Allow me to reintroduce myself after spending some time on Tumblr and finally finding my groove!
Welcome to @thewildflowerarchives ! A cozy little corner where I gush over my current celebrity favorites (currently Joe Keery & Joseph Quinn 🥰), sprinkle in random reblogs, and collect all the little things that make me smile.
Here's a little Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson for everyone!
Also, here's a shameless plug for my lovely sister @lofi-fics ❤️ because she's one of my favorite humans and deserves it!
Characters I have/will typically write for: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Gator Tillman, Mr. Wrench, Kurt Kunkle, Travis "Teacake" Meacham, Walter "Keys" McKey, Baron Lamram
✶⋆.˚ Writing events:
Steve Harrington Summer Sleepover 2026 // “Our Love Cactus”
Eddie Munson’s 31 Nights of Halloween 2026 // “The Exorcist”
I had my first meet the teacher as the teacher. It was so good meeting my new little group of students. They're the sweetest. UGH. My heart is full right now. I'm so excited for this new adventure in life.🥹
About: The day looks very different for you and Travis, as you get ready for another day at work and he is finally released from Elsworth Prison.
CW: 18+ MDNI; language, little angsty (sad Travis)
WC: 1.8k
18 Fucking Months Later
As you dice up some fruit and cut pieces of buttered toast into strips for Mikey, Travis is changing out of his prison-issued scrubs into standard-issued street attire. He no longer had the clothes he'd come into Elsworth with; those had gone with you during his first week inside, with the plan that you'd bring him a fresh going-home outfit on the Big Day.
But things don't always work out the way you'd hoped.
While you twisted your hair into a claw clip, letting several strands fall free around your face and not really caring to try and catch them all (your boss at the diner didn't really care, so long as no one complained of any hair in their food), Travis was handed a cardboard box with his effects in it - a half a pack of cigarretes, a green Zippo lighter, $5.83, and a pink, circular container of stale Bubble Tape gum. His phone was in there too, but it was, of course, completely dead.
While you dropped Mikey off with your mom, squishing her little cheeks between your fingers and blowing one more raspberry on her tummy just to have the sound of her baby giggles ringing in your ears on the way to work, Travis was riding the city bus to his mom's house where he would be staying until he got a job and back on his feet.
He knocked at the door to the double-wide and heard a smoker's coughing fit erupt from inside.
"Coming, I'm coming. Better not be sellin' more of them damn security systems, I swear to Christ I'll --" She finishes a yawn with a scowl, but her face softens through the screen door when she sees her son standing there with a box and a big, goofy grin.
"Not sellin' nothin', Ma."
"Travis! Get on in here, sugar." She flung the door open and threw her thin, stringy arms around him, surprisingly strong for a woman her size.
Travis closes his eyes and hugs her tightly back, realizing how touch-starved he had become while he was away. His mom visited occasionally, when her work schedule, health, and finances would allow, but usually it was just on major holidays. She came once for his birthday, but the second one that rolled around went forgotten.
Well, mostly. He didn't have any way of knowing, but you'd quietly blown the candle out on a cupcake for him on both of his birthdays, wishing him a peaceful night and for something good to happen to him.
While he got settled in at his mother's home, you drove to work. It wasn't a particularly busy morning at the diner, but it was only 6 AM on a Wednesday. The lunch crowd was sure to be a bit more bustling.
You cleaned up behind the counters, threw out the ratty menus, swept, mopped, refilled all the salt and pepper shakers, and brewed a fresh pot of coffee. You found that the busier you stayed, the quicker the day passed. Idle hands, and all that jazz.
You took a smoke break around 11 AM, about an hour till you were off. You call your mom to check on her and Mikey, blowing kisses to the 10-month old when she stole the phone and drooled all over the camera, babbling "mama, ma ma maaaa" like she was dishing out the hottest gossip.
Your coworker and friend, Shannon, burst through the back doors, eyes wide with what looked like some mild alarm. Did the fryers conk out again? Last time that happened, it was a real pain in the ass. It couldn't be further out of your hands, but somehow having to be the one to deliver the bad news of, "Sorry, no fries with that burger today" was enough for diners to deem you worthy of having your tips cut nearly in half.
You crush the butt of your cigarette under your shoe and tip your chin towards her.
"What's up?"
"You, uh...you got a table."
You snort a laugh, taken aback by this riveting news, and make kissy faces to Mikey on the phone one last time before hanging up with a sing-song, "Bye-byeee! I love youuu!"
Then your demeanor immediately hardens, turning serious and almost downright grave.
"Alright, now don't panic, Shan. I'm kinda used to this sorta thing by now, everything's gonna be alright."
"Oh, just go inside and see for yourself, you snarky bitch." She lights up her own smoke, thus beginning her own break. You stick your tongue out at her affectionately, and she just winks back.
You pop back into the kitchen, washing your hands and resecuring your apron around your waist. With pen and paper in hand, you push through the swinging saloon doors that lead to the front of house to greet your customer.
The guy seated at the booth is facing away from you, perusing the menu and tapping his foot nervously on the tile floor. His hair is wavy, close to shoulder-length, and bleached blonde with dark roots peeking out on his scalp. It was almost uncanny, but from behind you could almost swear it was -
"Travis," His name sneaks past your lips on an exhale when his unmistakable side profile comes into view.
You knew Mikey favored him, that was plain as day to you from the moment she was born, but as he sits here in front of you again for the first time in a year and a half, it really drives home much your daughter is really just Travis made over. The slope of their noses, their big, sweet hazel eyes, the little bow of their lips - all alike. His hair was dyed now (probably a fun little project to pass the time in prison) but you knew that without it they would even have the same mop of dark waves atop their heads.
His jaw hangs agape, twisting into a wide, happy, open-mouthed smile as he stands straight up out of the booth.
"Oh my God, hey!"
"You're...here."
He nods sheepishly, planting his hands on his hips and doing absolutely nothing to hide the absolute glee on his face from seeing you.
"Fresh out the slammer, yep. Just got my stuff settled in over at Mom's. I had no idea you worked here, no idea you'd even still be here in Atchison!"
You fold your arms across your chest, a strange warmth intermingling with an even stranger numbness settling there.
"...Where else would I be?"
Scratching the back of his neck, he mutters, "Man, I dunno. Seeing the world or somethin'?"
Seeing the world? Is that seriously what he thought you'd be doing after he dumped you from prison? After he knocked you up, went to prison, then dumped you? No yeah, I'll just take a trip to go see the Eiffel Tower about it - was he serious?
"No, my dream is to be a waitress here at the Grease Trap. Sorry, didn't I ever tell ya that? Speaking of, you gonna order somethin'?"
He smirks, nodding. "Two Cokes, one for you one for me. Come sit with me a minute?"
"Can't, Trav. I'm busy."
He quirks a brow and twists his face up in confusion, glancing around the completely empty diner. It was a little slower than usual, you'll admit. With a huff, you pour two glasses of Coke with ice and sit across from him in the booth.
"Anyone comes in, I gotta go."
"Sure, absolutely." He says coolly, but you can see that there's excitement bubbling beneath his very surface; his eyes are glittering with it.
No other customers come into the diner during your shift. It's like the city put a memo out, telling everyone to let you have lunch uninterrupted with your ex-convict/ex-boyfriend/baby daddy. How kind of them.
"So, how was prison? Everything you hoped it'd be?" You sip from your Coke and look at him with dull eyes hoping the dig landed enough to check his ego a little bit.
"Hm. Fuckin' sucked, to be honest. But I guess it coulda been worse."
You nod with a bitter chuckle, eyes glazed over as you twist the paper wrapper from your straw into wiry little figures. He reaches across the table a few inches, stopping just short of your pinkies touching. Still too close. You tuck your hands into your lap and wring them together.
"Coulda been better, though." He mutters under his breath. Now you do turn your attention to his face, fixing him with a stern look.
"Oh, so it was still boring without me anyway? What a fuckin' shame."
He looks at you like a dog that just ruined your favorite pair of slippers, and tries hopelessly to swallow the lump in his throat that simply won't go away.
"Yeah, I'm... I'm so sorry, baby. I'm a real fuckin' dumbass, I just thought... Maybe if I let you go, you'd be free and happy. Y'know? And look, you're beautiful every goddamn day of your life, don't get me wrong...but every time you came in to see me, you looked so sick, and frail. I hated what that place was doin' to ya, so I wanted to get you out of it. But I knew ya wouldn't leave on your own, cause you're hardheaded --"
"No, I wouldn't have left on my own cause I loved you. There are things worth being hardheaded about, Travis."
Your phone alarm goes off, and you curse under your breath that you let the time get away from you like this. Your shift would be over in 20 minutes, you needed to cash out and finish up for the day so you could go get Mikey.
"Shit, I gotta go."
"Wait! Um - is it okay if I still come eat here sometimes? Like, it won't bother you, will it?"
You shrug nonchalantly, even though you feel your ears starting to burn. "It's a free country."
"Yeah, sure. It is, but like, I want you to be comfortable, know what I'm sayin'? If you would rather me stay away from here, I can just like, cross it off my list or whatever. I'd rather not, but I will --"
"Tea, I have to go. I gotta..."
He nods, holding his hands up in surrender but looking away in defeat.
"My bad, I know. Motormouth. Go ahead, I'll uh - see ya around."
You exhale slowly until the last drop of air is forced from your lungs, and you hold it there, letting it burn. You tilt your head all back, neck hyperextended, waiting for whatever God was sitting around up there to tell you you're making a huge mistake, don't do it, just leave him here --
"Travis. I gotta go pick up my kid from my mom's." Your voice breaks unexpectedly at the suddenness and the relief of the confession; his shoulders sag in disbelief.
"O-oh? You - wow, you're a mom, huh? That's...well that's great, I had no idea. Always knew you'd be a great one, so yeah, no, that's...that's cool, congrats."
You roll your eyes but can't hide your faint smile at his attempt at casual indifference; you gesture for him to follow you outside.
"C'mon, meathead. You wanna go meet your daughter or what?"
Literally me while waiting for all my meet the teacher things to finish printing.
But I'd also love to shoutout my Para for translating everything for a Spanish version of all the paperwork.🥹❤️ she's not on here, but I needed to brag about her lol. Such a sweetie.
