#can you staaahp

[morgan-the-lonely-brick]

Hi, I still have so many feelings about this, I will never shut up. I also made a gifset out of it because watching the video wasn't enough, i need to memorize every pixel.

(These gifs are free to download & use, they literally took me 5 minutes, so... cheers~)

"It is your job to f-" still haunts me. Also the way light falls on his face exactly when he fumbles is like him getting exposed. Shining a light on his fakery so the others see through it? And then he retreats back into the shadow trying to hide again, but does so only partially? Amazing.

The quick look up at Fang, he's so adorable🥺 i think for a moment there he actually considers admiting something's wrong but backs out of it and right back into defense. The way he freezes at the end sends shivers down my spine. it's so personal to me, Con, staaahp, fr! Also we get the "unhand me" line, or rather [if you touch me now i will start crying and that's embarrassing so don't touch me] That's how i see it.

Now we get to the good shit. Looking up trying not to cry. Avoiding any and all eye contact. His fckn lips shaking. You can clearly see that he's broken by the fact they've even noticed THIS. That expression is like a defeated "oh fuck me". Him being off focus makes this bit even worse.

Actually I was looking at this bit a lot and it almost seems like he doesn't know what Fang is trying to do at first? Like he was defensive because he didn't realise Fang was going in for a hug? Or maybe it's a reflex for anything coming from behind. He's a fighter, after all.

He looks ahead, approximately where Archie and Jim are standing as if to see their reactions or maybe seek help?! But then you can see the moment he understands - he turns his head back towards Fang and leans into it, with a hint of disbelief on his face.

God, the loose strand of hair adds so much to that delicious skrunklyness he has going on. He's so pretty...

In this gif it's clear he's leaning into Fang a lot, even actively pressing his head against him. He could've easily turned away or pulled away, but didn't. He WANTS to be comforted. He WANTS to be held. The way he scans over Frenchie as if checking what he's about to do, I'm suspecting he like. Put a hand on him somewhere or something of the sort. I am so unwell from this-

For the last time he tries to produce words, but it comes out as more of a moan than anything, so he gives up and bites his lip. (im loosing my sanity, Con, what have you done)

Also Frenchie's pout is my H2O He literally went :c

Izzy looks over to Frenchie again as if to verify he's not there to mock him and when it turns out that no. He actually wants to comfort him. Izzy fully looses it and lets out the most gut wrenching puppy dog skrunkly whimper ever produced by a human man. It must mean so much to him... Those last few micro expressions are killing me. He looks up again as if to say "oh god they mean it. They don't think im stupid for this, they're actually taking me seriously" And he can't believe it, he's so dumbfounded that poor guy.

What if this was his first hug in ages? I wouldn't be surprised...

Im breaking my own heart with this why do i do this-

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: S3/EP4/ONE’S GOT CLASS THE OTHER ONE DYES (PART 5)

Parts 1-4 and all other episodes are linked in my pinned post.

OMG. PHRASING, LUCAS. PHRASING!! IT'S OKAY EVERYBODY! HE MEANT METAPHORICALLY, PEOPLE.

I mean, your affair with Dean Forrester should already have you on some kind of registry.

Luke is giddy with delight over Lorelai's humilation at the school and is giggling up a storm, a gigglestorm the likes of which I've never heard before from him. Let's alll point and laugh at Lorelai! It's fun.

The KarenDebbies are descending upon us. I can't wait to hear Lorelai say the word "condoms"!

I've never seen him this happy before?

Sadly with no context I wouldn't be able to tell if this was 2023 or 2002. Karens: Why were you discussing your pregnancy, why didn't you change the subject? Lorelai: I tried but they kept coming at me like I was poland and they were Nazis. Urrrp.

In my unrated Gilmore Girls rewrite titled The Hollow, I promise to rewrite this episode so that we see Lorelai throwing condoms at high school students.

Well as long it's just a banana and you don't bring Dean for the subject of your demonstration. KarenDebbie: What kind of mother are you?! Lorelai: The kind that doesn't just gloss over uncomfortable topics!

My ass you don't. She spends a good 75% of season 3 moving heaven and earth to interfere in Jess and Rory's relationship and cockblocking them to make sure these two legal adults don't fuck each other instead of giving Rory any sort of useful information about sex and you should know better than anyone that that's a solid recipe for teen pregnancy, Miss GlossyPants. Speaking of. Guess who else is about to get a fumbling attempt at Awkward Parental Sex Talk? This li'l guy.

We don't want Shane to get pregnant. It would make her already tragic impending death even more tragic.

So, what's up with Luke's apartment? There's a guitar, bongos, and maracas (plus a sign he stole from a bus stop). Does he have a secret past in some kind of salsa band?

Luke referring to a human being as something you can "stash in a closet" like an old box of Monopoly is fucking hilarious. The delivery is also very "Jess are you a gigolo?" and "What are you, a drug dealer now?" Like he knows it's a ridiculous question but he's also mildly concerned that the answer is going to be Yes. And now, for all time favorite exchange in the entire Gilly Girls World:

Jess and Rory are cool and all. But Luke and Jess are it for me. These two are the reason I keep watching. Their dynamic is so perfect and things were never the same after Milo left, not only because of the breakup of Literati but because I desperately miss these two guys playing off each other.

I don't know. I feel like Shane wouldn't give a flying cupcake about getting caught. She had no problem repeatedly barging into the diner to hump Jess' leg while Luke and Lorelai were watching and Luke had to part them like Moses parting the sea to wait tables, and she had no problem playing tonsil hockey with Jess against a tree for hours in view of hundreds of people. More evidence that this little dude is lying and that Closet Girl wasn't actually Shane.

We know, Jesstopher. We know. You little freakazoid.

Amen, brother.

Bolt the doors Lucas he's gonna run! Luke should be pulling a Lorelai and throwing bags of condoms at Jess. Stars Hollow called an emergency town meeting after he drew on a sidewalk with chalk. I can't imagine the fate of both Jess and Luke if it were discovered that Jess planted his demon seed in anyone but especially precious Rory.

I love it when Luke tells Jess to shut up. Fantastic stuff. Luke: If you care about this Shane girl you have to treat her better. Jess: I don't care about her. I don't know her last name. She mentioned it once, didn't stick. We're just "hangin out." Staaahp. Jess is so deliciously blunt and nonchalant about her. Anyone fellow Millenials here? Does anyone else remember that in high school in the late 90's and early 2000's "hooking up" (or in Jess' case, "hanging out") meant literally anything you wanted it to mean and so one of your friends could say "I hooked up with Jason last night" but that could mean they either made out for a few minutes or they were full on bumping uglies or something in between and you often had to ask uncomfortable questions. It was a very confusing time. It kept us all on our toes.

Luke, you have a pair of eyes. You've seen what they do in your diner. There should not exist any doubt that they're not convening in your apartment to play checkers.

I'm telling you, the dynamic of the entire Danes-Mariano family is so complex and interesting and I would twist my nipple for this show to delve into it as much as humanly possible at the expense of pushing Rory and Lorelai to the side (Lorelai off a cliff). I've hit the ceiling for screen shots here on Tumblr.com so here's the last three minutes of the episode: Luke: You need to find a girl you actually care about. Jess: Yah like it's that easy. Luke: Ya huh it's that easy if you try Jess: The girls I like don't give a damn about me. I'm not just gonna sit around hoping they change their minds and notice me, unlike SOME PEOPLE. Luke: Da fuq does that mean Jess: ya fixed any neighbor's porshes *porches lately? Luke: Shut up Jess: I've got a little self esteem Luke: Shut up Jess: Gotta go, Shane's horny again Well, that attempt at the Birds and Bees talk certainly went off the rails. Luke was able to impart to Jess that teenage boys have raging hormones and they tend to like girls and Jess don't be an idiot. It's okay Luke, at least you tried.

[mikrokcsmos]

Glimpse of Us

synopsis; in which Namjoon runs into you — his ex, at an awards show.

pairing; ex!namjoon x ex!reader

genre; angst, hint of fluff, drabble, idol au, ex au

warnings; a bit of POV switching and joon hopelessly being still in love with you 🙃

rating; PG-13

w/c; 778

a/n; imagine if he actually looked at you that way omg. OR REWATCHING HIS INTERVIEW AND SEEING HIM LOOKING LIKE THAT BECAUSE OF YOU LIKE STAAAHP.

He knew it was only a matter of time, as did you, but nothing could prepare him for the amount of memories that flooded his mind upon seeing you for the first time since your split.

It was his first time coming alone to an awards show. Normally, he would have his band mates by his side, a friend, or you — his now ex.

When he stepped out of the unmarked vehicle, his confidence was through the roof. The smiles and posing came easy, like second nature. The flashes were blinding, the shutters of the cameras were loud, the praise of the fans was heartwarming.

He thought he was doing well.

He thought that after a year of being apart, he was finally over you.

He was about to be proven wrong.

In the middle of answering an interview question about his upcoming music, he’s asked if there’s any possible way that you could’ve inspired any tracks.

“I’ll just let the lyrics speak for themselves.” His answer is cryptic, and the interviewer ‘oooo’s’ for dramatic effect. Thinking the interview is close to being done, he’s about to politely excuse himself when he gets interrupted by the interviewer’s gasps of delight.

They point at an area above his shoulder and behind him. The crowd around him also murmurs in shared excitement and he swears he hears your name whispered among them.

As if in slow motion, he turns around, and has to do a double take when he sees you in all your beautiful glory, dress flowing effortlessly around you as you walk and wave with a dazzling smile that has his eyes widening both in amazement and fear.

His breath gets caught in his throat, heart rate increasing to an abnormal speed. His palms become sweaty and he has to wipe them on his pants discreetly as your figure draws closer to where he’s at.

You haven’t noticed him yet.

For a split second, it crosses his mind to just run while he can and avoid the impending reunion with you, but ultimately his decision is made for him when the same interviewer calls out your name loudly, and waves you over.

Here goes nothing.

“Miss Y/L/N, we were just talking about you! How are you? You look amazing in your dress!”

You keep a healthy distance between you and Namjoon, smile tight, and brow raising in question at the interviewer’s words.

“All good things, I hope?” Your eyes meet Joon’s for the first time and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes from watering as you look away first, feigning cleaning off makeup from your eyes with your fingertip in an attempt to remain poised.

He frowns, noticing your tell for when you’re upset. Clearing his throat, he fixes the attention back on himself to allow you a moment to collect yourself. You give him a small smile in thanks. He nods subtly.

After a few indirect questions he skillfully dodged about your previous relationship, the focus was once again switched back to you. Full smile on display, you answer some questions yourself, keeping calm and witty, even sharing a few laughs with Joon.

Something you realized that you missed hearing until now.

As it finally comes to a close, you both make your ending remarks, wishing each other well in future endeavors and congratulating one another on your individual award nominations. To his surprise, it was you to make the first move. Your hand lays on his chest as you lean up to give him a chaste kiss on his cheek. Gently patting his chest, you step away and give him a final wave with a warm smile.

“See you, Joon.” Your voice is light and airy, eyes full of a kind of love he didn’t deserve.

Try as he may, his voice cracks as he replies, and your smile falters, the brightness in your eyes dimming.

“See you, y/n.”

He’s the one to pivot on his heel and walk away, hands shoved anxiously in his pants pockets, knowing if he allowed himself to look at you any longer his fake facade of being put together would begin to crumble in front of millions of viewers — in front of you.

And, most importantly, he didn’t want you to see how hopelessly in love with you he still is.

If he turned back around right now, he would witness your tearful eyes full of longing, lip quivering so badly you have to bite it, as you stare at his departing back with a sliver of hope that he would run back to you with a public declaration of love.

But, he never does.

[obsidianpen]

'I'm really excited to hear you're focusing on original work after finishing B&G! I can't help but hope you'll come up with even more brilliant ideas...help make it diverge from the whole Harry Potter horcrux thing into something fresh. Just say the word, my Lord!...'

For now, I’ll stay anonymous, my lord. I don’t have much confidence in my world-building abilities and fear my ideas might be dreadful, so I won't claim them just yet. But that doesn't mean I can't share them. I know you mentioned you would be working on it in the future, but I tried to cook up some ideas as practice.

Wands feel too handsy, and spells seem too wordy (not really). Why can’t intent simply manipulate or create something? I worried that might be too easy. So, for about an hour, I meditated on the nature of magic and what the most powerful desire in any world might be, eventually concluding it was control over time. Then I realized that timekeepers and chronomancers already exist, which felt too sci-fi. (I haven’t watched Loki or Dark tho) 

This might sound sci-fi again, but what if horcruxes represented the art of stealing life or vitality from victims? It’s nothing new, really—kind of similar to vampires drinking blood. I know it’s a bit lame.

I also got stuck on another thought: how would anyone manipulate time, artificial goods, algorithms, or media if magic existed? Perhaps there could be a school teaching how to control those things without being controlled by them, emphasizing that if we're trapped in a cage of artificiality, our magic would wither. Honestly, it turned into more of a philosophical exploration than a fantasy plot.

In the end, I concluded that if anyone can give magic in a fictional world the depth I would love to read about, it could be you. I'm sure you have plenty of imaginative friends—you wouldn't need me but that won't stop me from brainstorming, hoping to spark a little inspiration from my bullshit.

[I truly want to DM you, but my impostor syndrome holds me back everywhere in life. I've admired you from afar and would feel anxious about a one-on-one conversation. I understand that you can't discuss your ideas here, as we don’t want anyone to steal them. One day, I might muster up the courage to DM you. Until then, please don’t be upset with me. Ily.]

‘admired you from afar’ staaahp 😭😭😭 but upset at all, and don’t worry I’ll turn anon back on probably in a couple days ❤️❤️❤️ and i enjoyed your philosophical exploration!!

[meowzfordayz]

hiiiiii t!!!! actually *ahem* ho, ho, ho!!! it is ME, your secret santa here to drop off a little teeny winter gifty just for you. i hope this season has been nothing but lovely to you and im sending you a big warm hug and a blown kiss. happy holidays!

“Hey love?”

Giyuu’s words are soft as the pillow you rest your head upon, whispered just below your earlobe. His face has been buried in your neck for an amount of time you’ve long lost track of, breaths coming in hot puffs against your neck. While you’ve dozed off thanks to the comfort of being this close to him, he has remained awake, gazing out of the small window above your bed to the winter morning outside it.

“Everything okay?” You ask, voice thick with sleep and mouth dry. He nods and you feel the sensation of his answer rather than see it. Snuggling closer to his side, he wraps one arm around your waist and holds you to him.

“Yeah, of course.” The velvety depth of his voice vibrates against your earlobe once again and both of your eyes open, looking down to meet his eyes that are gazing directly at you. “I only wanted to tell you that it snowed.”

It’s difficult for you to shoot up from where you’re laying with his arm wrapped around you but you manage and it makes the usually stoic man chuckle, following suit and sitting up so he can gaze out of the window with a better view.

Powder white snow falls in fat flakes and you gasp with the same enthusiasm he loves you so much for having no matter the situation. Giyuu rubs your back with his large, warm palm and he half smiles glancing at you, dark hair falling over his eyes.

“It’s beautiful.”

Your words are simple but they make your loving boyfriend’s heart warm to hear. Nothing on this earth comes close to as beautiful as you are but a still, perfect, winter snowfall is impressive by his high standards.

“Want to go out and enjoy it up close?” His offer makes you grin and nod, eager to enjoy wintertime hand in hand with the one who makes you feel the warmest of all.

Hii dearest anon !! ❄️ Your lil “ho ho ho” made me giggle 😉; sending you a hug and kiss back. 🤗💝💝

THANK YOU FOR WRITING SUCH A LOVELY MOMENT OF LOVE. 🥰 I swear I could feel Giyuu’s words murmured softly into my skin; I’ve dozed off pretty much exactly as you described w/ my irl bf many times, so this drabble was extra sweet to me. 🥺

“you feel the sensation of his answer” —> 🫠😍

“he wraps one arm around your waist and holds you to him” —> I wiiish 🥲💙

“dark hair falling over his eyes” ugggh he’s SO dreamy 😮‍💨🤍

THE ENDING OMG STAAAHP. 🤯🧡 “the one who makes you feel the warmest of all” I WANT HIM, I WANT THIS, PLS AND TY PLEEEASE. 😭😭😭💘 Me and my cold toes are waiting for Giyuu to come cuddle us. 😭😭😭💘

I’m grateful for you and your beautiful writing; tyvm for making me feel cozy and loved. 🩷💕💞💓💗

[freeuselandonorris]

just finished the one from work can come over monday night and i alr left a comment on ao3 but i need to re say how much i loved that 🤗🤗 it was everything i’ve ever wanted in a landoscar fic u are incredible i love you 🤍🤍

😭❤️ staaahp this is so sweet! your ao3 comment was actually pretty much the first thing i read when i woke up this morning and it was such a nice thing to start the day with! i'm so glad you enjoyed it, thank you for reading 💕

[igotsnothing]

♥️ love train! send this to all the blogs you love! don’t forget to spread the love! ♥️

Staaahp it! You're so fabulous and awesome- I don't know that my lowly little mailbox can handle this!! I'm not worthy!!!! 😉 Awww- thank you so much! It's very thoughtful of you!!! ❤️

[askinkiskarma]

liking your notes…. ???? liking??….. I LOVED THE SHIT OUT OF IT AND I READ IT LIKE THREE TIMES IN A ROW and maybe I cried a little :(((( I will cherish your words forever 😭😭 andra please stop making me fucking emotional every time we interact. I know I know I always say babe staaahp flirting (that’s a lie) but this here is no lie , don’t make me cry woman!!! 💀♥️

that’s my way of expressing my love for you btw I hope you like it (oh and you’ll get a reply to your notes soon; and speaking of, you’re so funny because even your notes are so fucking artistic that they deserve millions of notes; I hope you can imagine what your actual writing does to me hehe) please get my point and accept it. thanks babygirl.

GOOD, i'm glad!! i love doing the more extensive annotations so expect them for everything from now on my love!!! also i will not, bc you always make me emotional and make my days so much and arghhh ilysm, i will never stop flirting w you i swear!!!

my notes were mostly just me losing my mind over your writing and relating to lo'ak for losing the reader hahahahaha but i will accept your point my love, i don't want to fight w you everrrr!!!

smooches and ilysm <3

[cookie-run-kingdom-story]

The Tri-Cone Cup: Chapter 1

Scovillia Student Fan: Hurry! HURRY! I can’t wait! WAITING. IS.IMPOSSIBLE!!! Spicy Scovillia Student: Hold your flames! You’re not the only one that’s excited! Hot Scovillia Student: That’s right! Capsaicin Cookie is gonna win, I’m sure! There’s no one better than him! Spicy Scovillia Student: You BETCHA! And even if someone had second thoughts, the show he put on during the Triple Cone Cup’s trials surely made everyone change their minds! Hot Scovillia Student: Ha ha! LONG LIVE THE SPICE OVERLORD! Scovillia Student Fan: Quiet! Everybody knows Capsaicin Cookie hates that name! Spicy Scovillia Student: Then how about… THE KING OF FLAMES! Scovillia Student Fan: GOD OF FIRE! Scovillia Student Fan: STAAAHP! Looks like everybody has gathered! Let’s go, or they’ll leave without us! ???: ♪♬♩♪♪~♬ Lil Pepper Cookie: Is everyone here? Latecomers will have to RUN to the Mountains of Trials and Harmony! Lil Pepper Cookie: You’ll have to run even if you are on time though! HA! Students of Scovillia: Wa ha ha ha ha! Flaming Hot Wing: Cluck CLUUUUCK! ???: ♬♪~♩♪♩~ Lil Pepper Cookie: Headmaster! Time for your speech!

Scovillia Headmaster: Hmpf! Very well! Scovillia Headmaster: As you all know, the Triple Cone Cup is a prestigious competition between the three Academies with a long history that goes back to… Scovillia Headmaster: Doesn’t matter! What matters is that we didn’t win last time, the time before that, the time before that, the time before that, and… Hot Scovillia Student: TOO LONG! Spicy Scovillia Student: WE WANT CAPSAICIN COOKIE! Scovillia Headmaster: PRECISELY! This year is gonna be different! For now, our champion is none other than Capsaicin Cookies, who wields the full might of SPICE! Scovillia Headmaster: CAPSAICIN COOKIE! Think you can win this time?! Capsaicin Cookie: Wrong question, headmaster!

Capsaicin Cookie: Ask how big a feast we’re gonna have AFTER we return victorious! Students of Scovillia: OOOOOOOOH! Capsaicin Cookie: Spice will prevail! SCOVILLIA WILL PREVAIL! Flaming Hot Wing: CLUCK CLUCK BAGAAAWK! Capsaicin Cookie: I’m the spiciest of the spiciest! I’m not gonna lose to a sad bunch of bland normies! Students of Scovillia: LORD! OF! SPICE! LORD! OF! SPICE! CAP! SAI! CIN! CHAM! PI! ON! Echoes of Scovillia: CUZ I’M FLAMING HOT! Capsaicin Cookie: Now let’s go! Let’s go get that shiny cup! Students of Scovillia: OOOOOOOOH!

Hot Scovillia Student: The Mountains of Trials and Harmony…! But the air smells like… nothing! Spicy Scovillia Student: This is the place! Huh…? Look at that airship…! Scovillia Student Fan: The Crème Knights! Crème Knights Preceptor: …

???: Ugh… This spicy scent…! ???: Must be the students from the Scovillia Academy. Honorable Paladin Trainee: Kouign-Amann Cookie, you need not concern yourself with them. Serious Paladin Trainee: Yes, do not worry about that ragtag bunch, Kouign-Amann Cookie. They will be smart to avoid… provocations. Spicy Scovillia Student: Whoah! Look at that Cookie’s ginormous sword! She’s handling it like it’s a twig…! Hot Scovillia Student: Huh, there aren’t too many of our own who are THAT strong! Lil Pepper Cookie: Psh! Cut it out! Soon, those stuck up Paladins will taste the power of spice! Flaming Hot Wing: CLUUUCK! Crème Knights Preceptor: …Paladins! This is our chance to demonstrate the superiority of our values and beliefs! Crème Knights Trainees: Yes sir! Capsaicin Cookie: Ooh, swift moves! If anyone’s looking for a fight, hit me up! Flaming Hot Wing: C-cluck…? Scovillia Student Fan: *sniff sniff* Huh…? Do you smell something sweet? Scovillia Headmaster: Ah, the smell of fruits! Must be the Parfaedia delegation.

Parfaedia Principal: Wonderful! The other delegations have already arrived! Berry Parfaedia Student: Ugh… Who would’ve known the magical flight would be so.. Unpleasant! I think I need a moment here… ???: A first-timer, are we? I have just the potion for your nausea. Yours for just five thousand Coins! Berry Parfaedia Student: Ugh… I’m… I’m good! Parfaedia Principal: “Never turn away from good will,” they say. Here! Let’s see if your potion will help me from my dizziness. *gulp* Parfaedia Principal: Hmmm… It’s good! Very good! The formula is quite refined indeed! And it worked right away. Brilliant! Parfaedia Principal: That’s a true Parfaedian here! Our hopes are high, Prune Juice Cookie! Honorable Paladin Trainee: Looks like the other champions are formidable opponents. It won’t be an easy win… Lil Pepper Cookie: Hm… I heard that the Parfaedians are as strong as they are sweet…! Spicy Scovillia Student: Huh, really…? Does it mean that potion Cookie is strong too? Hot Scovillia Student: W-we are gonna win though, right?!

???: Ha ha! Wonderful! Each delegation arrived just on time! Welcome, my friends! Lil Pepper Cookie: H-huh…? Gelato Trio Cookie: My name is Gelato Trio Cookie and I am the groundskeeper for the Mountains of Trials and Harmony! Gelato Trio Cookie: Let me introduce you to the Cookie in charge of rules and announcements… GELATO TRIO COOKIE! Gelato Trio Cookie: Next, let me introduce you to the commentator of the tournament… GELATO TRIO COOKIE! Gelato Trio Cookie: And lastly! Let us not forget about our valiant head of security… GELATO TRIO COOKIE! Berry Parfaedia Student: Looks like they are a bit… understaffed…! Gelato Trio Cookie: Are you ready for a warm welcome ceremony?! Then it’s time you proceed to the tournament field!

Gelato Trio Cookie: Ah, just look at the bright faces of our three champions! I never get tired of the excitement about the upcoming tournament! Gelato Trio Cookie: I am honored to proclaim that the Triple Cone Cup has officially begun! Gelato Trio Cookie: May this tournament be a celebration of the profound and timeless friendship between the three Academies! Gelato Trio Cookie: Long, long ago, in times beyond memory! In the age when order and chaos coexisted! When dessert monsters roamed freely across the land… lived three Cookies. Gelato Trio Cookie: A knight of rich and noble butter, a wizard who reshaped the world with the power of fruits… Gelato Trio Cookie: …and a warrior, spiciest of all! Gelato Trio Cookie: You could not imagine three Cookies more dissimilar, and yet after countless adventures, Fate brought them together. Gelato Trio Cookie: But who was the strongest of the three, they wondered. Gelato Trio Cookie: And for three days and nights, they fought and fought… But none could prevail! Gelato Trio Cookie: After a long skirmish, when all the three flavors were soundly mixed up… At this very place, atop the Mountains of Trials and Harmony… Gelato Trio Cookie: One Cookie spoke…

Gelato Trio Cookie: “Let us three take apprentices. If us three cannot find the answer, let us see whose values, wit, and skill prove to be worthy of living on!” Gelato Trio Cookie: And so they parted ways. Soon, the three schools were built… Gelato Trio Cookie: The very schools whose champions have gathered here to compete in the Triple Cone Cup! Gelato Trio Cookie: On behalf of the Three Founders, and all the champions before you, I greet you here, at the Triple Cone Cup! You are the new generation to carry this tradition into the future! Gelato Trio Cookie: Now then, Champions! Are you prepared to find out who is the strongest of the three? Gelato Trio Cookie: May the strongest emerge victorious! Gelato Trio Cookie: Demonstrate that your hard-earned skill, superior intellect, and ever-burning spirit is worthy of the Triple Cone Cup! Gelato Trio Cookie: MAY THE TOURNAMENT BEGIN! Students: HOOORAAAAY!

Hot Scovillia Student: Show them your fire, Capsaicin Cookie! Serious Paladin Trainee: Kouign-Amann Cookie, show them what a true Paladin is capable of! Spicy Scovillia Student: Ha ha, yeah! Let’s see what you sweetlings are made of! Berry Parfaedia Student: Those Cookies are obviously very excited…! Citrus Pardaedia Student: We can’t let them win! PAR! FAE! DIA! PAR! FAE! DIA! Gelato Trio Cookie: Ah, the excitement in the air! The roar of the audience! I bet every Cookie here is anticipating a fierce competition! Gelato Trio Cookie: This is the end of the welcome ceremony! But there is something missing, don’t you agree? Gelato Trio Cookie: Champions and honorable delegates! You’ve come a long way! So enjoy the rest of the day to your heart’s content at the WELCOME FEAST! Gelato Trio Cookie: WELCOME TO THE TRIPLE CONE CUP! Students: HOOORAAAAY!

Scovillia Quarters

Capsaicin Cookie: Ha ha! That was one fine feast! Flaming Hot Wing: CLUCK! Scovillia Student Fan: …C-Capsaicin Cookie! Spicy Scovillia Student: Do you think we… really can win? Lil Pepper Cookie: Why you…! The competition hasn’t even started and you’re talking weak already?! Scovillia Headmaster: What is going on here! Lil Pepper Cookie: …Headmaster! Scovillia Headmaster: What a sorry bunch! Toughen up! It’s gonna be a good opportunity for you lot to learn that there’re a lot of Cookies in the world who are bland AND strong! Hot Scovillia Student: We… we are doomed… Scovillia Headmaster: What is this nonsense that I hear?! Where is your flaming Scovillian spirit?! Did it waft into the local clean air?! Scovillia Headmaster: Yes, the world is vast and full of formidable foes! But real defeat is the defeat of the spirit! Scovillia Headmaster: Don’t you agree, Capsaicin Cookie, hm? Are you ready to demonstrate the full might of Scovillia at tomorrow’s trial? Capsaicin Cookie: Ha ha! Of course! Capsaicin Cookie: For I am the fire that will burn anyone who dares to stand in Scovillia’s way! Students of Scovillia: Yeah! Capsaicin Cookie is our champion! Students of Scovillia: Show them what the word “spicy” means!

Meanwhile, Crème Knights’ Quarters

Crème Knights Trainees: Kouign-Amann Cookie! May the Light bring you victory! Crème Knights Trainees: You are the Paladin we all aspire to become! Vanilla Sugar Cookie: Ah, the glorious Light shines through you! It pleases me to see such bright young paladins! Honorable Paladin Trainee: E-Elder Vanilla Sugar Cookie! And that’s… Ser Financier Cookie…! Financier Cookie: …Financier Cookie, at your service. Elder Vanilla Sugar Cookie is under my protection. Vanilla Sugar Cookie: I have seen many Triple Cone Cups with these eyes… Vanilla Sugar Cookie: The once little sparks of light were forged by the trials and grew into brilliant lights, shining in the glory of our Republic…! Vanilla Sugar Cookie: Young Kouign-Amann Cookie, may you shine the brightest of them all! Vanilla Sugar Cookie: And may the glory of the Celestials keep you safe! I suppose it is time we take our leave. Ser Financier Cookie…? Financier Cookie: Yes, Elder Vanilla Sugar Cookie. Financier Cookie: …Kouign-Amann Cookie. Your light shines farther than you might think. Financier Cookie: Remember this: The Celestials will guide you, step by step. Honorable Paladin Trainee: Oh… Serious Paladin Trainee: To be personally greeted by Elder Vanilla Sugar Cookie and Ser Financier Cookie is a tremendous honor…! Honorable Paladin Trainee: Kouign-Amann Cookie, I know you’ll win! There is no doubt in that! Serious Paladin Trainee: Those Scovillians, huh… They do look spicy, but looks can be deceiving. I wonder what they’re truly made of. Honorable Paladin Trainee: I hear they call their champion “The Spice Overlord…!” Honorable Paladin Trainee: And the Parfaedians… There is a saying: “Not even Parfaedians themselves can predict their own magics.” But they are no match for Kouign-Amann Cookie! Serious Paladin Trainee: Hear hear! Our champion is prepared for everything! Kouign-Amann Cookie: Of course, noble Paladins! After all, I haven’t lost a single fight! Surely, this tournament won’t be any different.

Meanwhile, Parfaedian Quarters

Berry Parfaedia Student: …We can win… Right? Citrus Parfaedia Student: I wonder if Prune Juice Cookie really has what it takes to win… Parfaedian Students: Always fiddling around with his potions… Neither does he excel at Cream Incantations, nor is he particularly great at Jelly Defense Spells… Parfaedian Students: What if we picked the wrong Cookie as our Champion?! But I must admit, his potions are pretty effective… They say he can even brew a “sick leave” potion for you! ???: Is that so? I’d be the first to try that out, he he! ???: Looks like we will have a chance to witness his potion-brewing prowess in action! Berry Parfaedia Student: Oh… P-professors…! Parfaedia Principal: My esteemed colleagues have arrived to wish our Champion good luck directly! Parfaedia Principal: Speaking of… Where is our prized champion, Prune Juice Cookie? Parfaedian Students: He’s preparing his potions. Parfaedian Students: He told us to not bother him… Eclair Cookie: But the feast has only just ended! Remarkable! What an honor it is to have such a diligent student! Latte Cookie: We did our best to arrive as soon as possible, yet we are late once again, huh! Latte Cookie: Potionmaking is a fickle craft! One minor change can make everything awry. Let’s leave the well-wishing for a later occasion. Eclair Cookie: Yes, the last thing I’d want to do is to pester a student with my nagging before an event of such great importance! Latte Cookie: A pity…! Well, make sure to cheer our Champion for us! Parfaedian Students: Well yeah, we’ll try…

Parfaedia Quarters - Inner Chambers

Prune Juice Cookie: Phew… I was afraid all that spice in the air will affect my formulas… Prune Juice Cookie: But it seems it can’t reach here. Good! Prune Juice Cookie: Hmm… It’s me against a Spice Overlord and Her Holiness. Nothing really unexpected, huh. Prune Juice Cookie: Now the real question is whether my ingredients will be delivered on time…! Prune Juice Cookie: Whoops, I almost spilled that…! Prune Juice Cookie: Focus, Prune Juice Cookie, focus! We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us!

Students: HOOORAAAAY! Gelato Trio Cookie: Good morning! Good morning, esteemed guests! Did everyone have a restful sleep? Gelato Trio Cookie: The Triple Cone Cup is about to begin! Allow me to walk you through the rules… Gelato Trio Cookie: The tournament will consist of three trials! Gelato Trio Cookie: Pass a trial, and you will receive a valuable relic left by our ancestors!

Gelato Trio Cookie: Who will be the Cookie to claim the relics and take the Triple Cone Cup home? Gelato Trio Cookie: …Hm? The noble Gelato Trio Cookie thinks that it might be a knight of dough so valiant and brave! Gelato Trio Cookie: …No no no, the piquant Gelato Trio Cookie is sure that it might be a wielder of Scovillia’s scorching spice! Gelato Trio Cookie: …Ah, but the sweet Gelato Trio Cookie predicts that it might be a scholar well-versed in the magic of desserts? Gelato Trio Cookie: Ha ha! May the victory be claimed by the most worthy! Gelato Trio Cookie: Dear guests! Are you ready for the Triple Cone Cup tournament?! Students: HOOORAAAAY!

Gelato Trio Cookie: Here, on the Mountains of Trials and Harmony, envied by the land and piercing the very sky… Gelato Trio Cookie: …a great battle of ambition begins! ‘TIS TIME FOR THE FIRST TRIAL! Gelato Trio Cookie: …Ahem! This broadcast was made possible by our generous sponsors at the Parfaedia Institue* who gracefully provided the All-Seeing Jellyvisor!

*actual text

Gelato Trio Cookie: Do not miss a speck of flour with the utmost precision and impeccable quality of Parfaedian Magical Optics! Students: HOOORAAAAY! Gelato Trio Cookie: Dear guests! Allow me to introduce our astonishing contenders! Gelato Trio Cookie: CHAMPIONS, PLEASE ENTER THE ARENA!

Capsaicin Cookie: SPICE ABOVE ALL! Students of Scovillia: CAPSAICIN COOKIE FOR THE WIN!!!

Kouign-Amann Cookie: The Light will bring me victory! Crème Knights Trainees: KOUIGN-AMANN COOKIE’S VICTORY IS INEVITABLE!

Prune Juice Cookie: Heh, so that’s who I will be dealing with, huh! Citrus Parfaedia Student: Pa… Citrus Parfaedia Student: PARFAEDIA! PARFAEDIA!

Gelato Trio Cookie: Woho! I see the three champions are in good spirits this morning! Gelato Trio Cookie: Before we begin, I must explain the rules of the first trial!

Gelato Trio Cookie: Champions, your goal is to light up the Great Bonfire! Gelato Trio Cookie: We have placed a torch at each champion’s starting position! Gelato Trio Cookie: A red one for Scovillia, a yellow one for Crème Knights, a blue one for the Parfaedia Institute. Gelato Trio Cookie: Now, do you see the Great Bonfire fashioned in the shape of a Triple Cone Cup at the center of the arena? Gelato Trio Cookie: The winner of the first trial will be determined by the color of the flame at the end of the given time! Capsaicin Cookie: May the spiciest Cookie win! ME! Ha ha ha! Prune Juice Cookie: Flexing your muscles from the very beginning, are we…? Kouign-Amann Cookie: Ha! My dear Cookies, you won’t even make it to the bonfire in time! Gelato Trio Cookie: Ha ha ha! Ah, the youthful vigor! Champions, are you ready?! Gelato Trio Cookie: Well then… Gelato Trio Cookie: THE FIRST TRIAL STARTS… NOW!

Kouign-Amann Cookie: HYAH!

Whoooosh!

Kouign-Amann Cookie: Ack! The air around that Cookie… is burning hot…! Capsaicin Cookie: Ha ha! You aren’t gonna parry my SPICE with that sword of yours! Prune Juice Cookie: (Huh, I’ll leave you two to it…!) Capsaicin Cookie: WITNESS THE POWER… Capsaicin Cookie: OF SPICE!

WHOOOOSH!

Kouign-Amann Cookie: Gah! He set the entire arena aflame! Prune Juice Cookie: Such power! Impressive! Ouch! Hot hot hot…! Capsaicin Cookie: Ha ha ha! It’s SHOWTIME!

Whooosh!

Students of Scovillia: WOOOHOOO! GO, CAPSAICIN COOKIE!

Prune Juice Cookie: Ugh…! Prune Juice Cookie: (Just as I expected! Charging headfirst with that ridiculous strength of his…) Prune Juice Cookie: And I have just the item for that! *Gulp gulp gulp…!* Kouign-Amann Cookie: This is not the time for refreshments! HIYAH! Prune Juice Cookie: Oh, I am aware of that! Watch this! Gelato Trio Cookie: What do we see?! Prune Juice Cookie is running over the lake of fire! Capsaicin Cookie: Huh? WHAT?! He’s gonna burn to a crisp! Kouign-Amann Cookie: Is he… that desperate?! Gelato Trio Cookie: And while the other champions are there frozen confusion…!

Whooosh!

Gelato Trio Cookie: PRUNE JUICE COOKIE HAS LIT THE GREAT BONFIRE! But is the champion alright?! Prune Juice Cookie: *cough cough* Phew! I can barely keep my eyes open!

Gelato Trio Cookie: UN-BE-LIVEABLE! PRUNE JUICE COOKIE IS UNSCATCHED! And the fire seems to be going out as well! Prune Juice Cookie: He he, you must be crumbling to know how I did it? Welp, let me introduce you to a special little potion of mine… Kouign-Amann Cookie: Don’t you dare think it’s over yet!

BANG!

Prune Juice Cookie: Aaaaah…!

Whooosh!

Gelato Trio Cookie: Kouign-Amann Cookie pushes away Prune Juice Cookie…! THE GREAT BONFIRE TURNS YELLOW! Gelato Trio Cookie: WHAT AN UNPREDICTABLE COMPETITION! Dear guests, keep your eyes wide open!

Capsaicin Cookie: Ha ha! I like you two! I thought only us, Scovillians, weren’t afraid of fire! Capsaicin Cookie: Then how about THIS!

BANG!

Prune Juice Cookie: Oh…! Gelato Trio Cookie: Prune Juice Cookie is incapacitated! And… I CAN’T BELIEVE MY OWN EYES!

Gelato Trio Cookie: With a single strike of his fist, Capsaicin Cookie has turned the whole arena into a volcanic crater! Kouign-Amann Cookie: Oh, Light…! Gelato Trio Cookie: Capsaicin Cookie rushes towards the bonfire…!

Whooosh!

Gelato Trio Cookie: …AND LIGHTS UP THE RED FLAME OF SCOVILLIA!

Students of Scovillia: WAY TO GO, CAPSAICIN COOKIE! SO SPICY!!! Kouign-Amann Cookie: I thought my dough was tough but this is… beyond the scope of Cookie capabilities! Prune Juice Cookie: I’m just a frail little Cookie…! Do you think that’s fair? CLANK!

Capsaicin Cookie: Where is this smoke coming from?! Another potion?! Prune Juice Cookie: Now you want to hear about my potion, huh? Oh, what a joyous moment! Prune Juice Cookie: This Prune Juice Cookie’s special potion no.3: Liquid Smokescreen! Berry Parfaedia Student: H-he’s speaking right into the All-Seeing Jellyvisor…! Prune Juice Cookie: And I’m gonna use this brief moment of confusion… Kouign-Amann Cookie: Now where do you think you’re going! Kouign-Amann Cookie: Light, guide me!

WHOOOOSH!

Parfaedian Student: It’s so bright I can’t see a thing…! Students of Scovillia: The smoke is going away! Crème Knights Trainees: The fire! What color is the fire?!

Whooosh!

Parfaedian Students: AAAAAH….! Crème Knights Trainees: YES! IT’S YELLOW! Prune Juice Cookie: Oho… A reckless move! I didn’t expect you to dive into the smoke! Kouign-Amann Cookie: If you can do it, so can I! I will never run away from a challenge, for that is the way of the true paladin! Crème Knights Trainees: WHOOOOAH! Prune Juice Cookie: (Huh… If Capsaicin Cookie is the reckless, charge-first-type, this one here is an honest, noble knight!) Prune Juice Cookie: (Both are very straight to the point and frankly, simple… Looks like I can use THAT then, he he…)

Gelato Trio Cookie: What a trial! Can anyone here predict the outcome?! I sure can’t! Gelato Trio Cookie: Will it be Kouign-Amann Cookie with dough of pure light or Capsaicin Cookie, the Lord of Fire?! Gelato Trio Cookie: Both have great chances to win indeed! Gelato Trio Cookie: CHAMPIONS, YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE LEFT! Gelato Trio Cookie: Looks like Capsaicin Cookie is on the move! Will the scorching champion succeed?! Capsaicin Cookie: It doesn’t matter! I’ll light up the bonfire again and again! Kouign-Amann Cookie: Hah! A Paladin NEVER gives up! Capsaicin Cookie: I’LL BURN IT UP! Kouign-Amann Cookie: LIGHT, AID ME! Hyah!

BANG! CLING! CLANG!

Gelato Trio Cookie: Ah, time is running out! Thirteen seconds…! Twelve seconds…! Prune Juice Cookie: This is not over yet! Kouign-Amann Cookie: You…! Stop right there or I will…! HYAH!

Prune Juice Cookie: Gah…? Cough…! Ack…!

*thud*

Kouign-Amann Cookie: …What…?! Capsaicin Cookie: W-what did you do…?! Is that… JAM?! Kouign-Amann Cookie: No, there is no way I…! I used the blunt end on purpose…! Gelato Trio Cookie: Six! Five! Four…! Capsaicin Cookie: Quick! We must take him to the infirmary! Capsaicin Cookie: HEY?! TRIO COMMENTATOR?! Prune Juice Cookie: Khyah… Eugh… Kh…

Swoosh!

Whooosh!

Prune Juice Cookie: No need for the infirmary! Ha ha ha ha! Capsaicin Cookie: …HUH? Gelato Trio Cookie: ONE SECOND LEFT! AAAAND… THE FLAME BURNS BLUE! Gelato Trio Cookie: THE FIRST TRIAL IS OVER! Kouign-Amann Cookie: …I can’t believe it! Gelato Trio Cookie: Prune Juice Cookie used the confusion to snatch victory from his rival’s hands! Gelato Trio Cookie: There is only one thing left! The relic to be granted to our first winner!

Gelato Trio Cookie: Prepare to witness the Scovilsky Manuscript containing one of the Three Founders’ spicy secrets… Gelato Trio Cookie: What secret does it hold?! We might never know… But Prune Juice Cookie will certainly get a chance! It is yours, champion!

Prune Juice Cookie: Yes, yes… Thank you…! Thank you! My name is Prune Juice Cookie, the potionmaker! Kouign-Amann Cookie: …I still can’t believe it! He was spouting jam just a moment ago! Prune Juice Cookie: Oh dear… why the long faces! I suppose I owe you an explanation! Prune Juice Cookie: There are many students within the walls of our esteemed school. Naturally, some of them are lazier than the others. And what is the best way to skip classes without punishment? Prune Juice Cookie: Sick leave! And what you have witnessed some moment ago was my carefully crafted potion to cater to the needs of the student collective! Prune Juice Cookie: The infamous “It’s NOT… alive!” potion! That can make your dough cold and stale… for some time! Prune Juice Cookie: I must admit, it’s one of my finest creations! Rest assured, my customers’ anonymity is guaranteed! Capsaicin Cookie: But the jam from your injury…! Prune Juice Cookie: Ah, the jam… Theatrics! It’s more fun with special effects, ha ha! Prune Juice Cookie: You should’ve seen your faces! Ha ha ha! Prune Juice Cookie: …If you wield the power to move the earth, or have gods and deities watching over you… Prune Juice Cookie: Surely a Cookie or two crumbling in some tournament shouldn’t bother you. Prune Juice Cookie: Tsk. This is the problem with you “gifted” Cookies! Such arrogance! Kouign-Amann Cookie: Ugh…! Prune Juice Cookie: Oh, but I suppose I owe you my thanks! Because I WON! He he. Prune Juice Cookie: Now, if you excuse me…

[taciturnaroundrealquick]

Thanks for sharing your boobies. You say they aren't much but they're beautiful. I can appreciate boobs of all shapes and sizes and yours are lovely. Don't put yourself down 🥰😍😛

awwwh staaahp!!! i'm glad to have people who appreciate my weird little boobs 💕

[pagetreader]

This Summer break has me on a wackadoodle schedule, folks. That and cramps are being hostile to my poor uterus, so here I am lurking while I continue my binge of Tu.rn S2. I've made it to ep. 4.

My thoughts so far,

Oh crap, Simcoe is loose again.

Oh crap, Rogers is loose again.

Darling Anna, why, oh why, did you jump????

I miss Baker so much

Abe steals kisses from Anna and thereby cheats on Mary. Gross.

Mary, you can do better. Let Abe go to York City

I feel so terrible for Mary and Selah.

The CGI budget has definitely gotten better

Is it just me or did Hewlett's crush on Anna come out of nowhere?

Ben going feral on that Bradford (◕‿◕)

EGGS. EGGS. EGGS.

Pe.ggy Ship.pen (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

These interactions between Abe and Anna are so weirdly written. Do they want us to root for them to get together???

Those drawings of Anna in Hewlett's journal ( •_•) *shudders* Hewlett staaahp

Yo, G Wash, Ben is ON YOUR SIDE.

Ben, why is your homeless look so attractive?

Me @ Charles Lee: 🎶It must be nice, it must be niiiiice, to have Washington on your siiiiide🎶

[yeesiine]

you’re fucking perfect it’s not even funny

you can be a model

🔥

Staaahp it 🙈

You really made my day. Tysm 💙😘😘

[queercontrarian]

❄️HO HO HO❄️

Your elf is popping by to see how you're doing as we get closer to the holidays! And while you've given lots of space for creative freedom, there's a few more questions I'd like to ask just to make sure I'm on the right track:

What would you want to see featured in a modern AU? Anything you would NOT want (for example, Rhys would never drive an SUV or Tamlin would never use an iPhone)?

If you had to label tamsand as some kind of animal type in a relationship (black cat/golden retriever/etc) what would you label each of them as?

I loved your answer for the Christmas decorations and truly your mind is a beautiful landscape that I want to meander the fields of. Thank you for sharing. You are the star of the Christmas tree and I can only hope I dress the rest of the tree well for you.

staaahp you are my star santa ❤️

in a modern au i love the idea of rhysand's mother and sister still being alive. i mean his father can eat dirt but i love love love them still being in his life. if that doesn't work out - i know it changes a lot - it's fine, but in my heart he calls at least once a week for an hour. when he moved out they replaced him with a cat who they treat like royalty - despite rhys being super allergic to cats.

i don't have any particular hcs that i don't like, but i do think that tamlin would never have a new car. always has to be second-hand, a little bit beat up and too small. also yeah if tamlin has an iphone it is 100% the oldest model you've ever seen that looks so tiny in his hands. but i think a blackberry or even a nokia is more likely (he hates touchscreens). meanwhile rhys is always up to date with the newest tech.

if i had to put them in an animal relationship... i think it might be outside cat and horse on a farm. they're a little wary but become inseparable once they're done sniffing each other.

[aeymii]

I just think it'd be weirdly endearing in a hilarious way if one of the people to help Nagito (and his protag self) break out of the "I'm worthless" mindset did so in the most crude and self-absorbed way possible.

Nagiko: "No, you little dumbass! You're not worthless or incompetent. I know that because I am NOT worthless or incompetent. I'm a fucking genius that surpassed a good chunk of those so-called Ultimates in their own field. Kirigiri's daughter? I demanded to her father's face that they replace that stupid luck exam with the detective exam they already had prepared for her third year. And I aced it in my first fucking year! That little shit, Togami? Please, I've seen how incompetently run his division of that Fuckwit Foundation is. And don't get me started on that overrated twerp, Naegi. You're better than the lot of them boy, because you ARE me! A stunted less competent male version of me true, but me nonetheless. And still a genius regardless."

Meanwhile he's covering his ears at this heresy, and shaking his head in denial.

Nagito: "Sis, STAAAHP! Don't compare me to Naegi-kun and Kirigiri-san! I'm nothing compared to them. The whole world knows it."

Nagiko: "Doesn't matter what the rest of the plebs say. They're morons, and they're all wrong. Only my opinion matters in this regard, Nagito. And I say you are better than you think you are. ONLY MY OPINION MATTERS!"

HAHAHAHA THAT'S JUST CONVENIENT- the mean one just helping the out the pushover lol!! She's the coolest out of them , The rest are just pathetic (affectionate), YOOOOOOOO YOU GO GIRL!! SHE'S A LITERAL GENIUS!! SHE EVEN SURPASSED ALOT OTHER ULTIMATES?!?! DETECTIVE EXAM?!?! Okay she low-key slays though !!THE FU- FOUNDATION!! SHE DON'T SPARE NOBODY!! NAHH SHE JUST BRUTAL, TOGAMI NOO LOL, NOT MY LITTLE MAN NAEGG- BWHAHAHA THE INSULTS ARE TOP TIER- i have to take notes from thisss

Less competent 💀💀 the way she roasts everyone while motivating him EXACTLY YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING LOOK AT ALL THE THINGS YOU ACHIEVED!! this is why he's my son, NUUUU HE DON'T BELIEVE IT?!?! BRUH YOU ARE SPECIAL TRUST HER!! (I can imagine him saying that though eheh) AHHHH SHE'S SO NICE (In her own way lol) THE WAY NAGIKO MOTIVATES HIM ASISKSIDMSJ BUT THAT'S SO WHOLESOMEE TELL EM GIRLBOSS 💘💘

[namonaki-pharaoh]

It’s so frustrating when you are sweating bullet while you are fasting. I really try so hard not to overheat because I still have a few more hours to go before I can have any water. But the body be sweating regardless…ughhhh staaahp

[mmunson86]

Off to rough to a rough start jesus everyone’s telling us not to go to Hawkins, but look I think all of you are tripping. I think that it’s safe now and we’re gonna be fine sheesh we do not mess with rumors or speculations soooo bye bye off we go to start fresh💗

Bestowed with a curse my butt, this little town just needs some love, after the events it endured who wouldn’t need a little bit of healing, i am glad everyone is getting back to life before you know..the “earthquake”

Sunshine Coffee is getting a little re-vamp and i really like the color choices we picked out , its going to give it a very inviting & bright

Staaahp Max & El are going to he working here for our little coffee shop!? I freaking love this perfect mix of employees with these two😅💗

I am swoon the way that you described Eddie is for the first time was perfection, truly a work of art! Buuut boy did he break my little heart when he left the coffee shop without even telling us his name 🥲

Screaaaming! That was pure genius! The little fun facts on his coffee cup!!? Eeek he finally gave us his name! Progress y’all progress🥹💗

“Eddie Munson, are we becoming friends?”

You know darn well you can make your own coffee at home Eddie we are becoming friends just admit it you grump🙈

Naaah these teens know something is up they just dont want to tell us, lol come on now guys not funny😅💗

Well we have something in common Eddie we both dont like the dark, and i mean rain can be relaxing but in this case its not

Him inviting us to come by while he works even if its during his shift is progress! And he drove us home even if it is no more than 30seconds? We are slowly very slowly getting a peak at Eddie Munson & i love it🫶🏻

Indeed Chance sounds too perfect i dont trust him sir kindly fuuuck off, oh we are crushing bad on Eddie but i mean can ya blame us?🙈

Such a drama king lol try our cookies and tell us what you think Eddie😂

Screaaaming he said we are friends ahhh omg omg omg my heart😩💗

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

(8k+ words; eddie munson x afab!reader; sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie vibes)

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

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

*

Winter, 1987

*

Everyone tells you it’s crazy.

They say to take the money and sell the property your grandfather left you in his will.

They say to take it and run.

They say don’t move to that town, the shop’s a lost cause, the place is cursed.

They tell you they’ve got murderers and the literal gates of hell were open there for a time.

‘Satanic worship,’ some say.

‘Cultists.’

‘Don’t want to mess with their kind; might rub off on you, make you evil.’

‘One of them Freaks.’

‘And whatever you do, don’t ever go to that trailer park,’ is the gravest of warnings you’re given. Apparently some girl was sacrificed there, and that’s when it all started.

Eyes ripped clean from her skull, body broken, just like two others around the same time.

Mangled beyond repair.

The work of pure evil.

‘They’ll tell you everything’s okay now,’ people warn you, ‘but it’s not.’

It’s all lies.

Meant to try and preserve that place.

To try and bring life to a town many believe should have been erased from the map.

But you’ve never been one for rumor or superstition.

So you pack some bags with your things and get in your car.

Hawkins it is.

*

All in all, Hawkins is…quaint.

A small town with a modest population. People turn and look as you pull into the shop parking lot with bags spilling out of your trunk and piled high in the backseat.

It’s the kind of town where they wave as you get out, curious gazes trying to get a glimpse of the new girl.

Only you’re not new. A stranger, maybe, but this town made up your formative years.

Memories of walking in the streets, getting ice cream with your grandfather, enjoying a day in the park, riding your bike in the neighborhood flit in your mind. They bring a smile to your face as you climb out of your car and take in the front of Sunshine Coffee.

It’s…different than you remember. Darker, somehow. But what’s darkness against a little love and light, you think, as you brush your fingers along the front door and push the key inside the lock.

A bell chimes above you and suddenly you’re a kid again, running inside to snatch a cookie freshly out of the back oven.

You brush your hands along your face to wipe your tears away at the memory as you step further into the building, taking in the place.

It seems like your grandfather had kept up with the place up until his death, or had at the very least hired someone to maintain it.

Sure, it needs a little love and updating, but it’s still got that homey feeling. The sort of place that immediately makes you feel at peace when you enter.

It’s so funny to think this is the same town.

This town people back home said is bestowed with a curse. It’s a little more rundown than you remember. Buildings here and there with wooden planks in windows, or burn scars, regrowing grass.

But it looks like it’s healing.

Like everything they’ve gone through is becoming more and more a thing of the past.

People seem joyous now, your heart swelling when you later see your new neighbors, an elderly couple that owns the local flower shop, and they offer to help you unpack.

You only thank them, telling them you’re more than okay, but that you appreciate the offer.

And they wish you well on your ways, saying they are proud to see your grandfather’s shop open up again.

You spend the afternoon walking back and forth from your car to the building, unpacking your things, making yourself at home.

Home.

This is home now.

What a funny thing?

Just wanna make you proud.

*

It takes a few weeks of deep cleaning and reorganizing, but Sunshine Coffee gets back to its normal splendor, with a few new personal touches thrown in.

You’ve updated the place, replaced the darker hues your grandfather preferred with paler shades.

Creams, tans, whites.

You’ve removed the drapery against the windows and swapped them for billowing curtains, delicate laces, whimsical accents.

The windows are full of fresh poinsettias and other red and green offerings. Whatever blooms are in season at the time, given to you as donations from your new neighbors—the sweet older couple who own the flower shop next door.

There’s also a new bar you don’t recognize from the last time you came to visit nearby.

The Hideout, the scrawling font declares.

It glows through your bedroom window at night.

The little upstairs apartment your grandfather had built is small, but suitable for your needs. It’s no more than a kitchen, bathroom, living area, and bedroom that you can access from the back entrance of the coffee shop. You have little other than some necessities at this point, but figure you’ll take a trip to the thrift store in the upcoming months once you have cash to spare to spruce things up to your liking.

At night, you can hear music filtering in through your windows—a different genre each night.

Most nights, it lulls you to sleep.

And it’s not long before the coffee shop is ready for opening, and a ‘NOW HIRING’ sign stands erect in the window.

Now we wait, you think, pride blooming in your chest.

Because it’s not much.

But it’s all yours.

A legacy upheld in a town that maybe needs a little bit of hope.

*

Max and El are life saviors that blow in a few days after you hang your sign up in the window alerting the whole town you’re here to stay and looking for help.

Opening day is set for a week from now, and you still need to train the potential staff on how to make the treats on your menu, and the coffees and teas you intend to offer.

And there they are, a flash of red and brown hair as they pull up one day in front of the cafe and knock on the front window. You can’t help but think they’re solicitors at first. You’ve really not ventured far from your shop and apartment yet, still getting used to the new town you’d only visited over the summers throughout your childhood.

You interview them both at the same time, finding them more than capable, and offer them to start training that afternoon if they’re available. Your grandfather had left enough in his will to ensure you have a little money to last you for a bit, and until you have a steady stream of customers you intend to use it to pay them.

Training goes smoothly.

The girls are naturals, it seems, understanding within a few hours how to make most of your drink offerings and work the register.

The three of you spend the afternoon in your new work aprons—black in color with Sunshine Coffee written across in pretty white detailing with little daisies underneath—and suddenly it starts to feel real.

Even if it’s a failure, even if you have to pack up and go home, it’s real and it’s yours and you’re doing this.

*

Spring, 1988

*

It starts as a…well, it starts as nothing.

In the beginning, there’s this nothingness.

Held together only by a mutual love for coffee.

Or rather, his need for coffee to get him through his shifts. You’re the supplier, really. But that’s where it starts. Humble beginnings, fleeting glances, soft exchanges. In those breathless seconds, where neither of you speaks, but silence screams.

He’s the boy with eloquent sadness, a way about him unfamiliar and curious, and you’re the girl who wants nothing more than to break down his walls.

To find out who Eddie Munson is at his core.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s best this way for things to start.

It gives things a chance to start, to grow, to thrive.

To begin…

*

The first weeks of the coffee shop opening are better than anything you could ever imagine. It seems like the town has been in need of a place to get away, to enjoy the company of friends and community. And it doesn’t take long before you’re adding chairs and tables both inside and out to make more room for those wishing to buy a drink or a treat and stay around.

El and Max mill about behind the register. El tending to money exchanges and Max perfecting the foam on her cappuccino for the table of boys sitting near the front of the building who just so happen to be their boyfriends. They’re trying to be subtle about it, probably to keep their interest a secret from you (their boss) but you find it endearing, seeing them glance over every so often to look fondly at them.

“Girls,” you call over to them. Two heads whip your way. “You’ve both stayed late the past two days, I’ll close up shop. Go to the movies, have fun, be teenagers. I’ve got things here.”

“Really?” El asks, looking over your shoulder to the longer haired boy to give him a shy little wave.

“Yes,” you say, tying your apron around your hips and slipping behind the counter. “Go—both of you, or else you’re both fired.”

Max snorts at that, untying her own apron from her hips and blowing a red strand of hair away from her face. Her blue eyes clash with your own as she hooks the apron on the racks you have hanging against the back wall.

“You’re sure?” she asks.

“Yes,” you tell them. “Although it looks like we’ll be needing more help sooner than I expected. If either of you know anyone looking for work, let me know. Now shoo!”

The group of teenagers rushes out the door with no further protesting, leaving you alone with the hustle and bustle of your shop.

And soon, the morning rush slows into the afternoon lull.

It’s during this time of day, you’ve noticed, the building quiets and you have time to clean up a bit around the place.

Patrons sit around in hushed conversation, writing in notebooks, or reading their books as you maneuver about the tables with a rag, wiping down surfaces until they sparkle in the setting sunlight.

It’s then that the door jingles and in walks your next customer.

He’s a vision in all black. Dark pants, dark jacket, dark Metallica shirt underneath. His hair is pulled back behind his head, strands coming to fall in curls around his face, forehead full of raven colored bangs. But it’s his face that’s striking. He’s all hard lines and sinewy bone, pale skin that accentuates the small dimple in his cheek as he regards the room upon entering. The shadow of his eyes reach yours as you rush behind the counter to serve him, and his head only tilts up just enough where you can see a scar crawling up the side of his face, and another on his neck. But it does nothing to detract from the fact he’s striking.

Beautiful, in a way you’ve not seen before.

At your gentle perusal, he tilts his head a bit, angling himself in a way where it’s hidden from view once more.

“What can I g—”

“A black coffee, two sugars. Please.”

Short.

Clipped.

No nonsense.

Your head dips swiftly and you rush over to pour him a cup from the freshest pot, fingers trembling a bit as you rip two sugar packets and pour them within, before stirring the drink with a wooden stick.

You walk back over to the counter, grin sliding across your features as you announce, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around yet. First coffee for a new customer is always free.”

He grasps the cup in his hand as you offer it to him.

There’s a brief tick in his cheek.

Not quite a smile, but not a grimace either. “Thank you…”

You tell him your name, pausing at the end to leave him room to say his.

He doesn’t, though.

His head only dips and he leaves, the door jingling on his way out.

Well, nice to meet you, too, stranger.

*

The man in all black comes back every day after that.

Every day at four in the afternoon.

He orders the same black coffee with two sugars and never says much more than a few words.

Good afternoon.

I’m fine.

Thank you.

Every day he seems in a rush, everyday he seems caught up in his thoughts, every day he makes you wonder what it is about him that makes him so distant from the rest of Hawkins.

You’re mid sweeping one afternoon when you decide to ask Max if she knows anything about the man who says little and regards you even less.

“You mean Eddie,” she states, wiping down a countertop.

“What’s his story?” You ask.

“It’s not really for me to say,” she admits, pausing in her cleaning. “What I can say is…two years ago some stuff happened and he was kind of…in the middle of it all. Why?”

“He’s a customer,” you tell her, resuming your sweeping. “Just trying to get to know everyone. New girl in town and all, you know?”

*

Over the next few weeks, you make it your mission to try to get to know your elusive customer.

You start with writing silly facts on his cups; you figure it’s lighthearted and pleasant, a great conversation starter even.

Or at least that’s your hope.

You set his cup aside a little while before he comes in, whatever fun fact is in the newspaper for the day already ready on the outside of his cup. He doesn’t react at first, and even when he starts to, you can almost tell what kind of day he’s having by his reactions.

A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out.

A twitch in his dimple.

He’s really not looking to stick around, probably has to be somewhere.

Almonds are a member of the peach family.

A soft uptick of his lip.

He spares you a few extra words that day.

Tells you to have a nice afternoon before slipping out the front door.

A dime has 118 ridges around the edge.

He finally tells you his name, even though Max told you weeks ago now.

It’s nice to hear it from him, though.

“Eddie…Eddie Munson.”

He says it slowly, as if he’s expecting some sort of response out of you.

Except it never comes.

You only smile, and that seems to calm him a bit, his shoulders slouching comfortably.

He glances down at the factoid on his cup and lets out a laugh.

The sound catches you off guard, just as his voice does most days.

It’s beautiful and your heart twists in your chest, knowing you’ve brought it out of him.

“You really think someone sat around and counted?” He asks.

“Obviously,” you tease, handing him his change. “It’s in the newspaper. Doesn’t that mean it has to be true?”

He lets out another laugh and tosses his change into your tip jar, shaking his head as he slips away and out of view.

*

You don’t mean to find out where he works the way you do. You’ve been steadily slipping factoids on his cups for the better part of eight weeks when you close up shop for the night and decide to go on a little walk around the neighborhood.

Spring is finally getting warmer, your thin sweater more than enough to block out the chill of the night as you slip out the front door and step out beneath one of the street lamps.

You can hear the familiar thumping coming from the Hideout, but what isn’t familiar to you is the sight of Eddie leaning against the front of the building with his leather jacket unzipped, threadbare navy tee in place, and a cigarette between his lips. You spot the flash of silver in the dangling earring in his ear, the curls that dance about his shoulders freely today.

He looks like a phantom in the night, all shadows and pale features bathed in moonlight.

“Streets aren’t safe at night,” he calls from across the short distance.

“I think I can handle my own,” you shout back, stepping further along the parking lot. “You know, those are terrible for you. My grandpa needed a quadruple bypass after all the years he smoked.”

He lets out a low whistle. “I’ll give ‘em up one day.”

“Just not today?”

“Not today,” he admits, glancing over your way. “Heading home for the night?”

“I…actually live in the shop. I have an apartment upstairs,” you tell him, crossing your hands behind your back and clasping them there.

You sway lightly on the balls of your feet, a little nervous to be standing before the man who spares you a few words on a good day.

“You got a lock?” he asks, snubbing out his cigarette on the concrete below with a dark boot.

“A chain one for now. The deadbolt doesn’t work well.”

“You need a new deadbolt then,” he tells you, not quite making eye contact. “These drunken idiots get up to who knows what when they leave here.”

You bite at your bottom lip, trying to hide your grin. He arches a brow in question, pushing up off the wall to step nearer to you. “Eddie Munson, are we becoming friends?”

“There are no other good coffee shops in town,” he says with a shrug, and if anything it makes you grin wider. “I’ll install it on the weekend if you’re around. Before my shift.”

You ask, “Here?”

He nods. “I bartend, yeah.”

“Saturday is good.”

He dips his head once, feet moving him backwards a bit toward the bar. “I have to head back. I’ll see you.” He pauses at the door and adds over his shoulder, “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you echo.

He doesn’t smile.

Not yet.

But he waves, and something hopeful flickers in your belly.

*

True to his word, Eddie Munson shows up at three in the afternoon on Saturday.

El and Max wave as he enters, and you wonder if they know him more than they let on, with the way he lets them come forward to press themselves into the crook of either of his arms and they lead him toward your shoddy apartment entrance.

You tend to the front counter as Eddie works out back, showing your newest hire, Will Byers, how to perfect foam on a latte. He’s El’s step-brother, you learn very early on, and a son to Joyce who happens to be a regular. Her husband, Hopper, also comes in from time to time.

And though you were hesitant at first in hiring siblings to work together, you learn pretty quickly that Will is the quietest of the bunch, whereas it’s El and Max who tend to get a little rowdier.

“Was that good?” Will asks gently, holding the lid to the cup a few inches above the drink, closing it as you nod.

“Perfect!”

You clap excitedly, earning a smile from the boy just as Eddie comes stalking back in with the girls at his heels.

He glances at you as you approach from around the counter, the skirt about your ankles shifting as you move, his eyes dark as you hold out a coffee cup in hand.

He takes a sip and hums, the toolbag he brought with him over one shoulder shifting as he moves closer to you. “Thanks.”

“How much do I owe you for this?” You ask, not wanting to be a bother.

He was the one to offer in the first place, and yet you feel like you owe him something.

“This is fine,” he says, holding the cup up for emphasis.

“Eddie,” you start to argue softly, chewing at your lip.

The girls look on with equal expressions of interest from over his shoulders.

“This is payment enough,” he promises, tipping his head up at Will over your shoulder. “Hiring all the kids, huh?”

“They don’t seem to mind,” you say, smirking slightly to the girls. “Plus, I think I’m a fun boss.”

The girls nod in agreement, and over your shoulder Will echoes the sentiment. Eddie snorts, hooking his bag higher over his shoulder. He glances about the room one last time before he cups El over the top of her head and ruffles Max’s double braids.

“Gotta start my shift,” he announces, turning about the heel and heading to the door. He stops to turn and look at you, the shop mostly empty by now. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Thank you for fixing my door.”

And he’s gone, out the door and crossing the parking lot to the bar across the way.

El is the first one to burst into a fit of giggles, and soon Max follows. Will urges the girls to keep their composure, but you suddenly have three teens laughing at you—or at least you assume they’re laughing at you, because their dark haired friend is long gone now.

You whirl on them all, feeling heat bloom beneath your skin. “What?”

Your response is their giggling, each kid one by one resuming their job tasks.

Will to his lattes, El to the register, and Max back to cleaning the shop.

You never find out what’s so hilarious.

*

You decide to switch things up in the weeks that follow, as the month of May starts to bleed into June.

The weather starts to rise and the people of Hawkins start to wear less layers.

Except for Eddie.

Eddie’s always wearing his leather jacket.

Always.

On those days, when Eddie’s storm cloud over his head seems a little extra heavy, you swap his cup with a grinning factoid on it with one that has a corny joke written across instead.

What do you call a pig that does karate? A pork chop.

He’s…well, he’s not impressed with that one. Only offers you a pitying hum before he marches off and heads to the Hideout.

Why did the golfer bring two pairs of pants? In case he got a hole in one.

You think you catch the slightest curl of his lips.

Maybe you imagine it, but it makes you feel warm and giddy inside long after he’s gone, humming a Beatles song as you wipe down tables.

What did the policeman say to his belly button? You’re under a vest.

That one makes him glower.

Actually glower.

But you know it’s only half-hearted, because he says, “This one was ridiculous and even you know it.”

“I’m trying!” you whine the words and he chuckles, humming as he slips out the front door, chime dangling as he goes.

Why do seagulls fly over the sea? If they flew over the bay, they would be bagels.

He’s not happy with that one. But you can also tell he’s not happy in general.

A group of people around a table had looked at him as he entered that afternoon, whispering amongst themselves.

In the months you’ve been at Hawkins, you can tell there’s an affinity for gossip here.

But Eddie?

He’s always to himself, never says much more than he needs to, makes himself seem smaller whenever possible.

You can’t imagine what anyone might have to say about him.

But you hand him his coffee all the same and don’t miss the way he tucks his hair over the scars along his neck and face as he walks back out.

Why are there gates around cemeteries? Because people are dying to get in.

Something happens that day.

It takes your breath away.

Eddie laughs, a genuine, joyous laugh.

And what’s even better? It’s paired with a smile.

The first you’ve seen on his face, and it’s absolutely beautiful.

*

Lightning slashes across the sky and you know it’s only a matter of time before you hear the resounding boom that fills the air.

It sends you shooting up in bed, heart hammering away in your still unfamiliar apartment, moving across your bed to try and flick your bedside lamp on.

Only nothing changes, and you’re still left in darkness.

Power outage.

Your heart kicks up at the dread curling in your chest as you try and navigate about the room. Thankfully you can see light seeping in through your bedroom window. The familiar glow from the Hideout sign catches your eye.

You open your blinds enough to let some of the light in and move about the room to pull on a pair of jeans and some shoes, and then rush over to grab your backpack and raincoat hanging from your closet.

The distance between your shop and the Hideout seems daunting with it downpouring as it is, feet barreling beneath you as you rush across the parking lot and shove the door open.

Hawkins is a small town, you know this, but you realize just how small when everyone in the room whirls around and you recognize them as regulars of the shop.

And just as you recognize them, they recognize you.

You figure very quickly you have three options: rush to the bar and seat near the currently busy Eddie who is making a drink for an eager patron; try to sit with some of your regulars and mingle for a bit; or pick the furthest corner of the bar to hang out in and keep to yourself.

Keeping to yourself rules out, your sleep deprived state carrying you over to the furthest seat, which happens to be a little booth in a corner, away from prying eyes.

You intend to read.

Really, you do.

Pull out the book from your backpack and everything, open to the page where you left off, but the hum of the music from the jukebox in the corner has your eyes fluttering. The mingling of customers as they talk about their weeks, the shuffle of feet against hardwood floors, the tinkling of glasses as groups toast to life has you propping your head up with your hand. You glance over to Eddie and catch his gaze briefly, his hair moving about his face as he works, talking with one of his customers, all stoic and hard like stone.

You remember his smile and you smile.

Your eyes scan the words on your current page but they start to blur. The room dissolves around you. And finally, with the sound of thunder faraway in your mind, you drift off into sleep.

*

“We close at three in the morning,” a voice says.

“What time is it?” You groan against your book, face pressing into the cover, eyes bleary.

He's walking toward you when you rouse, slow movements and long limbs. Light on his feet in a way that seems otherworldly, but makes sense for him.

“Three ten? Fifteen?”

Even in your sleepy state you know who it is right away.

Dark hair, pale skin, chocolate brown eyes.

Eddie.

His body slides into the vinyl booth across from you, a towel strewn over his shoulder, hair pulled back in another one of his signature ponytails.

You blink twice, wondering if he’s about to disappear, but his image only solidifies further the more you come to. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m sorry—seriously. You can kick me out. I'm sure you want to get out of here and I’ve kept you late. I…my power went out and I saw your lights were still on over here so I walked over and I—”

You sound tired and it’s a little pitiful on your ears. The new girl who can’t even sleep in her own apartment because of a little storm. You curse under your breath, hoarseness lingering as you utter another ‘sorry’ under your breath.

“Breathe,” he says, sliding a glass of water across the table. “Drink. Slow sips; don’t want you choking on me.”

You lift the glass and take a slow sip. That sandpaper feeling gnawing in the back of your throat lessens. “Sorry…again.”

“It’s fine,” he says, and the silence between you lingers.

You’re not used to this. This quiet that breathes and settles into the atmosphere around you. And yet, you’re not sure how to fill those spaces.

Eddie only leans back in the seat, one ankle hooked over his knee, a forearm across the table.

“I…uh, don’t like storms,” you admit softly, sliding your cup around the table in a circle, settling on trying to get something out of him beyond your normal short responses you’re used to. “The dark either. Not really. So when my power went out, I just didn’t want to, uh, be alone.”

He’s silent again for a while. Reaches across the table to thumb at the condensation on your glass. It feels familiar, and yet it’s not. You’re still mostly strangers. Two people who live in the same vicinity as one another, and yet you’re not friends.

Not yet.

You can see the twitch in his fingers, the tapping of them along the surface, rings on his fingers glinting in the light.

You’ve noticed them before, sure, but never like this.

Never so close.

He swallows and you catch the bob of his throat. The shift of his silver chains around his neck. “I don’t like the dark either.”

His voice is so soft, eyes focusing on a rivulet dripping from your glass. He’s not looking at you, and that’s okay, because you’re still shaken by the sudden vulnerability of the admission.

I don’t like the dark, either.

You can’t quite mask your disbelief. Him of all people, afraid of the dark, catches you off guard. “Really?” Your voice wavers at the end.

He finally looks up at you, and his eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Yeah. Haven’t for—well, for a while now,” he says quietly, slowly. He drags a hand along the back of his neck, rubbing lightly. “Kind of why I work here. By the time I get home there’s only a couple hours till sunrise.”

You sense his hesitance at sharing that. The way he shifts ever so subtly against the vinyl, glancing back away from your gaze. You soften, heart warming at the fact he chose this moment to open up, even if only slightly. Your thumb grazes the side of your glass, eyes intent on a droplet that cascades down the side, and you force a sly grin across your lips.

“It’s why you’re a secret coffee fiend too.”

He huffs out a laugh at that, sides shaking from the effort. “I don’t really think it’s a secret.”

You swallow, throat a little dry as you softly ask, “Hey, Eddie?”

It’s a gamble and you fear you might push him too far too soon, but the question rests in your mind all the same. Has been for some weeks now. This wonder as to where Eddie goes when all of Hawkins goes to sleep at night. Why you’ve never seen him elsewhere, except for the four walls of your shop and now this bar.

“Hmm?”

Your fingers toy with your napkin sitting beneath your glass of water. A corner rips away and you ball it up between your fingers, letting it soak in the slickness of the table from your melted ice. “Where is…home? I never really see you around town, except for when you stop by the shop.”

“It’s in the next town over. I like the…privacy.” He sounds faraway, even though he’s sitting right across from you.

You understand what he means. Since moving in, you feel like you’ve been thrust into a world where you’re constantly under a microscope. People want to know at all times what the ‘new girl’ is up to. You’re used to all the gossip. The hush of whispers on the streets, the questions of what you’ve been up to, if you’re seeing anyone, what a young girl is doing moving into a town like theirs. And while most people are accepting and kind, you can’t help but to feel like they’re simultaneously picking you apart or waiting for you to fail.

“Hawkins is small, so I understand that. I unwillingly know everyone’s drama.”

You notice he’s started to fidget with his hands. Pale fingers curl around those silver rings adoring his knuckles and begin to twist, metal jangling against metal. “Everyone?”

There’s an innate urge to reach across the table and soothe him. To brush your fingers against the back of his hand, remind him that you’re there to talk and nothing more. To be a friend to him, in whatever capacity he allows.

It’s clear that there’s trepidation there over your words. Fear, unbidden.

You shake your head rapidly, wishing to urge away his worries. “Not yours, if that’s what you’re worried about. Believe it or not, you’re a tough one to crack.” You let out an uneasy chuckle, and add, “but I think I’m starting to.”

“Think so?” His brows perk up at that, body shifting to lean forward on his elbows. From this angle you can see every detail of his face, the span of his lashes, the way his bangs tickle his forehead and those shorter curls brush the highest point of his cheeks.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning forward onto your elbows. You drop your voice into a whisper, like you’re about to share the deepest of secrets and mutter, “you prefer corny jokes to facts, for one. You laugh more at them.”

He’s, well, he’s magnetic like this. You’re not sure he even sees it. This quality of curiosity that brims when he’s near, to know, to learn about him. “That’s because they’re so awful I have to. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, you know?”

Mirth bubbles in your gut at his words. “You actually love the kids that work for me.”

“They’re…they’re good kids.” He says it looking off into the distance a little.

You imagine he’s thinking of El, Will and Max. You drift off all the same, thinking of them with their glowing kindness and effervescent personalities. Each one a bright spot in your life and valuable both to your business and personally as the children that brighten your days.

“You like black coffee with two sugars. Fitting. Tells me a lot about you.” It’s said brightly, practically giddy as your elbows press further into the tabletop.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“You like a little sweetness in your life.”

He guffaws. Head drops back as he shakes with it. You pout as he meets your gaze, his voice light as he opens his mouth to speak. “That was about as bad as your corny jokes,” he tells you. “Plus I gave you that one for free. Doesn’t count.”

“That's all I’ve got so far from you.” You slide the glass closer to your form, fingers circling around the base. “but I’m patient.”

He’s suddenly very interested in the clock resting over your shoulder. You know it’s there when you follow the line of his sight and see it there, his dark eyes flickering between that and you, and then the bar on the far side of the room. His fingers drift up to the towel over his shoulder, curling around the edge as he slides it down and holds it within his palm.

“I…should really close up the place. I’ll drive you home. Just give me a few, okay?” He’s already standing. Long limbs slide out of the side of the booth, his earring glinting in the moonlight drifting in from the open windows.

You immediately feel a burning in your gut at the thought of inconveniencing someone you barely know, hands coming up in front of you as you urge, “You don’t have to. It’s a short walk.”

His response is a hard stare and a monotone, “It’s pouring.”

“Okay, if you insist.” You force an uncertain smile onto your face, pushing your glass away from your form to let it rest in the center of the table.

He’s already walking behind the bar when he says, “I insist.”

You sit in silence as he works. He’s diligent and swift about it, moving in and out of tables and chairs, making sure every inch of the building is spick and span. You remain with your head in your hand, elbow on the table, simply watching him. You try to remain inconspicuous about it, not wanting to linger too long on his features. And yet there’s the part of you that cannot look away from him. That magnetic quality sparking something unfamiliar in your gut; this pull to figure out his secrets, crack the code to what makes him him.

You notice he hums as he works, a tune you vaguely recognize spilling through pursed lips, his lithe arms shifting as he does.

He watches you, too, you notice after a while.

Dark eyes haunting and imploring, drifting to your frame every so often.

You wonder what he’s thinking.

You wonder how he sees you—if he looks at you with as much curiosity as you do him.

And then he’s reaching for his wallet and keys from a lock box kept in a secret space behind the bar, fingers jingling as he holds the silver metal aloft before him.

You rush over to him when he waves you over, moving to go stand at his side as the two of you slip from the building doors and he locks up behind you. He leads you to a van in silence and opens the passenger side door as you walk around the vehicle. There’s a brief moment of touch as he extends a hand to you and you climb inside, trying to move quickly to avoid being soaked to the bone once more. Eddie drapes a hand over his head and rushes around the other side, clambering in with a loud huff and slamming the door shut beside him.

His head shakes as he enters, the audible jingle of metal in his ear echoing in the space as water droplets flick from the moist ends of his hair. You toy with the edge of your sweatshirt awkwardly, uncertain of where to look. Where to focus as he turns the radio on and metal music blares out. Catching your sudden jolt, his fingers move to lower the knob, eyes meeting yours in the dark of the moonlight. The music settles into a quiet hum, lyrics swirling around in your mind as he regards you carefully.

There’s a beat of silence, and then he says, “You know, you can come to the Hideout after your shop closes. I might not be able to talk much, but…well, it’s there.”

It’s an invitation.

An opening.

A welcome to his world.

You don’t miss that; you don’t miss the clear implication of his words. The fact he doesn’t mind you being in his space, being near him, spending time within his company.

But you can sense his nervousness. The way he shifts in his seat and curls his palm around the steering wheel, hands a little shaky as he lets out a slow exhale. Trying to ease the tension, you turn in your seat and glance up at him through your lashes, passing him your kindest of smiles.

“Across the parking lot from me,” you say, a little uneasily, a little nervousness brimming at the surface.

You’re only feet away from one another on a good day.

A thirty second walk, if you were to time it.

“Yup,” he says, turning his eyes onto the building in front of him as he puts the key into the ignition and starts the car.

It’s a short drive.

The shortest really.

He turns around in a giant circle and ends up in front of your building, car jerking lightly as he puts it into park and pulls the key from the ignition. Your hands slide across the fabric against your thighs, throat burning as you look across the space between the two of you and see him regarding you carefully like he expects you to flit away into the wind. Like he expects to blink and your appearance will disappear from his mind, there one moment and gone the next like an apparition.

You gather your things in your hand and reach for the door handle.

“Well, thank you for keeping me company tonight and for driving me home,” you say, opening the side door.

“Not a problem at all.” His voice is quiet.

But he gives you one of those smiles, and that brings an unthinkable joy to your heart.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Goodnight.”

*

It really starts with trips after work.

They’re quiet and tentative.

Nothing more than glances over the top of your glass of wine or whatever you choose for the night as you sit near the bar.

Eddie hadn’t lied when he said he might not be able to talk much. He’s typically occupied for a majority of his shift, and when he’s not he’s cleaning or trying to maintain the place.

Even when you can catch up to talk, it’s brief conversation there and there about the day to day.

His remarks about whatever fact or joke you put on his cup that day, talks about the weather, how your day was.

But you find you enjoy it, and soon enough routine takes place: everyday you open up for your shift, stay till close and help the kids clean up, and then rush across the parking lot to share space with your work neighbor.

So yes, it starts as strangers, but it’s grown into this.

Into this something.

You find that you like it.

*

“So what’s your story?” It’s Chance Muller who asks you.

Chance with his dark hair and brown eyes.

Chance with his muscular stature, honed by years of sports in school and maintenance thereafter.

He’s pretty, in this almost too perfect kind of way.

And he likes you; that much is obvious very early on, simply because he’s been coming every time he has the early shift at work just to see you before getting in his cop car.

He’s nice and he makes you smile.

But he’s not Eddie.

It’s an acceptance that came crashing earlier that morning, just days after your encounter with him at the Hideout.

Your curiosity for the dark haired metalhead has become an undeniable attraction.

A crush.

Something that feels so silly as an adult, and yet it’s your reality all the same.

“What do you mean?”

You snap yourself from your thoughts, remembering that Chance is there in his tan uniform, hands on his hips as you walk about the mostly empty coffee shop.

It’s still early.

Barely minutes after opening your doors for the day. Most people don’t come until the morning rush that starts around seven in the morning.

It’s five now.

He steps closer to you, his cup of coffee against the table he’s set it on.

Broad shoulders fill the empty spaces in the room, the outline of his arms visible even in the long sleeves of his uniform.

He’s broader and bigger than Eddie, you think.

Eddie, who is all lithe and less hardened. He reminds you of the way elves are described in his favorite books he’s recently lent you to read.

“You’re the new girl in town. From what I’ve heard, everyone loves you. But you’re still single—what gives?” He leans his elbows against the countertop, dark eyes swooping up to meet yours.

You don’t feel the gentle kick up of your heart, nor the rustle of butterflies in your belly.

“Chance…” Your chest burns at his insinuation, shifting awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“I’m serious.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, whirling back around to face him. “I guess I just haven’t met the right one.”

It’s been a while since your last relationship, and even then it hadn’t been anything serious.

You’ve always been moving, always on the go, trying new things and never lingering in one place for long enough to try.

You know what he’s about to ask you even before he gets a chance to say it.

And yet your stomach tumbles as he says, “I was thinking…if you’re up for it, we could grab dinner then?”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Chance.”

“Come on now.”

“I have my employees and my business to look after. It’s still so new, I don’t really think I can take time off.”

It’s not a lie, but you know it’s not the best excuse, either.

You haven’t really taken any time for yourself, no; with the business, you’re constantly working on trying new things, making sure your money is on track, payroll is upkept.

And then there’s the cost of supplies and the repairs here and there that you’ve needed done.

“Would you at least think about it?” His eyes are soft and your resolve dissolves a bit, recognizing that it is only one date.

It doesn’t automatically mean there will be more.

It’s an opportunity to try, however.

“You’re my customer.”

His fingers trail along the petals of the flowers you’ve set up in front of the cash register. Pretty, in a bright arrangement of purples, pinks and greens. “Pretty sure everyone in Hawkins is one of your customers.”

“Fine, I'll think about it.” You offer him an easy smile.

He begins walking backwards toward the door, keys in his palm jangling as he grins at you widely and says, “Just two adults out for dinner. Doesn’t have to be anything crazy, just us getting to know each other. Everyone in town knows of you, but I get the feeling that no one really knows you knows you. Was thinking we could change that.”

“I bet you use that one on all the ladies. I told you I’ll think about it,” you reply. “Don't you have to get to work? Writing traffic tickets and all that fun stuff.”

His hand is around the door when he tips his head up and raises a hand to wave. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Bye, Chance.”

*

Eddie’s head perks up as you come barreling in the front door to the Hideout. It’s a quieter night, as Mondays always are, and he barely has a moment to blink before you’re hopping up onto one of the barstools across from him and tapping your fingers along the tin you cradle close to your body.

He eyes it wearily, tucking some bills away in a cash register.

“I need your opinion,” you say, sliding the tin closer to him.

“What’s up?” He crosses the distance between you two, ringed fingers tapping along the counter.

He’s wearing red today beneath his jacket and you’re pretty sure it’s your favorite color you’ve seen on him yet.

“Try these,” you tell him, not failing to catch the slight wince he makes, “don’t make that face, they’re not poisoned.”

He moves to lift one of the foil corners, glancing in hesitantly with his head tilted back a bit. It’s as if he expects something to jump out at him. “What’s wrong with them then?”

“I can’t make you cookies and expect you to eat them?”

“I don’t want pity cookies.” He shoves them back your way, though there’s no malice in the smile that adorns his lips.

“They are not pity cookies. They’re ‘I'm-trying-a-new-recipe-for-my-shop-and-need-an-unbiased-opinion-cookies.’” You push them closer to him once more. “You’ll tell me they’re crap if they’re crap.”

“How do you know?”

You fix him with a blank stare. “You laugh at my jokes because you hate them, not because they’re funny. Need I say more?”

He doesn’t, because despite his bumbling, there’s one thing you’ve learned about Eddie in these past months: the way to his heart is through his stomach.

The man loves sugar.

You figured as much with his coffee order, and have brought him extra treats from the shop here and there whenever you can.

So it comes as no shock to you when he takes a bite of the cookie and turns away from you to hide the way his dimples immediately pop as a smile blooms across his cheeks. “Oh…oh.”

“Good?”

“Mm.” It’s a hum around a mouthful of food as he puts the rest of the cookie in his mouth.

Yet he’s still not given his answer. Nervousness wells and bubbles.

“Eddie, if they’re garbage tell me they’re garbage. I won’t cry.”

“You cried last week at The Hobbit,” he points out.

“That’s because you didn’t warn me that everyone dies. I walked in blind. Blind.”

“Yeah, but you loved it. You asked me to keep my copy after you finished.”

You had.

And he’s right, because you did love it. You loved even more he’d felt comfortable enough to share something so special to him with you.

“I’m still upset you said no.”

“I’ve had that thing for ages. I’ll never give it away. Just admit you loved it. It’s okay to be wrong about things sometimes.” He’s enjoying himself. You want to wipe the smug look clean from his face.

“All I said was I like books that have love in them.”

“I’d say The Hobbit has love. Maybe not romantic love, but there’s love there.”

“True. Although I’m stuck on Tom Bombadil in The Fellowship of the Ring.”

“I thought you’d enjoy him, seeing as you’re Miss Sunshine around town. It’s what everyone says, at least.”

“And what about you?” you ask. “What do you say?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“You’ve known me for almost three months now. Here I thought we were friends.”

“Are we?” He tips his head to the side.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I don’t have many of those these days.” He winces at that.

“Well, I have one of those these days.”

His eyes narrow, disbelieving. “That’s bull.”

“Everyone knows me in town, sure, but they don’t know me.”

“Sometimes that’s best,” he admits quietly. “Sometimes that’s safer.”

“Is that how it is for you?”

Him keeping people at arm's length at all times.

Him only going out in the later hours of the day, staying up late into the night.

Him never opening up beyond a certain point, cards always close to his chest.

He goes quiet at your words, and you worry you’ve offended him.

“The cookies are great,” he finally says.

Conversation over.

“I’ll make you more tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.”

There’s another pause.

You can’t hide the fear of his upset, your mouth curling downward.

His eyes slide across your face, and he reaches over to grab another cookie.

A peace offering.

“And for the record, I think we can be friends,” he says.

It really begins as friends.

*