#night shift so far has been uneventful…

[fauvester]

OH WE ARE SO BACK..

[eunbitchh]

sit back & watch me ride

*18+ MDNI*

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: thigh riding, slight degradation (inner monologue), teensy tiny hint of perv mike, praise, mike cums untouched lol

title based off a lyric from this song, stream it & stan chungha:

-

the familiar sound of the front door opening and shutting and the heavy steps of mikes work shoes filled the halls, catching your attention from the bathroom where you were just finishing moisturizing your skin after having a warm bubble bath to ease the days anxieties away. you peek your head out of the bathroom door and see mikes figure in the distance hanging up his security vest along with putting his wallet and keys in their designated spot not too far from the front door. you quickly finish up moisturizing your skin and slide on your bed shirt (his shirt, specifically) and a sheer pair of lacey panties so you can go greet him after his long nigh shift he had just come home from.

“hey mike, how was work?” you ask him and lay a soft kiss to his cheek. he looked exhausted, he always did, with the dreams? nightmares rather? that plagued him at any attempt to rest. he sighs and rubs a hand down his face

“uneventful.. has abby eaten?”

you nod “yeah, i made us some lasagna so if you’re hungry i could heat some up for you to eat?”

he seemed to like that idea, so that’s what you did, sharing small talk while he ate and just generally enjoying one another’s presence.

mike always appreciated having you around, he never thought he would find someone who loved and cared about both him and his sister the way that you did, but having you around definitely brought a bit of light into their lives again. he loved you, a lot. however he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty that your sex lives weren’t all that active- both due to abby being around and the conflicting scheduling between the 2 of you resulting in you both simply be too tired to even think of sex. it was pretty rare that you’d both have the time to have sex at all, but you would both find ways around that regardless.

tonight was 1 of those nights, you were horny, and who could blame you? mike looked good. messy curls, the scruff that created a delicious prickle of pain whenever he went down on you, and those ever so tired eyes. it’s almost as if he was psychic and could hear your thoughts, or maybe you just hadn’t paid attention to what he was saying.. but he was looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a hint of amusement written on his face.

“there something you want?”

“yeah, you.” you answered. blunt? yes. but you were growing antsy after not having been able to have any form of stimulation from him, or even yourself the past 2 weeks. it was torture, you wanted to do nothing more than jump his bones here and now. thankfully tonight abby was having a sleepover at a friends house after the dinner you shared with her earlier so you wouldn’t have to worry about keeping your voice down.. which you knew would be an issue with how touch starved you were currently.

“yeah? how do you want me darling?” he asked you, eyes never faltering away from you, a subtle challenge glinting within them. mike adored you, truly, and despite being too tired to fuck you properly like you deserve he would still do anything it took to leave you satisfied. you eyes scanned over his face and down his body from where he sat, eyes zeroing in on his thighs.

god how you loved those thighs. they were thick and muscular, completely irresistible.

“can i ride your thigh?” you asked him, softly biting your bottom lip while you peered back at his face.

he nodded at your question and patted a hand on his thigh, inviting you to take your rightful seat.

“go on then, pretty girl.”

you didn’t need to be told twice, practically throwing yourself onto him like a total whore, which in this case you were. his whore, specifically. but you really didn’t care, you wanted him. needed him. he watched you closely while you straddled his thigh, how your mouth formed a small ‘o’ at the sensation of his rough jeans coming in contact with your panty clad pussy. he always thought you looked beautiful like this, it made him wish he was an artist so could plaster your image onto a canvas to hang in a museum. or even just take a photo of you in this position to stash away and jerk off to while he was at work..

his hands came to a resting point on your waist, holding you firmly to help you maintain balance while you got yourself comfortable on the meat of his thigh. your quiet whines began to fill the rooms emptiness while you slowly began to rock against him. usually it was him who was louder between the both of you, but something about you being more vocal really got to him, he could feel himself getting hard just from the sight of you slowly rocking your body against his thigh, making all these pretty sounds just for him. fuck, you really had him wrapped right around your finger.

“how’s it feel, pretty girl?” he asked you, voice dropping an octave lower while he watched you through hooded eyes and parted lips, you would think he was the 1 fucking himself right now with how ruined he looked, yet here you were soaking the material of your panties and his jeans because you were so needy.

“feels good.. feels so good” you moaned, resting your face into the crook of his neck, tickling the skin with your heated breath. his hands gripped your waist tighter when you began to rut against his thigh beginning to move at a more rapid pace now, moan after moan falling through your lips.

your hands gripped his shoulders as you continued to shamelessly fuck yourself on his thigh, higher pitched moans coming from you now when he flexed his it beneath you, creating the perfect added sensation to your erratically throbbing clit. he seriously couldn’t wrap his head around how fucking hot you looked using him like this. his cock lurched in its confinement while you continued to grind down on him, oozing beads of precum while he got off just to the sight of you. he was so hard that it hurt but he refused to touch himself, focussing solely on helping you cum right now.

“you gonna cum for me, darling?” he spoke lowly to you, watching you nod in response as you were too caught up in the throes of pleasure to form a coherent response.

“cum for me, cum all over my thigh.”

and you did, with a final loud moan your orgasm ripped through you. you found yourself having to wrap your arms around his neck to hug him close to your body so you wouldn’t collapse from the intensity of it all. he watched you through dark, lust, blown pupils feeling himself cum without even having been touched.

“fuck that was so hot” he whispers to you, softly rubbing your hips while you came down from your orgasm. your breathing was shaky, but you could finally speak again clearly.

“did you.. did you cum?” you ask him with a small smirk. he rubbed the back of his neck at your question, blushing a bit.

“uh.. yeah, i couldn’t help it.” he felt a little embarassed, cumming like that despite having neglected his own pleasure the entire time.

“oh mike you don’t need to be embarassed, that’s actually really hot” you reassured him, resting your head on his shoulder while you stared contently at his face.

he rolled his eyes playfully at your comment but made no argument against it, just revelling in the closeness of your bodies right now.

“anyways.. we should probably get cleaned up and get you to bed, you look exhausted” you spoke in a softer tone, tracing a soft pattern on his forearm with your finger. he nodded in response and lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom to finally get the sleep he so desperately needed, knowing fully well he would finally get a restful night with you in his arms.

[and-claudia]

Against All Odds pt. 12 (Joel Miller x fem! reader)

General Warnings for later on: The main story will have an age gap between Joel and the reader (Reader will be 25 once we get to the main storyline), this will also be your warning that it will eventually be an x pregnant reader (if that’s not your jam, I’m sorry) there is also going to be more graphic/trigger parts later on so please always to be sure to read the warnings BEFORE reading. This story will also be 18+ and TO BE ON THE TAGLIST YOU CAN NOT BE AN AGELESS BLOG (i do actually check that) also there first hand full of parts are all prologue so Joel won’t actually be in it for a bit

warnings for this part: mentions of suicide, mentions of coming out (it's not all super heavy, I promise!!)

ALSO!!! I am making a decision that kinda contradicts an earlier part... I am adding this note so you know, earlier I was going off Joel's age based off the show, I am now changing it to be his age in the game just to make a few things work a little better... SORRY FOR ANY CONFUSION!!!!!!!

word count: 2800+

Taglist Sign-Up (read my rules carefully before filling it out)

gif not mine

Ellie’s PoV 

Once I was sure Yn was out of earshot, I turned to Joel. 

“I want to talk about what happens after we find your brother in Wyoming.” I said seriously. 

He gave me a weird look, “Okay…” 

I took a deep breath before starting, “What’s your plan for me once we get there?” 

“Well… Marleen didn’t exactly give us the address of where you were going. So I was gonna ask Tommy if he knew where those Fireflies might be. Get you there… then… I don’t know. Timeline really depends on how long we’re out here, how close Yn is to havin’ the baby.” He explained. 

I nodded and was quiet for a moment. 

“What if I don’t want to go to Fireflies…” I asked quietly. 

“Do you not want to?” Joel asked. 

I took a deep breath, “I don’t know…I didn’t want to tell Yn because I don’t want it to stress her out in any way since she’s already pregnant… but I don’t think I want to find the Fireflies anymore…” I watched him to gauge his reaction, but he gave none, “It’s just… I’ve been told I am special, that I am the key to the cure… but I don’t think I am… not anymore. I tried to save Sam… it didn’t work. If I can’t save one person, how am I expected to save thousands?” 

I paused. 

“And I know this sounds selfish, and I know I am not anything really to either of you, but I don’t want to leave you two behind… you three behind. I want to be here when Yn has the baby and watch it grow into a tiny person.” 

I looked at him, trying to fight the tears brimming in my eyes. All I could do was give a small nod. 

“That’s not selfish, Ellie. It’s human.” Joel said after a moment, “Yn and I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. And you don’t have to decide anything right now. Trust me, we will have plenty of time before now and Wyoming for you to think and make up your mind.” 

I nodded before whispering, “Thank you, Joel. For everything.” 

He only nodded back, “Go get some rest. I’ll nudge you in a couple of hours to take a watch shift.” he said, nodding off to where Yn had fallen asleep against a tree. 

I nodded and stood up. My mind was still reeling with what the hell I wanted to do. But Joel was right, nothing needed to be decided tonight. We were still far away from Wyoming, I would have plenty of time to decide by then… right? 

Yn’s PoV

The following days were fairly uneventful. We walked for hours on end and would rest at night. The sun was setting on our fifth day of straight walking. To say that my feet hurt would be a severe understatement. Joel had said something to me the other day about how I should start showing here soon since I was around 15 weeks now, but currently, the only getting bigger were my feet. I tried not to say anything, though, because I knew their feet must be getting sore, too. But every step we took sent a jolt of pain up my leg. 

“Shouldn’t we stop soon?” I asked. 

“Eh, the sun’s just now starting to set. We can probably go another hour.” Joel said.

He was a few paces ahead of me when he said it, so he couldn’t see the sour face I made… but Ellie did. 

“You okay?” She asked quietly. 

“Hm? Yeah, fine.” I said. 

She nodded before speeding up to be in step with Joel. 

“Damn it, Ellie.” I mumbled to myself as I watched her talk to Joel. 

They both stopped walking, which allowed me to catch up with them. 

“On second thought, let's just stop for the night. This is a decent clearing. There’s a creek nearby to get some water from. We can stay here for the night.” He said. 

“Joel, I’m fine. Let’s go another hour, then stop. It’ll let us get another mile or so under our belt.” I said. 

He said nothing but glanced down to where I had undone my boots earlier. They were completely undone to where they would come off, but they were clearly loosened. 

“Why’re your boots undone?” He asked, standing with his hands on his hips. 

“Forgot to relace them… pregnancy brain. Let’s go. We’re losing daylight.” I said. 

“Nope, sit.” He nodded to a large rock beside a tree. 

I sighed and did as he said. He followed me over and squatted down in front of me. Once I was sitting, he began undoing my boots. I winced slightly as he pulled the first one off. 

“M’sorry.” He said, grabbing the second one and sliding it off gently. 

“How long have they been like this?” He asked. 

“Started about halfway through the day yesterday. I didn’t want to say anything and slow us down.” I explained. 

“You need to speak up when you’re in pain. We’re not traveling tomorrow. We’ll take a day to rest.” He said. 

“No, I don’t want to slow us down.” I tried to argue. 

“Not resting will slow us down even more. Tomorrow, I want you on your feet as little as possible, okay?” He said. 

I nodded, “Can you go fill my water for me?” I asked, leaning over to grab it out of my pack that I had dropped beside me. 

“Yeah. Ellie, give me your water, I’ll go fill them. When I get back, I’ll set a trap to try and get us some dinner.” Joel said, standing up and walking over to her. 

Once he was gone, Ellie came over and sat down beside me on the ground. 

“You didn’t have to say anything to Joel, you know.” I said. 

I wasn’t actually mad at her in any way; I was more just frustrated with myself for being the reason why we were taking a break. Deep down, I knew it was out of my control, but it still didn’t help make me feel any better about it. 

“I know. But I also know you weren’t going to. Plus, I could tell you were in pain.” She said. 

“Thank you… sorry that I’m slowing us down.” I said. 

“Eh, it’s not your fault, it’s the rugrat’s.” She said, making me smile. 

“I guess you’re right. I just want to make sure we can get you to the Fireflies as soon as possible. I don’t know if they’re on a timeline or something.” I explained.

I noticed that she stiffened up slightly at the mention of the Fireflies. 

She let out a nervous laugh, “About that… I talked to Joel a few nights ago… I am having second thoughts on finding them.” She said, looking at me clearly trying to watch for my reaction. 

“Okay… any particular reason why?” I asked. 

“I am not certain that I am the cure… I just don’t know if it’s worth leaving you and Joel… and the baby for something that’s not a guarantee. And I know I at least want to stay with you until the baby gets here… but then thinking about leaving after that doesn’t feel right either. I just don’t know what to do. I told Joel that part of me feels guilty for even considering staying because I could be potentially saving thousands… but I may not even be the cure.” 

“That’s a decision only you can make, Ellie. But it doesn’t have to be soon. We’ll have plenty of time before we even get to Wyoming. Only you know what is best for you… I will say that I would love to have you here when I have the baby. I want them to meet you for sure. But if and when the time comes that you decide to go find the Fireflies, I won’t hold you back. I’ll support you in any decision you make. Come here.” I said, scooting over to make room for her on the rock. 

She got up and sat beside me. I hugged her to my side. 

“Thank you.” She said. 

I only nodded. 

“You know, you’re pretty good at the whole mom thing.” She said suddenly, making me look at her. 

“What?” 

“I don’t know… you just have something that makes me feel like I can share anything with you… like I don’t have to hide anything.” She explained. 

“Well, I’m glad. And you really can tell me anything.” I said.

“Okay, well… do you remember how y’all mentioned a boyfriend when asking if anyone would come looking for me?” 

“Yeah.” I nodded for her to continue. 

“Well, truth is, I’ve never had a boyfriend… and I honestly don’t see myself ever having a boyfriend. If you know what I mean…” She said, glancing over at me. 

“I get what you mean.” I said, smiling and nodding. 

“You’re okay with that?” She asked, almost shocked. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? You’re not the first gay person I’ve met.” I said with a small laugh. 

She nodded as she let out a breath, “Do you think Joel will be okay with it?” She asked. 

“Oh yeah.” 

“Really, even at his age?” She asked, making us both laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” Joel asked as he walked back up with our water canteens filled. 

“Nothing.” Ellie said. 

“Okay…” He said, clearly not convinced, “I am going to go try and trap something for dinner.” 

He collected some supplies before heading off once again. 

“So… if there wasn’t a boyfriend, has there ever been a girlfriend? Sorry if that’s too personal, just curious about your life before all of this.” 

She hesitated, and I was scared that I had crossed the line. But then she began to speak. 

“I don’t know if I would call her a girlfriend… but there was a girl I liked… Riley.” 

The way she said told me everything I needed to know at that moment. Riley was dead, and she clearly wasn’t over it yet. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” I shook my head, “You don’t have to talk about if you’re not ready. I get it. I lost the last of my brothers years ago, and I still don’t like talking about it. It’s okay.” I said, hugging her close once again. 

“I miss her… does that ever go away?” She asked. 

I shook my head sadly, “No… it gets easier. Eventually, you get to where you don’t even think about it anymore until something reminds you of them, then hurts again, not as bad as it originally did, but still hurts. Then again, you eventually stop thinking about it until you get reminded again. It hurts, but it's even less than last time. And it continues. It always hurts just a little bit.” I explained the best I could. 

She nodded. 

“Whatever happened though, it wasn’t your fault… and neither was Sam.” She snapped her head to look at me, “I don’t know what happened with you and him, but Joel mentioned you tried to save him, and it didn’t work… that’s not your fault. I know it’s hard, but don’t blame yourself. And trust me, I know that’s easier said than done. Hell, it’s been over ten years, and I still blame myself for my brother’s death…” 

“What happened?” She asked. 

“He hung himself… I am the one who found him. He had just done it. I tried to cut him down. I just wasn’t fast enough… My father blamed me for it until the day he died… and I still carry that with me. Like I said, the pain never fully goes away…” 

“How old were you?” She asked. 

“Doesn’t matter… no one should have to experience that… I was younger than you were.” I said, staring off. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t pry.” She said. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll share more about my brothers later if you want. Some of the better memories.” I offered, and she smiled. 

“I’d like that. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have siblings, even just one.” She said. 

I couldn’t help but think about how if she chose to stay, then she would definitely be getting one. Although I wasn’t much older than her, just around ten years, I could see her becoming like a daughter to me. And I had a feeling the same was happening to Joel. 

small time jump

Within the next three days, we finally found ourselves entering Nebraska. We hadn’t gotten the chance to clean up in a while because the creekbeds were too low, so when Joel informed us of a creek that was deep enough to rinse off in, I was overjoyed. 

“You two go ahead and go. I’ll try to trap a rabbit or something.” Ellie said, nodding us off towards the creek. 

Joel had recently shown her how to trap things, and she actually gotten pretty good in the couple of days she’s been practicing. 

As we walked, I turned to Joel, “As much as I love you, I have only one thing on my mind, and that is to scrub the grime off of me and go sit down and get off my feet.” I said, making my intentions clear. 

“Got it. Give me your clothes, and I’ll rinse them with mine.” He said as we got to the creek. 

I nodded as I slipped my boots off and then peeled my socks off of my feet. The ground beneath me was cool to the touch and felt like heaven against my swollen feet. I finished getting undressed, tossing my clothes over to Joel, and soon I was in the cool water. 

As great as it felt, I was soon getting out and getting my “clean” clothes from Joel. Once again, I was forgoing putting my bra back on for the night and was just about to pull my shirt over my head when Joel stopped me. 

“Hey, wait, turn back around.” He called out to me. 

I turned to face him, “What?” I asked, confused. 

“Just turn to the side again…” He said, staring at me intently. 

“What?” 

“Just do it, please.” He wasn’t being pushy. Instead, he seemed oddly curious. 

I did it and looked at him expectantly. 

“When did that show up?” He asked, in slight awe. 

“What?” I asked, confused. 

“That.” He emphasized, nodding to my stomach. 

“Joel, it’s nothing. I’m just a little bloated. I don’t think it’s what you think it is.” I said. 

“I don’t think so… no offense, but we haven’t really eaten anything that would be making you bloated. I think you’re starting to show.” 

I honestly hadn’t really considered that as a possibility. My mind just jumped to it being bloated. 

“Really?” I asked, looking down, it was just barely there, but there was definitely a small bump forming. 

“I mean, I’m no doctor, but that’s what it looks like to me. Here, come sit while I rinse off, and we can talk about it more afterward, okay? I’ll be quick.” He promised, standing up and beginning to undress. 

Once he was done, he rinsed our old clothes, and we began walking back to our camp. Ellie had managed to catch two squirrels that Joel quickly prepared and began cooking. Then he came and sat by me. 

“Sorry if I made you self-conscious or anything… I just wasn’t really prepared for this part of all of it.” He explained. 

“Were you not…” I trailed off, knowing that his daughter was a touchy subject for him. 

He shook his head, “No, her mom and I were like an on-again-off-again type of thing. Then, at some point, we were off again for a while, and then she showed up at my door out of nowhere with a baby. She was gone the next morning. So, I am a little inexperienced in this part of things… I do vaguely remember my mom being pregnant with Tommy, but that’s about it.” He said with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood from when he started talking. 

“Well, you got more than I do. I was the youngest, so…” I said, and he nodded. 

“Also, you really remember your mom being pregnant with Tommy… that was so long ago…” I teased. 

“I am only 52. I’m not that old, you know.” He shot back, nudging me with his shoulder. 

“I know, I just like giving you shit.” I said, looking over at him with a smile. 

“You’re lucky I love you. You know that, right?” He said. 

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.” I said, leaning over to kiss him. 

“You better not be letting those squirrels burn.” Ellie’s voice made me jump slightly. 

“They’re not.” Joel said, rolling his eyes, though he wasn’t really upset. 

He finished cooking them before dividing up the small amount of meat from them to all of us. After we ate, we settled in for the night. We had one more day of traveling before we would rest for a day. It was slow progress, but it would work. I knew the cold would set in soon, and the cool breeze that blew through the trees just as the thought crossed my mind only confirmed that. 

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[luvrsbian]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)

MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO

Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year. 

He really liked his job. 

Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited.  

But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young.  

Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting. 

He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to. 

There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot.  

The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.) 

It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters.  

Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch.  

He couldn’t wait. 

Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year.  

He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around.  

He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years.  

This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied.  

Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office.  

Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him. 

He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows.  

There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl. 

Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh. 

“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.” 

The footsteps stop. 

“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?” 

That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice. 

Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this. 

“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with. 

“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks. 

“Where’s Virginia?” 

Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy.  

“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls.  

“Why?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.” 

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.” 

You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat. 

Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again. 

“Who are you?” 

Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name. 

He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch. 

“You must be Edward, right?” 

He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.” 

Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop. 

“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head. 

“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.” 

You smile. He smiles back. 

Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar.  

It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it.  

You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens.  

Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed.  

The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in.  

Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese.  

Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert. 

He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched. 

“Have you always lived in Hawkins?” 

You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him. 

“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk. 

“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.” 

Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.) 

“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace.  

“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?” 

He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him. 

“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’  

“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse.  

He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him. 

“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off. 

Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age.  

Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue.  

You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls.  

Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You. 

“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk. 

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles. 

“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.” 

He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door.  

“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.” 

Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left.  

“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide. 

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[eddiexmunsonlover]

One Step Away From You (Chapter 3)

ExBestFriend!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

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Chapter Summary: After some encouragement from Steve and Robin, you decide to finally talk to Eddie, and it doesn't go so well. Nothing a movie night with Steve and Robin can't help to take your mind off of though. WC: 5.7k Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language. Angst. Eddie is a bit of an asshole and gets slapped for it. Fatphobic comment/bullying from Jason.

Thursday, September 19th, 1985

The past few days since your first day had been uneventful in terms of Eddie. You continued to avoid the lunch room and opt for spending lunch in the library. Robin has joined you once so far, promising to continue so you wouldn’t ‘get lonely’, as she put it. The handful of times you’ve seen Eddie in the halls, he’d see you and immediately avoided you. Refusing to look at you and even turning to walk in another direction. The 2 classes you have with him weren’t any different, not sparing a glance your way, and either being the first or last to leave class so he wouldn’t be walking out near you. The pressure of the guilt you carried only intensified with each averted gaze and you don’t know how much more you can take.

You know you have to talk to him, figure out a way to make this right but you don’t know how. Don’t know what you could even say to make him understand, make this right. You wonder if it’s even possible to recover the friendship you once had with him, but you know you have to try. Living without having him in your life while you were in Virginia was hard, but seeing him in class and the halls everyday now made it so much worse. More than you can bare, and you feel like you’re gonna crack. 

A tiny folded note lands on your desk, catching you off guard. You reach for the paper, peeking up at the teacher as you unfold it.

The trials and tribulations of the French Revolution not entertaining enough for you?

You smile at the note, glancing to the seat to your left. Robin stares back at you, wide eyed and shaking her head at you teasingly. You look back down at the note with a grin, grabbing your pencil and writing a response.

Oh, yes. I’m having the time of my life, can’t you tell?

You pass the note back to her as the teacher writes on the board. Smiling as you watch her reaction.You’re grateful to have a few classes with Robin. She had missed the first few periods of your first day for a doctor's appointment. The next day when you saw her in your 2nd period World History and 3rd period Science class, you let out a major sigh of relief. Your friendship with Robin, and Steve for that matter, happened so naturally. You didn’t have to force it or feel like you had to act differently to be more likable to them. Other friendships in your past had been different. 

Whenever you had started at new schools, you felt like you had to always be funny and make jokes to get friends. You’d always been told you had a natural humor to you, a humor you often felt the need to force to be more likable. It had worked too, other kids would be nicer to you. Who knew all it took to lessen your bullying was to make a joke about the teacher’s unzipped fly? It didn’t stop the bullying and teasing all together, but it certainly helped. Still, the ‘friends’ you had made from it were never the deeper, genuine friendships like you had with Eddie, Robin or Steve. That pressure was a weight that was finally off your shoulders now. You didn’t see a point in trying to make new friends for the one year you’d be here at Hawkins High, nor did you feel the need to. Your life feels full with the friendships of Steve, Robin, and the younger party. Well…almost full. That hole once occupied by the wild-haired, metal loving, DnD ‘freak’ of Hawkins aches and looms around, antagonizing you.

It continues to loom for the rest of the day, even into your work shift at the restaurant your Aunt Patty manages. The meager Thursday night dinner rush and small stack of dishes to wash doesn’t help to distract your thoughts, no matter how hard you try. You consider making a stop after work at Family Video to get advice from Robin and Steve about what you should do. You’re getting nowhere going back and forth in your own head. Maybe hearing the words from them will help give you the courage you need to do what you know you need to.

Slow business for the night leads to you getting out at a decent time, an hour before Family Video closes. You hop in your truck and drive the mile down the street to your friends’ workplace. When you pull in front of the store, you and Steve’s cars are the only ones in the parking lot. You’d been betting on it being a slow night for Family Video too, giving you the privacy you wanted for the conversation you need to have.

You’d never talked about Eddie to Robin or Steve throughout your friendship since the beginning of the summer. You know they had to have known about it, though. Steve even mentioned it once at some point at Scoops Ahoy when he tried to remember you from school, “Didn’t you use to hang out with Munson?” You’d simply walked away, the need to organize the back freezers suddenly becoming an urgent task. Steve thankfully let it go and forgot about it quickly, never bringing it up again.

You smile as you see the two through the glass doors, standing behind the counter and bickering about god knows what. The ringing of the bell on the doors grabs their attention, eyes landing on you. Robin dramatically lays her upper body limp across the counter and groans.

“Oh, my savior. Steve is boring me out of my mind and we haven’t had a customer in like, an HOUR.”

Steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips. “I am not boring, thank you very much.” He whines before offering you a soft smile, leaning on his forearms against the counter as you approach. “How was washing dishes?”

You grumble in response, “About as exciting as watching paint dry. Decided to come and provide y’all some clearly much needed entertainment.” You say with a smile that quickly falters as you look down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the counter, “I um- I actually came to talk to you guys about something… maybe get some advice.” 

Robin quirks up at that, standing at full attention. Steve straightens up a little too, nodding his head at you. This is the first time they could recall you ever coming to them for advice, tending to keep most personal things to yourself.

“Of course, what’s going on?”

“So, I don’t know how much you guys remember me from before, like from the last time I lived here. But um, I used to be really good friends with Eddie… Eddie Munson. Best friends actually.”

When Steve’s eyebrows furrow, Robin’s eyebrows rise, eyes widening in recognition.

“Wait, Eddie? As in ‘Freak of Hawkins’?”

“Yeahhhh, I remember seeing you guys in the halls at school. Two cute little outcasts against the world.” She smirks as she stares off, lost in memory. Your eyebrows scrunch together, scoffing out a laugh as you shake your head.

“First off,” you point a finger at Steve. “Don’t call him that, I caught your tone. And uh, in case you didn’t realize Stevie boy, you yourself are friends with a ‘freak’.” you say gesturing toward yourself. 

“And secondly,” you turn your attention to Robin, mouth open as you ponder what to say. “Cute? Ya know what, let’s move on.”

“Anyway… we were really close. But, after I moved back to Virginia we lost touch.” You pause, shaking your head at yourself, “No, I lost touch. I uh, stopped returning his calls. It…it was just too much, too painful to hear his voice.” You stare off into the comedy aisle, collecting your thoughts under their gaze you didn’t want to meet just yet. “I didn’t expect him to still be here when I moved back, but he is. And uh, it’s clear he’s upset. I mean he has every right to be. He even overheard that girl Debbie that used to come to Scoops talking to me in class about working there. So now he knows I was visiting in the summers and didn’t see him-”

“Wait, Debbie Harris? She was supposed to call me…” Steve mutters the last part under his breath before Robin snaps her fingers in his face. 

“Focus, Steve!” 

He gives you a sympathetic look, mouthing ‘sorry’ as he brings his attention fully back to you.

“Look. Long story short, I don’t know what to do. I can’t take having him avoid me and clearly hating me just- in my face everyday. I miss him. I know I need to fix this, I just… I don’t know how.” You finish, running your fingers through your hair.

Robin and Steve stare at you in silence for a moment, you can practically see the cogs turning in their brains. 

After a moment, Steve leans a little closer toward you. Eyes squinting as he reads your face.

“You love him, don’t you?” 

Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up in shock as your mouth hangs open. You quickly scoff out a laugh, shaking your head as you try to play your reaction off.

“I-Well of course I do. He was my best friend for like 6 years!”

Robin tilts her head slightly as she meets your eyes, both giving you a look that says they see right through you. You feel your throat tighten, cornered by knowing eyes.

“Alright, maybe this was a bad idea coming here-” You begin to say, throwing your hands up as you take a step back from the counter.

“No no no. Come on” Steve says, beckoning you back. When you do, he continues. “Look, the only way you’re gonna fix this is if you just talk to him and try to explain your side of things.”

“I know.” You say, sighing as you lean your arms against the counter. “I’m just afraid that whatever I say, it’s not gonna be enough. You know?”

“Well if you guys were as close as it seems, he knows you. Maybe it’ll be easier than you think for him to understand?” Robin adds, a sympathetic and encouraging smile on her face. Steve nods in response.

“And I mean sure, he’s angry. But he probably wants to fix things just as much as you do.” Steve finishes, looking at you with genuine care in his eyes. You take a deep breath, allowing a small smile to appear on your face as you look at your friends and nod softly. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I think I just needed to hear it from someone else. Thanks guys, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” you say, thankful to have them in your life. 

“Don’t mention it, Y/L/N” Steve says, offering a wink and a smile. You can only roll your eyes at him playfully in response. 

“Well, I know you guys gotta close up shop here soon,” you say as you glance at the clock on the wall. “Butttt, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do one of our movie nights tomorrow after work?”

Robin and Steve turn towards each other. You laugh as Robin begins to bounce on her heels,

“Yes yes yes!”

“It’ll be a late one, but I’m down.”

“Good,” you smile. “Aaaaand if I remember correctly, it’s my turn to pick.”

Steve groans in response, “Fine, but nothing too gory this time. I can handle some horror but ugh, no guts please!” his face scrunches in disgust, shaking his head as he turns to finish some closing tasks.

“Don’t worry, Stevie. I think I’m feeling something different this time.” You laugh as you grab your keys. “Thanks again, guys.” You bid them farewell so they can finish up closing for the night.

Steve and Robin gave you just what you thought they would, the validation of your own thoughts on what to do, and the push you needed to actually do it. They helped to calm some of your anxiety about it, but not all. You just need to figure out when to talk to him. Maybe you could go over to the trailer to talk to him? It definitely wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have at school. Tomorrow wouldn’t work; you knew from the boys that they had Hellfire after school on Fridays. You had to work and hang-out with Steve and Robin anyway. 

Nope, can’t do Saturday either. Maybe Sunday? Yeah, Sunday. I’ll just walk over to Uncle Wayne’s and talk to him. It’ll turn out better than you think it will. It will. You try telling yourself, attempting to carry Rob and Steve’s optimism. 

It’ll be okay. You reassure yourself as you spare a glance at the trailer across the street. Noticing a dim light through the curtains of a window you knew too well, before you shut and lock your front door. 

Friday, September 20th, 1985

Putting your conversation with Eddie off until Sunday helps to alleviate some of your anxiety. Your schoolwork and handful of quizzes you have today takes your mind off him as well. Starting at Hawkins High weeks after the year began meant you already have work to catch up on. As tedious as it is, it’s a welcomed distraction from worries about salvaging your friendship with Eddie. You’ve spent every afternoon this past week trying to complete your catch-up work, determined to get good grades that’ll help you get into college and a step closer into full adult independence. You’ve put a solid dent in the stack of schoolwork too, as well as your stash you brought with you from Virginia, needing some way to cope with the stress. You’re going to need to find someone you could buy from here in Hawkins soon.

After a last-minute study session with Robin in the library during lunch, the stress leaves you in dire need of a quick smoke break before your next class. You say goodbye to Robin, wishing her a good shift and sharing excitement over the continuation of your movie nights before leaving the library. You walk down the near empty hallway with a few minutes to spare before the bell signaling the end of the lunch period rings. You reach into your bag to fish out your cigarettes as you approach the back doors of the school near the football field, an unofficial smoking spot for students. 

Just as you begin to inhale the fresh air, it’s knocked out of your lungs as you step outside and collide with someone. A simple case of someone heading to go inside as you go out, you assume.

“Oop, sorry-” you begin immediately, falling short as your eyes rise to look at the person you’d nearly shoulder checked. 

Shit. Both your eyes widen, your mouth falling open as your brain stumbles in shock, trying to figure out what to do. In the split second of recognition, Eddie’s features harden, jaw tightening. He moves to continue to walk past you toward the door you just came out of. 

Now’s your chance! It’s not the ideal circumstances, but when a chance like this falls into your lap you can’t let it pass. Just as his hand grabs the door handle, your own reaches to grab his arm.

“Eddie, wait!” you feel and see his entire body tense under your touch. You take a deep breath as your grip on his arm loosens and begins to pull away.

“Can we please just talk?” you plead, voice soft. You hear him laugh in disbelief before he turns back to face you, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me?” he asks. His voice is as hard as his features, eyes glaring at you. Your breathing begins to quicken, gulping as your throat runs dry.

“Y-yes. Look Eddie, I’m really sorry. I guess I thought I was doing what was best for me, and for you. I-”

He scoffs, taking a small step closer to you. “And who are you to decide what’s best for me, huh?” his voice raises slightly. You feel your chest tighten, convinced that the blush that has no doubt started to cover your cheeks has spread there too. You feel the rise and fall of your chest as you take quick, short breaths. “You know, I really thought you were different. But you showed me you’re just like everyone else. Just throw me to the side like trash when you’ve had your use of me, right?” he finishes through gritted teeth.

You feel so fucking small. Others have made you feel this way before. Mainly your mom and some bullies in the past, but never Eddie, and that made it feel so much worse. You can’t stop your eyes from beginning to water with tears, biting your bottom lip to keep it from quivering. 

“No…No, Eddie I swear it wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just-” you voice comes out weaker than you’d like, embarrassment and guilt overtaking your mind and body. 

“Well you did! You think you can just take that back like it’s nothing?” you flinch involuntarily as his voice rises further in anger and hurt. You stare up into his burning eyes as a tear falls from yours. You stand there, staring at each other for a moment before you speak up again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie” your voice betrays you, cracking as you force the words out of your dry throat. You can’t think of anything else to say under his fiery gaze, your brain turning into a jumbled mess. He shakes his head at you, jaw tensing.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t want to hear it. So why don’t you scurry off to your new boyfriend, ‘King Harrington’!” he seethes out in bitterness, “and don’t give me those crocodile tears, Y/N. It’s not gonna work this time.” he scoffs, shaking his head at you in a mixture of anger and disbelief. You look at him in shock, unable to believe those words just came from his mouth.

He knows why you tend to avoid confrontation. Why you turn red and tears burn your eyes when someone raises their voice at you, or when you decide to be vulnerable with someone close. Eddie had been the only person you ever felt truly safe to be vulnerable with. Past experiences left you misunderstood, belittled, lectured, and emotionally neglected, but never by Eddie. He knows how much it takes for you to cry in front of someone. How much it takes for you to let yourself cry in front of someone. He knows, but he can’t stop himself from saying the words that’ll drive a knife right through your heart. All rational thinking out the window, his anger taking the driver’s seat.

His words transfer the same feelings onto you. Lighting a fire within your body, blazing behind your eyes. It barely takes a second for the wave of anger to crash onto you. Before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots out and connects with his cheek in a loud smack. It takes Eddie a moment to register what just happened as he stares at the brick wall his head is now facing. Did you really just slap him? You’d never hit him like that before, nothing beyond playful slaps or punches on his arm. He knew you harbored anger and aggression inside from your past just like he did, but he’d never seen you lash out on someone like this, and certainly not him. He can’t say he should really be surprised, given the hurtful words hurled from his mouth. That thought doesn’t extinguish his anger though, as he turns his gaze back onto you.

“Fuck you!” You snap, pointing your finger in his face. It’s all you can muster saying in the moment, your whole body on fire and vibrating in anger. 

You push past him, throwing open the door back into the school just as the bell ending lunch rings. You quickly wipe your tear-streaked face with your hand as you stomp down the hallway. You take deep breaths, attempting to calm your breathing as you follow the hall to the front doors of the school. You need that smoke break even more now than before, especially if you’re gonna have to sit through a few more hours of quizzes and classes… with Eddie. You light a cigarette as soon as you step out the doors. Pacing back and forth in a short line, hoping the nicotine will help to calm your nerves. 

You expected him to be angry, you could see it from the moment your eyes met on your first day, but you never expected him to stoop so low. Poking at the sensitive spots of your psyche you’d only revealed to him. Maybe you deserved it, maybe this is your karma personally delivered by the very person you hurt. You scoff as you think over his comment about Steve. Your new boyfriend, “King Harrington”? The fuck is he going on about? You figure he’d seen you, Steve, and Robin in the parking lot after your first day. Including your hug with Steve. You didn’t know hugging a guy automatically made him your boyfriend. 

You finish the cigarette as the warning bell rings. You check your face and makeup in your compact mirror, taking another deep breath before venturing back into the school. You aren’t sure how you’re gonna be able to focus at all, thoughts still racing through your mind as you enter your English class. You refuse to meet eyes with anyone. Although you wouldn’t be meeting Eddie’s anyway, as his seat remains empty through the entire class period, as well as in your last class of the day. 

Eddie once again secludes to his spot in the woods behind the school. Pacing, smoking, and failing to attempt to focus on last minute touches to tonight’s Hellfire campaign. After a short while the sting on his cheek fades, but still leaves a red-hot warmth in its wake. Maybe he deserved it for hitting a sensitive spot of yours, or maybe you deserved it after breaking his heart. He can’t make up his mind on which is right, telling himself he doesn’t care either way. 

You waste no time darting out of your last class when the bell rings, grabbing the last of your things from your locker in record time. Your body had calmed slightly over the last 3 periods of the day since your fight with Eddie, but not your mind. You ruminate on the words said over and over, thinking of different things you wish you had said in the moment. You’re so consumed in your own thoughts you barely register the laughs and voice of some meathead standing at his locker with his buddies just as you begin to pass them.

“Watch out boys, it’s Miss Piggy” he snickers to his other jock buddies huddled around him, giggling like he just said the funniest joke on earth. Jason Carver. You just barely recognized the twerp from when you used to live in Hawkins. Though you’d learned to filter most of it out, you’d caught a few comments and looks from him here and there in the past week you’ve been here. You’d just ignored him, deciding it wasn’t worth your acknowledgement. 

Well, not today. You might regret it, but he caught you at the wrong goddamn time.

“Jesus Christ. Grow the fuck up, Carver.” You snarl, rolling your eyes as you continue walking past them.

“The hell you just say to me?!”

Without missing a beat, you throw a middle finger in the air back at them. Not even sparing a backward glance, as much as you’d love to see the look on his face, as you step out the front doors and make a beeline for your truck. 

You hop in, quickly turning your key in the ignition. 

You’re thankful it’s Friday and you don’t have to give the boys a ride. They’ll be occupied with Hellfire after school, meaning you don’t have to deal with Dustin’s prying questions once he reads you like a damn book.

You head home to pack a change of clothes and grab the movie you picked for movie night before changing into your work clothes. 

For the first time in your life, you’re hoping for a busy dinner rush at the restaurant. Anything to keep your mind busy and distracted from the persistent thoughts of him. You get your wish, tonight is no exception to the usual Friday night dinner rush. A steady flow of dishes coming back to the kitchen for you to clean. Unfortunately, not even the music on the radio in the kitchen or non-stop motions of dishwashing are enough to keep the thoughts of him from bursting through your mind. 

However, the busyness of the night does help to quiet the thoughts slightly, and makes the hours go by quickly. Before you know it, it’s 11pm when you’re done with your closing tasks. Clocking out, you enter the cool September evening air with a pep in your step, excited to meet up with Steve and Robin. Knowing their presence alone along with one of your favorite comfort movies will help to lighten your mood a bit.

You know the two should be preparing to close around now. You pull into the Family Video parking lot at the perfect timing, just as they’re locking the doors. They throw excited waves your way, before climbing into Steve’s car and driving toward Steve’s house, your car following closely behind. You roll down your window, letting the cool night air wash over your warm face, and turn the radio on to the local rock station. 

Given the passing hours and prospect of movie night, you’ve mostly calmed down since your fight with Eddie. Body no longer on edge and shaking with anger. Your heart still carries a heaviness to it, and your thoughts mostly remain the same. You hate how hard it is for your mind to let things go, to not constantly ruminate about things.

Caught on a one-way street

The taste of bittersweet

Love will survive somehow, some way

You haven’t been able to let the feelings of hurt and anger from Eddie’s words go yet. You know they’ll stick with you for days, maybe weeks. Hell, maybe you’ll never be able to let it go. Every word he said floats through your head. Now that you’re not as activated, you recognize he was only wanting to hurt you back for hurting him. You figure his comment about Steve probably stemmed from jealousy. Maybe he thought you replaced him with Steve. The accusing him of being your boyfriend part still confuses you, but you decide it’s something maybe you won’t ever understand. 

One love feeds the fire

One heart burns desire

I wonder, who's crying now?

You don’t blame Eddie for wanting to hurt you back. Still, part of you feels like you didn’t deserve the spiteful comments. As you replay his words in your head for the 100th time today, the sting in your chest doesn’t lessen, now threatening to spread to your eyes. You cough, rapidly blinking to stubbornly push the tears away before they can even well in your eyes. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you take in the words of the Journey song playing on the radio.

So many wrongs or rights

Neither could change their headstrong ways

And in a lover's rage

They tore another page

The fighting is worth the love they sav-

You hastily turn off the radio, choosing to sit in silence for the few remaining minutes of the drive to Steve’s. You’ve managed to live without Eddie in your life for 2.5 years now. Sure, it’s hurt like hell, and this time you have to actually physically see him. But you can continue to live without him, you decide. Maybe holding onto the hurt from his words will help, make it easier to move forward without him. You don’t know, but you’re gonna have to try. That much is clear. 

You take a deep breath as you park your car behind Steve’s in his driveway. Gathering your things, you’re greeted by hugs in the middle of the driveway. You avoid talking too much about your day outside of work, opting to redirect the conversation to their days as Steve unlocks the front door, laughing at their stories of clueless customers.. If they’ve noticed your avoidance in talking about your day or an off-ness to your demeanor, they don’t mention it. 

You needlessly ask Steve if you can shower to rid yourself of the smell of grease before the movie, already knowing he’d say yes. Turns out it’s just what you need, walking back out to the living room in your pajamas feeling more relaxed. Steve and Robin have changed too, sitting on the sofa replaying the events of their shift. You notice the coffee table is already filled with your staple movie night snacks and drinks.

“So, what bloody slasher will I be forced to endure tonight?” Steve asks as you round the couch to stand in front of them.

“No bloody slashers tonight, Stevie.” You laugh as you reach for your movie in your overnight bag. “Tonight, we will be watching… Grease 2.” You announce with a smile, completely shocking Steve. Robin nods in agreement to the movie, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as she gets comfortable in her seat on the couch. As a band kid, you knew Robin would be down for it, loving practically any musical.

Steve, on the other hand, was skeptical.

“Grease…2? The nowhere near as good sequel?” He asks with furrowed brows and a slight frown.

“Steve, have you ever even watched it?” you sigh, putting your hands on your hips.

“Well, no… but I’ve heard-”

“Let me just stop you there. Look, I love the original Grease just as much as anyone. I’ve watched it at least 100 times. I even had to buy another copy of it cause I burned through the first one watching it so much. It’s a classic, yes. However, I personally prefer the sequel.” When Steve’s face continues to meet yours in confusion and disbelief, you continue. His and Robin’s eyes follow you as you slowly pace back and forth in front of them. “It’s… campy, and fun! The songs are fun, the character’s are fun. And it works because it doesn’t take itself too seriously. AND the gender reversal with the guy being the one who’s chasing after the ‘cool’ girl, learning how to ride a motorcycle and changing his style to win her attention is, I think, a perspective shift much needed in this day and age.” You ramble, pointing at Steve as his eyebrows rise, Robin watching you in amusement. 

“So yes, we will be watching Grease 2 because it is one of my comfort films and you know what… I really need that tonight.” You sigh as you finish, finally stopping your pacing. You watch as they take in your words, the shift in tone and demeanor at the end. Before they can say or ask anything, you quickly start up again.

“And besides, Steve, are you really going to let the opinions of others influence your own before you’ve even given it a chance?” You ask, looking at him expectantly. “And you’re really gonna tell me you don’t want to watch 90 minutes of Michelle Pfiefer looking totally hot and badass while singing and dancing?” you finally finish, hands on your hips as you look at him. Robin looks at Steve with a grin, completely amused as she throws more popcorn into her mouth. 

“Yeah, Steve. Are you really going to let yourself be a mindless follower and conformist?” Robin pokes, smirking with a mouthful of popcorn.

Steve sighs, realizing this is yet another argument he will not win against you. 

“You’re right, you’re right. Okay, I’ll keep an open mind!” he states, raising his hands in surrender. 

“Good.” You state with a self-satisfied smile as you pop the tape into the VHS player, plopping down on the couch in the middle of the two.

Watching one of your favorite comfort films with your best friends gives you just what you expected, completely taking your mind off the events of the day. Drinking your favorite soda and eating your favorite snacks. You and Robin sing and shimmy along to the songs, laughing at the stupid jokes and silly characters. A few peeks at Steve show he’s fully immersed, specifically in the scenes with Pfieffer, just as you predicted. You even catch him laughing at a few points throughout the film, especially during the ‘Reproduction’ number. Towards the end of the film, you feel Robin’s head rest on your shoulder. You start to feel yourself growing tired as well, the stress of the day and late night hour setting in. As the film finishes you look at Steve, waiting for his opinion.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. I still think the first one is better though.” 

“Alright, that’s fair.” you say to him with a soft smile. “Thanks for giving it a chance anyway, for me.”

“Anytime.” he smirks at you before stretching with a yawn. “Well, I think I’m gonna call it a night. The spare room is open for you as usual.”

“Sounds good, besides the fact I have this big sleeping baby on my shoulder.” you giggle as you take a peek at Robin, soft snores escaping her open mouth.

“I got this” he states as he gets up, gently maneuvering Robin’s body off your shoulder and towards the arm of the couch.

You yawn and stretch as you stand, telling Steve goodnight as you head upstairs to the spare bedroom he’s let you crash in after every late movie night over the summer. You groan softly as you snuggle under the cool comforter, feeling the sweet release of sleep quickly approaching. This night was just what you needed after today. All worries pushed away to deal with later.

(If there are no Grease 2 lovers, I am dead. )

[spectrechosts]

Necrosis - Chapter 3

More questions without answers, and one that maybe shouldn't have been asked.

Full Series

The six of them watched a lone zombie flail miserably in their direction, caught on a low-hanging tree branch and left behind by the mindless horde.

"Well?" Lagakh said, gesturing at it. "Go… detect magic."

"Um, no?" Lunaeris scoffed. "It'll bite me or scratch me or… something. Cut off its limbs first."

"Right, cuttin' his limbs off." Grunted Hrok as he hefted his axe.

"Please don't cut it's limbs off. This poor corpse has been desecrated enough." Said Sophia.

"Seconded. Sorry love." Agreed Kallixenia.

"Right, not cuttin' his limbs off."

"Okay, well, I don't want to get chomped, so…" Lunaeris shrugged.

Ryse silently drew her bow, and before anyone could ask what she was doing sank an arrow into both of the zombie's knees. She walked up to it as it collapsed and shot another two into its elbows, pinning it to the ground and severely limiting its movement.

"Good enough?" She asked.

Lunaeris grimaced. "I suppose. Let's see…"

She got to work examining the zombie, giving its head a wide berth.

"Okay, remember that this isn't my area of expertise." She said, poking at it with her faintly glowing staff. "But as far as I can tell it's just your bog standard raise zombie spell underneath the modifications. Well, the one modification. I don't see anything aside from what I assume is the recursive casting, no long range command, nothing. It's just a regular zombie."

"And the impossible recursive aspect?" Sophia said, crooking an eyebrow.

"Incomprehensible. An awful tangle of triggers, timers- I'm fairly certain attempting to cast this would instantly kill me, it would drain so much mana so quickly. I don't even think it's looking for bodies before it tries to raise them, it's just casting at nothing every few seconds. I'd have to see the original spell to be sure, which altogether brings us to the next point."

Lunaeris gestured in the direction they has been heading.

"It's tethered way off over there, drawing mana from something. They didn't even try to hide it." She said, frowning.

"What does that mean?" Lagakh asked.

"I don't know yet. Nothing good."

"A trap?"

"Maybe. I don't know, it-" Lunaeris furrowed her brow as she stepped away from the zombie. "It feels unfinished."

"What's it going to do when it's finished?" Sophia asked.

"I don't know."

"How close is it to being finished?" Asked Lagakh.

"I don't know!"

"What can-"

"She doesn't know." Rumbled the paladin, protective. "I suggest we keep moving, find the answers to all your questions at the other end of that tether."

"Ugh. Lagakh grunted, getting back on her horse. "Nothing's ever fucking simple, is it? Can't just be an impossible disaster, has to be one that's going to get worse."

"Oh, it might not. Maybe it's a really nice spell that's built on making unlimited zombies forever." Ryse said, leaping onto her own steed and stretching her arms above her head. "Wouldn't that be something?"

"Oh, sure." Sophia grumbled. "Maybe once the wizard has ransacked enough graves, all the zombies will do a fun little dance."

"See, that's the spirit."

~

The journey was unsettlingly uneventful, the nature of the horde leaving its trail devoid of life as it swept everything it encountered into its mass.

Still, as they set up camp after the day's travel, Lagakh assigned the night's watch. Getting complacent got you killed, better to lose some sleep over nothing than to lose your life. She would take second shift with the wizard, and Ryse and the paladin would take first. She settled in for a short rest, and fell asleep almost as soon as she closed her eyes.

She awoke to Ryse batting at her shoulder.

"Shift change." She said, and Lagakh grunted and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She donned her armor almost on autopilot, going through the motions with half-lidded eyes until she finally grabbed her sword and trudged out to the campfire, where Ryse was splayed out waiting.

"Alright, I'm up, you can wake the wizard and sleep." She yawned, and Ryse just rolled over and looked at her quizzically.

"I just got up? Lunaeris wanted to switch shifts, you're with me."

Lagakh exhaled slowly through her nose, and tossed a log on the dwindling fire.

"You know, I just may have put the two of them of separate watches for a reason." She said.

"You don't want to stay up with me?" Ryse asked coyly.

"I don't want to get ambushed because the married couple can't keep their eyes off eachother."

"Oh, please. The paladin? You're more likely to slack off." Ryse said, getting off the ground in a graceful cartwheel that saw her flop back down directly in Lagakh's lap. "Besides, we're alive, aren't we?"

Lagakh made a noncommittal grunt.

"You worry too much!" Ryse chided, stretching. Lagakh stole a glimpse of her exposed midriff before looking away as the cat continued. "All business all the time, it's like you never left the army. Learn to live a little, boss! Have some fun! Like me!"

Oh, were it that simple.

Lagakh would love to have fun, preferably with Ryse, but it was… difficult to know how serious the cat was, about anything she said or did. Everything was couched in layers of irony and deception.

Lagakh wasn't used to this level of confusion when dating. Back home these things were very simple, if you liked someone you killed a large boar and loudly offered to feast upon it with them and that was it.

She had the feeling Ryse would… not appreciate that.

"Ryse?" She asked, and the feline flicked her eyes to her with an interested mrrp? "Can we… talk plainly, with eachother, about something?"

Oh gods, she felt pathetic.

Ryse sat up, giving her her full attention. "Sure." She said, blinking slowly.

"It's just…"

Oh gods.

"I, I know that you, joke around, a lot, about things-"

She was sweating, and Ryse just watched her flounder through her words.

"It, uh, I like you, quite a lot, and you act sometimes as if you like me too and I was just wondering if you were serious about that or if it was just another one of those things you do to mess with people."

Nailed it.

Ryse's eyes widened, and she just stared at her silently, her expression unreadable. Seconds ticked by, and Lagakh's blood ran cold.

"I-"

"I should watch from a different vantage point, we'll cover more area." Ryse mumbled, and Lagakh felt like she could die.

"No, listen, forget it forget I said anything-" She sputtered, as Ryse swiftly darted into the shadows, her black fur melding seamlessly into cover of night.

"Gahh. Fuck." Lagakh swore, burying her face in her hands.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Thaddeus | Blessed Are The Meek | Platonic [Male Reader]

Being unassuming does not equal being useless, Thaddeus finds out while wondering under the stars one night.

Requested by: E

The summer has reached a point where sleeping underneath a blanket is neither necessary nor advised, yet the fur of your bedroll keeps clinging to your skin in spite of you not sleeping under any covers. You roll onto your side, sighing deeply as you attempt to get comfortable on your recently flipped pillow, but Thomas’ snoring causes your eyelids to flutter in annoyance. You breathe in and out, attempting to trick your body into a state of drowsiness, but ultimately fail. 

You aren’t fond of the summer heat that tears through the lands of Judea every year. An entire season of drought, dust storms and high air pressure that causes unpleasant, extreme storms that barely make up for the dry, hardened soil, which means you mainly end up with shallow puddles of mud that evaporate the moment the sunlight hits them again. Needless to say, you can’t wait for autumn to roll around. 

With another frustrated sigh, you sit up, grabbing your sandals that stand near the opening of the tent. You’re eager for some fresh air — as fresh as it gets in the searing summer heat — and perhaps you can relieve someone from their night shift by offering to take it. You are fully aware that you won’t get much sleep, no matter how much you toss and turn. Dragging yourself out of the tent, you close the flap again, leaving behind Little James with a snoring Thomas.

At the campfire a little away, you notice Thaddeus poking the flames alive with a stick.The night is abuzz with crickets. Dry leaves crunch under your feet as you approach the former stonemason. Thad observes the end of the branch as it catches fire, not even bothering to look up, and jumps a little when you step over the log he’s resting against.

“Oh, goodness, (Y/n). You startled me.” 

You give him an apologetic, wry smile. 

“Sorry.” 

Thaddeus watches you take a seat next to him. “Is my shift over already? That was quick.”

“No, not yet. But I couldn’t sleep. Want me to take it from you?”

He shakes his head, once again poking at the fire. 

“How come you couldn’t sleep?” Thaddeus queries. A few moths flutter around the light of the flames but maintain enough distance to not get burnt. Every so often, they’re chased away by sparks shooting out into the night sky. The amount of stars cloak the night in a curious dark blue hue, refusing to make it entirely dark.

“It’s the heat,” you admit, “I can’t stand being on the road all day, walking in the sun, only to get even more sweaty at night. I mean, I bathe whenever I get the chance, and luckily we’ve got a creek nearby right now, but I still feel dirty. Like there’s this thin sheen of filth sticking to my skin constantly, with the dust and sand getting stuck in the dampness of it.” 

“Ah, that’s one graphic way to describe it.” Thaddeus muses, smiling a bit. You grin in response. 

“Too much?”

“Nah, I’ve got the same issue. You just know the words for it. I can’t wait for it to get cooler.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while. The night seems to be uneventful this far, so you stare at the flames as your mind processes the last few months at Jesus’ side. His fame has risen so much around Judea and you’ve been on the road for so long that you have barely taken the time to take a step back in an attempt to really digest it. Being on the road as a student of the very Messiah Himself has never really been something you had expected for your future a few years ago. Now, you can’t imagine anything else but that.

“You can go to bed.” you tell Thaddeus, “There’s nothing going on, I can deal with this just fine.”

Thaddeus lets out a long sigh. “No, thanks. Truth is, I can’t really sleep, either.” 

“Oh. How come? Also struck by the heat?” 

“No, that’s not it.” 

Thaddeus tosses the stick he had been toying with into the fire and the pair of you watches it being consumed by the flames.

“Then what?” you curiously want to know.

“It’s just… I’ve been feeling like I don’t really matter.” 

You frown, genuinely offended by the notion. “I... Excuse me, what did you say? Why would you think that?” 

Thaddeus looks at you from the corner of his eye and swallows hard.

“The others are just… So confident. So well-spoken. So… Out there. Do you know what I mean? I keep to the background, not mingling into arguments, but also not taking up a position of leadership when one is presented.”

When you don’t respond, Thaddeus takes it as a sign to elaborate further. “What I’m trying to say, is that I feel like I could be more than I am. That I’m… I don’t know. Boring? Not assertive enough?” 

You hum, biting your bottom lip as you mull over the former stonemason’s words. 

“And why is that a bad thing exactly?” you want to know.

“Because!” Thaddeus responds. “I just… I feel like… As if I should be more out there. That this is a time to be bold and courageous.” 

“Aren’t you courageous? Didn’t you go out to spread the Gospel and cast out demons and heal the sick?”

Thaddeus sighs and fiddles with a loose thread on his tunic, picking at it.

“Yes, but… That was when Jesus granted us that authority, just for that journey. We were emboldened by it, given the right words, even when we didn’t know what to say.”

“So… God still used you no matter how you feel about yourself.” 

Thaddeus hums and looks at the sky. You follow his gaze up to the stars, trying to figure out any familiar constellations. 

“That may be true, but now that we’re back, I don't feel as bold as I did back then. Even when I try to get back the feeling, I just… It’s like I can’t. Like everything about everyday life gets in the way. Whenever I see the others argue, I just… I don’t dare to say something about it. Or I feel like they wouldn’t listen, so I’m not even trying it in the first place. I feel like I’m too unassuming, compared to them.” 

You grimace at this revelation, think for a moment what you should answer.

“I’m sorry you feel that way about yourself. But you know that’s a lie. There is only one who wants you to believe that you are worthless. Only one who whispers in your ear that you are not good enough, that you must compare yourself to others and that they are better than you. And it is not God saying these things to you.” The words come from you freely, but it feels like you’re not the one saying them yourself. 

Thaddeus looks at you, blinking at your unexpected words.

“I… Could you elaborate on that, please?” 

You’d have no idea how to explain it any further, but you open your mouth anyways, as if you’re not in control of your own words.

“It has already been established that God can use everyone for His Kingdom. No matter where you come from, how lowly you think of yourself, what education you’ve had or how knowledgable you are about Torah. He can, and will, use you in spite of your self-doubt. And if God doesn’t doubt you, why should you do so yourself?” 

Your friend lets out a small laugh. “Well… There is no arguing that, I suppose.” 

“Everyone has their strengths and talents. Including you, Thaddeus. And… Didn’t Jesus say that the meek shall inherit the Earth? People who humble themselves, who do not deem themselves more important than others, who stand in obedience to God in spite of what others think of them… These are the people God is looking for. You are not lesser than anyone else, Thad. Just because Simon Peter has a loud mouth to stand up against Jesus’ opposers, or because Philip seems to know everything about Torah from the top of his head, or because Matthew can use his talents to write down whatever we get up to along the way, doesn’t mean that God cannot use you for good as well. Not only during the mission, but also outside of that.” 

There is a brief silence between you two as you both digest what you had been saying. 

“Where did all that sudden knowledge come from?” Thaddeus mutters, quickly adding: “Not that I’m saying you’re usually not smart, but… You know.” 

You chuckle slightly. 

“Honestly? I’ve got no clue where that came from. Maybe I should write it down somewhere.” 

“I mean it, though.” Thaddeus mutters, “These words were pretty powerful.” 

“I don’t feel like they were my own.” 

“They were just what I needed to hear.” 

You smile at your friend, then look back up at the sky. You find the Big Dipper, your eyes following its contours. “Then that’s all that matters.” 

Thaddeus hums and smiles a bit, looking up as well. 

“Do you ever feel insignificant? Compared to the rest of the universe, I mean?” 

You give Thaddeus a look.

“Do you have short-term memory loss? I just said all these things and you’ve already forgotten them?” 

Thaddeus snickers and shakes his head. “No— No, I mean… What I meant to say, is that God is so incredibly great. We can’t even wrap our heads around his actual size. It wouldn’t fit inside our minds, we’re like, too small to fully comprehend Who He is and why He does what He does all the time. And still… Still, He…” 

“Cares.” 

“Right. Sends down the Messiah in spite of our unlimited shortcomings. To be with us. To teach us. Eat and dance and joke around with us.”

You overthink the words and smile at your friend. 

“I don’t think we will ever fully understand Him.” 

“Maybe one day, in the life after this one.” 

“Perhaps not even then.” 

Thaddeus hums at that, smiling a bit as he picks up another dry branch from the dirt — a new victim — and plays with the fire for a bit.

“I wouldn’t mind it, honestly. If I feel weak and small, I feel like God is made great in that vulnerability. I am not like Him and I will never come remotely close. If we fully comprehended His ways, wouldn’t that take away from His greatness?” 

The thought coils inside your mind for a bit as you search for a good response to that.

“God didn’t mean for Himself to remain an everlasting mystery. We are not like Him, indeed, nor will we ever be. But if He remained an unreachable, ungraspable conundrum, would we be able to pursue a relationship with Him? Even more, why else would He even bother reaching out to us?” 

Thad rubs his neck. “No— Yeah, I mean— That’s not what I’m trying to say. What I’m trying to say is… We might never fully understand His ways. I can’t even begin to think how it would feel to be larger than…” he gestures at the starlit sky, “All of that. To be beyond that and then even further. But I do think we will get answers to a lot of our questions one day. That we will comprehend the reasons of His ways. But not this day.” 

“Not yet.” you agree,  “And you know what? Perhaps I’m glad that we don’t get to know it yet. Life is complicated enough as is. I couldn’t handle the weight of God’s ways on top of that.” 

“I suppose we’d die on the spot.” 

“Yeah.” you breathe as Thaddeus lets out an amused huff. 

“I suppose— No, let me rephrase. I am very grateful that even amidst all this, the expansiveness of the universe, the speck of dust we call the Earth, somewhere in Judea, in a random plain where a handful of tents have been set up, there the Son of Man walks among us. And we may look upon Him, listen to His words and teachings, and life by them. In spite of my own self-doubt… I have been blessed with the truth, and the faith that came with it.” 

You smile at Thaddeus as you listen to his words.

“What a time to be alive, hm?” 

For a moment, you look at the fire again, listening to the crackle of flame and the chirping of the crickets. 

“To be alive,” Thaddeus repeats part of your sentence, “In general. What a blessing.” 

A soft chuckle leaves you as you sit in growing awe. 

“Regardless of how we might view ourselves.”

“Hm. He sees us, even when we feel invisible.” Thad concludes. 

“Always.” you whisper. The stick in Thaddeus’ hand smoulders and colours orange. 

“Would you like to get some sleep?” you suggest, thinking that maybe your friend has grown more tired now that time has carried on and the heaviness of the conversations settles down into comfortable silence.

“No,” he counters, “I think I’ll rather sit here for a while longer.” 

And so, you sit. In quiet, grateful wonder.

[starlight-lesbians]

for the Taco Bell au, how did everyone get their jobs? like their reason and the process? (sorry if this has been asked already)

OK SO-

Greaseball was the first of the group to start there, she was 16 and didn’t want to work at her dad’s mechanic shop anymore. The elusive “Real Adult” GM at the Taco Bell hired her on to the night shift and then pretty much left her to her own devices. The shift lead at that time basically just showed her the basics and then quit, so she got shoved into the shift lead role FAST, probably when she was like 17-18

Dinah was hired at 15, just about a month after Greasey. It was her first job, and Momma and Rusty were family friends, so it was pretty natural for her to work there

Slick, Lumber, and Porter all got hired around the same time right after a bunch of night shift people quit, they were the first people Greaseball had a hand in hiring bc she got thrown into way too much responsibility really fast

Hydra got hired about a month later, rolled the most perfect burrito anyone had seen in his first week and was immediately the most valuable employee there besides Greasey

Belle and Tassita got hired within a week of each other, which was pretty uneventful, just both needed jobs since they were moving out on their own for the first time

Electra started just a little after Dinah I think, they were like 17 and coming off of interning at their dad's company, just really needed to not be in an office

Pearl got hired about right when the fic officially starts, she's Dinah's roommate in campus housing and Dinah gets her the job. Momma sees this girl who's moved super far from her family for school and just adopts her immediately

Rusty started out helping his mom at the cafe, but he decided he didn't want to officially work there since his mom being his boss would be kinda weird. He wanted to be close enough to still hitch a ride with her sometimes though, so Taco Bell lol

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Night Nurse - Ch 7

A John Wick x Helen Fic

When nurse Helen Morgan is caught in the crossfire of a shootout and aids the injured John Wick, she’s faced with two options: serve the High Table, or be executed as a Witness. She tells herself her choice to work at the Continental has everything to do with survival, and excellent pay, and *not* her growing feelings for the Tall, Dark, and Handsome Assassin™ who got her into this mess in the first place, thank you very much. │ Masterlist / Chapter Map │

VII.

“You did good,” he complimented.

“I did good?” she scoffed. “That was like a movie. Is your life always like this?”

He thought a little bit about that while turning onto the ramp to the highway. “More or less.”

He didn’t get shot at in broad daylight very often. Usually his opponents were smarter than that. More discreet, at the very least.

Luckily, no blue and white sirens appeared in his rear view. There were certain cops in the area who would recognize his car and not pay his hijinx much mind, unless they absolutely had to. More likely though, he’d simply outrun any sluggish response the city might have offered.

Unless Igor and Alexei could get their ride flipped back over, he had a feeling they would be having an annoying little chat with the fuzz. The thought made him feel slightly better, though his overall sense of resignation didn’t subside. The fact of the matter was, they had shot at him, and that was a thing John Wick the Baba Yaga couldn’t let slide.

He would have to do something about it. That was a fact of their world. Any sign of weakness would be pounced upon. Usually this was a thing he would have dealt with quickly and efficiently, but…he didn’t want to go hunting that evening. He wanted to make dinner for this beautiful woman beside him, and linger over a bottle of good wine. Usually self-discipline wasn’t an issue for John, but this once, just this once…

The rest of the trip was uneventful—as uneventful as driving in the Big Apple could ever be. However, John didn’t really relax until the city views gave way to the pastoral, the landscape shifting from the angular grays and browns of buildings to the welcome softer lines and greens of early spring. It was about an hour’s trip, all in all, and Helen looked around curiously as they motored up his manicured driveway, slipping into the garage.

“Wow,” she said quietly as they went through the mudroom to the kitchen, the cavernous open living area filled with natural light from the wall of windows. “So modern.”

“I guess so,” John shrugged, dropping his keys in the bowl on the counter.

“It’s definitely not what I would have pegged for you,” she admitted as she stood on the cusp of the living room, looking around. There was no negativity in her words, more a statement about her own perceptions of him.

John joined her in looking around, curious if there was something he’d missed.

“What would you have guessed?”

“Something darker, maybe. More traditional. You seem to gravitate towards classics.” From his suits to his taste in books to his vintage car, he supposed she wasn’t wrong, and thus far those were the only things she knew of him.

With hands in his pockets he looked around. He realized he was about to share something he’d never told anyone; it came so naturally, with her. “I only realized this a few months after moving in…but I think I bought a luxury version of the Soviet orphanage I grew up in.”

He thought back on the cold concrete building that had been home for years of his young life in Belarus. The hard angles, the utilitarian design. Ugly, but cheap to build in a pinch when housing was needed for the numerous parentless children of the USSR.

This home took those design principles and made them into something beautiful. In this rich country, the most basic modern building materials of concrete and steel were transformed into luxurious commodities for the rich. It mirrored his own transformation in a way. The hungry but stubborn child, ragged but determined to survive—and now, a man of means, living comfortably. The American Dream, or some version of it.

She turned back to regard him, compassion in her eyes. He hadn’t imparted the information to garner sympathy; it was just the truth. She had a way of bringing it out of him. He realized he wanted her to know him. The real him, outside of the legend she’d been gossiped to about at the Continental.

But rather than coo over him, you poor thing, I’m so sorry, she simply canted her head. “So, this house is like your ‘Fuck you’ to Communism?”

It was also the exact opposite of the shabby elegance, the opulent but crumbling ormolu mouldings and dark enclaves of the Tarkovsky theatre, another place he did not miss.

He smiled a little, in spite of himself. “Yeah. Something like that.”

She nodded, looking around with approval. “Nice. So, you like it, then?”

He looked through the windows, across the expanse of his yard to the tree line. Beyond that, there was a glimmer of water in the distance. The travails of the city were a distant dream there. He’d bought this house under the name of a shell corporation; one could not easily look up where John Wick lived in the real estate records. It truly was a sanctuary. And now, for the first time, in fact, a beautiful woman was standing in his kitchen, looking through him with her wise, bright, eyes. It made this place feel like a home more than any couch or table or painting, and he wondered what it would take to convince her to stay.

“Yeah. It’s peaceful.”

“I’m happy for you, John.”

Strangely enough, he believed her. After that, he didn’t know where he got the cheek to tease her. “Thanks, for not calling me a rich asshole to my face.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just for that, I’m going to make you carry my bag.” Hefting the thing, she handed it over.

“Oof. What’s in this? Bricks?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” With an insouciant look over her shoulder, she began to wander down the hall like she owned the place. Allowing himself a borderline dopey smile with her back turned, John made to follow.

***

“I think we’ll start with the basics. Do you know how to throw a punch?”

Helen placed a hand on a spandex-clad hip, one eyebrow raised high. “Do I give the impression I grew up on the yuppy side of Boston? I’ve been in a scrap or two.”

They were in his home gym, a large room he used to exercise and train, and he was fairly certain the sight of her in form-fitting yoga clothes was going to be the death of him.

The corners of John’s mouth turned up, delighted by her sass, as usual. “Yeah? Have I got a juvenile delinquent on my hands here?” He couldn’t fathom a young Helen getting up to much, in the grand scheme of things. Shoplifting. Possession. The usual mischief teenagers amused themselves with. He’d been running guns by the time he was fourteen. Killed for the first time when he was sixteen. Most teen misdeeds paled, in comparison.

As soon as the words left his mouth Helen froze.

After a few awkward seconds she remarked, “Did Winston tell you?” There was a strain in her words, and he knew he’d stuck his foot in it somehow. Sighing heavily, she looked off to the punching bag hanging in the corner of the room, avoiding his eyes. “That man is a terrible gossip.”

“Tell me what?” asked John, feeling like things had jumped from point A to point F and he’d missed everything in between.

Helen, however, kept skipping ahead, talking to herself as much as him. “I wondered if that was why you mentioned blade training today. The record’s supposed to be sealed, but I guess he has his ways of finding things out.”

“I…am completely lost here,” admitted John, and only then did she look at him again. “Did you stab someone?” The suggestion seemed ludicrous, but Helen’s frown conveyed a multitude of words.

“Would you believe me if I told you he had it coming?” 

To his credit, only a beat passed before John answered, “Absolutely.”

“That's something, I guess.” 

“Give me a name.” It was becoming a theme with them.

“I would...but he's dead.” John’s eyebrows lifted at that. “I didn't kill him,” she quickly amended. “But...I would have. Still think I'm such an angel?”

He could tell that the possibility that he might think less of her hurt her.

“Yes,” he answered, unequivocally.

“Well. You do kill people for a living…” She tried to muster a smile, but it was an extremely watered-down version of her usual radiant offering. “I don’t think you enjoy it though.”

“No.” It was true. He thrived on the adrenaline of completing a difficult task—but the actual killing brought him neither joy nor much pain, these days. He’d numbed himself to it. “Did you enjoy…what you did?” He had to admit this was not a conversation he’d ever expected to have with this woman.

She crossed her arms over herself, sighing again. “In a way?” A nervous little laugh escaped her. “God, I’ve never told anyone this before.”

John simply waited, patient as the mountain.

“I guess I should give you some context.”

“Only if you want to.” What he’d meant to be a playful comment had turned into an ordeal for her, and he loathed himself for it. This was what he got for trying to flirt.

She nodded, more to herself than him. “My father died when I was in my early teens. My mom...was a drunk and an addict. It got so much worse after Dad was gone. Some of the men she brought home were very aware of the fact that she was a train wreck with two young girls in the house. Luckily I was older by then, but my sister…” She grimaced, and even after so many years, the flash of rage in her eyes could have started a wildfire. “I caught my mom’s boyfriend trying to corner my little sister in the kitchen. So I stabbed him with a kitchen knife. And in the heat of the moment…it felt good. I hated him. He was creepy and horrible and it felt so good to hurt him.”

John wanted to hold her in that moment, yet he could tell she didn’t want to be touched just then. He understood that all too well, so he simply nodded. “You did what you had to do to defend her.”

“I guess.”

“I think you’re amazing.”

There was a broken note to her laughter. “I know he deserved it. But I think in a way I’ve been trying to make up for what I did to that awful man my whole life. Nothing like Catholic guilt to make a bad situation worse, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He thought for a moment about this information she’d offered up like a confession, eyes lowered. He had a feeling she meant it as a warning, but he couldn’t take it as such. He knew what true evil looked like. He saw it in the mirror every day. This woman was not it. “I do know that your sister is very lucky to have you for a protector. I never had anyone who would have done that for me.”

She took a deep breath, her long fingers holding her throat as she looked at the ceiling, picturing the conditions he’d endured as a child. The thought of him as a scrappy little dark eyed boy with hair in his eyes, fighting for the meagerest crust of bread, lodged her heart directly in her throat. Her voice came barely a whisper. “Was it as awful as I’m imagining it was?”

  “Probably. But my point is…don’t blame yourself for doing what had to be done to survive. For your sister to survive. Blame your mother, if you have to blame anyone.”

That brittle laughter came again that broke John’s heart. “Oh…I do.” She swiped at a tear that escaped the corner of her eye. “Jesus, I’m sorry. Enough pity party. Teach me how to kick some ass.”

And just like that, she was back. He’d always known it in a way, but he found himself more convinced than ever that this woman was tough as nails beneath her warm exterior. Somehow, despite what had happened to her, she had not let the world turn her bitter or mean. That took a strength that John could barely fathom. He felt that he had survived the traumas of his youth out of pure spite. Spite for his captors, and his tormentors, and the dark world he owed fealty to through no real choice of his own. He’d killed and killed until he’d carved out an existence for himself that slightly resembled freedom.

But Helen—she resisted, and kept her heart full all the while, and he’d never admired her more than in that moment. This woman was precious, and he wanted to make sure she had the tools to fight anyone or anything that might dare try to quash that light. It was possible he’d never realized how much he’d numbed himself to the horrors of the world, until she’d entered his life. Now he felt everything to the power of ten. Desire. Fear. Rage. The thought that someone might even dare hurt her made him want to burn the world down. He knew it was crazy, but now that the box had been opened—he didn’t know how to put it all back.

He was realizing there was no going back, and if he’d had any sense left to his name, that would have scared him.

***

He knew it would take a lot more practice for this multitude of information to sink in, but hours later he was proud of Helen’s focus. She absorbed information like a sponge. She was already no stranger to the workings of the human body. As it turned out, taking it apart was almost easier than healing it. He showed her how to attack the vulnerable pressure points in a man’s body. The underarms, the throat, the eyes, the groin. How to break from certain holds on the wrist and how to turn joint locks against them. How to use an opponent’s momentum or own bodyweight against them, so it didn’t matter if they outmuscled you, if surprise was on your side.

Despite his earlier faux pas, he taught her some blade work too. As a student of anatomy, she already knew where the most vulnerable arteries were. The femoral in the leg, the carotid in the neck. The wrists weren’t bad either, and the belly would certainly usually make an aggressor pause and evaluate their life choices. With a small knife concealed in her pocket, he felt comfortable that she could do almost more serious damage than with a gun. He already knew exactly which one from his collection he would be sending with her. 

He would have been a liar, if he’d claimed it didn’t move him to be in such close proximity with her. Touching her. Even if with such a specific purpose in teaching her how to defend herself, there was a titillation he hadn’t anticipated. Training had always been about survival. Now, after they had been at it all day with only a short lunch break, exhaustion and maybe a lowering of guard was setting in.

“One more time, then we’ll call it,” he insisted.

Helen answered with a pout of lips that played hell with his resolve. “But I’m tiiiired.”

“I know. You’ve done great, and I’m proud of you. Kick my ass one more time.”

“Yeah, right.”

She looked him up and down, taking in his lean form, the corded muscles of his arms deliciously bare in his black sleeveless shirt. He’d been slowly driving her mad throughout this training session. It took every iota of her concentration to focus on what he was trying to teach, with those large hands touching her. To not utterly melt, like in every delightfully bad bosom-buster romance she’d ever read. She’d known John was strong, in theory. He had to be, to do what he did. However, it was quite another matter to experience that inexorable strength first hand, even while she knew he was being exceedingly gentle.

“It will make me feel better about unleashing you back onto the world.” He couldn’t watch her back 24/7, as much as maybe he would have liked to.

“Ok. One more, then I will be officially pooped.” They assumed the position, the way they had countless times that day, John standing close at her back with his arm around her waist, his other hand resting lightly at her throat. After several seconds Helen released a shaky breath. Centering herself, John reasoned. Reviewing her options. Probably not enjoying the fleeting moment of closeness, the way he was, because he was a sick bastard.

The moments of stillness stretched on, their awareness of each other amplified by this exquisite nearness.  

“Are you going to do something about this?” He didn’t mean to whisper it. He really didn’t. But she was so close, and her scent of sweat and that sweet honeyed herbal soap drove him to the edge of sanity.

In answer Helen leaned back slightly, closing the line of their bodies that were damp with sweat from the day’s exertions. Nerves he didn’t even know he had came to attention, leaving him painfully aware of this woman in his arms. He held her weight effortlessly, his grip tightening of its own accord about her waist.

He never wanted to let her go.

She turned her head, their lips agonizingly close to touching. One hard intake of breath was all that stood between them. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. “You make it hard to want to get away,” she answered in equally hushed tones, as though they were in a church, and not the place where he daily honed his deadly trade.

“Helen…” He didn’t know what he was asking for, in saying her name like prayer. Benediction, absolution, or damnation.

She touched the tip of her nose to his lightly, experimentally. How well they fit. John Wick was not a man to give in to nerves, but he realized his hand on her throat shook ever so slightly.

He’d never wanted anyone, the way he wanted her.

Her eyes fell to his mouth, a tell as to her thoughts if ever there was one.

Then her gaze dropped lower, and those beautiful eyes went wide as saucers. “Shit, you’re bleeding!” A smear of tell-tale red glistened across his shoulder.

The magic of the moment shattered like glass on stone as she turned in his arms, all business as she wrenched back the shoulder of his shirt to see. “You’ve pulled your stitches. I was afraid this would happen. John…you are a hazard.” The exasperation in her tone was mostly endearing.

Indeed, the newest wound on his shoulder had opened a little. Blood seeped from the small tear in his flesh, running down his pectoral.

“Sorry.”

She shook her fist up at him, though her smile belayed any ill feeling. “Well, you wanted to know what was in my bag. It’s mostly the Costco-size first aid kit I’ve put together for hanging around with you.”

“Lucky me.” He tried not to betray his disappointment, still feeling as though live electricity crackled over his skin, desire tying his insides up in knots. This woman would be the end of him. It took everything he had not to grab her up and kiss her silly, his noble intentions and his pulled stitches be damned.  

“We’ll see. Alright, where’s my operating room? Bathroom? Kitchen?”

“How about…the dining room.”

“Okay, it’s your furniture.”

“I’m not bleeding that much.” He certainly wasn’t bleeding enough to want to stop what they had been about to do.

Maybe there was something wrong with him.

This was probably for the best, but why did it have to hurt so much? Worse than his wound, by far.

“Lead the way.”

<<CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 8>>

[come-away-with-me87]

Love & Angst Chapter 6

Chapter 5 here

Warning: Forgive me on this one if there are typos or whatevs. I had a big 'ol glass of wine after a looong work week while writing this chapter, hehe. We're still in the fluffy stage of this budding romance, but I promise there will be some angst in later chapters. As always, thank you for reading and sharing my love of Aizawa!

******

About an hour after you got home, you picked up your phone where you left it on the kitchen counter. You had a huge smile on your face as you read the missed text from Shouta. You texted him back as soon as you read it, "so did I, Shouta. I look forward to seeing you again too :)" After sending that text, you called Naomi. Without hesitation, without any greetings, she practically yelled when she picked up the phone, "WELL! HOW DID IT GO?!" You laughed, and proceeded to tell her about it, ending it with saying how you had a very nice evening with him.

You couldn't miss this opportunity to ask Naomi about her and Present Mic while you had her on the phone. "HAHA, 'ol scruffy tired eyes said that?! It was just a little harmless flirting, nothing to write home about!" You let it go at that, but did decide to dig a little deeper next time you worked together. You two talked on the phone for a little while longer, eventually hanging up with your usual, "love you!" After hanging up with Naomi, you went on to call Shoto with the intention of asking him how the gala went. He didn't pick up, so you just left him a voicemail asking him to call you whenever he had some free time. Surely he was hanging out with his friends in the dorm at the school, and would rather be doing that than talking to his aunt on the phone. You then went to your bedroom, set your alarm on your phone for the next, and fell into a peaceful sleep, dreaming about a "scruffy, tired eyed, ebony-colored hair" man.

The next few days were pretty uneventful. You weren't scheduled for any shifts at the restaurant, so you just had your job at the city hall. The only thing that concerned you was...you hadn't heard from Shouta since your date. Over the course of those few days, you talked with Naomi some more, and even Shoto called you back to talk about how the gala went and how school was going. But not a peep from Shouta. You truly were not sure what the protocol was when it came to texting. He didn't respond to your text on Sunday evening after your date, but there was really no reason to; it was a reply to what he said first. Should you have texted him again at some point, or should he have texted you? You tried your best to not overthink it; you knew he was busy being a teacher during the day, and an underground hero at night.

Nevertheless, you thought about him...a lot. Even though your encounters with him have been relatively brief, thus far, he all but consumed your thoughts. No person, especially a man, has ever had this kind of effect on you; not even any of the men you previously dated. You couldn't stop thinking about his beautiful dark hair and dark eyes; his scruffy facial hair, and his mysterious aura. He intrigued you like no one else ever had in your lifetime. Oh boy.

It was Friday afternoon, you just got off from your shift at city hall, and you were just sitting on your couch decompressing from the day and week. As if he was reading your obsessive mind from before, you suddenly received a text from him: "Hi Y/N. I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to reach out you, but I've been thinking of you. Hizashi and some of the others are dragging me out tonight to the bar. It really would be nice to see you again. Would you like to join us?" You read the text and felt your heart pounding in your chest. While you would much prefer to spend some time with just the two of you, you were still excited at his proposition. You took a minute to think about it, and instead of responding to him right away, you instantly texted Naomi: "let's go out tonight." If you were going to do this, you wanted there to someone you also knew. You knew she was off from the bar that night, and quickly replied back, "sure?" She knew you were more of a homebody, so you could understand her hesitancy.

You went on to explain about Shouta texted you asking you to join him and his friends at the bar, and she had a much better understanding of the situation, and told you she'd be happy to accompany you. You were forever in her debt, she was such an amazing friend. You finally texted Shouta back, "I'd love to. Would you guys mind if I brought Naomi with?" He replied back saying that wouldn't be a problem at all, and everyone agreed upon 8pm as the meeting time.

You started getting ready for the night, and went to your closet to decide what to wear. Since you were going to a bar as opposed to a cat cafe, you decided to switch things up a bit for that night. You decided to keep your hair down again, using your curling iron to add a few waves. You opted for a nice black dress that went right to your knees, but still accentuated your curves. You still didn't want to go overboard with your makeup, so once again, you just opted for a bit of mascara. This time, though, you also decided to wear a tinted lip gloss. Finally, you picked out a pair of red kitten heels to wear with your dress. You looked in the mirror and decided you looked acceptable. No one was harder on you than you, so that was the best compliment you would ever be able to give yourself.

Around 7:30pm, you left your house to go pick up Naomi. Since she was gracious enough to come with you tonight, the least you could do was drive so she could drink and have some fun. When you pulled up, she was standing outside waiting for you. Once she got in your car, she eyed you up and down and exclaimed, "you look HOT, mama!" You blushed at the compliment, and quietly thanked her; besides the fact that you could barely compliment yourself, taking compliments from others was even worse. She looked amazing, too. She was wearing a tight mini-dress with stiletto heels, and her makeup and hair looked beautiful. She was a complete knockout, and you wished you had her self-confidence. You two took the car ride to gab about the drama at the restaurant, when you suddenly arrived to the bar right a little after 8:00pm.

You and Naomi found a spot in the busy parking lot and walked inside. It took about two minutes, but after looking around the busy bar to find your group, you finally spotted Hizashi's mohawk sticking out from one of the booths. You guys walked over the booth and said hello to everyone, which included the same group that was at the restaurant last weekend; Shouta, Hizashi, Toshinori, and Nemuri. You all exchanged your hellos, and you and Naomi each took a seat at either side at the end of the booth; you were next to Toshinori, and she was next to Nemuri. Right next to Toshinori sat Shouta, and next to Nemuri sat Hizashi. "Hey, Y/N," exclaimed Toshinori, "do you mind if we actually switch seats? I don't plan on staying late since I can't drink, so I'd like to be able to easily slip out once I'm ready to leave." You could've kissed him on the cheek right then and there; you knew what he said was true, but there was also an underlying meaning; he wanted you to sit next to Shouta. Sly dog.

You two switched seats, and suddenly, you found yourself sitting next to Shouta. He was dressed very similarly to the way he was at the cat cafe last weekend, and he looked delectable. He gave you a small smile as you and Toshinori switched seats and whispered in your ear, "you look incredible." It was such an small statement, but it made you blush very hard and made your whole body feel like jello; you were very grateful you were sitting down. You shyly whispered back to him, "thank you, so do you." Before you felt even more like jello, the server then suddenly came over and to get the drink orders of the newcomers. You ordered a white wine, and Naomi ordered some sort of girly, fruity drink. It was weird for both of you to be on this side of things, since you two were used to being the ones serving others. It was a nice feeling.

The conversation flowed very easily between the six of you for the next hour or so, involving a lot of laughing and talking about the antics of the students at the U.A.. Toshinori took his leave around 9:15pm; you gave him a big hug and whispered a thank you into his ear as he was getting up. He just smiled knowingly at you, and took the opportunity to say his goodbyes to everyone. The drinks kept flowing at this point, and the others, mainly Naomi, Hizashi and Nemuri, took the opportunity to go get down on the dance floor, leaving you and Shouta at the booth alone. He grinned, "I guess you could tell who the extroverts are versus the introverts at this table." You audibly laughed at his statement; he had no idea.

You and Shouta sat in a comfortable silence while watching the others dance. As expected, Naomi and Hizashi seemed to be really hitting it off, often found dancing with each other. Nemuri seemed to be off in her own little world; you could tell the alcohol was taking its effect on the three of them, while you were still nursing your first and only glass of wine. Shouta was still on his first drink, as well; a whiskey on the rocks. He suddenly stated, "do you want to go outside and get some fresh air? It's getting a little stuffy in here." You readily agreed, and as you got up, you two let the others know you were going to step outside for a bit. They couldn't care less; they were off in their own worlds dancing.

You two stepped outside into the chilly evening air; it felt so nice. As if he was reading your mind, he exclaimed "this is much better." You smiled up at him and replied, "agreed." Instead of talking, you two instead found yourselves just staring into each other's eyes. And you didn't feel uncomfortable in the slightest. All of a sudden, you felt his warm hand caressing your cheek, and instinctively, you leaned into it. As you two were still looking into each other's eyes, he leaned down and captured your mouth in a kiss. It was just a simple kiss, but you felt like you were on top of the word. You lifted up your arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, and kissed him back, to which he responded by placing his arms around your waist.

******

To be continued!

[chiakery]

Imogen had a bad habit of not noticing that something tremendous was happening until way later.

She didn’t realise when her father’s reluctance to be near her had started. There must have been a number of situations that marked the shift in their relationship, a gradual process that caused them to fall apart but, as far as she was concerned, one day both of them were sitting side to side on the porch, scraping the horse shit from their boots after a day of work in the stables, and the very next day she was alone, stigmatised and avoided by people she had once considered friends.

It was the same with her relationship with Laudna. Imogen didn’t realise something had changed until one winter evening, months after they'd met. There wasn’t even anything particularly remarkable about that night - the snow had settled on the ground a week or two before, they'd found shelter in a barn on the outskirts of the village, their host letting them stay there after Imogen helped him with brewing herbs for his horse. It wasn’t the most pleasant or dire place they’ve stayed. The days were a string of uneventful sunrises and sunsets with bits of work and a lot of talking in between them. All that Imogen knew was that at the end of one such day Laudna had made them tea and when she crawled underneath their pile of blankets and handed Imogen one of the cups, she saw in Launda’s eyes that she would have opened her ribcage and stash Imogen inside if she knew it would keep her warm. And suddenly she realised that she was in love with Laudna too, even if she couldn’t put her finger on the moment when the fondness in her heart had morphed into something so terrifyingly beautiful.

Now it happened again, this momentary blindness or ignorance that has already stolen so many important moments from Imogen’s life and it felt like a curse and a blessing at the same time.

Is she your favourite?

This too, Imogen didn’t fully grasp until much later.

She did of course see the horror of a blade moving through the body, piercing through paper-thin skin, sliding silently between two perfect ribs; the bloom of crimson, scarlet, ruby painting the front of the dress. But the implication of this was lost to her. She didn’t see any difference between this and any of the other dozen of fights they’ve been in, and each of them had ended with both Laudna and her breathing and holding each other close.

(She knew it was different this time. The thing is, Imogen grew to be able to lie to everyone - including herself.)

[gamdaughter]

DAY 1 ON THE SURFACE:

Dear everybody,

The surface is so interesting! ... Well, also pretty frightening, but I'll get to that. It's not very different from underground, I think, but the plants up here are way brighter! There are a lot more beings in the rainforest than just the small insects underground. I almost got attacked by a tiger today... Which is what Irminsul said, anyway. Nonetheless, it is of course waaaaaaaaaaay brighter than downstairs. Of course most of the plants are fluorescent themselves, but above, there's less glowy plants and are instead brightened by the Sun! The big ball of fire that I was warned about. Luckily, though I feel the heat of it's flames, it's not very scary! It's pretty far away, and even though it looks like I can grasp it with my hands, it's very far. Probably a lot bigger than I assume. 

I did meet a human today, however! She was.. A little scary! Speaking of humans, they don't wear kaunakes up here! That was slightly expected but it's good to have my assumptions confirmed! Well. Maybe. Maybe the lady I met was an exception! She's a healer, and her name is Natalia. A doctor! Apparently she's a clone of a man named Il Dottore.. Which does just mean 'doctor', doesn't it? But that's not very important. I think she called me dense.. She compared me to someone who she referred to with a slight contempt and annoyance. I'm assuming this person she was referring to.. 'Webttore'? He sounded like someone who is not smart. Natalia basically said I was slower than him. 

Not great. However! I can blame it on the fact I'm still practicing Teyvat's language! ... Well, not BLAME, per se, but as to determine the root cause of my 'slowness'. I'm not slow!! I'm just processing things twice over because I have to translate through my head first! Did I mention she also has four arms? Four!! Humans don't usually have those. And the extra pair of arms was made out of metal!! She said they were a gift from Il Dottore.

Doctor Natalia also said that once she recovers(she was in pretty bad shape! She started bleeding mid-conversation and I tried to give her a Sumeru Rose to eat. She ate some tablets instead. Embarrassing..) she would(could? I forgot!!!) install mechanical parts into my brain to help me learn Teyvat's language faster. That was absolutely terrifying. So I kind of ran away! I don't think it was rude of me to do that. Hopefully. She kind of turned away after I said good bye and then I ran off. 

Is it wrong of me to hope I never have to talk to her again..?

Missing home already,

Geegee

The rest of the day following Geegee's encounter had gone relatively uneventful. She had explored a bit, climbed some trees, tried to approach a tree village and gotten scared, (she also met a mermaid but we dont have to talk about that yet..) and set up camp as the sun slowly disappeared, the sky turning warm tones of orange and red. She didn't need one, really, but it was reassuring to have. Now, as she scribbled down little notes onto leaf pads, the girl found herself missing home a lot more than she had anticipated. She had really only been here for less than a day! 10 hours at most! But she missed the cooler atmosphere of underground. She missed her friends, she missed her older sister of sorts.. She missed her grandma. Gamgam, so she affectionately dubs her.

Just when would she be allowed to return? The council had never specified. Just what really was she supposed to be doing on the surface? How would she figure it out? As the sky shifted from warm tones to the cool of the night, the girl tucked her leaf away, laying on her back to listen to the rustle of leaves and watch the new, gentler orb above. The moon. Maman Malikata. The girl reached up to grab it with one hand, but she was quickly reminded she was too far away.

geegee's journal - link to thread - next entry

[duskyashe]

CAMP NANO DAY 26

[First] [Previous] [AO3]

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Mischief, better known as Stiles now, had had an overall uneventful past five and a half years since he Wished Peter Hale back into full health. Sure, there'd been some... Challenges with trying to incorporate a werewolf, two humans, and a never-before-seen alpha werepolar bear as a single, cohesive unit, especially when said alpha werepolar bear was the youngest of the entire unit and was an actual child who was trying to lay claim to and manage a territory that had previously been held by a respectably sized werewolf pack with only a single beta of his own. So, overall not the easiest thing to do, but, well. They had managed pretty well thus far, and things had gotten much easier after the first two years had gone by without the Stilinski Pack ("Sleuth!" "We are not calling ourselves a sleuth, Mischief, and that is final." "Uuuughh. Fine.") giving a single inch in terms of territory disputes. It had gotten to the point that Stiles was finally able to just focus on normal teenager things, like worrying about his only friend in the entire school.

Isaac Lahey was one of three kids his age in the entire school that wasn't either a complete douche canoe or a simple minded sycophant, but Erica Reyes couldn't get through a simple conversation with him without nearly passing out from blushing too much, and Vernon Boyd didn't talk to anyone, so that left Isaac. Whom Stiles was about ninety-three percent certain was being abused at home, though he only had circumstantial evidence that could, sadly, be easily written off as the results of simple teenaged clumsiness and a natural result of playing a contact sport. It frustrated the sixteen year old to no end that, even in the off season for lacrosse, he just didn't have enough evidence to prove his friend was in an unsafe environment at home. Even when he's suspiciously absent the day after the results of the first big exam after the school year began were sent home. Stiles had seen the way Isaac had paled when he'd seen his grade the day before, the way his friend seemed to shut down the closer the end of the school day came. By the time school ended, Isaac had practically gone comatose and had to basically be guided onto his bus. When Isaac hadn't shown up to first period that morning, Stiles had been concerned but hadn't really thought too much about it, he'd been late to school before, after all. But now it was lunch time, and Stiles hadn't seen hide nor hair of his friend since just after school the day before, and he was getting genuinely worried for him.

Stiles had almost made up his mind to text his dad about a possible missing person's case when suddenly a lunch tray was set down next to his own. Startled out of his thoughts, Stiles looked up, hoping beyond hope that it was just Isaac, but his senses caught up to him as his new table companion sat down. "Stilinski," Jackson Whittemore said, looking everywhere but at Stiles, and lacking the usual hostility he held towards him.

"Whittemore," he replied, more than a little confused and extremely wary of what the head douche canoe wanted from him.

"I noticed Lahey has been absent today," the blond remarked idly as he started digging into his food, acting as though him sitting amicably with Stiles wasn't the absolute weirdest thing to happen in years.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Jackson and started on his own food. "Yeah, I noticed," Stiles agreed hesitantly, honestly thrown by the blond's shift in attitude. He took a barely noticeable sniff and caught the scent of deep frustration and fury nearly masked by some rather potent determination and Jackson's expensive cologne.

Jackson hummed around a mouthful before swallowing. "Y'know, I heard some awfully suspicious sounds coming from across the street last night," he offered as he glanced at Stiles from the corner of his eye. "Figured you'd like to know."

Taking another discreet sniff, Stiles could smell Jackson's honesty and his helplessness. Jackson was desperate to help Isaac, Stiles suddenly realized. He made a split second decision and pulled out his phone.

Me: is papa working tonight?

Mom: He's planning on it, why?

Me: got a new project im gonna be working on, he might wanna claim plausible deniability

Mom: Stiles...

Me: nothing outright illegal! Or that would get me in trouble!

Me: i think.

Me: would plotting to get a friend out of a dangerous situation with a potentially former enemy count as something that would get me in trouble?

Mom: I'll make sure Peter's home...

Me: thanks mama, youre the best!

"My house, after school, bring Danny and any evidence you have," Stiles said putting his phone away and going back to his lunch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jackson relax as a brief whiff of relief entered the blond's scent. "My dad's at work tonight, so anything not outright illegal is fair game. We're breaking Isaac out of there as soon as we have something substantial we can give my dad."

Jackson pocketed his apple and grabbed his mostly empty lunch tray before standing up. "Deal, Stilinski. See you after school. Later, loser," he called as he walked away, though the insult was almost... Teasing, in a way.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Jackass!" Stiles playfully called back. Jackson gave him the bird over his shoulder which almost sent Stiles laughing hysterically. Who knew the thing they needed to get over their childhood animosity of each other was a shared goal and a common enemy that didn't have anything to do with lacrosse?

=============×∆×=============

It took the three of them just over three weeks to finally gather enough evidence of abuse to compile the legally (and mostly legally) obtained stuff for easier access. Danny had been put in charge of anything and everything technological in origin, up to and including (at his own instance) taping into Isaac's attendance record for the current school year. ("Transcribing more than this year's attendance records would look extremely suspicious. We aren't far enough into the school year for it to be too weird for at least Stiles to have been keeping track of Isaac's attendance since school started." "Okay, that's fair, but why do we need to back track his attendance for this year in the first place, isn't what we have already between us enough?" "We're establishing a pattern, which will hopefully lead the authorities to look deeper into his previous attendance records as well as security footage for further evidence that we have no way of legally obtaining on our own." "Alright, that's fair...") Jackson was keeping track of any beatings that got loud enough for him to hear, recording start times, end times, and any points where it seemed things got particularly violent. He did this both on paper and with a high end microphone set up in his window, which faced the Lahey household, recording as much of the audio as possible. Stiles, on the other hand, was keeping track of any and all injuries, their locations, their severity, as well as when they showed up and how fast they seemed to be healing, if they had the opportunity to heal at all. ("I'm telling you, his hands are constantly banged up, and they're definitely not healing!" "Okay, okay, I believe you, I'm sorry I said anything!")

It was early Saturday morning when Stiles entered the sheriff's department with his two new best friends and a thumb drive metaphorically burning a hole in his pocket. "Hey, Tara! Is Dad in his office?" Stiles called out with a wave.

The deputy looked up from her desk with a grin. "Hey yourself, Stiles. Yeah, he's in there, grumbling about all the veggies you and your mom packed into his lunch box again. Don't worry, he's only had a single donut this week, we've been keeping track for you."

Stiles grinned. "You're the best, Tara. You guys are getting a whole apple pie next month as a thank you. Keep up the good work, deputies!" He called as he guided Jackson and Danny toward the sheriff's office, getting various greetings and cheers in response. Catching the confused looks from the duo, Stiles answered their unasked question in a quieter voice. "Dad's got bad cholesterol, but he doesn't appreciate the efforts Mom and I have been going through to decrease his risk factors and likes to sneak junk food as much as possible. Last year, I asked his deputies to help keep an eye on Dad's diet cheating, and I give them a pie when I feel like they've been doing a particularly good job at it. Since it's fall, and since deputy Danvers is allergic to pumpkin, they're getting apple this month."

Jackson made a noise of understanding while Danny nodded in thought. "My parents might have some recipes that you guys could try that are lower on cholesterol and taste really delicious, I could ask them if you'd like," he offered.

Stiles couldn't help but agree. He'd seen Danny's homemade lunches, but more importantly, he'd smelled them, and he could say without a shadow of a doubt that his papa would have a hard time saying no to anything the Mahealani's gave them to try.

Soon enough, though, they'd made it to the office. Stiles knocked a pattern, specifically chosen to let his dad know this wasn't just a social visit without letting others know anything was amiss. Without waiting for an answer, Stiles swung the door open with gusto and exclaimed, "Hey, there, Daddio! How's work been treating you?" He walked in and gestured the other two in to sit down. Once they were in, he shut the door and immediately got down to business. "We have cause to believe that Isaac Lahey is being abused, almost nightly, by his father," he said, tossing the thumb drive onto his father's desk before walking over to lean against the wall with his arms crossed against his chest.

=============×∆×=============

Noah blinked at his son and the two mostly familiar faces sitting across from him before looking down at the thumb drive sitting oh so innocently on his desk and sighed. "Please tell me there's nothing on here that will force me to arrest one or all of you?"

Stiles scoffed in mock offense. "Excuse you, sir, do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, my son," Noah deadpanned, already reaching out for the thumb drive. All jokes aside, he knew his son well enough to know that if he was giving him the thumb drive at the office, it was at least mostly clean and wouldn't criminally incriminate any of the three teenagers currently in his office. Now, if he'd handed it to him at home... All bets were off.

As his son played up his spluttering, Noah inserted the drive into his work desktop and waited for it to load, taking the time to really observe the two young men sitting across from him. It took him a moment to place them as Jackson Whittemore and Danny Mahealani, the new captain and the goalie for the school's lacrosse team. They were also, according to his wife, kids who Stiles used to barely tolerate but was now spending a lot of time with, usually at their house where Peter helped her keep an eye on them. Danny's name and face didn't bring anything specific to mind, other than Stiles telling the pack about how cool Danny was for being openly out of the closet, how everyone at school loved Danny, and that Danny's biggest flaw was the fact that he was best friends with Jackson Whittemore. Jackson, on the other hand, did bring a few things to mind, such as who his adoptive parents were, who his biological parents were, as well as what had happened to them. But it was Jackson's face that was drawing Noah up short. Because he recognized some of those features from his own time in high school, the name of the person they reminded him of was right on the tip of his tongue, but before he could figure it out, the thumb drive had loaded and his attention was pulled to the potential new case the three teens had given him, and all thoughts of who Jackson reminded him of were pushed to the back of his mind.

Oh well. If it was important, it'd come back to him eventually, right?

"Okay, now do the three of you want to walk me through what you've got here?" Noah asked, turning his monitor so that they'd all be able to see. The shared looks of grim determination had Noah stealing himself for the worst. If Stiles wasn't smirking in triumph at finally having something to give him concerning Isaac's home situation, then things had to be pretty bad. Either way, if the law can help, then I'll make sure that kid gets as much help as legally possible, Noah vowed to himself.

=============×∆×=============

TADA! I finally got chapter three of The Polar Bear Necessities written! And yes, there's quite a bit of a time skip between chapter two and chapter three, but for clarity's sake, the events of canon aren't "due" to start until the end of the winter holidays, which are a few months away. It's my understanding that, in canon, Laura was lured back almost exactly six years after the fire, give or take a few weeks, and the fire canonically happened at the beginning of January, so that's what I'm basing my timeline off of (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

I will have you all know, this chapter almost didn't happen because the chapter I was planning on writing today is the one that'll be written next lol it was as I was planning the now fifth chapter that I realized I needed a chapter between chapter two and the chapter I was originally planning on writing today, so I instead wrote this one and all the plotting and brainstorming that I did originally has been set aside for chapter four! (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ I'm just glad I caught it while I was still brainstorming lol if I had already been writing, then I'd have been screwed (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

I hope the interaction between Jackson and Stiles was believable, I have this personal headcanon that, by the time they'd reached high school, 98% of Jackson's problem with Stiles was his over-the-top crush on Lydia as well as his constant defense of Scott McCall (I'm not that big of a Scott McCall fan), so in a world where Stiles had no real reason to befriend Scott while at the hospital, and Claudia was there to help curb the worst of his crush on Lydia, Jackson and Stiles would only be antagonistic towards each other out of habit more than anything else. At least, that's my take on it ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭

Have a good morning/day/night!

[kuraikyu]

@trehontin : " So loud for no reason~ "

ㅤ𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 allay one's own fears. Hundreds of conversations in voices loud as if all of them competing with rock music to dominate the thematic atmosphere. Suguru himself very much wished he could melt into the vibe of this bar and laugh at simple cares he had. But after barely finishing one glass of dry Vermouth, he came to conclusion it would not quiet roving mind, still greatly fatigued if he continued. Too much exorcism brought along too many dark thoughts no one knew about, thus came the inability to do anything else than just blandly remain deeply immersed in established set of attitude by the bar counter.

Elegant facade always in a good mood, the one he daily displayed seemed weary, and his face more lined than one could remember, for thoughts wandered back to his students. A kindred spirit must attend to the hurts of those injured by the curse of their techniques.

'You can't help these kids.' No, and it was true. But there was something he could do ... let them know they are not alone in this mess and somewhere there might be the slightest chance to optimize poultices that will bring them some measure of relief. Yeah, some deep matters are still left undone here. Such reward, should he prevail could be significant for his aid has been requested for this aim. Sometimes he would internally recount to details of each plan. He was hardly a beard of many winters, and still have seen things this day people would not have believed yesterday.

And then - thoughts wandered back to his twin girls. Stronger and madder - with each swallow a shadow of vengeance comes to tap his shoulder, cultivating sacred offers of gold obsidians manifesting amid his fingers. Its currents are strong, bitter, squeezing further his throat like an opiate of poetry crafting a sling knot above the abyss. What were lives of mortals more than a flickering candle-light in the gale to something greater and ancient? Mortals had more allies than they supposed, even among those they deemed no more than legends.

Humans ... spoke to Sorcerers as friends, gave them shelter, took the sweat from their brows, and repaid everyone with what? Treachery. So, he wondered, what would happen if someday someone would repay them in kind ... ? These forbidden thoughts had periodic frequencies of their darkest bloom, but fortunately, so far they vanished as quickly as they appeared. And sometimes there were days when he was worried to ask himself a question: what if one day they won't disappear, what then? Perhaps he wasn't made for teaching at all, perhaps his ambitions were far greater than that. It was then that he realized it is time to head back home, lay, and rest when every droplet in his throat started to turn into ashes, and the bar ran out of ice. Someone behind him was making a ruckus that clearly ( by the sound that traveled to him ) had nothing to do with ambient mirth. But of course, bars at night, pure nests for curses and demons born from negative human emotions intoxicated by spirits.

His wishful landing for peace may be uneventful, but then it may be tumultuous indeed.

The bartender was a good, humble person who Geto would once in a few months visit after frequent patrolling of local streets and in pursuit of special-grade wanderers. But that moment, the bartender lacked his typical sense of merry collectiveness as timorous eyes shifted nervously back and forth from drying glass at brutes apparently approaching closer. As the one who is strong, you are obligated to maintain the order. He gazed up at the desperate bartender. Don't worry, I'll take them out; they won't disturb your place any longer.

Someone from behind apparently shouted his way : ' Hey you!! ' '' ... '' Geto said nothing. Instead, almost mechanically cranium would tip from right to left shoulder, in a manner of awakening black cat stretching stiff neck muscles for what was going to follow next.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤF*cking Monkeys ...

---

It was a fraction later — that the back doors kicked widely open, and a man was literally thrown out by great force. Then another ... third, fifth. Pathetically beaten and driven out from coming back by the immensity of Suguru's dark aura crisped with disturbing sensation of living rot covering each span by naught but a singular stride beyond threshold.

' So loud for no reason~ '

'' ... '' '' ??! "

Where life expects to renew caution sudden voice caught him off guard. An instant tick of moment triggered immediate cessation of blackened aura until its gradual then ultimate vanish along with any hardness in Geto's mien. Someone shortly behind ... and closer to his left.

This guy shouldn't be here. Wait, was the man here all the time? How could he not notice him? The change of playlist resulted in louder rhythms of music protruding from cranny gaps ; which brought along a strange switch in the atmosphere. With proper aim of senses that strange man ( who would not elude from fixation of Suguru's focus ) stood inches away from him; his profile a refined riddle clad in elegant biding. The flickering neon text light glitching: ' 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒 ' reflected into the bleak avenue and caressed across subtle facial lines of the speaking stranger like velvet constellations, yet navigated to the pair of deep browns, gleaming just the same like polished amber in first rays of dawn; and he was brave enough to meet them with his own spinning mantra of nothingness and palette of starlit black. Great. The last thing he needs in this sh*tty state of mind is bumping into a beautiful man; that type of guy, who at first sight seemed like the one giving him a good talking about his own bad manners. A situation truly worth of deep sigh. But looks could be terribly deceiving. Many factions remained in being where he couldn't identify why he was spellbound to place and stiffness. And Geto, as a guy made of stern stuff, and shaped by sorts of experiences starting from the strangest to grossest feelings ... nothing for him quite ever felt like this uneasiness, but even so, on a level of intuition, he kept his movements in slow synchrony.

Under other circumstances, he would raise an eyebrow and subject other one to closer scrutiny, but again too much exorcism had a price. '' Sorry about that, didn't mean to throw these guys almost right — ugh, right ... at you, '' he managed in haste his scattered manners and admittedly apologized about his shortcomings, contemptuously glancing as well at pitiful display of mankind cowardice in attempt to slink away from kindled spitfire of their mortifying ordeal, '' this lot is hardly ever over their limits. But believe me, there was a reason for this noise. '' Was there? Was there any other reason than his own savageness?

Nor Sorcerers nor other entities can exist without encountering one another; such is the law of existential attraction. Macabre incognito shouldn't be able to melt away your inner pains, but perhaps the reality was that ... that very same pain was overshadowed by something else, something ... unexplainably inhumane although perfectly humane, standing and smiling at him with a degree of faithfulness only constant of death can bring. It was just as alluring as it was terrifying. Don't mind him. Don't stare. He pinched his nose bridge from unexpected sensory overload he likely blamed on overusing powers and looked reluctantly back at the speaker, '' If you're ... on your way in, then I suppose you couldn't pick better timing. The air's clear from further troubles. Oh, yeah, and May Geminis get all the free drinks today, well, applies twice if it's your birthday, '' thumb directingly pointed over his shoulder back at doors as he stepped forward passing around his mysterious encounter, '' have fun. '' Like a cloud of smoke, the curse manipulator continued to wind down along the steps and fully out of the place; manifesting his prior intention to vanish into the night, and sanction further his emotional cannibalism from dangers of public affairs.

[moralalee]

22/08/2024

It's a Thursday. I don't know if I have some sort of summoning or manifestation capabilities, but AT has messaged me today (as per previous entries, the crush from when I was in secondary school). She had messaged me last month to wish me a happy birthday, which was nice of her since we haven't spoken in a long time. We used to talk on and off, but things just fizzled out.

Maybe it's just cause I reread my old entries, or maybe it's because she seems to be living this amazing life now, but I feel weirdly nervous about responding. She asked how I'm doing and it's like, yeah, I'm fine. But what am I even doing? She's posting pictures at award ceremonies and graduating. What have I achieved? "Well, I got a cat and I love him even though he's a nightmare." Weird. I guess 17-year-old BF and I had it cracked, some people you do just repeat with. Same shit, different year.

Went for a piss and was just thinking about what a disaster case I am. Loved Mae from Night in the Woods when I was younger, now I AM Mae. A university drop-out who just kicks about. I have a job at least, but one with no room for growth and that pays decently but still leaves me tight at the end of each month.

Right, got a bit doom and gloom there. I'm feeling crap but trying to get my head in the game. It's weird how my mood can just shift. I've been feeling pretty good today but in the past hour or so, it's like a dark cloud comes over.

I wrote the start of the entry while at work, I’m in bed now. Work was okay, uneventful again. It feels weird how quiet (touch wood) it’s been in the past week. BR has been off the whole time, so I expected us to be drowning. I do miss her and I hope she’s doing okay. I think she’s been pushed too far and we all have a breaking point. I understand the place she’s in. The quiet of work has been highlighting for me how unchallenged I feel. When work is tough, it isn’t because it’s stimulating, it’s just too much of a workload of inane shit. There’s nothing wrong with having a job that isn’t a passion, but it leaves me feeling unfulfilled. I don’t even know what I’m passionate about anymore. Weirdly, I think I had a stronger sense of self as a teenager. It felt easier to write, to be kind, to be real. I’m trying so hard to be authentic now but it’s a battle when I don’t like who I am anymore.

My self-hatred has grown and matured with me. When I was younger, I thought “I’m ugly, everyone secretly hates me, I’m broken and I don’t know why.” Now I feel like I’m a bitter, useless person. I have no drive, I just float about, existing. I know people say your twenties are the years to figure shit out, but I think they’re used to that just being getting hammered or a regrettable tattoo. People don’t seem to get me and my nothing life. I’m figuring things out while spending all my time sitting in the same 2 chairs. Desk chair at work, desk chair at home.

CW tells me I can find something I’m passionate about, tells me I should do something creative because it’s what I thrive in. BF tells me I can use the skills from my current job, pursue business or management, something with a support system in place. I just don’t see a way to either. It’s crazy to me that some people just quit their jobs and go do what they want with no plan. The closest I’ve been to that was quitting working at the cafe when I was 19, but I lived at home and couldn’t handle that place any longer.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to find my way. I’m just stuck in an endless loop of day to day. That’s why I started doing things like baking or going to the gym to try to improve myself in some small way. I want to explore some options for an actual career, not just a job. Maybe I can find some way to dig myself out of the hole.

I responded to AT. It sent me on a bit of a self-doubt spiral. I told BF about her message and she said she’s “clinging on” to me, which is a crazy notion. AT has zero reason to hold onto the past and I can’t even remember the majority of mine. I realised as I was driving home that AT is the only person I’ve ever felt that comfortable or close to. How sad is that? I found the person I clicked most with when I was 12 and I haven’t met anyone like that since. Maybe I have rose-tinted glasses and maybe I’m just a commitment-phobe now, but when I was a kid I genuinely believed she was my soulmate. In the years since I’ve just been telling myself I was a kid and ridiculous and didn’t know what love was, but I loved more truly then than I ever have since or could ever dream of now. I wish I could capture even an ounce of that feeling again. Whenever I’ve chased a relationship, what I’ve wanted most was that feeling of being in someone’s arms and being home.

I highly doubt AT and I will pick things up again and become best friends, but it could be nice to even speak a little, to know she’s doing well. It makes me happy when I open her Instagram story and see another picture where she seems to be thriving. I hadn’t thought properly about her in a long time. I wonder if she thinks about me.

Anyway, that was a pretty pathetic monologue but this has been what I’ve been thinking on. I can’t really say any of that to my friends. I know they wouldn’t get it or that they’d think it’s silly. It was just a hard realisation when I figured out that nothing else has come close since. I wonder if that’s part of why I’ve struggled romantically? A little unconscious part of myself always felt like it wasn’t enough and planted that seed of doubt.

I’m planning on this weekend’s bake to be brownies, DJ was asking for them. And BF is ready for us to get the flat in order this weekend. I’ll feel a lot better when things are clean and tidy. Maybe a little more sane and I can focus more on figuring shit out.

I’m also wondering if my sudden clarity of mind is anything to do with the pill. I always hit rock bottom right as I’m due my period and that’s where I was. Now I’m a few days in and today I’ve felt a lot more balanced. Maybe it’s a coincidence. I don’t know how this shit works.

Goodnight. Looking forward to us finally reaching the weekend tomorrow and BF and I are going to go to the cinema and shops tomorrow. That should be fun.

Edit: Fucks sake, forgot my gif!

[gayle-blythe]

Jan 16

The grey coat with the red lining

When I was younger, I got a date with this boy I liked. I asked him on Valentine’s Day but we were both busy until late February. Everything was planned, he got us a reservation at this nice restaurant in the city and I planned a place to go for some dessert afterwards. The only thing I neglected to plan for was my outfit. I had a basic idea, but I forgot that it was still practically the middle of winter and my outfit, as well as myself, was far better suited for spring or summer. I hadn’t found a solution until the night of, only about a half an hour before I was set to leave. I was forced to bite the bullet and do the last thing I wanted to. I went to my mom. As soon as I told her my predicament, she took a look at my outfit and rushed off claiming she had the perfect solution.

When she returned, she was holding a quite large coat. It was frankly closer to a duster than anything as it fell to just below my knees. She told me she’s had it since she was about my age. It was a smooth grey coat with a maroon fleece lining. The stitching along the edges and the cuffs were smooth and beautiful, and the gold buttons were ornate and matched perfectly with accessories I already had on. Putting it on, it was a little too big, but it wasn’t cumbersome at all. Some of the edges folded in way where you could see the lining and it added an extra accent to the whole outfit. She was right. It was perfect.

The date was fairly uneventful. Whether it was the cold of the night or the comfort of the jacket, I found myself wearing it the entire date. The only other thing of note was that I had my first kiss that night. Afterwards, I hung the coat up in my closet, telling myself I’d return it in the morning

I never did return it. I thought I must have, but I didn’t. I’m not sure when or how, but it had disappeared. I only noticed it quite some time later when I was planning to wear it to a banquet. Checking my closet, asking my mother, searching the house, but no dice. I found a replacement for the night and went on my way. But it happened again. Another event, another desire to wear that coat, another search, and another defeat. I’d eventually retrace my steps checking everywhere I went that night, even though I knew I hadn’t taken it off. This repeated over and over, every time, no luck.

Years later, today, I was walking home from one of my night classes. Strange things have been happening around town, or at least that’s what everyone has been saying. Strange shadows, strange noises, even a few missing people. It’s got everyone on edge. I live just a few blocks from the local community college and I walk a pretty busy road, plus I feel like I can hold my own in a fight, so I wasn’t too worried. Along my route, there’s about a block where the streetlights are spaced farther than usual. It was between two of these lights that I saw something shift in the shadows between two buildings.

The coat. My coat, I could recognize it clear as day, but what I didn’t recognize was the figure wearing it. Whoever it was, was wearing my coat, red lining, gold buttons, and all as well as an old black velvet, fedora. They looked like a detective from an old movie. They were looking down so the brim of the hat covered their face and with their hands in the pockets of the coat, I couldn’t see their hands either. But I could see their wrists… and they looked…wet? They looked smooth and shiny, but wet. Confused and not sure what to make of this I tried to notice any other feature of them.

That’s when it hit me

The coat almost looked small on them. They were MASSIVE. The coat only fell to about just below the waist and the sleeve actually sat about where mid forearm would be. This thing CANNOT be human. Just as this thought crossed my mind, it’s head began to raise. It had no chin, just a neck that immediately connected to a flat face. It’s mouth was just a horizontal slit across its face. It’s nose was two perfectly round bore holes. As the brim on the hat uncovered the eyes, it was as if a sunset and a black hole met. I was frozen and watched in horror as it’s lips began to part and from the center of the mouth another slit began to open, down over where it’s chin should be, and continuing until it disappeared under the coat. As these slits began to widen into gaping holes, I saw rows upon rows or sharp, jagged teeth reflecting in the dim light of the street lamps. Frozen in place, I only broke free once I saw the thing slide one of its feet back and begin pulling arm from the pocket, revealing a long appendage with slick, salamander like skin. I wasn’t sure if it’s movement was to retreat into the darkness or preparation to bolt at me, but I wasn’t going to wait around to find out. I took off down the sidewalk, running as fast and as far as I could. Even when my legs and kings begged me to stop, I didn’t let up till I was safely inside my apartment with the door locked behind me.

That was two hours ago. Everything’s been quiet since. I have no clue what that thing could have been. I thought of calling the police, but with how they’ve treated other such reports, I think I’ll keep this one to myself. All I know for sure is this.

I’m not looking for that old coat anymore.

And I’m going to pray to God I don’t accidentally find it again.

January Prompts

1. Everything begins

2. Domain

3. Creak

4. Thin light

5. Sheriff

6. The good twin

7. Highway 59

8. Wife

9. Iron bridges

10. Fingers

11. “Say what you mean”

12. The destroyer’s hour

13. To the marsh

14. Blue Jay

15. Bed of the past

16. The grey coat with the red lining

17. Strangling plant

18. The body

19. Black oak

20. A punishment

21. Gentleman

22. Mahler’s fifth

23. Dogtooth

24. Run the other way

25. Syrupy

26. Dark denim

27. What you really believe

28. Unexpected prophet

29. Secret project

30. Beheaded

31. And the rot sets in