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yooniivrse · 3 months ago

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subtle changes | myg

summary. your carefully structured mornings takes a heartwarming turn when yoongi becomes a welcome part of your days, leaving you unexpectedly craving more.

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pairing: yoongi x f!reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: none :3 (i think, plz tell me if i missed something)

a/n: the end of summer hit me like a truck, which is why this took super long 😭 i'll try my best and have an update schedule to keep me on track, but no promises! idk how i feel about this chapter but you guys have been waiting for too long lol. i hope you enjoy <333

!!! this is the second part of a mini-series. you can read this as a stand alone, but things make more sense if you read the first part !!!

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You were very fond of routines.

You liked knowing what would happen next; liked being able to go into auto pilot as your body steered you through the morning, liked leaving it up to your routine to anchor you back to reality whenever life took a toll on you.

Usually, you hated change. You hated its unpredictability; hated the way it slapped at you abruptly like a whip, hated the queasy feeling that bubbled in your stomach whenever it occurred.

But the change that snaked into your strict routine was welcomed with warm, open arms. He slotted into your mornings and evenings with ease, like a jigsaw piece that fits perfectly into the space in a puzzle. A puzzle that happens to be your life.

Yoongi was the first person you greeted every morning before leaving for work or classes. He left his home at the same time as you—something you only noticed in the last fortnight—and would wave at you from his door. You returned the gesture with a bright smile, one that was starting to feel almost too natural.

He waited for you every day without fail, with hands shoved deep into his pockets as he leaned against the wall. When you finally managed to reach his door, he would make small talk with you as you descended the elevator.

You’ve always hated the awkwardness that lingered with small talk but those feelings dissipated when it came to Yoongi. He always listened attentively when talked, chuckling whenever you complained about the lady living opposite you as he agreed. It made you feel comfortable about rambling on about whatever it was that swam through your mind, leaving no space for awkwardness to bubble.

Today, your topic of conversation was the music he claimed to make.

“At this point, I’m starting to think you’re a fraud,” you said.

You both stood outside the elevator of your apartment complex. Yoongi leaned in front of you to press the bottom button, and a ring of red light awoke along the sides of it.

Yoongi’s music has always been a topic of mystery. You’ve practically begged him to share a snippet of his songs with you ever since he mentioned being in a band, and each time he has refused. Though your words were playful, you had no idea if he made music at all. You recently realised how little you knew of him as a person too.

“And why would I lie to you about making music?” he asked.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I dunno. You could’ve been using it to make me fall in love with you or something. Pretending to be some cool, mysterious person in a band when you’re actually the opposite.”

“Well, did it work? Are you in love with me yet?”

You turned to look at him, narrowing your eyes as if to analyse him.

“Nope. You’ve got to try harder than buying me food and walking me to the lobby every morning.”

Yoongi let out a sigh, feigning disappointment. His lips pressed into a thin line that did little to hide the growing smile on his face. “Damn, I really thought I’d have you by now.”

A giggle escaped your lips just as the elevator doors slid open with a ding. You stepped in and returned to your position beside Yoongi, who clicked the second last button. Faint music played in the background, a soft ballad that you instantly recognised.

“I love this song,” you said. Yoongi turned his head to look at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“You do?”

You nodded. “Mhm. I’ve been having it on repeat for the last week.”

“Oh- I love this song too. Well- I’ve only listened to it once or twice whenever my friend plays it, but it’s really good.”

“I know right!” You were grinning as you looked at Yoongi, enthusiasm spilling from your tone, eyes wide with excitement. “It’s so- like- cosy? I don’t know.” A laughing breath escaped you.

“No, you’re right. It has that nice, cosy feel to it.”

You gesticulated wildly as you rambled on about the song and why you loved it so much, while Yoongi watched you with a wide smile. It was nice seeing you talk so passionately about something so mundane, how a simple song could brighten your entire day.

Yoongi didn’t interrupt you once, listening to your every word attentively. He wished he could stay with you, maybe even walk you to your college, just to hear your pleasant voice. There was just something about the smile on your face that made his heart beat a little faster.

But alas, he was forced to part ways with you as you reached the lobby doors. You waved goodbye and walked down the pathway. Instead of going his own way, Yoongi stayed as you grew smaller in his view.

Just before turning a corner, you looked back at him. You threw your head back as what Yoongi assumed to be a giggle—he was too far away to hear—left you. You brought your hands up and swatted them in his direction as if to shoo him away. He moved his hands to rest over his heart, feigning a hurt expression. He failed miserably, earning more laughter from you.

He liked making you laugh. It made his skin feel warm, the mere sound of it causing butterflies to erupt in his stomach.

It was stupid how much of an effect you had on him. He was absurdly comfortable around you, something he found difficult to accomplish around people he’s known for the better half of his life, let alone less than a month.

You lit up his day, your everyday routine giving him a reason to get up and be productive each morning. He never woke up before noon; there was simply no need to because anything to do with the band was held in the afternoon, and he usually did the night shift at his part-time job.

So why was he sacrificing the comfort of his blankets just to see you for ten minutes? Why was he debating on whether to change to a day shift because he didn’t even have anything to do in the morning other than seeing you? Why was he smiling to himself as he walked down the street, earning looks from passersby? And why didn’t he care, all because you were the only thing on his mind?

Honestly, he didn’t have an answer. It was too soon to conclude that he liked you. You were just a genuine friend, someone he happened to click with.

Right?

────

“I wrote a new song. I need you guys to sing it.”

Yoongi threw a leather notebook to the side, where it landed on the brunette who lay sprawled across the couch.

“Ow! Hyung, what the fuck?”

Taehyung plucked out his wired earphones, eyebrows furrowed in exaggerated pain as he took the notebook into his hands. He flicked through the pages meaninglessly before landing on the newly written pages.

On the couch opposite him sat Jungkook and Seokjin, completely immersed in some sort of game they played together. They yelled out profanities and shared movements intended to sabotage the other’s gameplay. Yoongi sighed.

Calling the room a mess was an understatement. A multitude of empty energy drinks, a few random sticky notes—reminders from the members to each other that would end up being forgotten anyway—and a stack of empty plates littered the coffee table. A hill of clothes sat neglected in the space beside Jungkook and Seokjin, and Yoongi automatically crinkled his nose despite the lack of any unpleasant odour.

He would have attempted to tidy up the room, but the long day weighed down on his shoulders. He moved Taehyung’s legs off the couch and slumped down beside him.

“Since when did you write love songs?” Taehyung asked. It was comical how fast Jungkook and Seokjin’s attention turned to Yoongi.

“It’s not a love song, it’s a ballad, idiot,” Yoongi mumbled.

“Same thing,” Taehyung replied, rolling his eyes as he flicked to the next page.

“Aw, Yoongi’s in love,” Seokjin piped up, feigning a sympathetic expression. He brought his hand up and added with a whisper, “Don’t worry, it’ll go away soon.”

“Fuck off, hyung.” Yoongi flipped him off and Jungkook chuckled at the exaggerated gasp that fell from Seokjin’s lips. Before he could start rambling on about how you should respect your elders, the youngest spoke up.

“So, who’s the girl, hyung?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I told you, it’s not a love song. There’s isn’t any girl.”

“Yeah, right. Just tell us wh—.”

“Is she the one that lives a few doors down?” The new voice emerged from the side of the room, and everyone’s heads snapped up in its direction.

Jimin shut the bathroom door softly as he vigorously rubbed a towel over his hair. The ink tattooed under his chest was displayed in his shirtless form, grey sweatbands lying low on his waist.

“Who?”

“Why was I not told about this?”

“Yoongi has a girlfriend?!”

“She’s not my girlfr—.”

“No, she’s just the only reason you wake up at ass o’clock to see for like- ten minutes.” A teasing smile played at the corners of Jimin’s lips as he propped down between Seokjin and Jungkook. Yoongi shot him a glare.

“She’s a nice person. So what if I wake up a little earlier to see her? I’d do the same for you guys if we didn’t live together.”

Everyone in the room turned to look at him with a deadpan expression.

“Okay, maybe I wouldn’t, but it’s not that big of a deal!”

“Clearly is if you’re writing love songs about her,” Taehyung added. He threw the book over to the three who sat on the opposite couch, and Jungkook caught it with ease before eagerly flicking to the page with the lyrics.

“I’m not writing love songs about her! It’s not even a love song, it’s a ballad!”

“Okay, maybe you’re right. But there’s no way she’s not even a tiny bit of the reason why you wrote this,” Jimin said.

Seokjin nodded in agreement. “You’ve been struggling with writer’s block for like- the past week. And now you’re suddenly writing a song that’s a complete 180 of everything we’ve made so far?”

All four of their beady eyes stared at Yoongi, waiting for an answer. It felt like an interrogation.

“This isn’t fair, this is bullying. If Namjoon was here, he would’ve stuck up for me.”

“Yeah, cuz you’re a big baby that can’t even stick up for himself,” Taehyung mumbled, though Yoongi heard him loud and clear. He opened his mouth to curse at the younger when Jimin interrupted him.

“Uhm, no he wouldn’t. How’d you think I knew about the girl?”

“Asshole,” Yoongi muttered under his breath.

He told Namjoon about you around a week ago. How it had slipped into the conversation, Yoongi didn’t know. But his mind had been foggy from his intoxication that he found himself eventually telling Namjoon everything; about how you met, how you helped him, the dinner you shared. He didn’t even spare the details; how he thought you’re eyes were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen, how your laugh made his heart leap, how he hadn’t felt like this is years—if ever—and it was scaring him how fast he was falling for you.

Yoongi was frustrated at Namjoon but was also grateful that he didn’t reveal everything he had told him that night. If he had, the members wouldn’t be questioning him right now because they would already have a clear answer.

Yoongi sighed, leaning back his head.

“I- Last week, she mentioned this song that she loved ‘cause it was playing in the elevator. And- I don’t know- I don’t think our usual music is her taste. She’s been asking me to play her some of our songs for weeks and I’ve just avoided the subject. I just- I want her to listen to something that I know she’ll love.”

Because he loved seeing you happy. He loved the way you’re face lit up and he wanted you to have the same reaction when you listened to his songs. But he didn’t say that, of course. Just treasured the thoughts deep in his mind because he hated the truth they carried.

“That’s so cute, hyung,” Jungkook said.

“Whatever,” Yoongi mumbled, becoming more aware of the warmth spreading across his ears. “So, will you guys sing the song? I don’t think any rap verses would fit it, so it’s completely up to you.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to get it finished fast enou–,” Jimin started, but was abruptly cut off.

“Of course, we will,” Taehyung said, throwing a hand over Yoongi’s shoulder. “When you guys get married, tell her that we’re the only reason she fell for you. You know, with our angelic voices an-.”

“Taehyung, I swear to fucking God-.”

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Snowflakes poured from the sky, clinging to your clothes for a brief second before disappearing into the fabric. The cold air bit into your skin, slowly seeping into your bones and numbing your face.

You were delighted when the snowfall first began a few weeks ago. It had been the only thing that marked the start of the holiday season, and you found yourself giving into the festivities of it all despite the reminders of your finals looming over you like an angry, dark cloud.

Now that your exams were buried in the past, you realised what a hassle the weather was when it wasn’t the only thing cheering you up.

Your nose was stuffy and an angry shade of red. Your limbs ached, weighing down on you. It took you double the time it usually took for you to walk home due to the black ice that coated the sidewalks. You made the mistake of trudging through it carelessly once, and that ended up with a sprained ankle and complete humiliation. No way would you let that happen again.

No one would willingly go out in such weather.

So why was there someone standing outside your apartment? Why was he choosing the bitter cold instead of the heated lobby that stood a mere three steps away? And why was it Yoongi?

A thick scarf hung around his neck, obscuring most of his face with it’s deep, red fabric. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his black jacket, his head turned down to the floor.

He didn’t notice you as you approached his figure.

“Are you trying to freeze to death?”

His head snapped up. He stared at you blankly for a second before his cheeks rose up ever so slightly, the signs of his rare smile that always made your heart flutter.

“Hi. No—.” He chuckled softly, the sound quickly lost to the busy city. “—I was waiting for you. Didn’t know what time you came back, so...” His voice got quieter as he spoke, trailing off into a mumble.

“Oh, that’s so sweet.” Your words brought a smile to his face, his expression no longer holding a sense of hesitancy. “Why were you waiting for me though?”

“Right. I had to give you this.” He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a square-shaped envelope. Sensing your confusion from your puzzled expression, he added, “It’s a CD. You wanted to hear some of our songs, so I put together my personal favourites.”

All the words of thanks and appreciation died on your tongue as you took the cover from his hands. It was incredibly light, and you could trace the circular outline of the CD that lay inside.

“Yoongi, I– you really didn’t have to,” you finally managed.

“I wanted to.”

Your eyes crinkled to accommodate the smile growing across your face. “This is literally the best thing anyone has ever gotten me. You could’ve sent me a playlist online, y’know, instead of putting so much effort into it.”

Yoongi hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“I thought you’d like a CD more.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, of course I love the CD. I was just wondering why you chose the harder way.”

“I thought you deserved something more than just a few texts.”

You hoped that Yoongi would overlook the heat crawling across your skin as a result of the cold instead of his words.

“I- Thank you. Seriously, thank you so much.”

He nodded. “You do have something to play it on, right? I actually didn’t think about whe–.”

“Oh yeah, no don’t worry. I have an old laptop that I can put these into.”

Another nod. Yoongi’s eyes darted away as soon as they met yours, glancing around everywhere but you.

“Do you wanna go inside and not risk hypothermia?” you said with a small laugh.

“Uh– I actually have to visit a friend today.”

“Oh, okay.” Had he noticed the way your shoulders deflated at his answer? You hoped not. “I’ll see you around then?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

You stepped past him and fished out your keys from your pockets. By the time you opened the door and turned back to wave goodbye, he had already walked away.

────

Click.

The CD slid into the side of the laptop with ease. Files popped up on the screen, casting shadows across your skin. You could feel the quiet hum of the machine beneath your fingertips, a steady, calming rhythm that contrasted with the sudden quickening of your heartbeat.

Your eyes wandered over it, soaking in the half a dozen songs Yoongi had chosen. You’d already listened to them all once, but you wanted to hear them again.

There was something about the way they played in your ears, something almost magical in the way the melodies intertwined with your thoughts. Each note seemed to resonate with a different part of you as if Yoongi had handpicked them to speak to your soul.

The songs were beautiful. Despite it not being your usual choice of music, you found yourself treasuring each song close to your heart. You hadn’t expected to feel this way, hadn’t anticipated how deeply you’d connect with the music that was so different from what you normally listened to. But here you were, replaying them over and over, savouring each lyric like a secret only you and Yoongi shared.

Maybe it was because you got to see a new side of Yoongi in his music. A confident, almost arrogant version of him that sang each lyric with pure passion. You could feel the intensity in every word, every note as if they were laced with emotions he could never quite express in person.

Or maybe he just knew you well enough to pick out songs he knew that you would like. Songs that would make you think of him, songs that would linger in your mind long after the last note faded away.

Whatever it was, it failed to stop the giddy feeling that enveloped your skin. A warmth that spread from your chest to the tips of your fingers, leaving you lightheaded and dizzy with emotions you weren’t quite ready to name. You couldn’t remember the last time something—or someone—had made you feel this way.

Your fingers scrolled down on the mouse, a habit that had formed ever since you first got the laptop. You hadn’t expected the screen to move. But it did. A subtle movement that caught you off guard, your breath hitching slightly as you leaned closer to the screen.

A seventh file revealed itself at the bottom of the screen. It didn’t have a name. Just a small, blank icon that seemed to stare back at you, as if daring you to click on it.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Yoongi had probably added it by mistake, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this was something he had intended to keep hidden, something private that you weren’t meant to see. You clicked into it.

Someone cleared their throat.

“Uh, hi. I don’t know if you’ll see this or not, but I hope you do.”

Yoongi’s voice was low and smooth, just like you’ve always known it. But nervousness curled around his words, the hesitance before each one clear as day. It was a stark contrast to the confident, almost cocky tone in which he carried himself within all his other songs.

It made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“This is a cover.” He chuckled softly before his voice turned to a mumble. “God this is mortifying.”

You didn’t even realise that you were smiling. The corners of your lips had curled up almost involuntarily. There was something incredibly endearing about the way he sounded so vulnerable, so unsure of himself, and it only made you want to hear more.

“So–uhm. I hope you enjoy, ___.”

Oh, how you loved the way he said your name. The way the word fell from his tongue; like he was born to utter your name over and over again. It felt like a caress, soft and gentle, wrapping around you like a blanket on a cold winter night. You could almost see him there, sitting in front of his microphone, his eyes closed as he let your name slip past his lips.

He plucked the string of a guitar, the high-pitched sound quickly lost to his voice as he began to sing.

The familiarity of the song washed over you, a wave of nostalgia that tugged at your heartstrings. It was a cover of the same song you heard in the elevator a few days ago. The same one you had mentioned to him in passing. The same one he remembered to be your favourite.

He remembered, and it was almost pathetic how such a simple gesture had you feeling things that hadn’t been awakened in your heart for a dreadfully long time.

His voice filled the space with a melodic warmth that seemed to wrap around you like a comforting embrace. You leaned into the embrace—leaned in closer to the laptop in an attempt to be as close to him as you could so that you wouldn’t miss a single word. It felt as if he were singing directly to you as if every note was meant for your ears only.

His voice reminded you of honey; smooth, sweet, clear, and so fucking addicting. You could feel yourself getting lost in it, letting it seep into your very being, soothing parts of you that you didn’t even realise needed healing.

Unfortunately, the song was short. He had only sung half of it, lasting only around a minute and a half. But the enchanting melody lingered in the air long after he finished. You found yourself replaying it in your mind, trying to hold on to the feeling it gave you, not wanting it to fade away too soon.

“I hope I did the song justice.” A breathy laugh. “If I ended up ruining it for you forever, I’m sorry.”

If only he knew how much you would treasure his cover of the song in your heart, or how you would play the CD almost every day because you liked listening to his voice. How you would wake up every morning and–for the first time in a long while–would find yourself looking forward to change.

Looking forward to him.

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stevie-petey · 1 year ago

Text

episode five: the flea and the acrobat

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?” Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?” “Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend. Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

summary: you and dustin have a long overdue Sibling Moment, at will's funeral you and jonathan exchange information and surprise ! it's all horrible news ! nancy has awful timing and when you leave her alone with jonathan one damn time you and steve end up trauma bonded on her front porch #bffs.

rating: general, though there's the use of guns in here for plot point sake, as well as cursing

warnings: use of guns, cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 14.4k (whew)

before you swing in: i'm back gang ! fall semester is almost done and i am in the trenches, so i leave y'all with this monster of a chapter before hell week (i have three finals in one day next week, no i don't want to talk about it). please enjoy this beauty, i had so much fun messing with character relationships in this and it was very ;)

With how many times you’ve knocked on the Wheeler’s door this week, you’d think that Mrs. Wheeler would stop looking so surprised when she answers.

“Y/N?”

You give the woman a small smile. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. Is, uh, Mike home?”

“Yes… he stayed home today because of Will. Is there something you need?” The usually friendly woman seems beaten down from this week’s events as well, which you’re understanding of.

“I was wondering if I could come in and see how he’s doing? Dustin is really shaken up about it, so I figured…” You shrug, trying to come across as a concerned older sister figure rather than a worried and horrible babysitter who should really retire.

Mrs. Wheeler places a hand over her heart. “Oh, Y/N. You’ve always been so good with the boys, of course you can check on him. It means a lot that you care.”

Oh, no problem, but if we’re being honest I’m here because I’m scared I accidentally let your son get involved with the supernatural and dangerous monster men thingies that I honestly can’t wrap my head around!

Of course you can’t tell the woman this, so instead you thank her and let yourself in. Immediately you head towards the basement and fling the door open. You like Mrs. Wheeler, but the amount of times her son has snuck out of the house without her noticing honestly concerns you, so you’re a bit unsure if Mike even is home.

You get deja-vu from a few days ago as you head down the basement steps, once again hearing the three boys panicking as they try to hide El. Unlike last time, which had only annoyed you, seeing them scramble to hide the girl makes you relieved.

They’re here, alive and well. You’d let Steve distract you from your worrying on the drive over, so the relief hits you like a damn truck.

“Oh god not again!” Dustin groans when he sees you, worried that he’s once again going to get yelled at for being at the Wheeler’s with El.

You ignore his theatrics and walk over to the girl, who is laying face down on the couch. You notice that she’s dressed in one of Nancy’s old costumes and a blonde wig that suits her well. What the hell did the kids get up to today?

“Do I want to know why El is dressed like a doll and almost passed out on the couch?”

“That depends on if you’re going to yell at us again,” Mike says.

You shoot him a glare, but you guess he has a point. The last few times you’ve been with the kids you’ve ended up yelling at them one way or another. You feel bad about that, but then again: they won’t stop getting into trouble.

El manages to raise her head from the couch, “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, sweetie,” you approach the couch and gently nudge her to the side so that you can sit down and place her head on your lap. She nuzzles into your warmth and lets out a sleepy sigh. “And to answer your question, Mike: I’m not here to yell at you guys. I just… Please tell me what’s been going on. I know I haven’t been here for you guys like I should’ve, but-”

“Your boyfriend needed you more,” Mike quips, though there’s some resentment in his voice that causes you to feel even worse.

Dustin hits his shoulder against the boy. “He isn’t her boyfriend, but she couldn’t just abandon him; he needed her. Besides, we have been sneaking off without telling her anything.”

You cast an appreciative smile at your brother, thankful that even though he’s a pain in your ass, he always has your back like you do his. It’s something he’s always done with you and Mike; being so similar, you and him are constantly butting heads, yet Dustin has always been the first to defend you against his friend (even if you’ve never needed it in the first place).

“I’m sorry, okay? I messed up, but I’m here now and I really, really need to know if I’m being paranoid. What mess did you dweebs manage to get into?”

The three boys suddenly can’t look at you. Their heads turn in different directions, Lucas scratches the back of his neck, Mike kicks at a board piece on the ground, and Dustin whistles a tune.

Your shoulders slump. “Is it that bad?”

“It started this morning,”

“Lucas!”

“Mike, she could help us! The weirdo clearly likes her,” he gestures over to El practically asleep in your lap, “plus, she’s the only sane one left in this group. I need backup.”

“Backup?” You ask.

Mike throws his head back in annoyance and lets out a groan as if he’s dying. Truly, this kid is the most dramatic person you’ve ever met. “Fine, we’ll tell you everything if you agree to stop hounding us for sneaking around. Will is missing, he’s our friend, and no one in the party gets left behind.”

You think this over for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “I will agree to those terms if you guys agree to keep me updated on everything at all times.”

The boys try to argue, but you don’t let them.

“I mean it, another person is missing. Nancy’s friend, Barb, was in the same woods that Will was, the same woods that you guys keep insisting on trekking through without supervision. This is serious, guys. Whatever, or whoever, is out there… it’s dangerous, and I-” You swallow down some tears that claw against your throat. “I can’t lose anyone else, okay?”

The mood in the room is solemn, the three boys silent as your words hang in the air. Naturally, you try to lighten things up. “I’ll deny this if anyone asks, but unfortunately I love you boys.”

As expected, they immediately begin to gag and pretend that they’ve been impaled with something as they all scream “ew” and “yuck” at your words. You laugh, which causes El to laugh as well, and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed.

“So?” You ask after the boys have finished their gross theatrics.

Dustin is the one who makes the decision for them. “We promise to keep you updated, for real this time.”

“Good, now again I ask: why is El dressed like a doll and half asleep on my lap as we speak?”

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike begin to talk all at once.

“Mike radioed for me to head over, claiming he heard Will on the walkie.”

“Yeah, and then they radioed me to join. Sorry, by the way. I would’ve woken you up, but you and Jonathan looked so cozy in your bed so-”

“I thought you said they weren’t dating?”

“Not now, Mike.”

It continues like this for a while as they explain everything they did today. Sneaking El into the school, having to to talk to Mr. Clark, attending the assembly for Will, Mike fighting some idiotic kids for making fun of him before El made the head bully pee himself.

You look down at the girl in your lap. “You can really make people pee themselves?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugs.

“Lovely.”

“That’s what you focus on, Y/N?” Mike asks you, and you simply shrug your shoulders in response. Sue you for still having doubts about Will being alive, you’ve gotten your hopes up one too many times.

“Are you suggesting I believe that you heard Will through your cheap little walkies?”

Dustin puts his head in his hands in defeat while Lucas gestures over to you. “See, she’s the sane backup I need.”

Mike groans at you once more. “No, that’s why we snuck El into the radio room and used the heathkit that Mr. Clark got us. Keep up!”

“What, did you tell the guy that El was a new student?”

“Don’t be stupid, we told Mr. Clark that she’s my cousin.”

“Uhh, Y/N,” Dustin laughs nervously, motioning for you to stop talking. “You promised you’d be cool about everything if we told you.”

Knowing that your brother is right, you deflate a bit against the couch and start playing with El’s hair. “I am being cool, I just have so many questions.”

“Oh, just wait.” Lucas snorts.

Mike now crosses the room to stand in front of you, as if he’s gearing up to tell you some major news. “We heard Will on the heathkit. El, she managed to use her powers to communicate with him.”

Like always, the seriousness in his voice concerns yet intrigues you. “Lucas, do you really believe that it was Will?”

The boy nods at you, his face grim. You don’t like how scared he looks, because out of the entire group he’s the one who is always the most reasonable. If he’s willingly telling you that he thinks it was Will, then you have to start taking the situation at hand seriously.

“Okay, tell me exactly what you guys heard.”

And they do. One by one they tell you about Will’s pleading for his mom, telling her that it’s like home but cold and dark, the banging that followed after his words, how El had used so much of her energy trying to maintain the communication before the radio caught fire and she was too exhausted to do much else.

“So, you believe us now?” Mike asks after you’re silent for a moment.

You look down at the girl in your lap, in awe that someone so small and shy could hold so much power. This time you believe what the boys tell you without much conviction. Now that you know that Barb is missing as well, lost in the same woods as Will, the same woods where you found El, the photos from Nancy and the figure she claims she saw… It’s all starting to come together.

You’re not sure exactly what you’re caught up in, but you know it’s too late to back out. Whatever is going on, whatever thing took Will and transported him to some unknown place with possibly the same powers that El has, you know it’s your responsibility to handle it.

“Yes,” you respond, and the boys all sigh with relief. “Just one question though,”

Dustin sighs. “Yes, Y/N?”

“How did it take you guys so long to set fire to the school? Honestly, Jonathan and I thought it’d happen sooner.”

“You’re hilarious.” Mike deadpans, which only causes you and El to giggle together again.

“I hate to ruin the good mood, but we seriously need to figure out what Will meant when he said that wherever he is ‘is like home’.” Your brother interrupts.

Mike spins to face him. “He said, ‘like home, but dark’, right?”

“And ‘empty’.” Lucas adds.

“‘Empty’ and ‘cold’. Wait, did he say cold?” Dustin asks the group.

You nod your head. “You mentioned cold earlier.”

Lucas throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “The stupid radio kept going in and out!”

“It’s like riddles in the dark…” Your brother sighs, which you hum in agreement to.

Will’s words were pretty vague, but you wish you had been there at the middle school as well. Maybe if you had heard the tone of Will’s voice, you’d be of more help.

Mike continues to mumble about “like home” and “dark” for a few more seconds, now pacing around the room. You watch from the couch, El still resting with her head in your lap, and as you’re playing with her hair she finally speaks up after having been silent for a while.

“Upside down.”

“What’d she say?” Lucas asks.

“Upside down? I guess?” Is all you can tell him.

“What?”

While you, Dustin, and Lucas are confused by El’s words, Mike rushes over to the forgotten board from a few days ago and sits down. He frantically flips it over and motions for you to come and join him. You hesitate for a second, but he only doubles down on his waving you over, so you gently lift El’s head up and walk over.

“God, took you long enough.”

“I was literally three feet away from you on the couch, why did I have to move?”

Mike ignores your question and begins to explain the thirty million thoughts flying through his head at the moment, “When El showed us where Will was, she flipped the board over, remember?”

You nod, slowly understanding where he’s going with this. “She flipped it upside down.”

“Exactly! Dark. Empty.”

Lucas looks over at you and Dustin, unamused. “Do you understand what he’s talking about?”

“No,” your brother says at the same time as you saying “the upside down part? Yes. The dark and empty part? No.”

Mike tries to explain further. “Guys, come on, think about it. When El took us to find Will, she took us to his house, right?”

“You mean last night when they found Will’s body in the water?” You ask, not really understanding where Mike is going with all this.

“Like Y/N said, he wasn’t there.” Lucas reminds everyone, but Mike still tries to get his point across.

“But what if he was there? What if we just couldn’t see him, what if he was on the other side?”

You think about Jonathan’s words from earlier today in the car while on the way to the funeral home, trying to calm down from his fight with his mom. He had told you about how Joyce was convinced that Will was in the walls within their home, that the body they saw in the morgue hadn’t been his.

“Hold on,” you interrupt Mike, “you guys said that there was some, like, banging where Will was, right? And that he had been begging his mom to come get him?”

“Yeah, it was like some sick sci-fi movie!”

You glare at your brother. “Ignoring you. Anyways, did you guys hear Mrs. Byers on the radio as well?”

Mike shakes his head. “No, all we could hear was the banging and something... Growling, I guess.”

Knowing Joyce, you’d bet money that the banging had been her. You know that the next time you go over to their house, the walls might actually be destroyed, but she’d been right all along. Will is alive, he has to be. The pieces that you’ve slowly been collecting this past week fall together one by one.

“That explains the walls and the weird monster thing in Jonathan’s picture,” you mumble to yourself, but Lucas hears you.

“Do I wanna know?”

You purse your lips. “Let’s focus on figuring out where Will is, then I’ll tell you guys what I’ve been up to this week.”

“Okay, so,” Mike begins again, now grabbing the board game and flipping it onto its normal, light side. “What if this is Hawkins,” he flips it upside down onto its dark side, “and this is where Will is?”

“The Upside Down.” You finish for him.

“The Upside Down.” Mike confirms.

Slowly Dustin follows along. “Like the Vale of Shadows.”

Somehow you always end up the one confused when it comes to these damn kids. “The Vale of Shadows? What the hell is that?”

Dustin runs over to the bookshelf and pulls out a thick binder full of paper, but as he flips through it you realize it’s a rulebook for Dungeons and Dragons. He lands on the page he’s looking for, and you feel your shoulders drop. Great. More confusing terminology ahead.

“‘The Vale of Shadows’,” he begins to read, “‘is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters’.”

“Wait, didn’t you say something about a monster, Y/N?” Lucas asks, but you shush him so you don't miss whatever else Dustin will say next.

“‘It is right next to you, and you don’t even see it’.” He finishes.

His words hang in the air for a moment, but Mike, always somehow three steps ahead, pieces it together. “An alternate dimension.”

Lucas finally accepts what’s happening. “But how do we get there?”

“I’m sorry, we?” You look between all three boys, their faces still young and holding the childish innocence that you once had yourself. “No, there’s no ‘we’ in this. I may not know much about alternate dimensions, but there’s no way I’m letting you guys try to find and go to one.”

Mike rolls his eyes at you. “Well what choice do we have? Do you want to tell that mean police chief about this?”

“I…well… I mean-no.” You sink down in the seat, annoyed that Mike is right. No way Hopper believes any of this, you hardly believe any of it.

“Can we cast shadow walk?” Dustin focuses back on the conversation at hand.

You don’t bother to ask what that means.

“In real life, dummy.” Lucas reminds him.

“We can’t shadow walk, but…” Your brother’s eyes land on El, who is still laying on the couch, silent and unmoving. “Maybe she can.”

The four of you turn towards the girl, and Mike voices his own question. “Do you know how we get there? To the Upside Down?”

El meets your eyes, and you can see that she’s hesitant about something. She’s been quieter than usual, almost suspiciously so, and you know that the more Mike figures things out, the more hesitant she becomes. She shakes her head at you, and you give her a sad smile.

Lucas flings his head back and groans. “Oh my god!”

Mike and Dustin seem to be thinking the same thing, disappointed by El’s lack of help. You don’t blame them, also frustrated by the fact that it feels like you guys are so close to discovering something big. You can feel hope reignite in your chest; you haven’t been this close to an explanation about Will all week. This has to be it. It’s the only way you can explain everything that’s been happening lately.

Speaking of which:

“Remember how I mentioned Barb and a possible monster?”

You tell them everything, about Jonathan’s worry for his mom, how their phone got charred by lightning, Hopper’s theory that Will had been running from something, Nancy and Barb attending Steve’s party and how Barb had been on her own near the woods. You tell them about how Barb has been missing ever since and the photos Jonathan took (leaving out the horrible ones of Nancy) that Nancy brought to your attention at the funeral home. The figure in the background, looming over Barb, how it didn’t seem to have a face.

Then you tell them about Joyce and her spiral, though now you know she actually wasn’t crazy. You tell them about the Christmas lights and Will communicating with her through them. How she claimed that she could hear him through the wall and that the body in the quarry hadn’t been him.

When you’re finally done catching them up, they stare at you with their jaws open.

“Dustin,” Mike says, “remind me to never leave your sister out ever again.”

“Noted.”

–

The events from the day had left El exhausted and she refuses to say anything else after you explain everything to the boys. Her eyes droop while Mike interrogates you for answers you can’t give him, so finally you take pity on the poor girl and tell him that you’ll talk more in the morning.

Mike isn’t too happy about being shut down, but when you point towards a half asleep El he reluctantly gives in. “Fine, but as soon as the funeral is over we’re discussing this further.”

Right. Will’s funeral is tomorrow.

“Yeah, sure,” you tuck your hair behind your ears and motion over to Dustin. “We need to go, it’s late and mom will be wondering where we are.”

He tries to argue with you but you just gather your things and head for the stairs. There’s still a lot you need to think about and a million things you need to sort before the funeral tomorrow. Did Jonathan even buy the coffin? Who had made the arrangements after you and him left the funeral home with Nancy?

There’s a lot you need to talk about when you call him tonight.

The bike ride home with Lucas and Dustin is a quiet one, both boys understanding that you need some time to think about everything you learned tonight.

You make a list in your head of what you do know, but it’s a frustratingly short list.

1) El, one way or another, has powers that enable her to communicate with Will in some weird upside down universe that you can’t actually get to (can you even count this as something you know?)

2) Hopper was right: Will went missing because he was running from something (probably the same faceless thing that’s in Jonathan’s photo).

3) Whatever took Will also took Barb, bringing Nancy into this wonderfully confusing mess (you still don’t know if her involvement is a good or bad thing).

Everything else? You have no fucking clue what’s going on.

When you get home with Dustin, it’s late; the two of you have to sneak past your mom, who fell asleep with Mews on her lap in the living room. Dustin heads straight for his room but you stop him, motioning for him to come into yours for a second.

“What-”

“Shh!” You quickly shut your door to ensure that your mom won’t hear anything.

Dustin groans. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna yell at me?”

You roll your eyes at him. “I yell at you guys twice after years of patience, now suddenly I’m a screaming monster,” he doesn’t say anything and flings himself onto the bean bag by your bed. “Anyways, we’re long overdue for a code blue.”

Your brother shoots up from the bean bag, eyes wide. “No.”

“Yes,” you join him on the bean bag. “Code blue time, we’re going to talk about our feelings after the hellish week we’ve had. C’mon, you know the drill.”

Code blue was something the two of you came up with when your dad left. You had been twelve when it happened, Dustin had been nine. It’d been a really rough few months for you guys, dealing with the betrayal of your dad while also moving away from your hometown in Virginia all within a year. Neither of you had adjusted well to the sudden changes, and though you were angry and bitter about what had happened, the moment you saw that it was affecting your brother you decided to implement code blue.

It’s simple, really. Whoever calls for a code blue gets to talk about or ask whatever they want while the other is required to answer. Originally it was so that you could force Dustin into telling you his feelings, but over the years it’s become a way to bond with each other and know that no matter what you’ll be there for one another. No half truths or a vague “I’m fine”; it’s a time for you guys to be vulnerable with one another without using it as leverage against the other.

Dustin plops his head back down. “Fine, but I’m tired so can this be quick?”

“Hey, no complaining during code blue. That’s like, rule number one.”

“Y/N.” His tone is one of annoyance and you know that if you don’t start talking soon then you’ll lose his interest.

“Right, sorry. Okay,” you clear your throat and face your brother. “Today’s code blue topic is this: I’m worried about you getting your hopes up about Will. We don’t know that he’s alive just yet.”

As expected, Dustin is unhappy with what you’ve said. “We do know that he’s alive, I heard him on the heathkit. He’s alive, Y/N.” He sees the uncertainty on your face and doubles down on what he’s saying. “He is.”

You bite your lip, scared that you’ll say the wrong thing. “Dustin, nothing is certain. Even though we’re definitely onto something, and while I believe that you heard Will on the radio, that doesn’t change the fact that there’s something else out there that wants to hurt him. I mean, he’s trapped in some weird alternate dimension that we have no idea how to even get into. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

You think about the way your brother’s face fell when they pulled Will’s body out of the water. How the hope that had been in his eyes immediately died alongside his childhood naivety. He had built all of his hope upon a shaky foundation; the moment it collapsed he fell apart.

“Look I know you’re trying to look out for me, but Will is a part of the party. He’s our friend, we can’t just lose hope and leave him behind. He needs us.” Dustin speaks with so much certainty and an aura of maturity that almost makes you forget that he’s twelve.

“I’m not saying it’s dangerous to have hope, but I need you to promise me that you’ll protect yourself from whatever happens next. How’s that sound?”

Dustin thinks for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin. “Hmm, I think I can make that deal if you promise the same thing. I mean, c’mon, it’s obvious that you’re the sensitive one out of the two of us. You and hope? Doomed.”

You laugh, knowing he’s right. You’ve always been branded by hope; hopeful for love, for dreams, and for those who may not always deserve it. You and hope haven’t always gotten along, but she’s become a familiar friend.

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal. Now, it’s late and I have to call Jonathan and catch him up on everything, so let’s conclude code blue with its mandatory hug.”

“Woah woah woah, I don’t think we gotta-”

Dustin’s words become muffled as you throw yourself on top of him and squish him into a hug. He squirms against you for a second, claiming he can’t breathe, but you shush him and force him to accept the hug. Though you won’t ever tell him this, losing Will has only made you more appreciative of having a wonderfully annoying little brother.

After code blue, Dustin goes to his room claiming that “alternate dimensions are super draining”, and before he leaves you tell him to be ready tomorrow by nine for the funeral and that your mom will take him. You’ll be at the Byers’ helping Jonathan.

Once he’s gone you give yourself a few moments to sit in silence, letting the events from today settle over you. It seems like all you’ve felt this week is exhaustion and hurt and at the rate everything is going, there’s no telling how long you’ll feel this way.

The moment you’re done wallowing you roll off the bean bag and walk over to your desk to call Jonathan. You’re honestly not sure what you’ll even tell him tonight, there’s no way you’ll be able to cover everything before the night ends. The two of you have a long day tomorrow, so you figure you’ll have to make do with the limited time you have and summarize.

Jonathan answers after a few rings. “How’d your little secret mission go?”

You make a face. “Is it even a secret mission if I told you I was going on it?”

“It is if you refuse to tell me what you did during it.”

“Touche, bee.”

He laughs, which sends a cascading warmth throughout your body. You can envision him perfectly on the other end of the line, leaning against his kitchen wall with the phone wire wrapped around his finger as he absent mindedly fiddles with it while he talks to you.

You clear your throat and shake the thought from your mind, you called him for a reason. “Anyways… we need to talk.”

Jonathan is silent for a moment and you can feel the playfulness fade away. “Yeah, you first though. You already know what Nance and I were up to.”

Nance?

Awesome. Cool. Totally not going to be consumed by that later.

“Right. Uh, well. I went looking for Dustin because the other night when I was with the boys we stumbled upon this, well, this little girl.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, she’s bald.”

“Okay… is that important or…?”

“Unsure, but it felt important to tell you. Sorry,” you take a deep breath, “I’m not sure why I’m so nervous right now.”

“It’s okay, bug. It’s me, you can tell me anything.”

No I can’t.

“Sure, yeah, totally. Um, so anyways we found her, her name is El, and she’s our only connection to Will right now.”

A beat of silence. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she kinda has… powers?”

“Powers,”

“Powers.”

You hear Jonathan sigh on the other end of the call. “Bug, you’re not seriously telling me that the boys have somehow dragged you into one of their little schemes, right?”

Yeah, he’s reacting exactly how you figured he would.

“I know what it sounds like, but Jonathan… How else would you explain everything going on? Will disappeared, Barb did too, your mom and her lights. Now that thing Nancy saw in the woods, which I know you definitely have an update that will only further prove how weird this all is.”

Again Jonathan is quiet, and this time you envision him pacing little circles in the kitchen as he carefully thinks through your words, trying to piece it all together. “We developed the photo again and you’re right, there’s something behind Barb in it.”

You close your eyes and exhale. “So, you believe me now?”

“Guess I don’t really have a choice.”

“You don’t.”

“Then we’ll talk about it after the funeral tomorrow.” He concedes.

“Yeah,” you let out a shaky breath, “the funeral. I’ll make my way over the second I wake up tomorrow to help with everything.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know.”

More silence settles over the two of you. It’s still hard to wrap your head around the fact that it was only a week ago where everything was normal. No disappearances, no weird feelings, no heartbreak and confusion.

“Bug?” Jonathan is practically whispering.

“Yeah?”

“Lonnie is here.”

The words hit you hard. Why the fuck is Lonnie back in Hawkins? “Do you need to spend the night? I can finally bake those cookies for your mom and we can watch whatever you want.”

“No,” he sounds exhausted. “He hasn’t been a problem yet, and I can’t…”

“Leave your mom with him?” You finish.

“He thinks she’s crazy and her axing down one of our walls doesn’t help-”

So you were right, Joyce did indeed break down her wall to try and get to Will.

“Jonathan, it’s okay. I understand, stay with her and get some rest. Sleep, that’s an order.”

He lets out a weak laugh. “I love you, bug.”

Like how I love you?

“I love you too, bee.” The words burn your tongue.

“Goodnight,”

“Sleep well.”

–

You’re up before the sun this morning.

You spent hours tossing and turning last night, hardly getting any sleep. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to turn your mind off. All you could think about was Jonathan, his smile and his voice and the way he kisses your forehead whenever you’ve done something especially endearing to him. You were surrounded by him last night.

Now you stand outside his front door holding a tin of cookies, dressed in a simple knitted black dress and tights with mary janes that used to belong to your mom for Will’s funeral. The shoes are your favorite, but now you’re afraid they’re tainted by the occasion you’re wearing them for.

It’s Lonnie who opens the door. “Well if it isn’t little miss Henderson. I missed ya, sweetheart.”

You haven’t seen the man in two years, having been fourteen when he left Joyce and the kids. Since then he’s only aged horribly, his eyes slightly yellowed and his beer gut now more prominent. Clearly he still prefers alcohol over human company. Figures.

“Can’t say the same about you.” Your shoulder hits his as you walk in and he lets out an annoyed huff.

The man follows you but you pay him no attention. Instead you head straight towards Joyce and the second she sees you she runs into your arms; you only have a few seconds to place down the cookies before she’s in your arms.

“Y/N! You’re here!” She squeezes you tight and you melt into her embrace. She’s always given the best hugs whenever you’ve needed the comfort, but now it’s your turn to be the one offering the support.

“Of course, Mrs. Byers. Who else will make sure Jonathan is ready on time?” You mean for it to be a joke, but the way that Joyce’s eyes harden tells you that the funeral is a sore topic for her. She still doesn’t believe that Will is dead and it breaks your fucking heart that you can’t tell her she’s right.

Joyce wipes away a tear before pulling away. She goes to say something before seeing the tin of cookies on the counter; she immediately pulls you into another hug. “Oatmeal raisin,”

“They’re your favorite.”

“And Will’s.”

“And Will’s favorite. You know I gotta take care of my Byers.” You whisper into her ear, feeling Lonnie’s eyes on you during the exchange. You have to bite back your tongue, though his presence always makes you feel a type of anger that’s normally foreign to you.

Joyce pulls away and you know it’s taking everything in her to give you a smile. “You’re too good, sweetie,” she tucks a loose strand of hair that came out of its braid. “Jonathan’s in his room.”

You grab her hand and give it a squeeze, trying to convey just how much you love and admire her into a simple gesture, before letting go and walking over to Jonathan’s door.

He’s struggling with his tie when you let yourself in. He’s dressed in the only nice white button down he owns, something he bought for his aunt’s funeral a few years ago that now hardly fits. You can tell that he’s getting frustrated with the tie, so you walk over and help.

“Here, let me,” you wrap your fingers around the piece of cloth and quickly fashion it into a tie. The two of you don’t talk while you fix the clothing and you know that today will be a wordless day with Jonathan.

When you’ve finished, you begin to pull away before he places his hands around yours. He cups your hands at the base of his neck as they rest against his collarbones; your fingers are still wrapped around his tie. He squeezes your hands and brings them to his lips and kisses your knuckles so softly that you feel all the love within you simmer.

You know he’s only trying to express his gratitude for you but the butterflies in your stomach make you feel faint.

You’d do anything for him.

–

The funeral has a surprising turnout, not because you ever doubted Will’s incredible ability to be loved by anyone he meets, but because you see faces in the crowd who you’ve never seen before.

You stand behind Jonathan during the funeral with your hand on his shoulder as he sits with his family in a weak attempt to provide comfort during the service. It’s really fucking bleak. Your other hand is on Dustin’s shoulder as he stands next to you while Mike and Lucas are to the right of him.

Your mother is in the back of the crowd having known she’d cry the entire service, and faintly you can hear her blow her nose into a tissue and sniffle.

The pastor drones on for a while about how a tragedy like this won’t separate everyone from God’s love, but if attending the funeral for a twelve year old boy is how God shows his love then you want no part in it. Joyce sits stoic alongside Lonnie, Jonathan hasn’t moved at all since the service began; they’re a family brought together by grief. This isn’t love.

“Just wait until we tell Will that Jennifer Hayes was crying at his funeral,” Dustin snickers, effectively breaking you from your thoughts. You hit his shoulder and shush him as Mrs. Wheeler reminds the boys to be quiet. You flash her an apologetic smile for your brother’s actions.

You know how firmly the boys believe Will is alive and you honestly can’t say you don’t think so as well, but nothing is certain. Even if he’s alive there’s no way you guys can get to wherever he is; you wish the boys would use some caution with how quickly they’re building their hopes up.

After the service you walk up to Will’s grave and bend down. You bring one of the yellow roses from the funeral director up to your lips and whisper, “If you’re out there little bee, please, come home.”

Before dropping the rose in you give it a gentle kiss, inhaling its sweet scent and watching as it falls down onto his coffin. Jonathan finds you there crouched down and sees the rose right as it lands. He doesn’t say anything, he just grabs your hand and helps you stand up to bring you over to where Nancy is waiting a couple yards away.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You don’t have it in you to do anything other than wave at the girl, but she seems to understand and gives you a sympathetic smile.

Soon the three of you are settled on the ground with your backs against an old rickety fence behind some tombstones. Jonathan is in the middle of you and Nancy and you rest your head against his shoulder, already exhausted from the day. It’s not the coziest spot to be sitting, but at least you’re away from prying eyes.

Once you’re seated, Jonathan finally talks for the first time today. “Alright, I already told you this over the phone last night bug, but Nancy was right. After we redeveloped the photo there’s definitely some kind of figure behind Barb, and we thought maybe if my mom has been right all along about some monster-”

“Then she’s right about Will being alive.” You finish for him, having already come to the same conclusion yourself.

“And Barb has to be alive if Will is.” Nancy says, and there’s a spark of hope in her voice that surprises you. You’re ashamed to admit that you didn’t think her and Barb were that close, but seeing how worried she’s been for the girl makes you realize that you’d been a fool not to have seen it sooner. Barb was Nancy’s closest friend. You don’t know what you’d do if Jonathan ever disappeared like Barb did.

Jonathan pushes your head with his shoulder. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

You look between him and Nancy and try to decide how much you should tell them. While you’ve already told Jonathan a little bit about El, you’re not sure if you can trust the information with Nancy. However, seeing her urgency to find her friend leaves you feeling a bit safer disclosing the information to her.

“It started the night after Will disappeared…”

It takes a while to tell them everything, and while Jonathan butts in a few times to ask questions, Nancy remains silent and eagerly listens. She nods when she’s supposed to, engages with the story as if her life depends on it. You’re incredibly impressed by her intelligence and openness to the situation at hand. Had it been anyone else they would’ve scoffed at you and called you insane. But Nancy? She holds onto every word and trusts that what you’re saying is true.

You’re starting to admire her, as painful as it is to admit. But Nancy Wheeler is fucking brilliant, there’s no denying that.

When you’re finally done explaining El and the Upside Down, Nancy finally speaks. “Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly, you’ve been helping my brother harbor a girl with superpowers in my basement?”

Huh.

You hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Ya know, you make a good point.”

Thankfully she laughs and doesn’t seem too upset, which relieves you. You reassure her that they’re fine and that El is someone you trust, and Nancy seems to take comfort in your words. It’s not that you purposely hid the situation from her, but looking back you definitely could’ve used her help now that you know how cool she is.

As the two of you are laughing, Jonathan pulls out a piece of paper.

“What’s that?” You ask.

He shows you. “I printed out a map of Hawkins and drew x’s on every place we know for sure the monster has been.”

“Two questions: one, so we’re officially calling it the monster now? And two, why don’t you ever put in this much effort for school projects we do together?”

Jonathan flicks the paper in your face. “Funny. And yes, we’re calling it the monster now. Can you pay attention please?”

“Sorry,”

Nancy shuffles in closer and her head is practically on Jonathan’s shoulder as well (you’re choosing to ignore that) and she studies the paper and points to one of the x’s. “So that’s-”

“Steve’s house,” Jonathan points to another x, “and that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike and where Y/N last saw him,” the familiar feeling of guilt washes over you, “and that’s my house.”

Nancy reaches over Jonathan and grabs your hand, surprising you both. “You saw Will last?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, your mouth now suddenly dry.

“I’m sorry,” her tone is sincere.

“We should get back to the map…” You dodge, highly uncomfortable with Nancy’s comfort. You appreciate it, but you’ve never been good at accepting help from others.

“Right, sorry,” Nancy clears her throat. “The x’s, they’re all so close.”

Jonathan observes the interaction with slight confusion but decides not to say anything besides, “Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s not traveling far.”

There’s a look in his eyes as he speaks, one of determination and disdain for whatever that thing is, and before you can tell him no, it’s Nancy who voices your concern first. “You want to go out there.”

Jonathan nods and you feel uneasy. “I trust you won’t try going alone again, right?” It’s a question, but he hears the underlying try and I’ll kill you hidden beneath your words.

“No, not this time… but we might not find anything.”

“I found something,” Nancy reminds him, which you nod at. She’s the only one out of the three of you who has seen the monster in person, and if you had to place any bets, she’s the one who will be able to figure out what the fuck to do with it.

Actually, what are you guys going to do?

“Do we, like, have a plan for after we’re done monster sightseeing? Or are we just going to take a look at it and call it a night?” You ask the two of them.

Nancy bites her lip and looks down, also unsure what exactly the three of you are supposed to do. It’s Jonathan who remains stone faced, and there’s a newfound sense of confidence within him that you’ve never seen when he boldly states, “We kill it.”

“Alright there tough guy,” you hit his chest with your hand and snort. “Sure, we kill it. Obviously.”

“Well, do you have any other ideas? For all we know, Mike and the others will be out there in those woods later looking for Will.”

“We don’t know that-”

“Bug, humor me, how did they find El again?”

You’re silent. He’s right, if you guys don’t go and find this monster before tonight then there’s a high chance the boys and El will find it themselves. Fuck.

“Nancy,” you say to the girl, “it seems like we’re now officially monster hunters.”

–

Of course Lonnie has a goddamn handgun just casually stored in his glove box.

You’re not entirely on board with this whole gun situation and apparently Nancy isn’t either, immediately questioning Jonathan when he picks the lock to get the gun.

“What, you want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it? Better yet, why doesn’t Y/N just round up the boys and El and have them take it down.”

“Okay, hey,” you point at Jonathan. “Out of line.”

He mumbles an apology under his breath while Nancy claims that this is all a terrible idea. You’re not sure where you fall in regards to what’s happening, but you’d say at the moment you’re a solid mix between Jonathan’s no time for nonsense mood and Nancy’s hey let’s slow down hesitation.

You kick a rock and watch as it dings against Lonnie’s car, which pleases you. “Oh it’s definitely a terrible idea, Nancy. Unfortunately it’s all we have going for us at the moment.”

Jonathan nods at your words. “She’s right, no one’s going to believe us if we tell them. You know that.”

“Your mom would.” Nancy responds, jutting her jaw out in defiance.

You cringe, unsure how Jonathan will respond to what she’s said. Joyce is a sore topic for him, he’s always been so protective of her.

“She’s been through enough,” he sighs, and you hum in agreement.

Nancy grows more frustrated. “She deserves to know!”

You step in between them. “Look, you’re right. Mrs. Byers deserves to know, but right now she isn’t well enough to handle the idea of her only remaining son actively seeking out a monster that may have taken her other son who could possibly be alive. If we’re wrong or Jonathan gets hurt, it might actually kill her.”

“Yeah, we’ll tell her when this thing is dead.” You note Jonathan’s word choice, saying “when” instead of “if”. In the four years you’ve been his friend, you’ve never seen him so self-assured before. You’d be proud of him if the circumstances weren’t so damn grim.

“What about the kids?” Nancy finally says after a few seconds of silence.

“They can’t get involved, I won’t let them.” You tell her and she nods as if expecting you’d say that.

She gestures over to the funeral home where the crowd of attendees are now gathered for the post burial service. “I know my brother, so you better go and tell him that they need to stay at our house while we deal with the monster. They like you better than they like me, they’ll listen to you if you explain what we’re doing.”

You’re flattered by her words, honestly. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas listening to you about staying put while you guys go monster hunting? They’d be out the door before you’d be even able to finish saying the phrase “monster hunting”. No way they’ll listen, and you’re about to say exactly that before catching the look Jonathan is giving you.

You groan at him. “You don’t actually believe they’ll listen to me, right? C’mon, you know those boys as well as I do. This is just a giant DnD game for them at this point.”

He shrugs, “It doesn’t hurt to try?”

Nancy gives you a hopeful look and bats her eyelashes at you, which, okay, shouldn’t work on you but does. Jonathan does the same, except instead of batting his eyelashes he winks at you and suddenly you’re very confused by the onslaught of emotions that wash over you.

“Ugh, fine. But when they show up in the woods later you guys are on your own!”

–

When you step inside the service hall, everyone is gathered into small groups talking amongst themselves. You scan the room for the kids and spot them across the room sitting at a table with Mr. Clark. He’s talking to them about something while holding a paper plate up. You’re not sure what exactly he’s saying to the boys, but they’re leaning in close to him and are listening intently.

This worries you.

You try to make your way over as quickly as you can, but being Jonathan’s best friend has some challenges. Every few steps you take you’re stopped by an extended family member of the Byers to ask how you are or a stranger stops to offer you their condolences because you’re close with the family. You do your best to make small talk and thank the people, but you don’t have time to say much else besides, “thank you” or “you were Will’s favorite great aunt”.

By the time you finally get to the table with Mr. Clark and the boys, the man has folded up the paper plate and stabs it with a pen. You really, really don’t want to know whatever the hell this man is explaining to the kids.

“You create a doorway,” he explains, holding up the plate and smiling at the boys.

Dustin looks enthralled. “Like a gate?”

“Sure, like a gate. But again, this is all-”

“Theoretical.” Lucas says, nodding his head.

A gate?

What are the odds the boys are talking about a gate to Disneyland?

You sigh, not liking the odds at all.

You slide yourself into Dustin’s chair and force your brother to share with you. He squeaks in surprise and you flash him a tight lipped smile, which causes him to gulp. He knows he’s been busted.

Mike scoffs at your arrival. “Gee, wonder why you’re here Y/N.”

“Go on, continue this conversation with Mr. Clark here. I wanna hear it.”

Mr. Clark looks at you uncertainly but Mike simply carries on with the conversation as if you aren’t even here. “But what if this gate already existed?”

“Well, if it did I think we’d know.”

You snort. “Wanna bet?”

Again the man looks at you uncertainly and clears his throat, uncomfortable by your presence. “What I mean to say is that it would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment.”

“So if there is a gate, it’d be really bad?” You ask, but you already know the answer.

“Oh, definitely. It might even swallow us up whole!”

You and the boys look around the table at one another, not at all liking what Mr. Clark is saying. Swallow you guys up whole? That’s not really something you’re interested in.

Mr. Clark sees your nervousness and shrugs. “Science is neat, but it’s not very forgiving.”

Silence falls upon the table.

Mr. Clark is such a peachy person.

“Well!” You throw your hands upon the table and the loud noise causes everyone to flinch. “Thank you so much for that lovely information, Mr. Clark. It was truly riveting, but would you mind giving me and the boys a second alone? I just, I want to make sure they’re doing okay after today.”

You bat your eyes at the man, something you never do, and he clears his throat and excuses himself. The second he’s gone you snap your finger in the boys’ faces. “Hey, listen up. Whatever you guys are planning? Don’t.”

As usual, Mike is the one who argues. “But-”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what we’re-”

“No.”

“Can you at least let me-”

“Sure,”

“Really?”

“No.”

Lucas and Dustin watch the interaction with slight pleasure, amused by your ability to shut Mike up, but when he turns to them for help they reluctantly give in.

“Y/N,” Dustin sighs, “honestly, how many times are we gonna do this whole ‘we’re not allowed but we’re going to do it anyways’ bit?”

You glare at your brother. “However many times it takes for you guys to finally listen.”

“Cool. Then we’ll expect you to bust down Mike’s door later tonight.”

“I’m not kidding,” you face all the kids and make sure they’re listening. “Whatever you’re trying to do, don’t. Jonathan and I-”

“You told Jonathan?” Mike exclaims but Lucas shushes him.

“We’re going to handle it, we already have a plan but whatever you do: stay out of the woods from here on out. We think… We think there’s a monster out there hiding. I just want to make sure you guys are safe.”

“Monster hunting?” Dustin’s eyes light up and you silently curse Jonathan and Nancy for even suggesting you do this in the first place.

“Technically… yes, but you guys absolutely have to stay put.”

They stare at you as if you’re insane.

“You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” Dustin asks.

You flick his head. “Yes, and I’m putting a lot of trust in you guys right now. I’ll let you guys do whatever you want so long as it doesn’t include the woods. Until you get an all clear from me, it’s off limits.”

Mike thinks this over. “Can we look for the gate then?”

You sigh. There’s no other way to appease them. “If you don’t go near the woods… then fine.”

The boys begin to cheer, which causes several funeral guests to stare at you with judgment. You realize now that this probably hadn’t been the right setting to have this conversation in. Oh well.

You don’t let the boys cheer for long. “However-”

“There she goes,” Lucas sinks into his seat and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I get full updates whenever I please. I don’t care if I have to track you guys down from the gates of hell itself, but I will find you and you will tell me everything. Deal?”

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike gather close together and duck their heads down so whisper to one another. You roll your eyes but wait for them to finish. When they’ve reached a decision, Mike interlocks his fingers and places his hands on the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

–

As soon as you’ve changed out of your funeral clothes and into a simple pair of jeans and a sweater, Jonathan arrives at your house. You kiss your mom’s cheek before leaving and shout over your shoulder, “Remember the deal, Dustin!”

You don’t quite catch what your brother responds with but you honestly don’t care enough as you run over to Jonathan’s car and hop into the passenger seat.

“You certainly didn’t waste any time getting here,” you say in lieu of a hello.

Jonathan shrugs. “No time to waste when it comes to monster hunting.”

“You do realize that we’re only scouting out the woods tonight, right?”

You, Jonathan, and Nancy had decided earlier to simply go and explore the woods for any clues of the monster and then figure out how, or even if, you can kill it.

“I know, but monster hunting sounds cooler.”

“Bless you, bee.”

The two of you get to the field in no time. Jonathan had been the one to suggest the spot a few yards behind his house for target practice and Nancy had agreed to bring a bat just in case you needed more protection.

And you?

You’re bringing the cans to serve as targets for shooting. Your family has never owned a gun and last time you checked, Dustin doesn’t play any sports, so all you can offer is your emptied recycling bin contents.

It doesn’t take long for you and Jonathan to set up the cans on top of the tree trunks before he begins shooting. Jonathan takes a deep breath and holds the gun up so it’s eye level and looks over at you. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath as well and prepare yourself, knowing it’s about to become loud. “Yeah, start shootin cowboy.”

The first shot hits a tree behind the can, nowhere near its intended target, and you wince. It’s looking like the monster might actually win at the rate Jonathan’s aim is going.

“It’s okay,” you tell your friend. “The tree looked at me funny, he had it coming.”

Jonathan snorts. “You’re laughing now, but I can’t exactly hunt a monster if I can’t even shoot it.”

“Maybe you could talk nicely to it?”

“And say what, exactly? ‘Hey, Mr. Monster, where are you hiding my brother?’”

You step closer to him so that you’re now side by side and you nudge his shoulder. “Hey, you never know. It could work.”

Jonathan readjusts his grip on the gun and aims it once more. He takes another shot, this time it lands a bit closer to the can, but not by much. He lets out an agitated, “Fuck!”

He tries shooting again and again but each shot is as unpredictable as the last. After his sixth round of firing you can see how tense his shoulders are and the way he’s clenching his fists against the weapon. You remember how he acted earlier today, the newfound anger and resentment within Jonathan that had originally impressed you. Now it only frightens you.

When he goes to re-aim the gun for the seventh time, you grab at his hand and stop him.

“Bug, what are you-”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Jonathan looks at you like you’re crazy but you simply take the gun from his hands, click the safety back on, and then walk over to the tree stumps to rest it against one of them. When you’re done you walk back over to the boy and interlock your fingers with his to drag him along.

There’s not a whole bunch of room in the clearing for a walk per say, but there’s enough to go a few laps around for Jonathan to take a breather. You’re not sure exactly what’s going on with him but a walk has never hurt anyone.

Jonathan’s silent the first lap around. You’re content with this and you admire the fall weather and enjoy the slight warmth from the sun as it kisses your face. When you’re on the third lap you decide to ask a question that’s been on your mind since yesterday when Nancy showed up at the funeral home.

“Do you really believe Will is alive?”

Jonathan thinks the question over for a moment, and as he’s lost in thought you notice that he begins gently swinging your hands back and forth absentmindedly. “I can still feel him.”

“Feel him?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but…”

“No, I think I get it. I mean, I’d be able to feel if something bad happened to Dustin. I know I’d be able to, even if there’s not necessarily a science behind it. It’s like there’s a lifeline connecting us, like some unspoken sibling thread that neither one of us can sever.”

“A sibling thread?” Jonathan asks, a slight laugh accompanying his question.

“Oh, you know what I mean, bee.”

“No, no. I wanna hear all about this thread theory of yours.”

Jonathan’s bright mood is back, reminiscent of the boy you once believed you knew better than you knew yourself, so you entertain his teasing if only to sustain his light a little longer. “If I explain this theory you have to promise not to laugh at me.”

“I promise,” he says and he gives your hand a light squeeze.

“Alright, but if you decide I’m insane after this, just know that you legally cannot leave me. You signed a contract.”

“Oh, did I?”

“You sure did, bee. Anyways, back to me,” a slight breeze surrounds you for a moment and you let the crisp air fill your lungs. “I have this theory that we’re all connected to each other in some way by different threads. Some threads are older than others, stronger, or maybe even more rigid, but they’re there. Whether it’s a thread between you and your family, the love of your life, or a stranger you happen to pass on the street one day, none of it happens by accident.”

“The threads are the reason it all happens?”

“Not necessarily, but yeah. To put it simply, I guess you could say that.”

“So, for our thread,” Jonathan stops walking and tugs at you to stop as well. “After everything we’ve been through, all that we’ve done for one another, what thread would you say our’s is?”

His question catches you off guard; you can hear your heart beating within your chest. There’s so many things you wish you could tell him.

Our thread is one of romance, of lovers, of soulmates, even.

The feelings build within you and the words threaten to spill out. The November sun is beginning to set and everything is golden in its light and Jonathan is a part of it all. His brown eyes are like warm honey on a cold winter morning and his hair is slightly ruffled from the wind that leaves his cheeks flushed and rosy.

“Our thread,” your voice catches in your throat for a moment. “You know what our thread is, bee.”

He pulls you closer to him and in this moment all you can focus on are the slight freckles that dot across his face and neck. “Do I?”

Jonathan has never, ever looked at you like this before. There’s an intensity within his eyes that frightens you and leaves you feeling bare before him. Does he know? Has he figured it all out?

“I…” You can’t form the words you want to say; the three words that have been weighing upon you feel even heavier than before. They’re thick on your tongue, syrupy and dense and you feel as if you can’t breathe.

“Y/N?” He whispers, but you can only shake your head.

It’s too much. It’s all too much.

And then suddenly Jonathan leans in.

Maybe you’re imagining it.

Maybe you’re delirious after almost a week of sleepless nights and exhausting encounters.

Or maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way about you.

You lean in as well and allow yourself to close your eyes; you believe that just this once you can be selfish and accept more than you may deserve.

“Hey! Guys!”

Nancy’s shout causes you and Jonathan to spring apart.

You want to scream.

Of course it’s Nancy fucking Wheeler.

Jonathan drops your hand and waves the girl over while you stand there, trying to collect yourself. As she walks over, you have just enough pride left over to say, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

The question is one Jonathan isn’t expecting. He steps back a bit, now even more aware of the close proximity the two of you had only seconds ago. “Of course I do, bug. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend.

The words hurt more than they should, really.

“Right. Best friend, ha.” You step even further away from Jonathan, which he raises his eyebrows at.

“Did I miss something or…?”

If you had the time, you’d ask him why he wanted to know about the thread between the two of you. Why he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the entire room. Why, just minutes ago, he leaned in as if to kiss you.

But Nancy is now only a couple feet away and it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to give the two of you some privacy. You spot the bat in her hand and it serves as a reminder of what the three of you are here for in the first place.

Will, Barb, the monster.

“No, of course not,” you clear your throat and greet Nancy as she arrives. “Hey, Nancy.”

She smiles at you and then says hello to Jonathan. “Hey, where’s the gun?”

You point over to the cans and the tree stumps. “Over there, we just wanted to go for a little walk after shooting a few rounds.”

Nancy nods and walks over to inspect the undamaged cans. “You said you already shot a few rounds?”

Jonathan ducks his head down. “Yeah, well. It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.”

“Y/N, did you try shooting?”

“Pfft, I’m definitely not a weapons kind of girl. I prefer to use my crippling good looks instead.”

While you and Nancy talk, Jonathan walks back over to the gun and reloads it. He motions for the two of you to step back and he shoots a few more times. Not once does he hit the can. You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh.

“You’re awful at this, bee.”

“Yeah,” Nancy agrees.

Jonathan looks over at her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

She scoffs. “Have you met my parents?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Wheeler seems like the type to have a hidden gun.” You say, and Nancy waves you off.

“Well, I haven’t shot one since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday and made me kill a rabbit.” Jonathan’s words make you frown. Every day he gives you another reason to hate Lonnie.

Nancy sympathizes with Jonathan and the two of them fall into an easy banter that you’ve never seen before with him. He’s comfortable around her in a way that makes your stomach twist. He tells her about his parents and how they may have loved each other at one point but now no longer do. He’s opening up to her after only a few days of really knowing her.

Lovely.

Nancy shares some details about her own family and how she believes her parents never loved each other, which you can relate to. You watch as Jonathan hands her the gun as she explains how her mom had been younger than her father. “He had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of a cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”

“Isn’t it funny how the fathers never seem to suffer the same fate as the mothers?” You ask, and Nancy looks over at you in confusion, so you explain further. “My own parents, they were like yours except the moment my mom was no longer young, my dad left. Found a newer and cheaper model back home in Virginia.”

“I didn’t know that, I’m sorry Y/N.”

You shrug. “It’s not like I go and advertise it. Besides, he was an asshole anyways and my mom is better off without him. She’s the sweetest woman in the world who was forced to run back to her family in Hawkins. Nuclear families aren’t all they’re cracked out to be.”

Jonathan ruffles your hair to get you to laugh, which he succeeds in doing. “Screw that.”

Nancy raises the gun to eye level and closes one of her eyes, her beautiful face now scrunched in concentration. “Yeah, screw that.”

And with that, she shoots a perfectly aimed shot and knocks the can off the stump. You and Jonathan look at her, stunned, but she can only laugh.

“Damn, Jonathan. Remind me to never piss Nancy off.” You say, still staring at the fallen can.

Only he doesn’t hear what you’ve said because he’s too busy staring at Nancy. You can tell he’s impressed by her hidden shooting talent and the way she holds herself with such confidence. His eyes shine as he stares at her and he almost seems to come to life whenever she looks back at him.

Jonathan looks at Nancy and you know he sees what everyone in Hawkins sees: a beautiful, fierce, and incredible girl.

Nancy Wheeler, the perfect enigma.

Suddenly it clicks.

Jonathan is in love with her, or at least he’s beginning to fall in love with her.

You want to hate her. Afterall, she already has Harrington head over heels for her, and yet you can’t blame either one of the boys. She’s perfect and brilliant and everything you’re not. You’d fall in love with her too if you weren’t already in love with someone else.

You watch as Nancy and Jonathan become lost in their own little world, him helping her reload the gun as she flashes him a shy smile, and you no longer exist near their presence. It feels like a fucking stab to your already open wound of a heart. You watch the way he ducks his head down whenever she looks at him and the way she stares at him when he isn’t looking.

Nancy shoots a few more rounds and each shot feels like a hammer coming down onto your own coffin. Each time Jonathan looks at her you feel another nail enter.

Clearly there’s no room for you here.

Which is fucking ironic given that you’re in a giant field outside.

You reach for Jonathan’s hand and tug him forward. He gives you a look as if asking is everything okay? and you wish more than ever that things were different between the two of you. You give him a soft shake of the head. “I can feel a headache coming on and I just remembered that I have a shift tonight, so I should get going.”

He frowns. “But what about the monster? We can’t look for him without you.”

“You’ll be fine without me,” to your horror you can feel tears forming, which you quickly wipe away before Jonathan can notice. “I doubt I’d be any help, anyways. I suck with guns. Nancy’s the professional here.”

“I mean, I guess, but…” He looks over at Nancy, who is busy firing the gun and hitting every target she aims for, before pulling you even closer to him. “Are we okay? I feel like, I don’t know… like I’m losing you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He could never, ever lose you, but if you don’t leave now then you’re afraid that maybe you’ll lose yourself.

“Don’t be silly, bee. You’re not losing me, no matter how much you may want me to.” You try to tease him, but your heart isn’t in it.

“You didn’t answer my question, Y/N. Are we okay?” He’s looking at you with so much adoration and concern in his eyes that it almost makes you sick.

“Of course we are. I promise. I think it’s all just catching up to me, if I’m being honest. Between finding Will and tracking down my own brother, I think this monster hunting business may break me.”

Jonathan eyes you for a moment as if to try and catch you in a lie, but while you’re only telling him this as an excuse to get away from him and Nancy, it’s not technically a lie. You are exhausted. Plus, you really do have a shift.

The boy scans your face once more before deciding that you’re telling the truth. You know he suspects there’s something else behind your words, but thankfully he doesn’t pry. “Let me tell Nance that I’m driving you home,”

And there it is again.

Nance.

The nickname is like a punch to your gut and only solidifies that you should go. “It’s okay, bee. It’s still nice out, figured I’d walk home and get some sun before winter officially takes over Hawkins.”

“You can’t expect me to let you walk alone now that we know there’s a monster out there taking people, bug.”

You kiss his cheek, letting your lips linger for a little longer than necessary. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Stay with Nancy and call me tonight after you guys are done scouting around. We’ll figure out where to go from there. Okay?”

You don’t give Jonathan time to argue because you pull away and inform Nancy of your departure. She also frowns at the idea but has already learned that you’re not one to be told what to do. She understands this aspect of you, and you understand it within her as well, so she wishes you goodbye and tells you to stay safe before going back to shooting.

As you leave, you feel Jonathan’s eyes follow after you.

–

The walk ends up being more than enough to clear your head. You haven’t had any time to be alone in god knows how long, so it’s nice to have some time to just think and enjoy the quiet. There’s a lot you need to think about, but at the very forefront of your concerns are Will and El. You still have no idea how they’re connected or how the monster comes into play.

Then there’s Steve, oddly enough.

You’re not really sure why he’s in the midst of your thoughts, but there he is. Smiling at you and laughing at your jokes and telling you that you’re pretty as he instills a carefree sense within you that feels foreign to enjoy.

As his words ring through your head, you find your thoughts drifting towards Jonathan and the way he holds your hand every time you’re worried about something and the way he kisses your hair after a particularly hard day.

You’re not sure why the two boys almost seem to clash within your mind, but you don’t have time to look into it. Your shift starts soon and god knows how long your coworker Alex can survive on his own if you’re late.

Work is slow as usual tonight, but you find the downtime a pleasant relief. It gives you the opportunity to skim some new books that shipped in and catch up on some Spidey storylines. In between stocking books and arranging comic displays you find yourself wondering just how true to his word Dustin stayed earlier.

Like hell those kids really stayed out of the woods.

Your question is answered as soon as you get home and find your brother crying in his room. Panic immediately swells within your chest and you run over to him.

“What’s wrong?” You check Dustin’s body for any sign of injury and he lets you as he cries, too upset to wave you away. When you’re assured that he’s okay, you feel your heartbeat calm down again.

Christ, everytime you see this kid he takes ten damn years off of your life.

You pull a chair from his desk and sit in front of him. “Dustin, do we need to have another code blue?”

“Maybe,” Dustin sniffles, wiping away a few tears.

“Okay, then code blue. What happened? Is everyone okay? Is it El?” At the mention of the girl’s name, Dustin flinches. Your blood runs cold. “Dustin, what happened with El?”

“You won’t yell at me?”

You smooth down his always wild hair. “Never during code blue. Please talk to me, bud.”

Dustin explains how he and the group had gone looking for the gate like they told you they would. He explained how they’d followed the train tracks throughout Hawkins for what seemed like hours.

“The train tracks that go through the same woods I told you not to go in?”

“Like hell we were gonna listen to you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

This gets Dustin to laugh a bit, which you’re relieved to see, before he continues his story. When he reveals El’s weird behavior and the way she seemed to be hiding something from them, you feel dread creep in. “Did she… Did she do something to prevent you guys from finding the gate?”

“She used her powers to mess with the compass. Lucas found the blood on her jacket.”

You sense that there’s more. “And then?”

“Mike and Lucas… they-they started fighting.” Dustin’s voice breaks, “they started really going at it, and I tried to stop them. I swear I tried, Y/N!”

“Shh,” you reach for his hand to try and calm him down. “I know you did, but I also know how Mike can get when he’s protective of someone and I know that Lucas isn’t El’s biggest fan. It was a recipe for disaster.”

Dustin snorts, “No kidding.” Then his face darkens once more, “but they wouldn’t listen, and that’s when El screamed.”

“She screamed?”

“I think she was overwhelmed, but she used her powers on Lucas and flung him across the yard and he hit his head pretty hard…”

“She what-”

“She didn’t mean to! She looked really upset after, and Lucas was fine after he woke up-”

“He was knocked unconscious?”

“And then he stormed off and El ran off. We searched for her, but…”

You stare at your brother in shock. That definitely hadn’t been what you were expecting. El never struck you as a violent girl, but she knocked Lucas out with her mind. Sure, she may have been trying to break up the fight, but you’re willing to bet that she lost control for a moment and Lucas ended up getting hurt as a result.

Maybe you don’t want superpowers.

“Y/N, have I lost all my friends?” Dustin asks.

You shush him once more. “No, of course not. You three boys have always been so drastically different from one another, and this week has been one from pure hell. It makes sense that Lucas and Mike finally snapped, but I promise you that they’ll bounce back eventually.”

“And El?”

“I’m not sure what to make of her,” you admit. “She isn’t violent, I know she’s not. But we also clearly don’t know her as well as we think we do. I just, I need you to be careful around her, okay? Fight for her, defend her like you would for the boys, but be cautious as well.”

“Cautious, got it.” He cocks his head at you, “but what about Lucas and Mike? They’re still friends, right?”

“Of course they are. Just… sometimes friendship can be hard, but it’s almost always worth fighting for. It’s rare to find friends as loyal as Mike or as brave as Lucas or even as sincere as Will. Yet look at you guys, all together; you’re all incredibly lucky to have one another.”

“Lucky like you and Jonathan?” Dustin asks, a sly glint in his eyes.

You smile, even if he’s teasing you. “Yeah, like me and Jonathan.”

Dustin returns your smile and you squeeze his hand. “Anyways, I say give Lucas some time to calm down. I think he was scared, more than anything. Tomorrow you can try to talk to him again.”

Your brother nods at your words and he seems better than he did when you first started the conversation, so you open your arms wide and engulf him into a hug.

“Code blue concluded, I guess.” Dustin mumbles against your chest, which causes the two of you to laugh.

–

After your talk with Dustin, you head back to your room and wait for Jonathan to call. You glance at the clock and figure that maybe him and Nancy were still out scouting for clues, so you busy yourself with some homework.

When it nears ten at night and the phone still hasn’t rung, you sigh and reach over for the phone on your desk. You dial Jonathan’s number and hope he simply forgot to call, but when no one answers after your fifth time calling: you begin to worry.

Ya know, maybe it wasn’t your best idea letting him and Nancy go off alone with a monster on the loose.

You find yourself frantically biking to the Wheeler’s house before you can even think about it. The night blurs past you and as you walk up their driveway and try to rest your bike against their mailbox, a familiar BMW parks next to you.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Henderson.” Steve says as he sends you a wink.

You almost greet the boy before Tommy’s head pops out from the passenger side window. “Hey good lookin.”

You hear Carol berate him and the two begin to bicker as Steve gets out of the car.

Great. He brought the idiots.

Steve walks over and takes your bike from your hands. After a couple seconds of repositioning and balancing, he finally manages to get the bike to stay upright. “Tada!”

“I almost had it,” you glare at him.

“Sure ya did.”

Steve’s presence is frustrating as always, but you spot Jonathan’s car parked down the street and Carol’s shrill voice becomes increasingly irritating. You don’t have time for this right now. “What are you doing here, Harrington?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” When you glare at him, he finally says, “Nancy promised she’d call me but hasn’t, so I wanted to check on her.”

His sincerity is why you say, “I’m here for…” You realize you can’t necessarily tell Steve about Jonathan possibly being here. You have a feeling it wouldn’t end well, but you’re also not keen on lying to the boy. You’re already keeping secrets from practically everyone in your life; you don’t want to add Steve to the list. Not when he doesn’t deserve it.

“I’m looking for Jonathan,” you confess, worried about Steve’s reaction.

He frowns. “Why would Byers be here?”

“Him and Nancy have this… thing for english. Due tomorrow. A big thing. Like, huge. So they’re working on it together. In the house. Where Nancy lives. Here.” You stumble over your words, more nervous than usual, but you weren’t expecting Steve to be here or that you’d need a cover story.

“Uh huh,” something almost aggressive flickers across Steve’s face and you silently curse to yourself. You said the wrong thing.

“Funny, Nancy told me she was only helping Byers for the funeral.”

Shit.

Tommy and Carol watch from the car, obviously amused by the whole situation.

“Right! She was, now she’s working on an assignment with him.” Technically not a lie, you’re just omitting the fact that the assignment in question is monster hunting.

“You’re really bad at lying, Henderson.” Steve walks past you, now over the conversation, and you struggle to keep up. You try to block his path, assuming that he’ll use the front door, but as you near the front step he side steps you and starts heading towards the bushes.

“What are you doing?” You whisper loudly, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself.

Steve ignores your whispered yelling and jumps on top of the radiator. Once he’s up, he begins to pull himself over the overhang and up onto the roof. There’s a window just above the ledge with a light on, which you presume to be Nancy’s room due to the practiced ease in which Steve scaled the house.

You don’t try to climb up after him in fear that you’ll only end up embarrassing yourself. “Ya know, Mrs. Wheeler loves me, I could’ve just knocked on the door.”

Steve peers down at you, an easygoing smile now back on his face. “Relax, this is quicker. Besides, you gotta admit it was impressive to watch.”

Again he winks at you and you feel your cheeks flush. He’s right, it had been impressive to watch; he had made it look so easy. While you struggle to come up with a witty retort, Steve almost knocks on Nancy’s window before his smile drops.

You notice the way his face hardens. “Steve?”

He doesn’t respond, which only concerns you more. You begin to think about the millions of possibilities surrounding Nancy, Jonathan, and monster hunting; fear creeps in. “Is Nancy there? Is she okay?”

“Of course you’d be worried about Nancy right now,” Steve laughs bitterly. You frown at his words, unsure what they mean, but before you can ask anything else Steve angrily climbs back down.

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?”

Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?”

“Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend.

Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

A wave of nausea hits you.

“W-what?” You drop your hand and release his jacket.

“It’s incredible, really. Byers has some fucking nerve.” Steve runs a hand through his hair in agitation and begins to pace. You’re too numb to stop him. “I mean, look at you! He has everything he could possibly want, but he decides to go after my girlfriend.”

“It’s not like that-”

“Did he tell you they’d be in her room, alone in her bed, underneath her blanket?”

More nausea hits you. “No,”

They were supposed to look for any signs of the monster in the woods. That’s all he told me, you think.

“So he’s a liar, too.” Steve scoffs, “you deserve better, Y/N.”

And with that, he heads back to his car and drives away, leaving you standing alone once more in the Wheeler’s driveway. You get a sense of deja-vu, watching Steve’s BMW descend down the street, but only this time there’s no warmth fluttering within your stomach as he leaves.

All you feel is nausea.

You don’t remember the bike ride home; you’re not sure how you even made it back safely without crashing into anything. All you remember is that you cried the entire way.

You’ve lost Jonathan, there’s no denying that now. He’s Nancy’s, wholly and truly, he’s hers.

He was never yours in the first place, you remind yourself.

But if he was never yours in the first place, then why does it feel like you were almost something?

No.

You don’t want to think about it that way.

Yours or not, you can’t afford to lose Jonathan.

Something or everything, you’ll take whatever you can when it comes to him.

Everything, anything, nothing. Whatever he gives you, you know you’ll cling onto it with all that’s within you.

But your friendship with Jonathan is too precious to lose, too meaningful to let stupid feelings ruin it. You refuse to let anything come between your friendship with him, and you swear to yourself to shove everything down. Every hurt feeling, all the pain stabbing within your chest, you force it all down to focus on finding Will.

He’s all that matters right now, even if it feels like the thread connecting you to Jonathan has begun to wither.

Will has to come first.

You have to find him, something good and lovely has to come from this. You can’t let this all be for nothing.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #jonathan the man that u are ....#and steve my beloved #cannot wait to see how yall react to the field scene i feel like an evil villain

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urhoneycombwitch · 4 months ago

Text

howdy, honey!

part I

older!cowboy!Eddie x honey!reader

foreword: idk what this is. other than the start of a new series I may or may not have time for lmao. just… love the idea of honey!Reader and wanted to show the origins of cowboy!Eddie into their life <3 honey!Reader is a bit of an abrasive spitfire but I heart complicated women and Eddie is the right amount of gruff to put up w/ that bratty ass <3 I’m sorry if any truck stuff is wrong I swear I researched a bit but dear god I am not a car girly plz forgive me

cw: Appalachian no magic AU, cowboy!Eddie, older!Eddie, age gap (Eddie is at least 40, R implied as younger), R is on the run from a Troubled Past ™, R has breasts (non-sexual mention) and a tattoo (no skin tone/color mentioned), smut planned for following chapters, as always +18 mdni!

wc: 5.3k

The last thing you want to hear behind you approaches: a vehicle slowing down, tires crunching to crawl at your walking pace in the gravel ditch of the road.

Maybe it’s just a concerned citizen. You soothe yourself internally, even as your guard surges up to take stock of the environment, to calculate the quickest route to safety.

To your left- a rusting red pickup, its unknown driver, the flat expanse of tarmac and heat lines rising blearily for miles on end.

To your right, just a sprint away- the line of a lush, thick forest, unfamiliar birds calling amidst the Appalachian wilderness.

Then, an even worse sound of the truck's window being rolled down.

“Not interested, pal,” you call out, in a tone you hope is commanding. “My thumb ain’t out. Keep driving.”

“I just-” it’s a man’s voice, because of course it is, who else would stop in the middle of an abandoned road to harass a young thing like you- “It’s about a hundred degrees out. Hotter than a two-buck pistol and you’re hiking in it.”

“Mind your damn business.” You don’t know this guy’s angle, but you don’t really care- if there’s anything you’ve learned from the past two weeks on the road, it’s Don’t trust strange men and keep your wits.

Heart thumping an unsteady rhythm, you swallow the fear and hike your duffle bag higher onto your aching shoulder, resolute, even as the guy sighs. As if he has the right to sound weary. “Darlin’. I don’t wanna see you die of dehydration, is all. Got some water in the back, ‘least let me offload some onto you.”

The offer is tempting enough to still your steps- your canteen is empty, ran out about an hour after being filled at the last town’s hostel. Constant thirst has been an unfortunate side effect of this journey; so far it seems you've been the only one desperate enough to actually be outside in this unrelenting heat.

The man must take your pause for acceptance because he rolls to a stop just ahead of you, brake lights giving one quick flash before the engine cuts out. Both boots hit pavement at the same time, revealing a tall, lanky figure in dark denim and a cut-off tee.

As he rounds to the trailer bed, you notice a smattering of tattoos- bats flying up one arm, a lariat and a floral piece on the other, some sort of mythological creature sitting over his heart (only spotted as he bends to unhook his truck bed’s latch, shirt shifting forward to reveal a pale expanse of skin beneath).

He’s a confusing, delightful mix of punk and cowboy- jeans just a touch too tight for working, silver hoops lining the shell of his right ear. You’d probably get a better sense of his age if his hair wasn’t hiding in a bun too shadowy to see properly, nestled under the brim of his black cowboy hat.

Eyes dark as bittersweet chocolate but kind and calm turn towards you, observing silently with crossed arms in the ditch a yard away. He closes the gap, wiping his palm on the black bandanna lining his pocket before stretching an appeasing hand towards you. “Waterin’ time.”

A laugh would signal comfortability, and you prefer to keep your cards as close to your own chest as possible, so you smother the noise, turn it into a disapproving twist of your mouth before taking his proffered hand.

He’s stronger than he looks, pulling you up to the road with an easy flex of his forearm; his other hand automatically fits to your low back to steady you as your pack shifts with the climb, but he drops all points of contact as soon as you’re stabilized.

There’s a thunk from the nearby truck, the sound of something dull hitting into the metal. On instinct, your hand snaps to the butterfly knife tucked into the front of your bra band, hidden by the extra padding but close enough to whip out at a moment's notice.

A dog sits eager and obedient in the truck bed, black and leggy and long-snouted- some type of Shepherd, if you had to guess. His long feathered tail hits the wheel with each enthusiastic wag, oversized ears perked forward.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Adrenaline leaves you feeling sticky and strung-out, even more than the heat. Between your breasts, the knife sits waiting, metal cool to the touch and reassuring through the fabric of your tanktop. You hope it just looks like you scare easily, hand over your heart with nerves and jumpiness instead of trained defense mode- cards to chest, and all that.

Safer for you, to be underestimated. Always harder to see a hit coming from someone unexpected.

This time, though, you aren’t fixing to hit. The back of your hand, like some gravitational force, draws you to the mouth of the truck bed.

A slash of pink tongue splits the all-black dog’s mouth when he licks you, thumping tailbeat picking up speed.

The man who owns both truck and dog leans a hip against the wheel, watching as you smooth your palm over the silky head of his companion. “Name’s Goblin.”

“So, your parents were hippies, I gather?” A joke slips out before you can catch and wrestle it back to be the most unassuming version of yourself.

The man laughs- full and rich, crow’s feet bursting like sunbeams, dimples springing into his cheeks- the action knocks a decade off his face.

You’re transfixed, unable to look away, Goblin nudging your hand for more pets while you memorize the way this stranger looks, laughing on the side of the road in the middle of goddamn nowhere.

“The dog is Goblin,” the man says, humor twitching at the corners of his plush lips. He takes off his hat to rest against his chest, chocolate eyes still twinkling. “I’m Eddie.”

In the truck bed next to Goblin, there’s a bulky case laying sideways, a handle on one end for carrying. It’s the last push you need, apparently, as the logic part of your mind speaks with finality: Ted Bundy never played guitar.

So you give Eddie your name. Your real one. You haven’t used it in weeks, opting for anonymity and the comfort of a pseudonym at the seedy spots you’ve been staying.

As soon as you say it, something loosens in your chest, flutters free into the bright blue sky as Eddie repeats it like something precious- like he’s known you for ages.

“Well.” As if a matter has been settled, Eddie puts his hat back on (you weren’t quite done memorizing the long pattern of his curls, shot through with grey, pulled taut against his skull to settle in a bun at the nape of his neck). “More’n welcome to take the water and send me packin’, but now that we all know each other’s names, how about a lift to town?”

Eddie scratches Goblin behind the ear, absentminded as he adds, “Could even sit in the back, ‘f you wanted. That way you could just jump on out if you think I’m tryna pull something.”

Your shoulder suddenly aches with the weight of your duffel; you let the straps slide to the crook of your elbow, then set it next to Goblin who seems happy for something new to sniff.

Unfortunately for Eddie, you’re starting to like him, which means the filter for your sarcasm and teasing has completely eroded. “Ri-ight. Like I’m gonna just sit in the back of your truck when you could floor it and fling me over the side like a ragdoll.”

Those big, doey eyes of Eddie’s roll skyward. “You always this stubborn?”

“Only on days that end in Y.”

“All right.” There’s something in his tone that makes your spine straighten- not from fear, just… something else that you’re trying hard not to analyze right now. “So sit in the damn front and put a seatbelt on, since you’re so worried ‘bout my driving.”

Eddie shuts the pickup’s gate and mutters all the way to the driver’s side door, some comparison being drawn between you and one of his cows that gets herself stuck in the fenceline, refusing sesnsible help.

The air in the cab is stale and still, warmth from the cracked leather seats soaking into the back of your shorts and bare thighs as you get in and buckle up. You’re suddenly aware of how desperately you need a shower, being in an enclosed space and next to someone with (presumably) a working sense of smell, but luckily Eddie’s already rolling down the windows.

“Air’s broke,” he says by way of apology, waving in the general direction of the AC vents before reaching to open the sliding rear window.

Something cold and wet presses against your ear- Goblin, saying hello. By the time your giggle is over, the grumble of the engine has kicked on, and the dog has found a headrest in the form of your pack, his tongue lolling into the fabric with rhythmic panting.

“Radio?” You ask, already reaching to twist at the knob on the dash- a crackle of static, and then, bliss. Johnny Cash croons from the speakers.

In trying to keep your delight casual, you slip up, telling Eddie as he straightens out the wheel to pick up speed- “God, I haven’t heard music this good in months, not since-”

Fortunately, whatever system in your brain still holding on to good sense chops the sentence in half. To cover, you clear your throat, cross your arms, and keep your eyes fixed forward when you change the subject. “So, you play guitar?”

If Eddie notices your lapse he doesn’t comment on it, picking up conversation with an easy charm. “Nah. That’s just a cover for if Sheriff Hop gets me for speedin’. That case is filled with coke and guns and all sorts’a contraband.”

You fix the side of his head with a glare, and even without seeing it full-on Eddie sputters a chuckle and admits, “Fine. I play guitar, sometimes.”

While Eddie’s eyes stay on on the road ahead, you let your own gaze linger on his face in profile: the slope of his nose, the freckles that scatter across the apple of his cheeks and neck, the tail end of another tattoo winding up his collarbone.

Eddie catches you staring, this time, jolt like an electric shock coursing through your whole body when you lock eyes for a moment, before he flicks back to the road. “Looks like you got some ink, yourself.”

He must be doing his best to remain respectful, because he doesn’t ask what the J stands for, even as your other hand jumps instinctually to cover the breadth of your wrist, hiding the little inked letter from view. “Yeah. I get one every time I kill a man. In remembrance.”

Amusement twitches at the corner of Eddie’s mouth when he asks, “Yeah? Only one so far? Would’a thought you’d be racking up your letters by now. Fierce as you are.”

“Well, we’re in public. I can’t very well take off my shirt to show you all the rest.”

This earns you another laugh, and even with the wind whipping through the cab, it fills every inch of the space. Rattles into you like a thunderstorm, knocks dust off some deep part of you kept dormant ‘til now.

You like that he called you that. Fierce. You’re loath to admit it, but you also like the pet names. Most boys are condescending or double-edged with their diminutives, but when Eddie calls you darlin’ with that Southern drawl, it feels… endearing.

Equal parts terrifyingly disarming and captivatingly charming. That’s how you’d categorize Eddie, so far, though you’re not sure what to file away about his arms- stretched out at ten and two on the Ford’s big wheel, soft white underbelly of his forearms fading into a natural freckled tan, smattering of dark hair over both.

For now, you file it under Trouble and focus on the upcoming road sign.

It looks like someone stripped a big tree and cut out a thick middle piece just to drive it at a slant into the ground. The hand-carved words appear to have been painted over many times, discolored and weathered, obscuring some of the letters.

WELC ME TO C LINE

”It’s a nice town, Celine,” Eddie says conversationally as the sign gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. “Small, but good community. Lots of farming folks, like me, some strays and stragglers, like you.”

Johnny Cash gives way to an unfamiliar folksy number; you drink in the ramshackle buildings that make up the heart of the town. It’s reminiscent of old cowboy movies you grew up watching with your brothers- flat roofs, red brick, clapboard. A hitching post outside of a General Store, a group of kids tearing around on bikes in the empty lot of the movie theater.

All that’s missing is a lone tumbleweed flipping lazily end over end across the road.

Eddie pulls his truck parallel with a stretch of curb outside a long building, another handmade sign that reads Celine Public Library. He leaves the engine running but shifts the gear to park, pointing to the phone booth just beyond your window.

“Phone’s just there, if you got someone to call. Figure’d here’s as good a place as any, if you wanna part ways now.”

Oh, right. Eddie offered you a ride to town, and he made good on it. Now is the part where you get out, collect your duffel, and wave while pretending to make a phone call until his truck has disappeared.

But you don’t. There’s lively guitar plucking over the speakers, twining with the purr of the engine. Eddie’s hands flex and unflex on the wheel, horseshoe tattoo on the first segment of his middle finger rippling with the movement like he’s working up the courage to say something,

You’d better not stick around to hear it. Fighting the thing that’s sticking you to the seat, you reach for the door handle. “Well, thanks, Eddie. ‘Preciate the lift.”

Your fingers are just grazing the handle when Eddie speaks again. “Wait-”

Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t-

His eyes are just as beautiful as before, when he’d laughed- and now they’re on you, longing and hopeful and a little unsure as he speaks, gaining speed as if from nerves- “I’ve got a spare room. Spare shack, technically- it’s not much, but I used to live in there real comfortably ‘til my uncle moved and I got the house. Please come stay, at least for the night. Please?”

With a hand still on the door to your other, safer option, you pause; though the main emotion that washes through you is one of relief and gratitude, you sink your teeth into the little flare of irritation, pulling it up to the surface like one last play. “I don’t want charity.”

”Do I look like the church-goin’ type?” A bright flash of Eddie’s teeth as he grins (he knows he’s got you, goddammit). “And the shack door locks from the inside. Deadbolt. In case you’re worried about… I’m not askin’ anything from you. Just- please.”

Your hand drops from the door, falls limply into your lap as you breathe out. “And you’re not in some… weird, cowpoke-Satanic cult where you’re gonna use me as human sacrifice?”

“What part of deadbolt do you not get,” Eddie retorts, pleased, hand at the gear shift. “And my cult only meets on the full moon, so. You’ve got a few weeks of safety, at least.”

A genuine laugh bubbles up out of you, and the smile that Eddie fixes you with would’ve knocked you sideways had you been standing.

You’re both relishing in the moment too deeply to notice the bicycles approaching from behind; Goblin gives an excited yip, front paws planted on the lip of the truck, wagging up a storm as the group squeals to a halt, surrounding you and Eddie on all sides.

One of the kids, a boy with a curly mop of hair who looks on the young end of 15, slams a hand down on Eddie’s open window. “Hey!”

Eddie is the one to nearly jump out of his skin this time, hand flying to the top of his hat and cursing. “Fuck. Christ, Henderson. Whaddya want?”

“Do you require our assistance at the market this weekend?” The kid speaks in a funny, oddly formal tone as Eddie sighs and sets his hat on the seat between the two of you.

“Unfortunately so.”

“C’mon, Eddie, don’t be like that.” The boy is practically leaning through the window at this point with eagerness, one foot on the ground to keep his bike from tipping. You smother a giggle at the way Eddie’s jaw ticks. “School’s out, we’re bored as hell, and-”

He stops mid sentence when he spies you in the passenger seat, eyebrows jumping up to the curls covering his forehead. “And who might this be?”

“None of your damn business,” Eddie grits out, but you ignore the all-bark-no-bite tone to stretch across and offer your hand in introduction.

“I’m Dustin,” the boy says, in answer to your own name, and rapid-fire points at the various figures loitering around the truck, naming his friends too quickly for you to store them long-term. “Now, Edward, about our payment…”

There’s a girl with red braids near your window, the only one not on a bike. When you give her a friendly smile, she glowers and plants a sneakered foot on her skateboard, rocking it aimlessly up and down the asphalt.

In the back, Goblin is basking in the attention of the rest of the group; another boy with a close-cropped Afro rubs the dog’s head lovingly, while a girl with serious brown eyes and shoulder-length curls (Eddie’s relative, maybe?) makes tentative strokes down Goblin’s side.

There are two other kids- boys, you think- near the back of the trailer, but their backs are to the group, close as two people can be while still on their own bikes. Dustin’s conversation floats back into your comprehension- he’s making a valiant attempt at twisting Eddie’s arm where ‘payment’ is concerned.

Untwistable, Eddie shakes his head. A few strands of hair have come loose from his bun, curling around his jaw with the overdramatic move he makes to throw the gear shift into drive. “All right, enough, ya scoundrel. Round up your crew and go be a pain in someone else’s ass.”

Unperturbed, Dustin straightens, grasping his bike’s handlebars with one hand and wrapping a tight fist around the metal of the truck’s side mirror.

This seems to be some sort of signal, because the rest of the group latches on like some choreographed play- hands, one from each kid, coming up to grip at any free space left on the truck, shoulders hunching forward as if preparing to be shot forth like a rubber band.

“Damn kids,” Eddie grumbles, but you can hear the fondness in his voice as he lifts his foot from the brake.

The truck lurches forward, and with it, the extra wheels; Goblin’s revved-up barking joins the excited chatter and whooping of the kids hanging on, a joyous cacophony of sound as you all head further down the empty street together.

Eddie picks up speed; there’s a twinge of fear as you watch the speedometer tick up to 10- and then he honks, once, and in perfect synchronicity all the kids let go. Some of them pedal furiously to keep up the momentum, others- like the girl on the skateboard- take advantage of the added speed to simply coast.

Soon enough, their cheerful waves and laughter recede into the distance along with the rest of the town as Eddie keeps his boot on the gas.

The heat in town was dizzying, so you’re relieved when the road dips and bends into the comfort of shade- courtesy of the wild forest flanking either side.

It’s about a ten minute drive to Munson Farms, and on the way, Eddie tells you all about it. You learn that his Uncle Wayne raised him, taught him how to work and live off the land- when Wayne retired and moved a few miles down the road, Eddie took over.

“Not really a lucrative venture, farming,” he says, trees passing in a blur as he navigates the road curves with ease. “But the end of summer Town Fair pays well, ‘specially for sheep penning demonstrations. Got a couple of dairy cows, chickens that won’t stop laying- between that ‘n Wayne’s orchards, we got more than enough to get us through the winter months.

And then there’s the hives-”

“Bees?” Unable to help the interruption, your head whips in his direction, interest piqued.

“Yup. Got about six hives right now in the southern pasture. Don’t know much about ‘em, truthfully- got a friend named Chrissy, comes once a week or so to make sure they stay maintained. I mostly just help come harvesting time, and try to stay out of her way for the rest.”

There are about a thousand other questions you want to ask- what kind of bees? Are they near your garden plot to promote pollination? Any bears in the area?- but you tamp down your excitement, settling on a neutral, “Cool,” before looking out the window again.

The sign for Munson Farms is handmade, too, but upkept much better than the one in town- it swings gently in the breeze on metal links as Eddie turns down the adjoining dirt road. About a quarter mile in, you start to see signs of life- fence lines running through the trees and the shush of a nearby water source- and then, a house.

It’s small, probably no more than a bed, bath, and kitchen inside. There’s a red brick chimney separating the straight lines of the blue-painted wood planks, ivy crawling up one side to frame the eastern-facing window.

On the covered porch, a big, long-haired white dog lifts its head at the sound of the truck pulling in. Goblin gives a greeting bark, practically tripping over his oversized paws to launch out of the truck even as Eddie gripes at him to “Be careful, dammit!”

As you follow Eddie out of the truck and to the porch, the white dog shambles over on a stiff back leg, ignoring the playful jumping and licking Goblin gives in favor of coming up to sniff you.

“This is Rosie,” Eddie says, patting her greying muzzle with a gentleness that twists something in your stomach. “She’s near older than me, was a great livestock guardian ‘til her age caught up. Been trying to train up Goblin to take her place but between you ‘n me I think his head might be full of rocks.”

As if he’s aware of the insult, Goblin gives an indignant yip and paws at Eddie’s knee; he gets laughed off by the two of you, zipping away with a deep sense of importance into the nearby forest while Rosie shambles back to her cozy porch spot.

It smells incredible, here, surrounded by so many trees- you take a deep breath, inhaling the rich pines, the verdant underbrush. Just past the house, there’s a fenced-in area with various plants spilling out of raised garden beds. You can almost smell the summer strawberries and crisp veggies.

On the other side of the fence is a plastic-sheeted greenhouse, LED lights inside making the whole thing glow artificial purple. Eddie catches you staring, then gives a wink, laying one long finger to the side of his nose. “Don’t go tellin’ the Sheriff on me and I’ll give you a joint for your troubles.”

“Deal.” Wasn’t a hard sell at all- at the rate this is going, you’re dying to get high with this man.

Eddie grabs your pack out of the truck bed and leads you across the dirt road, pointing out the fence lines in the distance, and a barn that you can just make out through a gap in the trees.

“Sheep, cows, horses, all that way. This way-” his hand rests between your shoulder blades, steering you towards a boot-worn path, “-is the guest shack. Beehives’ll be just down the hill from where you’re stayin’.”

He pauses, looking back over his shoulder at you- “I’ll take you to see ‘em tomorrow. Promise. I just don’t want you goin’ by yourself and getting stung to death, y’hear?”

Not for the first time today, you wish, desperately, to tell him things you shouldn’t. I was actually an apprentice beekeeper for a year, I know my way around a hive. Studied entomology and agriculture in college before I lost myself in the worst mistake of my life. You know that pesky little J I’ve got on my wrist…?

But if you start talking, you won’t stop. And besides, you’re not planning to stay here long enough for your secrets to matter.

So instead, you press your lips into a line, looking solemn, nodding in agreement until he’s satisfied and continues on.

The dirt path leads right to the shack, and Eddie opens the door to let you in. It’s about the size of a studio apartment- wood stove and sink next to the bathroom door, twin bed draped with a thick quilt budged up under the single window. Small, but homey and clean.

As you take it in, spinning in a slow circle, Eddie sets your duffel next to the bed and runs a hand over the top of his head, haloed frizz of his hair springing back into place. “Ain’t much, I know- usually just host the town rascals; they bring their sleeping bags and fight over who gets the mattress. But the sheets are washed, and-”

“Eddie.” You stop his rambling with a hand to his arm. “Seriously, it’s great. Better than great. I was probably gonna end up sleeping on the streets tonight, and you saved me from that. So… thank you. I mean it.”

The vulnerability in your own voice catches you off guard, but you decide to lean in to it. Eddie’s been nice for no reason- or, rather, because he seems to be a kind person- and you want to make sure he hears how grateful you are for a place to stay.

He’s staring down at your hand on his bare arm, eyes clouded with something you can’t parse out; you draw your hand back, which prompts him to speak- “Shit, darlin’. It’s nothin’. Don’t worry about it. You can stay as long as you like.”

“It’s not nothing,” you insist, arms crossing over your chest, rocking back on your heels. There’s a sudden swell of panic rising like bile in your throat; this morning, you were hell-bent on leaving, and now, you think it’ll kill you not to stay.

“Listen-” Eddie’s eyes snap up at the urgency in your voice, but you manage to push through- “I know I didn’t tell you much, about where I came from, or what I did to end up…”

On my own. The words stick in your throat, tears pricking threateningly at the corners of your vision. “...out here. But I grew up on a farm. I’m used to working livestock, riding horses- I can be helpful. Can earn my keep over the weekend, at least, doing whatever you need-”

Eddie interrupts with a shake of his head, your stomach plummeting until he says, “Got enough farmhands as it is, honey. Don’t need you getting your pretty hands dirty.”

“There has to be something. I can’t cook worth a damn, but I can clean-”

“Hey.” Eddie’s tone of voice slips into a low, soothing register, like you’re a spooked animal caught in a trap. He steps closer, and when you don’t flinch, he settles his big hands on the tops of your shoulders. “Shh. It’s okay. Like I said earlier- I’m not expecting nothin’ from you. Okay?”

There’s gotta be some sort of magical effect happening, an old Celtic carving under the floorboards, maybe a witch's spell braided in with the dried herbs hanging on the far wall. You’ve never felt so looked at before, like you’ve swam beyond your depth and Eddie’s hands are a life raft.

His eyes flit around your face, taking in the expressions you’re surely flickering through before he says, quietly- “If you want, how ‘bout you stay ‘til the end of summer. Help out where you can, and come Fair time, I’ll deal you in on the profits.”

You open your mouth to argue, and smooth as butter, his right hand slips up your shoulder, tattooed fingers wrapping firm around the back of your neck, thumb tapping the pulse point under your jaw, insistent- “This way, you’ll have cash enough in your pocket to go anywhere you want. It’s a good deal and you damn well better take it.”

You wonder if he can feel the jackrabbit pulse of your heartbeat under his thumb. When you nod, he gives a dimpled smile, satisfied. “Good. Now I’ll let you settle in and get washed up for supper. Come on over to the main house when you’re ready.”

Before the door shuts behind him, Eddie adds, “And don’t get too excited. I ain’t much of a cook, neither.”

After his footsteps have retreated down the path, you collapse onto the mattress, springs squeaking. You flip to stare up at the ceiling, running your fingertips over the ghost of his touch branded against your neck, almost nauseous from elation.

A whole summer. On Eddie’s farm. With Eddie.

After a few minutes of deep breathing, you get up to unpack your duffel, then fold your meager clothes supply neatly into the top drawer of an old oak dresser in the corner, still room enough for your canteen.

The last thing in your bag is a twine-wrapped leather pouch. Your butterfly knife makes quick work of the knots, and then, the last of your most precious things in the world are laid out on the bed.

A certificate of completion from Indiana U’s Beekeeping Department, folded and creased but still valid, signed by your last field mentor.

A driver’s license with your old address, square photo of a younger and more hopeful you smiling back.

And lastly, an engagement ring. Gold, with a teardrop-shaped diamond center and sparkling accent stones trailing up either side of the band.

It twinkles when you hold it up to the evening sunbeam streaming through the window; reflective pinpricks of light scatter and dance across the quilt.

In quick succession, you slide everything back into the pouch, securing it with the drawstring before burying it inside the hidden pocket of your bag.

Then, you shove the duffel under the bed until it hits the wall, and turn away to wash up for dinner.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #cowboy!eddie #cowboy!eddie x honey!reader #cowboy!eddie x reader

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theotherbuckley · 3 months ago

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Seven Sentence Sunday 🦵

Ah I haven’t shared fic in a hot minute — but I finished the first chapter of my Buck and Tommy meet at physio after the truck bombing fic (inspired by @bucked-it-up’s post)! I’m very excited and I want to post it but I know I should write some more chapters before I upload :( anyway here’s a little snippet of Buck and Tommy texting in chapter 2 - Buck is an oblivious boy who’s flirting without realising as normal:

Ever since they climbed Everest Buck’s staircase, Buck had been texting Tommy constantly. Look, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do — he was off work, and barely left the loft. It was nice having someone outside of firefighting too, someone who knew him just as him, if that makes any sense.

Tommy didn’t seem to mind, in fact he seemed to actually enjoy Buck’s spam of random messages, giving him back a witty reply or two on occasion that had Buck rolling his eyes but smiling.

Buck: What’s your star sign?

Tommy: Aquarius… don’t tell me you believe in that stuff

Buck: It’s fun!

I’m a Leo by the way.

Tommy: So what’s my fortune, oh wise one?

Buck: 🙄

You’re gonna get hit by a bus

Tommy: What the fuck

Buck: HAHAH sorry

It says that you’re going to meet an incredibly handsome man with a broken leg that owes you a beer

Tommy: Damn, I hope that happens soon…

Buck: >:(

Tags:

Tagged by: @aspecbuddie @wikiangela @diazheartsbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples @hippolotamus

No pressure tags: @bidisasterevankinard @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @thewolvesof1998 @underwaterninja13 @daffi-990 @bucks-daddy-issues @monsterrae1 @loveyouanyway @actualalligator @pirrusstuff @actuallyitsellie @babybibuck @perfectlysunny02 @lonelychicago @rogerzsteven @bucksbignaturals @smallandalmosthonest @spotsandsocks @evanbi-ckley @inell @snarkythewoecrow @lavenderleahy @911varietyposts @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @cliophilyra @typicalopposite @30somethingautisticteacher @talktonytome @buffaluff @girlwonder-writes lmk if you want to be added or removed <3

#bucktommy #911 abc #911 fandom #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #Tommy Kinard #tevan #purple writes #bucktommy physio fic

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decentwritings · 4 days ago

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Chapter 1

Summary: At twenty-six, you never expected your life to look like this: a veteran, a college dropout, now running drugs to cover your late father’s debts. The military took you away for a brief moment, but now you're back in your hometown, keeping family at a distance to keep them safe. Your simple plan to clear the debt, one job at a time, unravels the moment Mabel steps into your life.

previous part <- -> next part

The man's voice echoes as you make your way to your truck. You're too focused on his words, the smirk on his lips as he says it.

"Like father, like daughter..."

You grip the car door handle, pulling it only to find it locked. You swore you unlocked it. You shake your head at yourself and unlock it this time, hopping in with the words still echoing.

The truck's interior feels suffocating, the familiar scent of worn leather and saltwater suddenly heavy. You slam the door shut, trying to drown out the memory of the man's mocking tone. He didn't know anything about you—just like everyone else in this town, he only saw the shadows of your father's choices lurking behind you.

You lean your forehead against the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. Your heart races, the weight of the night settling onto your chest. "Get a grip," you mutter to yourself, but the words offer little comfort.

You glance in the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see him lingering behind, smirking like he just won some twisted game. But the street is empty, illuminated only by the flickering streetlights.

You start the engine, its rumble cutting through the silence. As you shift into gear, a sense of urgency drives you to leave this place behind. But then a flash of Mabel's smile crosses your mind, a light that momentarily pierces through the darkness that seems to follow you.

You grip the steering wheel tighter, torn between wanting to escape and wanting to stay. What if she finds out? What if she looks at you the same way he did?

What about your mother? Your sister? Your nephew? You have so many people relying on you—and the weight of their expectations feels heavier than ever. You can't afford to let them down, to bring them into the chaos that has consumed your family. You can't let them see you falter or break, not when they've already lost so much.

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to focus on the road ahead, the dim glow of streetlights flickering past your window. The familiar sights of the town blur together, each one a reminder of what you're fighting to keep safe. You push the thought of Mabel aside, reminding yourself that friendships can't thrive in darkness.

You're in need of a swim. The last five days have been filled with work that you haven't had time to go for a swim in the ocean. You also have been avoiding it because you're afraid Mabel may be there.

It's been five days though. No one goes to the beach recurrently like you. You should be in the clear.

Your duffel bag hits the sand when you find the right spot. The sun is beginning its descent behind the horizon and you can't believe how beautiful it looks. It never ceases to amaze you how the sun setting looks. Especially when it tucks behind the horizon.

The swim is long but not long enough. The only reason you swim back to shore is to rest your arms, the ache in them stronger than your need to do another lap. You return back to your spot and plop down on your towel, eyeing the shimmering sand on your wet legs and feet. You're slightly out of breath and tired, but you needed that more than you care to admit. You know you can't spend too much time here. You have a feeling Rudy will come out here in search for you after your last run in.

"You've been avoiding me."

Ahh damn, you think, your head dropping the instant you hear her voice.

You pick at the sand on your legs, attempting to brush it off. "I'm not avoiding anyone," you say back, glancing over your shoulder to get a look at her. You let out a soft sigh, knowing you can't hide from her now. Mabel stands a few feet away, her silhouette framed by the fading light, the glow of the sunset casting a warm hue over her features. You can feel your heart racing despite the chill of the evening breeze.

"Your uncle says you come by here everyday," Mabel says as she makes her way over to you.

You glance up at her, feeling a mix of embarrassment and longing. "He tends to exaggerate. It's not like I have a set schedule or anything."

Mabel laughs softly, her eyes sparkling in the waning light. "Well, it seems like he knows you better than you think. It's kind of sweet, actually. He worries about you."

It is sweet. What is also sweet is she's checking in on you. Mabel, who you have only known for a few hours, is checking in on you. You haven't had anyone other than family check in on you. You lost touch with your military buddies the minute they returned to base. They didn't like you leaving in the middle of a rough time in America. You argued that the hard time in this country will never cease, but the hard time in your family can with your help. Conversations between you and them ended since then.

You swallow hard, the weight of her concern settling in your chest. "I appreciate that, really," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "But it's complicated."

Mabel takes a seat on the sand next to you, her presence warm and inviting. "Complicated how? You can talk to me, you know. I'm a good listener," she smiles, like there's more to her words that you are failing to understand.

You glance sideways at her, searching for any signs of insincerity, but all you find is genuine curiosity and kindness. It's disarming. "I guess... I haven't been in the best place lately. Things have been rough at home," you reach for the end of the towel you're sat on, using it to dry your feet.

Mabel nods, her expression softening. "I can relate. Everyone has their own battles, right? I mean, it's not like my life is perfect either."

"What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely curious. That and to avoid the conversation from being all about you.

"I'm in town for summer break," Mabel begins, scooping some sand into her hand. She carefully pours it between her hands back and forth. "I have my own place–I've had my own place since I was eighteen to get away from my mom but when I'm in town, she tries to reel me back into her shit."

You watch her, intrigued by the way she opens up, revealing pieces of herself like a puzzle you're eager to solve. "That sounds tough. What kind of stuff? If you don't mind me asking."

Mabel pauses, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sun is slowly dipping into the ocean. "Just...stupid stuff." She answers, and you decide not to ask for elaboration. If she wanted to share, she would have. "She has this way of making everything about her. I love her, but it's draining, you know? It feels like I'm always trying to help her when I really need to focus on myself."

You nod, understanding all too well the pressure that comes from familial obligations. "Yeah, I get that. It's hard to balance everything."

"Exactly," she says, turning to you with a spark of understanding in her eyes. "And then there's school, and trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I mean, it took a while for me to even make the decision to apply to college. It can feel overwhelming."

You nod, remaining quiet, feeling the connection deepening.

Mabel sighs, running her fingers through the sand as if it could somehow sift away her thoughts. "I guess I just feel stuck sometimes, like no matter how far I go or what I accomplish, I'm still tethered to this place. To her. To the people."

You lean back on your hands, looking up at the sky as it shifts into twilight, stars beginning to peek through. You look at her, really look at her. You hadn't noticed it before, but she has more freckles than you previously thought. The denim shorts she has on and the soft, oversized sweater she's wearing make her seem even more at ease in this moment, despite the heaviness of her words. There's something about the way the fading light catches her freckles, her hair slightly tousled by the breeze, that makes you realize just how much she's been carrying. She looks...ethereal.

And you've never even used that word before.

"Where do you go?" You ask her, and she looks at you in silent question. "College, I mean. You said you're in town for summer break so that must mean you go to college out of state."

Mabel nods. "UMass. I used to go to Dartmouth but then I decided to aim for Amherst–and I got in." She answers, picking at a loose fabric on her shorts. Like she's embarrassed with what she says next. "Don't ask what I'm studying, though because I don't even know yet."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. "I wasn't going to ask. Honestly, when I first went, I had no idea what I wanted to study," you admit it, sitting up, dusting the sand off your hands. "Dropped out my second semester, though," you lift your hand to graze the necklace around your neck.

Mabel raises a brow. "Dropped out? What happened?"

"Got my heart broken, for starters," you begin, sighing as you remember the months before you joined the army. You miss the frown on Mabel's lips at your words, continuing. "And it was...all too easy. The classes and the homework, I mean. So, my grandfather, who had told me stories of his time in the Navy, said if education wasn't what I wanted to pursue, then to use the knowledge I had for something else."

Mabel remains quiet, allowing you to continue.

"I have a photographic memory," you confess, rubbing the pendant around your neck, feeling its familiar weight. You never shared that with anyone. Not even your ex. "It's been helpful in some ways, in high school when I learned how to really use it to my advantage," you finish, feeling a strange sense of vulnerability wash over you. "But after a while, it didn't feel like enough. Nothing really did."

Mabel tilts her head slightly, her eyes full of curiosity and something else—something softer. "That's a lot to carry," she says gently. "And I'm guessing the army helped distract you from all of that."

"Until it didn't," you shrug, recalling the times you returned home during leave, only to be greeted with indifference. No welcome party, no one even at the airport. You took a cab, and when you walked through the front door, your parents barely acknowledged your presence—like you hadn't just been in a war zone. Your sister, she wasn't any different.

"My parents didn't want me to join," you continue, sifting through the sand with your left hand. "Even shut out my grandpa because he managed to convince me. I had to hear from my captain that my grandfather passed–not from my family."

Mabel's expression hardens, a flicker of anger crossing her face. "That's fucked up," you glance at her at her firm tone, now aware of her demeanor. "I can't imagine how that felt; to find out like that."

You shrug, trying to downplay the weight of it. "I mean, it was what it was. I didn't expect much from them by that point anyway." The words feel hollow even as they leave your mouth, but it's easier to say that than to dwell on the hurt.

Mabel shakes her head, disbelief clear on her face. "Still... that's not something you should've had to go through alone. Your family's supposed to be there for you, especially with something like that."

You glance at her, surprised by the fire in her voice. There's a toughness in Mabel that matches the soft vulnerability she's shown tonight, and it intrigues you. She's been through her own battles, you can tell, and that makes her empathy feel real, not just empty words.

"Family's complicated," you murmur. "Sometimes, they're the ones who mess you up the most."

Mabel clenches her jaw, as if biting back a reply that hits too close to home. She exhales, shaking her head. "Yeah. But that doesn't make it okay. People think they can just push you around, try to control your life, and when you break away, they punish you for it."

Her words hang heavy between you two, the unspoken experiences she's not ready to share yet clear in her eyes. You look out at the horizon, the sky now dark, with only the faintest hint of twilight left.

The sun has fully hidden behind the horizon, the moon up in the sky with its toenail shape. You feel like a kid staring at it because with the discussion of your family, you vividly remember having trips to the beach with them and sitting here until the moon is in the sky.

That was when times were easy. You were innocent to everything going on in the world, in your family.

"I feel like this town only has pain," you find yourself saying, a flash of the dented "Welcome to Newbedford" sign coming to mind, the one you always passed when returning home. It seemed fitting, like the town itself was as broken as the people in it.

Mabel's gaze shifts to the moon, her expression softening just slightly. "Yeah." Her voice is low, almost a whisper. "Sometimes it feels like no matter where you go, the weight of this place follows you."

You glance at her, wondering just how much of herself she's trying to escape. She's resilient, strong-willed, but you can see now that there's a part of her tethered to this place just like you.

"It's like we're both trying to run from something," you say, not fully expecting her to respond.

Mabel nods slowly, as if she's been thinking the same thing. "But maybe... maybe we don't have to do it alone."

Her words hit you harder than you expected. For the first time in a long while, you feel understood, and in this small, fleeting moment, it's enough.

You hum, wiggling your toes and watch the dry sand fall off. You look at her and see it in her eyes, the pity in her eyes. She spoke with Rudy about more than just your trips to the beach and you know it.

"I'm a bad influence, Mabel," you say, shrugging to hide the hurt of how true the words are. "I'm a bad sister, bad daughter and I'll be a bad friend. Your best bet is to stay away. You look like you have it all figured out, or doing a good job of having it figured out. You shouldn't...waste your time on me. I'd just drag you into my mess, which is...dirty, for a lack of better word."

Mabel's expression shifts, a mix of surprise and concern. She leans closer, her voice firm yet gentle. "You don't get to decide how I handle my life or who I spend my time with. I see you trying, even if you don't."

You're stunned by how harsh her tone is. It's like this is a revelation for her—a breaking point where she's finally willing to stand her ground. You can't remember the last time someone pushed back against your self-deprecation like this, and it catches you off guard.

You look away, the weight of her words pressing against you. "I don't want to ruin your summer or make things worse for you. You deserve better than what I can offer."

"Maybe I don't want 'better,'" she shoots back, her tone almost teasing, though her eyes remain serious. You crack a small smile, the hint of a smile on her lips making you crack slightly. "Maybe I want real, and real is messy. We all have our battles. It doesn't make you a bad person; it makes you human."

You shake your head, feeling the ache of her honesty. "You don't know what you're getting into. I'm tangled up in things I can't just walk away from."

Or rather, don't want to, because you're scared of the consequences.

You want to tell her about your dad, how he ruined your family with his death. But it's not in you; because he may have been a stupid dumbass but he still raised you, taught you things you find valuable.

"I can't just let you in on all of that. It feels unfair to unload it on you when you have your own life to navigate," you admit, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of the truth you're holding back.

Mabel watches you intently, her expression softening. "You think I haven't been where you are? I've dealt with my share of darkness. I get it. I really do."

There's a silence that envelopes you both, and you notice her scoot over to brush her shoulder against yours.

"People deserve a chance to prove they are capable of more than what they are expected of," she whispers.

You shake your head, still defiant to this.

"Mabel, you don't even know me," you whisper, a whisk of wind blowing the silence away with your words.

Her gaze doesn't waver. "That's true, but I want to," she says, sighing quietly. "I've been in college for two semesters now and I feel like I've learned a thing or two about people. How to read them and how to understand the layers beneath the surface." She shifts closer, her shoulder brushing against yours once again as she continues, "You're not just a collection of mistakes or past choices. You're a person with history and dreams and everything in between."

You look at her, surprised by the depth of her insight. "Psychology," you say, raising a brow. She arches one back at you. "I remember reading something like that in my intro to psych class."

Mabel hums. "Photographic memory," she remembers and you can only nod. "Look, you're the girl who jumped into the ocean for some stranger's bag," she continues, her tone lightening with a hint of amusement. "That says something about your character."

You chuckle softly, brushing off her compliment. "It was just a bag. I couldn't let it drown."

"But it wasn't just a bag to me," Mabel insists, her voice firm yet playful. "It was my favorite bag! You saved it, and that speaks volumes. You're willing to go out of your way for others, even when you're struggling yourself."

You take a moment to absorb her words, the weight of them sinking in. You wrap your arms around your knees, the feeling to go back for a swim surfacing. You eye the waves, the darkness over them with the shimmer of the moon on the surface.

"Charlie didn't even jump in," Mabel says, bringing you out of your stupor. "And he's been trying to nonchalantly get us back together."

You whip your head to look at her. By your look, she laughs, nodding as she understands your silence.

"We used to date," Mabel shrugs, and you can't help but wonder what the idiot did to lose her. "We tried the long distance thing while he was here and I was in UMass–didn't work. I was too focused on wanting to get out, leave to never come back and he–well, he gave up a scholarship to stay in town with his brother to fish."

You quirk a brow, both impressed and bewildered by Charlie's decision. You didn't take the guy for someone to give up a scholarship. You actually saw him more as a fisherman than an Ivy League guy. Looks can be deceiving, you think.

"Wow, that's a big sacrifice," you say, trying to wrap your head around it. "I guess that explains why he's still here."

Mabel nods, her expression shifting slightly. "Yeah, he's a good guy, but... sometimes good isn't enough, you know? We just weren't on the same page. I needed to chase my dreams, and he was stuck here–or rather, choose this place over..."

You can hear it in her voice, see it on her face. He hurt her. He chose this place over her. The breakup may appear amicable but it hurt Mabel more than she cares to admit.

"I don't know," she admits, looking out at the ocean. "It's complicated. Part of me wants to see what's out there, but another part of me feels rooted here. It's a tug-of-war."

"Sounds familiar," you murmur, thinking about your own life and the choices you've made.

You feel sticky, icky even. The need for a swim is strong again, so you stand, surprising the girl beside you.

"I have a spare change of clothes," you start, stretching your back and cracking your neck. You're too lazy to stretch anymore so you extend your hand, the corner of your mouth tilting up into a small half smile. "Wanna go for a swim?"

Mabel stares up at you, her gaze flicking between your hand and your face, weighing the invitation. You can see the hesitation in her eyes, but there's also a spark of excitement.

"Are you serious?" she asks, her tone a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "You actually want to swim at night?"

"Why not?" you reply, a teasing grin spreading across your face. "The ocean is right there, and it's just us. Plus, it'll help wash away all the heavy stuff we've been talking about."

Mabel bites her lip, considering. You can tell she's torn between the comfort of staying on the beach and the thrill of diving into the unknown. Finally, she glances at the dark water, the moonlight dancing on its surface, and takes a deep breath.

She says something under her breath, you strain to hear it. You shake your head and kneel to ask her to repeat herself.

"I don't know how to swim."

You purse your lips, a laugh threatening to escape your lips. But the tint of color on her cheeks is noticeable thanks to the moon's light. So you inhale a breath and shrug.

A wave of empathy washes over you. "That's okay. We can just splash around in the shallow part, or I can help you if you want to go deeper."

She looks at you, like she's trying to read more into what you're saying or offering. You aren't sure how long it is you two just stare at each other; you do know you can spend however long she wants like this, because it feels right.

But then,

"Okay," she says, her voice steady now, determination shining through. She takes your hand, her grip surprisingly firm as she stands up beside you.

You turn your gaze back to the ocean, pretending to focus on the gentle lapping of the waves, though your heart races at the sight of her shedding layers. The cool night air contrasts with the warmth radiating from her skin, and you can't help but steal glances at her as she rolls her sweater up and over her head, revealing a simple tank top beneath.

As you reach the water's edge, the coolness envelops your feet, sending a shiver up your spine. You turn to Mabel, who's already stepping in, her laughter mingling with the sound of the crashing waves.

"How far out have you gone?" Mabel asks as you guys continue into the water, the waves hitting your thighs now.

You shrug, unsure of the furthest distance you've gone out. You never measure or pay attention. You usually pick your head up from under the water when you're out of breath, once you've caught your breath you go back to the shore then repeat the process. You once caught yourself floating on your back, you fell asleep and somehow wound up on the other end of the shoreline.

"Far enough to lose track of time," you reply with a grin, recalling that day you ended up at the other end of the beach. "I actually fell asleep once, just floating. Woke up way down the shoreline. Scared the hell out of me when I realized where I was."

Mabel's eyes widen in surprise. "You fell asleep? While floating in the ocean?"

You nod, feeling the cool waves brush against your legs. "It's peaceful out there, especially when you're alone with the water. Everything just... fades away."

She seems intrigued by your story, a curious gleam in her eyes. "That sounds terrifying and relaxing at the same time."

You laugh softly. "Yeah, it kinda is. But it's also freeing. It's like the ocean holds you up, lets you forget about everything weighing you down."

Mabel's gaze shifts to the dark horizon, her expression thoughtful. "I guess I could use a little of that," she murmurs, the weight of her own thoughts evident in her voice.

You watch her, as she dares to wander just a few inches ahead without you. She puts her hands in the water and lets a wave hit her arms. It's this scene before you, seeing her like this, that makes you decide.

"I can teach you," you speak up, earning her attention. "How to swim. I can teach you," you clarify.

Mabel nods, appearing grateful for the offer. "I'd like that," she laughs gently, a slightly bigger wave hitting her square in the face. She spits water out and stands straight, frowning at your chuckle. "Why didn't you warn me?"

You grin, unable to suppress your laughter as you watch her wipe the water from her face. "Hey, I thought you saw it coming!" you tease, shrugging innocently. "Besides, it's all part of the experience, right?"

Mabel rolls her eyes, but there's a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Sure, if getting slapped in the face by a wave is part of the lesson."

"Lesson one," you say, wading closer to her, "the ocean's unpredictable. You gotta stay on your toes. Literally."

She mimics you, lifting her toes just above the sand, her playful energy returning. "Got it. Stay on my toes and avoid surprise attacks from waves."

You nod in approval. "Exactly. Now, come on. Let's start with floating. It's the easiest way to feel like you're one with the water."

Mabel looks at you, unsure, but the trust is there. "Alright," she says, "show me how it's done."

You guide her a bit further into the water, positioning yourself beside her. The moonlight reflects off the waves, and for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you in the world. "Just lean back," you tell her softly. "I'll hold you up at first. Let the water do the rest."

She hesitates but then leans back into your hands, her body tense as she tries to relax. "You got me?" she asks, her voice a little shaky.

"I've got you," you assure her, your grip steady. "Now just...relax."

She struggles to actually relax. You laugh and grab her hands, softly calling her name.

"Mabel, you gotta relax," you say, and she sighs, the tension in her body more obvious than before. "Trust me. You trust me, right?"

There's no moment of hesitation.

Mabel takes a deep breath, her eyes searching yours in the moonlight. "I do," she says quietly, the sincerity of her words cutting through the gentle crash of the waves. She exhales, and you feel her start to let go, her body slowly surrendering to the water.

As she floats, the tension fades, leaving only the sound of the ocean and the steady rhythm of your breath. You release her gently, your hands hovering just beneath, ready to catch her if she falters. But she doesn't.

For a moment, it's perfect—just the two of you, suspended in the vastness of the ocean, under the stars.

You smile to yourself, feeling the weight of the past few days lift ever so slightly, as if the sea itself is helping to carry it.

And maybe, just maybe, you think, this is what it feels like to let someone in.

Once the first lesson is done, you both return to your towel. You may have had extra clothes but you didn't have an extra towel. So you bundle up together, wrapping the towel over your shoulders, squishing together under it.

"You're not such a bad influence after all," Mabel says, her head falling onto your shoulder. You can't control the smile that forms on your lips, looking down at her in silence.

The waves lap, and you're grateful for your photographic memory; having this moment etched into your brain forever.

~~~~

taglist: @nwestra

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #mabel (finestkind) x reader #mabel (finestkind)#finestkind #lighthouse

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oskea93 · 3 months ago

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Kansas Anymore: Drabble #1

Tyler Owens x OC

Summary: In which Riley Owens, the ex-wife of the infamous Tornado Wrangler, has 36 hours to come to terms if moving to a whole new country with their small daughter is something she truly wants to do.

Warnings: Cursing, angst

✶ Chapter One ✶ Chapter Two ✶

■ Italics = Flashback

■ A/N: So this is just a little outtake update. These drabbles will be focused in the past and will spill the tea on Tyler and Riley's relationship - good and bad. I am gonna start writing chapter three in the coming days so be on the lookout for that... And I may have another fic on the brain... Stay tuned ❤️

■ Taglist is available - just drop a comment! Would love to hear your thoughts, questions, or maybe just drop by to say hello! Can’t wait to hear from y'all

TL: @ellesmythe @18lkpeters @hookslove1592 @djs8891 @smoothdogsgirl @queenslandlover-93 @imjustamehbleh @love2write2626 @lt-jakeseresin @starcrossedtrek

@lauraseresin @axolotllover225 @kmc1989

“You can’t be serious right now!” My knuckles were white as my fingers curled tightly around the handle that sat above the window. “You’re gonna get us killed – fucking turn around!”

The car veered sharply around a corner, tires squealing against the asphalt. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing like a drum in my ears. The sky was pitch black, the only light coming from the dim glow of the dashboard and the constant flash of lightening high in the sky.

“Relax, I’ve got this!” Tyler’s voice was steady, but I could see the tension in his clenched jaw and the way his eyes darted to the rearview mirror as the funnel barreled closer.

“Relax? Are you kidding me?” I shouted over the roar of the engine. “We’re not in some action movie! You’re gonna get us both killed!”

He didn’t answer, just pressed harder on the gas pedal. The speedometer needle climbed higher, and I could feel the car vibrating with the effort. I glanced out the window, trees blurring into a dark smear as we raced past them.

“We can’t outrun a tornado, Tyler!” I yelled, the panic rising in my throat. “This is insane!”

Tyler glanced over, his hands reaching over, pulling the belt tighter across my chest. “Wanna bet?”

The wind howled outside, shaking the truck as if it were a toy. Debris flew past the windshield, some of it slamming against the car with loud thuds. I could barely see the road ahead; the rain was falling in sheets, and the wipers struggled to keep up.

“Tyler, please!” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it cracked with fear. “We need to find shelter, now!”

He ignored me, his eyes fixed on the road, his knuckles as white as mine on the steering wheel. The car hit a pothole, and we were jolted violently, my head smacking against the window despite the seatbelt. Pain shot through my skull, and I tasted blood.

“Damn it, Tyler!” I screamed, tears blurring my vision. “This isn’t worth it!”

In the distance, I could see the tornado’s massive funnel, an ominous silhouette against the flashes of lightning. It was like a monstrous black snake, twisting and writhing, consuming everything in its path. The sound was deafening, a constant roar that drowned out even our screaming.

“God dammit, Riley!” Tyler yelled. “I fucking got this!”

But the tornado was gaining on us, its monstrous form growing larger and more terrifying by the second. The air pressure dropped, my ears popping painfully. The car swerved again, narrowly missing a fallen tree branch.

“Tyler, we’re not gonna make it!” I sobbed, clutching the handle above the window as if it were a lifeline. My mind raced, picturing the car being lifted and tossed like a rag doll, the metal crumpling, the glass shattering. This couldn’t be how it ended.

With a final, desperate glance at the rearview mirror, Tyler seemed to make a decision. He yanked the wheel to the right, sending us skidding off the road and into a muddy field. The tires spun, struggling for traction, but Tyler kept the pedal to the metal, urging the car forward.

There wasn’t a house in sight – just an open field. I kept my eyes trained on the scene in front of us, glancing every other second to see how Tyler was reacting. His once cool and calm façade was now replaced by worry and fear – feelings that the so-called tornado wrangler never dared to show.

The car's headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the swirling chaos of wind and rain. The tornado’s monstrous form was a dark shadow against the flashes of lightning, growing larger and more menacing by the second. The air pressure dropped even further, making it hard to breathe, my ears popping painfully.

“Tyler, what are we going to do?” I cried, my voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. “There’s no place to hide!”

Tyler’s eyes darted around, searching for any sign of shelter, but the field stretched endlessly in every direction, offering no refuge. The car hit another bump, and I was thrown against the door, my heart racing faster than ever.

“Just hold on, Riley!” Tyler shouted; his voice tinged with desperation. The tires struggled to find traction in the muddy ground, the car fishtailing wildly.

I wasn’t the praying type – never having grown up going to church and all that, but at that moment I was desperate. “Please God – please God.” I whispered the words like a mantra, hoping some higher power would hear me, even if I had never believed before.

The wind howled around us, the noise deafening, as debris began to pelt the car. The windows rattled, threatening to shatter. The car lurched as it hit another rut, and I could hear Tyler cursing under his breath, fighting to keep control.

“Look!” Tyler yelled, pointing ahead. Through the sheets of rain, I could make out the faint outline of a small bridge, its weathered wood barely standing against the storm.

Tyler didn’t hesitate. He gunned the engine, aiming straight for the structure. The car bounced and jostled over the uneven ground, the structure growing larger and larger in our view. As we neared, Tyler slammed on the brakes, sending the car skidding to a halt against the side of the bridge. Without a word, we both threw open our doors and ran for cover, the wind nearly knocking us off our feet.

“Hold onto that pile!” Tyler’s voice was barely heard over the roar of the wind as I wrapped my arms around the wooden fixture. Tyler’s body hovered over mine as the rain pelted us sideways, mud and debris hitting us as the tornado approached. The red truck that Tyler treasured began to be pulled away only to be slammed back into the side of the bridge, my screams being overshadowed by the wind as nature’s force laid upon us. The wooden planks shuddered as the rusty nails began to give way, ripping off the top.

The bridge groaned and creaked, the old wood and metal straining under the sheer force of the tornado. Splinters flew through the air like missiles, and I pressed my face against the wooden pile, trying to shield myself from the onslaught. Tyler’s grip on me tightened, his body a protective barrier against the fury outside.

“We’re going to make it!” Tyler shouted, though his voice was filled with equal parts determination and fear. I held onto his words like a lifeline, my heart pounding in my chest.

The wind howled louder, and I could feel the bridge lifting slightly beneath us, threatening to be torn from its foundations. My mind raced with images of us being flung into the storm, the bridge collapsing, and Tyler’s truck being swallowed by the tornado. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for the nightmare to end.

The noise was deafening, a relentless cacophony of wind, rain, and destruction. I felt like I was being pulled in every direction, the tornado’s force almost too much to bear. But Tyler’s presence kept me grounded, his unwavering strength giving me hope.

“Just a little longer!” Tyler yelled, his voice barely audible over the storm. “It’s almost over!”

A loud crack echoed through the air as one of the bridge’s support beams snapped, the structure shuddering violently. I tightened my grip on the pile, my knuckles white with the effort. The wind seemed to intensify, and I could feel my body being lifted slightly off the ground, the pull of the tornado almost irresistible.

And then, as suddenly as it began, the wind started to die down. The roar of the tornado faded, replaced by the steady patter of rain and the distant rumble of thunder. The pressure around us eased, and I dared to open my eyes.

The bridge was still standing, though barely. The top was partially ripped off, and debris was scattered everywhere, but we were alive. Tyler loosened his hold on me, glancing around to assess the damage.

“I think it’s moving away,” he said, his voice filled with cautious relief.

My eyes moved around, my body still shaking as tears started to prick against my eyes. The bridge was a tattered mess but for some reason we were still here – still alive. “You okay, baby?” Tyler’s hand caressed my arm, turning me to face him as he checked for any visible injuries. “Looks like everyth-“

“You stupid fucking asshole!” His body fell back at the force of my push.

Tyler's eyes widened in shock as he stumbled back, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in my demeanor. “What the hell, Riley!”

I could feel the anger boiling inside me, a mixture of fear, relief, and frustration. "You almost got us killed, Tyler! What were you thinking, driving straight into the storm like that?"

His eyes stayed connected with mine, searching for the right words but knowing they would still be wrong in my view. “Baby—” He sighed. “It’s a part of the job – tornadoes are my job.”

I stared at him, incredulous. "Your job? Your job is to drag me into life-and-death situations without even a warning? Without any regard for our safety?"

Tyler ran a hand through his hair, his face a mix of guilt and defensiveness. "I didn't expect it to get this bad. I thought we could get through it like we always do."

"Like we always do?" I echoed, my voice rising. "This isn't some routine storm chase, Tyler. This was a goddamn tornado! I could have died out there! We both could have!"

He took a step closer, his expression softening. "Riley, I know you're scared. I was scared too. But this is what I do. I study storms, I chase them. I can't just sit on the sidelines."

"But why drag me into it?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes. "I didn't sign up for this."

Tyler took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. "Because I need you with me. You're my anchor, Riley. You keep me grounded. I thought... I thought having you there would make it easier."

I shook my head, the tears spilling over. "It's not easier, Tyler. It's terrifying. I can't go through that again."

He stayed silent for a moment, “Would this be a bad time to ask you to marry me?”

My head jerking up, meeting his gaze, “What?”

I watched as he slowly reached into his denim pocket, pulling out the diamond ring. “I’ve had it in my pocket for about a week now – lost the damn box – almost lost the fucking ring a time or two.”

The tension in the air was palpable as Tyler revealed the ring. Despite the fear and adrenaline coursing through me from the storm, my heart skipped a beat. His eyes were earnest, filled with a mix of hope and apprehension.

"Riley," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "I know this isn't the most romantic proposal, and I know I've put you through hell. But I love you. I want to spend my life with you, chasing storms or not."

I stared at the ring, sparkling even under the dim light, and then back at Tyler. The weight of the moment pressed down on me, the reality of our dangerous lives juxtaposed with the promise of a future together. It was as if the storm outside mirrored the turmoil within me.

"Tyler," I whispered, my voice breaking. "This is crazy. You’re crazy."

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Maybe I am. But I’m crazy about you, Riley."

A laugh bubbled up, mingling with my tears. Despite everything, despite the fear and the chaos, there was love. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

I took a deep breath, my hand reaching out to touch the ring. "Yes," I said, my voice steadying. "Yes, I'll marry you."

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Tyler's face lit up with joy, and he slipped the ring onto my finger. It felt strange, comforting and surreal all at once. But in that instant, surrounded by the remnants of the storm, it felt right.

Tyler pulled me into an embrace, holding me tight as if he was afraid to let go. I could feel his heart pounding against mine, a rhythm that matched my own. The storm outside seemed to quiet, as if acknowledging the significance of our moment.

"I promise," Tyler murmured into my hair, "I'll do everything I can to keep you safe. I know it's dangerous out there, but I can't imagine facing it without you."

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fanfiction #glen powell x reader #glen powell fanfic #glen powell imagine #glen powell #twisters fanfic #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #twisters #Spotify

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ythankucaptainmccoy · 3 months ago

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The Cowgirl and The Aviator Ch7

Next chapter baby! @smoothdogsgirl Warnings: Mentions of Death, Scene with a gun, Stalker, Stalker Behavior, Abusive Behavior and mentions of pregnancy

The squad was gone longer than a month, but you received word from Penny they would be coming in on Saturday. You only had four days until you could see the squad again, and you spent those four days making sure the apartments were spotless in between going to work and sleeping. Friday night you sat on Jake’s couch watching a movie when there was a knock at the door. You walked to the door and looked out the peephole, but didn’t see anyone so you opened the door.

You looked around not seeing anybody there, but down on the ground was a picture laying face down with writing on the back of it. ‘YOU LOOK SO BEAUTIFUL. YOU NEVER WORE ANYTHING LIKE THIS FOR ME, BUT YOU WILL WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!’ it read, and when you flipped it over it was a copy of the photo you had sent to Jake. You slammed the door and started to panic. How the fuck did he find you so quick. You should call the police, but that would mean handing over that photo.

You were torn and didn’t know what to do so you triple checked that the door was locked and crawled into Jake’s bed. You pulled his pillow to your chest and sobbed into it wishing he were here with you. You fell asleep like that and when you woke up you got dressed for the day. You went about your day like normal and then to work. “(Y/N) are you okay you seem out of it”, she said. “Yeah I’m okay just missing the squad”, you replied. “They’ll be back before you know it”, she tells you.

The next couple of days you are on edge constantly watching your surroundings. Any car that follows behind a little too long has you paranoid. At the grocery store while checking out constantly looking to see if you spot your ex. You continue trying to figure out how he found you, but no matter how many times you think about it you hit dead end after dead end. Then you think about who would have known you had come out this way.

The only person you knew was your brother as you had told him you were leaving. If he had threatened your brother's kids which he had done before your brother probably told him anything he wanted to know. You didn’t blame him, you would do anything to keep your niece and nephews safe. He was just doing this to get back at you for leaving him. He didn’t have power over you anymore and damn it if you were going to let him take your happiness.

After Friday night's shift at the Hard Deck you grabbed your pouch from the front seat of your truck and walked into Jake’s apartment. A knock on the door and you opened it and there stood your ex. “Get back in your car and get the fuck out of here Jackson”, you seethed. “(Y/N) I just want you to come home with me. We were gonna’ get married”, he said. “I told you it wasn’t going to work. I’m not going home with you”, you hiss.

He grabbed the door as you went to shut it in his face. “I’m serious (Y/N) you’re coming back home with me”, he growled. “No I’m not, I have a boyfriend and I am happy here now get out of here!”, you yelled. “Listen here you ungrateful bitch”, he started. You reached for your pouch that you hung up by the door and brandished the .40 caliber sig in his face. “I told you no and I meant it Jackson, and if you ever threaten my brother's family again I’ll make sure you stay gone”, you declare.

His eyes go wide, but he can tell you mean it and he lingers a moment longer. “FINE!”, he shouts. You watch as he high tails it to his car and peels out of the parking lot. You close the door locking it then sink to the floor as you try to catch your breath. You had hoped you never had to ever point a gun at someone, but you knew what Jackson was capable of and you weren’t going through that again.

You couldn’t sleep and you had to pick Jake up anyway so you sat watching tv and started a pot of coffee. Penny had told you when they should get in so you left the apartment at nine in the morning to get there by nine thirty. You parked in the spot where you had dropped Jake off and waited for what felt like forever when you saw Phoenix and Bob come out to the lot. You waved them down and they came over each giving you a hug.

“Where is Bradley and Jake?”, you panic. “They are being assessed, it will probably be a few more hours”, Bob explains. “What do you mean assessed are they injured what happened?”, you asked. “We lost Banshee and Fluke”, Phoenix whispered. You were glad to hear they were okay, but saddened to know that they had lost two men. “I’m so sorry”, you whisper. “Are you all okay?”, you ask. “Yeah just like with anything it will take time, but Jake seems to have taken the blame for what happened”, Bob said.

“What do you mean?”, you inquired. They explained what had happened, how Banshee and Fluke were killed, and that Jake had been their wingman. You thanked them for telling you then after a while you let them go so they could go home to decompress and unpack. It was two hours later when Bradley emerged and you ran to him and hugged him. You could tell he was wearing the guilt of what happened and reassured him he had done all he could, but when Jake stepped out two minutes later your heart broke.

Jake had dark circles under his eyes and looked exhausted. Bradley waved you on as he left to go back to the apartment. You approached him like you would a wounded animal slowly and quietly other than your boots clacking on the pavement. “Jake”, you gently called. He looked up as you came to stop in front of him. He took you in to make sure this moment was real as you tilted your head at him. “Let's go home”, you whispered. He didn’t say anything as you took his bag from him and walked to your truck.

“Do you want anything to eat?”, you asked. He only shook his head no as you drove back to the apartment. You grabbed his bag and headed up to the apartment as he walked behind you seeming to still be in a daze. When you got him into the apartment you sat his bag down and kissed his cheek then led him to the bedroom where you grabbed sweatpants and a shirt for him to change into and left to fix breakfast. He changed then joined you in the kitchen where he pulled you into his arms. You let him hold you for as long as he wanted.

“I’m sorry about Banshee and Fluke”, you whispered to him. “It was my fault they died”, he breathed. You pulled back and looked up at him as you took his face in your hands. “No, don't ever think that Jake. Baby none of what happened was your fault. Bradley told me what happened and there was nothing either of you could do”, you soothed. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, but he was willing himself not to cry in front of you.

He releases you so you can finish fixing food and he did eat a little, but you assumed he wouldn’t eat a whole lot after what he had been through. “When was the last time you got any sleep?”, you ask. “What day is it?”, he questions. That’s all you need to hear as you go to lead him to the bedroom. “No I’d rather watch TV”, he tells you. You relent but go and grab a blanket from his room as you sit down on the couch.

You coax him into laying down on the couch with his head in your lap. You run your fingers through his hair as you put a comedy movie on. You continue to glance at him every so often and a third of the way through the movie he is asleep. He wakes up periodically, but you both don’t really move from the couch until dinner time rolls around. You get up to make dinner and this time he eats all of it. He seems to be settling and that makes you feel better as he tells you he is going to go shower.

You clean the kitchen then pop next door to check on Bradley. He seems to be faring better than Jake, but you can tell he isn’t a hundred percent okay. “Are you going to be okay?”, you ask him. “Yeah Lilly is coming over to stay the night”, he tells you. “So what exactly are you two?”, you inquire. “Well I’m not dating her if that’s what you're asking” , he tells you. “I swear you give Jake shit, but you're just the same way apparently”, you laugh.

“I’m going to stay at Jake’s for quite a while. I came to grab some of my stuff”, you tell him. “That’s fine we were all given four weeks leave and Lilly is gonna be crashing here”, he explains. Jake hadn’t told you they were on leave, but with the events you figured it would be for the best. When you made it back to Jake’s he was still in the shower so you decided to slip in with him. He was leaning against the wall letting the water fall over him. You gently called to him and he acknowledged your presence, but you jumped when you felt how cold the water was.

You reached for the knob and turned it to where the water was comfortable. Then you turned him to face you. “I’m here for you Jake”, you explain. He smiles weakly at you, but he leans down to steal some kisses from you. You both help wash each other and by the time you finish up it’s around eight at night. He follows you to bed and he pulls you into his side as he relaxes for bed. Sleep doesn’t take long to find either of you, but it doesn’t last long.

You wake to find the bed empty and it’s late judging by how quiet it is. You get up and go into the kitchen where you see a figure sitting with their back against the fridge. When you flip the light on Jake is sitting there his chest heaving and you see the tears streaming down his face. You waste no time in kneeling beside him and pulling him into you. He automatically buries his head where your shoulder and neck meet and his hands grab fistfulls of your shirt.

“It’s okay Jake, I’m here”, you soothe, holding the back of his head with one hand while the other rubs his back.“I’m sorry I shouldn’t be crying”, he says. “No Jake it’s okay to cry for the ones we have lost. It’s part of grieving and yes, real men cry. I won’t think any less of you baby I promise”, you whisper into his hair. You stay there letting him cry until the tears slow. “It’s the first time I’ve lost a wingman”, he whispers. “I remember when my dad lost his first wingman. He was devastated, but he learned that if you flew long enough it was bound to happen”, you tell him.

“What matters is you did all you could and I bet that Banshee and Fluke wouldn’t want you to be upset with yourself for it. You know the risks of flying right?”, you asked. “Yeah it’s never guaranteed you will make it back”, he says. “Exactly and they accepted that risk same as you do. They loved flying as much as you or any other pilot does. Remember them that way instead of how they died”, you told him. It seemed to help him as you asked if he wanted to go back to bed.

This time you pull him into your side and he lays his head on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair until his breaths even out. You follow soon after and this time you both sleep through the night. The next couple of days Jake seems to be doing better as he goes in for evaluations at the base. He tells you that they deemed him ready to return after the four week leave was up. “Darlin’ do you think Penny would give you a couple weeks off?”, Jake asks out of the blue one morning.

“I don’t know depends on what it’s for”, you reply. “I told my sister and her husband about my leave and they invited me to come stay at their ranch for a couple of weeks”, he explains. “What are you saying?”, you ask. “I want you to come with me”, he blurts out. You sit there in stunned silence for a minute before saying, “I don’t know if your sister will want a stranger staying in her house”. “Well technically it would be their guest house and I already asked her if I could bring you along which she said yes to”, he smiles devilishly.

You stare at him incredulously as he pops a cherry into his mouth from where you were making a cherry pie. “I guess I could call and ask Penny. What day were you thinking about packing the truck up and leaving?”, you ask. “Truck? Oh no darlin’ I already got the plane tickets” he boasted. “Jake what if Penny says no!”, you exclaim. “Won’t know till you ask her”, Jake laughs. “What day would we leave and when would we be coming back?”, you ask, pulling out your phone.

He tells you the dates and you call Penny right away because it’s two days away. Penny doesn’t seem bothered by it and pretty much tells you to go and keep Jake out of trouble. You swear that Jake had already somehow told Penny his plan, but how he got her to agree to it you have no idea. The two days flew by and you had packed a suitcase full of clothes to where it looked like if it were opened it would explode.

You’re nervous because you had never flown commercially on a plane. Every time your family moved it was always a moving truck and the old van. Jake took your hand when you started to fidget at the gate for boarding. “Why do the movies always make this part look so easy”, you state. “Well that’s because it’s a movie darlin’ and it doesn’t work that way in the real world”, he chuckles. He is loving watching you try to school your nervousness. “Why are you so nervous? You weren’t nervous when I took you up in Mav’s plane”, he states. “Because you were the one flying and I trust you”, you reply.

You watch as his smile widens and you know you just fed into his ego. “I’m glad you trust me so much”, he tells you as he places a kiss to the top of your head. Once boarded you make it to your seat and realize you have the window seat. You sit down and strap in as Jake takes his time. He buckles in once he is comfortable then leans back in the seat waiting for the rest of the passengers to get seated.

Once the plane is ready they start taxiing to the runway and Jake can’t help but notice you bouncing your leg. He takes your hand in his again and grabs your attention. “Just keep your eyes on me”, he tells you. You do but it still doesn’t help and he seems to notice this. “When we get there do you want to go to one of the rodeos? I looked up the dates and I found one we could go to”, he tells you.

“Yeah I’d like that”, you tell him as the plane picks up speed. When the wheels leave the ground and the weightless feeling you get makes your stomach roll you grip Jake's hand tighter. He winces but you start to relax when the plane reaches optimal altitude and levels out. After that Jake notices you watching the landscape and how it changes. “How long is this flight?”, you ask. “Around three hours”, he responds. You end up reading your book you brought with you and Jake can’t help but notice the cover and title.

Ideas start popping into his head at the shirtless cowboy on the front holding a saddle and rope. When you put your book down Jake leans over and kisses your cheek. “I’m glad you decided to come with me”, he tells you. “Like you gave me a choice, but I’m glad I get to see the state you grew up in”, you tell him. When the plane lands in Austin, Texas you immediately want to get to the ranch. “How far from here is the ranch?”, you ask. “Well it’s about two hours away”, he states.

Once you pick up your bags Jake takes you in search of his brother in law. He isn’t hard to spot as you take in his tall and broad stature. He makes Jake look small in comparison, but you soon learn he is very sweet as he introduces himself as Colton. He takes your suitcase from you and carries it all the way to the truck and on the ride to the ranch you let Jake and him catch up. The landscape is so different from what you were used to back home, but you enjoyed it and couldn’t wait to see what a ranch in Texas was like.

When you pull up to the ranch your eyes go wide as you realize how large this ranch truly is. You could ride in any direction for what seemed like as far as the eye could see. Jake turned to look at the wonder on your face and smiled. “I bet you ain’t seen nothin’ like this back home huh”, Colton said. “No we had cattle and things like that, but nothing on this scale”, you replied.

“Question is, do you think you could live here on a ranch like this?”, Colton asked. Jake’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t say anything as you pondered the question. “Yeah for the right person I could and hell I’m sure a couple of kids wouldn’t hurt either”, you responded. Colton gave Jake a smug look, but Jake just rolled his eyes. When you all pulled up to the guest house it was beautiful. It had a wrap around porch with a swing with beautiful big windows. Colton helped you both into the house and handed Jake the keys.

“Supper is in another hour and Evelynn is making your favorite steak. The guest truck is out back and the keys are hanging up by the back door”, Colton told Jake. “We’ll be sure to make it in time”, Jake replied. Colton took his leave and headed home while you marveled at the inside of the house. It was a cowgirls wet dream here and now you were hooked. Jake smiled as you took in your surroundings, but had to cut it short so you both could unpack.

There was no time to rest after you unpacked as you and Jake got into the guest truck to head to the main house. It was a fifteen minute ride but when you arrived you swore you were in heaven. There was an A-frame ranch house and it was absolutely gorgeous. “Holy shit your sister and her husband live here”, you gasped. “Yeah for the past ten years with their two kids”, Jake responds.

As soon as you both get out of the truck a little girl comes running. “UNCLE JAKE!”, she yells. “Annabelle”, Jake says. She jumps into his arms as he spins her around. Then like a flash of lightning a second kid much smaller collides with his leg. “Unc Jake”, the second child says. “Hey Georgia”, Jake responds. He places the older girl in one arm and picks the youngest up in the other. “Who’s that?”, Annabelle asks. The younger girl cocks her head at you and smiles.

“This is my girlfriend (Y/N)”, Jake says. You introduce yourself and the youngest who looks to be about four reaches for you. Jake looks at you not sure if you want to hold Georgia, but you take her in your arms right away as she giggles. “It’s very nice to meet you Annabelle and Georgia”, you say. “DINNERS READY GIRLS AND YOUR UNCLE JAKE BETTER BE HERE”, someone who you guess is Evelynn calls out. “That’s our que”, Jake says as he takes your hand leading you into the house and to the dining room.

“Oh well I see you have met my children and you already met my husband. I’m Evelynn”, a woman says as she places dishes down on the table. When you look at her you definitely see the family resemblance and as your gaze travels lower you notice she is heavily pregnant. “Nice to meet you I’m (Y/N)”, you reply. You sit down as they say grace then start to eat as Jake talks with his sister. “So you never did tell me if you're having a boy or girl”, Jake says. “Well you're getting a nephew this time”, Evelynn replied.

“I knew it”, Jake boasted. Colton talked about how he was excited to show him all the ropes and how to play football. The rest of the night went like that as they asked you about your family and you told them everything. By the end of dinner Colton made mention to his wife that Jake and you were technically here on vacation and that she could talk to you all tomorrow. She sent you back to the guest house with homemade apple pie that was to die for. The day was catching up to both of you as you got into bed. Jake pulled you back against his chest making you the little spoon as you both fell asleep.

#top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #dagger squad

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the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

Text

Pin my Heart

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Sexual innuendos, FLUFF.

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Main Masterlist

Thread the Needle Masterlist

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1 >>> Chapter 2

Shielding yourself from the harsh rain with your windbreaker, you bravely wade through it, with one objective - convince Hobie to be your partner and model for your final project. The entire day you've been thinking if he still owes you a favour that you can maybe cash in, and you've got the perfect one. You think at least, You never know with Hobie really. You'd think after more than ten years of being friends, you can get a read on him, but alas he's quite unpredictable, maybe that's why you like him so much, he still has a few surprises up his leather sleeves even after years of friendship.

The loud music coming from Hobie's and his roommates' garage acts as a beacon for you to follow through the downpour.

Entering the band's domain, you wave at them since they wouldn't even hear your greeting with the loud music they're playing. You watch Hobie do his guitar solo as you wrangle your wet windbreaker off you, used to the loud music, you watch his long fingers expertly play with the guitar. You catch yourself staring, so you turn around to hang your soaking windbreaker on an empty shelf, using this excuse to hide your flustered state.

Hobie finishes his solo and you turn back around, avoiding the knowing stares from his bandmates.

"There's our number one fan!" Hobie screams, his ears still ringing from the loud guitar riffs, adrenaline still rushing through him.

"Hey, everyone" you awkwardly greet.

"Hi, shy girl!" Hobie gives you a hug, knowing he's all sweaty from rocking out.

You try to avoid his hug by putting your arms towards him, "Hobie! You're all sweaty! Stop!"

"Look who's talking! You're also wet!"

"Yeah! from the rain, not sweat, asshole!" You try to push him off, but he's too strong, damn him and his strong arms.

He hugs you fully, putting all his weight on you, chin on top of your shoulder, his breath tickles the shell of your ear. "How's your day?" The ringing in his ears finally stops, and he can finally talk without screaming at you.

"It would've been good, if I didn't get Hobie sweat all over me" you huff, leaning away so that Hobie couldn't hear your heart beat quickening.

"Don't act like you don't like it, sweets" he winks at you, releasing you from his grip, but he keeps his hands on your shoulders, you're an arms length away from him. He stares at you, head tilted to the side.

Yuri, their new drummer pipes up, she clears her throat, getting both your attention from eachother. "I'm making Tea, y/n you want some?"

"Yes please, thanks Yuri" You smile at the raven haired sweetly.

They all pile out of the garage, as Hobie manually closes the gate. He reaches up to grab the handle to pull it down, his shirt rides up, you ogle at the exposed skin on his hip. For the second time that day you look away immediately, finding the discarded drum kit more interesting than Hobie's toned back.

The loud crash of the gate closing signals you to look back at Hobie. A chill runs through your body, you wrap your arms around your shivering form.

"Shit, you're gonna catch a cold, let's get you warm, yeah?" Hobie rubs your arms. He grabs your backpack from the floor, and then slings his precious guitar on his back. Hobie leads you inside the house.

The house seems to be much cleaner than the last time you visited, probably thanks to Yuri. The warm aromatic smell of the tea hits you like a truck, you sneeze at the sudden change of smell, or it might just be from the rain soaking you.

"Bless you!" Ned, the band's bassist, yells from the living room.

"Thanks Ned" You sniff.

"C'mon, let's get you dry, don't want you getting sick on me now" Hobie hugs your shoulder with his free arm.

"That was one time, Hobart" you glare at him. He snickers at your comment.

You two stand in front of his door covered in various punk band stickers. He leads you in by your shoulders, and sits you down on the bed.

"I like the new song" you say as Hobie plugs in the portable heater, then places it in front of your shivering form.

"Thanks, we've been working on it for a while" he grabs a towel from his drawer, while rummaging through it for a clean shirt, he tosses the towel on your head.

"Is this even clean?" You get a whiff of soap from the towel, answering your question.

"I'm not a barbarian" Hobie takes off his shirt, before you could ogle at him once more, instead you watch the light on the heater flicker. It's not the first time you've seen him shirtless, so why are you feeling so flustered right now? "What do you wanna do today? Can't go out though 'cause of the rain"

"Can I ask you for a favour?" You try to be blunt, so you could get it over with, wrapping yourself in the towel.

Hobie leans against the door, hands on his hips, he's now wearing a grunge long sleeved shirt that's too big on his shoulders, you see a peek of his skin from the various tears of the shirt.

"Ah, already cashing in the favour I asked you last night?" He raises his pierced brow.

"Yeahh? It's - I need your help" You look at Hobie, determination in your eyes.

"Are you in some kind of trouble? Knew you had it in you" he smirks.

"No, it's not that, I need your help for my final project"

Hobie remembers the tea waiting for you, "hold that thought" he leaves the room, you try to call him back in, but he continues towards the kitchen, you huff but you still follow closely behind. There goes the privacy of convincing him.

Yuri, Ned and their other band mate, James stop their conversation in the kitchen when they see you both walk in.

"Alright, what kind of project?" He questions your intentions, while preparing your tea, your preferred mixture practically ingrained in his mind.

You swallow your nerves, "It's nothing too big really, I - no, we need to create a look that encompasses us both, and for you to model it in front of my class?" The end of your sentence unintentionally sounded like a question.

Hobie stops from pouring milk on your tea, you can't see the growing smirk on his face. You snuggle the towel closer to you. His housemates sip their tea simultaneously.

Hobie stirs your drink wordlessly. He composes himself, turns back towards you, still stirring your drink dramatically. He looks like a Bond villain who can't wait to tell you his master plan.

"What's in it for me?" There it is. He sips your drink loudly, knowing that he's annoying you with the sound.

He doesn't even like milk in his tea, you thought, you bite your tongue from saying it out loud, you need to sweeten him up, so you try playing the nice card.

"What do you want?" Saying it through gritted teeth, trying to give him your best smile, you probably look like you're in pain though.

"Hmm, let me think" he taps the teaspoon against the mug, it clinks against the ceramic, he then brings it to his mouth with a loud slurp, releasing it with a pop. He's doing this on purpose, you cringe at the sound.

"How about I do your laundry for a month?" You negotiate.

"Nah, I can do my own laundry"

"I'll wash your motorbike every month for the rest of the year" you counter.

"Y'know I never let anyone else touch my baby"

His band mates' heads move from Hobie back to you, like they're watching a tennis match.

"Ok, um I'll buy you a new guitar then!" Gotcha you finally got him, hook, line and sinker.

Hobie hums at that "hmm, tempting, but no"

Frustrated at his lack of cooperation, "You know what fine, James," you turn towards his equally punk friend, "you wanna do it with me instead?" You should have worded that out better.

Hobie widens his eyes at the unintentional innuendo, he smiles at the opportunity, "Hey! No! I'm the only one you can do it with!"

His friends snicker, James looks at you with a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Maybe you can ask Yuri, She might be more of your type." Ned teases.

Yuri winks at you. They laugh, Hobie looks at you through his mug with a smile, watching your reaction.

"Guys, really? You're a child, Hobie" You cross your arms over your chest.

"Wait, I've got an idea" Yuri runs off to her room before you could question her.

You and Hobie stare at each other, while he drinks your tea.

"You're lactose intolerant, you're gonna shit yourself later" you grin at him.

"I have lactaid," he says matter-of-fact.

Yuri comes back and gives you a card. "Here"

"What's this? A business card?" You ask.

"Oi, are you actually trying to get a lawyer involved?"

"Yeah, a divorce lawyer, with how you both are acting like you're married" Yuri sarcastically says.

"It's a rewards card from starbucks?" You show Hobie.

Hobie comes closer to see, you both look at Yuri questioningly.

"Since Hobie here can't figure out what to ask of you in exchange for his cooperation with your thing," Yuri points to the both of you. "I figured you both need a rewards system. You poke out a hole in the card every time Hobie wants you to do something for him"

You look at the card with ten logos you can poke out, words printed neatly on top 'buy ten drinks and get a free one!' you look at the back - it expired a year ago.

"So he can ask for ten things then?"

"That's right, better than what you were suggesting, and you can keep track of it all," Yuri adds.

"Nah, I don't think this is better" Hobie declines.

"Do you have any better ideas, genius? Or do you want us to keep going back and forth" you shove the card in his free hand.

"Fine, say pretty please first, lovey" Hobie walks closer to you, the tips of your sock clad toes kisses his bare ones with how close you two have gotten. He looks down at you with a smile.

If you didn't like Hobie so much you would've asked James or any of his punk friends. Honestly you just want an excuse to spend more time with him. With how busy your schedule is, the same goes for Hobie, compared to when you were younger, you two barely hung out this year.

Hobie hopes this project of yours makes you two closer than ever, he also hopes when you finally graduate you get to finally hang out more, but it's a stretch.

You exhale, you look up at him through your eyelashes, "Pretty please, Hobie" you say sweetly. You don't break eye contact, you're not going down without a fight "with cherry on top?" You bat your lashes for added effect.

With how pretty you look up at him, Hobie's breath hitches in his throat, he tries to play it cool though, so he lightly shoves his mug on your chest, signaling his defeat.

You take the mug to your lips, and sip victoriously. You lean against the kitchen island.

"Does that mean I'm out of the picture then" James says, you all look at him unsure if he's joking or if he actually means it.

"Come off it, mate" Hobie shuts him down.

—

You're sweating bullets, wringing your fingers over the other, you wonder where in the world is Hobie? You sneak glances over your classmates and their chosen partners.

You see Flash next to a bombshell of a woman- all high heels, and manicured nails. Compared to his sporty style, he chose well. But judging from how the woman picks at her nails, and sighing every now and then, she definitely did not want to be there.

Your other classmates also chose well, the differences between their partners a stark contrast to each other.

Then there's you, sitting alone, without a partner. You busy yourself by sketching out a prototype of your project, instead of letting your thoughts freak you out.

The creaky doors open, like nails on a chalkboard. You stop in your tracks, head perking up at the sound, is it Hobie?

Your hope fades when your professor's heels echo around the room.

I'm gonna kill him, you internally curse.

Your professor looks around the room, her nose held up high. She opens her mouth to speak—

The door opens in a loud bang, the familiar leather boots strides in nonchalantly.

You would've sighed in relief, if not for Mrs. Williams glaring at Hobie.

"Sorry I'm late, teach" Hobie's hands are tucked inside his leather jacket, your professor's eyes narrow as she looks him up and down.

His eyes zeroes in your form. He smiles lopsidedly, Mrs. Williams follows his gaze, sizing you both up, she finds your pale blue cardigan a glaringly obvious difference to Hobie's leather jacket.

Noticing eyes on both of you, you give Hobie a shy smile, waving to get his ass over to your station.

The various metal on his clothes swing loudly, grabbing attention from everybody else who wasn't already looking your way. You cringe at the unwanted attention.

"Hey, love" Hobie gives his signature smirk.

"You're late!" You whisper-shout.

"Y'know how much I hate waking up early"

"It's half past eleven, Hobie"

"I'm here now aren't I?" He raises a pierced eyebrow.

You would've scolded him more if it weren't for your professor, glaring daggers in your direction.

"Looks like you all partnered up well" Mrs. Williams says plainly "ready your photographs" as she strides up to the nearest station.

"What photograph?" Hobie mimics your professor's cadence.

You elbow him to stop, just in case Mrs Williams has super hearing.

"This picture" you show him a polaroid tucked inside your sketchbook.

Hobie grabs it carefully, it shows you both two years ago, you're smiling widely right next to Hobie as he slings his arm around your neck with his guitar on his back. Hobie grins at the camera as sweat drips on his face.

He chuckles at the memory "I remember this, battle of the bands, right?"

"Yeah, your band won second place" you point at the silver trophy that Hobie's holding in the photograph.

"Should've won though" he slides the picture back to you.

"Aww, still salty, huh"

He leans on your side of the table, hand on his chin "we were robbed, lovey"

"Mmhm, sure" you tease him, even though he's right.

From your peripheral you see your professor looking in your direction.

You swallow down your anxiety, leg bumping up and down, feeling a firm hand on your thigh, you stop, looking at Hobie, a comforting smile on his lips, but all you can give him is a tight lipped smile.

He rubs comforting circles over your thigh, leaning slightly towards you to whisper "it'll be alright, it's just an introduction, you've got this" you would be flustered at the contact, but your nervousness triumphs over it. Hobie shakes your leg, taking his hand back when the professor stops on your station.

She takes one look at the both of you, eyes darting between your forms, she watches as Hobie places an arm behind your chair, smirking at the woman.

You can feel the bead of sweat falling on your forehead, hands shaking.

Mrs. Williams extends a lithe hand to you, asking for the picture on your table. You quickly hand it over, you don't want to make her wait, fumbling a bit, scared to give her a papercut.

She flips the picture to face her, you try to read her reaction, but her straight face makes it hard for you to understand her emotion.

"Good" she hands it over to you after a quick scan of the picture.

"Thank you?" You hold the picture like it's your most precious possession (it is) you can't believe that you actually impressed her, not knowing that the word 'good' is even in her vocabulary.

She moves to the next student, Hobie leans back in his chair, looking at you through his lashes "good? That's it?" He watches as you look at the picture with stars in your eyes, disbelief on your pretty face, Hobie thinks he's gonna have a lot of fun with you in this project, before you inevitably leave him for greener pastures.

He sighs, trying to dampen his thoughts, he's not ready for you to leave his side yet. You've been through thick and thin with him for more than ten years, it's hard for Hobie to think of you not by his side. He's proud of you, truly, but he can't help feeling that you're gonna leave him behind for someone better. He wants to savor every last second with you.

Hobie flicks your cheek, trying to get your attention.

"Ow, what?" You whisper-shout.

"What're you gonna do after this?"

"I don't have other classes today, I guess just go back to the dorms and design?"

"That's loser talk" he pokes your cheeks, what is up with him and your cheeks these days? "Come with me after this snooze fest"

"Where to?" You swat at his hand.

"Somewhere" Hobie shrugs, leather jacket squeaking when he moves.

"Last time you said that, I had to haul your band's equipment, while you lot were blacked out drunk"

"I wasn't blackout drunk" he mimics your voice on the last two words, "I wasn't even drinking that much"

"You introduced me to Ned, I've known him for five years, Hobs"

"So? A reintroduction doesn't hurt?" He tries to play it off, fixing the collar of your shirt.

"Just promise me it's not a pub, I don't want to take care of drunk you again"

He grabs his chest, feigning hurt "I thought you liked taking care of me?"

"I do" his heart sings, you slap your palm over his chest, Hobie's hoping you don't feel the thudding of his chest. "I just don't like getting your sick all over my new trainers"

He winces at the memory, but he bounces back immediately "yeah, but I can't help getting sick over you" Hobie casually flirts, hoping you finally get the hint, ten years isn't too late, right?

You roll your eyes, used to his flirting "stop, my classmates could hear"

"Let 'em" He leans back in his chair, mission failed, he'll get you next time.

Mrs. Williams clasps her hands, one look from her gets the entire room quiet, Hobie doesn't seem fazed though, staring directly in her eyes.

"We'll reconvene next week with your sketches and fabric samples, your partners included. Is that understood?"

A collective "yes ma'am" can be heard from her students, even some of the non-students say it. Hobie mockingly salutes in her direction, you're horrified, good thing she missed it though.

"Hobie!" You say through gritted teeth, grabbing his half raised arm.

"What? She didn't even see" he stands up, heavy boots thudding on the linoleum floors. "C'mon then" Hobie beats you to your backpack, waiting hand stretched towards you.

You hear shuffled feet, your classmates and their partners slowly file out of the room.

"Where are we going?" You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, he's being too nice.

"Told you, somewhere nice"

"Not a pub?"

"Not a bloody pub, it's too early anyway" he flexes his fingers, beckoning you over, "don't make me exercise my rights"

You chuckle "what?"

"The bloody card"

"You want to use one, for this?" You wave the rewards card after grabbing it from your pocket "must be some place important" you tease him.

"Yes, now give me the bloody thing" Hobie snatches it from your fingers, punching out the logo, you see it float down on the table. He hands it back to you, tucking it safely inside your pocket.

"Ooohh one down nine to go" you finally stand up.

"Let's go before they close" He slings his arm over your shoulders.

"Are we taking your bike?"

"Of course, I'm not letting you ride the tube, don't worry I brought your helmet"

"You're such a softie, y'know"

"Yeah, yeah" only for you, he wanted to add, maybe next time he gets to finally say it to you.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it, as always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*pictures above are from pinterest*

#thread the needle #thread the needle chapter 1 #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #hobie brown #the kr8tor's creations #spider man across the spider verse #x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #atsv fanfic #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #fanfic

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darkpuppysuit · 3 months ago

Text

PROLOGUE

WARNINGS: Mainly physical abuse with mental abuse as well.

MATURE 18+ MINORS DNI

Vague hybrid abuse, DEATH, eventual SMUT, and more if I missed any. Chapter one and future chapters will be a lot longer than the prologue so buckle up buttercup.

There is also a POV change in the future chapters.

Now, onto the beginning of it all.

"How dare you disobey me girl!" He growled, I can't help but flinch but I'm held back by the chains hanging from the ceiling. "Please, I'm sorry I was just, so hungry. I haven't eaten in days. Daddy please." He hits me with the belt again and a small yelp leaves my lips and I fall limp but still conscious and the chains around my wrists twist painfully . "You don't need to be eating all that food, too fat! Why do you think I locked the damn fridge!" He screams only to wave the belt around and pelt me with the end of it leaving behind an instant red welt and I can barely react before he's grabbing me by the jaw his fingers digging into my round cheeks, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

"You better be a good girl to your husband because if you act anything like you are right now he will surely do worse than me! I'll make sure he knows how to discipline you the correct way." He waves his hand around the soundproof basement and roughly throws my face towards the ground but again my arms are cuffed to the chains above me so I don't meet the cold concrete below. "I promise I'll treat him like a king daddy just please, stop hitting me I beg you." I whimper as blood, sweat and tears drip from the cut on my lip and across my brow. He huffs smirking to himself, chuckling even, before throwing the belt to the ground and walking towards me unbuttoning his pants.

The next time I come to was early the next morning, I was back in my bedroom upstairs all my cuts I had received the night before cleaned and bandaged. I try to sit up but I'm stopped by the throbbing headache pounding in my skull, I lay back down with a grunt as I cover my eyes from the sunbeam that just flashed me in the eyes.

"God fucking dammit." I groan and slowly sit up, still groaning in annoyance from my pounding head, then of course my alarm for school had to scream bloody fucking murder in my left ear and I jolt upright. "Son of a bitch! I'm so fucking late! Fuck fuck fuck!" I curse under my breath as I scramble to get dressed for school, nothing fancy just the normal black skinny jeans, black band tee, a flannel and a pair of converse.

I yank my bag off the back of my desk chair and run out of my bedroom like a bat out of hell. Making my way through the living room quietly and just when the front door is within arms reach is when my father clears his throat from his chair. "Forgetting something?" He purrs, obviously still hungover from the night before. "O-of course not d-daddy." I choke on the last word turning around quickly to place a kiss on his cheek before practically running through the door, closing it gently and almost running the whole way to school.

I barely get to first period by the skin of my ass, if it wasn't for the couple making out in front of my locker for two minutes longer than necessary, I wouldn't have to sprint before Mrs. Luce closed her door. "Okay class, today we are going to start reading a book called The Graduate..." Her voice was quickly drowned out by my best friend Emily nudging my shoulder with her own. "So did your father bang you up or did you fall into a thorn bush again?" She asks sarcastically while giving her red hair a flip over her shoulder. "I really don't want to do this with you right now Em." I lean over to whisper to her then take out my notebook.

Now, Emily has been my best friend since my mother died in a car accident coming home from her nursing job across town. A truck driver had fallen asleep at the wheel causing his truck to hit the side railing and flip completely over crushing her car like a soda can, like it was nothing. But that was eight years ago and I wasn't all that close to my mom like I wanted to be because after she had me she went into a deep depression. She had her good days though and those are the days I will never forget.

Does Emily know that my dad beats me for anything I do that he finds wrong?

Yes.

Does she know what happens after he's done beating me?

No.

I could never burden her with that knowledge because knowing her the police would get involved and fuck, if my dad ever found out that I told her I'd be dead within the hour and thrown over a bridge somewhere. I can't help but shiver at the thought as I glance at her for a second before responding. "Even if I did fall into a thorn bush you'd know it was bullshit within a second." I pop back, she rolls her eyes as the teacher clears her throat and our heads snap back to the front.

"We graduate this year!" Emily yells into the bustling hallway of our local high school with her arms stretched above her head and lets out a yawn. "Just a few more months and we are outta here!" She beams with a bright boxy smile which is infectious and I smile back at her my eyes squinting. "I think I might go live with my grandparents after graduation. They live out on this eighty acre farm far away from the city and I think being out there will just help me get my fucking shit together." I grumble imagining the life I could of had if I stayed with them after my mother died.

"Then you would live so far away from me!" Emily whined as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a lazy fashion that has her body slumping into mine. "Girl get the fuck off of me! You're so heavy!" I tease and she feigns hurt by clutching her chest with her mouth hung wide open. "How dare you! Are you calling me fat?" I laugh softly and close her mouth for her with my index finger. "Of course not babes, if one of us is fat it's me" I scoff and keep walking towards the exit with her right arm still over my shoulder.

"You are not fat Y/n/ m/n! You are curvy and gorgeous! Don't let what your father or anyone else says to heart because that's how they tear you down to their level and nobody wants that." She pouts jutting out her bottom lip for a dramatic effect and for a bonus she gives her best puppy eyes. "Oh come on you know it was just a joke, I know okay." She lets out a huff of air that has her red curls fall against her freckled cheeks. "I just want you to know you're worthy of real love okay? Don't ever doubt that, please."

As we walk out of the front doors the quarterback of our stupid football team comes barreling towards the stairs pushing past me causing me to fall backwards and hit my head on the last step. "Fuck!" I yell slowly sitting up to touch the back of my head only to pull it back to reveal a dark crimson liquid sitting on my finger tips. "Holy shit Y/n! Do I need to call an ambulance?" Emily the ever caring friend is kneeling above me, the sun suddenly becomes too bright and I close my eyes only for the black void around me to start spinning. I open my eyes again as I try to focus on her face. "I-I'll be f-fine Emmy. D-don't worry about it." I stutter hard and quickly lose consciousness, the last thing I hear is her yelling for help as she called the emergency services.

I wake up a few times in the ambulance as they asses the damage to the back of my head but other than a few fuzzy faces, muffled voices and a faint beeping noise is all I can hear when I'm not entirely lucid.

Once I wake up again for the second or maybe third time I'm sitting in a hospital bed with an IV hooked into my arm and a blood pressure cuff sitting on the other. I groan at the blinding lights above me as a nurse walks in and turns them down for me. "Good evening Miss, L/n?" She looks to me from her clip board with a fake smile plastered on her face and I give her a slight nod.

"You've received a concussion and there is a few other scratches and bruises around your neck and arms. Not only that but you seem to be very dehydrated and malnourished, although." She looks over at me again this time from the computer located to the left of my bed and instead of her fake smile from before, her face adorns a disgusted look with her brows knitted together. "You seem to be fine." I roll my eyes at her and scoff.

"Well fuck lady next time just call me fat the first damn time why don't you?" I snap glaring at her with squinted eyes, I jump a little when Emily practically breaks the door down and comes rushing to my side. "Oh my god Y/n! I thought you were dead! You've been out for hours!" She sits on my bed and envelopes me in a hug then leans in close to my ear to whisper. "He's in the waiting room, has been for the last two hours, he looks pissed as all hell. What do you want me to do?" I look up at her with tears in my eyes and I hold them back but I know she can still see the fear behind them.

"Tell him that I'm awake because I have a feeling they're going to tell him anyways." I shoot the nurse one more glare before she walks out of the room taking her cheap perfume smell with her. "Do you want me to stay? We can call your grandparents and you can stay there?" She has always urged me to get the hell out of this town and away from my father as soon as I turned eighteen last summer but I always gave her some sort of excuse to stay. "I thought you said it was too far?" I half joked earning a teary eyed smile from her. "There is no distance that can separate two soul sisters." She gave her signature boxy smile but even that felt forced.

Just when I was about to speak again my mouth instantly shuts when I smell the alcohol pouring from the man I hate the most, my father. "Hey sugar. How are ya feeling?" He asks sickeningly sweet, laying it on much too thick I wince worried it would give me a toothache. "I'm okay, Emily was quick on her feet, calling the ambulance when she did." I say in a hushed tone and pick at my fingers letting my head hang low staring at the off white blanket draped over my legs.

"That's good to hear, thank you so much." He turns to Emily who has to fix her resting bitch face into a small smile as she tries not to scowl at the horrid thing in front of her. "Of course, just looking out for my soul sister." She briefly looks down at me, winking, before nudging my shoulder with her arm lovingly. "Right." He pauses looking between us before he clears his throat to say something but the doctor comes through the door and he quickly shifts his gears to focus on the man." Hello everyone, I'm assuming you're her father?" He asks in his baritone voice like a cowboy with years of roughing it out in nature for a few years, his voice has a nice gravel tone to it as well.

Please keep me overnight, please please please, I repeat over and over inside my head as the doctor looks over my charts again. The next sentence that comes out of the doctor's mouth confirms my worst fear. "Her concussion isn't as bad as previously thought and she seems to be doing better I don't see any sway in her motions while she sits on the bed so I don't see why you couldn't take her home today. Is that something you want to-" my poor excuse for a dad quickly interrupts him at the thought of taking me home early. "Yes, yes please I just want to get my little girl home." My father speaks pretending to be worried about me, I begin to say something in an act of defiance but the words slip back down my throat when he shoots me a warning glare and I quickly shut my mouth. "Perfect, I'll get the paperwork!" He walks out of the room leaving Emily and I with my shit father.

I don't know what day it is, but what I do know is that I'm starving and my stomach is trying to eat itself alive as it roars out a low growl and my stomach flips when I dry heave because of the nausea swirling around my head. I can't keep a coherent thought long enough to collect myself up off the thin mattress on the cold basement floor the only thing shielding me from the cold wisps of air is a single brown, blood stained sheet.

I hear footsteps to my left and flinch hard and scramble towards the corner of the brick wall behind me and try to make myself as small as possible as he stalks towards me. "You're awake. Good." He pats my head as I stare off at the ground behind him and he takes a deep breathe only to sigh in annoyance. "I'm sorry for all of this. You know ever since your mother died I haven't... well, I haven't been the best father to you." He leans down to my level with his hands on his knees but I don't react too lost in my own headspace, still focusing on the growing wet spot from the pipe above.

That's when I receive a blow to the side of my head and I fall sideways onto the ground with a thud. My vision is blurry and I roll over just enough to see something silver in his hand. "Look at me when I'm talking to you bitch!" He yells, I'm shaking with fear and anger as he continues screaming profanities at me. "This is what I get for letting you go to that public school, boys probably touch you all the time huh?" He spats and I flinch when he raises his hand to me and he chuckles. "Pathetic whore. I bet you're even sleeping with your best friend too. You two seem awfully close to just be friends. Tell me sweetheart, how does she taste?"

It's in full view now and my eyes widen at the sight of a gun in his hand, fear clouding my mind and I need to think and fast if I'm getting out of here alive, I can't do this anymore the beatings with starvation all of it. I stare at it for a moment before I quickly stand on my knees and knock him over his head hits the brick wall while the gun slides across the concrete and I scramble to grab it.

I stand shakily on my feet with the gun in hand and aim it at the asshole sitting at the ground, he looks up at me after he wipes the blood off with his sleeve, fear evident in his eyes. "Now just, hold on a second Y/n." He puts his hands out in front of him as if that would deflect the bullet that I could release by pulling the trigger.

"Please baby, I just- you remind me so much of your mother I- I couldn't help but try to protect you in any way that I could. Please baby I'm your daddy, I don't want to hurt you." I stare at him, tears streaming down my red cheeks as he tries to use my mother as an excuse for me to not pull the trigger and all I see is red. "Hurt me?" I say softly. "Hurt me?" I scream as my hands and body shake with adrenaline coursing through my veins. "YOU WILL NEVER HURT ME AGAIN!"

*BANG*

*BANG BANG BANG*

I don't remember talking to the police or walking out to sit on the back of the ambulance or the EMT patching up the gash on my forehead near my hairline. What I do remember is Emily running towards me with my grandparents behind her trailing as close as they can at their old age. "Y/n? Y/N! I heard what happened oh my gods are you okay babydoll?" I look up at her my cheeks wind bitten, my eyes red and puffy from crying. "I did it. I killed him. I murdered my own father." My voice void of all emotion and despite how I look I let go of the breath I was unaware I was holding and put my face in my hands taking a shaky breath.

"I'm free."

After the police have gotten my statement on what all happened and a timeline for what has been going on for the last eight years, when I get to the part about what my father did after he had nearly beaten me to death on more than one occasion, a state of mind where I couldn't say no or fight him off, Emily looks at me like her whole world just came crashing down into an unyielding forest fire.

She doesn't say anything, she knows talking about the bullshit of it all would only makes things worse, turning to my grandparents I greet them and they give me hugs and positive words before they have me pack a suitcase or two and come out to the farm. Standing behind their old hatchback I turn to my best friend with tears in my eyes and hers too.

"Well, I guess this is it huh? You're really leaving me." She pouts and I giggle at her words on her adorable face as she pulls out her boxy smile. "Don't miss me too much okay? When you finally get your license." I give her a knowing look before she waves her hand in front of her face while rolling her eyes, I reach out and grab her hand swinging it loosely between us.

"Please come and visit? I'd hate to live a life without my soul sister next to me." She chokes out a sob and a sniffle before wiping away her salty tears. "Fine, but, if that horse nips at me again like it did when we were kids. I'm turning it into glue." She playfully nudges my side as we share one last hug as my grandfather tucks the last bag into the trunk.

Time flies while helping my grandparents take care of their eighty acre farm. I'm always outside doing something whether that's helping passer by's and their hybrids (which is still something I have to get used to, hybrids I mean) find the right walking trails or simply taking care of smaller hybrids who have come across the farm because they had been running from the hybrid control van, some don't even make it outside of the city and dark alley's much less all the way out here but the ones that do have a remarkable will to get the hell out of dodge.

My grandfather passes away four years later and the work that has to be done outside takes a toll on my grandma so I tell her to leave the yard work to me. Once she left it to me to keep everything in order outside everything began to run smoothly again, more hybrids seemed to come in for either a quick meal or to rest and leave by morning. It was never more than maybe two or three hybrid's at a time and I got to learn about them from the ones who weren't too scared to talk to humans, I've almost been bitten three times within the first few weeks of being at the farm, lesson learned.

"Grandma, you know you can't be up and down like this. You're doctor said to stay in your wheelchair if you have to move around and ask for help when you obviously need it." I scold her and she grumbles in defeat, I've caught her trying to reach the top shelf yet again for the third time today. I set my grandfather's old cowboy hat on the hook next to the door as I take off the leather vest and throw it over the kitchen chair at the table.

"I know dear, you were outside tending to the horses and cows, you already have so much on your plate and I didn't want to disturb you. I know how much you love it out there and don't think I don't notice you keeping an extra eye out for any hybrid in need either." I smile down at her very short stature and reach up to grab what she needed from the top shelf, barely but I got it. "I know I just... with the stories I've heard from the hybrids that have come and gone and the endless medical training I've gotten by stitching some of them up. I feel so sorry for them grandma. They've had a shit hand dealt to them, I just wanna help where I can, if I can."

She looks at me with a small smile on her face and taps my cheek with her cold hands. "You are just like your mother, a heart of gold and a willingness to help anyone who needs it, no matter the cost. One of these days you're gonna find a good man who treats you like the treasure that you are doll, I just hope I'm here to see that day." I scoff at her as I take off my work boots and set them next to the front door. "Grandma, you know I hate it when you talk like that. Now, please will you just sit down and eat dinner with me? I'll make some breakfast for dinner, the way you like, crazy lady."

It's not even a few weeks later that my grandmother is admitted to the hospital, the doctors going through every test they could think of as I sit in the waiting room in my work clothes about ready to bust through those double doors and give those so called doctors a piece of my mind for taking so damn long. A few more minutes pass and I feel a tug at my bell bottom jeans.

I look over my phone to see and little coyote hybrid, she's wearing a pretty pink dress and princess shoes with a small crown on top of her head wrap. "Are you a cowboy?" She asks innocently as she pulls the bottom of my pants crumpled in her small pale hand. I lean down to her level as her owner and what looks to be her mother walk up behind her, I lean in close and whisper in her ear like it's the world's most precious secret.

"I'm something better, a cowgirl." I lean back and watch the little girls expression change from curiosity to confusion. "I thought only boys could do that." She states as her mother reaches for her hand. "Girls can do things just as good, if not better, than boys can you just have to put your whole heart into it and never give up." I give her a little high five as she turns to her owner with bright eyes and a new obsession.

"Johnny! I'm gonna be a cowgirl when I grow up!" She jumps up and down as her mother whispers to me. "Thank you, we took Dove out of her room so she could exercise her little legs a few minutes ago. She's been so drained since her last chemo but seeing and talking to you has brought the light back into her eyes, thank you, so much." I give her a small nod as she shuffles to catch up to her daughter and owner but it's when I see him hold her close and kiss her on the lips, maybe he wasn't just her owner but perhaps a lover?

"Y/n L/n?" I hear a male nurse call out from around the corner, his face is pale and I could tell he doesn't do this regularly. "Yes, that's me. So what's wrong with my grandmother?" I ask and quickly close the app I was just on and the man stays silent and I scoff with a small giggle at the end to deflect the worse. "She's okay, right?" I say slowly as I walk towards the nurse and he chokes on air.

"Spit it out." I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Please, I'm begging you dude." I bring my hands together in front of me and he finally says the words I had been dreading to hear. "Your grandmother passed away a little while ago. The cancer-" I hold my hand up to keep him from uttering another word.

I knew my grandmother was sick but I didn't know she had cancer. "Why type of cancer?" I cross my arms and look up at the man who seems to have sobered up after I snapped at him. "Breast cancer, st-stage four." He stutters and I fall to my knees with my face in my hands bawling as he awkwardly tries to comfort me.

A few weeks later her funeral is held out by the weeping willow I planted when grandpa had passed away, in four years it's grown quite a bit easily making it the biggest tree out by the small pond out on the back forty acres. I sit there and stare at the cold headstone my tears have long since dried up and all those who had came long gone for about three hours now.

I sniffle and lay the flowers on both of their graves. "You weren't supposed to leave me yet." I let out a sob as I start to cry again. "You were supposed to, see me healthy, and happy with someone I love and who loves me just as much in return. You s-said- y-you sa-" I break out into a full crying meltdown and our new grey mare I've named Dove after the little girl from the hospital starts nudging me with her nose and I can't help but giggle.

"I know Dove, it's just all so sudden. They left me literally everything they had in their name. The house, the trucks, the endless amount of money that came from who knows fucking where. The equipment, the entire eighty acres? It's a lot, how am I supposed to do this all myself?" I ask Dove like she could answer me, she just shakes her head. "I know baby. I'll get it done, no matter what, for them."

For the next three years I do my best to keep the farm up and running. I keep my horse and the neighbors horses in the stable during the winter just around the large hedge separating it from the backyard of the house. I didn't have to but I sold the other two horses to make the workload a little easier on myself and about a quarter of the cattle to keep my head from spinning. I got a few little chickens and put them in the hen house located at the edge of the big empty backyard.

I stand on the wrap around porch one early morning with an energy drink in hand instead of coffee because I have a lot to do before the storm rolls in later tonight. Buckling my spurs into place over my boots and get to walking to the stable where Dove sits in her pen waiting for the morning workload to begin. "Hi sweetheart, ready to get started?" I pat her neck and she chirps with what seems like excitement then she happily shakes her head and I take her bridle and saddle off of the nearby wall with a big smile and get her strapped in before we start with herding the cattle to the feed mill.

By the end of the day the storm clouds have rolled in and it's slowly starting to rain. I have to quickly close the cattle gate before the calves can high tail it out of there, it's their first big storm I have no doubt they can feel it coming to a start. I put a lock on the gate and run over to Dove and jump onto her back grabbing the straps and pull her to the left when the rain really starts to come down." Come on sweetheart let get the fuck out of here and get you back to your pen." I urge her to go faster when I hear the impending thunder and I catch a glimpse of lightning closer than I would have liked.

Dove is settled in with a weighted blanket and her eye shield on. "Don't worry love Dove, you'll be okay, I wish I could take you inside with me." I rub her nose and down her jaw and neck before a deafening crack of thunder booms over head making me jump two feet into the air, my hair standing on end and I quickly move around trying not to be struck by lightning and lucky for me my hair starts to lay flat on my head again.

"Okay, that's enough for tonight. I'm leaving now." I pull my jacket over my head and start running towards the house, once inside I take my wet jacket off and toe off my boots as I shiver. "Fuck it got cold fast, that has to be a new record." I light the logs in the fireplace and take my soaked pants off, laying them over the gate in front of the fire to dry out so I can wear them in the morning to fix the damage this storm is no doubt going to cause.

Taking a deep breath to relax and unwind I sigh when my stomach growls loudly, the only thing I had today was that energy drink. "Ugh, this whole eating to survive thing is so annoying." I grumble as I haul my big ass off the floor and pick at the fire before walking towards the kitchen and I feel eyes on me and I freeze in front of the sliding glass door leading out to the stable.

Looking out to my left afraid to see a face or glowing eyes staring back at me, lucky for me I only see my reflection against the darkness outside before a bolt of lightning strikes a nearby tree scaring the shit out of me. "Fuck! Calm down Thor this isn't a competition!" I shout softly from the safety of my house when a loud clap of thunder shakes the ground under my feet. "Okay! I'm sorry!" I shrink back into my kitchen scared I could be smited (smoted?) at any given moment.

After I make breakfast for dinner, which I made a little more than I had originally planned because the storm outside kept distracting me from the task at hand. I look back out at the stable from the window above the sink and catch a glimpse of something or actually, a few somethings, run into the big red barn where Dove is housed and my heart jumps into my throat.

What if they steal my horse? Not to mention the amount of farm equipment located in that barn that will cost an arm and a leg to replace if any of it comes up missing. Then there's my grandparents old trophies and pictures from when grandpa would ride bulls and grandma being a barrel runner.

All those memories that could be destroyed within a matter of minutes if I didn't go out there and find out who or what those shadows are. I growl a few curse words as I jump into my pants and slide my boots on then grab my hat off the hook before throwing my thick jacket over myself and zipping it up. I take a deep breath as I grab the handle to the back door and brave the storm to get to the barn across the way.

Tag List: @socksfirst1

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nectardaddy · 5 months ago

Text

'88 Ford | Kita Shinsuke

chapter four | rattled

masterlist

note: no smau parts in this one, a bit short but trust

track four . . . if I had a lover

"Fuck it," he heard her grumble, voice holding an annoyance that was easily apparent. Quickly hearing the passenger door swing open and close just as fast; leaving the man in the truck with a loss for words. Whisking herself out in the elements like a bat out of hell, seemingly, without a second thought. I'm so in over my head.

The pair had sat in the truck for over twenty minutes, rain still beating down with no end in sight as it continued on; even through heavy rain hitting the windshield, he knew the gravel road was filled with puddles by now. But those twenty minutes were spent in brief conversation, the eb and flow choppy and inconsistent as both parties weren't entirely sure of what to say - until a match was lit to the fire under her.

So he watched in confusion, a bit too awestruck to move, as the woman passed in front of his truck to the old one. Stubborn as a mule and running off of sheer spite of the day, but finding himself completely enthralled regardless by her. Looking at her in uncertainty before it quickly turned to concern, what on earth is she doing? Grabbing the handle of his door, and pushing, he was met with the onslaught of rain, hitting him hard as he got out, neglecting his hat and all else.

Grey hairs stuck to his face almost immediately, forcing him to rake a hand through his hair as so prevent it from falling in his eyes. And he pulled at his sleeves more, putting a stop to, even a bit of, the feeling of fabric glued to skin. "Ma'am?" Confusion intertwined within the timbre of his voice.

But she ignored him, or rather didn't hear him over the shower from above; as she decided that now was the perfect time to fix the, god forsaken, tire. So as he neared her, boots stepping in puddles and mud, making a mess of himself, he called her name. A name he barely used with her as he thought it was too informal. Too caught up in concern to even realize until it left his lips, rolling off his tongue far too easy than he would have liked it to. That got her attention.

"I'm gonna' lose it if I sit in that truck any longer, Shinsuke," groaning loudly within her words as she picked up the wrench from the old truck's bed. "And there's no time like the present, that way no one has t'come back for this piece of shit." I didn't need your dad's luck for ripping into me, I needed it for this.

"But it's stormin'," he reasoned, his voice holding a twang more than before, but still calm and gentle. "You're getting soaked." She'll be the death of me. But, god, he couldn't lie to himself knowing there was a part of him that liked it; craved it, even, a determination that was fiery and loud - completely unswaying.

"As if I wasn't drenched to begin with," countering with a hum. "And so are you, if you haven't noticed," and he watched her eyes drag down him before returning to his face. Her glances weren't unusual to the man, often brushing them off resiliently as to not rile his conscience. But, good lord, his, normally, collected self felt rattled at her look alone.

You're too pretty to be looking at me like that. Thinking to himself as he then turned his eyes to the tire she wished to fix. If he didn't look at her then, possibly, the feelings would go away. It felt wrong, sinful, out right irresponsible, to look at her in the moment; clothes clinging to her from the weather, and water hitting her only to drip down. "Then at least let me help you, ma'am" he offered, knowing damn well her mind was set; and to further his mind as far away as he could from the latter thought. "I don't want t'see you get hurt."

"Then get over here," an exasperated resonance leaving her in a sigh. "If you just stood there and watched, I woulda' kicked your ass myself."

taglist under cut

@wyrcan @chizunata @seroh @chemiru @froyaoya

@h3xi2g0n3 @localgaytrainwreck @mollyrolls @causenessus @diorzs

@rory-cakes @phoenix-eclipses @pattys-got-cakes @girlkissersco

@jaynawayna

#haiykuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu!! smau #hq x reader #hq smau #kita shinsuke #shinsuke kita #kita shinsuke x reader #shinsuke kita x reader #hq kita #haikyuu kita #series: 88 ford

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whorejolras · 7 months ago

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as promised: jess' les amis fanfic rec list ✨

this is mainly e/r, a little bit of e/r/c and a few courferre

This is just the stuff that was in my bookmarks on ao3 when I started writing this post (months ago lol sorry it took so long). Going through I was shocked to see so many of my faves weren't actually bookmarked so I will for sure do a part two when I find them again, and have also added heaps of new fics to my bookmarks since then, but for now 25 fics is enough 😂

many of these will be rated E and will have sexual content, some are straight up pwp ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ok first is my ultimate fave that isn't even on ao3 anymore, but thankfully is on the authors tumblr, and that's:

Gnomon by luchia

50-80k words (?) (bc it's not on ao3 i'm estimating)

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

terrorist/assassin Enjolras my beloved ever. My fave are the "charming young man capable of being terrible" fics obviously. This one is my #1 e/r like in my head this is it's own canon. & this series has my fave e/r smut scenes ever. I still daydream about a Gnomon tv show...

- trigger warnings bc it's not on ao3 so doesn't have tags: murder, gun and knife violence, bombs, conversations about the deaths of children. this is not healthy relationship fluff but it makes for a 🥵 dynamic that's for damn sure.

also linking the rest of the series which is up on ao3 still, even though it is officially abandoned and unfinished - i am going to break my ultimate rule right off the bat and link an unfinished series bc I like it so much.

stupid terrorist boys by luchia

series, 5 works

200k words

rating: M and E

here we have gnomon's prequels, two sequels, and some one shots in between 🫶🏻

if you're here for kinky pwp Senselessly Happy and Unsuspecting could be good stand-alone (but it's better when reading in order). I would say read Gnomon first on tumblr then read the rest in order on ao3.

Silence Is the Speech of Love by lady_ragnell

50k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire, background Courfeyrac/Marius/Cosette

Enjolras is cursed for speaking out against the gods, Grantaire is there for him.

will I ever shut up about this fic? Never. fave fave fave. the world building, the mythological/religious system, the writing, the "I love you" "I don't think you do, actually" scene URGH!!!! I think of this fic every time i hear chopsticks. Everything happening with courf/marius/cosette, and the genius inclusion of social worker Fantine my beloved. This is one of those "could be it's own novel" fics.

and the sequel from Enjolras' pov 😭 - Left Unsaid

World Ain't Ready by idiopathicsmile

185k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire

yes it's the top fic yes everyone probably knows it but it's good for a reason. THE fake dating high school au fic that I broke all my rules for back in 2015. I refused to read unfinished fics, let alone T rated high school fics, yet I remember waiting for the updates for this one as it came out, messaging mutuals on the day the last chapter was released. and every time I reread I remember why. Brilliantly written, the pining, the angst, the miscommunications. All the Joly and Bossuet scenes.

honourable mention to the scene where Joly is so excited for the battle of the bands, then next scene starts with "I think it's more of a sitting night today" the realest simple yet most gut punching illustration of chronic pain that gets my ass every time.

Lovesickness by idiopathicsmile

11k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire, Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta

(we're gonna see a fair bit of idiopathicsmile on here)

this is one of my absolute favourites. not only bc I quote "hit by a truck full of shirts" all the time. a Joly pov fic!!!!!! my beloved!!!!! I'm a BIG JBM fan (they are essential to me when I'm writing grantaire) and love fics that stay true to his friendship with Joly and Bossuet. also I love when Enjolras is a giant dumbass who thinks his feelings for Grantaire is a mystery illness 😂

Still the Same by The Librarina (tears_of_nienna)

74k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

ok ok ok. listen. Yes. in this fic, Enjolras IS an fbi agent... and u know i'm the first and last to scream acab always...

that being said this is fully still one of my fave e/r/c fics. Enjolras and Combeferre are married & Enjolras needs to work with art thief Grantaire (fave) on a case. also that one bit at the end when Grantaire *redacted* 👀🫣

cupbearer by illuminate*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

series, 4 works

124k words total

ratings: T, M & E

Enjolras/Grantaire

this series!!!!!! VAMPIRE ENJOLRAS!!!! thrall Grantaire!!!! canon era AND modern au! REINCARNATION!!!! i'm eeeeaaaaattiiiing 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

More Than Just a Game by ecaitlin

36k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Combeferre

Fake dating courferre 😭 this one is so good for the desert scene alone 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 one of my fave courferre fics

Good Intentions by ecaitlin

95k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Combeferre, background Marius/Cosette, Joly/Bossuet, Bahorel/Feuilly, and Enjolras/Grantaire ofc

THE les amis hogwarts au. 95k of Courfeyrac pov is always a treat for the system. in their last year at hogwarts, Courfeyrac decides to play matchmaker for all his friends. shenanigans!!!! fuck jkr, but whenever I wanna reread harry potter again I read this fic 🫶🏻 fave courferre ever, and also fave background e/r

if you remembered me by nightswatch*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

40k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

one thing about me is I love an amnesia fic! Enjolras loses his memory and Grantaire helps him recover 👀 this one's for the hurt/comfort and miscommunication/not being upfront about shit fans. also there's some past Grantaire/Combeferre and i'm always a fan

Beautiful Music Together by lady_ragnell

31k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Marius/Cosette

a rare Courf/Marius/Cosette fic for your palette. established Marius/Cosette need a little help from their good friend Courf with their sex life 👀 while the three of them also work on a musical assignment together 😭 prequel to You Dance Dreams kinda 👀

You Dance Dreams by lady_ragnell

61k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

(you can tell when i've found a writer who has a fair few fics and just gone nuts lol, lots of lady_ragnell too)

BALLET AU I LOVE YOU!!!!!! so set in the same universe as Beautiful Music Together, Combeferre ropes everyone into working on his opera, a Midsummer Night's Dream sequel. Grantaire dances as Puck alongside Enjolras singing as Oberon 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻

In Defiance of all Geometry by idopathicsmile

51k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

this is a top fave E/R/C fic and a top fave les amis fic of all time! Them living in a co-op and all the little details of how they make it work is sooooo real and anyone who wants to see accurately written community organising in les amis fic it's here! now for the ✨romance✨ - Grantaire moves in to the amis co-op and starts crushing on both Enjolras and Combeferre, who have both been pining for each other for years.

Years Since It's Been Clear by lady_ragnell

10k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

Enjolras offers his spare room to grantaire - or the one where enjolras chases the sun across the living room floor like a cat. That image has lived rent free in my head for and I am not exaggerating here, 10 years.

Gonna need (a spark to ignite) by FinditAgain*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

47k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

soulmate au! soulmate au with E/R/C!!!!!!! enjolras and combeferre are soulmates who lost their bond as children. when combeferre and enjolras find each other as adults, enjolras is already in an established relationship with grantaire 👀👀👀

secret agent man by goshemily

30k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

yes another cop one haha 😭 bc if ur not able to contradict urself with the media u like are u even a person? but also I wouldn't recommend if it wasn't a good read for the stairs scene alone 😅 Enjolras and Grantaire need to go undercover as a married couple in a small town.

Leaves in the Void by myrmidryad

16k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

this is one i've found since rejoining tumblr late last year that 😭 fully broke my heart bro 😭 space au, enjolras writes letters to everyone when he's accidentally isolated on a ship for what to him was eight and half months but was two hours for everyone else.

Blame Delicate Artemis by hyenateeth

22k words

rating: E

femslash Enjolras/Grantaire

posting omegaverse on main? more likely than you think!

this is porn with a tiny bit of plot, but also one of my fave for femslash e/r and also..... girl dick. that's all.

omega enjolras alpha grantaire canon era lesbians.

that's enough description to find its right audience I feel

Eyes to Serve, Hands to Learn by myrmidryad

94k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

Grantaire runs into Enjolras at a kink club. enter 94,000 words of bdsm porn and pining. mostly dom Enjolras and submissive Grantaire, mostly.

Never Be Satisfied by torakowalski

15k words

rating: E

femslash Enjolras/Grantaire

dental dam mention! win!

Grantaire gives Enjolras some advice, lends some toys, and then offers some hands on help when she learns Enjolras has never come before 😏

potentially lovely, perpetually human by myrmidryad

20k words

not rated, does contain smut

Enjolras/Grantaire

lots of myrmidryad here too lol

two of my favourite tropes here. 1: supernatural Enjolras who's in control of his abilities except when it comes to Grantaire (see cupbearer series) and 2: nonbinary Grantaire my beloved!!! Enjolras has psychic empathy triggered by physical touch, so he refuses to touch anyone: until his touch starved ass accidentally touches Grantaire and feels what they're feeling 🥹

Witchboy by tothewillofthepeople

series, 8 works

84k words

rating: T, M

Enjolras/Grantaire

this one is a more recent recommendation that I loved, the world building and magic is so good, there's some great background eposette and patron minette which I'm always a fan of.

i'm not the moon (i'm not even a star) by serinesaccade

40k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

amnesia fic and fake dating 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 this time we've got Grantaire losing his memories and waking up in a world where he has a really hot boyfriend, but apparently his 1.5 year relationship with Enjolras isn't what it seems 👀

and let's round this out with a classic

Thirty-Two Times by Ark

7k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

the bottom R canon era bible 🙏🏻

i'm sorry i feel like my emoji use is very millennial. jsyk 👌🏻 is me clicking with my nails ok bye 😘

if you want more i'm whorejolras on ao3 go nuts 🙌🏻

#mine #omg me actually doing something i said i'd do only like four months later look at that #adhd one hell of a drug yall #fic recs #fanfic #les mis fanfic #les amis fanfic #e/r #les mis #grantaire #enjolras #les amis #e/r/c #courferre #jbm #les miserables #why is my capitalisation all over the place?? uhh look over there 👈🏃‍♂️💨#sorry not tagging ppl on tumble even though i know the authors are bc adding the links was hassle enough and also i don't wanna bother any1

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eddiexmunsonlover · 6 months ago

Text

One Step Away From You (Chapter 8)

BSF!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

Follow my new blog for future chapters & fics @cherryxhaze

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Chapter Summary: Car troubles lead to more time spent with Eddie, others take notice and jump to conclusions of their own. Eddie sees you in a way he never has before, and it's not going to leave his mind anytime soon. WC: 4.7k Warnings: MDNI, as always. All the yearning, mutual pining, and sexual tension in this one. If waiting for the slow burn to be over is torturous for you, me too, and we won't have too much longer to wait. Taglist: @eddie-is-a-god @siriusmaraudeers @amandahobblepot

Tuesday, November 5th, 1985

Your day starts off like any other school morning. Groaning as you roll from your bed, rubbing sleep from your eyes as your feet scuff along the carpet towards your bathroom to start your daily routine. You scoop some food into Henny’s bowl while he impatiently meows in anticipation, clearly you’ve been starving the poor thing.

You push through each article of clothing hanging from your closet, deciding on a pair of black jeans and a dark red long-sleeve. Your eyes linger between your plain jean jacket and a gray flannel, ultimately grabbing the flannel and sliding it over your arms. A quick check of the red digits on your bedside table sends you scurrying to finish your hair and makeup, the multiple times you hit snooze this morning quickly catching up to you.

You climb into your truck and turn your key in the ignition.

Nothing.

You’re not met with the sound of your engine starting, but a repeated clicking every time you turn the key.

“No no no, come on!” You whine anxiously, trying one more time before falling back into your seat with a puff.

Your eyes drift to your side mirror, Eddie’s van still sitting cold and untouched in his driveway. Despite the anxiety coursing through your body, a soft smile tugs at your face as you climb out of your truck and cross the road towards Uncle Wayne’s trailer.

You quickly rap your knuckles against the door, wiping your sweaty hands along your denim jeans as you wait. You hear the sound of an object falling from inside before the trailer door is quickly drawn open to reveal Eddie, who despite being fully dressed also looks like he just rolled out of bed with his unruly mane.

“There’s something wrong with my truck, mind if I catch a ride with you?” you sigh, putting on your best puppy dog face with pouting lips and begging eyes. He chuckles softly before running a hand through his hair. He’d do just about anything you’d ask him to, especially when you give him that look.

“Of course, just give me a minute.”

He leaves the front door open as he disappears down the hallway toward his room. You know Eddie’s not one to care much about punctuality for school. You, however, only grow more anxious as you look at your watch and see the arm draw closer to the time of the first bell. You light a cigarette as you wait, slowly pacing by his van before he emerges, hair slightly more tame. He greets you with a groggy half-smile as he approaches the van.

“It’s about damn time.” you quip, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Hey, it takes time to look this good, thank you very much.”

“Oh, I can tell.” you tease back, ashing your cigarette out the window as he pulls out of the driveway. Thinking how it takes him no time at all to look as good as he does. Even when his hair is a mess, eyes tired or his mouth hanging open as he sleeps, you always find him so painfully beautiful.

“So what’s wrong with the truck?” he asks, pulling you from your thoughts as the van speeds down the road toward Hawkins High.

“I don’t know. The engine won’t turn over, bad starter maybe?”

He hums and nods in response as he lights his own cigarette.

“I can take a look at it for you after school.” he offers as he leans back into his seat, giving you a quick glance.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?”

“I’ve picked up a few things from Wayne over the last couple of years. I know more about cars than just how to hotwire them, sweetheart.” he insists, adding in an eye roll that’s quickly followed with a grin as you laugh.

“If you say so.”

The afternoon sun hanging low in the sky offsets the cool November breeze just enough as you stand next to your truck, watching Eddie as he’s leaned forward under the hood trying to diagnose the issue. You try your best not to let your eyes linger from his hands to the small slither of his lower back, shirt and jacket riding up as he bends over the front grill of your truck. Your thumb nail finds its way between your lips, teeth biting down as you let yourself peek.

Inappropriate thoughts quickly come crashing in, how soft and warm the pale skin would feel against your fingertips as they slowly glide up his back, your thighs wrapped around his slender waist.

The sight and thoughts quickly disappear as Eddie stands up straight, looking down at your engine as he wipes his fingers off with his bandana.

“You were right, your starter’s bad.”

“Uncle Wayne wouldn’t have happened to teach you how to fix that, huh?”

“Ha, unfortunately no but… I’m sure he himself knows how to fix it.”

“I couldn’t ask him to do that, poor man already works so much.” Your nails find their way between your teeth again, an anxious habit you’ve been meaning to kick someday. Obviously not today.

“Well, you don’t have to.” He closes the hood of your truck with a loud thud before turning to you with a grin, “Cause I will.” “I can just take it to a shop or ask my Dad to fix it.” You offer quickly with a shake of your head, not wanting to burden Uncle Wayne with the task.

“Soooo spend a bunch of money paying for a tow truck and getting scammed by mechanics because you’re a girl OR put you and your mom in the uncomfortable position of having your dad hanging around?”

You cross your arms with a sigh, not readily admitting defeat but knowing he’s right anyway.

“Look, it’s not a problem. Wayne will be happy to help, I promise.” he presses, tone soft and reassuring to your anxiety.

“Fine, but I’m paying him no matter what he says.”

“Right.” He laughs as he puts his bandana back in his pocket, knowing Wayne would have none of it.

“Anyway, you wanna come in? We can get some studying done before Wayne wakes up and my mom gets home from work.” You offer, gesturing your head towards the front door of your trailer.

“Sounds absolutely enthralling.”

“Make yourself at home, I’ll be back in a minute.” you bring Eddie towards your room before slipping away to the bathroom. Eddie’s been in your trailer only twice since you came back, both those times spent solely in your living room.

He enters your bedroom with slow steps, eyes immediately roaming along the walls and dressers, taking it all in. Browsing the trinkets and books that are sprawled among your dresser. The rows of movie and cassette tapes stacked on the shelfs your small tv sits on in the corner of your room. The posters taken from magazines that litter your bedroom walls.

Heart, Michael Jackson, Jimi Hendrix.

You’ve even cut out smaller images of musicians and actors clustered together on the wall near your bed.

His eyes roam along each one before clocking the multiple images of Metallica’s guitarist Kirk Hammett.

Someone has a crush.

He smirks as he eyes them. He can’t help but notice the striking resemblance to him. Same haircut, same wild, dark, curly hair, same brown eyes, same style, same instrument of choice.

He brushes the thoughts off as quickly as they arose, turning his attention to a picture frame on your bedside table. He picks it up, thumb gently rubbing along the frame as he relives the memory of the picture he hasn’t seen in years.

1980. Sitting on the floor of Uncle Wayne’s living room with your backs to the same loveseat that still sits in the trailer. Your heads are together, big obnoxious smiles on your faces as you both hold your guitars to your chests. It was Eddie’s first guitar of his own, Wayne gifting it to him for his birthday that year. You’d gotten yours for Christmas a few months prior. The same one that’s leaning against your wall now next to your bass guitar.

He carefully sets the picture back on the table with a smile, now knowing you both keep a photo of yourselves together next to your beds. He wonders if you kept it next to your bed in Virginia those years he didn’t hear from you.

Your steps slow as you enter your bedroom, heart warming at the sight before you. Eddie sits on your bed, legs crossed as Henny sits between them, rubbing his head and cheeks against his hand.

“I think Mr. Hendrix here likes me.” He looks up at you with a bright smile, a twinkle in his brown eyes.

Wednesday, November 13th, 1985

You close your front door, greeted with the sight of Eddie already waiting, leaning against your truck with a lit cigarette in hand.

Ever since Uncle Wayne fixed your truck over the weekend, insisting with a firm but soft tone that he wouldn’t accept any payment, you and Eddie decided to continue your carpooling practice. Switching off day by day who’d drive. Today’s your turn.

Neither of you knew why you hadn’t started it sooner, being neighbors and best friends going to the same place every day. Maybe it was the hesitancy at first of wanting to wait for your friendship to fully rekindle, but that flame reignited so quickly that that’s not much of a reason.

Regardless, the practice has brought you and Eddie closer if that’s even possible, the 10 minutes total of the time it takes to get to school and back holding some of your favorite moments yet.

Moments like the one now as you pull out of the trailer park, I Just Wanna Make Love to You by Foghat playing through the speakers. Lit cigarettes in hand, softly nodding along to the song’s build up till your heads and bodies are fully bobbing and swaying when the beat kicks in. Both singing along to the lyrics you knew like the back of your hand. Eddie having played the original by Muddy Waters for you years ago from one of his mom’s records.

It’s a simple moment, but one that fills you with so much joy as you and your best friend lose yourselves in the music. Grinning from ear to ear. Filling you up with a sense of content only Eddie can, a feeling that will linger for the day that nothing can shake from your grasp.

You make me feel like I am whole again.

The smiles stay planted on your faces as you leave the truck, walking across the school parking lot shoulder to shoulder.

“Well would you look at that. I guess the King and Queen Freaks of Hawkins finally made it official!” Your head turns to see one of Jason’s lackeys, Andy, nudging him with his elbow. Displaying proud smirks.

When will they give it up?! You groan and roll your eyes before a sinking feeling hits your stomach as you process his words. The accusation that you and Eddie are together. No doubt they’ve seen the two of you arriving and departing from school together everyday the past week, all giggles and playful touches. As much as you want it to be true deep down, the fear that Eddie will be embarrassed by the notion fills your mind and body. The fear that he’d be repulsed by the idea, being seen by others as anything more than your friend, let alone your lover.

Your fear overrules the logic of what you know about Eddie. No one else in this town cares less about what others think of them than him.

Your anxiety quickly dissipates when you feel his arm casually wrap around you, hand firm on your shoulder. His wide smile never leaves his face as he looks them dead-on.

“Aww, feeling a little jealous there, Andy?”

“Pfft,” he scoffs out a laugh “yeah right.”

The way Eddie didn’t waste a second playing into the accusation, not shying away from it, and his reassuring touch on your shoulder brings your usual sassiness back. Your eyes narrow at Andy as you begin to pass the clique, a mischievous grin pulling at your lips.

“Oh, Andy. If you can’t get it past the cheeks then just say that.” you retort, a mocking tone lacing your words before you rip your attention away from them. Confidence in every step as you and Eddie near the entrance, the sounds of light snickers from Eddie’s lips meeting your ears.

“Now that, that was a good one.” he laughs out as you pass through the entrance, removing his arm from your shoulder to face you, giving you a high five with a satisfying clap!

“Catch you at lunch, Queen Freak?” he asks playfully. You answer him with a soft nod before he parts down the opposite hallway to his first class. You watch as his figure moves down the halls before the view’s obstructed by other students.

The brief interaction with Andy makes its home in your brain for the day, replaying over and over as you sit in class. You can’t stop thinking about Eddie, how quickly he put his arm around you, flaunting your ‘relationship’ in their faces. You mindlessly thumb his guitar pick that hangs from your neck. You’re grateful for how Eddie stepped up to defend you in his own way, but part of you hates it. Hates the way it planted a seed in your brain, a seed that tells you maybe Eddie could see you the way you see him. He clearly wouldn’t be ashamed of it, of being seen ‘with’ you.

But it’s a seed you refuse to water, doing your best to dismiss the idea. Eddie was just doing what any good friend would do. Certainly anything a best friend of 9 years would do. That’s all it is. Despite how feverishly you push the thoughts away, the act itself leaves your chest feeling hollow. You’re only trying to protect yourself, not wanting to give yourself false hope you know you’ll just latch onto. Only leaving yourself disappointed, heartbroken, and your friendship in tatters. You remind yourself how grateful you are to have him in your life, even as just a great best friend who’d do anything for you. That’s enough…

at least you hope it is.

Sunday, November 17th, 1985

Your eyes slowly flutter open to the late morning sunlight filtering through your bedroom curtains and the muffled sound of music coming from the living room. You rub your eyes as you lay in bed, trying to decipher the music till you recognize it as Young Hearts Run Free by Candi Stanton. You smile in an instant, humming along to one of your favorite songs before the inevitable. When you wake up on a Sunday to Soul tunes playing, you know you’re in for a day of deep cleaning.

You stretch with a groan before climbing out of bed, barefeet padding along the carpet to the living room where a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon sit waiting for you on the edge of the kitchen island. You hear your Mom’s footsteps approach from the hallway leading to her bedroom.

“Goodmorning, sleepyhead. You know the drill, eat your breakfast then get to work. I want this place spotless.” She directs you as she grabs a clean rag from under the sink.

“Aye-Aye, Captain” you reply with a lazy salute, earning an eyeroll and chuckle from her as she returns down the hallway to her own room to clean.

You finish your plate, setting it in the sink to wash later when you get around to cleaning the kitchen before setting off to start with your bedroom.

You hum along to the songs playing as you finally get around to putting away the pile of folded clothes sitting in the chair of your desk. You wash and change your bed sheets. Smile at the picture of you and Eddie sitting on your bedside table as you remove the leftover cups and water bottles that have made their home on it for the last week. Dust your shelves and surfaces. Vacuum and clean your vanity mirror.

An hour later you’re wandering out of your clean room to start in the kitchen.

You’re just finishing cleaning the shelves in the refrigerator when you hear a knock on the door. Confused, you wander over to see who it is, opening it to your best friend leaning against the door frame. Clad in ripped black jeans, a faded Judas Priest shirt, and his leather jacket.

The smile on his face only falters for a split second as he notices the most skin he’s ever seen you reveal out of his peripheral. He gulps, but his eyes refuse to leave yours.

“What are you doing here, Munson?”

“Well, band practice got canceled today. Something about a family get together at Gareth’s, I don’t know.” He gestures nonchalantly with his hands before crossing his arms across his chest. “SO, my plans for the day have opened up. Figured I’d see what you’re up to.”

“Well, I am knee deep in cleaning this trailer spotless right now. So I clearly have very fun plans for the day.” You scoff out a laugh.

“You know, I can help out if you want. Help you get finished quicker.”

“Really?” You ask with a hint of skepticism, eyebrow quirking as you read him.

“I’ve got nothing else to do.” he shrugs, smile unwavering.

Your mom emerges from her room with a full trash bag in hand, setting it down by the trash can before she catches sight of Eddie in the doorway.

“Eddie! It’s so good to see you, hun. How’s your uncle doing?”

“He’s doing alright. Busy at the plant, same as always.” he shares with a bright smile and the best manners he can for your Mother, as he always does.

“Hey Mom, do you mind if Eddie helps out with cleaning?”

“You sure? You have nothing better to do than help us clean?” When he gives her the same shrug and smile he gave you, she chuckles before looking around. “Suit yourself. You mind starting by taking this trash down to the dumpster for us?”

“Yes, Ma’am”

He hurriedly meets her, taking the bags of trash from her hands before heading down the street to the dumpster.

The second he’s out the door, you’re painfully aware of your clothes. Or really, lack thereof. The same clothes you’d worn to bed, dolphin shorts and a tight cropped tank top. Tending to get hot in your sleep, the less clothes the better.

And Eddie had just seen it. You feel your cheeks warm at the realization.

You quickly head towards your bedroom, closing the door and standing at your vanity dresser with the intention of changing. The pesky insecurities you thought you’d overcome begin to worm their way back in as you look at yourself in the mirror. Thick thighs and calves on full display. The subtle outline of your nipple barbells through your top. Spaghetti straps showing off your strong but chubby arms. Your hands reach to pull out your drawers to search for some pants and a t-shirt.

You shut them with a huff, hands empty as your gaze returns to your reflection.

You’re not changing a damn thing. Why should you? Eddie’s never once done or said anything to make you feel less than or insecure about your body.

He’ll never share the feelings you do for him, so why does it matter if he sees a little more of your skin than you usually show? He doesn’t care.

Your posture straightens with confidence as you take a deep breath before reaching for your door handle and walking back out to the kitchen.

Eddie on the other hand, is thankful for the task of taking the trash out, giving him a minute to collect himself. His own eyes had betrayed him when your head turned to the sound of your mom approaching, briefly gazing down to fully take in your outfit for the split second granted to him. Instantly causing his cheeks to turn a shade of pink and a stirring in his jeans. If you’d noticed, you didn’t let it on. He throws the bags in the dumpster, taking deep breaths to control himself as he begins the short walk back to your trailer.

He finds you in the kitchen as he enters, your back to him as you wipe down the stove top.

“So uh, what do you want me to do now?”

You turn to face him, biting your bottom lip as you look around the trailer.

“Hmm, you can take care of the living room while I do the kitchen, just dust and vacuum really.”

“Yes ma’am.” he chuckles when you roll your eyes, taking the can of furniture polish and a rag from you before getting started.

You both fall into a rhythm easily, quietly cleaning together in the joined rooms as music fills the trailer. You smile when you hear Never Too Much by Luther Vandross begin to play. Your hips start to sway to the beat as you turn on the faucet to wash the dishes in the sink.

The lyrics hit Eddie like a truck.

I can't fool myself, I don't want nobody else to ever love me

You are my shinin' star, my guiding light, my love fantasy

There's not a minute, hour, day or night that I don't love you

You're at the top of my list 'cause I'm always thinkin' of you

I still remember in the days when I was scared to touch you

How I spent my day dreamin' plannin' how to say I love you

You must have known that I had feelings deep enough to swim in

That's when you opened up your heart and you told me to come in

He takes a deep inhale through his nostrils before peeking up from his spot cleaning the coffee table to you. He longs for the day the latter lyrics will hit true. The day when he can look back at this time with humor at the way he longs for you, tiptoes around telling you how he really feels, when he finally has you in his arms.

“Oh, my love. A thousand kisses from you is never too much ” You sing along, hands deep in dish water. “A million days in your arms is never too much”

Oh, how he’s missed your singing. He could listen to you sing all day, literal music to his ears. The sight of you does little to quell his thoughts, either. Dancing and singing in the kitchen while you wash dishes.

The day when he comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as his hips sway with yours, lips resting against your ear. Your bright laugh bubbling from your throat when it tickles.

The domesticity of it.

It’s something he never thought was in the cards for him, but when he looks at you…

He chuckles when he hears the sound of your mom’s voice joining in with your singing from the other side of the trailer, shaking his head of the previous thoughts as he focuses back on his tasks.

When he finishes polishing the coffee table, he stands from his crouched potion to move on to the entertainment center. After a few moments his eyes trail back to you like a magnet, only now he has a better view. And boy does he both love and regret it.

You’re still focused on cleaning the dishes, but as his eyes trail down he sees just how short those shorts are. The curved line at the bottom of your ass cheeks peeking out under your shorts as your hips rock side to side with the music. He’s transfixed by the movement, hypnotized. He has to force his eyes away, knowing he’s in deep shit, the image forever solidified in his brain.

He knows it’ll slither its way back into his mind late at night when he’s laying in bed, hand wrapped around himself. Just like images of you always do. No matter what sex symbol he forces himself to imagine in the beginning, visualizations of you, eyes closed, perfect lips parted and head thrown back, flash into his mind when he reaches his end.

Every. damn. time.

He knows he should be ashamed; of thinking of you, his best friend, in those intimate moments, or letting his eyes linger on you now. He does, but mostly, he doesn’t.

He clears his throat with a cough, feeling his cheeks warm at the thoughts. He’s quick to walk over to the vacuum when he realizes he’s done polishing all the surfaces in the living room. Hoping the noise and movement will distract him, at the very least keep his eyes off you.

When he finishes, he looks around the room with his hands on his hips, satisfied with his work.

“Did pretty good, Munson.” you announce, a smirk pulling at your lips as you wipe down the kitchen counters.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised” he gives you a playful scowl, eyes narrowing at you.

“I’ve seen your room.”

“Just cause I don’t clean often doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”

“Hmph, maybe we should spend next Sunday cleaning your room. Who knows what we’ll find in there.”

“Ha ha ha” he laughs sarcastically, rolling his eyes at you.

You sigh as you wipe the last spot on the counter, scrutinizing the space to ensure it’s clean enough to your mom’s standards.

“So, what should we do now?” he asks, wandering over to you at the kitchen island. Deciding you’re satisfied with the work you two have done, you meet him, standing on opposite sides of the island.

“Hmm, it’s still early enough. Maybe we could catch a movie?”

“Nightmare on Elm Street 2 is out, could see if it’s a worthy sequel?”

You grab the newspaper sitting on the microwave, searching for the showtimes for the local theater.

“Got a showing in an hour, we could bring the kids?” You peer up at him with a bright smile.

We could bring the kids.

He knows what you mean, the kids in question. But goddamnit if those words and your smile don’t hit him right in the chest, causing his heart to flutter.

The domesticity of it.

A life he previously never thought was in the cards for him. But you…

“Yeah, they’ll love it.” he answers with a nod, returning your excited smile.

He follows as you scurry to your room, lingering in your doorway. Watching as you pull a walkie talkie out from your bottom shelf and rally the party together.

Before you know it, you, Eddie, and the 4 teens are huddled into Eddie’s van, barreling down the road toward the movie theater. Late afternoon on a Sunday seems to be the perfect timing. Barely any wait at the concession stand for the numerous bags of popcorn, cups of soda, and packages of candy ordered. Sparsely filled seats in the auditorium leaving you all to quickly snatch the best spots. Eddie and you sit side by side, the kids taking the row in front of you. You grin watching Max and Lucas sit next to each other, shy giggles and whispers. Almost like a first date.

The chatter from the crowd and your group quiets as the film begins. Quickly digging into the shared bag of popcorn sitting between you and Eddie, just like movie nights at his trailer.

You’re fully engrossed in the movie until a scene of the main characters, Jesse and Grady, during detention after gym class plays. You smirk at the shorts the boys wear, the same style you were wearing earlier, when a playful and curious thought pops into your head. You turn your smirk to Eddie.

“Hey, why don’t you ever wear shorts like that?” You ask in a hushed tone, biting back a laugh when he gives you an incredulous look. “What? I think you’d pull them off.” You quirk an eyebrow at him and shrug nonchalantly before turning your attention back to the screen, smirk permanently planted on your face.

He scoffs out a light laugh, shaking his head at the assertion, displaying a smirk of his own.

Would rather you be the one pulling them off.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #bsf!eddie munson #bsf!eddie #one step away from you

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mermaidgirl30 · 9 months ago

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✨Enchant Me Chapter 2: The First Date✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: I love writing this series so much and can’t get over how cute these two are 🥹 I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this one and hope you enjoy!!

Chapter Summary: You and Joel go on your first date 💜

Pairing: Joel x witchy fem! reader

Word Count: 9k

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Chapter Tags: Mutual pining, flirting, first date, Joel buys reader a flower, Joel visits reader’s tea shop, star gazing, first kiss, falling in love, so much fluff, chapter is in both Joel and reader’s POV

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel can’t seem to keep his mind focused the next day at work. He only thinks of you, your hypnotizing eyes, your beautiful smile, your sweet, delicate soul. It’s all he sees, all he hears as your infectious laugh floats dreamily through his mind. It’s you. You, you, you.

He needs to see you again, needs to hear your melodic voice as you talk endlessly about your love of roses and teas. He can’t stop smiling, can’t stay still as he paces back and forth restlessly inside his wooden shop. Tommy doesn’t take long to catch on as he knows something’s up.

“Joel, you alright there? You’ve been pacing back and forth this entire mornin’. And your face, are you actually smilin’?” he laughs as he leans up against the register and slicks his long, greasy styled hair back.

“Everything’s good, Tommy. Just peachy,” Joel calls from across the store as he comes up to the worn register, meddling mindlessly with a stack of colorful pens in a glass cup that sits next to the computer screen.

“It’s her, ain’t it?” he smirks.

“Who?” Joel asks like he has no earthly idea what Tommy is rambling about, but he sure as hell knows who he’s talking about. He’s talking about his enchantress.

“You know damn well who I’m talkin’ ‘bout, Miller,” he smirks with a raised eyebrow as he points his index finger at Joel. A sure sign that he caught him in a lie. “The girl you delivered that table to. I told ya, didn’t I? She’s a beauty that one.”

Joel runs a hand through his unruly curls and stares at the linoleum floor, eyes slowly reaching up to meet Tommy’s view. He sighs, knowing lying won’t do him any good. “Yeah, it’s her. She really is somethin’ unique. She’s gorgeous,” Joel gushes as a small smile curls against the edges of his lips, his cheeks turning slightly red as he imagines your soft smile, your gentle touch, your eccentric beauty, your everything.

“Oh, man. You’ve got it bad, brother. Look at you blushin’ and smilin’ just thinkin’ ‘bout her,” he teases as he hits Joel playfully in the arm. “You gonna see her again?” he asks with his eyebrows knitting together, eyes hounding Joel for more information.

Joel doesn’t even take a second to contemplate his answer, he just lays it out flat. “Yes.” There’s no question about it. “You know she has a tea shop just a few minutes up the street?”

“No, I didn’t. That seems to suit her perfectly though. You should stop by at lunch today. Go see her,” he encourages Joel.

Joel contemplates his options carefully. Would you want to see him? Is it too soon? No, definitely not too soon. He paces back and forth for a minute, flexing his fingers together as nerves pull in his stomach. When he stops at the counter again, he makes a decision.

“You know what, Tommy? I think I will,” he decides.

Tommy comes around the register and gives Joel a strong pat on the back. “Proud of you, brother. Go get her,” he smirks.

Right as the clock hits noon, Joel practically runs out the door as he unlocks his truck and starts the engine up. The truck roars to life as he drives it carefully out of the empty parking lot and into the busy streets of Austin.

The day is sunny and warm, the wind barely blowing as its howls echo through the dry air. He stops at a red light and taps his fingers against the leather steering wheel, eager to get to the tea shop, to you.

In just a few short minutes, he’s pulling up to the parking lot of his destination. The place he’ll find you, his enchantress.

As he gets out of the truck and closes the door, he takes in the dainty sign that reads Starlight’s Corner. The sign is a light shade of purple, a little crescent moon in the corner of the S as it sits neatly above the storefront.

When he walks in, chimes carry softly through the lit up store as he passes through. A golden moon star crystal suncatcher hangs right next to the glass door, carrying sparkling beams of light that make little shadows appear against the cream colored walls.

“Be right out!” you call from the back of the store as you hear the wispy wind chimes call your name. “Just finishing up this batch of tea. I’ll be right with you!”

Just the sound of your voice makes his skin crawl with goosebumps. He loves the sound of it, a sweet heavenly sound he could listen to all day long. It’s so very dreamy, misty.

He walks around the quaint little store, taking in the whimsical surroundings that fill your space. Tall white shelves line each corner as decorative tea cups and kettles sit displayed in neat rows. Pictures of green forests, colorful butterflies, and different phases of moons paint the walls in a sea of vibrant colors. Bags of all kinds of herbal teas sit out amongst the front of the butcher block counter.

Joel traces his fingers over a row of books that are all about the history of tea and then his eyes slide along the back counter where different containers of brewed tea sit out for customers to buy. The air smells like home baked goods and cinnamon as a plate of sugar cookies and blueberry scones sit wafting inside a closed up container by the register.

He takes another walk around the little shop and smiles to himself as he trails his finger along a dark display case of sparkling crystals that seem to glisten in his eyes. The vibrant orchid flowers spilling over the edges as he remembers you telling him about these kinds of flowers yesterday. He shakes his head, chuckling quietly at how much you probably love this little shop. This place is so unique, special. It’s so very… you.

“Hi, there. What can I…” your voice trails off as soon as you see him. Joel.

Joel turns around and faces you, his breath catching as soon as he sees your face. Today you’re in a light pink sundress, the skirt just barely grazing the bottom of your creamy thighs. The strapless v-shape of the dress dipping as it hugs your soft curves perfectly. Your hair is down today, silky locks ending in soft curls as they kiss your shoulders.

Your lips are berry stained red, glittery eyeshadow raining down as the glitter seems to bring out the vibrant colors of your eyes even more. And then that soft smile pulls at your lips when you realize it’s him. He thinks he’s about to fall to his knees, thinks you’re absolutely stunning, a vision only the gods should be worthy of.

Joel thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The prettiest enchantress he’s ever laid eyes on. Enchant me. The words echo through his head on repeat like a broken record. He would be so lucky if you were his. So very lucky. He just had to have you.

Please, be mine. Be mine.

“Oh, Joel,” you say with a lilt to your soft tone. “Hi.” You give him a dreamy smile and bat your long eyelashes at him. It nearly takes him out.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he drawls out, a sideways smile appearing lazily over his mouth. You can’t seem to take your eyes off him.

“Didn’t expect to see you here. What are you doing here?” you ask as you stand behind the counter smiling up at him.

He clears his throat and rolls the sleeves of his green button-up flannel up, walking over toward you as he places his hands on the edge of the counter. “Thought I’d drop by on my lunch break to see your shop. I was cravin’ some of that delicious sweet tea you made yesterday, was hopin’ you’d have some brewed up when I got here,” he smiles, making tingles run clear down your spine.

“Oh, you liked my tea so much you just had to stop by today?” you flirt, your eyes beaming into his as he stands right across the counter from you, so close but not close enough.

“That’s right, darlin’. Couldn’t stay away from that pretty face of yours,” he blushes as he runs a hand straight through his curls, feeling the back of his neck burn with heat.

He never flirted like this before with anyone. Not until he met you.

“Oh,” you giggle, feeling your cheeks turn pink. “What’s your favorite kind of tea? I have plenty of flavors,” you say as you move your arm to the back counter and trail your fingers over each container. “I have anything from chai tea to green tea to black tea to sweet tea and so much more.”

Joel watches you move along the back counter as your dress swishes around you fluidly. He thinks you look like you belong in a painting, a masterpiece at best with the way your hair falls over your shoulders and your sun kissed skin from the garden seems to glow in the haze of the store lights.

“I usually just get sweet tea, but I’d take anything, darlin’. Give me whatever you think I’d like best,” he says easily.

You purse your lips and let your eyes fall over his tanned arms and soft brown eyes, his thick fingers sprawled over the edge of the counter as you have to fight yourself to not reach your hand out to his. You quickly assess him, taking your best guess.

“Hmmm,” you hum. “Do you like peach flavored drinks?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Perfect. I think you’ll like this one then,” you answer as you grab a compostable cup and fill it with your specially made herbal peach tea that you put a little extra love and care into making today. You turn and hand Joel the cup as his fingers graze along yours, making your fingertips tingle with fiery sensations.

You watch him tilt his head back as his curls fall into a tousled heap. You watch the orange liquid slowly disappear as he gulps it down, leaving half the cup empty. He wipes his mouth clean and sighs as he looks back up at you, his caramel eyes beaming into yours. “Sweetheart, I don’t know how you do it, but your tea is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. You’ve got a gift.”

You bat your eyelashes at him and shake your head nonchalantly. “You’re too kind, Joel. Here, let me pour you some more.” You grab his cup and fill it back to the rim, carefully handing it over to him as he takes it with a thank you leaving his mouth.

“Here,” he says as he digs in his wallet and takes out a five dollar bill, placing his closed fist on the counter as he tries to give you money.

“Oh, no, Joel. You don’t owe me anything,” you say as you try to wave him off.

“Gotta pay for it, darlin’. Here, take it,” he insists as he pushes his hand further over the smooth wooden counter.

“No, really. Joel, don’t. I don’t want your money,” you say, refusing the green bill as you place your hand gently over his, pushing it back toward him.

He feels your smooth hand slide over his as your soft skin mixes into the roughness of his. He swears his heart skips a beat as you hold your hand over his. He’s unwilling to move, unwilling to do anything except stare into your breathtaking eyes.

“You sure, sweetheart?” he asks with knit eyebrows as he leans into your gentle touch.

“Positive. Consider it my special discount,” you wink playfully. “You can come get tea whenever you like, Joel. I don’t want your money though.”

“No? What do you want then?” he asks as he leans against the counter, your hand still clasped over his tightly as you lean closer to him.

“Just your company is enough for me,” you say quietly.

You feel the room suddenly go still as you’re so very close to him now. So close that just an inch more and you’d be grazing your lips against his. You can almost taste his flavor, peach tea collecting on his lips as you see the sheen liquid cover his bottom lip. He looks so inviting, so very tempting. And you’d really like for him to break the distance and kiss you now.

Kiss me. Please, kiss me.

Suddenly the moment is broken as you hear the door chime loudly as a customer walks in. You pull your hand away from Joel’s and watch him take a few steps back, fingers dragging through his salt and pepper scruff as he takes a breath and moves out of the way of the front of the counter.

“Hi, welcome in,” you smile, feeling your cheeks burn red from the interrupted moment between you and Joel. You wish it wouldn’t have been interrupted. Would he have kissed you? It seemed like he kind of wanted to.

You look up and see who it is, noticing one of your favorite customers as he walks in with a button-up yellow Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. “Oh, Tony! Nice to see you,” you shout as he comes over to give you a quick hug hello.

“There’s my favorite tea maker! Mary said to tell you hello. She’s out sick today with a bad cold, so I thought I’d grab her some of her favorite tea,” he announces as he pushes the wide rimmed gold glasses up to his nose, his grey hair fluffing up from the wind.

“Oh no, poor thing. Tell her I’m thinking of her. Here, take a scone for her. I know she loves them.”

Joel watches the interactions between the older man and you, observing the way you carefully package up a blueberry scone and get a gallon of green tea prepared. He trails his hand along one of the glass displays with intricate tea sets inside and watches the way you smile carefree as you cash the man out and talk fondly of your garden.

“You will have to drop by sometime to help Mary with her sunflowers. The poor things dried up immediately last spring when she planted them. I know she’d love your company,” Tony says as he takes the white sack of scones and grips the gallon of green tea in his other hand steadily.

“I’d love to! Anytime she wants me to come help her in the garden, just give me a call. I’d be more than happy to help. They probably just needed a little more shade and water. A little love goes a long way,” you smile.

Joel stares at you, watching the way your infectious smile seems to light up the room as you talk of sunflowers and gardening. He thinks you’re so soft, so gentle the way you care for others. And you’re so sweet. Sweeter than the peach tea Joel just drank down. The tea that you gave him.

Soft. That’s exactly what you are, and Joel can’t help but to fall harder for you in that moment. His little enchantress. You enchanted him.

When the customer walks out the door and the wind chimes stop singing, Joel moves back up to the counter and places his cup full of peach tea down on the smooth surface. He pushes a curl out of his face and starts the conversation up again.

“Thanks for the tea again, sweetheart. You didn’t have to give it to me for free,” he chuckles as he embeds his fingers into the edge of the wood.

“Joel,” you give him a knowing look, “you heard me. Please, just take the tea,” you laugh, crossing your arms over your smooth dress as you smile over at the man with pretty brown eyes.

“Fine. But I owe you,” he states adamantly as a brow lifts in place.

“What do you possibly owe me?” you laugh, letting it echo across the doorway.

“A date.”

Your lips fall open as you suck in a breath. A date. He wants to take you on a date.

“A date?” you ask nervously, hands now fidgeting with your crystal necklace as you try to not bite your lip as nerves flood your insides.

“A date,” he nods, confirming the words. “What about tonight? You doin’ anything tonight?” he asks as his big chocolate eyes look at you with hope pulling in those lavish eyes.

“I was just planning on making some spaghetti tonight, but I’d love it if you came for dinner? Will you come for dinner?” you ask with hope running through your veins.

Please, come for dinner. Let me show you my world.

“Darlin’, I’d love nothing more,” Joel smiles, brown eyes clashing into yours. You’d never been so excited to cook dinner for someone. “But I’m not lettin’ you cook alone. I’m helpin’. Just tell me what to bring and I’ll bring it.”

“How about you bring some French bread? That’ll do. I have all the other ingredients I need at the house,” you say with your fingers knotting into the skirt of your dress.

He’s coming for dinner.

“Alright, French bread it is,” he nods. “How’s 6:30pm sound to you?”

“Perfect,” you beam.

“Perfect,” Joel echoes back.

Joel looks at the time on his black military watch and huffs out a breath. “Well, I gotta get back to work. Got a customer coming in a few minutes to pick somethin’ up,” he sighs as he picks up his cup of peach tea and taps his fingers against the counter. “Thank you for the tea, sweetheart. Nothin’ tastes as sweet as your tea,” he says sweetly as his eyes flick down to yours.

“You’re welcome, Joel. I’ll be sure to make you some more,” you smile.

His eyes trail over your soft hands then back into your glowing eyes, eyes he wants to wade in forever. He gives you one more smile then starts to head for the glass door, eyes roaming over the room until he gets to the doorway and looks back your way.

“See you tonight, little enchantress.” He winks your way and then disappears out the door, dragging your heartstrings along with him as he leaves your heart beating wildly for him.

You lean against the counter and rest your chin in the palm of your hand, sighing as you watch Joel pull out into the busy street and disappearing down the road. You can’t wait to see him tonight.

You’re having a date with Joel Miller. This was the most exciting day of your life.

You open the purple shutters and crack the windows, letting the burning sage flood out into the crisp evening air as you light lavender candles in the space of the dim lit living room. Soft music plays through the air as the smell of blueberry muffins cooking in the oven waft through the lit up kitchen. As you pass Oliver in the long hallway, you bend down and scratch behind his orange ears before you pad off to your bedroom.

The scent of vanilla lingers through the room as the blown out candles still drift softly through the air. You turn the overhead light on and stand in front of your mirror, smoothing out your pink sundress and slipping the bristles of the sparkly pink brush through your soft locks of hair.

You touch up your makeup and paint some glossy red lip gloss over your lips, puckering them together before taking one last look at yourself. You straighten the crystal amethyst necklace on your neck and spritz a dash of lavender perfume on before you spin in a circle and decide you’re ready. Joel will be here any minute.

You turn off the lights and leave the room as the timer on the oven goes off, signaling the muffins are finished baking. You shove some scarlet oven mitts on and take the muffins out, setting them on top of the stove to let them cool off. They’re fresh, fluffy, and smell delicious. You just hope Joel would love them. Maybe he’d want to take some home with him.

Just as you start to boil some water and set the various ingredients out for the spaghetti, you hear the rumble of his truck and see his bright headlights shine through the window. He’s here. You see the truck lights go off and hear the squeak of his leather boots against the front porch, and then he’s knocking on your front door.

Your heart starts beating incredibly fast as you pad over to the door and open it quickly, almost letting out a gasp at how good he looks. His tousled curls are slicked back with gel holding them in place, his flannel forgotten as he wears a denim button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone, exposing his large neck as tanned skin peeks through. Dark washed jeans cling to his strong legs, and you can’t help but stare at what he holds in his hand. A single red rose.

He brought you a rose.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Don’t you look pretty,” he gushes as he holds out the blood red rose for you, his smile lingering on his handsome face as his deep brown eyes stare back at you endearingly. You reach your hand out and take it, letting your fingers brush over his as a chill runs through your insides.

“You got me a rose?” you ask quietly, completely melting at the fact that he even thought to get you one.

“I did. I saw it in the store when I was picking up some French bread, and it just got me thinkin’ of you.” He blushes shyly and brushes past your shoulder while you close the door behind him, watching him set the bread down on the little oak table in the corner.

It got me thinkin’ of you. Joel’s so charming, so sweet.

“Thank you. That was really sweet,” you smile dizzily as you inhale the sweet scent and set it down on your glass coffee table.

“It was nothin’. Consider it a small token of my appreciation for the tea today,” he replies, eyes finding yours as he walks into the kitchen. “Blueberry muffins? Now how did you know those were my favorite, darlin’?” he grins as his eyes roam over the fresh muffins and then back up to you.

“I was hoping you’d like them. Go on and try one. I just took them out of the oven a few minutes ago,” you say as you walk to the edge of the counter, your hands sliding over the smooth surface as you watch him pick one up and take a bite.

You watch him swallow the first bite and it’s like his eyes light up as they go wide, turning slowly toward you as he parts his plush lips. “These are the best muffins I’ve ever tasted! Holy shit. What all did you put in these?” he asks as he takes another large bite until it’s completely gone.

“Oh, you know. Just my love and care,” you giggle as you let the flirtation flit through the air.

He just shakes his head as you hear him chuckle, the sound reverberating through your soul. “Well, sweetheart, they’re incredible.”

“I’d make you some anytime you wanted,” you say quickly without even thinking. He just smiles and nods, the edge of his lips curling up to expose a dreamy smile.

He’s so handsome.

“Might take you up on that,” he laughs.

“So, dinner?” you ask as you wind around to the stove and start to pour the noodles into the boiling water. “If you want to open the can of marinara sauce for me, I’d really appreciate it. Need a big, strong man to twist the lid off for me,” you flirt, giggling to yourself as you internally kick your feet in the air.

“That so, darlin’?” he laughs as he grabs the can and twists the lid off with almost no effort. It’s too easy for him.

You shake your head and smile to yourself. “Made it look too easy.”

“Nah. Was a piece of cake,” he shrugs. “Maybe you just need a man around here more often. You know, to help ya out if you need help fixin’ something or something breaks or just need a pair of hands to help you in the garden.”

“Oh, really? Think I know anyone that would want to do that?” you ask, smiling as you finish mixing the noodles in, letting them simmer over the boiling water.

“I don’t know, darlin’. Might just ask whoever you gave that purple rose to,” he smirks.

He’s flirting and he’s funny and he’s so charming. You like him so much already.

“Maybe I will,” you say shyly back, the smile staying on your face as you spend the next half hour preparing dinner with Joel.

The two of you pass each other by, sliding against the back of the counter as your hands gently brush one another’s, your hip bumping up against his as small apologies and infectious smiles fill the little kitchen space. His eyes never quite leave your face as he chops some tomatoes, his sappy brown eyes flicking up to yours every few seconds. And you can’t stop laughing, can’t stop smiling as he tells you silly little jokes and sends sweet compliments your way.

You think you like this. Having someone to cook with, to laugh with, to have fun with. You’ve barely scratched the surface with Joel, and it’s like it’s as clear as day. You two would be the perfect match. He compliments you so very well, and you’ve already decided you wouldn’t mind if he’d just come back again and again and again.

When dinner is finally served, Joel sits next to you at the wooden oak table and brushes his knee against yours as you take a bite of the marinated spaghetti. It’s delicious, the spice really bringing out the rich flavors of all the ingredients. You see Joel take his first bite, watching him closely as his eyes get wider the second he lets the noodles slide down his throat. You let out a giggle as your knee lightly knocks against his.

“Sweetheart, I’ve gotta say everything you touch is magic. Your tea, your muffins, your spaghetti. Everything,” he drawls proudly as he takes a sip of the hibiscus tea you made just for him.

“You helped me cook dinner,” you reply with one eyebrow arched up as you spin your fork around the thin noodles.

“Yeah, but still. Your creations in the kitchen are to die for,” he smiles as he takes another big bite. The red sauce spills down his chin and without thinking you reach your thumb out and wipe it off, placing your finger in your mouth as you lick it clean. He puts his fork down and just looks at you, eyes fixed intently on your lips as you feel warmth flood your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you inadvertently apologize, pushing your hand under the table as you latch on to the hem of your dress. Why did you do that?

“S’alright. Nothin’ to apologize for, sweetheart.”

There’s a heaviness in the air. Something like thick tension and slight fog that wraps around your head. He scoots his leg over and it gently brushes over yours as you feel tingles slide along your entire leg, feeling your nerves fire off as you quickly break the tension.

“Right…” you trail off, eyes going back to the plate of spaghetti. Just before you twirl more noodles on your fork, Joel reaches out and drags a thick finger over your shiny crystal hanging from your neck, making you gasp at the contact.

“S’pretty. What kind of crystal is it?” he asks curiously as his thumb drags along the smooth edges of the crystal.

“It’s amethyst. One of my favorite kinds of crystals,” you fawn as your eyes stare into those deep pits of honey warmth. Swooning as his fingers continue to graze the necklace. His eyes flick up to yours as a smile tugs up the corners of his mouth.

“I guess I should’ve known by now. It’s purple and it makes those pretty eyes of yours glow even brighter, little enchantress,” he calls out, making your insides coat with warmth.

Little enchantress.

He’s so dreamy.

“Oh, thank you,” you quietly respond as you feel your cheeks redden from his lingering eyes. “You always have a way with words, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t take much, sweetheart. You’re just very… beautiful is all,” he smiles.

Beautiful? Oh. Oh my.

“Beautiful…” you repeat back, lost in a daze as his words repeat over and over in your brain in a never ending cycle.

“That’s right. Beautiful.”

There’s that tension again. The one that makes your head swim and your heart race a million miles per hour. And there’s those eyes again. Those deep brown eyes that seem to stare straight into your longing soul. His foot curls under yours, the side of his thigh pressing heavily against yours. A simple affection that makes your heart spiral out of control.

For a second you think he might lean in, but then he clears his throat and sits up straighter as he notices Oliver tip-toeing under the table as his little feet pad against the dark wood.

“Hi, Oliver,” you say with a greeting as you reach down to rub his furry head. Joel just watches you, a smile tugging at his mouth as his eyes wander back down to Oliver. “You gonna go say hi to Joel?” you ask as he steps over to Joel and rubs up against the edge of his ankle, purring his hello as he heads into the kitchen.

“He definitely likes you,” you nod as you find Joel chuckling to himself.

“Yeah, you think so?”

“I know so,” you confirm.

Another deep chuckle rumbles out of his chest as he shakes his head in disbelief. “Sarah would never believe this.”

The gears in your head start to grind, bringing questions up that you don’t know the answers to. “Sarah? Who’s Sarah?” you ask cautiously as you tap the fork lightly against the glass plate.

“Oh,” he says with a nervous expression as he slides a hand through his slicked back curls. “She’s uh… well, she’s my daughter,” he says quietly as he looks up through the fringe of his dark eyelashes.

Daughter? He has a daughter?

“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” you say sweetly, lips curling into a smile as it seems to relax his stance. “How old is she?”

“She just turned twenty this year. She’s a sophomore in college now. My little girl is growing up,” he says as he bites his lower lip, probably trying not to get too emotional as he thinks about it. He must be such a good father. That smile. That majestic, radiant smile. He must love her so much. He is a good father.

“Do you have a picture of her?” you ask, trying to dig inside his chest and find out every single thing about him.

“Oh, yeah. Got one on my phone, just a second,” he says as he digs in his pocket and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his camera roll and stops on one picture as he holds the phone out to you. “That’s me and her last summer at the lake. She’s almost as tall as me,” he laughs casually.

You look at the picture and take in the surroundings. Clear blue water, bright skies, and kayaks. Joel stands in a light blue t-shirt and black swim trunks, and his daughter stands next to him. Tall, thin, long curly hair that passes down to her shoulders. They look so happy in the picture. He must love her a lot.

“She’s really pretty,” you smile.

“Yeah, she is,” he beams, his crooked smile pushing a dimple into view as you nearly swoon at the sight.

He’s so handsome.

Thoughts of her mother come into focus. A mother. Was Joel married before? Was she still in the picture? Was he still seeing her? You push down the negative thoughts and press on. “And the mother? Is there… is there anyone in the picture?” you ask cautiously, stepping over lily pads in a crocodile infested swamp.

He huffs out a sigh and shakes his head. “No. She uhh… she left a couple days after Sarah was born. Said she never wanted to be a mother, didn’t want the responsibility of her. So she left her with me. Haven’t seen her since.”

She left? How could anyone want to leave Joel? He’s so good, so perfect. You couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to leave him.

He chokes back a muted response, and you see just the slightest hint of a wet tear swimming in his eye. You didn't want to upset him, you never want to upset him.

You slide your hand on top of his and curl your fingers around him. “I’m so sorry, Joel. That must’ve been so awful. I can’t… I can’t even imagine anyone wanting to leave you or her. I’m so, so sorry,” you apologize through thick words, knitting your brows together as a look of concern washes over your face.

He leans forward, placing his other hand on top of yours as he squeezes gently. “No, don’t apologize, darlin’. S’not your fault she left. It was probably for the best. Me and Sarah got along just fine without her. So don’t worry. I’m alright,” he responds as he slowly gulps a lump down in his throat. He might say he’s okay, but you can see just a tad of sadness behind those honey eyes. And you want to take that away, make the pain go away forever.

“I just hate hearing that. How could she hurt you like that? I couldn’t… I wouldn’t ever do that to you.” You freeze, realizing just what you said as fear strikes your insides. You said too much. You said too much.

As if he sees the fear inside your eyes, he squeezes the top of your hand as a gentle smile spreads wide over his beautiful face. “No, I don’t imagine you would, sweetheart.”

You blush at that, and he continues on. “But enough about that. What about you?” he asks curiously, eyebrows raising as he waits for an answer.

“What about me?”

“How can a gorgeous girl like you not be taken by someone already?” he asks, patiently waiting as his fingertips brush lightly over yours.

Gorgeous. There’s that word again.

“Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve dated, really. Guys aren’t… well, guys these days aren’t very nice. My last ex told me I was ridiculous for collecting crystals and spending my days in the garden. Kinda hurt my feelings,” you say quietly as you purse your lips and knit your eyebrows together, trying not to get too in your head over the whole ordeal.

“Ridiculous, huh? That boy was a fool,” Joel spits as anger flashes like fire through his eyes. “Any boy who broke your heart had no idea what a sweet, beautiful girl you are. Frankly, they’re fuckin’ blind. I mean look at you. You’re the most stunning girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. Your gardening and collections make you unique. And you are, you’re so unique. You shine so bright like a diamond in the rough, little enchantress,” he purrs, his honey eyes melting into yours as you nearly sink to the floor in a wet, muddled puddle.

Unique, diamond in the rough, stunning, beautiful.

Soft. He’s so soft.

You’re speechless, mouth hanging open as your eyes water over. He’s so good, so very gentle and sweet. And if you hadn’t fallen for him before, you sure as hell have now. Soft. Joel is so… soft.

“I… uh… thank you, Joel,” you whisper out, nearly tumbling over your own words as you try to get a hold of yourself.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He holds your gaze and slowly squeezes your hand again as his knee knocks gently against yours. You look over at the clock and see that it’s nearly 9:00pm. About the time when all the fireflies are out dancing in the flower fields. You get the perfect idea then as you straighten up in your chair.

“Do you want to go see the stars?” you ask excitedly, eyes getting big at the thought of Joel stargazing with you.

“See the stars?” he asks with an intrigued expression over his warm face.

“Yeah, in the backyard. They’re so pretty out here, and tonight there’s barely any clouds so you can probably see the Big Dipper,” you smile.

Please, say yes. Take my hand and watch the stars with me.

“Yeah, I like stars,” he confirms with a nod. “Gonna teach me a thing or two about the constellations?” he asks eagerly as a warm smile slips beautifully over his handsome face.

“What do you think?” you smirk, eyes full of wonder as he takes you in.

He chuckles, pulling back his chair as he stands and holds his hand out to you. “Well, c’mon then, enchantress. Show me your world,” he smiles.

Show me your world. He wants to see your world. He wants to know you. The real you.

You smile and grab a large blue blanket as you let him lead you out the back door, your hand in his as he holds it tight. It feels good, feels warm, feels so right in yours. And you know then that this is more than a date. He’s someone you want to keep seeing again and again and again. And you hope he stays, you hope he wants to stay for you.

Please, stay.

You walk ahead of him and keep your hand curled around his, leading him down the cobblestone path as you make your way under the wooden garden arbor. The green vines catch your shoulder as you walk past, and the red rose bushes blow gently through the night breeze.

LED lights glow along the winding path as fairy lights glow in the near distance, their lights bursting through tall flower beds and scented rose lilies. Tree frogs sing their night song as crickets chirp back and forth through the green grass, their voices echoing in the distance as you continue walking through your dreamy garden.

You feel Joel’s eyes roam around your colorful garden, wildflowers sprawled every which way as shades of blue, pink, purple, red, and every other color meets your gaze. A look of surprise and maybe even wonder flit past his eyes, his mouth opening as he takes in the glowing fairy lights and the flickering fireflies that dance all through the painted flower beds.

“Wow, this is really somethin’. Looks like I stepped into a fairytale,” he laughs as his brown eyes land on you. “You did all this?”

“Mhm,” you nod as you stand still and look around the lit up garden, your hand falling from his as you trail your index finger over a soft white tulip in the ground. “It’s my own little sanctuary.”

“Must’ve taken you a long time, I’m guessin’,” he answers as he drags a hand through his wind blown curls, looking so ridiculously good as his eyes train on you.

“Yeah, but it was worth it. I still have a lot I want to do. Like I still need to find a bench that I can place right over there.” You point to the middle of the garden, right in front of tall vines of grapes and berries as a bundle of sunflowers sit behind that.

Joel flicks his eyes to where you point and then back to you. “Oh? You been lookin’ for one?” he asks curiously as he crosses his arms and takes one step forward, his leather boots crunching in the lush green grass as he takes another. One step closer to you.

“For quite some time,” you sigh.

“Anywhere particular you’ve been lookin’?” he asks with one eyebrow cocking up, taking one step closer to you as he crunches against the soft ground.

“I’ve looked everywhere it seems. I’ve been to every hardware store around town, looked at endless websites until I scrolled through every page I could. Just nothing has stood out to me. Guess I just haven’t found what I want yet,” you say quietly, another huff leaving your chest as you stare at the vacant spot where you envision the perfect wooden bench.

Joel stands there looking where you are and then back at you, feet shifting their weight against the ground as he gulps before asking. “What do ya want?” he asks softly, eyes trailing over to you as you slowly turn and grin up to him.

“I don’t know. I guess I envision maybe a teak garden bench where the sides are open. Maybe flowers somewhere on the bench. Something more personalized than anything else I’ve seen. I just want it more… me. You know?” you say dreamily as you daydream about the perfect garden bench.

Joel looks at you carefully, eyeing you closely as you gaze around the lit up garden. His lips twitch, but no words come out of his mouth. He’s thinking hard about something, gears grinding in his head of things you can’t quite discern. But he looks like he wants to say something, maybe even do something.

Something swirls in his eyes as his eyebrows thread together and his fingers flex against his palm, concentration seeping through his broad shoulders. He wants to tell you something, but he just grits his teeth and shakes his head. Whatever he wanted to say was gone now.

“Well, enough about that. Come on, the best viewing spot is over here.” You hug the blanket closer to your chest as you lead him to an open field with wildflowers spread in a big circles around you, encumbering you with floral scents that you can almost taste flying through the thick air. You lay the blanket out carefully and sit down, patting the spot next to you as Joel quickly joins you on the blanket, his body just a few inches from yours.

Joel looks up as the stars shine bright in every direction, encasing the dark sky in trickles of light. “Wow. You definitely don’t see stars like this in the middle of the city,” he says with awe as he leans further back against his hands, his button-up pulling at his bulging biceps.

“Yeah. That’s why I love it out here so much. You can see the stars every single night, and it’s just absolutely lovely.”

You lay back against the soft blanket, your head resting on the ground as you sigh and take in the sparkling stars in the sky. They seem to shine extra bright tonight, like diamonds in the sky. And maybe it’s because Joel’s here, like the stars know it’s an extra special night. Your first date, the best night you’ve had in a long time.

“Hey, isn’t that the Big Dipper?” he asks as he points high in the sky, finding the biggest and brightest star in the night sky. And he’s right. It is the Big Dipper.

“You’re right, that’s it,” you beam with excitement. “You know about stars?” you ask as he looks down at you while he leans against his elbows.

“Just a little. Not anything like you though. You’re probably an expert in that too, aren’t ya?” he asks with an amused look on his face.

You shrug, giving him a shy smile as you dig your fingers into the blanket. “I mean, I do know a lot. I have a couple of books on stars,” you blush nervously, not wanting him to know just how much you have studied the stars in your spare time.

“Don’t be coy, sweetheart. You don’t have to hide from me. Go on now, tell me how much you know,” he coaxes as his eyes meet yours, all warm and welcoming as he smirks down at you playfully. You can’t help but giggle as he tries to ease it out of you. And that’s it, you can’t hold back from him.

“Okay then, you’re right. I do know a lot about stars. In fact, I have a few books on my shelf in my room. Might even have a telescope somewhere in my closet,” you stammer out, cheeks flushed as he stares at you silently, eyes gazing into yours.

“‘Course ya do, darlin’. Such a smart girl,” he purrs out, making you blush even more at his kind compliment.

Your eyes wander back to the sky as you search for the constellations. It doesn’t take you very long to spot one instantly as your voice grows louder than before. “Hey, look! Up there. Do you see those four stars connecting together, kind of in a slant?” you ask as you point to the sky.

Joel looks up, but doesn’t see where you point. “Where at, darlin’? Can’t quite see it.”

“If you come down here maybe you’d see it,” you laugh, your voice carrying through the wind as a lone firefly lights up over the corner of the blanket.

“Maybe you’re right,” he murmurs. He lays back against the the blanket as his shoulder brushes yours, chills running down your spine as you can smell his woodsy scent swirling all around you. It’s almost too much. He smells so good, and you wish you could bottle it up and release it all through your cozy room. Have his scent draped across your pillow so you could breathe him in every night.

“Now, show me where you were pointing again.”

You point back to the constellation as his eyes follow your finger, closely monitoring the sky as he squints just a bit and finally sees what you’re seeing. “Oh, I think I see it now.”

“That’s Aries. The ram. There’s a whole story on how Aries got its name, but I won’t bore you on that subject,” you reply, eyes floating through the stars as you try to find another one.

“You couldn’t bore me, sweetheart. You can talk about it as much as you want, doesn’t bother me. Like hearin’ you talk about things you love,” he responds with a lilt to his voice. Soft, quiet, assertive as he drops his head to the side and flicks his eyes over to you. You look over at him and smile back, eyes quickly scanning back over the sky.

“If you say so,” you giggle. You point back up to the sky and start talking about the stars, pointing out Ursa Minor as you tell him the it’s named Little Bear, going more in depth about the history as your eyes grow wide with excitement when you spot another bright star in the sky. Going on and on about the stars in the big night sky, pouring your heart out as Joel carefully listens to you.

Joel turns his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face as a smile slowly spreads across his lips. He’s captivated, fully immersed in every word you say. His eyes flick over your features, long hair spread across the blanket as your eyes seem to glow as you look up at the stars. He sees the glitter around your eyes sparkle, sees the shine of your lip gloss glistening in the moonlight.

He can’t hear the wind, can’t hear his own breathing. All he hears is your soft voice blowing through the wind, getting warped inside his mind as it sounds like a dreamy tune. Words as delicate as a lullaby as it slowly sends him in a romantic trance. All he sees is you, all he can think about is you as his mind says your name over and over and over again. He sees your beauty, your passion, your entire heart. He sees you, just you. And he knows he’s fallen. He’s fallen hard, fast. Maybe too fast, but he doesn’t care. He knows what he wants right then and that’s you. It’s you.

He drops his hand from his chest and it lands against the soft blanket, the back of his hand lingering against yours as he glides it back and forth, brushing ever so softly against your delicate skin. Your breathing speeds up, your throat catching on a sigh as he slowly digs up enough courage to slide his hand into yours, softly entwining his fingers with yours as you feel your heart start to gallop like wild horses running freely through a wide open field.

His hand in yours feels like it’s exactly where it belongs as he brushes his calloused thumb across the back of your hand, time freezing as you feel his eyes staring softly at you. “You know what you remind me of?” he asks as his thumb continues its journey over your skin, your fingers curling around his affectionately.

“What?” you whisper, eyes searching as his shoulder brushes up against you once more and his brown irises fade into yours.

“A binary star.”

You gasp. A binary star. Oh. That’s romantic.

“A binary star?”

“Mhm. Two stars that revolve around each other. Both bound together. Unable to part from the other. Rare. Special…” he purrs as he scoots closer to you, leaning closer, closer, closer until his forehead is grazing yours, brown eyes blazing into yours as his mahogany scent seems to drown you, bathe you in pure bliss as all the stars seem to fade around him. It’s just him now, only him.

“Yeah? You really mean that?” you breathe out, your chest suffocating on nerves and anticipation as he leans in closer, a tousled curl falling against your forehead.

“I mean it, darlin’. You’re a beautiful binary star. My binary star,” he smiles, breath blowing against yours as you see nothing but him. Joel, Joel, Joel.

He called you his beautiful binary star. His.

“Oh,” you quietly elate, gaze falling into his as he comes closer, closer, closer. His hand grazes your jawline, slowly sliding his calloused fingers against delicate skin. And your skin burns for him, igniting the flames as you dance in them, burn in them.

His forehead meets yours, lips brushing up against you as you feel him, smell him, breathe his air. All dizzy with mahogany and pine scents, his brown eyes locking with yours. And you swear you see entire galaxies in his eyes, Heart Nebula etched in his irises, and you see your reflection as clear as day in them. You see yourself embedded in the heart shapes. Brown, warm, calling you to him like you belong right there in his eyes.

His eyes trail down to your glossy lips, lingering there just a second as he dips lower, lower, lower until he’s hovering right there, right where you feel him the most. His eyes linger back to your eyes as you see just how beautiful he shines against the night sky. He’s the only galaxy you see now. Everything else slipping slowly away as his breath consumes you.

And then he smiles. Warm, soft, so ridiculously tender. His calloused fingers cupping your chin as he slowly sinks down. Slowly, so subtly.

“My little enchantress,” he whispers, and then he closes the distance as his lips sink down on yours.

His lips are so soft. Velvet clad lips that seem to melt against yours. The entire world goes silent as the wind seems to halt and the hum of the crickets go mute. It’s just you and Joel caught in this dreamlike, whimsical moment. It’s just you and him, all wrapped up in each other as you slot your lips and allow him access to you. He slips his tongue in slowly, delicately as he traces it over yours. Two souls dancing together as you get lost in his honeydew taste, in his warm embrace as he grazes his thumb against your cheek gently.

Gentle. He’s so very gentle with you, so careful as he continues to trace his lips over yours. You taste him, drink him down, pour yourself out to him so he’ll take all that you have to give him. You're his now as much as he is yours. And it’s in that moment that you realize this is what you’ve been waiting for your entire life. It was Joel.

You get lost in the kiss as the sparkling lights surround you, lighting up the nighttime as you stay just like that for what seems like an eternity. You don’t know how long you’ve been connected, don’t know how long his lips have lingered on yours, don’t know how long his calloused fingers stayed trailing along your jawline. But when you finally do disconnect from each others lips, he hugs your body into his chest and holds you close. Your arm reaches across his body, and you grab a hold of his button-up shirt as the soft material slips between your fingers. His hand slowly travels up, up, up until he’s covering your hand with his as he threads his fingers through yours, lacing them together like that’s exactly where they belong.

You breathe deep, inhaling his woodsy scent as you look to the stars. They seem to shine brighter now, a clear message that this is where you need to be. That Joel was a star sent from the sky just for you. Your own binary star.

“Your binary star, huh?” you ask again, wanting to hear the words come out of his mouth again and again and again.

“My binary star,” he smiles.

You seem to float away, joining the stars as you stay entangled with him on the soft blanket. Unwilling to move, unwilling to leave this perfect night. It was beautiful, it was all beautiful. And you just couldn’t stop thinking of the words that left his mouth.

My binary star.

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