#Two years older and four inches shorter :(

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways to Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Harrington!Fem!Reader | 18+

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Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You're home for the weekend, which so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve's daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve's freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type

Word count: 5.3k

P2 Will Be Up Next Thursday and every Thursday from then on!

The sounds of the morning Saturday cartoons fill the living room, background noise as you scroll through your phone while slowly working your way through your bowl of cereal. Droplets of milk occasionally drip onto your lap, landing on your bare thigh as the videos you scroll through don’t seem to compute. 

For the thousandth time you spill milk on your lap, you huff out of annoyance as you wipe it off with the edge of your sweaters sleeve. Maybe scrolling through your phone and eating something with liquids wasn’t a good idea for someone as klutzy as you.

From the kitchen, your dad walks out as he uses a T-towel to dry his hands. “You listening, sunshine?”

”Huh?” You blurt out, the video you were half paying attention to still playing. 

He breaks into a smile, shaking his head as he tosses the towel over his shoulder. “Guess not. You have any plans this weekend?” 

You shake your head, wiping your mouth of the excess milk of this bite when you had scooped too big of a bite. “Naomi is working for the summer and Marley got stuck watching her little brother all weekend.” 

Coming home to see your dad for the week is nice, granted it would probably be nicer if you could see either of your 2 friends. You’d have to settle for Steve being extra doting on you, given you’re only one of four of his kids in the house for the moment. What you would give to have your snot mouth brother in town just for two seconds to make the extra big house just a little bit smaller.

He nods, rubbing his hands together. You can see the slight hesitation in his eyes, watching the cartoon as if he had forgotten the conversation which he had started. 

“Dad?” His brown eyes switch to you, smirking at your expectant face. 

“Right. I was hoping you’d be out of the house a bit more,” he sighed, popping his knuckles anxiously. ”I have an old friend that will be staying with us for the weekend. I thought if you were out of the house it might make things slightly less awkward.” 

Your eyebrows furrow, curious as to what he might mean. You’ve gotten to know any old friend of his that might be expected to stay for the night, ducking their many attempts to ruffle your hair over the years. The only person you’d let do it ended up being Robin, as she is the coolest person you’ve ever met. 

“Why would it be awkward?” The question has a sarcastic bite to it, garbled by the cereal in your mouth. 

He sighs, placing a hand in his brown locks, ruffling them as he tucks his lips in. “Well, because it’s one of the friends you’ve never met.” 

There’s a few of them, having never made their return to Hawkins, you never had a chance to meet them. A few names from the stories your dad has told you over the years flicker through your mind, one name in particular standing out from the rest. 

Well, it's the only name that pops through your head.

His likeness on Late Nite TV interviews charming the audience, his solid tenor voice playing on the speakers during family barbecues, his band’s name plastered on some of the albums in your dad’s collection. 

You’ve heard stories, seen the photos of him and your dad together, but he’s never come around before. 

“Who?” You ask, your heart palpitating at the very thought of the long haired angel who haunted your dreams making his first in-person appearance. 

“It’s Eddie,” he answers, crossing his arms as his eyes switch back to the tv. “Eddie Munson, that guy in Corroded Coffin I’ve told you stories about?” 

You roll your eyes, fighting the smile that threatens to take over your face. “I know who Eddie is, dad. His name comes up every time his songs are on the family speakers. Given how many stories I know about him, is a lot!” You tease him, satisfied by the quick twist of annoyance across his face.  

“Not like I heard you complaining about those stories,” he chuckles, playfully feigning a throw of his T-towel at you. “He needs to come into town to help his uncle move into a retirement home. Wayne has finally given in, despite needing to be in one for at least a decade,” you blink at him, giving him that same deadpan stare he has given time and time again. He’s taught you well. “Right, so. He will be staying for the weekend.”

You nod, putting down the bowl on the coffee table as the remaining contents are only the milk and soggy cereal. What a nightmare of textures. 

As you lift your phone to unlock it again the day of the week flashes as a reminder. “So, he‘ll be here tomorrow?” 

He hisses, reaching out his hand for said bowl. You pass it to him, the silence would be awkward if it weren’t for how easily it rolls off his shoulders. 

Steve Harrington makes his living off of awkward moments. 

“Short notice I know,” he apologizes, in so many words, “I offered to him a few months ago when he brought it up, and he called the other day looking to cash in on the favor.” 

“And you said I’d be yours for the weekend. You liar!” You accuse, playfully crossing your arms at him. 

Your dad shrugs, walking back into the kitchen. “It seems I have double booked Chez Harrington for the weekend, but it won’t be so bad.” You hear the sound of the bowl being put in the water in the sink. 

You pretend to be annoyed, because it’s what he expects of you. The truth is since you were old enough to find someone hot Eddie Munson has intrigued you. On the occasion you have found yourself staring too long at magazine spreads he has been featured in, letting his sweet tenor voice enwrap you whole as you turn on his music. Sometimes he bares a love bite or two on stage, smacking you in the face with envy. 

This weekend is bound to be torture for you, a vision of a rock god whose body and chisled arms you’ve practically memorized by now up close in person with all those sick and twisted thoughts bouncing around in your head. To him, you will be nothing but a school girl with a crush. 

You’re surprisingly okay with that. 

“Ah, yes, an unruly rockstar coming over for a weekend. I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending,” you sing the last part, smiling cheekily as he scoffs. 

“Taylor Swift references aside, he’s really gotten over his party hard rockstar days,” he insists, “or at least, that’s what he tells me.” 

You nod cynically, narrowing your eyes. “Fine. Not like I can tell you to refuse your friend a place to stay,” you shrug, acting a little too much. Relax, take it easy. You don’t need to overact out an emotion. “We have more than enough rooms.” 

“Well, your sisters don’t like to come home for whatever reason and your brother is gone away at camp for the summer, so, yeah, I guess you can say that,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms back at you. 

“Oh, I thought he’d just stay in the spare bedroom,” you tease, your arms flailing as he pushes you over on the couch in one last retaliation. 

The following afternoon there’s three knocks on the door, announcing the arrival of the person you’ve been waiting for all morning. You might have dressed for the occasion, a flowy summer dress that shows off your tits and just enough of your bikini top to keep him wanting more. 

You’d hoped the shine of your sunscreen on your skin will work in your favor, purposely messy hair and pretty lip gloss will do just the trick. 

You open the door, despite waiting a few seconds for your dad to come down so you didn’t have to, but the guest was impatient, knocking another three times and calling your dad’s name. 

“Alright, alright, coming!” You call out, swinging the door open to a real life legend. 

“Ah! Little Harrington!” He startles, his brown eyes wide, only adding to how comically yet gorgeously frazzled he is. 

But it’s not entirely comforting that the first thing he does when he sees you is jump. 

“Sorry, just thought you lot were gone for the summer,” he chuckles, fidgeting with his rings. Two seconds in and you’re already leering. 

“Decided to crash,” you shrug, stepping back so he might enter. “Not many places I can stay at for free that also have a pool.” 

He barks out a laugh at your attempt at humor, looking around your father’s admittedly sweet diggs. “Jesus,” he swears under his breath, dropping his gym bag on the floor. ”Forgot how big the Harrington house is.”

You laugh under your breath, keeping a comment to yourself. 

A V forms between his brows, having seen the thought cross your mind. “What?” 

“Nothing,” you dismiss, a tight lipped smile slowly spreading across your face. 

“I know a classic Harrington comment when I see one, spit it out,” he smirks, crossing his arms and raising his brows expectantly.

The comment spit it out raises a few images, but bite your tongue and ignore them.  

You raise your brows back, challenging his demand. You almost win, but the need to make a sarcastic remark, the one you inherited from a long line of sarcastic Harringtons, wins. “You’re a rockstar, aren’t you? Don’t you have a big mansion of your own?” 

He scrunches his nose, as if turned off by the idea. “A house, maybe. But a mansion? For one person? That’s excessive.” He moseys back over to the door, bending over the threshold to grab something from out of sight. His guitar. The prized one he wrote the song chopped full of innuendos Tasty Lick about. He carries it by the neck, the red and black pattern even more vibrant and captivating in person. 

You could say the same about him, especially how no photo seems to do him justice. The stubble on his chin is faint, but it’s there, looking ever so scratchable. His hands are rough, calloused from the hours of guitar playing. His forearms reveal a patchwork of black and white tattoos, all wrapped in a gothic theme or horror of some kind. 

You’re still leering at him. You should’ve known this would be a dangerous game. 

“Well what did you do with your riches, then?” You rebuttal as you peer up from under your lashes at a set of chocolate eyes that has your breath catching. 

“A really nice tour bus, good security,” he starts walking towards the kitchen, hands in his jeans pockets as he continues his observation of the surroundings. “As of recently, a damn good retirement home.” 

You smile at that, how charming it is that he’d rather spend his well earned dough on comfort for himself and others. It only adds to the boyish charm that overflows from him. 

“Oh, and a nice little red sports’ car,” he adds, completely nixing your previous thought about him. 

“I can make you something to eat if you want, you probably had a long road trip,” you offer him, leaning forward against the island counter.

Eddie’s eyes study you for a moment, his eyes flickering around your face. As they trail across your eyes, lips, studying your scattered moles you’ve inherited from your father, you nearly retract from his intense gaze.

The moment ends, Eddie leaning back in the barstool as he licks his lips in a quick movement. “No thanks,” his head shakes rapidly, sending a ripple down his wavy locks, “I’m good.” 

You hum, cheekily raising your brow. “Dad’s probably in the shower, which means you might be waiting a while for him to blow dry his hair.” 

Eddie laughs, broad smile wide enough to show those dangerous dimples. “Guess nothing really has changed.” 

You push yourself off the barstool, barking out one short laugh as you walk out the wide double doors to where your setup is. 

It’s best not to hover.

There are a few lounge chairs by the pool, each with its own glass table right next to it. Your phone is waiting for you, a singular AirPod right next to it, the music that was playing through the speaker earlier on pause and waiting for you to return. The hot sun blares on the 4th of July weekend, a chlorine blue water stagnant in the pool, just inviting someone to enjoy its icy depth, a shelter from the blaze. 

Your sandals protect your bare feet from the scorching concrete, the sunglasses that rested on your head are no longer forgotten as the sun sends daggers through your skull. 

You lose yourself in your Hot Girl Summer playlist, humming to an indie pop artist’s upbeat track that sounds like summer while mindlessly reading a magazine. Your dad blocks the sun, effectively announcing his presence after you couldn’t hear him over the music blasting in your ear. 

After you wave up at him with a smile on your face, taking the earbud out when he gestures for you to do so. “What’s up?” 

He tilts his head in a jerk move, his face shifting into a bewildered expression in a blink. “A-when did Eddie get here?” 

“Dunno,” you shrug, looking around him towards the double doors. “Maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago?”

His eyes widen, adding to the expression he’s given to you many many times in your adolescence. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” 

You lean back, switching your glance back down to your magazine, oh so coyly. “I figured you were in the shower.” You flip the page to a spread of heartthrobs. Somehow the rockstar has made his way into the mix. “Eddie can wait for fifteen minutes. He’s a big boy.” 

Steve blinks at you, considering this statement with a sour look on his face. “Did you at least offer a drink, something to eat while he was waiting?” 

“Of course I did! He said no. Now go say hi to your buddy,” you gesture back towards the house vaguely, playing closer attention to the glossy pages in your lap. “I’m not the one being rude, anymore.” 

He sighs, turning back around toward the house. The earbud is barely pressed into your ear when he turns back around, his long legs taking him back in quick steps. “This whole display doesn't have anything to do with Eddie visiting, would it?” 

“Display?” You parrot back to him, pushing your sunglasses onto your head. You gesture towards the pool, mirroring that same exasperated look he gave you. “Display? I’m sitting by the pool, like I told you I would. If I wanted a display, I would’ve worn a lot less than the dress I wore when I answered the door.” You pause, indicating to your pink bikini with a flourish. “I would’ve worn a lot less now.”

Steve falls out of his stern father pose, eyes closed as he throws his hands up in surrender. “Aah, okay I get your point.” 

“It’s hot, it’s summer.” You put your sunglasses back on over your eyes, shaking the product soaked hair you worked so hard to make look effortlessly messy. “I’m your daughter, I’m not a display.”

“Right, yeah. Just making sure, sunshine.” He leans in, lowering his voice as if so Eddie can’t hear through the open doors. “I just know you had a crush on him when you were younger. It ain’t happenin’, sweet girl.” 

You pull your head back, your jaw dropping as your dad does what he does best, come up with one more rebuttal just when you thought you’d won the battle. 

He always wins the war. 

It takes a minute for your mind to catch back up to yourself, blinking yourself out of it. “I-what!”

”You weren’t as subtle about it as you thought you were, sunshine!” He calls back, striding back into the house. 

You huff, watching your crystal blue painted toenails twitch as you mull the conversation over in your head. If nothing came of it, then at least Eddie would get to enjoy his view, and you’d enjoy yours. For a moment you wonder if you’re acting pathetic, but you toss your sunglasses and earphone aside, ignoring the glitch in self confidence as you approach the suddenly inviting pool. 

Were the set of eyes you felt on you as you made laps in the pool just wishful thinking?

-

The scraping of the knife against toast fills the kitchen as you slowly spread the strawberry jam, careful not to make more of a mess than you already have. 

“Mornin’’’ you hear behind you, your dad’s shampoo filing your nose as he leans in to plant a  kiss on your cheek. 

“Hi,” you greet him, pausing to ‘clean’ the jam off your thumb. You’re about to ask if he would like some toast when you see his suit on, perfectly tailored with his long hair groomed so specifically you clock it right away. “You’re all dressed up.”

He grins, walking around you to where you had a pot of coffee started. “About that.”

That’s exactly what you figured. “What?”

”Put some toast in for Ed, I’ll tell you both when he comes down,” he instructed, narrowly avoiding your pointedly annoyed stare. 

Your eyes remain on his to make your point, huffing as you place two pieces of bread in, adding more attitude in the action than was probably necessary. Your jaw locks, staring him down as he pours his cup of coffee, chewing on the toast with your arms crossed. 

Although Steve is apologetic, he eventually ignores your glare, wondering how all four of his kids managed to get his same attitude. 

Eventually you grow tired of glaring at someone who’s ignoring you so you sit down, waiting for Eddie to make his appearance as you pout at the kitchen island. 

The smell of his Irish Spring soap hits the kitchen before he does, walking into the kitchen mid yawn and fresh from his shower. Eddie’s shirt clings to his lithe torso like a second skin, showing off just the hint of a tummy with his sweatpants sitting low on his hips. You allow yourself one second to gawk at him and the hairs that peek out of his shirt until you reshift your focus back to your toast, panicking when you notice the jam that has dripped on your hand. Oh, shit again?

“What’s with the fancy get up, dude?” Eddie asks, pouring himself a cup as well.  

“Before we get to that, Sunshine has put some toast in for you.” Steve gestures with his coffee cup.

Eddie’s brows lift, looking just the littlest bit delighted as he turns toward the toaster. “Oh, thanks!” He snaps his fingers into a gun with his thumb and pointer finger, sending a wink your way. You’re mid-‘clean-up’ on your hand, rushing to finish before you nod to acknowledge his thanks. 

“Alright. My partner called,” he means work partner, “he needs help to close this deal. He’s having a really hard time doing it himself.”

”Who did you send?” You ask, knowing a little bit of his work drama. 

Steve hisses, wincing as he says, “Warner.” 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as the toast pops out of the toaster. “Well no wonder!” 

Eddie has been watching this like a tennis match, completely out of the loop but entertained nonetheless. “What, what’s wrong with…Warren?” 

“Warner,” you correct him, cleaning up yet another spill of jam off your thumb. “The guy sucks. Why Warner, why not Tommy?” 

“Wait, why does he suck?” Eddie asks as he spreads butter on his toast, looking way too entertained about this.

“Because he’s a 22-year-old fuckwit that doesn’t know how to close and only got this job because his dad gave it to him when he retired,” you huff, not at all distracted by how Eddie is eating his toast; like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, savoring every bite. His tongue occasionally pokes out to lap at the butter on his lips, his eyes closed as he muffles sounds at the back of his throat. 

He makes eating toast look depraved.

“Sunshine, you’re 22,” Steve squints, lifting his cup towards you accusingly. 

You scoff. “Yeah but I’m not an entitled dickwad who thinks just because his daddy had a job ‘oh, that’s my job one day!’. He has no experience versus his father who was in the game for 25 years.” You’re very passionate about this, more so than you had even anticipated. “Seriously, why him?” 

“He’s the only one who didn’t take the Fourth of July weekend off because he’s a 22 year old fuckwit with no family.” He takes a large sip of his coffee before setting it on the counter. “Well in any case, you are right. He has no experience and we need this account, so I gotta help him out.” 

“When do you think you’ll be back?” Eddie asks, giving you a fresh whiff of his soap when he walks behind you to sit on the other side of the island. 

Steve crosses his arms and leans against the table, mentally preparing himself before he disappoints the two of you, “Not til Sunday.” 

“Shitty,” Eddie sighs sympathetically. 

“Dad I can only take one week off,” you sigh, having only gotten two days with him. “When you get back I’ll only have one more day.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He does genuinely sound remorseful. You know he’d stay if he had any other choice, but he doesn’t. 

“You know anyone else in town who could…” Eddie starts, obviously reminding your dad of something he forgot about. 

“Shit. Hmmm.” Steve’s eyes flicker to you, “Sunshine can do it.” 

You pause mid-bite in hearing your nickname. “Sunshine can do what?” 

“I don’t wanna bother her on her vacation.” Eddie states, dismissing Steve’s offer. 

Your dad saved him off, “I’m sure she’d be happy to help.” 

“What am I doing?” You ask more assertively, finally grabbing their attention. 

Eddie finally speaks first, “Oh, I asked your dad to help me pack up my uncles things. It’s a tedious process, I can get—“ 

“No, she’d be happy to help,” Steve offers again, looking at you and jerkily nodding his head towards Eddie. 

You’d be happy to help, you’re just thinking about the amount of time you’ll be alone with Eddie. Your plan was to keep a safe distance from him, allowing a free show in your best summer clothing while enjoying the hot weather. The close quarters your dad is sending you into sounds dangerous, butterflies erupting into your ribcage as you picture the deafening silence surrounding the two of you knee deep in his uncle’s things.   

“I’m happy to help,” you tell him, getting up to put your plate away. 

“I don’t want to force her into—“ 

“My dad can’t force me into doing shit,” you scoff, ignoring your dads own scoff. Now Eddie on the other hand could demand you to bark and you would. Down on the ground, on all fours. “Besides. You two wouldn’t have gotten any actual organization done.” 

“Thanks,” Eddie lifts his mug, giving you a wink. Your neck hair rises, scanning his arched nose and the rebelling stubble already growing in despite having freshly shaved. His aftershave is intoxicating, the sound of a glass mug clinking as it lands on the counter snapping you out of your daze.   

“When are you leaving?” You suddenly remembered your dad’s presence in the kitchen, funny how fast you forgot about him. 

“I should get going within the hour,” he states thoughtfully, grimacing apologetically when you give him sad eyes. You know it's not his fault, but you’re not the adult here, and the disappointment you feel can’t help but twist your features. 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, petting them with his thumbs. “I do feel better knowing I’m not leaving you all alone in this big empty house.” 

You tense up, avoiding his gaze as you attempt to smile. Being left all alone with Eddie in the big empty house is precisely what is worrying you. Your dad’s constant presence alone is the thing that has prevented you from even being tempted into going any further than elongated stares and late night fantasies. 

“I’ve been alone in the house before,” you say, tilting your head. “You’re about to be alone for the rest of the month.” That sentence just makes you feel sad. 

He smirks, shaking his head playfully. “I meant at least if I’m ditching you for work, then at least I’m not leaving you all alone. I was trying to alleviate my own guilt.” 

“I’ve already forgiven you, old man,” you tell him. “Go, rescue those poor investors from Warner’s slippery hands.”

He pulls you in for a hug, his heartbeat familiar as he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. Your head is swung back abruptly as he pushes on your shoulders, leaning in conspiratorially. “Hey, there are worse people to leave you alone than the man that was once on a poster on your wall, hey?” 

That poster was stared down many times, finally taken down when you were about to move away, kept only because of the autograph in the bottom corner.

Regardless, your dad is having too much fun with this. You wonder who would have more fun if Eddie ends up bending you over the couch like you kept envisioning. Said rockstar currently bending over the couch to grab something jolted you back to the present. 

“And who gave me that as a gift after introducing me to his music?” You shoot back, meeting those chocolate brown eyes across the living room. 

“My ears are burning,” Eddie grins, walking around the couch to plug in the amp. 

“Are your keys burning, because I need a ride to the airport.” Steve interjects, smirking at your widened eyes. 

Eddie sits on the couch, one foot resting on the coffee table as he starts playing his guitar absentmindedly. “I am your noble steed at your service, Harrington. Just tell me when.” 

Steve answers with something, probably somewhat sarcastic before climbing the stairs to finish packing. You probably would’ve heard it if it weren’t for how absentmindedly his fingers were moving, individually plucking the strings as his other hand shifts easily to each corresponding chord. 

He is delicate with the instrument, expertly working her and zoned out as the guitar’s gentle tune fills the house. His many years spent playing is evident through how easy he plays the melody, getting lost in the song with his hands working idly. If it weren’t for his eyes being shut for the whole time, you would’ve probably pretended to go on your phone. 

His effortlessness of plucking the strings sends a thrill down your spine, has your thighs squeezing tightly together as your mind starts to picture his fingers expertly working you apart. 

“Ow!” 

Eddie’s yelp snaps you out of it, making you jump as you hurriedly switch your glance back to your phone. He chuckles as he sucks his sore thumb, the very same one the guitar string snapped on. “Sorry, did I scare ya?” 

“No,” you answer, sounding not at all convincing to yourself. Eddie lifts his brow to you, his face comically twisted as he continues to tend to his wound. “Okay, maybe a little.” 

He chuckles, smirking as he adjusts the guitar on his lap again. “Poster in your room?” 

Fuck, you were hoping he didn’t hear that, despite him being in earshot. 

“Well it was signed and it just so happened to be one of my favorite albums.” Despite your nerves tickling the surface right under your skin, you do your best to seem unfazed by his magic fingers.  

His brows furrow, delicately playing a soft rock melody. At least, you think it's soft rock. “Which one?”

”Hell’s Angels,” you answer candidly. You do like the songs of Freak! More, but you specifically requested a poster of Hell’s Angels because of the dark look in Eddie’s eye while he’s looking directly in the listener. 

There may have been a night where you placed it perfectly on the wall so it appears he’s between your open legs to make it easier to picture him glancing up at you while he—

He tilts his head dismissively lifting one side of his upper lift in a sneer. “Not my best. If I had to pick a favorite, and don’t tell anyone I said this, it’d be Freak!” 

You blink in surprise, grinning to yourself as you listen to the gentle strum of his guitar. 

“I do remember sending that poster off though, Steve never mentioned who it was for, I just figured It would earn him some serious brownie points for a girl he was chasing.” It feels so weird to hear about your dad dating, even after all these years. 

“Nope,” you shrug. “Just his favorite daughter.” 

“Shit,” he laughs, a hiccup in his guitar play, “if you wanted an autograph you should’ve just asked. Only takes me two seconds.”

Your mind buzzes with the offer, probably a throwaway comment of his, but just the offer alone is enough to send you almost on a mental spiral. 

“Alright!” Steve saves you in the nick of time, running downstairs with a gray suitcase occasionally colliding every few steps or so. “Let’s go, Munson!” 

“Ok,” Eddie sets the guitar aside and turns his amp off, a stripe of skin nearly irresistible as he stretches. Aware of the company in the living room, who actually paid no mind, you memorize the pattern of his delicious looking treasure trail. God what would it feel like to nuzzle into those pretty little hairs. 

You’re still gawking. 

“Dude, leather jacket with sweatpants?” Steve reprimands, one eyebrow tilted as he looks at Eddie perplexed.

You hate to say it but he really makes it work. 

“What? Not like I’m really going anywhere,” Eddie shrugs, patting his pockets for a double check he has everything.   

The former glances at you, pointing at his friend. “Look at this get-up.” 

You pretend as if you hadn’t already, giving Eddie a one over. You take advantage of it, really taking your time. “I’ll give him a break, he wears leather pants on stage in 100 degree heat,” you answer, crossing your arms. “Just this once though. Don’t let us see you slacking again.” You were going to add a Munson at the end of it, but you figured it’d go too far. 

A chorus of soft laughter from both of them fills the room. “Yes ma'am,” he salutes, sending a jolt down your spine. Oh, that’s something you’ll need to dissect…eventually. 

Two steps away from the door, your dad turns back towards you to initiate one last hug. You let out a hum of contentment, giggling as he tells you to take it easy on Eddie. 

“Safe flight,” you wish him, one last squeeze until he reluctantly lets you go. ”Text me when you land.” 

Eddie appears with his hair in a low and loose bun, some curly strands framing his face. “Alright, Harrington. Get ready for your mid-life crisis.” 

The slick, low car that takes up one half of the driveway right next to your father’s Mercedes SUV stands out, probably one of the only flashy things he owns. (However, he also paid someone to drive up his van when he realized he still needed to move an old man’s house worth of clutter and valuables.)

As you watch the car drive to the end of the ridiculously long driveway, you can’t help but feel like a decision has been made for you. 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood turn to one. There is no more coke or pepsi. The radio will only air one station.

Being alone with Eddie Munson suddenly feels like a temptation. 

You just hope he has the good sense not to feel the same way.     

-

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I'm so sorry how much of this was in the preview, I tried to give what was in the fic but I have most of the whole thing done and I can't wait to see some reactions to the later bits. Particularly the filthy smut

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taglist for Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him: @emxxblog @transparentenemypenguin @stylesxmunson @ali-r3n @mediocredreams @miaajaade @dreamerjj @prestinalove @pretty-pink-princess

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 11: What Else Would It Be?

You deal with the fallout from your ex's visit as you ring in the new year with Joel, Sarah and Tommy. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 10, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

^Again, we're pretending like this is Joel. Even though he's a little old to be Joel at this point but YOU KNOW WHAT? WE'RE GONNA GO WITH IT HBO I BEG YOU

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Joel and Goldie being dumbasses. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.1K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel was kissing you. 

He tasted like coffee and you could smell his soap on his skin and his hand was on your lower back, fingers twisting in your shirt as he held you close to him. 

He pulled back slowly, breaking the kiss for a moment before moving to press a shorter, more familiar one to your lips. He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours before looking to Gale. 

“You must be the…” Joel looked him up and down. “Ex-husband. Gus, is it?” 

Gale’s jaw quirked, looking between you and Joel. 

“Gale,” he corrected. “And I’m still the husband. At least for now.” 

“Ahh, right, right,” Joel nodded, tugging you against his side with a sharp little yank. “That paperwork you keep draggin’ your feet on. Can’t say I blame you, I wouldn’t want to let this one go, either, if I were able to lock her down…” 

“Wouldn’t call it dragging my feet…” 

Joel released you then, stepping closer to Gale. You’d never realized how much taller than him Joel was, the younger man at least three or four inches larger than the older. 

“What would you call it, then?” Joel asked. “I might call it tormenting your wife because you can’t stand the fact that she’s got a life outside you after you fucked it up. But that’s me, ain’t it Georgie?”

“Don’t think what happens in my marriage is much of your business,” Gale’s voice was heated, his back a little straighter. “Don’t think I caught your name. Or who you are to my wife.” 

“Me?” Joel asked. “Oh, I’m just the one who’s been lookin’ out for her while you take out your problems on her. Don’t worry, though. She’s doing just fine with me.” 

Gale looked at you and you snapped your mouth shut, only then realizing that it was hanging open. 

“Think I’ll head on out, darling,” he said, ducking around Joel go come and stand close to you, so close you were almost touching. Your heart stuttered and you hated it. “Seems like you might have your hands full.” 

He slipped an arm around your waist, making you jump a little, and pulled you close, looking at you like he was going to kiss you the way he used to for a moment. Instead, his lips brushed your cheek, his nose tracing over your temple as he pulled back from you. 

“Let me know when you’re back home,” he said. “And think about what I said.” 

He released you and Joel took his place beside you, pulling you into him as he watched Gale leave. 

“Don’t let that door hit you on the way out,” Joel called after him, holding you tight to his side so you couldn’t follow. His grip on you loosened when the two of you heard the car door slam. “Gonna give it a minute so he has a chance to get outta here but I did come bearing ice cream…” 

“Ice cream,” you turned to look at him, incredulous, your heart still racing from when he’d kissed you. “That’s what you’re worried about right now. Ice cream.” 

He shrugged. 

“I mean, it’s melting…” 

“Jesus Christ,” you stalked off to the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of Gale’s car leaving from the small window as you leaned over the sink. 

“What?” He followed behind you. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re all worked up over that…” 

Gale’s sleek, black rental car pulled onto the road, throwing dirt up behind it as it went. 

“Sorry if I fucked up whatever plans you had with that asshole,” Joel said, his voice a little heated. “But he’s a jackass and if you want to actually cross some of that shit off your list, you can’t just backslide into fucking your ex…” 

You just sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes for a moment. Of course that was the part he was worried about. 

Not that you weren’t, too. It had just fallen much further down your list of concerns since Joel had kissed you. 

You hadn’t expected Joel to show up any more than you’d expected Gale to. 

When you hung up with Joel, a smile spread over Gale’s face and he looked happy to see you. Actually happy to see you, like seeing you was making his whole day. 

You couldn’t remember the last time he looked at you like that. 

“Are you going to invite me in?” He’d asked, brows raised. 

It took you a moment to register that he’d spoken. 

“Sorry, yes, sure,” you said, stepping aside. “Come in.” 

He smiled a little and came inside your cabin, looking around with an appreciative nod. 

“You always did like your quiet spaces when you were writing,” he said, making his way into your living room. “I remember when you were working on Halcyon, how you’d sometimes sit at the back of the closet, lights out, with just your laptop…” 

“It kept you from distracting me,” you smiled a little at the memory, that time seeming so close but so far away. “Speaking of which… what are you doing here?” 

“Distracting you,” he threw a small smile over his shoulder to you. You rolled your eyes but smiled a little back in spite of yourself. “I meant it when I said I missed you. My life’s been…” he paused for a moment. “Dim without you.” 

“Says volumes about Carla’s sparkling wit,” you said wryly, feeling bad almost the second it was out of your mouth. She was young, naive. She didn’t deserve you mocking her when she couldn’t even defend herself. 

But Gale laughed once. 

“I can’t say anyone’s ever put me through my paces quite like you, doll,” he said. “I didn’t know how I’d miss being challenged until I wasn’t anymore.” 

“You never liked when I challenged you,” you said. 

“No,” he nodded. “But, turns out… I like being blindly adored even less.” 

You scoffed at that. 

“I mean it,” he said, stepping close to you, close enough that you could smell is cologne. “Turns out, I need someone like you. Someone who can see me, see my flaws, challenge me, push me to be my best. I need someone who is smart and, believe it or not, intelligence isn’t the prerequisite for ivy league admittance you’d think it is. You’re one of the only people I know who is smart enough to keep me on my toes.” 

He reached out, brushing some unseen dust from your shoulder and then trailing his fingers over your neck. 

“I need you,” he said, so close to you now that you felt the familiar tug at the base of your chest, the way he’d always pulled you into his orbit. How you’d wanted to kiss him so badly in his office when you’d been young and desperately lonely and he seemed to understand you through your words the way no one had before. How you wanted to kiss him now because you hadn’t been kissed in so long. 

You swallowed, hard. 

“Tea?” You said quickly before you did something you’d regret later. You turned to head to the kitchen before he could respond. “I was just about to make myself a cup…” 

You could practically hear him smirk. 

“Sure,” he said. “You always did love your tea.” 

You made his tea just the way he liked it, Earl Grey with a splash of milk and a teaspoon of sugar, placing it in front of the seat he’d taken at the table. You sat across from him, hoping that some distance would help, trying to focus on the flavor of the tea you’d chosen - ginger peach - and the thick sweetness of honey on your tongue. 

“So,” Gale said after a moment, setting his mug in front of him and crossing his arms on the tabletop. “Tell me about this book.” 

You considered not talking to him about it for a moment. Writing had always felt so intimate to you, sharing it in any form while it was in process was mortifying. Gale had been the only person you’d ever been able to bear looking at your work before it was done and he’d always made it better. But he was nothing to you now, just a man who said he loved you once. 

Who was making it sound like he might love you again. How could you share this story with him? How could you not? 

“Well,” you sighed before you felt like you’d really made up your mind. “It’s about a marriage…” 

Gale drifted closer to you as you walked him through the story, how it had already changed over the few days you’d been working on the thing, where you wanted it to go. Before too long, he was beside you, his fingers trailing over your bicep to your elbow and back again. 

“I really have missed that mind of yours,” he said when you trailed off. His eyes were hungry on you, his body warm next to your own and, for half a moment, you wanted to kiss him and feel him against you and remember what it was to be desired for a while. 

But when he leaned toward you, something inside you shifted. 

Yes, you were lonely. Not in the same way you’d been lonely when you’d gone away to college and met Gale the first time - you had Joel now, after all - but lonely in a way that you were acutely aware that you were no one’s and no one was yours. You knew that, before too long, Joel would cross “stable relationship” off his list and you couldn’t just show up at his house and climb in his bed so you weren’t crying into your pillowcase in the dark when things went wrong. He would have his hands full with whoever he decided to actually stick with and Sarah. Anna would have her new baby. You’d be on your own. It was inevitable, the sword of Damocles waiting for love to take the people you cared for most on to their own lives that had little to do with you. Gale had been the only person who had ever, truly, been yours. Falling back into him was tempting for that reason alone but… He wasn’t who you wanted. 

You’d never tried to love your husband when Joel was near. You should have known that your feelings for Joel would drown out everything else, that you’d never have a hope of wanting someone else when he was there. And, as Gale leaned in to kiss you, all you could think was that he smelled wrong. 

He smelled like cologne and leather and something artificial that you couldn’t place. You’d liked that smell once. Now, it fell short. You wanted sawdust and soap with hints of sweat and chlorine. You wanted Joel.

But… Gale was still someone. And someone was better than no one. 

“Gale…” you said softly. 

And then there was the knock at your door and then Joel was there, kissing you like it was nothing and picking a fight with your soon-to-be ex-husband. 

“I wasn’t planning on getting back together with him,” you said, turning to face Joel, your back against the sink and your fingers gripping the counter as you tried to think about something - anything - beyond how he’d tasted when he’d kissed you. How his hair would feel between your fingers as you pulled him closer. 

“Good,” Joel said, standing opposite you in the galley kitchen, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms as he did. “Because that man is nothing but bad for you, Goldie.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“What?” He asked, incredulous. “I mean it…” 

“You didn’t know me when we were actually together,” you said. “We were actually a really great couple…” 

“Oh yeah,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Sure you two had a ton in fuckin’ common…” 

“We did!” You protested. “I know you hate him on principle and I’m not about to ask you to stop but he’s really not a bad guy. I just… I couldn’t make it work.” 

Joel squared his jaw, looking like he wanted to fight you about it, but instead, he just sighed. 

“He gone?” He nodded to the window. You nodded once. “Good. I’ll go get the shit from the truck, back in a sec…” 

When you heard the front door close, your fingers traced your lips, ghosting over where Joel had kissed you as you tried to shake the longing in your chest before your best friend came back inside. 

***

“OK but it’s just one glass,” Sarah rolled her eyes at Joel from across the hot tub.

“And you’re 11,” Joel said. 

“But it’s New Year’s Eve!” She protested, treading water lightly even though it was so shallow she could barely go all the way under at all. 

“And you’re still 11,” Joel said. “You don’t need to have a glass of champagne.” 

“No one needs a glass of champagne,” she rolled her eyes again. 

“I might if I have to listen to you two fight anymore,” Tommy said. 

“Amen,” you replied, reaching across the hot tub with your beer bottle to toast him. Tommy reached back with his own and the two of you met in the middle, glass clinking together. 

“See, Goldie,” Tommy said. “Been saying I need someone else around to survive these two…” 

“Please,” Sarah scoffed. “I’m pretty sure I knew how to make breakfast before you did. I think you need us to survive, not the other way around.” 

You laughed and Joel watched you do it, trying not think too much about your lips and how they’d felt against him. As if he’d been able to stop thinking about that since he’d kissed you. 

“It don’t matter who needs what,” Joel said. “You’re 11, you’re not drinkin’ alcohol. You can have that entire bottle of sparkling cider…” 

“But what if I wanted a glass?” You asked, pouting a little. 

“Fine,” Joel sighed, knowing you were just making things difficult but too happy to humor you to call you on it. “You can have almost the entire bottle of sparkling cider. You can’t have champagne.” 

“You’re no fun,” Sarah slumped back, face scrunched, as the bubbles got the ends of her curls wet. 

“That’s what they call me,” Joel said. “No fun Dad.” 

“At least he lets you stay up until midnight,” you said, taking another sip of beer. “I didn’t get to do that until I was a teenager.” 

“See?” Joel nudged Sarah with his foot. “I could be worse.” 

“I guess,” she sighed dramatically before closing her eyes and resting her head back against the hot tub. 

You just looked at Joel and smiled a little and Joel tried to keep his eyes from drifting down to your cleavage that sat just below the water. Because he had to stop thinking about you that way. He had to.

He couldn’t have been more grateful for his brother and daughter’s arrival earlier that day. He’d pulled Tommy aside as soon as he showed Sarah her room and gave her a minute to get settled, pulling him onto the back patio where they’d have some privacy. 

“What the hell…” 

“I kissed Goldie,” Joel hissed, looking furtively back toward the house before looking at Tommy. 

“Wait what?” Tommy yelped and Joel was ready to strangle him. 

“Shh!” 

“Sorry!” Tommy whispered. “You did what? You kissed Goldie?” 

“Yeah,” Joel whispered back. 

“When?” 

“Yesterday, when I first got here…” 

“And all the time since, right?” 

Joel glared at his brother. 

“What?” Tommy said. “Reasonable question…” 

“Fuck off,” Joel said. “I can’t do this again, Tommy, I can’t lose her again because I wasn’t able to… Look. This can’t happen again, OK?” 

“OK,” Tommy said, voice calm. “So don’t do it again, seems easy enough…” 

“It’s not that simple,” Joel said. Tommy just raised his eyebrows at him and Joel sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about it, man. I kissed her. I kissed her…”

“It was just a kiss though, right?” Tommy said. “Not like you two fucked.” 

“No…” 

“So?” Tommy shrugged again. “It was a kiss. What are you, 12? It’s not the end of the world, man. So you fucked up, you kissed your best friend, shit happens…” 

“And it can’t happen again,” Joel said. 

“So don’t do it again. I can be a buffer if that’s what you need,” Tommy said. “But it’s just a kiss. Hate to say it but… grow a pair, man.” 

“Right,” Joel nodded slowly. He knew you weren’t overthinking this like he was, he knew it wouldn’t have meant anything to you and he needed to keep just playing it cool and pretending like he could think about anything else. “I just… you’re right. It was a mistake, it won’t happen again, I’m done doing stupid shit with her and then regretting it…” 

The door to the porch creaked, making Joel jump. 

“Hey guys?” You were standing there, looking between the two of them. “You up for a game of Mario Kart? Sarah’s getting the Switch set up…” 

“Yeah,” Joel forced a smile. “Be right there.” 

Joel sat on the opposite end of the couch from you, Tommy stuck in the middle and Sarah on the floor as the four of you played. 

He’d been straining to keep his distance from you since he got here. He shouldn’t have fucking kissed you. That was a mistake, the kind that could wreck his life if he wasn’t careful. What if you just took off again because he couldn’t keep his shit together? What if he had to find a way to excise you from his life again? 

That had been hard enough when you were both kids, it would be impossible now. It had only been a few short months but already he wasn’t sure how he’d survived without you. You were a fixture in his world now, the absence of you for all those years more acute now that he knew what he’d been missing that whole time. You could have been there with him if he’d just acted like a fucking adult and had some self control on prom night but he didn’t. Instead, he’d been a dumbass and he’d paid the price for that for years. He wasn’t about to let that happen again. 

But you were here, so close, close enough that he could touch you and hear you and fucking smell you. 

And he was sure that the plan had been for the two of you to share a room at the cabin. Why wouldn’t you? You shared one at home all the time, Joel sleeping so much more soundly when he could feel you settling into him as you drifted off. When you fell asleep, he always nuzzled into the top of your head as you used his chest as a pillow, taking advantage of the fact that you were unconscious to breathe you in and commit you to memory. He usually woke up curled around your back, your arms stretched far in front of you and your legs tangled in the sheets, nestled into your pillow instead of his skin. The nights you weren’t there, he pulled that pillow from your side of the bed close and held it like he wanted to hold onto you and tried to pretend it wasn’t the most fucking pathetic thing he’d ever done. 

The night after he’d kissed you, the two of you had slept in separate beds. That alone was almost enough to make him regret it.

But what the fuck else was he supposed to do when he saw you there in the grip of that asshole you’d been married to? That guy who’d been dragging you through divorce proceedings so roughly that you’d come over and just cried into Joel’s shoulder twice since you’d moved back. That guy who didn’t seem like he was content unless you were under his control. 

He was the kind of man who wouldn’t respect that you just said no. But he might respect another man’s claim so he’d kissed you. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. 

Or that’s what he told himself it was. That it wasn’t a selfish excuse to do the one thing he’d been wanting to do for fucking weeks. 

Tommy and Sarah being here made it easier to stay away from you, at least. While the two of you had long since stopped acting like you didn’t share a room when you slept over, he had done his best to maintain some semblance of boundaries with you in front of Sarah. Fewer casual touches, no just holding you close because you were near him on the couch and he knew you wouldn’t mind. He didn’t want to confuse his daughter and make her think there was more to this than there was. When Tommy and Sarah were there, he didn’t need to find a reason to keep his distance. When Tommy and Sarah were there, he didn’t need to lie to himself and pretend that he wasn’t fighting to keep from kissing you again. 

He’d thought, at first, that he’d at least been able to dodge talking about it. That he’d played it cool enough that he’d thought the reasoning was obvious. But, once you were done angrily texting your agent to demand how Gale had gotten this address to begin with and had a few glasses of wine in you after dinner, you sat on the opposite end of the couch from Joel, a bowl of pecan praline ice cream balanced on your knees as you watched him closely. 

“What?” He asked, raising his brows at you. 

“Why did you do that?” You asked. 

“Do what?” 

“Kiss me.” 

You said it so plainly, as though you were asking why he ordered spaghetti at dinner or why he painted his living room sage green. 

“I know you think I hate your ex for no reason,” he said. “But I have a reason. I’ve seen how he’s been hurting you. Didn’t want him to think you were just his for the taking so…” 

He shrugged. 

“And that’s…” you paused for a moment, glancing to the side before looking back at him. “That’s the only reason?” 

His heart sped up. 

“Course it is,” he said, looking back at the movie you’d put on that he hadn’t been paying any damn attention to before, either. “What else would it be?” 

“Right,” you’d said. “You’re right.” 

Tommy and Sarah being there was a mercy. It saved him from more of those conversations. 

Even if he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you. 

“We should think about heading inside,” you said, glancing at your phone. “It’s only an hour to midnight, figure we’d like to all be nice and dry by the time the countdown starts.” 

“Yeah, my first champagne toast should really be done in dry clothes,” Sarah said sagely. 

“No champagne,” Joel said. “But yes, dry clothes. Let’s go, kiddo.” 

She groaned and you and Tommy laughed and at least Joel could take comfort in the fact that he’d figured out this part of his life. He could do this, if he really focused on it. He could just take care of his daughter and just be friends with you and just keep an eye on his little brother. He didn’t need to be anything more to you. He could live with that. 

If that’s what it took to keep you in his life at all? He could really, really live with that. 

The four of you made your way inside and got changed into pajamas before gathering around the TV to watch people partying around the country, the adults starting in on the champagne and Sarah sipping her cider with her pinky extended. 

“So,” you said. “What’s everyone excited for in 2023?” 

“Taylor Swift,” Sarah said automatically. 

You laughed. 

“Alright, maybe that was too easy,” you said. “What’s everyone thankful for going into 2023?” 

“Still Taylor Swift,” Sarah said and you laughed again. “But really… probably getting to play soccer and stuff with my best friends. And Swiftie. She’s the best cat in the world.” 

“Those are good,” you nodded, looking to Tommy. “You?” 

“I’m thankful there are still women in Austin willing to go on dates with me,” Tommy said. Joel snorted and Tommy elbowed him in the ribs. “What about you, Goldie?” 

“I’m thankful that I’m someplace I can put down some roots again,” you said. “And that I won’t need to up and move in 2023.” You turned toward Joel, your head cocked and a soft smile on your face and he could remember how you tasted a little like honey when he kissed you. “Joel?” 

“Thankful for Sarah, of course,” he said. Sarah rolled her eyes. “What, baby girl? I am.” 

“Something besides me,” she said. “We all know I’m a gift…” 

“Christ your teenage years are gonna be rough with that ego,” Joel sighed and Sarah laughed. “But… I dunno… probably just having Goldie back in Texas. Hasn’t been the same without her here.” 

“Joel,” you looked at him, a little misty eyed. “Really?” 

“Course,” he smiled a little. “I missed you, Goldie Girl.” 

You smiled back. 

“I missed you, too.” 

“The countdown is up!” Sarah jumped to her feet and pointed at the icon in the corner. “Just a minute left!” 

The adults all got to their feet and pressed closer to the TV screen, watching as the numbers got lower and lower and the year that you’d come back to Joel grew closer and closer to being in the past. 

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” 

The four of you cheered and hugged and toasted and drank and Sarah pressed herself against Joel’s side, giving him a squeeze. 

“Love you, Dad,” she said quietly. 

“Love you, too, Kiddo,” he said, kissing the crown of her head and squeezing her back. 

She pulled away from him to go hug Tommy and Joel looked to you, finding you watching the screen with your eyes rimmed in tears, champagne glass half empty in your grip. You didn’t seem to notice that Joel was watching you, downing the rest of your drink in one go before setting the glass down on the coffee table and heading for the back door. 

Joel glanced back at Sarah and Tommy, a frown on his brother’s face but his daughter seemingly oblivious to the fact that you’d just left. Joel jerked his head toward the door and Tommy gave him a single nod as Joel followed you into the backyard. 

He didn’t see you at first. You weren’t on the patio or the deck and then, in the glow of a firework that someone set off from across the lake behind the cabin, he saw you, staring out from the water’s edge. 

He went over to you and you didn’t seem to notice him, frozen as you looked at the lake. 

“Goldie?” Joel asked as he got close, not wanting to spook you. You jumped anyway. “Sorry, wasn’t tryin’ to scare you.” 

“It’s OK,” you said, smiling tightly at him as he took his place at your side. “I’m just jumpy, apparently.” 

“You alright?” He asked, standing close enough to you that he could feel the warmth of you. “You kinda blew outta there and it’s cold out here…” 

“I’m fine,” you said, looking back out at the water. “Just… needed some air.” 

“Air,” Joel said, trying to hide the skepticism in his voice. Another firework cracked over the lake, the sparks of it reflected on the water. “You sure that’s it?” 

You looked over at him again, your arms crossed tightly in front of you. Another firework and he could see the fog of your breath in front of your lips. 

“Partially,” you smiled a little again before looking back to the water and taking a deep breath. “But… it’s also that this is the second year that I’m alone on New Year’s Eve. Second year I’m starting things off on my own. Second year I can’t even find some random guy to kiss me at a party…” 

“You’re not alone,” Joel said gently. “You’ve got me n’Sarah…” 

“It’s not the same,” you said. “But the thought is sweet, though.” 

“It’s not like last year,” he said. “It’s going to be different…” 

“Because things are going to magically get better?” You asked, turning to face him, your brows raised. “Because you’re going to just invent someone who’s going to actually want me so you can help me cross off my check list?” 

“Goldie…” You winced, closing your eyes tightly for a moment and taking a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you waved him off. “None of this is your fault, I don’t know why I’m taking it out on you, it’s not fair to you. You’re right, it is different now and I’m so thankful I have you and Sarah and even Tommy. I just… I wish I had someone who wanted to kiss me at midnight, you know?” 

Joel’s throat was dry, so dry that he couldn’t seem to form the words he so desperately wanted to say. 

“Sorry,” you said again. “We should get back before Sarah notices…” 

You turned to go, dropping your arms and heading back up the short hill toward the cabin but Joel caught your wrist, pulling you back toward him. You frowned a little, facing him and looking between where he was holding you and his face. 

“I know it’s not what you want it to be,” he said, reaching out slowly to gently cup your cheek. “But… I think friends can kiss for New Year’s, right?” 

“Right,” you said, a little breathless, your eyes wide. “Friends.”

“Right,” Joel whispered back, dropping your wrist to wrap his arm around your back and pull you against him, making your back arch as you pressed your body into his. “Friends.”

His eyes searched yours, waiting for you to object or to push him away, but you didn’t. Instead, he got closer and closer to you, until his eyes were closed and his lips were against yours and, for the second time in as many days, he kissed you. 

For the second time in as many days, he didn’t want to stop.

Next Chapter

A/N: I mean I think we all knew I wasn't going to let them get together so soon, right?

Right??

OK, cool.

But I promise, this is going to have repercussions very, very soon in this fic. I love these two and their push pull and I'm so sorry but I'm going to torment you all with it, too. OK?

Thanks for being here! Love you!!

[chaotic-iguana]

Refuge | chapter two.

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter | general masterlist

chapter two: reluctant acquaintances 

wordcount: 1.3k summary: what if reader and joel were married before the outbreak? what if just another mundanely late night at the office on the night of the outbreak separated them for a decade? warnings: grief/mourning, estrangement still, developing?? re-relationships, contempt, guilt, survivor’s guilt, panic attack again, soft joel!, struggling joel!, i love ellie too she’s for sure a kid but a fucking good one, child loss. 

You hadn’t realised you were attacking her until she was nearly under you, her eyes wide and panicked staring straight into your own. 

When you finally did gain control of your own body, the jagged pen in your grip went scattering to the floor as you scrambled back on all fours, desperate to get yourself away from her. 

You had just nearly tried to stab a child. A scared fucking child. 

Guilt spread like fire in your veins, a weight settling on your chest as you tried to get your bearings. The voices around you seemed to get louder, fragments breaking the haze you were in. 

“…fucking apeshit she’s goddamn crazy, you know - almost choked Eugene when she got here…” 

A harsh bark of words you couldn’t quite make out ensured that voice fell silent. 

You didn’t care - the only word on your mind was Sarah, and it took a few moments for the hum in your ears to fade enough for you to recognise your own voice uttering her name over and over like a damned prayer. 

The sympathetic wince on the girl’s face while she reached a hand out to help you up had you recoiling further, tucking your knees into your chest to curl in on yourself. 

Just a dream. This is just a dream. I’ll wake up, and it’ll go away. 

Eyes squeezing shut, you pressed your forehead into the top of your knees, cradling them to your sternum, cold tile biting into your skin. The chatter increased, crescendoing as it echoed in your skull, until a single syllable was yelled out abruptly.

Footsteps sounded again, then pin-drop silence.

You refused to move; to open your eyes or to acknowledge this illusion your reality seemed to have woven itself into. Two large, heavy weights settled on your shoulders, wrenching a yelp from your lips, before an all-too-familiar face came into your swimming vision. Your frantic scan of the room turned up empty. The girl, Tommy, Fred - all gone. 

“You okay?”

A pause. Blinking seemed to be out of your realm of possibility - let alone answering him. But his gaze remained patient - warm and welcoming, even, as he waited for you to respond. It took you a minute, but his palms remained clamped on your shoulders, face just inches away. 

How could he still do that? Know exactly what you need. 

When your breath slowed down to normal and you could see more clearly, you swallowed painfully against the sudden dryness in your throat. 

“N-not real. ‘S not real.” 

When he made out what your hoarse whisper was repeating, his eyes softened further, hands moving down to grip your arms just above your elbows. 

“It is, honey. It’s real. ‘M right here, see?” He took your shaking hands and pressed your palms into either side of his face, stubble prickling against your skin.

You shook your head, mumbling and pulling away, comprehension evading you. “Not real. Not here.” 

His grip tightened, resisting your movement. He squeezed your wrists gently, making you look at him again. 

Joel was older now. He was just under ten years older than you when you had met - but you had fallen too hard to care, and loved the crinkle in eyes and smiles all the same. But his curls were gone now, shorter and washed grey. His beard was thicker, peppered with white, and the indent between his brows was deeper. None of that leapt out at you, though. It was his eyes - still as soft as you remembered them, but haunted now, shadows lurking just behind them, pouring melancholy into his gaze. 

But you were hardly the same, either. Lines had etched themselves on your forehead, next to your eyes, your mouth. Hair somehow darker, whites and greys smattered across your slightly receded hairline. Your hands shook now, and your lips had forgotten how to curve into a smile. 

Oh, how you wished for the innocence of youth again. To bring the sickly sweet pear of ignorance to your mouth and feel your teeth sink into its flesh once more.

Now, regret ran thick like honey down your throat until you couldn’t breathe. Your face must have given you away, because Joel’s voice began rumbling under your touch the second the thought crossed your mind.

“No, baby, no. Focus here. On me. Y’still gettin’ these? Who’s been takin’ care of ya?” He sounded so honest - so sincere. 

You fucking left me behind, Joel. Who the fuck else would even have tried? 

You just snorted in response instead, his face contorting into the expression of a broken man. As if this, now, was his final straw.   

“Yo-you’ve been alone? This whole time?” His question was so tentative, spoken so softly and cautiously - as if his mere formulation of it could change the outcome. 

A nod from you, and a sharp intake of his breath. Another pause. 

“Who else was supposed to take me in? You left, Joel. Don’t shoulder that responsibility on someone else.” How fitting, for the first words I speak to him in years to be scalding enough to make him wince. 

Your breath hitched at the tears that unexpectedly filled his eyes, or the fact that he had to look away. His hands dropped to his knees, shoulders curving in. The utter defeat written into every inch of him is enough to make you want to forgive him a hundred times, and then a thousand more. He looks like a vanquished god like this - brought to his knees, shoulders slumped and head bowed low. In another lifetime, you would have painted this moment until you ran out of paper. You settle for searing it into your mind, instead. 

“I-fuckin’ never shoulda stayed late at the office that day. Fuck.” 

Has he gone senile?

“…What? What the fuck, Joel? I’m the one who stayed late.” 

And he’s shaking his head; reaching out for your hands again; holding them against his chest. 

“I was late, too. It’s why I couldn’t pick you up - ‘cause Sarah called to cut the cake an’ wouldn’t take no for an answer - had to drive home and convince her to just wait. Second I did, everythin’ had gone to shit. Don’t even know where the fuckin’ cake went.”

A frown was carved onto your face as he spoke. You had assumed he simply hadn’t bothered to so much as phone you to warn you while him and Sarah sat on the couch.

“You got to her? Before it started?” His chin dipped to confirm the affirmative, and you let loose a breath you forgot you were holding. 

She’s safe, she’s okay. I’ll forgive him for fuckin’ anything if she’s okay. 

“That’s not Sarah, though, right? Did you leave her at a QZ? It’s safer there, atleast. I’m just glad she’s okay. Fuck, I am so fucking happy she’s okay.” Giddy with hope as it coursed through your veins, you barely noticed Joel’s face fall further at your words. 

“Joel? Which QZ?” Silence. His eyes were pointedly chasing away from yours, hands slackening their grip. 

Fear clamped her ruthless fist around your neck once more. 

“Where the fuck is my daughter, Joel? I want to know where she is. I’ll fucking-I’ll find her. I don’t give a shit. Where the fuck is she?” 

The crack in your voice said enough. So did the tears glistening on Joels cheeks. And the two of you knelt, in mocking prayer to a merciless God in mourning for the daughter that should have been with you. 

And you wept. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed):@imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @pedrosaidsheispunk, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel,@bastardmandennis, @breakfastatjoels(sorry bc forgot to tag u in the last one) dividers by me! series taglist (message/comment to be added): @spookyxsam, @obscurexsorrows, @planet-marz1, @lunxramour, @anavatazes, @joeldjarin, @stunkbiggu, @joels-darlin, @casa-boiardi, @noisynightmarepoetry, @chiogarza, @jasminedragoon, @daddy-din, @moonlightdivine, @stickthegremlin, @mandoisapunk

[thefandomchaos]

THE OUTSIDERS HEADCANON:

Ponyboy doesn’t really remember his parents, the trauma from them dying was too much so he made himself forget to the point he doesn’t actually remember much of them. No matter how hard any of the gang or his brothers try, there’s stuff Ponyboy doesn’t remember.

Darry named Sodapop, Sodapop named Ponyboy. (Ponyboy said Soda is horse crazy, makes sense he would choose Ponyboy’s name tbh)

Two-Bit and Ponyboy are actually real good friends, he probably became Ponyboy’s best friend after Johnny died.

Darry threatens and actually puts all of the gang in time out if they misbehave

They all get together at the Curtis house on the weekend to eat together

Ponyboy’s jacket used to belong to Darry, then it belonged to Soda before it was handed down to him.

They all have their ears pierced, but only Two-Bits and Dallas really wear earrings

Ponyboy bites people

Darry can pick every single member of the gang with no struggle (Ponyboy weighs like a feather to him)

Darry, Ponyboy and Sodapop all have different hair and eye color, if it weren’t that they look similar people wouldn’t guess they are brothers first glance (technically canon)

Darry has brown hair like his dad, but his eyes are blue-ish green instead of blue like his mom’s; Sodapop has blond hair like his mom and brown eyes like his dad; Ponyboy got his looks from his grandparents with his red-ish hair and gray-ish green eyes (Darry also got the green-ish from them)

Two-Bit has a tattoo of a switchblade on his arm, he got it done when Steve went to get his done.

Steve’s bird tattoo is meant to represent his mom

Darry is the tallest, followed by Dallas, Two-Bit and Steve are the same height, Sodapop is a few inches shorter, and Johnny is only like two inches taller than Ponyboy, Ponyboy hates that his the shortest.

After the incident, Ponyboy can handle being in bodies of water but freaks out if he goes under, trauma does that to someone.

Darry plays guitar, every once in a while when he doesn’t have work to do, he’ll sit down and play.

Dallas has a New York accent

Ponyboy, Two-Bit’s and Sodapop have freckles

Sodapop’s old room is used as a spare in case anybody needs to crash

Once Ponyboy turned 18, they all got matching tattoos that say “Stay Gold”, is a way to always remember Dally and Johnny as well

not an a headcanon but personal AU; The Curtis parents dying 4 years prior to canon instead of a few months prior, this would also mean Darry is 22 (I made him older because I needed him to be 18 four years ago to take guardianship of Pony and Soda).

All their clothes are scattered in each other’s closet, if you can’t find something that means someone else has it.

Ponyboy and Two-Bit have ADHD

[hana-no-seiiki]

星を探す瞳が好き

(MOSTLY IMPLIED) SOFT YANDERE! RIN ITOSHI x IDOL! READER

(ft. Sae x Reader’s Twin)

warnings: short reader, reader is older than rin, otherwise reader’s looks and info aren’t specified. all my knowledge comes from fics and wiki searching so i apologize if he’s ooc (even for a yandere)

might make a sae x reader / a fic but in the twin’s pov in the future if the brainrot persists

It had been a while since you’ve seen your twin brother’s boyfriend’s younger brother (that was a mouthful).

And you . . .

Well you barely even reached his shoulders.

And he’s two years your junior.

Throughout the dinner you four attended at home, you couldn’t help but glare at the handsome young man the entire time. Which in turn caused the meal to be hella awkward

Your brother and Sae didn’t really engage in PDA, at least verbally. Both preferred actions rather than professing their affections through words (You couldn’t count the amount of times Sae had made out with your brother after their matches on field).

And well, Rin is Rin.

So you were implicitly put in charge of creating conversation.

But Rin’s growth spurt just made you feel so jealous you couldn’t think of anything to say aside from ‘Damn you!’ or ‘Why????’.

Your annoyance was so obvious that even Rin himself noticed it. The dude with zero friends and social experience.

“You alright?” He asked, assisting you with the dishes.

“Huh? Yeah.” You averted your eyes, rubbing the sponge a little too hard on the poor plate.

“Did I . . . do something wrong?”

“What? No! It’s just — “ You put down the ceramic. Still avoiding eye contact with the younger Itoshi. “I’m . . . a little jealous of your genes that’s all.”

“My genes?”

“You grew up so quickly. I have to bend my neck to oblivion just to look at you directly.”

“But your height is part of your charm?”

“Huh?”

“It’s cute.” He took the plate and rinsed it. You could feel him staring at you intently. “Besides isn’t being shorter better for dancing?”

“Not when you’re as short as I am.” You continued doing the dishes with a sigh, pausing after properly digesting his words. “Hang on. Back up a moment will ya. You know I dance?”

“I . . . I watched all of your performances.”

“Ehhh . . . “ You nodded a few times . . . and then realized what his words meant. Finally rotating your head to face him, you yelled, “E H H H ? ! ? “

“I thought football was all you thought about!”

Now that you looked at him and can see his face, you noticed a slight flinching due to your volume. However it was quickly replaced with the smallest of smiles. “It used to be. My teammates listen to your songs a lot during practice and it just sort of stuck with me.”

“Point is. I like that part about you. I’m sure many of your fans do too.”

Before you two finish by drying everything with a towel, you spray a bit of water on Rin with your hands causing a bit of war. A really wet one.

It was about to get even wetter when you threatened to use a bowl of water but Rin beat you by caging your body and trapping your arms to the sink’s edge.

His face was inches from yours.

“Rin?”

He soon let go of your limbs, using his hand to trace your features. From your eyelids, to your cheeks and then your lips. He puts a little pressure with his thumb, almost inserting it into your mouth.

Then, his teal eyes met yours. His long, pretty under lashes mesmerized you, almost distracting you from the fact that his large figure was suffocating yours.

“I’d say you’re pretty luck when it comes to genes.”

EXTRA:

Rin lived and breathed football. Every moment was dedicated towards his passion.

That was still the case til now. It just so happened that his passion included you.

“Rin!” He recognized that voice immediately. He’s surprised he didn’t get whiplash with how fast his head swerved to meet your form.

“[Y/N]—?“

“Got a copy of your jersey! What do ya think ? “ You gave him a little spin, letting him see how the jersey basically swallowed you whole. He makes a mental note to slip in one of his used ones into your wardrobe. He was adept at discreetly taking stuff out of it anyways.

He was so flustered that he completely forgot to respond, so you opted to take his silence as approval, “I’m guessing you like it?” You winked. You’ve gotten a lot bolder since the reunion dinner and acted a lot more like your ‘idol’ self around him at times. He didn’t know whether he liked it or not. On one hand it was the personality he fell for at the beginning, on the other it was getting increasingly more difficult not to take you.

“Mhm.” He nodded. Fists clenched so tight he could feel some blood leaking. Self control was just so hard when he was around you.

“Is that . . . the [L/N] [Y/N]?” He heard his teammates holler behind him.

He grimaced, knowing they’ll hog your attention for the following moments.

But at least that means both of you were safe from his aching lust and obsession this time.

星を探す瞳が好き　

hoshi wo sagasu hitomi ga suki

— Those eyes that search for the stars, I love them / I love those eyes that search for the stars

— Lyrics for D4DJ Photon Maiden’s 暁 Akatsuki (Dawn)

[xi1dius]

Dyad’s Odyessy

this was a little experiment. the reader user was based off my looks really. hope ou enjoy this! i may consider making this longer if people like it.

teen!simon, teen!fem!reader

tw: mentions of abuse, scars, bruises ect. light swearing and a use of a very infuriating nickname my what i call friend calls me (im looking at you, @inspector-m3)

summary: you and simon are sat on the side of the road after a rather rough beating form your dad, simon helping you clean the marks littered over your face.

(idk if i have used this gif before.. i need to use the other characters more 😭)

Two peas in pod, eh?

Currently, those peas were listening to ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’. Both had one Apple Wired Headphone in — humming along to the tune. It played round and round in one of those poor pea's heads, yours.

The other pea was gently dapping your fresh bruises and cuts with a little tissue found in your back pocket. It had been drenched in water from a local dip in the road outside the local bar, one that seemed to always house the most massive and annoyingly placed puddle ever.

It was the best you had and were going to get it, and it cleaned up your blood reasonably well. Of course, you’d have to use the two-year-old hand sanitizer that sat on your Form room teachers' desk when school started. . . Forty-five minutes ago. 

How where either of you meant to know anyway? Not like you had a watch or a working phone on either of you.

It stung like hell, your stone blue eyes going over Simons Simon's face. Slowly, slowly, raking over the large faded bruises along the left side of his face, the turning green bruise that ran down the side of his nose. It was all too familiar for your liking and no doubt he felt the same about the marks left on your body.

The sun was ever so slowly creeping up in the clouded sky — it was mid-winter England, An absolutely boiling hot November day of a whopping four degrees! Yay!

And, of course, in classic British style, you were both wearing short sleeve T-shirts, old and fraying hoodies and you were in a pair of shorts and Simon a pair of unwashed and dirty jeans.

“Thanks, old man.” You giggled lightheartedly, leaning your head back a bit as Simon held the back of your head, now wiping underneath your left eye to clean a little slit you’d gotten from god knows where.

“I’m a year and a half older then you, shortstack. but you’re welcome.”

“I'm like. . . six inches shorter than you.” You huffed, pouting ever so slightly. Your giggling had soon stopped, legs now crossed as you placed your hands on your thighs, elbows stuck out much like a chicken.

———————————————————————

[hotdilfs11]

Mafia Boss-Thomas Shelby x Reader pt 1

Rest of the parts

✩summary: The Shelby knew this girl when she was very little. However, when her mother passed away (at 16) everything changed and everyone drifted away from each other. Now after seven years Veronica is a mafia boss in her fathers business. Her father. sent her to Birmingham on business, will this play off well?

✩pairings:girl named Veronica(POC) x Thomas Shelby

✩warnings:mention of death

—————————————————————————

I’m a mafia boss, or soon to be. My father is the boss of The Hawthorns Estate, along with my brothers, who are my father's right hand. A little backstory: I grew up in Birmingham with my mother. I was always around the Shelby boys, especially Thomas ever. since I was a little girl. They were all older than me. John was 17, Thomas was 18, and Arthur was 21. Anyway, Tommy and I were so close that anytime I had a complaint about anyone, he'd be the one to back me up and protect me. However, that changed drastically when my mother got ill when I turned fifteen years old. She never got better and died a year later, after my sixteenth birthday. It was devastating to watch my mother die slowly. The Shelbys were there for me when she passed away, and they were also willing to take me in since I didn't know who my father was.

DAY OF FUNERAL IN THE CEMETERY

As the Shelbys and I started walking through the cemetery to put my mother to rest, Four black cars pulled up in a straight line before my mother's funeral. Two Jeeps, one BMW, and one big Land Rover Polly was behind me, reassuring me. She had her right hand on my shoulder and her pocketbook in her free hand. Tommy was beside me on the left, close to me, making sure no one could hurt me, then John and Arthur on the left and right behind me. All four of them were ferociously protecting me.

"Who the fuck is that?" Polly said with a mean British accent. She didn’t want anyone to bother me at all, especially at my mother's funeral. Poll and Thomas looked at each other in concern as the cars started parking one by one in the line at the cemetery. “Tommy, sit here with her”, Poll said as she started walking up to these mysterious black cars. Tommy nodded and stood closer to me. He put one of his rough hands around my waist. I felt the warmth radiating off of his hands as he squeezed my waist letting me sink into him.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" Poll screamed at the parked cars. As Poll was walking up to the cars, two men started getting out. Big, bulky, and scary, in black suits with sunglasses. The men began to open the doors of the BMW and the Jeep. Four other men climbed out of the cars with suits on. One had curly hair, was dark-skinned, slightly built, and tall; he kind of looked like me. The other two had olive-colored skin, jet-black hair; they were also tall; however, one was a little bit shorter with a strong build, and the other was tall with a medium build. Then the last guy He was old, maybe fifty years old, pale, big-boned, and also tall; he had to be about “6’7”.

Tommy pulled me a little bit closer to his warm, muscular body; he was practically hovering over me. John and Arthur also inched closer to me, also standing behind Tommy.

"Who the fuck are you?” Poll says she is concerned about realizing how tall all of these men are, but she doesn't let that stop her one bit.

"Who the fuck are you, I may ask?” the older one said in a heavy Italian, New York.

"I asked you first," Polly said, walking up to him.

"That girl over there, I’m her father, and these are her brothers now; what are your relations with my daughter along with those three boys over there?" He says

Poll looked back at us, concerned, and then looked back at the guy she was talking to with a brave look painted on her face. "What’s your name, I might ask?" she says, looking up at the older gentleman.

"My name is Hamilton Hawthorn; these are my sons," he says as he starts pointing at each of them.

"My oldest Ambrose," he said, pointing to the one with the curly hair. "My second oldest Cyrus," he pointed to the tall one with the jet black hair, and finally, my youngest Alexander," he pointed to the shorter one with the slightly bigger build.

"Now my daughter over there is the second oldest out of all of them. I’ve come to get her; she’s coming to New York with me.” Hamilton demands

“Fuck," Polly whispers to herself, looking at her feet.

She turns away from Hamilton to look back at all of us. "Veronica dear, come please!" she yells in a sorrowful voice.

I hesitantly started walking to Polly; however, I got stopped by Tommy. He grabbed my hand, tightening his grip, and gave me an unsure expression along with the other Shelby boys. Polly sees what’s happening and yells, "It’s okay, boys." Tommy slowly lets go of my hand as I start to walk over to the strange man. I was feeling apprehensive as I got closer and closer to Polly, unsure about what was about to happen.

When I got to Polly, she grabbed my shoulder and gave me a weary smile as she said, "This is your father, Hamilton, and these are your brothers. Ambrose, Cyrus, and Alexander"

I frowned at Polly in confusion. "So that means..."

"It means you're not staying in Birmingham, dear. After this, we’ll have to say our goodbyes," she says as tears start to form in her eyes, but she still keeps a brave face.

"But I,I, no Polly,” my voice started to crack, scared for what was going to happen. I look back to see the Shelby boys standing there for one last time, and then I look at Polly with sadness painted on my face. Polly stands in front of me with a fearless look on her face. She grabbed both of my shoulders tight and said, “You are the bravest girl I’ve ever met. Braver than me when I was your age, and braver than those boys up there. I’m so bloody proud of you and what you've become." We both start to tear up, and we gracefully hug each other for a long time, not wanting to let go of each other.

When the funeral ended, I said my heartfelt goodbyes to each of the Shelbys and went off to New York.

[outofangband]

last year @searchingforserendipity25 requested appearence headcanons for Aerin and Húrin, I wanted to repost them with some extra additional thoughts

I put some mildly darker ones under the cut, I didn’t go into too much detail because I wasn’t sure what you and ’d be comfortable with but there are one or two for each

Húrin:

-He’s short and stocky and has always been strong, even as a little kid. Absolutely wanted to help adults lift heavy objects and help out with tasks that he saw the older kids doing

-He walks quickly with a bounce in his step (pre Angband obviously)

-Pre Angband his hair is around shoulder length but he grew it out longer around the time Túrin was born. He canonically doesn’t wear a helm to war but he does tie his hair back against the back of his head.

-His hair is darker than Huor’s and Galdor’s, a sort of honeyish blonde. It gets curlier in his bangs and when it grows out.

-He had lots of freckles as a kid but as a teenager starts to tan instead.

-Both Húrin and Aerin gesticulate a lot when they talk, it’s a common habit among their people

Aerin

I have a post with some clothing/fashion HCs here!

-Aerin has a grandfather of the Haladin and though she looks mostly Hadorian, she has a few traits from this side of the family too. She has either light brown or green eyes and had reddish blonde hair as a young girl though it got lighter as she got older.

-Her hair is fairly straight but gets a bit wavy or frizzy over long summers.

-Her hair is about four inches/ten centimeters longer than shoulder length at the time of the Nírnaeth which is fairly shorter than her average hair length.

-Aerin is 165cm tall when she’s fully grown, a couple centimeters taller than Húrin.

-Unlike him she has freckles throughout her life, light ones mostly on her face and arms.

-Pre Nírnaeth she’s fairly athletic and a good runner.

cw: mentions of physical injuries resulting from abuse and torture

-Most injuries on Húrin’s face are healed before he’s released as Morgoth wanted to present him as “in high honor”, pretending he betrayed Turgon however there is a faint scar on his right cheek from when Morgoth broke that sword before him

-His sword hand is also permanently damaged in Angband. He can technically hold a weapon afterwards but this is mostly pure spite, it causes him an extraordinary amount of pain and worsens over time.

-Aerin doesn’t have many visible scars from the physical abuse she’s subjected to; most of the significant damage was internal but she has some scars on her back from poorly healed lashes.

Despite the public nature of her abuse, Aerin can’t stop herself from covering up the bruises and other temporary, marks. Some of it is denial, some of it is pride, some of it she can’t quite put into words

Occasionally she is expressly forbidden from hiding it as I sort of talked about here

-The stress of her life post Nírnaeth takes a strong toll on her. Her hair pales and greys early and she loses a dangerous amount of weight especially in the first couple of years. Her health never fully recovers after this and, had she been allowed to return to some of the outdoors activities she had done pre Nírnaeth, she might have been unable to.

I have actually been working on some more extensive writings on her injuries and the effects but I don’t know if I’ll post them as they’re pretty bleak

[shimmerwindow]

I Never Really

Part Four

Warnings: heavy alcohol use, marijuana use, mentions of throwing up (no graphic descriptions)

Word count: 4.5k

Playlist

Masterlist

He pointed the house out to you, halfway down the block. It was small, with yellow siding and brown shingles. There was a porch adorned with white plastic chairs, and a hammock hanging from two support beams. An arm hung out the side of the hammock, the person inside slowly rocking themselves back and forth by pushing off the railing below them.

“Where is everybody?”

“People always show up late. I figured we could show up before most of the crowd gets here so you could meet the guys before they get too drunk.”

That was a blessing and a curse. You wouldn’t have to spend as much time making awkward conversation with strangers, but now you wouldn’t be able to avoid meeting his brothers. You feared you were getting in too deep too quickly. Together, the two of you walked up the concrete path to the house.

“Heyo,” he called in a low-pitched voice.

There was a rustling from the hammock, and a man emerged. “Hey, little guy!” He shouted, bounding across the porch to wrap an arm around Sam’s shoulder, to which Sam shot you an embarrassed look. “Jesus, haven't seen you in a week, Sammy. Did you get taller?” He rubbed his hand over Sam’s arm.

“Get offa me.” Sam laughed and brushed the man’s arm off his shoulder. “This is Josh. Older brother, if you couldn’t tell.” He introduced you, and you held your hand out for a handshake.

Josh gripped your hand with both of his, holding it at eye level, saying your name back to you in a dreamy voice. “So nice to meet you, love.”

“Likewise,” you smiled back.

Josh had an air about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, and it wasn’t just the odor of weed hanging off of him. He had a mop of brunette curls that just barely dusted the base of his neck, and bangs that bounced with every move he made. His eyes were the same color as Sam’s, a gorgeous golden brown that shone in the sunlight. It was clear he and Sam were related when you looked at his features, though Josh was several inches shorter, only slightly taller than you.

“Is that Samuel?” A voice came from behind the screen door to the house.

“Is that Daniel?” Sam called back.

Josh let go of your hand as you turned to face the guy coming through the door. He smacked his fingers against the top of the door frame as he walked through, glancing between Josh, Sam, and yourself with a grin.

“Who’s this?” He motioned at you.

Sam told him your name, raising his arm like he was going to put it around your shoulder, but awkwardly setting it back down by his side. Thank god he didn't do that. “She’s a friend, from class. Met her on the roof. Bummed a ciggy off her.”

You let out a small laugh and smiled, recalling the memory fondly.

“I’m Danny,” he introduced himself, shaking your hand with a firm grip. His hands were heavily calloused and rough, but warm. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You shot a glance at Sam, who was giving him a pained look.

Danny laughed, waving a hand at Sam. “Nah, I’m just fuckin’ with him. I haven’t heard a thing about you. You look nice, though. I like that necklace.” He motioned a finger at your neck, where you wore a beaded necklace you’d made with a friend many years ago.

“Oh! Thank you!” You touched a hand to the beads. “I like your hair.”

Danny was tall, with long, gorgeous curls that were even longer than your own hair. It was pulled back into a half-up ponytail, the other half swept forward over his shoulders.

“Thanks,” he said, toying with a piece of his hair. “Grew it myself.”

You giggled a bit, fidgeting with your necklace. You’d been rather worried these guys would be unbearable, but they seemed like a wonderful group. But didn’t Sam say there were three of them?

Right on cue, you heard footfalls crunching on the leaves behind you, and a call of “aha!” in a low voice.

“That’s Jake,” Sam said to you.

Jake came around the corner and up onto the deck, a bottle of tequila in his hand. “Who’re you?” He asked, gesturing to you with the bottle.

Sam rolled his eyes and introduced you. “I told you I was bringing someone, man.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you.” Jake shook your hand, his fingers warm, and calloused, but gentle.

Jake looked remarkably similar to Josh, but with long, straight hair swept back from his face.

“So, you guys are…” you gestured between Sam, Jake, and Josh.

“Brothers,” Sam finished.

“I’m the oldest,” Josh said, pushing an arm against his brothers with a smile.

“By five minutes. He lets it go to his head." Jake held up a finger.

“They’re the twins. I’m just the little brother,” Sam said.

“Twins, huh.” You studied their faces, noticing they really did look identical.

The leaves in the yard rustled together loudly as a chilling wind whipped across the five of you. “Jesus, it’s cold out here.” You pulled your fingers into the sleeves of your sweater.

Jake held open the screen door to the house, gesturing everyone inside. “Shall we?”

The group filed inside, and everyone went about their business. The house was impressively clean for a place owned by three young guys, you thought to yourself. Immaculately decorated, too – like something straight out of the 70’s, but tasteful. The furniture looked vintage, but restored. Plants stood in every corner the light could reach, and a pothos was strung against the wall, circling the entire living room and disappearing into an adjacent room.

The place had a wonderful vibe. It felt cozy, but spacious, and the fireplace against the wall added perfectly to the overall feeling of warmth in the room. You took a seat on the couch, running your hands absently over the orange fabric. Sam sat near you, in a plush yellow recliner.

“Should we help them with anything?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder as the guys milled about the kitchen, talking amongst themselves. Josh was carrying a gigantic charcuterie board, Jake was putting together a drink station, and Danny walked past with a bag of charcoal over his shoulder.

“Nah.” Sam pulled out his phone, scrolling absently through something. “We’ll just get in the way.”

“So…do they, like, go to the school here? I’ve never seen any of them before, I don't think.”

“Nope. They just followed me down here.” He motioned to a guitar leaning against the stones jutting out from the fireplace. “They’re trying to get a little band off the ground. Did I not tell you any of this?”

“I guess we haven’t had many chances to talk.”

“Maybe if you didn’t sit at the back of the class every morning, we’d have a few more chances.” He looked up from his phone at you, narrowing his eyes with a smile.

Embarrassment crawled up the base of your neck. So he did know you had been avoiding him. “Well, maybe if you didn’t distract me the entire class, I could sit next to you.”

He raised his arms and made a face of mock confusion. “I didn’t even do anything!”

“You gnawed the shit out of the pen I gave you the first day you sat next to me, first of all.”

He laughed at that, running a hand over his face. “Sorry about that. I kinda forgot it was yours.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyway!” He leaned towards you. “They’re trying to make me their bass player. I’m just trying to get this whole education thing done first, though.”

“You can play bass?”

He nodded. “Been playing for a bit now. I’m alright at it, I guess.”

“That's pretty sick.”

“I’d play you something, but Jake would end me if I touched his guitar.”

As if he'd heard Sam, Jake entered the room and picked up the guitar by the neck.

“That’s yours?” You asked.

Jake nodded. “Yes, she’s mine. Love her.” He disappeared behind you and you heard the stairs creak as he headed out of sight.

Over the next half hour, one by one, people started to file in through the door. Sam didn’t leave your side other than to stand up and give the occasional hug or handshake, and to grab a few beers, and in many ways you were grateful for that. The living room filled up quickly, your spot on the couch becoming uncomfortably close to some guy you’d never seen before. But Sam kept you entertained, keeping a conversation going between the two of you even as you grew increasingly more restless on the couch.

Jake came into the room at some point, sitting on the mantle of the fireplace and easily drifting into the conversation. You found your eyes drawn to him, he had something of a magnetic presence that couldn’t be ignored. You could just barely make out the outline of his eyes behind the sunglasses he wore, and how they caught your eye on more than one occasion.

You were being pulled by two potent forces, your attention divided between both Jake and Sam. Jake had barely said a word to you, yet his body language stayed pointed towards you, his head always coming back to rest in your direction. It was borderline overwhelming.

“You look like you need a drink.” Sam cocked his head at you, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Oh, that’s alright. I’m not really a huge drinker.”

“I insist. Trust me. It’ll make all this…” he made a sweeping motion across the room. “A whole lot more enjoyable.”

One drink couldn’t hurt, you figured. “You’ve got a point.”

“Follow me.” He headed over into the kitchen and you followed close behind, dodging glances from the strangers in the room.

He mixed you something from a few bottles you couldn’t identify on label alone, handing the finished drink over to you with a flourish. “Your beverage, missus eclipse.”

His little nickname for you was so endearing you couldn't help but smile at it.

“Tell me what you think.” He looked at you eagerly as you brought the cup to your lips and took a sip.

Your face scrunched up at the taste – it tasted like pure liquor to your alcohol-abstinent tastebuds, but it was drinkable. “That sure is…a drink,” you rasped.

“Is it nasty? I can make another one!” His hands were already grabbing for a bottle and unscrewing the cap.

“No, it’s okay. Just strong.”

“We’re in college, the drinks are supposed to be strong.” He gave you a smile.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Hey, I just realized I never showed you, like, anything. You want a tour of the house?" He glanced through the arched opening into the living room. "It's getting a bit crowded in there."

“Sure.”

As you absently sipped at your drink, he walked you through the house, pointing out little pieces you would have never noticed on your own. The piano in the corner of the sitting room seemed like a point of personal pride for him – “I saved up for so long to buy this thing,” he told you. There were framed vinyls with art you didn’t recognize decorating many of the walls, some of them still in their plastic wrap. Rare relics, you figured. There were little touches of each of the guys throughout the house, small pieces that made you think of them.

He took you upstairs, pointing at the doors to each of the guy's rooms. They each had a small wreath of dried flowers pinned to the outsides.

“Did you guys make these?” You asked, inspecting one made of white roses. The stems had been immaculately bent and twisted together. You didn’t even know you could weave flowers together that way.

“Josh made them for everyone. That one’s his. He got really into the symbology of flowers for a bit and gave all of us a big bouquet of flowers he thought were ‘us’.”

“That’s so cute,” you smiled. Josh seemed like an incredibly thoughtful guy.

“This one’s mine.” He walked to the door at the end of the hallway. His was made of several different flowers you couldn’t name, but mostly sunflowers, their petals curled in on the centers. “I think it’s kinda ugly, but it's the thought that counts.”

“I think it’s beautiful.” You examined it closer, impressed with Josh’s craftsmanship.

A feeling of calm you hadn't felt in a while rushed into your head at the same moment he opened the door to his room – the alcohol was kicking in.

His room was decorated in a way you could only describe as maximalist. On every wall hung a poster or framed vinyl, shadow boxes with concert tickets and wristbands, and a corkboard by his bed full of polaroids and photos. There was a bass leaned up against his dresser, and an older-looking one hung on the wall. Despite the clutter of decor, his room was impeccably neat, left pristine while he was in the dorms.

“Here’s my place.” He made a grand sweeping motion towards the room.

“Why live in the dorms if you have a room here?” You asked, your eyes scanning over the walls.

“Easier commute. And easier to make friends, not that I do that very often. Plus I wanted the true college experience.”

“If I had a room like this, you could never get me to leave it.” You ran your fingers over the comforter on his bed. It looked incredibly cozy, a pattern of dark autumn colors.

“Really?” He looked at you, surprised. “I feel like it’s kinda…messy.”

“Not messy. Just cluttered. In a good way.”

You went around the room, pointing out little things that caught your eye and asking about them. He happily explained – that’s a rare vinyl, those are tickets from a show last year, that’s a poster of this movie I love. You listened to every word intently, taking it all in, just purely enjoying the sound of his voice and the many stories he had to tell. He was midway through a sentence when a shout came from the stairwell.

"Sammy boy!” It was Jake’s voice that echoed down the hallway. “You up there?”

Sam shot you a look, rolling his eyes with a grin and heading over to the top of the stairs.

“You fuckin’ up there or something?” Jake shouted. “Get down here and share a drink with me!” He sounded audibly drunk.

“Jesus, Jake, I was just giving her a tour. Have some couth!”

You were a bit embarrassed by the accusation, but laughed at it nonetheless, the alcohol dulling your sense of shame.

“My apologies, fair lady, I didn’t know you were up there!” Jake called when he saw you appear at the top of the steps.

The two of you joined Jake downstairs in the kitchen, where he poured each of you a shot of something – he wouldn't show you the bottle, and you weren't entirely sure you wanted to know what it was.

“It’s the finest in the land,” Jake assured you, in a boisterous British accent. He toasted you and Sam, “to new friends,” and you downed the shots.

“Sam!” You heard Danny’s voice from the back door, just as you were reaching for the sink tap to give yourself something to wash down that awful shot. “Come check this out.”

Sam looked between you and Jake for a moment, considering.

“I’ll be back,” he told you, setting his shot glass on the counter and following Danny outside, the two of them looking as happy as young boys about to go throw stones through glass windows.

“So, what’s your deal?” Jake asked, looking you over, his eyes wandering across your body in a way that made you suppress a shiver. “You guys have a class together or something?” He gestured in the direction Sam had gone.

You nodded, swallowing around the bitter taste still stuck in your mouth. “Germanic literature.”

“Sounds hard. Is he any good at it?”

You shrugged. “It’s more boring than anything else. He’s decent enough to have as a project partner.”

“Right.” He peered out the window and you followed his gaze. Sam and Daniel were poking and prodding at the fire with sticks, and it had grown considerably in size since the last time you saw it. “You from around here?”

“Nah, across the country. This was my dream school.”

Jake raised his eyebrows at you. “Dream school? I didn’t know anyone dreamed about education.”

You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. “I dream of the degree, not the everyday slog.”

“What’re you going for? Writing, I’m guessing?”

You nodded. “How’d you know?”

He dragged his eyes over your body again, but it didn’t creep you out in the way such a gesture normally would. He was genuinely admiring you, not gawking at you like you were a piece of meat – and the difference was crystal clear. “You look like a writer.”

“And what does a writer look like?” Your voice dropped a bit, entering a softer register.

He took a step closer, reaching for the bottles behind you, his hip brushing against yours. “Perfect.”

Your vision narrowed and your pulse quickened, your heart skipping a beat.

“Me?” You figured he must be talking about something else.

“Yes, you,” he scoffed, turning his head ever so slightly to catch your eye. “Look at yourself, girl.”

“It sounds a lot like you’re hitting on me, Jake.” You prayed those words came out sounding more confident than you felt at this moment.

“Would you be mad if I was?” He leaned a hand against the counter, giving you a cocky, self-assured smile that made you feel a bit weak.

Would you be mad? The alcohol had dulled your senses, and switched off the part of your brain that normally turned you into an anxious mess. You liked what was happening here, and you liked it a lot. Attention from men was not something you sought out willingly, typically. But when it was offered, especially from a man like Jake, sometimes you couldn't help but enjoy it.

You looked him over as he stared you down, your eyes drawn to his chest, his shirt held together by only the last few buttons and masterfully parted to show you just enough. Enough to make your mind start working, thinking of what it would feel like to run your hands across his soft, flawless skin, or how the necklaces he wore would hang as he–

As you opened your mouth to reply, the back door swung open suddenly and banged against the wall, the sound causing you to flinch as your head whipped in the direction of the commotion.

Sam’s head poked through the threshold, looking first left, then right, his eyes settling on you and Jake. You didn’t miss the way his smile faltered for a moment when he saw the two of you. He called your name, beckoning you over. “Smokin’ time. You want some?” He pointed a finger at Jake.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Sam disappeared back out the door, and you moved to hurry after him. “I’ll catch you later,” you said over your shoulder, unable to look him in the eye.

Events passed by in a blur the moment the joint hit your system and started to mix with the alcohol. You swayed on your feet, but Sam kept you upright, sitting you down in a chair outside, where you would – to your knowledge – stay planted the majority of the night. Faces came and went, friendships were formulated on the spot with people you’d never seen before. Drinks were shoved into your hands and you readily gulped them down with no regard to how drunk you already were.

“What, I can’t let loose once every two years?” You slurred when Danny, who had sat across the fire from you, said you were looking rather hammered.

“You absolutely can, darling!” Josh, who was in the seat next to you, raised his own glass in agreement.

Josh had taken his own turn captivating your attention for a bit, and it was one of the only moments of the night that was clear enough to register as a memory in your mind. He grabbed both sides of your face, looking you over like a mother looks over their child.

“You are just so gorgeous, sunshine.” He was so close you could smell the liquor on his breath, but you didn't mind. Like his brothers, he was quite easy on the eyes, if not a downright treat to stare at. “Any man would be lucky to have you. If men are your thing, of course.”

You nodded into his hands. “Thank you, Joshy. They are my thing! Well, sometimes. They also suck.”

“Amen, dear!” He exclaimed, releasing his grip on you to take another sip of his drink. “That one, right there, though–” he pointed a finger behind you. You followed his gesture, your eyes locking with Sam’s. “He’s a good one. He doesn’t suck.” He leaned in a bit closer, lowering his tone so you could hear him. “Give him a chance, why don’t you? He needs a girl like you.”

“Josh!” Sam exclaimed; evidently, Josh hadn’t lowered his tone quite enough. “Cut it out, man, I just met the girl.” He gave you a sheepish smile, shaking his head. “He’s always trying to set me up with people, I swear.”

“Josh just wants everyone to get laid more,” Danny laughed from across the fire.

Josh threw his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Maybe I do! Sue me for wanting more passion in the world!”

You waved a hand at all of them. “I don’t have time for all that stuff anyway.”

“No time for love?” Josh asked, aghast.

“Oh, lord. Don’t say that around him, he’ll start a monologue about love,” Sam joked, poking a finger into your side.

“Maybe I wanna hear it, Sammy,” you poked him back.

“If I have to hear it one more time my head might explode.”

“Maybe you need more love in your life. Or passion, or whatever he said.”

“Maybe I do, but not everyone is so open to it right now.” He narrowed his eyes at you, like he was accusing you of something, but it flew right over your head in your drunken state.

The night devolved back into a colorful blur, punctuated by the occasional long goodbye of a partygoer saying their farewell before stumbling their way back to their dorm or house. You were struck by a kind of unexpected feeling of coziness, sitting with the brothers by the roaring bonfire. You could tell they didn’t expect you to leave, and you didn’t want to. Like they had already absorbed you as a member of their family, a sense of belonging warmed your core even better than the fire could.

Friendship had never been your forte. Gaining and keeping friends was a juggling act you’d never been skilled at pulling off, and you’d written it off for so many years that loneliness was the default most of the time. It didn’t hurt anymore, but the dull ache it left behind was melting away in the presence of these men. Like a switch had been flipped, just like that, you understood why your mother had lectured you about friends so many times. It was for the moments like these.

The vast majority of the party had left, only a few stragglers were still inside the house, searching for their keys or their coats. You and the twins sat in a peaceful silence around the fire while Jake plucked at his guitar – at what point he’d brought it out, you couldn’t quite recall. Sam had passed out in his bed, and Danny had vanished with some girl an hour ago.

You weren’t feeling well, the drinks still catching up with your cross-faded body. “I think I’m gonna go throw up,” you remarked to the twins, nearly falling over as you got up out of your chair. Jake’s playing stopped.

“You need me to hold your hair?” Josh got up alongside you, placing a gentle hand on your lower back as you hurried towards the house.

You waved him away, not trusting yourself to open your mouth right now. The next time your mind was conscious and present, you were on the bathroom floor, your arms hugging the sides of the toilet bowl as you tried to take deep breaths.

There was a soft knock at the door, followed by a voice calling your name. It was Jake. “You okay in there?”

You responded by flushing the toilet a final time, certain there could be nothing left in your stomach. You took your time cleaning yourself up, your gaze lingering on yourself in the mirror. You looked a mess by this point, and you'd gotten vomit on your sweater.

“Not this sweater,” you groaned.

“Got some on yourself?” Jake’s voice came from behind the door again, followed by a chuckle.

“Yeah. Fuck my life.”

“Don’t worry about it. Stay there.” You heard his boots on the hardwood walking away, returning a moment later. “Open up.”

You cracked the door, and he shoved a shirt through the gap. “Put this on.”

You didn’t even think twice about it before gingerly removing your shirt, and slipping on the one he’d given you. It bore the name of what you assumed to be some band – your vision was swimming so much you could barely read it. It felt heavenly, well-worn and a bit too large on you, and it smelled like him. Warm and spicy with a bit of vanilla, it smelled expensive.

You stumbled out of the doorway directly into his arms. He held you with a supporting hand under your biceps, your face mere inches away from his.

“You should probably lay down.”

You looked up at him with glassy eyes, mumbling a soft mhm in response.

“You can take my bed. I don’t want you out on the couch.”

“Thanks, Jakey.”

He guided you up the stairs and into his room, not bothering to turn the lights on as he showed you to the bed.

“Stay on your side,” he warned, holding up a finger. “And please try not to throw up in my bed.”

“I won’t,” you mumbled, pulling his comforter up to your chin, your eyes already slipping shut.

“Stay cozy, angel.” His words rang dully in your head as sleep claimed you quickly, before the light from the open door had even left the room.

[aylacavebear]

She Thought She was Normal

Time for a little reveal, but only a little...

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine

Word Count: 3449

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Warnings: Childhood Rivalry

----------------------------------------- Chapter 5

Over the next four years, she only briefly saw the Winchesters a handful of times, none of them long enough for any sort of challenge Dean could come up with. Although, she and her father visited her Uncle at least once a year, staying a few days each time.

William still hadn’t let her go out on a hunt on her own yet but he did let her start coming with him to help when she turned thirteen. He had picked something easy for her to cut her teeth on, a simple salt & burn. She’d quickly put together the pieces of the case within only a few hours, managing to save a woman’s life in the process. By the time she was fourteen, she was going with him on all his cases, not just doing the research at whatever motel they happened to be staying in. 

“Hey Uncle Bobby,” she said as he greeted them in the driveway one cold November morning.

“You’ve grown munchkin,” he chuckled.

“Tends to happen after four years,” she replied, smirking a little.

Bobby glanced over at William, who just smiled and shook his head a bit, “Your room is still how you left it from the last visit,” he told her.

“God, those cat posters aren’t still hanging up are they,” she asked, groaning slightly.

“I didn’t change anything, if that’s what you’re askin',” he chuckled.

She just shook her head as she went inside. Her Uncle’s house hadn’t changed any, except for the size of the stacks of books, which had grown since her last visit, almost a year ago now. Maria set her bags down on her bed and looked around her room with her hands on her hips. 

“God, I was such a kid,” she mumbled before she began taking down old posters from her childhood.

Maria redid her room, then took a step back, looking satisfied with the outcome. At least it didn’t look like a ten-year-old’s room now. She unpacked her things, knowing they were staying for a week, at minimum. In the middle of setting up her desk with her books, she heard the purr of the Impala outside. She looked toward her closed door, raising an eyebrow. It’d been almost a year and a half since she’d seen them last, slightly curious how they had changed or if Dean was still annoying. She shrugged her shoulders though and went back to setting up her desk. Her father had said she didn’t have to do any lessons today, due to how long they’d been on the road, but she liked her routine and learning. She slipped her blue flannel on, leaving it unbuttoned over her t-shirt to keep her arms warm, finding her Uncle’s a little more chilly than she remembered.

“SIS!!” Sammy yelled as he rounded the corner and barreled into her room, nearly tackling her in a hug.

She laughed hard as she wrapped him up in a hug, then spun him around, “Little brother, I missed you,” she told him happily before she set him back down, ruffling up his hair.

“Stop,” he giggled, pushing her hand away, “How long are you staying?”

“Probably a week. What about you?” she asked, smiling down at him. He was still shorter than she was by a few inches.

“Don’t know. Dad didn’t say,” he replied.

Her smile quickly faded as she turned around and looked in her doorway, almost glaring at him, “Dean,” she said flatly.

“Maria,” he replied, leaning on her doorframe, arms crossed.

“Why do you two act like you hate each other?” Sammy asked, looking between the two of them.

Neither of them spoke, but Dean smirked before he pushed off the wall and went back into the living room. Once he was gone, she looked back over at Sammy and sighed, “I don’t hate him, Sammy. I just think he’s annoying,” she tried to explain.

“Why?” he asked her, tilting his head a bit.

“It’s hard to explain,” she sighed, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“Can you try?” he asked, still curious.

She glanced up at him, “He always wants to beat me, at everything. I mean, we could work together. He’s really good at a lot of stuff, but…” she trailed off, glancing at her doorway before she continued, “... he thinks girls shouldn’t hunt cause boys are better at it.”

“Is that why he keeps challenging you?” his curiosity getting the better of him.

“You’ve got a lot of questions this time,” she chuckled as she looked into his adorable eyes.

“Sorry sis, curious, that’s all,” he giggled.

“It’s good to be curious, that’s how you learn things. I guess he’s mad, cause I’m a girl and I keep beating him, no matter what he comes up with. It’s not like I’m gonna let him win, then he wouldn’t learn anything. A monster won’t let you win when you go against one, so I won’t just let Dean win either,” she explained, knowing he was old enough now to understand.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Sammy replied as her words sunk in, “So… in a way… you’re helping him get better at hunting,” he concluded.

She chuckled a little, Sammy really was adorable, “Yup, just like my dad taught me.”

The two of them headed back out, Maria went right to the kitchen, looking through what her Uncle had available in the way of food. Thanksgiving was only a few days away and she noticed he’d stocked up on several things for it, making her smile. She grabbed out two packages of chicken, setting them on the counter to defrost for dinner. Then she headed to the cabinets, looking for ingredients for gravy. Again, she smiled to herself and shook her head a bit in disbelief seeing what he’d stocked up on before she headed into the living room.

“You’re the best Uncle Bobby,” she said happily.

“What am I? Chop liver?” her father asked, being playful.

She rolled her eyes playfully, “Maybe I should have said he was the best Uncle then,” she replied, in a bit of a smartass way.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, glancing over at William, “She got mouthy huh?” 

William laughed, “This is nothing, but she knows where the line is.”

Dean rolled his eyes and went outside, wanting nothing to do with her. He was sixteen now and all hormones but all he saw when he looked at her was that annoying five-year-old that had beat him in a challenge of throwing a rock at a target almost ten years ago. He didn’t want to be at Bobby’s for a week because she was there. 

“What’s up with Dean?” William asked John after Dean had gone outside.

“He’s sixteen and according to Sammy, Maria is his rival, since they were five. He’s mad he can’t beat her at anything,” John chuckled.

William glanced at his daughter before he looked back at John, “She won’t let him win John.”

“I know,” he said plainly, “I hope she never does. It’ll teach him to get better. Hone his skills.”

William thought about what John said and sighed, “You’ve got a point there.”

“I pulled out dinner,” Maria interjected, as respectfully as she could, as it had been one of the reasons she’d gone into the living room.

“Oh? Whatcha cookin this time?” Bobby asked her, leaning back in his chair.

“Chicken with mashed potatoes, homemade gravy, and probably corn, and thank you, for having all the ingredients already,” she replied, smiling.

“Well, what kind of Uncle would I be if I didn’t keep those things on hand, knowing you’d be coming by?” he asked her.

She knew he was being playful, but she also had those teenage hormones going through her as well, they just came out differently, “Probably the worst uncle ever,” she replied, quite the smartmouth.

Sammy was shocked by what she’d said but didn’t say a word, the adults just chuckled, “Mouth,” her father said, somewhat sternly.

“Sorry, Pappa, and I’m sorry Uncle Bobby,” she said quietly, realizing her mouth had run away again, “I’m gonna go work on my lessons.”

“Get something to eat first,” her father told her, to which she nodded.

She cursed at herself in her head as she made herself a sandwich before taking it to her room to eat. It was her biggest issue, her mouth, and some of the things that came out of it. Maria didn’t have emotional issues or confidence issues. Well, she hadn’t had them before. This visit was going to change that for her in ways she wouldn’t fully understand until she was much older. She had a mouth on her, even if she didn’t cuss, not yet anyway. William had pondered a lot on how Alarra would have handled it, although, he couldn’t think of a way other than reminding her when it happened. Maria read one of her books on lore while she ate her sandwich, not wanting to interact with the adults at the moment. Since she had hit thirteen, she wanted more and more alone time, even away from her father. 

“Have any more of her powers surfaced?” Bobby asked William quietly since Sammy had headed outside to wherever his brother had gone.

“No, but she’s perfected the few she does have, so heads up on that,” William warned them.

“So, no sneaking up on her then?” John asked.

“Nope. She knows when you get about fifteen feet away now,” William explained.

“Dean’s not gonna like that one,” John chuckled.

“Is it a hearing thing or can she just sense someone’s presence?” Bobby asked.

“I think it is more of sensing someone’s presence. She’s been using it over the last year, going out on hunts with me,” William answered.

“She’s been killing things for the last year?” Bobby asked, not sure what to think of a thirteen-year-old hunting, even with her father.

“Yup, and she’s really good at it. Hell, she saved my neck a couple times now,” William replied, smiling a little as he thought back.

“Damn,” John almost exclaimed, slightly surprised.

The boys came back into the house and went straight for food. Dean was thankful that Maria wasn’t around. He’d still been thinking of another challenge he could win. Dean had attempted to convince his dad to let him challenge her to a race with the Impala and the truck, but his dad had put a stop to that one. He also had no intention of repeating any of their past challenges. The adults quickly changed the topic, hearing the boys in the kitchen. Maria just rolled her eyes from her room, deciding not to take care of her plate yet, knowing Dean was in the kitchen.

“It’s gonna be a long week,” she mumbled, flipping the page in her book.

She came out around four so she could start dinner, determined not to let Dean ruin something she enjoyed. When she went to use the sink so she could wash the chicken, she saw the boys’ dishes from lunch still sitting there. 

“Dean! Sammy!” she hollered from the kitchen, trying not to sound as pissed as she felt.

Sammy came running, but Dean hadn’t budged from where he sat in the living room, “You okay sis?” Sammy asked her.

She instantly calmed down hearing him, “Hey, thought we had an agreement when we were here together,” she said after she turned to look at him, managing a soft smile, “Remember, you keep up on your dishes so I can cook dinners?” she asked, sounding nicer than when she had yelled for him.

“Sorry sis,” he replied, feeling bad that he’d forgotten.

Sammy went over and washed up his dishes as Maria just glared at Dean, who was sitting in a chair in the living room, right in her line of sight, “DEAN!” she yelled again.

“What?” he replied as if he had no clue what her problem was.

“How come you left your dishes in the sink?” she asked, trying to keep her temper under control. 

“Cause I felt like it,” he said, not even looking over at her.

At that, she smirked, “Okay, well I don’t feel like cooking for you tonight then. You can have something else.” she said in that smartmouth tone of hers and turned back to the sink.

Dean was stubborn, but so was she. He just sat there, the three adults looking over at him, none of them saying a word. They would let the two of them work out their differences but at the same time, they were going to let Maria dictate this one. There was plenty of food in the house and if Dean wanted to be as stubborn as he was, he was going to have to deal with the consequences of his stubbornness.

Maria washed the dishes Dean had left in the sink, as she needed the space to cook, but it also meant he had no way of being able to eat what she was cooking that night. When she got to the potatoes, Sammy wanted to help her, so she let him peel them while she cut them up and got them ready to boil. A half-hour later, the aroma of the baked chicken began filling the kitchen as she stirred the boiling potatoes. 

“How much longer sis? I’m starving,” Sammy practically whined as he wandered back into the kitchen.

“About thirty more minutes,” she replied before she turned to him, “Wanna help me set the table?”

“Sure,” he replied excitedly.

She giggled a little seeing his excitement at something so simple, which made her love cooking more than she already did. Maria handed things to Sammy from the higher cabinets that he couldn’t reach and he set the table for everyone. 

“Will you stir the gravy while I mash the potatoes?” she asked Sammy, knowing how much he loved to help her.

“Definitly,” he said with a huge grin.

By now the aroma of the baked chicken had made its way into the living room, even getting to the adults. Dean’s stomach growled at how good it smelled, which only annoyed him further. Maria put the mashed potatoes on the table before finishing up the corn and gravy. That was when she pulled the chicken out of the oven, smiling proudly as she set the pan on the pot holder in the middle of the table.

“Dinners done,” she hollered before turning off the stove and sitting down across from Sammy, who had been trying to wait patiently for the last twenty minutes. 

They all joined her in the kitchen sitting down at the table, even Dean. She raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully. John put some of everything on Sammy’s plate while Bobby and William set up their plates before she did hers. The moment Dean reached for the chicken, she smacked his hand.

“Hey, what the hell was that for?” he said, annoyed, pulling his hand back.

“Mouth,” John said in a low, deep tone, glancing up at his oldest son.

“You didn’t take care of your lunch dishes, you don’t get what I cooked. We had an agreement,” she explained calmly.

“It’s Bobby’s house, you don’t make the rules,” Dean retorted.

“Boy, she cooked, she makes the rules for the meal she made, and she never asks for more than you boys keeping up on your dishes,” Bobby told him sternly.

“Oh come on!” Dean exclaimed, quite annoyed as he threw his hands up.

“Son, she warned you before she started. Go find something else to eat,” John told him, just as sternly as before.

Dean went to open his mouth but quickly thought better of it. Maria wasn’t even smug about it. Part of her felt bad that he wasn’t going to get any but really she was more hurt than anything that he wanted to break his word to her, about their agreement. In the adult's eyes, it wasn’t much to ask for from her. She didn’t have to cook, she’d wanted to. Maria was fairly good at keeping her emotions out of her expression and the last thing she wanted was for Dean to see that he’d hurt her feelings. She ate mostly in silence as Dean ate two decent-sized meat sandwiches, everyone else praised her on the meal she’d made.

There wasn’t much to put away when everyone was done eating. She’d gone to clean up when John stopped her, setting his hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up at him, “We got clean up tonight,” he smiled down at her, “You’re an amazing cook, by the way.”

She smiled a little, “Thanks Uncle John,” she replied before she headed to her room.

Maria made it halfway through the living room before Sam tackled her with a hug from behind, “Dinner was AMAZING!” he exclaimed, squeezing her tighter.

“Okay Sammy, but I’d like to keep my dinner in my stomach,” she told him through his grip.

He quickly let her go, “Sorry, it was just really good. I miss your cooking when you aren’t around,” he told her.

“Maybe, when we’re older, we can hang out more and I can cook for you,” she told him, knowing it probably wouldn’t happen, not with them all being hunters. It was a nice dream though, and dreams were something she felt Sammy needed.

Dean just glared at her as she walked to her room, “And don’t get into the leftovers Dean. I know how much was left,” she told him without looking over her shoulder, to which he just scoffed.

She got her night chores done before she went back to the book she’d been reading, more things on witchcraft. Some of it was boring but she got through it nonetheless, knowing that even the boring stuff could be useful, depending on the witch. After the adults were asleep though, she slipped out of her room to go look through Bobby’s new books that she had taken note of earlier in the day.

Maria was quiet, even on the hardwood floor as she walked over to the stack of books near his desk. She picked up one on sigils, werewolves, vampires, and even the one on angels she’d read four years ago. Dean watched her from where he was lying on the living room floor, staying completely still, wondering what the hell she was doing. She looked over the pile of books he had stacked in the corner. There was an obscure book that she could only see the corner of but was drawn to it. She set her small stack of books down on the corner of his desk before she carefully, yet quietly, moved the books so she could retrieve the one she was after. Maria stacked the books back up the way they were before she set that one on top of her stack and made her way back to her room. 

Dean quietly slipped out of his makeshift bed and followed her but he only made it to the hallway before she closed her door. He smirked, deciding to use this to his advantage, finally having something to hold over her.

In her room, she plopped down on her bed and looked at the top book, the one she’d been drawn to. It had an odd symbol on the cover. It was a circle that took up most of the cover with another circle close to it. Inside the circle were triangles that all pointed down and outward, away from the top and center. She ran her fingers over the image that was slightly raised off the cover, smiling a little. She set the other books to the side of her and opened it, finding it simple to read, having no clue that it was in another language.

Another two hours passed before she even realized it, “Shit…” she whispered, looking over at the clock, seeing that it read midnight, “Dad’s gonna kill me if he finds out I was up this late.”

She quickly stashed the books behind her bag, under her bed before she turned off her lamp and crawled under the covers. Maria didn’t even feel tired but sleep soon found her. Dreams of white hallways lined with doors, each leading to a different place, and a room with what looked like a white throne and white bench seats around the outside of the room played through her mind. She saw what looked like people but they didn’t feel like people and none of them could see her. They were just moving around, doing whatever job it was they were doing. 

----------------------------------------- Chapter 6 - When Dreams Are Too Real

Tag List @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67

Link to the master list for this story.

[trivial-writing]

As a response to a post I reblogged yesterday( i think at the time of writing this), here are some pokemon champions as friends content in the form of headcannons. I’m avoiding my ships for this, so there’s barely any Diantha/Lance and Steven/Cynthia head cannons.

Diantha and Cynthia are very close friends. Both of them have a terrible sweet tooth. Diantha picks up ten boxes of chocolates with all the varieties. Most of the champions don’t have such a big sweet tooth as Diantha and Cynthia do.

Cynthia is very indecisive. Like in the anime, she keeps the line waiting for HOURS. Whenever she shared free time with Lance, Steven, and Diantha each or all together, they help her narrow down her choices to one item for each type (ex. one jacket, one shirt, one romper). Lance is the quickest at helping Cynthia. He’s a bit annoyed, but he’ll do anything other than League work.

Steven has some flavor of neurodivergence. I used to headcannon that he had OCD, but I don’t think that’s right. I don’t know exactly what OCD affects. I have inattentive ADD, and I think he’s like me, sorting stuff for three days. As his childhood friend, Wallace trained his way to get to the caliber of Champion to sub for Steven when Steven is busy with Devon Corp or getting out of cave.

Lance and Wallace know how to make food. Lance can cook. Wallace can bake. Steven and Cynthia can’t cook. If a person had a gun to their head, and their only way to live is to make food, the shooter might as well pull the trigger.

Steven would live off of Wallace’s baking for a time before Wallace caught on. Well, it was Lisia who told him about it.

Lance, in the other hand, knows fully Cynthia can’t cook at all. He tried teaching her, but she ended up making a fire. She does apologize for it all the time. Lance forgave her long before.

Diantha also knows how to bake. She and Wallace trade recipes. That one Water Elite Four member approves of their baking. Wallace grew up with only knowing Sootopolis pastries. He’s really interested in other desserts in the world. He loves Kalosian desserts the most. It’s aesthetically pleasing and delicious. Diantha loves Wallace’s praises of Kalosian desserts. He just goes on and on about it.

Cynthia is the youngest of Wallace, Steven, Diantha, and Lance. She’s the youngest sister of the friend group. Lance is the oldest of the group. He’s the over protective brother of the group. Diantha is the second oldest. She acts more like a comforter. Diantha let Steven cry in her shoulder when she heard Steven’s mom died. Wallace and Steven are the two kids who fight for everything.

I like to imagine a scenario like Lance is driving because he’s the one of the champions who can drive at the time, and Steven tells Wallace they’re probably going to arrive at x time and it’s gonna take x amount time to get there. Wallace disagrees and uses his own direction app to prove he’s right. Meanwhile Lance is trying to turn into the carpool lane because some driver shouldn’t have a license. Diantha is probably telling Wallace and Steven to shut up because while Lance has the patience of a saint, that patience can still run out. Diantha’s words go unheard while Cynthia is just silently watching, preparing to meet an angry Lance. After getting so fed up, Lance changes to the slowest route imaginable out of spite. He regrets his decision since Cynthia keeps asking him if they’re there yet. She’s asking because she’s bored and annoyed that she has to be next to Wallace and Steven who are squishing her. Lance tells her to blame Wallace and Steven.

Wallace is older than Steven. Wallace is almost a year older than Steven. Steven was born the day before Wallace’s birthday. Wallace is taller than Steven. Wallace always brags how Steven never grew an inch past the age of ten.

Steven is in fact the shortest of the adult champions. Iris is like half a foot shorter than him. He’s often mistaken for a child. Iris always asks for two children’s menus at any get-togethers. It’s times like those when Steven misses Alder.

Alder annoyed Lance to a tremendous degree. It’s mainly because, as the oldest, teaching Alder about the Japanese-inspired regions’ customs normally fell on to Lance. Alder is still respected by him, but it’s still annoying. Lance also found it very annoying that Alder would try to date Cynthia even though she was adamant in not being interested.

When Steven did tell Lance and Wallace about his crush on Cynthia, Lance and Wallace simultaneously said “we know.” or “congratulations for wasting our time on something we already know.” Steven is just stunned. He asked how they knew. To which Lance and Wallace went on a five hour rant session, explaining how painfully obvious Steven was.

Lance knows for a fact that of all the champions, people tend to kind of favor him the least. What I mean is that some people don’t really see him as a champion. He’s only a fill-in because Red left. Other people blatantly antagonize him due to how he got the title. He didn’t defeat Red at all. Lance knows he has the least fans out of all the champions. He knows the reasons. Therefore, Iris tries her best to call him by Dragon Master Lance instead. He always smiles hearing her say it. He’s awestruck to believe Iris admires him so much.

As for the other champions’ opinions on the general consensus on Lance, they all feel bad, of course they do. Wallace even more so since he too has some people who see him like that too. It’s only because he’s Top Coordinator Wallace doesn’t get the same treatment. Contests are harder than battles, so of course Wallace isn’t getting unanimous negative attention. Wallace does talk to Lance about it. Lance is more comfortable talking to Wallace about his situation than the others since Wallace only beat Steven when they were kids. Wallace only gets the title of champion when Steven doesn’t feel like it, or is busy.

Steven doesn’t really get the whole idea of it. Steven doesn’t like talking about it because he hates people talking about his friend in such a negative light. All the times he heard about it, he found it online. He found out it wasn’t just online discourse on a trip to Kanto for business purposes. He heard some guy call Lance the Fake Champion and how back in his day the champion title was earned through beating the champion rather than being served on a silver platter. He even said how Lance could be easily beaten if two children beat Lance, so could he. Besides, being the champion is really easy, so why is Lance having such a hard time with that stuff? Is it because he isn’t ready for it because he’s not a strong enough trainer? Probably. When Steven found out that same guy was a Silph Co. employee, he punched the guy in the face and told him to challenge Lance at Indigo Plateau right here and now and see how easy being the champion of two regions really is.

Cynthia has plans of murder for anyone who talks shit about Lance. He’s such a nice guy! He probably does the most champion duties than the others. And he somehow has to do two regions! Cynthia can only survive with one. But two? No not at all. Those people better get ready to pray to Arceus because the last thing they’ll see is a Garchomp.

Diantha understands the general public opinion. She doesn’t agree with it. She loves Lance. She wouldn’t date him if that wasn’t the case. Diantha is often seen as an angel in the public eye, so she is very vocal about her opinions on Lance. People are surprised to hear her talk about him in such an admirable way.

Leon avoids anything to do with the league, so he doesn’t get to witness any Lance negativity, but he definitely hears about it. From the number one Galarian Lance fan that is.

Cynthia and Wallace talk about Hoenn’s history. She’s really interested about the history of the Regi’s. She also invites Leon, but all Leon hears is just gibberish. He’s just happy to be here.

I know said this before, but I’ll say it again: Wallace and Lance judge Leon for his cape design. They hate it. A cape is not a billboard! A cape is supposed to be statement as said by Wallace. A cape is a sign of status and power as Lance puts it. They do not talk to Leon as much as the others because they sip their tea and silently judge. When it comes to capes, Lance and Wallace are telepathically linked.

Lance and Wallace have a closer relationship than what the media lets on. They have a lot of similarities. Lance is supposed to be the heir of an important clan. Wallace is a descendant of an ancient race that is super important to the history of Hoenn. The Blackthorn Dragon Clan must have some historical relevance in Johto history. Right? Cape enthusiasts. They both have Gyarados on their team. That has to count for something. Besides, they both take turns teaching Steven about women.

Steven off handedly mentioned something related to having a penis in front of Clair when she was super young. Let’s just say Steven is aware of how much a Dragon Master can fuck you up. Specifically the only redhead in the Blackthorn Dragon Clan.

Steven then did it again, but this time he experienced the wrath of being a Coordinator. Steven learned how terrifying Gorrebyss really is. This may or may not be recorded in the Pokedex. Poor Lisia had to learn about sexual content and tentacle stuff at the age of five. This is why she has a fear of any tentacled pokemon. Thanks, Steven.

Lance and Wallace made sure to visit Cynthia’s family together just in case Cynthia’s little sister learned anything new about boys or baby making. Also they want to ensure Steven doesn’t get teared to shreds by Garchomp.

Diantha, luckily, is an only child, so she doesn’t have any younger siblings awaiting to be terrorized by Steven’s big fat mouth. However, Diantha did learn the urinal etiquette though. She does make jokes about it with Lance sometimes.

Cynthia also heard about urinal etiquette from Steven. However, she was interested. She kept on asking Steven about the urinal etiquette until her grandmother walked in. Let’s just say Cynthia kept on leaning in Steven’s direction sub consciously. Yeah, Steven was banned from Cynthia’s childhood home for at least 15 years until he proposed to Cynthia. Cynthia’s grandmother still hates him.

Also Steven knows how much a kick to the balls hurts is thanks to Zinnia. He told Wallace after, and Wallace just cackled.

Cynthia and Diantha are given modeling opportunities al the time.

Diantha has official merch of her. It just so happens Lance’s League room has a bookcase full of her merch. One Champion meeting in the Indigo League, Diantha needed to go to the bathroom and stumbled into Lance’s bedroom for the League. She found the Diantha merch bookshelf, and after the meeting Cynthia asked why Diantha was so quiet. Diantha tells Cynthia about the bookcase and just teleports out of Kanto.

Steven told Lance about Team Galactic so that Cyrus could get beat up. Steven only did that because Cyrus called Cynthia a freak. Little did Steven know, Lance would soon find out about Cyrus’s comments on Cynthia, and oh what’s this? Cyrus was found dead in Jubilife. Huh? What a coincidence that Lance was spotted there.

Steven has a weird obsession over Diantha’s Carbink. He asks if he could just “borrow” Carbink for a month or two. Diantha shuts him down. She knows Steven just wants Diancie, his second love. Seriously, one night Steven, drunken, told Diantha that if Cynthia chose someone else he’d move to Kalos to live in a cave with Diancie as his queen and love of his life.

[azure-wolf-227]

The Mane 6 and Spike

Some headcanons about the Mane 6 and Spike in my reboot au. Their personalities are largely unchanged from canon but stuff like appearances, family history and other things will be different.

This post is subject to updating in the future as I come up with more headcanons.

Edit: Aging up the characters for reasons.

Edit 2: Changed the ages back to my original idea.

Twilight Sparkle

15-years-old at the beginning of the series; turns 16 in Sweet and Elite. She is the youngest of the Mane 6.

Twilight’s birthday is in Spring as the Canterlot garden party is a Spring event.

Twilight is an early bloomer as she got her Cutie Mark when she was almost six years old.

Twilight is a year younger than her schoolmates as she was admitted into the School for Gifted Unicorns a year early.

Taller than the average Unicorn mare, even a Canterlotian one (Unicorns from Canterlot are usually taller than those from other places). She is still shorter than her older brother and is not very physically fit - at first.

She gains some inches after becoming an Alicorn, but AJ is still the tallest of the group.

Her height (and Shining Armor’s) is due to possessing Alicorn blood from her father’s side.

Twilight has Kirin blood from her mother’s side, explaining why she sometimes bursts into flame when she’s really angry.

Before moving to Ponyville, Twilight used to look unkempt because she was more focused on her studies so she didn’t care too much about her appearance.

She wears glasses because I like how they look on Sci-Twi. Twilight’s glasses used to be thick and unflattering since she cared more about practicality than appearance. At Rarity’s advice (insistence), she switches them for nicer-looking ones.

On her mother’s family is tradition that the firstborn daughter is given the name Twilight [something]. This tradition goes back to long before Equestria was formed. The exact reason for this tradition has been lost to time but the most accepted theory is that an ancestor named Twilight did something worthy of honor.

This theory isn’t entirely wrong.

On her father’s family is tradition for the daughters to have Sparkle as part of their names in honor of the family’s founder. The sons have names that reference light ex. Shining Armor and Night Light.

Twilight is in the neuro-divergent spectrum, and Owlowiscious serves in the role of service animal. (Inspired by @princess-of-the-corner).

Spike

10-years-old at the beginning of the series; turns 11 in Secret of my Excess. I decided to age him up a bit for reasons.

Dragon Molt occurs around the age of 13 (is dragon-puberty) so Spike goes through it sometime after Twilight’s ascension.

It is explicitly made clear from the beginning that Twilight sees Spike as her little brother, as does the rest of the Sparkle Family. In fact, Spike was officially adopted by the Sparkle Family shortly after Twilight became Celestia’s student.

I’m not very fond of how the young dragons look so anthropomorphic compared to the adults, so Spike will be more ‘animalistic.’ Meaning that he’s mostly quadrupedal. He is still cute and chubby, though.

Spike can switch between walking on four legs or two legs, using his tail to balance himself when he goes bipedal.

Dragons are magical so Spike will also know or learn dragon-specific spells.

His letter-sending fire breath is a spell that Princess Celestia taught him.

Twilight was the one who gave Spike his name. She named him after a dragon from legends.

Pinkie Pie

15-years-old at the beginning of the series; turns 16 in Party of One. She’s older than Twilight.

Pinkie is an early bloomer as she got her Cutie Mark when she was five.

She has Pegasus ancestry on her father’s side and Crystal Pony ancestry on her mother’s side. The Crystal Pony genes explain why her mane deflates and her color dulls when she’s sad. (This last idea was inspired by @princess-of-the-corner).

Pinkie Pie is smaller than average for an Earth Pony and is actually the smallest of the Mane 6. She is a bit chubby due to all the sweets she eats, but she also has muscles from being raised in a rock farm.

Applejack

Almost 18-years-old at the beginning  of the series; she’s the oldest amongst her friends, so she takes on the role of big sister to the others.

Applejack is familiar with many non-pony races since her relatives live all over the world.

Applejack is the tallest and most buff of the Mane 6; most members of the Apples are bigger than average for Earth Ponies. Big MacIntosh is still taller than her.

Rainbow Dash

17-years-old at the beginning of the series; a few months younger than Fluttershy.

Rainbow Dash is of average height for a Pegasus and has a streamlined body shape that is made for speed. He wings are reminiscent to those of a raptor bird.

Rarity

16-years-old; just a few months older than Twilight and Pinkie.

Rarity is an early bloomer as she got her Cutie Mark when she was six.

Rarity opened The Carousel Boutique and started her own business just a few months before Twilight first came to Ponyville. That it’s part of whys he’s so eager to make connections and get exposure from Canterlot.

Rarity has the average size and build of an Unicorn, being a couple on inches taller than Rainbow Dash without counting her horn, though a bit more muscular due to martial arts training. She still ranks high on Unicornian beauty standards.

Fluttershy

17 to 18-years-old; second oldest of the group, younger than Applejack but older than Rainbow Dash.

Her body shape is more like that of an Unicorn than a Pegasus: she’s very slim, long-limbed and delicate looking. She is taller than Rarity and Rainbow Dash. Her appearance fits Unicorn beauty standards, especially those from Canterlot.

Her wings are large and elegant, built more for graceful gliding than high-speed flight. Though she can still fly fast when necessary.

Her ears are larger than normal and tufted due to Thestral ancestry on her father’s side. She also has Earth Pony ancestry of her mother’s side.

[sea-owl]

Okay so the Fey Penelope and Phillip AU but make it changelings.

Lady Featherington had been desperate and if there was one thing Portia loved it's a desperate mortal. Desperate mortals do risky things like hiring fey changelings and not look that closely at contracts.

"I had heard if you wanted a permeant switch you want to choose one that has some resemblance to you," Lady Featherington said.

Well, she had done her research at least. It is easier to hold a form if the form you're transforming into has some of the same traits as you, especially if you wanted your changeling counterpart to run around metal filled cities like London.

Penelope looked over the mortal family. Lady Featherington and her two daughters, Helen and Cecelia. All three mortals had red curly hair, which is probably a big reason why Lady Featherington came to her mother Portia for this job, and oddly enough the daughters were the same age as Penelope and Felicity.

Helen was on the shorter side like Penelope, maybe two or three inches taller and had a lusher figure like Penelope. That's where the similarities ended though. Helen had blue eyes while Penelope had brown, Helen's ears were rounded, and while Penelope's ears were about the same size they were also pointed. Penelope also grew flowrers Probably the biggest difference between the two of them was the butterfly wings Penelope had attached to her back.

Her wings resembled a peacock butterfly wings. Deep red in color on each wing tip is a dramatic eyespot. They eyespots were layered in a circular pattern of black, yellow, and blue. In the middle of the eyespots was a blotch of red. Those same eyespots decorated different parts of Penelope's skin from her thighs to the back of her hands, to her shoulders, and even around her actual eyes.

Cecelia was also a similar body type to Felicity, but the edges of Felicity's ears took the shape of butterfly's forewings. Her's resembled a tortoiseshell butterfly. Redish orange with black and yellow markings. Blue spots decorate the edges. She also had the same type of wings on her back, but they were smaller than Penelope's.

Then came the mamas. Lady Featherington's probably had the most differences when it came to body type, especially in the chest area. Lady Featherington wasn't as blessed as Portia. Portia's own wings were the biggest among her and her children and resembled a monarch butterfly, though instead of the normal four she had six.

Lady Featherington had came to them wanting Portia and her daughters to take their places in London. To fool Lord Featherington, the older Featherington daughters, and all of London high society.

"You can have everything that comes with being Lady Featherington and Featherington daughters," Lady Featherington promised. "My girls and I plan to disappear. We won't need it anymore. Just make sure no one knows we left."

"Interesting that you plan to take your youngest two but not the older ones," Portia noted. "But then again I'm sure your lover that you're running off with only wants his daughters in this new life and not your husband's."

Lady Featherington said nothing.

Portia wrote out the contract, and had all three mortals sign along with the first payment.

"Perfect," Portia smiled. She held up a pair of silver scissors. "Now for this type of arrangement we would probably need to do a transformation potion instead a glamor. The potion is more stable when we're surrounded by metal. So if you be so kind, a few locks of hair will do."

A week later Portia, Penelope, and Felicity now transformed into Lady Featherington and her daughters, Helen and Cecelia, were heading back to London after their trip out in the country.

Penelope felt itchy, Felicity kept squirming in her seat. London is filled with way too much metal.

Portia stared her daughters down. "Stop it both of you. Now what do you know about the Featherington girls?"

Penelope went first. "Helen is seventeen years old and is debuting into society this upcoming season. She is best friends with Eloise Bridgerton, and is close with the whole Bridgerton family. She is known to be extremely shy, a wallflower. She likes to read and she had a crush on Colin Bridgerton after an act of kindness from him."

Penelope tried not to roll her eyes at the crush part. She loved games and wordplay as much as the next fairie but mortals weird courtship games were just plain odd. Too much lying happened in that game as well that it left a bad taste in Penelope's mouth. Thankfully Helen said that Colin never noticed her crush before, and if she's right then Penelope can really downplay the crush part.

Portia nodded and then turned to her younger daughter.

"Cecelia is ten years old. Her best friend is also part of the Bridgerton family, the youngest sibling Hyacinth," Felicity said. "Cecelia likes watercolors, and she's boring." Felicity threw her hands up in the air. "I can't shoot Sunshine in this body. This girl couldn't even pick up archery at least?"

"Mortals do not find it proper to teach their daughter such skills," Portia said. "Only skills to create or a run a house. It's why they are such easy targets to be nabbed by other fey."

The carriage pulled up to the Featherington home in Mayfair, and the three changelings began their new assignment.

To be honest it wasn't hard. Lord Featherington and the older two Featherington daughters were painfully oblivious. To the point it was almost pathetic. Portia also did not care what her daughters got up to in their free time so long as they kept up Helen's and Cecelia's reputations. Portia is working hard to get Lady Featherington's older daughters married off, just as their mama would.

Penelope and Felicity thought the Bridgertons were insane, but a good kind of insane. It reminded them of some of the Fairie courts.

[sanityshorror]

Clarifying information regarding Julius the Dressmaker & Killian Lynch's Relationship (again)

**the underline beneath the names means there is a link, if clicked, you will find their character reference page**

Due to seeming confusion, misinformation or simple poor understanding - I felt the need to clarify this. I will later make a post explaining the reasoning behind their (all things considered, non existent) age gap of 2 ½ years... Well, specifically, 2 years and 8 months.

So, without further ado ...

FRIENDLY REMINDER that Julius and Killian did not enter a relationship until Julius was 18 and Killian was 20. Killian is (canonically 2 ½ years older than Julius- Julius born in 1874 and Killian in 1872) Julius is age locked at 24, Killian at 26½).

FURTHERMORE, their relationship has always been fully consensual (even the negative aspects, yes - I recommend reading Reunion [linked below] if that doesn't quite make sense at face value, it's fully explained in the short story).

SIDE NOTE: measured on their bare feet: Killian is 6'6" and Julius is 6'2". This means Julius a mere four inches shorter - he stands Killian's ear height. Both men are very tall (and musclar)

Reunion link:

(Killian x Julius short story)

[noxxha]

Madara and Izuna - The age gap could be larger than 1-2 years

This is not meant as a super serious analysis, it is more for fun, really - but it has been bothering me at times. The lack of information I mean (that is to say, Madara’s lack of childhood flashback still feels like such a missed opportunity)…

Back when Naruto was airing we only knew that Madara had a “younger brother” (who went unnamed for the majority the Manga/anime). We know now (Chapter 622) that Madara came from a large family, and it is generally accepted that he is the oldest brother of his four siblings. It is also assumed that Izuna was the second oldest.

The question, however, is how large the age gap could have been between him and Madara?

We have no ages to work with when it comes to the Warring States Era, save for Izuna’s age of death at 24 years old, and that Tajima passed away at the age of 42.

That does not really tell us anything, only that Tajima must have been a gifted individual to survive when the general lifespan for shinobi was 30 years old.

It is of little use to determine how much older Madara might be compared to Izuna, though.

Then again…subtracting 24 from 42 reveals that Tajima probably became a father at a young age. Which was probably how it was for most, so to assure their survival.

I managed to find the german dub for this particular episode, and it was that particular dub that actually made me wonder if Izuna perhaps was younger than what is first assumed.

During the cliff scene Madara answers Hashirama’s earlier question (if he has any siblings) with the above “No…I have one younger brother left.”

The german dub added an interesting detail to that particular line (it was in general very…different from the english script)

“Du…sag mal, hast du keinen Bruder mehr?”

“Doch, den habe ich - er ist aber etwas jünger als ich.”

“Say…do you not have a single brother left?”

“Yes, I do have one - he is a bit younger than me, though.”

I could for the life of me not translate this particular conversation 1:1, as it made no sense in english (its a bit on the sloppy side still). The above is the closest I can get to keep the meaning from the german lines intact as much as possible.

And what is interesting is the “he is a bit younger than me”

Etwas = (adverb) some, somewhat, slightly, a little, a bit

It could be (and probably is) the angle, but Izuna looks smaller in the Manga compared to the anime.

He looks as if he would reach Madara a bit past his shoulder and Tajima to a little above his hip (if he stands where Tajima stands, that is) if they were to stand side by side in the Manga. Meaning he looks as if he is a head shorter than Madara. That’s…young.

In the anime he looks as if he is just an inch or two shorter than Madara.

Offical concept art for the anime.

While I in general see Izuna as the second oldest of their three unnamed siblings, the Manga almost makes me believe he was the third oldest of his siblings. But that has to be the angle. If Tajima was standing where Madara stands Izuna would reach his father to his arm, around his elbow.

The age gap is probably not bigger than three years at most. I personally have them 1-2 years apart in age myself, but everyone has a different preference - and considering we do not know the exact birth order of the unnamed siblings, every choice is valid.

Madara is protective of Izuna, that is something that will never change - no matter what the age gap ends up being between them.

[lizardrosen]

The Fruit of That Great Feast

Laertes, at four years old (and five months! he always insists), is not quite grown up enough to carry his baby sister. Thanks to some delicate negotiations and the unexpected alliance with Claudius, Ophelia’s prospective godfather, it is finally determined that if he sits in the middle of the couch and another adult is on hand to make sure he’s supporting her head, the baby can be lowered into his arms.

“After all, Hamlet wasn’t much older than Laertes here when I was born, and I only got dropped a couple times, but I turned out fine.” Gertrude gives him a reproving look and a swat on the arm. “My brother-in-law, the diplomat,” she announces, to general laughter.

Laertes isn’t laughing even a little; he looks horrified. “I would never let her fall, never ever!”

Claudius is quiet for a second. This kid is far too young to hear that sooner or later everyone gets hurt by someone they trusted and most people end up being the one to do the hurting at some point. Instead he ruffles his hair and says, “Of course you won’t, argonaut. You’re a lot smarter than my brother here.”

“It’s true,” says Hamlet, smiling good-naturedly.

“Okay, Laertes,” says Caroline. “Is that cushion comfy under your arm? Good, I’m going to hand her over now.”

Claudius glances at Polonius, who is alternately clasping his hands together and worrying at his front teeth with the knuckle of his thumb, and he rests a hand on his forearm. “You’re raising a fine boy,” he reminds him in a low voice. “Relax a little, and trust him.” Polonius lets out a held breath and presses his fingers over his chest in a silent gesture of thanks, and Claudius returns that private smile.

After a successful hand-off Laertes just keeps looking at Ophelia like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched and she probably is. He carefully holds out a finger for his sister to grasp and makes an amazed sound when she grabs it. “Was I this heavy when I was born?”

“More,” laughs his mother, “by two and a quarter ounces, but you were an inch shorter.

“Wow!” he gasps. “She looks so little, but she’s a whole little person!”

Claudius has never really minded that he’s not the oldest, but he does wonder how it would feel to have someone t protect and care for like this. Has Hamlet ever looked at him this way? He doubts it, just because roughhousing and academic oneupmanship has always been more their language.

“When do I get a turn to hold her?” he’s surprised to hear himself ask.

“Never!” Laertes says with a fierce little scowl. “She’s mine now and I’m never letting go of her!”

“It’s true, you’ll always belong to each other,” says Caroline. “But that kind of love only grows when you share it because that’s a bond strong enough to last even without touching. Like when it’s time for Mommy to feed her, that’s a time to let go.”

“Is that our cue to head out?” Claudius asks, preparing to stand up.

“If you don’t mind. Okay, Laertes, give Ophelia one last kiss and let me take her.”

“Can I stay to watch you feed her? I wanna know everything about her!”

Polonius has a small coughing fit. “Of course you don’t want to see something so girly and private. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Hey, now!” says Caroline. Claudius smirks to see them have a full argument of gestures and mouthed words literally over the kid’s head, even as he also wonders what it must feel like to be that much in tune with another person. Evidently Caroline wins because she says, “Sure, stick around for a bit. The rest of you, get out of here!”

As the four of them head out Gertrude catches him by the elbow so they can hang back behind Hamlet and Polonius. He tilts his head in question, but doesn’t doubt she has some good reason. “You are good at diplomacy.” She unconsciously touches her stomach, where she’s just starting to show. “I saw how you put everyone here at ease without even needing to think about it.”

She’s wrong. He’s thinking about that kind of thing all the damn time because otherwise there’s too many ways to get it wrong — but he knows how to accept a compliment when he gets one. “Where do you think I learned it, Gertrude?”