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[spookyscarydemonbabe]

I LOVE GARETH (he's so adorable)

How about the reader goes over to his house and he isn't there so they wait in his room for him. When he gets back, he sees the reader wearing his plaid jacket asleep in his bed...

A/N- This was so cute 🥹 i know i’m not taking fic requests rn but this was too fun to not want to make a fic out of 😍

Cozy

Genre-Fluff

Warnings- None :)

Tag List- @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @aidansloth @esme-viridian @toomanyfandomsimfanvergent

(tag list is always open, let me know if you’d like to be added 🖤)

Word Count- 2.6k

You sighed and tapped your foot as you waited at his door, checking the watch on your wrist again just to see how long it’s been since you last rang the doorbell.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to show up at Gareths place unannounced, it happened a lot more frequently than some may think. After living next door to each other all your lives you knew you were both welcome in each others homes whenever you liked. But for some reason this had been the only time where no one was home.

He knew you were coming over at this time. Hell, he’s the one that invited you over, so it was strange for him not to be there.

His car was still in the driveway, and after taking a quick peek into the garage you saw that his parents cars were no where to be found. Probably out with his sisters.

You groaned and rang the doorbell again, crossing your arms over your chest and turning to look down either end of the street, just checking to see if he had maybe gotten a ride from someone else. You knew he wouldn’t forget. He never did.

Every single time you came over, without a doubt you knew he would be fully prepared to see you. Whatever it was the two of you had planned, he always had some extras to keep you around longer.

Watching a new movie together? He would grab an extra one for the two of you to watch just in case you wanted to.

Listening to a new tape he got? It just so happens that he’s got a few new tapes, and you’re always down for a chill night.

Checking out a new spot in town? He just so happens to know about a few other local places for the two of you to go together.

He always loved spending time with you, and of course you loved spending time with him too.

With one final groan and a roll of the eyes, you were done with waiting. You walked over to the decorative plants on the porch and moved them aside, picking up the house key you knew they kept stored under there and using it to let yourself right in.

“Gare?!” You shouted out, hoping he had just been asleep in his room or occupied in the basement.

You slipped your shoes off at the door and shrugged when the only response you got was silence. Oh, well. He would be back any minute from wherever he was, you were sure of it.

As you climbed up the stairs you looked at all the family pictures plastered on the wall on the way up. Old school portraits, framed family drawings, a few professional shots of the whole family taken when Macy was still just a baby. At the very top step was your favorite.

One of the very first pictures of you and Gareth ever taken.

No more than maybe five or six years old, the both of you smiling with dirt and grass stains all over your clothes, each of you holding a little green frog in your hands. You remember how slimy they were. A quiet giggle left your lips seeing his adorable gap toothed smile. He lost two of his teeth that year. He was such a cute kid.

You finished your slow walk up the stairs and passed the other doors down to Gareths room, and surprisingly the door was still closed.

“Gare?” You said from behind the door, hoping he had just fallen asleep. After a moment of silence you shrugged and turned the handle, struggling to open his bedroom door.

You groaned as you shoved the door open with your shoulder, sneaking through the small space you managed to make between the door and the wall. His room was messier than you’ve ever seen it.

Clothes all over the floor, his bed was unmade and the blanket was tossed about and laying half on the floor, VHS tapes were littered in front of the TV and a few magazines were fallen over and spilling out of the box he kept under his bed. Boys were so gross.

You shut the door once more and kicked the piles of clothes around, trying to make yourself a clear path on his floor. There was no way he was planning on having you over with his room in this state, maybe he just lost track of time with whatever it was he was doing?

Either way, there was no way you were going to wait for him in this filth.

You started grabbing up piles of clothes in your arms and burying them into his hamper, making a little bit of space on his floor for you to walk around. You were able to make your way over to his stereo and looked through his tapes, searching for one to put on for some background noise while you picked up his mess. You smiled as you saw he was listening to one of the tapes you made for him and pressed rewind to start it over, pushing the play button and turning up the volume a bit.

No one would mind if no one was home.

You didn’t deep clean his room, you barely deep cleaned your own room at home, but just enough to where it wasn’t a pig sty. You didn’t know how he could function in a mess like this.

It was exhausting.

You had no idea how long it had been since you started putting away his tapes and laundry, but you eventually found your way over to cleaning off his bed, picking up a few shirts and tossing them towards the hamper like you had done with all the rest on his floor. You stopped when your hand felt the familiar flannel fabric under his blanket.

A smile spread across your lips when you pulled his vest out from under the blanket, a little wrinkled but otherwise in perfect condition. If he left it here that must mean he ran off the night before in a hurry to get to Eddie’s for a last minute sesh. He always overslept on those nights. As much as it needed a good wash, you saw nothing wrong with it.

A few wrinkles here and there, but no stains or tears, and it seemed to smell fine, thank god.

You had never once seen him without it within the last few months, it was almost like a security blanket for him. How was he possibly managing without it?

You went to go toss it into the hamper along with the other clothes, but as you saw it in your hand in your reflection of his standing mirror, you wondered what the big deal was.

He was obsessed with always keeping it in perfect condition, making sure nothing was out of place and every patch and pin on it had been in its spot for a reason.

You looked at it in your hands for a moment and glanced up at the mirror, taking a step towards it. How great could this vest really be?

You put your arms through the sleeves and adjusted it onto your body, smiling seeing it was a few sizes too big on your frame. It was comfortable, it was warm, and the fabric was so soft.

You took a deep breath, ready to pull it off of your body and toss it into the hamper, but there was something stopping you.

It felt so cozy, and though his room wasn’t freezing it was keeping you nice and warm. The fact that it smelled like him didn’t help much either. You were never able to notice how nice it was until now.

The mixture of his cologne on the front and the scent of his shampoo on the collar, mixed with his natural pheromones it was something so strange to you. Refreshing. Like a wave of calm washed over your body. It’s like he was there with you now, and you smiled at yourself in the mirror remembering his laugh.

You looked down at the red flannel on you, moving your hands up the seams and bringing in the collar to take a deep inhale. You missed him.

You lived next door to him all your life, and whenever he wasn’t there you missed him. Even now, standing in his bedroom that you’ve been in hundreds of times before, wearing the same vest you’ve seen him in for days on end, you were missing him. Hopefully he’d be home soon.

Another glance around his room from the reflection in the mirror made you remember the stereo. The tape you had playing had stopped at some point and you didn’t even notice. You went back to the stereo and flipped the tape to play the other side, sighing as you turned down the volume. It was now a comfortable background noise, and with the combination of his warm vest and the soft music, his bed was looking so much more comfortable than it ever had before…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m going to fucking murder you if you ever make me this late back to my own house ever again.” Gareth said to Eddie from the passenger seat of his van, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Easy,” Eddie replied back with a chuckle, “it’s only been an hour, you’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be fine!” Gareth shouted, “I told you i had this planned and i’ve never been this late to something, (y/n) might think i was kidnapped or something, my car is still in the driveway and no one else is home, my room is a fucking mess and i don’t want to come home and find police cars all over the place-“

“Calm down.” Eddie said to him sternly. He’d never seen Gareth so overwhelmed. “It’s no big deal, i’ll tell her it was my fault you were late. I’m fine with her thinking i’m the bad guy.”

Gareth rolled his eyes and looked out the window of the van, hoping they’d be home soon.

What was supposed to be another last minute band practice turned into an overnighter for him and the rest of the guys at Eddie’s place. Smoking, watching movies, listening to music, all the same stuff they’d normally do. Unfortunately, they managed to stay up until at least four in the morning and lost track of time when they went out for ‘breakfast’ at noon.

Gareth was supposed to be at his place nearly an hour ago and he was so upset with himself for being late. He just hoped you weren’t upset with him too.

He hated making you upset, all he wanted to do was be able to spend time with you and have fun with you, other than being with the guys it was his absolute favorite pastime.

You had always been so sweet and kind to him, you would play together as kids and were nearly joined at the hip every summer, and as the years went on he figured that every guy got the same feelings about their girl friends.

Every guy started wishing that their girl friends always held their hand whenever they walked together.

Every guy wanted to be able to comfort their girl friends and hold them close during all the scariest parts of horror movies.

Every guy would make countless amounts of mixtapes of all the songs that reminded them of their girl friends.

Every guy got jealous when their girl friends would go out on dates or get asked to dances by other guys.

Every guy would lay in bed every night just wishing their their girl friends could be laying beside them to snuggle and keep warm.

God, he could feel his palms get sweaty just thinking about you.

He quickly wiped them on his jeans, doing his best to get you off of his mind and get back to the matter at hand. He was trying his best to think of an excuse to give you as to why he was late but he knew you wouldn’t believe anything he told you. You knew him too well.

The best thing to do was to just deal with whatever you had coming to him.

Eddie quickly turned the corner and Gareth perked up as soon as he saw his house, getting himself ready to nearly jump out of Eddie’s van as he pulled up on the curb.

“I’ll tell her what happened, don’t worry about sticking around.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.

“You sure?” Eddie called out after him, shrugging as he watched Gareth run up his front yard to his door, fumbling with the keys in his pocket as he put one into the lock and stepped inside.

Gareth shut the front door behind him, looking around the living room and kitchen for any sign of you. He knew his parents were taking his sisters over to their friends for a playdate, giving the two of you free rein of the house for almost the entire day. He was just hoping he had enough time to clean a little before rushing over to your place and apologizing like his life depended on it.

He quickly ran up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom, and noticed that the door was slightly cracked open, he could hear one of his tapes being played from behind it.

He slowly opened his bedroom door, knowing that it had been completely closed when he left and stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

The lower half of your body was covered by his comforter, your top half was covered by his vest to keep you warm, your head resting peacefully on his pillow as the music played softly in the background. He looked around his room and saw that you had been nice enough to pick up a little for him, and he smiled as he quietly stepped inside. He made sure to be careful as the door creaked while he shut it, carefully stepping around on his hardwood floor in order not to wake you.

As strange as it was, all he could do was look at you.

You looked so serene, so peaceful. You used to have sleepovers when you were little but since the time has passed, you figured you were just too old for it. Not to mention your parents finding it inappropriate for two teenagers to be having sleepovers when they see each other constantly. But still, it was nice to see you like this again.

He could remember bits and pieces of your sleepovers when you were little but he always remembered how nice it was when you were sleeping. He always thought you looked beautiful, even when you were kids.

Gareth slowly walked over to the other side of the bed, carefully climbing in next to you and moving his body close to yours. He snuggled in, his arm carefully wrapping around your torso as the other pulled his comforter over your bodies. A smile slowly crept across his lips as he felt you gently back into him.

He held you close, keeping you warm beneath the blankets as he slowly closed his eyes.

You were never really able to relax like this.

Every time you saw each other there was always something planned, life gets in the way sometimes and it’s difficult to be able to enjoy doing nothing with someone you don’t see as often as you would like. And Gareth knows that too.

As much as he would love to be able to sit and talk with you, spend time with you, share fun memories with you, things like this were just as important.

He smiled when he felt your hand move over his as he held you.

Nothing was more important than this.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #gareth emerson #gareth emerson x y/n #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson fic #gareth emerson fluff #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth stranger things

[carolmunson]

wish i had a river (part two)

here it is, the part two i said i wouldn't write. if you missed it, here is the first part - wish i had a river this is very much an eddie munson fanfiction, it's mostly from his perspective and follows his story through his eyes and actions. 'you' are mentioned and seen in this fic, but for the most part, it's all eddie all the time. cw: minors dni, adult themes, some smut references. angst. hurt/comfort. lots of mentions of poverty/hunger, sleep deprivation, all around eddie having a bad time. cigarettes/mild drinking but nothing inherently like -- bad? idk. unpopular ship mentioned. i did NOT proof read this.

The alley behind Macy's was a safe haven. Cold, a blue black, poorly paved, with nothing but the dumpters of other stores and the rats to keep him company. Eddie nursed a cigarette on his third smoke break of the night, two bad customers away from a total nervous breakdown. His anxiety built higher every day, every rush, every icy road report -- more people yelling, more people stressed out, more car accidents he'd have to clean up. Wayne's been in an out of the doctor's office more often and it's looking like he might have to retire early. The cigarette loses it's flame and he curses under his breath when he goes to light it again, the nicotine soothing his lips and tongue with a slow steady burn.

You never got to decorate cookies together on his impromptu 'sick day', you hadn't returned any of his calls. Not that he thought he was off the hook or anything, but he did basically write you a fifty two page love letter. If he had the time he'd come by your apartment to apologize in person but at this point exhaustion had started to over stay it's welcome. He could barely make it to the pharmacy on his nights off to get Wayne's medication. The guys at the auto shop could tell something was starting to go very left, 'cause why was the youngest guy there the one who couldn't keep up anymore?

And Eddie really couldn't keep up anymore.

At least his commission in the shoe section was doubling daily.

The cold bites his cheeks while he finishes his cigarette, tossing the butt on the dirty, uneven pavement and crushing out the flame with his work shoes. He rubs his eyes, heavy and swollen with lack of sleep, with scrubbed fingernail hands and sighs. Just another hour and he can go home, just another hour and it's not a closing shift, he can go home at seven like normal people with regular jobs.

He drops his coat off in the cubby area upstairs, stopping in the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He inspects himelf, eyes half closing in disappointement while he does -- he looks like a shell of himself. He hadn't picked up his guitar in months, didn't turn the radio on anymore -- opting for silence since it was so rare for him to hear between Macy's, the shop, and Wayne's breathing machine at night.

He takes his hair down, shaking out the curls that had at least dried into waving perfection last night, and gives it a shake before putting it back up in a neat ponytail. His bangs sit on his forehead, a few strands framing his now gaunt face. He practices an awake smile in the mirror before he completely deflates -- one bad interaction, one rude look, one snap from a boss, and he'd lose it. The rawness sat in a lump in his throat, a grenade of tears ready to blow if the pin is even so much as nudged.

The door to the back rooms squeaks open on its hinges, revealing the never ending click of boots, heels, sneakers, and men's shoes on the sining tile of Macy's walkway floors. In the beginning, the scent of the perfume section across the way and the bright lights of jewelry used to be an assault on his senses -- but as Wayne says 'You can get used to anything.'

"You good, Ed?" he hears, and turns his head -- it's Angie. Angie is his favorite coworker because she makes the best and meanest jokes about people. If it wasn't for some nights closing with Angie he would've left this job a long time ago. He'd been keeled over in laughs with a duster in his hand so many times that it almost seemed wrong to abandon her there.

"Yeah," he furrows his brow at her, "Should I not be?"

"Some pretty boy's been looking for you," she says, nodding over to the boots section, "You got another business I don't know about?"

A grin stretches across her frosted red lipstick'd lips, crinkling her overlined and spider lashed eyes. She's what Eddie and the guys at Forest Hills would have called 'trailer park pretty' if she was thirty years younger.

"They would be so lucky, wouldn't they?" Ed smirks back, eyes following her nod and landing on a head of beautifully coiffed chestnut hair, "Harrington?"

Steve's eyes perk up like a golden retreiver, a winning smile spreading across his face with a flash of white teeth in it's wake, "Hey, Ed!"

Angie gasps when she realizes who it is, "Oh shit! Is this the guy that --"

"Shh, shut up Ange," Ed huffs, waving her off while Steve comes up to approach him.

"Hey dude, I was hoping you were here. I uh, got a pretty big collection to get tonight so I figured -- you know, I'd come say hi and ask for your help." It's frustrating how pleasant Steve is. How warm his demeanor radiates to others, his candor, the way that he stands. It's annoying that a denim button under a cozy green sweater looks good on him. It makes Eddie sick that he can pull off wire-rim glasses and still look his age, that he smells like spice but not in a cheap way. A twinge of fear shook in his chest when a seed of assumption planted itself in his head -- was this why you weren't answering his calls? Was Steve Harrington smothering you with Christmas spirit every night?

"Yeah, man, sure," Eddie responds like the world isn't sitting directly on his shoulders, which -- he observed -- were not nearly as broad as Steve's, "How can I help you?"

"I need like, four pairs of Moon Boots," he shrugs, "Guess they're in style again? My sister's and nieces want matching pairs so like -- two in a size 8 and then, if you have it, two in a size 4 kids?"

"What color? We have white, purple, black, some metallics," Eddie lists on his fingers, "Well, maybe not black -- those probably sold out already."

"You got silver? Pink, maybe?" Steve shrugs, "I'm just trying to get these wrapped by tomorrow."

Christmas Eve. Ed had almost forgotten.

"Let me see what we have and I'll bring it out," he offers. He wants to ask about you but it seems too obvious. You must have talked about the fight or about him in general, how else would Steve know he worked here? How else would he know to come looking for him.

Moments later, Ed comes out with four boxes, "I have two in silver and two in pink -- so it looks like your nieces will be matching and your sisters will be matching. Does that work?"

"Oh shit, that's perfect," Steve smiles the same winning smile. Eddie wonders for a moment what it feels like to smile genuinely, it's felt like years since he had. He guesses that when you're Steve Harrington, you must get to smile pretty often. Rich, girls love him, former captain of the basketball team, has a masters degree, painstakingly handsome -- no wonder you called him after your fight. Damn, he would too.

"Is that all?" Ed asks, reaching up to run a hand over the five o'clock shadow speckling his chin.

"No, actually, sorry. I need some like, work boots, if you sell those here -- is that okay?" Steve asks.

"Work boots like, how? Like construction?" he asks, "You're a teacher, Harrington."

"Yeah but my uh, my roommate -- he's not in construction but he's on a whole bunch of terrain for work -- desperately needs good shoes for that," he explains.

"What's he do?" Ed asks, guiding him over to the display of Timberlands and Doc Martens.

"He's a photojournalist -- he's all over the place," Steve answers, "He's worn his sneakers down to the sole and like, swears their okay --"

"Jonothan Byer's is your roommate?" Eddie asks, making the connection. He'd only known him from their photography class they shared in Eddie's second senior year, but he knew enough to know he went into journalism shortly after college.

"Yeah," Steve nods, running a hand through his hair.

"Hm," Eddie looks over the shoes and looks up at him, "If I can be honest -- he's gotta be quick on his feet, right? These are gonna be too heavy for him to be walking around in. You might just want to get him some higher quality running sneakers. There's a Foot Locker downstairs if you wanna check that out? A lot of our sneakers are sold out until next week."

"Hmm, shit," Steve clicks his tongue, "Well um -- could I maybe try a pair?"

"Of Docs?" Eddie asks with a laugh.

"Yeah, of Docs -- I can be hip and cool, too, Munson," Steve's faux defense is charming. Eddie wonders what else you find charming about him.

Part of it feels degrading, kneeling down in front of Steve, lacing and relacing each new and different pair of boots he tries on -- but at this point he's buying seven pairs of shoes and the commission alone will cover at least a month of groceries so he's not complaining.

"So you don't hate me, huh?" Eddie asks, slipping a lighter weight Timberland over one of Steve's argyle socks.

"Why would I hate you?" Steve cocks his head, amber eyes catching in the light.

"Oh, did she not talk about it?" Eddie flushes. Why would you talk about him? Your loser mechanic (maybe ex) boyfriend who works at the mall, and at the auto shop, and sometimes sells drugs.

"Your fight from last week?" Steve raises his brows, "Yeah, she talked to me about it. But I woudn't hate you for that."

Ed tightens the laces up his foot to his ankle with care, "Why not?"

"I mean, you're doing a lot right now," Steve shrugs, "I think it can be hard when you're teaching little ones, especially this time of year, to not get caught up in the magic -- you sort of popped her bubble. But y'know, it was sort of a reminder to her that not everyone has it so good."

"She didn't deserve me yelling at her like that, though," Eddie shakes his head, he can feel the threat of the grenade pin tugging on his heart strings. One false move. One shake. One nudge, and he'll blow.

"You're doing the best you can," Steve offers kindly. Eddie swallows hard, offering him a tight smile.

"Thanks. I'm trying, I'm--" he shakes out the tingle of a cry before tying up the laces, "I'm trying really hard."

By the time Steve checks out it's about 7:15 and Eddie wants nothing more than to go to bed. His back hurts, he's gotta make sure Wayne took his medication, he's gotta eat sleep for dinner for the third night in a row.

"Thanks so much," Steve beams, "This is great, thanks for your help."

"Yeah, no problem dude," Eddie sighs, running a hand over his face again, "Have a good holiday."

"You done for the night?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, just gotta y'know -- grab my shit and go," he shrugs.

"You wanna grab some dinner with me in the food court or something?" Steve asks, balancing the many shopping bags he'd collected this evening in his hands.

"I don't know, dude. I don't wanna keep you or anything," Eddie says. His stomach clenches at the word dinner, his body reacting like a dog who just heard the sentence 'you wanna go outside?'

"You're not keeping me," Steve assures, "C'mon, it's on me."

Before he knows it, Eddie's been corralled into a mall food court, sitting slumped over on the sticky table. He tunes out the shreiks of children, the tinny Christmas music playing in the background of the cocophany of noise that is the mall on December 23rd. His forehead sticks to the leather jacket over his forearm, only lifting it up when he hears the slap of a plastic tray being put down in front of him. He surveys the Burger King in front of him and huffs a laugh, it'd been a long time since he'd ventured into the food court. He almost forgot what fast food looked like after the past few months of thin ham sandwhiches or cold cans Spaghettio's.

"So why didn't you try to swoop in?" Ed asked, toying with a french fry before biting off the end, "When you went to her house the other night?"

He savors the oil and salt on his tongue, warm and crispy on the fry disolving in his mouth while he waits for a response.

"Swoop in?" Steve asks, shaking his head, "No, I wouldn't. We just -- we work together. She's my work friend."

"So you never thought about what the kids say?" Eddie challenges, still trying to keep it light hearted, "How the first grade teachers should get married?"

"Her classroom is across from mine and we make lesson plans together," he assures, "What the kids say is what the kids say. They're six, what do they know?"

"Whatever you say, Harrington," Eddie shrugs.

"Munson, seriously -- she's my friend. She's not my type," he offers. The way he says it stings Eddie, what's not his type about you? You're perfect. You're the best person he knows.

"The card thing though? That was cute. I'm gonna put that in my arsenal if I ever fuck up," Steve laughs. Eddie chest rattles when he realizes that Steve was still there for that. He never even knew your reaction.

Eddie clears his throat, "Did um -- did she like it?"

Steve nods with a lazy smile, "Yeah, she liked it."

"Did she say anything?" he asks hopefully.

"She cried," Steve answered, Eddie leans his head on his hands, "I know that might not be what you wanted to hear."

"I didn't wanna make her cry more," he explains, "I wanted to make her happy."

"They were happy tears," Steve encourages with a nod, "She knows you love her. She loves you, too."

"Then why isn't she answering my calls?" he asks, another fry passing his lips.

"I think she's hurt, a little embarrassed. You know how girls are, they never come right out and say it," he shrugs, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. Ketchup drips out onto the paper mat on the plastic tray with a wet plop, Eddie sighs.

"Did you end up getting anything for her for Christmas?"

"No I -- I can't afford it this year," Eddie rubs his eyes again, more swollen and aching than before. Heat beams through his cheeks in embarrassment, tinging pink and then red.

"Well I had an idea," he offers, "If you're up for it."

"Yeah, go for it Harrington. Shoot," he says, the enthusiasm was greatly lacking.

"Well her uh, her class room needs a lot of repairs and the custodial team isn't really equipped for that. The school'll either bare bones it for her or make her pay for it out of pocket if she asks," he starts, "And she told me you're really handy, y'know, working at the garage and all. So maybe you could take care of her class room this week while we're out for break. I can let you in and everything."

He mulls it over in his head, "That's a really good idea, actually. I could um, I could ask the guys at the shop if I could borrow some tools."

"And there's a bunch of wood palettes in the backrooms at Medvald's. Jon said he's happy to get them out of there for you," Steve says with a smile.

"Oh, so you already talked about this?" Eddie smirks.

"Well, yeah, kind of," he blushes, "I was asking around just to see if it was a plausible kind of thing."

"Definitely a plausible thing," he nods, taking a bite of his own cheese burger. He holds back the moan in his chest from eating something warm and mildly filling after such a long time, "Do you think she'd like it?"

"Oh, Munson," Steve shoots him the 'okay' sign, "She'd lose her mind. All she does is complain about how nothing ever works and everything's falling apart. Doesn't even have new chalk."

"Chalk I can definitely handle," he laughs, "I think I can afford chalk."

He feels a moment of calm wash over him when the van rumbles to life in the parking garage. Finally heading home and going to sleep with a full belly, finally with a plan to make you happy, finally feeling like after the new year things can go back to normal. He flicks on the radio and doesn't even change the station when Mariah Carey's 'All I Want For Christmas' crackles through the speakers. He heard it 700 times today, happy to hear it for the 701st.

It was your new favorite song, after all.

Eddie woke up feeling slightly refreshed on Christmas Eve, the dull ache in his back mildly relieved. He fished into his pajama pants for his lighter, flicking it a few times before getting the fuse lit for his morning cigarette. He stood at the open door, bathrobe tied tight around him, and listened to the hum of Wayne's machine from the other end of trailer. The mug of black coffee in his hands had the bitterness cut by the soft sweetness of cinnamon -- that's what you always did this time of year.

'I like making it a little festive for you, honey,' you'd giggle, 'Don't be such a Grinch.'

He wished he appreciated it more, all the little things you did to try to make him happy. The faces in fruit on his pancakes some mornings, making his old favorites for dinner at your place, 'build your own sundae' nights. Scratching his head, scalp massages, hand massages. You'd call them man-icures so he didn't feel weird about you doing his nails and softening his callouses. He didn't care that it was just a manicure with a stupid name, all he cared about was your cute face when you concentrated on his cuticles. He missed your laugh, the way you tap your pen out to your favorite songs when you're grading papers or writing lesson plans, your elaborate schemes to make learning subtraction more fun. The way you're kind to everyone, all the time, constantly. When he first started taking you out he'd get embarrassed by how forward you were with people, how you'd make small talk with cashiers, or grab someone's hand to tell them their nails looked beautiful.

Maybe in a lot of ways, he wished he was more like you to start.

He took a shower and slipped on his coveralls, opting to be one of two guys in the shop today. Him and George. It was George's garage, and for the past six years, Eddie had always volunteered to be the emergency mechanic on deck on Christmas Eve. He got paid time and a half and never had to wait for the check, he'd always get paid at the end of the day.

He laces his boots before trudging down the hall to wake Wayne, taking off his machine and flipping the switch.

"I'm headed out," he whispers, "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Wayne groans when he sits up on the rickety mattress, "I have a new perscription, not sure if the pharmacy'll be open but would you be able to pick it up on the way back. They called last night but I couldn't make it to the phone, it's ready I think."

"Yeah, I'll grab it on my lunch break Wayne," he softens the more he looks at him, "Have some coffee already to go for you on the table, there's a couple eggs left for you too."

"Thank ya, son," his voice is grizzly, but it still feels like home.

Eddie shivers his way into the shop, George in the office organizing some files. The day was always slow, but there were some cars still in need of fixing so he got right to work.

"Hey George," he calls, knocking on the door.

"Hey kid," he calls back, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, round six," he laughs back. He goes back to the break room and drops off his coat and his back pack. Normally he'd have you to look forward to later with a plate of cookies from your family's Christmas Eve party and some left overs expertly packed. You'd drive an hour and a half to bring it down to him and then an hour and a half back to spend Christmas with your family. But not before he gave you a present, or multiple presents, in the break room when George went out to get a six pack.

"Ed," he calls again, "C'mere when you're done dropping your shit."

Eddie heads over to the office, leaning on the door frame, "'Sup bossman?"

"Someone left a message for ya on the answering machine, think it's the pharmacy," he said, "Ya might wanna give 'em a call, s'probably for your uncle."

"Oh, yeah, I think his prescription's ready," he nodded, "Can I use your phone?"

"Yeah, by all means," he said, pushing it toward him, "Want me to give you a minute?"

Ed shakes his head no, "It's fine, just a quick call." He's got the number memorized by heart at this point, clicking the numbers on the grease stained white plastic buttons while barely looking at the machine.

"Hawkins Pharmacy, this is Debbie," Eddie smiles because he knows Debbie. He likes Debbie a lot.

"Hi Deb, it's Eddie, Eddie Munson," he says, "Calling for my uncle, looks like you called my work. I was gonna come by and pick up his meds on my break, will you guys be open?"

"Oh um, about his prescription Ed..." she starts, and he can hear the hesitation in her voice. The clip in the grenade buried in his chest jiggles slightly, he takes in a breath through his nose.

"What's up?" he asks, his voice his short and curt.

"Well, he changed his insurance recently, as you know and -- well there's a lapse in his coverage right now. His new plan doesn't activate until the first," she expains.

"Okay, and what does that mean?" he says, his palms sweat onto the cool plastic of the phone, his ear sticks to the receiver.

"Basically," she says, and then sighs, "His current insurance can't cover it and neither can is upcoming insurance, so the prescription has to be paid out of pocket."

"Um -- uh, fuck -- okay," he says, a chill courses through him, tightening his veins. The pin jiggles again, "H-how much?"

"For the month?" she asks, "For this prescription it's, hold on, let me check...it's looking like it'll come out to around..." she takes a breath of defeat.

"Around three hundred dollars, Ed," she says softly.

"Three hundred..." he repeats back quietly, "Is there like, is there a cheaper version cause he like..."

His voice cracks, the pin rattles dangerously while his eyes start to sting with oncoming tears, "He really needs these pills, Debbie."

"This is the cheapest option," she says apologetically, "I'm so sorry."

"I'll um, I'll figure it out," he shakes his head, "I'll come by and I'll figure it out. Thanks uh, thanks for letting me know Deb."

He doesn't wait to hear her response before he hangs up the phone, quickly leaving the office to go back to the break room. He sniffles in big shuddering breaths, sweat dripping down his back despite the lack of heat in the garage.

"Kid," George says softly, following behind him, "Hey, Munson. What's goin' on?"

He feels George's big hand on his shoulder, the soft squeeze on the muscle under his skin.

"I can't afford my uncle's medication," he says, the pin jiggles, "I mean I can, but like, if I get his medication I'll be late in paying the gas bill, but if they turn the gas off there goes our heat. Or I can delay the electric bill but if they turn the lights out he can't use his machine at night. So maybe I could like, go out tonight after this and shovel some driveways in the rich neighborhoods or -- I could -- I could --"

The pin falls.

He breaks.

He breaks hard.

Eddie's cries turn to wails, his body shaking with hunger and exhaustion and the unbearable heaviness of having to be himself. The tears pour in droves down his face while he tries to catch up with them, trying to find the words to explain to George that he's okay, he'll figure it out.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay, it's okay," George soothes, his aged face crumpling while he watches Eddie break down in front of him. He pulls him in tight, a hand plopping ontop on his mess of curls.

"Why don't you tell me what's been goin' on? You haven't been yourself for months," he says softly, "Talk to me."

George smells like Old Spice and Newports, it's a scent that's always made him feel safe. Like having a second dad -- well, a third dad, if you count his real dad. He never counts his real dad, though.

Eddie sits down at the table while George takes a couple of beers out of the fridge and places them down in front of them. He cracks them open and settles down, two sets of brown eyes meeting each other.

He begins.

"Well if Wayne was sick why didn't you tell me?" George exclaims, "I've known Wayne longer than you've lived in Hawkins, boy. I would've helped you figure somethin' out. Taking shifts at Macy's? At Christmas time? No wonder you're so exhausted."

"I mean, I'm young. I can do it," Eddie shrugs.

"Those bags under your eyes say you can't," he says matter of factly, "And y'know you shouldn't have to. You're -- damn you're a kid."

"I'm like, inching towards thirty George," he laughs.

"And what about your little girlfriend? She not helping?"

"That's..." he sighs, "That's a whole other mess."

Eddie rehashes the story he told Wayne last week and then Steve's visit from yesterday, "So today I was gonna ask if I could borrow some tools and go in tomorrow or something to fix everything up. But now I gotta figure out how I'm gonna make an extra three hundred bucks for these meds."

"How about this," George starts, "You've been workin' for me a long time. You come early and you stay late. You cover for everyone. You know -- damn -- you know more about cars than I do and I've been runnin' this place for thirty years. How about you take this week off to work on your girl's classroom and I'll see you after the New Year."

"I can't. I need to work, George, I need the mo--"

"How about," he interjects, loud and stern, "You take the week off to work on your girl's classroom and get some rest, and I will pay you for the week. It's not like you're just sittin' on your ass."

"I can do that, that's not f--"

"If you say no again, I'm just gonna fire you. Is that what you want?" George challenges.

"No sir," Eddie quickly shakes his head and shuts his mouth.

"And," the older man continues, "I will cover the cost of Wayne's pills. I'll go pick them up at lunch for 'im and drop 'em off. 'Bout time I caught up with that geezer anyway."

The tears build back up in Eddie's eyes, his mouth lets out a sputtered version of a 'Thank you'.

"You gotta stop pretending like you have to do everything yourself," George's voice holds a fatherly fondness when he gets up and tosses their empty beers in the trash.

"C'mere, kid," he chuckles while Eddie tearily gets up out of the chair and back into the dad like embrace of his boss.

"You got ten minutes, but then we got some cars to fix."

Eddie didn't tell Wayne about the insurance lapse or the pills, even though he was surprised to see George at the trailer park that afternoon. Eddie went home with his tool belt from work, his time and a half, and a little extra that his boss insisted he take with him. Wished him luck on his repairs and that he'd see him on the 2nd.

He was warned that if he didn't rest, Wayne would tell him, and it would mean hell for him at the shop.

Eddie'd already been through hell, so he didn't really want to have to do it again.

Christmas morning came and Eddie woke Wayne up to a cup of coffee and some breakfast.

"Thanks, son," he said smoothly, pushing in his chair at the table in the kitchenette, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he wished back, tapping some cinnamon into each of their cups of coffee.

"What's that for?" he asks before a harrowing cough bubbles out of his chest. He takes a sip of coffee to ease the ache of the rattle in his throat.

"It's just festive, Wayne," he teases, "Don't be a Scrooge."

"Doing anything today?" Wayne asks, eyes casting up to look at the old pictures of a younger Eddie sat on Santa's lap. No longer a holiday where they stayed home and snuggled, where he played with his toys, where there was magic.

"Gonna go fix up my girl's classroom as a gift," he says, picking at his nails, "Thought it'd be a nice gesture."

"She hasn't called ya back, hm?"

Eddie shakes his head, already dressed in the Black Sabbath shirt you got him that he hadn't gotten a chance to properly thank you for. The chain you got repaired hung aroung his neck delicately, the pick hitting his chest in a gentle reminder that you're still here with him. You had to be. He'd know if you just decided to be done with him.

By the time the late afternoon rolled around he hopped in his van after Wayne fell asleep in the recliner. The perk of the holidays was that he could drive around in the rich neighborhoods and no one was out to give him and his car dirty looks. No one was around to be confused that Steve Harrington was hopping into his passengers seat to head to Melvald's. No one was around to be confused as to while they were loading wood from broken down pallets into the ample trunk space.

"Good holiday?" Eddie asks.

"Same holiday it always is," he shrugs, "My parents weren't around so I stayed home. Jonothan went to California with Joyce to go visit Will so he wouldn't have to pay to fly home."

"That's lonely," Eddie mutters, "Sorry dude."

"Don't be sorry, I'm used to it," he looks out the window. Steve looks well dressed for repairs -- a pair of worn in jeans, white on white Air Forces, an Izod half zip sweat shirt -- he might as well look like a father of three, "Have you heard from her at all?"

"No -- I left her a message on her answering machine, but I think she's already up with her family. I don't know what she told them so -- I don't want to bother her parents if they're upset with me," he explains.

"They'd never be upset with you," Steve shakes his head, "They're good people."

"I'm sure they wish on a star every night that she was with you, Harrington," he jokes.

"You'd think, right?" Steve laughs, "No, she told me how much they like you. They think you're so good to her -- you are so good to her."

Steve speaks about you with a fondness that makes Eddie wonder. He softens, looking over at him while he turns down the road to the elementary school, "Do um...do you wish it was you?"

"I already told you, man. I love her to death, but she's not my type," he laughs again, but there's a pain there.

"You keep saying that but like -- are you sure? 'Cause you can tell me it's not weird," he assures.

"She hasn't told you?" Steve asks, brows furrowing.

"Told me what? Did you guys used to fuck, or something?" Eddie asks, his heart hammering, "Did you fuck the other ni--"

"No, no, Ed I'm --" he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm gay," he says quietly, "Like, Jonathan isn't my roommate he's -- he's my partner. I'm gay."

There's a silence there for a moment and Eddie shifts in his seat a red light. Oh, I'm such a fucking idiot. Of course that's why they aren't together. I thought maybe he had a weird dick or something.

"That's y'know," Ed shrugs, "That's cool with me, man. Like, silence equals death and all that."

"Oh, shut up man," Steve laughs and shakes his head, putting his hand up to stop him from talking, "Don't like, do that all shit. I'm just surprised she hadn't said anything."

"If you told her not to, she wont," Eddie's voice drops to something sweet, "She's a good girl like that. Great secret keeper. Great -- Oh, shit..."

When the boys pull into the lot, Eddie's surprised to see a couple more trucks sitting by with their lights on, doors opening at the sight of them. A gruff voice calls out from the dark, a light snow obscuring him and the name on his coverall.

"How long were you gonna keep us waiting here, kid? It's a holiday."

George's gruff voice cuts the silence, a couple of the guys from the shop chuckle in the background. Eddie smiles, a genuine, warm smile -- the kind he envied from a couple nights ago that he saw from Steve. These were people who cared about him, who wanted to help. This was, he guessed, was what Christmas was really about. This was what you were trying to tell him the whole time. His heart breaks all over again, and he swears he can feel the pulse of your heart beat in the guitar pick hanging at his chest.

By the 27th, most of the repairs had been done. The help from the guys was beyond what he could've imagined. They were able to replace part of the roof that had water damage, fix the windows, repair a cracked pane, build a new bookcase, fix the wobble in all of the desks, and yours. Now, he was just adding a new coat of paint after spending the morning chipping off all the shards of it that were falling off. In his backpack was an overflow of new chalk, pens and pencils, markers, crayons, construction paper, pipe cleaners, and glue. The guys went through their kids bookcases at home and donated a slew of new books for the room -- some duplicates, too.

He felt good. He'd gotten two nights of adequate sleep, heeding George's warning that he has to rest. He was able to buy a good crop of groceries and most of the guys from work came by to drop off so many Christmas cookies that Wayne was nervous he'd start losing his teeth too. Now, all he had to wait for was you. For you to come in on Friday and see his surprise when you dropped in for your professional development day with Steve. He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave flowers or gingerbread men with the card but he figured he'd cross that bridge when he --

"Eddie?"

He jumped, nearly falling off the ladder he was on to reattach over head light that had rusted on the ceiling, "Jesus Christ!"

He clutched his chest, letting his heart rate settle down when at the bottom of the ladder, there you stood. His face blushed pink, pulse ping ponging through his wrists at the sight of you.

"Hi, sweetheart," he smiles, "This um...this was supposed to be a surprise."

"Who told you?" you asked, looking around, "About all my stuff?"

Eddie climbed down the ladder carefully, "Steve came to the store, told me that you needed some help. I figured y'know, if I couldn't get you a present I could just -- I could make you one."

"It's not done yet though, I still have to paint and put all your art supplies away," he explains, meeting you in the center of the room. He looks at you and then at the tears in your eyes, the heat rising in your cheeks. You don't say anything, his heart races in embarrassment. Maybe it wasn't enough, maybe you didn't like it. Maybe you wanted to do it yourself.

"And um, the guys from the shop, they uh, they brought books," he says, walking over to the new bookcase, "And I uh, I built this, like, with my hands."

He painted it to match the rest of the decor, a fun bright color that would hopefully draw the kids in to read. You'd mentioned that the got bored with the same ten books and weren't sharing well -- half of the books were falling apart since there wasn't anywhere to put them.

"And uh, I got you some new chalk -- white obviously, but I got you some multi-colored sets cause I know you like to do little sketches on the board during holidays and like, with spring comin' up maybe you could do little flowers or something?" he doesn't realize it, but he's gasping through his rambled sentences. Watching you walk toward him slowly.

"It's okay if you don't like it," he assures, "You can tell me and I can fix it I just wanted to--"

Your kiss feels like a spoonful of summer warmed honey on his cold lips. It trails down his throat and into his chest, down through his fingertips and his toes. He feels your soft hands cup his face, resting against his cold prickly cheeks. He's afraid to touch your face because you haven't given him a manicure yet this week. He doesn't want to scratch you with his rough hands, so he places them around you instead, frowning when you finally break away with a soft click.

"I just wanted to do something nice," he says against your lips.

"This is the best gift ever," you whisper quietly, a little sniffle stifling your cry, "It's very nice."

"Merry Christmas, baby," he smiles, leaning in for another kiss.

"Merry Christmas," you wish between kisses.

He wakes up wrapped up in you, in your sheets, in your scent, peering at you while you sleep soundly next to him. You both had barely made it through the door of your apartment before you both had shed your clothes -- landing on the bed with a mutual 'oof!'

It had been so long since he'd been present. Savoring every soft moan out of your mouth, every shake of your thighs, everything whine, every clench, the way you'd rake your nails down his back, the way you'd pulse when he held your hand. You both laid there together after round one, eating cookies in bed (which you'd allowed just this once), while he told you everything. About how hard it had been taking two jobs, how he'd completely shut down, about Wayne's insurance lapse, about the guys at work, about Steve coming to Macy's, about how much he loved the gifts you got. About how he cried the night he yelled at you but was too afraid to face you after because he felt so awful. He listened when you told him that you just needed some time, but that you felt awful that you weren't there when he needed you.

"Need you all the time," he mumbled between heated kisses, "Never lettin' you outta my sight."

His eyes rolled and his toes curled when you took him in your mouth, letting you take the lead. He gasped and writhed, whining for more when your tongue swirled and sucked, showing him how much you missed him. How you'll always take care of him -- and he made sure to show you how he'll take care of you back.

Round three was long and drawn out, slow and sensual, close and quiet -- your boom box playing low static by the end.

Your eyes opened, stretching out when you see him sitting up in bed.

"You heading out?" you yawn.

"No, baby," he smiles down at you before laying back down, losing himself under the covers with you again, "I have the week off, so I'm intending to spend every moment I'm not with Wayne, in this bed, with you."

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie munson

[jojotier]

the station looks like a tin can the more you drift; each blinking porthole window decorating the label as the space between you and the SS Atlantic turns the only home you have left into just another star in the sky.

the snap of the tether breaking in half is still the only thing you can hear.

you had your moment of panic, though. you clawed and struggled and tried to orient yourself in the vast emptiness of space and turned up nothing. there's still static somewhere in the back of your head and helmet as someone- shit, has to be Macy, there's no one else on board who shares your accent, your food, your history- frantically calls. you can't make out a single word.

you wish you could make a joke, here. put the poor girl at ease. she's young; still doesn't believe you when you say the old Terran dustball used to hold oceans of bioluminescent water and sugarcane fields far as the eye could see. you've been alive long enough to learn that being an astronaut and being a sailor aren't too terribly different, when it comes down to it. different equipment, yes; different tide, different gravity. same work songs. same dangers. same prayers.

you know prayers don't get answered out here in the black. the sea almost ate you whole when you were a child and now the void will finish the job.

they're probably mounting a rescue now. this is the first time someone unmoored has gotten so far, and the ship is full of young people and bravado. you wonder how the fresh-faced lieutenant's doing- never caught their name, but they have a kinda swagger to them under the color-changing twists and a voice to beat out the last chanteyman who led the songs. capable, sure. well-read, sure- but twenty-five is practically still a child's age, on your new home where nothing ever changes but the artificial seasons.

now, here's something new. it's a new problem. and truth be told, you don't got much oxygen left.

you've been out here for a long while. so you can't offer a joke or a condolence, or even an apology, as a girl's cries start making the static over the radio peak. if you could, though, what could you say? you lived longer than you thought you ever would. the dimming at the corners of your eyes and the itch in your throat remind you that you know what it's like to drown. you were always bound to die.

that doesn't stop the tightness in your chest as your shallow breaths, your sips of air, feel heavy on your tongue. your lungs are starting to notice what you've been putting to the back of your mind. coming to terms with your death isn't the same thing as accepting it. not really.

you don't move, even though conservation of energy doesn't make a difference. there's nothing around you but void and the fractionation of stars reflected off your helmet's glass. and the further you drift, the more they seem to wink out, one by one, as the distant station begins to disappear into the stasis of the cosmos.

over the comms you think you hear the lieutenant, maybe. it's hard to catch the actual pitch of the voice. just stops and starts, saying "come- we- are incom- stay tight-!"

it almost makes hope well up. you crush it the same way you did when you dreamed granddaddy being knocked off the mast and into the storm, the night before he went overboard just the same way. if you don't heed omens then you can't feel grief before it's due. if you don't hope then it means you can focus on passing on.

but it means you have to think. you have to think and hold still and ignore the way your skin itches under your gloves- ignore the static buzzing against your eardrums- ignore the

maybe you should give the last of your belongings? you don't even know where to start. give Macy the cowrie shells, because your grandma told you beading them in your rows would protect you and your granddaddy said they could tell the future. give the lieutenant your locket? it'd go good with their uniform, same as it did with yours, when captains cared for that sort of thing, back in the Atlantic seas your mother and your mother's mother and your grandmother's family had sailed.

you wanted to tell those stories. your granddaddy told you his daddy was a baker with one hand and made you memorize your great-granddaddy's name, so you wouldn't forget. you want to tell someone that name. you wanted to bring the memories of Earth with you.

so maybe those are your final words. maybe not.

you feel your heart trembling at a different rate than your ribs; your meat trying to squirm away from the bones keeping you hostage in this deep-space suit, waiting for the little gauge at the corner of your vision to hit zero. your lips open and they're cracking, splitting along the seams, and you say- what in the hell...

"---?" the static buzzes, "who-" but you're not listening, and the oxygen deprivation must be getting to you, because there's a dog floating in front of you.

you're in the deepest reaches of the ether. you can barely even see the light in front of you, because the stars are so much farther apart than you would ever think, and the earth you knew is currently being swallowed up by the sun so many billions of lightyears away, and there is a dog floating in front of you. and not just any dog, but Laika- and you know it's Laika, because your childhood dog looked just like her.

you remember because when you were seven you were crowded around the sole tv with five of your cousins and grandma darting, ducking in and out of the kitchen- offering guayaba here, tembleque there, eat a sandwich, have a coffee- and everyone was talking over each other because yelling is a love language when thirty close family members do it at once while trying to speak over the squawk of all the birds in their cages and the ticking knickknacks on the shelves on the yellow-painted walls- and because the tv was saying that the Russians killed a dog, the same Red-Scare tactic shit you didn't know you'd see a million more times, you were hugging Nena so tight that she was whining to be let go of. and you remember just holding on tighter because Nena was your personal Laika- looked just the same- and you could never imagine letting her go.

as you grew, you began to understand why humans forced the old girl to make the sacrifice. progress can only be done in increments. space, sea, frontier- all are unforgiving and yet so beautiful that humans can't help but reach. so you mourned her, as did the rest of humanity.

she floats in front of you now, her fur alight with stardust, bright eyes wide and locked on the lights reflected off your helmet's glass. the static burns brighter in your brain and her head cocks to the side, one ear perking up. you can't move more than the heaving of your chest as you've shifted to panting to try and gather back the oxygen you wasted by continuing to live even still.

you always wondered what the old girl thought, being left out here in the nothing. whether she was sad to see the world change so much without her being able to chase a single other squirrel. whether she missed getting her belly rubbed and treats and sleeping in the sunshine. whether she waited.

and maybe you're right about the last thing, because Laika's tail is wagging, and she pushes her head into one of your frozen, outstretched hands. even through the thick fabric you feel the softness of her halo-sewn fur, and it feels so much like your Nena that through the tears in your eyes you half expect to see your grandma walking into the room to tell everyone that dinner's ready.

and Laika yaps, bumping her silver-shining head against your palm and closing her eyes in delight, and you wish you could move. you wish the ice wasn't already settling in your joints. you want to pet her as much as she wants to be pet.

it's almost enough to make you forget this is an illusion for a dead man.

when Laika drifts slowly back you try to open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. it's no use speaking. you know this. you are drifting farther than the radars can reach and even when they do reach you, it will have been too late. more than that, what right do you, another creature lost to the void, have to ask her to remain longer in this frozen abyss?

your eyes start to drift closed.

you may have come to terms with your death, and you may just be coming around to accepting it. maybe now you are discovering that they really are the same thing.

there will be no more stories. there will be no more memories. there will only be you, at eternal rest, until the universe finally rips under its own weight.

there isn't anything more for you to do than wait for the end.

until you feel a tug.

eyelids unstick painfully as you stare ahead into the dark, and Laika is still there. you blink heavily, but each time your eyes open again, she remains floating outside. the mirage doesn't go away.

as you finally realize it, you notice the snapped tether she holds within her jaws. she tugs. in the vast range of the ether, you move a minuscule nanometer, and there's ice clinging to your bottom lashes as you try to tell her, that's enough now.

she tugs again. you move, but the distance is still too little. it's okay, you try to tell her, but she doesn't seem to hear.

she pulls and pulls with all her spectral might and you try to tell her you're so good- you're such a good girl- but please stop because it's not doing anything, really. you're still running low on air. you've already accepted your death, and now there's a pesky ember of hope burning at the bottom of your stomach.

humans have already done so much to her. you've already done so much to her, in an abstract way. you don't want to make a spirit cart around your damned corpse into eternity. but she still continues to pull.

the voices over the static are still shouting coordinates and asking questions, but you're distracted by the impossible creature trying to pull you back and the way the ice seems to retreat from your veins and the way, miraculously, the meter showing your oxygen levels begins to rise.

there's a sparking at Laika's heels like metal on the grindstone. she growls her frustration through teeth of platinum and her ears cock back as her muscles strain. and then, she runs.

the distance between stars suddenly shrinks into the size of a pin's head. you see constellations you haven't seen in years- Orion's belt, the Big Dipper, the Eagle. The stars fly by in a flash and yet you can chart the exact course as Laika's tail, more comet than dog, blazes through the night.

you remember now, why the jump from sailing to aerospace was so intuitive. navigating by the stars is in your blood.

and you can't help it. you laugh. because what else is there to do when relief balloons your chest out and makes your numb fingertips light? what do you do when you finally realize you're not going to die after all?

what do you do when you hear the young Lieutenant over the comms, comforting Macy, telling her you'll be found soon? when Macy says "Bayo, please-" and you realize you knew the kid's name after all?

what do you do when Bayo goes silent for a moment. when they finally ask, "is that- is that a dog...?"

what do you do when you're being saved by a ghost dog?

it's so beautiful, so ludicrously brilliant, that you can't help but laugh through the tears running hot on your cheeks.

and the way back isn't as long as you thought, but you sing regardless, and Laika's singing along with you, howling through the rope in her mouth with yips and starts as she runs you home.

#my writing #laika the space dog #laika #original fiction #science fiction #near death experience #happy ending #though so dw lol #god it's been a bit since i had the energy to sit down and Do This yknow #just write #that felt really good ngl

[humansofnewyork]

(11/15) “When I was a kid the saddest day of the year was during the second week of January. When one day I’d come home from school, and shout: ‘I’m home!’ And my voice would echo through the house. It meant the decorations had been taken down. And Christmas was gone for another year. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I have a problem with nostalgia. It’s hard to explain; it’s like I base my whole life on the past. I have this longing and this need for how things used to be. I want it back. All of it: every parade, every Miracle on 34th, every Feast of The Seven Fishes, every Wouldn’t it Be Amazing. I don’t want to get old. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want anyone leaving me. Tabatha tells me: think about all the good stuff that’s still going to happen. We get to watch him graduate high school. And college. He’s going to meet someone. We get to see all that. And it does help me, when I focus on the future. But it hurts a little too. Because Jack is almost the same age as I was when my father passed away. And that makes me sad. Sad and scared. But then the end of November rolls around again. Time for my first shift. I’ll jump on the N-Train. I’ll listen to my playlist of 1140 Christmas songs. And here comes the euphoria. The right hand running up the keys. Up, up, up, until the stairs turn to wood. And poof. It’s a time machine. Suddenly it’s all in front of me again. It’s a magic trick, a dupe. I know what it is, but I never want it to end. I asked the real Santa for advice one time. We met for coffee at the Times Square McDonald’s, and I asked him: ‘How do you handle it? How do you handle when it all comes to an end?’ And you know what he told me? He said that Christmas Eve is the hardest day of the year for him. His final shift at Macy’s ends at 5:30. He goes to mass, and then he goes home. And he spends the evening alone. I never imagined. I thought I loved Christmas. But it’s so much bigger for him. He has a real beard. I never imagined what it must be like for Santa himself. “It’s hard for me too,” he said. “But I’ve never had a beautiful family like you.”

[fckinwild-kiwi]

Dec. 14th: Let’s Play House

Day 14: Morning Routine/Handiwork Around the House

It’s time for day fourteen of @comp-lady’s Domestic December writing challenge!

Warnings: Swearing, *Slight* Allusions to Smut (This is an 18+ blog, minors dni)  Word Counts: 1.3k+ Words Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader

You and Eddie had finally agreed, after the New Year you two would begin saving up money to move in to your own apartment with hopes that it would be by at least the middle of summer. With Eddie’s income working at the record shop and the money you’ve been saving from your job as a para in a school, you would finally save enough money to make a deposit on a studio or one bedroom apartment in Hawkins. 

“I think we should practice living together,” Eddie randomly blurted as he played on your bed. 

“You mean compared to what we have already been doing?” You said before laughing. “We already stay at each other’s places every night.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Eddie agreed, sitting up and putting his head on his hands. He stayed quiet. You could tell something was beginning to eat away at him, it wasn’t in his nature to have long bouts of silence.

“What are you thinking about,” You said, walking to the edge of the bed to sit down before nudging your shoulder against his.

“I really want to have a trial run of living together, like actually,” Eddie said, turning his body to face yours. “People fall out of love all the time and the find little things they hate about each other because of their living arrangements. I don’t want that with us.” 

“Baby,” You whispered, now turning your body to face Eddie’s as you looked into his eyes. “We have been living a trial run, but if you want to make it feel more official, I can see if my Mom and Macy would give us the weekend alone? They might be able to go visit my grandparents or something.”

“We could decorate the house together for Christmas,” Eddie said, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he thought about the possibilities. 

“I swear on my heart, I will not fall out of love with you based on your living habits. Shit, I already know how messy you are, Eddie Munson,” You mumbled, pulling his head towards you to press a kiss to his nose. “But if it will ease your mind, I’d love a little domestic moment between us.”

The next day you had asked your mom if she would be okay with giving you and Eddie the space for a “domesticated trial run,” as your mom was calling it. She eagerly agreed but Macy was extremely hurt.

“Why don’t you guys want me here with you?” Macy asked Eddie the night they were getting ready to leave. 

“Sweet girl,” Eddie sighed, his eyes widening as he tried to determine the best way to approach this conversation. “You know we both love you right?” 

When Macy acknowledged Eddie’s question, he continued, “We want to live together sometime soon in a place that is our own home that you can visit us in. We want to pretend that we are living together alone for a few days to make sure we’ll be okay. I need to know if you sister farts in her sleep or not.” 

Eddie winked at you and your mom as Macy giggled at the word fart. “She does,” Macy said as she looked over at you before laughing harder.

“You’re such little traitor,” You said, stalking towards your sister to wrap her in a hug. “Be good this weekend, we’ll see you soon!”

“Have a good weekend, my lovelies,” Your mom said before she wrangled Macy into the car and drove away. 

“Soooo,” You whispered, making sure the car was out of eyesight before turning to Eddie. “We’re all alone, in a big house, what ever should we do?”

“I want to fix the ceiling fan in Macy’s room,” Eddie said, before turning towards the house and beginning his walk back. 

“What!” You shouted. “We are home alone and that’s what you want to do?”

“You’re incredibly sexy, baby,” Eddie said, chuckling. “And we’ll have plenty of time for that later, let me be the man of the house for a few hours.”

“I can not believe you,” You gawked. “Okay, go be the man of the house.”

Fist pumping the air, Eddie ran into the house and up the stairs to Macy’s room. As you began to follow him up the stairs, you could hear him banging around. 

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing?” You questioned as you walked into the room. Spread before you were tools that you had never seen before. Eddie had a pencil behind his ear and an empty tool belt on his waist. “You were left alone for less than two minutes!”

“Oh, I had all of this stuff ready when Macy and your mom left,” Eddie said, shrugging. “Can you go get me a ladder?”

“Jesus Christ,” You mumbled, walking out of the room to grab the ladder from the garage. After finding the ladder, you began carrying it up the stairs. As you approached the stairs, you could hear a faint singing sound coming from Macy’s room. 

“We’ll know for the first time, if we’re evil or divine,” Eddie sang as you walked in to the bedroom. Placing the ladder against the wall, you walked over to Eddie and gently grabbed his face to press a kiss against his lips. 

“Dio?”

“Dio,” He agreed, kissing you again. “Thank you for the ladder, I’m going to try and fix this fan now.”

“Mm,” You mumbled as you watched your boyfriend start climbing the ladder with a look of concentration. Quickly, the idea of Eddie being a little domestic handyman began to grow on you. There was the man of your dreams, putting in manual labor to fix your little sister’s ceiling fan. And, he was wearing grey sweatpants, your domestic dream. “You look incredibly sexy up there with your work face on,” You said, smirking up at the curly-headed boy. 

“You think I’m sexy up here?”

“It’s definitely working for me,” You answered, proceeding to wink. 

“What about when I do this,” Eddie said, flexing as he turned the wrench, tightening the fan to the ceiling. 

“Yeah, baby,” You said, giggling at his macho display. “My big strong handyman!”

He chuckled as he finished fixing the fan. Before long, Eddie climbed down the ladder and jumped off the last step before dusting off his hands and presenting you with jazz hands. “I did it!”

“Macy is going to be so excited when they get home on Sunday!”

“Now imagine, five years from now, we’re married and our first child’s little dangly thing from their crib is loose. I’ll be able to fix it because that’s way easier than a ceiling fan,” Eddie said, matter-of-factly. There was no way to argue with his logic, fixing a mobile. 

“We’re married in five years? With a baby?” You questioned, stuck on the fact that he was thinking so far ahead and he spoke so sure of your future. 

“Well I’d like to think so,” Eddie said, his neck and cheeks heating up with a soft pink blush. “I’m pretty confident in our love.”

“Oh, my handsome boy,” You gushed. “Me too. If you’re so confident, why were you so worried about our ability to live together successfully?”

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Eddie said, shrugging. “I just wanted an excuse to show you how great it’s going to be when we do live alone. There’s nothing you could do, even farting in your sleep which you definitely do, that would make me fall out of love with you. But I also had to prove that I am capable of fixing anything.”

“I hardly think tightening a ceiling fan equates to the ability to fix anything,” You scoffed, before smiling at Eddie. “You’re sneaky but I love you. I’m excited for this weekend alone too.”

“C’mon, let’s go practice playing house,” Eddie said, scooping you up in his arms as you squealed.

“When you say, play houses do you mean?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna rock your world, baby,” Eddie said, huskily before dropping you on your bed.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fluff #Eddie Munson AU #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Reader fluff #Stranger Things #Stranger Things AU #Stranger Things Fluff #fckinwild kiwi #fckinwild kiwi writing #comp lady domestic december #domestic december

[c0ffinshit]

Hiii can you please write some more Nathan Bratt headcanons? It can be any kind you want to write, I’m just desperate for more content with him and you’re like the only person I could find who writes him. 😭

its alright, don’t worry. lucky for you, i do have some general/romantic/smutty hc that didn’t make the cut the first time around. so, those little headcanons get second life in the form of this post. so i hope you enjoy!! xoxo

warnings: fluff, pet play mentions, bottom!nathan mostly (sorry to the top!nathan truthers), like two mentions of public sex

general and romantic headcanons:

- i will continue to repeat this til i die: THIS MAN HAS AUTISM AND ADHD.

- no i will not elaborate or explain any further

- because literally THIS MAN will take like 2 years to figure out you like him

- but when he does tho… WOOO NELLY he is going to use that fact and NEVER. BRING. IT. UP.

- he is so scared that he’s wrong EVEN THO its so obvious even a helen-keller-type could figure it out

- yknow how people have like a childhood blanket or stuffed animal that they have had since they were a baby… yeah he has one and its a loin

- and he can’t go ANYWHERE without it

- ‼️ROMANTIC HEADCANON ALERT ‼️ okay so he loves watching romcoms with you and cuddle up with a big soft blanket

- was willingly in his school’s D.A.R.E program (iykyk)

- owns and collects star wars legos, will cry if you get him the latest/most expensive set for any holiday

- speaking of holidays, during christmas, he is the type to go ALL OUT in terms of decorations

- big christmas tree with topic of those hallmark ornaments with like snoopy and shit

- the lawn has those big tacky inflatable snow light thingy (like the ones at home depot)

- christmas lights EVERYWHERE. and i mean everywhere

- MATCHING. CHRISTMAS. SWEATER. EVERY. YEAR.

- actually scratch that, he LOVES matching outfits every year

- loves going to the big box stores (macy’s, jc penney, etc.) and taking tacky 80s style photos if they have a photo studio

- his humor is if the phrase “rawr means i love you in dinosaur X3” and the other phrase “well erm… that just happened ☝️🤓” had an unholy baby

- is a bit immature (aka he will giggle if you say “im coming!” in a non-sexual context)

- if you give him a card with a sweet message in it, he will tear up a bit, even if it just says “i love you”

- scared of roller coaster and most other theme parks ride, including dark rides

- scared of the dark in the same way that wiston from new girl is scared of the dark (aka DEADLY AFRAID)

- he thinks you are WAYYYY out of his league

- if you have a pet, he will dress them up in stupid costumes and sent them to you

- speaking of texting, will randomly send you big paragraphs in the middle of the day just talking about how grateful he is to have you in his life

- the KING of good morning and night messages

- he just really really loves texting you even if you are a dry texter (like me)

- he can always make something out of nothing in terms of one word message

- will send pictures of random things with the text “This totally reminds me of us/you! Thinking about you everyday! Love you ❤️❤️”

- this is my long winded way of saying he texts like he’s a nice old lady

- like he will write an entire paragraph talking about his day and if u reply with “okay” HE WILL JUST KEEP GOING ON (asking about your day, talking about stuff that reminded him of you, etc.)

smutty headcanons:

- probably cried the whole time when you had sex with him for the first time

- is open to toys, any toys expect for the first time you made love with him

- has this weird thing about your neck (he focuses on it wayyyy too much)

- very good at fingering and cunnilingus

- will call you ‘miss’ or ‘mistress’ when you top him

- “please miss… i’ll be a good boy. i’ll get on my hands and knees so you can use me as your toy.”

- AUGHHHHH ALSO he has a dirty secret (kinda related to my ‘he secretly has a pet play kink’ thingy)

- okay so the dirty secret is this: when you and him dressed up for halloween one year; the same year you dressed as a sexy cat… he was trying SO HARD to hide his hard on from you

- probably also related to pet play thingy, when you wear those collar chokers-style necklaces, he also gets a hard on

- NO SRSLY THE MINUTE HE SEES YOU IN IT BOOM BONER

- you just look so cute and sexy in anything and everything that you do HE CANT HELP IT

- also doesn’t help that you abuse this fact to your advantage

- you need something? sex? money (which he doesn’t have)? a dog? just wear those hot topic collar chocker things and he’ll give it to you IMMEDIATELY ASAP

- also ALSO hates the term master and daddy

- except for when he was possessed by biddle

- LOVESSS WHEN YOU SIT ON HIS LAP

- its like all the pet play shit HE WILL GET A HARD IN IMMEDIATELY if you sit in his lap

- loves dirty talk (mostly when you do it… since he is a bit rusty at it)

- has a weird thing about smell? (idk i can’t really explain that one im sorry but you’ll have to figure out this one lol)

- also, you’d think because he basically is obsessed with texting you that he would like nudes or sexting

- well you’d be DEAD WRONG. he hates nudes and sexting

- his main reason being “why would i send it in a text when i can say it to you right here?”

- phone sex… is a very different story

- loves phone sex like LOVES LOVES phone sex

- will do it if he’s far away from you and wants to cum so hard

- he also seems like the type to get those long distance relationships sex toys where its like a dildo and a fleshlight and it feels like your partner is fucking you? do you know what im talking about? cuz if you dont, google is free

- if you are also a switch with him, he will get confused on which role to play at first

- you have to be crystal clear with your intentions and his role

- he isn’t the brightest bulb on the christmas tree in terms of sexual and social cues but we (aka me) love them anyways

- has fantasies about you and him having public sex but is too scared to actually commit

- actually, he probably would’ve done it one time at a restaurant where you both teased each with remote controlled vibrators but swore it off after that

#nathan bratt x reader #nathan bratt x reader smut #nathan bratt #justin long x reader #justin long #goosebumps 2023 #goosebumps #justin long x reader smut

[brattylikestoeat]

This black influencer on TikTok posted a sponsored post aka ad for Macy. I’ve haven’t been in a Macy’s in like 10+ years.

Mind you she didn’t post her trying on clothes, or decorating her house. Just her walking around saying shit is cute.

So why did she complain that the post wasn’t doing well, and then said it’s better to have a white audience because they support you better than black audience.

So you know black twitter and TikTok ain’t let that shit slide. Apparently she a single mom of 1 who still lives at home. Come to find out her baby daddy is white and left her.

So you want white folks so bad to like you, you do it at the expense of black people?

The ad was lazy, unoriginal, and overall just a bad look. Macys been on a decline. Them rebranding as Macy Market doesn’t matter. Brick and mortar stores are a bust for the most part.

She bit the hand that feed her because she had about 100k followers who were mostly black. 

[chthonicgodling]

Giiiiive us.... Maci's current living space! What does it look like. What is the the decore. The vibes!

bOyyy oh boy in a perfect world I could be like “ah yes, let me whip out these detailed schematics and background art of Maci’s bedroom and palace!” BUT I cannot do that because those drawings do not exist lmfao and, due to my whiny dislike of drawing anything that I personally do not like to draw - props, scenery, furniture 😔 - probably will not ever exist. HOWEVER!

you would think that I’d have given more thought into some of these details than the amount of thought I actually have over all these years so I’m about to make some split second canon decisions in this lengthy set of paragraphs, blended up with things that I HAVE given thought to and. I will not be specifying which is which so that I seem like I’m on top of my game ggkfkgkgkg soooo

Maci’s living space is the heart and soul and main setting of the entire Elysium’verse, as she and all her friends live in a giant palace in the middle of the Elysian Fields of the Underworld. It’s HER very own personal palace (separate from the main, bigger palace in the main, bigger Underworld); her parents gave it to her when she was an actual teenager even though she didn’t move into it until millennia later, with Tory, when that became their home ever after. I refer sometimes to “the palace” or “everyone else in the palace” its Maci’s one here that i’m referring to!

The Elysian Fields are a physical bubble of artificial bubbly sunlight in the middle of the afterlife but Maci’s palace is more on trend with the Underworld itself it’s a BIG ass goth castle. Loosely Greco-Roman in architectural style obviously — although I enjoy the thought of the palace being very anachronistic - mmmm idk really. there’s columns on it. it’s all black. whatever!!! it’s whatever you imagine it to be!!

Canonically I BELIEVE it’s got at least three floors but more importantly it’s got literally infinitely generating bedrooms because it’s maaggicccccc. Most everyone’s bedrooms are loosely near each others in the same wings or at least according to family units. Yes all the kids have their own rooms! The kids also have a huge playroom; Tory’s got multiple art studios of his own; there is NOT a throne room in the Elysium palace actually its my personal cute belief that this is what the living room den area was supposed to be and they just,, chucked a Regular Huge Family Style Sofa in there and a tv fgkfkfkg. Huge family kitchen-dining room….

There’s an expansive courtyard in the middle of the palace grounds, a pool as well (somewhere else?? I think that’s inside??) , the whole palace is surrounded by meticulously maintained gardens!

Everything is black. EVERYTHING is black. theres also sooo much marble (it’s just very fireproof), also there’s lights but also many candles it’s a blend,, like I said I love love love the thought of the palace being incredibly anachronisticz Big goth ornate palace with a..,, regular giant family couch and Legos from the kids scattered everywhere—

Maci’s PERSONAL living space aka her bedroom with Tory - honestly it’s, so lovingly, like a revolving door common area in and of itself too haha. Maci & Tory’s bedroom is nearly ballroom sized, it’s connected to their bathroom (with features such as a bathtub the size of a small swimming pool). Maci’s got paintings of herself and tory on her walls (Tory painted them all!! There’s sculptures of her and the kids scattered through the palace too - also done by Tory!) other features incluudeee ridiculous huge vanity, giant mirrors,, again lights but also goth pyromaniac shit like candelabras. Maci’s bed is ridiculously huge, it’s able to fit quite regularly and very comfortably like. Eight people PLUS at a time lmao. ouyughh I don’t actually know what her bed looks like except that it’s uhh. got a headboard and corner posts that are……. Handcuffable fgkfkgkgk

on that note turning nsfw VERY quickly when talking about Maci’s bedroom — Running joke forever that one of her bedroom walls behind a curtain inexplicably has CHAINS on it. though thats less inexplicable if you’re cute enough ;) the other running joke forever is Maci’s walk in closet, behind another curtain — The Closet™ breaks the laws of physics to be an infinite spiralling room of every sex toy known to man and presumably some that mortals have yet to discover. it’s her pride and joy, very well organized, frequently ransacked by the rest of the palace residents fgkfkfk

the vibe IS very distinct and honestly iconic its , giving.,,,, Ornate Luxurious Princess of the Dead/Sleazeball Royalty of the Underworld/Spoiled Beyond Your Imagination/Horny Vampires COULD Live Here. It gives VERY Maci. welcome to the palace!!! it’s 🖤home!

#LONG POST // #oc talk #Macaria tag #Elysium #nsfwtxt // #asks #dethdvncer

[lyon-amore]

What if...? Duskwood Chapter 32

Chapter 31 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Macie POV*

 I thought Dan was the king of pushovers, but Phil had crowned himself. No, rather, the emperor of the inopportune! Ugh… I have nothing against him, because I once talk to him, he doesn't show himself like everyone says, I have him as a friend now, but only that. And he told me that I was the only woman who had been able to resist his ''charms''. Obviously, I've never been that easy, I wasn't going to get sucked into him.

 Especially since 'Mister Jealous' had caught me.

 I look at Jake who is looking for information on Michael Hanson, while I wait for Jessy to confirm if she's going to Michael's. I still haven't told Jake that I want to go. And while I wait, I browse the forum, while my thoughts are focused on our case. It was strange that Phil had given us Michael's name, what did he have to do with that man? Michael Hanson… A father with a daughter who got hit by a car… How does all of this fit in with what is happening?    "Macie?" I sit up in bed when I hear him call me "I found something in connection with Michael Hanson."    "That was quick." I drag myself across the bed until I reach the edge and sit, waiting for what he can show me.    "I will wait until you have listened to the recording." Jake hands me a pair of headphones to listen to.     I nods and plays the audio.    "Questioning of witness Michael Hanson will now resume." Until this moment I had not get it. This voice... I've heard this voice before, but not only on the phone. Why would I have been so stupid not to have noticed? "It’s one thirty-three AM. In the room are the witness Michael Hanson as well Alan Bloomgate.” I look at Jake, who seems to be waiting for my reaction. Have he noticed that I recognized the voice? "So, Michael, please continue."    "So as I said, I was working and I thought that she would already arrived, was in somewhere at the festival" I listen to Michael tired, it's as if he had told this before. It makes me sad to hear him in that tone.     "Why made you think that?" Alan asks firmly.    "Because that was she did the last year too, there was anything unusual about it." It's nothing weird. "Listen Alan... It's late, I'm tired..." How many hours must they have been asking him? Did they doubt him?    "You in your last interrogation you said… One moment please…" I listen to papers. The written statement from the last interrogation " 'I thought Jennifer had gone to the Pine Glade Festival with her friends after arriving in Duskwood. ’ "    "Yes. I thought she was looking at the fireworks. Is always pack in the Aurora during the Pine Glade Festival. She knows that I don't have time for her there. And she wanted to see the fireworks. She has always looking the most."    "When did you get home, Michael?"    "About three or four."    "And you didn't go into Jennifer's room when you arrive the house? You didn’t went to see you daughter was home?" There is silence in the audio and I wait for an answer "For the records: The witness is shakes his head in disagreement. Please say no, Mr. Hanson. The recorder can't see you."    "No. I've told you I don’t know many times.” Michael raises his voice, angry now, how many times has he really had to tell everything? How much does a father have to suffer for this situation? "I thought Jennifer would probably asleep, so I went to bed." Hannah said that Jennifer was an adult, so the father thought that she was responsible for coming home... But..." The next morning I wanted to wake her up… Then I saw that she wasn’t in her room."    "That was the point that would you informed your ex-wife, Iris Hanson, correct?"     Michael takes a breath before answering.    "Yeah. Correct. Jennifer didn't like her room. She never complain, but I could tell when she come to my place for the first time. It was still decorated the way her grandmother had it when she was a kid. I never changed it. I don't know what young woman her age like."    "Your ex-wife then informed police in Duskwood, correct?"    "Yes goddammit! Correct!" Michael raises his voice "The same answer I gave you the last time when you asked. My daughter is missing!" He bangs on the table that makes me jump, helpless "Go and look for her instead of wasting your time asking stupid questions!"

 The audio ends and I remove my headphones, handing them back to Jake.    “Ok, thanks for waiting,” I say as I fix my hair.    "I think we should not waste any time and talk about it." Jake sets the headphones on the table and leans forward, leaning on his legs. "Where do we begin?"     I start to think about everything I've heard. It is better to start from the beginning so as not to lose the thread.    "Concerning the Aurora bar" Jake pouts, but nods. He must have thought of Phil ". That's why Phil and Michael know each other. "    "Yes" he sighs, looking to the side thinking. "Jessica did not seem to know the name Michael Hanson, however" he looks at me doubtfully now ". Shouldn't she have known him at least a little through his brother, at least heard the name?"     I massage my temples, wondering why no one had said anything about this.    "So should the rest of the group, really." I lean forward as well, moving on to the next topic. We'll have to ask them about this when we tell them about it ". The police were suspecting Michel” I say with a broken voice, thinking about how difficult it must have been for him ". That must have been hard for him."     Jake looks at me carefully. It’s quite noticeable when we are focused and when we are distracted. He seeks to know something.    "Does it look suspicious to you?" He asks me, seriously "I am aware that this question may seems very early, but I am interested in you assessment."     I sigh as I hear Michael's voice in my head. Shattered. It had been years since I had heard an interrogation, but I didn’t forget knowing what voices sound like when they are truly desperate.    "No, not at all" I shook my head, looking at him a little sad. "He seems more desperate… And I can understand him being like this…” Jake nods and I continue “. But Michael had an alibi, didn’t he?    "But maybe not for the whole evening." He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "The police must have had very few things to go at this point."    "Which made Michael pretty angry. Michael didn’t noticed that Jennifer was missing."    "And does that seem strange or normal to you?"    “He was too busy in the Aurora."    "He assumed that Jennifer musth had been at the festival and that came back afterwards."    “When in reality… She never arrive there."     We remain silent. Remembering the rest of the recording. I have to focus like I used to, not put my feelings into how Michael was feeling. I have to be focused.    "In his last statement, at least according to Alan, Michael had mentioned a certain ‘Pine Glade Festival’." I look at him, returning to focus on the investigation. "Have you heard of that?"     I nod, I was here just for the festival.    "Yes. That's why Jennifer was in Duskwood."     Jake gets up from his chair and begins to think.    "Maybe a conversation with Michael could be beneficial."    "I’ve been thinking that too." I get up from the bed and walk over to him, ready to tell him. "Jessy has told me that she plans to go to his house to see if there is any luck and to be able to talk to him and if I can accompany her."      Jake's gaze goes from concentration to concern in a second. I already knew that he would be this way. He turns away, ignoring me, wanting to go back to the chair. I stop him by grabbing his arm, making him look at me.    "Jake, nothing will happen" I keep my voice as calm as possible, lovingly caressing his face. ". It will be quick, talk to him and come back, you won't even notice that I'm gone."    "I don't want you to go" he takes my hands carefully ", not after what happened to Richy. What if he goes after you too?"     This time I try not to let myself be dominated by his eyes, which look at me with fear and begging for me to stay. I shake my head and he sighs, looking at the ground.    "I guess I can't stop you." he finally says himself.    "Besides…" I bite my lip excitedly "I want to investigate something with Jessy."    "It's not a game, Macie." he says in an annoyed tone.    "I know, Jake," I replied with the same tone "do you know how many years it's been since I've had this feeling of getting back into action?"     Jake stares at me. I’m shaking with emotion. This was what I liked best when I was with my father. Investigator Macie Connor was back thanks to Jake. It was partly his fault.    "But be careful" he finally tells me ", we don't know if the kidnapper is following her."    "I'll have it" I kiss him on the cheek and hear him make an annoyed sound. I also know that he can't resist me. ". By the way, we shouldn’t keep this interrogation from the others, either."    "You are right" And he had forgotten that he belongs to the group. Jake belongs to the chat group… I like that ". Then please sent it to the group chat." I go for the phone and immediately go to the group chat, sending the audio. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Macie Please Listen to this

 Thomas Finally, I’ve been on tenterhooks for hours

 Macie Why didn’t you do something instead of waiting for us? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    "Aggressive." I hear Jake say from his chair, and from his tone, I think he's smiling.    “Just because we have one of the best hackers in the world doesn't mean we have to be fast.” I tell him, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his cheek.    "Thank you, I do what I can." he looks at me and winks at me.     I let out a laugh and off to bed.

 I get another message from Alan. This time he tells me not to be afraid to talk to him. It's not exactly him… I don't have good memories of how the police in general made me feel in the past.    “Jake, this Alan guy is messaging me again.” I tell him, biting my nail.    "What?" I hear how he clicks and complains "I am still unable to see his messages" he looks at me and tries to calm me down with his gaze "I will take care of it later."    "OK."    “I will figure it out soon Macie."    "I know, I trust you." I smile at him, or at least I try. I’m a little nervous.     We return to the group chat and Jake tells them that Alan was the case manager at the time. I tell them that Phil has called me and we get the information that he has been in charge of the Aurora for quite some time. Unfortunately for us, the former owner of the bar suddenly left Duskwood…. Translation, Michael wasn't there. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jessy But maybe I'm confused as I’ve got my timing all wrong too 🤔 😔

 Macie Jake and I wanted to talk to Michael

 Thomas How are we gonna do that?

 Jessy Macie and I have Michael's address. Well and even if the address isn’t current any more, maybe the neighbors or the new owners know something

 Thomas Jessy, do you want us to drive to that address?

 Jessy Sure, why not 🙂 Oh! I was going to go with Macie But we can go all three together 😊

 Thomas Ah okay And that's how I finally know her 🙂

 Macie Haha, yes we have to see each other 🙂

 Jessy We'll go look for you at the motel, you see getting ready!! 😄 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I put my phone down and go to the bathroom to clean myself up a bit. My hair is a mess from lying in bed all the time. I look in the mirror and suddenly feel a chill. I don't know what the kidnapper's next objective will be… Exactly, for now I'm going to call him that so as not to say his name. It's even better to gather evidence. Who knows if Richy is ultimately being threatened and that's why he's doing all this? All theories are possible. Jake looks at me from the doorway, concerned.    "What is wrong?" He asks me, looking at me from the mirror.    "Somehow I’ve suddenly got a bad feeling about this…" I replied, leaning against the sink.    "Why?"     I turn and look at him, lips pursed.    "Everything just seems so dangerous to me suddenly" I explained, remembering everything that had happened "At least everything in Duskwood..."    “Then do not go.” Jake approaches me, placing his hands on my cheeks "Let them go..."    “I have to see for myself” I say determinedly ". Whatever we find there, at least we will have tried."     Jake rests his forehead against mine, tracing circles with his thumbs. He calms me down unless he's with me.    "I am so sorry that there is nothing I can do to improve the situation." he whispers.    "You being here is enough for me."     I smile closing my eyes, enjoying the moment. These moments in which we can express ourselves without words and with caresses how much we need our contact.    "Will you take care of Alan while I'm gone?" I know it's spoiling the moment a bit, but I'm terrified that the police are after me when I'm innocent.    "I will do that."    "Thank you."     He kisses me on the forehead and I chuckle.    “Be careful” he tells me again, pulling away slowly, “stay connected, okay?"    “Yes, dad."    "Macie..."    "Yes?"     He looks at me seriously, as if he wanted to tell me something else.    "If something happens to you, I won't forgive them." I sigh and nod at his words.    “But don't be too harsh.” I tell him, playing with the drawstrings of his sweatshirt.    "I can't promise you that."     I laugh and pull him up, kissing him near the lips. If I entertain myself now, I will never leave.

 The sound of the horn alerts me that they are here. I grab my jacket and before leaving I look at Jake.    "Wish me luck." I say, sighing.    "I'll be busy with Alan, but let us know everything through the group." he still looks at me with concern.    "Okay, see you later Jake." I say with a wave and leave the room.     I walk over to the car and Thomas and Jessy get out to greet me. It had just started to rain a bit, so I pull up my hood before getting in the car. Jessy hugs me tight and as she pulls away she points at Thomas and then at me.    “Thomas, Macie. Macie, Thomas.” she says, introducing us.     Thomas offers his hand in greeting and I accept it.    "Nice to meet you in person" he tells me, a little tense. "I didn't think we would ever meet..."    "Well, you see I'm here" I answered, looking nervously at the man who got me into all this ". How are you doing?"    "I guess I could be better…" he says as we go to the car ", are we ready then?"    "Yeah, come on" I'm going to get in the car and I see Jessy stop, looking at the bedroom window. ". Jessy?"      My friend looks at me and points nervously.    "I thought I saw a shadow" she tells me curiously ". Did you come here accompanied?"    "No." I shook my head, getting into the car "You will have imagined it."    "Maybe…"     I texted Jake saying that Jessy almost caught him watching me from the window. I hold back my laughter reading his response.     ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jake Tell her it was a ghost. Don't she like those stories? ;) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Thomas looks at me in the rearview mirror, uncomfortable. Jessy taps his arm, encouraging him to speak.    "Macie." he calls me nervously.    "What up?"    "I… I'm sorry I second-guessed you on the vote" Jessy hits him again and he groans ", and Jake. Also from Jake."    “I accept your apology, Thomas.” I say as I tell Jake.    "Do you write to him?" I hear Jessy say, before turning in the seat as much as she could with the belt "With Jake."    "He told me to speak for the group, so that we're all aware" I answered, looking at her now, "I'd like to record the conversation in case Michael was in the house, for him."    "That's a good idea." Thomas agrees.

     We're getting closer to the path to Michael's house and I get a message from Cleo in the group. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Cleo Hello

 Macie Hi Cleo Jessy, Thomas and I are on our way to Jennifer's father's house. Or rather his probably abandoned house

 Cleo Didn’t we agree that none of us would be leaving the house?

 Macie This is an exceptional situation ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jessy takes a photo and starts writing in the chat. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jessy We’re almost there This forest road should take us straight to Michael's house...

 Cleo Do you need my help maybe?

 Macie No, with the three of us o the site are more than enough ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

     “Don't tell Cleo, but I'd rather have you come than her.” Jessy says with a laugh.    "Careful I’m not going to rat on her." I teased.    "No!"     We laugh and Thomas shakes his head. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan What's going on here? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

     "Ooh! Hold on Thomas, let's take a picture to show them we're with Macie.” Jessy pats Thomas.    "Sure, as long as that's delayed," he tells her, letting out a sigh.     Jessy nods to me and I lean over in the seat, smiling for the camera. At least Jake will see that I'm okay during the trip. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan Wait, wait, is Macie going too?

 Macie Yes, I'm going too 😄

 Dan Uh?

 Macie We found the address of Jennifer Hanson's father

 Dan And?

 Macie And now want to take a closer look at it

 Dan And?

 Macie Because we’re hoping to some clue as to his whereabouts...

 Dan Because?

 Macie You’ll find all the answers to your questions further up in the chat! Where have you been all day, anyway?

 Dan In hospital? The question’s starting to not be funny any more ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jessy and I laugh. We look like two teenagers joking with a boy in class.

 I tell them to listen to the audio I've played, and Jessy taps me for attention.    “Macie, we're coming."     I look up at the house as Jessy videotapes our arrival. The storm made the surroundings look like they were taken from a horror movie, even the house looked like it could perfectly be used as human sacrifices... I have so many thoughts right now...    “It's huge.” Thomas comments, along with a whistle.    “This is how all horror movies start.” I say, not taking my eyes off the house.    "Don't say that Macie!" Exclaims Jessy, a little scared "Remember, we're here to investigate, nothing bad is going to happen. Don't worry."    "I should say that." I replied.     There's even a barn. What kind of house did Michael have? This must cost more than my house.

We get out of the car and Lilly connects. I told her that the last number on Hannah's list was Amy's. It seems that even Cleo didn't know. It is still a mystery how nobody knew her, why did she keep it a secret that they knew each other? 

We approach the door and knock. Unfortunately the doorbell doesn't work. Jessy knocks on the door, but no one answers. From the state of the house and all the covered windows, I think we can fully deduce that no one lives in this house.    "So, what can we do now?" Thomas asks.     We look around and Jessy taps me on the shoulder with her.    "I'm going to take pictures, okay? I'm going to get away a bit" she tells me, so I don't worry.    “Okay” I nod and look at the windows, looking for some way to get in "Two of the windows are sealed shut” I also comment to the group, so they know what we do at all times.     I take in the surroundings, approaching Jessy, as Thomas follows me, gathering us.    "There are no houses anywhere." I commented, seeing no neighbor.    “No one lives here for miles” Jessy says "I will continue taking photos."     I stay with Thomas, who seems quite nervous.    "Are you Ok?" I asked.     He's almost as tall as Jake or even a little less, or I'm the short one.    “This place” I see him shudder “I hope Hannah is here."     I look away, sadly.   Let's really hope we find something here that will help us...    "Hey! Guys!" Jessy yells and we look at each other before running towards her "Something has moved inside it!"    "You can describe it?" I ask Jessy, trying to see inside myself now.    "No, something just scurried." she replies, with a sigh.     It's too dark to know if you could see something or not. We try to keep the group informed at all times. They should not miss any detail either. Luckily Jessy is also taking photos. I don't see anything weird yet to analyze it.    “The barn is adjacent to the main building.” Thomas steps away a bit, looking at the building. Maybe we can get in from there. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Dan Sure, go ahead Welcome to the house of horrors, just leave your coat by the door Because we haven’t learned anything from everything that’s happened so far 👍

 Macie We have to do something. Dan ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

     "Okay, let's go in…" I commented, putting the phone away to go to the entrance of the barn.     Thomas tries to open the door. It seems that no attempt has been made to open it for years, the door is somewhat stuck.

 Once open, we test that the door opens and closes easily. The only thing that weighs a bit, but it will come in handy in case it is the only way out we have if we cannot open the front door. The raindrops filter through the barn and it is quite extensive. It is very cold and the humidity of the water doesn’t help. I want to drink something hot...    “There's a door at the other end” Thomas points out at the end of the barn ". I'll see what I can do."     We nod and I stare around, examining him. Jessy walks away continuing with the photos of her. We look like a research team.    “Macie! Thomas!" Jessy exclaims and we get closer "There is a bunker outside."    "Shall we go look?" I ask looking at them.    "You girls go, I'll see how I open the doo." Thomas walks away and we look at each other, nodding as if to say 'Come on'.     As I follow Jessy, Jake logs into the group chat. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Macie Hey 🙂

 Jake Hello. Please excuse my lateness.

 Dan I forgive you

 Macie Jake, could we have a quick word in private?

 Jake Of course. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I quickly go to our chat. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jake You do not want to tell the others of Alan’s attempts at contacting you, am I right?

 Macie I don't want to worry them Alan won't get me anyway 😋

 Jake I've managed to break through his the encryption. So it will no longer be possible for him to contact you without knowledge.

 Macie Thanks, Jake ❤️

 Jake :) How are you doing at Michael's house?

 Macie Oh… It would be more fun with you It's really scary on the outside

 Jake Hm... I see.

 Macie Although now that I think about it, it would be dangerous Because you know what would happen to us if we were here together if it was like a horror movie

 Jake That would not happen. I would keep you well taken care of ;)

 Macie 🤭  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    “Macie! Come on!" Jessy calls me.      I quickly approach her, she's almost in the bunker. We lean out slowly, inspecting the interior.     “False alarm.” Jessy finally says, breathing a sigh of relief.     We go in and she starts taking pictures again. It's partly reassuring to know that Hannah isn't here. This place would be risky for her health... If the kidnapper is interested in that.

Thomas sends us a message that he's gotten into the house, so we start heading back to the barn.    "What have you talked about with Jake?" I look at Jessy, confused "I saw that you wanted to talk to him in private."    "Oh, I was just saying it would be fun to come here with him if he could." I replied, partly true.    "It would be very romantic to come investigate with him, right?" She gives me a lazy shove and I laugh.    "Yes… The truth is that yes…" I look at Jessy, who forces a smile "You don't have to fake it with me, Jessy,” I tell her, myself forcing a smile. We are on the same page "I know you care about Richy."    "We're going to find him, right?" Jessy stops walking and looks me in the eye, concerned "Macie, tell me we'll find him."     I nod slowly, swallowing my words. I’m not able to tell her that Richy is dead, that he is possibly behind all this, or that he may be collaborating under threat. I still don't have enough evidence for it.    "We'll find him Jessy." I finally answered.     Jessy hugs me, holding back tears.    "Girls! You have to come see this!" Thomas yells at us from the house.    "We're coming!" I warned him.     Jessy wipes away her tears and nods to continue. 

We enter the house and see a room without a door, lit by candles.    "Thomas?" I call, worried it might be a trap.    "Come here!" Now! He yells at us in alarm.      Jessy and I looked at each other scared, approaching the room. Thomas was on the phone when we enter, but that wasn't what caught our attention the most.

Chapter 33

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfic #duskwood everbyte #everbyte #everbyte studio

[hekateinhell]

A happy ask to take a break from the angst.

How do you think Daniel and Armand celebrate Christmas together? During DM Era and/or at Trinity Gate.

I can see Armand being fascinated by decorations and watching classic Christmas specials with Daniel.

I think Armand definitely had a lot of fun exploring commercialized holidays during the Devil's Minion years! Just imagine Armand taking in the utter spectacle of seeing the massive floating Santa at the end of the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade and the lighting of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.

Daniel absolutely was dragged took Armand to the FAO Schwarz flagship location in Rockefeller Plaza during the Christmas season (Armand was in his "I need two of everything now," phase).

Armand was mesmerized by Christmas light displays and so their apartment was full of every kind of string light option made available during December 1980. Armand blew the fuses more than once; the apartment was glowing all night, every night.

Christmas at Trinity Gate is a more tasteful and sophisticated affair these days, and Armand's enthusiasm is much more curtailed, but Daniel still makes a show of teasing him with the mistletoe.

For their first Christmas together after they reunited, Daniel wasn't sure what to get the Man Who Has Everything, so he gave him a $5 pack of flashing multi-colored Christmas lights, for old time's sake. Armand loved it and promptly hung them over the center balcony and insisted they stay there until May--the first truly gaudy thing Trinity Gate has ever seen.

They missed a lot of holiday movie releases during their time apart, so there was a period of steadily binging through every Christmas flick that came out between 1989 and 2013.

Armand especially enjoyed Home Alone (it appealed to his 15th-century sense of humor), and the very first thing he did on December 25th, Central European Standard Time, was call Lestat and tell him, "Merry Christmas, you filthy animal!" and hang up.

Daniel preferred The Nightmare Before Christmas and got into a brief claymation phase, the results of which we shall never speak of.

Armand still isn't a fan of the cold, but when he and Daniel need some time to themselves around this time of year (away from the château but also Trinity Gate when it's full of visitors), they make the trip to Prague or one of many cities that still holds some personal significance to both of them. They could go to a tropical climate, but through Daniel, Armand has been charmed into appreciating the beauty of the festivities when surrounded by snow (he is on the private jet to Miami by New Year's).

#me finding a cheerful ask buried in my inbox two weeks after i depressed the heck out of everyone: still relevant (thankfully) #you ask and hekate answers #headcanons #vc #armand #daniel molloy #armand/daniel

[dreamscarx]

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#ts4 download #TS4 #thesims4 #showusyoursims #as told by ginger

[erinevrly]

Axl made sure to get over here early, Meegan letting him in with a bunch of balloons tied to his wrist and a pink Minnie Mouse birthday bag that he comes into Erin’s bedroom with. “Heeey, birthday girl.” Knocking hard to let his presence be known, “Wake up, you got gifts and a card to read and cake to eat for breakfast.” In the other bag he placed the small birthday cake from Canters in a purple bag that’s hanging off his other wrist. ‘Happy Birthday, Erin’ written in cursive pink on the top of it, flowers and Minnie Mouse heads decorated on the top. He sits down on her bed, kisses her cheek and ties the balloons to the headboard then puts the bags next to her, there’s an outfit she wanted, a huge set of Estee Lauder lip sticks and lip glosses from Macy’s because he figured girls really love makeup and it was a last minute idea, a sparkly bracelet and a stuffed Mickey and Minnie in the bag for her birthday. All of it from Macy’s and he spent almost every dollar he had to afford all of it, but it’s damn worth it. Smiling in anticipation, he sinks down on his side and wraps his arm around her to squish her in a hug. | this one is set in the 80s and that bracelet is inspired off the one she wears a lot and seen in the its so easy video🥰

erin’s  just  barely  waking  up,  mostly  unaware  what  day  it  is,  when  she  hears  the  knock  on  her  bedroom  door.  her  eyes  remain  closed  as  she  stretches  her  slender  arms  over  her  head  and  mumbles,   ❝   mmm…  come  in.   ❞   she  assumes  it  must  be  her  roommate,  probably  just  got  back  home  from  a  night  of  partying,  eager  to  tell  her  all  about  the  cute  boys  that  she’d  met  and  kissed  and  danced  with.  the  door  squeaks,  and  what  a  surprise  it  is  when  the  sound  that  fills  the  air  is  not  a  girly  giggle,  but  the  voice  that  she  loves  so  very  much.  she’s  still  burrowed  under  a  pile  of  blankets,  warm  and  soft,  with  rosy  cheeks  and  tangled  curls,  but  her  sleepy  features  light  up  all  at  once  and  she  finds  herself  beaming  at  the  strawberry-haired  man.  pale  blue  eyes  fluttering  open,  widening  as  she  takes  in  all  the  gifts  that  he’s  brought  her.  a  soft  gasp  escapes  her  lips.   ❝   aww,  baby!   ❞   she  squeaks,  sitting  up  against  the  pillows,  a  teddy  bear  digging  into  her  back.  she  rubs  her  eyes  as  if  in  disbelief.  she  wasn’t  really  expecting  anything,  knowing  that  they’re  on  a  budget,  but…  wow!  the  balloons  are  beautiful,  floating  above  her  head  and  she  marvels  at  them  with  sheer  wonderment.  curling  her  curious  finger  around  one  of  the  string,  she  pulls  gently  to  bring  one  of  them  down  before  releasing  it  again.   ❝   my  goodness,  is  all  this  for  me?  you  didn’t  have  to.  you  really  didn’t  have  to,   ❞   she  whispers  softly,  peeking  into  the  bags  and  spotting  the  most  thoughtful  combination  of  presents.  it  has  her  heart  expanding,  eyes  filling  with  tears  of  happiness.  he  must  really  pay  attention  to  what  she  likes,  the  stores  she  visits,  he  even  got  her  favorite  shades  of  lipsticks  right.  she’s  smiling  so  big  that  her  cheeks  begin  to  hurt,  the  tip  of  her  nose  tingling.  the  first  thing  that  she  pulls  out  are  the  stuffed  mickey  and  minnie.  she  hugs  them  to  her  chest  and,  before  unpacking  the  rest,  looks  up  at  her  boyfriend,  nothing  but  love  and  gratitude  brimming  in  her  eyes.   ❝   you’re  the  sweetest  boy  in  the  entire  universe,  axl.  this  is  the  best  birthday  ever!  i  love  it,  all  of  it…  the  balloons,  the  presents,  you.  i  love  you  so  much,  baby!  thank  you.  thank  you  for  making  my  day  so  special.   ❞   she  curls  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  hugs  him,  mickey  and  minnie  squished  between  their  bodies.  this  is  the  best  birthday  ever  all  because  she  gets  to  celebrate  it  with  her  favorite  person.  

#rcsechild #answered. #OMGOSH ER BEAR IS GETTING /SPOILED/ :'))))) SOBBING!! thank you so much for sending this!! it's the cutest!! #main verse: 1987. #they're so cute together :') innocent little babies :') #the fact that he got her everything she loves :') makeup and clothes and disney!! minnie and mickey :') i just know she jokes that it's the #and the bracelet :")))))) SHES CRYING ALREADY WHEN SHE SEES HE GOT HER JEWELRY SHES GONNA BE LIKE ?? *SOBS* #he fr doesnt mind spending his last penny on her :')

[pixelvibes-cc]

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[ofmythsandfables]

@agentnamed asked: "I couldn't wait any longer, I decorated for Christmas. Please don't be angry, Darling." (Steve)

❈ — While he wished he could've helped Peggy decorate for the holiday, Steve also couldn't blame her for not wanting to wait any longer either. The woman loved Christmas as much, if not more, than he did after all.

"I'm the farthest thing from angry." He smiled warmly at her while stepping inside the home and wrapping his arms around her. "You did a great job, honey. And from the looks of it, it's even better than Macy's." He chuckled while kissing her forehead.

#agentnamed #{ steve x peggy / agentnamed / 004 } #i love them omg

[rereadanon]

Hello friends! I was tagged by macy mouse herself @celestialmickey, @mishervellous, @metalheadmickey @gallavich-headcanon, @whatwouldmickeydo, & @squidyyy23 for Macy's moving edition of our favorite weekly-ish tag game!

please address me as: got a lot of names 😜 but you can call me Anna

how many countries have you lived in? One

states/provinces? Two

cities/towns? Five

homes? Nine

road trip or long-haul flight? I hate planes, I absolutely LOVE a road trip. Sure it’s long but music, snacks, sights, roadside attractions!

on the spectrum of hoarder to minimalist, where do you fall? I want to be a maximalist in decor only but nothing gets on the walls or where is should be because I can’t do commitment. So I’m on the hoarder end. But I LOVE a clean out!

do you have a keepsake box/bin/bag and if so, what’s in it? Yeah, a couple. One for photographs, one from my wedding, each of the kids has one, and then there are a few things that I display. I also have a drawer that has a bunch of sentimental stuff. I have a lot of stuff.

if you could live anywhere, where would you live? Ireland or the Caribbean!

favorite place in your home? The family room. It’s pretty cozy, the tv is there, the fireplace too.

finally, what’s your current favorite item in your home? This is like asking my favorite movie, or food, there are too many categories to choose from! So I will say my favorite piece of art is the painted fat lady fish! She is in our dining room and I love her so much.

Tagging people right off the top of my head, if you’re not here, I love you too! @gallawitchxx @creepkinginc @auds-and-evens @lalazeewrites @liamgallaghers @y0itsbri @7x10mickey @smokey-mickey consensual kisses all around!