#So much baked into this chapter into the whole series

[frobby]

No home is a beautiful piece of media, of literature, of art. It started beautiful, it stayed beautiful and it will end beautiful. A case study on grief, on loss, on the death of childhood, on the betterment of yourself, on recovery, on friendship and on moving forward.

I am not sad that no home is going to end for i appriciate what it brought to me. Every chapter was meaningful and worth reading and its ending at the exact place it should.

Thank you wanan, thank you no home for letting me read you

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 6}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: With the splinter of wood and a muttered insult, you're done. You're done with the town; you're done with the hot and cold from Joel. You're tired and you don't have anymore fight left.

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, heavy angst, blood, mild injuries, description of stitches, reader had a mild injury, the holidays are hard, a lot on internal monologue in this (both joel pov and reader), hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, though he is a bit daft in this, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, hurt and comfort, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, kissing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably angsty, reader loses her cool, argumentative language, heated arguments, threatening language, fighting, wwe smackdown, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: okay, this is the penultimate chapter! this series grew into something way beyond a cheeky handful of scenes that were just a random thought six months ago. it's been a joy to write for these two, i've put so much of myself in olive and for y'all to root for her and love her really warms my heart. the interaction with this has been insane and i love all of it, i love y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Sleep was such a pull on your psyche as the wind outside howled, battering anything that wasn’t secure and echoing loudly through the empty streets of Jackson. The habit of waking up throughout the night to peer outside your bedroom window and toward the small slip of the front street over your backyard fence periodically had been amplified in the storm. Unease settled in you, the storm bringing back memories you would father let fade into nothing. Inclement weather had been a challenge back when the world was whole, when safety measures were in place, when medical aid was abundant, when homes and buildings were constructed with them in mind. But even back then, they had been devastating.

And now?

They were as deadly as the virus.

Incessant snowfall all through the night, the light sprinkle of it last night turning into slanted sheets of downpour. It was blindingly bright on the other side of the windowpanes.

Despite the lockdown put in place by the council, you had told Maria depending on the streets that you would still make it to the mess hall. The intention of baking some breakfast casseroles hard to shake, of wanting to provide for those who may not have stock in their homes, or who relied on the mess hall as a main source of food. Layering as much as you could to combat the below freezing temperature, you pulled on your boots by the front door. Grabbing a knit cap and a scarf, you opened your front door and trudged through the snow drifts that had formed overnight.

Joel is panicking before he’s even fully conscious. His heart feels like it’s stopped but knows that it’s beating far too fast. His entire body feels weak and achy, his head pounding and overflowing with too many things. He felt nauseous, the drag of his lungs and the slushing of his stomach too much for him to handle. He groaned, pressing his face further into the pillow, the scent of his body wash wafting up and making it even worse.

He fucked up. He knows he did.

You had raised your voice at him, refused his help, his touch. Even as you laid collapsed on the ground because he had accidently knocked you down. You had been so worked up, so angry, but he had seen the way you clutched to your middle as you fled from him for a second time. He cursed low, the words a growl as he kicked the blankets from his sweating body despite the chills crawling down his spine.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He knew that woman was bound to be nothing but trouble. She was always a little too chatty for him, too willing to burst his bubble of personal space. But she had wiggled her way into his life and coerced him into a huge project that had taken so much of his free time leading up to the holidays.

He was a giving man, having been influenced by the acceptance he had been given here in the settlement, wanted to do what he could to help establish himself here. Not wanting to go back to the eat or be eaten mantra of the outside world or a collapsing quarantine zone. He had wanted to be everything he could manage for Ellie, to keep her safe here in a place that would allow for her to heal from the things they endured together. To survive in a way she hadn’t had the chance to, to have a life that wasn’t all bad. He had done his best to integrate, to be someone she could look up to and feel safe around. All of it had been for her, to have holidays, to have friends, to have a chance at finding out who she was without the undercurrent of survival being the only inspiration. And maybe ha had wanted it for himself too.

He had wanted to invite you over, try his hand at making you something for a change. If you had teased him over it, so be it, he would’ve taken it without argument. Just to see your lips quirk up and your soft laughter ring in the air of his kitchen. He would give anything for it to be his to witness.

The faux image of the domestic scene melted away, replaced by the one of you on the ground at his feet, with fear in your eyes. He hadn’t thought you were afraid of him, so open and willing to be in his space.

To tease him and lightly berate him when his answers were less than appropriate or too gruff.

Joel had never shown violence or distaste toward you, but yeah maybe he had been quieter or moodier on some patrols. But he wouldn’t get the chance to speak with you today. Patrols cancelled until the blizzard raging outside calmed down. A safety precaution that had been made lightly by the council. The risk of a group or pair getting stuck, of horses unable to handle it, of snow drifts forming and virtually undetectable, all of it had been taken into consideration. He wasn’t sure you were even cleared for patrol with your stitches. No pain killers you had said, reserved for extreme cases with how the supply was dwindled down to too little for a town of a few hundred.

Groaning as his head hammered, Joel shoved up from the bed, the blue sheets showing damp spots from his sweating and aching body. Scowling, he stripped the bed and made his way downstairs with them bundled in his arms. He felt a weird sense of déjà vu as he stuffed them into the top loading washer, reaching for the jar of powdered soap and pouring in a scoop. It was all so fucking normal. But his whole world felt like it was tilted, off kilter. Even more so than normal.

And it was because he knew he fucked up. He had hurt you, he had seen in it your eyes as you took in the way Marsha was clinging to him in her drunken state. The way she had deemed herself important enough to impinge on his time with you, so rare within the walls. Both of you so busy and both of you so afraid to ask after each other’s time. He knew he was, because he didn’t want to intrude on the way you kept to yourself, how you let your errands build up to take a whole day sometimes. And he knew some of that was because of the way people wouldn’t hold conversations with you, let alone start them. Opting to keep to yourself as a coping mechanism. Not wanting to feel like you were imposing yourself on the people who didn’t want to interact with you. He knew, because he had felt much the same way back in the quarantine zones, even if it was more born out of fear than distaste like it was for you.

He knew when you stumbled over your words to ask after him crafting something for you that you had worried yourself into a state before you even did it. Worried about taking up his time, taking up his resources, even if you had supplied him with the wood for the project. He had felt like a complete ass when you shut down and walked away, having felt comfortable enough to ask for something more when he had agreed to the first.

But Marsha. Marsha and her ill-placed infatuation with him had ruined the moment last night. You had told him you liked him, liked him. The heat he felt from you as he leaned in close and wanted to tell you he felt the same way. Shared and stolen kisses could only infer so much. And he groaned at the memory of pulling your hand over his erection the other morning. He was a damn fool to have done that, you had been pulling your hand away, but you had been touching him in his sleep. When he wasn’t able to tell you no, when something inevitably broke the moment, when something startled you or you thought too hard about it. You had just done it and the dilation of your eyes watching him, the hitch of your breaths, it had all been too tempting. He wouldn’t have told you no and he would’ve ignored the world ending all over again if it meant he could be with you in that way, even just once.

The older woman broken another tentative moment between you two. With the courage of alcohol flowing in her veins. It had made her bold in her words to him, her sentiments, her actions. Hell, the only reason he hadn’t heard your steps on the street was that he had been in shock. She had surged up and pressed her lips to his after he had denied her offer of a nightcap. He had just been trying to walk her home and make sure she was safe, even if he wasn’t overly fond of her, her friends had all been too unaware of themselves to help her.

Anger had overridden the shock; how dare she think she could do that. His heart wasn’t his to give, it was yours. And he had been about to tell you so.

The weak arguments of the woman defending herself and the gift she had gotten him even if she hadn’t gotten his name in the exchange for today had blurred his senses even more. His mind focused on the holiday, on taking you the gift he had made along with his heart. Hoping that today would be the day things were out in the open, plainly spoken and accepted. He only worried about how well you would receive him after being caught with Marsha last night.

Today.

Today was Christmas and the town was in a semi-state of lockdown with the strong winds and flurries of show raining down to collect along the streets. The bite to the air the worst of the season so far. Turning the washer on, he moved toward the coffee maker. Only to discover that he was out of grounds to brew.

With a string of muttered curses, Joel bundled up and braved the weather to cross the street.

He needed coffee and the gift he had left with Maria yesterday.

Tommy was pacing back and forth, waiting for the second pot of coffee to finish brewing. It had been an early morning, Maria rising hours ago and taking off with another neighbor to trek toward the mess hall where you had diligently showed up for your shift. Everyone had been advised late last night to remain indoors unless absolutely necessary.

A knocking barely echoed through the still howling wind. Thankfully, the snow had stopped, though it was built up deep all around the settlement.

A few moments later and both men were seated in the living room, the tea light candles flickering underneath two names etched in chalk above the mantle.

“She won’t be home much today.” Tommy supplied, reading the anxious silence Joel was stewing in beside him. “She trekked through one of the worst bouts of this weather to get to the mess hall. Wanted to make sure everyone had something to eat in case the power stutters or goes out. Her, Maria, and a couple others are gonna deliver meals door to door.”

“She’s too good for how people treat her.”

“From what I hear, you haven’t been treatin’ her too good either, brother.” Tommy took a long pull from his mug before he set it down on the coffee table. “She was over here after that overnight patrol, helpin’ with Macon. Was so tired she was rambling about how much she appreciates everything you do ‘round here, how talented you are, how nice you are to her. But then if you’re so nice, why doesn’t she have one of the cutting boards that was her idea.”

“It ain’t that simple. I can be nice to her and not have one of ‘em for her.” Joel couldn’t turn to look at his brother, knowing how easily he would read him. Read the anxiety and worry he felt over the entire situation. All the miscommunication. All the mixed signals he had been giving you without realizing it. He thought you had opted to not talk about the kiss because you were uncomfortable, because you were worried he hadn’t liked it or wanted it. Because he hadn’t exactly told you that he did, that he dreamt of kissing you, of holding you, of protecting and providing for you. Spending quiet evenings in with homemade meals, nights out at the bar, helping you with the harvest again next fall. All of it, he thought about all of it with you.

“Why don't you just make her one, I don’t get it."

"Drop it, Tommy, she's not getting one."

"I thought you liked her, I thought...I thought I saw you two kissing the other night. Sure as hell looked like she had been caught red-handed."

"We…we were. We have, a few times., but she thinks I’m with Marsha because that…insane woman has taken such a liking to me. Saw me walking her home from the bar the last night because she downed far too many shots and Millie was nowhere to be seen.”

“She knows you, trusts you not to do that to her if you’ve shown interest. Just give her a cutting board and I’m sure it’ll all blow over. That's all she wants Joel, to feel included. Like she's a part of something.” Tommy was wringing his hands in, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought over his next words. “A lot of people have them and she doesn't. It's basically an insult thrown in her face."

“Fuck, I didn't think of it like that."

The sip of coffee Joel took turned bitter in his mouth. He really hadn’t thought of it like that. He had just been trying to hone his skills with the new craft before gifting you the best one he could make. He set down the mug, stomach turning as the acid settled heavy. Rubbing his palms roughly over his face, rustling the thick hairs of his moustache.

"She's going to ask to be taken off patrol, Joel. She did ask before you showed up, stop it altogether and just focus on the mess hall. She feels like it would be easier to avoid the looks and gossip. We know about it, the council, but there’s not much we can do about it.” Tommy was obviously upset, his voice thick as he divulged something you had gone to him in a moment of weakness. He recalled the way you had been in tears, hurt beyond words by the acceptance that Joel and Ellie had been given as newcomers when you had been here for years and how upset you were at yourself for being jealous of it.

“But she kept at it as a favor for me, to help me keep you alive. To help me feel okay with not being by your side out beyond the walls when I couldn’t be. Because I worry, I worry so damn much about you brother and I just want you to be okay. She saw that, she saw that and took it onto her own shoulders because she cares about me.”

Joel sighed, his brothers words blossoming warmth in his chest.

“I am going to make her one, Tommy. From that piece of trunk I had you help me get from her yard. But it’s drying, the slabs I got from it. Already lost one and the other two need to dry.” He huffed out, chest tight as he thought of how long it would take. “She said the wood she brought me for those spoons took months to dry.”

“They’re beautiful, the whole set. I’m sure she’ll love them.” Tommy nodded to the box that contained them on in the kitchen. Of course he had looked them over, finding them when he had woken up and curious as to how they ended up in his own if your name was scribbled on the top of the box.

“But she came to me and asked for them, Tommy. It’s not gonna be the same if what you’re sayin’ is true. It’ll feel like a consolation when it’s not. It’s just the beginning of what I’m willin’ to give to her.”

“Then you should tell her that. She deserves to hear it.”

You ignored the knocking at your door, sleep keeping you weighted to the couch in your living room.

But the crack of wood and the clash of metal following a loud gust of wind had you surging up to your feet.

“Shit-“ A grunted curse was the only greeting you got before the door swung open to reveal the large shadow of Joel just outside of it.

“Joel? Why the hell would you break down my door?”

“It was an accident, I was just knocking and the wind got me-“

“Forced your way into my home? I thought I told you to leave me alone.” You hugged yourself, arms tight as you tried to shield away from the chill creeping into the living room.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry. Please, I wouldn’t-“ He stumbled over his words, turning his back to you in order to try and set the door back into the frame. The wood was splintered around the lock, preventing it from shutting completely. He leaned down to get a closer look at the damage. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna have to probably make you a whole new door.”

“Just go, Joel. Please.” You clenched your eyes shut and walked away from the honeyed drawl, ignoring the pull it had on you to move closer. The kettle in the kitchen was just beginning to whistle and you removed it from the stove. But instead of gathering up a mug and the loose leaf tea from a cabinet, you flattened your palms on the table and hung your head.

You flinched when a wrapped box slid between your arms, pushed by a tan, weathered hand.

“’s for you.”  His voice was so tender, his eyes wide and beseeching when you glanced up.

“No, thank you.” You pushed it back toward him, standing on the other side of the table.

“Olive, please. You said your name always gets thrown out of the exchange. I wanted to and it’s what you asked me for.”

He lifted the top of the box, setting the lid down beside it, the ribbon atop it looking far too cheerful for you. Set inside, amid a soft looking swath of cloth, was a set of wooden utensils tied together with a thick string. He held them out to you, a slight tremble in his hands. They were beautiful, the wood crafted expertly and you shook your head to rid yourself of the image of Joel sat in his desk chair face focused as he took the time to carve them from the block of wood you had taken to him.

“I pushed a lot of stuff back to make sure they were just right. Was so careful with the wood you brought to me, it was dense but I managed to sand it down without altering the look of it too much. I didn’t stain it, to keep the natural color, the grain is really beautiful-“

When you didn’t say anything, eyes focused on his chest, he trailed off. He set the gift back down on the table and took a step back, his mouth snapping shut. His gaze heavy on you as you tried to focus and keep your temper under control. But you were at the end of your patience. This time of the year already hard on you. Paired with the hot and cold from Joel, the judgment from the town, the lack of inclusion on anything going on and you were just tired. Deep down in your bones, exhausted.

“Joel…” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You’re a good man. But I really don’t want to do this with you right now. I need some space because whatever I do, I can’t get you out of my head and it’s ruining me.” Your voice had started off at a normal volume, quickly growing as the words rushed from you. Anger flaring overwhelmingly, leaving you panting, chest heaving and hands clenched at your sides. The set of tied spoons resting on the table between you both, like a line not to be crossed. Like a mockery of the things he was offering you a little too late. Surging, you reached for them and hurled them in a display of anger you had thought you had managed to control. “Take your things and go, Joel Miller!”

They clattered to the floor across the kitchen, skidding along the tile to slam into the baseboards. The wood splintering and covering the floor behind him. But he hadn’t ducked, hadn’t brought his hands up to shield himself. Knowing, knowing that you wouldn’t have aimed them at him even as anger and hurt lit you from the inside out. He saw the remorse flash across your face the second they had left your hand.

Knowing that it was all an act of self-preservation. A way to save face, to save the fact that you had been hurt by his actions, his indiscretions. The memory of turning down the street, his hand wrapped innocently around Marsha, guiding her toward their shared street in her drunken state. And when he had declined the offer for a nightcap, she had pushed into his personal space to crush her lips to his.  Of running smack into you when he had tried to put distance between them, his back colliding with your front and crushing the wrapped gift in your hand. The sound of it thudding to the ground and your surprised shout warbling off into a deep breath of realization.

But the woman before him now was the same one who had taken the time to wrap the gift labeled with his name on it. Had taken the time to hand write recipes on a long-forgotten pack of index cards. Step by step instructions for things easy to combine and make nutritious means from. Had taken the time to include little, silly names for the meals that had pulled a tearful chuckle from him as he read them through in his inebriated state.

“I just want to be left alone. I just want, for one measly second that someone doesn’t watch me and wait for me to screw up, to give them a reason to feel disappointed. I-I can take it from the others, but Joel…I can’t handle it if it’s from y-you. Please just go.”

He didn’t go. He moved closer, into your personal space and he was thankful for the way you didn’t shy away from him even as tears raced down your cheeks. For the way you allowed him to cup your face in his hands and press his lips to yours, thumbs brushing away the tears. For the way your own moved against his as he tilted his head and really kissed you. There was no heat behind it like that last time, just adoration and reverence.

Pulling back, he whispered, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

He kisses the fear from you, pleading with you to understand that he's not going to turn his back on you.

He only hopes you can feel it. But your hands don’t rise to caress or cup his face, they don’t rise to rest on his chest, they don’t rise to run through his snow dampened hair. Your lips are barely moving against his and his heart sinks. It chips and shatters on the floor to settle with the pieces of broken olive wood.

But it wasn’t enough. It hurt that his attention wasn’t enough when you thought it would be. It was about his actions. How they had made you feel the last couple of months, since summer. The back and forth, the constant miscommunication, the humiliation of wanting a man who had so much more in his life, who was pulled in so many directions. The respect he had from the people within the settlement for the things he could do, for the things he provided to them. The issue of your reception, the possibility of it affecting his own if he were to be seen with you or you seeking out more of him. All of it was too much, the constant internal turmoil, it was heavy.

It was so heavy and you had to put it down.

“Joel,” Gently pushing him back, but not away, his body willingly moving with the motion. “Why didn’t you make me one, a cutting board?”

He froze.

When he sputtered on a few words before falling silent, you detangled from him. Crossing your arms as shield to your heart.

“This is why I keep to myself. It doesn't hurt when there's no one else involved.” Your voice was a low rasp, giving away the fresh wave of tears threatening to spill, the hot throb of them in your throat. “And even if you did try to be my friend, it's okay that you really don't want to be. You share things with people, you're a giver Joel, but I've had to ask for everything you've given to me.”

He could only watch as you closed yourself off, and you hoped he noticed the dark circles under your eyes. That he noticed just how much his attention had ruined you, because it had. You had been okay with how things were before he came along, content to keep to yourself, to spend patrols with Tommy and Maria. You hadn’t longed for companionship before he showed up and rode alongside you and asked simple questions about the town that developed into questions about yourself. Offering answers of his own in return. You hadn’t wanted before him.

“And that's not who i am, someone who asks for things she deserves. So…you standing there with no answer is you telling me that I don't mean anything to you. You don’t get to make me feel like I mean something and then not follow it with actions. I didn't take you for a cruel man. You say you’ve done things to stay alive, to fight for yourself and those in your care. And I wanted to believe that you changed, that you turned over a new leaf here. But you hurt me, Joel. You hurt me in a way that really…was so unfair.”

Once you let the words flow from within you it was hard to stop, they were a flood being released. Voice not stuttering or scrambling over them like you know you tended to do. Mostly from lack of interaction, of not using your voice most days as you spent it alone in the kitchen, home, or garden. The stuttering an anxious thing born of fear of interacting and it turning sour like it quickly tended to do. Words and sentiments always more ammo for those to use against you. And you could see it, in the man across from you, that he had things to say in response to the many words you were giving him. But you couldn’t, you were tired.

“I deserved better than the treatment I received by the people of this community, of this safe haven for those willing to contribute and who wanted something better for themselves. But the truth is…I’m better off alone.”

His voice cracked on the shape of your name on his lips.

But you shook your head, tears flowing freely and breathing labored.

“Just go, please.”

“Well hey there.” A figure approached you, where you were seated on the same stool at the long bar in the Tipsy Bison for the second night in a row. It was the man of the brother and sister duo you had convinced Joel to trust and bring back to the settlement. They had settled in well, Millie taking to the pregnant woman with a swiftness that had surprised you. But they were both close in age, something rare these days, to find friends you could relate to easily.

“Oh, h-hello.” You looked up from the book you had been reading, hearty sandwich on a plate beside your drink. Only a few bites taken out of it. The book holding your attention far more than the simpering hunger in your stomach. You hadn’t eaten all day, stewing in forlorn silence on the couch until your stomach rumbled. Only to find you didn’t have anything that would make a meal in your home, prompting you to brave the calmer but still whipping winds and intermittent snow fall.

“I just saw you from across the room, Tommy Miller said we could grab a bite here since the mess hall was closed for the day with the bad weather from this morning.” Nolan, you recalled his name. Nolan was nice, polite. You didn’t fault him for pointing a gun at you or Callie for managing to injure you. It was a sick, twisted world out in the wasteland of what was, especially if there was an unborn baby to worry about. They had just been doing what they needed to survive another day. “Guess no one wanted to risk working and getting stuck. I’m grabbing something to go I just wanted to thank you again, for helping us.”

“It’s no big deal. Everyone deserves a chance at something more.” You tried to smile, but you felt drained. From the early morning of cooking and delivering meals to front doors for people. Maria had enlisted the help of a handful of people, but it had been time-consuming to prep and make everything yourself. To bundle it all up into packs that would be appropriate servings.

“Would you mind if I joined you?” He moved to sit beside you, startling you at his forwardness. There was a wry glint to his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was fighting off a smile. “While I waited, that is.”

“Oh, t-that’s probably not a good idea. I’m not the most popular here, you’d have better luck integrating with-“

“Whore.” A female voice whispered as someone walked by behind you.

“Excuse me?” You whipped around, shocked at such a blatant display of behavior. You were used to whispers, to errant rumors springing up once you had left a store or a gathering, asked an impertinent question during patrol and general meetings. But this? A direct confrontation was a new level and you were far too tired to handle it. Especially with the day being what it was.

“You heard me, praying on the newcomers to try and sway them on your side.” It was Millie. She was sans coat, having removed it to enjoy her evening in the toasty bar with her gaggle of friends you could see gathered in a booth on the other side of the room. She must’ve come up to the bar for a refill when she decided to imitate her mother and impinge on your rare interactions with people. “I’d be careful if I was you, she tends to get people killed. Don’t want to find yourself the latest victim.”

“The council said that they’re selective of who they let in. Surely they-“ Nolan was trying to be polite, to not overstep his place being so new in such a large community. But you could see the anger in the furrowing of his brow, the frown pulling his lips down, the way his hands were twitching. It was sweet of him to feel the need to try and protect you but this is exactly what you had been worried about. That the two most instigating occupants would try and ostracize him and his sister for associating with you.

“They do, but in her case they should’ve left her out in the woods and let the Infected get her. Be better for everyone if they had.”

You had moved without even thinking. The force of your hand hitting the woman’s cheek loud across the room. The hush of conversation lulling, a tense silence following.

Scrambling to correct the huge mistake you just made, to save face, your words were a breath of stuttered apologies. Your stomach had dropped, no longer a part of your body as your mind moved through the outcomes and ramifications of your thoughtless actions. You had never been one to needlessly lay hands on someone. But…the time you had spent fighting to survive had changed you, altered you beyond what you had been. Your instincts honed and deadly, and you silently thanked whatever force of the universe that was still alive that you had left your knife at home. Otherwise, it would be hilt deep in her chest right now.

It was ugly and it was cruel, but someone could only take so much.

“Millie, oh-oh my god, I’m so sorry. I-“

You didn’t even get to finish your rushed words before she returned the slap, her hand connecting hard with your own cheek.

The sting of it hot, skin throbbing.

And it was like a damn broke. Filling the tunnel and making you desperate for a chance to crawl out.

But instead of breaking out of it into the town, you were transported outside the walls. Relying on your instincts, relying on fighting with everything you had to survive.

You were on her in a flash, not even a second had passed. Both of your knees knocking into the ground around her body. Your hands making contact with any part of her you could. Sounds of her struggling underneath you fly into the air with every punch, every pull of her hair, every push of your body against her. You didn’t care about her nails digging and tearing into your arms, her knees kicking up and colliding hard with your back, her elbows jutting into your ribs. The searing pain of your stitches popping loose.

You didn’t care. You didn’t care. You didn’t care.

Strong arms wrapped around you and pulled, while another held your legs down. Restraining you as you realized you were shouting out that same set of three words over and over again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, calm down.” Soft words, not harsh. And you shouted at them, forced the words from your aching throat, demanding that they let you go. That they leave you alone. Fighting against the people trying to hold you down. You felt your elbow connect with something hard, your knee with something soft and suddenly you were able to stagger to your feet.

Eyes not seeing details, just blurred faces and people standing all around you. Watching. Always just watching. Whispering things behind your back, not interacting with you, ignoring you. And you were done, you didn’t care.  And you shouted it for everyone to hear as you took in the sight of Millie crumpled on the ground. Having turned on her side to try and make herself smaller. Bruises were already blooming along her pretty face, her loose hair a tangled mess. Her nails were chipped and broken from digging them into your skin, the faint sting of them long lines down your arms. Her clothes were rumpled, the exposed skin of her stomach showing signs of bruising as well.

You just stared, unable to draw your gaze away from the whimpering woman. She wasn’t even trying to get up, she wasn’t even trying to fight back anymore. She was just laying there, bellowing out her hurt and looking so pathetic. And it made you feel bad, because she was nothing, would be nothing without the settlement of Jackson. She and her family had been here since the outbreak, safe in their secluded location, safe in the quick thinking of others, safe because of sheer, dumb luck that allowed her to continue being who she had always been.

But even despite the glitter of remorse beginning to shine through, you needed her to understand that you were done. That she had crossed a line she shouldn’t have. That for all the things she said and all the hurt she caused, you were the reason she was allowed to strut around town and act that way. You were the reason she was safe behind these walls and had an abundance of food. You were the god damn reason.

“Don’t you ever lay another hand on me, you understand? I will put up with your words, with your gossip, with you stealing every chance for me to have something good. But you will regret ever thinking of putting your hands on me, you hear me? I will fucking end you and make all your rumors true if you do it again.”

Her shuddering breath was the only response you got from her, but it was enough. You turned your back on her, grabbing your coat from the back of the stool you had been occupying, and walked out into the still falling snow.

“JOEL!” The bellow of his name, loud and alarming, startling him from where he had fallen asleep on the couch. He had collapsed there after returning from your place. He had frozen, all the sentiments he had planned to share with you died on his tongue the second you shared with him how much he had hurt you. It seemed it’s all you had experienced since coming here long before he and Ellie did. He hadn’t wanted to argue with you or belittle the things you had said, so he hadn’t. No words or feelings he had would have righted the wrongs done to you.

He felt unworthy of you, having played a part in it. He felt like he failed you, tricked you into an easy camaraderie when he knew after that first smile it would never be enough for him. He should’ve been honest from the beginning, told you he wanted to be someone to you. But instead, he had botched it, he had fucked up.

“Holy shit, dude, you need to come quick!” Ellie hollered as she barged through the front door, the handle slamming into the wall of the entry way and he had the errant through to put a piece of wood there to prevent it from happening again before it tore through the drywall.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” He was hurtling up, hands reaching for the panting teenager as she came into the living room. Her eyes bright and shining, her hands trembling. She allowed him to pull her into his chest, his heart thudding, anxiety humming through him harsh and hot.

“It’s not me, it’s Olive.”

His heart stopped, his heart stopped because it was no longer in his chest. It was on the floor, bleeding and immobile between their feet.

“Is she…?” He didn’t even know how to finish his sentence. Gone? Hurt? Injured? Stood in front of Marsha or Millie just taking their words directly? The worst thought of all being shaken from his head because he couldn’t bear to give it life.

“She freakin’ lost it. She went ballistic on Millie at the bar. It took two people to pull her off and then she hurt them too. She was shouting all this stuff about how shit people treat her and then she took off.”

“Took off, Ellie, where?” He pushed her back to duck his head and caught her eyes. Worry spiking and making his mind run through all the possibilities. He needed to know where you went, even if you had sent him from your home with a hollow and broken heart.

“I-I don’t know, she just ran out the door and was gone by the time I tried to follow her.” Ellie reached up and held onto his wrists, her fingers wrapping around them and he realized for the thousandth time how small she was. How much things affected her, how her own trauma showed in ways they could both anticipate and in ways they could not. Seeing violence first hand since settling here seemed to have triggered her and he didn’t like it for either of you.

“It’s okay, baby girl. I got you, you’re okay.” He hushed, his words pressed into her forehead. She was trembling and he hated that he couldn’t do anything to help her. She clung to him, the winter already a harder time for her than the rest of the year. Awful memories associated with it that no matter how hard she tried to tamp them down, rose to the surface. He held her, offering his built up warmth to sooth her and when the sniffles stopped he lowered them both to the couch.

“Y-you should go find her, Millie tore her stitches open. They took that ungrateful dumbass to the infirmary. But Olive took off.”  

“Okay, but we’re taking you to Tommy’s okay?”

Minutes later they were across the street and knocking on the front door.

“Tommy, listen, I know it’s late. Believe me I know but Ellie needs to take your guest room and I need to know where Olive would go if she’s upset?” Joel didn’t waste any time, speaking as soon as the door began to open. Tommy just looked at him for a second, eyes taking in the thinly veiled panic on his normally calm and collected brother.

“Joel, what in the hell, what’s going on, what are you talking about?” His eyes snapped into focus, lack of sleep vanishing as he realized something happened.

“Olive, she snapped. Something about Millie starting something with some insults that turned into the two of ‘em going off on each other at the bar. Word is she took off, but she’s not at home and she didn’t come to me. Tommy, where would she go?” Joel ambled into the house, his hands soft on his brother’s shoulders as he tried to get the man to focus.

“She, uh, she’s never done anything like this before. She, um, she could have…” Joel could see that his brother was trying to focus on the situation at hand brought to him in the middle of the night, trying to think on so little sleep and energy.

“Tommy!”

“Maybe the cemetery?”

“The council needs to hold thar girl responsible. She should have to go on Olive’s patrols until she’s healed. I mean it, Tommy. I want it done.” Joel gently guided Ellie to the couch, urging her to sit down so he could wrap the throw blanket on the back of it over her. He moved into the kitchen and started a kettle for a cup of tea. Something soothing for her to find sleep easier.

“Joel, I know you’re upset. But Millie’s never been beyond the gates. Her entire family has been here since the walls went up.”

“And that’s why she feels entitled to act the way she does. Slinging insults and making fun of Olive, holding things against the woman like it’s her fault that despite the walls there are still very real threats out there. Not every one of them is avoidable. She needs to learn somethin’ and she needs to do it quick.”

“I can talk to Maria about it, but yeah, you have my word she’ll be put on patrol. Are they okay though?”

“I can’t say much for Millie, but Ellie said Olive pulled her stitches ‘n I gotta go out and find her.” The kettle began to whistle, and Tommy took over on making tea for himself and his niece.

“Then go find her, make sure she’s alright.”

Joel tried to tamp down his anger as he knocked on the front door. It was a momentary stop on his way to where Tommy suggested. The weather had calmed down, but not enough to make it an easy trek. The winds were still howling, though they weren’t nearly as devastating as earlier, snow floating down in soft waves.

“Joel? Oh, it’s so late, is everything okay?”

“I told you I wasn’t playin’ games with you.” He didn’t try and tamp down the frustration in his voice, it needed an outlet and the woman in front of him was a worthy for it. He cut off her startled question.

“Your daughter instigated a fight with Olive tonight. Called her names for the whole town to hear. Raised her hand and physically accosted her. That your best attempt at helping to ease the tension you’ve caused? That how you think people should be treated after spending hours to ensure everyone in town got breakfast in the midst of a blizzard?”

“Joel, Olive hit first. I’m sure of it.” She moved away from the door, from the bulk of him to shove her hands into a thick jacket and her feet into a pair of boots. Joel slammed his hand on the door frame, anger flaring at the woman’s nonchalance toward you.

“It doesn’t matter! Do you have any idea the torment you’ve caused her over the years? Millie is lucky Olive walked off. Talking to her and approaching her like that unprovoked. Olive was just defending herself. She was minding her own damn business like she always does!”

“Joel, do not raise your-“

“I’ll raise my voice when I damn well want to! You need to hear me and listen: both of your little stunts resulted in Millie going on the roster. She’s Olive’s replacement on my morning patrols now. To ensure she learns just how much of a responsibility it is to protect the settlement and deter her from further disrespect to those that go outside the gates every single day to protect this town.”

“No, no she can’t go outside the walls. She-“ The woman’s hands grappled his arm, desperation making her forget everything else in that moment.

“She will learn that there is more to living in a broken world than hurtful gossip and petty vendettas. Take it up with the council, but they’ve made their decision. Olive is missing. Your daughter is at the infirmary.”

He stalked off, not willing to wait around to hear what other nonsense the woman had to say. He had to find you, You hadn’t gone to his brother’s, which he would’ve thought to be the obvious answer. You hadn’t gone to his, of course maybe you would’ve before this morning. His body aching from sitting on your small stoop waiting for your return only to go there for a moment to find it dark and empty. The winds whipped around him, snow blinding and chilling when flakes got stuck on his eyelashes and in his scruff.  

He needed to tell you. He needed to tell you that he’d pick you over everyone in the whole damn settlement if you’d have him. But first he needed to make sure you were okay in order to do that.

Everything was so fuzzy, the edges of your vision fading. The bright snow all around the streets, falling from the sky, it hurt to look at. It hurt to keep your eyes open, but you did as best you could as you clutched to your bleeding middle and stumbled down empty streets. Blood was warm between your fingers, against your palm. The stitches put in place a few days ago now pulled from your skin and tearing even more damage across the wound there.

It wasn’t cold anymore, not by the time you had made it through the creaking iron gate and settled in front of a headstone. Everything was numb and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as you realized.

The look of shock on Millie’s face shouldn’t be funny, it was sad. That no one had ever given her a taste of her own medicine. You didn’t hold anything against her, it wasn’t in your nature. But you wouldn’t say you liked her, that part of you had died along with Aiden. You had tried to continue to be her friend after everything, that fateful patrol. But she had pushed you away, had been quiet and reserved in her grief.

Until she hadn’t. She had shifted to harsh glares and sharp words. Basically heading the town to lay the blame on you. Her mother dutifully at her side. But you didn’t fault them. You knew loss was hard long before they had. You knew that it twisted people up inside and made it hard to feel okay. But you had never taken it out on anyone, instead closing in on yourself. But that had backfired, turned into a spectacle at the bar amid most of the town’s older occupants. Entertainment for them. More ammo for gossip and hurtful words.

In trying to ignore them, you had made it worse. Of course you had.

You lay slumped against the headstone, consciousness wavering as the wind pressed you into it. The snow began to settle over your legs and in your loose hair. Hat and scarf left behind in your rush to get out of that damn bar. You don’t know how long you laid there, pressing your face into the headstone, tears falling from your eyes and stinging as they froze on your cheeks, on your lashes, around your puffy eyes. Coughing, you felt the warmth of a thick liquid and taste of metal as blood splattered over the name etched into the stone.

You were tired, exhausted. Your body no longer hurt and it was a relief to be without the low thrum of anxiety, the smoldering heartbreak in the shape of broad man weighing down your chest, the ache in your hands from hours of chopping and stirring and mixing, the swelling in your legs from standing for hours everyday to prepare meals for people who couldn’t care less about you. It was all gone and it was a relief.

You tried to peel your eyes open, but they were so heavy. Unseeing when you managed to, it was so dark around you. There was no way it should be that dark in the late hour with the snow blanketing the town and the sky swathed in snow clouds. But it was and it didn’t bother you. You didn’t want to see anything anyway. Not when you closed your eyes against the darkness, you saw a soft smile tugging at plush lips that had felt good against your own below a pair of sparkling brown eyes. You saw Joel Miller and that was good enough.

You weren’t aware of the darkness being a shadow falling over you, a body dropping to its knees as it spotted you on the ground. You weren’t aware of the shout of your name, your actual name, nothing breaking the unconsciousness you had succumbed to. Joel was frantic, his hands hovering over you as he worried touching you would cause more damage. The blood shining on dark on your lips, the sallow complexion of your skin, the hand that had been pressing to your stained and wet middle limp in your lap. All of it was too much and his heart felt like it was humming in his chest as it beat in time with memories of loss and pain flashing before his eyes.

He couldn’t, he couldn’t lose you too. Not now, not like this.

Ignoring his worry, pushing it down, he scooped you up into his arms. The fact that you didn’t startle awake or shout out in pain at the movement didn’t sit well with him, his stomach dropped and his head pounded as he realized how cold you were to the touch, how limp you were. He gritted his teeth against the biting wind, the snow flying all around and began to move through the headstones.

“I made you one.” He croaked. “I made them all for you. All of them, every single one” His hands were warm, cradling you close, trying to tamp down the bleeding from your middle as he walked. “C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta let me save you so you’ll have one. I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything. Olive, please.”

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[lillsisamarshmallow]

Moving day! (17)

Summary: Y/n spends the next week searching for a new house, and when she thinks luck has run out, something odd happens. Driving hybrids, polite agents, giant IKEA, being crushed by a falling mattress covered in plastic… who knew moving houses was so difficult.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: None! Let me know if I missed any!

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I sighed as I slowed the car down before the red light, taking a moment to rest my head in my hands, hoping to ease the stress that had been bubbling up inside me. It had been almost 2 weeks since we temporarily moved into Jisoo’s house, and we still weren't having any luck finding a new place. I was on my way back to the cafe from a viewing that I went to alone. That house definitely wouldn't work. I thought to myself, the photos were deceiving to what it actually was like, and the agent was really rude the whole time, rather than showing me around the house she kept taking photos in front of it, posing.

Rolling my eyes at how annoying the agent was, I grunted at the idea of another house being crossed out from the list. Let's just hope the next one is better. I tried to think positively about the next house as I started driving again. I was heading to the cafe to pick up Namjoon and Yoongi since it was their turn to come to one of the viewings and honestly this next house looked perfect, but I couldn't help the small voice in the back of my head that was whispering negative thoughts and making me doubt our chances with this house.

I pulled up in front of the cafe and made my way inside, I saw a few of our regulars and I gave them a welcoming smile as I made my way into the kitchen walking past Hobi and Jimin who were manning the register. I opened the door to see Jin and Yoongi cooking whilst Namjoon was taking drinks out from the cooler. I giggled as the sight of bright green caught my eye from the tape of the floor, the lines Namjoon and Taehyung weren't allowed to cross.

“Is it time?” Yoongi asked as he was the first to notice me. I nodded my head as I walked over and sat down on a stool while I waited for them to get ready to go. I watched as Yoongi untied his apron and lifted it over his head, making sure not to get it caught on his ears. He folded the apron neatly before telling Jin when to take the food out of the oven, to which the older man nodded. “How was the house you just saw?”

“Not great if I'm being honest.” I sighed before jumping off the small stool, I walked over to the plate of freshly baked almond croissants, I haven't eaten yet today, and I was starving. “It would have never worked, and I didn't like the agent lady.”

I heard Yoongi hum at my response from behind me. I quickly reached out and grabbed one of the delicious-looking croissants and stuffed one end into my mouth. I turned around and asked them if they were ready to go, but what was supposed to be a question came out as an incomprehensible mumble due to the pastry that was blocking my words. I watched as Yoongi gave me a gummy smile as he laughed and nodded his head, Namjoon walked over to us too with a smile on his face.

We walked through the cafe and out the front, saying goodbye to the others on our way past them. As we made our way outside Yoongi gestured for me to throw him the keys, which I gladly did. I was happy to take a break from driving. We all got strapped in the car and I gave Yoongi the directions and we set off to the next viewing.

I happily munched on my late lunch as I watched yoongi drive. I liked watching him drive, I couldn't explain why, but I couldn't drag my eyes away. I noticed that I had been caught by how he started smiling and glanced away from me and out his window. I blushed as I readjusted myself to sit up straight and look out my window. Large trees lined the road, the canopy almost fully covering over us, just allowing small patches of light to seep through the branches and their leaves.

The area looked serene and quiet, occasionally we’d pass a small turn, but our map said to keep going.

“The next left.” I said to yoongi as I looked at the GPS map on my phone that I had punched the address of the house into. Reaching the right turn we made our way down the very long, skinny driveway until the trees pulled back and opened into a field, and in the centre was a rather large wooden house, it had small garden beds in the front of the porch, but they had no plants in them, indicating that the place had been vacant for a while.

“Woah.” I whispered as the full house came into view, my mouth opened in shock, it looked amazing, better than the photos, it had 3 levels, the top being more of a covered seating area, it had a full wrap around porch outside and multiple stairs to get up to it.

The gravel crushed under the car wheels as Yoongi pulled off to the side to park the car. The 3 of us made our way over to the front of the house where there was an agent waiting with the keys and another handful of people who were also interested in the house.

The lady welcomed us all before unlocking the doors, allowing us to roam around on our own. The bottom level had the living room, laundry, kitchen, all the basic things and the second level had all the bedrooms. The kitchen was gorgeous, and I couldn't help but think of how much Jin would love it. There were two large common areas downstairs too.

My mouth was open for most of our self-guided tour, everything was so amazing and checked all of our boxes. I bounced around on the balls of my feet as I couldn't contain my excitement, Namjoon and Yoongi followed behind me. I could hear them chuckling at me and mumbling to each other, trying to remember everything so they could tell the others when we got back.

Making our way upstairs to the bedrooms the first one we walked into was the largest according to the map on the website.

“This would be your room.” I said to both of them we had a quick look around, it could definitely fit a large enough bed for them all. The next 3 rooms were all the same size, the ones that I had suggested would be used so the boys could have their own areas for hobbies and such. The last room was at the end of the hallway, and it was away from the others for a bit. We walked in and had a look around, it was the only room with its own bathroom. It wasn't as big as the first room, but it was bigger than the other 3. “And this would be my room.”

We kept looking around and everything seemed perfect. The backyard was large and even included a section of the woods surrounding the house. It had more garden beds on the side, presumably for veggies and similar things. I let the boys go and have their own look around while I leaned on the railing of the porch.

“This house is beautiful, right?” I looked to my side to see the agent lady lean down beside me, I smiled at her and relaxed in the informal atmosphere that she brought with her. She had long brown hair that was tied in a loose but professional bun at the back of her head, she looked over to me, her eyes were brown, and she wore pink lipstick. She was really pretty and oddly familiar. “My name’s Irene by the way.”

I stuck my hand out to shake hers as she introduced herself to me. “Hi, I’m Y/n.” I saw her eyes widen slightly at my introduction.

“Y/n?”

I nodded, I smiled as I looked back out into the yard. “It’s a very beautiful house, everything we were looking for actually.”

“Oh? Have you been looking for long?” She asked curiously.

“Just over a week, but we haven't had any luck yet.” I explained to her as I sat up to face her politely. “We’re staying with a friend for now, but we really need to find somewhere.”

She hummed at what I said before speaking. “Is it just the 3 of you?”

“Uhh- no. There’s 5 more of us. Hence why we need a big house.” I chuckled. We kept talking for a bit as we sat down on one of the seats, a few other people came up to her to ask some questions and a few people let her know that they weren't interested and headed out, but she didn't seem to mind.

Eventually the boys came back to me, and we were the last group to leave the house. I watched as Irene locked up and made her way down the stairs to stand near us. “Did you like the house?” She asked politely.

“Yep, it checked all of our boxes, I can't wait to tell the others about it.” I exclaimed as we began walking back to the cars.

“That's great! Well, I'll be sure to keep a look out for your application.” She grinned before winking my way, I still couldn't shake why she looked so familiar, she's probably just in a lot of ads or something.  I nodded my head and laughed as we went our separate ways. The whole ride back to the cafe was just us discussing the house, what we liked, what we didn’t, whether or not the others would've liked it and if I should make an offer for it. 

I was laying on the couch, my head propped up on Hoseok’s lap as Taehyung laid on my stomach with his body between my legs. We were all watching a movie in the living room. I don't remember what it was called, but I was constantly confused by how many things went unexplained. I moved my hands up to rest over my chest, the fabric being loose meant that I didn't have to worry about being tangled up in it. It was Seokjin’s jumper, or at least I think it was, I don't remember. The boys kept giving me their jumpers and jackets. I wasn't sure why, but I wasn't going to complain since they kept me warmer than my own jumpers and it reminded me of them.

The jumper was big on me which meant that I could snuggle my face into it, the scent of vanilla and cherry had ingrained itself into my nose as I breathed around the oversized jumper. I could barely keep my eyes open as I kept skipping bits of the movie accidentally. The main character was annoying and so was his love interest, but the others seemed to enjoy it. 

I felt my phone vibrate in the pocket on the jumper under Taehyung's head. He lifted his head up slightly so I could reach into my pocket and grab the device. I mumbled a quiet ‘thanks’ before raising the phone up to my face. The light shone into my eyes making me squint, but after a few seconds they adjusted and I was able to see, as I read my top notification my eyes widened at what it was.

I gasped loudly as I sat up straight, I stared down at my phone rereading the notification, I heard a grunt as I realised that I had disturbed the big cat hybrid, he shuffled down more, his feet kicking into Yoongi as he moved his head to rest on my thigh instead. “Sorry.” I mumbled quietly as I reached one hand to pet his ears and play with his hair. I smiled at him before moving my gaze back to my phone.

I opened up my email app so I could properly read the whole thing, my face lit up as I kept reading until the end. “Guys, I got the house.” I exclaimed as I quickly reread the email from the company again making sure I hadn't misread it.

“What? No way. It's only been a day.” Hobi said from behind me, to which I passed him the phone so he could also read the email. “You got the house?”

“We got the house!” I cheered as everyone joined in excitedly. “Irene must have said something.”

“Wouldn't that be weird, you only met her that day, right?” Namjoon asked from across the room. I thought about what he said. He was right, I had only met Irene that day and we didn't know each other that well, why would she do this? I wondered in my head, it wasn't like we knew each other or anything, just our conversation while we were at that house.

“Maybe she thought I was pretty?” I half joked with the boys, I was genuinely clueless as to why she might have put in a good word, maybe she didn't, maybe we were just lucky. The boys laughed at my statement as we all sat in the living room practically bouncing with excitement. Everyone was so happy that we were able to find a place and it made my heart swell as I watched them all talk about it, knowing that I had done well. 

We discussed when to start packing up and when we would get everything moved in, we drew up another small basic map of the house and the boys started deciding who would share which rooms, some decisions were left up to a game of scissors, paper, rock, there was a lot of yelling.

Eventually, after deciding who was sharing which room, we all decided to think of a collective theme for the main area of the house and what types of furniture we would need. The house came with a few pieces of furniture, but we would have to buy a lot of our own and since Jisoo didn't have any room, I had to get rid of my old furniture. Which meant a trip to a furniture store to get everything.

I looked up at the big neon sign that was now slightly distorted from how close I was underneath it. The small trees and bushes outside were a vibrant shade of yellow and orange, which unfortunately did not match the building too well, but that didn't matter. The cold wind was strong today, and I tried to dig my hands further into my pockets to stop the cold from freezing them solid.

We all quickly made our way inside the giant store to get out of the cold weather, it wasn't even winter yet. I grumbled at how much I hated the cold weather, before remembering how beautiful it can be at the same time. The ground is covered in a white layer of soft snow, icicles hanging from trees, and intricate little snowflakes landing on your nose. I loved winter.

I was grateful when we got inside to realise that the store did crank their air conditioning all the way up like some places did. I sighed and took my hand out of the pocket of my puffy jacket that was laid on top of a jumper that was not mine, I rubbed my hands together quickly before taking a few steps further into the store. It was quiet and empty, not a lot of customers, not a lot of employees, the background music was low, and I could hear the rustle of leaves against some of the windows.

I saw an employee make his way over to us and ask his typical questions, but I let him know that I had it covered and then he went back to his seat behind the weirdly tall counter.

“Okay, game plan.” I said, turning around to face the troops and clapping my hands together. “What’s the game plan?”

“We should split up.”

“But what if we all choose different things? I’ve got the list.”

“Well, how about we stick together until we get most of the stuff, then we can split up and get the rest of it?” Jimin suggested. It was a reasonable idea, and for that reason, we chose to ignore it.

Everyone had ended up splitting and spreading out around the store, Namjoon had the list, and both me and Yoongi knew most of it off the top of our heads since we were the ones who made said list. I had gravitated over towards the bedroom section where I began to choose a bed from myself before someone walked around the corner.

“Oh? Hey, Y/n.” Taehyung said nonchalantly as he walked around the corner with Jungkook hot on his tail, I smiled at the 2 as I walked a few feet over to them. “Are you looking for a bed too?”

I nodded back at him as I spoke about one that had caught my eye earlier, but I wasn't dead set on anything. We continued to wander around for a bit, they both seemed to know what they were looking for, so I just tagged along behind them. Eventually we came to a wall and sat down in the corner of the room. It was the largest bed I'd ever seen, it would've fit at least 7 people, maybe even 9.

I watched as Taehyung and Jungkook raced for the bed before jumping onto it and laying down. I laughed at them as I ran to join them, the bed was soft and plush, and I basically sunk into it. I gasped at how great of a bed it was before I sat up onto my knees, making sure not to put my shoes on the display bed. 

“This bed is humongous!” And it’s so soft too.” I exclaimed before flopping to the centre on my stomach, I could have fallen asleep right then and there. “I didn't even know they made beds this big.”

“They used to have a few of these back at the shelter.” Taehyung just so casually said before he rolled off the bed. Shelter? I thought to myself.

“The shelter?” I asked whilst trying to haul myself up off the almost too soft bed.

“Uhh-yeah. The one that me and Jungkook were at.” Taehyung spoke, almost like he was trying to correct a mistake. I didn't want to push as I noticed the 2 men become quieter, so I put the thought and my questions aside and walked over to the sign with the information for the bed. I scribbled the exact name down before leading the boys back to the normal beds so I could choose one.

“It’s perfect!” I exclaimed as I got off the 27th bed I'd tried. It had a white bed head that had small shelves in it, and intricate designs, the base had underneath storage and the mattress was amazing. “Welp, that’s the beds checked off the list, where to next?”

Eventually we found ourselves in the living room area of the shop, where we quickly ran into Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok, eliminating the couches they had already looked at, and we started walking down the isles searching. The boys made a point to try every single couch we passed and put on posh accents whilst they spoke about each couch. Yoongi and I stood to the side as we watched them play, discussing the different couches we saw and laughing at the others.

Soon enough we found the perfect couch, there were enough seats for everyone plus some, it was crazy comfortable and was a dark grey in colour. After adding it on to the list we figured, no, we hoped that Namjoon and Jin would have the other major items covered.

Safe to say that our shopping trip went smoothly, for the most part. Hobi got lost in the bookshelves, Namjoon broke a display lamp, Taehyung and Jungkook almost got us kicked out, and when we left, we accidentally picked up a random stranger thinking it was Yoongi, who was sleeping in the beds. We didn't realise until we were leaving the parking lot.

Today was going to be long… and stressful. I thought to myself as I looked back at the full car from the rearview mirror, but I couldn't help the smile on my face. The keys jingled in my hand as I looked down at them, a few plain silver keys. I made a mental note to get a few more sets cut for the boys and to buy us all different keychains, I grinned as I thought of some ideas.

I hesitated before twisting the key in the door, but finally it was unlocked, and I pushed the door open and walked into our new home. It had an old wood smell to it, it was comforting, but I couldn't wait until it smelled like home. We didn't have much time to gawk at the house as pretty soon the furniture trucks showed up and the workers started unloading things and we all had to move them to the right areas.

“Oh! That one goes over there!” I yelled out whilst pointing over to the kitchen, the worker nodded and started moving the box that way whilst I held back onto the large mattress in front of me and began pushing it again. The mattress was heavy, but I was able to make it to the foot of the stairs. I sighed out annoyed before a light shone down for the heavens, my saviour.

“Here Y/n.” Hobi said as he reached for the other end of the rectangle, I thanked him and smiled up the stairs towards him. With our teamwork we were able to get the mattress onto the stairs, he pulled, and I pushed as we worked our way up. We were about halfway up before disaster struck.

“Y/n?” I heard Namjoon call out from somewhere below me. I turned towards him and hummed out, hoping he would find me from my sound. “Oh, there you are.”

Namjoon smiled at me, his dimples showing which completely pulled my guard down. He gestured towards something that he was holding, like he wanted me to take a look. I walked down the stairs, completely forgetting about Hobi and the big mattress that was still halfway up the stairs. 

I looked down at what he was holding as we both questioned the weird item that he had found, it was some statue. A chicken statue. The chicken looked like it was originally white, but it had years of dirt caked onto it, it had a brown, copper base with different carvings on it. It was a weird little thing, but it was also kind of cute. Absorbed by the small statue, I didn't hear Hoseok’s cries for help.

“Y/n? Y/n? Hello?”

“Y/n!”

“Y/N!”

I heard the banging as I turned back towards the stairs. I didn't have time to react as the mattress came tumbling down the stairs and towards me. It knocked me out, taking me down with it, just barely missing Namjoon who had stood next to me. Now he stood, confused, as he looked down at the mattress that laid flat on the floor, with me underneath it.

“Y/n!”

I grunted out as the light came back into my vision and I could breathe without inhaling the weird smell of plastic. I let my lungs fill with the fresh cool air as I tried to sit up, feeling two hands pushing my back and helping me. I could see the panic on their faces as they both looked down at me from their crouched positions next to me.

I laughed out as I shuffled slightly so I could sit more comfortably, I crossed my legs and held a hand to my chest as I caught my breath. I assured them both that I was okay, but when I went to pick the bed up again, they beat me to it. They both moved the bed upstairs and into my new room with me guiding them.

“We can just put it here for now.” I pointed over at the wall adjacent to my bathroom. “I haven't exactly decided how I’m going to set it up yet.”

I spent a few more seconds glazing around the room as I thought of different ways to decorate and move my furniture to fit the space, but I quickly dismissed the thoughts as we all headed back downstairs to help the others with the last of our boxes.

I flopped back onto our new couch, which was slightly harder than I'd like, but it was brand new. I sighed out loud as I lifted an arm over my head, resting my forearm across my forehead as I looked up. I felt the couch shift and dip slightly several more times, accompanied by several signs that fell in time.

“Who knew we'd need so many chairs.” I heard Taehyung whining from somewhere on the couch. I sat up and laughed slightly as I shook my head. I had a bit of a headache from all the pushing and pulling, my arms and legs felt like jelly, and my stomach felt as though it had been carved out with a spoon, but it was worth it.

I looked around me, the living room and kitchen were the only places that had been completely unpacked and decorated, most of the other rooms were still a bit bare and had brown cardboard boxes littered in them. The coffee table that sat in the middle had a small vase on it with some fresh flowers I made sure to pick up this morning, and it had a stack of coasters next to it and a small trinket dish.

This was the larger of the two open areas and so we decided to buy a tv for this room, I looked over to my left. The large black screen stood out against the wood texture of the walls. There were 2 large plants positioned either side of it, another trinket dish sat in front of it, underneath it was filled with a few movies and games along with organised cables and docks.

I smiled as I looked at the room that we had come together to create, I looked at the boys as they all took up different places on the couch, I couldn't help the smiling that spread of my face, or the burning that started as a spark in my heart before spreading to the rest of my chest. It hurt, but I could tell it was a good thing and so I embraced it as I sat and watched the boys. My boys

“Do you think we could plant flowers out the back?” Namjoon asked while looking over to me, I nodded my head before responding.

“Yeah! Flowers and maybe some vegetables too. We could set up an outside area too, with tables and chairs.” I exclaimed excitedly. We all continued to discuss random things about the house and what we could do with it, the boys even played a game of scissors, paper, rock to see who would share rooms.

The doorbell ringing was a pleasant distraction from our conversation, we all knew exactly what it was. We all got up and while me and Jimin headed to the door the others headed into the kitchen. I opened the door and smiled kindly at the delivery boy. I thanked him as I took the bags of food from him and handed a few over to Jimin to carry.

When we both got back to the lounge room the others had already bought us our own cutlery and bowls to eat from. The bags seemed to instantly get torn apart as I put them on the table. Within seconds I could hear the sounds of plastic lids being popped off containers and chattering as I took my seat between Jimin and Jin. The surface of the coffee table was now full of different takeaway containers that had various foods in them, my mouth watered at how good some of it looked.

“Let's dig in.”

I picked up some japchae and moved it over to my bowl, but before it fell down another pair of chopsticks stole it from me. I looked up to spot Jungkook grinning cheekily at me as he plopped my japchae into his bowl, I pouted at him and turned the other way, pulling the takeaway container closer to me to hopefully stop any future attacks on my food.

Finally, I was safely able to transport the food into my own bowl, I put the container back down before shuffling back into the couch and crossing my legs as I dug into the food. It was great, not too strong, a perfect balance of vegetables and noodles, I hummed out in joy, and I kept enjoying my food.

My attention was drawn away and a pair of chopsticks floated in front of me, dark, sticky noodles wrapped around them. I followed them over to Jin who looked at me kindly. He gestured for me to open my mouth, so I quickly swallowed the food in my mouth before opening it. Jin pushed the noodles into my mouth and I closed it so he could take the chopsticks out, I chewed for a bit before my face lit up as I faced him and nodded my head fastly, not being able to speak, I gave him a thumbs up and watched as he giggled lightly while looking at my full cheeks.

I finished my noodles and hesitantly looked over to Jin's bowl, I looked back up at him and he gave me an approving smile and I quickly dug my utensils into his bowl and took out some more of the noodles with the dark sauce on them. I chewed on them happily and I sat up straight and looked around. I was swaying side to side lightly in my position, a side affected by good food.

Jimin leaned over to me and pinched some of the food from my bowl, I looked over to him and he chewed on it, his cheeks puffed out full of the food and his lips pursed tightly as he chewed. He seemed to be thinking about the food before he swallowed and gave me a bright smile, his eyes creasing until I could no longer see them.

I took that as him enjoying the food and I smiled back at him before I looked in his bowl, he had some kimchi in his. I looked across from us on the other couch, Hobi and Yoongi sat close to each other, Hobi had his legs on the couch, perched up near his chest. They seemed deep in conversation and passed the food between each other, sharing. I smiled at the both of them as I looked over to the two youngest pack members and Namjoon, who were all watching the tv intensely, completely focused on what every movie they had out of.

Jungkook sat in the middle, him and Namjoon eating from the same bowl that seemed to have more noodles in it, Taehyung had his own bowl with various foods in it, but no kimchi. I unfortunately wasn't able to order a less spicy one for him and myself, but that was fine because we had a lot of other options.

Jin put another mouthful of noodles in front of me which I gladly accepted as I smiled happily, still slightly swaying side to side, but the boys didn't seem to mind it. The night continued on as we all sat together in the lounge while we ate our first dinner in our new house. At some point I had given up on getting my own food as Jin seemed pretty content with giving me food from his bowl, and honestly, I didn't mind.

The sky became deep dark with small specks of sparkling stars, silent except for the rustle of leaves and the happy chirping of the crickets, the sky was clear, and the air felt fresh. I said goodnight to the boys as I retired into my own room, I looked around the empty box. I hadn't finished unpacking, my mattress was laid on the floor with a few blankets and pillows and a small lamp beside it.

The covers felt foreign to my skin as I pushed my bare legs under them, the bottom of my shorts riding up ever so slightly. I punched the pillows until it was soft enough and I laid my head to rest on top of it. I nuzzled further into it and wriggled my body trying to get used to it. I reached out and shut off the small lamp, enclosing the room in a blanket of darkness with only the low glow of the moonshine peering through the curtainless windows.

I sighed out as I tried to put my mind to rest, I tried counting sheep, mathematical equations, making up silly stories, but I couldn't bring myself to sleep despite the tiredness that embedded itself into my bones. I opened my eyes again and grounded as I turned the small lamp on again, a warm glow now accompanying the moonlight. I sat up before flopping back down again, moving my position slightly so I was now laying on my back. I started up at the empty ceiling.

I looked side to side as I wondered why I couldn't sleep. A weird feeling had entered my chest since I came in here and it felt heavy. Emptiness. The room felt empty, a large room with nothing to fill it, loneliness. It wasn't a feeling that I was fond of, it was the type of feeling that would haunt me at night and allow my greatest fears to invade my mind and destroy me.

And for that reason, I had to get up.

I sat up abruptly and with a bounce in my step I hopped over to my door and switched the light switch before turning around to face my room. I had all my boxes labelled and separated into different groups in different areas of my room. I thought this feeling was coming from my unusually empty room, so I started to unpack my things. I popped in my earphones before I got started, pressing play on my playlist.

First, I put together my bed frame. I must have moved it 13 times before deciding on a location. I covered it in my sheets and blankets and topped it off with my pillows in a fancy way. I unboxed all of my clothes and started organising them into my closet. Next was the bathroom, shampoo, conditioner, towels, soap, everything I needed. Then came my desk, my drawers, a few posters, a carpet, I hung up some cute fairy lights too, accompanied by some fake vines and flowers, and a few real plants around the room too. Until eventually I had spent the early morning unpacking. The sun shining into my room made it look beautiful, but I was too tired to realise.

A/n: New chapter! A little late (I’m posting this as I eat my sushi 🍣) but I hope it’s worth it. The furniture store is suppposed to be an IKEA, but like, I’ve never been to one so idk what they are like. Anyways, I hope everyone is doing well, thank you all so much for 800 followers! (Wtaf??? 😭 ilysm !! 🫶💜). It’s kinda weird how quickly Y/n and the boys got their house, right?

Wonder why that is… 🤔

Oh well! 🤭 Hope everyone has a great day or night, and a lovely weekend! Thank you all so much for reading! 💜💜💜

[themorningsunshine]

Muffins

Pie - eyed over you - Chapter 3 

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist                        Series Masterlist

Previous Part 

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Mentions of murder, lots of fluff (gotta give the fluff before the angst for it to hurt more, yup I am evil), Steve and Sam being a menace 

Word count - around 6k 

a/n - So, after two delays, hell a lot of editing, and straight up changing the whole structure of this chapter and then combining it with another (hence the length), it’s finally here. Thank you so much to all of you for putting up with me. Please let me know what you guys think about this. Your kind words keep me going. 

You placed the muffins in a tray for display before making a note in your diary to buy more chocolate chips when you go to the market on the weekend. 

Running a bakery all on your own is a difficult job but you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. Even though you were not a morning person, the prospect of coming here and baking made it getting up from the bed every morning a tad bit easier. 

As you heard knocks on the door, you frowned before looking up, there was still some time left before it was time to open up the bakery. 

But when your eyes landed on the figure standing outside the door, looking like a complete misfit in his dark clothes and sunglasses and surprisingly, a baseball cap covering his forehead, a pathetic attempt at being discreet, you can't help the way your lips turn upward and your heart flutters. 

He was here just yesterday and yet it felt like you were seeing him after too long. 

Get yourself together. 

It's just a crush, it'll go away. 

You wiped your palms on your apron before walking towards the door to open it. 

You gave him a teasing smile before saying, "You're at the wrong place. Baseball convention is another mile from here." 

He rolled his eyes before stepping inside the bakery, bending a little, the door a little too short for him. "Hello to you too, sweets." 

You chuckled before walking towards the counter as he took his usual seat. Everything felt like a routine. Engraved in your soul as if it had always been there. 

"Gracing this bakery with your presence two days in a row. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Maybe I just missed my sweets." He shrugged as if it was obvious. 

"Continue this and you are going to get diabetic." You remarked with a smirk. 

"Not the sweets I was talking about, but okay." 

The smirk immediately left your lips as you could practically feel your heart beat out of your chest. He didn't mean it. He's just teasing. 

But no matter what you think, you can't help the way the red color crept up to your neck at his words. 

Okay, this crush is getting out of hand. 

"So, how's work?" You say in an attempt to change the topic. 

He tenses at your words. You had asked him what he did, and he had replied that he was a mechanic. It was becoming more difficult for him to lie to you. 

But maybe, he won't have to much longer. 

He was pretty sure Walker was on his way to screw things up. 

That son of a - 

"Earth to James!!" Your voice moving and your palm waving in front of his face brought him out of his thoughts. 

"I asked how was work." You said with a frown. James always got weirdly uncomfortable when you asked about work. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it, but you were no one to ask. 

"Oh, it's been fine. You know, the usual." 

"Yeah, yeah. Steve is a dorky idiot and Sam is an annoying prick. I know." You said imitating the words he had said to you not a long time ago. 

Bucky chuckles. Telling you about Steve and Sam was easier. Maybe sharing something about him which wasn't a lie, made him feel less guilty. 

He knew this was wrong. 

He was creating a web of lies that you will find out one day.

But Bucky Barnes wasn't a good man and he would take whatever time he has got before the inevitable happened. 

Which wasn't going to be today. 

He wasn't going to let Walker ruin this.

He will just sit there, hiding half of his face with the baseball cap. It would be easy. It wasn't like Walker would expect to see him here anyways. 

He was just here to make sure that he didn't hurt you. 

The both of you striked a conversation just like usual and you immediately felt better. You knew it was going to be a great day. Had started off on the best possible note, atleast.

The clock striked eight before you knew it and you got up from your chair to flip the sign at the bakery. 

"Why don't you hire someone to help you?" James asks, sipping his coffee. 

"Why, you're looking for a job?" You teased him with raised eyebrows. "Job at the garage doesn't pay enough for your baseball conventions?" 

He rolled his eyes. "When are you gonna let this one go?" 

"I think… never." 

He chuckled before asking again, "But, seriously, sweets, why not get a helping hand?" 

" 'Cause I am selfish." When he narrowed his eyes, you continued. "I know this sounds weird, but I don't like it when anybody else cooks the food. It's just never good enough." 

"So, why not hire someone to deal with the customers?" 

"That's literally the best part of the job." You half exclaimed. "People telling you whether they liked the sweets or not is the best part, James. Almost as good as getting to eat all the leftovers." 

James chuckled before setting his coffee mug down. "There is no pleasing you." 

You shrugged before walking behind the counter to get everything ready for the morning rush you were sure was about to walk through the door any moment now. 

When a few people came in, some regular customers and some students hoping to get in some caffeine to start the day, you saw as James involuntarily tensed. 

Bucky watched the front door with focused eyes as minutes ticked by. He knew Walker will be here any minute now. 

And he was proven right as he saw John Walker opening the door of the bakery and walking in with a smug look on his face, shoving away whoever came in his path. 

Bucky wanted nothing more than to pull him out of here, away from you and this warm place but he couldn't do that. There would be consequences, which he normally wouldn't give a second thought to, but the real nuisance would bring questions. 

He watched as you greet him with the same grin on your face that you used for all your customers, saying in a soft voice, "Hey, what can I get you?" And Bucky can swear Walker doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you.

"Why not start by paying off?" Walker said with a tone harsh and loud enough that a few customers turned to see what was happening. 

You frowned your eyes in confusion, "I am sorry." You were still speaking in a calm, soft voice, trying your best to get whoever this man was to calm down. You didn't want a commotion so early in the day. 

"Walker." He said as if it was enough of an introduction before continuing, "And I think you have an idea of where I am coming from. You owe us." 

James watched as realization dawned on your face and you stood straighter, your smile turning into a forwn. "I don't owe anyone anything."

He leaned towards you, keeping his arms crossed on the counter, speaking with a smirk, "Don't try to act smart, baby doll. Pay up and no one gets hurt." 

He watches as you cringe at the nickname  and almost take a small step back, discomfort clear on your face. 

Bucky almost gets up from his chair, his first instinct to slit off Walker's throat with the knife he had tucked in his jacket. He would make it less messy too, but painful. 

Control, he isn't going to hurt her. 

"I am not going to pay you a single cent, Walker. So, why don't you take your ass out of my bakery and leave me alone?" As you speak, your hand inches towards the knife that you keep below the counter for situations like these. Even though you hoped you'd never have to use it, it was better to be prepared than sorry. 

John clenches his fist as his eyes bore into your skull, "Don't make this difficult. You don't know who you are trying to mess up with. The people I work with wouldn't blink an eye before dumping your body in a dumpster. Just pay every month and we leave you alone." 

"I have said it before and I'll say it again, I am not going to pay you to let me live." It's as if something switches inside you. The slight fear or discomfort that could be seen in your features is completely gone now. 

Bucky watches as Walker growls in impatience before reaching for his jacket pocket. 

Nope, not happening

"Listen to me, you little bitch - " 

Walker is cut off immediately when a larger figure stands between him and the counter. 

James shields you from him, obstructing his view. 

"Leave her alone." The sound is almost a growl. And if Walker hadn't been too preoccupied he would have noticed how familiar that sounded. 

"And who the hell are you?" He spat. 

Bucky looks down at him and watches as all the color is drained out of his face when he recognises him. 

"S - si "

"Leave her alone and if you show up around here ever again, it will be you in the dumpster, cut into more pieces than you can count." 

Fear is obvious on Walker's face, as he completely forgets the weapon he was reaching for, trying to get his senses to work, confusion evident on his face.

Before he can ask any questions, Bucky takes a step towards him, with sheer coldness in his eyes as if he could slit Walker's throat right now and wouldn't blink. 

You watch as the man - who had introduced himself as Walker- saunters out of the bakery with quick steps. 

You frowned your eyes at whatever had happened here. 

You weren't going to pay the mob any money, you knew that. But you also knew that you couldn't have overpowered that man, especially if he had a weapon hidden under there somewhere. 

"You didn't have to do that, James." You said softly, in an attempt to get his attention away from the door he was boring holes in. 

He turned back and you watched as his expression turned into the soft one you were so familiar with. 

You walked from behind the counter towards where he was standing before explaining, "He works for the mob. Trust me, you don't want to get involved with them." 

Bucky's breath hitches at that. How could he explain to you that he wasn't just involved with the mob?

"It's okay, sweets. They won't hurt me." That was some truth. They were never going to hurt him, and before Walker could utter a single word to anyone about the events of the day, he would be fired. Bucky would make sure of that. 

"I know." You sighed, looking down at the floor as if contemplating something. It was silent for a moment before you looked up, "Thank you, James. It does mean a lot to me." You said with a soft, grateful smile on your face and your hand reached out to his. 

"Anytime, sweets." 

A moment passed before anyone of you dared to move. Your hand was now brushing his arm in slight touches. 

You broke the silence, "Come on, have some muffins. They are on me." You said before turning back and walking towards the counter. 

Bucky had to stand there for a moment because his skin had suddenly started to feel cold and empty. Like it wasn't enough without your touch, before walking back towards the counter and standing right in front of where you were taking out some muffins on a plate. 

"So, Ms Feisty, something against the mob?" He said, trying desperately for his voice to sound joking. 

You shrugged while passing the muffins to him and turning to pour some coffee for yourself. "I am not going to pay them money just because everybody else does. Why the hell do I pay taxes?" 

"But the way you were standing, you don't just want to rebel, sweets. You hate them." He said, an emotion in his voice you couldn't really place. He prayed that that wasn't the case, that he had read the situation wrong and maybe you didn't really hate the mob. 

"Hate is a strong word, James. I - despise them." You reply before looking up at him to meet his eyes, but he looks away, almost as if looking at you right now would physically hurt him. 

"I mean, they aren't really that bad, right? It's not like I know a lot about them but I have heard they protect the city." He tries.

"Uh-huh. They are not good people. You remember that day when we met? When it was raining and I had lost my way, and you were there - "

"I remember the day we met, sweets." He interrupts. Every part of that day was engraved in his mind.

"Yeah, yeah right. So, that day I was coming back from a friend's house. She has a daughter, Ellie, about 5 years old." 

He hums, nodding his head, not sure where you were going with this. 

"Both of them were switching houses. Leaving their home, that they had built, to live in a one bedroom apartment in the not so respected area of the town. You know why?" 

He narrowed his eyes. 

"Because her dad was killed." You took a deep breath, trying to keep the rage from bubbling up to the surface. "A 5 year old lost her father, James. And why? Because of some stupid mob feud." 

"What was her dad's name?" He asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

"Jake" 

Bucky's moments halted as images came back to his mind's forefront. He had killed that man himself. Shot three bullets straight into his chest. He had felt no remorse then. That man was a traitor. Had joined hands  with the enemy, knowing very well what the consequences could be. 

He had felt no remorse then because he hadn't given a moment of thought to the people he might be leaving behind. It made his work easier. Pretending that there were no consequences to whatever they did. 

But now he could see the consequences. In the form of rage in your eyes at the tale and the hurt he felt in his chest, thinking about the girl. He knew how that felt. Being alone, and helpless. 

"She didn't deserve that. None of them did. Nobody deserves to lose somebody they love, James. But it hits the worst when it's unforeseeable. When the people who did it are out there in the world, as if their hands aren't tainted with blood, living their life and you can do nothing about it."  You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. Thinking about your friend and Elliot always brought you to tears. You tried to help them as much as you could, but there was only so much you could do. 

Bucky looks into your eyes and sees tears in the corner of your eyes. He wants to hold your hand, to comfort you, to tell you that they are going to be fine. But how could he, when his were the hands that were tainted with blood, that had taken the life of that man without a second thought. 

So, he just sits there, listening to you talk about the lady and her kid, even though each of your words is like a sword stabbed through his chest. 

When he knows you are fine, he takes his leave, bidding you goodbye before walking out and calling Steve. 

"Steve, I need you to do something." 

"What's up, Buck? Everything okay?" Steve replied in a concerned voice. Even after everything, his concern for his best friend never faded. 

"I am sending you some details of a lady and her kid. Send me the contacts of the person who bought their house." 

"Give me half an hour. But who are these people?" 

"They are going to be our responsibility, Steve." 

He cuts the call and sends a quick text with all the details he might need. 

He can't help but turn back towards the bakery to have one last look. He has made up his mind. He was going to tell you the truth. 

he didn't care if it meant you would hate him. There were many people in the town who despised him, what's one more?

But when he turns back and his eyes land up on you, handing a cup of coffee to a middle aged lady, talking to her with a softness unique to you. 

As if you can feel his eyes on you, you turn towards the window and as your eyes meet, your smile grows wider. A smile that's only reserved for him, he realizes. 

And he would have hated himself for how quickly his resolve fades away. 

But Bucky Barnes was not a good man. 

And maybe many people in this world did hate him, but he would be damned if you were one of them. 

He wanted this. The weekly bakery visits, the warmth, the sheer simplicity of it all, even if it was all this was ever going to be. 

And it was about damn time he got what he wanted. 

Why should he apologize for the monster he has become when no one ever apologized for making him this way?

Maybe, one day you'll find out the truth and hate him more for lying to you, but it wasn't going to be anytime soon. He will make sure of that. 

So, he straightens his coat and walks away from the bakery, choosing to not pay any mind to the inevitable doom that could leave the both of you shattered. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*

"James Buchanan Barnes" 

He turns back from what he is doing to find you, cross armed, shooting daggers at him. 

"How could you, James? It's like you're not even trying." 

He can't help the smile that finds its way to his lips at the way you look. Your christmas sweater that you had deemed "perfect" for the occasion and a scarf draped loosely on your neck, trying to look intimidating, just makes you look even cuter. 

You walk towards him and take the candy decoration from his hand, to place it exactly just an inch away from where he was going to, because it looked in your exact words, "more festive" 

Bucky just smiles at you as he watches you ramble more about Christmas decorations. 

When a week ago, he had heard you reminding Pietro that he had to come over to help you decorate, he had stepped in and offered his help. He was free that day anyways, he had told you. There was an international shipment that he had to sign off that day, but that could wait. 

When Pietro had shaken his hand and thanked him for 'saving him', he didn't understand, but now he did. You were extremely particular about how each and everything had to look for christmas and was not shy to tell the other person what a terrible job they were doing if it wasn't exactly the way you had wanted.

But if the cute pout on your face and the warmth that it caused in his chest was any indication, it was worth it. The cookies whose smell reached him even in the living room was just an added bonus. 

Right now, standing in the middle of your apartment, surrounded by incomplete decorations that signaled the arrival of a festival he wouldn't have cared the slightest about a year ago, being scolded by you for not hanging the canes correctly, he regretted nothing. 

3 hours and a lot of debates later, all of which you won, the house was finally decorated enough for the festival. 

"Here you go." You said, handing him a warm cup of coffee and placing a plate full of cookies on the table in front of him. It was your way of saying thank you. 

Bucky looks around your apartment. It's just above the bakery and much smaller than the mansion he lived in. But it felt different in a way he couldn't point out. 

A shelf filled to the brim with books standing in the corner, pictures adorning the walls, each telling a different story. Some soft music playing on the speaker, it was like a blanket of warmth stood over your house. A little messy, but beautiful nonetheless. 

His eyes then land on you, sitting across from him on the sofa, sipping your coffee with a warm, content look on your face, your scarf now lying on the table. 

As if you could feel his gaze, you turn back to look at him and your breath hitches in the throat at the way he is looking at you. 

It's as if the world could crumble around him and he wouldn't blink an eye. 

You can't get yourself to look away. So, you just raise your eyebrows, because you have suddenly forgotten how to breathe and if he didn't look away right now, you are not sure you will be able to survive longer. 

He just shrugs and turns towards his coffee, as if it was a natural occurrence. As if your whole world hadn't stopped spinning for a moment there. 

Bucky looks at you through the corner of his eyes and watches as red color creeps up to your neck and you try your hardest to not smile. 

He now recognises the feeling. 

Your apartment feels like home. 

And the next realization brings with itself questions and doubts he wasn't ready to answer. 

He wouldn't rather be anywhere else. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩

He clenches his fist as he drags his feet towards the bakery. 

It was pretty late. He knew that. 

But he just had to be there. 

He liked his work more often than not. The impending guilt and the danger aside, the reason that had initially brought him to this world still stood. 

It made him feel something. The adrenaline of each task, the satisfaction of seeing everything that belonged to his enemies burning down till there was nothing but smoke.  

The mafia world had welcomed the darkness that he had inside of him and made him one of their own, for which he will be eternally grateful. 

But for some time now, it hasn't been enough. 

The darkness that had surrounded and consumed him for so many years now was suddenly not enough. 

Something inside him changed. 

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he had thought twice before shooting that man today. The whispers inside him that asked him every time 'if there was any other way' had become louder now and even the noise of the bullets couldn't silence it. 

He knew what was happening. 

He was seeking the light.

And every single part of him knew that this could only end in disaster. In a fire that threatened to burn every single thing to the last piece. 

But that didn't stop him from taking the next step. Or the one after that. 

He was still walking to the one place that could silence away his thoughts and make it all go away. Like a moth attracted to a flame. 

Maybe this was selfish of him. Maybe he was tainting you with his darkness. 

He will think about that some other day. 

When the bakery comes into view, he realizes just how late it is. 

You would be about to close now. 

Maybe he could catch a glimpse before you retired for the night. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. But it had to do. 

As he reaches the bakery, he watches as the door slowly opens and a young boy steps out. 

He frowns before walking ahead, and his eyes almost widen with who he sees. 

"Peter, what are you doing here?" 

Peter looks up from the book he is currently holding and his eyes widen with fear at the figure who stands before him. 

"S - sir, I - I was just - " 

A voice from inside the bakery calls out to him. A voice Bucky recognizes all too well. 

"Peter, you forgot this." 

You step out of the bakery with a textbook in your hands as you hand it over to Peter. 

Peter opens his mouth to speak but then closes it. Too afraid about what was going to happen. 

You turn around and when your eyes land on James, your lips turn into a grin before you know it. 

"James, hi"

Peter's eyebrows shoot up as he looks between the both of you. You have a glint in your eyes as if you couldn't be happier by anything else and the man he had feared with everything he had for the last couple of years, had a softness to his features that made Peter wonder if he was somehow swallowed into an alternate dimension. 

"Hey, sweets." Bucky says almost on instinct, before turning towards the boy who is still looking at the both of them as if he just saw a dolphin flying in the air. 

You probably notice it too, because you then point towards Peter before saying, "James, this is Peter, and Peter, this is James Barnes." 

"James?" Peter says almost on instinct, confusion evident in his voice. 

"Wait, you know him?" You ask, looking between the both of them now. 

Peter looks at Bucky and almost crumbles with fear by the warning glare he is shooting towards him. But there is something else there too. Something, he can swear he has never seen in the mob boss' eyes. 

There is fear in them. A tiny flicker of it. He fears the answer he is going to tell you. Whatever it was, it was too important for him. 

"No, no. I don't think we have met before." 

"Oh, okay." You say, confused as to what had just happened here. "All the best for the test and tell MJ I said hi," You give him an easy exit from a situation he was clearly uncomfortable in. 

You watch as a small blush spreads across his cheeks before he bids you goodbye and glancing at James once, takes his leave. 

"He is a nice kid." You break the silence after Peter walks away, out of earshot. "Pretty smart. I was helping him with his test tomorrow." 

Bucky looks back at you and shrugs in response. "Good for him." 

"By the way, it's closing time, James." You say with a teasing voice and he is relieved that you don't ask any further questions. 

"Come on, sweets. You could make an exception for your favorite customer." 

You roll your eyes before replying. "What about this? You help me clean up, and I get you something special I made today." 

"Help you clean up?" 

"Aww. The prince doesn't like to get his hands all dirty?" You smirk. 

"This special treat should better be worth it, sweets." He huffs before walking inside the bakery. 

You walk in behind him while giggling. 

__

"And that's it." 

You look at him with a smile and silently clap your hands together with an impressed look. 

If any of his men would see him right now, wearing an apron with a bunny on it, hands covered in flour, working in a bakery with soft music playing in the background, their eyes would pop out of their heads. But he couldn't care less. 

"Great job for a first timer, Barnes. You have earned yourself a serving of something special." 

Bucky smirked before replying, "Something special, you say?" He leans in and sends a wink your way. 

You roll your eyes before turning towards the kitchen, hoping that it wasn't evident how flustered you were.

You take out something from a box and place it on a plate in front of him. 

Bucky looked at it closely with a frown. It was clearly made of chocolate and was shaped like a dome. He could swear he had never seen it in your bakery before. 

"Come on, give it a try. If I wanted to poison you, I would have done it ages ago." 

He picks up one and after a moment of close inspection, takes a bite. 

As the taste of chocolate invades his senses, he moans and puts the whole into his mouth. 

You watch as his head falls back in delight. 

Once he is done, which is faster than he would have wanted, he says, "Sweets, that was the best damn thing I have ever had." 

You chuckle, "You say that every single time, James."

"And I mean it every single time." 

You just smile at him before putting another on the plate. 

As he devours that one quickly too, he inquires, "What is it called?" 

You smirk before replying, "James." 

"Yeah?" 

"James. That's what it is called." 

His eyes widen and he takes a moment to reply, "You named a sweet after me?"

"Well, technically, you were the inspiration for this." 

He frowns. "How so?" 

"Well, It's full of chocolate and exceptionally sweet. It's exterior is hard but its insides are so soft, they practically melt in your mouth." 

Bucky looks at you, baffled and you look away, unable to meet his eyes. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but is suddenly shushed by you. 

"That's my favorite song." You whisper, as if not wanting to obstruct the soft melody. 

Bucky listens to the sound coming from your phone.

Wise men say

"Only fools rush in"

But I can't help

Falling in love with you

He looks back at you and at the way you have a soft smile on your face, your features highlighted by the soft glow of the kitchen light. 

You look at him and with a teasing smile puts your hand forward, indicating to him to take it. 

He looks between your outstretched hand and your face with a frown.

"Dance with me." Your voice is so soft, he just can't get himself to say no. But, who is kidding? He will set the whole world on fire and watch it burn with a smile on his face if you asked him to. 

He slowly places his hand in yours as the music continues. 

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help

Falling in love with you

The both of you stand in the middle of the kitchen, the moonlight sweeping its way through the windows. 

Everything is brightened in a warm glow but you know nothing will ever shine brighter than the way his ocean blue eyes do right now. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

One of his arms finds its way around your waist while the other holds yours. 

You place your free hand on his shoulder and he gently pulls you closer. 

The both of you stay like that for the rest of the song, swaying slowly to the music. 

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

You don't know who  leans first but before you know it, the distance between the both of you starts decreasing. 

You hold your breath and your gaze move from his eyes to his lips. 

You would be lying if you said you had never thought of this before, of how his lips would feel against yours, how he would taste like. 

This man had occupied your thoughts since the day you had met all those months ago and you were pretty sure he had no idea of the effect he had on you. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

Just as the song is about to end and there's nothing but an inch of distance between the both of you, the door to the bakery was suddenly pushed open with a force and the sound of the bells invaded the comfortable silence that had covered the room in a blanket. 

The both of you took a sudden step away, and you needed a moment to calm your heart which felt like it was about to beat its way out of your chest, before looking up to see who it. was. 

You squinted as two men, one blonde and the other dark haired, stood at the door, looking comically too big, having no idea of what transcribed in the bakery before they had not-so-smoothly barged in. 

The blonde one speaks, breaking the silence, "I knew we'd find you here." 

You watch as he steps towards James, who looks at him with sheer annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here, punk?" 

The other man looks at you and forms a smirk before stepping towards you. "So, this is where you always sneak off to? I guess I understand why." 

James huffs in annoyance and with a sten face stops him, "Shut up, Wilson." 

You look between the men who looked like they were in a staring contest when realization hit you. "Steve and Sam?" 

All the men look at you at the same time and you feel like a deer caught in headlights before you stand up straighter reminding yourself that no matter how intimidating the situation was, this was your bakery. 

"And you must be y/n l/n. It's great to finally meet you, Ms l/n" Steve says, smiling. 

"Please, just call me y/n." 

"Or we could call you beautiful." Sam replies before stepping forwards, stretching his hand to take yours for a shake. 

You let out a chuckle before shaking his hand. "Y/n is fine." 

"What are the both of you doing here?" Bucky speaks up, shooting daggers at Sam, his fists clenched. 

"There's an emergency. We need to go." Steve replies, a serious expression adorning his face. 

Sam interjects them "What's the hurry? I have heard so much about this bakery. We could eat something before leaving." 

Bucky spats at him, "This bakery has closed, Wilson. Time's up. Get your butt moving." 

Sam pouts and you chuckle at the antics of these grown men, "Why don't you come here some other day, Sam, I have something that I think you'll like." 

Sam looks at you, a childlike smile replacing his pout, "I like her already." 

Bucky steps forward towards Sam, pulling him away. "Don't listen to him, sweets." 

Steve and Sam turn their head towards him so fast. you are sure they will get a sprain later. Sam raises his brows with a smirk on his face, while Steve looks at him with a smile on his. 

James then quickly bids you goodbye before pulling the both of them outside the bakery. 

Once they reach the car Steve and Sam had driven in, they both look at him with amused grins. 

"Back off, the both of you. What's the emergency?" 

Steve's expression turns serious as he replies, "Our shipment from Iran has been stopped at Morocco and they are refusing to comply." 

Bucky narrows his eyes at the information. Who would dare to stop their shipment and risk getting on his bad books? "Who is it, Steve?"

"It's Alexander Pierce." 

Bucky lets out a breath before looking in the direction of the bakery once more  and then turning towards Steve and Sam. 

"Get in the car. We need to leave right now. This is going to be a long assignment."

Next part

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[papiliomame]

Road to 3D- Sam Manson (Part 2):

Character Modeling

Part 1: Model Sheet

Welcome to the second and final part of this project. Since people have asked how I do my models, I decided to make a write-up on how I approach these things using the example of a model of Sam Manson. The first part focused on how I make a model sheet fo a 3d model the second part focus just on the modeling. There are many more things about how to create a fully realized 3d character that I could make whole other chapters for, like UV unwrapping, texturing, shading and rigging, but I don't have enough knowledge past the fundamentals on these topics that could warrant their own seperate posts.

Additional stuff before I continue:

I use Blender for all my model

This not a beginners guide or something similar, it would be helpful to already know the general workflow of a modeling, how to use Blender and know different terminology like edgeflow, retopology etc.

If you are a beginner and want to learn more about character modeling I recommend the videoseries "Modeling for Animation" by Dikko on Youtube

Maybe I make some reference some tricks from this videoseries

That's it, let's go!

My first step is always the block-out phase. The block-out phase is what the construction lines and the first sketch in a drawing are. I align the frontview and sideview from the model sheet I made in part 1 with the z-axis (the blue line in the images above) and roughly shape out the forms with primitive forms. For this I mostly use a cube with a subdivide modifier.

Having a modelsheet without the clothes obscuring the body makes it much easier the get the form right. The block-out phase is one of the most important steps, if it looks good than I have practically half the work done. This is also a good opportunity to practice anatomy.

After this stage I continue with the head. First of all, don't forget to add the mirror modifier so I just need to model half of the model. There are different methods to approach modeling the head, like sculpt the head first, retopologize and than bake all the deatails onto the retopologized head. I actually prefer to polymodel the head especially when I have a good model sheet. I practially trace the lineart from the model sheet by extruding vertices, once from the frontview and once from the sideview. The most important points are the form of the eyes, the mouth, the form of the face and the jawline. The head block-out is used as an anchor point for the shrinkwrap modifier so that the traced forms actually look like they belong to a 3d form and not 2d lines floating space. From this point on it's just connecting everything, pull and push vertices so it looks like a 3d head and make sure the edgeflow is good. (It's also helpful to know how the planes of the head look like) After that I add the eyelashes, eyebrow, eyes and the ears, now it looks like something!

Now comes the hair. For the hair I used the "curve trick" like mentioned in the video series I recommended. Here is a tip to save time: I choose some edges from the head, duplicate and seperate it from the mesh. I convert this seperated line into a curve and choose a beziercircle as a bevel geometry. This is now the perfect foundation to model the hair further. One thing I needed a long time to notice: To get the beziercircle to a perfect square or in this case a triangle lower the Resolution U to 1 in the shape options. Now I just convert the curves into a mesh and add details and the head is done!

With the head finished I continue with the body. Remember how I wrote with a good block-out half of the work ist finished? Well, for this step I practically just use the smooth brush in sculpt mode and smooth everything out so everything looks connected. Then I retopologize the body and that's it. Well, ok there is a little bit more to it: Before smoothing things out I join the block-out part to a single mesh and remesh it with the remash modifier expept for the hands. I prefer to polymodel the hands seperatly without worrying about the rest of the body because they are difficult to model. I reattach them later. Speaking of reattaching, I make sure that the connection points have the same number of vertices while I retopologize/polymodel. To ensure that, I often use the following trick visualized with a simple example ( which is also described in the video series):

I want to reduce the amount of edges at the bottom of this plane, for this I merge 3 vertices from the middle into 1 vertice seen in the left image. After that I can select the blue marked edges from the center image and dissolve them. The result, which you can see on the right, is a nice clean edgeflow with a reduction in the number of edges.

After modeling every part I attach them together and I have a finished bodymesh the work with.

Now onto the clothes, for this I use the model sheet with clothes as reference. Having a retopologized body makes it easier to model simple stuff like e.g. Sam's shirt. On the left image the marked faces of the the bodymesh already looks like a shirt. I just need to duplicate and seperate this area, clean it up a little and the shirt is basically finished. The more complex stuff like the boots I need to polymodel around the bodymesh.

With that the modeling part is done! Now comes the things I said above: uv unwrapping, texture painting, rigging and shading. These are whole other topics I cannot go deeper because I'm still learning how to do these things but I hope my little write-up about how I appoach character modeling was enough to learn one thing or two.

Thank you for your time and thank for reading!

[maryangelex]

Never Let Me Go

Captain John Price x f!Reader

Part 2 here

Summary: You worked at a coffeehouse, your life is filled with mundanity and you wouldn't change it for anything else. That is, until one crisp autumn morning, you meet the handsome Captain John Price and there’s an immediate, undoubted connection between the two of you.

WC: 3,352

Warnings: fluff, smut in other chapters, cheesy coffee shop au, inaccuracies, soft!price, barista!reader, some reader descriptions, slow romance, pet names, meet-cute.

A/N: Remember that Price series I mentioned? Here ya go!!! Each chapter will be the title of a song I feel is related to it or that I was listening to while writing it hehe so make sure to check that out ;) I'm planning for 6 chapters but there might be more. Smut will happen eventually, of course!

The song for Chapter 1 is I'm On Fire by Bruce Springsteen, but also the covers of it by Awolnation and Gus Dapperton.

Happy reading!!

Dawn was breaking through the clouds. The waking sun broke through grey clouds that poured a steady, incessant shower of rain; the contrast of the glimmering rays against the somber clouds painted a watercolor sky. 

You walked down the cobblestone street, the heel of your shoes clinking with every stride as you walked into the coffeehouse at a speedy pace. It was the middle of autumn, the weather was tepid and chilly. You worked at Roasts & Poets, a hybrid of a cafe and a bookstore that your sweet aunt had left your favorite cousin, and she had been gracious enough to let you run it alongside her. 

Every morning was the same, and you wouldn't change a thing about it. You arrived at the crack of dawn to open the cafe, you were alone until your cousin arrived much later; you had always been more diligent and work-oriented than her when it came to running the cafe. You went through the whole process of the opening shift: setting the chairs and tables, stocking the sugars and napkins, picking up your cousin's slack from yesterday's closing shift, and setting out the freshly baked pastries. 

That's how you start your day every day. Your life was simple yet rewarding. Alone behind the counter, you took in the sight of the deserted shop, the smell of the books on their shelves collecting dust hitting your nostrils while sleep was still weighing down your eyes. The stillness and silence of the shop every morning made you content and warm. 

About half an hour later, your cousin arrived. The energy in her contrasted your mellowness. The minute she walked through the door, the sound of her cheery greeting and of the edge of the door's swing knocking the bell atop it sparked you awake. You gave her a wide smile as she stormed in, the rays of sun being her spotlight. 

"Morning, cuz," she beamed, you returned the greeting mid-yawn, followed by you letting out a loud sigh. She set her coat on the hooks next to the door beside yours -- you two had set those there as a cozy detail for your customers. 

"I had the best night last night," she started, walking towards you behind the counter and tying an apron around her waist the same as you. "Remember that guy I told you about?" 

"The Birmingham one?" you scoffed, remembering the drunken night when your cousin could not stop rambling about the bloke from Birmingham who stood her up.

"No," she rolled her eyes, "the hot one my friend set me up with!" 

You vaguely recalled, giving her an affirmative nod as your eyes drifted up, trying to remember the details of her extensive, messy love life. The two of you had been close and very similar since you were kids, but what stood out between you was how much of a hopeless romantic she was. You were more reserved about it; even though you knew it sounded cliche, you had decided long ago that the right man for you would come to you one day. Your knight in shining armor, your prince charming, perhaps. So you'd rather wait passively for that moment rather than how your cousin approached men head-on. 

You listened to her fawning over her most recent rendezvous with her new suitor, amused and enjoying her experience vicariously. 

As the day progressed, you welcomed and attended more patrons. You and your cousin took turns between taking orders and ringing up anyone who purchased books. There were a few regulars who came in every morning for a quiet space to work in, and others who just liked to lounge and read a book they had purchased along with a coffee in the comfy sofas you and your cousin had picked out when setting up the shop -- you had lost count of how many years ago that had been. 

When the shop was slowing down, you liked to prop your elbow on the counter, resting your chin on your hand as you people-watched. You loved the tranquility of it, thinking about each one's stories, reading them like books. 

One of the regulars was a man who always came in a burgundy knitted sweater and sat down with his laptop and headphones. He was quiet and reserved but always left you gratuitous tips; you knew his order and routine like the back of your hand. Another one was an older lady who always wore something pink, no matter what the rest of her outfit consisted of or what the occasion was. She was kind as well, but when she was feeling chatty she would sit at the counter and talk your ear off; today was a quiet day for her as she sipped her chamomille and read her novellas.   

As much as you enjoyed the peace of the shop, today was not a great day for silence for you. You hadn't gotten the best sleep last night, you had opted for binging the show you had been obsessing over and downed an entire bottle of wine by yourself. So, between your early start to the day and the light thumping of the headache you had medicated was making your eyes heavy with sleep. You couldn't wait for your shift to be over, maybe you would ask your cousin to let you lie down in the back. 

The sound of the bell as the door swung open jolted you awake for the second time today. You stood upright, fixing your posture and glancing at the door to greet the incoming customer. Your eyes captured a man you hadn't seen before around the area. He was tall with a bearded face and had a burly physique, sporting a navy blue sweater and grey coat that matched the beanie he slid off his head. You gave him a welcoming smile, not paying him much mind because of the sleep that still crept into your eyes. He returned the gesture as he made his way across the store, disappearing from your vision. 

You let out a sigh as you rubbed your knuckles into your lids. You desperately need a coffee if you want to get through the day, you thought, turning on your heels to pull yourself two shots of espresso. You poured the shots into a cup of milk you had frothed, making yourself a latte to spark some energy into you. 

As you turned back around to face the counter you were caught off guard by-- 

" 'Scuse me, miss?" a smokey voice startled you, making your body jump in place with a gasp escaping your lips. The latte in your hands splashed in your grasp at the sudden response of your body, its contents lightly spilling over your apron. 

"Shit!" you hissed, setting the cup down on the work counter behind you and grabbing the nearest rag to wipe your hands clean from any coffee that got on them. You looked up to the man across the counter, laughing at yourself in a mix of embarrassment at your clumsiness and lighthearted amusement. 

At that moment, your eyes caught onto the face of the mystery man who had recently walked in. His expression was genuinely concerned and apologetic, truly not knowing what to do with himself as he stood across the counter. 

"I'm so sorry, love, didn't mean to startle you," he stumbled over his words, "you alright?" 

His voice was raspy and deep, sultry even. You noted the details of his face: blue eyes stared back at you, surrounded by long lashes and bushy eyebrows, his pink, velvety lips slightly parted as if having more apologies to let out, his nose pointed and narrow, and his beard neat and full. He was handsome, truly, and you couldn't look away. 

"No worries!" you finally let out, a large smile on your face. "That's what these things are for!" you let out an awkward laugh, too loud to not give away the fact that you were flustered by his looks. Your hands worked the knot of the apron that tied at your waist as you spoke. 

The man let out a nervous chuckle as he watched you, still dumbfounded and itching to help in some way like he was uncomfortable with himself for just standing by.

"What can I help you with, sir?" You asked, tossing the apron in a bin under the counter, where you and your cousin kept any kitchen cloths and rags that needed to be washed after your shift. You didn't break eye contact with the man as you did, you found it impossible to when his blue eyes sucked you like the depth of an ocean. 

The man cleared his throat and fixed his posture, a nervous smile pulling at his bearded cheeks, "I was just wonderin' if y'could help me pick out a book" he pointed his thumb over his shoulders to the shelves behind him, "Any recommendations? 'M not sure where to look."  

You responded with an eager 'of course' as you circled the counter, leading him to the array of shelves. "Are you looking for anything in particular?" 

"Erm, up to your suggestion, really," he stood behind you, letting you take the lead, his eyes weighted on you. You responded with a pensive hum as your eyes scanned the shelves, hand holding your chin. You mumbled something under your breath and moved on to a different shelf. You reached for one of the books and turned back to him, handing the selection over to him. He took it from your hands.

Large hands, you observed. You hadn't realized until now how much taller the man was compared to you. You weren't a petite girl, but, this man stood tall; the way he carried himself proudly made him look even larger. 

He eyed the book, taking a moment to read the cover. He chuckled lightly to himself and glanced over to you. 

"As You Like It," he read. 

"You read it?" you asked a bit flustered, afraid you had made the wrong choice, "I recommend it to everyone." 

"I haven't, actually," he looked over to it again, "Not very well versed in Shakespeare." 

You chuckled a bit, "Well, this is a good one to get you into it." 

"I trust you," he said, a smirk on his face that made your cheeks burn. 

"It can be a bit hard to read but..." you shrugged, "It's one of my favorites." 

"I'll come to you if I need help, then." 

Your stomach fluttered at his words. Was he flirting? Maybe he's just a charming guy, nothing special. 

"Would you like anything else?" you stuttered. His gaze made you shift and adjust yourself, making you feel vulnerable to have it on you. 

"I'd like a tea to keep you company while you finish your coffee if that's alright," he flirted, his husky voice made the hairs on your arms stand up. 

You simply nodded with a smile and he followed you back to the counter. He sat on one of the stools as you stood behind the bar, he had asked you for a black tea and you steeped it for him, setting down a creamer and cup of sugar for him to add to taste. You went back to the latte you had made yourself, pouring it into ice after having let it get cold, and observed the man as subtly as you could manage. You noted he liked his tea on the sweeter side, maybe you would use that information for the next time he came around. You hoped he would. 

You watched as he took a sip from the cup, humming to himself and licking his lips as he set the cup back down. 'Good tea', he said softly as if to himself. You couldn't help but let a smile tug at the corners of your lips; something about him enjoying it was pleasant to you. 

"I'm John, by the way," he spoke up, his arms crossed on the counter. His eyes were on you again, and they were amiable and warm as they held contact with yours. You responded by telling him your name. 

"Are you new around here, John?" you reclined on the counter behind you, your coffee in one hand. 

"I am, I just moved in nearby," he took another sip from his cup. 

"What made you pick this place, if I may ask?" 

"Well, military accommodations, mainly," he cleared his throat. 

Military, you thought. No wonder he was such a large and buff man. You noticed the flexed muscles that bulged under his sweater. That sweater did them no justice, you were sure. 

"So you're a soldier?" 

"Somethin' like that, yeah," he scoffed with a smirk. You gave him a small smile as well but chose not to press any further. 

"What about the shop, what made you come in here?" 

"Seemed like a cozy place to spend the day," he gave you a once over, not very conspicuously, "the pretty barista's a bonus." 

You rolled your eyes at his comment but couldn't help the reddening of your cheeks or the growth of your smile that you tried but failed to suppress. 

At that moment, your cousin walked through the door. John's eyes didn't budge to look at the door, though, they were glued on you. She passed behind him, giving you the most excited expression you had seen on her face thus far, and mouthed something along the lines of 'He is so fit!" as she made her way to the back of the store with bags of ingredients in her hands. You scoffed at her and returned to look at John. 

"You flirt with all the baristas you find pretty, John?" 

"Only the ones that look like you," the man quipped, chuckling lightly to himself as if acknowledging how cheesy he was being. His comment made you laugh wholeheartedly, shaking your head at it.  

John finished his tea and fished into his pocket for his wallet, "I hate to leave, but... how much do I owe you, love?" 

"It's on the house," you crossed your arms over your chest, giving him a cheeky look, "for being a first-time customer." 

John gave you a smile with lightly flushed cheeks himself along with a grateful nod. He left his wallet in his pocket as he stood up from his seat and dressed his head with the beanie he had come in with. 

"I'll come back 'round to tell you how the book's goin'," he signaled the book in his hand on the way out the door, "You make great company, love." 

"Likewise, John," you bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from gushing at his words. You were using every atom in your body to not let yourself completely overflow with glee. 

John gave you a final look and raised his hand goodbye before exiting the shop. You returned the gesture and watched him walk away down the street until he disappeared from your line of sight. 

Once he was gone, you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. You felt your heart skip a beat, maybe two, or even three beats as all the blood from your body surged to your face. Your cousin came skipping giddily from the back of the store, squealing like a schoolgirl as she embraced you. You couldn't help but join her in excitement. The two of you spoke in loud whispers behind the counter.

"That man is in love with you!" 

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, he was just flirting!" 

"Don't you be ridiculous! His eyes were devouring you, idiot! He might as well have fucked--" 

You shushed her loudly and cupped your hand over her mouth, the two of you giggling. You two realized you were still on the clock, with some of the patrons shooting glances at you. It made you both adjust and compose yourselves as best you could, but shot each other knowing looks as you returned to work, cleaning dirty dishes and whatnot. 

"So what's his name?" she asked. 

"John, he just moved around here-- says he's in the military." 

"Agh, hot!" she sang the last word. You rolled your eyes. 

"What book did you give him?" 

"As You Like It" 

"Should've given him Lady Chatterley's Lover, maybe he would've taken the hint," she laughed as you pushed her with a hand playfully. 

The rest of your shift went by uneventfully. You continued to serve more customers, tended to the regulars, and maintained the space. When it was closing time, the rays of the sun entered through the large windows, this time casting the golden glow of dusk. You mopped the floors of the shop and let yourself go deep into your thoughts. 

You thought about John, of course, studying all the details you had taken note of. The way his lashes fanned over his deep, crystal blue eyes; how much care was put into maintaining his facial hair and how soft it looked; how chiseled his nose was; how the sweetness of his smile complimented the sweetness he liked in his tea. He looked much older than you, but you didn't mind the slightest, it was a minor detail to you, if anything. You recalled how he called you pretty, and it made you blush and gave you butterflies. You really hoped he'd come back, but didn't want to disappoint yourself if he didn't.  

Once you two had finished closing, you stood outside the door with your cousin as she turned the key and locked the shop. She continued to tease you about John, making both of you laugh and making you blush with the innuendos and childish taunting she kept telling you. You bid each other farewells until tomorrow, walking your separate directions. 

You lived just a couple of blocks away from the cafe in one of the many apartments nearby. A flat you had all to yourself and you enjoyed the solitude, you had learned to be with yourself from having been your only company, besides your cousin, throughout your life. 

It made you think about the fact that it had been a while since you had liked someone. Did you like John?  The question stood out in your mind. It was definitely too early to tell, you had just met the man quite literally today, hours ago even. But you would be lying if you didn't say you felt some sort of attraction, chemistry between the two of you. Those hopes for seeing him again only grew the more you suppressed them.

But you kept telling yourself 'Don't get too excited,' because you might not see him again, after all. For now, let's simply call it a crush, it's all it was, really. Just a man you found attractive, a kind stranger you made you feel pretty and flattered momentarily, after so long of not hearing any men do so or having their attention.

John certainly gave you a lot of his attention, you thought. Those blue eyes of his. He entrapped you with them. An act as simple as being looked at by him made you feel undressed and vulnerable. 

You shook your head when you were in your flat, just standing there in a trance deep in thought. You sighed and cursed at yourself under your breath. 

You practiced your nightly routine of eating dinner by yourself, showering, dressing in your coziest pajamas, and sitting on your couch alone with either a book or a movie, and maybe a glass of something, maybe wine or a soothing tea.

And for once in your life, you hated being alone.

For once you wished there was someone to keep you company. A company as nice as John had kept you today even if it was brief. You sulked a bit on your sofa as you let that forlorn feeling take over just a little bit. 

And though as much as you loved mundanity, the feeling of having someone new and exciting disrupt your routine sparked a warmth in you. 

God, you hoped you'd see John again. 

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 018: Murphy's Law

You’re only against a handful of things. Of course, the one time you go to bed angry, shit hits the fan.

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters ** = smut chapters

author's note: 2/23/2024 — i don't want you guys to suffer too much, so the last two chapters will be released tomorrow 2/24/2024. i love you guys, thank you for tuning in ♥️

CW: i don't wanna spoil anything, so this whole chapter is a trigger warning. please be mindful of this before reading; ps thank you to @freckledjoes for letting me use this picture of barron/"steve"

word count: 1.3k words

♡

“I’m Natalia, who are you?”

“I’m...Shy Girl,” you narrow your eyes. “My boyfriend Eddie lives here.”

You've never been good at math. But it doesn't take putting 2 and 2 together to realize that — the car in Eddie's spot this morning — belongs to the Nancy look-alike in front of you.

And if you looked too fast, you would've thought that she WAS Nancy. But the strapless tube top, lettuce-trim booty shorts, and lacy black tights on a cold December morning rule out that possibility.

Your eyes trail over to Steve in the background, frantic and sweaty, hairy chest out on display as he shuffles around to find a shirt to throw on. You clear your throat, meeting Natalia’s blue eyes one more time before speaking again.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Oh no girl, you're fine!" the busty brunette chirps, when she realizes you're no longer a threat to her. "I was just heading out. I guess his roomie is going to be back any second now."

Doing your best to conceal your laughter, you step off to the side to allow Steve's booty call to get her things and scoot out the door. Steve watches awkwardly, leaning against the doorway and flashing Natalia a smile as he watches her get to her car safely.

You wait until she’s out of earshot to speak to him.

“Natalia.” you sing with a smirk. “Really?”

“Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you’re making right now, Hargrove. Don’t start.”

Your eyes venture down to the faint bite marks on Steve’s neck. You turn around to look at the doppelgänger one last time, giving her a wave as she drives away.

“Not starting anything,” you insist. “I just think it’s funny.”

He knows what you’re thinking and it doesn’t help his case. Steve steps off to the side, inviting you in. After closing the door behind you, Harrington gestures towards the box in your hand.

“Whatchu got there?”

“Apology cupcakes for Eddie,” you explain. “I was a real bitch to him yesterday so I decided to bake him something to compensate.”

You spent all night guilt-baking, hoping to win Eddie back with the cute vanilla cupcakes topped with sad red frowns on them, followed by a homemade card that reads, "I'm sorry for pushing you against the wall". Expecting Steve to find it adorable, he offers you a rather confused reaction instead.

"…Eddie didn’t stay over last night?” he asks with a cocked brow.

Your heart sinks.

“No… I thought he came straight here after Wayne’s.”

“Well obviously he didn’t,” Steve says. “Hence why I had Nat spend the night.”

“Well do you think he’s at Dustin’s?”

“I’m not sure, I haven’t spoken to the guy since yesterday morning.”

Something's off. Immediately rushing to the living room, you set the cupcakes down so you can call Wayne. It rings a few times but Eddie's uncle doesn’t pick up.

"Wayne's not picking up."

“That’s odd,” Steve gulps. “He almost always does.”

So you go to message Eddie. It's a simple text, Where are you? Straight to the point. To your complete shock, your usual blue text bubbles turn green. Eddie's phone is off. What the hell?

So you go to call him next. It doesn't hurt to try. But then your knees start to buckle when you're immediately directed to an automated voicemail box.

“We’re sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please try again later.”

The room is as frostbitten as the air outside. Steve senses abrupt energy shift.

You scroll nervously through your phone. The next person to contact is Dustin. Outside of his friendship with Steve, he is the next person closest to Eddie. But Curly doesn't pick up either.

"Oh god," you feel the color rushing from your face.

"Hargrove, i-it's okay," Steve attempts. "He's probably with Jeff or Gareth or Grant or somethin', o-okay? Let's not jump to conclusions."

He rests a warm hand atop your arm, grounding you back down to earth. You turn to him with worry. He rubs your back to comfort you.

"Eddie would never do anything to hurt himself on purpose," Steve assures you. "I can promise you that much. Don't let your mind go there."

"Okay," you exhale.

"But he is stupid though," Steve adds. "So, to be safe, we should probably check the hospital. Or urgent care. Dude probably cucked his ankle again."

And with that, you two set off to Hawkins Memorial on the other side of town.

The icy roads seem to draw on for miles as Steve drives. And you had no desire to explore the vastness of Roane County, for as long as Eddie isn’t there waiting for you at whatever coordinate the wind blows you to next.

Tapping your feet anxiously on the floor, you click your phone on and off again to see whether or not a message from Eddie pops up. It’s the same outcome every time.

Steve’s gentle hand rests on top of your trembling ones once again. He gives you a soft pat.

“It’ll all be okay, Shy Girl,” he says to you. “Promise.”

Thankfully, hospital parking is almost immediate. Booking it to the emergency department now, you and Steve rush to get to the front of the line to speak to the receptionist. When it's finally your turn, she greets you rather stoically.

“Can I help you?”

Without violating HIPAA?

“I sure hope so,” you sigh. “This is a wellness check. Do you guys maybe have a Munson admitted here?”

“Munson…” the last name marinates on the lady’s tongue almost as if she’s familiar with it. You wouldn’t doubt it. Wayne’s a frequent flyer due to the cancer and Hawkins is quite literally a speck of dust on the map.

You try to help her. “Maybe an Eddie…Edward… or quite possibly a Wayne…”

“Quite possibly a Wayne?” the lukewarm secretary echos you.

“Yes!” you hiss urgently. “Or maybe a John Doe? A guy in his late twenties, early thirties... This person most likely came in yesterday afternoon, night, or maybe even this morning. He has brown hai-"

“Shy Girl…” comes a voice behind you.

It’s one of the Munsons you’re looking for. But to your surprise, not the one you were expecting.

"Wayne..." you breathe.

In front of you is Eddie's uncle, sitting in his wheelchair evidently a bawling mess. If he’s here and Eddie’s not, it can only mean one thing.

Your throat tightens and you struggle to speak. A thin veil of tears gloss over your eyes, your fingertips essentially frozen now as the sterile white building closes up around you.

“Wayne…” you say again. “What happened?”

His uncle sniffs, drawing out uneven breaths as he tries to calm down, nose an irritable red to match his glassy, sleep-deprived eyes.

“There’s... been an accident,” he chokes. “They T-boned him. Van is totaled.”

That van. That stupid fucking van you’ve told Eddie time and time again to get rid of.

“Wayne," Steve interrogates. "Who drove you here?”

“The Henderson boy.”

You can't take it anymore.

“Where is he?!” you demand. “And why aren’t you with him, Wayne?! WHERE IS EDDIE?”

“Doctors won’t tell me nothin'!” Wayne blubbers, his voice cracking like a helpless child. “But as someone whose second home is the hospital, I know what that means.”

The three of you take this time to cry. You instantly collapse into Steve's arms. He embraces you tight, dragging you off to the side so the people who were waiting behind you could be helped next.

Nothing matters anymore, you think to yourself. This is what you get for going to bed angry. The one time. The one time. And as the three of you start to gather yourselves again — rather slowly — Wayne speaks once more... uttering a belief that you've already come to terms with. Something that you already know.

“It’s not looking good for Eddie.”

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins

oh yeah, song of the chapter is...

side note: s/o to DR. bridgit mendler, the irl barbie

[eiightysixbaby]

i’ll be home for christmas

PART FOUR: Merry Christmas, Darling

previous chapter || series masterlist

word count: 7.4k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie’s return sends you through emotional turmoil. can things go back to the way they were?

cw: angst, there’s a lotttt of feelings in this chapter whew what a ride, mentions of alcohol consumption, brief mention of reader’s parents - they aren’t described it’s just mentioned that we go to see them, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’

author’s note: the final part is here!! thank you all soooo much for coming on this little journey with me. i’ve had so much fun writing this fic, and i appreciate every kind comment i’ve received. keep your eyes peeled in the coming weeks, there’s an extra something i’m working on for this universe :)

Present Day: Christmas Eve, 1989.

Eddie. You’re staring at Eddie, that much you know. He’s standing right in front of you, yet it all feels hazy. There’s a ringing in your ears that won’t stop, a sickness in your gut that won’t ease. You say nothing as you step aside to let Dustin and the rest of the kids rush to the door to greet the man before you.

He looks at you, desperately, before being swarmed by everyone else.

“Eddie! Holy shit!!” Dustin yells, throwing his full weight at the man and barely giving him time to get his bearings.

“What are you doing here!?” Lucas asks, pushing Dustin out of the way to get his own hug.

“Slow down, you gremlins,” Eddie laughs. Oh, god, his laugh. It makes your stomach churn. What was once music to your ears is now an unfamiliar sound. You’d know his laugh anywhere. But you don’t feel like you know him anymore. “How’s everyone doing? I missed you fuckers,” he says, ruffling Max’s hair.

“We missed you,” she says, rolling her eyes as if she can’t be bothered. Eddie knows it’s just an act.

You move out of the doorway, feeling like you’re in a daze as you walk back to the living room.

“Did you guys know about this?” you ask Nancy, Robin, and Steve once they turn expectantly to catch your reaction to the whole surprise.

“Yeah, he got in a few days ago. We wanted it to be a surprise,” Robin says, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to cover a smile.

“Right,” you say, not matching her excitement as you sit down in an empty chair. It explains why the girls were acting so weird during your baking session. It explains why you made the stupid raspberry cookies.

You can feel Jonathan’s eyes boring into you, watching your every move. You don’t look at him, knowing you’ll break if you see the concerned expression you know will be on his face. Nancy’s about to say something when Eddie and the teens come swarming in, Dustin already blabbering his ear off. You go stiff in your seat, not meeting those gorgeous brown eyes and instead keeping your face trained on the floor.

Jonathan stands, moving to greet Eddie as he’s the only one who hasn’t yet. “What’s up, man? You back for good?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yeah I think I am,” he says. “It’s good to see you.” You know everyone’s eyes are on you, including his. You know they’re waiting for you to say something. Your silence is ear-splitting, and it feels like a bomb is about to go off.

Everyone moves to surround Eddie, except you, but you can’t blame them. They ask him for all of the details about Chicago, his reasons for moving back, anything and everything. You catch him looking around their faces, trying to get you to look at him, but you avoid his eyes every time. You thought this was what you wanted. You thought seeing him would fix everything.

But it didn’t.

If anything, your heart feels even more shattered. He thinks he can just come home, show up at this party without warning and you’re just going to fall into his arms? Confess your love for him? Act like nothing has happened?

He’s too nonchalant, the way he talks to the group. The way he sits casually on Steve’s sofa, the way he grabs cookies and a drink to indulge in.

A part of you wants to be upset with your friends for hiding this from you, for giving you no warning, but the other part of you knows they were just trying to make you happy. This was supposed to make you happy. You’re unhappy without Eddie, and now he’s here and you’re still unhappy. What is wrong with you?

It’s too much, your head feeling like it’s going to cave in as you listen to the chatter around you. Eddie’s voice is grating in your ears, and you can’t bear to look at his face — you know you’ll just burst into tears. He’s in the middle of telling a story about his attempts to land a recording gig when you stand from your seat, stopping him mid-sentence.

Without a word, you walk quickly to Steve’s back door, letting yourself out to the backyard. You can hear Jonathan call after you, but you don’t want to be bothered. The cold air hits you harder without your coat on, and you wrap your arms around yourself to keep as warm as possible. Steve’s covered pool is coated with a layer of ice and snow, and the lights from inside make the snow sparkle. Inhaling deeply, the icy air burns your lungs, but at least you’re feeling something definite. Your emotions are all over the place, none of them clear or easy to work through.

Maybe you should just go home. Just slink off to your car and go, because you certainly can’t be here with him. As if on cue, sent by some fucked up force in the universe that loves to put you through the wringer, the door slides open.

You hear shoes crunch on the snowy ground, bulky steps that can only come from heavy boots. A deep breath is taken but it’s not enough, you feel like you can’t get any air when he’s taking it all from you. Standing still, you stare straight ahead, your back facing who you know is right behind you. You can’t bear to turn around, to be the one to face him first.

“Sunny,” is all he says. His voice is soft, but it raises every hair on your neck. You’re back to a year ago, to that horrible place he took you to and locked you away in.

You steel yourself, preparing for the floor to fall out beneath you and trying your damndest to be ready for it.

“Please, look at me.”

Turning, slowly, your eyes lock with his. He looks the same as he did the last time you saw him, except now his face fills your mouth with a sour taste. You don’t like this feeling.

“I missed you,” he says, quietly.

His hands are tucked in the front pocket of his jeans, his face barely visible in the dark. He looks at you almost expectantly, like you’re supposed to do something here. Like this isn’t insane.

“I can’t do this, Eddie,” you say, barely above a whisper. Your voice is failing you.

He hears you anyway, his ears so attuned to anything and everything you have to say. You don’t look the same, the usual fire behind your eyes is gone. It worries him.

“Please, just… I came back for you. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”

“Please don’t. Don’t do that, Eddie,” you warn, tears burning at your eyes.

“Do what? Be honest with you? I’m sorry Sunny. I’m so sorry. But it’s the truth. I’ve never stopped missing you,” he presses. His tone isn’t harsh, but passionate. You know he’s being honest, and it makes you want to throw up.

“So, what? You’re just going to walk in here and act like everything is normal? Like this isn’t fucking weird?” you ask, getting progressively louder as you go. He’s standing not even a foot away, silent. What can he say?

“You’ve been gone for a year, Eddie. You left me, you barely gave me a warning!” you hiss, stepping further away from him. Retreating into yourself, protecting yourself.

He takes a step toward you, chancing it. Reaching a hand out as if to grab you and comfort you. You don’t let him, slinking out of his touch.

“Sunny, please. Can we talk about this?” he asks, his voice desperate as he pleads with you.

“You didn’t want to talk it over when you made the decision to leave,” you spit. “So maybe I don’t want to talk things over now. I’m sorry you thought I’d just fall right into your arms again, but it’s not happening, Eddie. This? Whatever it is we had? It’s done, it’s gone. You can thank yourself.” You brush past him, slamming the door shut behind you once you’ve entered the house again. Anger and hurt blaze through your veins in a deadly concoction, your vision blurry with the hot tears that sting in your eyes.

Eddie follows after you, hot on your trail, emotion-strained voice calling out from behind. “Sunny. Sunny!”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a response, simply putting your coat on and grabbing your purse. “I’m leaving. I’m sorry, everyone,” you say curtly, and then you’re heading towards the front door, stepping outside into the cold night with nothing more than the slam of the wood.

Eddie stands in the living room, forlorn as everyone just looks around, unsure of what to do. Of all the ways this reunion could have gone, they certainly didn’t expect this. They thought it would make you happy, not make everything worse.

“I have to go get her—” he starts, frantic as he pats down his pockets for his car keys.

“Eddie, I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Robin says warily, standing from her seat on the couch.

“I let her go once!” Eddie yells, a painful twinge to his tone. “I can’t let it happen again.”

He looks like a kicked puppy, scared where he stands in the middle of Steve’s home. The looks everyone gives him are pitying, and it makes him scoff as he starts to pace, running his hands through his hair.

“You need to give her space, man,” Jonathan adds, trying to calm him down. “If you bombard her right now, it’ll only make her more upset.”

Eddie looks at him, saying nothing. His eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill but he doesn’t want to let them. The impulsive part of him wants to tell Jonathan to fuck off — he used to know you like that. He used to be the person that knew everything about you, and now Jonathan has taken his place. Even if only platonically. He bites his tongue, reminding himself of the unfortunate truth that it’s his own fault you aren’t close anymore.

“I— I just need some air,” Eddie settles on, turning around and going back out to the backyard.

He isn’t out there for long before he hears someone else join him. Turning, he’s a little surprised to see Jonathan. He’d expected Steve, maybe Dustin.

“Hey,” Eddie says, his hands in his pockets as he stares out across the yard.

“Hey,” Jonathan replies, taking slow steps closer to him. “Listen, Eddie,” he starts after a pause. “You put her through a lot this last year,” he says. Eddie can tell by his tone he’s not trying to be unkind or sour, but it still hurts. It’s hard to admit that he was so incredibly wrong, and that his actions are having major consequences. He never wanted to hurt you this badly. Everything had spun out of control, and he’s to blame.

“I know, man. I know,” he replies. “I’m sorry about it.”

Jonathan just looks at him, watching him carefully. There’s a brief silence, before Eddie takes a deep breath and a little leap of faith.

“Can you talk to her for me?”

He looks at the man beside him, breath hitched in his throat, nervous.

“Eddie—”

“Please, man. She… she trusts you. In a way that she doesn’t trust me anymore. And I know that that’s my fault, but…” he takes a shaky breath, furiously swiping at his wet eyes with his thumb. “I want to earn her trust back. I want her back.”

Jonathan thinks this over, running his tongue over his teeth behind his top lip as if collecting the taste Eddie’s words leave in his mouth. Meeting Eddie’s eyes, his gaze softens when he sees the pain sitting on his face.

“Okay. I’ll try to talk to her,” Jonathan says finally, and Eddie lets out a relieved breath. “But. I’m not promising anything. If she wants to cut ties with you, that’s her business, and I can’t force her to do anything. You screwed up last year, Ed. I’m not trying to rub salt in your wounds, I just need you to understand why this is so hard for her.”

Eddie almost wants to laugh. Jonathan has a way of saying harsh things — of giving you the truth — yet not making you feel like complete shit while he does it. Eddie knows that he cares, he just cares on a level that not everyone does.

“I know. Trust me, I know that,” he sighs, blowing out a puff of air as he looks up to the dark sky. “I know you can’t force her, and I don’t want that. I just… I want her to know how sorry I am. If nothing else, I want her to know that she’s the most important person I’ve ever met and that I’m a moron for what I did last year.”

Jonathan does laugh at this, and then Eddie starts laughing with him. And it feels good, if even for a fleeting moment.

“I’ll talk to her, okay? I’m glad to have you back, man,” the younger man says, giving Eddie a soft fist to the shoulder. There’s a smile on his face, just enough for Eddie to notice.

He smiles back. Jonathan doesn’t need words to hear the ‘thank you’ that lies behind it.

•

You don’t feel any better after your outburst towards Eddie. You wanted to be with your friends tonight, not sitting alone at your apartment. But you’d left on impulse and now… here you are. Sitting alone on your floor because it felt right to sit on the floor and now you’re spiraling.

You don’t know what to think, or what to feel. You’d been sad for months over Eddie’s absence and now he’s here and you go and have a meltdown. Frustration boils inside of you, your heart twisting in your chest. Being angry at Eddie doesn’t feel any better than missing him had, it’s not like being mad allows you to just forget him.

Before you can think yourself into oblivion, your phone rings. Groaning, you stand to retrieve it. Your heart pounds in your chest — what if it’s him?

Steadying your breathing, you let it ring a few times before you convince yourself to answer.

“Hello?” you mumble, not quite ready to find out whose voice will come out on the other end.

“Sunny. It’s me,” Jonathan’s voice comes through the receiver, relaxing every muscle in your body. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Honestly, Jon? I have no fucking idea,” you say, with a slight laugh at the end. There’s no humor in it, though, you simply feel like you’re going mad.

“Can I come over?”

“Jonathan, no, stay at the party—”

“Sunny. Can I come over?” he tries again, not wanting you to put him first in this situation. He wants to be there for you.

“Okay. Yeah, fine. Door’s unlocked, just come in when you get here.”

Clicking the phone back into its place, you pace the floor slightly, chewing your nail.

Did Eddie really come back for you? Is this all for you?

Your heart aches at the thought of it. You just don’t understand how he expected everything to be just fine the second you saw him, and all you can picture in your mind is the look on his stupid fucking face the second you opened Steve’s door.

He looked at you like you hung the moon. He looked at you like you were everything.

You think about last year, you think about the kiss. The way his lips felt so soft against yours, like they were made to be there. You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, rubbing at them with a frustrated sigh. Taking a seat on the couch, you await Jonathan’s arrival.

The door opens quietly before his figure slips through the gap, his cheeks rosy from the cold. You’re curled in one corner of the sofa, and you must look pitiful because his eyes soften the second they land on you.

“Sunny…” he says, hanging his coat on your coat rack before instantly coming to sit by you.

“What the fuck is happening, Jonathan?” you croak, moving to lean against him. “I thought this was what I wanted. I wanted him to come home I… I still miss him…”

“I think he just surprised you. You’re feeling a lot of things at once, and that’s okay. Every single emotion is valid,” he says softly, rubbing your back with a gentle hand.

“I’m just so mad that he walked in like it was nothing. He sat down and talked with everyone like there wasn’t a giant elephant in the room to address,” you say, that anger still lingering in your voice. “But I’m not proud that I walked out on him. I didn’t let him talk, or anything. I told him we’re done,” you sniff, letting tears drip down your face. “I don’t know if I really meant that.”

“Do you think he’s just gonna give up on you? I promise you he’s not, Sunny. He was ready to chase after you the second you left.”

You think this over, a pang in your heart making you cry more. A small part of you wanted him to chase you, although you wouldn’t admit it in your anger.

“He’s really sorry, Sunny,” Jonathan sighs, squeezing you closer to him. “I’ve never seen him this beat up over anything. He’s devastated. You have a right to be devastated, too. I just want you to know that he knows he screwed up.”

“Did he tell you to tell me this?”

Jonathan pauses, takes a breath. “He asked if I would talk to you, yeah. But I had every intention of coming over here, anyway. I think you need someone to talk it out with, that isn’t him.”

“Is that all he said?”

“He said he’s a moron for what he did,” Jonathan adds, smiling when he gets a watery laugh from you.

“He is a fucking moron,” you admit, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“And he said that you’re the most important person he’s ever met. There’s no doubt in my mind that he means that. He really adores you, Sunny.”

“I feel the same about him,” you say, lip wobbling. It’s true. You’ve never met anyone else who’s impacted you quite the same as he has. He’s everything. That’s why this is all so earth-shattering.

“So what are you gonna do?” Jonathan asks, waiting a beat. “You don’t have to decide now. I’m not here to change your mind or tell you how to feel. You don’t have to talk to him anymore if you really don’t want to. But I saw how happy you were with him last year, Sunny. I want you to be that happy again.”

“I need to think things over,” you say meekly, letting out a sigh. “Can we just watch a movie?” you ask, looking up at your friend.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “We can watch a movie. Give yourself all the time you need to think.”

Present Day: Christmas Day, 1989.

The night had been a restless one. Tossing and turning beneath your heavy comforter, your mind racing with a million thoughts. A million things you want to say, a million things you should say, to him. He hurt you, and he can’t take that back, but you didn’t even hear a single thing he had to say. You didn’t hear him out, and that’s not how you’d typically behave around him. Maybe nothing involving him was “typical” anymore, but you couldn’t sleep restfully knowing you haven’t had a real conversation with him.

All you’d wanted, for 12 months, was for Eddie to be home, to apologize. You realize now that your anger has eased that you need to talk to him. Nothing will improve if you don’t speak to him. You know for a fact it would eat you alive every day if he was home in Hawkins, seeing your friends, and you had to avoid him. You have things you need to get off your chest, stuff you want to say, and as you laid awake blinking into the darkness, you’d decided you needed to go and see him.

Christmas morning arrives too bright and too early, your body curled beneath blankets as you rub your eyes and yawn. It feels like you fell asleep for maybe an hour or two, your mind still racing with thoughts that seemed to never stop. Immediately, you’re throwing the covers off and getting out of bed.

There’s still time to fix things. There’s still time to talk to him, to have a good Christmas. You deserve a good Christmas.

The shower water pours hot out of the faucet, steam filling your bathroom as you undress. You let the water coat your skin, making you feel more awake as you shampoo your hair and scrub your body. You feel like you can’t move fast enough, anxiety swirling in your stomach coupled with your eager need to see Eddie.

You get ready in record timing, hair done and outfit donned, teeth brushed and everything else in between. You bundle up for the weather, as one look out your window told you it was definitely a cold one, a hefty layer of snow coating the ground. You can feel yourself tremble as you get in your car and start it, nausea creeping back in as you worry the whole drive to Eddie’s.

Your boots crunch on the snow-covered dirt, your hand pushing your car door shut with a reluctant creak. It’s been so long since you’ve been here, at the trailer park, standing in front of this very trailer. It looks the same as you remember it, though it looks like Wayne got a new wreath for the door.

It’s early, god you know it’s so early, and you only hope you won’t be disturbing the sleep of the two men who inhabit the home. But this is important, you think to yourself. You have to do this.

Taking a deep breath, your hand trembles before you bring it to the door in a repetitive pattern, knocking firmly. There’s no answer for a moment, and you worry that maybe coming out here was a mistake. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you, after all. Maybe Jonathan was wrong, and you’d pissed him off, and he’s done with you.

Maybe it’s too late.

You’re about to resign, to get back in your car, when you hear footsteps on the inside of the door. It swings open in front of you, revealing Eddie’s sleepy face and his sleep-tousled hair.

“Sunny?” he asks, rubbing one eye with his hand. He reaches off to the side, yanking on a coat before coming to stand outside with you.

“Sorry, uh… Wayne’s still asleep otherwise I’d—”

“I miss you, Eddie,” you cut him off, making his eyes widen for a split second. “And I’m so fucking mad at you, but it turns out being mad at you doesn’t make me miss you any less.”

He blinks, looking down at you but not speaking, as if he’s too scared to say anything at all.

“You really fucked me up leaving last year, you know that?” you ask with an icy laugh, looking off to the side. “I missed you every single day you were gone. All I wanted this whole time was you. And now you’re here, and— and, you think you can just show up and everything will be fine. Everything’s not fine,” you ramble, voice cracking at the end of your speech.

You’d tried to ward off any tears, but they’re running warm down your cold cheeks before you can stop them. You wipe furiously at them with your fingers, trying to hide your emotions from the man in front of you. You hadn’t planned on getting this emotional, but then you suppose you can’t really fully plan for a conversation like this.

“Nothing— is fine, Eddie,” you croak. “I missed you so much,” you start to cry harder, collapsing against him as he readily accepts you into a sort of hug as you let it all pour out of you. He holds you against his chest, and how you missed being pressed close to him like this. Your chest aches with every single second of those 12 months without him that you can’t get back. “How could you do that to me?” you ask him, fist clutching the fabric of his coat, not wanting to let him go.

He squeezes you so tight, he doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t expect you to come here, especially not so soon.

“I’m so sorry, Sunny,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry. I’m the dumbest man alive for leaving you. I really am.”

“At least you know that,” you sniff, the tiniest laugh rumbling in your chest amidst your tears; reminding you of what Jonathan had told you the night before. That he’s a moron.

“I’ll let you tell me that every day for the rest of my life,” he says, brave enough to crack the smallest smile. “Just please don’t give up on me.” Gripping your shoulders, he coaxes you just far enough away so he can really look at you. “All I want is you, Sunny. Chicago… didn’t change my life. Not in the slightest. I thought I needed to get out of here but… I couldn’t have been more wrong. And I’m so sorry you had to be caught up in my dumb mistake,” he says earnestly. “It was never a problem with you. My feelings for you were always real. Are still real.”

You’re silent, taking a couple breaths before you speak. “I’m sorry Chicago didn’t work out. But the selfish part of me was hoping it wouldn’t…” you confess, looking down at your shoes.

“It’s okay. I learned my lesson, that’s for sure,” he scoffs a little, his expression downtrodden.

“This year was so hard, Eddie,” you tell him. “Nothing has been the same without you.” The pain in your voice feels like he’s been stabbed in the heart, and he so horribly wishes he could take everything back. But he can’t. All he can do is be better for you, now.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, his big chocolate eyes so apologetic. You missed his pet names, missed the way sweetheart rolls off of his tongue specially for you. “Please tell me you didn’t mean what you said… when you said that we’re done.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says that last part, not the entire time at least. His eyes dance nervously around, his voice wavering with anxiety. It makes tears spring to your eyes again, the thought of going on without him. Of spending every day for the rest of your life without him.

“I can’t do this without you, Eddie,” you say. “But you have to promise me you’re never going to pull something like that again. You’re never leaving again, unless it’s with me,” you steel yourself, not letting yourself get too emotional until he can make this promise. Until he can prove himself.

“Never. Never, I swear. I don’t want to be anywhere you aren’t,” he breathes, moving closer to you. “Please let me make it all up to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life being the best I can be for you.”

His hands cup your face, warm against your frosty cheeks. He wipes a stray tear from your face with a gentle thumb, smiling so softly when you lean into his touch. All at once it hits you, your overwhelming affection for him that you’d had to shove down all year. It gnaws at your chest, clawing its way out of you triumphantly. He’s still the same man you knew then. He’s still the only person you want first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

“Eddie…” you sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed, your hands holding his forearms.

You can feel how close his face is to yours, his nose nearly ghosting over your own and his breath warming your skin. The broken pieces of you are being glued back together one by one the longer he stands holding you.

“I’ve thought about that kiss every single day for the last year, you know that?” he says softly, your eyes opening once more to look up at him.

“Me too,” you breathe. “I’d started to think that maybe it was a mistake,” you admit sadly, watching the way his expression changes. “But it was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

Both of you go quiet, eyes saying so much without words as you look at each other. He’s so close, his face right against yours as you stand in the freezing cold morning. He starts to shift even closer, and you feel like his lips are about to close the distance to yours when the trailer door swings open.

“Is that my little lady?” Wayne’s gruff voice calls out.

You and Eddie break apart abruptly, Eddie rather reluctantly letting you go as your head swings to look at his uncle.

“Wayne!” you beam, moving instantly to accept his hug. You glance back at Eddie, heart thumping in your chest as you watch him watching you.

This is how it should be. This is how you always want it to be.

“Get in here and out of the cold. I missed you, you know that?” the older man says to you, pulling you inside.

You have a lot of catching up to do. That second kiss will have to wait.

After a mug of hot cocoa and a lot of reminiscing with Wayne and Eddie, you find yourself alone with Eddie in his room. There’s a tiny bit of awkwardness in the atmosphere, both of you getting your footing together after so much time apart. It almost feels wrong to be in his bedroom, but then you remember you spent nearly every day here not so long ago.

“I’m sorry it’s a mess,” he smiles weakly. “Unpacking hasn’t exactly been my top priority.”

“Don’t apologize,” you insist, standing in the doorway as he kicks his messy suitcase to a corner of the room. “Was it ever clean before you moved?” you tease, more and more of that weight being lifted off your shoulders with each lighthearted comment, each joke and laugh and smile given and received.

“Sometimes!” he defends, immediately relenting. “Okay, no, it’s always a mess.”

“I really need to get going, Eddie. I need to see my parents at least for a little bit today,” you tell him, glancing at the clock.

“Will I see you back at Steve’s later?” he asks.

“I was hoping I could hitch a ride with you,” you say shyly.

He beams, pearly white teeth shining at you. He could light the entire city with that smile.

“Of course you can. I’ll pick you up, say around six?”

“Six is perfect,” you smile, moving toward him to give his arm a squeeze. “I really fucking missed you.”

He exhales, taking both of your hands in his. “I missed you more than I can even say. I hope you believe me. If I could take this whole year back, start over, I would.”

You don’t reply, just nod at him with empathetic eyes. You know he means it. You do believe him.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” he says. “Be safe getting to your parents, alright?”

You nod again, smiling at him before you put your coat back on, saying goodbye to Wayne and walking out into the cold.

•

Opening gifts with your parents was a good reprieve from the emotional whirlwind of a morning that you’d had, simply sharing in their joy and having lighthearted conversation. It felt good to feel good, that was for certain.

To have a happy Christmas, a happy day, finally. There was still much to be discussed with Eddie, but you felt at ease now that you’d finally poured your heart out to him. You can’t really stay angry with him, because your heart knows he never meant to cause you so much pain.

Six o’clock rolls around surprisingly quickly, a knock sounding at your door as you give yourself a once over in your mirror. Smoothing down your velvet skirt for a final time, you turn to leave your room. As you’re about to flip off the light, though, your jewelry box catches your eye.

You walk over to your dresser where it sits on the top, opening the lid. Eddie’s necklace sits with its broken chain on top of the other miscellaneous jewelry, the initialed pendant gleaming right at you. There’s another knock on your door, and you hurriedly rummage through the clutter to find a spare chain, one that hadn’t been ripped in half.

You let the pendant fall from the old chain, slipping it onto the new one as you walk quickly to the door.

Swinging it open, Eddie’s sweet face greets you on the other side. The things you would’ve given to see him greeting you all those torturous months when he was gone. And now he’s here. He looks gorgeous; wearing what might be his only pair of black jeans that aren’t ripped, along with a deep green flannel that slightly pokes out beneath a dark gray sweater. You want to devour him, you realize. But that will have to wait — the time will come eventually.

“Oh, thank god. I was starting to think you weren’t gonna answer,” he jokes, playing off the comment with a slight laugh. You can see in his face that a small part of him really was concerned you’d bail.

“Sorry, I was looking for something,” you say, stepping aside to let him in.

“Oh? Did you find whatever it was?”

“Mhm. Would you mind putting it on me?” you ask, holding out the necklace to him.

He looks at it, his eyes softening when he recognizes the pendant.

“You still have this,” he muses, surprise evident in his tone. Like he thought you’d get rid of it. You truthfully never could have.

“It’s important to me,” you tell him, glancing up at him through your lashes. “I… broke the original chain. One night when I took it off. I-I’m not proud of it and I’m sorry. Because this gift is so important to me. It was the only piece I had of you,” you admit, pouring your truth and your heart into his open hands.

“Sunny, you don’t have to apologize. You still have it, I’m so glad you do.”

He smiles, a warm and wonderful thing, before he motions for you to turn around. He drapes the pendant over your head, letting it rest on your chest while he fidgets with the clasp at the back. You nearly want to cry as he puts it on you; you didn’t get the chance for him to do this when he’d gifted it to you. You’d put it on alone, in painful tears, wishing it would bring him back.

“Okay, I think it’s good,” Eddie murmurs, his gaze soft when you turn back around to face him.

“What do you think?” you ask, biting on your lip.

“It’s a beautiful necklace for an even more beautiful person,” he says, calm and collected, his words steady and meaningful. “I’m just sorry it took me this long to see you wearing it.”

You feel your cheeks flush, smiling as you pull your coat on and grab hold of the bottle of wine you’d bought to bring to Steve’s.

“Ready?” you ask, shy beneath the way he stares at you; like he never wants to look at anything but you.

“You know it,” he says, jingling his car keys before opening the door for you.

Your foot taps nervously on the floor of the car the whole ride to Steve’s home, butterflies twirling in your stomach at the thought of your arrival with Eddie. After your outburst yesterday, you were admittedly a little embarrassed, and now to show up with the man you’d just walked out on… well, what a roller coaster. Tension hangs thick between the two of you, the mutual acknowledgment of what maybe almost happened earlier before Wayne had interrupted blinking like a neon sign. He had definitely almost kissed you, and the thought makes your stomach swirl.

Neither of you really talk much, not knowing what to say. Sitting in silence and enjoying the company of the other feels like enough, for now. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you look at the pretty decorated houses that you pass, heart soaring with the knowledge that you have Eddie back, and with it comes the holiday cheer you’d been missing.

Before long the clunky van is pulling into Steve’s driveway, parking behind Nancy’s car. Eddie kills the engine, telling you to stay put so he can jog around to your side and get the door for you. He extends a hand, helping you down into the slippery concrete as you clutch the wine bottle tight in your other hand.

“Why thank you,” you giggle, not missing the way his cheeks grow pink.

“Anything for you, m’lady,” he salutes, reaching in behind you to grab your purse for you.

You take a deep breath as you start to walk up to the front door, arm tangled with Eddie’s so you don’t slip and in the slushy mess. You can sense his nerves, too, as he knocks on the door. You glance to the side, smiling at him and watching him return the gesture.

Steve opens the door, wearing reindeer antlers and a red Christmas sweater. He stops in his tracks when he sees both of you, a smug grin spreading on his lips.

“Well, would you look at that?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I missed seeing you two attached at the hip,” he jokes, stepping aside to let you both in.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, squeezing the other man’s shoulder. What you don’t see is the way Steve gives him a celebratory fist bump, mouthing a silent “yes!”.

Heads turn the second you and Eddie are inside, and you watch as Nancy and Robin beam at the sight. Jonathan gives you both a pointed but subtle thumbs up, and his smile says it all.

“Look at you two!” Robin exclaims, and you unravel your arm from Eddie’s to give her a hug.

“Okay, guys, we’re the spectacle of the evening, we get it,” Eddie laughs, giving her a hug after you.

“I won’t lie, I missed seeing you two arriving places together. You used to basically be conjoined,” Nancy jokes, taking the wine from you. She moves swiftly into the kitchen, getting out a few glasses to pour some. She hands you a glass, along with one for herself and Robin.

“Wait, hey, let me catch up!” Eddie says, grabbing a beer for himself from the fridge.

Steve and Jonathan gather around with their drinks, too, everyone raising their glasses and bottles high.

“Cheers, to Sunny and Eddie,” Nancy says, smiling brightly as everyone clinks their drinks together before taking a sip. Her toast makes you flustered, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

The wine goes down easy, warming your stomach with a pleasant tingle. This is how things should be. The hole in your friend group filled by the person you’d all been missing. The energy in the room is brighter, better. Eddie is needed here, not only by you.

Robin puts on one of Steve’s many Christmas records, letting the music fill the room along with your blended voices chattering happily. You’re talking with the girls, filling them in on what happened since last night. Your eyes keep wandering to wherever Eddie is, noticing him standing in the sun room with Steve. They’re talking about something you can’t hear, looking out the window into the snow covered backyard. You start to walk towards him, telling the girls you’ll be back in a bit, but stop at Jonathan first where he sits on the couch.

“Thank you. For helping me sort through my feelings,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“I hardly did anything. You made this choice yourself,” he says, squeezing your hand right back. “I’m so happy for you, Sunny. It’s good to see you happy.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” you ask him, giving him one last grateful look before walking away.

“Gentlemen,” you say, announcing yourself as you step into the other room with the two men. You hope you aren’t interrupting anything too important, but staying away from Eddie is the last thing you want right now.

“There she is,” Steve says, pulling you into his side. You laugh, reaching a hand up to mess up his hair.

“Hey, hey— watch the antlers!” he defends, slipping out of reach.

“Do you mind if I have a minute alone with him?” you ask Steve, motioning to Eddie with your thumb.

“No, no. Of course not. Behave yourselves,” he winks, slipping out as he takes a sip of his beer.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, moving in on you, wrapping an arm tentatively around your waist. His expression eases up when you relax into his touch, smiling blissfully up at him.

“I just thought we should pick up where we left off earlier…” you say, poking his chest softly with a finger and letting it trail down.

“Oh? And where exactly did we leave off?” he smirks, pressing his body closer to yours.

“I think… that you were about to kiss me again,” you murmur, hooded eyes looking up into his.

“Interesting theory,” Eddie jokes, placing a hand to his chin as if pondering this. You slap him lightly on the arm, giggling like a schoolgirl at him. “You might be right about that, sweetness,” he admits, dropping his face down closer to yours.

Your noses brush, the smell of his cologne and shampoo overwhelming your senses. He still uses the same stuff he did a year ago, turns out.

Your eyes focus in on his soft lips, the way his tongue darts out to wet them slightly. And then you let your eyelids flutter closed, feeling his other arm wrap around you, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips press to yours, so soft and hesitant at first, before gaining more confidence. You hold the back of his neck with one hand, fingers tangling in his curls, taking in his warmth and softness. Your mouths move together perfectly, two pieces of a puzzle finally brought together. The same fireworks you felt that first time go off again, yet this time they somehow feel even brighter. You’d waited so long for this, wondered if you would ever get this, and now it’s happening.

His tongue prods gently into your mouth, ever so slightly dancing around yours. His lips are so plush and gentle, and he smiles into the kiss with a soft little laugh. Pulling away, he rests his forehead to yours.

“You can tell me I’m crazy for this if you want to, okay? If it’s too soon, I get it. But I have to know if you’ll be mine,” he says, eyes darting back and forth between each of your own.

“Eddie,” you breathe, smiling wider than you have all night. “I’m all yours. I’ll be yours forever,” you promise, wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him into one more passionate kiss.

“Okay, lovebirds!” Robin calls from the living room. You both turn your heads to see everyone watching you, and your cheeks flush.

“Didn’t know we had an audience,” Eddie says softly, only for you to hear, making you laugh again.

“Are you guys coming out to make a snowman with us, or what?” Steve asks, hands on his hips as he waits.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be right there!” Eddie calls back. “We’re just making up for lost time,” he adds, winking at you before planting a wet, sloppy kiss to your cheek.

You feel whole in this moment, with Eddie’s arm around your waist. What you thought would be a horrible Christmas turned out to be the brightest one, and having Eddie home is the best gift you could’ve asked for; even if it was a rocky start. He’s yours, and you’re his. This is the way it should always be, you’re undoubtedly certain of that now.

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” he says. “Forever starts right now.”

taglist: @hellfirenacht @writethrough @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @likedovesinthewnd @tlclick73 @mrsjellymunson @idkitsem @svbrbnlegends @eddiesxangel @munsonzgf @hereforshmut @eggo-segual @joannamuns9n @lavendermunson @leenameh @micheledawn1975

[lithepetal]

Second Chance Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

Summary: Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist? Not to Aurora; more like stubborn, unreasonable, overprotective father.

Warnings: father-daughter fluff

Series Masterlist

Crisp, cool air swirled like an eddy around her, the crunch of leaves underfoot as she jogged along the familiar path through Central Park. Aurora’s brown hair flapped in the breeze, wisps from her ponytail plastered against the nape of her neck and face by sweat.

Exiting the park, she merged onto the bustling sidewalk, her nose filled with the aroma of coffee and freshly-baked bagels. She raced past several street vendors, could practically taste the first savory bite of an everything bagel, her stomach grumbling in protest when she bypassed all of them. Determined to beat her father, she continued onward with an empty belly and only mild regret.

Aurora loved Manhattan, everything the cultural mecca offered. Opposite the laid-back vibe of California, she found that, after they moved following the incident with the Mandarin, she was happy to call NYC ‘home’. At age 11, she started ballet, and though she never dreamt of becoming an Avenger, Tony breathed a little easier each night knowing her flexibility and grace could get her out of not all, but at least some, potentially dangerous situations.

The newly-renamed Avengers Tower loomed ahead, and still, her father had yet to catch up. Exhilaration fueling her steps, her pacing and agility worked to her advantage. Her tennis shoes bleated against the concrete, pushing her closer and closer to her destination.

At last, she reached the high-rise building and stopped in front of the entrance, doubling over. Panting, she side-eyed her father as he jogged up next to her. “You’re getting slow in your old age, Dad.”

“I think,” Tony huffed a winded breath, “the term for sassing your old man is grounded.”

They entered and took the elevator to the kitchen, Aurora noticing the concern layered beneath her father’s usual veneer of sarcasm. Opening the fridge, she grabbed two bottles of water. Tossing one to him, she said, “Nice try, Dad. I’m going on my field trip.”

“An entire weekend…” Tony began, reigniting their argument over whether he was going to permit her to go. The field trip was already paid for, but she had a nagging feeling that it was her father’s personal assistant, Pepper’s, doing. Short of outright telling her ‘no’, he did everything in his power to persuade her against it. “You’ve never been out of my sight for that long.”

“You’re gone all the time,” she pointed out, “for much longer.”

“I’m an adult. How old are you, again?” he asked offhandedly, as he fidgeted with the blender to make their post-run smoothies.

“Seventeen.”

“Precisely,” Tony retorted, gaze finally alighting on hers. “Seventeen. Too young to go off for the weekend on your own.”

Aurora rolled her eyes. “I’ll be with classmates and my teacher. Besides, we’re just going to the Smithsonian.”

“There ya go. Problem solved,” Tony exclaimed. “If you want a history lesson, we can invite Cap over.”

“Dad…” she groaned.

Not that she didn’t relish the idea of Steve dropping by—with the exception of Bruce, it had been a couple months since she’d seen anyone from the team. However, she didn’t understand why he was being so stubborn about letting her go on a class field trip.

Tony paused as he stared blankly at the assortment of greens on the counter, then— “Washington, D.C.”

“Yep.”

“Three whole days.”

“Mhm,” she answered, taking a sip of water and smiling into the bottle.

Tony leaned against the counter, arms crossed in front of him. “What if I said I have a bad feeling?”

“Hey, JARVIS?”

“Yes, Miss Stark?”

“Statistically, what are the chances of me getting kidnapped?”

“The probability of Miss Stark being kidnapped is 0.27 percent per 1,000 residents in the District of Columbia area.”

Aurora turned to her father with an ear-to-ear grin. “See, Dad, I’ll be fine.”

“Not helpful, JARVIS, you forgot to factor in she’s my daughter,” Tony reprimanded, garnering an apology from the AI. “And you, young lady, are too smart for your own good.” There was another lengthy pause, during which Aurora’s amber eyes glittered, sensing the weeks-long stalemate coming to an end. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah…” An uncharacteristic somberness settled over Tony’s features. Closing the space between them, he wrapped his arms around her, chin pressed against the top of her head. He muttered, “Be careful.”

“I will, Dad.”

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [19] - Peach Blossoms

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Affection can be difficult to put into words.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, mentions of violence, slow burn.

Word Count: 5100

Series Masterlist

You still hadn’t quite gotten used to your new home. Especially at night it was very hard to actually tell where you were but after a couple of minutes and occasional stumbles in the dark, you had finally reached the completely empty kitchen. Finding the ingredients that you wanted was another challenge you hadn’t considered, yet after snooping around and opening quite literally every cabinet, you managed to find them and get to work.

The middle of the night was not the ideal time to bake cookies but it was the better alternative to tossing and turning in the bed.

You added the flour into the huge bowl before mixing it with the eggs and sugar, humming a song to yourself. Teddy was going to be so happy tomorrow when you took these to him, you were sure of it and considering tomorrow -well, technically today- you would meet him and Josie, Bess and Andrew for a picnic, you wouldn’t have to wait so long.

“What are you doing?”

You jolted in your spot and looked over your shoulder to see Benedict staring at you as if he was questioning whether you were indeed there or not.

“Baking,” you said, holding up the bowl. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Yeah I—you know we have a staff, right?”

You tilted your head. “Yes?” you said. “I see them every day.”

“So you could’ve just asked them to do it instead of coming down here in the middle of the night?”

“No I don’t mind,” you said. “I’m making these for Teddy and he likes it better when I bake them, not anyone else.”

Benedict pulled his brows together, still staring at you.

“How do you know how to make anything?”

“Huh?”

“I mean—” he motioned at you. “This is a kitchen.”

“Yes?”

“How do you know how to make something in a kitchen?”

You blinked a couple of times before a laughter spilled from your lips. “Are you serious?”

“Daphne doesn’t even know how to start heat on stove.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” you muttered. “Dear God, that’s how you all grew up then? You just snapped your fingers and people made things for you, always?”

He looked like he had no idea how to answer that and you repressed a smile at the confusion etched in his handsome features, then put the butter into the mix and held out the bowl.

“Here, take this.”

“What?”

“If you’re going to stay here you may as well make yourself useful,” you said. “I’ll give you some of the cookies as a thank you.”

He eyed the bowl as if it could come alive and attack him anytime. “I don’t know how to do it.”

“You mix paints, don’t you?” you asked. “It’s just a larger, that is all.”

He carefully took the bowl from you and looked inside, then dipped his head a little to smell it, then lifted his head again to look at you.

“Wait, it smells good even before the oven?”

You stifled a laugh and nodded. “Mm hm.”

“And I just mix it?”

“Yeah, while I chop the chocolate,” you said as you grabbed the knife and put the block of chocolate on the cutting wood. He leaned back, trailing the spoon in the bowl and keeping his gaze on you as you started chopping chocolate.

“Nightmares again?” he asked softly and you clicked your tongue, your whole focus is on the chocolate as you shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s not important.”

“It is though,” he said, “I told you, you can always come to—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off. “I can handle it.”

“But you don’t have to,” Benedict said. “Not alone at least.”

Your hand froze for a moment as that burning reached your eyes but you quickly blinked back the tears, returning to what you were doing again. A silence fell upon the kitchen before he cleared his throat.

“So, did your mother teach you how to bake?”

You scoffed. “My mother didn’t teach me anything except—”

How to dodge a slap.

“Um, Josie taught me,” you said. “My mother wasn’t exactly…she didn’t like us to be around her in the kitchen.”

Or anywhere really.

“And we didn’t have any maids or a cook or anything,” you said and threw him a look over your shoulder. “Which by the way, if you are changing your mind because of my financial situation growing up, it’s kind of too late. We’re already married.”

He let out an incredulous chuckle. “Right, because that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“Obviously,” you said with a grin and motioned at him to bring you the bowl. He did as you asked and you took it from him to place it on the counter, then put the chocolate pieces into it to start mixing it.

“So what was it like?” he asked, leaning back to the side counter and you raised your brows.

“Growing up poor you mean?”

He took a deep breath, as if trying to decide whether he was supposed to answer that or not.

“Growing up…knowing how to bake?” he tried and you scoffed a laughter.

“You can say it, it’s alright,” you said as you stopped mixing the dough before putting the bowl aside. You grabbed a small portion of the dough and started rolling it in your hands.

“The ones Josie used to make me were a bit different,” you said. “Smaller in portion and no chocolate, of course. Too expensive.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Don’t be,” you said and put the small portion of dough on the baking tray, then got some in your hand again to roll it. “Are you going to help me, or…?”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s not that hard, I assure you.”

He came closer to you and took a look at what you were doing, then reached into the bowl to take some of the dough into his hand as well.

“Very well then,” he said. “This is interesting.”

“You’ve never done this before huh?”

“Ever,” he said, shaking his head before putting the small piece of the tray. “How was it? Growing up like that?”

You thought for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“You…you get used to not having things,” you said. “Especially if you’re born into it. But it doesn’t—just because you get used to it doesn’t mean it’s easy. Adaptability doesn’t lead to happiness, no matter what all those novels tell you. It wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

“Nor safe?” he asked and you raised your head from the tray to look at him, furrowing your brows in confusion. He shot you a hesitant smile.

“The knife was a clue.”

“Oh,” you said and let out a small laugh. “It’s just a precaution. One can never be too careful, Josie says.”

“She’s right I suppose,” he murmured and you took another piece, then rolled it in your hand and offered it to him.

“Here.”

“What?”

“Eat it.”

Benedict raised his brows. “Alright, I know you’re looking forward to be a widow as soon as possible—”

“Don’t say that!” you protested and he motioned at the cookie dough in your hand.

“But this is no way to poison me, at least show me the curtsy of being subtle.”

“I’m not trying to poison you.”

“You’re offering me raw cookie dough.”

“And it’s delicious.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You said it yourself it smelt good!”

“Soap smells good too but I don’t eat it,” he replied and you shook your head.

“You honestly have never tried raw cookie dough?”

“I’m not falling for this,” he shook his head. “I’m not even a great artist yet, I can’t die now.”

“Benedict.”

“Hm?” he asked, trying to repress a smile and you took a bite of the raw dough, the sweet taste coating your tongue before you swallowed it, then held out the rest to Benedict.

“I know you think this proves something but I watched you chomp down an actual asparagus. Raw.”

“That was a game,” you said. “I’m a highly competitive person—just try it.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh and took the dough from you to take a bite, but then his whole face lit up at the taste, making you laugh.

“See?”

“Are you serious?” he asked you and looked at the tray, “Can we maybe just not put them in the oven and eat them like this instead?”

“We are putting them in the oven,” you said, still smiling. “But hey, this is just yet another situation where I’m right. I hope you’re keeping a record.”

He gave you a grin. “Should I?”

“Obviously,” you said with a smile and grabbed the tray. “Open the oven for me, will you? Before you convince me to eat all these without baking them.”

                                                 *

The picnic next day was quite lovely. You had also met the Bridgertons there and soon enough everyone was scattered along the park. Colin had pulled Benedict aside somewhere else and Anthony kept stealing glances at Charlotte who was playing with Teddy, Gregory, Hyacinth and her own siblings, chasing them around much to their delightful laughter. Josie and Bess were walking around the park while Andrew sat beside you, and reached into the basket to grab a cookie.

“You are an angel.”

“Far from it.”

“A demon with good baking skills,” he corrected himself and you let out a laugh.

“Mm, sounds about right.”

He threw it in the air and caught it with his mouth.

“Jo says you haven’t been gardening lately,” he said while still chewing and you shifted your weight in your spot, then waved a hand in the air.

“I just didn’t get the time.”

He wiggled his brows. “Is your husband really that good in bed.”

“Andrew!”

“What?” he said, chuckling as you slapped his arm. “It’s just a question, don’t look so scandalized.”

“It has nothing to do with Benedict,” you lied through your teeth and he hummed.

“So what exactly are you doing then, to keep you so busy?”

“Things.”

“Please, that lovesick look on your face—”

“Lovesick look?” you exclaimed, “I do not have a lovesick look on my face.”

“You absolutely do, you should see yourself,” he said, making you pull back for a moment, still frowning.

If anything, this just meant you and Benedict were getting better at pretending in front of people, that was it. And it was good news of course, because the more people believed in it, the less they would question it.

“Don’t worry,” Andrew said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “He looks at you just as lovesick.”

You scoffed. “I think you spend too much time around Bess, and you know how she gets.”

“That has nothing to do with—”

“Hold that thought,” you cut him off as soon as your eyes caught the sight of Felix and you raised a hand so that he could see you as well. He immediately smiled brightly and made his way to you.

“Aw he looks quite cute.”

“Does he now?” you suppressed a smirk and turned to Felix when he reached you.

“Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“Felix, I told you to call me Y/N,” you said. “Andrew, this is Felix, a very promising artist. Felix, this is Lord Andrew Walcott, my brother-in-law.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“You as well, Lord Walcott.”

“Get a cookie and sit with us,” you said, holding up the basket and Felix grabbed a cookie, then bit into it as he sat down.

“Wow,” he said. “My compliments to your cook.”

“I made them.”

He blinked a couple of times. “You?”

“Mm hm.”

“Not to worry, it’s not poisoned,” Andrew said and you elbowed him. “So you’re an artist?”

“Y/N is being kind,” Felix said with a shy smile and Andrew raised his brows.

“I’ve literally never seen that happen, so I doubt it.”

“I’m not being kind,” you said. “I think you can do it as long as you want to. That’s not being kind, that’s being realistic.”

Felix averted his eyes down as if he was embarrassed, then glanced up at you again through his thick lashes.

“Yet I cannot paint you?”

“Not me,” you said, shaking your head and Andrew looked between you two.

“What is that about?”

“I wanted to paint her, but she said no,” Felix said and motioned at you. “And I think you and Benedict would make a perfect Aphrodite and Adonis in a painting.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, no. Wait, did you ask Benedict that?”

“Mm hm.”

“And?”

“He said he’s not interested in posing but painting,” he said. “And he reminded me that you already said no.”

“You know people would kill each other over it if we were in Renaissance times?” Andrew asked you. “A promising artist offering to paint you as Aphrodite, that’s how you become immortal.”

Felix snapped his fingers. “I was thinking the same thing!”

“And I’m not interested in being immortal,” you said and saw Colin making his way to you while Benedict ran a hand through his hair, then followed him.

“What is happening?” you asked Colin when he reached you and Benedict sat down next to you.

“Hi Felix. Andrew.”

“Adonis.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Andrew grinned and Colin motioned at you.

“I need your help.”

“About?”

“What we talked of the other day, apparently,” Benedict said. “Colin, just go talk to her, alright?”

You looked through the crowd before your eyes fell on Miss Marina, then you turned to Colin who heaved a sigh.

“I would have if you two didn’t get in my head!” Colin said. “Now I’m wondering whether I should approach her with a—with an intellectual conversation starter.”

Felix tilted his head as Benedict leaned back.

“Isn’t that expecting too much from yourself?”

“Shut it Ben—Y/N, you must help me.”

“On romance?” your voice went high pitched for a moment. “Have you gone insane?”

“Not at all. I need your advice.”

“Why would you come to me,” you started, “me of all people for an advice on romance?”

“Well…”

“You two are in love?” Andrew said helpfully and Colin nodded.

“Exactly. I need a lady’s opinion on how to approach the issue at hand.”

“Why is this happening?” you asked to no one in particular. “Is it because I smile too much?”

Colin tilted his head. “Oh, you can smile?”

“Am I not smiling right now?” you deadpanned with a completely straight face and Benedict repressed a laugh.

“Go ask Daph to help you.”

“Daphne is busy with her suitor, and you know Eloise would never help.”

“Go ask Penelope then, you two are friends.”

“I don’t think—perhaps you should go speak to her beforehand,” Colin told you and you made a face.

“What on earth am I supposed to do Colin, just walk over there and yell ‘Ta daa!’ when you start walking to us?”

Andrew bit down a smile while Felix grabbed another cookie.

“Just approach her,” you said. “She obviously likes you enough to have multiple conversations with you.”

“That’s a terrible advice,” Colin made a face. “Give me another one,”

You threw your head back and ran a hand over your face.

“Alright, here’s what you should do,” you said. “Listen to me carefully.”

“Alright.”

“Just focus on what you feel for her, like really think about it,” you said. “Then take a deep breath, and go to the nearest church—”

“Church?” Benedict and Andrew asked at the same time and you nodded.

“Yes, go to a church, sneak downstairs; that’s where they keep the wine, drink as much of it as you can, then go home and sleep.”

Benedict held back a chuckle. “Why do I feel like you speak from experience?”

“Josie and I did that once,” you said and turned to Colin who heaved a sigh.

“Let’s not get distracted here.”

“Colin, approaching a lady who likes you should not be that hard.”

“But we don’t know if she likes me,” he insisted. “Benedict was certain you didn’t like him and look at you two, married now. Looks can be deceiving.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you swallowed thickly, then cleared your throat.

“Is she trying to get away from you while you make a conversation, or attempts to keep the conversation going?”

“Attempts to keep it going.”

“Congratulations, she likes you.”

Benedict pulled his brows together. “You kept trying to get away from me while I made conversation.”

“Yet we’re married now, life is full of miracles.”

“I’ve always known you would get married,” Andrew said and Benedict shot him a look of disbelief.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I just assumed she would become a widow incredibly fast but look at you Benedict, alive and kicking.”

“One can hope, the day is still young,” Colin pointed out and Benedict glared at him.

“Those are some big words coming from a man who cannot even talk to the lady he likes,” he retorted and held up his hand to show him his wedding ring. “I don’t seem to have that problem.”

You let out a laugh and high fived him. “No you don’t.”

“Why thank you darling.”

Colin shook his head as your heart skipped a beat at the term of endearment. “It feels like yesterday you were pacing in the drawing room throwing a fit over what Y/N would think after Whistledown wrote about you and Kitty Morris.”

You repressed the laughter bubbling in your throat and pressed a hand over your chest in an exaggerated manner. “Aw, that’s quite sweet. I hate her by the way.”

“Who’s that?” Felix asked and Benedict shrugged.

“No one important,” he said and turned to Colin, “And it makes perfect sense I was worried because as you can see, my wife hates her.”

“Yes I do.”

“And we’re going home together after this, yet another thing that’s different between you and me, brother.”

“We’re going to the bookshop first,” you added and Benedict nodded.

“We’re going to the bookshop first and then home together,” he corrected himself and Colin rolled his eyes.

“Are you finished?”

“Not even close, you started this,” he said. “And I’m merely sharing my wisdom with you.”

“Your wisdom?” Colin scoffed and Benedict shot him an arrogant grin.

“Marriage makes you wise, everyone knows that.”

You let out a noise of disbelief. “Debatable.”

“No he’s telling the truth,” Andrew said. “The moment you leave the chapel, a wisdom is bestowed upon you. Or in my and Jo’s case, the moment a blacksmith in Gretna Green pronounces you husband and wife.”

You frowned. “This is you being wise?”

“There you go,” Benedict motioned at Andrew and a sadness crossed Felix’s eyes for a moment.

“I heard some say marriage is the death of spirit.”

“Depends on who you marry,” Andrew said. “I married my best friend.”

You and Andrew exchanged glances and you bit down a smile, but of course the literal meaning of his words wasn’t noticed by anyone else.

“And Benedict here married the human equivalent of a razor blade,” Andrew motioned at you and you made a face.

“You two are not wise at all,” you pointed at him and Benedict, and turned to Colin. “Honestly, don’t listen to them. Just go over there, she has been stealing glances at you for a while now.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Colin asked, holding his breath and you nodded.

“Yeah. You’re wasting your time here listening to these two, just go and work your magic.”

“If you have any,” Benedict added and Colin narrowed his eyes at him.

“I like your wife better than I like you,” he said and took a deep breath, then fixed his waistcoat and walked away from you to Miss Marina. You could see the look Penelope stole at him and a sadness flashed over her face, making you raise your brows but before you could even ask anything, Charlotte made her way to you, still breathing hard and her hair a mess from running around.

“Hello everyone!”

“Hi Lottie.”

“We’re going to take the young ones to the play on the other side of the park,” she motioned in the opposite direction, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Do you want to come along?”

“Who’s we?”

“Me and Tony.”

Benedict shrugged his shoulders and opened his mouth but you shook your head.

“No, you go ahead,” you said, making Benedict turn to you.

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” you said and motioned at your maid. “Paula, would you mind keeping an eye on Teddy?”

“Of course my lady.”

“We should be back in half an hour I think!” Charlotte chirped and walked away from you and Benedict tilted his head.

“What was that about?”

You looked between Charlotte who was smiling brightly at Anthony as she told him something in a very excited manner, waving her hands around, unaware of the soft look in his eyes and you turned your gaze to Benedict.

“I’m not in the mood to see a play,” you said and popped a cookie in your mouth, then grinned at Andrew. “So Andrew. Tell us about your adventures in Spain, will you?”

                                             *

After the picnic you had dropped by the bookshop and then gone home with Benedict as planned, but you were so tired that you could barely keep your eyes open during dinner. The hot weather always had a way of making you feel more tired than you were supposed to, and soon after dinner you had excused yourself and gone straight to bed, thinking you would wake up because of the nightmares in the middle of the night anyway.

But for once, nightmares weren’t what woke you up.

It was the fire burning through your veins.

You opened your eyes with a gasp, still feeling Benedict’s lips on your neck and it took you a couple of seconds to realize that it was all a dream. The disappointment that crashed upon you was so sudden that you dug your nails into your palms, trying your hardest to focus.

Yet, you had a feeling it wouldn’t work.

Dreaming of consummating your marriage wasn’t supposed to send such a powerful rush of desire through you, especially considering what you had heard about it but you could still feel his kisses on your lips, his touch on your skin, between your—

No no no.

You were not going to think about that now that you were awake.

You pushed the covers off of you and took a deep breath before getting up from the bed. Your heart was still beating in your ears and you stole a look at the closed door connecting your room to Benedict’s, but then shook your head at yourself.

It wasn’t as if you could just go there and ask to consummate your marriage.

That would be just…inconsiderate of you.

Besides, what was it Benedict had told you? Sometimes the act itself would lead to people falling in love, and you were not going to risk that, no matter how much desire clouded your brain and made you feel lightheaded.

Benedict was attractive, and this was simply a dream that was apparently fueled by that fact.

You dug your palms into your eyes before you lowered your hands, then threw your shoulders back. You desperately needed to get some fresh air and perhaps a walk, so you approached the door and opened it to step outside to the hall, but as soon as you did, you caught the sight of Benedict opening the door to his own room.

“Y/N?”

Oh God damn it.

Seeing him like this, in his night shirt and pants -no doubt having just returned from his studio on the other side of the house- was absolutely not helpful to the situation. The dream flashed before your eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat but you cleared your throat, willing yourself to concentrate.

“Uh…hello.”

His blue eyes searched your face, a frown pulling his brows together.

“Nightmares?”

Quite the opposite.

“Yeah—no,” you said and paused for a moment. “Today was a bit tiring and I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Are you alright? You look breathless.”

“Do I?” your voice came out as a squeak and he stepped closer to you, then pressed a hand over your forehead, making your eyes close for a moment before you bit inside your cheek and looked up at him.

“And you feel hot, is it sun exhaustion again?”

Oh that was just the perfect excuse.

“Yeah!” you said and cleared your throat again. “I mean not exhaustion so to speak but I feel… yeah. It’s because of the heat today, uh huh.”

“Should we send for the doctor?”

Your eyes widened.

“No!” you exclaimed. “God no, I just need some fresh air. That is all.”

“Are you sure? Because the last time it happened—”

“Do you want to come to the garden with me?” you cut him off, the words leaving your lips before you had a chance to stop them and Benedict looked almost surprised.

“I mean if you want to,” you added quickly. “You know, since we ran into each other, what are the odds?”

“…We live in the same house.”

“It’s a big house,” you muttered, feeling your face heat up even more and motioned at the stairs. “I’m just going to go now, you can come with if you want.”

You walked past him in a haste, desperate to do something other than staying here like a babbling fool but you heard Benedict rush after you.

“Wait, I’m coming with.”

“Great, that’s completely your choice,” you flailed your arms and made your way downstairs as he quickly caught up with you and you both passed the foyer and walked out of the front door.

The chill weather was like a soothing remedy to the burning in your cheeks. You looked up at the glimmering stars in the dark sky, then approached one of the many flower beds and sat down on the ground. Benedict sat beside you and you leaned back on your palms, keeping your gaze on the stars, the noises of crickets echoing through the huge garden.

Perhaps you could—

If it were to be anything like the dream you’d just had, perhaps you could just try it. Yes you had heard it from many people consummation was not pleasant at all, but some people seemed to think otherwise.

Including your aunt.

You made a face and shook your head slightly, heaving a deep sigh.

“You can tell me, you know?” Benedict’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned to him.

“Hm?”

“Whatever it is bothering you, you can tell me.”

“Nothing is bothering me,” you said quickly and he raised his brows.

“Really? So you’re awake in the middle of the night because…?”

“Why are you awake in the middle of the night?” you asked back and he motioned at the house.

“I was painting.”

“How is that going?”

“Eh,” Benedict said. “There’s some flaw I can’t quite put my finger on just yet.”

“Is it you being critical or is there an actual flaw?”

“There’s an actual flaw I’m sure,” Benedict said and snapped his fingers. “Reminds me, you said you wanted to see downtown, right?”

You nodded.

“I just got an invitation for a party there towards the end of the week, a friend is throwing it. We could go if you’d like?”

Your jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Do you want to?”

“Of course I do!”

“Alright then,” he said with a chuckle. “It should be fun.”

You took a deep breath, your heart still beating in your ears as your gaze drifted down to his lips, then you turned your head to look at the flower bed in front of you, absentmindedly reaching out to rip a slightly yellow leaf from the stem.

“So I was thinking,” you said, your stomach doing a flip and Benedict hummed.

“About what?”

“Perhaps we, um…” you stammered, turning to him again but as soon as you casted a glance on his handsome face, your heart leaped to your throat, nervousness filling your whole system. You could swear you were getting lightheaded from the sudden rush, how would one even bring marriage consummation up?

Not to mention—

You were sure you wouldn’t fall in love but it could cloud your judgement, Benedict had told you people actually fell in love after the act sometimes. Not only that, but there was also the issue of you obviously not knowing of the act itself as much as you thought before, judging by what you had seen back at that party.

And it was very obvious Benedict had a lot of experience with it, unlike you.

“I was thinking that,” you started but changed your mind in the middle of the sentence. “It would upset me if you died.”

Benedict gawked at you, blinking a couple of times. “I’m sorry?”

Jesus Christ, you were absolutely a babbling fool tonight after that dream.

“Because, you know,” you motioned with your hands, your mind working nonstop to find the right words. “Andrew said something today and it made me think, and being a widow was my original plan as you remember.”

“Mm hm, I remember it very well.”

“But things change and I know you were joking back at the kitchen but I felt like you should know,” you said, stumbling over your words. “Hypothetically speaking, and also objectively speaking of course, if you died it would—” you swallowed thickly. “It would upset me terribly.”

Well, that was the underestimation of the goddamn century.

Even the thought of Benedict not being with you was enough to squeeze at your heart and you bit at your tongue, desperate to get rid of the thoughts of it before motioning at him.

“So yes, make sure not to do that.”

Benedict tilted his head. “Make sure not to die?”

“Was my request not clear?” you asked back, impatience laced in your tone and Benedict bit down a smile.

“It was,” he said, trying to adapt a serious expression. “It absolutely was. I’ll um…I’ll try my best?”

“Much appreciated,” you said, your heart still pacing in your chest, that restlessness making you fidget before you took a deep breath.

“Now that we cleared that out, I’ll try to get some sleep,” you said and jumped on your feet in an attempt to stop your own nonsense. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Y/N, what—?” he started but you had already started walking away from him and you took a deep breath when you reached the front door again.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered at yourself and stepped inside, then made your way upstairs to your room, your cheeks still burning.

Chapter 20

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 5: Heaven + Back

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: Heaven isn’t even half as far as you’d thought it’d be. It’s barely out of town.

Word Count: 2,181

Content/Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, kissing, sundresses, size difference (applies to all readers bc Ari is just THAT HUGE), dry humping (imma call this technically smut), like sickeningly loving glances but don’t call it love, dancing, getting fed dinner

Author’s Note: I’ve never written anything sexual before, so go easy on me. Also, nothing gets me going like a man who treats his partner equally, taking care of certain things and not expecting anything in return, even though the relationship is full of equal exchanges. I hope this chapter shows a little bit of that back-and-forth. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo welcome and appreciated!!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Below is the song which inspired this chapter. Kinda a sweet little flouncy tune.

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You and Ari had been officially dating for about two months now, but had agreed to take it slow for the sake of both of your hearts.

At this point, you were much more aware of the other’s schedule and trusted each other enough to share your locations, something he made sure of so you never had to stress over where he was like that one night. The one night that changed everything for him, for the better.

As you were getting off work, you looked down at your phone to see a text from Ari:

‘I’m picking you up at six. We’re going for a picnic. Rest is a surprise😘’

You smiled at the device in your hand. Ever since that night, he also made sure to tell you a general plan of the dates to ease your worries. Whether or not to eat before, what you might want to wear, could all be implied since he gave just enough detail without spoiling the whole plan.

Ari smiled down at his phone when he saw your reply:

‘I’ll be ready, see you then, Bear❤️’

Ari’s buddies at the ranger station took note of his dopey smile, the way he was always checking his phone unlike anything they’d seen in years of working together. Not even when he was dating his ex, Savannah, or as they all said amongst themselves, ‘the she-devil who must not be named,’ had he ever been this plugged-in.

She never cared to be around, and Ari never cared enough to check his phone for his messages while on the job, and that’s all they needed to know. You, however, they all really liked you. You had come by to surprise Ari during one of his later shifts, so only a few of them were around. Rachel and Max sat with Ari in the dim shack, lit mostly by the golden light that came through the blinds facing the west, a product of the sunset.

You knocked and came in, wearing a sundress and carrying a light dinner you had made using croissants you got from the bakery in town, along with a few baked goods for Ari and the other rangers. It was your day off, and another day of trying a new spot, so you’d figured it was as good a time as any to see where he worked and make a good impression on the closest things he had to friends besides Sammy.

You introduced yourself and sat with the three of them for dinner, everyone raving about the food and thanking you for the rare treat. When you got up to leave, Ari walked you out, giving a bear hug and kiss before he opened your car door and watched until you drove away.

He returned to the station to be greeted by two smirking faces as they chewed their desserts. “We like this one. Don’t mess it up.” Rachel quipped.

Ari went to sit back down at his desk, thinking about you in that sundress, unable to wait until the next time he could get you alone.

Ari was far from a home cook. All that his fridge really housed was enough to get by, but not enough to impress you, so Rachel helped him pick the best restaurant to get some takeout for your picnic date tonight. He’d cook for you someday, but he figured it was better to have enjoyable food now, while he was still learning. You didn’t deserve to be fed garbage.

He stopped by town to grab the meal before heading up the winding road to your place. You stepped out on the front porch in another one of your sundresses, hair down and sunglasses perched on your head to combat the evening light. You weren’t wearing a jacket, but this was by design. Maybe Ari could keep you warm. Little did you know, he had the same plan. He had purposely not said anything about needing one, excited for the chance to put you in a jacket of his own. It made him feral.

Ari walked up and greeted you with a peck, holding your hand to guide you back to the truck. Well, more like him holding out his pointer finger for you, with your smaller hand wrapped around it. You learned that first night after holding his hand that it was a little difficult to spread your fingers to accommodate for his large ones, so this was one of the solutions, besides holding hands without interlocking fingers, just as good of a fix.

He opened up the driver’s seat of his truck, knowing you would’ve slid as close to him as possible anyway, and grabbed your waist to help you get in as you jumped and slid, scooching over. Ari followed and held your hand once again as he drove.

“So where are we going?”

Ari glanced between you and the road with a smile. “Somewhere very special.”

He took a turn off the paved road and onto a dirt path, an access route that was part of the lesser-used hiking trails. Ari pulled past a creek, and through the evergreens, until he reached a rocky clearing, turning the truck around so the bed was facing a cliff.

He hopped out of the truck as you scooted to the edge of the bench, legs dangling over the side as Ari moved to stand between them. He rubbed your sides, leaning in and placing his forehead against your chest. He took a deep inhale, comforted by the scent of your perfume, but you could tell it was more than that. He was about to say something important, something that made him feel vulnerable. You ran your hands over his hair to comfort him, an attempt of telling him he could take his time, you would wait. His eyes raised to meet yours.

“This is my favorite place. I don’t think many people come out here, but it’s probably the best view you’ve ever seen. I used to run up to this spot just to get away from everything. Seeing town so small really put everything into perspective at a time where I was so fragile and everything was falling apart. I wanted to share it with you.”

You looked down at him, grateful that he trusted you with something he valued so much. “Thank you, Ari. Thank you for bringing me here.”

You leaned down and kissed him before he helped you down and led you to the edge of the cliff. He was right, it was a phenomenal view of the town below, framed by the rest of the mountains that created a valley for it to sit. A haze was falling down the mountainsides, covering everything in a light mist that caught the golden-pinkish hue the sun began to cast.

Ari opened up the truck bed, where you saw pillows and blankets wrapped up. He helped you in before joining, the two of you working together to lay them out before he pulled out the food through the back window of the truck.

You offered a hand, but he insisted on finishing the setup himself, pulling you across his lap and feeding you bites, alternating with his own.

As you finished up and Ari set the containers aside, you shifted to straddle his lap, your sundress draping over both of your legs like a puddle of fabric. From his point of view, he swore the setting sun formed a halo over your head. You looked angelic, and it was fitting, for the grace you always gave him. Sunday morning had nothing on you and the miracles your simple existence had done for Ari. He didn’t know he had needed saving, and that was just what you had done for him and then some.

Ari admired everything about you. It’s like there was magic in your eyes. For all he knew, this gravel road was a street of gold because you touched it. The only thing he hadn’t seen you do yet was turn water into wine. But to be fair, he hadn’t asked.

As you looked into his eyes, searching back and forth, you could see how deeply he was looking into your soul.

“Hey, Bear, what’s going on in your head?” You leaned in closer. He always looked at you with such deep care, but it was too soon to call it love, right? Maybe it was longing? Maybe it was trust, or appreciation? What was a word to describe all of those things together?

He looked up at you with the dopiest grin. “Just thinking about how amazing you are.”

His hands rubbed your back, slowly pulling you down closer to him until your lips met. Your fingers ran through his hair, nails scratching his scalp, causing him to moan into your mouth. This kiss which was soft and tender at first became needier. Ari’s hands moved to your hips and squeezed.

His grip pulled you forward, creating a delicious friction against your core. You could feel yourself growing wet through the thin fabric of your panties as he continued to guide you back and forth in his lap. You pushed yourself against him harder, feeling his erection grow through his jeans as you maintained a rhythm.

You finally pulled away from the kiss, gasping for air and tucking your face into his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his sun-kissed skin. The salty taste of a thin layer of sweat hit your tongue, swirling with his familiar cologne and the surrounding pine, creating a comforting musk that was so him.

One of Ari’s hands moved to your cheek, guiding your head so you could look into his eyes again.

“Eyes on me, Duchess. You look so beautiful right now. You’ve gotta be an angel, this feels heavenly.” Ari panted between his words.

You began to move your hips furiously against his, whines leaving your mouth as you could feel yourself cresting towards a peak. You could tell Ari was getting close, too, his moans growing deeper and raspier as his fingertips dug into you.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. I can feel how wet you are through my jeans. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

His eyes, his words, his body. They were all begging for release. The combination pulled you towards the edge as you felt a warmth flush over your entire body, your eyes squeezing shut, abs tensing, and pussy clenching around nothing. Ari’s strong hands kept you moving, riding out your high as he finished below you with a low grunt, your open mouths against each other, exchanging air.

When you opened your eyes again, you were met with Ari’s, half-lidded and hazy with satisfaction. You scooted back towards his knees to see a shared wet spot on his pants from both of your releases, but Ari wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed at all. He had just shared an intimate moment with his favorite person in his favorite place, and every second of bliss was worth the slight discomfort he was beginning to feel. You grabbed his hands and pulled him to sit up from his spot leaning back against the truck cab.

Ari could see the shiver that ran through your body now that the sun had set, taking the heat with it.

“I’m, uh, gonna change into some of the spare clothes. You want a jacket?”

He vaulted over the side of the truck bed, landing in the dirt with a soft crunch of the pebbles under his feet as he opened the back door.

“Yes please.” You had moved to the edge of the bed, looking out over the cliff at the lights that now glowed in the windows of homes and shops below. It was picturesque, almost like a model village.

You turned over your shoulder as you heard music start to play. Ari had turned on the radio, low on the dash, a familiar type of music coming through the speakers and open driver’s side doors. You could see he had changed pants as he reached out a hand toward you.

“Care for a dance?” You jumped down and joined him as he slipped a hoodie over your head and pulled you close. Once a couple songs has passed, Ari stopped swaying and pulled away, looking at you sheepishly.

“I kinda didn’t think this through, but I need to turn off the radio so I don’t kill the truck battery.” You laughed and nodded, heading back to push yourself up and sit on the edge of the tailgate.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. As much as I love being out here with you, I’m sure being stranded bear bait is not a good look on me.”

Ari returned to you and scrunched his nose, leaning close. “Too late.” He whispered in your ear before playfully biting your neck and joining you up in the bed again. You giggled as he pulled you closer, the two of you eventually falling back, laying there and looking at the unobstructed sky full of stars.

Next >

Bonus A/N: How badly do you think a person needs a pinky toe? Because I would definitely cut mine off for a truck bed date with Ari.

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 3}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: With the overnight patrol behind you, it's now time for your annual leave from the roster altogether. But Joel doesn't know that and you're hesitant to tell him, feeling like it would be the best for you two to get some distance. But as with all things involving the man, it was hard to keep the distance.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, two (2} instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, talk of pregnancy, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, sexual content, masturbation (f and m), yearning, protective joel, tommy is a scheming lil brother and we love him for it, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: i'm not really back in wake of some bad comments and confrontational haters, but love y'all ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

A knock on your door the next morning caught you bundled up and out in the backyard, the sound echoing throughout your empty house. It was small: a simple one with a larger than average kitchen, a living room, one bathroom across the hall from the bedroom, and a laundry / mudroom with a deep utility sink and a few cabinets of storage. It’s where you kept the tools for the garden, where you washed and prepped everything you managed to grow before moving it into the kitchen space. But you were on the modest back porch, a cup of steaming coffee cooling in the early morning air as you looked out at the trees that took up a good chunk of the large area.

Dragging your eyes from the one that looked like it was about at the end of its life, a large crack running down through the trunk, you heeded the knock at the early hour. Knowing it could only be one of four people.

“Was worried I woke you for a moment, you sleep okay?” Maria greeted you as she waddled past you and moved into the kitchen. She spied the other cups worth of contents in the coffee maker and sighed in longing. The scent of it heavy in the air, mixed with cinnamon you were apt to put in with the grounds before brewing. But her sigh turned into a delighted hum as she shifted her attention to the cooling pan atop the stove and moved closer to inspect the baked goods settled on it.

“Probably not much better than you, momma. How you feelin’?” You slid a plate to her as she began to pick pieces off from one of the flaky breakfast hand pies you had made. She placed the one she had begun eating along with another before following you to the large table that ran through the middle of the room. Setting it down and pulling out the chair for her, you helped her to lower into it. With a caressing touch to her swollen belly, permission given from her months ago, you began to set up a kettle for some tea.

“Big.” She stuffed a large bite into her mouth, eyes fluttering at the taste of the filling. Crumbs of the flaky crust sticking to the front of her shirt, jacket having been shrugged off. “Olive, these are fantastic. Is there anything in here I shouldn’t be eating?”

“I wouldn’t have let ya get your hands on it if that were the case. Just bacon and onion jam, eggs, a little bit of milk, and a whole bunch of thyme. Nothing too bad.”

“Nothing too bad, my ass. You should totally make these for the mess hall on your next shift.”

Another knock on the front door stole the words from your mouth and you looked to the woman who all of a sudden had great interest in picking the crumbs from where they had fallen.

“Maria, what is this?”

“Can’t I call on a fellow morning bird without ulterior motives?”

“You could, but you didn’t this time around. I don’t get many visitors so I wonder who you- Oh! Good mor-morning, Joel.” Surprise overtook you as you were suddenly face to face with the man over the threshold of your front door. He was bundled up as well, though his hair was wet, slicked back and shining in the early morning sun peeking over the mountains.

“I just figured we could all chat about the Teton route.” Maria’s voice carried from the kitchen. But it didn’t break the stare you could feel as Joel’s eyes took in the apron you had thrown on earlier.

“Mornin’.” He rumbled, a hand reaching out from within his jacket pocket to swipe at your cheek. His touch burned, but you were frozen in place at such a forward action so early in the day. Lips parting as you tried to pull in a breath but you were sure all you managed to do was huff out what air was already in your lungs. “You got a lil flour or somethin’.”

“O-oh, um, thank you.” His hand lingered, the back of his knuckle dragged down your cheek and then the finger curled around the neckline, tugging slightly. Nerves sparkling as you felt the warmth from his hand so close to your neck, you could only swallow as his eyes finally met yours with a playful grin displaying that damned, endearing dimple normally hidden in his scruff.

“Never seen you so homey before, it’s a good look on you.” His voice was tipped low, just for you and you felt your stomach lurch.  When you didn’t say anything, just continued to stand there caught like a fly in his trap, he chuckled and asked if you were going to let him inside. It was then you realized he had inched closer, crowding you in the doorway, with his hand still around the strap of fabric over your neck.

“Oh! Of cour-course, I’m so sorry. It must be the early hour taking my manners.” But you knew he wouldn’t believe that for a second, he knew you were a morning person. Something you had revealed to him on patrol. Just like he had revealed to you that he took any opportunity to sleep in, apt to hit snooze an embarrassing about of times if the sound even reached him. You had both laughed at the polarizing tendencies, ribbing each other about it throughout the day. It had been a good one, free of the underlying…tension of whatever had shifted when you had pressed your lips to his injuries. Something you would take back if it meant cutting the undercurrent of whatever had befallen your interactions.

“There’s, um, breakfast hand pies and one last serving of coffee,” You spoke as you turned your back on him and went to retrieve your own mug from the porch.

After the shuffle of greetings, of ushering Joel to take a seat at the table. You plated up two of the hand pies and poured the last of the coffee for him, setting it down in front of him with a small smile before fetching the whistling kettle and preparing a cup of tea for Maria who was already a bite into her second pastry.

“Now, the horse you two lost.”

Joel made a surprised sound, mouth biting into one of the pastries on his plate.

“It was my fault.” You rushed out before Joel could even respond around his mouthful. His eyes flicked to you across the table where you had finally taken a seat, watching as you willingly took the blame for the unfortunate event. “I wasn’t quick enough taking down the Infected that were coming at us. Two of them had set their sights on her, with all the noise she was making while another went after Joel on the ground.”

“And there was no use of anything other than the shotgun?”

“That’s correct.”

“Joel, do you agree with her synopsis?”

“Yes. She acted fast, but there was no way Kiana was gonna make it back, she had been freaking out the second they came outta the tree line, most likely would’ve run off.”

“She always was easy to spook, that’s why she was designated as your horse, calmed her down and got her to focus.” It made sense, Joel was a very level headed person, capable of gently focusing someone should their minds or attention wander.

“I wish every incident discussion was this lovely. No arguing, good food, people who don’t want to go around in circles. You two are truly one of the best pairs we have on the roster.” Maria stirred in a bit more honey into her tea, taking a sip as she looked you both over.

A nervous laugh bubbled up from you as you dug into your own pastry, unaware of them sharing a look.

“This is amazing,” Joel offered, reaching for the kitchen towel folded atop the table to clean his hands off. “You should make these your next shift at the mess hall.”

“I just told her that, imagine the buzz they would cause.”

“They’re not all that special.” You muttered, shoulders rising as you felt rather put on the spot.

“This filling, these onions? It had to have taken a lot of concentration to reduce them down so soft but not mushy. Take the credit where it’s due.” Joel hummed his agreement as he reached for his mug.

“You’re off patrol this week and next, to do your annual thing.” Tommy announced as he sat beside you, his tray thudding against the top of the table, laden down with food from this mornings offerings.

“I can still patrol and get what I have to done.” You didn’t look up from the notebook you were writing in, trying to map out the way you were going to turn the harvest of the olive trees in your backyard into. If you were being honest, patrol twice a week wasn’t so bad with the added allure of Joel Miller. But it would be hard to juggle it paired with the time of year. Every autumn you took out your dirtiest, most ratty pair of overalls and got to work picking the fruit from the trees. Taking your time to sort them, wash them, turn them into oil and pickle some of the others. It was just you, hands aching at the end of the day from spending it all at your kitchen table with various tools. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The kitchen was your happy place. Even after the end of the world. Or maybe in spite of it.

But this year, you didn’t want to miss out on patrol, normally taking the two weeks off to sort everything out and give all your attention to the gift of fruiting trees. Even if…you felt like it would be good for you to get some space from the man you felt in every other thought. The past two weeks had yielded quiet patrols, just the passing of a thermos between hands. You were sure you had overstepped a line by pressing your lips to his face, lost in the moment of adrenaline and want after those Infected had tried to turn you both.

His eyes were heavy on you when he thought you weren’t looking, but searching for what you didn’t have the faintest clue. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to bring it up and let you down gently. Tell you that he hadn’t appreciated your affections that way. Whatever went on behind that handsome, rugged face you hadn’t a clue.

“We both know that’s a mighty lie,” He stuffed an overfull spoon of grits into his mouth, humming around it as he pointed the utensil at you. “Didn’t you say this would be the last year for one of them?”

Sighing, you set the pencil you had been writing with down. Trading it for the cup of coffee in front of you.

“Unfortunately, the trunk spilt when we had those winds come through in February. I’m surprised it bloomed any fruit to be honest.”

“It’s a fighter, like it’s caretaker.”

“Oh hush, tryna flatter me.”

“Don’t you know it.” He winked, cheeky smile growing wider underneath his mustache as his eyes caught sight of something over your shoulder. You were about to turn to see what had him so delighted when a pair of hands placed a tray right next to you. The burly form of Joel huffed as he settled into the seat beside you.

“Mornin’.” He greeted, placing plate of toast in front of you, his hand momentarily brushing against yours before he dug into his own food. You felt heat bloom up your neck and across your cheeks as Tommy feigned a cough to cover up a snicker. Joel leveled an unimpressed stare at the man, an eyebrow cocked and a warning in his eyes. You pretended not to see it, busy slathering a piece of the gifted toast with some butter left out on the tables for the breakfast service.

“Good mornin’, brother.” Tommy lilted, face lit up with something you were hesitant of. Scheming, the man was scheming, up to absolutely no good. And you had a hunch it involved not only you but the man beside you. Taking a bite of the toast, you noticed the way his face twitched before he started whatever he was up to. “How are you today?”

“Fuck off, Tommy.” The older man didn’t even look up from his plate, knowing from years of experience that his brother was aiming a mischievous look his way. “I gotta list a mile long of stuff to do this week and next, don’t have time for whatever else you’ve taken on.”

“That’s a shame,” He took another heaping bite, chewing it thoughtfully as he looked between you both, taking in the way neither of you were willing to look at the other. “Sorry, Olive. Looks like you’ve gotta fell that tree on your own.”

“That’s okay. I’m a big girl, did it the year before last and I’ll do it again this time around.” You downed the last two gulps of your coffee. Gathering up your notebook, you shoved out of your chair and stood, preparing to walk away. But he scrambled, quick on his feet and determined. Joel glanced at you, a parting nod the only indication from him.

“Well, seeing as you’ll be off patrol the next two weeks, that should give you enough time to take care of it.”

“Tommy!” You whirled around on your heel, eyes wide. You hadn’t wanted Joel find out this way, from his trouble making little brother with you right beside him.

“What’s he talkin’ about?” Joel turned with a loaded fork halfway to his mouth. Forgotten in wake of the sudden news. He looked taken off guard, shock coloring his features as he looked to you for answers.

“Didn’t she tell you, brother?” Tommy set his own fork down, tray nearly empty now. “Olive always takes this time of year off to tend to the trees. Harvest and make that lovely oil you see everywhere around town.”

“That’s yours?” His eyes danced around the mess hall, taking in the incriminating glass jars atop every other table. The light green contents revealing the literal fruits of your labor. The hours you would spend hunched over your own kitchen table working away on ensuring everything was perfect. He looked down to the warm plate of food in front of him, the roasted potato hash and scrambled eggs. “You’re the reason the town has cooking oil?”

“Yes, it is.” Feeling pleasure flutter at his impressed tone, you knew your voice had taken on a breathy quality. If Tommy’s growing grin was any indication, his teeth sparkling as he watched the two of you across from him. Joel had turned completely in his chair to face you, while you had pivoted your body in his direction. Both of you undoubtedly drawn to each other even in the most casual of ways.

“What are you gonna do with the wood? Didn’t you burn it and mix the ashes into the soil last time?”

“Yes, I did.” You gripped the notebook tight, fingers aching from the pressure. “It helped to reduce the acidity of the soil and ward off slugs from targeting the blooms once spring came around.”

“Well, uh, I can come by and lend a hand. If you needed it, but I don’t want to intrude if you’ve got it all under control.” Joel ran a wide palm over the back of his head, fingers brushing through the curls as he offered his help in a round about way. Something you suspected Tommy had anticipated. It took you a second to process his words, remembering the feel of his hair tangled around your own fingers. It had been soft despite a days’ worth of travel and an overnight stint atop a dusty mattress. You wondered how he cared for it, what it looked like slicked back fresh from the shower, water dripping from the ends of it and-

“Oh, that’s okay!” You shuffled on your feet, shaking the rather intrusive thoughts and not wanting to burden the man with another task. “You just said you’ve got a lot to do, don’t want to add to it.”

“I could shuffle a few things around, clear up an afternoon to come help ya out.” He insisted, something smoldering in his dark eyes. His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he regarded you carefully, as if he had noticed the lingering gaze on his movement. He shifted to pull that damned little note pad of his own from his back pocket and flipped it open. Looking over the long list penciled on the page.

“No, no, it’s okay, really. You don’t have to do that, Joel.” You waved your own notebook at him, hoping he realized you kind of wanted the space from him. Kind of needed it, actually. To get the image of his softened face out of your head and the ability to look at him without feeling a jolt of desire strike through your body. Space would probably be good, would allow you to reign everything in and be better equipped to ride alongside him once again. The lines had begun to blur and they needed to be defined.

“It’s no problem, I can-“

“It’s really okay, I can handle it. But uh- th-thanks for the offer.” You scurried away before he could add your name to the list among his other tasks. “More important stuff to tend to than a me-measly tree.”

“I really don’t’-“

“I’ve got it.” You called over your shoulder, leaving the two men to their breakfast.

The second you were walking through the door, Joel rounded on the younger man. The shit-eating smirk was securely in place among his brother’s features across the table. Irking Joel further.

“Shut up.”

“Oh brother, you got it bad.”

“Shut up, Tommy.”

“C’mon, she could really use the help. It’s just her.”

“No one offers to pitch in? The other women with personal gardens all help each other out.”

“It’s the age gap. Olive’s about a decade or so younger than them.”

Joel contemplated his brother’s words, thinking back on the thinly veiled disdain Marsha had voiced to him the last time he had been tending to the woman’s home. He knew you were younger, but he hadn’t anticipated it causing any problems with the rest of the settlements occupants just how it wasn’t the cause of any between you and him. At least, not any real problems. Age was just a number nowadays, if you were alive, you were alive. If you weren’t well, you weren’t. Friendships and connections blooming between people regardless of age and backgrounds in abundance as people clung to what they could in order to survive.

“Does anybody ever…talk about her to you?”

Shifting from annoying little brother to something more serious, Tommy looked over his brother as he chewed the bite he had just taken.

“What do you mean?”

“Marsha seemed to insinuate that Olive is common topic of discussion.”

“Marsha doesn’t like Olive. Never has.” Tommy scowled, stabbing at a chunk of potato rather harshly.

“Does it have to do with the patrol you won’t tell me about?”

“…yeah.” Tommy was suddenly very interested in the rest of his food, ignoring the look he could feel Joel pinning him with from across the table.

“Tommy.”

“Her old patrol partner was someone she showed up with, when we first brought her here. He and Marsha’s daughter got on quickly, were engaged within a year and planning on havin’ a kid or two.”

Joel was silent as he picked at his food. Marsha’s daughter, Millie, didn’t have any kids or a husband that he knew of. The two women sharing a home close to his.

“They blame her for what happened.”

“What did happen?”

“Joel, you’ve gotta ask your girl that. It’s not my place to give details.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“But you want her to be, c’mon, I can see it plain as day.”

“We are not talking about this.”

“I think she likes you back. But it’s hard to tell since she doesn’t get a lot of interaction around town aside from when she’s trading or cookin’.”

“She don’t like me like that. We’re just…friendly.”

It wasn’t friendly the way Joel took advantage of any reason to touch you. From soothing minor injuries, to brushing his fingers over yours as he passed you something, to brushing things you tended to smear along your cheek. Just to hear the hitch of your breath and to witness the way your eyes widened. It wasn’t friendly the way you were the last thing he thought of at night and the first thing he thought of when he woke up. It wasn’t friendly the way his gaze lingered on you while out on patrol or when he caught sight of you around town.

It wasn’t friendly the way he spent hours in his workspace sketching out designs and carving into wood in the hopes that you would enjoy what he was creating.

It wasn’t friendly the way he didn’t engage with you for worry of making you nervous, like he noticed he had begun to do. Stuttering every other word around him and others in a habit he couldn’t figure out was his fault or something you were just prone to do. It wasn’t friendly how he wanted to see if it was just him that caused it, wanted to see how quickly words would fail you completely if he were to focus his attention on you in a more than friendly way…

But his brother didn’t know anything about that.

Never one to miss out on the chance for a slow morning, you allowed yourself to wake up naturally.

The sun was just beginning its descent from the highest point in the sky, peeking in through the drawn blinds of your bedroom.

Your body was warm underneath the covers, sleep making your mind take the sensation and let it influence your dreams.

A large body hovered over you, looming like the mountains around the settlement. Protective, a sight to behold at any time of day, as steady as the day turns to night. But the body was so much closer, pressing your back down into the mattress, making your head spin with the heady feel of it.

Thump, thump, thump.

Heart beating hard as pleasure coursed through your veins, brought to life by the feeling of fingers smoothing over your skin. Trailing down over your belly button and through course hair to find your slick folds. Delving between them, parting them, caressing over your fluttering core and then in, producing an obscene sound as they filled you up. Another set of fingers gentle nudging that little bundle of nerves to light your body up even further, heat encompassing you, suffocating you as they quickened their pace.

Thump, thump, thump.

Your heartbeat was harsh in your ears, roaring loud and with a jolt, you realized it wasn’t your heart. It was the sound of someone knocking on your front door.

Eyes flying open, the phantom sensations of being pinned down, of thick fingers caressing the most intimate parts of your body, of the rasped-out nickname in a voice that wasn’t real were ripped from you. You were alone in your bed, your hands the only ones bringing you pleasure.

“Olive?” The faint call of that deep voice your mind had tried to convince you was whispering sweet nothings in your ear was down the hall and on the other side of your front door.

What was Joel Miller doing calling on you in the middle of the day, effectively splashing a bucket of cold water over you as you realized you had been fantasizing about him as you touched yourself.

Embarrassment and guilt squashed the pleasure that had been consuming you, lingering tingles making it hard to clear the fog of your sleep hazed mind. Throwing on the robe hanging on the back of your bedroom door, you took a deep breath to steady yourself before approaching the door he knocked on again.

He must’ve been preparing to walk off when you swung your door open, his back to you and a hand on rubbing on the back of his neck. He turned back at the sound, eyes taking in the disheveled form you were sure you made in your doorway. It was the afternoon, and here you were in a robe and hardly anything else, being pulled from your bed.

“Oh, hey- you were sleeping.” His eyes quickly averted, a hand waving at you as a blush crept up along the apples of his cheeks. You wondered what had him so flustered, his hands clenching and unclenching just below the sleeves of his jacket.

“I should’ve been up already, it’s okay.” You said quietly, taking in the bulk of him on your small stoop. It was a little disorienting, mind imagining him and now being faced with him so close. “D-did you need-“

“Was coming by to see if you needed any help with taking down that tree Tommy mentioned.”

You fell silent at the way he cut you off, his words low like your own, as if he was frustrated.

“Cause if you did all you had to do was ask.”

“I-I didn’t want to add to your list, that little notepad is always so full of-“

“I offered too and you said no. But you’re not even doing what you took the time off for.”

“Excuse me?” You leaned back from him, worry and your own annoyance flaring. Just because you took one morning to yourself didn’t mean you were shirking your responsibilities. His words hitting too close to the wound that everyone else’s had dug close to your heart.

“You take the time off every year, which you didn’t tell me about. Tommy blurted it out to get some sort of satisfaction out of your miscommunication and you’re not even taking care of the trees.”

“Joel-“

“You know what, just, never mind. I’m heading around back to take care of it for you. Go back to bed.”

And then he was stomping down the steps and rounding the side of your house. The gate creaking open to signal his entrance to your backyard.

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me, Mr. Miller.” You mumbled as you shut the front door and moved back to the bedroom. Dressing in a ratty pair of jeans and a long-stained t-shirt in a rush. Putting up your hair as you walked into the back room to retrieve the axe he would need for the work he took it upon himself to do.

It was hard not to stare, your eyes glued to the man as he expertly wielded the axe and chopped down the damaged olive tree. He had shrugged off his flannel after trimming it of the few branches that stretched from the trunk, leaving him in just the t-shirt he donned underneath. A crisp white that displayed the sweat on the small of his back and between his broad shoulders. A crisp white that displayed the bulge of his biceps as he worked. A crisp white that fell just over his waist and billowed up to catch on the spiral top of his notepad peeking out from his back pocket. A crip white that now displayed his rather toned backside to you free from obstruction…

Shaking your head, you continued to pick the fruit from the others. There were three rows of about ten trees, the one you were worried about in the middle of it all. Your movements made you feel like you were slowly circling around him, honing in on the man taking out whatever frustrations he had on the plant. Until everything was gathered, and you retired back inside as the sun beat down what little warmth it still had this late in the season.

The fruit was already washed in the utility sink, resting in strainers set over ratty towels to dry atop the long table in the middle of the room. A record played in the living room, soft guitar and brass filling the space.

Sighing, you poured yourself a few fingers of whisky and then a few into a second glass as you heard the thud of the axe being set against the wall in the back room and steps heading your way.

“Joel, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.” You offered one of the glasses to him, taking in the way he swiped at his sweating forehead with the back of his arm.

“I know…I’m-I shouldn’t have come at you like that. I’m sorry too.” His fingers brushed yours as he took the peace offering. But he didn’t drink until you lifted your own glass and clinked it to his. “Just…wanted there to be a reason why you weren’t by my side for a little bit.”

Stepping forward to run a hand down from his shoulder to elbow in a comforting move, you motioned him to follow you.

Through the hours of the afternoon and into the evening, you explained the difference between the colors of the fruit. The flavor profiles of each, of how you always sorted even portions of the harvest out for oil, for pickling, for the raw fruit to be shared with the town. You walked him through the process of turning a small batch into a paste, straining it over and over again to produce the oil. Two pairs of hands slick with it as he helped you after he had asked how you managed to do it.

He had asked of your knowledge, prompting you to admit that it was all learned since arriving here and being assigned to the house with the trees in the backyard. That it hadn’t been something you carried with you beforehand. You asked after his woodworking, how it had turned into crafting small figurines.

And he answered much the same as you. Learned skills to help deal with and adapt to the slower way of life Jackson allowed you both to lead.

“You left one on the table.” His voice was right behind you, having followed you into the backroom. You turned to look at him over your shoulder before going back to placing the jars in your hand into a battered plastic crate. One was for the pickled and general olives, while another was for the oil you would make once the distraction of Joel Miller was gone from your kitchen. The only evidence of such from today’s activities in his hand.

“Oh, that one’s for you.”

“I couldn’t, you need it for trade. Everythin’ helps.”

“I insist, it’ll be good to have in your kitchen.”

“It’s just gonna sit there on the counter beside the stove.”

“Well, take it. Just in case.” You whispered. Noticing how close he had gotten in an attempt to hand the jar to you. He was close enough to smell the way the olive leaves had permeated his clothing. The perfume of the freshly chopped wood stained his skin in a heady way. You felt the counter dig into your hips, having unconsciously backed into it beside the deep sink.

“In case of what, sweetheart?” He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper, tongue peeking between his lips as he took in the way you had a smudge of dirt under your eye in the warm light of your kitchen bleeding into the backroom. His gaze snapped to his hand as you bravely tangled your fingers with his own. Feeling your lips curl into a playful smile, you leaned up and whispered into his ear. 

“The food critic decides to play personal chef.”

Oh, he liked that. If the widening of his pupils was any indication, the way his breath caught in his throat and he swallowed as he pulled back a little to look over your face.

He leaned in to press a cautious kiss to your cheek, knowing there was no bruise or cut to disguise his move as anything other than the blatant want for it. The soft scratch of his mustache lighting you up.

Your breath fanned out across his face, skin prickling along his body at the warmth of it bouncing back to you. A small huff the only noise coming from you. His eyes flicked up to capture yours, and you felt your heart lurch. He was so handsome, his lips looked so plush and pink this close. There was no way he could’ve missed the way you had glanced down at them, how you were thinking of feeling them pressed to your skin in other places, of the way you pulled your own bottom one between your teeth at the thought.

He leaned in, sharing breath with you, his nose brushing against yours before-

The needle of the record player scratching across vinyl startled you both, jolting in response to the harsh noise breaking the bubble of tension surrounding you both. Your hands had flown up to grip his shoulders tight while his arms had wrapped around your back and pulled you to him. Heart thundering for a completely different reason now, you cast your eyes over his shoulder toward to the record player.

With nervous laughter you stepped away from the man and set about lifting it from the still spinning record. His eyes are on you as you replace the record with another, setting it up to play and then turning back around to him. Your heart still thumping in your chest as you watch him hold tight to the jar in his hand and dip his head to you in a departing bow.

He made sure it was well into the evening before enlisting Tommy’s help. The forlorn way you had looked at the pieces of the tree once it was no longer standing proud among the others had stirred an idea in his mind. He was going to take the thickest part of the trunk, because he wasn’t stealing it away. No. He was going to return it to you once he had cut it into slabs and let it dry. He was going to return it to you in the form of a cutting board, crafted from the beloved trees in your care and in honor of the namesake you’d adapted.

But it had to be perfect. He would practice on other planks and cuts of wood until he was able to craft one that would be good enough for you. Setting his mind and heart on the endeavor.

Once he was back home with the trunk set in room set up as his workspace, stepping out of the shower and collapsing into the bed, he let a lazy smile overtake him.

He may be tired, exhausted beyond his limits. But he wouldn’t have traded his afternoon with you for all the restful sleep in the world.

He couldn’t get the feeling of your lips against his skin out of his mind. The gentle pressure of them grazing over his injuries, the gentle pressure against the patch in his beard he had never been fond of until that moment.

“Fuck,” He groaned out, palm tight around his aching cock. He had woken up thinking of your lips on more of his body, trailing over his skin in sucking kisses, tongue laving at every inch. He had been leaking and hard, his hand around himself before he had even come to complete consciousness.

The very real image of you stood in your doorway clad in nothing but your robe, the way the swell of your breasts was visible with the way you must’ve thrown it on to answer his knocking. The way your eyes were cloudy, slowly clearing and your face slightly flushed, as if you had just been- he groaned deep from within his chest. It had looked like you had just been deep in the throes of pleasure, body overwhelmed with it and torn away by his calling on you. Hair mused and breath a little too quick, he wondered what you sounded like. Would you whimper softly or moan out loudly, would you be shy and cover your face with your arms or would you scramble for any purchase as it raced through your body, swelling up to consume you.

He pumped his hand slowly now, reveling in the feeling stirring low in his gut. The strikes of pleasure moving through him as he recalled the way you had felt against him as you both rode back on your horse.

The way your hip had felt in his hands as he had tried to steady himself. His mind taking the thought and running with it, the imagining the way he would grip you from behind. You down on your hands and knees, legs parted to make room for him to fit between them, thrust against you as deep as he could, your keening-

He choked on his own breath as the sheer force of his release hit him, sudden and overwhelming. Spurts of pearlescent cum coating his hand and dripping over his knuckles.

Euphoria filling him up with satisfaction, his body humming with it until the guilt slammed into him.

He just fucked his fist to the thought of you. His patrol partner. His…friend. The woman he couldn’t get out of his mind even if his life depended on it.

Catching his breath, he looked out the window across from his bed. Stars glittering at him through the curtains as if they know all the dirty things that had just run through his mind, sharing in his secrets.

The only small blessing of his complete lack of self-control and oversight is that he doesn’t have to ride alongside you today on patrol.

“I’ve got the first batch of the season,” You announced as you walked through the doors of the small makeshift market. It was right along the main street, a few fronts down from the mess hall and the Tipsy Bison.

“Oh, lovely!” The man at the back counter praised, clearing a space atop it for you to put down the delivery.

“Marsha.” You nodded toward her in greeting, uncomfortable with the way her eyes had followed you through the few aisles after letting the man go over the contents of the crate. Another nod to her daughter, standing right beside her with a small wicker basket full of root vegetables. “I’ve got a jar in there for you, with the garlic you managed to salvage from the garden.”

She didn’t say anything, looking for all the world like her voice had been stolen from her. A small nudge from her daughter jostled her and she seemed to find it.

“Thank you, Olive. That was…very sweet of you to think of me.”

“Of course, anything to be of help.”

“Yes, of course.” She repeated your words, trailing off as she noticed a figure across the street. Her eyes tracked their movement but when you turned to see what had caught her attention there was no one there. Suddenly she was speaking your actual name and it roused your nerves to life. “You…do so much for the town, I just wanted you to know that we all appreciate the time you take each year to handle the harvest.”

“O-oh, well, um, thank you, Marsha. That’s very k-kind of you to say.”

“Momma,” Millie whispered, taking ahold of the older woman’s arm. Something in her voice you couldn’t quite get a read on. Taking that as your queue to cut off the rather awkward interaction, you waved at them and began to head back up to the counter to collect the items you had requested in exchange for the crate of jars. Your ears were strained, trying to catch the hushed words the women shared behind your back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I realized how…unfairly we speak about her. Someone convinced me to apologize to her.”

“She doesn’t deserve apologies, she’s the reason-“

“Millie, we need to work on moving past that. It’s been five years now. We can all live alongside each other with the understanding of what happened.”

“No, momma, you may be ready to forgive her but I’m not. She got my Aiden and I’m not going to let her drag down Joel too.”

“He was the one who told me to be nicer to her, just trying to appease the lovely man.”

Any good feelings of a successful harvest and two weeks of working countless hours to jar, pickle, and transform the fruit from your trees vanished. The awkward yet positive sentiment from one of your more…complicated social connections going down with it at Millie’s angered words. You tried to muster up a smile for the man at the counter, taking the crate back from him with the trade items but you weren’t sure if you were able to. Not turning to look at the women, you exited the shop and made your way straight back home despite the list of errands in your pocket.

Of course Joel had caught wind of the way people spoke of you.

Heard it from Marsha herself, the source of all your troubles despite having done everything in your power to counteract the bad you had brought down on the town with your incompetence. He had put his own reputation at stake by sticking up for you and you only hoped it didn’t affect the way he was received. He was so important to the town, achieving far more than you in what he provided and brought in his skill set.

You didn’t want him to feel even a fraction of what you did as you navigated life here in the settlement. The pitying looks cast your way, the whispered words of what people felt entitled enough to voice, the way you seemed to only be good for one thing and it was the crop in the backyard of the house you had been assigned by pure circumstance.

The crate thudded atop the table where you thrust it harshly, frustration controlling your movements as you moved through the small house back to your room. Shucking off and resisting the urge to hurl your boots toward the closet you sighed as you felt tears prickle your eyes. They rolled hot down your cheeks as you curled up in the covers and gave up on what was supposed to be a good day.

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[aihoshiino]

chapter 156 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 13

Aqua Hoshigan Status: N/A

I'm gonna be real with you gamers I don't have a lot to say about this one LOL. Typically these Mem chapters come at the top or bottom of volumes as transitions between phases of the story so getting one slap bang in the middle of what will be volume 16 is a little jarring, as are the contents of it. Despite making up 1/3rd of the current B-Komachi, Mem is pretty underutilized across the whole manga so while it's nice to see her be given a proper arc capstone chapter all to herself, it feels underbaked. I almost suspect that the beats of this chapter may have been intended to serve as the bones of a Mem mini-arc at some point but with only so much time to spare before the manga ends it was crammed into this one chapter. Without any room to breathe, none of its beats hit.

Mem and Frill being friendly enough for solo hangouts is cute, though! One of the things I did like about the Movie Arc was the way it mushed the wider supporting cast together into a more closely knit social circle and I like seeing that reflected in moments like this. It helps add to the sense of them being people living their own lives who have things to do outside of dealing with Hoshino Family Drama.

The story swinging back to deal the elephant in the room that is Mem's real age is also potentially juicy but - say it with me, folks! - lacks the build up it needs to really be worth taking seriously. Prior to this, Mem's age has mostly been played for laughs when it has come up with no real indication that it's something the manga wants us to take seriously. In that way, the slightly blase framing of it here does better suit as a resolution than suddenly taking it deadly serious was but it does just end up feeling like something Akasaka added to the manga not because he felt it was an important part of the story but because it was next on his checklist of things to tie off before the manga ends.

This can really be felt in the way this chapter really fails to dig into why Mem even had to lie in the first place - there's the off-handed acknowledgement of Mem wanting to be an idol and her age potentially being a barrier in that regard but it doesn't actually dig into this premise of Mem's age being a problem. In a series whose proclivity for infodumping about the ills of the entertainment industry is practically a fandom joke at this point, it feels uncharacteristically restrained for it to not take this opportunity to talk about how this attitude is born from fetishizing, commodifying attitudes about youth and supposed 'purity' and the ageism and misogyny many adult women in the entertainment industry all over the globe have to deal with.

In general, OnK has been pretty toothless the last few arcs when it comes to the cast having to actually navigate the industry's toxicity. The way Ruby's struggles with idolhood are held up as comparable to Ai's is one major symptom of this that I'll probably go into at some other point, but we also see this in characters like Kaburagi and Shima-D too - despite being objectively pretty scummy individuals in terms of both their behaviour within the industry and their interpersonal relationships, the note the manga seems to have ended on for both of them is a sort of 'aw shucks he didn't mean none of it' wishy-washiness where it's unwilling to hold them accountable.

This toothlessness adds to making everyone's immediately acceptance of Mem's lie ring so deeply hollow. No scandal, no negativity, no nothing. An utterly frictionless resolution that feels as though it added nothing to the plot point it was tying off. Again, it would feel weird for this to become a big dramatic beat when the story has so consistently treated it like a joke but this half-baked conclusion leaves me feeling lukewarm at best.

To not end this on a sour note, I will say I really like the note this ends on of Mem deciding to shoot for university and I like Ruby finally giving Mem even a shred of props for the backbreaking amount of work she put into B-Komachi's growth. Appreciate Mem more, you little gremlin!!!

Speaking of Mem's JD dreams though, I've heard some speculation so far that Mem shooting for university is an indication that she's also going to be leaving B-Komachi but… eh, I disagree. Mem talks about how much the group means to her and her revealing the lie here feels like a step to try and protect her place in B-Komachi and ensure she can keep performing with them.

Break next week to no one's surprise… did y'all know the volume 15 release in Japan says volume 16 isn't dropping until December? Wild.

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,066

A/N: Shoutout to my hubby for helping my break through my writer's block on this chapter 🥰

“Who was that?” Benny asks despite likely knowing the answer. When you’re born and raised somewhere, it’s pretty easy to spot someone out of place. And for Dean to approach an apparent stranger pointed to one person.

“That’s the woman staying in my guest house for the next month.” Dean confirms as he retakes his seat, starting to pick up a fry but throwing back onto his plate as he thinks about your smug smile as you ate your fries in his face. 

Benny looks over Dean to where you’re seated at the counter, now enjoying a sandwich as your legs swing underneath you, too short for the stool you’re sitting on. Benny had watched the whole interaction, and when you had turned to Dean a few times, Benny got a good look at your profile.

“She’s cute” Benny notes as he takes a bite of his own meal, washing it down with a gulp of coffee and a grin. 

“Don’t even start, Ben.” Dean shoots him a pointed look. Dean had eyes, it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed that himself, but he was too annoyed to care. “If you think she’s so cute, why don’t you have a go at her?” Dean jabs as he picks up his burger and takes a wide bite, sauce splashing on his cheek. 

Benny just chuckles and shakes his head.

“I got enough women in my life.” Between his ex and his daughter, his hands were full. “And I’m not looking to get washed up in your mess.” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Fucking Lisa,” he grumbles before taking another bite. Couldn’t even enjoy his lunch break. It’s like Lisa knew exactly what to do to get under his skin. Which isn’t a surprise.

Back when they were happy, Dean and Lisa knew everything about each other; what they each liked, what they loved, what drove them crazy. It’s why Dean would bring home white chocolate and flowers after Lisa had a rough day at work, or why Lisa would bake a variety of pies in the early days after Dean’s father, John, had passed away, knowing Dean didn’t want to talk about it but it was a way to offer him comfort without being too touchy feely, because Dean hated that when he was younger.  

But now, Lisa was weaponizing the information she had, knowing Dean liked his routines and his personal space. She had thoroughly invaded them without even stepping foot in town. Instead she sent this woman, Y/N, to do her dirty work for her. 

He drops his burger with a sigh and glances over his shoulder; you’re scrolling through your phone as you take another bite of your sandwich. 

He briefly wonders if you’re texting Lisa, the two of you laughing about how now that you’ve taken over his guest house, you’ve also wormed your way into his lunch spot. But Dean knows better. He knows he’s been the aggressor in his run-ins with you. You’re either a great actress or truly were just an innocent pawn in Lisa’s slimy scheme, and Dean’s pretty sure it’s the latter. 

It makes him think back to this morning, how you mentioned you were out of work and couldn’t afford to go anywhere else, even if Dean refunded your stay. You’re likely going through some sort of shit if you’re willing to use whatever money you have to get away for a full month. 

He sighs through his nose. You had offered a fresh start, and he had brushed past you like an absolute asshole. 

He likes to think he wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time he would have happily shook your hand, giving you a big grin in the process hoping to maybe get to know you better, find out what you like to drink and buy you one and then see what would happen next. 

But that was youthful innocence then, back when Dean didn’t realize that when you gave your full self to someone, it gave them the power to use it against you one day.

He’s about to consider going back over to you and apologizing, taking you up on your offer, but Billie steps in his path, dropping off a check and a box for his unfinished burger. 

Dean blinks hard out of his thoughts and gives Billie a big smile before reaching into his wallet and dropping enough money to cover his meal and tip, adding it on top of Benny’s own pile. 

“See you boys again soon.” She gives them a wink before they gather their coats, Benny affixing his cap before zipping up his jacket. 

Benny lets Dean lead the way, Dean’s eyes glued to your back as he passes by before he steps back out into the wintery overcast and heads back towards the garage.

After you finished lunch, you continued your stroll down Main Street, restraining yourself to just window shopping during your inaugural visit. You would have four weeks to shop, and you didn’t wait to explore everything the town had to offer on the first day. But now you had a good idea of all the places you would be spending your days for the next month; BILLIES was the only restaurant on main, but there was also a coffee shop, and bar that opened at 2pm. There was a vinyl shop, a bookstore, a few thrift and antique shops, as well as a modern apothecary and a fifties-looking pharmacy. Overall, the town was charming. It’s one of those places that if you were to leave the city, you could envision yourself living here. There was just enough to do to keep you busy and it felt nice to be away from the constant noise and hustle that typically filled your days. You were looking forward to decompressing and maybe even getting to know some of the non-Dean locals while you were here. 

Once your in-town exploration was complete, you headed to the nearest grocery store, only five minutes off Main Street. You loaded up on food for the week, toiletries, some basic cleaning supplies to use during your stay, and a few magazines to keep you busy. You also stopped off at the liquor store to grab another bottle of wine as well as a bottle of whiskey for nights you wanted something a little stronger. 

You were settled in the living room, dusk overshadowing the forest around you, when you hear the rumble of an engine. You peek through the floor to ceiling window, catching headlights flick off as you hear a door slam. 

Honey, I’m home. You smirk to yourself, thinking about a grumpy Dean stomping up the stairs of the front porch. 

You meant what you said about a fresh start, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him to yourself. Afterall, he was an asshole, and you didn’t owe him anything at the end of the day. You had gone out of your way to be nice to him and offer an olive branch, and he shoved it back in your face. 

Your phone vibrates next to you, and you smile as you see your best friend’s face pop up on the screen. 

“Helllooooo.” You answer, your smile growing when you hear her voice.

“Hi!” Sydney chirps. “How’s the getaway?” You snort through your nose. 

“Not exactly what I was picturing.” You glance over your shoulder, back to the now-dark driveway. 

“Let me guess, the pictures of the cabin are super outdated and it actually sucks.” Sydney speculates.

“I wish.” You roll your eyes and turn back to the muted tv. “Turns out the woman who rented me this place doesn’t even live here anymore.”

“Soooo, you got scammed?” 

“Not entirely.” You sigh. “Her husband still lives here – ex husband.” You correct yourself, Dean’s voice ringing in your ears.

“I’m still confused?” You chuckle, picturing Syd’s scrunched face. 

“So was I. Turns out the renters are going through quite the bitter divorce. The husband still lives in the main house but sounds like she left. I guess she rented this place out as a way to piss him off or something. That’s why it was so cheap.”

“Shit,” Sydney hisses and you raise your brows, even though she can’t see you.

“Yeah, shit. The guy almost gave me a heart attack my first night. Came storming in with a gun while I was in the hot tub, thought I was trespassing.” 

“HE PULLED A GUN ON YOU?” Sydney screeches and you have to move the phone away from your ear.

“He didn’t point it at me or anything, he just had it.” You clarify, knowing that Sydney is about to spiral into worst-case what-ifs. 

“Still.” 

“Regardless, he hasn’t pulled it out since. But he has been a massive dick.” You recount your run-ins with Dean so far. 

“No wonder she left him, sounds like an asshole.” Sydney chimes in after you finish telling her about lunch.

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’s much better. I reached out to get a refund for my stay so I could get out of here and she’s refusing. And also, who does something like this?”

“A bitch and a dick, sound like a perfect match.” Syd quips and you laugh. This is why you loved Sydney. The two of you always kept each other laughing, no matter the situation. 

After another twenty minutes, you and Syd say goodbye and you settle in for the night.

Before you know it, your first week is coming to an end. You’ve thoroughly enjoyed sleeping in every day, grabbing coffee in town before deciding which shop to hit. So far you’ve spent most of your time in the bookstore, getting to know the owners, Carrie and Richard Owens. The two have been married over forty years, and this bookshop was their post-retirement dream after working in the city most of their lives. They had been here for almost ten years now and loved every single moment of it, though they missed their children who still lived in the city. Seeing them happy and living their dreams, even in their sixties, gave you hope. There were definitely nights you couldn’t sleep, wondering what you had done and thinking about what you were going to do. Your doubts outweighed your hope at times, but chatting with the Owens left you with a sense of calm and a new book recommendation with each visit. 

Now it was Sunday evening. You had cooked dinner and were trying to focus on the local evening news, but you felt antsy. You hadn’t accounted for just how lonely you would be. You would talk to your mom and Syd most days, either calling them or texting during the times they were busy with their lives, but when you found yourself “home,” there was only so much tv and books to keep you company. 

You pop yourself off the couch and head to the bedroom, trading your sweats for jeans and throwing on your cutest top. You hadn’t yet visited the local bar, Max’s on Main, and figured it could be the perfect cure to your boredom. You could enjoy a drink or two while being around actual people. And hey, you were single, maybe someone would catch your eye and you could live out a whirlwind vacation romance. 

When you get downtown, the street parking is completely full, so you take a few spins down the side streets until you finally find a spot, about three blocks down from the bar. Apparently Sunday evening was popping. 

As you step into the bar, you’re surprised at just how busy it is, but then you notice a hockey game on a few of the screens and patrons wearing matching white and blue jerseys. 

As your eyes roam the room, you notice a few spots at the bar, which was exactly what you wanted. This wasn’t the first time you were going to a bar when you were lonely. If nothing else, usually the bartenders were friendly enough to chat with you here and there and take an edge off the isolation. 

You settle on your stool, unfurling your scarf and zipping off your jacket, letting it rest against the chairback. 

A man about your age throws a coaster down in front of you and places his hands on the bar.

“What can I getcha?” He asks as the crowd roars. You peek at one of the screens behind the bar, seeing a team celebrating. 

“Any chance you have hot toddies?” The weekend had been freezing, and it was too cold for your usual cocktail. You needed something that would warm you, ideally with a splash of bourbon. 

“Sure thing.” He nods and steps away to turn on an eclectic kettle. 

You rest against the bartop, a dark wood that runs down the length of the bar. As you look around, you notice the layout is very similar to BILLIES, but flipped. There’s more high top tables, but the booths back along the opposite side of the room. But whereas BILLIES was more updated, this bar looked like it hadn’t been decorated or remodeled in a good fifteen-plus years. 

Most of the patrons are men of various ages, almost all of whom are watching the game. There is one table full of women, but they too don the same hockey jerseys and are just as invested as their peers. 

“Start a tab?” The bartender returns with your drink, placing it carefully atop your coaster. You reach into your wallet, pull out your card, and hand it to the bartender. You’re not expecting to have more than two drinks since you’re driving, but it was just easier to start a tab versus get a bill for each order.  

After the bartender walks away, you wrap your hands around the crystal, humming at the warmth as your shoulders drop. You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes as the sweet aroma of honey and bourbon steams your senses. 

“Good drink?” You open your eyes to find a man smiling down at you, and you feel the warmth of your drink spread to your cheeks. He takes the seat next to you, his smile never fading underneath his five-o-clock shadow and a swoosh of blonde hair.

“If it tastes as good as it smells, then I hope so.” You return his grin. 

“I’m Nick,” he puts his beer on the counter and raises his hand towards you. You take it, his skin a cool contrast to yours.

“Y/N.” You offer.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” His eyes almost have a twinkle under the bar lights, and his never-fading smile highlights his sharp jawline. 

“It’s my first time here.” You relax into your seat. “I’m visiting for the month.” 

“Family?” He takes a sip of his beer, and you match his movements with your drink, feeling the bourbon settle soundly in your stomach. 

“Renting. I’m from the city, taking a sabbatical.” You keep it vague. No need to spill your life story to a complete stranger in the first minute of meeting him. 

“How’s your visit so far?”

Dean pours the last of the beer into his cup, emptying the group’s pitcher. He takes a big gulp, putting back about half the pint before he stands. 

“Gonna grab another round. Anyone need anything?” Dean offers the enthralled group as he stands from the table. It wasn’t that he didn’t like hockey, but despite growing up here, the Rangers weren’t his team of choice. He grew up watching the Blues with his dad, and continues to cheer for them to this day, so he doesn’t mind stepping out during a power play to grab another drink. It likely meant there would be no wait at the bar. 

He grabs the empty pitcher and carries it with him, resting along the curve of the bar as he flags down Jacob. 

“Another pitcher?” Jacob assumes, and Dean hands over the empty container.

As he waits, he taps his fingers against the wood, taking in the crowd when he notices someone at the end of the bar and his shoulders tense. 

Nick Olszewski.

Dean went to high school with Nick. Grade A douchebag then and grade A douchebag now. He may have even broken Nick’s nose once senior year.  

He’s chatting with someone, definitely a woman.

Poor girl. Dean thinks as Jacob returns with the pitcher, and Dean thanks him. 

Dean heads back to the table, dropping the pitcher right in the middle before, for some reason, he takes a glance back towards Nick. And from this angle, he can see exactly the poor girl he’s talking to. 

Shit. 

It’s Y/N. 

Dean turns away, shaking his head. 

He should stay out of it. He and Y/N hadn’t crossed paths since their lunch run-in a few days ago, and he had planned to keep it that way. 

You’re an adult, and free to chat with whomever you want. Even if he’s a complete dickbag. 

But then he thinks back to a few days ago. How he was a total asshole to you, and he had regretted it. He was better than that. This wasn’t the guy he always was. 

Maybe this was his chance at redemption. 

“You good, brother?” Benny looks up, realizing Dean hasn’t sat back down. 

Dean licks his lips and runs a hand down his face.

“I’ll be right back.”

Nick’s hand relaxes easily on your thigh, and you’re leaning into him, your elbow resting on the bar top. 

He was telling you a work story; he’s a real estate agent in the area, and how a couple decided to get a divorce in the middle of a showing. 

“Wait, so did they actually get divorced, or was it just a heat of the moment thing?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

“Oh big time. I reached out a few weeks later to see if they were still interested in the house and the guy told me.”

“Wow,” you take a big sip of your second drink, courtesy of Nick. 

You’re about to ask him a follow up question but you’re interrupted. 

“Thanks for keeping my seat warm, Nick.” A large hand pats Nick’s shoulder, and you both turn towards your uninvited guest, your eyes widening. “But think it’s time for you to go.” 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Keep reading

NEXT TIME:

“You’re welcome for saving you.” Dean’s voice has you turning back in your seat. He’s now next to you, literally and figuratively having taken Nick’s spot. 

“Saving me?” You sneer. “More like ruining my night.” You grab your drink and take your own big gulp, needing the bourbon to do more than just warm you now. 

“Tell me, Dean.” You narrow your eyes at him. “What have I done to you that you just think it’s okay to bother me whenever you want?” Your voice quickens as you feel the liquor settle. 

“Because I’ve stayed out of your way, like I promised. I tried to be nice to you. It’s not my fault your ex-wife dragged me into scheme of hers. So if you have a problem, take it up with her!” Your voice raises but is drowned out as the Rangers score another goal, the bar erupting in whoops and cheers as patrons high-five one another. 

Dean runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, nodding his head at your words as you stare him down. 

“I was saving you from the biggest asshole in town.” He responds once the bar settles back down, his voice calm and even. You raise your eyebrows.

“Are you sure about that?” You challenge. From where you were sitting, he seemed to be winning that award himself.

Forever Tags

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[munsonsreputation]

I THINK THERE'S BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER ONE - WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE JUST FRIENDS

series masterlist | chapter two ↣

🎧 soundtrack

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [20.2K]

warnings: no use of y/n, lots of mentions of self deprecation, reader talking about an emotionally exhausting past bf, steve talking shit abt his parents, cursing, steve & reader crushing on each other so mutual pining, lots of sweetness and fluff &lt;3

summary: you make friends with a girl named Robin who politely and hilariously mistakes some red paint on your jeans as blood. Who knew it would lead to you and her becoming friends and her inviting you to meet her other ones? The even bigger mystery is how her best friend, Steve, is starting to become someone you’re falling for.

Steve Harrington’s living room was packed. Not that it was particularly out of the ordinary since his place was the go-to spot for hangouts, but today it had been packed for a different reason and a new arrival. Though it seemed Robin was the only uneasy person even when she was the one who had begged for this to happen.

Trying to cope, she began fluffing up the couch pillows and straightening the books on the coffee table while she rambled. 

“She’s cool. I mean, she paints, for one, like totally realistic paintings, but she also really loves baking!”

Mike rolled his eyes, puffing dramatically and deciding to take a flop down on the couch where she just tidied up, “She sounds like my grandma.” 

“Piss off!” Robin hissed, smacking his knee as the rest of their friends watched on at the repartee. 

Steve was the skeptical one about the whole situation, considering what could happen if Robin’s new friend wasn’t entirely who she was supposed to be. It’s not that he didn’t trust Robin’s whole intuition about people, but you seemed too good to be true. Almost like a fantasy because the person Robin described to all of them for the past few weeks was pure perfection.

Even everyone else was beginning to question if meeting at Steve’s house for the first time was a good idea, realizing that you could be a creep or a murderer, but they were just being a tad bit dramatic. Before he could think too much into it than he already was, the doorbell rang, catching everyone’s attention and eyes that darted towards the front door.

“I’ll get it!”

Robin clapped her hands excitedly, darting to the door and unlocking it with vigor before opening it wide enough so she and everyone else could get a good look at you. 

You stood in the doorway with a big smile and your hands full. One balancing a bright yellow ceramic dish on your palm, and your other arm busy holding a covered frame between your body. 

You wore a white skirt, decorated with itty bitty eyelets that resembled a daisy cutout and a white top with the same pattern to match. A brown shoulder bag draped across your chest and a pair of strappy sandals on your feet. 

Only when you inched forward, meeting cheek to cheek with Robin, in an endearing hello, did they finally get a good glance at what you looked like.

Bright eyes, wispy lashes, and lids covered in the tiniest amount of sheer glitter. A glow from within on your cheeks and high points, like the sun and pretty pink petals were rushing to the surface of your skin. Dewy lips coated in gloss and flickers of sparkles that shined through your smile that you wore throughout the interaction.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” was the first thing that came out of your mouth and the first time they had heard your voice. 

Robin shook her head, opening the door wider and prompting you in, “don’t be!”

You looked around in curiosity, taking in the architecture and feel of the home before being greeted with a few smiles and waves from the strangers around the living room.

You returned it, though it never really dared to leave your face to begin with. Softly speaking out a few, “hi’s” and “hello’s” to them before turning towards Robin and holding out a big frame towards her.  

“Happy Birthday!” You declared gleefully as she stared at you confused.

The rest of her friends murmuring something about possibly forgetting her birthday, just as puzzled as her. 

She stuttered, trying to recall if she might have told you the wrong date or something, “I-It’s not my birthday?” 

Your cheek met your shoulder shrewdly, once again pushing the gift towards her, “I know! But I wanted an excuse to give you this.” 

You juggled the canvas into your hands, trying your best not to drop the pie pan. Robin reached her hands out, taking the pie from you as you flashed her a thankful smile, pulling the cover off the canvas to present her with a small gift of gratitude. 

“Tah-Dah!” You singsonged, turning the canvas towards her and watching the shock and amazement that covered her face before a wide smile appeared followed by the “oh’s” and “ah’s” of her friends that you completely forgot about.

Robin spun her arms to the left of her, hastily handing the pie to Steve who took it and placed it on the coffee table. The front entrance of his home, now the new crowded spot as everyone marveled at the artwork. He quickly joined in, not wanting to miss an ounce of it, finding an open spot between you and Robin. 

He took it all in, eyes fixed on the print that was gushing with blossoms of her favorite colors: sage green, mauve, and pale yellow. But it wasn’t an ordinary painting—the petals were formed with dollops of the paint, and it probably took days to dry. It was rare, something that he and the others had never seen before. 

His fingers brushed the paint petals, careful not to mess up your handwork,“This is incredible….” 

Flickering his gaze to you, he flashed you a toothy smile, letting his hand pull back from the canvas and stick out towards you.

“I’m Steve, by the way.” He extended his arm, making a sweeping gesture to catch your attention.

Tearing your eyes away from Robin’s heartwarming reaction, your sights drifted to the hand, then to the owner of it, instantly captivated by his friendliness and allure. Your stare lingered a bit too long, lost in trying to memorize him, so you shook your head, internally cursing yourself for the trance you fell into. 

“Oh, sorry! It’s nice to meet you!” Quickly you handed the entire piece to Robin, adverting your full attention to the new acquaintance whose house you just barged into. 

You knew just from the looks of it that he was Steve Harrington, the guy that Robin had described to you as being her insanely attractive yet idiotic best friend.

His hair, like Robin had described, was unquestionably perfect, falling into place as if he didn’t even try. Robin let you in on a secret that he was infamously called “King Steve” throughout high school for being so good with the ladies—now you were sure you knew why.

He chuckled when you grabbed his hand firmly, shaking it with vigor like how a father would but without the cynical look on your face. Instead, you looked genuinely thrilled, twinkling eyes and a broad smile gracing your lips. 

“Great to finally meet you. Robin’s been yapping all week about her new friend.” 

You laughed quietly, finally letting go of his hand and reaching over to sling your arm across Robin’s shoulder. She leaned into you, nuzzling her head against yours with a content look on her radiant face.

“Well, she’s been raving about all of her friends, so I just knew I had to meet you all.” 

Robin smirked, finally giving you a hug and murmuring a curt thank you for the generous gift and turning to all of her friends while keeping you close to her side. 

“Everyone, this is my new friend. I met her last week and now we’re attached to the hip!” Robin announced, her voice carrying a mix of affection and playful teasing.

Steve feigned a gasp, holding a hand over his heart, “Replacing me already?”

“Oh shut up, dingus!” Robin reached forward, whacking him with her palm as he yelped and pretended to be offended. 

A curly-headed boy sporting a baseball cap stepped forward, “Ignore those two, they’re literal children…I’m Dustin!”

You reached your hand out, shaking his before casually everyone began introducing themselves to you. 

Part of you was trying to remember each name connected to a face, but it was also a tad bit overwhelming with so many of them. Making friends was never an easy task for you, but you liked your own solitude, so you didn’t mind. But that also didn’t mean you didn’t long to have friends who you could talk to or hang out with from time to time and share your life with. 

So when Robin tapped you on the shoulder at the grocery store to inform you your period had arrived you were visibly horrified but relieved that she offered you her jacket as you two found the restroom. And in the bathroom you let out a ridiculous laugh, covering your mouth as she stared at you in the mirror’s reflection confused. 

“Red paint! This is paint! I must have sat on it or something!” 

You and Robin hit it off, talking for what seemed like hours inside that grocery store bathroom. The two of you had a habit of over sharing, but it helped you bond and grow closer. After exchanging numbers and spending afternoons on the phone talking and getting to know each other better , she invited you over to a hangout with her friends.

“You guys must have scared her or something.” Robin shook you a bit in her hold to grab you away from a little daydream.

You blinked, looking over at her, then back to her friends watching until you came through, “sorry! sorry! I zone out sometimes…I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. She does it all the time.” Steve pointed at Robin who stuck her tongue out at him. 

Nancy, the brunette who you remembered as one of the kids’ older sister, stepped forward hooking her arm inside yours, “Okaaaay, here, why don’t you come sit?”

She wore a warm smile and guided you further into the living room. Her touch was gentle, and the gesture alone made you feel like she was happy to have you here, easing a bit of your anxiety. When she unhooked her arm from yours, you mouthed a “thank you,” and she shook it off, just smiling and patting the empty seat beside her. 

You placed your purse down on your lap, while Robin sat on the other side of you. The rest of the friends finding their own area on the opposite couch or on the floor, making you feel less suffocated and more like an inviting circle. 

“Robin tells us that you’re mega cool!” Dustin exclaims followed by a thwack on the head by the red head Max and her boyfriend Lucas who sports the bucket hat. 

Timidly, you swung your head low, feeling a mix of bashfulness and gratitude for her words when you weren’t around. You glanced towards Robin, who beamed with pride because she genuinely thought you were the coolest person she had ever met—probably even on the planet. 

“I don’t think I’m cool…like at all.” You admitted, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

Robin rolled her eyes, shaking her head at her friends then looking back at you, “She’s too humble, I mean really, she is so super duper cool and I’m shocked she’d even consider being my friend.” 

Jokingly, you nudged her, making her laugh, “Don’t sell yourself short, Robin—“ 

Before you could continue uplifting the spirts of self esteem, the boy with the unruly hair…Mick? Mike! 

Mike cuts in, eyes zeroing in on your torso where you begin to follow. 

“What’s that on your shirt?” He squinted, pointing at the recent stains on your top. 

Peeping your eyes down and looking meticulously, the stain was barely noticeable unless someone was really looking—anyway, the white color was a bit off from the shade of your actual top, and there had been some sort of residue left. 

Nancy realized it at first, seeing that the stain couldn’t be seen to the naked eye, unless her brother was being a disgusting little shithead. She swiftly grabbed the decorative pillow behind her, chucking it towards him.

“You’re such a pig, Mike!” 

Everyone switched their attention from you, and instead pestered and teased Mike for being so “observant” with you here in a spaghetti strap top.

But you attempted to stifle your laughter, not wanting him to feel so embarrassed despite his sudden interjection. You were hoping he wasn’t being a stereotypical depraved teen who couldn’t focus when your shoulders were out.

Instead, you attempted to swipe at it with your fingertips, but alas it didn’t budge and stubbornly clung to the fabric, “ It’s just paint and apparently…” You tugged the portion closer to your nose, scrunching it up, “Sugar. Powdered sugar.” 

The young boy almost looked impressed at your ability to articulate the specific ingredient despite the verbal onslaught he had just faced. “Sick.” 

Robin clicked her tongue, jutting her chin out toward Steve who sat across from you in a recliner. 

“Steve, give her something to change into,” she told him, prompting him to sit up, looking at you and instantly nodding. 

“Yeah, of course, follow me,” He motioned you to follow his lead as he stood up, yet you remained sitting, tipping your head slightly up at him.

You raised one of your brows, “Are you sure? I’m totally ok with it. It’s my fault, anyway.” 

“I’m sure…c’mon, it’s the least I could do.” Steve nodded again, waving his arm towards himself, and you got up.

Trailing behind Steve up the stairs, you marveled at the simplicity of the home despite its expanse. The wallpaper was a muted gray with cream accents and walls encasing the space leading up were decorated with a few framed photographs that you assumed were Steve and his family.

From what Robin had told you, his parents weren’t home too often, if at all, which explained why the photos were outdated and mostly from his childhood, having no evidence of recent portraits.

The hallway towards the bedrooms had a running rug across the wooden floors. The fuzzy textile felt worn yet homey against your feet. Steve’s bedroom was located at the end of the hall, and when he opened up the door, you seemed to feel more of his personality shining in that space. 

“Ignore the mess.” He apologized, twisting open the door to let you in first.

In contrast to the living room and main quarters of the house, his room felt more like himself. 

The wallpaper in his room, plaid with white, green, and black accents and, of course, matching curtains. His bed was somewhat neatly made with the pillows fluffed and gray sheets on the mattress. A few drawers to hold what you assumed were part of his closet and other belongings.

But his desk, which looked to be the most messy yet contained spot of his room, littered with tapes, books, and other papers. The only thing hanging on his wall was a photo of a vintage car that you couldn’t name for the life of you. 

You turned your head to look at him, where he stood, watching you taking in the space with a grin,“You’re actually really neat…neater than I am.” 

Steve let out a grunt, chuckling to himself as he turned to his accordion wardrobe doors and opened them in search of finding you something without a stain. It didn’t help that he had forgotten to do a fresh load of laundry, but that the rest of his clean shirts were polos and hoodies. 

“So are you from Hawkins?” He wondered, sifting through the hangers. 

“No, I’m from Roane, actually! I only really come to Hawkins for the art store but last weekend I decided to run my errands here since I was already in town and that’s how I met Robin.”

You explained, your fingers absentmindedly rubbing the fabric of your shirt between the stain still trying to get it out.

Steve plucked a hoodie from the rack, holding it up in front of you, trying to decipher its comfort. The fabric was way too thick, and he was certain that in this Hawkins weather you’d be drowning in not only a puddle of fleece but sweat too.

Shaking his head, he gave you an apologetic glance that you didn’t seem to catch.

“You live alone?” He planted the item back on the hanger and continued to look. 

“Yeah, but I actually used to live with my boyfriend…or ex-boyfriend now,” You clarified, giving up on the stubborn stain and sighing, “we were together for a little while but he just decided things weren’t working out and so he left.” 

He looked back briefly, eyebrows raised in curiosity, “How many years were you guys together…if you don’t mind me asking.” 

You shook your head, reassuring him that it was alright, “Six years.” 

The widening of his eyes made you giggle, but it wasn’t unexpected considering someone your age having a relationship that long wasn’t typically normal.

“Excuse me? Six years! I don’t even think I’ve had a single friend stay in my life for six years.” 

“Seems like a lifetime, right?” You joked with a comical lift to your voice and he nodded like it was the obvious answer, which it was. 

He knew that you both weren’t too far apart in age, both in your early twenties, but it was just shocking to hear that you were in a six year relationship at your age. The longest relationship he had was a year with Nancy Wheeler and even then that seemed like forever, but you must have really fallen deeply in love with your ex if you lasted that long. 

“We kinda just grew out of each other.  It’s kinda inevitable after dating all four years of high school then two years after that. We just realized that we wanted different things in life and by different, he wanted me to “finally start taking life seriously,” or whatever the fuck that meant.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, making air quotes with your fingers.

So that explains it, he thought to himself.

“He wanted to move out of Indiana?” Steve questioned, turning his attention back to his closet. 

You made a noise, unsure if that fully answered his question. But you moved up beside him, silently asking if it was okay to help him sift through the hangers. Nodding, he shifted over, giving you space to look through the untouched hangers.

You went back to his question, giving him an actual answer, that you hoped would sum up the story that was way too long to tell in whole. 

“Not necessarily…but he just didn’t like the fact that art was not only my hobby, but my passion. He always wanted me to get a real job, you know, those boring ones where you sit at a desk all day and think about what you did so wrong in your past life to be doing paperwork for the rest of it.” 

His eyes followed as your face contorted with revulsion as if that was one of the most heinous jobs in the world, but for someone like you who thrived off creative free rein, it truly was. Steve threw his head, laughing at your expression, finding it truly amusing because for someone like him, he also realized that even if he was a lost young adult, he’d much rather keep working at a VHS store than walk into work everyday wearing an uncomfortable suit and dozing off in meetings. 

His amusement turned your scorned face upside down, abruptly reeling in the fact that he actually found what you said to be funny. And you hoped that he wasn’t being overdramatic just to make you feel better, but you were positive that it wasn’t because it was the type of laughter that had the skin by his eyes creased because of how hard he was laughing—even his arm slinging over his torso, like the laughter was so infectious that it hurt. 

The sound of his hilarity, leaping off the walls of his room like music to your ears, wishing you possessed the ability to always make people laugh this freely, just to witness moments like this. Eventually, though, he settled down, snapping his fingers at you and pointing with a still carefree smile on his lips. 

“That was a good one! Now I’ve gotta use that when my dad keeps bugging me about getting a real job.” He praised, finally turning back the original spot in his closet and plucking it off the rod.

It was a bright yellow long sleeve, the fabric not too thick or thin, but just about right. You reached for the sleeve of it, feeling the material between your fingers, and Steve’s eyes waited for your approval. 

“Feels nice.” You said with a nod, dropping it from your fingertips and letting him slide the garment off the plastic hanger before placing it in your hands. 

He glanced back at the bedroom door, then back to you, “I’ll wait outside the door so you can change.” He offered, letting himself out and closing it behind him.

Inside the room, Steve could hear the soft rustling as you moved, wondering if what he gave you was good enough or if you were being too nice and not wanting to offend him by saying the yellow color was awful. Meanwhile, you placed your top on the lid of his hamper, making a mental note to come back here and retrieve it before you headed back home. 

His voice came through on the other side of the door, breaking the brief silence.

“Sooo…your ex-boyfriend. I’m sure he was a computer science major, right? Totally douchey with a superiority complex?” 

You snorted, pulling the garment over your body and slipping your arms through the sleeves. “You think computer science is douchey?” 

He leaned up against the door frame, humming a reply and then finding the words.

“Yeah, totally, I mean nothing screams douchey than a guy who thinks he’s better than someone because he works with computers and not a paintbrush.” 

Your movements slowed as you pulled your hair free from the collar and fitted the excess material underneath itself so it wasn’t drowning over you. 

There was suddenly that fond pleasant feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach and in the cage of your chest. When Robin had mentioned that Steve was charming, she wasn’t kidding. There was no reason he should have this much of an effect on you so soon. Yet, here he was, effortlessly tearing down your ex-boyfriend and making you feel better about your own endeavors. 

After a few seconds of taking a deep breath to collect yourself, you reached for the doorknob, turning it open to see his body supported by the one arm propped against the wooden frame. You bit your lip, watching his gaze fall down your face to his shirt on your body. 

“Then I’d say you’re right…you guessed it,” Your arms flared out before coming down to your sides, standing there not knowing what else to say considering he had hit the nail head-on. 

For the first time in the last fifteen minutes since he met you, this was the only time you seemed so sheepish. Out in the living room you looked so confident, even when it was obvious that the attention towards you was a little overwhelming, you still could change the subject or revert it somewhere else. Here with your eyes glued to your feet, not meeting him, he felt like you were trapped — that he might have said something that hit a little too close to home and made you uncomfortable. 

His eyes softened, clearly full of regret for being so upfront about a situation he only knew surface level stuff about. Just because you had talked to him a little about the horrible stuff your ex said, didn’t mean he understood the whole story. That there clearly was something deeper, possibly trauma that he didn’t know about and here you were forced to endure the awkward silence and flooding memories of what had happened all because he couldn’t shut up. 

Your view of your feet against the wooden floor was suddenly interrupted by Steve’s hands reaching forward, accompanied by his voice.

“I—I’m sorry, for bringing it up…I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything! I-It’s just, he sounds like a total dick and you should know that what he told you isn’t true—“ 

He spoke rapidly, stumbling over his words and making short pauses, making sense because the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uneasy. 

You furrowed your brows, snapping your eyes up to his.

“No, no! You’re fine, it’s just that, no one has really said that stuff about him…about him being an asshole. And…I don’t know, it kinda feels nice to hear.”

Underneath your reassuring expression, your lips twitched up and Steve swore you were about to burst into a full on prideful smirk because of the jabs he took at your ex. So his words indeed took you aback, but in a good way.

He validated your feelings about your past relationship and suddenly there was a shift in the mood, and Steve closed his eyes, taking a relieved breath, grateful that he hadn’t scared you away with that conversation.

Meanwhile, you laughed softly to yourself, feeling a rush of giggles bubble up in your chest, seeing him relax under your certainty.

He opened his eyes, looking at you, trying to look stone-faced, “But, seriously, he’s sounds like a huge asshole,” He couldn’t help the cackle that escaped through his lips, breaking his solemn face, followed by you pushing a hand out and pressing his shoulder gingerly. 

“The hugest! I’m being so serious!” You added, only making the two of you laugh harder, not caring to contain it in the small space between the bedroom and the hallway. 

A simple moment in time was all you needed to know that Steve was genuinely a good guy, not just a pretty face with an idiotic mind attached to him. As the laughter died down, Steve stepped back, holding his hand out and gesturing you into the hallway with him and back down the stairs where you two were met with the noise of your friends chatting in the living room. 

Robin slapped a hand over her forehead once the two of you came into view, earning a raised eyebrow from you and Steve, both of whom stopped a few feet into the area. She exaggeratedly dropped her hand to her side, feigning exasperation.

“What’s the matter?” You crossed your arms across your chest, looking genuinely troubled and waiting for an explanation. 

All eyes turned to you and Steve now, grunts and smothered laughs coming from everyone, while you guys both stood there, oblivious to their reactions. Dustin, unable to contain himself, started convulsing with laughter and clutching his stomach, even going as far as to throw himself into Mike’s lap before getting shoved off.

Then he stood up in front of both of you, pointing an accusing finger at Steve’s shirt he lent you. 

“What did you do to make him hate you so much that he gave you that horrid shirt?”

His face twisted in disgust, and he mockingly gagged, sticking out his tongue and dramatically turning away. Steve should’ve seen this one coming. He swatted Dustin’s hand away from you, shaking his head with a playful scowl. Then placed his hands on his hips, adopting a father-like pose, something else they also teased him for.

He had worn the long sleeve a couple of times before, and each time he did, everyone poked fun at him. Commenting on the revolting color, comparing it to poop or vomit instead of the ground seed condiment he claimed it paralleled, according to the saleswomen at Macy’s who convinced him enough to buy it. And now that’s why he stopped wearing it, growing tired of the kids, but especially Robin and Eddie, calling him ‘Baby Poop Harrington’ in the middle of Star Court and Family Video.

“You guys just don’t get fashion,” Steve argued, raising his eyebrows and forehead toward the others in an unconvincing manner. He fanned his arm, gesturing at you.

“It’s mustard, and it clearly looks good on her.”

The compliment was sudden, causing your eyes to enlarge somewhat and cheeks to blush. You hoped that no one caught it, being too busy to notice you looking downward at the shirt pretending to examine it in order to play it off when in fact you were rubbing your lips together to stop the smile from rising with your cheeks.

The banter continued to go on, which made you relieved, as you were able to get some composure and flicker your sights back up to everyone else arguing with Steve. Eddie huffed out a laugh, stretching his arms behind his head where he lounged on the opposite couch. He pointedly stared at you and the outfit, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Nobody said it doesn’t look good on her. We just said the color isn’t very pretty.”

Nancy tilted her head, observing you and the shirt closely. Her eyes widened in realization, and she nodded in agreement.

“Actually, it does look really good on you. Maybe the styling was the issue.” She glanced at Steve with a grimace before waving it off and marveling at the color.

Steve raised his voice, as if trying to convince them through sheer volume. “I wore it with blue sweatpants!”

“Exactly!” the group chorused, their voices overlapping in mock protest.

You couldn’t help but snort out a short laugh, finding the entire situation amusing. You exchanged glances with Steve, realizing that this was obviously a very passionate but lighthearted topic within the friend group, kinda like their own inside joke.

Steve ignored the rest of the laughter and teasing, falling back into his comfortable recliner as you sat yourself back in between Nancy and Robin.

Lucas, the one seated next to the redhead who was his girlfriend, tapped his fist on the coffee table. “Can we cut into the pie? It smells delicious, and it’s been calling my name for the past thirty minutes.”

You nodded excitedly, rubbing your hands together, “Sure, it’s cherry by the way, so hopefully you all like that!” Your hands fell into your lap, looking over at Steve.

“I just need a knife to cut into it and some plates and forks.” 

Steve rose up, giving you a nod, “I’ll go get it,” he said before walking through the archway into what you assumed was the kitchen. 

The kids had gathered around the coffee table, smelling the air to get a whiff of the baked good you had spent the whole morning baking, and even Eddie got up from his relaxed state to push the kids aside and get a smell. 

You felt a little bad seeing as though Steve had already gone out of his way to open up his home to you and then lend you clothing after a mishap that was entirely your fault, yet you were still sitting here, not helping. 

You looked over at Robin, patting her knee smoothly, “I’ll go help Steve.” 

Before you could stand up, she grasped onto your wrist, waving the other in the air, signing off that he could handle it alone, “He’s fine, don’t worry about it,”

But of course you insisted with a reassuring laugh, feeling her touch drop your hand, as you got up. “No, it’s fine, I really should!” 

Before she could protest or take your spot, you were already striding away, following into the archway that Steve had just gone through. His back was facing you, arms reaching into the cupboard to grab a stack of plates that clinked together. 

“Let me help,” you announced your presence with eagerness, walking up beside him. 

He looked over at you, relaxing his arms back down,“Hey, no, you're not supposed to be helping!” 

Your fingers tugged the bottom of his borrowed long sleeve, the fabric dancing between your fingers as you shot him a mischievous smirk, “Oh, c’mon, it’s the least I could do.”

He smiled at your mocking tone having no choice but to give in, “Fine, but just this once,” pretending to let out an exasperated sigh like you were a nuance, when in fact you weren’t. 

He nodded his chin to the set of drawers where the utensils were prompting you to grab the needed amount of forks while he gathered the remainder of the plates.

“Does it ever get lonely living alone?” He asked, voice carrying a hint of interest, while shutting the cupboard and walking to the other side of the kitchen to retrieve a knife.

“Hmmm,” You thought for a second, shrugging as you bumped your hip into the drawer, shutting it gently.

“Sometimes, but I’ve grown pretty used to it. There’s some positives like not feeling so bad when you forget to start the dishwasher.” 

He chuckled, grunting an agreement for the simple joys that living along could bring, but he also wondered about the negatives, “And the cons?” 

Your heart skipped a beat already knowing the answer right off the top of your head because it was something that ate away at your heart every day. Leaving and coming home to the same space, roaming the halls and rooms—all of yours but only yours, the kind that was lonely.

“Not having someone you can go home to, or at least looking forward to coming to.” You confessed with a frown. 

Steve sympathized, knowing that feeling all too well considering the home life he had been living since he was a teenager. Left alone with no parents around to really parent him in the first place, there was a fine line between being a teen and also being the adult to make the house a home. 

He’d try to, even when his parents were away on trips, doing a load of dishes and laundry. Cleaning out the overgrown weeds in the yard. Vacuuming and mopping the floors. All of this in hopes that when his parents did come home and see how it had been maintained, that maybe they’d want to stay home and spend time with their son. 

But alas, that meant nothing to them. If anything, it proved his parents’ thoughts that Steve was more than capable of being home all by himself. Making the home even emptier that it already was knowing that his parents would purposefully be gone longer now. 

“Y’know, it’s nice having this house all to myself, but it gets lonely too. My uh—my parents aren’t really home much, my mom follows my dad on all his work trips…kinda making sure he doesn’t cheat on her or something.” 

He let out a dry laugh while you cringed, expecting that it is in fact a joke, but he continues letting you know it isn’t.

“Anyway, ummm, it’s nice and all being able to throw parties and invite people whenever, but sometimes I just wished there was more here.” 

Looking around the room, he gestured all around and exhaled, “Like family dinners where we actually talk or even just coming home from work and seeing my parents watching tv on the couch. I swear, I haven’t seen them sit in the living room or turn on the tv since I was like twelve.” 

Placing the forks on the stack of plates, you turned apologetically to him, resting a comforting hand on his arm, seeing the way his face fell and his voice wavered on the edge between resentment and misery. 

“I’m so sorry, Steve.” You withdrew, apologizing, though none of this was your fault. 

Steve cleared his throat with a hoarse cough, swinging his head. Placing the knife down on the plates, as he ran his hand down his face, “No, don’t apologize, it’s stupid. I should be grateful they left me with a house to myself, right?” 

He let out a laugh, as if that was going to make you feel any better for the way that he was feeling. Robin only mentioned little about the absence of Steve’s parents, and you knew it wasn’t any of your business, but it made you feel for him. For how lonesome it must be for him to be estranged from the people who gave him life, yet left him under their roof and pretended like he didn’t exist. 

You, however, made the choice to live alone. After you graduated high school, you hightailed it out of your parents’ house and got a lease to your now apartment all by yourself. It wasn’t until a few months later that your then boyfriend moved in, but still after the breakup you got to keep the place all to yourself, which was valuable in a lot of ways. 

But it was also sad.

You didn’t have many friends that you kept in touch with from high school. If anything, they weren’t really the nicest nor supportive types of friends that you wanted to keep anyways. They agreed with your ex that you had to start taking life seriously and cease pursuing art, but you never listened to them. So maybe it was better off to live alone in your own seclusion rather than just keeping them around for company. 

In spite of those not so kind friends of that past, things felt a lot different with the group that you met today. Like you could let your walls down and finally open up the door.

Your finger twiddled against one another, letting out a proposition, “M-Maybe you can come to my place and hangout? All of you…I mean!” 

You were crossing your fingers that he didn’t catch the slip up that made it sound like you only wanted him to come over. 

His hands stop at his jaw, fanning over the skin there, before turning slightly towards you with a surprised look on his face. 

“Really?” 

You nodded eagerly, “I haven’t had guests around for a while and I would really love for you—you guys to come and visit.” 

There was that slip again, but Steve was too engrossed to catch it. 

“I would love—“ 

“Jesus Christ, what’s taking so long!?”

The holler coming from the living room burst that bubble between you and Steve, ultimately making you giggle when he groaned heavily, muttering an, “I’m so sorry about them,” to you while you shook your head and followed behind him while he grabbed the kitchenware. 

“You guys were taking forever!” Mike wailed, making Steve roll his eyes as you gave a gentle laugh at his impatience. 

“We were barely gone two minutes.” Steve replied, placing the plates down on the table while you carefully grabbed the knife. 

“It’s my fault. I was talking to Steve about having you guys over sometime.” You said, looking up at the boy before making the first cut into the pie. 

Robin gasped behind you, clapping her hands ecstatically, “Oh my gosh, please! Steve and I are off on Thursday!”

She turned towards Steve, looking at him dubiously. “We’re off on Thursday, right?” 

“Yeah,” He snickered, nodding his head as he slid you a plate to lay the first slice on. 

Steve picked up the plate, giving it to El just to spite the impatient Mike who sat beside her and groaned until you finished cutting the next slice which was given to Lucas. So you continued to cut as Steve served everyone. 

“Jonathan and I have a half day on Thursday, so we should be able to swing by during the afternoon.” Nancy spoke before digging into her slice. 

The last two slices remained as everyone dug into their portion while you plated it up. Passing Steve a plate, “You first.” You said quietly with a smile.

He grinned, thanking you with a nod before taking a seat on the recliner. You got yourself the last plate, scooting back towards your original seat. 

“Where do you guys work?” You looked towards Nance and Jonathan.

He swallowed his piece before speaking. “Hawkins Post. I work on photography and she writes.” his fork pointed to her before she nodded and continued. 

“Technically, we’re still interning, but we’re hoping to secure a permanent job once our internship is up.” She told you as you nodded your head. 

“That’s cool! Roane has a weekly paper, but it’s usually just filled with the same political crap about our Mayor trying to drive out local businesses and replace them with big chain stores.” You said wistfully, shaking your head. 

She chewed faster, murmuring out a reply before she was able to respond with actual words.

“Our Mayor, Mayor Kline, is actually doing the same thing! Jonathan and I have been begging to do a story about it to help save the mom-and-pop businesses, but our boss Tom,” she exhaled heavily, shaking her head with annoyance, “he agrees with the Mayor and totally shuts us down every time.” 

You pouted, placing down your untouched plate, and placing a warm hand on her shoulders, “God, I bet you they’re such assholes…I wish I could help, but seriously, if at any point you guys do figure out a way to make it happen, I’ll be happy to help any way I can.” 

Your voice was somehow sweeter than the pie that Steve was scarfing down as he watched and listened on. Everyone was too busy in their own conversations to care about the one you and Nancy were having, but not him, though he was more so focused on you. He just hoped he didn’t look like a sloppy toddler that was too distracted to realize food was all over his mouth.

Steve was just so enamored by your grace and everything that was new to him. 

He noticed the way your eyes would trickle over with all of these different sentiments while Nance confided in you about the struggles at Hawkins Post. But he assumed this was just how you usually were, a part of you, so invest in people and wanting them to know that they could talk to you and you would do your bestest to give your deepest empathy.

Only one thing he couldn’t understand was how anyone, let alone your ex-boyfriend, let go of someone who was as pure and generous as you. Steve Harrington was sure, even after only meeting you today, that you were the sweetest person he had ever had the honor of encountering. That if he really knew you were too good to be true like this, he would’ve begged Robin to invite you sooner.

“Can I have your slice if you’re not going to eat it?” Dustin’s voice broke in, his plate already finished with only crumbs left behind.

Tearing your gaze away from Nancy and switching to the boy who looked on at your untouched plate on the table. You grinned, leaning forward to push the plate closer to him, “Go crazy, I’m not hungry, anyway.” 

So not only were you kind, you were also patient—Steve was making a mental list without even realizing it and knowing what for.

Here you were giving up your slice for the little teenage twerp that just insulted the top you were borrowing only a few minutes ago. If Steve were in your shoes, he’d tell the little shit to think about making fun of mustard again before thinking he’d give up a slice of his pie for him, but then again, you weren’t Steve and you definitely weren’t an asshole. 

“Dude, let her have her slice!” Eddie chastised with a mouth full of cherries and pie pastry. 

Max flicked him on the head with a grunt. “Yeah Dusty, no wonder Suzie broke up with you.” 

Dustin glared, pulling your plate to him, “Oh shut up, I told you me and Suzie are perfectly fine and still together!” he hissed, not hesitating to take a bite of his pie. 

You shifted yourself to face forward, eyes on the kids who were thoroughly not convinced about Dustin’s so-called girlfriend. 

“Suzie?” You spoke curiously, “Does she live in Hawkins?” 

They all shook their heads, and Dustin spoke with a full mouth, but still you could hear him clearly. “She lives in Utah! Her family is crazy Mormon though, so I can only call during certain hours to speak to her through my Cerebro.” 

Your eyes widened, “Cerebro? Like from X-Men?” 

“You know X-Men?” the kids all shouted. 

You laughed, nodding your head undoubtedly. “I only have a few, but X-Men #7 is one of my favorites.” 

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding when you said she was mega cool.” Dustin’s eyes darted to Robin’s, which made you laugh.

“So tell me more about Cerebro.” 

Honestly, it was hard for any of the kids to find other people who understood or got them the way that their older siblings and friends did. It’s mainly the reason why their friend group was so small and tight-knit in the first place and they’d be lying to say they weren’t the first to oppose the idea of bringing in a new person to the group.

But you seemed genuinely engrossed in the kids’ lives, not just instinctively nodding your head and humming so that they could feel like you cared, but you really did. Asking questions about Dustin’s summer camp where he and Suzie met and finding it quite adorable that he would go out of his way to build something to speak to a girl on the other side of the country.

Halfway through your conversation with the kids, Steve got up, heading towards the kitchen in hopes of finding you something to eat, seeing as though Dustin took hostage of your food. It didn’t help that he absolutely sucked at cooking and had nothing in his fridge to offer you other than a coke which definitely wouldn’t make up for your pie loss. 

With his back turned to the fridge, he could feel a presence behind him, trying to be quiet, yet failing, and he knew it was you, or at least thought it was because of the earlier instance.

“I thought I told you that you were a guest and you should be enjoying yourself in the—what the fuck Robs!”

She cackled, hunched over laughing to herself once Steve finally turned around and noticed it was, in fact, not you but her. 

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you? Sneaking up on me like that!” He crossed his arms over his chest at Robin who was trying to settle down. 

“You’re so gullible! Like I wasn’t even trying! I was just trying to see what you were up to and you thought that I was her!” She laughed maniacally, failing to contain herself. 

“Yeah, I came in here to try to find something she can eat, seeing as though Dustin lacks consideration and didn’t think to ask if she ate anything before coming here.” He sighed, turning around and opening back up the fridge, like something would magically appear before his eyes. 

Robin calmed down, nudging him away from the refrigerator so that she could get a look. Her fingers instantly pulled open one of the drawers where the fresh fruit that were barely touched were.

“This will do.” She grabbed an apple and orange, passing it off to Steve. 

He raised his brows, “Don’t you think she wants something else?” 

She shook her head. “Nope, she loves fresh fruit! Told me how much she loves them in her salads and how she picks up fresh ones from the market to make sweets and drinks with them.” 

“Fine. Just go back in there and I’ll cut these up.” 

She held her hands up in defense, slightly mocking in a higher pitched voice as she walked backwards, “Oh okay, Chef Harrington, thank you so much for your service to our pretty guest.” 

He closed his eyes shut, shaking his head as he heard a snicker come from Robin before she fully exited and gave him the kitchen all to himself where he cut and peeled the fruit, neatly placing them on a plate for you. Steve wished you would have snuck in just to get another chance to talk to you alone because he wasn’t quite sure if he could hold a conversation with you when everyone was around.

You didn’t intimidate him per se, but he liked speaking to you one-on-one when there were no idiotic teens around to make him feel weird for asking such silly questions. But you didn’t sneak in, still holding the conversation with the teens as he walked out and placed the plate on the coffee table in front of you.

“Here you go,” Steve announced softly, not wanting to break the conversation.

You looked up at him, seeing the plated fruit slices he had arranged in a circle, “Oh, you didn’t have to! But thank you!”

“No problem.” He grinned, heading back to his seat.

“So what about you?” You turned your gaze towards El, the quiet one of the bunch who sat and listened for the most part. “What do you like to do?” 

“Poetry.” She said faintly, making you smile as you popped an apple slice in your mouth. 

“I used to do a lot of poetry too when I was your age.” You told her, and she looked at you curiously. 

“I have a ton of journals from when I was in high school, but ultimately I think my calling has always been art.” You smiled at her, seeing the way she lit up at that. 

“What did you write about?”

“Typical teenage stuff. Growing up. Strict parents. Bullies. Boys.” 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Max cut in. 

You took a deep breath, unsure of how to bring this up, “Umm, well, I uh, y-yeah—well, no yeah! I meant no! I don’t have one! But I used to, but we broke up.” 

“How long were you together?” Mike asked. 

“Stop being invasive, Michael!” Nancy quietly scolded, earning a glare from Mike who paid her no mind and went back to you waiting for an answer. 

“Umm, you know, a really long time, but it was so long ago that—“ 

“Estimate?” Lucas countered. 

You swallowed anxiously, not really wanting to talk about this, but feeling you had to answer before it got awkward, “Like six—“ 

“Jesus, you twerps are nosey. Just let her and El talk about poetry.” Steve surged into the conversation, getting up to retrieve an orange slice from the plate as he ruffled the hair on the teen’s head walking back to his seat in order to play it off.

You took a deep breath through your light-hearted smile, eyes dancing towards him to shoot him a grateful glance for his quick thinking.

The last thing you wanted to talk to the teens about was your tumultuous relationship that came to a world crumbling end. Plus, the teens were in their own relationships. You didn’t want to jeopardize their ideas of their own relationships because of your past one. They were smart and kind, and didn’t need to hear about your ex to know that about themselves. 

Steve didn’t quite know what else your ex did to make you freeze up like this in front of everyone, but he wasn’t going to let it happen. It was his fault anyway for bringing it up in the first place and he had to make up for that, to let you know that he had your back, even when it came to his own friends who were just as innocently curious as him.

He got the chance to peel back a layer of your history in private, something that he knew was a privilege to learn about, but he wouldn’t let you be put on the spot like this when you weren’t ready. 

There was an ease to the room once Steve made it clear that your love life wasn’t up for discussion right now. Everyone just seemed to forget it was even brought up in the first place. El smoothly shifted topics back to poetry and took the moment to ask you if you still wrote from time to time, which you happily gave her the answer to. 

Thankfully, poetry wasn’t the only topic of discussion. 

Eddie had told you about his band Corroded Coffin that played every Tuesday and Sunday at the Hideout Bar where he also worked. The kids had been begging to go to a show in order to see him and his friends live, but since the bar had a very obvious and strict age limit, they’d just have to wait until they were 21. 

Robin finally told you about her and Steve’s creepy manager Keith who had been smuggling R rated tapes from Family Video, which they then used against him in order to get days off whenever they wanted. Things only got funnier when Steve revealed that Keith had accidentally forgotten to switch the tapes back to the original casing, which led to a very angry mother coming in and demanding to speak to the manager when her son had brought home “Star Whores: Attack of the Silicone.” 

At some point, you found yourself excessively laughing with Nancy and Robin while Jonathan reenacted his father, Hopper’s reaction to a stash of weed that he had bought off of Eddie. Hopper actually sounded pretty cool considering he was police chief and didn’t make the boy flush it down the toilet. Instead, just asking for a bit because he wanted to try to make weed brownies. 

You definitely needed to meet him one day and hopefully ask him how the baking process was. 

Lucas, on the other hand, had vented about the captain of the basketball team, Jason, who was a total asshole and didn’t know how to shoot a three pointer to save his life. Max suggested that one of them attack him from behind and break his leg so that Lucas could be the star player for the season.

But somehow Mike had an even more vicious plan, to poison him and take him out for good—but of course he looked at you, with cautious hands held out, “We’re just kidding by the way!” 

To say that you enjoyed yourself this afternoon would be an understatement because, for the first time in forever, it felt as though your social battery wasn’t draining. You would want to spend the rest of the day here in Steve’s living room listening to them talk about their lives and ask you about your mundane one.

But time always went by fast when you were spending it with people who were so fun and carefree, so when you caught the hour on Steve’s clock, you knew you had to get going. 

Everyone gave you a hug, thanking you for stopping by and of course bringing the pie, the same one that they were begging you to bring the next time you would come into Hawkins. And you sure did promise you would. Robin, being the sweet friend she was, attempted to convince you to stay a little while longer, but you knew you had to go, and you’d make it up to her another time—hopefully a girls’ night in the coming weeks. 

Steve was the only one missing from the living room having excused himself to the kitchen a little while earlier to get the dirty dishes done. He even warned everyone to make sure you stayed in your seat and didn’t come in to help him clean up, knowing you would sneak up and try to offer it. After releasing a very tight and giggly hug from Robin, you stood up, making your way to the kitchen.

“Steve?” You knocked your fist against the archway, catching his attention as he turned to look over his shoulder. 

“Hey, need something?” He asked, quickly shutting off the faucet and drying his hands on the kitchen towel hanging near the sink. 

You shook your head, gesturing down to your purse slung over your shoulder, “I’m actually heading out now. Gotta get home before rush hour.” 

He stooped dramatically, making you laugh as you offered your most sarcastic yet sincerest apologies for the departure of your presence. 

“C’mon, I’ll walk you out.” He gestured, leading the way while you waved goodbye to everyone in the living room before following Steve out the front door. 

“Thanks again for letting me come over.” You chirped, with your shoulders coming in shyly.

He waved it off, smiling down at you, “It’s no problem, it was really nice meeting you…I can’t wait to come over to your place.” 

“I’m looking forward to it too…I just don’t know if I’ll be half the host that you were.” 

“Don’t, you’re gonna be fine. Drive safe alright?” 

You brushed your hair back behind your ear, nodding as you smiled once more, “I will, see you around Steve.” 

Your arms didn’t hesitate to wrap around his neck, hugging him ardently. Even if you were wearing his clothes, smothered in the scent of his detergent and him, his senses were filled with you.

A bright vanilla aroma coming from you, and with your hair blowing in his face, he could help but drown in it, hoping this wouldn’t be the last time he’d get to hug you like this. 

But alas, he had to let go, his large hands giving your shoulders a warm one over before finally pulling away and seeing your smiley face. 

He stood by the porch, watching as you got into your car, taking note of every little detail of your movements.

Placing your purse in the passengers and checking the contents making sure you didn’t leave anything behind buckling in. You checked your mirrors while twirling the ends of your hair between your fingers, securing the locks against your back and the chair. After a few seconds, he could hear the gear change and watched as you twiddle your fingers upon the steering wheel, waving one last goodbye as you reversed out of his driveway. 

“See ya…” He mouthed, with a tight smile, waving before you drove off. 

The distance between Hawkins and Roane Country was almost an hour, which gave you a lot of time to think about today and especially wonder about Steve Harrington.

Honest to God, every time you’d catch him in your peripheral, beaming and nodding along at your conversations, you found yourself almost tumbling over your words. He was that distracting, in the best way possible.

There was something endearing about him, perhaps his ability to read your social cues or maybe the fact that he actually showed interest in you and whatever you were talking about. Even if he didn’t get it, you could tell he was listening intently, eyes following you wherever your hands and sights drifted, like a willow bending right to the wind.

You wished you had the guts to strike up a conversation with him in front of everyone else, but you were sure that if you did everyone would take note of how your shyness reached a whole other level with a pretty guy sitting in front of you. Steve was easy to talk to, but you didn’t know if you were easy to react when it came to anything he said.

His words. His smile. His laughter.

All of it trickled with a honey so sweet that it made your stomach ache and blood rush hot. A feeling that was so foreign after all of this time, yet you couldn’t help but want more. To get to talk to him, even if it was just him insulting your ex with low blows because he deserved it.

But his raw emotions. Him letting his guard down. His thoughtfulness.

It exuded the warmth of freshly ground cinnamon, something that had layers to it. Like a punch in the gut that surprised you in a way that was too profound to explain further. He didn’t even hesitate telling you about his parents and how troubling it felt to be given so much from them yet so little at the same time.

It felt like you were throwing a bunch of colors onto a canvas, not knowing where this was headed, maybe off a cliff or down a dead-end street. Or maybe back home with you where everything would be bliss. You could never really tell.

With Steve, it felt different, very complicated.

Perhaps you were getting too far ahead of yourself, after all, his actions weren’t too far fetched from the others who made you feel just as comfortable and made you laugh just as hard. Yet you didn’t feel this way towards Eddie or Robin and definitely not towards Nancy and Jonathan. 

But feelings like these oftentimes just over complicated things, like this very moment right now where you shouldn’t be contemplating this in the first place.

It was too soon to ever know and you could bank on it being counterfeit. Something you’d look back on and laugh at because maybe it was better off with you and Steve being friends, just like everyone else. Nothing more, nothing less, just friends.

The afternoon glow cascaded your kitchen, a soft ochre hue bouncing off your window pane and showering your body in the warmth. Stevie Nicks’ voice sang through the space on your radio while you stirred the florals in the boiling water.

A few knocks echoed through your door, accompanied by various voices that grew louder. Looking over at the time on the microwave, it read “3:12p.m.” in bright neon green lights. 

They were on time. 

“Coming!” you shrieked out, cutting the music and lowering the heat on the stove before you walked over the door, undoing the latch and twisting the lock open.

With a wide grin, you stretched the door open, and their chatter subsided, turning their attention towards you, their eyes glittering with anticipation. 

Your apartment wasn’t the biggest or the most lavish, but it was undeniably you. Just from the front door alone, your personality was oozing among the space—plants were displayed on a shelf near the door alongside a handmade pottery bowl for keys and small belongings that rested on a small table. 

Straight ahead was your kitchen just as personalized as the entrance. The counters complimented with a delicate flower-patterned backsplash along with wooden cabinets you had stained to wash out the unpleasant color that came with the place originally.

It was so very much you.

“Come in! Come in!” You ushered them with animated welcoming arms. 

The teens stepped through first, peering around as they traveled further into your home. Your living room another lively space with an olive green couch and swinging chair you splurged on and surprisingly hung all by yourself. And of course, unfinished and half-painted canvases decked the walls.

You met cheek to cheek with Robin and Nancy, the same fond welcome you had gotten accustomed to giving to your lady friends. Eddie and Jonathan took you in for a side hug, giving you a smile.

Steve was the last one to enter with a vase carrying a blend of lively flowers in one of his hands. He wore a striped polo, one of the many that you saw hanging in his closet, a pair of blue jeans, Nike’s Cortez’ that was totally his style, and of course his world famous smile.

“I’m so glad you made it.” You murmured, opening your arms as he walked into you and wrapped his arms snuggly across your back.

You squeeze your arms around him affectionately, inhaling the subtle aroma of mint and sandalwood that he wore. Something that you became familiar with since your last interaction where he walked you out to your car and said goodbye to you in the same way he was saying hello. 

Of course, Steve had made it. There was no way he was going to miss it. Not after you graced his home with your presence. If anything, Steve was the one who rushed everyone into Eddie’s van to get here on time to see you.

He looked down at you, seeing your eyes flutter open as you both released the hug, yet never stepped back to open the proximity.

“Been looking forward to it all week,” he brought the hand holding the vase up, prompting them towards you with a grin, “…and these are for you.”

You let go, wrapping your fingertips around the glass, admiring the blues, pinks, whites, and greens of the arrangements. Summer flowers, the kind that bloom the entire season before spring comes along and cuts their time too short before winter arrives.

You had been busy for the past couple of weeks that you didn’t even realize that you had forgotten to take a trip to your local florist to pick up some of your favorites, nevertheless Steve’s would suffice.

Closing your eyes, you breathed in the citrusy sweet fragrance from the baby pink peonies in the bunch, then you opened them back up, orbs filled with gratitude as you stared at him.

“Steve, these are beautiful. Thank you!”

He shrugged his shoulders lightly, “Unfortunately, none of us are good bakers, so I’m glad you like it.” 

Laughing, you gestured him towards the living room where everyone had already gotten themselves comfortable, while you made a quick pit stop towards the kitchen to place the flowers on the windowsill to get some sunshine. 

Making your way back to everyone you saw Nancy and Jonathan sat on the couch looking worriedly at the teens, “Guys, don’t break anything!”

They both warned in unison, watching as the youngsters made a beeline to the comics and magazines you had lying around on the coffee table. 

“No worries, I break something like every other day in here. Totally klutz!” You assured her with a wave, seeing her take a sigh of relief and Jonathan sending you a gracious nod.

“This place is cooler than you described!” Robin blurted, fidgeting her fingertips against each other as she continued to look around trying to spot some things that she remembered you telling her about over the phone. 

Striding towards the cluttered coffee table, you noticed the kids not having much space to flip the books and magazines. You had spent the entire morning doing laundry and touching up a painting for your upcoming gallery that you had skipped cleaning the mess up before they had arrived. 

You apologized, moving to pick up some paint bottles you had lying around “Sorry it’s a little messy…I was busy all morning,” placing them back in their designated bin underneath the table, while they waved you off, not bothered by the mess at all. 

“Did you paint this today?” Will sought, setting down the comic and shuffling towards the easel where a semi-wet canvas laid. 

You nodded, walking over and standing next to the piece, and holding your hands behind your back shyly.

“It’s supposed to look like the sunset from a few days ago.” 

The sky filled with purple, orange, and yellow tinges to encapsulate the sundown you caught on the drive back to Roane from Hawkins.

“Did you use a photo as a reference?” Mike inquired, squinting his eyes to really take in the detail of the sky and hues used. 

You shook your head, knocking your temple with your finger, “I have a really good photographic memory…once I see something I can usually replicate it when my brush hits the canvas.” 

“How fascinating.” Will murmured, allowing himself to walk along the walls, looking at all your other paintings you had hanging up. 

You clasped your hands together, a genuine sense of respite washing over you as you noticed everyone appearing at ease.

Robin was completely in her own world, fascinated with your overflowing vinyl collection that littered your tv stand.

Nancy and Jonathan were talking softly amongst themselves, smiling as they pointed and admired parts of your apartment, hoping they could have their own one day.

Eddie had taken a seat on the floor, back resting on the couch cushions as he flipped through a comic he picked up.

Steve looked to be just as comfortable, swinging slightly in the hanging chair admiring everyone else, happy that his friends were comfortable in the new space.

You clapped your hands together faintly, just enough for yourself to hear the celebration, “Just feel free to look around! I have a patio over there, but there’s nothing much out there except plants and a little table.”

They looked up to where your finger pointed at the sliding door on the other side of the living room, a cream meshed curtain pulled back to let in the natural sunlight. 

Then, you turned your attention to Eddie, bending down a bit to tap his shoulder and point again at the terrace outside, “Eddie, I put out a small glass dish out there if you wanted to take a smoke, just in case.”

You noticed that he had excused himself to Steve’s backyard in order to take a smoke break, so you figured you get that set up for him just in case.

He flashed you a sincere smile, nodding “Thank you,”

You nodded, patting his shoulder before standing straight and excusing yourself to the kitchen to get things prepared.

Steve didn’t quite know if he was more so appreciating his friends finally opening up to a new place that wasn’t his own or seeing you being so welcoming to people you only met a few days ago. Nevertheless, it felt nice, a little warm feeling inside to know that you were so kind and open to them.

He also didn’t know if it made him a weirdo for wanting to stray wherever you went, getting up to follow you into the kitchen just to get a chance to talk to you without the lingering ears of his friends.

You stood there with one hand on your hip and the other stirring some mixture in the pot before turning off the heat completely.

“What’s this?” his soft voice whispered over your shoulder, producing you to bounce slightly before glancing back. 

He had a small apologetic smile on his face, almost like a wince.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Steve said as you shook your head, lips curled into a grin when you turned back to stir the liquid. 

“Lavender and mint.” You bubbled, drawing the saucepan off the stove and holding it out, just enough to get a sniff of the aroma. 

His hand cupped together in the air, wafting the sweet steam towards him, “And it’s tea?” 

“Yeah!…Or you could refrigerate it and make it into lemonade, though I should’ve done this hours ago so that I could…you don’t think it’s too hot for tea do you?” 

Your forehead scrunched up in woe, setting the pot back down and reaching to slide the window in front of you open. Sticking your hand out, you flipped it back and forth, trying to feel the air and its warmth. 

It was totally warm out, but Steve wouldn’t let you know that. He just shook his head, following your actions and sticking his hand out to feel the air, “No, it’s like the perfect weather…I could go for some tea.” 

You looked toward him, giving him a sickly sweet smile as you turned to the opposite side of the kitchen, heading into one of the cupboards to grab mugs. 

“Let me help you.” Steve offered, taking the ones from your hand with ease and placing them onto the counter. 

He didn’t allow you to grab the other seven remaining mugs, as he did it himself, lining them up perfectly so it would be easier to pour and serve. 

“Do you like milk in your tea?” You questioned, padding over to the fridge and seizing every bottle of milk you had. 

He thought for a second, eyebrows scrunched together, trying to recall a memory, but he was sure that the last time he had milk and tea was when he attended one of his father's boring business conferences when he was a child.

“I’ve never tried it, is it any good?” Steve asked, leaning against the counter’s edge to watch you clutch the mason jars against your chest. 

You smiled with a nod, fingers holding up one of the glass jars you had labeled, “almond” before placing them all right next to the mugs. 

“You make your own milk?” He looked surprised, picking up the jar and inspecting the liquids that looked store-bought. 

“It’s super easy and because it doesn’t take my time I just make a new glass every week.” You told him as you waltzed over to the boiler, picking up the pot before cautiously pouring a serving into each mug. 

He watched you closely, noting how you bit your lip in concentration, making sure each mug got the same amount of tea, not wanting anyone to have less or too much than they wanted. You smiled to yourself, eventually letting go of your bottom lip when the last mug was filled perfectly, spinning around in your sock covered feet to place the remaining liquid back on the stove.

He did his best to hide his smile, endeared with your behavior for something as simple as pouring some tea. You rubbed your hands together, finally turning back to him and nodding your chin at the mugs.

“You should get the first taste!”

“You sure?” He asked, already reaching for the ridiculously adorable strawberry mug that you usually always drank out of. 

You giggled, bowing your head as he finally took a sip. His lips smacked against each other to search the flavor profile in an attempt to impress you with the enhanced taste buds that he clearly didn’t possess, but somehow he was still able to make you laugh, which was enough.

“It’s sweet but still a little minty—what milk do you usually go for?” He sat his cup down, fingers brushing over the jars, looking over the different milks you had. 

Oat. Almond. Cashew. 

“Oat, it’s the most neutral out of all of them and doesn’t disturb the flavor, in my opinion.” You responded, letting your elbow rest onto the counter to place your chin in your palm.

You watched him crack open the jar, pouring a tiny bit into his cup before looking at you, silently asking if it was enough. The jutting of your chin and smile prompted him to pour a little more, just until you squeaked and you both laughed before he sealed the jar shut.

The two of you watched the milk flow over the once sheer lilac brew as if it was going to stir itself. Only remembering now, you gasped dramatically, moving up to pull open the drawers on the opposite side of the kitchen in order to grab a handful of spoons.

“Sorry, I totally forgot!” You apologized, handing one to Steve as he snickered, shaking his head while he stirred his drink. 

“Don’t have to apologize. You’re too nice of a host already.” He encouraged you, taking another sip of the tea and giving you wide eyes when it rushed down his larynx. 

“Holy shit…this is good!” He said surprisingly, as you smirked, moving towards him to make yourself a cup. 

Your fingers grabbed onto the vintage basketball mug before pouring in your own splash of oat milk. “Oh! I forgot to mention, I like to add honey sometimes. Do you wanna try?” 

You tiptoed, attempting to grab the bear shaped bottle of honey, and Steve had easily raised his arm up, clutching it for you. 

“Thank you.” You whispered softly, taking it from him.

Steve was just happy to help, beaming warmly and watching you squeeze a tiny bit of honey into your cup and he happily did the same when you passed him the bottle. 

You both took a sip at the same time, smiling tightly as you watched each other before swallowing. It was silly. So the two of you chuckled. Shaking your head at how silly it was. 

“I didn’t mean to stare at you while you…sorry, that was weird of me.” You palmed your forehead dumbly, closing your eyes with a slight smile as Steve chuckled and hummed something that sounded like a “no” as he took another sip of the sweetness.

He shook his head, waving your worries away as he kept his hand on the handle of the mug when the other came down to rest on his hip, “I didn’t mean to stare either…I just didn’t want to look away from your tea-drinking skills.”

You cocked your head to the side, letting both sets of hands wrap around your warm mug as you rose a brow at him.

“My tea drinking skills?”

He smirked, nodding confidently, “Yeah, you know it’s a real art to not spill all over yourself. People do it all the time.”

There was a playful look coating your features, your eyes squinting shut as the smile took over before your laugh, shaking your head ridiculously at him.

“You’re impressed way too easily, Steve.”

Maybe it was the fact that you both were sipping tea in the middle of summer or perhaps the airflow in your kitchen was poor, but either way it didn’t take much for you both to notice the fervor that developed. You two were only inches apart. The space could be closed just by one sway towards each other’s bodies.

The lump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed, watching you take another sip as you tore your eyes away with the heat rushing to the apples of your cheeks. You looked pretty like this; he was sure you always did, but something about you here in your own kitchen surrounded by everything that was you felt just about right.

“I can’t help it…” You snapped your eyes back up at him, seeing him lift his shoulder with a placid grin on his face as he spoke.

“I’m always going to be impressed when it comes to you. Even when it’s just tea and a pretty—”

“What’s this!?”

The two of you jerked your eyes to Robin, leading the rest of the pact behind her into your kitchen. You swore he was just about to call you a pretty girl, certain even, but there were a million things he could’ve said.

Pretty mug.

Pretty kitchen.

Pretty apartment.

Pretty girl.

Pretty you.

No! He wasn’t. There was no way.

You quickly leaned off the counter, gesturing to them as Steve scooted over to make way for everyone else. They all picked up a mug, conversing amongst each other as they began drinking and popping open the milk and honey, serving themselves.

“It’s Lavender mint tea! I also have homemade oak, almond, and cashew milk so hopefully none of you are allergic…but if you want, I could run to the store and pick up some whole milk, it’s only down the road anyway so it won’t be long—“ 

Steve could sense the anxiety in your ramble, unsure if it was because of him and the line he had casted out towards you, or maybe because of the sudden intrusion of his friends that made it feel like you two had been caught when in actuality you both weren’t doing anything wrong.

Steve halted the jabber, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder as everyone helped themselves to the tea, not aware of what you had been saying.

“None of them are allergic, so you’re fine…don’t need to go all out for some kids from Hawkins,” he looked around at his friends who were too busy to care, “everything you’re doing is perfect.” 

You clutched the mug in your hands, taking a sip again feeling your heart thump at his words. You didn’t understand what sorcery was going on, but you did know that Steve Harrington had a way with words and every sweet thing that left his lips made you feel like you were floating. 

Steve swore that he could see a pink blush creeping onto your face, but the mug you had tilted closer to your face hid it. It was cute; he didn’t know why you took so weirdly to compliments. It was something that he noticed right off the bat when you two first met. The way that if anyone said something nice about you, you felt the need to downplay it or not respond at all.

But Steve would keep complimenting you because you truly were someone that deserved to know their worth. So he smiled, continuing to watch the way you tried to hide your blush, while he sipped on his tea. 

Robin wasn’t clueless to the two of you, sure she didn’t have the best timing, but she could read the both of you. The way you and he would stare at each other for too long and even how you’d both stray to each other if the other ran off somewhere else.

She knew where this was going.

Coughing lightly to clear her throat, she tapped you on the shoulder.

“Do you mind showing me the bathroom?” 

You nodded, a tight smile on your face as you brushed past Steve, but not without your arms grazing before you led her out of the kitchen and into the opposite hallway where your bedroom and the bathroom was. 

“It’s in here,” reaching forward and twisting the door open to reveal the bathroom. 

Robin smirked wickedly, seizing one of your arms and pulling you into the restroom before shutting the door. 

You shrieked and snorted all in one, startled at her action and trying to steady the mug in your hand so you didn’t spill any.

“Robs!” 

She pressed her back against the door, a woozy smile on her face as she widened her eyes at you, “What the hell was that in there?!” 

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head frantically, “Oh my god, shush, he could hear you! It was nothing!”

Robin laughed, as you tugged her a ways bit from the door, hoping that no one, and especially Steve, didn't hear the conversation that was happening inside here. She opted to close the toilet lid, sitting on top of it while you leaned against the counter, still sipping on your tea to avoid talking about this, but Robin seemed to have no plans to stop. 

“It didn’t look like nothing! You guys were like milliliters apart, and his eyes were all dreamy and full of stars when he was staring at you!”

Her hands twiddled around in the air, trying to show you what she meant, and you knew exactly what she meant because you saw his orbs in the same light. Like an ocean of stars and glitter every time he had his eyes on you long enough for you to catch it—to make a wish on them.

“His eyes are always dreamy.” You countered out loud, instantly regretting that statement as Robin clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her squeal. 

You bit back a smile, turning your head the other way so she couldn’t see the way you were absolutely blushing out of your mind.  

“I knew it! I could feel the tension in that kitchen and I just knew it! And the other day? You two just couldn’t stop looking at each other. You guys are totally crushing and are gonna fall in love!”

God, you couldn’t even remember when’s the last time you actually had a crush on someone attainable. All the guys you liked were fictional, from books, tv shows, and movies, because at least those guys were mesmerizing and actually respectable people. But Steve felt like that too, that one out of a million that you could actually see and have the privilege of being around let alone talking to.

He was so out of your league, there was no possible way he could’ve meant what he was going to say as a genuine romantic compliment. He was just being friendly. Just being the same Steve that Robin described to you before you had even met him. The same Steve who graciously covered for you when you didn’t want to talk about your asshole ex boyfriend.

The Steve that had you thinking about him on your drive back home wishing you were watching the sunset with him—

You heard the snap of her fingers, before feeling her stand up and make her way in front of you where she stood and clutched your shoulders, causing you to look at her. Shaking your head, you sighed heavily, finally prompting her a response after those grueling composing seconds.

“He’s just nice, Robin, and I’m sure he’s being kind because we just met. I barely know him! You said it yourself, remember? Steve’s a nice guy.” You said seriously, setting down your mug on the open counter space as she pouted and shook her head. 

“No, I mean yeah, Steve is nice, but he’s being abnormally kind to you. The kind of kindness where it’s all sappy and lovey. It kinda makes me want to throw up, but also makes me want to kick my legs like an idiot because seeing him this way after all this time is actually nice.”

She explained with a complicated look that quickly turned into smiles and fondness, realizing that Steve was actually putting himself out there and you just were too foreign to it all. She watched as you took another deep breath, letting your shoulders stoop against her hold as you held your head in your hands.

“I stood there like an idiot Robs. He said something really nice to me and I…I just stood there! Gosh, he probably thinks I'm totally dumbass or something.” 

She scoffed, shaking her head, giving your skin an encouraging squeeze when you finally looked up at her.

“Trust me, Steve doesn’t think you’re an idiot or a dumbass, or anything bad. He's genuinely so enthralled by you. And this is the same guy whose attention span is shorter than mine, so that’s saying quite a lot if, after the first hangout he’s already asking more about you.”

Your eyebrows curled into a frown before raising curiously, silently asking Robin to tell you what she meant before she licked her lips, eyes darting around the bathroom trying to pick one out of the many scenarios where Steve had asked about you.

“Umm, okay, this one!” She decided confidently, nodding her head and furrowing her brows roughly to mimic Steve earlier this morning at the florist.

“Which flowers do you think she likes best? She’s like super into florals, right? Is she allergic to anything? Jesus Christ, I don’t want to show up with flowers that she’s allergic to. That’s like fucking embarrassing Robs. Okay, you know what, I’m just gonna pick the prettiest flowers and hope she doesn’t end up sneezing or anything.”

You snickered at her impression of Steve’s voice and mannerisms, feeling your heart swarm as you thought it was pretty sweet that he was taking the time to ask about you, let alone think about putting in so much effort into those flowers he had brought for you.

“That’s actually really adorable,” you admitted, while Robin smiled and tilted her head, watching you thoughtfully. 

She removed her grip for your shoulders, hands softly clapped while she shrieked while you rolled your eyes playfully at her delight. “See! I’m like cupid or something! Just yennooo…try throwing out a compliment and if it feels weird or wrong, then you’ll know. But I think we both know how it’s gonna go!” 

“Sure cupid,” You rolled your eyes lovingly before going deep again, “I just don’t want to mess things up, alright? If somehow we’re both reading this wrong, I don’t want to lose him as a friend. It’s gonna put me in an awkward position if he doesn’t feel the same, so just for my sake, let’s just keep this conversation between us?”

You held out your pinky finger towards her, where she immediately crossed her fingers over her heart and proceeded to hook her pinky with yours. 

“Promise!” she vowed, kissing her thumb as you giggled and did the same to yours. 

When you two unhooked fingers, she crossed her arms and looked back at the toilet then at you, “I still really gotta pee, so…” 

You tsked, chuckling lightly as you picked up your mug and gave her a thumbs up before exiting the bathroom to give her some privacy. When you walked down the hallway back into your living room, everyone looked relaxed, sitting on the couch or just hanging around the floor enjoying their cups of homemade tea while they talked amongst themselves. 

Steve was in his previous seat, rocking back and forth in the hanging chair still nursing his lavender mint tea. When you came into view, he flashed you a smile, almost a questioning one, asking if everything was alright considering you were just in the bathroom with his best friend for quite some time. You assured him a nod and a small curl of your lips, ushering him to nod back.

That god he didn’t seem phased by the previous kitchen interaction.

“What’s that?” You requested, settling on the carpeted floor where Will and the rest of the teenagers were sitting near the coffee table flipping through a book. 

Will glanced over with a shrug, sliding the book towards you, giving you a chance to see the art that covered the pages. You were amazed, setting down your mug and pulling the book closer as you looked into each stroke of the pencil and all the shading. 

“Will, these are beautiful.” You nudged him casually with your elbow, making him smile, while he watched you flip through the next few pages where more illustrations filled the sheet. 

One of the pages that caught your eye was a figure, one dressed in a cloak with a pointy wizard hat, and it looked a bit like Will. Maybe a self-portrait of some kind for that fantasy game he and the boys played.

“They’re not as good as yours, but I wanted to bring it so I could show you what I’ve been working on.” He told you, while you frowned and reached to rest your hand onto his, giving it a squeeze. 

“No, these are amazing. I mean, this is just incredible…when I was your age all I could draw were stick figures.” 

The laugh that Will let out made you smile and so did the reinforcing words coming from his friends, egging him on and telling him how awesome all of his sketches were. You knew that art was subjective, and even when you yourself were hard on the work that you made, you also had to find it within yourself to be kind.

And you wanted Will to feel the same way, because he truly had a talent for art and you wished you had someone when you were younger who encouraged you to pursue it sooner. 

“I actually have a bunch of spare paints and brushes, and other supplies that you can take home.” You told him.

Shifting to your knees as you began reaching under the coffee table where some storage bins were located, filled with some paints you hadn’t yet used. You began pulling them out one by one, setting them on the coffee table and talking to Will about each of the brands and colors.

From Steve’s place, he could see more of you than Will whose back was facing him. He saw the way your nose crinkled distastefully as you expressed your dislike of certain paint brands because of the opacity and smell. Then how quickly the look of disgust was replaced by a bark of hilarity as Will told you something about his mom brewing a fresh pot of coffee to battle the horrible smell of some of the paints he used.

Steve hoped it didn’t make him a creep for always watching you, but it was out of admiration than it was out of flirtation. He preferred watching you because there was a way about you—an ease, almost one that even yourself didn’t quite notice, but he did.

To him, the best way to describe the feeling he got around you was almost like a secret garden.

One filled with every kind of flower blooming under the radiating sun. Trees growing so tall with birds settling on the stretching branches. The air the perfect kind of cool where bees and butterflies pass through as they soar through the sky. A calm waterfall trickling into a pond that calls out to everyone to jump in freely.

For Steve, it’s like jumping in and getting lost in you…exactly as he’s doing right now.

In simpler terms, people gravitated towards you, not solely for your sweetness or kindness, but for how genuine you actually were.

Even in Steve’s own experiences, he knew he was guilty of just nodding along and pretending to understand what any of the teens were talking to him about.

Video games. Computers. Poetry. Skateboarding. Dungeons and Dragons. Painting. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. Crushes. Whatever it was; just going in one ear and out the other while they kept talking and talking and talking.

But not you.

If anything, you immersed yourself into their world even when it wasn’t something that you could fully wrap your head around like that fantasy game. Yet you never failed to ask questions in order to learn more about it, but it was mostly because you loved to see their faced light up when talking about something that they enjoyed without needing to worry about sounding nerdy.

He wished he could talk to you about anything, and he knew he could, but just not right now. Not with everyone sitting here when all he wanted to do was tell you how down to earth you were and how it was even impossible for you to be real.

But indeed real you were meeting his eyes for only a split second before you turned it all back to Will as he spoke.

“Do you think I could try to paint something?” Will asked you timidly, almost anxious of being a nuance, but you bubbled out an excited yelp, scrambling to your feet as you rushed to your bedroom in order to grab a blank canvas that you were sure you weren’t going to use. 

“Where is it?” You puffed, hauling open your closet door in hopes of you finding it in some bin that you stored all your excess supplies in. 

A knock sounded on the doorway wall, prompting you to call out a reply instead of actually looking at who it was, just assuming that it was Will or one of the other kids. 

“Need any help?” 

Steve’s voice had you ceasing all movements, encouraging you to take a deep breath and realize that the whole kitchen thing was over. Right now, you needed to get it together and not make things weird. You exhaled softly, peeping back from behind your closet to see him leaning against your door frame with a small smile before you nodded. 

“It’s so bare in here.”

He joked, looking around the room where the only piece of artwork hanging was one above your bed. A total lunar eclipse with its blood-red moon shining bright against a dark sky with tiny stars scatters around it. 

You gasped subsequently, finding the smaller canvas and standing up from the ground, “I like that my bedroom is sorta away from all the chaos out there.”

Your hands motioned to the outside of the door, making circles and rolling your eyes, as if the living room was such a chaotic mess, when it really wasn’t. He chuckled, shaking his head before raising his brow at you.

“Anything else we need?” 

Yeah, some fucking composure, Steve, because now I’m thinking of a compliment to spit out so we can get a feel of whatever the fuck we have going on.

You nodded, dropping the canvas on your bed and strolling over to the bottom drawers of your dresser where more supplies were stored.

“Yeah, some new brushes and a paint pallet for him.”

He watched you, totally oblivious of your nerves and instead in awe of how considerate you were being, by lending Will new items rather than just letting him borrow what you already had. 

“You’re going to spoil the kid rotten.” He quipped, seeing as you couldn’t pick between two different shades of blue paint tubes and instead, just threw both of them into the pile you were amassing for Will. 

You looked up, looking as innocent as ever and shaking your head, more than happy to spoil the kid.

“These have just been sitting here waiting to be used and Will will probably use it more than I ever will.” 

He chuckled, coming down beside you, kneeling on the floor to help gather the paint tubes in his hands knowing you wouldn’t be able to carry it all by yourself. Your fingers brushed each other as you both grabbed a few, eyes flickering up to each other with a quiet laugh, continuing on before he spoke just as delicately.

“You’re really too sweet.” 

Now’s the opening…just be smooth and throw it out there.

“I’d like to think I am,” you replied, snickering to yourself, when on the inside you were screaming.

He looked to you, seeing as though you tried to brush it off, “No, really, I mean it, you’re probably the nicest person I’ve ever met…no one has ever put this much thought into a hang out before.” 

You looked almost smitten under his gaze, tucking your cheek into your shoulder and trying to play it off as a shrug despite the smile he could see seeping upon your face. He found it cute. Though he didn’t know why you tried to hide it, he wanted to make you smile and make you feel good about yourself. 

“You really think so?” You asked unabashedly, following his head nod with a grin. 

“I’d go as far as saying you’re the sweetest girl I think I’ll ever meet.” 

Play it cool.

“You must not have met many girls then?” You stood up, hearing his chuckle as he followed your lead. 

“Don’t really want to meet any other ones anymore.” He countered. 

Strike and get a feel of it.

You grabbed the canvas off your bed as you swooped by. “Robin wasn’t kidding when she said you were charming.” 

“She said that?” He said comically, and you giggled nodding and walking out of your bedroom with him trailing behind you. 

Throw it out there.

“Yeah, which isn’t totally surprising, considering the fact that you’re pretty sweet yourself.” 

There was a glint of teasing to your voice, not that it was too different from the sweetness that dripped from it regularly, but he could tell there was something more there. He didn’t want to think too hard about it, not wanting to ruin the moment with his never-ending questions, so instead he clung to it, hoping he’d get the chance to hear something like that coming from only you ever again. 

“Here you go, Will,” you crooned cheerfully, entering the living room with Steve trailing behind you with the paints. 

Will’s eyes lit up with excitement, sitting up on his knees as you two placed the items on the coffee table. You sat beside him while Steve went back to the chair, watching in on you explaining to Will each of the pigments and their properties.

This time he wasn’t doing a lot of listening, his mind still caught up in your words and if it meant what he thought it did. He was going to call you a pretty girl back in the kitchen, that is before Robin and the rest of the gang had stumbled in to stop him.

Was that compliment supposed to be a response to his?

Was what you said even a compliment?

Of course it was…hell you could’ve you said he  reminded you of a golden retriever and he’d take it with pride and brag to everyone that a pretty girl compared him to a cuddly animal.

But was he just maybe reading into it too much?

You were always dishing out compliments to everyone, saying how great and talented they were, but not with the undertone you had spoken to him with. Perhaps he had misheard you and now he was doing all of this overthinking just to end off at the same place you both started, which was friends.

Just friends.

“Steve, could you come with me and Eddie to the kitchen, please?”

Robin and Eddie both stood, looking at him sharply as they shuffled into the kitchen, signaling for Steve to follow their lead.

He furrowed his brows, standing up quickly and heading for the kitchen, “What’s up?” 

“You’re being fucking weird!” Eddie's whisper shouted, pointing an accusing finger at him. 

Steve looked taken aback, looking at his two friends puzzled. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Don’t think I can’t tell when you’re thinking too hard. What’s the matter?” Robin softly prodded, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“W-what? No, I’m fine…I’m just thinking…” He said, avoiding Robin’s knowing eyes as he looked at Eddie instead.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “You keep following her everywhere, yet you’re not making a move. Everyone in that damn living room can feel the tension between you guys.” 

“There is no tension!” Steve claimed quietly, peering back and making sure you still were laser focused on the painting.

He looked back at his two friends, resting his hands on his hips, “I’m being friendly alright. I want to make her feel comfortable and help out the same way she did. That’s all.” 

Robin threw an unconvinced look his way, before gesturing towards Eddie, “When you met Eddie, you made fun of him for nicknaming his guitar sweetheart, it’s not the same.” 

“Because Eddie isn’t a girl!” Steve argued, only causing Eddie to raise a brow, holding a hand over his heart pretending he had just been wounded. 

“Are you saying I’m ugly, Harrington?” 

“Oh my god,” Steve grumbled, rubbing his fingers over his temples. 

Robin reached forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to look at her, “Dude…stop thinking so hard about it. If you like her, just be cool about it. Ask her out if you want. I don’t know…j-just do anything besides what you were doing out there because you looked like you were in pain and it was just weird.”

Did he really looked pained?

Steve blinked, trying to process debating if he wanted to ask Robin if he really looked that bad or for some fucking advice to man up and ask you out already. He didn’t know what he was avoiding, knowing that usually if he liked a girl, he’d just go in and take the shot to ask, but with you, he just couldn’t.

There was too much to lose if something went south.

His thinking was cut short by Eddie who began snapping his fingers, pointing victoriously like he and Robin cracked some sort of secret Russian code or something.

“We were right!” He started poking at Robin’s cheek as she grumbled yet bit back a smile.

Eddie pointed towards Steve again, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face, “What’d I tell you? Harrington is usually so quick to slide on in and ask a girl out and now suddenly he meets a gorgeous down-to-earth-painter-baker-girl and now he’s whipped!”

He drummed his fingers on Robin’s shoulder, making her laugh before turning to her best friend, suddenly bright pink in the cheeks. 

“You must really really like her if you’re not using those god awful pickup lines to make her fall for you.” She said half jokingly. 

Steve shrugged, moving away from the two and instead reached for his tea mug and taking a sip of the now semi-warm liquid. “Maybe…I—I dunno…I just don’t want to rush things because she knows about King Steve and I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.” 

Robin tilted her head, looking apologetic, “She told you I told her about that?” 

He shook his head, looking at her dully, “No, but she did say you said I was charming, which pretty much gives it away…also you’re such a terrible liar.” 

“Am not!” She gasped, lightly punching him in the arm.

Steve didn’t look so convinced, arguing back without hitting her, “Yeah you are!” 

“Fuckin’ kill me,” Eddie sighed, rocking his head at the two. 

“Is everything ok?” Your cool speech came ringing in the small kitchen, making the three of them stutter, trying to not look so suspicious. 

“Y-yeah, fine! Umm, they were just wondering if you had more tea!” Steve lied, turning his eyes back to Robin and widening them, signaling for her to let go of his shoulders, which she did. 

He made his way over to the stove, peeking into the pot that had only a bit of tea left.

“Oh, I can make some more if you’d like?” You responded, moving further into the kitchen to meet Steve at the stove. 

With your back turned to Robin and Eddie, they both motioned their way out of the space to give him more time with you, but not before shooting him a suggestive wink. 

“Uh, no, no need for that. I’ll just take what’s left…Eddie and Robin have ummm, small bladders! I don’t want them complaining the whole way home later.” 

He closed his eyes shut, shaking his head to himself while you attempted to stifle a laugh reaching for his mug and pouring the rest of the tea into his cup. 

“Here you go,” you said, turning to him with his mug filled.

He flashed you an apologetic smile, saying a quiet “thank you” while you shake it off. 

“Need anything else? A snack?” 

His ears heard you loud and clear, but his eyes were stuck on the living room where Eddie and Robin were wildly gesturing their hands in the air, mouthing, “Just do it!”

For my friends to stop being dumbasses is what he wanted to say, but he shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the two friends and giving his sights back to you. 

“No, this is all. Thanks again.” He reassured you, earning a smile as you both walked out of the kitchen and back to the living room. 

Taking your place between Max and Will who were painting, you were able to get a glimpse of the work they had completed for the short time you were gone. Max had wanted to join in after getting tired of the comic she was reading.

“Oh, this is amazing—shoot, I’m so sorry!” 

You weren’t quite sure why you were here apologizing at the fact that Max had accidentally turned towards you with a paintbrush in her hand, smearing gold all over the front of your shirt, but here you were.

“Shit, it’s my fault. I’m so sorry.” The red head said, clutching a hand over her mouth as you shook your head. 

“No, it’s my fault! I shouldn’t have snuck up like that. It’s okay, the paint comes off easily in the wash, I’ll go get changed!” You yelped, getting up and jogging down the hallway into your room.

Max turned to Steve, glaring at him.

“Really? Eddie and Robin have small bladders? That’s the best excuse you came up with?” 

He scratched the back of his neck, leaning forward, “W-what?” 

“Max just bought us some time to tell you how weird you’re being.” Lucas smirked, glancing at Max who looked proud of her quick idea.

Dustin snorted in agreement, finally tearing his eyes away from his comic, “If you’re gonna keep staring at her and following her around like a minion you might as well as her out!”

“I’m not asking her out on a date with all of you here!” Steve countered, staring at all of his friends like they were insane.

Robin rolled her eyes, looking at Nancy, then him, “You asked Nancy to have six kids that time we went road tripping a few years ago. What difference does that make now?” 

Mike groaned, covering his face in discomfort remembering overhearing that conversation. “I didn’t have to be reminded of my sister hypothetically having six babies with Steve.”

Jonathan snapped his eyes to Nancy who widened her eyes at Robin, “When was this?” He asked. 

Nancy shook her head, brushing him off, “A long time ago, so it doesn’t matter. And they’re right, you and her obviously have chemistry, so why not just stop wasting time and get it over with?”

“No, we don’t,” Steve shook his head, not sounding as convincing as he’d like. 

Nance tilted her head, giving him those doubtful eyes, “Really? Do you actually believe that for one second?”

“You keep following her around like a lovesick puppy.” Jonathan admitted, forgetting about the stupid six children thing and saving it for another day, seeing as though Steve really expected that they all couldn’t see right through you and him. 

“Every time I look over at her to see if I’m doing something right, you’re in my peripheral ogling at her like a piece of art.” Will responded, tearing his eyes away from his canvas. 

“It’s kinda cute.” El said with a giddy smile. 

“She’s always smiling at you for some reason.” Max continued. 

“Which is funny considering that you’re not that pretty to look at,” Eddie quipped, earning a scowl from Harrington. 

Robin rolled her eyes at the men’s consistent banter, knowing she had to work fast before you came back out.

“What we’re trying to say is that she clearly likes you and you like her. You can try denying how you feel, but we know how you get when you start crushing on a girl, so don’t think your lying is going to fool any of us.”

She told him, which would've been reassuring, but asking a girl out in front of a crowd of people wasn’t something that sounded like a good time for him or you. It was just going to put you in that sticky spot with all the attention and most likely to say yes to save him the embarrassment.

He couldn’t do that to you.

“Well, I’m still not asking her out with you guys down my throat. Her and I are just friends. I need to get to know her first. Hell, I don’t even know what her favorite color is or if she likes sports? These are things I should know before I ask a girl out!”

Who was Steve kidding and when did he start caring about frivolous shit like that? You and him could have nothing in common and still he would fawn over you and snowball this crush into something more. Even going as far to turn himself into Picasso's reincarnation if that would make you like him better. 

“I’m back!” You grinned, sauntering down the corridor sporting none other than a cropped Red Sox t-shirt. 

Steve’s favorite team, of course. 

Eddie grunted, already on the tip of making a subtle note, just to see if he was right.

“Nice shirt, but didn’t they lose—“

“Oh, don’t even get me started! The game was totally rigged and if Buckner didn’t mess up that inning, Boston would’ve taken that championship home.” You said intensely, taking your seat between Max and Will once again. 

Everyone’s eyes turned to Steve’s, watching them muddle with even more affection than before. You were his total dream girl. He knew it, and so did everyone else.

“Everything alright?” You chuckled after the short seconds of silence. 

Grunts and hums came from everybody attempting to not fixate their gaze solely between you and Steve, but it was a bit tough considering the stare that Steve had locked on you. 

“Peachy, just trying to remember that date because it was so memorable, and I wished that someone here would make a move and remember it.”

Robin emphasized her words sharply, snapping her fingers to get Steve’s attention in order for him to stop staring at you before you caught him.

Eddie joined in, coughing loudly to “clear” his throat only stopping when Steve finally snapped his eyes away from you.

“Yeah, you know what’s so funny about dates is that they mark something special and really help solidly the—“ 

You lifted your eyes from Will’s painting just in time as Steve shook it off the stare.

“October 27th 1986 but the series went from October 18th through the 27th if we want to get specific.” 

Holy fuck. Holy shit. Holy Mother Of God.

“I—I gotta go to the bathroom!” Steve spat out speedily, resting his mug on the cramped coffee table and shooting up. 

You creased your brows together, watching him trudge down the hallway, clumsily, “The first door on your right—“ 

“Right! Yep! Got it!” He called out, reaching for the handle and nearly propelling himself through the door and slamming it shut. 

You tilted your head, letting out a grunt before turning your eyes to Robin, “I—Is he okay?”

She nodded with a broad smile, sitting up from the couch and knocking Eddie’s arm with her elbow, “He’s actually the one with a small bladder so…yenno, when nature calls am I right?” 

“He and the toilet are gonna be awhile, a date if you will,” Eddie snorted, making you choke on a laugh before giving them a slow head nod and turning your attention back to Will and Max. 

This was by the far the longest time Steve had ever spent staring at himself in the mirror for something not related to his looks. This time around, he was staring for another reason, trying to find the Steve within him that would actually pull the trigger and ask you out already. It was clear as day that he liked you. He didn’t need anymore confirmation of it, he knew his feelings.

But he also knew you were worth more than this and more than the old Steve. 

The old Steve could easily swoon you with a pickup line and flirty eyes: the King Steve that you had heard about from Robin. But that wasn’t who Steve was anymore and it sure as hell wasn’t the version of himself he wanted to be when he was with you.

He wanted to be better, to show you that you actually did deserve someone with character within them. Even after all this improvement and trying to actually search for a relationship that consisted of love rather than just sex, he didn’t know if he was good enough for you. If you’d even want to go on a date with him. 

He wouldn’t know if he didn’t take a chance. 

But what if all you wanted was to be friends? 

Would that ruin your friendship with Robin? 

Could you possibly imagine yourself ever being friends with her again after her best friend made a pass at you?

He liked you, but he loved Robin and knew this friendship meant a lot to her. The last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize it because of a crush even if Robin was fully in support of it.

Maybe you and him were supposed to be just friends. 

“Steve! Dude, c’mon we gotta go.” Dustin’s voice came from the outside of the door, knocking firmly against the wood. 

He furrowed his brows, unlocking the door and pulling it open, “Go? Go where? We just got here.” 

Dustin sighed, gesturing back to the living room where you were helping the others clean up, “Nance called home and Mrs. Wheeler said that Holly had an allergic reaction. We gotta get home ASAP!” 

“So why can’t Nancy and Mike go home and we stay?” Steve hissed more harshly than intended. 

The boy shook his head in incredulity, crossing his arms over his chest, “Need I remind you we drove here in Eddie’s van? We all need to leave together or else you’re stranded in Roane, but by the sound of it, you wouldn’t mind at all.” 

Dustin wore a knowing sneer while Steve bit down on his tongue, not really wanting to lash out on the kid who was pointing out the very obvious feelings that he did a horrible job at hiding. 

“C’mon lover boy, we got a hive covered six-year-old who needs the hospital and we gotta house sit for a few hours.” Dustin said, finally patting Steve on the arm before turning on his heel and heading back to the living room. 

He followed closely behind, seeing everyone begin the file out the door where you hugged each of them. 

“I hope everything is ok with your sister! Please, just don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything I can do to help!”

You tightly wrapped your arms around Nance, closing your eyes as you rubbed her back affectionately and heard her murmur a “thank you so much,” before pulling away. 

“Bye! Thanks for having us, again!” Dustin saluted with a toothy grin before you giggled and hugged him. 

Steve was the last one left in the doorway with you, keeping his hands to his side not knowing if he should open up to hug you first or not. 

“Oh! Hold on, don’t go anywhere. I gotta give you something!” You pointed your finger at him and jogged through your apartment into your room, coming out a few seconds later with his yellow pullover folded neatly in your hands. 

You held it out to him, wearing a smile on your face. “I washed it and ironed out the wrinkles. Sorry if it smells like honeysuckle, it’s just the detergent I use!” 

His heart ached even more knowing this thing would smell like you until the next time it’d be washed. Only fueling the crush he had and taking every ounce in his body not to jump at the opportunity to tell you how down to earth you were and how much he’d like to take you out on a date if you’d let him. But instead, he could only muster out a few sentences. 

“T-thanks! I won’t mind at all…and thanks for having us over, even if it was only for a little.” He laughed, watching you shake your head. 

“No, it was really fun having your guys over, and umm, I invited everyone to come to my art gallery this weekend, and it would really mean a lot if you could make it, if you’re free.” You said tenderly, rubbing your hand over your opposite arm watching a smile break on his face. 

He nodded, “I’m free this weekend so I’ll definitely be there.” 

“Thanks! Robin has the directions and whatnot.” You spoke, nodding your head as you both stood there for a second totally forgetting that he had to go until Eddie beeped his horn. 

You snapped out of your stance, instantly apologizing, “Shit, sorry! Okay, I’ll see you!’ 

Steve wasn’t at all prepared for your arms to wrap around his neck, hugging him closely, feeling your breath fan again his skin as he hurriedly draped his arms across your back, squeezing you tight, “Y-yeah! See you then…” 

Pulling away from Steve felt difficult just as hard as it would be knowing that you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while. It didn’t help that you and him didn’t get to speak as much as you’d like because you really wanted to get to know him more. To ask him about life in Hawkins and how he liked Roane so far.

It just didn’t help that you felt like you crossed a line after telling Steve that he was “pretty sweet himself.” 

Was that too forward of you? 

Maybe it was too corny? 

Did it throw him off? 

It probably did throw him off. It had to have been that. After you replied with that sad excuse of what was supposed to be a compliment, Steve started acting weird. Strolling off to the kitchen with Robin and Eddie, probably telling them all about how you sucked at flirting. Even excusing himself to the bathroom in a haste when he clearly didn’t have to use it.

For a minute, you thought that you really did blow your chances with him, but it all drifted away when you caught the smile and wave that he threw at you from the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. 

He looked happy, yet sad to be taking off, kinda like how you looked after needing to leave the Harrington house. You just didn’t want to get your hopes up living for something that had a small probable chance of ever coming to life. There was no telling what mood you and Steve would be feeling the next time you saw each other, and you didn’t want to jinx it before it was too late.

You just closed the door, pressing your back against the wood knowing that everything in your system was dying for the moment you and Steve would see each other next.

For now, you’d have to pad across your apartment thinking about him wherever you strayed, wishing he was following close behind like he always was. But he wasn’t.

The only trace he left behind was his scent lingering in the air and the strawberry cup that was yours, but you didn’t mind if it belonged to him now.

Truly, you were screwed, living for the hope of it all.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated 💌

a/n: chapter one is here!!! ive been working on this for a while and was actually supposed to make this series only 3 parts but i love it so much (and tumblr is laggy lately) that i wanted to split them up into more parts and ill also be opening my inbox to blurbs for what im coining "glitch universe" very soon!!! i hope you all love this chapter and stick around for the rest!! a big thanks to effie again for helping me proof-read and hyping me up through all this!!!! happy reading to all!!!!! 🍰🍓🧸

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 1: I Once Had a Different Path

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"

Summary: It's only been a year.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: T, discussions of a bad relationship, drinking, little bit of angst, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Welcome back to Westworld Whiskey! Almost the moment I finished Cognitive Dissonance the idea for this fic leapt into my head, and I've been trying to figure it all out since! The outpouring of love for this story makes me unreasonably giddy, and I am so excited to share what Jack and Sugar have been up to.

This story takes place exactly a year after the events of Cognitive Dissonance. Honestly, the Westworld timeline is confusing as heck, and so much happens that the public wouldn't know or see, so in terms of the show it's taking place after the fall of the Delos theme parks early in season 3. I'm taking some liberties with how Westworld and the world around it works, but we should all have a good time because of it. For those not as familiar with later seasons, the "real world" takes place in 2053 in a modern futuristic setting.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The glow of sun on your back, baking into your skin and spreading golden through your limbs, makes today feel like a really freaking good day. You’re wearing your favorite outfit, your shoes are comfy on your feet, and the air is just warm enough that you don’t have to wear a heavy jacket. When the door to the coffee shop schicks open, the uplifting scent of dark roast and cinnamon sugar practically dances on your tongue.

Strike that. A fantastic day.

Lacey is already at her favorite sitting spot, a low table with two high-backed armchairs jammed in a corner far from the automated baristas and hiss of milk froth. She catches sight and waves, bright peony pink in her chiffon dress. Curled in the chair she’s akin to neapolitan ice cream, and just as cool when she gestures to your waiting cup. Not before jumping up to give you a hug, though.

“I’m so glad to see you! It’s been too long!” she exclaims, a sentiment you’ve often heard from long-lost acquaintances but Lacey puts every ounce of honesty behind it. You give her another squeeze before settling in your proffered chair, cradling the thick retro ceramic mug in your hands.

“Well you’ve been pretty busy, Mrs. Hughes,” you sing-song, back, knocking your shoes off so you can settle more comfortably. “How was the honeymoon? The photos were gorgeous.”

You descend into vacation chatter, looking at photos on Lacey’s phone and laughing over whatever little anecdote she shares. The coffee buzzes pleasantly in your veins, bittersweet on your tongue. The sun streams in the café window and drapes warmth across your shoulders again. 

It feels like the perfect day.

"How's married life treating you?"

Lacey smiles, bright enough to crinkle her whole face, and the radiance of it blooms in your chest.

"Not much different really, which is probably for the best," she says, taking another sip of her coffee. You're prepared to ask her something else, some follow-up question, when she reaches over and squeezes your hand.

"You look really good, too," she says, her eyes softening. "I know it was hard, with the wedding and everything going on with Eric at the same time, but...you look so much happier."

Your throat tightens, but it's a welcome feeling for once.

"I am. Much happier."

She’s right. It was hard. Once you were alone with your thoughts, your decision made, all of the terrifying reality had crashed down on you. You’d sobbed in your car, half curled in the driver's seat, trying to will yourself to go inside and face Eric. 

It didn’t get any better once you finally did. The shouting, the accusations, the tears, and shockingly a chair kicked against the wall so hard it left an ugly dent. He never laid a hand on you, but the anger raked across your pounding heart, the cruelty sinking into your flesh like teeth. You grabbed just enough of your things to escape, his bellowing voice following you as your hands shook.

What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?

What the hell did Lacey say to you?

Are you fucking serious? 

After all I’ve done for us?

I can’t believe you’re being so selfish.

What has gotten into you?

The words echoed between your ears while you laid in your motel room bed, too raw and ashamed to call anyone for a place to stay. You woke stiff and silent and achingly alone, and regret welled in your throat.

Were you being stupid? Were you giving up the life you were supposed to have?

But then the day passed, hours spent driving aimlessly with the radio on low, long walks on bike paths lost in your thoughts. And while failure burned behind your eyes, the dreaded whispers of why didn’t you try harder creeping into your brain, the vice grip in your chest began to unwind. A lightness you hadn’t felt in years began lifting your shoulders, your head, even the corners of your mouth. 

The neverending ache was finally gone. 

You slept better that night, and in the morning you called Lacey. She drove out to pick you up, her tight embrace ushering in a new flood of tears. 

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry,” is all she says at first, rocking you back and forth like when you were both young and upset about a schoolyard fight. Then more pointed questions, her face hardening as you detail the slow descent into unhappiness you’d been hiding from her for years.

“He never did anything bad. I just…I couldn’t…” You struggled to voice all the fears that still lingered until she squeezed your hands.

“He didn’t have to treat you badly to not treat you the way you wanted. And if he can’t change, or doesn’t want to change, then this isn’t right for you.”

A fresh wave of tears followed the well-worn tracks down your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She rubbed at your face with a crumpled tissue.

“Everything is going to be okay.’

It took a few days before the tornado of Lacey’s true feelings pulled to the forefront. Later she’d tell you she barely kept her cool while you cried in her living room, Alan instructing her to punch it out at the gym rather than overwhelm you. But barely settled into your temporary housing, she rang you in the middle of the day. 

“We’re getting your stuff.”

“What…?”

“Eric is at work, Alan did a drive-by and checked. He’s waiting with the truck. I’m picking you up and we’re getting your things, then we’re going to leave your key on the table and never go back.”

She was chatting in low tones with Alan when you answered the door, face lined with concern. The stern expression melted into dismay when she took in your tired eyes and sloped shoulders.

“That motherfucker should be ashamed of himself for doing this to you,” she spits out, crushing you into a hug that almost suffocates you.

“Lace, I was the one…” you tried to say, but she cut you off with a sharp chop of her hand.

“I’ve got plenty to say about Eric and what I think about him when everything settles, but I’ll tell you this - I fucking hate him for making you feel like this. And we’re going to get your things and never see him again.”

So you did, emptying your drawers and shared closet - always less room allocated for you than him. Lacey shuffled through mail and tossed in anything that had your name on it in a bankers box. Later you’d have to disentangle your lives, but for now you could take solace in having your toiletries back, and placing your photos and family heirlooms safe in Alan’s truck. He helped move your grandmother’s hope chest into the truck bed, and silently drove as Lacey let you lean on her shoulder. Your childhood stuffed dog sat in your lap, and its gentle weight gave you a moment of relief.

Eric’s shouting through the phone later that night sliced across your chest, but only for a brief moment. You’d left the ring on the counter, and that thankfully shut him up.

The following months had been a blur of canceled engagements, severed services, broken agreements and bitter voicemails. Eric tried a few times to entice you back, forgiving you for having cold feet and wanting to get dinner, coffee, to talk. Your heart tugged at the softness in his voice.

We can still make this work.

But then the cold reality of the situation crept in. He wanted the picture-perfect life he thought he deserved. He wanted to have everything without working for it. And most of all, he wanted you to be grateful for him giving you everything he thought you deserved. Not what you wanted, but what he decided you should want.

That was never going to change.

Lacey and Alan helped where they could, but you didn’t want to taint the excitement of their upcoming nuptials. So you told them you were fine and signed a lease on a modest apartment while you picked out the barbs of Eric’s latest outburst. You picked out a dress for her wedding and were secretly grateful that she didn’t make you a bridesmaid. You didn’t think you’d be able to keep it together in front of all her family and friends. You drank too much champagne and considered a tumble with one of Alan’s single friends but instead threw up in your hotel room toilet and woke up fully clothed on top of the bed. The first thought that greeted you once you could see through your headache was, “Thank fuck I’m not getting married.”

The giggles were sharp against your sore stomach, but with that you finally felt something in you begin healing.

“...and I know I wasn’t around as much as I could have been, and it kills me that you were going through it alone, and on my bachelorette for crying out loud, how insensitive was that…”

Lacey’s diatribe brings you back to the café and your cooling coffee and Lacey’s earnest grip on your hand. You shush her with a few squeezes.

“You were a big part of why I finally got up the courage to leave. And I am so fucking glad I did,” you say, earning another smile that glitters with morning light. 

“I think someone else also had some influence,” Lacey says, looking pointedly over her cup as she takes an innocent sip. Your brow furrows briefly before the implication of her tone slams into your chest.

Jack.

“That was a year ago…holy shit, today,” Lacey exclaims, twisting her wrist to verify on her smart watch. 

“Wow, yeah,” you say weakly, swirling the dregs of coffee in your cup.

Yet again, Lacey isn’t wrong. Jack did open your eyes to a world that could offer the care and comfort you were yearning for. But you’d been forced to push memories of him to the back of your mind. 

Weeks after the breakup, with Lacey lying on your brand new bed in your half-empty apartment, you told her about your weekend with the suave yet gentle cowboy. She interjected with excited “I knew it!” and “Holy shit yes!” exclamations as you recounted the cattle run, the innocent lie, the dinner, and the lust-filled night (heavily redacted, met with disappointment). Once the story was told you laid beside each other, silence stretching until she finally said, “I’m so happy Jack helped you realize you deserve more.”

So were you.

“Did you ever think about booking another weekend?” Lacey asks, placing her cup down so she can more fully watch you, playful smirk making you roll your eyes. “I mean, before all the stuff in the news about them.”

Guests injured in the park. A veil of silence and NDAs falling over Delos. An uncertain return.

You chew on your answer for a moment. It’s easy to chalk up not going back to the current state of the park, but in recent weeks you had been thinking more and more about Jack. Maybe it was some old movie you caught late at night, horses riding across gloriously wide plains. A cowboy hat or two you swore you saw in a crowd, only to be tricked by perspective and light. Strong, broad silhouettes that reminded you of large hands, a clever mouth, a warm embrace.

Tell her the truth.

“No,” you finally sigh, putting your cup down a little firmly.

You couldn’t.

“Why not?”

“It’s all fantasy, I’m not into that more than once.”

You couldn’t bear to see him again.

“Not even a little more fantasy with a certain cowboy?” Her eyes drop to your left hand, and you realize you’ve been slowly rotating the turquoise band she gave you on your ring finger. When you returned the engagement ring it became a comforting weight replacing what you’d given up. You fold them instead under Lacey’s watchful eye.

“It’s not real,” is the excuse you give.

He’s not real, and you can’t have him.

Lacey shrugs, looking at the time again and gathering up her coat.

“Real enough that you changed your whole life over it,” she observes, not unkindly. You stand up as she gathers her purse.

“It was a perfect weekend. Going back would have ruined it.” 

Him not remembering you would have ruined it.

Lacey sighs but acquiesces, giving you a hug and confirming your next coffee date in a couple weeks. They’ve become a sweet schedule you look forward to more than you thought.

Once she breezes out the door, all summer blush and cosmopolitan chic, you join the line to get a coffee to go. The machine at work is dismal, and you’d much rather spend the four dollars. You enter your order on the cool blue holoscreen and step to the side to wait. The warmth of a good conversation bubbles in your veins, a beam of sunlight caressing your back. Even the brief memory of Jack you allow - his hands soft on your skin, the tender brush of his nose on your cheek, how safe you felt in his arms - fills your heart to bursting. A smile plumps your cheek. Today really is an exceptional day.

But oddly enough, your toes are wet. 

Looking down, you can’t help but let out an exasperated, “Oh c’mon you idiot,” as you realize you didn’t put your shoes back on, and have now stepped in someone’s spilled beverage. So maybe not the perfect day, but you’re close enough to home to swing by and grab a new pair of socks. Shaking your head, you spin on your heel to retrieve your abandoned shoes.

You could have done it a breath sooner, or later, and never been the wiser. Or you could have kept your damn shoes on - do we live in a barn, your mother’s voice echoes in your ears - and avoided the issue in the first place. But today, on an exceptionally perfect day, you turn and take a step just as someone passes behind you, propelling your frame into their broader form. You almost bounce, but the stranger catches you by your shoulders, large firm palms wrapping around your biceps.

“Whoa there,” a deep voice says, laced with a southern drawl. It tickles something in your brain, neurons firing at memories close to the surface. 

“Shit, sorry,” you mumble, stepping back to apologize properly to the man you almost bowled over. As your eyes begin their ascent the voice is clearer, sharp as a bullwhip crack.

“You okay Sugar?”

Your breath freezes in your throat, eyes snapping to the man’s face. He swims in your vision before the soft curl of his brown hair, the delicate trim of his mustache, the hawkish curve to his nose comes into focus. If that wasn’t enough for your short-circuiting brain to manage, his plush lips part in concern, deep chocolate eyes darting across your face.

Jack?

“I - oh,” he says, his grip tightening on your shoulders. You wrench back, stumbling a half step away, still locked on his face.

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack

People are looking at you now, agape and struggling to pull in a full breath, your brain tumbling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

Can’t be.

Jack.

Not real.

Jack.

How?

Jack.

“I can explain…”

Then the whole world shifts, and you’re falling.

NEXT