One-shot fic where mike gets writers block and travels for some inspiration. Could it be just a coincidence if he finds someone from his past? No warnings, all sfw. Fluff. Hurt/comfort. 3k words.
⚠️: Stranger things season 5 spoilers.
Idea from @xzditz00 on tiktok.
“Shit”
Mike swore at his paper. Not under his breath. Out loud. The kind of swear that echoed a little in his apartment and made him sigh afterward, like the walls might judge him for it.
“Seriously?” he said to the blank page. “That’s all you’ve got?”
The page stared back at him. Empty. Just like his apartment.
It has been like that for weeks now. Months, if he was being honest. Draft after draft after draft, all of them ending the same way: nothing. A blank page pretending it was waiting for him when really it was just reminding him just how lonely he is.
Mike shoved his chair back and stood up, running both hands through his hair. He paced, back and forth, thinking. Desk to window. Window to couch. Couch back to desk. A nervous loop he’d worn into the floor over time.
“This is bullshit,” he muttered. “You’ve done this before. You know how this works.”
But that was the problem. The first book hadn’t worked like this at all.
That one had poured out of him like it had been waiting years for permission. Late nights, cramped fingers, words spilling faster than he could type them. He hadn’t been trying to be a writer back then. He’d just been trying to breathe.
He stopped pacing.
That was why he’d written in the first place.
Not for reviews. Not for interviews or signings or the way people’s eyes lit up when they recognized his name. He’d written because there were things inside him that wouldn’t stay quiet unless he gave them somewhere to go.
Places like Hawkins.
Things like monsters.
People like her.
Mike leaned against the back of the sad excuse for a couch.
Eleven didn’t show up in his head all at once anymore. She came in pieces. A flash of a memory. A feeling that settled in his chest on days like this. The way she’d look at him like he was saying something important even when he wasn’t. The way she’d tilt her head, listening, not just hearing, but really listening, like he'd hung the moon for her. How she’d learned words that he said religiously. He swallowed.
He hadn’t written about her specifically. He’d told himself that mattered. Changed names, shifted details, wrapped everything in metaphor and metaphor on top of metaphor until it looked like fiction to anyone who didn’t know better.
People called the book brave.
They called it tender.
Sad in a hopeful way.
Mike called it incomplete.
He pushed himself upright and crossed the room, eyes landing on the bookshelf. Wedged between paperbacks and old hardcovers was his old DND notebook he’d never had the heart to throw away. He pulled it free and flipped through until a folded page slipped out and landed on the floor.
He flinched, and picked it up as if it would explode.
The paper was old, creased, soft from being unfolded and refolded too many times. His handwriting slanted across it. A letter he'd written to her back in 87, right after it happened. It was more for himself. Mike read the last line.
I think about the three waterfalls often. It feels safer there.
A short, breathless laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
“I said three,” he said softly.
He’d been young when he came up with that. Too young to know how childish the dream was. If things ever ended, if they ever got out, they’d go somewhere beautiful.
Five years have passed since graduation. People talked about Eleven like a memory now. A sacrifice. A story with a clean but heartbreaking ending.
Mike knew better. Stories were never that simple. And he was a storyteller after all.
He folded the paper carefully and set it on the desk beside his dull, empty paper. His eyes floated over to a magazine he’d picked up about a year ago.
Gorgeous, three waterfalls, small town, Switzerland.
“Inspiration,” he told the empty room.
A change of scenery. Somewhere he could remember why he started writing in the first place. Somewhere that felt like her.
For the first time in a long time, the brain in his skull didn't feel like an enemy. It felt like a beginning.
He spent the next few hours at the travel agency, filling out forms, staring at brochures. The woman behind the counter was nice, and didn't ask too many questions. He paid for the plane ticket with cash from his savings, and somehow, the decision felt easier than he expected.
Two days later, Mike was on a plane, the little letter folded into his notebook. He didn’t read it again. He just held it in his lap, keeping it flat under the weight of his hand.
Outside the window, the clouds were gold in the morning light. He didn’t think about what he would do when he left. He didn’t think about what he would do when he landed. He only thought about moving. Forward, somewhere, anywhere.
When the plane landed, the air smelled different. Cooler. Cleaner. He grabbed his bag and found the bus to the small town. The driver was cheerful and talked about the waterfalls like everyone in town knew them. Mike nodded, pretending to understand, feeling a nervous excitement he hadn’t felt since high school.
The town was quiet. Cars moved slowly down cobbled streets. People waved at each other. He found a map at the little tourist office and marked a walking path to the waterfalls. The first two were big, loud, and obvious. Families were taking pictures. Mike walked past them without stopping.
The third one was smaller. Hidden. Almost silent except for the water. Trees leaned over it, shading the pool at the bottom. He stayed at the edge for a long time, breathing. It felt like the letter. Like her. Youthful. Beautiful. Melancholic.
“Melancholic, that's good,” Mike whispered to nobody but himself. He jotted the word down in his notebook and smiled to himself.
Sentences formed without thinking. Paragraphs followed. The story wasn’t finished, it wasn’t perfect, but it was alive. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this.
By the time he closed the notebook, the sun was dipping behind the hills. He tucked it away, feeling lighter than he had in months. Peaceful, almost absurdly peaceful.
He walked back to the little inn where he was staying. The wooden floors creaked under his shoes, the hall smelled faintly of lavender and old wood. He put his bag down, peeled off his jacket, and was just about to sink onto the bed when a voice floated from the room next door.
“Jane!”
Mike froze. The name hit him in a way that made his chest tighten. Jane. Her real name. His mind jerked toward Hawkins, toward the girl who’d disappeared, toward the letter folded neatly in his pocket.
He shook his head, forcing a small, ironic smile. It’s just a coincidence, he told himself. A happy one.
He let the thought go. Maybe it was a child, maybe a tourist, maybe nothing at all. He climbed into bed, letting the sheets pull him down, letting the quiet lull him. Outside, the wind moved the trees softly, carrying the distant sound of water.
Mike closed his eyes and let sleep take him. For the first time in a long time, the world didn’t feel heavy.
He dreamed of her that night.
It wasn’t Hawkins. Not exactly. The streets were softer, the air warmer, and everywhere there was water. Three waterfalls tumbled down from the hills, mist curling in the sunlight. He walked along the banks, barefoot, his notebook tucked under his arm.
And there she was.
She stood at the edge of the smallest pool, where the water was calm and quiet, leaning slightly against a tree. Her hair was longer, brushing her shoulders, and she was staring at the water, a peaceful smile brushed on her lips. Mike didn’t call her name. He just watched, breathing in the way she made his heart swell.
She turned slowly, as if she had known he would be there all along, and her eyes met his. Suddenly a huge gust of wind blew debris all around them, taking her from him once again.
He woke up with a gasp, just a dream. He observed the golden light spilling into the room, and got out of bed.
The town smelled of fresh bread and coffee. He wandered down the cobbled street and slipped into a small cafe tucked between two low buildings. The place was quiet, almost empty, except for the hiss of the espresso machine and the occasional clink of cups.
He ordered a coffee and a croissant, and sat at a small wooden table by the window. He opened his notebook again, letting his fingers hover over the blank page. For the first time in years, words came without strain, spilling easily. He scribbled small observations about the cafe. The way the light hit the tables, the aroma of pastries, the gentle chatter of the few locals. He didn’t write a story, he wrote what he saw, and it felt enough.
After finishing his coffee, Mike tucked the notebook under his arm and stepped back into the sunlight. The path to the waterfalls stretched ahead of him, winding between trees and green hills. He walked slowly, letting the quiet morning guide him, letting the memory of the dream linger at the edges of his mind.
“See you later, Jane!” A woman laughed.
He felt her before he saw her. A heavy feeling right where his chest rose when he took a deep breath. An electric buzz that shot straight from his head to his feet.
Brown hair, almost to her waistline. Brown shorts. A flowy yellow tanktop. A red bandana tied around her neck.
He forced himself to look away, convincing himself it was just a trick of the light, a tourist who happened to move like her. But then she turned slightly, and her profile caught the sun. The curve of her jaw, the slope of her shoulders.
Mike’s hand shook, rattling against the notebook. He swallowed.
His body felt heavier than air, heavier than gravity, like the world had pressed itself down around him and she had become the axis everything was spinning on. Every thought he’d had for the last five years. The letters he never sent, the stories he tried and failed to write, the nights he lay awake imagining her safe, imagining her gone. All collapsed into a single, impossible moment.
She began walking away.
Time stretched thin, thick, elastic and Mike felt himself both too small and too large for it all. She was getting away. Again.
No.
No.
“El.” He said into the air. If it wasn't her, she wouldn't react.
Her steps faltered.
Mike’s heart slammed against his ribs, loud enough he could almost hear it over the gentle roar of the waterfall. She paused, just for a heartbeat, and glanced over her shoulder.
The world narrowed to her eyes. The same sharp, quiet intelligence, the same softness beneath it. Alive. Real. Not a memory, not a dream, not a ghost.
Mike’s throat went dry. Every word he had wanted to say for five years, every sentence he had scribbled and torn out. Would it always amount to this?
“El,” he said again, quieter this time, almost a question, almost a prayer.
Her eyes widened, recognition flickering across her face, subtle and fleeting. A smile, hesitant, delicate. Not a big dramatic gesture, just the soft acknowledgment of the person she had once trusted, once loved, once survived with.
“Mike…?” She gasped. She looked shocked. Color flushed her face beautifully.
A raw tension formed in the air. A familiar one.
“Three waterfalls.” Mike laughed. Tears spilled down his face. His entire body shook.
“I remembered.” She sighed, a wistful look forming in her eyes.
Mike stepped closer, trembling, and she didn’t move away. He wrapped his arms around her carefully at first, afraid to break the fragile reality of her being here.
She stiffened for a moment, then leaned in slowly, resting her head against his shoulder. Her arms curled around him, reaching for his hair like it was natural. Mike felt the tightness in his chest loosen slightly.
“I… I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered, voice trembling. “After all this time… I didn’t think anyone could find me.”
Mike shook his head, as if shaking out the impossibility. “I didn’t come looking for you,” he said. “I- I came to write. To find something… to remember why I started.”
She stared at him, disbelief etched in every line of her face, and then a faint, shaky laugh escaped her. “You… you came all this way… for words? And you found me?”
“I didn’t know I would,” he admitted, swallowing hard. “I thought… maybe I’d just get some inspiration. The waterfalls, the air… maybe I’d finally write something. I never imagined…” His voice caught. “…finding you.”
They stayed like that for a while, the waterfall roaring softly beside them, the mist curling around their shoulders, the impossible made real. Words weren’t necessary.
For a long time, they didn’t speak. They just sat together, letting the mist and sound of the waterfall wrap around them. Eventually, words began to surface, naturally curiosity got the best of both of them. Mike talked about Hawkins, about the friends she’d left behind. He spoke of Dustin, his endless energy and wild theories; Max, still sharp-tongued and brave; Lucas, steady and loyal; Will, who always carried a quiet strength; and Joyce and Hopper, who had held them together in ways they’d only understood later. Eleven laughed softly at some of his stories, shook her head at others, letting herself imagine the lives they had carried on without her.
She told him about the small town she’d found, the quiet people who didn’t ask questions, she'd liked that about them. The kind older lady, Leonie, who had taken her in. How she spent her days helping in small ways, reading, walking along the paths near the waterfalls, learning to trust herself again after years of hiding. She spoke of ordinary things like books she read, the little market around the corner, the daily life in a place that had been kind to her, and Mike felt the same mix of awe and relief he always felt when she shared even the smallest details.
“I…” Eleven began, her voice low, almost swallowed by the sound of the water. She drew in a shaky breath, looking at her hands before meeting his eyes. “When I… when I disappeared, I thought… everyone… everyone would forget me. That you’d forget me. That Hawkins… that everyone we cared about…” Her voice caught. “…that it was all just forgotten.”
Mike squeezed her hand gently. “I never forgot.”
She nodded, swallowing hard. “I thought about you. Every day. I missed you… all of you. Dustin, Lucas, Max, Will, Joyce, Hopper… I worried you’d be okay without me. I thought I’d never see anyone again. I grieved, I guess… for all of it. But I had to keep moving. I had to keep going.”
Mike’s chest tightened. “You survived,” he said softly.
She shook her head, a small, bitter laugh escaping. “Surviving doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t… it doesn’t replace anyone. I couldn’t… I couldn’t talk about it. I couldn’t reach out. I didn’t want to hurt anyone or get anyone in trouble. So I just… carried it all. Alone.”
Mike’s voice was quiet, reassuring. “You didn’t have to. You’re not alone now.”
Eleven looked at him, eyes glassy. “I know. Seeing you… it’s… it’s like the weight of those years just…” She let her voice trail off, unable to find the words. “…like it’s finally lifting.”
Mike reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not letting you go ever again.”
After hours of talking, of laughing softly at memories and sharing the quiet grief of time lost, they stood together and walked hand-in-hand back toward the small town. The sunset moved slowly across the hills.
Eleven led him through the narrow streets and Mike followed, eyes meeting occasionally, just enough to reassure himself she was real. They arrived at a small, warmly lit house tucked behind a cluster of trees. Flowers bloomed in the windowsills, and the smell of fresh bread and herbs drifted from inside.
“This is my home,” she said softly. Leonie, a kind looking woman with streaks of silver in her hair, greeted him warmly, though she gave him space, sensing the intimacy of their reunion. She didn't ask questions. He liked that, too. El showed him around briefly, small gestures, quiet explanations. It wasn’t much, but it was safe. It was hers.
At last, she led him to her room, a small space with soft blankets and books stacked neatly on the shelves. The windows framed the hills and waterfalls in the distance. Eleven turned to him, a hesitant smile brushing her lips, and without a word, Mike sat beside her on the bed.
She leaned against him, and he wrapped an arm around her, feeling the warmth of her body and the steadying rhythm of her breathing. The notebook and the words he had come to find seemed distant now, irrelevant. They sat there in silence, the sunlight fading, the distant sound of waterfalls echoing like a memory.
Mike pressed a gentle kiss to her hair. Eleven rested her head further into his chest, laying down and letting herself breathe, letting herself trust. The world outside existed, but it didn’t intrude here. Here, it was just the two of them.
And for the first time in years, both of their hearts were full.
Hello!
First off i want to thank everyone who has been supporting my stories for the past couple months! the likes and comments mean a lot to me.
Second, unfortunately the entire account I had on notion that I used for worldbuilding, stories, plot ideas, and literally everything else has disappeared. I have tried everything to get it back with zero luck. That is why there has been no update on anything. Im very sorry to anyone who was enjoying 'enamoured,' but as of now, im not sure if it will ever be finished :(
I will most likely post other fics that come to mind, tho!! Love yall!!
EDIT: I found all my writing!! starting mid may i will most likely pick back up on writing :)
He was aware of you. Too aware of everything that was happening at the moment. The second your body pressed against his own, his entire brain shut down.
Taking a big gulp, his eyes shifted to your hands, which you placed on his chest to give you some sort of stability in this packed elevator. They were hands he's been dreaming of holding. He's been thinking about how perfectly they would fit into his own palms and he hoped you didn't notice how this little action alone was enough to spike up his heart rate, as his racing heart was the only thing he could hear now.
He took in your hair. Maybe it was your signature hairstyle you wore every day without fail, maybe you took your time today to put some effort into how it looks, or maybe it was one of the days where you didn't have the energy to do anything with it. It didn't matter what day it was today, your hairstyle still managed to curve his lips into a slight smile. In fact, it would be harder for him to keep a poker face around you.
He finally took his eyes off you. A stranger behind you was standing a little too close to you for his liking. It was not like this guy had any other choice in this tiny space, but he couldn't help but protectively reach out to your waist. Not exactly touching you, and goodness, he would never dare to without your permission, but creating a small barrier between you and the other person. His hand hovered against your curves, and he felt your warmth radiating to the tips of his fingers, which made them slightly twitch.
When you adjusted your hands on his chest, his breath hitched, and he unknowingly held his breath for a few seconds. Did you notice him staring? No, probably not, as you were still looking at something else.
Being so close to you, his head facing the exposed skin on your neck, he became hyperaware of your scent too. It's a familiar scent he started to associate with comfort. The slope of your shoulder stared at him invitingly, beckoning him to let his head fall against it and let out a much-needed sigh to release all the tension built up today.
But he learned not to let his emotions control his actions. You never noticed his eyes on you, the effect you had on him, or how he felt about you. At least that's what he thinks. You didn't know and probably never will.
-‘๑ ̗̀➛ chapter two: "Ollie." Dinner with Sal and Larry feels surprisingly warm. Later that night, a strange chill in your room leads to your first encounter with a ghost with sal and todd. (3k words.)
Reminder that most of the named characters are not mine. TW: religious trauma, emotional distress, slight ED, mention of child death, cussing, mild horror.💐
“The infamous Larry,” You say, standing with Sal.
”I am going to stay behind. I plan on reprograming some things on the super gear boy before the parts come in tomorrow.” Todd says, opening a drawer of circuit boards and tiny tools.
”Alright, thanks for helping us out Todd,” Sal says
”Yes, and thank you for not being a serial killer.” You giggle.
”No promises,” Todd gives a tiny smile.
You and Sal leave room 202, and he pulls out his wallet to grab something.
”Larry lives down in the basement with his mom, Lisa.” He pulls out a card with a B on it.
”Can’t get down there without this,” He states, getting into the elevator.
”You must be special then,” You tease, then follow him in.
His eyes squint, indicating a smile. “I mean Larry is practically my brother.”
”You’re super close or something?”
”Or something.”
The elevator opens to a stretch of dim, concrete hallway that hums faintly with the sound of pipes running through the walls. The air is cooler down here, dense with that old-building scent and something faintly sweet, like detergent or warm dust. A single overhead light flickers near the far end, throwing slow shadows across stacked storage bins and the dull shine of mop buckets pushed against the wall. Underneath all of that, a delicious scent floats in the air.
Grrrgrowww
The noise from your stomach is loud and angry, you forgot you were supposed to get something to eat before you were taken on a ghostbusters mission.
”You hungry?”
”I may have skipped lunch,” You sigh.
”Guess fasting isn’t your thing, huh?”
For a second, you freeze… the word
fasting
It hits harder than it should. You know he didn’t mean anything by it, but your stomach twists anyway. Because you remember. when your mom said hunger was holy, when your dad called it discipline, not *control. Being empty made you good.
”Denying yourself was the only way to be free of sin.”*
Shit, snap out of it, you're an adult. Those words don't control you.
”Y/n, do you always disassociate near elevators?” He jokes, and you blink at him, trying to regain normal thoughts.
”Hey, don't pass out on me.”
”Sorry,” You whisper out. “You’re right, fasting is not for me,” You give a breathy laugh.
”I think Lisa's making dinner or somethin, I'm sure she’d be happy to feed you,” He gestures towards the door, “C’mon”
”She doesn't have to, it’s okay, I wouldn't want to bothe-”
”No such thing, Lisa thrives off of taking care of others.” With that, he opens the door without knocking. As you follow him in, the smell just gets better.
”Hey, Lisa! It’s me, and I brought a friend,” Sal shouts towards the kitchen.
”Hey kiddo!” Says the woman now walking this way, who must be Lisa. She looks familiar.
”This is y/n, she’s Mrs. Y/l/n’s grandkid,” Sal explains,
”That’s right, she did mention you were coming to stay with her.” How many people did mimi tell?
”Its nice to meet you,” You say politely.
Growwllrr
Your stomach is somehow louder this time, and a blush tints your cheeks.
”She's also hungry,” Sal explains.
”Well we can’t have that,” Lisa smiles, “I’m making Tacos de Pollo and rice, that okay?”
”Tacos de Pollo!!” Shouts a voice from the other side of the apartment. A tall, long-haired guy starts walking towards you.
”Larry, usa la voz baja,” Lisa sighs, “We have a guest.”
”Yo, what's up dudette-” Larry says before stopping dead in his tracks. “Dude. Sal.”
”…What?”
”You didn't tell me you were bringing by a GIRL!”
Sal face palms, “It isn’t that big of a-”
”Dude! I’m the one who introduces YOU to girls! And she's totally your ty-” In his excitement, he didn't know his mom had walked back to the kitchen and grabbed a lime. She stuck it in his mouth before he could continue.
You giggle to yourself, this guy was definitely entertaining. “I’m y/n, its nice to meet you.”
”Larry, she’s Mrs. Y/l/n’s granddaughter.” Lisa mentions.
Larry takes the lime out of his mouth and makes a sour face. “Yeah, now I remember, she talks about you like so much, dude,” He laughs. You are now seriously considering asking your mimi what she has told these people about you.
”So I've heard,” You smile.
Just then, Lisa’s phone rings from the counter, an old landline that makes you jump slightly.
“Ah, that’s 303… must be another pipe issue.“ She grabs the phone and listens to the person on the other line. “Yes, I’ll be right there.” She hangs up, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sorry, you guys, can you keep an eye on the rice for me?”
Larry perks up, pointing toward the simmering pot on the stove. “Wait, what? We’re… in charge of the rice? This is serious stuff!”
Lisa grabs tools and cleaner from the kitchen “If it finishes cooking before I'm back, go ahead and start eating,” she heads for the door “Be good, Mijo.”
”The rice… Can we take on this challenge?” Larry jokes, putting on a dramatic show.
“I think I can handle rice,” You say, joking back.
Sal leans against the counter, “This is your big test, huh?” He says with a amused tone.
Larry Gasps with mock horror “You don’t understand. Rice is unforgiving. One wrong fuckin move and… disaster.”
You exchange a glance with Sal, who shrugs like this happens every day.
“Okay, Chef Larry, what are the instructions?”
“Eyes on the pot. Stir occasionally. Watch the steam. Taste at your own risk...” Larry declares with theatrical authority, already rummaging through a cabinet. “I’ll grab the seasoning, in case we need more.”
You take the spoon, trying to stir with the seriousness of someone defusing a bomb. Steam curls up around your wrist, catching the light. You almost spill some, and Sal’s voice cuts through the quiet, soft and amused.
“You’re doing fine… mostly.” He whispers.
You glance over your shoulder, pretending to look offended. “Mostly?” You whisper back.
Larry spins around and clears his throat loudly, “Mostly is unacceptable. We have a duty!”
That cracks you both up. Your laughter spills into the room, light and effortless, while Sal’s quiet chuckle lingers just under it. The sound blends with the bubbling pot as the three of you fall into an easy rhythm, tossing jokes over Larry’s exaggerated “proper rice etiquette.” The kitchen smells warm, full of garlic, tomato, and old wood. Before you know it, the pot is perfectly cooked and seasoned.
Sal grabs two plates and sets them on the small counter space. “How many tacos you want, y/n?’
”You don't have to make my plate,” You say, thinking you've already been served enough by just being there.
”Don't worry about it,” He starts spooning some rice onto both of your plates, and Larry grabs some cheese from the fridge. They seem completely unbothered by doing a favor and It feels surreal, you're not used to this kind of care, as simple as it is.
”Two,” Your voice comes out as a whisper, “Thank you.”
You stand side by side against the counter, eating together. It’s easy. Small smiles, quiet jokes, without anything feeling forced. Larry hovers nearby, tossing in commentary between spoonful's, but the space between you three feels cozy, friendly… normal.
”Alright then, now I know you're a great cook, but tell me more about yourself,” Larry attempts being nonchalant, leaning on the counter across from you.
You hum, trying to think. “Not much to tell. I’m from a boring corner of Florida, so that probably says everything.”
”Whaaaat, boring?” Larry drags out the word, his voice in a higher octave than normal. “Floridian girls are where its at!”
You laugh at him, “Maybe if you say that enough, It’ll be true”
Sal cocks his head, “Don’t encourage him.”
The door to the apartment opens, and Lisa comes in sighing, “Sorry, kiddos. How’d the rice turn out?”
“Larry waves a spoon toward her, grinning. “Perfectly fluffy, ma. Not a single grain burned. Your recipe is safe in our hands.”
Lisa raises an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Glad to hear it, lar. Oh, and on my way back I ran into Todd. He said he wants y/n and Sal to swing by y/n’s apartment. He was going on about how you might want to check something out.”
You and Sal exchange a look, what could that be about?
”I thought he said he was going to work on the gear boy?”
”So did I,” mutters Sal, “He must’ve gotten curious and went up to your apartment.”
”Typical Todd,” Larry slides in, holding Sal by the shoulders, “Y/n’s getting haunted already?”
He must know Todd and Sal like the back of his hand if he immediately knew what was going on with such little information. Your heart squeezes at the fact that those three seem so interconnected. You secretly hope to yourself that one day you’ll be apart of a group like that.
”Yeah,” Sal looks over at you, “At least we think. I've been over to your grandmas apartment a couple of times to help out with stuff, and I've heard some strange noises, like knocking. Never any solidifying evidence, though.”
That comment reminds you of something you should probably mention. “Actually,” You fidget with your fingers, “I kind of heard a voice… I think.”
”You think?” Larry and Sal say in unison.
”Yeah I mean, It sounded like they said ‘are you staying’ but the air conditioner in our unit is deafening, so it could've just been nothing.”
Larry and Sal eye each other.
”Well shit. You’ve definitely got a ghost,” laughs Larry.
”We should go check on Todd, see what he needs,” Sal says, throwing away your used paper plates.
”Okay, but first,” You walk over to Lisa, who was washing her hands at the kitchen sink. “Thank you very much for the dinner, and letting me hangout here, miss.
”Lisa. You can call me Lisa, sweetheart. And its no problem, as long as you're friends with my boys, you’re welcome here.” She gives you a kind smile. This woman is an angel.
Lisa looks over your shoulder, “Sal, when your dad gets home from work, let him know there's dinner down here for him,” She says, her cheeks starting to glow a faint pink.
”I will, thanks Lisa.” Sal then heads towards the door, “C’mon, we have a ghost to catch.”
”Have fun you crazy kids,” Larry says in a southern accent.
”You’re not coming with?” You ask him.
”Nah, I have a painting to finish, but you can tell me how it goes at school tomorrow, yeah?”
”Definitely,” You say with a smile, and walk towards Sal.
”See ya, Larry face,” Sal laughs.
”Hasta la vista, sally face!”
As you walk out with Sal, a soft smile plays on your lips. Just then a question pops into your mind.
”Does Lisa always make you and your dad dinner?”
He opens the elevator door and answers, “Well, actually, my dad and Lisa are dating, so recently she has been,” His eyes squint, his smile apparent in his tone.
”That’s what you meant when you said he was practically your brother,” You smile.
”Yeah, they’re really good together. Its nice seeing my dad happy.” He presses the button to floor three.
”That’s sweet, and kind of lucky your best friend could become your step-brother.”
”Probably the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me.” He says in a relieved tone. “What about you?”
”What do you mean?” You cock your head.
”What’s the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to you.”
You think for a good few seconds. Getting away from your parents. But you can’t dump that on this kind stranger who could become your friend. “Probably moving here. Its quiet, there’s no judgement or expectations.”
”That’s a better answer then mine,” He laughs, and with that, the whirr of the elevator comes to a halt.
”Let’s see what Todd’s on about,” He steps off into the hallway, and you follow.
Todd is up against the wall to the right of your front door, he seems to be holding a thermometer in his hand, but it has duct tape and led light bulbs patched to it.
”Todd… what’re you doing?”
”Oh hello. I modified this thermometer awhile ago. It picks up fluctuations in ambient temperature, like spikes or drops that don’t match the room’s baseline. Ghost energy tends to distort the air like that. It’s been flickering since I walked past your door. This energy seems incredibly strong.” He explains in a monotone voice.
You glance at Sal. He gives a shrug, and his eyes have a hint of amusement. “So, what, we’re doing this without the Super Gear Boy?”
”Possibly. I brought the items we need to preform the ritual just in case.”
Sal looks to you. “Your grandma gonna mind if we come in?”
”Hold on,” You glance at Todd's watch. “Is it past eight?”
”Yes. It is currently eight forty-two.”
”She's out like a light by now. Y’know, old people bedtime. I’m sure she wont mind some ghost hunting.”
You unlock the door, motioning them inside. ”I heard the noises from my room, so we can check there,” you whisper.
The floorboards creak beneath your steps as you lead them to your room. Each sound feels too loud. You really hope Mimi is still a heavy sleeper.
When you open your bedroom door a chill slips beneath your skin, sharp enough to raise goosebumps.
“Is it usually this cold in here?” Sal asks.
”Yeah.” You feel slightly uncomfortable, like you're being watched again.
Just then, all three of you hear it, a quiet, soft whisper.
“Mom?”
You flinch, the word tugs at something in you, a reminder of your past. Still, you move into the room as there is a faint glow coming from next to your record player.
Slowly, a shape starts to form, and you see it. A transparent body of a little boy.
Sal takes a slow step forward, his voice gentle. “Hey there, buddy. What’s your name?”
”O-ollie.”
The word makes your heart stumble. You don’t realize you’ve backed up a step until your shoulder brushes Sal’s arm.
”Oh my god,” You whisper, slightly shocked.
”Its nice to meet you, Ollie,” Sal says, crouching down. “I’m Sal, and this is y/n. The guy behind us is Todd. Were here to help, okay?”
”I’ve seen you,” Ollie looks at you, “You’ve been here before… Are you staying this time?” He asks.
”I- Yeah I… moved in here…” You say, your voice cracking.
”Will you help me find mommy?” Ollie asks, shifting closer to you. You can’t answer him. You're too shaken up.
”Do you know where she could be?” Sal asks. “Do you remember her name?”
”She left after I bumped my head. She couldn't see me anymore.” He looks as if he's about to cry. Can ghosts cry?
”Ollie Winchester.” Todd says into the air.
”What?”
”I've read about almost every recorded death in this building,” Todd leans in. “April 15th, 1918, Ollie Winchester, a seven year old boy died after falling off of his bunk bed in the middle of the night and bleeding out.”
”So his mom is probably-”
”I had a bunkbed.” Said Ollie. “Will mommy come back? Will you stay with me”
“It’s okay, Ollie. Try to stay calm,” You’re talking to him, but mostly to yourself.
”Guess that makes me backup for the babysitting duties,” Sal says quietly.
It’s almost nothing. Just a small, dry joke, but it cuts through the chill like sunlight through fog. You glance at him, and for a second, he’s already looking back. His eyes are steady, calm in a way that makes your shoulders loosen. You realize you’re grateful. Its relieving how easily he shifts the mood before it swallows you whole.
”Ollie,” You start, turning back to the boy. “What’s your favorite color?”
”I like… blue.” He gives a tiny smile.
You turn to go into one of your drawers, and pull out a blue bracelet that used to be apart of every outfit you wore. “Would this work?”
Todd nods, “It could, if we have a good enough intention.”
”Let’s do it then.”
You and Todd take a moment to set everything up. The candle, the salt circle, the mirror. Sal’s job was convincing Ollie that you were helping him return to his mommy. Fortunately, the child was on board immediately.
”Alright, now we need to light the candle.” Todd whispers.
You look at Sal, who was already digging in his pockets. Does he usually just keep a lighter on him? What for?
He eyes you, “I only smoke weed, nicotine's for degenerates like Larry.”
You laugh, “Goody two-shoes.”
He chuckles back, and lights the candle. You place the blue bracelet behind it, your hands trembling from anticipation.
”Ready, Ollie?” Asks Sal, and the ghost bobs his head in confirmation.
”All we have to do is say his name three times in unison and blow out the candle.” Todd whispers, coming up to stand next to you and Sal.
”Easy enough,” You whisper back, and you three crouch down.
”On Three,” Says Sal.
”One,”
”Two,”
”Three,”
”Ollie, Ollie, Ollie,” You all whisper in sync, and then blow out the candle.
As the flame dies, the room exhales. The shadows tremble once, then fall still. A hush rolls through the air, thick and heavy, like the whole apartment is holding its breath.
You feel it in your chest first, a pull, like something is loosening beneath your ribs. The air turns cold, then warmer, rippling with faint energy that brushes your skin like static.
Ollie’s being glows faintly blue, pieces of him softening at the edges, like dust rising in reverse. The candle smoke twists upward, giving Ollies form a distorted look, and then he’s gone. The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s calm. For the first time since you remember, this room feels warm.
You don’t realize you’ve been clenching your jaw until Sal’s voice breaks the quiet, low and steady. “He’s free.”
-‘๑ ̗̀➛ chapter one: "Meeting You." You are in the last stretch of moving into Addison apartments with your grandma (mimi) after something happened back at home. Its your senior year, and you intend to finish off high school on a good note. After settling in, you witness something spooky and meet some interesting people. (3.4k words)
Reminder that most of the named characters are not mine. There is cussing this chapter as well.💐
August 13th, 1995.
As you stepped out of your mimi's rusted old van and looked up at the looming building in front of you, it felt like entering an entirely new universe. Nockfell was a quiet town with a comfortable population just shy of 10,000. Your grandma had lived here for a long time, and you and your parents had visited from Florida for Christmas once or twice.
You drew a deep breath, filling your lungs with the stiff, humid august air. The smell of burnt up cigarettes and weed killer wafted through the air like an old memory, haunting and familiar.
“I never thought I’d end up living here, like for real.” you sighed.
“I know, y/n.” she climbs out of the drivers seat and pops the trunk. “Maybe unpacking will distract you, hon. Help me unload the last of your stuff.”
You step over to help grab the last of your bags. There were only two, filled with some clothes and wall decor. As you walk into Addison Apartments for the first time since 9th grade, you’re hit with the eerily familiar scent of bleach and old wood. You knew from your very slim time spent here that there was always a woman making sure the building was clean. It’s still pretty dated and worn down, but at least it wasn’t sloppy. Still, there was an uneasy pull, like the air itself was whispering something you couldn’t hear.
After reaching the elevator, your grandma clicks the third floor button then turns to face you.
”y/n, I don’t want this to be a bad experience,” she starts. “What can I do to help you settle in better?”
You think for a moment, listening to the rumble of the elevator. As the doors open, you answer her in a more positive tone. “Mimi, I'm not upset about being here. I do like to spend time with you, its just that this place is a lot different than Florida and…” your voice fades out as you reach room 304.
”I know, change is hard. But sometimes,” she unlocks the door and holds it open for you. “Change is good for the soul.” She flicks on the lights and gives you a smile.
Two hours later
After unpacking the bag with wall decor, you admire your handiwork. With posters, drawings, album covers, photos, and paintings hanging from the graying wallpaper, the room already feels more alive. For a while, you just stand there, letting the quiet fill in around you. The hum of the building feels steady, like it’s welcoming you back after all these years. Light filters through the thin curtains, dust floating lazily in the air. It’s strange how familiar it feels, even though you’ve forgotten most of the details.
You sit on the creaky bed and look over at your record player. It wasn't really yours, It was your grandfathers before he passed away when you were ten. Mimi had it shipped to Florida for you to use, and now its back where it belongs, this ancient apartment where they had spent most of their retirement. You stand up and crouch next to your records, brushing your fingers along some of them. Alice in chains, Red hot chili peppers, Foo fighters, New kids on the block, and Nirvana, just to name a few.
Music was important to you. It always was. It could tune out almost anything. You take a deep breath and stand back up, deciding that was enough heavy thinking for now.
You wonder what mimi is up to, since its seven already and your stomach is growling in protest at your previous choice of skipping lunch. You make your way to the kitchen and peer your head in. Nope, not here. You walk a few steps towards the living room. Not there either.
Just then, you hear something…
Knock, Knock, Knock.
Looking where the sound was coming from, it seemed like someone was knocking from your bedroom door.
”Are you staying?”
Was it just your imagination? The air conditioning unit in this apartment was always blaring and making strange noises, but you could've sworn you heard real words. Since mimis room was right next to yours, you walked over to it, maybe mimi was making the noise? Feeling slightly alarmed, but trying to rationalize the sound, you open her bedroom door and call for her.
No response other than the stuttered sound of the air conditioner purring.
Click. Creeeak.
Someone just came through the front door. On edge, you reach for the rock solid throw pillow on your grandmas bed, grateful she had bad taste in anything plush.
Footsteps and shuffling echo from the corner you are slowly approaching. You plan to jump out and startle the intruder before they can find you. Just a few more steps and…
”AH!” You shout as you jump from around the corner, facing the evil head-on.
“OH, goodness!” Mimi shouts at you.
She begins giggling after noticing the confused look on your face. On the bright side, it was just mimi coming back from getting her mail. On the down side, there was a kid your age right behind her with bright blue hair, two boxes stacked high up in their arms, covering their face. Although you couldn't see them, you could tell they were also snickering at your outburst. Slight embarrassment quickly washes over you.
“Mimi!” you whisper, tossing the pillow to the side. “you didn't tell me you were leaving, or bringing someone back with you!”
”I'm sorry honey, I'm so used to just walking out,” she smiles. “This is Sal,” she gestures to the kid behind her and they turn away from you to place the boxes down. “He was just helping me grab the stuff I had shipped for your room.”
The guy turns around to greet you, and you notice his face. A half pink, half white ceramic face mask. It had two nose holes for breathing and two eye holes for seeing. The first thing that really intrigued you were his vibrant blue eyes. You had never seen such a deep and mystifying blue. Then it was the realization that his hair was in pigtails. He had his hand outstretched to shake yours, but you had been staring at him for too long, so he started to speak.
”It's.. a prosthetic. If you were wondering.” He paused for you to process. “I’m Sal, my friends call me sally face. Not in a bad way, promise.” It sounded like he was rambling, trying to get you to respond to him.
”No, I… I’m sorry,” you laugh off your awkwardness. “I was just a little startled… then caught off guard.” You finally shook his hand. “I’m y/n, it's nice to meet you Sal.”
Through the mask, you see his eyes squint slightly, he must be smiling.
”Its nice to meet you too, Mrs. y/l/n talks about you a lot.” He breathes out.
“Well, that’s nice to know. All good things right mimi?” You look over and smile at your mimi who is hanging up her mail key.
”Ohhh yes, all good things,” she winks at you. “Now, y/n, what had you so spooked? You’re not usually so jumpy, dear.”
”Oh, actually…” You think about it for a second. “I thought I heard, um,” You noticed how ridiculous it might sound to announce you're hearing voices, so you pause.
As if reading your mind, Sal says “Is it hard to explain?” He had this look in his eye as if there was something specific he wanted to hear from you.
”Yes, actually,” you start, looking up at him. “I thought I heard, uh… knocking.” You had decided you already looked silly enough by jumping out and scaring your own grandmother, you didn’t need to look schizophrenic, too.
”Probably the air conditioning, hon,” says mimi. “Its always making strange noises… but Sal here,” she pauses to look at him knowingly. “Thinks I have a ghost.”
A long silence falls over the three of you. At first you thought she was joking, but with the look in Sal’s eyes and how your mimi was smirking at him, you knew better. Slightly bewildered, you look at Sal who is seemingly cringing at the bluntness of your grandma.
"Sorry... did I hear that right?" you ask, your voice pitching higher than normal.
Sal takes a breath, as if releasing his nervousness from his body.
“Yeah, it’s kind of hard to explain without context.” He states as if this conversation was normal, and not about actual ghosts.
“…right,” you turn your full body towards him now, looking him right in the eye. He kind of just looks at your for a moment.
“So…” you gesture with your hand for him to continue. “What’s the context?”
You see his pupils dilate, as if he didn’t expect you push. “Oh! Uh, my bad. People usually just shrug the idea off, I didn’t expect you to… um,” he trails off.
“She isn’t like most people, dear.” Your grandma butts in, as if she was trying to make you look good. She even winks at you while walking away… or was it at Sal? What was she insinuating?
Either way, you were more set on figuring out what he meant by ‘context’
“You got me curious!”
“Right, yeah um, okay…” he starts looking around like he’s trying to think of something. Then he grabs his flip phone and sends a text. You give him a confused look.
“I think it would be easier if you met some people first.” He explains.
“Like who? You friends with the ghostbusters or something?”
“You could say that,” He says with an amused tone. “They’re here in the apartment, we don’t have to go far. Are you up for it?” He thinks for a second. “I mean, um if you’re not doing anything. Ya know.” He says quickly.
You think to yourself, you don't have many other things to unpack, and you have the first day of a new school tomorrow. It might be good to get out, plus, you've always believed in ghosts... Not that you've actually seen one.
“You know what, you have peaked my interest, Sal.” You turn to where your grandma wondered off to and then look back at him. “Let me go talk to my mimi real quick.”
He nods, and you go let your grandma know you’re off to meet some of the neighbors. By the time you and Sal are heading out the door, you’re already chatting.
“Is there a reason why you can’t explain this stuff to me yourself?” you question, genuinely curious.
“Well it’s just that, my friend Todd can probably explain everything better than I can. Plus, you’re new, right? Thought it’d be nice to introduce you to a few people… so you can settle in.” He makes his way to the elevator.
“You’re right, actually. Thank you,” you breathe out, appreciating that he’d do that for you even though you just met.
“Todd’s like a super genius in almost everything. He’s super chill too, no sweat.” He explains.
“Phew, I was getting worried you were taking me to meet some unhinged serial killer who also takes interest in the paranormal.” You say, mostly to yourself.
He gives you a chuckle though, enjoying your teasing. “Oh yeah, this guys going to carve you up and shit. Then he’ll bring you back as a ghost.” He says in the most sarcastic tone he could.
You smile at him and get into the elevator, observing as he pushes the button to floor two. You notice his fingers, ring adorned and long. They’re pretty. The rings, not his hands. Well, his hands are pretty too. His fingers are slender, like they could strum a guitar with ease. You wonder if he ever paints his nails. He seems like he might be into that. It’s funny how such small details can pull you in. You start to-
“Y/n?” Sal says, breaking you out of your somewhat strange, wandering thoughts.
“Hm?”
“We’re here, He’s only one floor down,” he gestures to the elevators open door, and you notice his hand has been keeping it open.
“Right!” you walk out of the elevator quickly. “I… was lost in thought. Noticed your rings.” you stutter out.
“Yeah?” he looks down at his hands. “What about them?”
“Oh, they’re just really pretty, silver matches your skin color nice!” you try and say this in the least creepy way possible.
“Really? Thank you.” he says… flustered? You couldn’t see if he was really blushing or not. There was only a slight red tint to the tops of his ears. That's cute.
Before you could respond, he walks over to the door labeled 202 and knocks.
“This is Todd’s apartment, well it’s his parents, but uh, you know what I mean.”
“And hopefully he isn’t a serial killer,” you smirk.
Sal lets out a chuckle, and the door opens.
“Oh, you heard the rumors…” Todd opens the door, he must've heard what you said.
”Rumors?” you ask.
”That was sarcasm.” Todd replies to you, then looks at Sal. “Larry told me I should try to make more jokes. Was that one acceptable?”
”I’d say its an improvement,” Sal laughs. “This is y/n, she just moved in upstairs.”
”Hi. I, uh… heard this place is a little haunted?”
“Maybe. I’ve got some gear you might wanna check out if you’re into that.” Todd moves to let you two in.
”I was thinking you could help me explain the whole Addison apartments is haunted thing to her.” Sal says as you make your way through Todd’s place, which smelled like weed. You couldn't see Todd smoking though, he looked like a typical nerd.
”From the beginning?” He opens the door to his bedroom and Sal nods. “I could do that.”
You sat on Todd’s bed next to Sal, and Todd went into his closet to grab… A mirror, candles, and a bag of what seemed to be salt.
”What is that stuff?”
”I’ll let Sal begin, and then I will explain what this is.” Todd replies and sits in his office chair, turning to Sal.
”Okay, then.” Sal looks at you, “A of this might seem kind of crazy, but hear us out.”
The look in his eyes was genuine, It seemed like his had this conversation before, but it didn't end well.
”I promise to hear you out.” You stick out your pinky, “Pinky promise.”
Sal returns your pinky promise, his hands almost as cold as the large ring on his finger, then takes a deep breath.
He started with Megan and her family, and how they were some of the ghosts who were haunting the apartments. He explains how quite a few years ago, Megan’s father lost control after discovering his wife was cheating on him. Sal makes it clear, though, that Megan’s father kind of deserved it, considering how he treated his family prior to their deaths. He murdered Megan, her mother, and her mother’s secret lover before taking his own life near a lake. Todd investigated the spot where they found his body, but there were no signs of the paranormal. He hadn’t died at Addisons. The others had. Their spirits lingered, trapped in the building like it was a cage.
Then, they both started explaining the most recent murder at Addison's. Mrs. Sanderson, killed the day before Sal moved in. Even though Sal had just gotten to Addison's, It didn't take long to figure out who did it. Charlie, the rebarbative man down the hall who’d become enveloped with jealousy over one of her collectable ponies. The clues didn’t seem like much at first, but they added up, with the help of someone named Larry. Sal’s discovery eventually led to Charlie’s arrest. Afterward, Sal met Mrs. Sanderson’s ghost for the first time. She confirmed everything, her voice trembling with both sadness and relief. Her husband, Mr. Sanderson, had moved out almost immediately after her death, unable to bear the terrible memories. Still, he returned sometimes, standing in the doorway and talking softly to the air, knowing in his heart that she could hear him. All he ever wanted was for her to find peace; to move on from this place and be happy.
They both looked at you intently.
”…That is definitely,”
”Questionable?” said Todd.
“Insane?” said Sal.
”I was going to say fucking fascinating, actually.” Todd's eyes widened slightly.
”So, you believe us?” Said sal.
”Well, yeah, that's too much to just make up isn't it?” You gesture to the random assortment of items Todd had. “So what is that stuff? You got me hooked, I want to know more. How do they linger, and can they move on? And who is Larry?” You are genuinely interested in the details, and it seems to stun Sal and Todd.
Sal and Todd exchanged a glance, as if silently agreeing who would start.
Todd leaned forward slightly. “It’s not complicated,” he said. “But it has to be done carefully. You start at the place where the spirit lingers. Shut any doors, make the space quiet, and dim the lights. The environment matters.”
Sal picked up where Todd left off. “Then you draw a circle with salt. The circle acts as a boundary, keeps everything contained. You need to place an unlit candle in the center of the circle, and then a mirror outside of the circle, but still facing it.”
Todd nodded. “Next, you need something meaningful to the ghost. It could be an object from their past, or anything they feel represents them. Place it behind the candle. That’s what anchors them during the ritual.”
Sal’s tone grew serious. “Then you light the candle and say their name three times. When you’re done, blow it out. That’s it, they're gone. If the candle stays out, the ritual worked, and the ghost can move on. You can usually see them fade away and stuff. The thing is, if the candle somehow stays lit, or if the reflection of the candle is lit while the candle itself is out, you just wait and try again later. Anytime within the next twenty-four hours is good.”
Todd added, “It doesn’t force them. It’s more like guiding them. We have only done it three times, and each of them have wanted to go.”
You nod slowly, imagining the salt, the mirror, the flickering candle. It’s simple, but there’s something quiet and regnant about it. The way they explained it made you want to try it yourself, just to see if it really worked.
“So you're saying, If there's a ghost in my Mimi's apartment, you can help it move on?”
”Basically, yes.” Says Sal.
”And how is it that you find ghosts in the first place? How can you see them?” As you are talking, Sal is already getting up go grab something off of Todd’s desk.
”This…” He holds up a Gear boy with red handles and an antenna sticking out of it. “Is the super gear boy! Made by Todd himself!” Todd has a slightly proud look on his face and takes it from Sal's hands.
”It can read paranormal signals, and by pressing that button,” Todd points, “you can send out an electromagnetic wave, causing a ghost to be perceived by the human eye.” He pauses. “Of course, some ghosts can reveal themselves if they have enough of their own energy saved up, but that is an entirely other thing.”
”No way, you really are a genius!” You say with an impressed tone. “Can you show me a ghost?”
Todd and Sal's faces change immediately to a gauche expression. “Actually…” Sal starts.
”There was an unfortunate incident where the super gear boy was dropped into a toilet.” Todd says in such a serious tone, you just had to laugh.
”What do you mean incident?” You giggle out.
”Well, me and our friend Larry were investigating as usual,” Sal starts,
”In a bathroom!?”
”They seem to be the place we find the most ghosts!” He defends himself.
”Right, well then what” You chuckle.
”And Todd happened to come in, unannounced, which scared Larry so bad he accidentally knocked the super gear boy into the toilet.” Sal sighed, knowing it was funny, but also unfortunate.
”Wow.” You laugh, “That is incredible. But also terrible, is it broken?”
”Not entirely, I am working on it. There are just one or two parts I need to replace from the water damage.” Says Todd, placing it back down. “They should be delivered tomorrow night.”
”Well thank goodness! After hearing that insane story, and learning about rituals and shit, you better be able to show me a ghost,” You joke.
“Usually people are freaked out or just don't believe us.” Sal fidgets with his rings.
”I believe it, this building has always given spooky vibes. I came here for Christmas like twice before moving here, and I always felt like I was being watched.” You sigh. “I want to know more.”
”Atta girl, It's good to be curious.” Sal says, and stands up from the bed.
For some reason, his words send chills down your spine and you feel your face warm up at the praise.
୨ৎ - fluff
⋆˚✿ - some/eventual nsfw
˖°♬⊹ - full nsfw
𖦹 - sfw
(if a fic has more than one of these, there will be specific warnings before they are visible)
sally face
⊹ ࣪⤑ sal fisher headcannons ୨ৎ ⋆˚✿
⊹ ࣪⤑ Enamoured: sal x fem reader fic୨ৎ⋆˚✿
- ch 1
- ch 2
₊ ̗̀➛ first part of chapter one of my sal fisher x fem!reader fanfic! no title yet, but im working on it. Once chapter one is finished i'll post it here with warnings and such, but this sneak peak is SFW ♡₊⁺
(edit: ch 1 and 2 out now)
⚘.ׂ╰┈➤ You are in the last stretch of moving into Addison apartments with your grandma (mimi) after something happened back at home. Its your senior year, and you intend to finish off high school on a good note. After settling in, you witness something spooky and meet some interesting people. (1.1k words)
August 13th, 1995.
As you stepped out of your mimi's rusted old van and looked up at the looming building in front of you, it felt like entering an entirely new universe. Nockfell was a quiet town with a comfortable population just shy of 10,000. Your grandma had lived here for a long time, and you and your parents had visited from Florida for Christmas once or twice.
You drew a deep breath, filling your lungs with the stiff, humid august air. The smell of burnt up cigarettes and weed killer wafted through the air like an old memory, haunting and familiar.
“I never thought I’d end up living here, like for real.” you sighed.
“I know, y/n.” she climbs out of the drivers seat and pops the trunk. “Maybe unpacking will distract you, hon. Help me unload the last of your stuff.”
You step over to help grab the last of your bags. There were only two, filled with some clothes and wall decor. As you walk into Addison Apartments for the first time since 9th grade, you’re hit with the eerily familiar scent of bleach and old wood. You knew from your very slim time spent here that there was always a woman making sure the building was clean. It’s still pretty dated and worn down, but at least it wasn’t sloppy. Still, there was an uneasy pull, like the air itself was whispering something you couldn’t hear.
After reaching the elevator, your grandma clicks the third floor button then turns to face you.
”y/n, I don’t want this to be a bad experience,” she starts. “What can I do to help you settle in better?”
You think for a moment, listening to the rumble of the elevator. As the doors open, you answer her in a more positive tone. “Mimi, I'm not upset about being here. I do like to spend time with you, its just that this place is a lot different than Florida and…” your voice fades out as you reach room 304.
”I know, change is hard. But sometimes,” she unlocks the door and holds it open for you. “Change is good for the soul.” She flicks on the lights and gives you a smile.
Two hours later
After unpacking the bag with wall decor, you admire your handiwork. With posters, drawings, album covers, photos, and paintings hanging from the graying wallpaper, the room already feels more alive. For a while, you just stand there, letting the quiet fill in around you. The hum of the building feels steady, like it’s welcoming you back after all these years. Light filters through the thin curtains, dust floating lazily in the air. It’s strange how familiar it feels, even though you’ve forgotten most of the details.
You sit on the creaky bed and look over at your record player. It wasn't really yours, It was your grandfathers before he passed away when you were ten. Mimi had it shipped to Florida for you to use, and now its back where it belongs, this old apartment where they had spent most of their retirement. You stand up and crouch next to your records, brushing your fingers along some of them. Alice in chains, Red hot chili peppers, Foo fighters, New kids on the block, and Nirvana, just to name a few.
Music was important to you. It always was. It could tune out almost anything. You take a deep breath and stand back up, deciding that was enough heavy thinking for now.
You wonder what mimi is up to, since its seven already and your stomach is growling in protest at your previous choice of skipping lunch. You make your way to the kitchen and peer your head in. Nope, not here. You walk a few steps towards the living room. Not there either.
Just then, you hear something…
Knock, Knock, Knock.
Looking where the sound was coming from, it seemed like someone was knocking from your bedroom door.
”Are you staying?”
Was it just your imagination? The air conditioning unit in this apartment was always loud and making strange noises, but you could've sworn you heard real words. Since mimis room was right next to yours, you walked over to it, maybe mimi was making the noise? Feeling slightly spooked, but trying to rationalize the sound, you open her bedroom door and call for her.
No response other than the stuttered sound of the air conditioner purring.
Click. Creeeak.
Someone just came through the front door. On edge, you reach for the rock solid throw pillow on your grandmas bed, thankful she had bad taste in anything plush.
Footsteps and shuffling echo from the corner you are slowly approaching. You plan to jump out and startle the intruder before they can find you. Just a few more steps and…
”AH!” You shout as you jump from around the corner, facing the evil head-on.
“OH, goodness!” Mimi shouts at you.
She begins giggling after noticing the confused look on your face. On the bright side, it was just mimi coming back from getting her mail. On the down side, there was a kid your age right behind her with bright blue hair, two boxes stacked high up in their arms, covering their face. Although you couldn't see them, you could tell they were also snickering at your outburst. Slight embarrassment quickly washes over you.
“Mimi!” you whisper, tossing the pillow to the side. “you didn't tell me you were leaving, or bringing someone back with you!”
”I'm sorry honey, I'm so used to just walking out,” she smiles. “This is Sal,” she gestures to the kid behind her and they turn away from you to place the boxes down. “He was just helping me grab the stuff I had shipped for your room.”
The guy turns around to greet you, and you notice his face. A half pink, half white ceramic face mask. It had two nose holes for breathing and two eye holes for seeing. The first thing that really intrigued you were his vibrant blue eyes. You had never seen such a deep and mystifying blue. Then it was the realization that his hair was in pigtails. He had his hand outstretched to shake yours, but you had been staring at him for too long, so he started to speak.
”It's.. a prosthetic. If you were wondering.” He paused for you to process. “I’m Sal, my friends call me sally face. Not in a bad way, promise.” It sounded like he was rambling, trying to get you to respond to him.
”No, I… I’m sorry,” you laugh off your awkwardness. “I was just a little spooked… then caught off guard.” You finally shook his hand. “I’m y/n, it's nice to meet you Sal.”
Through the mask, you see his eyes squint slightly, he must be smiling.
”Its nice to meet you too, Mrs. y/l/n talks about you a lot.” He breathes out.
“Well, that’s nice to know. All good things right mimi?” You look over and smile at your mimi who is hanging up her mail key.
”Ohhh yes, all good things,” she winks at you. “Now, y/n, what had you so spooked? You’re not usually so jumpy, dear.”
”Oh, actually…” You think about it for a second. “I thought I heard, um,” You noticed how ridiculous it might sound to announce you're hearing voices, so you pause.
As if reading your mind, Sal says “Is it hard to explain?” He had this look in his eye as if there was something specific he wanted to hear from you.
”Yes, actually,” you start, looking up at him. “I thought I heard, uh… knocking.” You had decided you already looked silly enough by jumping out and scaring your own grandmother, you didn’t need to look schizophrenic, too.
”Probably the air conditioning, hon,” says mimi. “Its always making strange noises, but sal here,” she pauses to look at him knowingly. “Thinks I have a ghost.”
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ᐟᯓ SFW and NSFW sal fisher headcannons!!
(some are x reader ᵔᴗᵔ)
SFW!! ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
- I’ve seen a lot of people think sal would be a doctor or therapist or something but i think he’d really enjoy being a detective/working with the police (not the corrupted ones, the good ones of course) i think he’d really like solving crimes and figuring out puzzles. He has a really curious personality and strives for justice so i think it’s really a good fit for him
- loves spicy things. i think he’d really enjoy like ghost pepper hot sauce or like really spicy ramen.
-Likes to watch the stars. I think he’d really like to look out a window at the night sky, or sit next to the treehouse and stargaze. I think he’d enjoy the quiet wind and coolness of the night.
- subtly corrects people’s grammar. not in an annoying way, i think he’d just correct larry when spelling there, their, and they’re or where, wear, were, and we’re
- Would’ve been more into sports if he didn’t have the prosthetic. I think when he was little (before the incident) he would play soccer. After what happened, soccer would’ve been hard to play with the mask since running around and getting all sweaty would rick it falling off and be uncomfortable.
- Naturally cold hands. I feel like sal is the opposite of a natural heater. Get this guy some blankets.
- Smells distinctly like fresh banana bread. he doesn’t really bake either, so, it’s just a natural thing
- I think he’s the type to smoke a blunt with friends every once and while but doesn’t enjoy cigarettes or alcohol. He knows how alcohol affects his father and doesn’t want to end up like that, but trusts himself enough to be able to enjoy weed and not fall into addiction
- in public he’d call you ‘babe,’ ‘beautiful,’ or your name/ nickname. in private i think he’d use sweetheart or sexy (not in like a sexual way, more like a silly complimenting way)
- more of a doodler then a fully fledged artist. I feel like he constantly turns in papers with doodles all over them and also draws on his own hands. if you were dating him he’d draw on you too. not very “good” but he does it for fun not for recognition. he might also use it as like a coping mechanism if he gets anxious (which i don’t think is very often, sal seems very able to control his emotions and outbursts)
- very clean. I don’t think he’s a clean freak, he’s just organized and hygienic. unlike larry 💀
- Prefers winter and fall over summer and spring. i think he’d like the holidays more since it’s very family and friend centered. since he’s so loyal and loving he’d rather stay in with familiar people then go out in the heat. He also really likes halloween and his birthday is in December.
- Can put your needs before his own often. Sal is such a loyal, caring type. he won’t just ignore your requests or make you wait for something too long
- sal is alive. ok.
NSFW (minors dni!!) 。𖦹°. *. ⋆
ofc this stuff is when he is in college and of age!ˎˊ˗
- hella touched starved and very sensitive. this man has to be so close to someone to even actually kiss them, since he’d have to show his face. You touch his dick? yeah he’s cooked immediately.
- switch asf. he’d be able to go back n forth between being dominant and submissive, i think he’d be down with whatever you’d like atm.
- into hair pulling. Well come on now?? he’d love to pull hair and have his hair pulled, played with, brushed. He’d definitely groan when getting his hair tugged on ;)
- loves hickeys. sal is the type of guy to want you to give him a lot of hickeys. He loves when you suck right near his ear, that’s the sweet spot. i’m not sure if he would like them to be shown off, though. maybe that’s something for just you and him
- whimpers. alright maybe he’s not too loud in bed, but he definitely whimpers. usually whines out your name or a “fuck” every know and then. Definitely a groaner too, esp since he’s so sensitive.
- 7-8 inches. dih is very nice to look at. maybe 2-3 inch girth. I don’t think he’s shaved fully but he definitely cuts it down every few weeks to keep it manageable.
sal fisher
x reader 🖇️🎼💍
-- popular!reader headcannons!! + scenario
a/n ; i need him so bad sorry.........idgaf..............pls request more sal
(🎵) - he judged you a little bit a first like he didn’t mean it but it just came naturally since you surrounded yourself with all the bullies, jocks, and standard mean girls
- you were lowkey a mean girl too like you had your little group and you should snicker and laugh whenever sal and his friends walked past
- and while you DID feel a TAD bit bad, you and your friends would make fun of his prosthetic head sometimes </3 it was just for a laugh
- but yes, he didn’t like you very much - with people like travis, he could somewhat understand since travis had home issues and… had no friends 🤓 you? you had everything by the looks of it
- you were popular, pretty, and everyone seemed to gravitate towards you
- overall, you were the cliche mean girl who bullied the quirky main characters (who sal and his friends, ever so graciously, gave themselves the title of)
- speaking of cliche, you two started talking when you both were forced to sit next to each other in math class, and you hated math
- he would help you though, which surprisingly you appreciated, in turn, you would help him with his art class portfolio which he also appreciated
- this didn’t mean you were entirely nice to him either, far from it, but when it was just you two it was a lot more chill and you could visibly see him relax around you when your friends weren’t there
- sal desperately wanted to be able to talk to you confidently without you or your friends shoving him into a locker, he wished you could talk to him as nicely as you did in math class
- because you worked so well in class together, you were often paired together in projects
- sally would be the most excited since that meant more alone time with you, while you were teased by your friends (they told you that you should pack pepper spray before you stepped into his room just in case, how loving!)
- as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was attracted to you, i mean, who wouldn’t be
- he would often space out while his friends spoke amongst themselves, a distant look on his… eye? larry caught on and thought that his best friends strange behaviour came from a girl he liked~ awww
- yeah little did he know 💔 it’s the worst person you know
- larry wouldn’t take it likely knowing that sal has formed a small crush on the person who terrorises him and his friends on the daily
- “dude! you know how bad she can get!”, ashley agrees, sal waves his hand at them dismissively
“it’s fine guys!”
- larry glares at the back of his head as sal walks away, knowing that he has a class with you next
- his friend group thinks your a demon and you’ve possessed him into liking you despite your behaviour
- back to you two, as time passes you get friendlier with sally, the bullying turning into teasing, even with your friends around
- you didn’t miss how sally looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking, he would stutter and look around frantically if you caught him, you thought it was cute
- he wouldn’t show you his face, since you’ve made fun of his prosthetic before and he didn’t want to ruin whatever weird relationship you had built by showing you his disfigured face
- sally is one of the most patient (and slightly pathetic) guys you’ve ever met, so naturally, you form a small crush on him too, but you’d never admit it
- when he walks by you in the corridor, you’d yank his backpack towards you harshly, making his back jolt into your chest
- you’d then wrap your arms around his shoulders, essentially trapping him with his back towards you, and ask him about his day
- sally was a little apprehensive as first, being unable to tell whether you were about to bully him or casually do something sweet and brush it off straight after
- though he soon found that 9 times out of 10, you would be doing something affectionate ❤️
- his friends didn’t like this, obviously, but in due time they’d get used to you, they just wanted to know if sally was being messed with or if you were genuine
- sally would probably have to be the person to confess becuase lord knows your way too stubborn to admit that you actually like the blue haired guy you’ve been bullying just a while prior
- he would be sweating his ass off while shifting in his chair while he found a good time to confess, while you cluelessly played with his cat
- his dad wasn’t home, and he made larry wear a wig and makeup so he could practice his speech (in which todd and ashley recorded without the two knowing)
- but his memory failed him and his mind went blank, so he decided to wing it
- he tapped your thigh, distracting you from gizmo, and you turned to look at him curiously. he looked like he was falling apart as your gaze practically pierced into him
- he gulped silently and turned to you fully, his eye(s) looking down, and told you his feelings (the best he could at least)
- you stare at him for a minute, silent, to be honest he was getting a little upset at the lack of response. he wished you’d say something, anything instead of looking at him like he just killed somebody (💀)
- to his surprise, you leaned in slightly, but stopped and touched the chin of his prosthetic
“can i?”
- he gulped, and nodded his head as he reached for the straps behind his head to take his prosthetic off with ease. he only undid the first one, and only lifted the mask enough for you to reach his lips
- his mouth had a small cleft up to his nose (or whatever was left of it), on the left side of his mouth, his teeth were exposed, scars and missing flesh adorned his face
- despite this, you leaned in fully and managed to close the gap between you, sally’s hand reaching for yours as you kissed, you held each other
Sal wasn't complaining but he often wondered why you were so obsessed with his hair. Since you two first met, there were not a time when your fingers weren't in his hair each time to saw each other. You braided them, twisted them, brushed them, put pearls or cute hairpins in them.
He also received so many hair care techniques from you that he now felt like the protagonist of a shampoo commercial every time he exited the shower.
"Is it me or this new shampoo smell like coconut this time ?" he asked as he came back in his bedroom, only dressed of a boxer and an old t-shirt.
"Yep," you nodded, sat on his bed and grabbing a hair dryer. "You have no idea how much this scent suits you."
"I trust ya."
He sat on the floor between your legs and let you dry his hair, his eye closed. He loved the domestic intimacy of these moments. Feeling your fingers combing his hair had a lulling effect on him, and that was the reason why he asked in a very sleepy but strong enough voice :
"Why are you so obsessed with my hair ?"
Chuckling, you kept taking care of his hair.
"Your hair are a piece of the sky and your heart is as warm as the sun. Of course I want to take care of both. I don't need a reason for doing so, blue boy."
Not so blue anymore, your words flushed the pale exposed skin of his ears and his neck. Sal sleepily leaned his scarred cheek against your knee and relaxed even more under your care.
"You're awesome," he murmured, doubting you heard him over the sound of the hair dryer but to his voice but you did.
"And you're fluffy," you stopped the hair dryer but kept combing him with your fingers. "And criminally adorable."
insecure! sal fisher who was used to the stares, but never truly got used to the feeling it left him with. he knew people would stare, but would always feel alienated.
insecure! sal fisher who was anxious to be in the same room as you. it took him a long while to get comfortable with you.
"wait don't come in-!" he stammered out, struggling to put his prosthetic on before you came in. you'd respect his decisions, but one day you wanted him to know he can trust you. you took his hands in yours, gently pulling them off his prosthetic as you smiled at him softly. ever since that day, he had never been embarrassed since. sure he'd hesitate every now and then, but he'd be bare faced with you whenever y'all hung out!
insecure! sal fisher who sat on the bed as you sat on the floor, both playing on your game boys before he spoke up, his voice slightly vulnerable. "does my face really not bother you?" he asked before you sighed, feeling bad in how low his self confidence could get. "no, it doesn't bother me." "are you sure?" "yes sally, promise!"
you spoke comfortingly, before going back to the video games, which he appreciated.
i haven't watched a sally face playthrough in a long time i should catch up i miss it </3
Sal wakes up with a cold sweat, a choked noise of alarm as his nightmare jolts him awake. He clutches his chest, eyes adjusting to the darkness of your room as he looks around. He yanks the chain of bedside lamp, the shadows that had once appeared as monsters are now just…ordinary objects.
“Sally?”
Sal looks to the side, seeing your bleary expression makes guilt pool in his stomach. “Sorry, I’m okay—go back to bed.” Sally’s hand is shaky as he goes to lovingly stroke your hair. “Don’t apologize, play fair.” You murmur, sitting up, you’re sure you’ll end up dozing off if he keeps petting you. It’s why Gizmo’s so well behaved, Sal knows how to work his fingers just right. “I am being fair, I’m never not fair.” He rubs his head, he’s just a mess, but at least he’s not alone. “I’m just teasing.” You slot your chin over his shoulder, some stray hair tickle your face, you braided his hair just before bed, but came loose anyways. “I know.” He replies quietly, patting your side gently.
Sal lies back down, tugging you down with him, your cheek rests against his bare chest, his skin is warm against yours, you can hear the steady thump of his heart. You can feel him taking a deep breath, his hand rubbing your shoulder. Sal sleeps the best when he’s with you, its even better when he gets to sleep in your bed, surrounded by your smell and presence. “You wanna talk about it?” You speak through a yawn, wrapping yourself around his scrawny frame like a coil. “In the morning, not right now.” He mumbles, the warmth and security of your body wrapped around his is too comfortable. You hum, wrapping your legs around his thigh, you can feel his course leg hair against your calf.
“Love you…” Sal whispers, but in the dead of night you can hear his affection loud and clear. “Love you too Sally.” You whisper back, he gives your arm a squeeze, his mind quiets down, body relaxing into your mattress. Your hand pats his stomach, a gentle acknowledgment. When your breath evens out so does Sally’s, maybe he should just get you to move in, be his little dreamcatcher. Yeah, that sounds nice.
dividers by @uzmacchiato
a/n: i have such a big crush on sal plz like kill me
⋆.ೃ: ̗̀➛ im lilith, welcome to my cutesy little page!
ᯓ sally face&aot centric sfwノnsfw blog w a few other fandoms! minors and ageless blogs dni with 18+ content (ง︡'-'︠)ง
fun facts!
i am 18
my pronouns are she/her
i am a multi-enthusiast
my fav color is purple!
I have an ao3 -> starlvrx
the rulez!!!
01. PLEASE!! no minors or ageless blogs. i will block. it makes me queezy knowing the 18+ work i create is being consumed by minors or people who could be minors. pls give me peace of mind ≽ܫ≼
02. ABSOLUTELY no hate of any kind!! (homophobia, racism, sexism, transphobia, ableism and anything that falls in between) this is a safe space for me and my readers .ೃ࿐
03. i will not write about self-harm, noncon seggs, ageplay, or minor x adult. i write fem readers (usually in first or second person), but can do gender neutral. i’m also good with anything lgbtq+ (yes, that includes yaoi) ˙ᵕ˙.♡‧₊˚
a ton of my boarders like this come from @saradika-graphics check them out! ᨐฅ