your heart races a little bit, well there’s no point in pondering that. 

  *

  The room is ready in no time for painting. Summer sun seeps through your open windows, air filtering in through the screens. You took down the curtains to keep them from getting messy and helped Eddie pull all your furniture into the center of the room to try and prevent any spills. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re helping lay out tarps around the space to protect your floors, laughing when Eddie struggles a bit getting them to unfurl fully before draping them around the room. There are tins full of rollers and paint strewn about the floor, ready for usage, and music drifting from your record player hidden within your closet. A little Dean Martin, one of your grandfather's favorites, croons in your tiny space, bringing joy to your heart. 

And then there’s Eddie, with his hair back in a low bun, taping around your windows and cabinets to ensure you don’t go over any of the areas you intend to keep as they are with the off white you had chosen. 

“What’s your favorite song?” It’s a random question he asks as the song changes and “Everybody Loves Somebody” plays. “If you had to pick one, what would it be? The one you can play over and over and never get bored of.”

You’re mid-emptying your dish drain into your kitchen cabinets when you pause to think about it. The question catches you off guard, but you’re always excited when Eddie asks questions to get to know you better. And right now, in this moment where it’s just the two of you in your home, seems like the perfect time to do so. 

“Uhm…” You trail off, running a towel over the inside of a still-wet bowl. “‘Lay All Your Love on Me.’ I could probably listen to it forever.”

He’s throwing another one of those smirks your way and you stick your tongue out at him, earning a low chuckle. “Sorry, okay, ‘Lay All Your Love on Me.’ It is a good song.”

“So you do listen to ABBA,” you tease.

“I can appreciate their songs, sure. Especially since Steve and Robin listen to them all the time,” he says, coming to join you in the kitchen, tossing the painter’s tape into your kitchen drawer for safe keeping. 

You shove your bowl up in its proper cabinet, draping the towel over your shoulder. “What about you? What song can Eddie Munson listen to on repeat for the rest of his life?” 

He seems a little caught off by your question. Face morphing from momentary shock to thoughtfulness, brows pinching together, mouth taut. “If I had to pick just one, I would probably go with ‘The Trooper’ by Iron Maiden,” he says at last. 

“They’re the ones who sang ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls,’ right?” you ask. 

“No that’s Metallica, but you’re learning, Young Padawan,” he replies, pulling out a fresh paint brush and holding it aloft. “Are you ready to paint?”

It’s easy to work with him in the confines of your apartment. The two of you mingle here and there amongst yourselves, but there’s a comfort in the silence that stretches out between you. It’s not the kind that needs to be full of conversation, because it’s more the feeling in your heart simply having him there. 

The gentle brushes of your arms when you both reach to wet your rollers, the accidental splash of pale color you accidentally get on his arm when you do so, the gentle caress of his laugh that tickles the hair along your neck when he says ‘it’s okay.’ It goes on like that for hours, the two of you working in tandem, the sounds of Dean Martin and brush strokes intermingling with Eddie’s commentary, on his praise of how your work is coming out, his guidance on the hardest to reach areas. 

You pause only to eat some pizza, kindly brought up by Will, who asks if you two need any help before he heads out for the afternoon. You thank him and offer him a slice to go, but wish him a nice rest of his day to rest and relax. And then you’re alone once more with Eddie, commenting on how this pizza isn’t like your pizza back home. 

“Better?” he asks, picking a pepperoni off his slice and dropping it onto his tongue. 

“Definitely better,” you hum delightfully. 

“Where is ‘back home?’” 

It’s your turn to smirk, shrugging. “That’s a long story, and we have work to do, my friend. Now eat up.”

It’s not long before you’re both sitting in the middle of the room, paint brushes laying in little cups, rollers in their tins, your hands supporting your upper bodies as you look up at your work. The room looks perfect. So much brighter than it was before, even despite the slowly setting sun over Hawkins. It’s a beautiful cotton candy confection; oranges, pinks and lavender visible through your window. You stare ahead and Eddie does too, chests heavy from exertion, sweat slicking skin, basking in companionable silence. 

You jolt briefly as the pad of a finger brushes along your jaw, settling when you shift and realize it’s only him, staring at you with a look unnamable behind his eyes. “You got a little paint…right here,” he says, answering the question already stewing in your mind before you can even voice the words. 

You glance down to where his hand rests against your skin, and then back up to his face, trying to hide the shaky breath that struggles to escape. It’s a short moment, but does little to quell the rapid turn of your insides as they do a flip within you, cut even shorter when a knock at the door sends Eddie jumping to his feet to glance through the peephole. 

You suspect it’s someone you know, because he opens the door and greets El on the other side, her small wave and ‘hello’ greeting your ears soon after. “I just wanted to let you know I finished closing up. Money is all counted, and Max helped me set up for tomorrow.”

You climb to your feet, coming to step around Eddie and curl your hand around the door. “Thank you, sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for helping out today.”

“Anytime!” she says, and you close the door behind her, leaving you alone once more with your dark haired friend. 

The two of you clean up in silence, that brief moment of touch long forgotten as he helps you get rid of all the paint supplies and tosses them into a garbage bag. Your furniture and other things will have to stay where they are for now to keep dry, with a promise that he’ll come help you once more. 

“Well…it looks amazing,” you say, doing a slow spin about the room as he finishes washing his hands in the kitchen sink, admiring your work. “Thank you again for helping, seriously. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.” 

You watch his hand reach around him to fumble with his car keys in his back pocket. “It’s no problem. I should go though; I have to stop somewhere before heading home. Little bit of a drive, you know?”

“Oh—y eah, of course!” Your head nods rapidly, stepping backward a bit so he can move to the door. “Can’t exactly keep you here all night.”

“Goodnight,” he says, palm curling around the door handle. 

“Goodnight,” you reply softly, hand coming up in a little wave. 

You shut the door with a sigh and trail back over to your closet and lift the record, flipping it back over to the first side. The stylus settles where you want it and the familiar beginning notes of “Everybody Loves Somebody” fills your apartment. 

Everybody loves somebody sometime. Everybody falls in love somehow...

You smile as you ready for bed, brushing a finger along the picture resting in a box for safe keeping of your grandfather, placed there lovingly by Eddie. Your fingers press against your lips and rest along his smiling face, voice quiet as you whisper, “I had the best day…”

  *

  Chance tells you he’ll be at your apartment by six, but he shows up early in a freshly ironed button up and a pair of slacks, hair perfectly styled on his head. 

Chance buys you flowers and sets them in your awaiting arms as you approach that night. 

Chance opens the door for you when you walk up to Enzo’s. 

Chance compliments you on your features, tells you how good you look, brushes a kiss against your temple. 

He stares at you the whole night through the candlelight glow, fingers dancing along yours ever so slightly. 

He buys an expensive bottle of wine and makes sure you order whatever you want. You settle on pasta, and he orders a steak. Comments on the fact you didn’t need to be shy and order something cheaper. But you smile and bat your eyelashes, answering his questions as enthusiastically as you can. 

It should be perfect. In all reality, it really should be. 

It’s just…not fluid. 

He talks about his work. About handing out tickets, arrests, the parties he’s broken up where underage kids got a little too rowdy. And you talk about your shop, your workers, your quirky customers. But it all feels very surface level, all very forced. 

Stilted. 

It’s not even to say he isn’t nice, because he is. 

Maybe a little arrogant, what with the way he talks highly of himself and his achievements fresh out of high school only a couple years ago now, but you can write that off as him being excited and overly eager to spend time with you. 

He’s just…not for you, and you can tell very early on into the date he’s not. 

So as he drives you home and walks you to your apartment door, you press your fingers against the center of his chest when he leans down to kiss you and whispers how beautiful you are near your skin. Because while he’s nice and he’s perfectly fine, there’s no denying the fact he doesn’t rouse those feelings that a friend of yours does. 

There’s no spark, no flame, nothing to kindle a connection with. 

“Thank you for tonight, Chance,” you whisper, and lean forward to kiss his cheek. 

He nods, resolute, and wishes you a goodnight at your door. Tells you he’ll see you around. You trudge up your stairs and slip inside your apartment, readying yourself for bed. You scrub the remainder of your makeup off from the evening, slip out of the dress you had worn to look nice at the fancy restaurant. It spills from your body into a messy puddle on the floor, and you toss it into the nearby hamper as you yawn, making your way across the room to where the lights from the Hideout dance and pulse against your skin. You press your fingers against the glass briefly, longingly, and shut the light on your book pile near your bed, dousing the room in darkness. 

  *

  “So Eddie plays at this bar with his band from time to time. They used to play at the Hideout, but when Eddie moved out of town, he found this new spot, and instead of their five drunk people that used to be in majority of their crowds, they actually have a little bit of a following now,” Robin explains, leading you into the dark bar behind her. Steve’s there as well, but he’s standing off in the distance with some other guys dressed in dark colors, heads nodding as they talk. “Over there with Steve are…Jeff and Gareth. They’re Eddie’s band mates. And then there’s Kevin—he’s the one up on stage. He’s another. And Eddie…well, Eddie is probably in the back mentally preparing himself or something. He’s very passionate, like, very passionate about his music.”

You nod silently, finding yourself a little overwhelmed in the dark room. Not only is it in an unfamiliar town, but there’s a sea of swirling faces around you, melding together in the dim red lights dangling above. It’s definitely a younger crowd than that of the Hideout, and a lot more upscale. It seems like the kind of place people gravitate to, bodies pushing into yours as you try to force your way through the crowd behind Robin, her hand a vice around yours as she leads you to the bar. 

She orders you both a round of tequila shots that you down swiftly, head darting around the area in search of the familiar head of wavy brown hair. He’s still nowhere to be found, however. “I can see if the guys know where he is.”

“I—I can wait,” you rush out, raising your voice above the music. “They’ll be starting soon anyway.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to see you anyway,” she yells back, earning a glare from a woman standing close to the bar. She places an order for your next round of drinks and helps you back over to where Steve and Eddie’s band mates are. 

Steve immediately raises an arm and tugs you into the crook of his elbow. “This is our newest friend,” he says, and tells them your name. Jeff and Gareth nod their heads, looking to you and then to each other, where they pass one another a quick look. It’s so brief you think you’ve mistaken it, and instead hold your hand up in a quick wave. “You’re probably looking for Ed, right? Here, let me show you around.”

Steve Harrington is kind and caring, first and foremost. You don’t know the full nature of his friendship with Eddie, but you know enough that you can tell they’re close. That whatever happened two years ago, from the brief snippets you’ve heard of it brought up in conversation, became a sort of catalyst for what they are to one another now. And because of that, because of the friendship between Eddie and yourself, that kindness and immediate love has been extended to you. You find yourself grateful for it as he leads you down a dark hallway, passing a break room you assume is for the workers of the actual bar, before he raps his knuckles on a room furthest in the back. 

Eddie’s there a moment later. Dark hair loose about his shoulders, a lightning bolt earring dangling in one ear, tight jeans fitted to his thighs, Corroded Coffin written across his black tee shirt in white letters. He’s foregone his leather jacket, his bat tattoos, and another tattoo you’ve not seen before on the inside of a scarred bicep flashing before your eyes as he steps backwards into the room. You realize he only goes without when he’s outside of Hawkins, and you only briefly get a chance to wonder why before he’s gesturing for you two to come inside. 

“I actually am going to check up on Robin. Make sure she’s not ordering too many drinks for them,” he says, pointing to you. “You know how Robs gets.”

“Oh I know,” Eddie says, but it’s accompanied by a fond chuckle, likely full of memories filled with Robin’s escapades. 

You’ve only hung out with her a handful of times and can easily admit she’s a lot of fun. She’s also quite a bit more ambitious in social settings than even you are. You love that about her, though. 

Steve leaves the two of you to it, door clicking shut and leaving you alone with the man. He drapes himself over the small couch situated in the far corner of the room, all long limbs over the top of the couch, one foot hooking over his thigh. You catch the barest hint of pale skin and lean muscle as he does so, catching your stare drifting before he says anything about it and focusing in on his eyes instead. 

“This place is crazy,” you say, a little breathlessly. 

“Definitely beats the Hideout, huh?” 

“Definitely,” you agree, flopping down next to him when he pats the couch near his hip. 

You were shocked when he brought up the show to you initially. Told you in passing at the bar about the show coming up mid-July, as if you’d talked about the fact Eddie plays in a band prior to that evening. 

You want to press him further for not opening up about it sooner, but you suppose you should have picked up on the signs. His random strumming when you sat in the car together and his music played in the background, the tapping of his fingers, the random humming of songs and scribble of lyrics in a notepad when he thought you weren’t looking. 

“I’m happy you invited me,” you tell him honestly. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” he replies, his fingers spread along the top of the couch tapping your shoulder in a tune unknown. “I’m almost done with your bookshelf, by the way. Got my uncle to help with it, actually.”

“Oh no, don’t tell me that,” you whine, cupping your hand over your face. 

“He wanted to help,” he reassures you, pushing at your wrist so he can see you. You shove at him jokingly, his laugh a rumble in your ears. “I’ve been keeping it at his place. Should be done probably by next weekend, if you want me to come to the apartment.”

You nod. “Next weekend is perfect. Maybe I’ll make us dinner. Like a little…celebration. We painted my apartment, replaced that hideous rug, and you built me a bookshelf. That place is actually starting to look like my place.” You pause, immediately rethinking your words, spluttering out, “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Sounds good to me,” he says, staring into your eyes just as a knock sounds from the door. A voice calls Eddie’s name from the other side, vaguely familiar to you, and Eddie shouts back, “Come in!”

Gareth appears with his longer hair flopping about his head, pausing when he catches you sitting on the couch beside his band mate. “Sorry. We just go on in five. Wanted to make sure you were ready.”

You shift away from Eddie on the couch, wiping your hands on your shorts as you stand to your full height. “I’ll let you guys get ready. I’ll see you out there.”

“See you out there,” he says, ignoring the way Gareth’s lip twitches upward when you duck around the boy and slip out of the room. 

You wade through the sea of bodies once you’re back in the main area, catching sight of Steve’s floppy head of hair first before you see Robin hopping up and down beside him. They’ve managed to secure a little table and chairs, high enough over most heads that you’ll be able to see the stage. Robin hands you a margarita as you sit down, the drink chilling against your throat as you take your first sip gratefully. 

She passes you a knowing grin, murmuring, “Where’d you run along to?” 

“Stop instigating,” you huff out, but you giggle all the same, grinning when she pulls you into a hug. “But if you must know, I went to go check up on Eddie.”

Steve turns to look at the two of you then, explaining, “Robs snuck another shot while you were gone.”

“My friend over here has to catch up!” She jostles your shoulders a bit, and you hug her tighter. 

“Your friend here has to work tomorrow, hon,” you remind her, running a hand down the back of her head when she pouts. “But I’ll have one more with you, okay? And then it’s off to bed for me.”

“Compromise,” Steve says, nodding enthusiastically. 

Robin seems okay with that, plopping down onto the stool beside you as Corroded Coffin comes out onto the stage and gets into position. You briefly scan the band, their outfits all an array of black and white, with Eddie catching your eye the most. Him with his hair back, his band tee on display, ripped jeans tight against his thighs. And when they begin, you can only watch, completely enraptured, by the way his fingers move along his electric guitar. He moves like he was born to move on stage, head moving to and fro as he dives into the music—as if he’s one with it. 

“He’s really good, isn’t he?” Robin asks low in your ear, sliding your shot of tequila in front of you. 

You quickly swallow it down, following it up with your lime wedge. Your heart rackets against your ribcage as his fingers dash along the strings, movements precise and practiced, like the instrument is another part of his body, blending seamlessly into the rest of him. 

“Yeah,” you mutter quietly, sipping the remainder of your margarita to chill your nerves that dance and hum with life beneath your skin, “he is.”

The fact you’re even here now means the world to you. This part of him he’s willingly choosing to share, something so deeply and uniquely his, that only his friends are privy to. It’s not lost on you, the meaningfulness of the evening. Being able to be there for him, in support of him. 

You won’t take that for granted…this little glimpse of Eddie that you know has been entrusted to you for safe keeping. 

  *

  It’s a day like any other. And by that, the girls are once again stirring the pot and trying to get a rise out of you and see what they can say to get information about the happenings of your personal life. 

You should expect it by now, you suppose. 

“Eddie’s been coming around more and more,” Max points out that afternoon as you and the girls close up shop. 

El remains from a safe distance, as always, listening in on the conversation. 

“Don’t think I forgot about what you girls did with the whole Fourth of July situation,” you warn them, brandishing your broom like a weapon. 

“What do you mean?” El asks, and as much as you want to pretend she’s playing coy, you know he’s genuinely innocent. 

“So you two aren’t trying to instigate anything between Eddie and I?” you press, looking in Max’s direction as she whistles to herself, suddenly highly intrigued by a spot on the ceiling. 

“I know nothing about that at all,” Max says, holding out the dust pan so you can flick your collected dirt into it. “But if something were to happen, that would be pretty cool.”

You scoff disbelievingly. “There’s nothing going on with us, though. We’re friends; really good friends these days, honestly, but just friends.”

“Are you aware you just said friends three times in that explanation?” She seems way too happy with herself. “Seems excessive if you say you’re just friends.”

But you were. 

You are. 

There’s never been an indication as to anything that would suggest otherwise. He’s never given you any idea that his feelings are outside the boundaries of platonic friendship. Plus it’s only been five months since you’ve known him, and even less since you’ve been spending time with him.

You chalk it up to the girls wanting to have their fun and play it off once more like it means nothing—like there’s not a hidden part of you that does like Eddie more than you’ve let on, and finish cleaning up the coffee shop. 

  *

  Eddie arrives as expected with your bookshelf at the ready. It’s beautiful. All dark brown wood with the prettiest natural grain, almost like it’s come from the forest itself. He helps you place your collection in their proper places on the shelves, taking a step back to admire your new set of Tolkien books, lovingly suggested by him. A little influence of his own self injected into your life. 

You’ve settled on spaghetti, the smell of fresh sauce filling your apartment as Eddie takes in the place, now a lot different than when he saw it last. You've unpacked more of your kitchen, trying to ensure the place feels more like home. There’s a warmth to it now that you feel it lacked before. That, paired with your citrusy candle burning on the tabletop, and you feel your grandfather would be smiling down from wherever he is now. 

You talk about the banalities of life as you finish up the cooking. His work, the building of your bookshelf, the minute updates to your apartment. You tell him about the kids and then business, how it’s prospering more than you could ever imagine. You’re making actual money now; enough where you could earn a decent living in Hawkins, though that part you leave out. 

It brings him once more to the question you know he had intended to ask you last time he sat in this same space. His question to you is, “Where was home before here?” 

As you told him before, it’s a long and winding tale. It’s like the stories in Middle Earth you’ve been reading about, these constant travelers, unable to settle for long in one place. So you settle for that, the abbreviated version, the simpler tale. 

“My family moved a bunch when I was younger,” you explain, shoveling some spaghetti down onto his place and yours. He pours you a glass of wine as you move to sit, eyes not once leaving your face as you continue. “So, I, uh…bounced around a lot. You know, from school to school. It was kind of always that way for as long as I remember. As a kid I hated it. Never really staying in one place meant not really having a solid group of friends or people I could build any sense of community with.” 

“I understand that,” he says, twirling the noodles around his fork. 

“As I got older, though, I learned there were positives to that arrangement. I could get to know new people, experience new things, try new foods, learn new cultures,” you explain, memories of the various places you’ve lived. Warmer, tropical places; bustling cities; beach side apartments; quiet towns. “I had friends in…many places all of a sudden. I learned to sort of just seize the moment for what it is and make the most of it.”

“So how’d you end up here? In Hawkins out of all places?” 

You swallow a bit of your noodles and down some of your wine. “My grandfather always wanted to see me slow down. I loved coming here as a kid, honestly. I have so many memories of this shop, just running in here and smelling his fresh cookies. The coffee. He’d sometimes sneak me some before my parents would let me have it. I’d spend my summers here with him, pretending to work for him, just…watching him. And he had such a, uh, joy for helping people. So when he died and gave me this place, I thought it was only right to uphold his name here.”

He nods, eyes soft as he regards you across the kitchen table. “Do you think you’ll stay?” 

“Ah…that’s hard. My whole life I’ve sort of been running, I guess. Leaving before I could get too attached. I want to say I will, I just—”

“Don’t know any differently,” he says, and it sounds like he understands. “Running gets tiring, though. Trust me.”

“It does,” you admit, biting your lip. 

You want to stop, you do. There’s just this fear that accompanies it. Of opening up enough to let people in and form a true community. Laying yourself bare to those who can nurture and also hurt you if you let them. But you’re trying. Sitting there, in that moment, with Eddie staring at you like he is, you find that you’re trying. 

“If it helps your case in staying,” he says, climbing to his feet to toss his dish in the sink, “I’d be happy…you know, if you did. Steve and Robin would, too. The kids.”

Your heart warms as he says so, moving about your kitchen like he’s been doing so forever. He works in silence, even despite your protests as you tell him you’ll clean up, but he’s not having it. Instead he forces you to go pop on a record. Not ABBA, for the love of God (his words). You settle instead on Mötley Crüe, which he says is only marginally better, but he quiets after that. You can only hear the sound of a sponge against dishes and plates as he works, his arms shifting as he works. You try to keep from looking, but he’s all honed muscle and dark ink swirling across skin. 

He goes to turn the sink off and starts to walk your way when the sound of a thump and a skitter of claws and wings meets your ears, loud enough over the music that it makes you jump out of your chair. 

But Eddie’s reaction has your blood running cold. The way he lets out a strangled cry and stumbles backward into your counters, dropping down onto his bottom on the floor, hands around his kneecaps. 

He’s not breathing. 

You can hear the rasp of lungs that won’t fill, of his struggle as he turns in on himself, hand clutching at his chest. 

You drop onto the tiles in front of him, gently crawling across the floor so as to not spook him further. He’s gasping like he’s in pain and you reach out to brush your fingers over the bats along the back of his forearm, along the curve of wings, trying to get him to look at you. 

“Eddie?” You whisper his name, and his eyes shift just enough to meet yours. 

Horror rounds those dark swirls of anguish, full of something you can’t quite see within them. Flashes of memory you’re not privy to. But you know it haunts him all the same, you can tell from what he’s told you, what his friends have, the events that no one speaks of and only alludes to. 

“Eddie, it’s me,” you try again, watching his teeth clench. You want to reach up and smooth the tension from there, but instead keep your fingers connected where they lay against his skin. “It was just a bat or an animal or something. Hit the window. Silly little thing. I just washed the windows, sometimes they get confused. I’ve got you, I promise.”

You move even closer, sliding to hands up along his shoulders, up and down his arm until his focus trails to that instead of his shuddering breaths. “You’re having a panic attack,” you say out loud, though you’re sure he already knows that. “Do you want me to leave? I want whatever you want right now, okay?”

“N-no,” he heaves out, his expression fearful as he finally fully looks at you. His hand clasps around yours where it rests against his arm. 

He’s pale. 

He's so pale. 

“Okay, yeah, I’m here,” you reassure him, his hand loosening so your palms can continue sliding up and down his arms slowly. “Try and match your breathing to mine. Slow inhales and exhales. I’m not going anywhere.”

You sit like that for a few minutes. Your legs bent so they can curve around Eddie’s broken form, your hands along his skin, his forehead against his knees as he gets a hold of his bearings. 

He matches your breathing, slow inhales for five seconds, and then an exhale for just as long. Over and over again until he’s breathing normally once again, until the tension radiating from his form dissolves into a slower simmer. 

You part from him only for a second to grab him some ice water, dropping back down to the floor to press the glass into his awaiting palm. He thanks you through a rasp as he sips eagerly, hands still shaking in doing so. 

“Do you need me to do anything? Do you need anything?” you ask him, thumb still stroking his skin even now. 

“This is fine,” he says. “Thank you. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“You’re sorry? Eddie, I’m your friend. That means if you need me, I’m there for you,” you remind him, stilling in your movements. “That means the good, bad, and the ugly.”

He gives your hand another squeeze before standing to his feet. He drops a palm in front of your face and pulls you up with him. Your form teeters a bit, but he catches you before you can slam into him. 

“I…that hasn’t happened in a while,” he says, still sounding a little regretful. “I just—ah, I’m sorry.”

“No apologies.”

His features soften a bit at your mock scowl. It soothes your heart to hear him laugh. “Thank you again for talking me through it.”

You want to say ‘anytime’ or ‘always,’ but those words don’t seem fitting when it’s clear he’s still struggling. But you don’t get a chance to say anything at all, because he’s brushing the topic aside in favor of pulling out the VHS he brought of Star Wars: A New Hope, and dragging your old electronics from your closet to set them up for your viewing party. 

And as the opening theme song plays and Eddie’s face illuminates beside yours in the dark, you can’t help but to question just what happened to him in March of 1986?  

  *

  July 30, 1988 dawns warm and bright. Today’s adventures involve a night out at the local Fun Fair. A grandiose carnival full of lights, candy, food, rides, and games galore. Everywhere you look there are new sights to see, from the Ferris Wheel at the very rear, to the chair swings that spin high above the rest of the crowd, feet kicking as people laugh and trill from above. You see vendors passing out cotton candy as you go, boys passing their dates oversized stuffed animals after showing off their heroic prowess that normally you’d scoff at, but find yourself grinning over instead. Your heart swells because it just screams summer and you’re surrounded by the people who’ve become so very important to you in almost half a year’s time.

You wear a yellow summer dress, littered with pink flowers that match the neon lights glowing as far as the eye can see. The world is doused in color and life, children giggling as they pass excitedly from where you’re tightly pressing against Eddie as you walk behind Robin and Steve, who are already in search of the Gravitron. 

The kids have already run up ahead. Mike and El go to make out in the photo booth—a fact you only know because Dustin practically taunted them into submission for being disgusting—and Lucas and Max to go try their own hand at some games. Will remains at Robin’s side, telling her stories about his studies at high school, while you simply let Eddie lead the way for now.

It’s been two weeks since his panic attack in your kitchen, and he seems more or less his typical self. At least from what you can tell in the months he’s been a constant in your life. He’s happy. Happier now, according to Steve one evening in passing as the four of you play Charades in his backyard over a couple of beers and burgers. It’s not the first time you’ve been told as such, and yet there’s something that sparks to life and cracks like lightning behind your ribs at the idea Eddie is opening up once more.

“Come this way,” Eddie whispers near your ear, stealing you away from the group to lead you down a side strip of the fun fair. 

People grumble as you pass, your body colliding with another here and there as Eddie drags you behind him, soft mutters of “sorry” spilling from your lips. You’re bumping against his shoulder when he stops. You laugh out, “Bumper cars, really?”

“Get in,” he chuckles, and you’re practically racing him to clamber inside one. It’s a flurry of tangling limbs as you go about it, hands reaching between hands to try and buckle yourselves in before the hustle and bustle of moving vehicles begins at the sound of a buzzer. Your hands move to the steering wheel, his voice high and tight as he says, “I’m driving, sweetheart.”

“I’ve seen you drive,” you tell him, pushing at his elbows with your own to keep him from moving you away from the wheel. “Plus there are kids here. We don’t want to hurt anyone.”

One of which slams into you both from behind, and just so happens to be a grinning Max and Lucas, looking a little too devious for your liking. 

Eddie whips his head around and shouts, “The Party doesn’t attack other Party members.”

“Maybe if you two would stop flirting you’d have seen us coming,” she drawls, and they are driving away, leaving the two of you giggling in her wake.

Lucas yells over his shoulder, “Sorry, Eddie!”

You turn to look at the very disgruntled metalhead with a smirk, elbow digging into his ribs lightly. “You can drive.” 

You like to think you don’t have many regrets in your twenty-two years of life. You’ve always been one to try something once, maybe twice. But this? Letting Eddie drive the bumper car, with revenge behind his eyes intent to be dealt to Max, rank up there alongside those few that do make your list. Because he’s a dizzying swirling mess, whipping arms, screeching tires if this thing had wheels. And yet you’re laughing, ribs aching from the burn from the force, as he slams into Lucas and Max over and over and over again until she’s cursing at him from across cars and an attendant reminds you this is a kid friendly ride and that all fighting should be taken off the premises. 

Your body bumps his as you split away from the other couple, trying not to linger on Max’s words. Trying to not think about the way they made something like excitement bubble up into hope. 

Where you’re standing now, your hands brush every few steps. The gentle thrill of fingers against fingers, the sides of palms kissing, wrists knocking in the spaces between you. But he doesn’t stray from your side, instead pulls you closer when someone bumps into your arm in passing and you wince, nearly arm in arm now.

“Chair swings?” he asks, the blue of the neon lights flashing in his eyes as he looks down at you. He points upward and you can see them in all their splendor dangling from up above. Your head tips back briefly to take them in, a slow swallow sliding down your throat. Sensing your hesitance, you feel his hand lightly brush your arm. “We don’t have to.”

“No—no, I want to.”

It’s how you find yourself in a chair beside Eddie, him looking like he’s ready to take on the world, lighter than you’ve ever seen him before. Whereas you? You’re gripping onto the metal of the chair so hard you’re certain your knuckles strain from the effort, heart hammering away in your chest. Because you wanted to see him happy, you wanted it so badly, but there’s the matter of your own fear welling up. The feeling of being high above the ground, of flying, of soaring like you’re about to be. 

Eddie’s hand stretches over the spaces between you and you glance down, brow arching instinctively. He brushes his fingers with yours and waits for you to twine them with his, your fear dissipating knowing he’s there to tether you. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, and you trust him. “I promise.”

They’re your words to him in your kitchen. 

Your breath hitches, lips spreading into a slow smile.

Maybe you keep your eyes closed the whole ride. Maybe you simply listen to the sounds of others' joy around you. Maybe you pray every second you’re up there for the ride to be over. But as time goes by, with his palm resting warm and solid in your own, you open your eyes and glance out over the crowd. They’re small, they’re so small and you’re infinite—at this moment at least. And to your right, when you blink, Eddie’s there…just as he promises. 

Running seems tiring like this, when you’re high above the world, free from it all.

Back on the ground, he leads you to the endless rows of games where the two of you fail miserably over and over again to secure any prize. But you can’t fault his persistence all the same, the way his tongue sticks between his lips as you stand before the ring toss and he loses over and over and over again. 

“Eddie, come on…there’s more games this way,” you tell him, tugging at the fabric of his shirt. 

You glance over to the attendant, as if he’ll have pity on the poor man’s soul, intent on trying to win just one game. He doesn’t though, and asks for another fee to play again. 

All in all, Eddie ends up following you over to play a game of balloon darts, and you find he’s actually much better at this one. So much so he wins you a teddy bear definitely too big for your bed back home, and shoves it into your awaiting arms for safe keeping. Your fingers brush against the plush of its soft head, grinning down at the chocolate brown eyes that mimic Eddie’s. 

“Teddy, meet Eddie,” you say, mostly to yourself, but Eddie reaches over to squeeze the arm of the bear all the same. “What do we think about grabbing some funnel cake and going on the Ferris Wheel? I know it’s not my baking, but it's practically a rite of passage for these kinds of things.”

You feel like a teenager all over again with the boy you find yourself giddy around, climbing onto the bench for the ride. With the way he tucks Teddy into the space near his hip to keep the bear in place and shifts you closer so he can reach over to rip parts of the sweet treat from the plate between the two of you. Hawkins grows smaller and smaller beneath you, the fear of the free fall long gone from your mind when he pins you in place with his stare, doughy sweetness flooding your tastebuds. And as you pause at the very top, a bit of powder spills over onto his chin, mingling with the scar that creeps along his skin there. 

You lift a thumb hesitantly, explaining what you’re doing before you do so to not spook him. “You got powder…just there,” you explain, brushing your thumb across his chin, then further along the slightest bit of puckered skin. 

He releases a shaky breath, but doesn’t pull away from your touch. In fact, he leans into it, as you tentatively slide it along the bottom of his jaw. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “Not anymore. Not now.”

Words hang in the spaces between you. You keep your hand against his skin and glance up to the sky, counting the stars in the sky, counting them like little blessings. Tiny secrets. 

Of all the days you’ve spent here so far, this one has to be your favorite. 

A reason in your ever growing list of ‘whys’ in your constant questioning of whether or not you wish to stay.

  *

  “So,” Robin says, fingers carding through a stack of vinyls. The way she says it immediately signals to you that she’s up to no good, though that’s hardly surprising since she and Steve are some of the biggest instigators you know. 

Your white shoes tap against the carpet covered floors, tongues still cherry red from the ices you consumed with your friend before heading to the local music store. You tug at your tank top, trying to let the air filtering from the fan positioned in the corner of the room chill your skin. 

It’s a scorcher today, and while most people seem to have gotten the memo to stay inside, you and Robin spent the day thrifting for new fall clothes for you and walking around town. 

You’re confident this will be your last stop though before heading back to your apartment to watch a movie with her. 

“You and a certain friend of ours seem to be getting pretty cozy lately,” she says, peeking up at you innocently through her lashes. 

You flip through a stack, pulling a Blondie record from the bunch to potentially add to your collection. “We’re friends. Friends…hang out.”

“Friends that go on the ferris wheel together and share dessert,” Robin says, raising a brow. You shake your head, snorting lightly before moving to another bin of records. 

“I share food with you and Steve all the time,” you point out. “You and the kids are meddling lately.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You chuckle. “Of course you don’t.”

“You have to admit, it would be so cute—”

“Robin!” you warn, smiling wide at her. 

“You dingus, you’re smiling because you like him so much. You can’t even fool me—” You rush around the bins between the two of you to clap your hand over her mouth, bursting out into louder girlish laughter as the two of you meet eyes. 

“Let’s just get out of here,” you tell her, holding your record close to your chest. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

You both leave the store arm in arm, faces to the sun, world at your fingertips. 

Gramps, you think , I’m starting to feel like this could be home, and that both terrifies me and excites me. Wish you were here…

  *

  It’s August 17th and Eddie is finally twenty-three. His Uncle Wayne wakes him with a cup of coffee brewed to his liking, and an omelet with all his favorite things. There’s a card on the kitchen table and a cheery balloon with a weight attached to it that sits beside it, Happy Birthday written in sprawling letters. 

When he was younger, he’d probably have protested when Wayne reached down to curl a palm around the side of his head and kissed his head of waves, but now he’s only happy he’s still here to spend birthdays with him. 

And judging by the smile on Wayne’s face, he feels the same. “You have any plans today, son?” he asks, sliding his Garfield mug before him, swirling a sugar inside. 

“Just seeing Steve,” he says. 

“Good kid, that one,” his uncle agrees, and it’s how Eddie finds himself walking toward Sunshine Coffee with Steve, wondering why the hell they were there now when the place closes at this time anyway.

The lights are out; he can see the dimness of the room from where they’re standing, but Steve’s telling him to hurry up because they have to meet up with Robin for game night and they’re about to be late. 

“I don’t understand why we needed to stop here anyway?” Eddie huffs out, long legs carrying him as swiftly as possible. 

“We need to pick up dessert. Your little lady friend baked a whole bunch and said we could come get them when ready,” he replies, tugging Eddie closer by his arm. 

He’s about to curse Steve for pulling his arm like he is, but they’re opening the door and a light flickers on and all Eddie can do is stand in the doorway mute for likely the first time in his life as he takes in the scene around him. 

The coffee shop has been completely transformed. The tables all moved together to make one giant seating area. Streamers of all colors hang from the ceilings, a banner that says Happy Birthday dangles from the front register counters. Music spills from a loudspeaker further into the room. And all about the room are the people who mean the most to him. From his Corroded Coffin friends, Hopper and Joyce, Jonathan and Nancy, the kids, Robin, his Uncle ( who gives him a knowing smile), Steve to his left…and then there’s you. 

Standing with a cake in the middle of the room, his name written out across the white frosting in a bright red, with your makeshift attempt at drawing his guitar on the side. 

Everyone’s shouting happy birthday, and when he looks over to Steve, he only gives him a nod and he’s stepping further into the room. It’s overwhelming, the fullness that floods his heart. The way the kids all step forward, wanting a chance to wish him happy birthday, to hug him. His friends do the same, each offering him well wishes and a pat on the back or a tight squeeze. Over and over again until his head spins, because he’s not used to this sort of affection. 

Not used to being celebrated—not like this. 

His Uncle steps forward as the crowd clears, reaching forward to bring his nephew close to his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me about this, pops?” 

“I was held under strict guidance from that young lady over there to keep it a secret,” he explains, throwing a thumb over his shoulder to where you’re standing, head tilted back in laughter as Max and Dustin wave their hands wildly before you, clearly deep in some sort of tale. “You know, you’ve never introduced me to her before.”

“She’s a good friend,” he says, calling your name above the crowd. Your head immediately darts his way, before turning to the kids to excuse yourself. He tries to quell the rapid flutter in his chest as you draw nearer, as your skirt dances about your thighs, as your infectious curl smiles when you approach him. “I wanted to introduce you to someone.”

“Formally, at least,” Wayne says, passing you a little wink. “Seeing as we spoke a couple weeks back.”

You waste no time in reaching forward and hugging the man, shocking both Wayne and Eddie, but Eddie supposes it’s really not that shocking at all. You’ve always been warm. You ooze life and make people feel like they can be open, without any worry as to what you might think of them. It’s one of the things he admires most about you, so he simply smiles as Wayne shares in that embrace with you and pulls back after a while with a giant smile, murmuring something so quietly to you Eddie doesn’t quite catch it. 

Your reply is a nod and you settle back at Eddie’s side, glancing up at him through your lashes as you wrap his side in a hug. The first hug you’ve given him. “Happy Birthday, Eddie.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says sincerely, glancing at his Uncle. “Uncle Wayne…this is…” He tells him your name, and then does the reverse, finally introducing the two of you. But it’s as if you’ve known each other for years as the two of you split away from him and talk over the coffee pot, showing him how to work it. 

He doesn’t miss the way he misses your warmth soon after it's gone.

Steve appears to his right, arms folded across his chest. “It’s okay to admit you like her, you know? Also, in case you were wondering, it was her idea to do this in the first place. We promised you wouldn’t get mad at her. We thought it was a good idea.”

“I’m not mad,” Eddie promises, and chooses not to acknowledge that first part. 

Because he’s not even yet had a chance to process the feeling bursting from beneath his ribcage whenever you’re near. The way his stomach dips, chest tightens, palms start to sweat. He’s never really had many opportunities throughout his teenage years, always too weird, too loud, too much for most girls. Sure, he’s kissed a few here and there, maybe had a make out at the Hideout here and there in a dark corner. 

But nothing like this, nothing of this nature. And he especially never expected it happening after the Upside Down. 

For so long he’s seen himself as some beast. As some monster that lurks in the shadows. 

Now…well, you’re different, he supposes. You draw those parts of him forward. You make him step forward and into the open, pulling him from the shadows he prefers to hide in. 

He’s not quite sure what to do about that yet. So for now he slips into conversation with the kids about DnD. He listens to Hopper and Joyce regale him with stories he’s not yet even heard about Robin and Steve. When they later gather around to have cake, he ties his hair back and tugs you to his side so you can sit beside him when you place the cake down before him, candles flickering against the faces of those across from him. 

He feels loved. 

He feels undeniably and truly loved.

He inhales and wishes for this year to be the best one yet, and exhales hopeful that it will be. 

  *

  The end of summer finds you sitting in the back of Eddie’s van with Eddie, Steve and Robin. Eddie’s gutted the thing, all his usual things cleaned out for now, and placed a makeshift bed of blankets beneath. Pillows are strewn about the place, creating the perfect outdoor movie watching atmosphere. 

Robin and you have been left to your own devices as the guys collect your various drink and snack orders, staring out the mouth of the van up at the twinkling stars in the sky. 

You don’t have those back home. The sky is always too congested, always obscured and blocking out their pretty light. Tonight, however, the sky is full with an endless sea of them. 

“That one, right there,” Eddie says all of a sudden, popping up beside you on the back of the vehicle, “is Aquila…then look up, up, up— yeah, right there. That’s Cygnus.”

You turn to look at him, and the stars reflect in his eyes. You can hear Robin and Steve talking to your left, sure, but Eddie’s swallowing up all the air in the space. 

All the attention. 

“Are there any others?” You tip your head back up to the sky, feeling a flutter when Eddie’s fingers curl around your wrist and he unfurls your pointer finger. 

“Okay, so a little bit to the right of Aquila is Hercules.” He drags your hand to the right, outlining the square-like shape in the center and the spindly, broken limbs from the four points. “Right to the left of that… is Lyra.”

He drags your finger to the left and points out the other small constellation, his breath dancing along your bare shoulder, making your breath come out in short puffs. His fingers unfurl from around your wrist and you shift a bit on your bottom, further away from Steve and Robin, your bent knee and leg hanging over the edge of the van bracketing Eddie in place. 

He’s wearing a Metallica tank top tonight, and those dark jeans he favors, hair loose and wavy in the humid September air. He’s smiling at you, you realize, bright and open in the dimly lit space. 

“How do you know so many constellations?” you probe, head tipping to the side. 

You watch as his eyes drift back to the sky. With Steve and Robin so caught up in their own conversations and murmuring their need to go to the bathroom before the movie starts, Eddie regales you with a story about his parents. That his father had been in and out of jail his whole life, and that his mother always struggled because of it, seeking comfort in alcohol and other substances. At a young age, she actually ended up dropping him off at his Uncle Wayne’s house here in Hawkins and…never came back for him. It breaks your heart as he tells you. The idea that she could just leave the child she grew and loved within her own body at one time. 

He tells you about those beginning years, learning to navigate each other's new spaces. The way his Uncle became a constant, when he’d been so used to people coming and going in and out of his life before that. 

“My uncle and I got close. Like…ah, really close,” he admits softly, with the shyness of a young boy, shocking for the twenty-three year old man sitting before you. “That involved learning new things together. So there was a time where we’d sit outside and just look up at the stars with a book and see what we could find.”

“Your Uncle Wayne is really special,” you tell him, your voice soft even on your own ears. “I’m really happy you have him. He was…so wonderful when I met him.”

“Yeah, he’s…” He leans back onto his hands, chest parallel with the sky. From here you can see the soft outline of his face, the line of his nose, his jaw, the bump of his throat, the chains that rest in the hollow. “He’s really important to me. We’ve been through a lot together.”

You swallow thickly, the importance of this moment not lost on you. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Eddie.”

His palm slides across the van floor and you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those fingertips brush your own. They just rest there, not seeking or holding, simply touching . Simply sharing in the closeness of proximity. You follow the trail of his forearm down to where your fingers lay, index tapping against his thumb, when Robin announces boisterously that the movie is about to begin. 

Your group slides further into the mouth of the van. You settle down on Eddie’s right so you’re closest to the wall, hidden away from the rest of the group, your knees close to your chest as you watch the opening scenes spill across the screen, showing two young boys moving into a Santa Carla, California. 

The Lost Boys is interesting enough and moves swiftly. The premise of vampires always seemed intriguing anyway, these creatures of the night not bound by the innate human morality code. 

And as you get further into the movie and Michael finds himself drawn into David’s motorcycle gang because of his growing interest in Star, you lean over to Eddie and mutter, “You should be a vampire for Halloween. You dress like these guys on a daily basis.”

“Are you making fun of my clothing choices?” he asks, tugging at your forearm so you thump bodily against his shoulder. 

“I’m just saying, it would be an easy costume,” you chuckle, just as Michael is offered some sort of wine that you most definitely know isn’t actually wine. 

“Would you drink a random chalice like that?” he asks you. The sound of Star telling Michael not to do it greets your ears. 

“Absolutely not,” you say, chuckling. “You know that boy is about to become a vampire. Easy.” 

“You two!” Steve hisses loudly, making you jump from where you rest beside Eddie. “Stop with the chit-chatting! There’s a movie playing!”

A group of people in cars around you “shhh'' Steve, his hands lifting in exasperation. “I’m trying to get them to shut up and you’re all trying to get me to shut up? Come on, people, be grateful here!”

“Steven,” you raise your head from up where you’re hidden by Eddie, snorting when Eddie shoves your shoulder lightly. “Quiet down, there’s a movie playing!”

“This,” he says, pointing a finger between the two of you, “is a scary thing.”

None of you are able to ask what he means by that, because a worker with a flashlight comes by and gives you a final warning that numerous people have made noise complaints, and one more will result in your request for removal from the premises. 

You’re giggling to yourself, shoulder against Eddie’s with your hand over your mouth as they walk away. His face presses near to your ear, his own laughing warm against your skin, as he whispers, “Thank you.”

Your head pops up in confusion, eyes clashing with his. “What for?” 

“Just thank you,” he says, and there’s a poignant sincerity there that makes your chest ache with sudden sticky fondness.

You take that moment to shift closer to his side, your back against the side of his chest, his arm coming to drape around your shoulder. He’s warmth and comfort, protection from the chill of the soon to be fall air. And if you lean closer to him as the movie goes on, as Star and Michael explore the intimacies of their relationship in the background, he only pulls you closer, thumb brushing along your skin, gooseflesh jumping to life. 

“To keep you warm,” he explains, cheeks growing darker, as he looks down at your cuddled up forms.

“Of course,” you reply, trying to hide your wry smile.  

So while spring marked a new beginning, summer brought along with it warmth and the stirrings of something more. 

You’re excited to find out what that something more is. 

  *

[sapphicstone]

Soul's flower garden | broZone x Reader.

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒰🌱꒱ ♡ ‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤ𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚡 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: you're a gardener, so you have extensive knowledge of all the local flora.

pairings: John Dory x Reader, Spruce/Bruce x Reader, Clay x Reader, Floyd x Reader.

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤ‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤ‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤhope you enjoy it!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒰🌱꒱ ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . john dory

JD drove frantically to Mount Rageous. The place where his younger brother Floyd was supposedly being held. You only knew him from the stories and photos John Dory had, you never saw him in person.

You saw when he read the letter that strangely reached Rhonda and you saw how worried he was.

Mount Rageous looked like an unhealthy place, although it seemed to be partly made of plastic or something similar.

"Wait here." John asked as he got up from the driver's seat.

"I'll go with you." You put down the book you were reading about the local flora and got up, intending to accompany him.

"No way."

And off he goes.

You've spent minutes waiting, after reading the whole book from start to finish, JD arrives with a slightly melancholy expression. He said nothing, just sat back down on the bench and turned around with Rhonda.

You didn't question him about anything in order to maintain respect. John would say an hour, in his own time.

The next day, Rhonda didn't want to walk. John Dory was explicitly worried when he turned the car around and realized that the armadillo simply refused to move. She didn't have the strength.

You both left. You were startled when you noticed the greenish tinge on the poor creature's face. As you approached her, you noticed the sickly look on her face.

"She looks terrible! She must have eaten something she shouldn't have on Mount Rageous."

"What are we going to do?" John looked even more worried.

You knew exactly what to do. Nearby there were some boldo leaves, you picked them and offered them to Rhonda, who frowned as soon as she smelled the plant.

"Come on, Rhonda! I know it looks bitter, but you have to chew it."

She obeyed. Rhonda got better a few hours later and John Dory showered you both with kisses and hugs.

You help John to stay away from plants that can cause allergies, since he loves walking through the woods and acts unconsciously most of the time.

Once he almost ate poisonous berries if you hadn't been around…

"Can I eat that?"

"If you want to swell up and explode into glitter, yes!'' One day, John was bitten by a carnivorous plant and didn't leave Rhonda for a few days. You laughed at him and he got upset.

A complete disaster when it comes to laughing plants, he hardly ever recognizes them. Lucky you know a cure for them.

He loves your knowledge of flora and constantly presents you with flowers he finds in his favorite book.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . Spruce/Bruce

He seasons the food with plants that you take to Vacay Island.

Because it's an island, the plantation is somewhat limited, so you have to go out and explore a bit more.

Bruce goes along, he doesn't want you to get hurt while trying to pick plants to season the food sold in the restaurant.

"Do you think this would go well in soup?"

He thinks it's funny when you bring the plants close to your face and smell them to simulate a possible combination.

"No, dear. Try this one!"

"Incredibly delicious."

The best fruit salad on Vacay Island. The best drinks and juices too!

Bruce also gives you flowers and some special seedlings.

One day you told him about a flower that grows in all possible environments, even tropical ones.

Guess what? He found a way to get this flower and helped you plant it in a pot at the back of the restaurant.

Every day that flower grew more colorful and beautiful.

"My little flower" as he calls it.

"My little ones." As he calls his children if they have any.

Your house is all decorated. Flowers in pots, flowers on the ceiling, flower arrangements and the pantry is full of grains and vegetables that you grow yourself in pots for your own consumption.

He waters the plants every day when he remembers.

They all remind him of you, so Bruce doesn't feel lonely when he's away from you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . Clay

Clay's office has never been as colorful as it used to be.

You work in a location a little further away from all the centralization of the putt-putt village.

Because she has a vast knowledge of plants, Viva has appointed her as a "healer". Always serving teas and medicines to trolls who end up injured or sick.

Clay admires you from afar. He gives you some books that he finds interesting, even though you have a collection of them and don't need new ones.

But you think it's cute and keep it anyway.

Afternoon tea almost every day! Clay gave up his coffee addiction for a while just to enjoy his delicious herbal tea.

Clay doesn't like sweets very much, he hardly eats milkshakes and French fries. So salads with fresh vegetables are always welcome!

You stock up on fruit and fresh salad for him in a little jar, always knocking on his office door to deliver it to him.

"Lovely pumpkin." That's what he usually calls you.

"Thanks for helping to look after us!" You say with a smile.

"You do it better than me."

One day you asked him to look at your farm. He liked it so much that, thanks to this tranquillity, he began to relax a little from his work as an accountant. Of course, he was still very professional, but with a little moderation.

You taught him how to pick moon fruit. They have the shape of the star and are naturally illuminated and he keeps one of them as a lamp in his office.

That way, he always remembers how special your relationship is.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . Floyd

Skincare!

You definitely know the best plants that can take care of trolls' delicate skin. Almost every night before going to sleep, you rub some creamy plant on their faces and talk while you wait a few minutes for it to take effect.

Floyd has some trouble sleeping. Sometimes his body aches and his mind is agitated, so you prepare some herbal tea with calming properties so that he can relax and sleep.

Your cocoon is in the most flowery tree in the countryside.

Floyd would like to learn more about the flora. He wants to talk to you about his interests and loves it when you teach him something you've recently learned.

flower crown!

But Floyd ends up sneezing from the pollen.

Special fruit pies are always on the table. He loves his homemade sweets.

Floyd puts the flowers in a vase with water. There's always room for more vases inside the cocoon.

He has learned to eat some edible flowers and now always asks you to make some refreshing salad with them.

"Please?" He begs with piteous eyes.

"Okay, Daisy." You call him that and then give him an Eskimo kiss.

The shape of Floyd's hair resembles a tulip, however.

Floyd now smells of roses. And he loves it.

౨ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୨୧ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ 𝜗𝜚˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୭ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୨ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ೀ౨ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୨୧ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ 𝜗𝜚˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୭ৎ

I hope you enjoyed it and sorry for any mistakes! :') masterlist

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The One That Got Away - Chapter Sixteen

Warnings: language, angst.

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I didn’t have a beta for this, so all mistakes are mine.

You can catch up here!

 My Masterlist AO3    Ko-Fi

Another three weeks had passed, and Y/N willed their bad luck wouldn’t strike again tonight. Their last attempt at a second date saw her bedridden with the flu and doubly miserable at another failed attempt to rekindle a relationship with Dean. He had been understanding and told her to rest and drink plenty of fluids, but she knew he must be just as frustrated as she was that Lady Luck seemed to have abandoned all hope on their second chance.

Today though, Y/N felt fit and healthy, Dean wasn’t on shift, and she was spending hers in an empty office catching up on paperwork and overtime claims. She’d instructed her staff to only disturb her if it was absolutely necessary. If things finally went their way, neither should be stuck or injured at work this time, and that thought gave her hope that this would finally be it.

Dean was full of nervous energy and decided the best way to use it up was to give Baby a long overdue tune-up, clean and polish. It was perfect timing, too, because then she would be looking her best when he took Y/N out to the fanciest restaurant Lawrence had to offer, and by the time he was finished, he’d be a few hours closer to his date with Y/N; it was a win-win.

He wasn’t surprised she’d gotten sick and had to cancel last time. The whole day fate hadn’t been working in his favour, so when her text came through, it was the cherry on top of what had been a really fucking shitty day. When he called her later to see how she was, she sounded dreadful, and he’d immediately offered to come over and look after her. Y/N declined, saying all that would achieve was him getting sick too, and then their date would have to be postponed for even longer.

Knowing Y/N was working today made him a little apprehensive that something would crop up at the last second and force another rain check. Still, he was trying to keep that niggling thought buried. And so, with a coffee-filled travel mug, Dean made his way outside with his tools and got to work sprucing up his second best girl.

Her message came in at 4pm.

Y/NCheck the news. I’m so sorry, De xx

Dean closed his eyes in frustration and huffed loudly at their atrocious luck. Turning on the news, he watched the aftermath of an overturned lorry on the freeway, blocking the road in both directions and multiple vehicles colliding with it or other vehicles.

“So far,” the news anchor reported, “there have been five fatalities and over twenty people with injuries of varying severity, and several people are still trapped in their vehicles. Emergency workers are doing all they can to free them, with relief crews being called in to assist.

“Meanwhile, Lawrence Memorial Hospital is nearing its emergency patient capacity and has set up an outdoor triage area for the walking wounded, keeping the hospital building free for those with more serious injuries that need attending to.”

His cell rang shortly after, and Dean was only briefly disappointed that it wasn’t Y/N. He knew she’d be swamped, and he probably wouldn’t hear from her until everyone from the accident had been treated. Still, he had a sliver of hope that it might’ve been her.

“Bobby, I just saw the news,” Dean answered the call.

“So you know why I’m calling?” Bobby said, his question rhetorical. “I’m sorry to ask you to work when you’re supposed to have plans tonight…”

“It’s fine. Y/N’s on shift and already sent me a text cancelling. It’ll be all hands on deck at the hospital, so I might as well come in. At least it’ll stop me from drowning my sorrows,” Dean chuckled sadly.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sure you’ll get that date soon,” Bobby replied, but right now, that wasn’t much comfort to the younger man.

“I’m starting to think we should just cut our losses. Maybe something’s trying to tell us something,” Dean scoffed.

“Dean-”

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten,” Dean cut in, not feeling in the mood to hear another person say how perfect they were for each other when the simple task of going on a date seemed impossible.

It would be a long night, but at least he’d have work to keep him from spiralling down the self-depreciation hole he usually did when Y/N had to cancel plans.

With all trapped persons rescued and the accident site secured by police and awaiting cleanup, Dean’s Firehouse had been posted to the triage area at the hospital to help wherever possible. They were giving first aid, handing out food and water, and checking up on patients in the hospital on behalf of concerned family and friends who were outside waiting for news of their loved ones.

He’d even got to speak to Y/N briefly a few times, and those little moments of light in what was otherwise a dark situation had kept his spirits up. And now that the last few patients were being treated, he finally felt he could breathe easier. Maybe, he’d even be able to convince Y/N to go for a bite to eat before they both went home and slept.

Trawling through the hospital’s hallways, Dean’s only focus was finding the nurse who was slowly taking hold of his heart again and taking up most of his thoughts since coming back to town. He almost missed her as he turned another corner and walked down another corridor.

Stepping back to the room he’d just passed, Dean paused at the window, praying he was wrong and that the woman sitting on the floor, arms crossed over her legs and head on her knees, wasn’t Y/N. Opening the door and quietly stepping into the room, his heart ached at the realisation that it was her and that the usually strong and kept-together nurse was in tears.

“Hey, Princess, what’s the matter?” Dean asked, making his way over and crouching in front of her. Y/N looked at him, eyes red and puffy, her cheeks wet with tears, and he threw all caution to the wind as he sat beside her, pulled her into his lap, and wrapped his arms around her.

They remained embraced on the floor for a while before Y/N’s tears stopped, and she’d stopped gasping in shallow breaths between her heartwrenching sobs. Dean was at a loss on what to do at first, but then he remembered that this was Y/N. His Y/N. And though she was stronger than she looked and more capable than people gave her credit for, sometimes the only way she could process her emotions was to cry.

“Sorry, I needed that,” Y/N eventually spoke and wiped at her eyes. “Days like this, when we lose so many people, never get easier to process. Sometimes I just need a little time to cry it all out.”

“No need to explain to me, Princess. I’ve known you my whole life, and I know that if you don’t let it out now, it’ll eat away at you and eventually consume you. I’ll always be here to ground you whenever you feel like that, alright?”

“Thank, De,” she sniffled and smiled softly at him. “I suppose we should get back out there, huh?”

“In a few minutes. The last patients are being treated, and Ellen, Jody, and Bobby have called a staff briefing at 5am. We’ve got a little time to calm you down some more,” Dean kissed her forehead and smiled, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter and pulling her into his body a little closer.

After urging everyone who’d gathered for the briefing in the hospital canteen to have something to eat before they went home, Dr Ellen Harvelle, Charge Nurse Rowena Macleod, Sheriff Jody Mills, and Fire Chief Bobby Singer thanked their staff for the exceptional job they’d all done in the face of such tragedy and dismissed them from their duties. Reserve police officers and firefighters had started their shifts early to allow those who’d worked all night to go home and rest.

The doctors, nurses and hospital staff who’d been on shift when the accident happened or been called in as backup would be relieved by those who’d either volunteered to stay and work a double shift or agreed to come in on a rest day.

Dean got to have breakfast with Y/N after all, but they were joined by Benny, Bobby, and Jody. He couldn’t complain, though, as he saw the smile come back to Y/N’s face as she talked to Jody and playfully rolled her eyes at Benny’s southern charm and blatant flirting. Dean didn’t rise to the Cajun’s bait, knowing that was exactly what he wanted.

“Now, I know you’re a workaholic, Y/N, but please tell me you didn’t volunteer to stay on?” Uncle Bobby asked with the stern look that never made her listen to him when she was a child and certainly wouldn’t make her listen to him now.

“No, I didn’t. I’ve been working for…” Y/N glanced at the fob watch attached to her scrub top pocket, “twenty-three and half hours. If I stay any longer, I would be endangering the patients, particularly because I haven’t had a break, let alone any sleep.”

“Good. You look like death warmed up,” Bobby stated before shovelling a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“Yeah…” Y/N sighed and rubbed a hand down her face. “I feel like it too.”

“Go home, honey, before you fall asleep at the table!” Jody chuckled, and Y/N responded with a lopsided smile before grabbing the empty plate and used cutlery and standing from her seat.

“Alright, I’m going! Uncle Bobby, Jody, I’ll see you Sunday. Benny, it was nice to see you again,” she smiled tiredly at the blue-eyed man.

“You too, cher. Take care of yourself, you hear?” Benny winked at her before digging back into his breakfast.

Dean stood and lifted his used dishes and walked with her to place them on the counter, which was home to all the used crockery. “You doing okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah, nothing a hot shower and a decent sleep won’t fix,” she smiled.

“Alright. Call me later, once you’ve had some sleep?” Dean asked with a raised brow.

“Of course,” she smiled. “I hope you’re going home to get some sleep too?”

“Yeah, we’ll probably have another debrief back at the firehouse, then, I am going home and crawling straight into bed,” he chuckled at her smile of approval and with a final farewell, Y/N left the hospital canteen, grabbed her purse from her locker and went home to sleep.

Waking up hours later when the sun had gone down, Y/N lay in bed trying to process everything that had happened the past few days. It was always tragic when they lost a patient, and serious incidents like yesterday were awful and never got easier to deal with. In moments like this, it was easier to think of the tens of patients they saved than the six they had lost.

The next thing to cross her mind was Dean. Y/N had been glad he was posted at the hospital because she was really starting to miss him. The first couple of times they couldn’t go on their date, she’d still been able to see him, but she hadn’t seen him in twelve days because she’d been so ill with flu, and she didn’t want Dean to see her like that. Sure, it might have been extremely vain of her to think that way, but she felt it was too soon to be at her absolute worst with him.

Y/N was also disappointed that things kept coming up. Granted, neither of them had chosen what happened to stall progress on their budding relationship. No one could’ve predicted her father would die right after their first date and put any thought of another date onto the back burner for weeks.

Neither of them could’ve guessed that Jess would need to finish work early and Y/N would need to be the one to take her shift, nor could Dean or her have done anything to stop Cas from getting injured on a call. And there was no way either could have foreseen what happened yesterday, resulting in them having to work.

Suddenly, she had an overwhelming pang in her chest and a strong urge to be with him, to say to hell with the fates, dates, plans, and schedules. She just needed to be with him. Needed him.

Knowing Dean wouldn’t be working after pulling an all-night shift, Y/N threw the bed covers off her body and showered. She was going to go over. Who needed a date anyway? She and Dean had been on hundreds of those and, she hoped, would go on hundreds more.

This was no longer about want for Y/N. It was about need.

Next Chapter >>

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[louroth]

Well, well, well. Would you look at what the cat dragged in. (it's me, Lou!)

The time is here, and oh man, do I have a lot to say! Ever since this post was posted on my personal tumblr, on the fifth of may, I have been working like a machine on all things OUROBOROS. I had originally planned for this to just be a progress report/ announcement on what I will be working on now that I am free of the shackles of work, but, somehow, I managed to finish all bullet points, and more. So, let's get into it!

First off, the title.  Ouroboros becomes all capitalized OUROBOROS. Idk. It's neat. Next!

Art. Whew. I didn't think I could draw like this anymore- drawing has been more of a struggle than writing has been, forever, always- it was something I really strived to become good at, for a time. And I gave up. Only to pick it up again when I started ouro, and ever since I released that pressure, something just clicked and I have been churning out art like never before. I don't know if this is a fluke, a stroke of luck or if all that hard work I once did slaving away with menial art practice… but I'm grateful nonetheless. (A note on official RO art: I lost my ipad pencil somewhere on the lawn, lmao. I haven't been able to get a new one yet, so there is a slight delay here.) I am hoping that I get to make some commissions too, in the near future. Visit the forum to see some works in progress (amongst them, Yor's RO portrait!)

Onto the hellscape that is coding! I have been growing more proficient with CSS and html with the help of the ones that run so that we can walk; I have studied and researched and tested and tinkered until my eyes crossed, finding my way into this medium with the incredible guidance of the giants of whose shoulders I stand on. I will talk about this in detail on a later date. So I think it's finally time to reveal that yes, I am working on a twine version of ouro. I will develop it in tandem with choicescript; the porting over from one to the other isn't the herculean task I thought it would be.

Why am I doing this? Because I need to have a save system. I am continuing to write the whole alpha draft in choicescript in hopes that CoG will announce the ability to have a native save/checkpoint system, but if that doesn’t happen, I can’t publish this story without one. Unfortunately, I am not willing to code in a savesystem in choicescript myself, because this will be a large game, with far too many variables for that to be sustainable. Trust me, no one is more disappointed by that fact than me. If it comes to the point that twine publishing will be what I do, I will set my sights on writing a smaller game for hosted games. 

Now the meatier announcements!

New Socials!

Tumblr: You are looking at it!  This is the new, exclusively OUROBOROS blog where I will share all announcements and sneak-peeks, and future updates. I worked together with the dev of the theme and made it oh, so pretty and functional. Please check out their portfolio here, if you are ever in the market for sprucing up your (desktop version) of tumblr. They were a pleasure to work with. Amongst other things, it has a gorgeous header (again, only if you visit on web and not mobile) where I am showcasing fanart and official art. Go check it out! This month, I am showcasing a truly breathtaking art from KAIRELART, and you can find the full art here, or follow the links in the “FEATURED ARTIST” tab in the top bar.

I hope you enjoy this new haven for OUROBOROS! I will be answering questions once a week (saturday) and ramping up as I adapt to this new schedule, more on that further below.

My old tumblr, honeypeabrain, will revert back to being my personal blog. Feel free to keep following me there, but know that it will be inundated with shitposts, crass humor and the occasional poetry dump and personal post. You’ve been warned!

Discord!

By the good graces, this was ROUGH to set up. Working with discord bots is akin to wrangling code, and it was well and truly, a war. But with the help of many, it is finally all done and ready for anyone to join and talk to me and others about OUROBOROS and anything else between heaven and earth. 

I will also greatly appreciate if any future bugs and feedback are submitted through here, so I can keep easier track of it. Come join us! (18+ ONLY.)

Patreon & Ko-Fi

Yep! Ko-fi is just a place to toss me a coin if you wish to help me towards the goal of new PC parts to make testing easier, or to just show appreciation for those that have it to spare. Patreon however, already has a multitude of posts and will be a hub for exclusive NSFW sidestories that you get to vote on, loredives and extensive sneak peeks, Q&A’s, polls and weekly dev logs. 

Right now, there are only two tiers, but I expect it to grow as my story does. I have many plans, but I am going at a steady pace. 

Amongst tiered content, there is a (free) NSFW story with female MC and Idren to read there right now, if you want to check it out! I am mgoing to post it on tumblr and the adult thread here over the weekend.

NOTE: I stupidly didn't realize that patreon had a review process after I pressed launch, which I did just a few minutes ago. Sigh. I am going to post the short on tumblr and the adult forum thread as soon as I get to it.

It is not mandatory by any means, so if you do choose to support me, you have my eternal gratitude as these places will be the sole source of income for me.

Onto writing:

The best news out of this whole bunch is that I have worked so hard on editing and writing, that in the past month I have all but finished a two chapter update! I have a chunk of about 5-6 thousand words left to write, and I am going to buckle down over the weekend to see it through. I wanted to have it done so badly for today, but I lost three days of writing time last week due to still being weighed down with work. I hope it isn’t too disappointing to have to wait until monday for the demo update! I am going to post a link to an as-I-write updated demo on Patreon and Discord, if you want to see the ugly face of raw wip drafts. Otherwise I will post the demo update here on Monday with a comprehensive post!

And now!  the biggest news is… from now on, I am writing full time!

This is what I have been tossing and turning about every night ever since Easter. It started as a silly idea while talking to some friends and family about how I was looking for a change in career. And then, little by little, that idea whittled down to a plan, carefully carved by my partner and his whispers of a happy future, a finished dream project, and something to be proud of until the day I wither and die. 

Somewhere between then and now, I grasped a tiny sliver of bravery and held on for dear life. 

I quit my job as a teacher, and instead of accepting a cushy office job, I started behaving as if OUROBOROS and writing was my work (for all the moments I could afford). I have researched and tried different methods from week to week, and although I was still tired from work, I felt like I was onto something that could build into a sustainable future. 

I have no doubts that this journey will be bumpy and long, but sometimes all it takes is to take that first step, and do it with determination. It might all crash and burn and fail in a spectacular way, or with a whimper, but then I will know that I have tried. I will know that I gave myself the chance to be who I want to be, work on what means so much to me. 

And that’s it. I think the hardest part of formulating this post (I’ve written about 50 versions of it!) is getting to the point; the kernel of what makes it so special to me. So, in my heart of hearts, what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm gonna give it my all- and while I know the road to having a sustainable career in writing is rough and ever winding, I do know for sure that I am ready for a challenge, to pour my heart and soul into it until the day I rush out of the office screaming IT IS DONE. IT IS DOOOOONE!!! 

If you decide to join me, I will treasure your company like a lantern in the dark. Hand in lovable hand, let’s fucking go.