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justagalwhowrites · 6 months

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Yearling - Ch. 21: Holiday

You, Joel and Ellie celebrate Christmas in Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-20 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :D. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 7k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

December 24, 2026

“They really didn’t make Christmas music with dancing in mind, did they?”

Your head was on Joel’s shoulder, a pleasantly drunk haze falling over your mind and sinking into your limbs. You smiled at Tommy’s question, his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“No they did not,” you said, even though you knew the question was rhetorical.

Half of Jackson was crowded into the Tipsy Bison. Christmas music was on the stereo, someone in the kitchen had made egg nog, the whole bar was draped in multi-colored Christmas lights casting everything in a a cheerful glow.

You’d been in Jackson for more than a year now, something that was hard to believe. Last year at this time you’d spent all your spare time at home alone - except when Ellie all but broke down your door, anyway. You’d missed all this without even knowing that you’d missed it.

Christmas hadn’t mattered much to you in years. The last real one you had before the world ended was really only special because you got to see your brothers again for the first time in months. The holiday itself hadn’t been what mattered.

But you’d felt an odd sense of anticipation this time, something you hadn’t felt since you were a kid. Being around other people who remembered the time before - who knew what it had been like when there were things like Christmas tree lots and mall Santas - made it feel exciting in way the holiday hadn’t in years past, even when you were a teenager.

It helped that Joel was recovered from the incident in August. He had returned to business as usual, going out on patrol with Tommy who had fully healed, too. But their first time out, you’d insisted on going, too.

“You really don’t need to worry about it, Sweetheart,” Joel said. “It’s just a day long patrol, not goin’ anywhere rough. Gonna be fine.”

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem with me going,” you shrugged. “Olivia can cover for me at the stables and I can cover you and Tommy’s asses.”

Joel laughed a little and sighed.

“Alright,” he kissed your temple. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can come out with us. This time.”

It had been an easy day, unseasonably warm for October. The three of you went to a small town that was about a five hour ride from Jackson, a town that happened to have a record store.

“Oh shit!” You said, flipping through CDs on the dank and rotting shelves. “They have the White Stripes!”

Joel frowned, looking over your shoulder.

“Who’s that?”

“I’ll play you something when we get back,” you said, turning the CD over to look at the track list. “They’re good and they have a girl drummer which automatically makes them even better. I was just thinking of them the other day, I think Ellie would like them…”

Joel smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “She probably would.”

You stashed the CD and a few others in your pack, saving them to give Ellie at Christmas. They were wrapped and under a tree in Joel’s living room now and you were more excited about watching her open them and listening to them with her for the first time than you were to open what had your name on it under the tree.

“Think I can con you into a dance anyhow?” Joel asked, brushing your hairline with his nose.

“You know,” you smiled. “Think I’m just drunk enough for it to work.”

He took your hand and led you to the dance floor just as It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas came on the stereo. You smiled and draped your arms around Joel’s neck, your whole body pressed against the front of him, so different from the first time you’d danced with him.

“You sure are pretty,” he smiled, swaying gently, his hands at your back.

“You’re one to talk,” you replied, smiling too.

“Sure you don’t need glasses?” He teased and you rolled your eyes before tucking your head against his chest and shoulder, your nose brushing his neck.

“I’ve known you for a year now,” you said quietly after a minute of just moving gently with him.

“That all?” Joel said. “Seems like I’ve always known you.”

You smiled against him.

“I think I would have gone looking for you sooner, if I knew you existed,” you said. “Just didn’t know any better.”

Joel’s lips brushed your cheek.

“Would have definitely gotten my ass out of Boston a few decades earlier,” he said. “Lot I would’ve done different, had I known better.”

He held you a little tighter.

“Is it bad that I think I’m lookin’ forward to the day after Christmas more than Christmas?” He asked.

“What?” You laughed a little and pulled back from him enough to look at his face. “Why?”

“Two days just you n’me,” he smiled. “I know it’s patrol but… feels almost like a camping trip or vacation. Getting out of town, ridin’ through snow covered forest, ski lodge waiting at the end? Can’t think of much better than that.”

“Well when you put it that way,” you teased, tucking your head against him again. “But I get what you mean. Though I’m pretty excited for Christmas with Ellie. Haven’t had a real Christmas with trees and lights and shit with a kid in a long time. Almost feels like I should try to convince her Santa is real or something, just really make the whole experience happen for her.”

“I’m just glad she’s speakin’ to me this Christmas,” Joel said, giving you a squeeze, his voice thick. “Got you to thank for that.”

“She’d have come around eventually,” you said. “Kids… They’re smart. They see things, they know. She knows you love her. She’d understand it one day, even without my help.”

“Startin’ to feel like all the good things I got I got because of you,” he said softly.

You lifted your head to look him in the eye, his gaze gentle and deep, his eyes crinkling at the edges with his soft smile.

“Well you’ve saved my life enough times,” you said. “Seems like it’s only fair. I couldn’t have anything without you. Don’t think I’d want it without you.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes on your own and, for a moment, you were certain there was no one left inside the bar but him and you.

He took you home after, walking slow through the falling snow with the first coat Joel had ever given you wrapped around you. You closed the curtains on the front window before plugging in the lights on the tree, just looking at it twinkling in the dark as you curled against Joel’s side on the couch. But before too long, you kissed him all soft and needy, his tongue dipping into your mouth.

Joel undressed you gently and stretched you out beneath him on the couch. He covered your body with his, warm and hard as you rocked your hips against his length. He kissed you as he entered you, sinking into your tight heat until his body was flush with yours and he was buried within you. He pulled his lips away from you for a moment and your eyes met his, the lights reflected there as your heavy breaths matched his own. You reached up and traced the outline of him, your fingers brushing into his hair. You could feel his heartbeat in your own body, the life and warmth and vibrancy of him enveloping and consuming you. For a moment, you thought you might be able to know anything that crossed his mind, that he’d know anything that crossed your own. You were broken open and laid bare for him and all you wanted him to do was hold the pieces of you close and understand with a deep certainty how they fit together. You didn’t think you’d ever been this close to another person. You never wanted to be this close to someone who wasn’t Joel ever again.

Everything in you was drawn tight and desperate, the heat of want threatening to swallow you whole and you were sure you were going to burst with it.

“Joel,” you were almost squirming below him, needing the friction, needing more, eyes wide as you panted for breath. “Please…”

“Please what?” He sounded almost as desperate as you.

“Need you to move,” your eyes searched his. “Need to feel you, it’s too much, need…”

“Shh,” he brushed your hair back, his palm lingering on the crown of your head. You were suddenly aware of everywhere he was, how he was everything. He was around you and inside you and over you, the thick weight of his cock filling every hollow space of you. He dropped his forehead to yours and closed his eyes for a moment, like he was concentrating before opening them again. His pupils were blown and he was looking at you as though you were the only thing left in the world. “I’ve got you, Baby. Gonna take such good care of you.”

You just nodded against him and he pressed somehow deeper into you, his pubic bone pressing almost painfully against you before he pulled back, the slow drag of his hips making you moan as his the ridge of his head worked your channel. He pushed back into you firmly, tenderly, opening your body to him so he could reach parts of you that he seemed to have claimed for himself and you were happy to offer them.

Like this with him you could understand why it was called making love. There was a sense that feeling him like this, experiencing him like this, had to exist somewhere outside of just yourself. It was too big to contain within yourself, what the two of you created when he brought you to your peak with an aching and heady rhythm.

“You’re gettin’ close,” he panted, grinding his length deeper into you. You just nodded even though he hadn’t really asked. He knew. He didn’t need to ask. “Love feeling you like this. Want you to come for me, Baby. Want you to give in to it, want you to let go for me.”

You nodded again, past the point of being able to form words. Your back arched, closing whatever minuscule gap there was between your bodies. Joel took your hand, lacing his fingers with your own before putting it over your head and pressing it down into the couch, pulling a strangled moan from you as he did.

“Joel,” you managed. “Want… want to feel you…”

“Just let go,” he whispered. “Give you everything you want if you just come for me, Baby. Just come for me…” He pressed deep and you felt the building tension in you crest and overflow, your channel fluttering over him, working his thick shaft as you came with a broken cry.

“Oh there we go,” he held himself deep inside, dropping his head to your shoulder. “That’s it Baby, just keep coming, just keep…”

He moaned and you felt him throb inside of you, felt the heat of his come as he filled you. His hand tightened on yours and you instinctively tilted your hips to make sure he was as deep within you as he could possibly be.

You held each other like that for a while, Joel still buried inside you as his broad hand gently stroked your hair as you looked at him in the glow of the Christmas tree.

He must have carried you to bed at some point, and you woke up tangled with him, your head on his chest and his hand splayed wide on your back. The light pouring through the window was bright, the morning sun reflecting on the fresh snow and making his bedroom light and crisp. You kissed his chest and he sighed contentedly.

“Merry Christmas,” you smiled at him.

Joel smiled back.

“Ain’t you just the prettiest damn present.”

You laughed a little.

“Ellie say a time she was comin’ by?” Joel asked, hand sliding up your back to brush your cheek. “Or just that she was?”

“Just sometime in the morning,” you said. “Why?”

“Thinkin’ I really want to fuck you into this mattress before makin’ you breakfast,” he said. “But don’t want to be interrupted…”

As if on cue, you heard the bang of the front door against the wall downstairs. You laughed and pressed your face into Joel’s chest to muffle the sound.

“Where are you guys?” Ellie yelled. “Being gross?”

“Down in a minute, Kiddo!” Joel yelled back as you pulled your face from his chest to look at him again. He held your face and pulled you in for kiss.

“Later?” You asked quietly.

Joel groaned.

“Absolutely.”

You got dressed quickly and found Ellie sitting on the floor by the tree, turning the paper-wrapped packages over and examining them.

“Merry Christmas, Kiddo,” Joel smiled at her and she looked up from the gift in her hands.

“Did people really used to believe a fat old man came down their chimney and left them shit?”

You snorted and Joel laughed a little.

“Generally just the kids,” he said. “Gimme a minute to make some coffee, then you can rip into everything.”

You tucked yourself into a corner of the couch and smiled, watching Ellie rifle through the presents under the tree. It made your heart ache a bit to watch her. That she’d never had this as a girl hurt. That you hadn’t been able to do this in decades hurt, too. It felt like so much lost time, so many things that could have been better or different and they weren’t. So many things that you missed out on because you’d been holed up in the wilderness and hadn’t looked for a place like Jackson, hadn’t had the faith that a place like this could exist.

You tried not to think about it, fought to focus on anything but what could have been if you’d just tried to find this place years ago.

Joel pressed a warm mug into your hands and sat next to you on the couch, putting his arm over your shoulders, tugging you against him and kissing the top of your head. You took a sip and smiled a little at the taste of whiskey. He’d spiked it.

“Alright Old Man,” Ellie said, picking up one of the packages she brought and holding it out for him. “This one is for you.”

Ellie had made you each a charcoal drawing. Yours of Renaissance, Joel’s of you. Your eyes went a little wide at it. It’s not like you’d posed for her or anything, you hadn’t even noticed her doing it. It was strange to see yourself the way Ellie apparently did. You were pretty, the way she saw you, a softness in the drawing that you didn’t associate with yourself.

“This is amazing, Baby Girl,” Joel said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Figured I already drew you a horse,” she shrugged. “Thought you’d like something pretty to look at. And she’s got good taste, thought she’d want something better than your face on her wall.”

Joel laughed before you could protest.

“Got that right,” he said.

Joel got Ellie a stash of art supplies that you knew he must have been tracking down for the better part of the year, watercolors and pencils and full sketchpads and you gave her the CDs and a few comic books you’d found that you thought she’d like.

“Oh shit!” She yanked open the first comic. “Look at this guy, he’s got like… laser vision!”

You laughed and pressed closer to Joel and he kissed the crown of your head before he leaned forward and picked up something from below the tree, handing it to you.

You unwrapped it and opened the old shoe box. Inside was the carving of a horse, beautiful and intricate, delicate legs and a tail that looked like it was somehow in motion while being formed out of wood.

“Joel,” you gasped, running your finger over the smooth surface. “It’s beautiful…”

“Thought you needed somethin’ of your own in that house over there,” he said. “Or over here. When you want.”

You looked over at him and smiled, tears stinging at your eyes, and you wrapped your arms around him. You stretched and got your gifts for Joel next before you ended up fully crying on Christmas morning.

He opened the first one slowly and smiled at it, a holster you made from scrap leather for a knife he’d picked up the last time you were on patrol together.

“You act like you can’t do shit like this and then you make somethin’ great,” he smiled at you, running his thumb over where you’d burned his initials into the sheath just like you had with the guitar strap.

“Tell me that after it holds up for a few patrols,” you said, face getting hot. You took a sip of coffee.

He opened the next one as you gnawed on your lower lip. It was just a little box and he tugged the top off of it, revealing a slender chain with a piece of metal as a charm. He frowned, running his thumb over it.

“I made it from part of the bullet they pulled out of your leg,” you said, looking over his shoulder as he turned it in his palm. You’d cut “E + B” into one side of it. “Thought you should have a reminder that you’ve got people waiting for you. Next time you’re out for a few days.”

He took a shaky breath and kissed you tenderly, deeply, before putting it on, looking at it in his palm.

“I love it, Baby,” he said softly.

“Look at Bambi, being all sentimental,” Ellie teased from her spot on the floor, already using one of the new sketchpads from Joel. You glared at her, trying not to smile, and she laughed.

“One more,” you said before pressing your nose into Joel’s shoulder. For some reason, this made you anxious. Like the gifts were leaving you exposed. You dug your nails into your thigh to keep your leg from bouncing too much.

Joel unwrapped the cassette tape, looking at the label.

“Daylight,” he read from the tag. You’d tried to write it out in your best handwriting, the kind you hadn’t used in years but that your mother had drilled into you. “Don’t think I know this artist, who’s…”

You cut him off before he could read the name aloud.

First, middle, last.

“You do,” you said. “That’s… that’s me.”

His head whipped around to look at you, his eyes a little wide.

“I wrote it,” you nodded at the tape. “The quality is questionable - it’s just from an old audio recorder from my house - and I’ll play it for you if you want. But… Anyway, I wrote it for you and… well, felt like I should put my real name on it. No one’s really known it in a while but I wanted you to.”

“Baby…” he breathed, looking back at the tape. “This…”

“You can keep calling me Bambi,” you smiled a little. “Everyone else does. Which is still your fault, by the way.”

He laughed.

“This is amazing,” he said. “You’re amazing, I…”

“I’m going to need you guys to not be gross when I’m in the room,” Ellie groaned dramatically.

“Don’t worry, Kiddo,” Joel said. “Think we can keep it under control. Got a few more here…”

He picked up a small package and handed it to you.

You opened it, a CD inside, one you didn’t know. You looked at the back, frowning, only to find that it was an album of accompaniment tracks for violin.

“Oh, cool!” You said, looking over the track list. “I could definitely adapt these parts for guitar and…”

“Well, didn’t say you’d need to do that,” Joel said, clapping his hands on his knees before getting up. “Just a sec…”

Joel left and you frowned to Ellie, who just shrugged, her pencil frozen over the paper. He returned just a minute later, a violin in one hand and something you didn’t recognize in the other.

“Wasn’t sure how to wrap either of these so…”

You practically jumped off the couch, eyes wide, and took the instrument from him, holding it reverently.

“Where did you find this?” You asked, looking over the body. It looked to be in amazing condition.

Joel smiled.

“Been on the look out for one since you told me what instruments you played,” he said. “Got a bow and extra strings too, should be set for a bit.”

You threw the arm that wasn’t holding the violin around his neck and he laughed before giving you a squeeze. When you pulled away from him, he turned to Ellie.

“And this is for you,” he said, unfolding the bundle in his hand. Ellie got up, frowning at it for a second but watching as he did. “Figured since you’re gettin’ real good at your art, you should have all the tools…”

He finished putting it all together and set it down, an easel that was the perfect size for the largest sketchpad that Joel had gotten her.

“Oh shit!” Her face lit up. “This is like… real artist stuff!”

“Well yeah,” Joel shrugged, crossing his arms. “You’re a real artist, Kiddo. Need real artist stuff.”

Ellie practically hurled herself at him and he laughed, catching her out of the air. You smiled, watching them. They had become so much more like what you imagined them to have been before Ellie learned the truth about the hospital. It had taken a few months to get them there and you learned that giving them projects to work on together seemed to be the best way to move them along.

You started with shoeing the horses and quickly pinned down Tommy to come up with some more ideas for ways to get them progressing toward a common goal. They worked with him to build a new, larger pen for some of the livestock. You ended up concocting busy work that didn’t seem like busy work every other week or so until you noticed Ellie coming by the house of her own accord and Joel spending more than a few perfunctory minutes when he went to the outbuilding she called home. Every now and then, you still saw signs of Ellie being introspective. Sometimes she would go quiet, glancing at Joel with her brows drawn together and her eyes dark. But it was so much better than it was and you could clearly see the people they had become to each other as they survived crossing the United States.

The two of them were doing better than you’d ever really seen them by Christmas. You weren’t sure if it was the holiday or they had always been building to this point, but there was no sign of the tension that had been there as long as you’d known them both. It was hard to believe that the Ellie who was color swatching her new pencils and excitedly telling Joel about things like the saturation of the pigment was the same Ellie who had come over to your house, upset that you and Joel were together.

She left to exchange gifts with friends in the afternoon and you passed the time playing guitar with Joel while watching the snow drift down outside before holding each other on the couch, stretched out long and pressed close, something that earned you both an “Ugh I thought you were supposed to be adults, show some self control” when Ellie came back a few hours later.

After dinner with Tommy, Maria, William and the rest of Jackson, Ellie went home and Joel tried to put the cassette you’d made him in the boombox in his room but you begged him not to.

“Why not?” He frowned. “I’m excited to hear it…”

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said, putting your arms around his waist. “I will let you fuck me if you wait until I am not within earshot to listen to that. I can’t stand hearing my own stuff, makes me want to crawl out of my skin.”

Joel smiled and shook his head a little.

“You were gonna let me fuck you, anyway.”

“Moot point.”

He kissed you gently.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll wait until you go home tomorrow to get your stuff for patrol. Think I’ve got the self control to hold off ’til then…”

You laughed and kissed him again, his hands growing eager against you. You rode him, your hands spread wide on his chest, memorizing the way the moonlight reflecting on the snow cast the shadows over his face, coming around him with a whimpering moan. As you fell asleep on his chest, his softening length still inside you as he held you close, you felt more at home than you had since you’d fled the home you’d made after the outbreak.

“I love you, Joel,” you said softly. You weren’t sure he was conscious enough to hear you but he held you a little tighter all the same.

***

Joel had always loved the outdoors but there was something about being in the woods after it snowed that was damn near magic.

It was like that now, out with you the day after Christmas. The snow hung heavy on the trees, boughs drooping toward the earth like they were covered in frosting, the crystalline layer catching the light and sending it shattering off the tree trunks.

The almost blinding light caught your eyes and hair and the snowflakes did, too, making you look like some otherworldly being. One that he should know better than to try to touch but was too selfish not to.

He’d listened to the tape when you left to head to your place to gather your things for patrol that morning. He just held the cassette for a moment, eyes tracing over the graceful lettering that spelled the title and your name.

You’d given him your name. You had told him why you didn’t like to share it, why you hadn’t shared it with anyone but the doctor here in decades. There was a power in it. So much of what you had and who you were had been weaponized against you since the outbreak. It made sense that you’d keep something close and for yourself and yourself alone. And he’d been content with that. He had more of you than he deserved, he wasn’t about to go and ask for more.

But you’d given him your name. First, middle, last. Because you wanted him to have that part of you, too.

He said it out loud to himself, testing the words on his tongue, picturing you as he did, tying the person he knew to the name that belonged to you.

Joel put the tape in the stereo and pressed play, turning the volume down a little. Just in case someone was walking by outside. He didn’t want to share this with them in any way. This was just for him.

There was a few seconds of crackling almost silence before you spoke, the sound clearer than he’d really expected it to be.

“Hey Joel,” your voice sounded close and almost nervous. He smiled at that, that you’d be nervous playing for him even after all this time. “I’ve kind of been wishing I was better with words since I’ve known you. I’m not exactly a poet so it’s kind of hard for me to say what you mean to me. But… well, I do know music. This doesn’t quite say it right, either, but it does a better job than I could on my own. I love you, Joel. So much.”

He listened close, could hear the quiet sound of your breaths and the sound of you adjusting the guitar in your arms before you started playing.

The music made Joel’s heart ache, so beautiful it almost hurt to listen to it. It was slow and gentle and intricate and longing, made him think of what it was to look at you and feel you and have you consume so much of who he was because he wanted you to, didn’t want himself without you.

When the song ended, the final chord hanging on the air, there was a pinch of tears at the back of his throat. He sniffed and tried to blink them back as there was a rustling on the recording and he could picture you adjusting your guitar.

“I hope you liked it,” you laughed a little. “And I hope it makes sense. Hope you know how much I love you. Because I do. Always will.”

The tape ended and Joel rewound it, collecting himself before listening to it again.

You were already at the stables when Joel got there, strapping your things to Renaissance’s side and humming to yourself. Joel didn’t say anything, wasn’t sure he’d really be able to speak past the lump in his throat. Instead, he went to you and you frowned when you saw him.

“Everything OK?” You asked. He grabbed you roughly and pulled you into his chest, kissing the crown of your head and clutching you close. You paused a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a squeeze. “Joel?”

“Love you,” he managed, not willing to let you go quite yet.

“Love you too,” you pulled back from him to look at him and laughed a little. “You alright?”

He kissed your forehead.

“Got you,” he said. “I’m great.”

The patrol had been quiet, just like Joel thought it would be. He hadn’t gone out with just you since snow started falling and he was ready for the kinds of patrols that came with winter. Last patrol with you had been in late October and the two of you had been caught up in a hoard of infected that was making its way south, migrating to survive the winter. You’d gotten pinned down at one point, Joel damn near panicking at the sight of it. He was able to get to you and knock the infected away, giving you enough space to raise your gun and fire. You’d made it out unscathed but with a lesson learned.

“Need shit I can use at close range,” you’d panted, dusting yourself off. “Baseball bat. Axe, maybe. Knife isn’t enough.”

Joel had found you an axe the second the two of you were back to Jackson and it was strapped to the side of your horse where you could easily free it to swing at anything headed your way.

But he didn’t think you’d need it today. This point in the season, the raiders were holed up to ride out the weather, not wanting to risk exposure by roaming much. Infected - with a few exceptions - had all fled the cold. These patrols were mostly to make sure anyone watching knew that Jackson was going to protect and maintain its territory, even when there wasn’t much to protect against.

The forest was quiet, you riding alongside Joel when the trail was wide enough to allow for it. You just looked around at the trees, enjoying nature for what it was, Joel taking advantage of the quiet to watch you do it. He’d be happy to watch you do just about anything.

“Almost like the end of the world never happened when you’re out here,” you said quietly, looking up at the snow-coated branches. “Like it’s a whole other world.”

The two of you saw no signs of anyone else when you made it to the lodge for the night, twilight on the horizon because days were short and nights were long this time of year. You settled the horses while Joel got a fire going in the fireplace inside. He set out your sleeping bags in front of the stone hearth, the setting sun casting the snow in shades of pink and orange from the wall of windows beyond. He pulled a small pot out of his bag and put some leftovers from the Christmas dinner the night before he’d managed to snag before they all got snapped up, turkey and stuffing and gravy warming as you came in from taking care of the horses.

“That smells incredible,” you said, putting your arms around Joel’s neck and pressing your body close. You were in his coat and his shirt, wrapping yourself up in him and he loved it, relished that he was what made you feel safe.

“Can’t take much credit,” he said, kissing you gently. “Just swiped it.”

“More than I managed,” you tangled your fingers in his hair, your soft gaze holding his. He sometimes thought the entire universe was contained in your eyes, like if he looked into them for long enough he’d find the answers to everything he’d ever questioned, the fulfillment of everything he’d ever longed for. “This was nice. Should talk them into letting me out of the stables more.”

“Won’t catch me arguin’,” he smiled, nuzzling against your cheek. “Not sure I can promise the more gourmet dinner options the rest of the year, though.”

You laughed and kissed him, soft and sweet, tongue dipping into his mouth.

“Think we’d be just fine with jerky,” you said, voice breathy.

He smiled back.

“Think so, too.”

You ate dinner close together, you tucked against his side. After, the two of you took turns playing guitar and singing, sticking close to the fire as it grew dark outside. Eventually, Joel set the guitar aside and took your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before smiling against your lips.

“What?” You teased.

“First kissed you up here,” he said. “Worried I wasn’t ever gonna get to again. Now I can kiss you whenever I want.”

“And it’s somehow not enough for me,” you kissed him again and he pulled you onto his lap before he undressed you slowly. You unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it down his arms until his skin was warm against your bare chest. You pressed yourself close and tight to him, rocking your clothed core over his hardening length.

“Want you,” you were damn near panting.

“Past wantin’ you,” he pulled you somehow closer. “Been far past it all day. Since I listened to your tape.”

You pulled back from him a little and he took advantage of the distance to look at your bared skin.

“You heard it?” You asked quietly. He nodded. “Did… did you like it?”

“Oh, Baby,” he cupped your cheek. “I loved it.”

You smiled and kissed him again and he held you close before maneuvering you onto your back on top of the sleeping bags, the heat from the fire warm on his skin. He tugged your jeans and panties off, casting them aside before removing his own. He ran his hands over your thighs, the softness of your skin in sharp contrast to the roughness of his own. His fingers reached your slit, all damp heat as he traced over you to your clit. You moaned, rocking your hips against him. He watched the muscle of your thighs tighten and shift and he took your ankle in his large hand, moving your foot to his shoulder so he could trail his lips over the supple flesh of the inside of your leg. He took his hand from your leg to grip his hardening cock as he toyed with your pussy as your back arched below him. He brushed his head against your swollen sex and all he could think about was opening you up to him, burying himself inside you until he couldn’t separate himself from you anymore.

His eyes traced over you, your pupils blown, your chest heaving as you panted for breath.

He lined himself up with your tight, grasping hole and lowered himself over you, his chest on yours, his lips inches from your own. He sank into you slowly, watched as his making space for himself inside you came over you, your eyes rolling back every so slightly before closing, the delicate moans from your parted lips. He breathed your name — your real name - as he reached the very end of you and you gasped, eyes opening to search his.

“Joel,” you whispered. He kissed you softly, sheathed within you. “Call me that again. Want… want to hear you say my name.”

He obeyed, pressing impossibly deeper before pulling out, slow but firm, before opening you up to him again, your name on his tongue as he did. Joel worked your body slow and steady, his orgasm building slowly alongside yours, your name falling from his lips again and again like a prayer in the night until your fluttering core made him spill into you.

Neither of you bothered putting clothes on before climbing into one sleeping bag, your bodies close and warm. He watched you sleep in his arms by the dying firelight and he wasn’t ready to let you go when you both woke up in the morning.

The warm glow of you left him optimistic as the two of you got underway again. It didn’t seem like anything could happen when he was with you like this. Like the two of you existed in a separate reality where people didn’t get hurt, where the evils of people couldn’t exist.

“Joel?” You said, a few hours into the journey on the return trail. He stopped his horse alongside yours and you nodded into the woods, a good 10 feet off the trail. It looked like a large animal had been making its way through the snow before turning around.

“Could be an elk or somethin’,” he said. “Might not be a horse…”

You didn’t respond. You just dismounted, grabbing your axe and patting Renaissance’s neck as you picked your way through the snow and the brush to the point off the trail. Joel sighed but followed you, catching up to you just as you froze, staring down at the snow. There were distinct signs that there was a person with the animal and Joel sighed before he realized exactly what you were staring at. Just the start of a footprint in the snow, it didn’t have the chance to sink low to the ground like they’d been stopped. Just shallow enough to easily make out the size of the foot. It was small, too small to belong to a grown man. It was either a child - maybe a teenager - or a small woman.

“Bambi…” he said cautiously, but you ignored him, turning on your heel, hooking your axe into its place on your saddle and mounting Renaissance.

“Those tracks are relatively fresh,” you said. “It was snowing until after midnight and they’re not covered.”

“We should go back and…”

“No,” you said sharply. “Then it might be too late. We have to try. Joel, please…”

He met your gaze, your eyes wide and desperate.

“Please,” you whispered.

He sighed but climbed back on his horse.

“Somethin’ goes bad,” he said. “You get back to Jackson, get help. Understand?”

You nodded and Joel led the way, trying to move as quickly as he could through the woods and the snow.

After going almost two hours out of the way, the two of you stumbled upon what had clearly been a campsite not all that long ago. There were signs of at least a dozen or so men, the campfires no longer warm but not snow-covered either.

You got off Renaissance again and started going around the area but Joel wasn’t sure what you were looking for. He dismounted, anyway, following close behind you as you picked through the signs of life that were here. Eventually, you whistled, something almost like a bird call but slightly off before going quiet.

“Bambi…”

“Shh.”

He obeyed and you gave another whistle the same way, holding your hand out to signal him to stay quiet. There was no response.

You visibly deflated before turning and pressing your face to Joel’s chest. He put his arms around you and held you gentle and close, feeling your warmth against him.

“You’re OK Love,” he said softly.

“Not me I’m worried about,” you sniffed, voice thick.

“I know,” he held you closer. “I know… I know you want to help people who are hurtin’ like you. But you can’t save everyone, Baby, you just can’t.”

You were silent and he just held you close.

“We’ll head back,” he said quietly. “Report it. Send a team out with enough guns and men to handle a group of this size, see what we can’t find.”

You nodded against him, clutching him close.

“We wouldn’t have been able to help ‘em,” he whispered. “There were too many of them, would have gotten us both killed. Better this way. They’ll have a chance now.”

You pulled away from him and dried your eyes.

“Should get back,” you said, tone serious. “Sooner we’re back to Jackson, sooner we can send help.”

“C’mon,” he put his arm around your shoulders and guided you back to the horses, turning to look back the way the two of you had come.

He stopped in his tracks.

Just like the sign you’d spotted months before, freshly carved into the trunks of the trees, were two large Xes, like they were waiting for him.

What scared him more was the thought that they might be waiting for you.

Next Chapter

A/N: Yay, soft Jackson Christmas!

...other stuff is happening too.

Really really really soon.

BUT I LOVE YOU!!!

Thank you so much for reading and for being here. I'm seriously so excited to share what's coming next, I hope you're excited to see what happens, too. All your kindness and support means the world, just thank you thank you thank you. Love you all!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #smut fic #joel miller x oc

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chasedbyatlantic · 2 months

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persimmon, joel miller

masterlist summary: IN WHICH — when you and joel miller are having a relaxing day outside of jackson, you accidentally come across one of his favourite things.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson era!joel, female!era, no use of y/n, relationship-like content from joel and reader, cute bickering and flirting, literally just fluff, mentions of guns/injuries/swearing. lmk if i missed anything!

wordcount: 2.1k

a/n: i am heavily obsessed with the new fruit for flies ep by the army, the navy so i was heavily inspired to write for this. tell me joel wouldnt absolutely love persimmons like ik he would love them. remember to like, comment, reblog, and follow for more!! xoxo

—

Days spent outside the walls meant days spent with him. You were not one to complain about company, not now, not ever. You two started your runs a year ago, by a force of sorts. Tommy, one of your best friends, had assigned you the role of "protecting" his brother while outside. Tommy trusted you with his life, the two of you rolled together before you guys found Jackson, so he knew you very well. To ask such a big thing from you, to keep his brother out of trouble, meant a lot to you.

Though, it also brought on a lot of stress. Joel had none of it at the start, he thought it was stupid to have more people around him then needed. At first, you thought it was stupid that Tommy had wanted this, Joel carried himself well and was very smart when it came to surviving outside the walls. Soon enough, you had realized why. Joel was old, as much as he may have not wanted to admit. He couldn't move as fast as he once could, his reflexes weren't instant, he ran a step slower. You, on the other hand, were young and stealthy- you were the sense of freshness in his life.

Joel didn't like you at the start, he made it crystal clear. For weeks, he would barely talk to you, only to bicker or to give you directions. It was after you helped Ellie recover from a flu that almost wiped her out that he started talking to you. It went from zero to one hundred very quick, but as mentioned earlier, you would never complain about it.

Today was the first day the two of you had gone and done your usual route outside of the walls since spring had started. The winter was long and rough, many people caught some sort of sickness and passed in the town the two of you resided in. It was sad, some people you knew, but that's what happens when you're not able to operate with proper medical care. Anyway, after it had rained for about a week straight, the sun was out today. It's warmth made you think about the nice weather to come, and not the rough time everyone had months prior.

Your hands were gripping onto your backpack straps as though your life depended on it. Your eyes were shut the opposite, gentle and carefree. Joel's presence beside you was enough to shut your eyes for just a moment, and not worry about everything around you. In this moment right now, Joel was protecting you when it should be the other way around. "Careful now, cowgirl," He said so casually, "Don't go'n trip on my watch."

You didn't want to open your eyes, you really didn't, the sun didn't want that either. Your eyes opened, though, and you were left blind for a moment due to having to adjust to the brighter area. As you did this, you could feel Joel's hand linger around the small of your back and lead you past some piece of rusted metal that was on your path. You swatted him away after he did this, shooting him a glare. "Don't baby me, Miller."

He could only laugh as his hand moved off of you. He held his hands up in defence. "Ya' better start watchin' where y'ur goin', then. Tetanus will get ya' before a runner does." You wanted to stay mad after he said that, you really did, but you couldn't help but let a small laugh or two escape from your pissed off expression. Joel would never say it out loud, but he thought it was cute when you did that. When you did anything, really, but that was a topic for another day.

You and Joel had been walking for what felt like forever now, but in reality, only about three hours. As per usual, the two of you were further than deep in conversation. "Y'ur such a country guy. I'm bettin' on Keith Urban." A smile rose to your face, trying to remember other country artists that were popular around the time before hell rose. "Listen, I won't deny it," Joel began, "Rock'n'roll is where it's at, though." You almost stopped dead in your tracks, before you burst out with laughter. Joel? A rock and roll man? There's no way.

Joel stood there, extremely unimpressed, as he waited for your laughs to die down. Once you stood back up and composed yourself, you dramatically wiped a fake tear from under your eye. "I've never laughed so hard." He shook his head, "Ya' piss me off, you know that?" You gave him a pat on the shoulder as you continued down your path, "Love you too!"

The two of you bickered for the next while as you walked down the road. It went from concrete to gravel in a short amount of time, indicating you two were in the remote part of the city. By stepping along this gravel road, it brought back so many memories that you had distanced yourself from. The first time out with him, the day both of you got caught in the rain, the day he kissed you. It was in the heat of the moment, no feelings attached. Some days you wish there were feelings attached, but you had more important things to worry about.

It was strange, the second the two of you stepped on the gravel path, three deer were seen down the street. You went to open your mouth, but you could feel a hand cover the bottom half of your face. It wasn't yours, you were sure of it, the hand felt too rough to be yours. That meant only one thing. You turned to face Joel, your eyes focusing on his. His arm was outstretched (not by much) to cover your lips and chin, his other hand reaching up and placing his pointer finger on his lips, indicating for you to be quiet. You listened.

You both turned your heads back in unity, to face the deer. They seem to have seen you, now turning and carefully running back into the woods. You shoved Joel's hand off of your face as gentle as possible, yelling a quick 'shit!'. Joel had reached back for his hunting rifle that was slung across his back, "Hungry?" Before you could even reply to him, you were taking off. You were sprinting like you were in a race to win a gold medal at the olympics.

Joel was on your tail in no time, he was taller which meant that his strides were longer. The two of you ran for fifteen minutes, following the deer as closely as you could. Though, they were still faster. As they slowly exited the picture, from where the both of you could see, Joel fired a shot. He swore he hit one, but nothing decided to wait around for when you two got closer. A sigh left his lips when he came to the realization that he didn't get one, not so much for him to enjoy, but for you to have.

You noticed this, shoving his arm with your elbow. "Cheer up," You began, "We can set up here for a little bit. If ya' need somethin' to do, I'm out of water." You passed Joel a small smile, sticking out your water bottle for him to grab. He wanted to stay upset, but he couldn't help himself. He nodded and took it, "Stay put'n call if ya' need anythin'." And he was off. Joel didn't question you, or bicker to stay. He knew better when you were looking out for him.

You did anything but stay put, actually. You decided to scavenge the area. If there was anything (or anyone, for that matter), they would've came over when they heard you and Joel. The ground was extremely unreliable, bumps and holes were scattered everywhere so you took your time. You weren't sure how long you walked for, but it was long enough to get to an open field from the secluded forest.

It was so beautiful, the long rows of nothing. The once short bushes that were probably maintained were now grown completely out of control, growing everywhere but in place. You wish you had a camera, to keep more than just a mental image of this beautiful place.

You stood in the same spot for at least ten minutes, just capturing every small detail. Sure, Jackson had a nice garden, but it came nowhere near as unique as this one. Just when your eyes finished the look-around, they laid on the deer you and Joel had tried to get earlier. Your eyes had widened, you had found them.

If they hadn't noticed you before they heard a twig crack, they sure as hell did now. They took one look at you and ran off. You hadn't moved a step, so who made that sound? Your hand fell onto your holster as you spun around faster than you had thought you did. Your eyes landed on the man you knew too well. "Didn't think ya' had it in ya' to shoot me, cowgirl."

For fuck sakes, Joel, you thought to yourself. You buttoned your holster back up and turned back to face where the deer stood just a moment ago, too angry to look at Joel right now. He must've taken the hint, since he didn't bug you anymore. Instead, he decided to walk in front of you and to where the deer were. Joel didn't crouch, but he stuck his hand into the tree's green and brown branches.

You rose your brow, how couldn't you. Joel was channeling his inner garden boy with this, but you didn't break a laugh. A quiet 'ah, there ya' are' had escaped Joel's lips, just loud enough for you to hear. Instead of remaining where you were, you followed his trail and closed up on him. Your gaze fell onto the small orange thing he had in his hand.

Without warning, he just- bit into it. You had a blank stare, your mouth slightly opened. This could've been poisonous for all you knew, for all Joel knew. He took note of your horrific look, "Eat it, it's good." He handed you the small, orange fruit and waited. You had no choice but to take it, and take it hesitantly. You rose it towards your lips, and carefully took a bite.

It was mushy and sour, definitely too ripe for your liking. You handed it back and turned your head, spitting out whatever remained of the fruit in your mouth. You had a grossed-out look to your face as Joel popped the rest of the fruit in his mouth. It was genuinely disgusting, and you didn't know how he could eat it, you thought to yourself.

"It's persimmon." He told you, wiping the juice from his hands off and on his pants. Persimmon, you've never heard of it. "Like the colour?" You had asked him, giving up on your strike from talking to him. He let out a loud laugh, definitely scaring off any animal that might've came to check the two of you out. "Like the fruit, cowgirl."

"Well," You had stood on your tip toes and picked another one of these persimmons off the tree, "you enjoy them then." Your hand moved without thinking, it reached forward and grabbed Joel's, and placed the fruit in it. The fruit was about one fourth of the size of Joel's hand, so it looked a bit silly to you.

His hand closed, almost taking yours with his. "Ya' best believe I will." A small smile rose to your lips as your eyes rolled, he was too cocky for your liking. You thought to yourself for a moment. You had remembered this one story that Maria, Tommy's wife, had told you, about an olive theory. One person absolutely hates olives and refuses to eat them, whereas the second person loves them and will eat them for the first person. This story had reminded you of this moment, reminded you of yourself and Joel with the persimmons.

You two would mingle around the tree for the next while, Joel stuffing his face while you stuffed your bag with the bright orange fruit. Even though you didn't eat them, you smiled as you watched Joel enjoy something he loves. The two of you wouldn't dare tell anyone back home about what you had discovered while out and about. For this, this was yours and Joel's persimmon tree.

—

persimmon, the army, the navy

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potentialheartofdarkness · 2 years

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Steve wasn’t allowed to ever enjoy the first snowfall. He tried, tried to bundle himself up in sweaters and a hat and run out before his father was awake. He just never made it that far. His father would catch him, and spout bullshit about how he needed to stay inside because Harrington children didn’t waste time playing when they could be working.

Harrington children didn’t do a lot of things, Steve found out.

Tommy and Carol dragged him out into the snow during their first year of high school, throwing snowballs and taunting each other. Steve just stood off to the side, unsure of what was happening and acutely aware that it could get back to his father, like everything else seems to. They didn’t notice him when he went inside, they never did.

He stared at it, watching it fall, and remembered what his father had told him. Remembered every lesson his father drilled into his head.

Harrington children don’t waste time playing, Harrington children don’t waste time partying, Harrington children don’t waste time speaking, Harrington children always marry the opposite sex. Harrington children don’t talk back, they do what they’re told. Harrington children are business men.

Steve hoped one day these rules would turn out to be false, especially as he stared at one of his classmates tackling his friend in the snow. Buzzed hair and dark clothes, chains on his pants. The jeans perfectly sculpted to his body. The boy met Steve’s eyes and winked at him, cheeks frosted pink from the snow and laughter etched into his face. Steve turned away, the hope growing inside of him with the blush on his cheeks.

After that, snow reminded him too much of the Upside Down. The aching cold that pierced through into his bones, and the snowflakes resembling more of the particles floating around then snow itself. He still loved it, the pain in his heart mending with each flake melting in the ground.

Enter the first snowfall of ‘86.

Steve was awoken early in the morning by a pounding on his door. He’s halfway down the stairs by the time it starts up again, heavy fists slamming into the door. Too strong to be the kids, too strong to be Robin and she has a key anyway. Had to be....

“Good morning, Eddie.” Steve grumbled, opening the door, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “The fuck are you doing here so early.”

“Its snowing.” Eddie said as if that explained everything and he pushed his way inside.

“Okay?” Steve shut the door, turning to raise his eyebrows at Eddie who threw his hands up in exasperation.

“It’s snowing!” He repeated, more emphasis this time and Steve just stared at him blankly. “Don’t tell me you hate the snow.”

“No, I actually really love the snow.” Steve mumbled, heading back upstairs with the full intention of going back to bed. Eddie followed him up, still talking.

“So then why are you looking at me like I told you Vecna is back? Look I have a plan okay, we’re gonna go out and have fun and be children for the first time in forever and we are going to play in the snow.” He finished, reaching the landing with Steve and watching as Steve paused with his hand on the door handle to his room. “So, get ready. Cause, I’m not above standing out here and screaming at the top of my lungs until you come with me.”

“What do I wear?” Steve asked him, voice not even above a whisper. He didn’t know what one was supposed to wear when playing in the snow, or how to act like a child.

“Whatever you want, as long as its warm.” Eddie’s voice was soft, almost like he knew what Steve was thinking, and Steve nodded before heading into his room.

He was most grateful for Eddie, in his life. They’d formed a quick bond after everything, after Steve ignored his own injuries until he was sure Eddie was safe, then passed out in the hospital hallway. After he spent a week at Eddies side, then months helping him recover. Because of that, Eddie seemed to be more in tune to Steve and how he was feeling. He was always picking up on things Steve didn’t mention, could sense when he didn’t understand something and backtrack to explain. Only thing he didn’t pick up on were Steve’s, most likely one sided, feelings.

Steve took a few calming breaths once he’d dressed in warmer clothes he wouldn’t mind getting damp, and threw open the door.

Eddie grinned when he emerged from his room, like Steve had brought the sun with him where he went. He let out a low whistle and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Lookin good, Stevie.” He swallowed and looked away. “If you’re ready to get your ass kicked by me, the snowball god, then lets get a move on.”

“Oh you’re on.” Steve replied and Eddie cackled, full on evil laugh kind of cackle, as he dashed off down the stairs. Steve was right behind him. Soon they made it to the trailer park, where all the kids had set up near Max’s, walls of snow already built up to hide behind, and Steve had never felt his heart so full. Gone were the days where his fathers lectures would dictate what he would do. Here he was, a Harrington child, wasting time and playing in the snow. His team consisted of Dustin, self proclaimed snowball extraordinaire, Max, the stealthy, and El who was banned from using her powers.

Eddie’s team was tough to beat. He had Will the Wise, Lucas, who’s aim had improved due to basketball practice, Erica, the sundae Queen and Mike. Erica who had in fact named herself that, had actually begged to be on Steve’s team, which he tried and failed to hold dear to his heart. They sent her over to Eddie’s team though to give them a fair advantage. Hearing that they would lose without her, Erica conceded and the battle was underway. The first time he got hit, was because he was too distracted watching Eddie, the snowflakes perfectly collected in his hair and the brightest smile on his face. He launched a snowball at Dustin, made its mark, and cheered, picking up Erica and spinning her around before tackling Mike into the snow. It reminded Steve of something, but he’d left himself open and Will struck him straight in the face with only a mischievous grin as a form of apology. Steve made a snowball, and launched it.

In the end, there was no clear winner. Both sides made equal shots, laughter heavy in the air, and for the first time in a very long time Steve felt light. Once the bitter coldness of the air and snow started to soak through their clothes, they parted ways. The kids going into Max’s trailer for hot chocolate and to wait for their parents to arrive, and Steve trailing behind Eddie into his trailer. He’d always liked the trailer, it felt more of a home to him than his own house. The mugs lining the walls, the clothes thrown over the chair and partly the couch. The papers spread across the countertops and stacked high near the cupboards. Wayne giving him a soft smile every time he stepped through the door, and a pat on the shoulder when passing him food.

Steve had spent a lot of time here, enough to feel more comfortable here than in his own room.

“Want some cocoa?”

“Sure,” Steve smiled softly at Eddie and made his way to the couch. Feeling all the adrenaline leave his body as he relaxed. His first time playing in the snow, all because of Eddie.

“So, Stevie.” Eddie began, handing him his cup of cocoa and flopping down next to him on the couch. He somehow managed to not spill a single drop of his drink and end up far too close to Steve as it was. He seemed to notice this and instead of doing anything to remedy it, he hooked his knees over Steve’s and stretched out his legs, leaving Steve to rest his hands on Eddie’s knees. Eddie leaned sideways into the couch before continuing his sentence, eyes fixed on Steve’s face. “How was your first time playing in the snow?”

“You knew about that?” Steve felt his cheeks flare red as Eddie used his legs to pull Steve towards him a little bit, not at all realizing what he was doing to Steve’s heart.

“Course I knew, couldn’t worm it out of Dustin or Robbie though, Nancy was easier to crack.” He teased and Steve rolled his eyes. “Nah, I used to uh...” He looked away, into his drink and avoided looking at Steve as he tossed him a curious look. “I saw you a few times, at school.” He cleared his throat and the memory hit Steve like a ton of bricks.

“That was you?!” He exclaimed and Eddie winced, like he was worried Steve was mad at him or something. “Man, if I’d known it was you then I would have-” He cut himself off and cleared his throat. “You looked different back then.”

“Yeah, Wayne’s razor became my greatest enemy after that year. Can you believe I thought I looked good with my hair all buzzed like that? If I ever want to buzz my hair again please take me out back and shoot me.” Eddie sighed dramatically before taking a sip of his drink.

“You did look good. Obviously your hair suits you now too, feels more you this way, but it suited you then too.” Steve half-mumbled, unable to keep the words to himself and he watched as Eddie tried, and failed, to not choke on his scalding drink.

“Did you have to wait until I was taking a sip you fucking asshole.” He cursed and Steve grinned into his own cup. “Wait.”

“Anyway,” He interrupted Eddie before he could start anything and shifted a little under the weight of his legs. His heart hadn't slowed down its rapid pace, and given the way that Eddie was looking at him it wouldn't any time soon. “Thanks, for y’know. The snow day. It was fun, a lot of fun actually, surprised on how quickly time went by actually.” He finished his drink and Eddie swung his legs off of Steve, placing the cups on the table and standing. He offered Steve a hand, he took it.

“C’mon, we didn’t build a snowman yet and there's plenty of daylight left.” If he could have, Steve would have fallen even deeper in love. They traipsed outside into the still falling snowflakes, and piled up a bunch of snow, Eddie showing him how to make the perfect snowman. Steve took his chance and dumped a bunch of snow on Eddie’s head, and took off running as Eddie shouted at him. He chased him around the front of the trailer before he got his revenge and it was Steve’s turn to chase him. He felt free, like he’d never had the time to fully experience freedom until now. He could have ascended into the heavens, and not known the difference. Every single weight off his shoulders had been lifted, even just for the moment. He tackled Eddie into the snow and they fell, giggling into a heap by the snowman they’d half built.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

Eddie was beautiful. He always was, but it struck Steve now. With the snow and the pink cheeks and the crinkled corners of his eyes, wide and filled with joyful innocence. Every freckle, every line, every scar on his face. His eyelashes were wet, probably from the snow or from laughing, and there was something buried deep in the brown irises that sparkled with mischief. Steve was a weak man, his heart crumbled like a freshly made cake with too much flour. Eddie was like an eclipse, if Steve was the sun. The moon passing by him so closely he could just reach out and touch it, make contact for the first time in forever, however fleeting. People like him didn’t come around too often and fuck if Steve was going to miss it to continue living blissfully unaware with his sunglasses on. Intentionally holding the world at bay, just for a brief glimpse of something he might not have much longer.

“I’m going to kiss you.” He half whispered, the words only for Eddie to hear. A secret almost, between the two of them. Like if he whispered it quiet enough the wind wouldn’t steal it away and send it somewhere it shouldn’t belong.

“Okay.” Eddie whispered back, hands coming up to caress Steve’s cheeks lightly, the spark of joy back in his eyes before he met him in the middle and their lips met. It wasn’t perfect, it was cold, Steve’s knee was wet from the snow he was kneeling in. But it was perfect to him. Eddie had given him back something he never thought he would miss, and Steve loved him for it.

“For the record,” Eddie began after they broke apart. “I’m in love with you.”

“For the record.” Steve replied, brushing a stray curl out of Eddie’s face. “I’m in love with you too.”

“God I wish it had snowed sooner.” Eddie rolled his eyes and Steve chuckled, pulling away and standing up. He offered Eddie a hand up and tugged him a little, causing him to stumble. Steve glanced around quickly, making sure there were no prying eyes (Max) before he kissed Eddie once more.

“C’mon, I’m starting to get cold.” Steve headed towards the trailer door and Eddie jumped on his back, pressing a tiny kiss to his temple.

“I know a way we can warm up.” He whispered lowly in Steve’s ear and if Steve picked up the pace a little to make Eddie howl with laughter, well that was his secret too.

Maybe some good could come out of breaking his fathers rules, he thought later that night wrapped around Eddie and drifting off to sleep. He definitely knew what other ones he planned on breaking, but that was for the future. When they’d moved into a small apartment in Chicago in a few years, and the first snowfall was beginning outside as they were curled up by the fire and Steve voiced it aloud. It couldn’t be official, of course, not yet...but it was official to them, and maybe that’s all they needed.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fluff #remy speaks #this ended up way longer than i intended #but i hope you enjoy this #i have more coming eventually #working on my snowed in steddie fic rn #i just have many thoughts of them in the snow #okay bye

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buckttommy · 26 days

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I held back on asking this because I didn’t know if you would be receptive to it. But your last post makes me think you would be, so, for buddietommy: if one of them died, how do you think the others would respond? Do you think the remaining two would cling tighter to the person who was left, or do you think the loss would be insurmountable and break them apart?

they're not breaking up, like. what they have is forever even if one of them is gone. but. how they cope with it depends entirely on who's left. so. like.

if it's tommy who dies and buck and eddie who are left, they would just. go into their bubble. you know the one. it's the one that exists already, the one where they take their codependency and amplify it by a thousand just so they can heal themselves and each other. it takes a long time and they never get back to where / who they were because loving him, being with him changed them on such molecular levels. but. they heal and they recover and they find equilibrium again. eventually.

if it's buck who dies... this is a tough one because i feel like... like. it's wrong to say buck is their glue because he isn't, like, tommy and eddie had a relationship before buck even entered the picture. but, like. tommy and eddie are so similar that buck is like their balance. he's the odd man out in the best way. and so... losing him, i think, would force tommy / eddie to reevaluate their relationship. not reevaluate whether or not they want to stay together — because that's non-negotiable — but reevaluate who they are as a couple in the wake of losing such a vital piece of their dynamic. it would be like learning who each other is for the very first time, and it would take a lot of time. so much time and so much grief and so many sleepless nights but. they would get their eventually.

and then. ah. if eddie is the one who died (and this is the part of the proceedings where i remind everyone that i am an eddie girl first and the thought literally makes me want to barf), i feel like the response would be similar if it was tommy who died. like. just very much so buck and tommy withdrawing into themselves and shutting the world out, caring for each other, holding each other together and holding each other up until they're ready to emerge. and they're always a little bit sad forever. like. that's grief for you. but eddie's absence is so. noticable. literally until the day they die. it's hard but they're in love and the love doesn't change just because one of them is missing.

anyways. i'm upset so Enough of That.

#tv: 911 #jack answers mail #buddietommy #not to be dramatic but i am in the deepest pits of hell

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nancydrewwouldnever · 7 months

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I have a question for Seb fandom: was he able to recover his reputation after he ended his “relationship” with the Spanish problematic actress? I mean, he still does good projects and he still seems to be interested in working (unlike Chris), plus he still has Marvel///

he did but honestly I think both situations are similar but they're not totally the same, ale did cultural appropriation but that was it, alba and her friends have done much much worse :s and as everyone has said: Seb didn't marry her, in fact, Seb always did the bare minimum for her. I know you previously received an ask saying Seb and his current gf have "zero chemistry" (I disagree) however, Seb has done a lot of effort for hid current relationship, for example, he traveled to Italy and Canada when she was working there, he went to London for her brother's birthday, he went to the bachelorette trip to Spain with her brother and sister in law and of course he went to their wedding and spent her birthday in Portugal with her family... he never did that for ale, sure he went to Spain twice but that was it, he didn't go to the birthdays of ale's family and didn't go with her when she was working and so... like he really didn't care for her and we all could see it.

Now, in the work field: Seb has always been a hard worker. always. he, compared to Chris, wasn't born in a privileged family so he worked normal jobs and so and he struggled a lot financially until 2011, so he knows hard work which Chris doesn't so I think that's the main difference... Chris doesn't need to work ever again if he doesn't want to, he's got 104 more millions than Sebastian, so.. a BIG difference. and then of course, the talent is different... correct me if I'm strong, but I've never heard Chris saying that he took acting classes or something 🤔 ...Seb did, he actually has a degree in it and he's always studying his craft, that's why he's a really good actor, he's got that love and passion for what he does.. with Chris it feels like he just does the work because of the money, let's just look at his latest projects... big streamimg platform movies with no critic acclaim at all... fun fact: Seb was told that he might not receive money from I Tonya because they didn't have the money, he didn't care and he did it anyway and look at what it was 👌🏽 and because of that movie he met Craig Gillespie, who then called him directly to play his Emmy nominated role in pam&tommy last year and then the same director called him back for dumb money, another acclaimed movie this year... that's what Chris doesn't have.. he cares so much about money that he hasn't been able to build those kind of connections. and he needs to work on his acting, 100%.

then: Seb is actually very private compared to Chris... sure, Seb used to interact with his fandom but for example, we only met his mom *this year* and his mom is the only blood related family of him that we've seen (probably the only blood related family he has in the USA anyway), but with Chris, we've seen all of his family, even half siblings at different red carpets throughout the years and all of Chris' friends seem to be.. not very private, meanwhile Sebastian's closest friends (minus Toby's slip in 2021 :s iykyk) are very protective of him actually... like, there are many differences in terms of privacy 😐

finally: when it comes to relationships, to Chris' and seb's, current relationships, Chris chose to marry someone 16 years younger than him and someone he met when she was 23.. which is so questionable from any angle you see it, however, Seb is daring someone who's 39 (he's 41) si of course no one has anything bad to say about them (Seb and Annabelle) which is different to Chris and alba. and I do agree in one thing: Seb has never said he's an activist or whatever, meanwhile Chris was a keyboard activist fighting trump only and then forgot about it and now has very questionable people staying in all of his houses...the same people he used to critic.

if you ask me if I think that Chris can recover from this: yes.. maybe but time needs to pass and he needs to do better movies because right now he's just a joke on social media thanks to the projects he chooses not because of his private life. I know you believe most people shits on Chris for his personal life but that's not the main problem... it's his movies and if he doesn't have the passion and the desire to get out of his comfort zone, he won't go anywhere. there's something that Seb is always saying and it's "actors shouldn't be comfortable in their choices" and to me, Chris is beyond comfortable doing mediocre movies with a big pay. that needs to change yesterday.

Thank you for all this info. I don't follow Seb except to see him in a few movies here and there. I think you raise a lot of good comparisons.

#ask

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 2 years

Text

a new chapter

summary: a new year has arrived in Hawkins, Indiana. I shall show you different months and interactions that our Byers sibling will be having. we will watch as she goes through the ups and downs of dealing with this new trauma. will she eventually come to terms and slowly start to recover and process everything?

WC: 4.1K

warnings: depression, ED mention

A/N: ALL THE STORIES CAN BE FOUND UNDER THE TAG- The Byers Harrington Story-

this is where i’m gonna be a bit worried about my writing because it’s fully just my imagination working at whatever speed it can. i’m not sure how many of these in betweens i’m gonna do, i want to try and do a couple for each month. i already have the last in between planned and after that one it will lead into season2. i hope everyone enjoys these little stories.

previous chapter next chapter

January 5, 1984

“Mom, do you think you can get me a job here?” you asked while picking a lollipop from the display rack.

Joyce was organizing items behind the counter, and you were sitting on the checkout counter at Mendel’s. You were a bit bored at home so you felt like following Joyce for the next few hours of work.

It’s only been about three months since you quit, sorry, since you were fired from Lenny’s pizza. It was nice to have a break from working, focus on school, and you can freely be depressed in your room. Your sleeping was still not great, even with the weed you would buy from Eddie, but it didn’t help all the time. You were also on a tolerance break right now so you didn’t get too used to the drug and its effects. Plus, you didn’t want Joyce to find out, she was starting to get suspicious of your behavior, “Honey, did you get sprayed by a skunk?”

Anyway, you’ve enjoyed not working and all that, but you need to sum up all the money you can get your grubby hands on. You aren’t a big spender anyway, but still, you want to save up money for the future. Five months of paychecks, two a month, $3.75 an hour, it’s not a lot in the long run. You would look in the paper and check if anyone was hiring, see if something caught your eye. You may be a little desperate for a job, but you still have standards. You didn’t want to work in food again, you’re kinda worried about Carol or Tommy H showing up wherever you're working and making a scene. You thought retail would be the next best thing, always good to have different job variations.

“I don’t know honey, business isn’t exactly busy,” Joyce huffed from the ground where she was sitting.

“I know, but I’m just asking for a part-time job. Maybe I’ll get a second job when summer comes around,” you looked around the empty general store while the two of you were having this conversation.

Joyce stood from her seat behind the counter and looked over your hunched figure on the counter. You were sucking on the lollipop and just staring out the glass windows and looking out to the empty main street. You looked to the different stores that might be hiring. Sally’s Sugars and Sweets Bakery, Johnson’s Formal Attire, Hawkin’s Post, etc.

None of them caught your interest as you scanned the store signs. You sighed, maybe you could see if the library needs attendants, maybe City Hall could use interns or something. Maybe you could be a newspaper girl, Jonathan does that on the weekends.

“Honey, why don’t you just use this time to focus on yourself? You look like you could use it.”

“What does that mean?” you replied a bit timidly.

“Well I- I’m just saying you should spend time with your friends. You know, Steve sometimes calls for you.”

That got your head perked up. You already knew this information, but something in Joyce’s voice got your interest. The way she said Steve’s name and how he calls for you, no one else, just you in the Byers’ household, she was playing coy. Also, you could tell she was warming up to Steve and his new presence around the house and with you, Will also didn’t seem to mind, Jonathan though… “I know, it’s just sometimes I end up third wheeling him and Nancy, also Jonathan doesn’t like Steve, so I try to keep them separated from each other.”

“I know honey. What about that girl from school? Jonathan tells me that you’re together during lunch and after school sometimes.”

Robin. The two of you have been getting a little closer after your first study session. At first, you still tried to keep your distance a little, worried if you get attached to her, she’ll be dragged into this terrible predicament. But then her bright smiles and chipper attitude started to crack at the brick wall you placed around your heart, and each day the two of you hung out, a new crack would form in the wall. Eventually, you just gave up the cold facade and welcomed her in openly, but still trying to refrain from mentioning anything to do with the Upside Down and all that stuff.

“I’m- I’m just nervous. What if she’s just a school friend?” “School friend? What?” “You know, someone you hang out with only at school. It’s a line you don’t want to cross ‘cause some people are completely different outside of school, like a whole new personality.”

Joyce was looking at you like you were a bit crazy with this whole “school friends” explanation.

Her brows were furrowed with the crease in the middle, her head cocked to the side and her lips were puckered. She was leaning a hip against the counter while her hands rested in the pockets of her work shirt.

Her hair was longer now, her bangs more grown out and the ends of her hair now touched her shoulders. She looked healthier, a bit happier after just these past few months. That twinkle in her eyes was back, it may still be a bit dulled, but it was shining again. That’s all that mattered.

You on the other hand. Your hair was disheveled most days or just thrown into a pony or low bun to tame the rat's nest. Your clothes were rumpled and mismatched, but not in your usual way, more in a ‘throwing on the first piece of clothing that you grabbed off the floor because you couldn’t bother putting in effort’ way. Your skin was growing ghostly white from not going outside unless needed, like school, or walking into the woods so you could smoke freely. The bags under your eyes were growing and the dark circles were starting to look like someone punched your eyes in a fight. You’ve probably lost some weight, your appetite comes and goes, sometimes you could eat three meals a day, or sometimes you would just eat breakfast and just chug water the rest of the day.

Joyce removed a hand from a pocket and gently tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear. Anytime she did the action you felt like a child like you were pulled back in time. It felt like she was protecting you from the outside world, wanting to keep you safe and wrapped tightly in bubble wrap. Like she wasn’t witnessing her daughter slowly destroy her body and mind because of something horrific that no one should ever experience. Like you weren’t staring into the eyes of the woman who birthed and raised you with such hollow emotions tucked behind your corneas.

No, the simple motion of the hair being tucked behind your ear brought dreams and childhood innocents.

“Honey, I just want to make sure that you’re okay. I don’t want to push you to do something that you don’t feel comfortable with, but I just want to see you happy. That’s all a mother could ask of her children after all.”

You felt yourself getting choked up, “I know mom,” you whispered.

The both of you are just gazing at each other with tears growing, but not yet falling over. It felt like a switch of who was taking care of who, when Will was missing it was you and Jonathan worried over Joyce and watching as she was slipping. But now you were slowly losing a hold on yourself and Joyce was trying to show that she was here for you. You know Jonathan and Will would also be there for you, but you tried to keep this side of yourself hidden from them, you don’t want them to worry about you.

“You know, you’re the best mom anyone could ask for,” you sniffled.

Joyce gave a slight chuckle at that, “coming from you, that’s the best compliment I could ever hear.”

The both of you just shared in choked giggles until the bell from above the door signaled a customer. You hopped off the counter and stared over the top of the small aisles to try and see who entered the store. With a quick look outside the windows, you were able to see the beige Hawkins Police truck before you saw the mystery person.

“Hi Hopper,” Joyce exclaimed.

You turned in the direction that Joyce was looking and saw as Hopper walked closer to the counter the both of you have been at for the past hour and a half. He held his hat in his hands and gave both of you a welcoming smile, “Hello Byers.”

“Everything good at the station Hopper?” you asked, making polite conversation.

“You know Hawkins, pretty quiet.”

“Right.”

You all knew that wasn’t true, but at least you weren’t the only one choosing to be a little delusional about everything.

Hopper hit your arm with his hat in a playful gesture and grinned at you, “actually I have something that you might like back.”

Your eyes widened and you stood a bit taller. You completely forgot about the rifle. Nancy took Lonnie’s revolver for herself and you had other stuff clouding your mind that you just forgot the rifle you took from the shed. Not like you planned on going hunting or whatever, but at least with the rifle back home you knew there was some protection for the four of you.

“I checked your house to see if anyone was home to take it, but all of you are out.”

“Well, I was planning to head home soon, if you give me a ride I’ll take it.”

Hopper looked from you to Joyce behind you and gave her a ‘is that okay?’ look. You turned to see what her response would be, well you already knew, “yeah, that’s fine. I don’t want her riding out too late anyway.”

Hopper nodded his head. You looked between the two adults and noticed the looks they shared, mostly Hopper’s gaze. It peeked a bit of curiosity inside of you, but you weren’t one to meddle in other people’s business.

“How’s Will doing?” Hopper spoke after a cough.

“Um, he’s- he’s okay. He seems like he’s getting back to his normal self,” Joyce supplied.

You wanted to interject and say something, like how sometimes you could hear Will’s cries through the walls late at night when you couldn’t sleep and no one else should be awake. Or how sometimes the two of you run into each other in the kitchen and the both of you would just eat cereal at the table together. Sometimes when you couldn’t sleep you would go outside in the backyard and lay down on the grass and just stare at the stars, and sometimes Will would end up joining you. You two had each other in the dead of night when everyone else had peaceful dreams, the two of you had nightmares that sunk into your skin making it hard to fall back asleep.

“(Y/n), honey, are you ready to leave?”

You blinked a few times and realized you zoned off for a moment as Joyce and Hopper continued their conversation. You turned to Joyce and her expression was blinking like a sign showing that she was worried about you. You then make a glance at Hopper and he looked just as concerned.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll see you later mom.”

“See ya, honey.”

…

You and Hopper drove in silence for a while. Neither of you not knowing what type of topic of conversation the other would be interested in. The radio was playing some AC/DC song, something as background noise. Hopper had the windows done just a crack allowing for the cool late winter air into the truck, it felt refreshing.

You noticed the way that Hopper was tapping his fingers against the wheel, either in rhythm with the song or just a mindless motion, you didn’t know. He was rubbing his free hand across his facial hair and then went back to rest it against the windowsill. While you sat in your seat you were twiddling with your fingers in your lap and looking out the window, watching as the trees and buildings whizzed past the moving vehicle.

“Hey, um…I know I probably sound like a broken record, but, are you okay? You’ve just seemed a bit out of it lately.”

You look away from the moving scenery and over to Hopper. He took a glance your way when you didn’t say anything right away and you noted the way his brows furrowed just a little in the middle and the concern pooling in his warm eyes. You were debating in your head if you should tell the truth. When people have been asking if you’re okay, you mostly just say “I’m fine” and they would just accept the answer. But you weren’t fine, and you did want to talk to someone about it, but you didn’t want to add any extra concern to anyone, and it’s not like you can go to a therapist.

You let out a sigh and looked to Hopper’s side profile, “if I tell you, can you not tell my mom?”

You noticed the way Hopper’s mouth opened a bit like he was gonna say something before the thoughts formed, “ah…Why- why would you not want me to tell your mom?”

“Well, she’s already worried about Will, and she does notice that I’m a little different now, but I don’t want her to know the extent of it.”

It was silent, you allowed Hopper to think about what you said. You want to talk about this stuff with someone you trust, someone who won’t judge you. You know your family wouldn’t judge you for anything, you and Steve were still getting used to your new friendship, you and Nancy were friendly but…eh, and it’s not like you could dump this stuff on the kids. Hopper was the only adult other than Joyce that you trusted.

When the truck pulled up to the house and Hopper shut the engine off, you turned to him. He was rubbing his facial hair again and then turned his attention to your waiting gaze.

“Let’s talk in the house.”

You felt a tiny smile on your lips.

The both of you slammed the doors close and Hopper grabbed the rifle from his trunk. With your keys, you unlocked the door and walked to the kitchen. You started to pull out stuff to make a sandwich and grabbed a coke from the fridge.

“You want anything to eat, I could make a sandwich or something?”

You called out to Hopper who was still in the living room. You didn’t hear a verbal response so you looked up and saw as he walked into the kitchen and just sat at the little table.

“I’m fine, (Y/n).”

You just nodded and when you finished making your sandwich you put everything back and sat in the seat across from Hopper. The air was slowly building in tension, the tension mostly coming from you because you were suddenly deciding if this was a bad idea.

Hopper speaking broke through your loud decision-making thoughts, “what’s going on (Y/n)?”

You kept your head down and just stared at the sandwich you made and tapped your nails on the plate or the table. Running your teeth along your bottom lip you looked at Hopper, he was leaning forward and had his arms on the table with his hands clasped together. His hat was also off, it allowed for you to stare freely at his face.

“Well, I-I…you know how me, Jonathan, and Nancy along with Steve went up against the Demogorgon?”

“I do, also I remember telling you and Jonathan not to do that.”

You just gave a cheeky smile at the comment, “well you can thank Nancy for bringing the idea back.”

“Anyway, so I’ve been having these nightmares, and this was before the attack. I had one the night we went looking for the monster the first time.”

“The first time?” Hopper questioned.

“Yeah, we went into the woods. I know it probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but we’re dumb kids.”

Hopper breathed a laugh at the statement. It made you smile for a moment.

“So these nightmares, how bad are they?” Hopper asked after a few seconds.

“Umm, on a scale of 1-10 I would say that they sit around 10 for 10.”

Hopper gave a solemn nodding at your answer.

You continued to just stare at the sandwich, you don’t even know why you made it, you had no appetite while talking about this. You just huffed a sigh out through your nose.

“Do…Do you want to talk about what happens? In your dre-nightmares.”

You were hesitant, but after a few seconds, you gave a timid nod to Hopper. He didn’t say anything or move closer to you, he let you take your time in formulating your thoughts and kept a good distance so you didn’t feel suffocated.

“It’s kinda always the same format, someone else and I are running away from the monster, and then it would get to them first. It was like it was taunting me, enjoying that I was witnessing it rip this person to shreds and I would just freeze from fear and stare as the life drained from their eyes. And then when it was satisfied it would drop their body onto the floor and stalk towards me as I was shaking and coward against the wall or in a corner. It would lean in close with its flowered face and open allowing for me to stare at the rows of teeth within and then it would get me, but that’s when I wake up. And I’m a cold sweat and shaking when I wake up and I wouldn’t be able to go back to bed. I would be up until my body just collapses from exhaustion.”

The tension in the air you felt earlier dissipated and all you felt now was a form of exhaustion but it wasn’t in the air or from Hopper, it was you. Just talking about them made your body feel like it was running laps without stopping until your legs just gave out. You heard the creaking of the chair and looked at Hopper who now moved to the seat next to you instead of across from you.

“Do you take any sleeping pills to try and sleep?”

‘Weed’ you answered in your head, “yea, they worked for a little, but it still wouldn’t help,” you half lied out loud.

“If you could, well want really, could you tell me who is usually running with you?”

You hesitated a bit in this part. Yeah, it would be fine if you said Joyce or Jonathan, but mentioning Steve or Hopper, to Hopper, you weren’t sure if it would be weird for him. You don’t know how Hopper would feel if you just said ‘hey sometimes I dream that you get eaten by a monster and I can’t do anything but watch’ you don’t want to scare him off, but he asked and you need to talk.

“Sometimes it’s Jonathan, especially how I remember the scene that played out in the house. Where it pinned him down and stood over him, drooling like he was dinner. Other times it’s Joyce, but not often luckily. Um, for this next one could you not mention it to anyone, like at all?”

Hopper looked a bit worried and confused but nodded his head.

“Sometimes- Sometimes the person I’m with is Steve. And as we’re running he’s always protecting me and that’s how he got killed and I can’t even do anything.”

“Harrington? Why- Are you two close or something?”

“It's a- It's a new development you could say,” you muttered.

“Is there anyone else in these scenarios? You seem a bit hesitant.”

You turned your gaze on Hopper and tried to see if this silent answering of just your eyes could answer his question. It seemed he understood, but not exactly, so you cleared your throat and said, “actually the only other person in these scenarios is…its-its you, Hopper. I sometimes watch you get ripped apart before my eyes.”

Hopper looked taken aback by this information you laid out for him. You just told Chief Hopper, a man who you didn’t converse with before this crazy government stuff, that sometimes you watch him get killed. Maybe your subconscious was trying to say something, maybe you were starting to latch onto Hopper because he was the only older male figure in your life at the moment. A.K.A, daddy issues.

“Hey,” Hopper quietly said, he tapped your hand on the table to draw your attention.

You kept your head tilted low so you looked up a bit with your brows raising. You were gnawing on your bottom lip anxiously because you weren’t sure what he was going to say. You weren’t trying to overstep any boundaries, you didn’t want Hopper to stop checking in with your family because of your disturbing nightmares.

“These are just nightmares, dreams. They aren’t real.”

Real, it felt weird, but you had to mention this detail, “Hopper, I know this sounds crazy, but sometimes when I do have dreams they manifest in some way or another. When I first dreamt of being chased by the Demogorgon I pictured it with the flowering head and rows of teeth, I didn’t even know what it looked like, Nancy didn’t even describe it to me. And another dream, Steve was in it and he was giving me a gift, a piece of jewelry, and for Christmas, he said a similar line from the dream and gave me a ring. It’s not like I think I’m psychic or whatever, but with these dreams or nightmares, I get worried that they’ll come true somehow.”

Your body started to lightly tremble and your vision was blurring around the edges, the tears were coming. Distracted by your anxious state you didn’t pay attention to Hopper and his actions. All you felt was the slight shift in the air from his movement, heard the chair move and his feet taking steps. Then you felt his hands on your upper arms moving you into a standing position, and then he pulled you into a hug. It took you by surprise for a moment, but then your arms moved into action and you wrapped them around Hopper’s waist, and just lightly, barely anything, you clenched some of his uniform into your fingers and held on.

One hand moved to the back of your head to keep you pressed against his chest and the other was resting high on your back and was moving between your shoulder blades in a comforting motion. You felt the hard pressure of his chin soon resting on the crown of your head. The tears kept slipping from your closed eyes, but it wasn’t because of your nightmares. No, it was because, for the first time, you felt like you had a father. The only time Lonnie ever touched you was to give you an undeserving beating, whether it was because of a stupid accident or cause he was drunk, he never even gave you even one hug you could remember.

Hopper, a man who mostly kept to himself, a man who somehow became a welcoming presence in your life, and a man who could have just ignored your paranoid and tired behavior. Hopper was someone who was comforting you because he knew you trusted him and just needed someone to listen and just be there for you.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

He whispered these kind reassurances into your hair and with each one spoken, you lessened in your shaking and your tears were drying. Soon when all you had was tear streaks and a few hiccups escaping from your mouth you loosened in the holding of Hopper’s arms. He moved his hands back to your upper arms and leaned back to look you in the face.

“Thanks, Hopper, I really needed that.”

He gave you a reassuring smile and rubbed his thumbs over your clothed arms, “anytime kid.”

“I’m here for you whenever you need me.”

-------------

taglist: @heartyhope / @preciousbabypeter / @dessmxsworld / @piper3113 / @animiacorn / @burn1ngw00d / @drxwstxrkxy / @m-rae23 / @noisyeggsmoneystatesman / @yournan69 / @thats-s0-ravenn / @ameliabs-world / @mayonesavegana / @gracella0709 / @gengen64 / @alecmores / @choclate32 / @stvrdustalexx

#The Byers Harrington Story #stranger things reader insert #stranger things self inster #reader insert #strangers things byers!reader

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jamietxrtt · 3 months

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🌹🌹🌹🌹

eeee thank u!!

Letting his head tilt back on the headrest, he watches the empty field splayed out in front of him, adjacent to this parking lot. Ted knew smalltown life well, once-- when he was 18, just on the cusp of graduating from high school, his grandmother had gotten sick. She was a sturdy, tiny old lady, who Ted always referred to simply as Maw.

She was his father’s mother. She never quite recovered from her eldest son’s death. Despite the fact that she had other biological children still living, it somehow ended up being Ted and his mom who came and took care of her in her last months of life. He still doesn’t know how that happened.

Anyway. She lived in a little house on the river, way out in the middle of nowhere, jacked up on stilts in case of flooding. Ted and his mom moved out there for a few months, the summer after Ted graduated from high school, to be with her, take care of her. The closest town was a ten minute drive away, but it was a tiny, tiny little thing, basically just two gas stations and a diner threaded together by one main road.

This town is slightly larger than that, mostly by virtue of being a tourist trap, but not by much. Ted knew smalltown life well once, but not anymore. He hasn’t seriously stayed anywhere with a population density under a thousand people per square mile in… what, twenty years? It’s unsettling, in a strange way, to be in such a sleepy town again-- main street butting right up next to miles and miles of empty fields. It makes him think about Maw’s house, the scent of mothballs and the sound of her coughing.

Ted didn’t cry when she died. He barely knew her, really. He was sad to witness death, of course, but he mostly just wanted to get out of that house.

On her deathbed, she lost control of her own reality, and insisted on calling Ted by his father’s name. He still remembers the first time she did it; gripped him hard by the arm, her blue eyes unfocused and shining, stared into his soul and said: “Tommy. God, you look so young. Tommy, Tommy.”

Ted looked to his mom, silently asking the question-- What do I do? But his mom didn’t know either. She looked right back at him, equally at a loss.

So Ted turned to Maw and said, “Yeah. Hi, mom. It’s me.”

send me a rose or a word to get a snippet from my wip!!

#THANK U FOR ASKING!!!#ted angst so much ted angst everywhere #this man is literally suffering in this fic lol #snip snip

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bonesandthebees · 4 months

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[“Even if you think it wasn’t worth it, I like it a lot.”] This is the bit I was actually looking for. Because Tomys expects to get scolded by Wilbur. We know he thinks it’s funny when he gets a rise out of him, but Wilbur does the opposite. He drops the subject. And that takes Tomys by surprise because he always gets scolded by the adults. And while Wilbur is annoyed, he makes the active decision to let it go.

Side note: it wasn’t the shells, it was the statues.

As a result he gains a lot of ground with Tomys. It even throws him off. And he doesn’t really recover all that well with the half-hearted bitch. Wilbur has no idea that he’s doing it, but he’s gaining so much trust by holding back and not doing what Tomys expects him to do.

Then there’s the little girl. And now I have many questions about how Tomys met Tobyn. Anyway, he’s probably seen street kids at his hometown. I was expecting one of them to offer to pay, but I wasn’t sure which on. Once again Wilbur shows a disconnect to the people because he grew up in the place. Tomys, meanwhile, is a ball of empathy.

And this section is interesting because it shows what Tomys is capable of when he tries (which is why I think he kinda wants to be sent home). He can get that respect when he wants it, which is what will shift Wilbur mentality about him because the illusion of he’s just a dumb kid, has been shattered.

Then there’s Wilbur actively pushing Tomys about paying for the pastries to see how his brain works. This says a lot about Wilbur and how he’s been trained / raised. Tomys has no idea he does it and probably just thinks that Wilbur js a bit of a rich prick. (Also, we get the trust/naïveté vs paranoia/distrust again with to debate about why the kid might have stolen “is she actually hungry or did she just want something nice to eat once” you entitlement is showing Wilbur).

Lastly, [“You’re a good person,” Wilbur told him quietly. “That’s what I’m surprised about.”] This line hits. For a kid like Tomys, who probably gets scolded and told off so much, it really hits. It’s such high praise, which is the way to control them both since both are probably deprived off it. It also tells the boy that Wilbur doesn’t actually care, he was just testing him. And once again, it’s probably something he’s been scolded for before, but Wilbur just lets it pass. He just lets him be himself. He’s forming a safe place (from Tomys pov) without realising it.

And the second half of the chapter will be for tomorrow me, because I have too many words and not enough time.

Good morning/night everyone!!!

(3/3)

-🌲

yup :) tommy was prepared to argue and stand his ground and say that he liked it. he's not afraid of being scolded, but he was expecting it. so when wilbur doesn't bother he's surprised. and while in wilbur's mind he only let it go to try and avoid causing any rifts between them, in tommy's head it seems like wilbur let it go because he understood that tommy liked it and that it was his decision to buy it. in tommy's head, he feels like wilbur sees him as an equal instead of a stupid kid. that is... not really the case on wilbur's side but it's great for crimeboys development!

while there are definitely street kids in Valbroek, Pandorinne is the capital and has a much bigger population and as a result it has much more wealth inequality. so while tommy has definitely seen situations like the little girl before, he's already seen a lot more beggars here in Pandorinne than he's ever seen in Valbroek so that makes him want to help even more. which in turns leads to him actually acting mature and commanding respect for the first time, because when he takes things seriously he can actually do that. wilbur just didn't realize what it took to get tommy to take something seriously.

wilbur's entitlement was showing soooo hard there, but also it's meant to show phil's teachings. again, wilbur has been taught not to trust others and to always second guess people's intentions. tommy has not. therein lies a huge difference between them. and in a way, it creates a balance. wilbur is too suspicious, tommy is too trusting. if they work together, they have the potential to balance each other out.

wilbur was more saying the "you're a good person thing" to himself as a reflective thing, not even thinking about how tommy would take it. but yes, it IS high praise to tommy. he's genuinely surprised to be told that because most adults in his life would tell him off for wasting money like that. wilbur doesn't. wilbur, while pointing out the flaws in his decision, ultimately praises him for his choice. like you said, he's creating a safe space between the two of them without even realizing it.

#ask #spruce anon #rose ch 5

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hb-writes · 2 years

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Remember Before?

Summary: It’s 1921 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. Clara is whisked away to London for the weekend to stay with Ada and Freddie while Tommy deals with one of Arthur's unpredictable moods. Unbeknownst to the rest of the family, Clara had witnessed the altercation between Tommy and Arthur that had prompted Tommy to send his sister away. With a bit of time and space set between Clara and what she's seen (and with Ada's prompting) Clara starts to confide in her sister only to realize that perhaps it's better to keep some things to herself. Better for the rest of them, at least.

Request (anon): Parental prompt number 34, please. I will leave it open to you but maybe something with Ada/Polly and Clara :)

Characters: Ada Shelby (Thorne) and Clara Shelby

Content Warnings: Angst, Lots of talk about Arthur and Tommy, Mental Health Issues, Family Dynamics.

Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer to read over there. Tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist

—

Ada chewed on her lip as she studied her younger sister across the room. Clara was quite clearly lost in thought, and painfully so. Not a bit of her appeared to be present to either space or time.

“Darling, is something wrong?” Ada asked, her curiosity and concern finally winning out after a quarter hour of near-constant observation.

It was a bit of a rhetorical question seeing as Ada already knew that something was wrong. She even had a feeling of exactly what it might be—Tommy and Polly had told her that Arthur was having one of his moods.

The weekend visit with Ada and Freddie—something Clara often had to bag after—had been presented to the girl as a lucky coincidence. Tommy had a convenient bit of business to address in London on Saturday morning and Ada had already been planning a day trip to Birmingham the following Tuesday so Karl could see his cousins.

Clara hadn't questioned the particulars when Tommy said he would bring her down on Saturday to stay for the weekend. Well, she had not questioned it aloud, anyway, but Ada could sense that her sister had been acting different. She had been toying with something in her mind for the whole visit.

She hadn't given Ada and Freddie any trouble, but the truth was she hadn't given them much of anything at all. She'd played with Karl, but Clara hadn't wanted to go out for any walks. She hadn't wanted to play any of the usual card games Freddie indulged her with. In fact, Freddie had barely been able to draw a smile from Clara's lips.

And though Clara had been insistent that she wanted to do some reading, Ada was nearly certain that the page of Clara’s book hadn’t shifted since she sat down. She’d done far more staring out the window and observing the carpets than she had read. Whatever was so interesting at the end of Clara's gaze, Ada couldn’t seem to locate it herself.

Clara wasn’t necessarily disturbing her sister by acting this way. She was quiet and considerate, but the clear distraction had succeeded in distracting Ada from her own work. The pile of overdue correspondence she’d hoped to get through while Karl was upstairs napping and Freddie was out running errands had gone completely untouched.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” Ada said, the words coming out nearly as a complaint.

Clara remained that way—silent, and unresponsive to her sister’s observation.

Ada pushed her chair back from the small table, allowing the feet of her chair to groan as they slid across the floor. Ada flinched as it sounded through the quiet of the flat, but Clara showed no indication of hearing it.

Thankfully, Karl hadn’t seemed to hear it from down the hall, either. He was likely too tired, seeing as he had been playing with Clara all morning and still recovering for the bug he'd caught.

Ada sighed as she smoothed her skirts and tried again. “It’s time for some tea, I think. Shall I fetch the biscuits as well?”

Ada’s words elicited no response from her sister—no proper recognition or acknowledgement that Ada had even spoken—just the idle movement of Clara's finger across the edges of her book—back and forth, back and forth.

Ada’s frustration won out.

“Clara!” Ada hissed.

Clara’s eyes snapped to her sister. She was startled by Ada’s standing so close—just a few steps away with her hands on her hips. Clara could’ve sworn her sister was still sitting at the table sorting her mail.

“Did you hear me?”

Clara tried to remember if she'd heard Ada say anything, but as Ada had suspected, Clara had been lost in thought. Her body was in London, sat in the small room Ada and Freddie had outfitted as a sitting room, but her mind was in Birmingham, vacillating between her memories of the past few days and what she suspected was happening at the present. Clara stared back at Ada with wide, vacant eyes. If her sister had been talking to her, Clara realized she hadn’t heard a thing.

Ada shook her head. “I said it’s time for tea. Would you like biscuits or—?”

“Whatever you think is best,” Clara cut Ada off before she could offer anything else. Clara didn’t care and she couldn’t bear making a decision.

Ordinarily, Ada would have relished in Clara relinquishing control over the dominion of sweets at tea time, but just now Ada was left feeling rather concerned by such a statement coming from her younger sister. They'd bought biscuits and cake specifically because Clara had been sent their way. Even though Tommy had made it out like Clara didn’t know why she was out Birmingham, Ada had had a sneaking suspicion that her sister knew more than she let on. Clara often did.

And it wasn’t like Tommy to forget that about Clara, but Ada supposed he was concerning himself with other things—other siblings. He didn’t have the time or space to be worried about Clara, especially when she wasn’t causing trouble or raising any real concerns herself. Maybe that was another reason why he sent her to Ada, to do the sisterly sifting and soothing via offering sweets and fun and distraction, but Clara wasn’t making it easy to reassure her since she wasn't actually voicing any concerns.

Ada supposed her sister usually didn’t. It was rarely that easy. Clara was a Shelby after all, and surely that meant things couldn’t just be simple. But Ada still held a bit of hope that there was a simple explanation for Clara’s disposition—something she wouldn’t have to drag and scrape out of the girl in the painful way typically required when Clara had something troubling on her mind, clinging to her secrets as if voicing them were to mean certain death.

“Clara, sweetheart,” Ada said, shifting her weight and crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you ill? Perhaps you’ve caught Karl’s sickness?”

The boy had been laid up for the better part of a week. He was on the mend now—he’d certainly been happy and well enough to demand his aunt play with him at every available moment since her arrival, but just a few days ago, he’d been in the throes of a delirious fever, all confusion and fatigue and flushed cheeks. Ada closed the distance between her and Clara, pressing her hand to Clara’s forehead and feeling for a fever. There was no difference between Clara’s skin and Ada’s own.

“I’m fine, Ada.” Clara pushed her sister’s hand away.

“You’re not,” Ada answered. “What is it spinning around that head of yours?”

Clara took a breath, the swell of it lifting her chest and shoulders before she sighed, all of her seeming to deflate as the air left her. She pressed her bookmark between the unread pages before closing the book and setting it aside. Her hand lingered on the cover, almost as if she was regretting putting it away. Clara closed her eyes as she spoke, somehow not seeing Ada's face making it a bit easier to get out.

“Remember how it used to be?” she said. “How Arthur was…before the war? Remember before all the—” Clara stopped herself from describing it. The drink. The drugs. The fighting. There was more. She knew there was more even if she didn't know all of the particulars, and was purposely kept from knowing them. But even for the bits she did know, Clara found that she didn’t want to say the words. She couldn’t. “Well, just back when he used to be happy and…”

Clara stopped herself again. She stopped herself before she revealed too much. Clara could sense she was on the verge of saying something about Arthur that she would never be able to take back, something she wasn't even certain of herself. She just knew that something between her and Arthur had changed. Some part of her opinion and feeling toward him had changed, some nervousness had started creeping up in Clara that she couldn't quite explain, or at least, Clara didn't think she wanted to explain it. She didn’t even think she could explain it without telling on herself.

Explaining why she felt something different would mean explaining what she'd seen and how she'd seen it. It would mean explaining that she'd seen Arthur and Tommy fighting. It would mean explaining why she had been out on the roof in the early hours of the morning. It would mean explaining why she'd kept it to herself all these days.

It wasn't as if she'd never seen her brothers yell and fight, but she'd never seen it quite so intense between Arthur and Tommy. She’d never seen Arthur so uncontrollable and yet so determined to hurt himself and then Tommy. She’d never seen it like that. In the end, Tommy had been able to subdue Arthur, to calm him, but Clara had been scared as she watched, holding her breath as Tommy struggled with Arthur's hands around his throat, all of the struggle a bit hard to see clearly in the hazy light of the back courtyard.

Even though, Clara hadn't technically done anything wrong, she hadn’t told anyone what she’d seen.

That night, she’d stayed quiet and still on the roof, making sure her brother's didn't sense her presence and climbing back through her window only when Tommy had succeeded in calming Arthur and guiding him back towards his own home. Clara had pretended to be asleep by the time Tommy was back and she hadn’t said a word about it since, holding it all on her own. Part of it was Clara was scared by what she’d seen. Part of her was scared of what she figured was happening now. And part of her was scared of the trouble she’d be in if anyone knew she had been out of the house at that time of night, spying on her brothers of all things. She was scared about that growing nervousness she felt towards Arthur, too—questioning what he was capable of and even more so what he wasn’t capable of controlling in himself. That all scared Clara more than anything—the sudden sense of doubt and fear toward someone who she usually thought of with a certain sense of comfort in mind.

Ada sighed as Clara’s words drifted away. She sighed. Ada held a bit of anguish in her heart for the state of things with Arthur, of course, but Ada felt more so for the sister sitting in front of her now.

“ Oh, love.”

Clara had learned so much in such a short amount of time. She was clever and observant, but she was still caught somewhere between knowing and understanding and accepting. Ada felt herself a bit more mature than Clara in that area, an assumption made based on the fact that she was over ten years Clara's senior. It was just the sort of misguided assumption adults tended to make in order to preserve their sense of safety and surety in the world.

Ada didn’t know what else there really was to say. Arthur had been prone to his moods and the drinking and the fighting and the drugs for long before Clara was born. He’d been just as messed up before the war, even back when they were kids, but Clara had been spared much of that knowledge and proof of that for years. She and Finn both had been distanced from it, distracted and shielded from the worst of it by Tommy and Polly and John—and even Ada’s—intervention.

Tommy was still doing it even now. It was why he’d left Clara in London—to shield her and distract her while he got to the business of bringing Arthur back to himself…or away from himself. Ada wasn’t rightly sure which it was.

Ada had been distanced from it, too, by virtue of being in London while Arthur was still in Birmingham and by holding the assumption that the issue wasn't too serious. Tommy would handle it. And she hated that part of herself was happy for someone else to have that responsibility. Ada loved each of her brothers, she truly did. Growing up, Arthur had always made her laugh and smile. He’d been protective without being so intense as Tommy could be. But in other ways, Arthur had been more intense than any of them. Arthur had it in him to be far scarier than any of them because he could be unpredictable. Relationships with Arthur could be volatile. He could be sweet and gentle—that was the Arthur Ada wanted to believe was the true Arthur—but he could be rather difficult, too.

And because of that, Ada was happy to be in London. She was happy to leave the fine managing of Arthur to Tommy. Because that was what it was—managing. Arthur was a grown man, the eldest brother, but he couldn’t always manage himself. Or at least, it didn’t seem he could without reaching for a bottle or a vial. Maybe that piece was the impact of the war—the desperate way that men seemed to need those things in order to get through.

Arthur had always had a touch of trouble, though, and even before the war, he’d been inclined to the bottle.

Clara just hadn’t been privy to it for most of her life. Ada was quite certain that her sister was still only barely privy to it now, but Clara had seen more than Ada knew. She was observant and even if she didn’t quite understand it all, Clara understood enough.

“Whatever Arthur's going through, it'll be alright," Ada said. "Tommy has it handled."

It was a well-worn explanation, something Ada said almost as a reflex, the family myth that they all clung to as if it kept them all living and breathing—as if Tommy’s influence kept them all that way, kept them safe.

Clara wanted to believe it. She wanted to trust that Tommy could right things as he’d done the morning after Arthur drank himself into unconsciousness or the time they bought the Garrison to bring Arthur out of Flanders Blues. Somehow, Tommy had always managed to pull Arthur through.

The entire family seemed so sure that Tommy could and would take care of it all. They waved each concern off with surprising casualness. “Tommy will take care of it,” they always said, but Tommy was only a man. He was only their brother. And that seemed even more true now Clara had seen how Arthur could be. She’d seen him nearly hurt Tommy in their struggle out in the back courtyard.

Clara knew now that Arthur's highs were as bad as the lows. She knew the violence could be quick as a switch. He could turn it either in or out. It was destructive either way.

“Polly said he reminds her of our father sometimes,” Clara offered, setting her fears by someone else’s words. It felt safer that way.

“But our Arthur’s got a softer heart,” she added.

Ada stiffened at the mention of their father. “Polly shouldn’t be saying anything of the sort.”

Clara was used to being shut down that way when it came to the taboo subjects—anything that made the rest of them uncomfortable or nervous. There was always a quick, almost casual reminder that Tommy would take care of it and some sort of admonishment for whoever had dared to speak about something with Clara. Clara understood the script well enough by now. She also knew when she could push.

“Is it true?” she asked.

Polly had closed the conversation when Clara asked what her aunt had meant that Arthur was like their father. She’d been given no more detail and sent away. She’d been told not to worry about it and Clara had the distinct feeling that Polly regretted her words, almost as if her aunt had forgotten who she was talking to when she said it.

Clara pressed again when Ada remained quiet. “Is Arthur like—”

“I don’t know, Clara,” Ada snapped, her words somehow sharp and thoroughly tired at the same time.

Ada didn’t know much about their father and the ways he was, not really. She’d known about Arthur’s edges—the rough and the smooth one. Ada had been with Arthur for her most of life, but Ada didn’t know her father’s edges. She didn’t know her father much at all. He hadn’t been around often and when he had been, there had always been a brother there ensuring she kept a distance, shielding her and getting her out of the way. Ada barely knew her father any more than the twins did and her mind associated her father’s visits more with strategic games of hide and seek, and walks along the Cut with her brothers than anything to do with the actual man.

“Maybe,” Ada offered, “But Arthur’s got us and he…” Ada searched for the words she wanted to be true even if there was something—fear, maybe, or just plain uncertainty—nudging her to suggest otherwise. “Arthur is…he’s…Arthur’s different,” Ada said more firmly as she sought out the memories that were easier, the ones that reminded Ada of all the ways Arthur was different from their father—memories of the times he’d made her laugh, memories of how he was with the kids. “Remember when he…”

Clara nodded, staring just above Ada’s shoulder as her sister spoke, her focus on something out the window rather than whatever her sister was saying. Clara remembered the moment Ada was recalling, but she tuned out most of her sister’s words. Only minutes ago, Clara had been ready to share her fears with her sister. She had wanted Ada’s understanding and comfort, but Clara had an alternative strategy now, something she remembered using before, though it hadn't been as deliberate of a decision those other times.

Clara was only thirteen, but she was already considering the merit of keeping things to herself, of agreeing even when she thought someone wasn’t entirely correct, of keeping her pain close in order to spare her loved ones more hurt. Clara decided right then that she was correct to not confide in her sister, just as she’d been right in keeping her thoughts from Tommy and Polly, too. Somewhere in Clara’s mind, it clicked that her true feelings weren’t something any of them were really interested in. Her questions and concerns weren’t congruent with ideas they all had clung to for so long. The platitudes that soothed them, didn't soothe Clara, but she sensed that no good would come from pointing that out. It was easier to simply follow their lead. It was easier to bury her doubts.

As Ada continued reminiscing, some part of Clara's relationship with her sister closed off a bit. She smiled and nodded along with her sister’s soft recollections, but Clara wasn't fully present to Ada. She couldn't be. She was boxing away her concerns, trying to seal the stubborn package away by shrouding it with the thoughts the others seemed to find comforting—Tommy will fix it.

She forced herself to ignore the voice that seemed to ask 'but who will fix Tommy?'

“Ada?” Clara asked, immediately stilling her sister’s meandering words. “Remember what I said before?”

Ada swallowed at her sister’s interruption, the apprehension clear in her features as she tried to determine which part of the conversation they would be revisiting. The tension lingered for mere seconds before Clara confirmed Ada had nothing to fear. Clara wasn’t interested in talking any more about Arthur or their father or what Tommy was capable of fixing.

Clara had simply changed her mind about the biscuits. Ada let out a soft snort as she smiled at Clara. She was more than happy to oblige her sister in revisiting that particular request. Ada was soothed by it even. Clara smiling and wanting biscuits fit a certain script. It helped Ada believe that all she’d said to soothe Clara's woes had worked. It helped her believe it was true.

Arthur was different.

Tommy would fix it.

And through a combination of biscuits and sisterly connection, Clara would be fixed, too.

Ada wasn't right. Nothing had been fixed, but Clara had already decided that her sister needed the comfort of the myth more than Clara needed the comfort of sharing the truth.

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

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#peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #ada shelby #ada thorne #ada & clara #shelby!sister #shelby sister #clara shelby #little lady blinder #raise a glass to llb #i hurt my own feelings writing this one

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if-loki-was-a-fox · 10 months

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Here's some Exile AU Peer Pressure Duo rambling bc I haven't said any of this on Tumblr yet — CW for references to abuse, manipulation, trauma, and general unhealthy relationship and Exile Arc stuff

(as always, thank you to @proudfreakmetarusonniku for helping me come up with this AU and a lot of this stuff specifically)

So when exile!Dream discovers exile!Tommy's attempt to hide stuff from him and blows up Logstedshire, he also chops of exile!Ranboo's tail to make the punishment even greater.

e!Tommy, finally realizing that e!Dream isn't their friend (something e!Ranboo still doesn't realize btw) and being unable to properly take care of e!Ranboo's injuries, tells e!Ranboo to run and find e!Techno's cabin, hoping that e!Techno will take care of e!Ranboo and e!Dream won't care enough about losing only on of them to go after e!Ranboo.

So e!Ranboo is badly injured and just generally not doing great after ages in exile, losing their tail, and then running through the tundra in old tattered cloths, so after they pass out on e!Techno's porch they're unconscious/barley conscious for days while e!Techno (and probably e!Phil too) nurse them back to health.

e!Ranboo has no real memories of L'Manburg and hasn't for a while at this point, and by the time they recover from their injuries they don't remember a whole lot about Exile either (esp not with how traumatic the whole thing was). They do however, still have a lot of conditioning left over and a very messed up view on what friendship looks like thanks to what e!Dream taught them. (e!Ranboo absolutely starts trying to figure out what e!Techno wants and likes and doing that and only that to avoid punishment as soon as they wake up, given that they think that's just how relationships work)

So in canon DSMP c!Ranboo has a tendency to use gifts as their main friendship gesture (see, giving c!Timmy alliums, giving c!EmDuo gifts their first or second day in the tundra, and giving c!Techno the ax). This is exacerbated with exile!Ranboo.

For as long as e!Ranboo can remember, one of his two best friends would come by every couple days and take all the stuff he made in the meantime. As such, e!Ranboo thinks they don't deserve to own things and that it's a normal give up all their stuff to e!Techno, the actual owner of all their things. e!Ranboo basically repeats the "put your items in the hole" by giving e!Techno their stuff frequently and getting anxious when they have stuff for too long, something e!Techno doesn't initially pick up on and recognize as abnormal or a trauma thing (he's just overwhelmed by the excessive "affection" and unsure how to emotionally process it).

(One day, e!Techno makes a comment on this behavior and e!Ranboo reacts badly thinking they did something wrong, which is when e!Techno finally realizes that this is Not Normal.)

Also, an important context on e!Techno's part: e!Techno is initially very oblivious to e!Ranboo's trauma, but even as he starts to slowly uncover stuff about e!Ranboo's trauma and abuse, he assumes it comes from L'Manburg, given that L'Manburg is, in his eyes, the Corrupt Evil Government that exiled e!Ranboo and e!Tommy (innocent kids) and tried to execute e!Techno in front of e!Philza. On top of that, what little e!Ranboo does remember of Exile is that e!Dream was his friend, so why would e!Techno ever even consider that e!Dream abused them?

(anyways, if you couldn't tell already, this is very much an Angst/Horror type of AU. e!Techno here is very well set up to side fully with e!Dream against L'Manburg and generally be easily manipulated by him on an ongoing basis. There's a non-zero chance this AU ends with e!Dream getting his really messed up Big Happy Family that he so wants.)

#ranboo exile au #exiled ranboo au #also to clarify my characterkzation of e!Dream is heavily based on Metaru's characterization of c!Dream #manipulation #manipulation tw #abuse #abuse tw #trauma #cdream #endersmile duo #peer pressure duo #cranboo #ranboo #ctechno #technoblade #rambling about blorbos

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swordswoman97 · 2 years

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To Technoblade

A letter of the things I'll never get to say but I hope you know all the same.

The last couple days have been rough. I've been crying more these last couple days than I've cried since I was a child. I didn't even realize I could cry this much. But here I am, typing this through tears because I can't help but feel I have to say it. Maybe because I hope it will help me to come to terms with it or maybe just because I feel I have to say it even if it's just screaming it into the void.

You shouldn't have died. You were so young and so strong. I didn't think you would. I was confident you'd recover. Up until the moment I saw your father sitting there instead of gameplay or you yourself I thought you'd get better. I think that's part of why this hurts so much. A part of me wants to be angry for not getting some sort of warning but I can't. I can't be. I'll never know your reasons for keeping the fact it had come back stronger to yourself. I can merely guess.

I miss you. Despite only starting to watch the DSMP in march of 2021 I miss you. Even in that short time your content was comforting and uplifting. You were funny and witty and it never failed to make me smile, no matter how anxious I got about what was playing out in the story. Even if I didn't always agree with the actions your character took, you, both you and your character, never failed to make lore a bit more cheerful. And the videos I watched of you never failed to do it either.

I know you wouldn't want people sitting around wallowing in misery over it and I hope you can forgive me for doing so anyway. I like to believe you will.

I also know you wouldn't want people to forget. I can only promise to try my best. I'm continuing the story I was writing featuring your character. I'm going to try to continue more. It's gonna take time before your death won't make me emotional but I'm gonna keep going until that day.

I wish your friends and family the best. I know whatever pain I'm feeling. it must be a hundred or even thousand times worse for them. That there are reminders of you everywhere. Your family will have to clean out your room, figure out what to do with all your stuff. Phil will have to face all the things you two built together if he ever returns to the dsmp. Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy will always be reminded of you when they play TF2 due to the memories you shared. I hope they can one day play the game again even with all the memories. I hope they can make new ones.

You once said that despite being an atheist you hope God hesitated before sending you to hell. I believe he did neither. I will continue to believe despite not believing God does not hesitate before letting you into heaven. A man as full of love and positivity as you deserves that.

I never realized just how much impact you had on the world until you were gone. Until over ten thousand voices were crying out in grief all in unison. There are actual news articles about your death. Elon musk even made a comment even if it was weird. I wonder how you'd feel about that. You managed to reach over 13 million subscribes since then. You have more than Tommy again. I think you'd like that. Already Hypixel has gathered enough messages for your family to fill over 200 books. You really were important to a lot of people. I hope you know that. You deserved it. You did a lot of good.

Finally I'd just like to say: Thank you. Thank you for making me smile. Thank you for being strong even when it was difficult. Thank you for everything. I hope whatever was waiting for you on the other side holds only happiness, whether that be heaven, becoming one with the universe, or merely being reborn as someone new.

Thank you Technoblade. And as cheesy as it might be to say despite never truly meeting you, I loved you. You were and always will be important to me. I promise to do all I can to keep your memory alive and your legacy with me.

Rest well king. After everything you've done you deserve your rest.

#technoblade #mcyt #tw: cancer #tw: death #long post

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glitch3xists · 2 years

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The Debate

This is a dsmp fanfic. Probably part 1..?

The first person character is glitch, my persona. Nothing really is used to describe glitch at all, so if you wanna self insert, go ahead. This is just a lil story thing I wrote with a friend because I was really obsessed with the L'manburg era at the time of writing.

This is kinda old. I edited it, but still. There may be some grammatical errors. If so, I apologize.

TW: Swearing. A bit of swearing. A lot of swearing. Glitch is on pog 2020's side. Kinda gets mean. This takes place during the debate. Yeah-

Enjoy!

(This font is thoughts btw)

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"Tommy, may I momentarily step in?" I asked the blonde teen with a small smile.

Tommy was in a debate against George for vice president and he was getting a little too emotional. George might win this and that is awful enough as it is.

He looked at me hesitantly, really wanting to finish his argument.

"Tommy. Let her help. Our country is at stake." Wilbur commanded softly.

Tommy sighed and muttered "Fine", before switching places with me as I stood up to the podium.

"George not found." I started, taking in a deep breath as I prepared my speech.

"Yes?"

"George that was not an invitation to start talking." I deadpanned.

Tommy, Karl, Quackity, Fundy and Wil burst out laughing.

"...Anyways. I noticed how you have been bringing up certain points to this debate, such as not letting others into our beloved land. And, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to unveil a couple points myself."

My smile vanished and I gave him a scary pointed look. I was truthfully beyond pissed.

"You tell the court how we wanted war. That is false and you know it. I could tell by just your body language; you were pulling something out of your ass. We made the country peacefully. We never wanted any harm. It says so in the tennets, if you were willing to glance at them. We have a rule about not wearing any armour on our sacred land and even a rule against welding weapons while on our grounds. You were the oned who wanted war."

I could tell I struck a nerve when George started actually paying attention and wasn't playing around anymore. He visibly straightened his posture, which caught Quackity's attention.

"H-hey, wait a minute-" Quackity attempted to cut in.

"Quackity, I believe your turn is over. Now stop interrupting." I glared.

He uneasily looked back at George and their whole party was starting to get nervous as they watched their party member tense.

"As I was saying, we handed dream a declaration of Independence and in return, dream handed us a declaration of war."

Tommy had a wide smile on his face. "YEAH!! TELL 'EM!!" He hyped up.

"We have no sign or indication we meant harm. And we also clearly express this when you were the ones to shoot the first arrows into our land."

"Th-that-- was only because--!!"

"George, I believe I wasn't finished FUCKING talking." He leaned back in his seat, a sign he was trying to distance himself from me. Perfect.

"You are well aware I am correct and I have visual evidence supporting this." I reached into my pocket and watched the opposite team begin to sweat. Out of my pocket came a good handful of tapes.

"I-I believe it's time we move onto our next debate topic-" Quackity stepped in, looking to the judges stand.

"Your honor, please imagine with me for a second. Imagine you have something dear to you, ranging from maybe a journal to a music box. Whatever is important to you. Now imagine someone came in and absolutely destroyed that precious thing you hold dear to you." I looked to Karl for his reaction as I spoke.

George's nose twitched uneasily, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"You get that precious thing fixed and it has recovered. Now imagine that person coming back and trying to take it away from you."

Karl stood for a moment, humming. "Well, I'd truthfully tell them to fuck off. It's mine and not theirs."

I smiled warmly. "How do you think we feel?"

"No, your party ran for election because you wanted to officially rig the system and become president yourselves!!" Quackity intervened.

'I pushed him into a corner. He's getting defensive.'

"We were the only people of L'manburg and we wanted to make sure this is what the people wanted." I calmly replied.

"Bull fuckin shit!"

"I'm sorry, would you rather we let war thirsty enemies in to run for the country we fought for?"

"I-I--" Quackity tried to start.

"YEAHHHH TRY TO BEST THAT ONE BITCH!!" Tommy cheered.

"Shut up! You paid off the judge!!" Quackity hissed.

"And you are the one who asked the judge for easy questions to answer. You think we were going to forget? You tried to rig it first."

"Just shut up!!"

"Tell me to do that again."

The court room instantly shut up.

"No, do it again. Please. It's sooo reassuring to know that the people who want to run for president and vice president want their people silenced. What do you think that screams about your party and their views?"

Quackity and George shared a worried look.

"Ohh, no denying it? Well that settles that." A smirk tugged at the ends of my lips.

They both jumped. "W-wait- your honor, that isn't--" Quackity cleared his throat.

"And another thing." I continued, ignoring the opponent's attempt at cutting in. "What have you done for this country? Wil, Tommy, Tubbo, Fundy, Eret, and I were here making this beloved place from the ground up, not just building structures to commemorate our friendship, but building more trust and faith in one another. You know what George from S.W.A.G. Has done, Your honor? Destroyed it. Would you rather have a loyal, listening president who keeps the peace?" I paused to gesture to wilbur as I spoke.

"Or somebody who clearly wants this amazing country wiped off the face of the earth with no care towards it's citizens?" I turned away from Wilbur and glared at the opposing team.

"We care about the citizens!!" George quickly tried to cut in.

"You care so much you killed them? Taking a one life from each?" I inquired.

Tommy excitedly cheered, clearly overjoyed.

"It appears I have left the other party speechless. Your honor, please observe this and add this to your opinion. We are loyal, caring, and have tried to keep peace. All they have done is wage war. Oh and not to even mention how the person running for president in their party has a past with the person who started a pet war and killed multiple pets. We stayed we will have a dependable authority to come in and stop crimes from happening."

A small breathy chuckle resonated from my frame.

"And Quackity simply believes that everyone will blindly follow rules? What kind of dictator believes everyone will follow him no matter what comes out of his mouth? At least our president has openly showed his love for his nation and the citizens resided within. He listens. He converses and draws a conclusion everyone agrees with."

I took a pause, letting my words sink in, before continuing.

"George and his friends may have started the war but we sure as hell finished it. Tommy sacrificed his prized possessions for his nation. That's how loyal he is. Here in this party, we all signed the declaration of independence, standing side by side and writing our signatures with the same pen. We have history and faith with one another. And I will put my life on the line for these people who sit behind and beside me. Thank you." I ended, giving a small bow, before walking and switching places with Tommy.

Tommy excitedly congratulated me on wiping the floor with the other team, unable to stay still as he gave a tight side hug. I laughed in response, amused with his actions.

The other party eyed me with both intrigue and frustration. I was a threat in their eyes; it didn't take much to see that. But it's their fault because you don't fuck with my friends.

"Glitch." I quickly swiveled around to face the source of the voice, being met with the President's eyes. "I'm so very proud of you. You did outstanding." I could see the pure joy and satisfaction in his facial features.

"Thank you, wil."

A smile stretched onto my face.

I will not let him down.

_________

That's the end. There is kind of a second part to this? I might post it, it just depends. I hope you enjoyed!

#dsmp #i don't know what this is #this is so old 😭#short story #L'manburg #L'manburg era #pog2020 #S.W.A.G2020 #i don't even know anymore #Wilbur Soot #Tommyinnit #Quackity

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aparticularbandit · 2 years

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Finding Family: Part Four: Chapter Three

Summary: When America begins universe-hopping again to try and find her moms, she realizes that’s too much scope for her. She looks for smaller scope, and instead she finds Wanda.

AO3

It takes time to get everything to the Barton farmstead, and in that time, Scarlet considers. Scarlet considers, and Scarlet thinks, and Scarlet decides that perhaps the Barton farmstead is not the best place for all of this hullabaloo. Yes, there are people who will protect her here, if need be, and yes, that’s.... Well, it’s a semi-comforting thought, that all of these people would willingly fight for her, after everything, especially since she still doesn’t quite think that they should. (And it is a weird thing, this desire to be punished, this knowledge that she should be punished, and the conflicting desire to not be imprisoned again, as though she should be allowed to pick and choose how and when and where she is punished. It is weird to feel guilty and want to allow those she has hurt to hurt her equally while at the same time wanting it to be on her own terms.)

Scarlet decides that, in place of the Barton farmstead, her place is the much better option. She has plenty of room, and it isn’t as though anyone has visited her there at all – except for America, who is missing; except for Strange, when he wanted something from her; except for Wong, who believed she was still an Avenger, even though she isn’t sure she believes that anymore. Her place seems far safer. Far less likely to be attacked. Besides, it won’t be hard to get everything from the Bartons’ place to hers, not as long as she has Wong – or someone like him – to help.

Yes, Scarlet can teleport all of that on her own, but she doesn’t want to do that. It’s far better to have Wong create a portal they can shove everything through. Christine is less enthused about this, given Wong’s concussion, but Wong thinks a simple gateway won’t mess with his head too much. (He is wrong. He can feel the pressure build up in the back of his skull as soon as he tries to use his sling ring, and it only increases as the gateway opens. He pushes through anyway. He is used to pain. And once this is done, he can get rest and not have to worry about Scarlet, which is good for his week off.)

Ash demands to go with them, and Scarlet does not deny her. Having someone else there other than Christine will probably be for the best. She doesn’t suspect that Ash intends to stay longer than that. She knows a bit of recovering after a surgery, and she doesn’t believe that Scarlet should be alone with that. (She doesn’t think Scarlet should be alone for a lot of reasons, but that is the one that her other self will most readily believe.)

The boys settle in with the Bartons. They like Kate well enough, and they love Clint’s kids. But when the time comes for Ash to leave for Scarlet’s place, they corner her.

“Why are you helping her?” Tommy asks, his arms crossed. “She tried to kill you. People who kill people—”

“Murderers,” Billy corrects.

Tommy sticks his tongue out at his brother. “They’re not good people. What if she kills you? What if we never see you again?” He glares over his mom’s shoulder at Scarlet, who doesn’t look at them (for a lot of reasons, none of which she has ever stated or ever needed to state).

Ash kneels down and cups both of her boys’ faces. “You’ll see me again.” She smiles as Tommy flinches away from her touch – her strong boy, who already wants to seem so tough – at the same time as Billy curls into it, letting her brush a thumb along his skin. “You’ll be okay. Clint and Kate will take good care of you while I’m gone.”

That isn’t what Tommy asked. Ash wants to avoid that question entirely, if she can, but Tommy just stares at her. “You don’t know,” he says, meeting her eyes. “Murderers are mean, horrible, scary people. You can’t trust them.” He glares at Scarlet again. “You can’t trust her.”

“You’re right,” Ash admits. “I can’t.” She places her hands in her lap and continues to look up at her boys. “But she came to save us when she didn’t have to. She saved both of you.” Ash boops both of their noses. “And she saved me, too. If she really wanted me to die, she would have left me with the Illuminati.” She glances over her shoulder. “That doesn’t mean she’s good. It doesn’t mean she’s not bad. It just means that sometimes—”

“Mom. You’re giving us therapist talk again.” Tommy’s arms, which had started to relax, cross a little tighter.

But Billy gives a little nod of understanding. “Does this have to do with that rage thing you talk about?”

Ash grins. “Yes. Yes, it does.” She pats his cheek and then stands before ruffling Tommy’s longer hair. “I’ll be back. Be good while I’m gone.”

“I’m always good.” Billy frowns. “You just have to worry about Tommy.”

“Hey!”

Ash turns away, but she knows behind her that the boys are play-slapping each other. When she makes it to Scarlet, she nudges her. “I’m ready.”

Scarlet barely gives her a look. “What’s the rage thing?”

“You were listening.” It isn’t a question, and it isn’t a surprise.

“Of course. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t.” Scarlet doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she says, “You are not allowed to say anything about where we’re going, do you understand? Not anything.”

Ash tilts her head to one side, immediately curious. “What would I say?” She meets Scarlet’s eyes, notes the sparks of scarlet within them, and then asks, “What would you say?”

Scarlet’s teeth grind against each other. “Nothing. I wouldn’t say anything at all.”

They land in a secluded location that is not all scarlet sky and twisted, desiccated trees and ground covered in ash but one with a soft, cloudy, normal sky and apple trees just beginning to bloom and grass so green that it would feel soft beneath their feet if they dared to take their shoes off (they do not). Ash sees a house that is not a rotten log cabin but just a normal house, and next to it, she finds the new shed filled to the brim with every sort of medical device Christine could ever need, stainless and clean and ready for use. Somehow, she still finds all of this unsettling, but she can’t put a finger on just why.

Ash opens her mouth to say something.

“No.” Scarlet gives her a look, strong and stern. “You can’t say anything. Not at all.” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t make me take your mouth.”

Ash raises an eyebrow. She nods towards the flock of sheep near the log cabin. “You have sheep?”

Something sits unhappy in the back of Scarlet’s mind. Something that America said before punching her. Something that made her stumble. She can’t remember what it is. Christine would probably call that the effect of the concussion that she wasn’t told that she had and therefore couldn’t possibly have. But it lingers. “Hm?” She glances towards the flock. “Oh. Yeah. Of course. Can’t have a picturesque log cabin in the middle of nowhere without having a flock of sheep.”

Scarlet still hears the ash crunching and cracking underfoot. She still sees the scarlet sky and the barren black trees stretching up into it. She doesn’t see sheep, but she remembers putting them there. Illusions on illusions on illusions. Ash and Christine see the same one Strange saw when he visited so many months ago. Scarlet sees an entirely different one. Neither are real. If she wants, Scarlet could see what the world really looks like out here, but she doesn’t want that. She wants this – this reminder – and she wants it to terrify any potential visitors away.

It just wouldn’t be helpful to scare the two people traveling here to help her.

“How do you find time to tend to sheep?”

“They aren’t real,” Scarlet says, voice soft. “It’s just easier to pretend.” She gestures with one hand for Ash to continue to follow her. “C’mon. Let’s get this over with.”

Christine does, in fact, find that Scarlet’s cheekbone is broken, and she does, in fact, require surgery.

It’s a small thing, and it isn’t a small thing, and Scarlet is so used to having her body heal on its own without any interference that the idea that someone who has only heard things about her and doesn’t really know her all that well is going to cut into her face and—

Scarlet can’t think about it. She can’t think about what is going to happen to her, and she cannot think about who is going to be with her while it happens. This is, of course, the easiest moment for Ash to take her revenge on her, if she wanted to do so. Just kill her, and then she and her boys could be the Wanda and children of this world. No need to worry about there being two of them then.

But….

She would be okay with that. Wouldn’t she? With dying? Isn’t that what she’d wanted, when Mount Wundagore fell?

Scarlet accepts this. She accepts the inevitability of her own demise. When she takes the deep breath before going under, she releases. She lets go. That should be enough, shouldn’t it? This is enough.

Except Scarlet remembers her dream while she’s under, except Scarlet remembers the first time she ever dreamed the star-shaped portal through which America travels, except Scarlet remembers she hadn’t seen it first with America but with two women who she never could have or would have met but some other version of her had—

People are meant to wake up from anesthesia slowly, foggily, coming back to themselves easy.

Scarlet snaps awake as if she’d just had a nightmare.

Which, in part, she has.

#bandit fic #finding family with wanda and america #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #america chavez #christine palmer #billy kaplan #tommy shepherd #mcu #queue

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