Xxforestfairyxx - Xxforestfairyxx

the patrick verona to eddie munson pipeline is SO real

Steve Harrington has Kenergy

UGGGGH MY HEART

billy

My heart is the Emerson fam <333

if ur requests are open rn will you write something abt gareth’s family and the reader? it can be like meeting them once you’ve started dating or later on or anything. loved ur last fic !! thank u !!!!

i want you to meet my family.

gareth emerson x gn!reader

word count: 1,487

warnings: swearing, reader is anxious and a bit shy, meet-the-family jitters, tooth-rotting fluff, gare being sweet and lovey

a/n: hi!! thank you for your request my sweet!! i’m so happy that you liked my last fic! means the world. i kind of went for a shy and anxious reader, so i hope that’s okay!! for context, i’ve given him: mom, stepdad and two younger sisters. i tried to leave them unnamed so that you can call them whatever you’d like! i hope this turned out like you wanted! <333

————

“I want you to meet my family.”

You practically choked on the hot chocolate he’d fixed you. That should’ve been your first clue anyhow. He was buttering you up.

Coughing, Gareth’s hand rubbed and patted your back, the other taking the mug from you and setting it down before you spilled.

His words caught you off guard—god forbid you sit with your boyfriend and not expect anything to happen. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Gare, I’m fine.” You weren’t fine. The waver in your voice gave you away.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet Gareth’s family, because you really, really did—what with all he’d told you—and you had this urge to get to know that part of him too. You found it comforting that he wanted you to meet them.

You were just nervous. You weren’t good with new people, and these were more than just people. They were Gareth’s people.

But meeting them only made sense, especially when you could feel yourself falling more and more for him every minute.

The both of you hadn’t been together officially for too long, and had definitely been relishing in the fact that it was just the two of you and there wasn’t any pressure. This, however, was pressure. Lots of it.

“Can you look at me, pretty please?” You shifted, the two of you now sitting cross legged and facing each other on the couch. He held out his hands, which you dramatically slapped, eliciting an ever more dramatic hiss from him, before he clasped your fingers in his.

You focused on the silver ring resting on his middle finger while he spoke to you. “You know I would never want you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. But I-I want you to meet my family, because you’re my family too.”

His kind words were flustering you, so you continued to fidget with his ring and started chewing on your bottom lip, biting down in hopes that the sting of tears would go away.

“It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. I’ll bring you home like usual, there will just be other people there. I don’t want you to worry about whether they’ll like you, even though I know you’re going to, but—they wanna meet you too, sweetheart. You’re my whole world, you gotta know that.”

You did. Lifting your head, you met his gaze. His nose scrunched in greeting. You leaned in to kiss it. “Okay. I trust you, Gareth.”

————

“Breathe. Here, with me, okay?” Gareth stood with you in the driveway, holding onto you and trying to soothe your nerves.

You knew there was nothing to be scared of. You’d heard nothing but good things about them, about how much they meant to Gareth.

But you couldn’t help that your heart was beating so fast it hurt and your hands were shaking and you felt a little dizzy. There was so much going on in your head—always—and what if they could tell you were a mess? Maybe they’d think you weren’t right for their boy.

Stop, you told yourself. Breathe. Gareth’s gentle hand on your collarbones brought you back. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Will you hold my hand? Please? Please don’t leave me.” He held back a wince at seeing you this way.

“I’m never gonna leave you, my sweet.”

Gareth led you up the few steps to the door and inside, just like any other time you’d been over. Your stomach sunk when you heard voices coming from the kitchen. As if he was reading your thoughts, Gareth turned around and kissed your cheek. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.”

You nodded, afraid your voice would fail you, and he took that as his queue to head off.

Entering the kitchen, you found his stepdad and youngest sister working on a puzzle, both settled at the table. His mother was preparing cookie dough, his other sister sat on the counter beside her, presumably licking cinnamon off of her fingers. From what you could smell, they were snickerdoodles. Those were your favorite.

Gareth tugged you into him, and you hid a little against his side. “Hey, guys,” his voice cut off all other noise in the kitchen, four heads snapping up at once.

Gareth’s mom smiled brilliantly at the sight of you, and she hurried to wipe her hands against the little waist apron she was wearing before tugging it off.

“Hi!” She exclaimed.

The youngest of his sisters leapt from her place on the counter, sprinting to her brother just after his mom made it to him. His mother kissed his cheek, giving him knowing and thrilled eyes. Gareth groaned exaggeratedly as a little body smacked into his legs, “Hi, bubba!”

“Hi, squirt.” He ruffled her hair and you watched in awe, your attention shifting as his mom turned to face you instead.

You let go of Gareth’s hand, trying to be brave because she looked so kind. He took that as a signal to let you. An I’m okay gesture.

This woman was not scary. Her eyes were that same sweet blue as her son’s, her curls just as unruly, though tied up at the base of her neck.

“Hello, my love! It’s so nice to meet you! Can I hug you? Would that be okay?” She raised her hands a little, hopeful.

“Sure you can,” you responded, smiling genuinely. My love, she’d called you. You were suddenly overwhelmed with how nice it felt to be welcomed and cared for so instantaneously.

Gareth’s mother pulled you in for a hug, warm and grateful, swaying you gently in her arms. She pulled back, still smiling, eyes shining with it. Turning her head, she checked that Gareth wasn’t looking—he wasn’t, head bent to look at the puzzle on the table. “You know he never shuts up about you?

“Really?” You grinned at her, feeling your cheeks heat up, but delighted nonetheless.

“Really!” The sound of your joint giggles made Gareth turn around, his stepdad and sisters following his return to you.

“I don’t like the sounds of this.” He said it with a smile anyhow.

“Hey, kiddo.” Gareth’s stepdad found you, and gave you a short, but kind hug. He smelled faintly of cigarettes, yet it was comforting. You caught a glimpse of a tattoo sleeve under the edge of his sweater, and hoped you’d remember to ask about it later.

You hadn’t expected this glasses-clad, teddy-bear-looking man to have tattoos. “It’s true, by the way, he really doesn’t shut up about you.”

Gareth ran a hand down his face and you laughed softly, albeit slightly worried about would he could’ve said.

Both of his sisters approached you at once, the younger with messily braided pigtails, the older with a head full of crazier and more tightly coiled curls than both Gareth and his mother combined.

“You’re very pretty,” the younger one said, holding her arms out for a hug. You obliged her. “He said you were pretty. You are.”

“Thank you. So are you.” She smiled gratefully and looked up at her older sister expectantly.

The latter grinned just as kindly as all of the rest of them, holding out her hand, hoping you’d trust her and take it. “Are you any good at puzzles? Gareth sucks.”

“Hey! I do not.” You chuckled at their banter.

“He does,” she told you, attempting to whisper, before settling on the bench and doling you out some pieces.

The rest of the day went perfectly fine. You’d never felt more at home than you did with Gareth’s family. They welcomed you and loved you immediately and wanted to get to know the person who was making their boy so happy.

————

Your car was in the driveway when Gareth pulled up. He wasn’t sure why—he hadn’t asked you over today—not that he was totally upset by it.

He made his way down the hall to the kitchen where your familiar voice rang out.

You looked up at his entrance.

“Hi?” He questioned, tossing his keys on the counter.

He found both of his sisters and you bent over the kitchen table, spreading puzzle glue on yet another puzzle that you’d finished together.

“I know. They called with an invitation and a puzzle completion notice.” You turned to the sister on your left. “Here. If you move around a bit, the light catches and you can check for any spots missing glue. Sound good?” She nodded enthusiastically and you moved away.

Gareth pulled you in for a hug, mumbling a “Sorry,” under his breath.

“‘S okay, really. Also, apparently I’m going to a ballet recital tonight.” Gareth tossed his head back, laughing brilliantly at your situation.

He’d told you they’d love you, and they did. He just thought it was funny that now you had to go through all the things that he did.

But you didn’t mind. Not really. Not when it was your family too.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

My heeeaarrtttt <3

eddie’s love letter to reader after leaving her in chicago where he’d followed her after meeting for the first time. (i was in my feels despite not even being in love myself)

masterlist or series tag #enam3ls rockstar eddie

Dear sweetheart,

I’m considering hijacking my own plane and making them turn back to Chicago, back to you. My lips left your skin an hour ago and already they’re itching to be reunited.

Ready to commit felonies in order to feel yours once more. The guys have ditched me, they’re sitting further up the place. Apparently I talk too much as is, now I’m worse than ever and the only topic on my tongue is you. I can’t blame them, I wonder how I’ll ever shut up about you.

The flight attendant brought her little trolley round and all she got from me was a lecture about how you only mix your drinks with lemonade, never soda. I told her my girl has a sweet tooth. I suppose I don’t know for sure if you’re my girl yet. Not even officially my girl and you’ve got me hopping states and writing love letters.

You’ve bewitched me, babe. Appeared out of thin air on a dark stormy night in a small town like Hawkins? It all makes sense. I knew you had to be other worldly. You hexed me that night, turned me into a lovesick teenager. I hope the spell is irreversible if it means I get to be yours.

Shit, this could all be nonsense, I don’t know. I’m so god damn tired. You kept me awake. I’ve not even got my mind in the gutter. Just mean, how could I possibly sleep when I got to have you to myself? There’s only 24 hours in the day and you’ve existed for nearly 24 years. Hard to hear all your stories in that time. I want to hear them all. It feels cruel the universe robbed me of 24 years of you. Think I could listen to you til the oceans ran dry and I wouldn’t get bored.

I took my jacket off once I was seated to get comfy but then I realised it smelt like you. Had this thing since I was 16 and it’s only ever smelt like smoke and cheap beer. You wear it for a weekend and it smells like you. You you you. That pretty perfume and that sweetness natural to your skin. It’s soaked into the leather. Under the fibres. I think you’ve done that to me as well. Seeped under my skin. Running through my system.

Already owe Dustin and Steve my life in ways you don’t even know. I owe them it all once over for introducing you.

You were right when you said this wasn’t normal. People don’t just feel this way with someone they’ve known for a couple of hours. I think my heart was yours from that moment in the Hideout. It’s still with you now in Chicago. I don’t want it back. Keep it in the back pocket of those tight little jeans you wore yesterday. If you gave me yours, it’d be the most precious think I owned.

When you get back home to New York and read this, call me. I’ll be on your doorstep in seconds if I’m not already camped out there. I should’ve stayed in bed with you in that fancy ass hotel in Chicago.

Call me and I’ll crawl back into your sheets and promise to never leave again.

Yours if you wish,

Eddie.

don’t worry i know it’s been a while but i could never forget about my lil star crossed lovers

my taglist angels: @whoahoney @lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos s @munsonology @mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar

My aesthetic: Leland kicking in doors

Indiana Snow

an: We've just had our first snow of winter and everything looks so pretty! In honor of the first snow, here's a winter Eddie one-shot, a product of my boredom! Hope you enjoy it! (NOT related to 'The time before')

blurb: Andrea Emerson is back from college, but not even a week into her winter break, Hawkins receives a freak blizzard. Her brother, Gareth, has recently suffered an injury and calls in his bandmate to aid Andrea.

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The snow was coming down in small, sticky clumps when I woke up on a chilly morning in the middle of December. I could feel the blistering cold through my socks as I walked down the creaky stairs, trying my hardest to not wake the rest of the house up. I made my way into the frightfully cold kitchen, where a note taped to the fridge caught my eye.

Wanted to get out before the snow started. There are sandwich materials in the pantry. Josie's food is in the fridge. Love, Mom

Right on cue, I could hear my sister's tiny footsteps padding down the stairs. She came around the corner into the kitchen, her hair sticking out in every direction while she rubbed her eyes. "Hi, bubby," I said, picking her up and kissing her on the cheek. She was only two but had recently figured out how to climb out of the crib. "Hi, Andy," She sighed and laid her head on my shoulder sleepily.

Josie and I spent the rest of the morning making breakfast and coffee while watching the snow out the window.

Eventually, Gareth came downstairs, befuddled by sleep, and had breakfast. He glanced out the window, immediately refusing to shovel any snow. He sprained his ankle a week ago anyway, so I wasn't planning on him doing much. "I will take Josie out to play, though," he exclaimed, his statement punctuated by an excited squeal from Josie. I sighed heavily, marching to get my boots and coat on.

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What a great way to start winter break. Not even three days back from college, and already freezing my butt off while shoveling snow. I wasn't making any good progress either, barely getting the steps clear enough to get out of the house without falling over.

About half an hour into shoveling, I heard a voice behind me. "Hey, stranger." I turned to see Eddie, clad in a winter jacket, holding a snow shovel. The snow whipped around us, leaving snowflakes in his hair, which was held back in a ponytail. He looks like an angel, I thought. The idea bounced around in my mind briefly before I banished it. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "I came to help," He said, motioning to the shovel.

"You guys sure did get a lot more snow than we did at the trailer park. That probably has to do with how many cars drive up and down those roads. It's so much... prettier here." He said, looking out in our yard. Our house was nothing to look out for, nothing notable. It was small, with barely enough space for all of us. I made a slight noise of agreement before getting back to shoveling, Eddie following close behind. "Jesus, this snow is packed. I think what you need for Christmas is a snowblower," he exclaimed. I laughed mildly, watching a grin break out across his face.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, heaving snow to the left of me. "Shoot," He replied. "Were you actually 'In the neighborhood' and just happened upon me?" I asked. He let a few moments pass before heaving out a long sigh. "Not really," He finally answered. "Your brother called me." Bingo. "Oh." Even I could hear the disappointment bubbling in my voice. I'm gonna kill that brat.

"But I'm happy to do it. What other day do I get to spend with a college girl?" He grinned at me. "Shut up," I said, trying not to let him see me smile at such a stupid joke. "Well, tell me about it. How is college going?" He asked. I sighed. "It's good. I like it; it's just so... much. The schedule is really intense." I explained. "Geez. Sounds rough," he said. I was also tempted to ask him about school, but I knew there wouldn't be much to say. I could tell he took a hit on his self-esteem each time he had to repeat senior year.

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"Well, it looks like we're about done here," I said. After almost two hours in the snow, we had finally cleared the driveway and the sidewalk. He held his hand up for a high five, which I missed by about a mile. We both let out awkward laughter, eye contact slipping away. There was another minute of awkward silence. "Hey, I think we've got some hot chocolate inside," I suggested in a singsongy tone. "Hell yeah. I'm freezing my balls off," he said, letting out a chuckle of laughter. I walked past him, smiling, and let us into the house.

We shed our coats, boots, and scarves by the front door and entered the kitchen. Eddie followed me as I went through the cabinets, grabbing various supplies. Josie came running over, and I picked her up, cradling her in my arm while the other stirred cocoa powder into a few mugs. "Josie, you remember Eddie," I said, turning her to face Eddie, leaning against the counter next to me. He waved to her. "Can you say 'Hi'?" I prompted. She waited a few minutes while smiling at him and then said a slow 'hi.' He shot her a grin and returned the greeting. She giggled and hid her face in my neck. Me too, girl. Me too.

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The following afternoon was very calm, with Eddie and Gareth escaping to the basement to practice a little one-on-one. We drank our hot chocolate at the kitchen table, laughing the whole time as Eddie or Gareth cracked a joke.

"Why in God's name would you call Eddie, of all people?" I asked while shutting the door behind the cold. "Well... um.... I thought he would be the most willing?" He said, scratching his head. "And why is that?" I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Because the guy loves you! I mean, do you really not see it?" He exclaimed. I scoffed. "Come on. Is there any other guy in this town who would subject himself to a day of manual labor just so he could spend time with you? He was practically begging me to give him an in like this." My heart thumped in my chest, and I could feel my cheeks blooming with heat. "Shut up. He does not," I said, walking down the hallway back into the kitchen. "Seriously. He doesn't shut up about it. It's a little weird, sometimes, to hear the kind of shit he says about my sister," He said. I focused on doing the dishes, pretending not to hear him. He sighed and finally gave up, walking down the hallway.

My mind continued to race in all different directions. He likes me? How is that even possible? I mean, we never even talked to each other, even though he was best friends with my brother, and we were originally supposed to be in the same year. It was all just... weird. Besides, I've been away at college for the past year! Sure, he was cute in high school and possibly even cuter now, but why would he ever have feelings for me?

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iii];)'

slash’s instagram posts are NOT for the weak

The Time Before

2,592 words

an: This is my first time writing, so please be kind!

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of smoking, mentions of disease, hospitals, cats (?), angst, sadness (Let me know if I missed anything!)

================================================

Wayne Munson classifies his life into two parts. The separator is that one fateful night that his young nephew was dropped at his front door in the middle of the night by a teary-eyed mother who offered a promise of her return. This marker leaves two pieces; the time during Eddie, and the Time Before.

The Time Before is not something that Wayne likes to talk about. The Time Before was so far away now it didn't seem real. If he thought about it too much, he would question if he hadn't just dreamed up the whole thing. But no; it was real. All of it.

He had a child, Lisa. Lisa was now just another memory from the Time Before; what seemed to be someone else's life. Someone else's child. She was happy: little blonde pigtails springing from the sides of her head, soft cotton clothes so small he couldn't believe that any human could start out that tiny. He could still remember the smell; god, the smell. It was baby powder and springtime. That's the way he remembers it. He was so careful about smoking around her, too; he didn't want her to smell like an ashtray. He would only smoke outside when she wasn't there so that the smell of tobacco wouldn't stick to her clothes or hair.

Lisa's mama was a one-night escapade; the kind of thing that's great in the moment and never happens again. After getting home from 'Nam in the early 60s, he and his buddies indulged in the nightlife that they missed out on during their stints. He never even knew her name. But when the baby was left on his doorstep with a small bag of supplies and a note for explanation, Wayne worried. He had never planned on having kids. He didn't know if he could give this little girl the life she needed. But he tried.

He had no idea what he was doing, but as she grew he realized that he must've done something right. She was talkative by the time she turned three; ever the conversationalist. He beamed as he realized she got that from him. In fact, she got most of her traits from him; her musky blue eyes, her eagerness to move, her inability to sit still. He knew that was going to be a problem once she started school, but goddamnit, he didn't care. In his eyes, she could do no wrong.

It lasted five years. Five years of trips to the park. Five years of ice cream runs. Five years of little grabby hands that were telling him, 'Pick me up, Dad, please?' Five years of her short little giggles that were so contagious that even after she dumped all the baking flour onto the floor and made a snow angel, he couldn't be mad. He was never mad at her for long.

But, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Wayne knew that. But he always thought that he would be the first to go. That it would last longer than it did.

When Lisa woke him up for the third time crying in the night, he thought it would be fine. He convinced himself it would all be fine. She had been sick for the past three days. It looked like a typical cold; she was running a fever, coughing, sneezing. But it had gotten worse in the last few hours; she was waking up to puke. She had so far thrown up three times in the last hour. She was complaining that her stomach hurt. He was trying to get her to calm down and go to sleep. But she kept crying, saying her stomach hurt.

When he ran into her room for the third time that night and flipped on the light, he knew something was really wrong. Her hands we clammy as they grabbed at him, holding onto his arm tightly, and her skin... a sinking feeling grew in his chest as he realized that her skin had grown jaundiced and pale. The small girl would shake in his arms every time she coughed, sobs racking through her body as she moaned and clutched her stomach.

He knew he had to do something. She was getting worse by the second, drifting away in his arms. He wouldn't let that happen. He scooped her up in a blanket and brought her out to the car, laying her on the front bench seat next to him and holding her as close to him as possible. She had stopped crying by the time he had pulled out of the driveway, her breathing shaky and forced. He knew he was repeating the words, 'Don't worry, Lisa, you're gonna be okay. Daddy's got you, don't worry, you're gonna be okay,' but he couldn't actually hear himself. It all felt so far away, and the sound of her labored breath seemed to ring in his ears.

He was thanking the lord that there was no one on the roads because he was pushing his truck as fast as it could go. he was desperately clinging to the small girl as he tried to remember the way to the hospital.

As they pulled up to the emergency room and he threw the truck into park, he knew. He could feel the loss. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was too late. But he was determined that it wouldn't be true. It wouldn't end that fast. He already had her backpack at home, and he was planning on surprising her with it next week. She was set to start school in two weeks, and he had bought all the school supplies he thought she would need. The backpack was blue, her favorite color, with little stars and moons all over the whole thing. It already held a pencil case filled with colored pencils and erasers, a lunchpail that matched the backpack, and three Dr. Seuss books that he was gonna start reading to her. Maybe she would even start reading them.

But all his hopes were thrown out the window the minute that he walked into the emergency room. He watched as his little girl was put on a stretcher, her tiny body not even taking up half of it. She looked so frail as the doctors and nurses wheeled her down the hallway, the fluorescent lights stinging his eyes. Everyone poked and prodded at her as he ran alongside, holding onto her hand. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her limp hand. He couldn't even hear what the nurses were saying, he just kept telling her, 'It's gonna be okay, baby, I'm here.'

He was sitting in the waiting room, watching the clock on the wall. The doctors came out two hours later.

His vision seemed to blend together until everything was just one big mush. He couldn't hear. He doubled over in his chair, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks. Lisa was gone.

They told him it was Viral Hepatitis. Two Words, Six syllables that took his baby girl away.

He had waited too long. He knew it. Maybe if he had just taken her ten minutes sooner, maybe if he had just driven a little faster, maybe if... maybe if... maybe if...

He mourned not only his little girl but the things that she never got to do. She would never go to school. Never drive. Never have another birthday party. Never make friends.

He lost so many experiences with her. He would never get to see her grow up. He would never get to go to a father-daughter dance. He would never get to give her suitors the if-you-hurt-one-little-hair-on-her-head-you-will-never-be-heard-from-again speech, never get to move her into her college dorm, never get to walk her down the aisle.

~~~

After Lisa died, Wayne decided to have her cremated. He knew he had to get out of that house, the reminders of her everywhere. He couldn't stand the idea of not being able to visit his daughter, so he thought he could take her with him and visit her anytime. He might even bury her little urn somewhere close, just out of respect for the dead.

He cleaned out the house, packing all of Lisa's things that he wanted to keep into a small box. He took all the pictures off the walls and his clothes, loaded them all up in his old pickup truck, and made the dive all the way to Indiana.

~~~

Even though he had started off strong in the new trailer, he couldn't seem to adjust. He didn't eat, didn't go outside, and didn't sleep. Every time that he wore himself down enough to pass out on the couch, he would only get about 2 hours before having another set of dreams about Lisa. He would wake up in cold sweats with tears running down his face. And the worst part? He couldn't even remember the dreams. Just the fact that they were about her.

He was miserable in this new town. He didn't even think about looking for a job for the first two weeks, but as money started to disappear, he had to look through the Help Wanted section of the newspaper.

He'd also decided that after Lisa, he needed something else to take care of. So he got a cat. He didn't know why he needed a cat; a dog would have been a lot more sensible. A dog can watch over you and protect you; maybe he could've even trained it to go hunting with him. But he decided to buy a cat. It was a tiny black ball of fur that he named Flopsy because one ear flopped down like a Bunny rabbit while the other one stayed up.

That cat was one of the best things that ever happened to Wayne. When he felt lonely, it was almost like she could sense it. She would curl up in his lap or on his chest and lay there, just keeping him company, as he watched the television.

~~~

It wasn't even six months later when there was a knock at the door. He had just finished a cigarette (he had since thrown out the rule of only smoking outside) and was finally starting to nod off when a sharp knock at the door brought him back to consciousness and he went to answer it.

In those six months, Wayne had tacked down and managed to hold on to a job at the mechanics shop two miles down the road. He was good with cars, his entire childhood was spent with his father, who was the most professional (and honestly-priced) mechanic in the entire state of Georgia. His father had taught him and his brother, Alfred, whom they all called Al, everything there was to know about cars, and it was one of the only things the man could remember the ins and outs of to this day.

When he pulled open the door, his eyes immediately danced over the figures outside. It was so dark out that he couldn't see their faces, but he could tell that one was a woman, just shy of his own height, and a small boy, at least ten, huddled behind the woman's leg. When his vision finally adjusted to the dark of the night, he recognized the face of Vivianne, his brother's wife.

Al Munson was a screwy guy, as Wayne used to say. He and his brother were polar opposites. Their father always used to say that Al had less sense than God gave a goose, and he was just about right. Al had landed himself in jail five times before he was even eighteen, and it only got uglier from there.

Al had started to mess around with Vivianne when they had just graduated high school. And she was so blind to his actions that she stayed with him, even at the advice not to from her soon-to-be brother-in-law. They had a baby a few years before Wayne, but he was still fighting in Vietnam at that time and hadn't heard anything about a child until now.

When Vivianne sat down at his kitchen table, her face covered in tears and snot, she explained that Al was going to put her in the ground. She knew it. It had been a long time coming (Al wasn't always the most even-tempered guy) but it wasn't until she had the baby that she started taking his abuse seriously.

"I don't care about what happens to me anymore, I've made my bed and now I have to lie in it. But I couldn't stand to see that little boy get left alone with his father. He would kill him, I'm sure he would."

Wayne recognized what she needed before she even asked. "I'll take him."

He didn't think about his answer; he didn't think about all the things he'd need to do, he'd need to buy a bed and clothes and food that was healthy and be able to keep a watchful eye on a new child. But somewhere deep in his heart, he wanted to take care of a kid. He thought that if he could make a difference in even one child's life, he should. For Lisa.

Vivianne left the trailer with the promise to return soon (one Wayne never believed would come to fruition), and Wayne went over to the couch and sat by the young boy. Flopsy, the cat, had taken an interest in the kid and was sitting up next to him, staring at him. The child seemed nervous, holding his bag in his lap and sitting straight up in his seat, which couldn't have been easy due to the plush cushions on the couch that seemed to want to swallow you up every time you sat down.

"Her name's Flopsy," Wayne announced, picking her up and placing her on his lap. "Do you want to pet her?" he asked softly, looking at the boy. He made no reply, just slowly moved his hand over her soft head. Flopsy immediately started purring, and the sound startled the boy, making him snatch his hand away. "No, no, no, that means she likes it. She makes that noise when she's happy," Wayne tried to explain, but the boy's fears of the cat had returned.

They sat in silence for a long while, the only thing making noise being Flopsy, who was meowing softly to be fed. Wayne eventually got up from the couch, walked to the kitchen, and refilled her food bowl. She seemed content, and he moved on to the next problem at hand: where the boy was going to sleep tonight. Wayne had an extra room where he had stored some junk when he first moved in and never got the chance to clean it out, but there was no extra bed in there. He was also not going to make the kid sleep on the couch, so he went into his own bedroom and took the sheets off the bed, replacing them with fresh ones. He cleared his side table ashtray, while he was at it, and a few empty coffee cups that he brought to the sink.

"You can sleep in there tonight, and tomorrow, we'll go out and buy you a bed and some sheets, okay?" Wayne explained to the young boy, pointing a thumb to his bedroom. The child turned to him, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he had arrived, and asked in a meek voice, "How long am I staying here?" Wayne didn't know how to answer this question. To be quite honest, he didn't know. He didn't know if Vivianne was ever going to come back and collect this kid, or if Al would come to take him. Technically, Wayne had no guardianship over him, so Al could come anytime he wanted to. Just the thought of that happening made Wayne shiver. "I don't know, kid. But it'll be good for you to have your own bedroom in case you do stay or if you come and visit," Wayne decided. The child nodded his head slowly, his small mop of curls bouncing along with him.

"What was your name again, kid?" Wayne asked, looking at him, hoping he would answer the question.

"Eddie."

The Time Before - Wayne's Time in 'Nam

part 1 here

Photos not mine

997 words

an: hey! I'm so happy that people are enjoying this writing! Originally I was thinking about just making this a drabble/blurb, but with the addition of this, it will hopefully be a series! Thank you so much for your support, it means the world to me!

I had to actually do considerable research for this one, so I hope it's accurate. If there are any war buffs reading this fic (I doubt it, but if you by chance are) please let me know if I got anything wrong!

warnings: mentions of war, mentions of death, PTSD, Vietnam War

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Wayne never planned on fighting in Vietnam. He himself never liked fighting and once he was back in the US he wasn't a fan of the war.

But back when he was freshly 18, starry-eyed, and eager to impress his Pop, he enlisted.

The year was 1958, the war was only three years old, and it seemed so interesting. Fascinating, if you will. A young Wayne packed his things in a gray duffel bag that he then slung over his shoulder. He can still remember what he was wearing when he left home; a red and black plaid button-down that he still wears today, a pair of blue jeans, a pair of cargo boots, and a jacket that was draped over his arm. By the time he returned to the United States, this fashion would be so far out-of-date it made his head spin.

Most of his buddies went with him, wearing practically the same clothes as him, the same combed-back hair, the same hopeful look plastered on all their faces. That look would not be there when they returned (if they returned at all). But none of this was a worry to either Wayne or any of the five guys that went with him; Joey, Billy, Tucker, Jack, and Arthur. Tucker and Wayne had known each other the longest out of any pair in the group: they were next-door neighbors for their entire lives. Growing up in Redmont, Georgia, a town of under 1,000, everyone was practically your neighbor.

Tucker and Wayne were inseparable. Both of their mothers used to say, 'You'd think those boys were sown together at the hip, with all the time they spend together.' It was true; their entire lives were spent with each other. As kids, that meant skipping rocks in the creek and climbing trees. As teenagers, they shotgunned beers that they had stolen from Al, Wayne's older brother (he had a friend who made fake IDs, and good ones at that), jumped fences to irritate the chickens in their coop, stole cigarettes from their fathers' pockets and coats, and generally spent their days causing as much trouble as they could think up.

They all were shipped out to basic training in California first. Some of the guys were split up between different platoons, but they all saw each other often enough. These seemed minor inconveniences to them; they were ready, excited, and filled with energy.

The strictness of the rules and regulations was nothing new to Wayne, either. The high school had the strictest administration, it was said, in the entire state of Georgia and possibly the surrounding states. Their football was compared to basic training, and most of the guys had been on that team in high school, so they were not phased by anything that the Army decided to throw at them.

But once they were shipped out to Vietnam, the excitement quickly subsided. Over time, each man came to learn the price of war. The price that they each had to individually pay.

Wayne spent five years in 'Nam, fighting alongside Tucker. They were rumored to be the most indestructible duo on Vietnamese soil. But five years seemed to be Wayne's unlucky number.

He still has nightmares about the war. He used to say, 'You don't realize the price you have to pay when you're going to war. It's all fine and dandy when you enlist, and even through basic training. You don't think about the fact that in five years' time, you're going to be holding your dead best friend, his head in your lap, eyes wide open and staring right at you, somewhere in the Vietnamese wilderness with shots still coming at you.' Of course, that was when he still talked about the war at all.

After Tucker passed away, Wayne left Vietnam. He was twenty-three by that point and was sick of fighting. The effect of the excitement had worn off long ago, but once Tucker was gone, it felt hopeless. He was homesick, endlessly tired, and was done with combat.

Of the six that shipped out, only four returned; Wayne, Joey, Billy, and Jack. They finally reunited in 1965 after they had all returned to the US, deciding to indulge in the spoils of war. They traveled as a band, a crew, a group, a lineup. You didn't see one without seeing the other three close behind. They were like this for many years afterward until they scattered across the country; Wayne moved to Kansas and soon started to take care of Lisa, Jack married a young girl named Francine and they settled down together in New Hampshire (to have a whopping six children throughout their marriage), Joey stayed single, moved to Kentucky and still visits Wayne often, and Billy moved to Florida and started a family with a nice woman named Becky.

When the infamous 'make love, not war' protests started to pop up around America, Wayne found himself supporting the cause. He had never gone to war because he hated the other side or loved fighting; he had gone because everyone told him to go. Because it was all so new and shiny, and because he wanted to impress Pop. Because all of his friends were going, and because he wanted the glory. But in reality, he always felt bad when he was over there. There was always a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw the destruction that people suffered at his hands. The main reason he stayed was because of Tucker. Tucker made it nostalgic. Fighting with Tucker reminded him of being a teenager and hopping Mr. Luschogi's fence to tip his cows in the middle of the night. It felt mischievous and a little dangerous, and it gave him a huge adrenaline rush. But without Tucker, he didn't get to keep those blinders on. He saw, plain and simple, that he was hurting people. And that was never what Wayne signed up for.