#Thatcher park

[b4rk1ng-l0t]

Eve and Sarah

Ruth and Thatcher

Mark and Dave

Adam and Jonah and Cesar

[meravalemoi]

this took an hour

[frixey]

life is roblox

[hollywoodfamerp]

UNFOLLOW (5+ DAYS OF INACTIVITY: THE FOLLOWING HAVE BEEN REOPENED)

Bruna Marquezine ( @brunamrqzn )

Jake Gyllenhaal ( @jakeygyllen )

Kaia Gerber ( @kaia-gerbcr )

Natalie Portman ( @natportmn )

Park Soo-Young (Joy) ( @soovelvetjoy )*AT PLAYERS REQUEST

Perrie Edwards ( @pez-edwrdz )

Sophie Thatcher ( @sthatcherz )

Sydney Sweeney ( @sydney--sweenxy )

WARNING (3 - 4 DAYS OF BEING INACTIVE/INCONSISTENT ACTIVITY)

Kylie Jenner ( @kyliejcnncr )

Paul Mescal ( @mcscals )

BUBBLE WARNING (DO NOT UNFOLLOW)

Josephine Skriver. ( @josie-skriver )

Makia Monroe ( @maikeymonroe )

*Inconsistent activity, only answering memes, signing on the day before an activity check, reblogging/posting social media and photos do not count as activity. Bubble warning is for members who fall under what HFRP considers to be bubble rping. Further explanation of bubble rping is defined in our rules.

Those who have been unfollowed are more than welcome to return! You have 24 hours to message us via ask box POLITELY if you’d like to reclaim your character before it officially gets reopened. Don’t forget, if you feel like you need to step away - you can always ask for a hiatus!

[tvmilfs]

Maybe I am delulu or biased but I truly believe simone deserves an emmy nom

[ehj3]

OVERPASSED

“Not every problem someone has with his girlfriend is necessarily due to the capitalist mode of production” —Herbert Marcuse What if we are (were?) all communists at 20 years of age, free-loving free-thinking hippies. But by age 40 we have become capitalist worker-bee debt-slaves. Our 20-something anthems “One for all, all for one,” “Power to the people,” even “Love is all you need,” have become…

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Hey hi hello to any fellow Brits reading this.

You probably know we have a general election coming up, which by the way, make sure you're registered to vote and have the qualifying photo ID.

And hey maybe you're a fence-sitter who doesn't want to vote for Labour for whatever reason.

Well, this post is giving you a reason to vote for Labour (or any party other than Tory if the candidate actually has a chance to win the seat).

You might have noticed that a lot of local and city councils have either gone bankrupt recently or are teetering on the edge, and that officially, it's the councils themselves that have been blamed, and uh yeah, that's horseshit.

The majority of a local council's funding comes from core grants given out by Westminster.

There's actually a limit on funding that local councils can raise via taxes, and like a whole lot of issues in the UK, that comes down to Margaret fucking Thatcher. It's also thanks to her that local councils don't have as much power over the local area as you'd ideally want them to.

(That's been eased a little since, but if a local council ain't got the money, they can't exercise that power.)

Suffice to say, local councils are very much dependent on funding from the central government.

And as you might imagine, 14 years of Tory government has just made it worse. From 2010 to 2020, that funding was cut by 40%.

Wanna know why hundreds of libraries have closed down? Or why public services like bin collections are almost entirely ran by corporations? Or why bin collections are now once a fortnight rather than once a week? Or why council houses haven't been built? Or why public toilets are being closed? Or why you have to Tokyo Drift on the drive to work because it's been 2 years and no one's done shit about that goddamn pothole? Or why parks seem to now be maintained by Big Foot and by the way Big Foot has also declared bankruptcy? Or why local arts have had their budget of 17 paperclips and a whistle reduced down to 10 paperclips and no whistle? Or why your local museum is effectively a mausoleum?

It is all down to this.

Your local council runs on a shoestring budget because Tory rule has deprived local councils of the funding that they need.

If the Tories win in July, this problem is just gonna get worse and worse and worse.

More councils are going to go bankrupt; more public services are going to be cut or underfunded; more vulnerable kids are going to fall through the cracks; more local services will be privatised; more pressing issues will be ignored because there's no money left over to fix it.

You might not like the current Labour party, but hi hello welcome to harm reduction politics. Maybe a Labour government won't fix this, but another 5 years of Tory rule is going to break this country.

So for god's sake, get over yourself and your leftist purity bullshit, and just fucking vote for Labour as a vote against the Tories.

[Information for this post comes from this video by Tom Nicholas]

[wintfleur]

𓈒 ୭ৎ ˖˙ ᰋ ── SHE’LL GET YOU LOVESTONED !

aka rosa’s profile

━━━ ❛ why you so obsessed with me? boy, I wanna know

ᡣ𐭩 BASICS .ᐟ

name: rosalie grace hughes 

nicknames:

rosa (everyone) 

rosie (close friends & family) 

alie (parents) 

grace (parents)

ro (brothers) 

nerd (jack) 

rosie posey (cole) 

birthday and zodiac: february 11th 2002, aquarius 

age: 22 

location: 

orlando, florida (born) 

toronto, canada (former) 

ann arbor, michigan 

multiple different places for acting 

montreal, québec canada (currently) 

ᡣ𐭩 APPEARANCE  .ᐟ

eye color: brown 

hair color: brown 

hair styles: rosa has naturally wavy hair so she likes keeping it down, she rarely curls or straightens it. She likes having her hair in ponytails, braids, messy buns or pigtails. But she normally just likes having her hair down. 

height: 5’5 

scars: none 

piercing(s): both of her front lobes 

tattoo(s): none 

face claim: martyna balsam (sometimes madison beer in smau’s) 

ᡣ𐭩 ABOUT  .ᐟ

personality: rosa has a very playful and charming personality, she has that personality that just makes you naturally drawn to her. She's often described as laidback, flirty, friendly, kind, sarcastic and hardworking and someone who is never afraid to speak their mind.  rosa can be very extroverted around the people she is comfortable with and can be very silly and playful, but she can also be very introverted and quiet. She cares deeply for the people she loves and is always there for them. She is very family and friend oriented and likes being around people. 

good traits: passionate, hard-working, reliable, family oriented, comforting, witty, 

bad traits: holds grudges, self-critical, too bold at times, emotional when tired

quirks: pouts and tilts head when confused, rolls eyes, touchy with people she's comfortable with, flirts, casually dominate, never losing the idgaf war, rambling about her books she's reading, fidgeting with her jewelry 

likes: christmas, rain and the smell of rain, buying candles, scary movies, cold weather, coloring, natural sunlight, her Nintendo switch, miniskirts, beating her brothers when they play hockey together, naps, playing the piano, making playlists, f1, snoopy

dislikes: rude people, inpatient people, vegetables, not being able to fall asleep on long flights, losing to her brothers at video games, people being surprised that she's really smart just because she's pretty 

hobbies: drawing, reading, dancing, baking, skating, running, pilates, video games, traveling 

fears: clowns, spiders, snakes, tight spaces, the dentist

strengths: confident, creative, helpful, organized, ambitious 

weaknesses: having a healthy sleep schedule, eating vegetables, her anxiety 

languages spoken: english (fluent) french (fluent) 

occupation/profession: model/influencer, fashion design student at mcgill university, and actress 

ambition/dream: to have her own clothing line 

current concern: convincing cole that they should get another kitty

currently listening to: São Paulo - The Weeknd ft. Anitta

ᡣ𐭩 RELATIONSHIPS  .ᐟ

parents:

jim hughes 

ellen weinberg-hughes 

sibling(s):

quinn hughes

jack hughes 

luke hughes 

best friends: lorelai maddox carrington, elijah park, alex turcotte, trevor zegras, finn wolfhard, sophie thatcher, sadie sink, bianca dela luna

friends: the rest of the habs, vinnie hacker, matthew knies, jamie drysdale, matt boldy, william nylander, jake neighbours, stranger things cast, the outer banks cast, yellowjackets cast, twisters cast, fear street cast, billie eilish, mark lee

love interest: cole caufield 

pet(s): a kitty named ollie

ᡣ𐭩 MORE .ᐟ

scent: rosa has always had a sensitive nose with fragrances, so she's always stuck with a few signature perfumes. Her chosen few are, chanel coco mademoiselle,  calvin klein euphoria, parfums de marly paris. 

outfits: rosa’s big three for her outfits are, any type of skirts (preferably a miniskirt), low rise jeans and boots/platforms. rosa always tries to look her best and be presentable and she's honestly slightly obsessed with shopping, so she has a large wardrobe, not just from shopping but also from sponsors/modeling. If she's going for comfort, she likes to wear mom jeans, sweatpants, jean or cloth shorts, fleece pullovers, hoodies, sweaters, cardigans etc. For everyday clothing, she likes wearing jeans, skirts, baby tees, button down cropped blouses, long sleeves, sundresses. For special occasions, she likes wearing shorter dresses with tights, or slacks with corset tops.  

accessories: rosa mostly accessories with bags, sunglasses/non prescription glasses, jewelry, and headwear. Such as, headbands, hair clips and pins, baseball caps, berets, bucket hats. She likes including ear muffs, scarves, leg and arm warmers. She’s very creative with wearing accessories but it really all just depends on her outfit. She loves bags like she has a large collection of them, mostly prada, coach and christian dior bags. With her larger bags she likes having cute little keychains addons, and with her smaller bags she likes tying bows and having smaller keychains on them. She also loves getting her nails done, she prefers when they are short and she likes almond nails the most. 

jewelry: she enjoys both silver and gold but mostly leans into gold. Again it really depends on the outfit she is wearing. She doesn't like overusing jewelry and having a lot on at a time, especially with her everyday life. She likes having a few bracelets and a thin watch on, a few rings and of course a necklace and her earrings. She has a lot of different types of rings, mostly vintage ones. Her favorite jewelry pieces are her mood ring, her charm bracelet, her pendant necklace, and her lucky gold hoops. 

makeup: rosa isn't the biggest fan of having makeup on, especially on her face because it makes her feel uncomfortable. She's a big fan of curling her eyelashes and using mascara, and eyeliner (on her waterline as well) . She likes using a little blush but her cheeks are naturally rosey so she normally uses blush in the winter, maybe sometimes even a little highlighter. She does always have something on her lips, lip gloss, lipstick or lip tint, mostly pinks and nude shades. 

sexuality: bisexual 

ᡣ𐭩 FAVORITES .ᐟ

food(s): blueberries, any fruit really, pancakes, granola bars, white cheddar cheezits, pasta, chicken wings 

drink(s): sprite, cherry sprite, redbull 

color(s): earth tones 

animal(s): bears, cats & bunnies 

bands and artist: the weeknd, avril lavigne, lana del rey, marina and the diamonds, lady gaga, gwen stefani, cassie 

show(s): the vampire diaries, outer range, gossip girl, supernatural 

movie(s): christmas with the kranks, bratz, harry potter, lord of the rings, step up series, twilight series

person: cole and luke

ᡣ𐭩 BACKGROUND .ᐟ

rosalie hughes was born on a beautiful day in orlando florida 

initially ellen and jim were told by the doctors that rosalie was going to be a boy, and it wasn't until late in the pregnancy when the doctors realized that they were wrong. 

the family were extremely happy to be having a girl though, especially quinn! 

growing up rosalie was very much a daddy’s and mommy’s girl, she was very attached to her parents, never wanting to be away from them. 

when rosa was 5 she was put in ballet and she continued to dance all the way until she was 15, ballet, jazz, contemporary and modern. 

rosa was introduced to modeling when she was 14 

but when she was 8 and until she was 14 she played hockey, but she stopped because she wanted to focus on modeling and acting 

rosa found her love for fashion designing when she was 15, through modeling and acting 

when she was 13 rosa made her debut in acting as a main character in stranger things season one, playing the younger sister of steve harrington 

through middle school and highschool she was apart of her theater club

rosa skipped a year in highschool so she graduated the same year as jack 

in the summer of 2019 rosa started filming for outer banks, acting as a main character for the show, playing as John B's younger sister. 

rosa moved to montreal when she was 18 for college, quickly became the top student in all of her classes 

in november of 2019, rosa filmed the pilot of yellowjackets in los angeles, but the filming was put on hold because of covid-19, then in spring of 2021 she filmed the rest of the first season as a main character 

she was part of the trilogy fear street movies as a main character 

in the summer of 2023 she filmed twisters, she was a main character, and portrayed the younger sister of tyler owens 

in June of 2023 she started filming as a main character in gladiator 2

ᡣ𐭩 FUN FACTS  .ᐟ

rosa is very popular on instagram and tiktok, having 48 million subscribers on instagram and 29 million on her tiktok. 

rosa absolutely loves reading, she has said multiple times that her books are her babies 

rosa used to have a big crush on matthew tkachuk, something her brothers and brady loved to tease her about. 

rosa is at the top of her fashion designing classes, shes very talented at it

rosa loves exploring her creativity, through fashion, dance and different types of art. 

rosa walked at the 2024 victoria secret fashion show 

when rosa played hockey her position was center 

rosa’s celebrity crushes are, channing tatum, miles teller, and hailee steinfeld

rosa was quick to dominate in the modeling world, winning a few awards. 

she loves living by herself and having her independence, but she gets homesick often 

she loves cat and dogs equally 

jack likes to teasingly call her a nerd because she loves to study and learn��

rosa loves studying and learning new things, she's always been an academic weapon 

rosa has a private twitter account where she posts the most random things on it 

she loves cooking and baking, cooking and baking for people is one of her love languages 

rosa has many celebrity friends from modeling and acting 

because of her acting and modeling career she does do lot of her college schooling online

rosa is very loved by the media / public, her interviews etc. always get millions of views 

she travels a lot because of acting and modeling

she's very attached to her ipad and her nintendo switch, like those are her babies 

she loves stickers, she loves putting them on things, she's known for being a sticker lover 

elijah park, who is one of rosa’s best friends, is one of her neighbors in her apartment building. they met in college in one of her fashion designing classes and instantly clicked 

rosa’s friend mark lee is in a kpop group, nct. They met when they were kids in Canada and became even closer as the years went on

one of rosa’s best friend lorelai (who is the oc of @winterbarnesblog) is dating arber so they met through him 

on the stranger things cast rosa is the closest to, finn wolfhard, sadie sink and joe keery 

on the outer banks cast rosa is the closest to, drew starkly, madelyn cline and jonathan daviss 

on the yellowjackets cast rosa is the closest to, sophie thatcher, courtney eaton, sophie nélisse and ella purnell 

on the fear street cast rosa is the closest to, sadie sink, maya hawke and emily rudd 

on the twisters cast rosa is the closest to, glen powell and daisy edgar-jones 

on the gladiator cast she is the most closest too, Joseph Quinn, Fred hechinger and Pedro pascal

there are so many pictures of her asleep in a chair taken by her cast mates 

she gets babied a lot by like eveyrone

she talks to her parents every single day 

she hates having unread notifications, the red dots stress her out 

she gets so flustered wherever she's put on the big screen at the hockey games she goes to 

she thrives on being busy 

her favorite f1 team is mclaren 

mark estapa has the biggest crush on her, he's like a lovesick puppy whenever he's around her and it drives her brothers crazy, especially luke because mark is always asking him about her 

juraj slafkovský is her son, she unofficially adopted him

her all-time favorite hockey team since she was a kid was the Toronto maple Leafs but she will take that to the grave (literally almost everyone knows) 

she is very talented at tennis and golf, honestly any sport really 

on the devils she is the closest to, nico hischier and dawson mercer

on the canucks she is the closest to brock boeser and elias pettersson 

she takes journaling very seriously!! 

she has a very detailed calendar, and she swears that it's the only thing keeping her alive because of her busy life 

she loves animals so much; she loves going to visit ranches and farms 

her dream is to have her own ranch when her and cole retire 

she is an extroverted introvert 

she loves watching movies and shows

not really a party girl, she prefers to just stay inside or having chill gatherings with her friends 

but will occasionally have fun at a party 

knows how to country line dance 

she is very clingy, likes physical touch 

she makes playlists for the people she cares about 

she really has a big heart and has a fear of being taken advantage of because of her kindness. 

she’s a hopeless romantic

her favorite YouTuber is stephanie soo

she loves true crime, and knows the most random facts about it

has a big crush on klaus mikaelson

a big fan of Scooby doo

dressed up as Velma like 3 times before

she loves planning outings for her and her friends

a lot of people (hockey players, celebrities, random people) have confessed to having a crush on rosa and her being their type

she is heavily praised by the modeling / fashion designing / actor world for her natural and amazing talent, and her wonderful personality

she really is the it girl !!

she’s such a trendsetter

her main instagram account is @/rosaliehughes 

her private instagram account is @/roseyposeys 

her private twitter is @/hugsybears 

ᡣ𐭩 VISUALS  .ᐟ

ᡣ𐭩 POSTS N MORE  .ᐟ

rosaliehughes just posted !

📍montreal, quebec

liked by dacremontgomery , yellowjackets , _willsmith2 and more

🏷️ finnwolfhardofficial , soapy.t

🎵 : art - tyla

rosaliehughes guess who came to visit me :P

view all comments

soapy.t  promise to visit again soon 🙂‍↕️

rosaliehughes I miss you already 🙁

finnwolfhardofficial it was good to see ollie again

rosaliehughes finn my cat hates you..

daisyedgarjones you truly are a blessing to my eyes 😻

rosaliehughes 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

sadiesink_ WTF FINN SAID YOU WERE TOO BUSY FOR VISITS??

finnwolfhardofficial i wanted her for myself 😾

rosaliehughes finn is a pathological liar 😾

finnwolfhardofficial it’s true it says so on my resume…

sadiesink_ IM BOOKING MY FLIGHT RN 😾

jonathandavissofficial we love a studious gal

rosaliehughes ikr, the bad sleep schedule and redbull addiction is so sexy

jackhughes but you said you had no time for visitors 😿

lhughes_06 no she said she had no time for you…

jackhughes go do your laundry

rosaliehughes don’t boss luke around Jack 😾

trevorzegras I’m gonna miss you when I scroll…

rosaliehughes that’s oddly sweet of you….what do you want 🤨

jennaortega mama 😻

username Jenna is so real for that

username finn and rosa are my fav duo

username praying for a rosa and sophie kiss in season 3 🙏

courtneyeaton my girls 💋

rosaliehughes heyyyyy *replies in nonchalant and acts like I’m totally not in love with you*

soapy.t babes I think you really got her this time 😼

_quinnhughes boo more ollie 🍅

rosaliehughes LEAVE ME ALONE

matthewknies lots of boots ya got there

rosaliehughes lots of asses I gotta kick 👢💥

mattboldy the fact that, that little bear is still attached is mind blowing

rosaliehughes no thanks to you 🫵 you are the one who threw her in the lake

obx our pogue princess 👸🏻

rosaliehughes mwah mwah 😽

vinniehacker I know ur busy in your scholar era but like valo?? I’m having withdrawals

rosaliehughes ITS NOT AN ERA IM A COLLEGE STUDENT…when I got home I’ll call you

glenpowell how’s my favorite not real sister doing?

rosaliehughes check ur msgs

glenpowell no shot you just sent me a 2 minute audio message of you straight out screaming

_slafkovsky_ what’s 8 + 8???

rosaliehughes 16?? 😭😭

_slafkovsky_ wait I don’t think I did this right 🙁

rosaliehughes no no you did perfect 🫶🏻

drewstarkey where do I book my visit?

rosaliehughes click the link in my bio! 💋

_alexturcotte THATS MY BESTIE

rosaliehughes BAD BITCH WITH HER BADDIE FRIEND 💅

markestapa Heyyy *leans against my mansion that has a bunch of fruit and pancakes because I know they are your favorite, and it just so happens that my home move theater is playing twilight…crazy coincidence omg*

lhughes_06 mark please enough 😓

rosaliehughes you’re so cute mark 🫶🏻

markestapa SHE CALLEF ME CUTE SHE WNATS ME @/edwards.73

edwards.73 get a grip bro 🤣

elijahparkk someone needs to cut your redbull intake I couldn’t focus in class cause you were practically shaking next to me 🫵

rosaliehughes okay listen here…

elijahparkk ….I’m listening ☝️

colecaufield BOOM SHAKALAKA YES GAWD 😩💥

colecaufield truly blessing my eyes

colecaufield I’m the luckiest man alive 😍

rosaliehughes nooo I’m the luckiest girl alive 😽

colecaufield yeah I’m gonna marry you 😩

roro’s note. HERE SHE IS !! OUR GIRL ROSA 😻 I really hope you guys love her, I’ve honestly have been working so hard on her and I’m so excited for this AU so muchhhh so please send in as many thoughts as you want …. what do you guys like most about her? I had so much fun making those tweets omg

au m.list

˖ ་ taglist : @lesrflms @winterbarnesblog @toasttt11 @cixrosie @iceflwers

©️WINTFLEUR

[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 26: Fake Dating

Steve was ready for Hawkins to open up again and for the Upside Down to swallow him whole. Christmas was meant to be fun, well at least it was supposed to be fun now that he spent it with the Buckley's. Right now though he was glaring at his boyfriend and best friend across the table. Or wait not his boyfriend this evening, no tonight, Eddie was Robin's boyfriend.

Steve could only blame himself he supposed, one for loving the two idiots that were currently badly suppressing giggles and two because it was all because of what he'd said last week.

One week earlier...

"Robin, just tell your mom you're a lesbian or I'm not coming to Christmas lunch next week."

"Steve I can't do that do you want to ruin Christmas!?"

"She was already fine with me being bisexual she's not going to send you to hell, that's why we tested her with me in the first place!"

"No, I'm not ready!"

"Well I can't sit through another Christmas of your mom suggesting a Spring wedding!"

"You're my boy space friend can't we just let her live in a fantasy world where she marries into the Harrington's?"

"I don't even want to be one!"

"Could pop down to the courthouse and become a Munson, baby," Eddie supplied watching the back and forth while blatantly stealing from the candy display.

Steve gave him a deadpan look, "You need to propose to me better than that, Eds. No, Robin that's it I'm not going, I'm not being your boyfriend anymore!"

"What am I meant to do then, she'll be asking about you all day!"

"I'll do it!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Do what?" The other two asked giving him a questioning look.

"No, stop I hate when you do that twin thing it's creepy. And I'll be your boyfriend for Christmas, Birdie."

Which brought Steve to now. It had seemed like a brilliant idea, one Steve could enjoy his Christmas lunch peacefully being the golden boy of the table as Mrs Buckley dawned over him and two, no boyfriend questions. There was also the added bonus that lesbianism might seem like a better option than the town's drug dealer in the Buckley's minds. What Steve hadn't counted on, was the Buckley's loving Eddie.

"Oh, you're in a band that's so lovely, you know I played tamborine for a band back when I was your age, we thought we were going to be a big girl group."

"I hear you're working over at Thatcher's son, they're good men there you're certainly going to learn a lot."

Steve had been relegated to peeling the potatoes while Eddie was literally putting his feet up in the living room. He felt like the middle child of a family that just got a newborn baby, how dare Eddie steal his pseudo parents. What was worse was that Robin was finding this hilarious.

"Oh poor Stevie Wevie are you sad mom's not asking about how EMT school is going?"

"Yes! I had such a fun fake heart attack story she was gonna love." Steve pouted and for a moment he thought about stomping his foot in protest.

"Hey, it's ok, next year I promise I'll have told them, and Edward over there can come as your boyfriend, ok?" Robin reassured wrapping an arm around him.

Steve guessed that he could give up being the favourite this time, and it was nice seeing people be kind to Eddie, it hadn't been easy after Spring Break. It didn't stop him shooting daggers whenever Eddie and Robin decided to reassure Steve at lunch that he'd find someone nice eventually.

Steve and Eddie waved goodbye after lunch, promising to visit soon and hopped into the van.

"Have fun?"

"Oh yeah, I think Janice is already planning the Spring wedding."

"Well, I hope you enjoyed getting fawned over because we've got dinner with Wayne now, and guess who's his favourite?"

"Just because you know the difference between the Chiefs and the Packers, I'm his own blood and the minute you're there it's like I'm chopped liver!" Eddie exclaimed as they drove towards the trailer park.

Lunch had been interesting but he was very glad it was over as he laughed and slid his fingers between Eddie's between them, happy that he had his boyfriend back.

Ao3

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 2

Synopsis: Alastor disappeared for 8 years, leaving you confused, crushed, and angry. You spent those years building up your new self and protecting the haven from dangers left and right. What will happen when he returns to the new changes? Will he return anytime soon? Could you even go back to the way things were?

Previous part

Part 2: constricting deals

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come on Mrs. Dragon Demon, you really think I don't have cameras everywhere?" Vox remarked from his chair. We were in his dressing room, where there were no visible cameras, and I sat on the other only comfortable chair in the room. We were both exhibiting relaxed, nonchalant behavior. Vox was leaning his screen on his hand while the other tapped or gestured every so often.

I was leaning back in the chair, legs crossed elegantly, and hands folded comfortably in my lap. "You haven't noticed anything strange about trucks going into certain towns or cities?"

I wore the same outfit I always wore when dealing with anything outside the haven. It was the same maroon shirt and gray dress pants I wore when interrogating the women from Blackwater's remaining clan. My Demon attributes were clearly visible, minus my wings, and my face was set in a hard stare.

"Hundreds of trucks go into cities. None of them have Blackwater's symbol on them."

"He--they--wouldn't be that obvious," I reminded.

"Then what do you want me to do?" He turned both palms to the sky in annoyance.

I let out a sigh, showing my own annoyance. "I want you to watch all the trucks that come into major cities and park in suspicious areas and alleys."

"You must have a lot of faith in my abilities." His annoyance turned to smugness, his sharp blue teeth making their appearance. "But I cannot focus my attention on over a hundred cities and towns."

"Just cities. The clan is small so they'll go to places with the most buyers. And you have plenty of souls to do that work for you."

"And why exactly would I do this?" he raised a single eyebrow in question, "This doesn't fall under the terms of our deal."

"Everyone wants to claim victory over Blackwater. You would share that victory with me."

"Now that you've told me how to do it, why would I need to share it with you?"

I abruptly stood up at that. "Need I remind you who actually killed him?" His smile fell. "I don't actually need your help. It would make things easier but I am in no need of your assistance. If you do not wish to be known as one of the Overlords who rid the surface of the last traces of Blackwater, then this conversation is over."

I turned, tail smoothly flicking behind me, and walked to the door. I had grabbed the door handle when he asked, "You consider yourself an Overlord, now?"

There was a pause. "I do. What of it?" I looked over my shoulder, not yet fully facing him.

"I figured you would keep the title open for Alastor's return." He paused. "He has returned, hasn't he? It's been seven years."

"It's been eight, actually." I finally faced him and slid my hands into my pockets. "And no, he hasn't. I will not stand by and wait for him to return. I have more important things to take care of in his absence."

Vox stood from his chair and crossed the room. He put his hands behind his back like Alastor, one of the many traits he purposefully picked up, and said with a smile, "He hasn't even left a note for you?"

"This conversation is about Blackwater, not Alastor," I hissed, baring my teeth, "Will you assist me or will you hide away in your station to let me do all the hard work?"

Again, his smile fell. "I'll let you know if I find anything suspicious." His sarcastic, bothered tone was bothering me.

I nodded and opened the door. Before disappearing down the hall I said, "Give Valentino my regards," and flipped him off.

****

I finished the cold glass of water and placed it quietly in the sink. A vision about Adam being in Nym and Thatcher's room had interrupted a dream. I had immediately checked their room but they were both sound asleep in their own beds. Adam was nowhere in sight.

I noticed my hand shaking as I put the cup in the sink. I gripped the edges of the counter and leaned over, forcefully taking deep breaths to calm myself. It had been awhile since I last shook like this, since I last felt such a strong sense of fear. One day he was going to intervene again and he was going to use Nym and Thatcher. Since I moved them into the house to join the family, I had been very careful to keep them separated from my life outside the haven.

The vision hadn't shown them dying, only him keeping them really close as a threat. That meant I still had the chance to keep them safe when he did come. Why was he going to intervene again? Was I on Heaven's radar now? Had I become as much of a problem as Alastor had? What exactly did they not like about my actions that warranted an intervention? Was it because I was half Angel? Was it because I was successful half Demon?

My questions would remain unanswered.

Finally composing myself, I left the kitchen and stretched out on the couch. Bad nightmares or visions always made it impossible to go back to sleep in my room. I spread out my magic as I drifted into a half sleep, my magic keeping vigil for any unwanted, divine visitors.

The familiar, warm presence of my family surrounded my mind. Their colorful souls lay still as they drifted in their dreams, as did the rest of the haven. The warmth of the sun touched my feet as it tried desperately to squeezed through the curtains. Soon the children would wake up and pull me from a restless sleep.

Yet it wasn't them who woke me up.

Alastor's hallucination came back. It was the fourth time this week he had appeared. I thought I had gotten over his disappearance but the anniversary of it two days ago seemed to send me back twelve steps. My emotions were all over the place and my irritation with Blackwater's legacy was ever growing.

I looked over my shoulder at the hallucination to acknowledge it, which was the first step in dealing with them, then turned back to press my face into the couch.

"I'm back, my love."

My ears pinned back against my head. It had been years since one of his hallucinations spoke. The first two years of it had been torturous for me, sending me up and down and back and forth. It took help from Lucifer to learn how to manage them. Eventually they turned into speechless hallucinations until they no longer plagued me.

But now they were returning. It was getting bad again.

"Go away," I said. It didn't answer me right away.

"Darling?"

"I said go away. I know you're not real." The second step to the speaking hallucination was to repeatedly remind myself it wasn't actually there. "I know you're not real."

"My love I am very real." Those were the exact words his previous ones had spoken, too.

"I just want to sleep. Go away. You're not real."

"My darling, I am real. I am back. I am home." I heard it shuffle and turned to see his hallucination kneeling beside the couch, hand grabbing my shoulder.

I freaked.

I slapped the hand off my shoulder and launched myself backwards off the couch. "No! This isn't happening again!" I scrambled back into the corner of the room and covered myself with my wings. My claws dug dangerously hard into my scalp as I squeezed my eyes shut.

The last time a hallucination had gotten physical, I nearly lost myself to my trapped souls. Had Charlie not come to meet with me about the haven, she wouldn't have gotten her father in time and my own magic and owned souls would have torn me apart.

"You're not real! You're not real! Go away! You can't take me again!" I repeatedly yelled, careful not to be too loud. I didn't want Nym and Thatcher to see me like this. Worst of all, I didn't want them to be unable to see my hallucination. It terrified me when people couldn't see what I could see. It made me feel alone in the struggle, fearful of something that no one could protect me against.

But Lucifer could help. He led me through it last time, he could do it again.

I reached for Reagan's soul and grabbed it. She jerked awake in time to hear my call. Her feet tapped loudly on the wood as she jumped every two stairs. The quick patter of her feet stopped at the entrance of the living room.

"You."

I lowered my wings just enough to see her standing in her night clothes, eyes fixated on Alastor's towering figure near the fireplace.

My wings disappeared as I slowly pushed myself to my knees. My mouth dropped open, my eyes jumped from him to her, and my heart drummed in my ears. She could see him. She could see him.

"You can see him?" I asked quietly. Reagan's eyes were sympathetic at my question.

"My dear, I am real. I am home. This isn't—"

"Get away from her!" Reagan snapped, jumping between me and him. His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"How long has it been?" he asked carefully, voice restrained and full of radio static.

"Eight fucking years."

There was a pause. "Do not speak to me in such a way." He took a step forward but Reagan didn't move. Once upon a time, she was barely past his hip height and hardly spent five seconds in the same room as him. Now, she stood at his shoulder level going toe to toe with him.

"Then don't treat my mother in such a way," she shot back.

"Mother?" Alastor's eyes fell on my huddled form. He attempted to move past her again but she stepped in his way. He slammed his cane on the floor loudly. "This is a matter between the two of us. Kindly step aside."

"Your disappearance did so much damage that it's become a matter between all of us." She gestured widely, referring to everyone I knew.

As if on cue, Husker walked in the front door. His eyes instantly fell on his old master and his fur stood straight up. "You're back?" he hissed, "Where have you been?"

Alastor was visibly frustrated. "I wish to have a conversation with her alone."

Everyone turned their eyes on me. I had fallen back in the corner with my claws digging into my scalp, whispering to myself that it was just a dream. I would wake up soon. It was just a nightmare.

Time to wake up.

"Look what you've done to her!" Regan pointed a finger at my pathetic, huddled form. "This involves all of us, especially me and Husker, because we're the ones who had to deal with how it affected her."

Deal with?

I glanced at Husker but he wasn't looking at me. Had I been difficult to be around? Everyone kept telling me to rely on them, to talk to them, to not keep everything bottled up. It had become annoying to me that they kept asking so I eventually obliged. Had that been the wrong decision? Had they regretted telling me to open up?

I watched something in Alastor's eyes and demeanor change. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. He said, "This is the last time I ask. Step aside so I can speak with her alone."

Reagan touched her shoulder blades together and lifted her chin defiantly.

"No."

Alastor's shadow slipped from his feet to grab her legs. I launched from the corner as Alcine snatched his shadow away. I morphed into a form halfway between my Demon and Dragon form, claws firmly on either side of Reagan and mouth open in a slimy snarl over her shoulder.

"Do not touch her," I snapped near his face. He stumbled back into the mantle, causing the frame of his mother's picture to shatter on the floor. Something red snapped in my mind, in his mind, a moment before both of us were engulfed in shadows.

I wrestled with his magic and managed to pull myself out and splash into the ocean. I casted myself onto the beach as he manifested. His black tentacles sprouted from his back to grab at my limbs. I changed into my Dragon form and closed my jaws around the tentacles. Several more grabbed at my arms and feet but I casted water to slice them off.

I spun around with my tail outstretched. He disappeared a breath's moment before it contacted his body. My tail slammed painfully into the sharp rocks.

Stop! Stop fighting! Calm down!

My own thoughts had no control over my actions. The most I could do was pull my punches but it wasn't a great amount. I was so angry. It was blinding. It was satisfying. It was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

His presence striked down on my mind and physically slammed my head into the sand with it. I followed his magic and attempted to do the same to him. His mind abruptly closed shut before I could, slingshotting me back into my own body.

He attempted to deprive me of oxygen but that was easy to deflect, forcefully opening my throat and sucking the air in. I felt him manifest behind me and kicked up sand in his face. I heard him yell as his grip on my mind loosened.

I wrenched my head off the ground and lunged for him. My body unwillingly changed into my Demon form before I could reach him. Tentacles grabbed my body and pulled me so hard into the ground that it knocked the wind out of me.

Alastor's magic grabbed my mind more forcefully, enveloping it in his magic and squeezing my veins painfully tight. I contorted in the sand, mouth agape in a silent scream, as he moved to stand beside me.

My anger changed to fury. I pushed against his mind as my body pushed against his tentacles. I attempted magic again but he shut that down instantaneously. My face dug roughly into the sand as I tried to physically wiggle out of the extra limbs to no avail.

Tears streamed down my face at the helplessness, at the hurt, at the rage I was feeling towards someone I cared so much about. I hadn't even realized until he was gone how much I actually cared about him. Our relationship had progressed so far but was stripped away when he disappeared. Struggling in the sand, it felt like we had gone back to when I was first trapped in the house.

"Darling, please hear what I have to say," he tried gently.

"You left me!" I screamed. I dug my heels into the sand further until my claws were separating to a painful degree.

"It was not intentional."

"You did it anyway!" I pressed my chest off the beach, slowly pushing myself to all fours. "Why the hell did you leave me?" The tears wouldn't stop. I looked so pathetic trapped by his magic, sobbing, and screaming. My breathing came in horrible gasped whines.

"If you will calm yourself enough to have a conversation, I can explain myself."

"I have every right to be angry." I managed to lift my head enough to glare up at his red, towering form. His claw was clinging to his microphone, the other arm behind his back. I attempted magic again, this time reaching for his soul. Something sharp and vile grabbed at my own soul in response. My strength was ripped from my grip and I fell back into the sand.

"Do not attempt that again," he commanded.

"I'll do whatever I want." I coughed on inhaled sand. "It's what I've been doing since you left eight years ago."

He let out an irritated sigh. "You are being difficult. I am attempting to be civil so we can properly reunite."

His tentacles were bruising me. "Properly? You didn't properly leave!"

I was pulled up to my knees and he roughly grabbed my chin so we would meet eyes. "This is as painful for me as it is for you. You deserve the right to an explanation. That is what I am attempting to give you."

I jerked my chain out of his grip and stared down at the black appendages. My ears were pinned back and my throat squeezed from another onslaught of tears. I had so much anger still left in me.

He knelt down so we were eye level and held out a red claw. "I have missed you so much, my dear. Please allow me to explain what happened, to explain why I couldn't return sooner."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?" I grumbled, glancing once at his red eyes.

"Couldn't."

I looked at him again. His smile was close-lipped and as small as I had ever seen him able to do. The tears clouded my vision so I dropped my head further, my hair a curtain between both our faces. My anger was dissipating and slowly being replaced with overwhelming sadness.

He withdrew his magic from my mind and his tentacles from my body. I slumped backwards on my tail before repositioning on my heels. I folded my arms in my lap and kept my face downcasted. I had to force my breathing in a steady pattern.

I heard him let out a sigh as he stood up. "I dealt my soul to someone long ago." He came to kneel in front of me again, black clothed knee coming into view. He tried to touch my hand but I pulled it away. He didn't press. "They called upon me and I could not ignore it."

I took a deep breath before asking, "Why didn't you leave a note?"

"It was sudden. I was called and trapped within...something."

"What do you mean?" I lifted my head just enough to see the collar flaps of his coat.

"It was...dark. There was nothing and no one else around me. I suppose you could call it a type of limbo."

I was inclined to believe him. For all eight years I had no way of reaching him in Hell or on the surface. "You couldn't leave?"

"Not until my dealer permitted me so," the answer sounded angry and strained.

"Why did they...do that to you?"

"They wouldn't explain."

That one felt like a lie.

I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, feeling the invisible bruises from our fight. Was this real or would I wake up tomorrow to an empty bed and broken soulbond?

"You were the only thing on my mind," he went on, "I wanted to do nothing more than to return to you. I knew you were suffering on my behalf but I wasn't aware how badly."

"I don't believe you're actually here."

"I am here, my love." He dared a gentle claw on my chin and lifted my eyes to meet his own. "I am real. I am here in front of you. I am home. I will not leave you alone again. That was not fair to you."

I pulled my face away as tears fell down my cheeks. He softly cupped my face with both claws and pulled my head up again. I grabbed his wrists and tried to pull free from his grip.

"Please do not fight me, love."

"You were gone for so long." My voice wavered. "I had to...had to pick myself up and piece it back together again."

"That must've been hard." He drew my face in closer, touching our foreheads despite my attempts to keep away.

"I had to protect the haven. I had to take care of everyone. I had to take care of myself. All on my own."

"You did well."

"I had to live every day like I didn't love you."

"Love me?"

I stopped resisting. My eyes widened, jumping up to see his surprise.

I wrenched my face free from his hands and hopped away. He grabbed my tail and held it long enough to wrap an arm around my waist. My hands closed around his wrists but he was impossibly stronger than me, arms fully encasing me in a tight embrace.

He held my back firmly against his chest as his face rubbed against my red cheek. I dropped my weight but, as expected, it did nothing. His one arm was over my shoulder and holding onto the other while his second arm stayed hooked on my hip. My claws gripped his arms dangerously tight.

"Do you mean that?" I felt his smile against my neck.

"Mean what?" I muttered with a sniffle.

"That you love me."

"I did until you left me." I pushed back into him but all it did was make him take a step back to catch himself.

He placed a kiss on my cheek and it brought me to a screeching halt. "I am sorry I caused you such pain. It was not of my own choosing and I was suffering just the same."

He drew me into his mind just enough to see the vast emptiness. I could only see his red claws and coat. There was no sound, no light, no soul, nothing. It felt cold.

I blinked back to the beach. He unwrapped his arms and I turned around to face him. His smile had no teeth and his eyes looked concerned. I couldn't hear his thoughts but I could feel the ghost traces of something painful.

He placed his hands on my shoulders. "I have missed you so much." He drew one hand up to run the back of his knuckles along my cheek, just like he used to do. "May I kiss you?"

I almost laughed. Blunt and forthcoming. That was the way of Alastor.

My nod was so small I worried he didn't see it. A second later, though, he leaned down to press his warm lips into mine. His claws hooked on that sweet spot behind my jaw and under my ear, pulling me further into the kiss. A jolt of excitement coursed through my body.

It felt foreign yet familiar. Warmth radiated off him as if it were sun stroking my cheek. His hair brushed against my forehead and his lips moved ever slightly against mine.

He pulled away too soon and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. Something unraveled in me.

I dropped my head as I choked on a sob. He put a hand on the back of my head as the other drew me in from behind. I fisted the back of his coat, face pressing firmly into his chest. I could barely smell his sweet, smokey wood scent through my clogged nose.

My whole body shook with every sob. The tears were releasing every possible emotion and feeling I had stored away so deeply for so long. The anger, the sadness, the confusion, the relief, all of it. It hurt my head and turned everything white when I coughed on my own spit.

"You will make yourself sick, darling." He pulled me away just enough to look down at my wet face. He used magic to dampen the overwhelming feelings, drying my face, unclogging my nose, and easing the headache.

"I've been through worse," I gurgled.

"You won't have to face anything alone, anymore." He kissed my forehead again.

I sniffed on nothing. "I wasn't done crying, you know."

"I know." He pulled me in for another hug. This time I drew in long, deep breaths of his scent. I heard him do the same on the top of my head. "But I need you to calm a raging teenager before she reaches us."

I looked over my shoulder to see Reagan sprinting up the beach. I didn't realize how far we had gone from the house. I could see it sitting on the cliffside but the haven wasn't visible from here. We were on the uninhabited side.

"She's not a teenager anymore. She's twenty-one now." I saw Husker flapping from the land side.

"Good thing Humans don't live long."

I pulled out of his embrace and crossed my arms. "I have half the mind to let her rip you apart on my behalf."

"That would not be ideal," he remarked gently.

I smiled despite myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Ta daaaaa

I wrote this scene like four different times before I settled on this version

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall

[abardnamedreginald]

im a wolf-demon-salamander-grey treefrog-katydid-cricket-luna moth-klingon-trad vampire-cat-romulan-harry potter wizard-gnome-drow-orc-wood elf-high elf-werewolf-twilight vampire-chihuahua-android-bard-druid-sorcerer-d&d wizard-lotr wizard-mind flayer-kraken-owlbear-genetically modified human-andes mint-harry potter merperson-h20 mermaid-great white shark-raven named nevermore-amontillado-sewer clown-animatronic-ink person-reality bender-ringwraith-chicken-fairy-telescreen-multibear-manic pixie dream girl-d class-horcrux-dragon-unicorn-pegasus-among us crewmate-among us imposter-game master-sharpie king size marker-dwarf-dragonborn-toothbrush-rock-paper-scissors-lizard-vulcan-politician-god-phone guy-icebreakers ice cubes pineapple-a doctor not a miracle worker-troll-ent-poodle-rabbit-Bear.-orange zombie-purple zombie-green zombie-professor plum-col. mustard-in the library-with a knife-hoola dancer-fish-villager-pelecan-defense against the dark arts professer-mafia boss-peep rabbit-peep chicken-gymnast-hairbrush-philosopher-music freak-school teacher-kidnapper-police lieutenant-farmer-trash can-dumpster out back-turtle-tribble-my little pony-kratt brother-high diver-pearl diver, dive, dive, deeper-chef-fire-earth-water-wind-wasp-bee-hornet-yellowjacket-mud dabber-grasshopper-rattlesnake-armadillo-cowboy-flashlight-starfleet science officer-harlet-elephant-gater-muppet-emo-goth-preppy-teabag-loser-sucker-mouse-rat-a puppet-a pauper-a pirate-a poet-a pawn-and a king-father albert-the pope-a nun-pastor jeff-gambler-metalhead-death rocker-the grim reaper-angel-lighthouse-paw patrol dog-hobbit-starfish-sponge-crab-squid-shrimp-jellyfish-chipmunk-hammerhead shark-nurse shark-humpback whale-blue whale-orca-sexual harrassment panda-south park character-jakoffasaurus-scrabble board-ouija board-pillow-toilet paper-period pad-tampon-baby diaper-elderly diaper-martian-touch tone telephone-starfleet operations-starfleet command-kirk-spock-bones-sulu-chekov-uhura-scotty-yeoman rand-KHAN!!!-mudd-the uss enterprise-the uss reliant-botany bay-v'ger-valeris-saavik-sybok-surak-sarek-the abbreviation 'idk'-sheldon-leonard-penny-howard-raj-amy-bernadette-mary cooper-george sr-george jr-missy cooper-meemaw-tam-dr sturgis-dr linkletter-dr jack bright-dr clef-dr gears-dr kondraki-dr mann-dr iceberg-dr crow-dr rights-dr sherman-scp 049-scp 3008-scp 4231-scp 166-scp 682-scp 2521-scp 590-O5 6-bill cipher-stanley pines-stanford pines-dipper-mabel-wendy-soos-schmebulok-gideon-mcgucket-dipper goes to taco bell-sheriff blubs-deputy durland-tad strange-andy taylor-william afton-michael afton-elizabeth afton-crying child-henry emily-charlotte emily-dave miller-jack kennedy-dee kennedy-peter kennedy-steven stevenson-aragorn-sam-frodo-merry-pippin-boromir-legolas-gimli-gandalf-faramir-denethor-sauron-elrond-thranduil-harry-hermione-ron-voldemort-pettigrew.-moony-padfoot-prongs-snape-edward-bella-alice!!-carlisle-charlie-cthulhu-greg heffley-pennywise-bendy-sammy-norman-jack-alice (susie)-allison-henry stien-joey drew-bruenor battlehammer-raskolnikov-heather-heather-heather-veronica-jd-kurt-ram-martha-kurt cobain-david bowie-freddie mercury-hozier-mitski-lemon demon-jack stauber-tally hall-hamilton-burr-jefferson-madison-washington-phillip-angelica-eliza-peggy-king george iii-king henry viii-ben franklin-catherine of aragon-anne boleyn-jane seymour-anne of cleves-katherine howard-catherine parr-dracula-𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂-evan hansen-conner murphey-john adams-raymond barron-fred randall-jane doe-ocean-noel-mischa-constance-ricky-karnak-vergil-alternate-thatcher davis-ruth-dave-cesar-mark-adam-sarah-jonah-evelyn-gabriel-trump-biden-sunny-basil-kel-aubrey-hero-mari-vanessa (the mean girl that kinda likes u)-tux the linux penguin-perry the platypus hybrid princess...dont fw me

[smollsmule]

Loved the Charles having a crisis at the beach post on your dash , but I have to ask …

What do you reckon is the most boomer thing Charles believes in ? 👀👻

(Ok second attempt bc tumblr decided to mess with me last time.)

I'm so happy to hear you liked it!! I don't usually like to post about my writing before I'm in the editing stage at least bc I don't like building expectations like that and making people wait. This time I hadn't even started writing (I was actually writing another, quite different fic that is almost ready to go up now). It was just an idea I had been rotating in my head for some time and I wanted to know if there were people who agreed with me. But everyone has been so lovely and enthusiastic and I can't wait to get it done and share with the class!

Now, for your question. Actually, no, first let me take this opportunity real quick to say:

I know what Gen X is, guys! I know Charles isn't actually a boomer, please stop yelling at me in the notes (please)!!!

Now, I was going to go into this whole spiel about how Charles is actually a really interesting case because he

seems to have had rather forward views when he was alive

unlike many of his peers, died before growing to adulthood in Thatcher Britain beat them out of him and left him a cynical husk of a person

So I actually like to think he is less behind than you'd expect from a guy who didn't live to see the iron curtain fall (see, just for some examples, his helping his classmate and unwavering support of other's queerness (though his reaction to Chad and Hunter in particular warrants a whole essay)).

And then after thinking all these thoughts I realised that pretty much everything we thought to know about dinosaurs in the 80's has since been overhauled. (Jurassic Park hadn't even been released yet!) And then I couldn't get this image out of my head of Charles scream-crying at a museum plaque (ineffectively since a) he is inperceptible, b) it is an inanimate object.)

So yeah, my answer is dinosaurs. I also firmly believe he checked out re the internet the moment they got rid of the dial up modem, if not earlier.

(All that said you should not think about the (lack) of sex ed this boy recieved and was probably never updated on)*

(*that last one might have been inspired by my own writing I'll admit)

But seriously, I am opening up the floor on this one, because now *I* wanna know what everybody thinks abt this. Thanks for the interesting question!!

[atinylittlepain]

Independence Day

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

warnings | 18+ this one is pure angst, sorry about it

wordcount | 4K

a/n | she is short, because she is pain. just remember, a happy ending I promised, and a happy ending I shall deliver. but this isn't it. as always, tell me what you think, and thank you for reading.

gif by @pascalisthepunkest

................................................

She’s humming along to the radio in her car, and she can’t help it. Something giddy and bright beating beneath her ribs. She could barely hold back her laugh when her mother waved her out of the driveway, some admonition about bringing a boyfriend home for Christmas. But she can laugh about it now, driving out of her neighborhood and toward Thatcher’s. 

Everything she wanted to bring is packed in the trunk. Not much if she’s being honest, mostly books and the clothes she came home with. She muses to herself that after a few years, her mother will probably put a treadmill in her old bedroom. A much better use of the space, she thinks, than to let it sit vacant forever. 

Her smile splits and stretches when she sees him as she pulls into the auto shop’s parking lot, though it tempers and turns sideways when she gets a better look at him. Confusion that he’s in his coveralls, she certainly didn’t think those would be making the trip. Confusion too that there’s no sign of a suitcase, not even a backpack. But he probably just has to get it from the apartment, that’s all. That’s all, she tells herself, as she gets out of her car to walk over to him on knees that are quickly weakening because whatever that look is on his face, no amount of rationalizing can convince her that it’s anything good. 

“Joel? What– are you– are you ready?” She feels stupid and small asking it, especially when Joel’s eyes stay glued to his shoes. He’s holding something, down by his side, half pressed into his pant leg. A bouquet, she realizes, and her stomach turns into a tight fist.

“Cherry–” Long and low like a sigh, like a sorry, and she’s not going to allow the rest to come out, stepping forward and taking his face in her hands, finally focusing his gaze on hers.

“No, no, no– Joel, baby, don’t– let’s just– we’ll go get your things, okay? We don’t even have to pack them, we can just shove them in the backseat and–” She clasps his wrist, trying to tug him toward the office, toward the stairs up to his apartment, but he’s not moving.

“Cher, just–”

“Baby, c’mon, we need to get on the road soon if we wanna make it to–”

“Cherry, stop.” She can already feel the tears thickening up her throat, going limp as Joel tugs her back to stand in front of her. A sharp gasp breaking in her chest, when he swipes his thumb along her cheek, collecting the salt already starting to pool. 

“Don’t do this, Joel. Please, please. Just tell me what happened and I— I can fix it, we can fix it.” His face crumples, a broken sound in the back of his throat that only makes her cry harder, pressing her forehead against his and letting everything swim in the periphery. 

“I can’t. I just can’t. This is– this is gonna be better for you, easier. You gotta go, you understand? You don’t need me getting in the way of all your plans, your future.” 

“Of course I need you. Baby, it’s– it’s you and me, remember? Just get in the car, please– just get in the car–” He shakes his head, slow and stilted, a fresh wave of tears that breaks first in his chest, his shoulders shaking with it. 

“I can’t do that, Cher.” It’s like a real, yawning ache in her chest, something splitting open and bleeding out, and all she can do is ball her fists into the front of his coveralls and tamp down her shuddering tears enough that she can look him in the eye.

“I love you, Joel. I love you so fucking much it’s stupid. And I know you love me too. A-and that’s all that matters, okay? So please don’t do this.” He doesn’t say anything, his damp lashes dropping down to the tops of his cheeks as he steps back out of her grasp. It’s almost robotic, the way he holds out the bouquet to her, still not looking at her.

“You’re gonna do something amazing, Cherry.” She finds herself taking the bouquet from him, feeling like a fool even as she does it. Chrysanthemums, the fleeting thought, who the hell buys a bouquet of chrysanthemums? And then that perfect pang of despair turns into something else, something more bearable, something she can let get big and bright until it feels righteous, like anger. 

“Oh, fuck you.” It seems to startle him, his eyes hiccuping up onto her face, and all she wants to do is chase after that shock, to dig her fingers into the wound and make it hurt as bad as it’s hurting her right now. 

“You got what you wanted, Joel. That’s it, right? Someone to keep your bed warm all summer, so easy to keep them coming back. Just gotta tell them what they want to hear, huh?”

“It wasn’t like that, Cherry.” He says it so small, so broken that for a moment her anger falters, though she stokes it back to life with a bitter laugh. 

“You promised me, you asshole. You fucking promised me.” She does it before she can really think about it, shoving her hands into his chest, only making him take a single staggered step back, but it feels good. Good like she should do it again.

“This was all just some fucking game to you, wasn’t it? I bet you didn’t mean a single thing you said to me.” Another shove, and then another, the bouquet in her hand going limp, petals falling all around them, only stopping when Joel barks out a sharp enough.

“I meant all of it, Cher. And now I’m trying to do right by you. You need to go, and I’m not coming with you because it’s the right thing for you.” It’s silent for a moment, both of them breathing hard, watery eyes wide and unblinking. 

“Fuck you, Joel Miller.” Maybe it’s a bit childish, but it certainly feels good to throw the bouquet down and smash what’s left of the blooms with the sole of her sneaker, a smear of sorry on the curb before she gets back in her car with a hard slam of the door. 

She holds it in like a breath until she crosses state lines. But when she does, it’s all she can do to pull over onto the shoulder of the road and let this reality sink in with a sob.

…

“You’re being good, brother. Finally learned not to harass the ump, huh?” 

“Something like that, yeah.” 

Tommy is right. For once, Joel is staying on the bleachers, staying silent except to clap with the other parents when a run is scored or a play is made. But it has nothing to do with the ump, and everything to do with Cherry sitting on the other set of bleachers, their daughter’s teams playing each other again in the final tournament of the summer. He only steals sparing glances her way, trying to keep his focus straight ahead on the field between quick sweeps of his eyes. Her sunglasses are down, and much like him, she’s staying seated and uncharacteristically silent. 

It’s been two weeks since she swept out of his house, and not a word passed between them since. He asked Tommy to take over the work on her porch, figuring that as much distance as he could manage between them would be best. It is a herculean labor on his part to not ask his brother how she’s doing, if she’s still taking damn phone calls every ten minutes, if she’s mentioned anything about him. But he doesn’t. Keeps his mouth shut and stays busy with that new build on Cypress. And no, he definitely doesn’t look at his phone at night, willing something, anything to come pinging through from her. Definitely not. 

“You gonna talk to Cher today? Or are you gonna keep making those weird eyes at her for the whole game and then go home and pout?” He doesn’t reward Tommy’s quip with a response, settling for a cursory glance before trying to refocus on the game. 

“Joel.”

“Tommy, enough.”

“What the fuck happened, man? You two seemed good one minute, and then the next she’s stomping out of your house without another look your way.” 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

“Well excuse me for trying to look out for you, brother. The girl you had a crush on since we were fucking kids comes back and somehow you’ve already managed to screw things up. A second time, I might add.” 

“Are you done talking now?” Tommy’s face pinches up at Joel’s gruff question, an indignant sound in the back of his throat as he shakes his head. 

“Fuck’s sake, Joel, I’m trying to help you out here. It was nice, you know? Seeing you two together again. I just don’t get why you’re both being so goddamn weird now.”

“It’s a complicated thing. And before you ask, no, I ain’t gonna try to explain it to you.” 

“Well how fucking complicated can it be? What? Is there some estranged husband in the picture?”

“No.”

“Boyfriend then?” 

“No.”

“Is she in a cult or something?”

“Jesus Christ, no, stop asking stupid questions.”

“Then what the hell is it?”

“None of your business is what it is. A lot has changed in seventeen years, alright? We’re different people. It just– it’s complicated.” Tommy seems perfectly unsatisfied with that answer, taking off his cap to run a hand through his hair as he lets out a frustrated grumble. Though mercifully, he drops it, focusing back on the field. 

“You better fix it, brother.” 

“Tommy, you have no clue what you’re talking about. It’s not–”

“Here’s what I know. You two were a good thing, and then you fucked it up, and now you’re fucking it up all over again.”

“Thanks for that, I really needed to be reminded again of how I fucked up.” 

“Damn it, I’m not kidding around here.” Something in Tommy’s voice changes, something serious, something with a sharp edge that makes Joel quiet, his brother looking at him with a hard and narrow squint.

“You’re not gonna get another chance, brother, you know that? This is it. And I just– I don’t like watching you make the same mistake twice.” Joel isn’t sure what to say to that, and Tommy doesn’t look interested in his response anyways, shaking his head with a sigh before setting his sights back on the game, clapping and whooping for the next kid up to bat, a rather firm conclusion to their conversation. 

He lets himself take another look over at Cherry, still seated, still hiding behind her sunglasses, and still not looking anywhere near him. He wants to, more than anything. To say something, to walk over there and try to make all of this wrong right. And he knows where he would start, but he’s not sure how to, almost twenty years worth of not sure how to. But he doesn’t have much time to feel too pitiful about that because in that way that summer in Austin tends to do, an errant groan of thunder cracks and shakes in the sky, everything darkening and dampening all of a sudden. The ump is already calling the game with the first few fat drops of rain, a perfect slice of lightning punctuating his words. 

…

She has only tried this one other time. A moment of weakness, really. She had just moved into her dorm. A single, how fitting. And the phone at the end of the hall taunted her everytime she left for class. When her car broke down back in June, she had torn the number for Thatcher’s auto out of the phonebook in a fit of absent-minded frustration, the slip of paper ending up tucked into her cupholders where it still was when she got back to Chicago. Before she knew what she was doing, she was dialing the number on that slip of paper, a small prayer that he would, and a small prayer that he wouldn’t. 

It wasn’t Joel that picked up that time, one of the other guys that worked at the shop answering the phone. She hung up the instant that she heard the voice, not the one she wanted to hear, relieved that it wasn’t the one she wanted to hear. 

This time, she isn’t even sure what spurs her on. Coming home from her evening class, something about how dark it gets, how close and quiet makes that want impossible to ignore. She doesn’t even need the slip of paper to dial the shop this time, the numbers running a deranged and endless path in her mind. 

“Thatcher’s auto, how can I help you?” 

“Joel?” She doesn’t have to ask that, not really. She knows it’s him, and judging by the way the phone line goes silent, he knows it’s her too. Though there is no click of the line hanging up, just both of them holding their breath, waiting and willing for the other one to break. 

“It’s me, um, I don’t know why I called, I just– are you there?” Still nothing. She tries not to let anger creep in, remembering what it was she’s been wanting to say. Almost the instant she crossed state lines, a sick slosh of guilt settled in her stomach. The anger was still there too, but something sheepish started to sting around the edges for the way she had railed against him. And she’s not sure what she hates more, the fact of what he did, or the fact that she didn’t mean a single word she screamed at him that day, that she never could, even if she tried. 

“You probably don’t want to speak to me, and that’s fine. I just– if you could just listen to what I have to say I won’t try bothering you again.” Perfect silence, but still no dial tone. Part of her wishes he would just hang up. It’d be easier than what she’s about to say.

“I wanted to apologize for the things I said to you. I don’t know why you did what you did, and, um–” The words start to crack and slant with the hot weight of tears rising up her throat, stopping herself for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose to try to stave off the flood.

“You really hurt me, Joel, and, um, I think it was easier for me to be angry than to be hurt. But the things I said to you– I didn’t mean any of it, you know?” No use in trying to bite back the tears, her words become punctuated and jagged with small sobs, everything she’s been holding in coming out all at once. 

“And the funniest part is– well, not the funniest, it’s more like the worst– the worst part is, I think I still love you. Hell, I’ll probably still love you twenty years from now.” Her tears tangle up into a weak laugh, sniffling back snot as she catches a bloodshot glance of herself in the metal of the phone receiver. 

“So I guess I just wanted to say I’m sorry. And, um, I hope you take care of yourself out there.” There’s more, words getting caught somewhere between her ribs, turning into fluttery panic that makes her slam the phone back into the receiver before any more can get out. 

She doesn’t call again.

…

“Jesus Christ, this rain is fucking insane.”

“Language.” Though he scolds his brother in the passenger seat, Joel is inclined to agree. Before they had the car packed back up, what had been a few large drops of rain had turned into a steady downpour and a low rumble of thunder, leaving the field flooded and thick with mud. And now, as four softball teams worth of minivans and SUVs try to maneuver out of the parking lot, also flooded out and gummed up with mud, they’ve come to a complete standstill in the deluge. 

“Hey, is that–” Tommy’s sentence trails off, his brow furrowed as he looks out the passenger side window. When he sees what his brother is squinting at, Joel can’t help the low curse that settles in the back of his throat. It’s Cherry, standing at the bumper of her car, soaked to the bone as she gesticulates up to Ellie, who he can now see sticking her head out of the driver side window. He can also see that their back tires look sunken into a few inches of mud, cars honking and creeping around them as Cherry tries to guide Ellie through rocking their car back into motion. 

“You oughta go help them, brother.”

“Uh–”

“Uncle Tommy is right, dad. This is like, your chance at an apology.” Joel whips around to look at a very smug Sarah in the backseat, her arms crossed over her chest with a satisfied huff.

“What are you– what’s Tommy been telling you?”

“Nothing, I’m just not blind and know that you messed something up.” He looks between Sarah and Tommy, both of them so self-satisfied that it’s all he can do to get out of their car with a grumble. It’s not like they were moving anyways. 

“Cher– Cherry! You want some help?” He hates the way she looks at him, all exasperation in the way her squint slackens in the rain.

“Nope, not from you I don’t. We’ve got this under control.” They both have to shout to be heard over the hard drive of the rain and the endless thunder, though Cherry’s words are undermined when Ellie suddenly gives the car some gas, mud spluttering up behind the wheels and all along Cherry’s bare legs. 

“Just– just let me help you. We can rock it, get it–”

“I don’t want your help, Joel. I don’t need your help. Just get back in your car and leave us alone.” 

“Mom, I don’t think we have this under control!” A very worried Ellie shouts out of the driver side window, her eyes darting between her mom and Joel, though he’s having a hard time seeing much of anything with the way the rain is streaming down his face. For a moment, Cherry looks lost, glancing between her kid and the back tires, a few choice curses leaving her mouth before she focuses back on Joel. 

“Look, Cherry, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“Goddamnit, for everything. I’m sorry for everything. For what I did to you. But you gotta know that I’d do it again.”

“Well that’s really nice, Joel, thanks for that backhanded apology.” Her words get stuck and stopped by a shiver, both of them completely soaked as cars continue to weave around hers, and the rain just keeps on coming down. 

“I mean it, it was the right thing to do for you. I would have held you back, and you know it. Look at everything you’ve done since then.” At that, Cherry lets out a sharp bark of laughter, her palm coming up to swipe away the water dripping down her face, stepping closer to him so she doesn’t have to yell so loud.

“Everything I’ve done? Everything I’ve done? Do I look happy to you, Joel? Do I seem happy to you? Jesus Christ, why do you think I moved back here in the first place?” He has no answer for that, Cherry letting out another incredulous laugh as she shakes her head at him. 

“You know what would have made me happy? If we stayed in that fucking shoebox apartment above Thatcher’s for the rest of our miserable lives. I would have said yes to that in a fucking heartbeat, Joel. If it meant that I got to keep you with me, I would have done it and I would have been the happiest fucking person in the world.” Too much, his chest tightening up with all the words threatening up his throat. He speaks before he can think.

“Well I didn’t want that for you! I wanted you to have something better. You deserved something better. Fuck, Cherry, I have loved you since the first time I saw you in church, fucking eight years old and completely gone for you. And I couldn’t let you throw everything away for me, for nothing.” 

“You were everything, Joel, don’t you understand that? All I fucking wanted was you with me.” Nothing to say to that, at least nothing that he thinks would make any of this right. And not any time for it either, cars honking all around them, reminding them of their situation, Ellie sticking her head out the driver side window to shout back at them. This, at least, something he can fix.

“Kid, we’re gonna rock it, okay? And when I say, you’re gonna give it a little gas, just a little, light touch, you got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, old man, I got it.” 

He and Cherry both brace at the bumper, Joel shouting up to Ellie to hit the gas at just the right time to get the car moving with a slick spray of mud. And yes, the car can drive now and no, that doesn’t really fix anything. 

“Thank you, Joel, and goodbye.” Said with all the warmth of a business associate concluding a deal, she doesn’t spare him another glance as her sneakers squelch and stick through the mud toward the drivers side door of her car, Ellie quick to switch places with her, shooting Joel a death glare that’s enough to keep his mouth shut and his feet planted. And then it’s Cherry pulling away in her car before he can say what he really wants to, a sight he is all too familiar with. 

“Wait, what– that’s it? Did y’all make up?” Joel takes a long, shuddering breath when he gets into his car again, swiping his palm down his face to slough off the rain before he answers Tommy’s question.

“No, Tommy, we didn’t. And I’m only gonna ask you one more time to drop it. It’s– we’re done. What’s done is done.” 

…

It’s Thanksgiving break, and while everyone else is getting ready to go home, she is hunkering down in her dorm room and willing the week to pass by mercifully fast. 

Her parents tried to call a few times, messages left at the front desk that she blankly received with no intention of returning. Part of her is surprised by how quickly their efforts have relented, like they were just waiting for her to give them a reason to shutter her out. Fine by her. On scholarship anyways, so even the economics of it all are clean and simple. 

And when the residence halls get quiet and still, that want, that itch returns. But she knows she can’t sate it, can’t call him. She doesn’t think he’d give her his voice even if she tried, he certainly hadn’t the last time she called. So instead, she spends all day and most of the night in the basement of the library, away from the possibility of any phone calls. She’s working on something. Something big. Something that maybe, possibly, one day could be bought and published. 

It’s tedious. She writes by hand, and then she pecks at the keys of one of the three behemoth computers the school keeps in the library, printing each new day’s worth of work, a satisfying stack building on her desk. It keeps her busy, it keeps her focused, a rhythm and routine of work. Whenever that want returns, whenever her mind starts to trail toward him, she opens her notebook and gets back to work, or goes to the library to transcribe what she has gotten down. Whenever Joel Miller threatens at the edges of her mind, she writes, and it keeps her from thinking about him any more than she already has. 

..............................................

taglist: @spookyxsam @libbylou223 @angel-in-beskar @starstruckunknown-princess @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @suzmagine @everything-isfucked @lanabobana @kittenlittle24 @sarap-77 @officerrrfriendly @val-srz @bitchwitch1981 @redwoodsanddaffodils @themothersmercy @romanarose @lost-inhawkins @youcancallmeelle @hollywoodcaligirl @harryleatherfit @fifia-writes @brighttears @lokanda @hardlystrictlystarwars

[juchily]

isekai fix-it au part 1

A/n: switches from third to first person, all gender friendly (no pronouns) but presumed fem because reader joins the team, other than that all people friendly (unless you don't like Chappell Roan's music and hate the idea of being born in Chicago to the point you won't read something where its just like that...), angst at the end, a lot of existential philosophical thoughts

Sorry, but if *I* got sent into the 1990s I would literally steal Femininomenon because that shit is gasssss this is the only pop song I can have on repeat forever not even Joyride compares i fear

One second reader was in their home town of Chicago at the Lollapalooza Chappell Roan set, circa, and next thing they know they're in an oddly highly populated mall listening to the low hum Madonna through upheld speakers

Odd, very much odd. What's odder, they think they might have just seen their favorite sapphic cannibalistic TV show protags

The spritz of water coming from the water fountain in front of them lowers with the pressure of the nice looking decoration and, yep, that looks like the shaggy bleached wolf-cut of Natalie "something catholic middle name" Scatorccio

Oh my fucking god. That's defiantly the constantly mewing face of Sophie Thatcher. *Wow*. They quickly ask themselves in their noggin, 'what harm would it be if I *just* asked if they were friends of dorothy...?' feeling the silent creep of desperation creep up in their warming with flush hands

oh God, they must be staring—

wait they have so many questions, first of all, what's going on?! Is this real? Would real mean canon compliant? What's even going on, are they dreaming? Are they hallucinating? Is life a simulation and it got fucked up to finally failed and Yellowjackets is reality??? To much thoughts, too little time— if this is in any way real, do this mean Lottie 's hallucination was based off of this?

They can't confirm at all since they have half the head to look away, what could be worse than to have the very real looking Yellowjackets look at *you* as if you're a weird starer and not an omniscient not-god?

You smell some fresh ass Auntie Anne's and your stomach rumbles from the shitty concert food you bagged in... your world (would be the term I guess) but then you think more about it and realize your money and pocket change are probably dated for a date that has yet to happen which will definitely bring up some questions and problems with getting the pretzels.

After the initial excitement they sort of wander around Wiskayok, it's far different than Chicago, although you figure that's because it's in the northern part of New Jersey, the south side is probably the more Chicago-ee part

Really it was just a bunch of walking, you explored the very much fictional but now real Wiskayok, and really it left you with a lot of time to ponder (read: overthink)

By nightfall you were, yes you guessed right, still in this damn town, and you were starting to get worried about not returning home, because you don't know what's going on, but if we humour the situation as an isekai, does time work the same? If you spend a day here does it equal two years in your world?

You could feel yourself getting a headache at the thought(s), you she already wandered around the overwhelmingly small town and checked out the school at a reasonable distance, you think you spotted the trailer park where Van and Nat live

You settle in the library for a bit, thinking 'fuck it, I don't have anything better to do, maybe I can get some sort of idea about what's really going on', and next thing you know you're looking at a calendar reading February 3rd, 1997. Yeah, very much not 2024...

But this peaks your interest, obviously the crash hasn't happened since you saw the girls together eating Chinese food at the mall, but you're here about four or five months before the plane crashed. And a little seedling sprouts in your little head

But still, nighttime fully arised and you were locked out of the library. And you don't exactly know where to go, it's not like you have a place to go. So you find a nice bench near a fairly shaggy side of the town— cracked, chipped sidewalks, weeds growing out of the sides and heeps of uneven dirt and stray cigarette butts littering the crevice where the sidewalk and the grass (if you could even call it that) meet, and you can distantly see the trailer park about a block or two down to the left– huddling up in a bean against the shitty metal arm

Hey bright side, at least you're sleeping on a bench during an age where they didn't sleep proof/devoid benches of their damn purpose

Of course unbeknownst to you in your shitty but albeit deep sleep, a certain red head on her way home in her worn green pickup truck driving home from a hookup with a certain curly haired girl noticed you, just a glance and yeah, okay young homeless person on that bench

When you woke up, you found yourself with a sore back met with pollen straight to the nose. Very much not your time

Okay... Well there's no way this is real right?

And so for two more days you wandered around town, slept on the bench, scrambled quick scraps of food either from the local food bank, one of the various churches, or by doing an odd job for a diner

And then it sort of settled in on you. Is this *permanent?* Uh... What the fuck are you supposed to do? This feels *very* real

You don't really know what else to do, at some point you happen to take a walk and pass by the school right when soccer practice is happening, and you have to say that no TV screen could compare to the sight

I mean, you didn't really have much going for you back 'home' so to say, no partner, no job, no hobbies you actually stuck to, no sports, nada zilch zam, it was school, go home, and sleep. That was your routine

So with a sign you figured if this might be long term you should try and conjure up a fake identity and apply to the school, which wouldn't be the easiest thing to do, but what's the harm in it? At least then you have something to do

About a dozen and a half library books later and a few very interesting conversations you were applying to Wiskayok Public School under the guisse of being a foreign exchange student (God bless your basic French and/or Spanish skills), telling them that your papers had yet to come in and switch to the American database (suspend your disbelief, damnit)

And so you found yourself taking Calculus again despite having that in the real world during your first semester, so you did well

But anyways, you had a class with aforementioned redhead. So Van was most interested when the homeless person is suddenly in the school, more so that they're a foreign exchange student

Even more weird, apparently Taissa (her hookup who Van of course is starting to have more than just hookup feelings for), saw the same damn homeless person with a pile of books at the library. Soccer, survival, psychology, health and wellness, the Dutch Famine of WW2 for some reason? So wow, they must have so many hobbies!

More interestingly so was when this same person (still sleeping on that bench as far as Van is sure) is applying for tryouts on the team. Late. Like, months late. But, with a hot headed attitude and determination, and surprisingly quick thinking skills with both their head and feet, they managed to impress the coach.

States comes around and for *some* reason this homeless person (to Van that is, no one else knows they're technically homeless) is... bombing? No one wants to accuse them of intentionally trying to make the team lose (besides maybe Tai...) but like... They slide tackled Jackie when she had the ball?

And sure one of the opposing team were close too, maybe they just overshot trying to go for the opposing player, but they've seen you play better than that.

Things happen and at some point you get benched by Coach Martinez and you have the absolutely worse panic attack of your life, you don't know what to do, you planned to just make the team lose states so that they never board the plane in the first place

But what are you supposed to do benched? And so you can't bring yourself to watch on the bench, walking to the locker rooms with tunnel vision and a bp that borderlines the beginning of hypertension.

You slide down against your locker that's in the corner of the room, knees to your chest and arms wrapping around your head as you try to stabilize your breath and shaky thoughts.

What now, what do you do? This is permanent is it not? Are you ever going home?

Your heart is beating up your spine, you can feel it in your chest, your throat, your head and it feels like your skull will split in two and you just want to scream and shout because what can you do now?

Do you go on that plane? Do you suffer too? What do you do? What can you do what can you do what can you do?

You put this pressure on yourself in the first place and yet you can't relieve it. Tears of frustration and horror fill your eyes and your body shakes with silent, utmost quiet sobs that make no sound but shake your shoulders.

And you hear the cheering outside and you know the Yellowjackets won.

Maybe you should have just busted Jackie's kneecaps so she couldn't play

But then maybe Shauna would have taken over and made the winning goal.

Or Taissa would have tackled a player on the opposing team and stolen the ball and made a pass to Nat so she could make the winning goal.

To many questions, too many variables, infinite situations. It's not something a finite being can predict or control.

You wipe your eyes, pulling your way out of the locker rooms to sneak away before they come into the locker room.

@kings-paintbrush @rougeclasslover @acidthecorvid

[little-annie]

WIP WEDNESDAY | The Honeymooner's | Steddie | Eddie's chaotic unreliable POV

It's just supposed to be a fun week away for the two friends, but when Eddie's guilt gets a hold of him and he learns if he and Steve were on their honeymoon Steve would save 30% on the room, well things get a little carried away.

---

Okay, so yes, Eddie is very excited and very appreciative of this little boy's week-long getaway that he and Steve planned and yes he can't wait to finally spend a few days without the gremlins gnawing on his ankles or demanding for a ride to the arcade. But… but he feels guilty, very very guilty. And why, you may ask. Well, Steve's paying for the whole thing, that's why. The guy insisted upon it, saying something about how Eddie's been working so hard on getting his GED and working at Thatcher Tire and helping Steve take care of their somehow combined 7 children. That he deserved it. That, "Don't worry man, you can get me back sometime if you're so worried about it."

Steve's a good friend like that. Always has been.

Eddie's not really sure how they happened, really it seems like some weird anomaly that they can even coexist in the same space let alone willingly spend the majority of their free time together, but they do. He supposes though, one particular gremlin is to blame for the colliding of their souls. Dustin Henderson specifically. At first Eddie was jealous then when he met Steve, well, then he was kinda infatuated and it's all been downhill from there. Eddie's in love now. Hopelessly, irrevocably in love. With his straight best friend. How cliche.

How fucking cliche.

Eddie huffs to himself and tries to avoid checking out Steve's ass in his way too tight Levi's as they enter the lobby of some too nice hotel in the middle of what he thinks to be some Indiana State Park. Truthfully, he doesn't remember where they are, slept the majority of the way here since they left after work and he's exhausted, but the place is nice. Cosy almost if it weren't for its vastness. Really it resembles what he'd imagine to be a lodge. A giant log cabin if you will. Somewhere he supposes Harrington Sr. probably stays for some fancy men's hunting trip or something. Looks like the type of place that'd be a resort in the winter. Large fireplaces, overstuffed leather furniture, mounts from what he assumes to be the owners hunting trips.

In all honesty it isn't what he expected, but it's still nice and well, he's not paying for it so he's not complaining.

God he doesn't even want to think about what the room cost Steve for the week.

"Checking in under Harrington," Steve's voice pulls Eddie from the fog of his thoughts as he checks in, a young giggling couple to their left doing the same.

Trying to not grimace at the sight of the love birds, Eddie too approaches the front desk, leans against its edge and watches Steve as he signs a piece of paper and hands over his ID and credit card to the receptionist or whatever the front desk lady is called, Chrissy, he assumes if the strawberry blondes name tag is anything to go by.

Idle and waiting to get to their room and sleep in until noon tomorrow, Eddie zones out, all too focused on Steve's profile as he talks. The only thing filtering through his brain is the crushing guilt of this weekend, Steve's sharp jaw and the couple next to him talking a little too loudly to ignore as they boast about their recent wedding to their receptionist, the poor young man looking far too exhausted to give a shit. But it's then that Eddie hears that same receptionist say to the couple, "With your honeymoon package, you'll be saving 30% on your stay with us. Here are your keys … -"

It's then too, that something occurs to Eddie and his mouth runs away from him as he more or less blurts out, "Oh congratulations, we're honeymooning too."

The couple squeals and congratulates them as they scurry off to their room and Eddie has all but two seconds to process what he's just done (tried to save Steve money in the dumbest way possible) before Chrissy is doing the same, saying to he and Steve, "Congratulations! Oh my goodness that's so exciting! Well, let me do something special for your little week away then. I'll upgrade you two to the Honeymooner's Package and Mr. and Mr. Harrington," the gal winks, "you'll receive a room upgrade, 30% off of your stay and free access to so many of our great amenities."

Red in the cheeks at the idea of being married to Steve Harrington, Eddie, for the first time in a long time is speechless. What has he done? They're going to have to act like a couple now or they'll get found out and kicked out. Fuck. What the fuc-

An arm slips around Eddie's waist and squeezes, his whole body going up in flames as he goes rigid.

"Thank you," Steve says, Eddie assumes to Chrissy as he momentarily blacks out and is solely held up by the muscular arm that wraps tighter around him, fingers on his waist that have never been there before.

What the fuck?

Then there's a kiss on his cheek and Eddie has never snapped so suddenly back to reality.

Steve's eyes find Eddie's almost immediately, somehow communicating at the same time, 'Are you okay?' and 'Man, you got us into this mess, act the part.'

He really did, didn't he?

Well…

Eddie leans into Steve more intentionally, trying to ignore the desperate flutter in his chest when Steve smiles and pulls him closer, his thumb gently caressing the thin fabric at Eddie's side while they wait for Chrissy to make the changes in the system and hand them their keys.

It's all so foreign, but really it's not. They're touchy, maybe in each other's space a bit too much, sometimes to the point that one of the kids or Robin feels the need to shout at them to get a room. But it's never this. It's never long lasting lingering touches that kinda make Eddie want to cry. It's never this intimate. It's normally teasing or comforting. Sitting in each other's lap just to be a pain in the ass or squeezes to the arm when they can tell the other is stressed out. Things like that. Never coupley shit. Never this.

"Honey?" Steve's voice comes as a whisper close to Eddie's ear, sweet like honey and teasing, there's a smirk on his lips, "Wanna go check out the room?"

Chrissy giggles after handing Steve the keys and disappears behind a door leaving just the two twenty-somethings alone in the lobby. Steve's arm is still around Eddie's waist.

Eddie blinks, nods like a fucking idiot and lets out a horrible, barely there gasp when Steve's hand leaves his body only to ghost down his arm and intertwine their fingers together, pulling him along.

It's not until they're in the closed elevator that their hands separate and Eddie's able to manage words again. "What the fuck did I just do?"

Steve snorts a laugh before he shrugs, leans against the wall next to Eddie and says simply, "Made our week away a lot more interesting, that's for sure."

All Eddie can manage is a groan, knocking his head against the wall to which Steve responds, "Well that and saved me a couple hundred bucks."

—------

Things only get worse once they get to their room. Not only did they get upgraded to the Honeymooner's Package, it appears they too got upgraded to a honeymoon suite.

Jesus H Christ

Steve's cackling at the door of the room, gaudy red carpet beneath his feet as Eddie shoulders past him to get a better look. And Christ alive, it's awful. So, so awful.

For starters there's only one bed. Heart shaped in all its glory beneath a mirrored ceiling with a basket of what looks to be condoms, lube and lotions stationed artfully in its centre.

Awful.

Than, there's the bathroom that's more or less a fucking fish bowl. From where he's standing, only a few feet further into the room than Steve, Eddie can see that those glass walls provide no privacy. NONE. What the ever loving fuck!? There's a huge tub and shower and nothing more than a thick pane of glass separating them from the rest of the room.

Aw-ful.

What has he gotten himself into?

[augustjustice]

Cast Adrift

AO3 Link

For week eight of @astrangersummer; prompt: 'pool'

Pairing: pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler (background) | WC: 4.5k | Rating: T | CW: allusions to parental neglect, Upside Down trauma, and drug use; mildly suggestive thoughts | Other tags: Summer of 1984, Lifeguard Steve, Pre-Slash, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summer in Hawkins is hell.

Or, at least, it is for Eddie Munson. A guy like him simply isn’t built for summer, his long hair, pale skin, and aversion to the blaring sun not helping him beat the sneeringly whispered taunts of ‘vampire’ that run rampant in the Hawkins High halls. 

(Not that Eddie minds that part, really. His reputation precedes him, and that’s the way he likes it. Shit’s safer, that way.)

Plus, the heat fucks with his entire aesthetic. 80 tipping into 90 degree weather makes his usual layers of leather jacket and newly constructed battle vest almost unwearable, although he makes a valiant effort. After all, while he can make a ripped Slayer crop top look totally metal, he always feels a little naked without his usual armor. 

So he muddles through most of the first month of the summer of 1984 without incident, splitting his time between the odd jobs they’ll let him pick up at Thatcher’s and selling out of his lunchbox in the park behind the Hawkins Community Pool, a hot spot for deals this time of the year. 

But despite the fact that it’s public and his business is close by, Eddie keeps himself at a healthy distance from those tempting blue waters. 

Because he’s run the numbers in his head. Even come up with a whole list of pros and cons when it comes to wading in the waters of Hawkins’ number one hot spot in the sweltering summer months, like cataloging all the strengths and weaknesses of a particularly tricky locale during a campaign.

Pro: The cool water lapping at his skin would probably feel like a balm delivered directly from the gods, at this point, offering some of the only true protection against the sun’s incinerating blaze. 

Con: The aforementioned popularity of the pool means it is pretty much crawling with bodies, middle-aged moms and screaming kids and Eddie’s classmates swarming the place like ants on a particularly tasty picnic basket. 

And in the lifeguard chair, day after day, sits the living embodiment of both categories at once, simultaneously a blessing and a deeply unjust curse: none other than Steve fucking Harrington, the King of Hawkins High himself. 

As much as Eddie likes to pretend that the jocks in town are all a faceless, bland-as-white-bread hive mind to him, there’s just really no escaping knowing who King Steve is. The rumor mill runs rampant with every mundane detail of Harrington’s life. 

About who he’s dating.

…Preppy school whiz Nancy Wheeler, going steady since last Christmas. 

And who he hangs out with.

…Pointedly not Tommy Hagan or Carol Perkins, despite the fact they’d been attached to either of Harrington’s hips since at least middle school. Not since last November, at least, when Harrington had turned up to school with a shiner. 

Whatever the story was there, Eddie hasn’t been able to untangle it. Not that it matters to him, of course not, other than the fact that the King has seemed markedly less douchey ever since then. Eddie’s even caught him a couple times, going out of his way to defend whatever poor bastard happened to be on the receiving end of Hagan and Perkins’ usual reign of unholy terror that day. Stark contrast from before, when he’d often turned a blind eye. 

And how his hair looked that day. 

…Perfectly coiffed without so much as a stray lock out of place, always. 

The point is, it was impossible not to know about Steve Harrington. So, yeah, Eddie noticed him…probably in more ways than he ought to.

Like the fact that, even at a distance, Eddie can tell that Harrington’s tiny red swim shorts are obscenely high and tight, adding another check to the con pile. 

‘Cause there’s sure as hell no need for him to get any closer to see just how much so. He’s already been subjected to the king in his gym uniform, thank you very much, the way it showed his off tan, fuzzy thighs and well-muscled calves. From here, Eddie can tell the beating Indiana sun has turned Harrington’s skin even more golden hued, and he’s also shirtless most of the time, for fuck’s sake. 

Thus his avoidance. As it turns out, for Eddie, the cost just isn’t worth the benefits.

So he restricts his domain to the park, sweat caking his back beneath layers of black denim and leather. And Eddie holds to that, like an unwritten addendum to his personal Munson Doctrine.

…That is, at least, until July comes. 

---

It’s coming on 2 am as Eddie crosses the park, heading back after Vicki Carmichael’s post-post Fourth of July party. 

(It’s already the 7th.) 

His van’s in the shop–and Gareth’s too young to have a license, and Jeff’s on vacation with his family, and neither Frankie nor Ronnie can afford a car, etc., etc.–which means he’s making the long walk home after a busy night dealing. While Eddie hates prep parties on principle and makes his opinions loudly known any chance he gets, the wad of cash currently burning a hole in his pocket makes it pretty clear…compromising his core values is worth it, for some things. 

But despite the fact that it’s dead of night, it’s still fucking hot. The humidity hangs heavy in the air, making his too many layers cling to him, damp and cloying. 

As he’s making his way past the swing set, out of the corner of his eye Eddie catches sight of those too blue waters. Still lit up even though it’s after dark, like a siren’s call. 

Violation of your own damn rules, Munson, he chides himself internally.

But…at least 85% of the reason he doesn’t let himself wade in has been removed, given it’s the dead of night.

With a glance around, he double checks that he’s alone. No cops cruising too slow down the road in the distance, no jocks drunkenly stumbling their own way home in Eddie’s wake. And, nope, there’s not a single person in sight. It’s just him and the dark, surrounded by the monkey bars and empty slides and silence that descended hours earlier on most of their sleepy, small town. 

So finally, Eddie thinks fuck it. 

Rules were made to be broken. Even his own. 

He crosses the park in several quick, long strides. Then, giving his surroundings one final once over, Eddie hops, a bit gracelessly, over the fence. His heels smart a little from the smack of the concrete, where it rises up to meet his landing, but this time the pain is worth the gain. 

The water spreads out in front of him like a mirage, the type Eddie’s seen a thousand times on Saturday morning cartoons, when the characters cross the desert and think they’ve finally spotted a beachfront paradise. Except, for once, Eddie’s own little slice of paradise is actually real.

Eddie dumps his lunchbox on the closest lounge chair–cream and beige, so boring, just like everything else in this town. He makes quick work afterward of peeling off his sweaty clothes, unceremoniously dropping them beside it. 

Once he’s stripped down to nothing but his plaid boxers, he circles the edge of the pool around to the deep end. With a whoop, Eddie takes a running start, leaping in feet first. The water rushes up over him, submerging him completely and feeling just as heavenly as he’d thought it would. 

For several long moments, he lazily treads, letting the slight ripples soothe his sticky, overheated skin. Body relaxing, he slides onto his back to float. Eddie contemplates, for a moment, flipping over into a dead man’s float instead, freaking out whatever preppy little lifeguard on duty came to open things up the next morning. 

But it’s an idle thought–obviously, there’s no way in hell Eddie could hold his breath that long. And, besides, he plans to be long gone by the time the place gets anywhere close to operation hours. No doubt whoever found him would just call the cops, and he really doesn’t need that, not with his stash sitting a few feet away. 

After floating a little longer, Eddie drops back down into the water and does a few handstands and flips, enjoying the weightless the pool affords him. He makes a couple aimless laps across the pool’s length, time ticking luxuriously by. Finally, once he’s had his fill of swimming, he pulls himself up and out of the water. 

He’s got no towel and doesn’t feel like adding the risk of a full blown breaking and entering charge to the evening’s escapades. Eddie settles instead for plopping down into the chair beside his things, letting himself drip dry. The night air feels good on his damp skin now, and the swim leaves him a bit boneless. When his eyes slip closed, he doesn’t even really register it. 

And before long, Eddie has drifted off to sleep. 

---

Eddie wakes to someone shaking his shoulders roughly.

“Hey! Hey, Munson!” A voice from above hisses. “Shit! Come on, man, please tell me you’re not like…dead on me, or something. Cuz I seriously do not need that in my life right now.”

When Eddie finally cracks open his eyes, he finds Steve Harrington’s own–big and brown, obnoxiously pretty in color–staring back at him. 

He wonders if maybe he is dead. Maybe he drowned at the bottom of the pool. 

Or maybe he’s dreaming. 

Although…Harrington hasn’t stepped back to peel off those tiny red swim shorts yet, which. Sure doesn’t sound much like one of Eddie’s dreams, he has to admit. 

“Thank fuck, dude,” Harrington’s body sags with transparent relief. 

Looks like there might be some substance to the dreamland theory after all. Since Eddie really can’t imagine a scenario in which Harrington would ever care enough to be relieved he was still around and kicking. 

That moment of doubt is short-lived, however. Because the next second, he’s slugging Eddie hard on the arm.

“Ow!” Eddie immediately rubs at the spot where his fist connected, shooting an accusing glare in Harrington’s direction. “Jesus H. Christ, dude, what the fuck was that for?”

Harrington flaps his hands out dramatically in front of him. “You scared the shit out of me, that’s what!”

“I scared you? You’re not the one who just got rattled into consciousness, Harrington, and woke up to find out somebody’s apparently been looming over you in your sleep!”

Harrington rolls his eyes. “I was not. And I only had to wake you up because you decided to take a nap at my place of business, Munson.”

Eddie snorts. His place of business. Fucking rich kids, they’re completely unreal. 

As the fog of sleep starts to clear, he fully takes in his surroundings and realizes that dawn has barely broken, the first few dim streams of light coming over the horizon. In other words, it’s still hours to go before the pool is set to open.

“Seriously, Harrington, man–what the hell are you doing here?”

Harrington huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement highlights his strong, athletic arms, his bare, smooth chest–and Eddie really needs to avert his gaze here, Jesus Christ. Because it turns out he was totally right. Giving the pool the distance he’d afford a radioactive site was exactly what he should have been doing and kept doing all summer long. 

“As we’ve already established, I work here. You’re the one that’s trespassing.”

“Well, now, trespassing seems like a strong word. I prefer, uh…” Casting around for inspiration, Eddie snaps his fingers and sends Harrington a crooked grin, playing at innocent and knowing he doesn’t come even remotely close. “...Taking a nap in a creative location. Can’t box me in, man, restricting places with those ‘sleep-appropriate’ labels of yours.”

Harrington’s brow furrows, clearly perplexed. It’s adorable, though it really has no right to be. 

“I know you think you’re funny, dude, but I really don’t get it.”

“Come on, man, you can’t crush my dream’s of being the king’s court jester just like that,” Eddie lays a hand over his heart, as though deeply wounded. “Plus, that still doesn’t answer my question. You might work here, but, last I checked, the pool doesn’t open at the crack of fucking dawn.”

The look Harrington shoots him is unbelievably haughty. “Oh, so you do know that there’s a whole set of open hours. Could have fooled me.”

“You’re still dodging the question.”

“I’m not, not really. But, since apparently you just have to know, the owner lets me come in before hours to practice. I mean, I’m on the swim team. Gotta stay fit in the summer, not that I expect you to know anything about that.” 

Eddie almost expects the dude to flex, or something, show off his athleticism. But, instead, Harrington just thrusts out his arms in exasperation again. He’s turning out to be way more dramatic than Eddie expected. 

“There. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Eddie says wryly, rubbing a hand over the bottom of his face. Something about the explanation is…bothering him, though, tickling at the back of his brain. “But, uh–don’t you have that big fuck off pool back at Harrington Manor? Rumor has it it’s even heated, can swim in it all year round.”

Harrington tenses, lines marring his face–drawn around his eyes, the corner of his mouth. The tension in the air around them ratchets up, going almost icy.

“I don’t…like swimming there. Not anymore,” he explains quietly. 

Shit. Rumor had it Barb Holland disappeared last year after a Harrington pool party, didn’t it? Eddie had written it off at the time–how the hell would nerdy Barbara have scored an exclusive invite from King Steve, anyway? But, then again, Harrington and Wheeler had started dating not too long after that, and it’s definitely an explanation for why the guy is acting so squirrely now. But, that revelation begs a follow-up question…

What the fuck could have happened that has Harrington so spooked?

Eddie doesn’t get a chance to even consider asking, because the other teen’s expression wrinkles with confusion again. 

“Wait, how do you know I have a pool?”

It’s Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes. “Other than the fact that half the school puts out a bulletin literally every time you so much as take a piss? I’ve been to your house, Harrington. Just where do you think the top tier high everybody gets at your parties comes from?”

“Oh,” Harrington frowns, “I’ve never seen you there.”

“Yeah, well, us peasants try to keep a healthy distance from the royalty, lest we be kicked out on our asses.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Harrington says automatically. When his eyes cut across to Eddie, he looks weirdly earnest, like he really wants Eddie to believe him. 

And the truth is, some part of Eddie, deep down, does. 

…Now, at least.

“Sure, but…I bet you’d have been singing a different tune last fall.”

Harrington shakes his head quickly. But the tension bleeds out of his shoulders a little, one corner of his mouth twitching, like he’s thought of some private joke. 

“No way, man. Tommy needs–well, needed, anyway–something to mellow him out. Otherwise he gets so goddamn insufferable before the night’s out.” 

“Starts the evening that way, too, in my experience,” Eddie observes dryly, not sure how it’s going to land. 

After all, just because Harrington and Hagan have had it out, that doesn’t mean the guy doesn’t remain more loyal to his brethren than the town freak. But Eddie’s already spent this entire conversation walking a tightrope, posed to plunge any second. 

No point quitting now.

Harrington just sighs, though, running a hand through his hair. 

He sounds resigned when he says, “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Eddie isn’t expecting candidness, not out of the King, and certainly not an admission that felt brutal and vulnerable all at once. The exchange leaves him, for once, not sure what to say. 

So he approaches it the only way he knows how…a little humor to deflect. 

(Even if Harrington doesn’t think he’s funny.)

“Noticed you haven’t been hosting too many of those big blowouts these days, though. What gives, man? You’re really cutting into my bottom line here.”

Harrington rubs a hand over the back of his neck, shrugging. “Guess I haven’t been in much of a party mood. Not lately.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue again, questions Eddie’s dying to ask…except this time, with Harrington looking so suddenly wide-eyed and lost, he thinks he might be seconds away from blurting out something phenomenally stupid like, You okay?

The expression is gone almost as quickly as it came, though, Harrington’s face clearing like that haunted flicker in his eyes had only ever been in Eddie’s imagination. 

“But seriously, as a reminder, you do get that the pool has, like…normal operating hours, right?” Harrington scoffs. 

One corner of his mouth twitches, though, like he’s biting back an amused smile. Now whether he’s laughing with Eddie or at him–well, his personal tract record suggests it’s the latter. 

“It is a community pool, after all. And you really shouldn’t swim without a lifeguard around, you know? That’s sort of, like…” he gestures pointedly to himself, “our whole point.” 

But Eddie isn’t about to enumerate the very long list of reasons he avoids the pool like the plague in daylight hours to Steve Harrington of all people. Especially not when the very jock crowd Harrington still hangs around with–who have made a pastime out of making life a living hell for guys like Eddie–tops that list. Some people may be into humiliation, but Eddie isn’t looking to get pantsed in front of all the judgmental church ladies and their screaming brats, especially when he just knows they’ll somehow make the whole thing his fault. 

It’s not like Harrington would get that, though. He’s probably never been embarrassed a day in his life. 

So instead, Eddie shoots him a wide, devil-may-care grin. “Aww, come on now, where’s the fun in that?”

Whatever he says, it makes Harrington go strangely sober all over again.

“It’s dangerous,” his voice is urgent, almost scolding, “being out too late, by yourself. You should be more careful.”

“While I appreciate the whole knight in shining armor routine, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not one of your many adoring fans, my liege. No need to pull out the heroics for little ole me,” Eddie shrugs. “Besides, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m serious, Munson.” 

The look Harrington levels him with cuts Eddie right to the quick. His words are an understatement obviously, because from the look in his hazel eyes, it’s clear–he’s not just serious, he’s deadly serious. 

“People have literally gone missing. And Hawkins, it’s–there’s a lot more to it than everybody thinks.”

Eddie lets out a nervous chuckle, rubbing a hand over the top of his head. Whatever malaise Harrington’s got going on…it keeps popping up in the weirdest, most vaguely ominous ways. 

“Look, man–if this is all some ploy to freak out the town freak? Congratulations, you’re totally nailing it. Because what the hell is that supposed to even mean?”

Harrington shakes his head, as though whatever trance he had been pulled into is clearing. This time, when he huffs, he’s back to annoyed, an expression of superiority Eddie is infinitely familiar with from watching King Steve march the halls of Hawkins High.

“Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Like I told Nance, shouldn’t even be talking about it anyway.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, doesn’t bother to remind himself that curiosity killed the cat. 

“Wait a second. You told Wheeler what now?”

“It doesn’t matter. Like I said, forget it.” 

Eddie blows out a breath, ruffling his own bangs with the force of it, his turn at being frustrated. 

“That’d be a helluva lot easier to do, man, if you stopped being all ominous and cryptic. Pretty sure that’s supposed to be more my style than yours. But, clearly, you wouldn’t keep bringing shit up if there wasn’t something you wanted to say.” 

Harrington rubs a hand roughly over his face. Eddie waits for it, fully expecting him to tell Eddie to fuck off, his patience finally wearing thin.

But this morning is full of surprises. 

“There’s just…stuff she wants to talk about, but things'll be a lot better for us if we don’t.” Harrington licks over his bottom lip before gnawing at it. “And a lot safer, too.”

His tone goes irritated, tired, but Eddie doesn’t think it’s towards him. The words are clearly ones he’s said before, an argument that’s old and familiar. 

A falling out with his friends, fights with his girlfriend, a 180 in key aspects of his attitude–and all somehow connected to Barbara Holland’s disappearance and something being wrong with Hawkins? Eddie’s never been great at math, but even he can tell that all adds up to Harrington having seen some kind of serious shit. 

The truth is, deep down, Eddie knows that he’s a bleeding heart. He wouldn’t make it his mission to recruit all the outcasts he could find, take them under his wing, if he wasn’t. 

And Harrington? Seriously seems like he could use a sympathetic ear right about now. 

“Look, man. I know we’re like…natural enemies, on the Hawkins High food chain,” Eddie pulls a face, hoping to inject a little levity into the moment. “But, I mean. There’s nobody else around. So if you needed to talk, now’s kind of the ide–”

But Harrington cuts him off before he can finish. “That’s the whole point. I don’t want to talk! I just want to forget about it!” 

Then, with a dramatic flop, he throws himself down into a sitting position on the concrete and hugs his arms around his knees. 

Eddie blinks in surprise. He wasn’t exactly expecting a full blown outburst like that, but–well. He’s no stranger to lashing out himself, especially when he’s feeling anxious and cornered, so he can’t exactly fault Harrington for. 

And he can’t help but think of his dad, rotting in a jail cell somewhere. Of the hell he put him through, before Eddie finally got to go and stay with his Uncle Wayne for good. Of all the things he doesn’t talk about, not if he’s got a choice. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, feeling a sympathetic pang deep in his chest. “Okay, man. I get that, too.”

Several long, agonizing moments pass as they sit in strained silence. 

Finally, Harrington admits quietly, “I just don’t get it. How everything got so–screwed up.”

Eddie shoots him a wry smile. “Hate to burst your bubble, man, but…world’s always been like that. Maybe now you can just finally see it.”

“How do you deal with it?” Harrington asks as he turns to Eddie, eyes expectant. Like he actually cares what Eddie has to say. 

“Harrington, if I ever figure that out–I’ll let you know.” The shrug he sends him is apologetic. “But, uh…if you can think of anything else I can do that’ll maybe help…”

Harrington snorts. “Well, first of all, you could do a lot better job looking out for yourself.”

A laugh bursts out of him, halfway to a scoff. “Fuck, man, what do you care?”

“I mean, what do you?” Harrington retorts right back, eyebrow raised as he gestures between the two of them, their impromptu therapy session. 

“Alright, man. You got me there,” Eddie nods in acceptance, the same as he would if he’d just been bested in the middle of a campaign. “Touché.”

Harrington mutters something, so soft Eddie misses it.

“What was that?”

“I said it helps,” he repeats.

“Uh…what does?” Eddie asks, genuinely baffled. 

“Just knowing somebody else gets it. And gives a shit.” Harrington huffs, sending him a crooked smile. “Even if it is just the town freak.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie gives a mocking half-bow. “I live to serve you and only you, my liege.”

Reaching up, Harrington slugs Eddie lightly on the leg, which he’s pretty sure is jock for thank you. Plus the soft, grateful look he’s sending Eddie, his attention trained fully on him, is enough to make Eddie’s heart give a traitorous little flip in his chest.

Stupid heart. 

…Stupid sweet jock smile. 

Then, Harrington squints up at the sky, shading his eyes with one hand from the sun, which has climbed steadily higher since he shook Eddie roughly awake. 

“You know, unless you want the soccer moms stumbling in here and seeing you in nothing but your underwear…you should probably get dressed, dude.” 

Eddie glances down, realizing he is still wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. A slight flush rises to his cheeks, realizing that he just carried out a full blown conversation with Steve Harrington while all but naked. 

Standing, he quickly shoves his legs back into his jeans–stumbling a little, since they’ve dried stiff from the chlorine–before slinging on his W.A.S.P. t-shirt. 

Once he’s fully dressed, he shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. The moment stretches, awkward, now that whatever spell they were under for the duration of the early morning has broken. 

“So, uh…thanks, I guess. For, you know. Not ratting me out to your boss.”

Harrington’s face is completely stone serious when he asks, “Who says I’m not gonna turn you in?”

Eddie lets out a long groan, throwing his head back. “Aww, come on, man! I thought we…I don’t know, bonded, or some shit!”

Harrington’s nose crinkles, face breaking into a mischievous grin. It’s like the sun breaking out on a cloudy day, and easily the happiest Eddie’s seen him look all morning long. 

“Wow, you’re so easy. I’m just messing with you, Munson.”

“Oh, I see how it is. The king’s got jokes!” Eddie retorts, deadpan. 

“Sometimes,” Harrington replies, ducking his head, smile small and private. Then, he jerks his chin. “Now get out of here, man, before I have to tell Mrs. Carpenter and her kids that I recruited you to be the new lifeguard.”

“Yeah, no, fuck that,” Eddie gives a full body shudder at the thought. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Seems like I just did,” Harrington teases, voice going a little sing-song at the end. 

Eddie just flips him the bird as he heads towards the fence, Harrington’s light laughter following in his wake. He’s preparing to jump over, hoping he doesn’t make a total ass out of himself when he knows he’s still in Harrington’s line of sight, when he hesitates. Glances backwards, mulling something over in his mind. 

“Hey, Harrington!”

Harrington spins around to face him again, cocking his head to the side like a curious puppy. 

“Drop by the park later.” Eddie shakes his lunchbox. “It’ll be on the house.”

“Why?” Harrington’s forehead creases, sounding puzzled. 

“Maybe the jester just wants his king to gain back some of that party spirit!”

Harrington shakes his head. He looks like he’s muttering something to himself before he finally calls back, “See you around, Munson.”

“Later, Harrington,” Eddie corrects pointedly, “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his wave would look dismissive, if not for the way one side of Harrington’s mouth twitches upwards. “Later, then.”

And, even though he knows he’s being a total idiot, once Eddie is past the fence, well out of the other teen’s sight…he gives a single fist pump in victory.

---

For the rest of the summer, Harrington is his best customer. Drops by the park before opening to buy from Eddie, joking he’s trying to make up the difference from all the parties he’s no longer throwing. And, on the rarer occasions, when the stars align and their paths cross just right, Harrington even sticks around and shares a joint with him, after his shift is over and the sun’s gone down. 

If Eddie starts showing up earlier and leaving later in a way that corresponds almost directly with the routine Harrington’s built, he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t mention the weirdness of that first conversation, either, or the haunted look Harrington sometimes still gets in his hazel eyes as he stares out into the middle distance, eyes roving over the dark. 

It’s not his business. 

And if he takes some pride, knowing he can offer the former king a little bit of comfort from whatever rottenness in Hawkins has cut into him like a claw? Yeah, well.

That’s nobody else’s business, either. 

Nobody’s but his own.