#*listen if you set the first book in its publication year I am a year younger than Percy

[stripe-conlon]

While researching slang for a pjo fic* I realized how lucky Nico got with his generally accepted birth year even if he hadn’t been casino’d through most of the 1900’s. Too young to be drafted in WWII, too old to be drafted into Vietnam and Korea didn’t have a draft.

[vriskabot]

do you have any davris headcanons?

i saw this ask the instant it came in and i could not believe my EYES. trust when i tell you ive been typing FURIOUSLY in the meantime okay. okay headcanons. -dave has always been a little genderweird and vriska putting makeup on him when she was bored one night unlocked his third eye and now he cant stop putting red shit all over his eyelids -vriska has also always been genderweird and you can see where im going with this. -she steals his clothes ALL the time -he pretends to hate it when she gets her disgusting $5 perfume stink all over said clothes but you know he loves that shit (and she knows it too) -flaming bisexuals -once theyve been together for a while they are THE most "i am going to have the longest silent conversation with someone across the room you have ever seen in your life" -they both think they can read each other like a book but in truth its only about 60-70% accurate -the inaccuracies are always funny as fuck though and 9 times out of 10 its some entirely off the wall MADNESS due to their upbringings they think is entirely normal. the conversations that directly follow these revelations are legendary amongst the extended crew and every single one thats happened in a public memo has been screenshotted by basically everyone they know -speaking of which. i dont think they dm for basically anything ever. they either have conversations right in the GC (sometimes in the middle of other conversations, which karkat fucking HATES, especially when they flirt with each other) or they speak in person/over the phone. no in between -they flirt with each other all the time and its disgusting but its incomprehensible to literally everyone else. vriska tells dave she found some gnarly roadkill and sends coordinates and dave is like "babe stop not in front of everybody" -she used to send pictures too but that got shut down real quick and now thats really all she dms him for -i dont think vriska likes it for the same reasons dave does but he did absolutely get her into the weird and wacky world of vulture culture. dave likes the wet specimens the most but vriskas a fan of bones and taxidermy -speaking of which. this is more vriska/troll-centric but i love the idea of vriska being able to eat bones. dave gets the same schoolboy "oh my god this is so cool" kick out of it every single time -im well aware that music is a time thing but i genuinely cannot comprehend a world wherein vriska is not a music girlie. this definitely did a lot of the heavy lifting in The Early Days because when youre emotionally constipated sometimes you gotta let a song do the talking FOR you -vriska 100% introduced dave to crunkcore and he got way more into it than she ever did. he listens to 3oh3 religiously -dave samples vriska on his tracks all the time because she CANNOT shut the fuck up. he also likes taking pictures of her but even after years together he still kinda keeps those to himself and gets flustered when she finds one -man i just really love the idea of them being fucking obsessed with each other. they rag on each other ALL the time because thats just how they feel the most comfortable being affectionate but at the end of the day they snuggle up all soft and quiet and just enjoy being with somebody who understands how hard it can be to even allow that to happen in the first place -they ARE super casually affectionate with each other though, even in group settings. i dont think theyd like grand pda like kissing or saying 'i love you' in public but personal space just doesnt really exist for them. they hang off each other and sling legs over laps all willy nilly -they also stim on each other. dave likes to play with her hair while hes talking and vriska likes to play with his hands/fingers when shes bored this post is so LONG i could keep going for days. please always ask me about davris, especially if youve got more specific questions!!!

[slasher-smasher]

Teleporting Keys (Homelander x OC)

This is for my very first submission to @cozycornerevents, prompt: "Where are my keys?" Masterlist

No warning besides not beta read, just HL having terrible hiding spots for things, OC is Cassidy Bishop.

Cassidy wasn't the most meticulous person but she did like to have her everyday items to have a specific place for easy locating. With her hectic schedule, she needed to be able to be out of the door when she got paged from the hospital. 

Her phone –depending on its battery charge– gets set down on the counter in the kitchen so she will be able to hear its ringing when she has her nose shoved into a book on the couch or if she was in a baking mood and was mixing batter while listening to her gramophone.

Her wallet on her dresser, next to the phone charger she uses when she goes to bed.

The sketchbook and pencils had their home on the bookshelf in the living room. Normally she kept them under her bed so she would be able to reach under when inspiration struck but her nosey boyfriend liked to snoop and pull it out to flick through her sketches making her face flush when he gives her a cheeky grin as he sees a new picture of him. His favorites are the ones where he looked heroic mid-flight. 

Her keys hanging from their hook by the door. The little Lego versions of Ryan and Homelander that former made her for her birthday swung by their keychain.

Usually, Homelander comes by to pick her up to spend the night at the tower –which she insisted that she could drive herself there but he just sneers at the idea of her getting in the death box on wheels more than she has to– and takes her home so she can drive to work.

After a serious sit down, she made it clear to Homeander how important her job is to her and that she was a professional so being late is unacceptable. Though that did little to deter the clingy superhero from dragging her back to the warm bed for early morning cuddles. He still made sure she had time to get ready at home. This week was odd though.

One day, after coming home from a long night of celebration of his newly appointed Homelander Day –much to Cassidy’s exasperation about his need to be the center of attention– Cassidy was just about to reach for her keys before stopping short when she saw an empty space.

“Uh. That's strange,” she mumbled as she turned back to the kitchen to see if she left them on the counter. Homelander practically snatched her up and flew out of the window right as she walked through the front door so she couldn't remember where she set them.

After checking other places when she couldn't locate them in the kitchen, she glanced at her watch and started to worry as her time to start her shift crept closer. Biting her lip she pulled out her phone and dialed her lover.

The deep teasing voice that greeted her ears as he answered almost made her immediately hang up and surrender to public transportation and take the lateness, “Changed your mind already? I was just thinking that sunlight would look amazing on you when you're pressed against the glass overlooking the city as I fuck you.”

Over a hundred years old and she still felt flustered at his vulgarity.

“Hush you pervert. I need a favor. I cannot find my keys and I am going to be late. Do you think you can fly here and take me to work?” she knew he would be more insufferable since he has been whining about how dangerous vehicles are and she had a safer way of transportation. His godly self. He would think this as going out of his way to her rescue.

She heard Homelander let out a dramatic sigh, clearly relishing the opportunity to be her knight in shining armor. “I suppose I can make an exception this time, kitten. But you owe me a special treat for this favor,” he purred into the phone, his tone full of smug satisfaction.

Bastard acting like it would inconvenience him. That brat.

She rolled her eyes at his predictable request, Cassidy simply replied, “Fine, fine. Just hurry up before I'm late for work. And no flying too fast this time, you know how much it messes up my hair. I look like fucking Doc Brown before I can fix it.”

With a chuckle, Homelander assured her he would be there shortly and hung up the call. Cassidy couldn't help but smile despite her annoyance at his arrogance. As she waited by the door for him to arrive, she wondered where the keys could be.

She ended up finding them in her bag that she keeps all her art supplies in on the floor by the bookshelf. She forgot that she put them in there when she parked.

That’s when things got weird. Every other day her keys would go missing. She was incredibly confused because she swore that she would put them on their hook when she gets home but it’s not totally strange how often Homelander would sweep in and steal her attention. Plus he was more than eager to take her to work. What made her suspicious was the odd locations she found her keys later in the week.

Once, she found them in the refrigerator, chilling next to a carton of milk. Another time, they were nestled on the cushion of her favorite armchair, as if they were taking a nap. The most perplexing discovery was when Cassidy stumbled upon her keys hanging from a tree branch in her backyard, glinting in the sunlight.

She wasn’t oblivious. She could correlate the teleporting keys and Homelanders earnest want to have her fly with him. Cassidy couldn't help but feel a mix of exasperation and amusement at Homelander's need to have her to himself just a little longer and knew his distrust of cars was legitimate so his fear for her safety was very sweet. Even if she could heal if anything happened.

She decided to confront him about it one evening as they lounged on the couch, his arm wrapped around her shoulders possessively. "John, where are my keys?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Homelander feigned innocence, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Keys? What keys, babe? I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied smoothly, though a flicker of a smirk danced on his lips.

“Uh huh,” Cassidy wasn’t buying it as she craned her neck back to glance at the once again empty key hook.

He chuckled softly and pulled her closer. “Hey now, you’re the one that keeps having old lady moments and puts them in weird places. Not my fault.”

The jab about her real age and him turning this around on her made her eye twitch but she just sighed and snuggled more into his side. “You know, if you wanna go flying, you can just ask. No need to be sneaky. Nice attempt though.”

Homelander's smirk widened as he leaned down to press a kiss to Cassidy's temple. "Who said I was being sneaky? Just trying to keep you on your toes," he replied playfully, running a hand through her hair.

Cassidy couldn't help but laugh at his antics as she shook her head in fond exasperation. "Well, consider me on my toes then. But seriously, what were you thinking with the fridge and the tree in the backyard?" she teased, poking him in the side.

Homelander let out a dramatic scoff, pretending to be offended. "The tree was genius, you just got lucky missy. For the fridge, I actually didn’t mean to leave the keys in there. I might have gotten distracted," he said with an impish grin, knowing his slip-up had been caught. Cassidy couldn't help but chuckle at his admission, shaking her head in amusement.

"Well, I’ll need to remember milk is a good Homelander diversion," she teased, giving him a playful nudge. Homelander chuckled and pulled her into a tight embrace, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

After a moment Homelander asked in that unsure quiet voice, “So you do want to go flying with me?”

Cassidy looked up at Homelander with a soft smile, her eyes filled with affection. "Of course I do, John. I always enjoy flying with you," she replied, running a hand through his hair “Besides that one time.” They both remembered how their reunion went about. Homelander's face lit up with a bright smile as he lifted her effortlessly into his arms, preparing to take off into the night sky.

[smute]

if you have a minute (or 107) please listen to this lecture by judith butler at the university of cambridge back in april. it touches on a lot of things i regularly see on my dash, specifically the connections between homo/transphobia/the larger anti-gender movement, and climate change, hypercapitalism, and the global rise of fascism and other reactionary forces. the title “who’s afraid of gender” refers to butler’s upcoming book (set to be released next year), which i am especially excited for because it is their first publication with a non-academic publisher. butler is not exactly known for their accessible writing lol so the fact that this book was acquired by farrar, straus and giroux suggests that it could be an effort to open up a very important debate to a wider audience. in any case, its an interesting speech with a short q&a section at the end so yeah. give it a shot!

i haven't been able to find a full transcript yet but if anything turns up i'll add it to the post

[sixofpomegranates]

☠︎ Scared, Princess? ☠︎

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Popular!Fem!Reader

Word count: 20K (Yeah, idk either.)

Summary: The Princess of Hawkins High and I hate each other, always have, but I think there is more to her... Is the Princess actually just another bullied kid who found a disguise out of her misery?

A/N: Listen, I had this joke with a Furby I really wanted to use. I tried it with a care bear and other toys to have it for the ’80s, but it wasn't nearly as funny. So: pretend turbines already exist, or make it modern!au or just ignore logistics and enjoy the joke.

CW: Fluff, Comfort, Angst, Smut 18+ | Enemies to Lovers | No use of y/n | Mentions of Past Bullying/Suicidal Thoughts/Pressure to have Sex/Loss of Virginity/Fake Friends (Reader), Neglectful Parents (Reader/Eddie), Alcohol Consumption/House Party, Fast Food Consumption, Popular Kids Being Jerks, False Accusation of SA/Incest (Eddie), !Reader being lifted up! – Smut ~ Penetrative Sex (Creampie, Unprotected, Rough, Semi-Public, Mirror Sex), mild Fear Play, Fingering, Oral (M&F), Thigh Riding, Hair Pulling, Cockwarming, Praise/Degradation, Breathplay, Spanking, mild Dom/Sub undertones, Aftercare

☠︎ The Freak's POV ☠︎

The Princess of Hawkins High. The flawless little cheerleader ranking in the social hierarchy of high school right under all sides loved Chrissy Cunningham, the Queen.

I love to tease her, push her buttons, and make her face turn into the cute little frown wherever I can. Her nose twitches when she gets angry; I wonder if she knows...

I wouldn't say I hate her, but I certainly feel irritated by her.

Always surrounded by the most popular jerks, the princess seems to constantly seek their approval. She has done so ever since her first day of school in this hell hole a year ago.

She – in fact – might be nothing other than a little puppy expecting treats for being a good girl—a preppy little puppy whose happy little smiles sometimes even tempt me to pat her.

But the little puppy is also a giant bitch at times. She snaps at me and hisses; she attacks before getting attacked. Coming too close to her would probably have me lose a finger... Maybe even my whole hand.

At the very least, she doesn't bully anyone, even though she has been a quiet bystander multiple times when her friends are busy ruining the lives of others.

She seems uncomfortable whenever she is caught in one of those situations, but she chose those friends and tolerates their shitty behavior. So, she is definitely not earning brownie points for it.

Not in my book. No... She deserves the shit I give her; the headaches brewing together storms behind does pretty eyes. I refuse to respect those who lack any respect for others.

As every day this week, there is a commotion outside the Hellfire Club's room... The prop room of the Theater Club.

A play is getting prepared, and therefore the Hellfire Club has to constantly deal with the door opening and closing. Students rush in and grab parts of my carefully arranged dungeon. They talk, they shove, they interrupt.

How is somebody supposed to defeat a clan of crazed cultists when there is that much reality intruding our fantasy?

As the door opens once more, I snap my head in its direction, roaring, "For fucks sake, can't you see that we are busy?"

The princess looks at me, dressed in this unforgiving little cheerleading uniform and a white cardigan. She holds a clipboard angled at her hip, her eyes wide at my angry outburst.

Taking a deep breath, she smiles, "I'm sorry, but as you know: This is the prop room of the Theatre Club. Having the theatre kids come in here and get their props is within their rights."

"This has been going on for a week now," I say, annoyed. "You could just get your shit when we're not in the middle of a campaign."

"Well, I am responsible for the set design and had cheerleading practice until now. So excuse me that I don't care for how convenient it is for you, Munson."

Now that she is mentioning it, she does look like she jumped around to annoying music for the last hours, her hair not perfect, the baby hairs sticking a little to her temples and forehead...

She is silent for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek; then, a devilish grin paints her glossy lips. "You could always just get a real room for your club."

I refuse to look at her any longer. Meanwhile, she's busy telling some smitten boys to carry out one of our tables.

"You know Higgins won't give me one," I mutter under my breath.

I hate it, but plenty of people know that I had to grovel at the principal's feet to ever even have Hellfire considered a real club. We don't get to request. The smartest thing to do is be as quiet as possible before Higgins shuts it down, scared I am sacrificing cats, or goats, or some shit...

The princess hums, uncaring, stepping next to me, "Well, sucks. I need the throne."

Her pink pen points with its end at my chair – my throne. I make myself extra heavy and chuckle, "Absolutely not."

An irritated look spreads on her face. "Get lost, freak; I need it for the play."

"Already gave you my answer," I smile as ill-humored as possible, then focus back on my sheepies, hoping to rekindle the excitement there was before we were interrupted. "Henderson, your turn. The cruel right hand of— Hey! Hey, stop that!"

The annoying princess is shoving her entire weight against my throne, thinking she can tip it enough for me to get out of it. She seems not to realize that I rather faceplant and take the chair with me than give her what she wants.

"Get out of the throne."

I give her a temperate shove that is already enough to make her stumble backwards. I swiftly check if she is okay, then grin at her face. "You can have it and all the other shit your selfish little heart desires when we are done with our campaign."

"But I need it now! I can't wait for your fantasy shit to be done; I have a curfew!"

I shrug, the desperate whine in her voice barely hitting me. "Though luck, princess."

"I'm going to tell on you," she warns me, the little angry vein on her forehead finally showing up.

"Good luck with that."

"I waited for my chance to design this set all year; I won't have you ruin this for me just because of your constant need to be a dick."

"And I won't have you ruin a perfectly good campaign that took me months to prepare just because you think you're entitled to special treatment."

"Eddie," she says again after some more props have been carried out of the room. "I need the throne for King Lear. You can have it back after the play is over."

"Yeah, nah. I'm sitting too comfortably. Like I said, come back when we're done here."

A frustrated groan leaves her throat, and I chuckle, "No need to lose your mind, Ophelia."

"Ophelia is from Hamlet, you uncultured idiot. You, of all people, should know the difference."

"Why? Because I am, too, a king that is losing his mind?"

"No, but because you are repeating Ms. O'Donall's English class for the third time now."

Okay. Ouch. Bitch?

"Eddie, maybe we should just—" I ignore Handerson's call for peace. I am not going to be the first one to back down.

"What's got your panties in a twist today, princess? Did Jason switch back to railing Chrissy again? Is that why you need to bitch at us? Can't handle that you'll always be just his side piece?"

"You're an asshole."

"And you're not intimidating without your shitty friends."

She sighs. "I need to be home by nine. Please get out of the—"

"Why? Is your daddy finally coming to visit you? Would really be a first since your family abandoned you here."

We all know that she lives with her aunt, a woman that is never home. It's the basis of her coolness. She has money, a place all to herself, and nobody can restrict the number of parties she visits.

"Well, at least mine's not doing 15, leaving me to live in a shitty trailer with my hermit uncle."

Jumping up from my chair, I growl, "Be careful what you say, bitch!"

I can take every blow towards me, but Wayne – the only father figure I've ever known – is off limits.

Although she trembles, she lifts her chin at me and snarls, "What are you gonna do, trailer trash? Beat me like your dad beat your mom?"

Without thinking, I close the distance between us, making her yelp and back against the wall. I would never hurt her... Hurt anybody... But I can live with the fact that she's scared that I might.

Being marked as an insane freak is an opportunity to set boundaries. Bullied kids develop all sorts of defense mechanisms and grasp possibilities like these. My defense is playing crazy, an unpredictable freak.

The Princess of Hawkins High looks at me with big eyes. She's barely breathing, shaking like a leaf as I tower over her. But as we both just stare and don't move, our expressions soften, and the wind is gone from our sails.

The air has calmed way too quickly, and the way she looks at me reminds me too much of myself when I'm pretending to be big and scary, although I actually just want to make it out of high school alive, with the least amount of trauma possible.

Jeff's hand on my shoulder suddenly pulls me back, far away from her. For a moment, I could swear she took an instinctive step following me.

Dustin hands her the clipboard that – sometime during our staring – must be slipped through her fingers. He apologizes countless times on my behalf, promising her the throne as soon as possible.

She nods, seeming as lost of a fighting spirit as I am, and then leaves.

"Shit, seriously. It's always the two of you. That'll end in a murder one day," Jeff sighs, patting my shoulder before sitting down.

"Not cool, man," Gareth lectures me. "If she tells Higgins about this, we're in trouble."

I wave him off, sitting back down on my chair. I actually don't feel like playing D&D anymore.

The Princess of Hawkins High... Is she another bullied kid who found a disguise out of her misery?

*****

Not thirty minutes later, I carry the throne into the cafeteria that doubles as the performance hall with the large stage across the entrance.

Nobody's here; the lights are suspiciously dimmed. For a moment, I believe that everybody has already left. Then I notice her sitting on the stage floor, tracing something onto cardboard.

The Princess of Hawkins High kneels there on all fours, butt in the air, completely unaware of my presence. Her headphones on her head and the cardboard beneath her seem to have her resign in another dimension.

My mouth becomes dry, and I lick my lips. This stupid cheerleading uniform has no right to hug her body like that. The heat in my face wanders downstairs when I think just about how good she looks in this position.

I fucking hate Jason Carver.

He plays hot and cold with her, using her and throwing her away to be with cute, innocent Chrissy over and over again.

For a year now, both girls act like it doesn't hurt them. And while I believe that this could be very true for blissfully oblivious Chrissy, the princess accepted her treatment, keeping her title and social status rather than her dignity.

It would be a lot easier for me to hate the Princess of Hawkins High if she weren't so pretty. I truly gather a great amount of self-hatred for this shit. Out of all the people, I want the cheerleader with bully friends, the one that lets Jason Carver – of all guys – use her like a cheap toy because his friends are hers and dictate her social status.

Sitting up and stretching a little, her eyes meet mine, and she yelps, making me scream in reply.

A small heart attack is truly one way to get rid of an uncalled-for boner.

Turning off her walkman, she takes off her headphones. "What do you want?" she asks with enough hostility to freeze hell.

"Brought you the chair," I answer, pointing at the obviously in front of me placed furniture piece.

She mumbles a slight "oh," and walks down the stairs next to the stage.

"Where do you want it?" I ask, lifting the heavy piece of wood.

She points at the corner next to her, and I oblige. My arrival seems to have reminded her of the "curfew" she said she has.

Closing the stage's curtains and the door to its stairs, she grabs her bag and walks outside. I follow her silently. The club has agreed to postpone our campaign.

Outside, she checks her watch, cusses as she knows that past nine, there are no buses, and starts walking.

I call her name, making her turn around.

"Hey, I can drive you," I offer.

I don't like her, but Uncle Wayne has taught me well enough not to let a young girl walk home alone at night.

"So I end up dead in a ditch?" she snarls.

I roll my eyes. "You're going to walk home on the side of the street. I don't need to drive you to have that being the end result."

She shakes her head, walking away. "No thanks."

"My uncle says it's not safe for women, especially not pretty women. The world is full of sickos and perverts."

She turns around again. "That coming from the town's freak is not as impactful as you think it is."

I sigh, throwing my head back for a moment, then say, "Stop being stubborn and get in my van. Nobody has to know I drove you."

"Why would you even care?"

"Because I am the last person to have been with you. I really don't wanna be a murder suspect accused of killing 'the pretty cheerleader with a bright future.'"

"I'd rather walk. Thanks, though." She offers me a smile and then walks away.

Fine.

Fine. Who cares?

Not me!

I hop in my van and drive out of the school's parking lot. I don't need to be nice to her. Let her end up in a ditch—none of my business.

On the other hand, though... I really don't want that to happen. Not only because I'd be suspect number one but also because...

It just doesn't feel right. I'm a freak and asshole for show, but I am a nice guy—not like Jason's bizarre version of nice guy that only ever ends with girls in the back of his car. Wayne would kill me if he knew I let a girl put herself in unnecessary danger, and I wouldn't be able to sleep well tonight, not knowing if she ever got home safe.

I groan, smacking my wheel, annoyed, and turning the van. I drive back to down the street and halt next to the princess.

Rolling down the window, I say, "Get in. C'mon, don't make me beg."

She shakes her head again. "Leave me alone, Munson." Then she puts on her headphones and keeps walking.

Jesus Christ, why is this woman so stubborn?

I turn the car again and, at the slowest tempo possible, drive behind her.

She turns around and looks at me, weirded out.

I shrug at her. "What? You didn't want to get in?!" I exclaim although she doesn't hear me.

Shaking her head again, she continues her way home.

I hit my wheel again, hating that Wayne raised me well. Life would be so much easier if I'd actually be an asshole.

"Oh, Eddie, thank you so much for making sure I get home safe," I mock the princess's voice.

"You're very welcome. But I am just doing the bare minimum," I answer as myself.

"Yes, but it's so sweet of you. Tiny dick Carver would never do this for me."

I chuckle, "I know he wouldn't. And I know it's small; I haven't skipped PE in a while and—" I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm fucking losing my mind here..."

An imaginary conversation with the princess, that's how far gone I am. Unbelievable. She wouldn't even stop to check if I were okay should I drive into a tree right next to her. And yet here I am, actually driving at snail's speed behind her to watch out for her.

Ten minutes into this shit, she turns around again. Shaking her head like I am the unreasonable here.

"You could just get into the fucking van!"

Of course, she keeps walking and leaves me to mutter annoyed bullshit to myself.

As we reach her house, she promptly stops, looking for something in the driveway. From behind, I see her shoulders sag.

Wiping around in her face, she turns around for a second, teary eyes glistening in my headlights.

Did... Did she actually expect somebody to be home?

Just as I try to gather the courage to get out of the van, she walks inside her big, lonely house, turning the lights on.

The Princess of Hawkins High. For so many, she is an inspiration, a clear view of what you could be if you'd only were perfect enough, had enough friends, would be loved enough...

But I think I know better. The Princess of Hawkins High is all alone.

*****

♛ The Princess's POV ♛

The Freak of Hawkins High still stands outside my home with his van as I walk into the kitchen and rewind the answering machine.

Aunt Tess had promised to be home today. I'd waited for nothing other all day than to finally hug her again. Especially since she hasn't been home for over three weeks now.

I press play and listen to the calls I missed during my day at school.

"Hey, girly," the voice of my aunt rings in my ears. "So sorry, but I won't make it to Hawkins any time soon. The deal in Japan is a bigger project than I anticipated, and — Just gonna be honest, I forgot to tell you a couple of days ago. I promise I'll be home next month, and I'm gonna make it up to you with a ton of gifts from here, okay? If you need anything, just call, okay? Great, love you."

"Hey, me again, honey. I forgot to tell you, I just put some more money in your account, and there is so much on it; I am starting to feel like you forgot how to shop? How bout you splurge a little? Make me feel less bad for not being home. Okay. Gotta go, bye."

My heart sinks, and I would start crying if I hadn't already in the driveway... When I saw that, once again, nobody's there.

I get a glass of water and gulp it down to ignore the way my throat closes up. For a second, I think I hear shuffling in the bushes outside the kitchen window but am distracted by my mom's voice coming from the recorder.

I haven't heard her say my name in a while, so my entire focus goes back to the little electronic on the kitchen counter.

"Hi, sweety. How are you doing? Your dad and I miss you terribly. We're currently in Paris, and I just know you would love it here. Work has been crazy and... Look, baby, that's why I called. I know we promised we'd pick you up and travel through Italy in July, but the firm is expanding so rapidly at the moment, and July will have us in Greece and Turkey, and maybe even China... Thing is, we'll have to cancel that trip, love. I know you were excited about it, but I can't see a way we would manage to push you between our other arrangements. How about I'll send you some extra money, and you'll have a girl's trip with Tess? My treat... Yes? Yes, I just need— Okay. Okay, sweety? I've got to go back to work. We'll talk soon, okay? Love you."

I press my lips together for a moment, then throw my glass against the wall across from me. I watch it shatter and fall to the floor.

Who cares? Not like anybody except me is going to notice that it's missing. I hate how loud I am sobbing by now, but can't seem to stop myself. I'd been really excited to spend time with my parents. I haven't seen them for months, even the last call was weeks ago.

I walk into the living room and drop onto the couch, curling into a ball. It's not like my family doesn't love me. I get everything I wish for, but I'd like to have a hug, maybe even a family dinner, instead of a bunch of cold money.

I tried to spend it all, but no matter what I buy, it doesn't help me when I feel alone, falling asleep on the couch, watching movies so that I hear people talk in this house. Being lonely sucks, and I am pathetic.

I don't know how much time passes, but after some squeaking wheels burn rubber outside my house, somebody rings the bell.

My heart thumps in my chest. I'm way too scared since watching Maniac last night. Why am I constantly doing this? I know I get paranoid when watching horror movies.

It doesn't help that I don't know if the freak's still outside. I am so not going to open the door for him. I do not intend to die tonight... Although I am not sure if he would actually do something like that.

Like, he scares me, but I don't feel like I am in danger when he's around. I actually appreciated that he drove me home—kind of.

It rings again, and this time, I get up. I walk to the door and look outside to see Amy, Jessica, and Chrissy standing there.

I didn't intend to have people over, but okay. I open the door, putting on my brave girl face.

"Hi," I greet them.

They look me up and down, each one of them dressed like they belong on the runway or in a music video, anywhere but my home, actually.

"Are you okay?" Chrissy asks quickly, hand rushing to my arm.

I nod. "Yeah. Yes, just my mom and aunt canceling on me again."

Chrissy quickly hugs me as the other two walk in.

Jessica looks around. "You sure there wasn't anything else?"

I shake my head. "No. Like I said—"

"The freak was outside your house," Amy interrupts me. "Creeping through the window."

My face heats up with the terror of what he might've witnessed, what he will use as ammunition against me at our next quarrel.

He has seen me cry; I didn't hide it well enough when disappointment hit me in the driveway. Maybe he wanted to check on me?

No. That isn't Eddie. He probably just been nosey or wanted to prank me by scaring the shit out of me because I stole his throne.

"I— Well, we... He kind of followed me home after I left school," I say, noticing how bad that sounds.

Amy's eyes widen. "Then it's good we threw some rocks at him and told him to fuck off."

"I didn't," Chrissy interferes. "I think that's mean."

"Yeah, but that's just because you wanna fuck him and see if he's living up to his title," Jessica snorts, walking into the kitchen and muttering something about the broken glass.

We follow her as we always do, Amy still going on about how a couple of girls had taken Eddie for "a test ride" before.

"You guys know how I feel about premarital sex," Chrissy squeaks, red as a tomato.

Jessica cackles, "Yeah, that's why Jason has to rail your friends instead."

We're all silent for a second. Shame floods over me like a bucket of cold water. The rumors and badmouthing will haunt me for a long time, but not as much as the guilt I feel toward Chrissy.

Jason can be very convincing, and I am apparently pretty dumb. I know he's not going to leave my friend any time soon, that I am just "his side piece," like Eddie said, but I always let myself be talked into sleeping with him...

I don't think I would even wanna date him. I just don't want to get on Jason's bad side, don't wanna lose my friends, as they were his first before mine and will stay his when the question arises.

Chrissy always forgives him, saying that he can't help himself and just is insecure and uncertain about their love, but actually, he's an asshole. And I am probably no bit better.

"Jason loves me," Chrissy insists, looking at me for support, although she knows he fucks me when he's bored of sharing a milkshake with two straws and "going steady" by holding hands.

I nod, not wanting to pop her bubble of ignorance. Guys like him never change.

"Anyway," Amy claps her hands, sitting down on the barstool. "Get ready. We'll wait."

"What?" I ask, confused. "Ready for what?"

"Tammy Thompson's party?" Jessica frowns. "God, how can you forget a party like that? We talked all of last week about it."

"Sorry. I forgot."

"You gotta be really stupid to forget this. Like, I knew you're not bright, but this..."

"Doesn't matter, right?" Chrissy de-escalates the moment, grabbing a broom and cleaning away the shards on the floor. "Just go get ready, kay?"

I hurry upstairs before Jessica can go on about me being stupid. She enjoys that I should've graduated a year before them... In another school, another life. It makes her feel superior.

I take a quick shower, do what's necessary to my hair, and apply makeup. When I walk into my bedroom, I hear gossiping downstairs and try to ignore it, too scared that it might be about me.

I put on a summer dress and matching shoes and head downstairs.

Amy and Jessica are currently listening to the voicemail left by my mom. Chrissy stands next to them, looking uncomfortable.

They are laughing, and I hate that it doesn't surprise me. I hate that I know this invasion of my privacy and the mocking are a price I am willing to pay to continue being their friend.

Looking at me, they stop their laughs and turn off the tape. They compliment my clothes and call me pretty like they didn't just revel in how pitiful I am.

And I thank them and compliment them back because that's what I do; that's how I continue to belong.

*****

I hate parties. They are nothing like in the movies. My friends don't drink or dance with me, giggle with me about nonsense...

No, we sit here on the couches with a couple of basketball players (unless they get up to help each other chug an entire can of beer or do a keg stand) and talk shit about people we don't really know.

Oh my God, have you seen this girl's perm? Kill me now.

Is she colorblind, or why did she think that color combo was a good idea?

Look at that nerd. Who invites losers like that? Why did he even show up? As if anyone wants his ass here.

"Fuck, there's the freak again," Amy's voice makes my head shoot up from my red plastic cup filled with... I guess beer and some sweet soda, but what do I know?

And true, there he stands. A can of beer in his hand, talking to Steve Harrington, a lazy smile on his face as he nudges the girl next to Harrington... Robin. That's her name. She's a girl from the marching band. She's nice.

I didn't know they were friends.

"How the mighty have fallen," Patrick says. "Back in the day, Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, King of Hawkins High, would've never been seen with the dealing freak."

I keep staring until Eddie looks in our direction, his brown eyes meeting mine. He's so pretty when he smiles and isn't frowning at me. I promptly focus back on the cup in my hands.

Jessica, who seems to have seen it, grins. "Now don't be scared," she tells me, looking at our jock friends and telling them, "The freak followed her home today and was staring through her window when we came to pick her up."

Disgusted outcries leave the guys in our group, and in an instant, Jason reaches over Chrissy, resting his hand way too high on my thigh.

"Are you okay?" he asks, squeezing the meat of my thigh. "You should start letting me drive you home for safety. You never know what's going on in that creep's sick mind."

I move my thigh a little, but Jason's hand doesn't leave me. Instead, his fingers start playing with the hem of my dress.

"I'm okay," I mumble, clearing my throat before repeating myself and sitting up more straight. While doing so, I act as though I have to correct the placement of my dress's skirt, shoving Jason's hand away.

As uncomfortable as I am around Eddie, at least he wouldn't expect me to "make him happy" in the back of his van with him for driving me home.

I know it's a big assumption, especially since I am terrified of the freak, but if that were his only motive today, he would've driven home and not followed behind me to make sure I was okay.

"You know what you should do?" Jessica says, delighted. "You should confront Munson about the stalking. Throw your beer into his face. A little embarrassment would probably humble that loser."

Amy nods. "Yeah, put him back in his place."

I shake my head—no chance I would do something like that. It's unnecessary drama, and I don't even like confrontation. It makes me shake and shiver.

"Come on," Chance laughs. "Don't be a sourpuss. We like you better when you're a sweet one."

He and Andy high-five each other, then turn to me. "Ideally, you could also throw in something about him being his uncle's bitch."

I scrunch up my face in disgust. "I am not doing that," I hiss. "That's disgusting."

Andy shrugs. "I'm just stating the obvious. None of those freaks can pull any, and Eddie looks like a pussy anyway."

"You're sick," I tell him, biting back the urge to vomit and hate myself for hanging around with people like this. People who get a thrill out of pushing others with obscene rumors and made-up bullshit.

Amy shrugs at me. "C'mon, now you're overreacting. We're just saying that because it'll hurt him. It's like when we were ten and told everyone his mommy's a hooker."

I shake my head, putting my drink on the coffee table. "That's so wrong."

"Why would it be wrong?" Jessica asks me. "It's his own fault for choosing to be such a loser."

It's your own fault for being such a loser.

I struggle to breathe as I suppress all the memories of coming home and bawling my eyes out. Of bloody, scraped-up knees from being pushed. Of my mother telling my dad I should just start fighting back so I'd be left alone.

Starting somewhere new doesn't erase the scars of the past.

Fighting back has never worked. It only made things worse. To conform oneself is the only way to survive.

I stand up promptly, ignoring the ongoing conversation.

"Where are you going?" Chrissy asks sweetly, holding hands with her boyfriend.

"Gonna get a new drink. That one's stale," I tell her with a fake smile and hurry outside.

The yard is thankfully empty for most parts. Some couples are making out while a couple of guys play beer pong, but nobody bothers to even look at me as I grab a cold beer from the cooling box filled with ice.

I press a hand, cold from the ice, against my neck to ease the tension.

Why am I doing this to myself?

It constantly keeps getting more challenging to look in the mirror, given the company I keep. But I don't know if I will survive starting right back where I started a year ago.

I wanna take a sip of my beer, but surprise, surprise, it's still closed, the cap laughing at me. I look around for a bottle opener, but it wouldn't be my luck if I would find one.

Suddenly the bottle is taken from my hands, and I look up to Eddie, who, without trouble, removes the cap with the plastic bottom of his lighter.

I stare at him in amazement. That was so cool. I have no idea how he did that without breaking something, but it's so impressive. And useful.

He hands me the bottle back. "Thank you," I say quickly, taking a sip.

Eddie stands there for a while, and I lean down, fishing a second beer out of the cooler and handing it to him. That's probably the only reason he's still here.

He takes it which a surprised expression, muttering, "Thanks."

Then he opens the beer again with his lighter and chuckles at my staring. "I can open these with my teeth—now that would really blow your mind. But last time, I chipped a tooth and had to promise my uncle I'd stop doing it."

"It's really cool," I mumble, mentally preparing for another blow from him.

But he just grabs another beer and hands it to me. I take it confused, and once he holds his lighter in my direction, I know what's going on.

I quickly shake my head. "I– No. I– I can't do that."

He cocks his head. "Why not? I'll show you."

"What- What if I break something?"

"Yeah, because nobody in the history of house parties has ever broken something—especially not beer bottles or a lighter."

He tries handing me the lighter again. "C'mon, princess. If something breaks, I'll take the blame."

I put my beer aside. I grab the lighter and look at Eddie, in each hand one of the needed items.

"Hold the bottle by its neck," he tells me, demonstrating the tight grip on his bottle.

I mimic him, and he nods. "Now, keep your thumb there and fit the edge of the lighter underneath the cap."

I do as he tells me. "And now?"

"Use your fingers as leverage and push the lighter up."

I have to try twice; Eddie encourages me. "A little harder, princess."

And then: Pop. The cap opens.

I opened the beer. With a lighter. This is by far the coolest thing I've ever done. I didn't even break something.

I look at Eddie, pure excitement painting my face.

"That's so cool," I tell him, showing him the opened beer.

He chuckles, grabbing a fresh plastic cup and filling the beer inside. "Good to know you're easy to impress."

"That was not easy," I tell him, and he hands me the red cup.

Giving me two more closed beers, he refuses to take his lighter back. "Go show your new trick to your friends."

"But that's your lighter."

He shrugs. "Got plenty more where that one came from."

I nod, putting it in my bra for safekeeping.

As he quirks his brow, eyes for a second gliding over my cleavage, I explain, "I don't have pockets."

Taking a sip from his beer, he looks away for a moment, nodding. "Well, uhm, maybe we'll see each other later? Like, when you get another beer, maybe?"

My heartbeat rises to a threatening level again. I nod, embarrassed, terrified, giddy, excited. "Y–Yeah, sure, maybe."

I head inside, walking back to my friends, who are all invested in something Jessica tells them.

As I come close enough to hear, it feels like my heart is getting pierced by a harpoon.

Nothing changes. No matter how hard you try, things will always stay the same.

"And after her aunt calls her mommy, telling her they don't even want to see her during summer break. Well, and we come to pick her up, and she cries like she just found out Santa and the Easter Bunny don't exist. It would be sad if it wouldn't be so fucking funny."

The group laughs, except for Chrissy. "Guys, that's mean. She was really upset about it."

"Yeah, because she's a baby. Come on, Chris," Jessica nudges her. "It's not like she's one of us anyway; we just chill with her because she buys expensive shit for us, and nobody's ever home."

"And because she's a good fuck," Andy adds, punching Jason's arm, "A fuck you still have to share, dickhead."

I don't know why I was stupid enough to think they would like me at least a little.

I don't know why I am surprised to find out they were just nice to me for the money.

I intentionally had made myself the selfless, sweet person. I bought them drinks and snacks; I hosted sleepovers and borrowed them money; I bought them the best birthday presents they could've wished for...

I wanted to make it seem to them like loving me was effortless.

"I like her. She's lovely," Chrissy defends me because she genuinely has a heart of gold.

Amy nods. "Yeah, and that's why she fucks your boyfriend."

The group cracks up. Jessica directing the direction of the conversation again. "She has no personality. Seriously, a piece of cardboard has more character. Have you seen her room? It's like a hotel room. So creepy. Total Carrie White behavior."

Taking a deep breath, I don't cry. I can't give them a luck to see me cry. I walk in on their conversation, put the closed beer bottles on the table, and look at them.

Their conversation halted the moment they saw me. Now they look almost a little afraid.

Jessica hums my name, her voice oozing with fake friendliness. "What have you got there?"

"A– Uhm... I," I stammer, then clear my throat.

Just pretend you didn't hear them. Gaslight yourself into blissful obliviousness like Chrissy.

"A trick," I say, wanting to reach for the lighter hidden in my bra.

But I stop.

For a moment, the grip on my filled-to-the-brim cup tightens, and I let my impulsive thoughts win. I walk up to Jessica; she and Amy are sharing the armchair.

"Are we gonna see some girl-on-girl action, ladies?" Patrick whistles; the rest of the jocks are just as enthusiastic about the idea.

She looks up at me, grinning like I am genuinely her friend, and blowing me a flirty kiss.

In a matter of seconds, I dump the cup's contents over Jessica, drowning her fake facade in beer.

She yelps, looking up at me, absolutely furious. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I hand her the empty red cup, saying, "Sorry, my inner Carrie White came through."

The boys who formally were cheering about a wet t-shirt contest are now quiet as well. They know I heard them and have taken offense to it.

We all stare at each other for a few seconds; Amy uses paper tissues to help Jessica soak up the beer. Jessica bitches because of her makeup and dress... Not like I bought it for her anyways.

"We were just joking," Chance says.

"Yeah, let's forget about it. We all drank and thought it was fun," Jason says, hand reaching for my waist as he tries to pull me on his lap. "Come here, baby."

I take a step back, shaking my head. Then I rush upstairs and lock myself in the first bathroom I can find.

Well, not lock...

A couple of seconds after I isolated myself from the party, Eddie enters.

I am washing my hands and trying to calm down, taking deep breaths, so I don't burst into tears or have a panic attack when I fully notice him.

"You okay?" he asks, warm brown eyes scanning me.

I nod, grabbing a neon green, fluffy hand towel to dry my hands. "Peachy."

He continues staring, and I lose my nerves. "What are you doing here?"

"Wanted to check on you."

"Well, you did. I'm okay. Now get out."

It intimidates me to be in such a small room all alone with Eddie. He is terrifying. Terrifyingly loud, terrifyingly handsome, terrifyingly honest.

"What your friends did wasn't okay. They shouldn't have said those things," he tells me calmly, not getting intimidated by my tries to get rid of him.

Good to know that he heard everything. It makes me wonder how many other guests overheard how pathetic I am.

"Well, thank you for stating the obvious. Now get lost," I bark.

"Maybe you should stay away from them. You're only getting used by them, just like Jason's only using you."

I feel tears well up in my eyes as I hiss, "That's none of your fucking business, freak."

Eddie coos my name in the softest way I have ever heard, taking a step closer. "You could do so much better than running after a jock who's only using you for the sex his girlfriend doesn't give him."

Laughing spitefully, I snarl, "Better? Like who? You? Sorry, but the last time I checked, the only pussy you're getting is a quick pity fuck or girls trying to figure out if you're also a freak in bed or if we all just call you that because you're a weird, pathetic loser."

His eyebrows knit together. "Hey, don't be a bitch to me just because you chose to have shitty friends."

"As if your friends are any better."

"They are," he growls at me. "They might not make me seem cool and desirable, but at least they don't talk about me like a little piggy bank or a fucktoy they get to share."

Impulsive thoughts take over again, and I slap Eddie across the face.

I have precisely a second to fear the consequences; then he grabs me by the shoulder and pins me against the cold tile wall.

He manhandled me so roughly that it takes me a second before I can breathe normally again. His arms are now pressed against the wall of each side of me, and I feel fear creeping up on me again.

"What have they done to you that makes you think you constantly have to attack before being attacked, huh?"

I look away from Eddie, hoping he doesn't see my lips shiver or my body tremble. But he grabs my face with his right hand and forces me to look at him.

He seems angry and annoyed, but not necessarily at me. His eyes still lay comforting on my features.

"You can't possibly enjoy being used as Jason's cumdump and having to watch him go back to his perfect girlfriend — the one he actually wants — when he's done with you."

"As if you would treat me any different, freak," I bite out, hoping to hit him right in his hypocritical ego.

For a second, he just looks at me; then his hand no longer grabs my face; instead, his knuckles delicately brush over my cheek.

"You're talking to a guy who fell in love with the first girl using him for her little test ride and needed almost a year to figure out what was going on. Why these pretty girls gave me hopes, seemed like they liked me, let me wine and dine them, but once we had sex, they didn't talk to me again... Pretending I didn't exist.

"I wouldn't treat you like Jason for many, many reasons. I am not an asshole like him; I can't turn off the fact I need to have feelings for the person I fuck; Or that I hate how much I would like you to look at me like you look at that idiot...

"But most importantly, I know exactly how it feels to get used—be a little pawn in the cool kids' game. I'd never project that pain on somebody else just to make myself feel better."

I feel seen, understood, and called out for my past behavior.

Looking away while others were treated by my "friends" like I'd been by my bullies all my life wasn't okay. I knew that. But I had just wanted to be the target no longer.

He thinks I look at Jason with love... God, the freak's a little stupid.

"You don't want me to look at you like I look at Jason," I tell him, avoiding his eyes.

He tilts his head so he can follow my gaze. "Is that so?"

I nod. "I look at Jason like he's somebody who told me he's in love with me and would break up with Chrissy so that I'd lose my virginity to him. And since then, I sleep with him because he calls the shots, and my friends are actually his friends..."

Eddie clenches his jaw. "You're right. Don't want you looking at me like that."

He's so close to me I can smell the cologne on his skin and the cigarettes on his breath. He's terrifyingly handsome.

"I'd rather have you continue to hate me then."

"I don't hate you," I whisper. He's too close to be any louder.

"But you don't like me either," he says, frowning.

"I'm scared of you," I admit, face piping hot with shame. "Y-You see right through me and call people out on their bullshit. I'm scared you'll do that with me, and I won't be able to look in the mirror again."

He doesn't say anything, so I continue to babble like a pretty-dressed fool.

"You're hauntingly pretty. I– I am really scared of what you make me feel because I want to run away from you without a chance to escape."

Eddie smirks during all of that, looking like a wild animal lying in wait for the kill.

His body shifts, now so close I could never escape, even if I'd try. His left leg moves between my thighs while the hand from my cheek now dances around my throat, ending any need for a necklace.

I look up at him. As he applies the tiniest bit of pressure to my throat, I whimper. I feel like I should run, my body tells me to flee. I tremble badly, eyes already teary as I feel myself become excited. I quickly look away.

I am excited. I am aroused, wet. Eddie does this to me with his presence. My fear of him arouses me.

My fear and the thought that he wouldn't actually hurt me... But very well could.

It feels so wrong that I whimper again, hips bucking and my sensitive clit rubbing against his thigh. I whimper again, that level of arousal unknown to me.

I look up at him again. He'd never looked away; he had studied my behavior, the rollercoaster of emotions I am currently going through.

My hands run up and down his chest, fumbling with his jeans vest, leather jacket, and the soft shirt beneath. There is no question I'd claw myself into his skin if he'd try to move away.

I buck my hips again, now shamelessly using the friction.

His head dips lower again, his warm breath spreading on my skin. "Scared, princess?" he asks.

I nod, lust drunken. "Terrified."

Then he kisses me, smiles just seconds before our lips collide.

I moan into the kiss, Eddie not needing any more confirmation that I am enjoying this.

His hands grab my hips, starting to control the way I am rocking on his thigh. His hips start rocking into me, and I can feel his clothed erection pressing against me.

My hands wander into his messy curls, his lips leaving my mouth and moving down to my neck. I moan loudly as he begins to suck at the delicate skin of my throat.

The suction hurts, causing electric shocks to strike straight between my legs. Eddie's mouth releases me with a pop, his warm, wet tongue licking over the angry spot apologetically.

He pecks my lips, a boyish grin on his lips. "Your beautiful," he tells me, pupils so blown I believe his eyes to me nothing but black marbles.

I whimper in reply, my entire focus lying on the tightening inside me and how good the harsh material of his ripped jeans feels against my clothed pussy.

Suddenly he removes his legs from me, holding my hips in place so I can't follow him.

Annoyed noises leave my mouth, but he just smiles at me. "I know, sweetheart, but you're making a mess on my leg. We can't have that, now, can we?"

I quickly shake my head; the bathroom just lit enough to have me see the wet patch I left on his thigh. Reason tells me I should be embarrassed, but Eddie looks at me so proudly I can only think of chasing the high it gives me.

A hand leaves my hips, and Eddie uses it to palm his bulge, seeming to hope it'll relieve him of some pressure.

Our eyes meet, and he grins, "Wanna show me how much of a slut you can be? How good you can behave?"

I quickly nod, following the push of his hand, and sink to my knees. I quickly run my hands over his thighs while he unbuckles his belt and opens his jeans.

I try to reach for his boxers, already licking my lips, but Eddie swats my hand away, the slap burning on my skin.

"Don't be a greedy whore," he warns me.

I quickly nod, eyes unable to stay directed at Eddie's face as he finally untucks himself. His thick cock is painted with rough veins, the pink, leaking tip making me want to forget any formerly given commands.

"Now, what did I say?" he warns me, hand reaching into my hair and making a makeshift ponytail out of it.

"You've done that before?" he asks, and I shake my head. "We don't have to."

I look up at him, pleading, "Please. Want to."

A low chuckle leaves him. "Now that's just pathetic, baby." Still, he uses his grip on my hair to pull me nearer his pulsing cock.

As my lips barely touch him, he coos, "Don't be shy; give it a kiss."

I do as he says, kissing his tip and coating my lips with his salty precum. He looks so pleased as I lick my lips; I instantly kiss his cock again.

"Good girl," he whispers, guiding me to take him into my mouth. "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you, princess."

At the same moment, he tucks harsher on my hair, the feeling making me moan onto his cock. "Not any more than you want me to, at least," he chuckles, seemingly having hurt me unintentionally.

As I am comfortable with this new position, have gotten the hang of it, I try taking him deeper. He's long; I don't expect to be able and take all of him; he doesn't seem to expect it either.

But I give it my best. Eddie's hand is guiding my bopping head, grunts and praises leaving him. I almost choke, only the breathing through my nose hindering me from gagging, but I take all of him, the curly, dark pubic hair at his base, tickling my nose.

Our eyes meet as I hold him in the back of my throat, and a guttural moan escapes him. His fist hits the tile wall behind me, the loud sound making me jump and pull away from his cock.

We stare at each other for a second, a string of saliva still connecting us. Then we grin like misbehaving children.

Eddie takes a step back and pulls me to my feet. Gripping my hair again, he yanks my head back, exposing my throat. His tongue darts out, licking a broad strip up to my lips, following where the string of spit had landed.

He doesn't kiss me; instead, he smiles at me, leaving me waiting for something that never comes.

Spinning me around, Eddie holds my back pressed against his chest while he shoves the soap and small towels from the counter space into the sink. Then he pushes my upper body onto the now empty counter, my hot cheek resting against the cold marble.

I can feel him push up the skirt of my dress, Eddie's coarse hands groping my ass, and then slapping me harshly. I yelp a little, feeling him lean over to check my expression, and then do it again.

I clench my thighs together, not knowing when I will finally feel relief. Another smack comes down, this time on my other cheek. I whimper, hoping for the spanking to be over soon. Not because I don't enjoy it but because I am too riled up to wait any longer.

Thankfully, Eddie seems to have heard my silent prayer. He pulls down my panties, letting them drop to my ankles. I hear the chain on his jeans jingle and then the familiar sound of a condom wrapper.

I reach behind me, grabbing Eddie's hand. He leans forward, smiling at me. "It'll just take a moment, sweetheart. Safety first."

He tries, but I don't release his wrist. "I'm on birth control. Just– Just please let me feel you."

Eddie takes a deep breath, then nods. "Are you sure?" I nod so fast I fear dislocating something.

Standing behind me, I feel him glide his cock through my fold a couple of times, coating himself with my arousal. Then he bottoms out in me with one solid thrust.

I moan loudly, pressing my forehead against the marble counter as he stretches me out in ways I thought impossible.

Eddie shortly rests his body on mine, face pressed against my shoulder. His right hand rests next to my head; the left one runs up my thigh and waist. He solely lifts himself from me enough to reach under me and grope my tits.

He growls quietly and kisses my shoulder before he pushes himself up again. His hands glide down my back and come to a hold on my hips.

Eddie pulls me into him several times, experimental thrust having me breathless. Then he sets into a harsh and unforgiving pace.

I am so wet, the room is filled with the most obscene squelches I have ever heard. The high-pitched, already fucked-out moans leaving me surely don't make anything better.

Then, Eddie's hand tangles itself in my hair again. He pulls me up on my hands and forces me to look into the mirror.

"Keep your eyes on the mirror, baby. Watch yourself getting fucked by the freak," he tells me with a hint of resentment.

Watch the man you demonized for so long show you the gates of heaven.

I look at myself, hair a mess, lips puffy, pupils blown. I moan, every thrust coaxing another sound out of me while I feel Eddie so deep in me it makes my eyes try to roll back.

But I focus, I do as he demands, and I watch us. Watch Eddie. How his head falls back as he moans, how his hair sticks to his sweaty forehead, how his hand reaches underneath me, between my legs and starts rubbing my clit.

My insides tighten again; the coil inside me seconds from snapping. My head drops, and I accept the stinging pain that comes with it.

I already pulse around his cock when he stops playing with my clit.

He let's go of my hair as well, the hand now wrapping around my throat and pulling me up. Eddie leans down a little, ensuring I am pressed against his chest.

He's looking over my shoulder. I follow his gaze. Our eyes meet in the mirror.

"Look at that, princess. Fucking terrorized me for a year, running around and being a little bitch, and now you're so desperate for me, you didn't even let me put on a condom."

I whimper, not able to find words.

Eddie chuckles. "No, no. Don't be ashamed. It's good to know that all that was needed to have this raging bitch become a little puppy was to fuck her pussy raw until she sees stars."

"Eddie..."

He leans closer to my ear, never breaking eye contact. "Yeah, that's right, baby. Let the whole house know how badly you want the freak to come in your little pussy."

I'm on the brink of my orgasm when he says, "Fucking look at me when you come. I deserve to be the only thought in your dumb little head when you come on my cock."

And instead of keeping my eyes on his reflection, I turn my face to my right, looking straight at him.

The mirror had been a type of protection; it had kept us from looking directly at each other. We were supposed to hate each other, and maybe we would change our minds when our eyes meet. But I look at him, and all I can think of is how I don't want this moment to end.

He didn't think I'd look directly at him; the look on his face as our eyes collide tells me that... And it tells so much more.

Eddie dips his head lower, the hand from my throat now holding us up while the other cups my cheek.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, kissing me roughly as we melt into each other.

We are moaning into the kiss, my right hand flying up and holding onto his neck, the other trying to dig itself into the marble beneath its palm.

As I come, my knees buckle, and I go limp. Sex has never felt this good, and my body seems wholly to agree, the orgasm almost knocking me out.

Eddie's hand leaves my cheek so his arm can wrap around my waist and hold me up while he keeps thrusting into me. He finally fills me with his hot cum. Forehead pressed against my side, a husky moan leaving his lips.

Carefully, he lowers me onto the counter, my cheek resting on the marble top. We're both panting, and I don't feel like I am fully back on earth again.

Eddie brushes my hair out of my sweaty face, half his weight resting on top of me. He lazily kisses my cheek a couple of times, only stopping when a smile tucks on my lips.

As he stands up, ready to pull out, I grab his hand. He instantly stills in his movements. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."

I shake my head. "Please. Not yet."

He signed, looking around a little. Then he pulls me up against his chest. With his arm around my waist, he lifts me up, walks over to the closed (and ugly decorated) toilet, and sits down.

Still inside me, his arm spreads my legs apart, hooking them over his own, so I can comfortably sit in his lap.

I am on full display, and I don't know if Eddie locked the door, but I don't care. Because his arm is still around my waist while the other lazily strokes over my naked thigh.

He leaves kisses up and down my neck and shoulder and presses his forehead against my temple. I am wholly satisfied. And the big scary metalhead seems to be too.

"You know," he suddenly speaks into the silence. "Whoever thought that fluffy toilet seat covers are a good idea is a psycho. Feels like I'm sitting on a fucking Furby."

There is a second of silence, then we both burst into laughter, making Eddie add, "The worst part it that that pervert seems to like it, given the way he tickles my balls."

"Jesus, Eddie," I laugh, holding my stomach.

As our laughter finally ceases, he presses another kiss on my shoulder. "Hey, how- how about we ditch this party and go eat a burger instead? My treat."

My heart races again, and I seriously start to question if I know the difference between excitement and fear, but at the same time, I am astounded.

He wants to spend time with me. We just had sex, he'd gotten what he wanted, and he still stayed around.

Jason had never stayed. He took what he wanted and then left.

The pain in my chest and the tears I refuse to cry let me feel just how fucked up the last year has been.

"I– My friends are..." I stammer. I don't know how to collectively call that bunch of bullies and explain how afraid I am to go downstairs again.

Eddie, however, seems to misunderstand my stammering. "Yeah, don't worry. Was a stupid idea anyways." He stands up, making sure I stand on my feet and then pulls out. "I'll go down first; just wait a couple of minutes, then you can join your friends again."

I lean against the marble counter. "Eddie, I didn't–"

He grabs one of the neon-colored hand towels and soaks it in water. While cleaning himself, he sneers, "No worries, princess. Won't tell anyone you took a test ride on the freak."

He's hurt, having built up a wall so promptly that I feel like he believes he never had a chance with me anyway. And now, he hates himself the for having gotten his hopes up.

Eddie tucks himself away, rinsing the towel with some more water before stepping next to me and kneeling down. I whimper and look at the ceiling as he pushes my dress up and begins to clean the mess between my legs.

Given the way I just let him fuck me and then sat there spread out for the world to see with him still inside me, I actually have no right to be this embarrassed right now.

"That's a nice ceiling," I blurt out to distract myself. "The only thing not neon colored or fluffy in this bathroom."

Eddie huff's a small laugh against my thigh but stays quiet as he cleans me of our mixed cum running down the inside of my thigh.

I press the back of my hand against my face, eyes squeezed shut, and just continue my mortified blabbering.

"I'd like to go eat something with you. It's just that I don't think I'll survive the humiliation of going downstairs and facing my friends after I just bathed Jessica in my beer. I am not good at confrontations, and if you don't know a way to get me out of this house by climbing out of a window or something, I believe I have to stay here until the party's over."

I interrupt myself with a whimper as Eddie brushes over my sensitive clit, then grab his hand to avoid him doing that again and look down at him.

I am met with a boyish grin on his pressed-together lips as he tries not to laugh at my short-circuiting brain. He throws the towel into the sink, and while standing up, he pulls my panties back into position.

"Want me to create a distraction? I could lay a fire... Or start a fight with Jason, restoring your honor?"

I giggle, and he leans closer, pressing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Or – if you like it extreme – we could kill two birds with one stone and set Jason on fire."

"You are crazy."

He nods. "The craziest."

"Maybe don't commit murder and get prison time just when I'm about to go out with you."

He chuckles, pecking my lips again. "Yeah, sounds counterproductive."

Eddie spins me around, back pressed against his chest and arms slung around me. I look at our reflection in the mirror. My hair is a mess, my makeup smudged, but Eddie (whose chin is comfortably resting on my shoulder) looks at me like I hung the stars in the night sky for him.

"I look like a mess," I mumbled.

He quickly snaps, "Shut up. You're beautiful."

I lean my head against his when somebody tries to open the door. We quickly jump apart, my anxiety rising as I say, "Occupied."

"Hey, we were looking for you," Amy says through the door.

"I'm fine. Just go away, please."

Eddie's hand brushes over my hair, and we smile at each other for a moment.

I don't need to be afraid.

I don't need to... I still am, though.

"Don't be a bitch and come out so we can talk," Jessica hisses, and I wonder if she's still soaked with beer or only reeks like a distillery.

I'd be oddly satisfied with both.

"There's nothing to talk about. You guys used me and are shitty friends." I look at Eddie, a proud smile on my lips.

I am standing up for myself. I don't need to be their punching bag.

"Everyone uses everyone. That's how life works," Jessica says.

Amy agrees, "You actually should be thankful that we let you to hang out with us; it's not like anybody else would ever want that."

"Yeah," Jessica goes in for the final blow, "If not for your lack of personality and annoying sob stories, then for being the basketball team's mattress. Everybody else would throw you to the curb for being a whore."

That's when Eddie unlocks the door and swings it open, towering over the two girls, growling, "You better fucking take that back."

The two girls look at him, absolutely terrified for a moment, so I step in front of Eddie. My hands are resting against the doorframe as though I could keep Eddie in and protect him from the hate we are about to receive.

"Are you kidding me?" Jessica asks, and I feel my stomach tie itself into knots.

"I– I am..."

"You seriously let the freak fuck you?" Jessica asks, this time so loud I am certain at least some of the other party guests are hearing her.

I nod a little, everything feeling numb as I am back in the position I was in a year ago. I am prey about to be devoured by monsters.

Jessica storms off, her heels loud on the hardwood floor. I look back at Eddie, who looks at me, brows knitted together. I just know he can sense the aura of panic and anxiety surrounding me.

Amy still stands there, looking at me, my disheveled appearance, and then at Eddie. As her gaze meets mine against, she says, "You didn't want it, right?"

I frown. "What?"

She repeats herself calmly. "You didn't want to have sex with Eddie. He forced you."

I feel the metalhead behind me tense up.

Shaking my head, I stammer, "No, we– I–"

But Amy interrupts me. "It's not your fault. That monster just preyed on you all day and attacked the second you were alone. We're on your side; I promise we still love you. Babe, we all know you would never let the freak touch you."

I spiral down the option I have just been given.

Lie. Lie. Lie.

Lie and tell me you were raped.

Lie so we can all pretend that nothing else happened today.

None of your actions will have consequences.

Eddie is an easy scapegoat. Nobody will bet an eye if I wrongly accuse him of assault.

Lie to save your life while ruining Eddie's.

Lie, and we will lie for you.

This goes beyond bullying. It is downright evil and disgusting... And for a moment, I think about it. Think about the get-out-of-prison card I have just been handed.

This is how far some people will go to keep their social status.

Being one of the cool kids is not worth this.

Jessica returns, all our friends with her. She has a big grin on her face, ready to shred me into pieces. This time with audience.

Jason is the first to speak, pushing past Chrissy and taking in the scene before him. The picture of Eddie and I. The mental image of us having sex.

"What happened?" he asks.

Amy is quick to cut off Jessica, nodding first at her and then at me. "Eddie raped her. Right?"

Jason's eyes are on Eddie, fury there that is solely his own righteousness. The rest of the group starts to explode into rage, throwing every possible insult at Eddie.

Jason takes a step towards us, and I make sure not to let him get to Eddie. "He didn't do anything," I say loud enough to make them shut up.

Chrissy pushes past our friends and takes my hand. "But Amy just said–"

I nod, barking, "Yes, because Amy is very sick in her head."

I make sure to look at every single one of my former friends (excluding close-to-tears Chrissy) while saying, "You are awful people. So easy to jump on the bandwagon and ruin somebody's life only because it fits your bully agenda. I am pretty sure that not a single one of you likes the others. You guys are just hanging out because you very well know that you're horrible, and none of you could ever make a single real friend."

They are silent and confused, look at each other and then at me. This felt good. No wonder Eddie is constantly calling people out.

"And you know what?" I ask them, feeling a second wind of courage as I look at Jason. "I just had amazing sex with Eddie. Better than I ever had with your pathetic ass. Also lasted about three times longer. Being fast isn't always a good thing, Jason.

"I hope that one of these days Chrissy finally realizes that she can do so much better than a guy whoring around for his ego, just being with her because she'll make a nice and quiet housewife that'll do his laundry while he bangs Amy and Jessica and has Andy's mom go down on him every Tuesday since her divorce."

All eyes are on me... Well, not really.

Patrick's are on Jason as he had known Patrick was chasing after Jessica for years now.

Andy will probably pass out, vomit, or both at any moment.

Jessica and Amy look at each other and wonder how I knew they, too, fuck Jason while making me out to be the devil for having done it.

Good old Jason is very talkative during sex but sadly very inconsistent with names and the amount of details he gives about other sexual encounters.

And poor Chrissy's are on her boyfriend. It hurts now, but frankly, I think it's better she finds out what kind of man he is now than in ten years when they're married with kids.

Jason, red-faced, takes an angry step toward me, his hand twitching as he raises it. I instantly yelp, "Touch me, and I'll sue your ass so badly you can kiss your scholarship and bright future goodbye."

The jock lowers his hand and looks at his "friends," but I cut into the meat of their lies way too deep.

It's then Eddie wraps an arm around my waist and shuffles us out of the bathroom. I'm not mad at him, as he almost uses me as a human shield to deflect anything that could come from the jocks—it's for the better; they won't hurt me.

As there are a couple of steps between us, Eddie grabs my hand, and we rush down the stairs. It's early quiet. I hadn't noticed that the music was out before. At the middle of the stairs, we see multiple party guests scattered around the living room, staring at us.

Had Jessica planned on letting everyone hear how she and the rest of the bullies chewed me to pieces?

Eddie and I exchange a look and then walk down the stairs like we weren't just about to run off.

"It's not a party when there's no fight, am I right?" Eddie chuckles loudly into the room, looking at Steve Harrington, "Dude? My stuff?"

Steve hands him his lunchbox. "You two okay?"

Eddie beams at Steve, wrapping an arm around me and lifting me a little. "Have you heard her?" he asks proudly. "My girl devoured those jocks."

"Think everyone heard her. You guys should probably take off."

He sets me down on my feet again, and Steve turns to the rest of the party. "Okay, people, now that the entertainment is over, who is ready to party? I think we should make use of that sweet pool outside!"

The former King of Hawkins High has the people wrapped around his finger as he turns the music up and encourages them to follow him outside, quickly waving us goodbye.

Taking my hand in his, Eddie walks to his van with me. Grabbing his keys, he grins, "You wanna get in, or am I walking you to Benny's?" I punch his chest and let him open and close the door for me.

Putting my seatbelt on, I finally feel my adrenaline drop. That situation was terrifying. It's a miracle I didn't start to cry in front of them; the tears are sure as hell coming now.

"Oh my God," I whisper as Eddie gets in. "I can't believe I did that."

His hand moves up to my thigh. "Hey, sweetheart. Everything's okay."

I shake my head. "I just obliterated all the friendships I had."

Eddie is silent for a moment, then sighs. "Okay, you know what you're gonna do? I'll drive you straight home, and you call your friends tomorrow and tell them you were drunk and did some uppers with me."

He pats my thigh before removing his hand. "Trust me, the way their friendships work, they'll never talk about tonight anyway. You'll have a perfect excuse for going off on them, and everything will be as it was."

I look at Eddie, surprised. He doesn't protest. He even helps me come up with an airtight excuse. But I honestly don't think I want them back as friends.

I watch his jaw clench as he stares straight forward. "I– I don't want..."

"It's cool, princess. Not like I expected anything to change between us," he tells me quickly, pained laughter leaving his lips.

I nod. Of course, he didn't. "Oh, okay." I wipe away the tear running down my cheek.

Stupid, stupid. I won't cry because Eddie Munson and I just had a meaningless hookup. I'm not gonna cry because he hasn't just magically fallen in love with me.

Eddie turns the key, and the van comes to life. Loud metal music nearly bursts my eardrums, and we both yelp in shock. He quickly turns it down and looks at me, apologizing, but I am already laughing.

He joins my giggles, hand flying back to rest on my thigh. I quickly wrap my hands around it, making sure he can't move away again.

It takes a moment to collect ourselves and even longer as we just look at the other. He's so pretty.

God, I really don't want to be his enemy again.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, making him tilt his head. "I was a giant bitch to you the entire year. The things I said weren't okay, and the names I called you weren't either."

He looks at me, then checks his watch. "It's a little early for a Christmas miracle, sweetheart."

I nod. Fair, I deserve that. I have made myself as unappealing and lovable to him as possible.

"I was a bitch to you, and you didn't deserve it, Eddie."

He shakes his head. "You weren't a bitch... At least not a big one. A little bitch. But I guess that came with the company you keep. Adapting to avoid being an outcast again has its downsides."

My eyes widen. "H– How...?"

How does he know?

How does he know?

Eddie shrugs. "Instinct. You seem a lot like you're attacking before I can say something. You never really bully but are willing to look away when your friends do it because you wanna stay on their good side. Everything about you, when you're with them, is fake. And when we're alone, you are a completely different person."

He chuckles. "When we're alone, you're a cute little thing that doesn't bitch around or wants to fight me for a chair. You're even scared of me... Like, I know I can seem scary, but come on. I would never hurt you. I'm all bark, no bite. But somebody who's been bullied a ton – know that one first hand – never really counts on it to be over. So we keep our guard up."

"I'm not afraid of you because I think you would hurt me. You call people out on their bullshit, and apparently, you see right through mine... I always feared that one day you be too spot on in front of Jessica and the others, and they learn that I am actually just a loser who befriended them so that I wouldn't be their target."

I wipe the back of my hand over my now-wet cheeks; the other hand still holding Eddie in place. "I am actually a really, really awful person. Just like fucking Jessica. I'm a total hypocrite."

"Hey, don't say that," Eddie coos, but I shake my head

"It's true. I befriended the worst bullies in Hawkins High and sucked up to them so they'd like me, although that's exactly the type of people that made my life so miserable that my parent sent me to live here, thinking bullies don't exist in go-fuck-yourself Hawkins.

"I am pathetic. A fucking joke. I- I literally just got my schedules on my first day here, took a look at what the cool kids were wearing, and then skipped classes to buy clothes that would make me fit in. What kind of loser does that?"

Eddie squeezes my thigh. "A loser that thinks fitting in is the only way for them to survive."

"That's stupid," I bite. "I would've survived even if I hadn't done that."

"Can you promise that? Can you really say that you would've survived if everything would've been like in your old school? If you would've gotten bullied again even after leaving your entire life behind—including your parents? Or would you have hurt yourself?"

I look away from Eddie, tears still running down my cheeks. I wouldn't have survived. I wouldn't have been able to handle all this pain again. Every single day up to moving here had been hell. I'd come home from school and cry for hours.

My parents weren't home enough, so they hadn't even noticed when I started skipping classes just not to be in school; I stayed at home and stopped taking care of myself. I'd been a dead girl walking when they finally decided things needed to change.

"See?" the metalhead next to me says, knuckles coming up to brush my cheek. "Even if it wasn't right, you did it because you thought you had no other option. You just tried to survive with the least amount of damage possible."

"Stop being so understanding," I sob. "Makes me feel even worse."

He nods. "Sure... Okay, then, how dare you, woman? How dare you attack my sweet innocent quirk of rubbing truths into people's faces without them asking for it?"

I giggle, almost choking on my tears. "You're such a dork."

He forcefully has to remove his hand from my thigh so he can cup my face in his large hands, thumbs wiping away my tears.

As he gives me a kiss on the nose, I say, "I don't wanna be their friend again. Wanna..." I stop myself before I can say something stupid like, "I want to stay with you."

"I– I think I have a proposition I'd like to make, princess," Eddie says. "I don't know if you knew, but eight toxic friends are actually the exact trade-in price to get a top-of-the-notch metalhead freak like me. It's even enough to treat yourself to the he-might-even-ask-you-out-if-you-promise-not-to-run-away-screaming bonus."

He removes his hands and gives me room to think. "Now, why would you want that?" I ask, not understanding how he could literally hate himself that much.

Eddie shrugs. "Believe it or not, there are people that actually like you. Also, you chose me today. You were given a one-way out ticket that would've put me in prison right next to my dad, but you chose to protect me instead."

"Everyone would've done that."

"Absolutely not," he shakes his head. "You saw how badly they wanted you to say I assaulted you. Every single one of them would've loved to throw me under the bus like that. So much so that I stopped hooking up with girls because my uncle always feared that could happen.

"One pretty, innocent girl regretting having fucked the freak, looking for a cop-out, is all it would take. There are maybe ten people that would come to my defense in all of Hawkins. The rest would say they knew I would do something like that, that I always was creepy, dangerous, and that it has to do with the satanic music I listen to.

"Maybe you made some bad decisions, but you're a good person, sweetheart. And because you chose me, knowing that it would slaughter your social status, I am more than ready to choose you and keep doing it."

I nod, but before I can answer, he pulls out of the driveway, drives down the road, and adds with a grin, "I also think you're a straight ten, so... I'd be stupid not to at least try to talk you into dating me. Like, she takes my side, she's pretty, laughs at my jokes... My Uncle would say you're a once-in-a-lifetime chance for a loser like me."

"Okay, I–"

Eddie interrupts me, pretending he's deep in thought. "I will, however, have to find a way to explain to the boys how I managed to pull someone like you... Ideally, without the fact that I fuck like a god—there are some little shrimp in Hellfire, so we'll have to keep it PG, baby."

"Eddie?" I giggle, but he continues.

"I will also have to make you the Princess of Hellfire Club. Because I don't think we can keep your former title... But don't worry about that. I have good connections to the King of Hellfire. I'm just gonna roll him a joint and explain to him how cute my girl can be when she isn't trying to design the set of 'Hamlet'—"

"King Lear," I interrupt him.

He nods, a mischievous grin on his lips. "Right. The one with Ophelia."

"I am going to beat you," I warn him, making him giggle because, apparently, he does know the difference and just loves to annoy me.

"Better be nice," he warns jokingly. "I'll have a lot of persuading to do since you stole the King's throne. Won't be easy. He was very pissed about it."

I let him ramble on, not a single doubt in my mind that he is too giddy to actually let me answer. But when my ears pick up on a familiar tune on the cassette that is playing, I quickly turn the volume up.

"Uh, 'Sweet Leave'!"

Eddie looks at me for a second, then back on the road. I have rendered him speechless.

"Sorry," I tell him promptly. "I– That was rude. I shouldn't have touched the radio without asking."

He shakes his head. "No. No, it's fine... I– That's Black Sabbath."

I nod. "Yeah, I know. I like them. My aunt took me to a concert of there's when we were in London in '81. Her ex-husband was really into rock and metal. They had a nasty divorce in which she got all of his vinyls and cassettes because he cheated on her, and she wanted to hit him where it hurt. Most of the stuff is also signed. It's all up in the attic somewhere. I can show you should you want to come over someday–"

Now, hello over-sharing. What the hell was that? I can't remember the last time I rambled that much.

"Sorry," I quickly say, but Eddie's hand moves to my thigh, a pearly white smile on his face.

"No, please, keep going." I look at him, unsure if he's only saying it to be nice, but he insists. "Seriously. Wanna hear more."

"Okay... Uhm, they divorced the spring before I moved here, and my aunt still had the tickets she had bought for his birthday, so she took me to the Monsters of Rock Festival, with ZZ Top, Marillion, Bon Jovi, Ratt, Metallica... It was so cool."

I laugh at the memory. "They only had very big shirts left at the merch booth, so I got a giant one. I actually still sleep in it when nobody comes over."

"Why?"

I bite the inside of my cheek. "I... I hide all my stuff in the basement. My old stuff. Like I said, I really wanted to fit in when I moved here and thought that maybe I was the problem."

"That's why Jessica said you have no personality?"

I nod. "I never decorated my bedroom. There are some polaroids, a scented candle, and my stuffed bear but all in all, it's still the guest bedroom I moved into. Didn't want to give anyone ammunition to bully me."

I hate how pitiful I sound, so vulnerable it scares the shit out of me, but Eddie squeezes my thigh. "But that right now is who you are? Like, listening to that kind of music and being into festivals and concerts?"

"I– I don't know if that's who I am. I definitely like it, but it's not all there is to me," I say. "I like aspects of every music genre, I like traveling, I like horror movies, but also am a sucker for romance novels... Especially the tacky ones with the bare-chested guys on the covers. I also never — not once — was able to keep a plant alive. I just forget they exist and stop taking care of them.

And apparently, I like talking way too much, way too fast. But I never really wanted to talk to somebody that much so it's a good possibility that I just need to get used to liking somebody that much."

Eddie chuckles, teasingly chirping, "Oh, so you like me, huh?" I nod, and he says, "Normally I am the one talking too much, but honestly? I think I like hearing your voice more than my own, so even if you don't stop with those cute little info dumps... I think I'm good."

I giggle, ears heating up and jaw hurting from my smiling. "Now what's that smile for, baby?" he asks, grinning too.

"I don't know. You just... You make me feel..." Giddy? Comfortable? Calm? Excited?

"Horny?" Eddie asks, pulling into the parking lot of Benny's.

"No. I mean, yes, but not right now," I stammer. "I think the feeling right now is happy. You make me happy."

Eddie kills off the engine and looks at me as though I told him he just won the lottery. "Happy, huh?" he breathes, and I nod.

Removing his hand from my thigh, he harshly grabs the stirring wheel with both hands. "I– Uhm. Wow. Okay," he stutters, street lights showing his pink cheeks. "I didn't think– I... That feels really weird. Like somebody opened a shook-up can of soda in my chest. All fizzy and bubbly and that kind of shit."

I frown a little while trying to decode what he just said. "I think normal people call that feeling butterflies," I say. "Like, when your heart starts beating so fast it feels like it's jumping out of your chest."

Eddie nods. "Yeah. That's the feeling." He starts laughing, "Shit. Never had that one before."

"I think I had it for Jason... In the beginning, I mean."

Eddie looks at me like a kicked dog, and I instantly regret having mentioned Jason. Why did I even do that?

Just as I want to apologize for ruining the moment, he says, "He really did you dirty, huh?"

"It's kind of my own fault," I mumble. "I should've known that real life isn't like a shitty teen romance, where the new girl captures the heart of the most beloved jock in school.

I'm so stupid. I had known him for maybe two weeks and actually believed him when he said I was special and that he was in love with me. Let him sweet talk me into having my first time in the backseat of his car, although I wasn't even ready... And the next day, he was still with Chrissy, and he never said 'I love you' again."

Eddie's doe eyes stare at me, glassy with a hint of pain. "I won't do that to you," he promises. "I know that's a very basic promise, but I won't hurt you."

I just nod, staring at my hands in my lap. Don't they all say that? He reaches for my chin and makes me look at him.

"Hey, I'm serious," Eddie insists. "I almost started crying, and my heart did that butterfly soda thing because you said I make you happy. If something good makes me have that strong of a reaction, hurting you will probably kill me."

I shake my head, being too vulnerable for my own liking. "Butterfly Soda is a cute pop band name."

Eddie chuckles at my sentence, then asks, "Can I kiss you?"

I nod, and he brings our lips together so gently, so chaste, I melt into him without hesitation. He could hurt me but trusting that he won't shoots a thrill up and down my spine.

He pulls away, grinning.

"What?"

His smile grows wider. "I bagged the hot cheerleader. And it's not even like I didn't have the hots for you before, but now knowing that you like the same music as me and are also a little bit of a freak..." He snorts a laughter. "Jason's a fucking idiot, and I'm such a lucky bastard."

I, too, laugh a little, making Eddie kiss me again. Then he says, "Okay, princess. What kind of burger do you want? I'm gonna get the food and then drive us home."

"To my place?"

"If you're okay with it?"

I quickly nod. "Yeah, totally. I- Uhm, I want a cheeseburger with bacon. No tomato, I won't eat it if there's a tomato in it. Like, seriously."

"Tomato in burger equals death. Got it. Fries and a milkshake?"

"Yes, and yes."

"Let me guess, strawberry?"

I gasp, appalled. "How dare you?"

"Chocolate?" he guesses again.

"Vanilla. Vanilla and nothing else in the world. Strawberry. Do I look like a strawberry girl to you?"

Eddie giggles, "Well, to be fair, you also didn't look like an insane person to me a few minutes ago."

"Let me guess, Munson, you like chocolate?"

He nods, "And strawberry and vanilla. Can't do wrong with me. It's a milkshake; I drink it. But I only dip my fries into chocolate shakes."

I blink at him. "You dip your fries into your milkshake."

"Yeah, the sweet and the salty balance each other out."

"You have a real nerve calling me an insane person," I laugh, reaching into my bra and handing him my credit card. "Here, your disgusting eating habits on me."

Eddie's smile vanishes, and he shakes his head. "Nah, keep it, sweetheart. Told you it's on me."

"It's okay. I have too much money anyway. My aunt is actually getting worried if I don't start spending it," I assure him, but he shakes his curly head again.

"Sweet thing, even if I'd accept you paying for it, they won't let me pay with a card that has somebody else name on it."

"But I'm giving you my okay. Chrissy used it too one time, and nobody cared."

Eddie frowns, and he stares out the windscreen for a moment. "It's not your card that is the problem. It's me. You won't find any place in Hawkins that will let a Munson pay with somebody else's credit card. My old man made sure of that."

"Oh," I mumble, watching how his face is drowning in shame. I'd known his dad was in prison and had used it for ammunition in fights before but, honestly, hadn't thought that the town was treading Eddie as if he was solely his father's son. Doomed to repeat his mistakes.

"Yeah. They'd probably call the cops without thinking twice, and that would end our cute little date in a heartbeat."

"Kay," I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. "I'm going in with you." Eddie looks at me, confused. "If I'm in there with you, they know you didn't steal my card."

"You know that means you're going to be seen with me, right?"

"You gave a whole speech about how I'm now your girl and what we're going to tell your friends."

He shrugs. "Well, yeah. Mostly because I like hearing myself talk and think I have banger jokes, but... I don't know. Am not as confident as I thought I was."

"Want me to tell you that I don't mind being seen with you?" I offer, making Eddie grin.

"I mean, you could hold my hand when we go inside. That's something couples do. Maybe I'll lay my arm over your shoulders and kiss your cheek too."

"Yeah, we can totally do that," I agree. Before pulling down the visit and looking at the mirror. "I need to fix my makeup, though."

"Say no more," Eddie smiles, pulling the still-damp neon green hand towel from his pocket.

"You stole Tammy Thompson's towel?" I ask.

He nods proudly. "It's our towel now, baby. Not like she wouldn't have thrown it away, given that we used it to clean ourselves after fucking in her bathroom."

Grabbing a clean corner of the towel, he spits on it before bringing it to my face and cleaning away the dark streaks of makeup on my cheeks.

"I should be more grossed out by this than I am," I tell Eddie, making him laugh.

"Nah, you enjoy having my spit on your face."

"And what makes you think that?"

"Because you're a freak. My freak, to be exact."

Eddie leans back, checking if he removed all of the mascara, then nods, happy with his work. He presses a kiss to my lip and then gets out of the van, running over to my side and opening the door for me.

*****

"Please tell me that's a joke!" I squeal, sitting next to Eddie on the floor of my living room.

He shakes his head, dipping another fry in his chocolate milkshake. "Nah, honest earned money."

"You ate a worm for ten dollars," I exclaim, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, because I was twelve and stupid. Today I would charge at least twenty bucks to eat one," he tells me proudly.

"How about I give you fifty, and you promise to never eat a worm again?"

"Deal, sweetheart." Grabbing my hand, Eddie shakes it eagerly, a boyish smirk on his lips. "See? Eating worms is already bringing in profits."

The Freak of Hawkins High has me laughing at all his stupid jokes, makes my heart flutter at every pet name he gives me, and the thought of him ever leaving makes me sad.

Maybe somewhere down the line of tonight's disastrous events, I have lost my mind. Maybe there was a rift in reality, and I ended up in a parallel universe... But somehow, I feel like myself again. Although she is a girl I bearly know at the moment, she feels familiar.

Somehow Eddie has found his way in the middle of all my chaos. He stands in the eye of a hurricane I created by trying to be the social butterfly I never was supposed to be.

The more time he spends with me, the more I feel grounded. I start feeling real again. I am not a butterfly. Maybe I am a raven, a rabbit, or a fox... Or maybe I am a girl that likes to use silly metaphors because they sound poetic. Who knows?

Cleaning up after our royal feast of burgers, fries, and milkshakes, I wash our plates. Eddie standing behind me and nipping at my neck. His teeth graze my skin, softly biting it.

Laying the clean plates aside, I lean back against his chest and sigh. He replies with a cocky chuckle.

"Can I ask you something, possibly very dirty?"

"Anything," I sough as my face heats up, and I try looking at him, but he holds me too securely, kissing my cheek and then my temple.

"I know we now established that you're positively afraid of me and know I am not going to hurt you... But when we were at the neon bathroom of horrors, I recall you saying you want to run away from me without a chance to escape."

I nod. "I– I know I said that, but that's not a question."

Eddie squeezes my waist, making sure to tickle me. "Oh, I'm sorry for trying to ease you into the conversation."

I giggle, and he stops as I try to move away. Sitting me on the kitchen island behind him, he steps between my legs, bringing his face close to mine. "Did you mean it?"

I quickly shrug, making him lecture me, "No, baby. Use your words. Work with me here."

"I know it's weird," I finally say, embarrassment burning my face. "I– I don't feel it with anybody but you, but it's really confusing."

Eddie's brows knit together. "Does it turn you on when you're scared of me, sweetheart?"

I nod, breath stacking as his hands glide up my naked thighs. "Want me to hunt you down like prey?"

I whimper, making his ego swell. "Maybe we could drive out to lovers lake sometime, and I chase you through the woods... Would you like that, princess?"

I nod eagerly. God, I should not feel myself becoming this wet when thinking of him like that.

As he raises his eyebrows, I remember to use my words. "Yes. Would like that very much."

Taking my jaw in his hand, he brings out lips together, grinning and whispering, "Kinky little thing," before kissing me so gently I could melt on the spot.

As he pulls away, he kisses the tip of my nose, then asks, "Want to show me your bedroom?"

"Are you going to stay?" I ask naively.

Although I am fully aware of my bedroom showing ending with him inside me, my heart yearns for a closeness I didn't think I was able to allow.

Eddie's warm eyes look at me, surprised and enamored. Almost as though I turned down hands full of diamonds just to hold a small rock, he'd handed me.

"Good luck trying to get rid of me," he laughs, pulling me off the kitchen island and setting me on my feet.

I grab his hand and pull him upstairs, turning off the lights downstairs as I do so. If I have my way, we're not coming down again until morning.

As we enter my room, Eddie looks around. He is underwhelmed. Massively underwhelmed. I can see it hidden under his pitiful attempt of keeping up a neutral face.

"Is it that bad?" I ask. "Did I ruin the mood?"

Eddie quickly shakes his head. He pulls me to his chest, kissing the top of my head. "Of course not, baby... I just understand now what Jessica meant by cardboard personality. It's really like a hotel room."

I look at the white, empty walls, the basic sheets, and the almost empty bedside tables with solely lamps and alarm on it. "Didn't want to risk having something I like and then get made fun of for it," I admit.

"Gonna make sure you'll never have to do that again, okay? You're too perfect to make you hide," Eddie tells me without any judgment in his voice, so sincere it feels like an oath.

He pulls himself away to look at the teddy bear sitting on my desk. "Now, who's that guy?"

I quickly grab his hand before he can touch my bear. "That's Frank. Please don't touch him. He's starting to fall apart. Have him since I was a child."

Eddie grins at the one-eyed bear, who's missing an ear. He points out the safety pin keeping the filling in his head, "Frank's short for Frankenstein?"

I shake my head. "They promise me for three years now that they'll help me patch him up."

"They?" Eddie asks before nodding. "Oh. They. Family's really leaving you hanging, huh?"

"They're– They just work a lot."

"You should still be their number one priority. You're their child." He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to talk himself into a frenzy. "Shit. When I started living with Wayne, he quit his job as a trucker and started working at the plant, doing night shifts so he could be home with me during the day."

"They make sure I'm cared for, though. I have tons of money. Can buy whatever I want," I defend my parents and aunt.

Eddie sighs, annoyance in his words. "Not everything can be fixed with money. Somebody should've been there to tell you that after you changed schools."

"Are you mad at me?" I ask, worried about the change in his demeanor.

His expression quickly turns soft. "No, no, no, princess." Cupping my cheeks, he says, "I just hate how you had to fend for yourself. After trauma, a kid needs somebody to trust and feel safe with, somebody who shows them they're there for them. You can't just give them money and a fresh start in a new town and think shit doesn't catch up with them. Your parents should've known better."

"Was your uncle that person for you?"

Eddie nods, sitting down on my bed with me. "Mom and Dad were really bad for each other. Saw a lot of nasty, toxic shit happen between them," he sighs, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Dad always had a foot in prison, and every time my mom would say we were not going back to him, yet we always did.

"After she got sick and eventually died, Dad didn't sell his stuff anymore but took it. The crimes got worse, his patience as thin as a knife's edge. My mom wasn't there anymore to cash in the beatings, so I got my ass handed to me a couple of times because I was too hyperactive and tested my luck.

"CPS got involved after Dad once again stole a car and that time robbed a diner, shooting the waitress, and I ended up with my dad's older brother. Wayne's cool, though. Took me a while to understand that you can get in trouble, and it ends with a stern talk and not with losing a tooth.

"Man's as linear as they come. Has never even gotten a speeding ticket. Would've probably ended like my dad, wouldn't it have been for him."

I swallow harshly. "Now I feel like a real piece shit for picking at your family when we'd fight."

Eddie shrugs. "Not like I didn't rub it in your face that you're being neglected."

"I'm sorry."

He presses his lips together. "I'm sorry, too."

I turn on the lamp on the bedside table, get up, and turn off the big light. My bedroom is now sparsely lit by warm yellow light. It seems cozier like this.

Walking back to Eddie, I climb in his lap, him not wasting a second to let his hands roam my body. We kiss, Eddie, pulling me into him by the waist, hips grinding up against me.

It feels like hours pass; the chance is high that that is actually the case. We sit in the middle of my queen-sized bed. Layer by layer, we have shed our clothes until we sat fully naked in from of each other.

Our legs are partially tangled, and there is nothing we hide from each other. I am the most vulnerable I've ever been. But I feel safe.

We still kiss, hands gliding over the smooth skin, exploring. Eddie's fingers glide in and out of me, while I moan into the kisses, returning the favor. We take breaks to collect our breath, using that time to admire the naked person before us.

The next set of kisses has Eddie back me against the pillows. My hands have captured his face to ensure he has to come with me.

He takes place between my legs as if we'd never meant to be together in any other way than this. As though we never had been at war with each other and ourselves while ensuring the other would succumb to madness.

Pulling his fingers out, he moves them to my lips, watching nearly enchanted as I take them into my mouth and clean them from my own wetness.

As he enters me, it feels like everything else, every growing pain of character, every touch by somebody other, and every spite-filled encounter washes away.

Eddie's movement is nothing more than pure lust and a sign of how long we've waited for the other. Our bodies pressed closely together, fingers, nails, and teeth digging into delicate skin like holding on to our sole lifeline.

The past and, with it, Jason, Jessica, and everyone else is nothing more than part of the tedious prologue before Eddie and I.

The night is filled with promises, whispers of sweet nothingness, and the call of each other's names. Only once we're wholly exhausted, have taken and given everything we can, can we bring ourselves to stop.

Our sweat-covered bodies are still tightly wrapped around each other. A kiss or two still stolen with the greatest efforts to ignore every sore muscle and the burning of our raw, scarlet lips.

Brushing wet hair out of my face, Eddie lies next to me, his fingers dancing over my face. The storms feel like they have surrendered to the fact that this is meant to be.

We're no longer fighting it and letting the other in. The Freak and the Princess of Hawkins High... We never stood a chance anyway.

*****

Opening my eyes the next morning, there is a total of forty-five blissful seconds. Birds are singing, a soft breeze is blowing over my skin from the window Eddie must be opened, and the sun is shining.

Then I roll over, and my hand touches the cold pillow next to mine. I sit up, look around, and notice the lack of clothes on the floor.

Not only that, Frank the teddy bear is gone too.

My heart is beating fast.

A voice in my head laughs at me, while another tells me I've been played. Last night and this morning, make sure to leave me with an unsettling whiplash I try to ignore.

I get up, quickly throwing over my dress from last night, and walk down the stairs.

Maybe I am freaking out over nothing.

"Eddie?" I call through the house but am met with no answer. "Eddie?"

He's not in the kitchen, the living room, or the garden. There is no message on a notepad or a missed call. I call and call until my voice cannot hide the reality of things.

I am alone.

I walk back upstairs, tears running down my face as I change the sheets, close the window, and take a steaming hot shower. I need to get every memory of him off my body.

He left.

He fucked me and left.

Eddie fucking played me. He let me let my guard down and stabbed me in the back.

I shouldn't even be surprised. I've been nothing but a bitch to him all year. He saw a chance to get back at me and took it.

After my shower, I put on my baggy festival shirt and panties and put on a horror movie while I cry my eyes out on the couch.

I cry over the loss of my teddy bear. I cry over how real last night felt. I cry over the fact that I have effectively burned every bridge and am on my own... Just like I always was.

I gave Eddie so much of myself, thinking he would be different, not like Jason. But men are all the same, apparently.

*****

☠︎ The Freak's POV ☠︎

Sneaking in through the ridiculously loud squeaking door, I kick off my shoes. The hardwood floors seem like they are worth more than both my kidneys on the black market, so I don't want to risk anything, even though the princess told me not to worry last night.

I put the plastic bags I carry with me in the kitchen and catch a glimpse of my girl lying on the couch. The loud credits of a slasher on tv seem to have canceled out my arrival.

I walk in, smiling at her. The second she looks up, my smile falls.

"Hey, sweetheart, baby, are you okay?" I ask worriedly, closing the distance between us and falling onto my knees before her.

Did her former friends call? Another heartbreak by her family?

She takes a shakey breath, whimpering, "What are you doing here?"

I look over my shoulder toward the kitchen and back at her. Her eyes are red, her cheeks wet. How long did she sit here and cry? "I– I was out. Was up before you and got us some breakfast."

"You left," she whispers.

"Only for a little."

"I– I thought..."

As her voice dies, my eyes become wide. The princess had thought I wouldn't return.

"Shit. Baby, no, no, no. I was just out getting some stuff. I left you a note." She shakes her head, but I insist. "I did."

I pull her up from the couch, dragging her upstairs. I did not tiptoe around this morning and search for sticky notes and a pen like an idiot for this to be the outcome. For her to be upset.

Entering her bedroom, I walk straight to the nightstand on her side of the bed.

Okay.

Fair.

No note.

The princess still stands there at the door, looking like she has been absolutely miserable since she woke up—which is no surprise if she thought I ran off after promising her the world last night.

She showered and wears this shirt that would make a better dress. Lilac-colored ones replace the sheets from last night, and the severity of what she went through hits me like a brick.

The princess thought I used her and left.

Just like Jason fucking Carver.

The bane of my existence.

God, I hate that guy.

I turn to the nightstand again. I know I placed the note there. I'd stuck it on her alarm so she'd see it. I drop to the floor, looking under the bed.

Nothing.

But there, almost completely behind the nightstand, shines the neon pink traitor. Wind must've yanked that piece of shit up and thrown it behind it.

I quickly get up and hand it to her. The princess takes a second to read:

"Out to get breakfast and take Frankenstein on a ride. Gonna be back in a heartbeat. — E. ♡"

As she looks up at me, her beautiful eyes fill with tears again. "I thought you wouldn't come back."

I rub the back of my neck. "Didn't mean to upset you, princess. Next time I'll put it somewhere better, kay? Promise."

A tear runs down her face, and I am quick to cup her cheek and wipe it away. Her fingers wrap around my wrist while she nuzzled her cheek into my palm.

My heart flutters and my chest feels fuzzy (that whole butterfly-soda condition really feels more like a medical emergency than anything else). She's the most gorgeous when she lets me see her vulnerable side.

"You kidnapped my bear," she finally whispers, and I chuckle, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

"No bearnapping took place, baby. We just went on a little shopping trip."

"Told you he could fall apart at any moment..." she huffs.

I wrap an arm around her, and we make our way down to the kitchen. Opening one of the plastic bags, I hand her her stuffed friends.

She sits down on a barstool by the kitchen island and carefully pats his head. "Thought you took him as a souvenir."

We're seriously doing something wrong if women think that low of us.

I should beat the shit out of Jason.

I look at her, obviously fake annoyance on my face. "Now, what was so hard to understand when I told you you're now stuck with me?"

She shrugs, and I dislike that I understand her uncertainty. It will potentially take a while of me being the most annoying, clingy piece of shit until she gets it. But okay. I'm good at being annoying and clingy. I'm totally up for the challenge.

"Why did you take him with you?"

I grin, flipping over the plastic bag—an array of needles, threats, filling, and fabric tumbles onto the counter.

"We're fixing Frankenstein," I announce, opening the little paper bag with the replacement eye and showing it to the princess.

"Really?" she asks in disbelief. "But– I can't sew."

I spin slowly, pointing out my battle vest's patches. "Lucky for you, I am a God at it."

"And you know what to do?"

I nod. "The lady at the store helped, and we picked out a matching fabric, threat, and eye. She's also the reason I didn't get the demon-looking cat eye. She said she thinks my girlfriend could get scared should I put it on her teddy bear."

"Girlfriend," the princess whispers, the softest smile on her lips.

"Of course. You traded your shitty friends in for me, remember?" She nods, making me sigh in relief. "Good. Amazing, actually. Because your boyfriend also got you these!"

I pull a couple of posters out of the second bag, unrolling them to present them to her royal highness. "Black Sabbath, Metallica, and – of course – Corroded Coffin."

She giggles, grabbing the Corroded Coffin one and looking at mine and the guys' hand-drawn masterpiece. "So I'm hanging my boyfriend's band on my bedroom wall?"

"Hey," I tell at her jokingly. "If my girl isn't supporting me, then who is?"

She nods. "You're right. Gonna be a good rockstar girlfriend."

"An extremely hot one, too," I say, wrapping an arm around her waist again. "We're gonna be the bi-awakening for a lot of people, sweetheart."

"Sounds good." The princess leans forwards, capturing my lips with hers, and I feel my knees buckle.

No matter how cool I pretend to be, she makes me fucking melt. And now that she doesn't bite anymore, I can finally indulge myself in her.

Wrapping her legs around my waist, I set Frankenstein on the counter and carry my girl upstairs.

Throwing her onto the freshly made bed with which she tried to erase the memory of us, I crawl on top of her while taking off my jacket and shirt and throwing them aside.

I kiss her softly, feeling her hands glide over the massive searches she marked me with last night. They burn like hell, but each ounce of pain feels good. The princess marked her territory.

"You wanna paint your walls before we put the posters up?" I ask her. "Or would you rather get some wallpaper?"

She looks around for a moment then her stunning eyes meet mine. "You know how to put up wallpaper?"

I shrug. "I mean... It'll probably look like shit, but sure. If you want it, I'll figure out how to do it."

I have an unbelievable, lovesick audacity that makes me believe I could do anything her precious heart longs for. Fuck, having her like me is an ego boost that will probably go to my head.

No. Nope. It's already there.

The way she grins up at me, fingers cradling my face... I am fucking invincible and apparently really good in the sack.

"Didn't you say you got breakfast?"

Way to bring me down to earth.

I frown for a second, thinking of where I put the waffles, eggs, bacon, and pancakes I got at a nearby diner.

"I- Uhh..." Yeah, I have no idea. "Either it's still in the van, or I left it at the diner."

The princess starts laughing, throwing her head back into the sheets. I use that moment to gently bite her neck, licking over the bite mark with my tongue.

"In my defense, I was busy thinking about the bear and if I can pull off making a little Hellfire shirt for him," I speak against her skin.

My girl lets out a sigh. "But what will the King of Hellfire say when he finds out you're making them for non-members?"

"Frankenstein is an honorary member," I inform her, sitting back on my legs and pulling her onto my lap. "His human is the King's woman. The Princess of Hellfire."

"Shouldn't I be the Queen then?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

I lick my lips, pulling her face closer. "Don't get greedy, princess. Being the Queen is something that you earn."

Her lips split into a smile. "And how do I earn it?"

I place a kiss on her right cheek. "By being kind." Another on her left cheek. "By being yourself." And I place the final one on her lips. "And by staying with me for at least a month. Gonna crown you Queen as my one-month anniversary present."

"Sounds like a cop-out, so you don't have to buy me something," the princess teases.

I gasp, appalled, and push her off my lap. "You're gonna regret that one, princess." She looks at me with big eyes. "Gonna give you a 10-second headstart. Better make sure I don't get you."

While slowly standing up and moving towards the door, she grins. "What happens when you caught me?"

I slowly stand up as well. "Then I'll eat you alive, princess. Make sure you really regret being an ungrateful little slut."

Her breath hitches, and she squeals as I make a sudden move in her direction. We grin at each other, both our eyes darkening with lust, then she bolts out of her room and down the stairs.

I chase after her multiple times feeling her shirt or skin on my fingertips. She is laughing, screaming, and squirming as I finally grab her.

Placing her on the dinner table, I force her back against the cold wood while I step between her legs. "Now I got you, sweetheart," I chuckle deeply. "No point in running anymore."

I take a step back and spread her legs further for me. Kneeling between them, I bite the inside of her thigh, while I make my way to her center.

The fighting spirit has already left her. My girl whimpers as I pull her innocent little panties aside and am met with her arousal glistening in the daylight. I lick my lips before I dive in, her hands quick to grasp for my hair as she moans loudly.

*****

The Queen of Hellfire.

The Freak's girlfriend.

For many, she used to be Hawkins High's Princess, somebody they aspired to be. They don't understand what happened, why she gave up her title, and now plays with the terrifying King of Hellfire.

They don't get how he managed to get the Queen's family to approve of him, like him, so far so that they even wanted to pay for his college education. How he gratefully declined (of course) and instead got them to pay for the first of many Corroded Coffin albums.

He didn't even need to ask. He brought the Queen's smile back on her face and that is worth the world for her family.

Not that anyone in Hawkins ever understands anything. Like, how the ex-cheerleader became best friends with a bunch of nerds, Robin from band, Steve Harrington, and future star journalist Nancy Wheeler.

But as the Queen of Hellfire learned, it doesn't fucking matter what others think as long as she is happy and has the King on his knees for her, worshipping her divine form.

She's fucking mine. Forever.

Suck it, Carver.

More Eddie Munson Content? [Click for Mastlist]

More of me? Nice! [Click for my Main Masterlist]

Want to fangirl with me? Give feedback? [Click here]

Eddie Munson Taglist: [empty]

[leareadsheresy]

Mission Statement: Committing to a Mistake

I'm going to read all the Horus Heresy stories. I'm going to do it in publication order.

To be clear, I'm not going to read all the books in publication order; I'm going to read all the stories in publication order. There are a lot of stories that were initially published in, like, Horus Heresy Weekender pamphlets or as web fiction years before they saw print in later anthology volumes. I've made a list. Making it took an evening that would have been better spent on almost any other activity, up to and including just going to bed early, but now I've got it. All I need to do is go back and refine it from publication month to publication day for specifically those stories that were published daily as part of one-story-per-day monthly events, but those don't start to become a factor until much later so no hurry on that.

I haven't decided yet whether I'll listen to audio dramas in cases where a story was first released as an audio drama and later re-released in text. I'm not really a fan of audio books. Also, this includes the Heresy 1st edition Black Books, Primarch novels, and character series novels like Valdor: Birth of the Imperium. All told there are eighty-five books in this list, and if you break it out by individual short stories there's about 253 items, though that does include both short stories and the anthology volumes that compile them, as many anthology volumes that compile previously-published short stories add a framing narrative. If I read one novel's worth of text a week, which to be clear I am absolutely not committing to doing, it'll take me a year and a half.

Why am I doing this? Well, there's a number of reasons.

The first is it's absurd to sink this much energy into being an… enthusiast, I guess you could say, under protest… for a setting while absorbing most of it second-hand, and as a wise man once said, the time will pass regardless. But the second reason, the real reason, is I need to know. I cannot take my understanding of this work being filtered through YouTube Lore Explainers anymore, or worse, overly verbose fan wikis, people who themselves only understand it from watching YouTube Lore Explainers, or people who have read the books but have no critical faculties and read them through the lens of their memories of If the Emperor had a Text to Speech Device. I have to see it for myself. I need to be able to filter the words of the text from the memes.

The third reason is I hope having a long-term project like this will distract me from other stupid projects that might be expensive, like adopting new hobbies.

Why publication order by story instead of publication order by compiled volume or chronology? Well, I'm interested in how the narrative develops over time, not just from an in-universe perspective but from the real-life one as well. I'm interested in, for example, reading Book I: Betrayal in the context of being the first proper Horus Heresy game book published six years into the novel series, and how what it says about the traitor legions on Istvaan III reflects what the novels have said about them up until that point. Also, it ought to help me get through the allegedly terrible Salamanders stories by reading them one at a time in between other works, instead of all at once when I reach Born of Flames.

To amuse myself, I will proceed on the assumption that the Horus Heresy 1st Edition Black Books are flawed in-universe history texts, and the novels are flawed dramatizations, both referring to a hypothetical "real" set of events that cannot be perceived directly. This should insulate me from the worst of the critical whiplash stemming from when an important character from better books shows up and has important character development done awfully in a book that's awful.

Here's my history with the works: Years ago, I read Horus Rising and thought it was pretty decent, if clumsy in its introduction of Samus during the first part of the book. I then read halfway through False Gods and thought it was God damn awful, just taking the character work from the first book out behind the chemical sheds and shooting it in the back of the skull, and I quit the series. Later, I read Book I: Betrayal, about halfway through Book II: Massacre, and skipped ahead to Book III: Extermination because I'm a giant Raven Guard goober for some damn reason. I've also read Deliverance Lost, the Corax anthology, the Corax: Lord of Shadows Primarch novel, and parts of Book VI: Retribution and Book VIII: Malevolence. I will be re-reading all of these as I get to them in the reading order list.

My original plan was to pick up where I left off, but upon realizing that I'd left off halfway through False Gods and not like ten pages into it the way I remembered, I went back to the start of that book, then realized it had been so long since I read it and Horus Rising that I didn't remember which events had happened in which book. So I've started from the beginning again. I am currently about a third of the way through my second read of Horus Rising and have just started Part 2: Brotherhood in Spiderland, which I mention by name here because it's named Part 2: Brotherhood in Spiderland. I expect my next entry in this blog will be thoughts on Horus Rising Part 1: The Deceived, and I'll get around to renovating the appearance of the blog itself thereafter.

If I should fail in this endeavor, lose interest or drift away, good. This is a terrible idea.

And for the record, Lea is pronounced "Lee" and I've read all of Homestuck.

[infiniteglitterfall]

Jewish Joy of the day

"In the last minutes of the last public interview he gave, the late Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel stressed that people have an inherent need to celebrate.

“'Man cannot live such a shallow life,' he said. 'He needs exultation. He needs moments of celebration.'

"Given the horrible headlines and images on social media, in newspapers and on television, celebrating can feel like the last thing we want to do right now....

"Interestingly enough, both this time in the yearly Jewish calendar and this week’s Torah portion teach us about the importance of celebration. [This is from March 2024.]

"As Purim approaches, I am reminded of the words from the Babylonian Talmud: mishenichnas Adar marbim b’simcha, 'those who enter Adar [the current Hebrew month] should increase their joy.' (Ta’anit 29a) These words, which have often been set to music, set the tone for Adar. (Because this is a Jewish leap year, we get all the more joy because there are two Adars this year!)

"Our Torah portion Pekudei also offers an ancient example of collective celebration. Its description of the ornamented priestly garments offers a sense of richness and ornamentation that connote celebration.

“'They also made bells of pure gold, and attached the bells between the pomegranates, all around the hem of the robe, between the pomegranates: a bell and a pomegranate, a bell and a pomegranate, all around the hem of the robe for officiating in.' (Exodus 39:25-26)

[@emerging-jew here are some of those pomegranates you wanted]

"The text makes clear this celebratory ornamentation fulfills a deeper purpose. This portion, which concludes the Book of Exodus, comes to a crescendo after all of the detailed embellishments of the priestly garments and the tabernacle are finished. Then, after all of this elaborate handiwork, 'the presence of Adonai fills the tabernacle.' (Exodus 40:34)

"The implication seems to be that part of what brings God’s presence to Earth are these celebratory details."

I went looking for any pictures of those priestly garments, and found this first:

"Subsequent verses describe the association of the bells with death. The text advises that Aaron, the high priest, by wearing such a garment will make noise. The clothing serves to announce both his arrival and departure within the sanctuary. The announcement has as much to do with holiness as it does with heralding the High Priest’s arrival. After describing the role of the golden bells, the text adds the words 'וְלֹ֥א יָמֽוּת (v’lo yamoot) lest he die.'

"For those inclined to listen, the Torah teaches a life lesson by describing the design of the priest’s garment. The opposite of death (bells) is the fullness of life (pomegranates). We are alternatively graced with pomegranates and bells – both the fullness of life and the loss. Without death, we might not cherish life. Without the fullness of life, we might long for death."

The Temple Institute's entire raison d'etre is to figure out what things like these looked like and how they were made, so they have nice pictures of the bells and stuff.

[jobey-wan-kenobi]

Revolver~ 💿

Revolver is a weird one because I can find a flaw with every song, except for...

Favorite song: Tomorrow Never Knows

It's the only one that doesn't have at least one lyric I find annoying so it kinda wins by default. Of course, they did kinda cheat by just making it one long quote from the Tibetan Book of the Dead, but that was a better choice than some of the others made on this album...

Also you can't beat that soundscape. Just fantastic studio work there. A little work of art.

Now, I thought it would be hard at first to find a least favorite on this album, but in the end I found two...

Unfavorite: Taxman or Doctor Robert

Lookit the boys in "Taxman," maxing out their Boomer energy while only averaging twenty-four years between them. Object lesson in how wealth turns your head. Cry me a feckin' river, George.

From my vantage point in the capitalist hellscape of USA 2023, I read about the England the boys grew up in and am sick with envy. Well, not so much the repressive and toxic social attitudes. But the community aspects? The government's doings? It makes this American cry. Robust public transportation. The National Health Service. A functioning social safety net.

And, uh, all this is essential to the Beatles (four nobodies with no real show biz connections)' rise to the top? Yeah, I think you could be a bit more "thankful," Georgie. You'd not have broken out of the world of playing sleazy nightclubs without the leisure and support of the thousands of local fans who began patronizing you at the Cavern and getting your name in Brian Epstein's ear. A full lunch hour, even for the lowliest pink-collar jobs, whereby you can make a daily habit of seeing BABY BEATLES play down the street at noon? John (and other key British '60s musicians) getting to go to 'art college'? George's dad being able to support a stay-at-home spouse and four kids on one bus driver's salary? Paul's dad's employer paying off his gambling debts and trying to keep him on the straight and narrow, instead of sacking him on the spot as would happen in any "at-will" employer? Mona Best having the spare room to turn her basement into a club? George Martin having the tenure and creative control at EMI to take a risk mentoring his rough Liverpudlian studio-virgins? Ringo's extremely poor family not being rendered so broke by his year-long hospital stay that his stepdad couldn't afford to buy him a drum set for Christmas? Oh, and let's not forget the Labour government decriminalising homosexuality. That's civilisation. It's all worth paying for, lad!

Anyway, the government still left you boys enough money to a) buy nice homes and cars and party party party, b) found and then completely mismanage Apple Corps, and c) spend a decade suing each other into oblivion. It's not like the taxman left you bereft. You were, like, fine.

But at least Taxman's lyrics are vaguely clever, and it's fun to listen to. Doctor Robert sounds too samey, but in a less interesting way. A true throwaway. And its lyrics are shit.

I could lop both of them off the album and be OK.

---- ask game ----

[notquitecharlie]

7/22/23

Dear Friend, 

I know that I’ve written a few times and I feel like every time I write it’s like an introduction explaining these letters and how I’m going to write them and who I am. So if you actually read these, I’m sorry. This is probably gonna be close to another one. 

I feel like I write too sad. If that makes sense. If we met and talked this is not how I am. I could tell you everything about myself and I think if we met in person you would never connect me and this blog. That’s why I write this I guess, it’s to be the other side of me. But it’s not even really another side it’s like… I was thinking about this last night…it’s like every person is an ocean. A really nice one for most people. From a distance you see the joy and beauty of being an ocean. Even if you dip your feet in you still feel like you know this place, this person it’s happy. But the ocean knows otherwise, it knows of the waves and the sharks and it tries to hide them to keep everyone around them happy and safe. It doesn’t mean the oceans a bad place or crazy or anything, I think it just means that there’s more to it than it shares all the time. Mostly to protect people and themselves, whether the other people deserve it or not. Does that make any sense? I hope it does friend. I honestly think I’m happy pretty often, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have my dark moments here and there when it feels like the world is going to crash and it’s all my fault and everything every person has ever said to me is stabbing my brain with its words pointy edges, but the storms pass, telling you about them just helps. So, thank you.

This week has been a pretty good week. I did a magic show for a playgroup on Thursday which was fun. I went to the library to take my college ASL summer final and did good enough to pass the class with a A. I’ve been driving more and doing pretty good, I have a pair of Crowley style sunglasses I wear when I drive and funny enough that helps. This week I read “Graveyard of Lunatics” by Ray Bradbury (I think that’s the title), “The man who was Thursday” by G.K. Chesterson, am almost done with “Once upon a tome” by Oliver Darkshire am rereading Good Omens and reread most of Trigger Warning by Neil Gaiman. I’ve also been listening to the Coraline audiobook (I got it on cd for my 16th birthday because I adore it and love cds) for the millionth time while I rearrange all the bookshelves in the house. I’m also set to start at a “real” high school this upcoming year but can’t think about that without spiraling so I won’t talk about that right now. This week I also had a volunteering event, I volunteer with this group that plans events for kids and teens (especially those highly impacted) with special needs and pairs them up with a friend (while there are some exceptions the “friends” aren’t neurodivergerent for the most part) and this week was my favorite events, the public pool one and it was a lot of fun, I’d never met either of the people I got paired up with and they were just really fun to be around. I normally just call the volunteer group buddies, I’ve been doing it for a few years and it’s probably my favorite thing I do. I’m sorry this ended up being so all over the place (I went through and cut out about 4 paragraphs explaining why the books I’ve read/am reading are wonderful because I talk about books too much). I started this at 11:45 on July 21 now it’s a half hour into July 22nd so I’m gonna read for an hour or so and go to bed, unless the book gets ridiculously good then I’ll just finish it first. Sorry I brought up books again, that might be the biggest difference between melancholy posts and more happy ones, I talk about books 😂

Sweet dreams,

Love always,

Athena

[saturday-night-dispatch]

Dispatch-001

Saturday night with a pot Darjeeling and nothing more to do than just flying away with all the things that crossed my way this week—shiny toys, blinking gadgets, ill-designed comic books, records lost in clouds. Readings. Stuff you can buy, for what else is left to do?

#1

Just now listening to three songs from James Brandon Lewis' upcoming album Eye of I with Chris Hoffman on Cello and Max Jaffe on drums. Sounds amazing, free every now and then, thoughtful and swinging, like a melancholy boxer. Will be back for the whole thing, drops next Friday, 2/3.

#2

Wout van Aert for the victory. Cyclocross can be pretty predictive if only one of the Big 3 is competing. They truly are above all the rest. That said, today was my first ride out of the year, far to late but all the more enjoyable. Remco blew San Juan, Nairo still in tha game—for now.

#3

Stay True by Hua Hsu (Huascene) is a read that caught me by surprise. It's the kind of book you want to read in all night while listening to your favorite music, or maybe an album that the book brought back to mind. Although Sonic Youth have not been mentioned (yet), this is the band that is always lingering around the back of my mind while riding through the pages. And because of my one-band-one-album habit back in the days, Sister is the record of choice. But anyways, this is just one of the many rabbit hole opened by the book, but deep inside, it is about something completely different, i.e. friendship in a form that might actually only exist in the early twenties, when you are still too young to write your biography but actually live through all the stuff that will make up the bulk of it. And this is exactly what this is. But, as a memoir, it's not a biography per se. It is also written in memory of an unlikely friend.

I bought the ebook while I was at the airport in Atlanta, Georgia with some time to kill. I was on my way back from an in-person job interview, and to finally get to this book now seems like a perfect fit for what felt like a final break away into adulthood. During my interview, I could feel that the new role would demand responsibility and leadership, vision and engagement—the youthful cynical disengagement seemed out of place. I did not think that Stay True would capture this change so adequately, at once outspokenly so and then also in terms of the story it tells, indirectly. This change makes me proud and sad at the same time. I feel like the place I interviewed for would be a great fit for me, somewhere where I could make a splash and have influence and work on my publications and career. But I also miss the cynically recluse me, the student who can only attain this role because he does not have any responsibility yet. Stay True locates this break a bit earlier (when Hua Hsu finishes college, he was the same age that I started), but that is another story. And not important at all.

Then, of course: The book is written quite beautifully. I was interested in it because I know the author's writing on music from the New Yorker (wonderful essays on both J Dilla and Madlib, if I remember corrctly), and the style of the magazine is definitely something that deeply influences how the book is set up (I am thinking of the theoretical interludes that comment and contextualize the narrative without explicitly referring back to it). But it also has its very own vibe and feel, something that is simultaneously laid back and urgent. It is not, however, nostalgic; rather, the breaks and tumbles of the narrative, the development that it displays and the constant change all make each earlier phase seem complete. As we would constantly build cocoons and emerge in a new form that does understand, but ultimately leave behind its former self. This peaceful relation with the time's passing certainly puts one topic front and center: death. Our struggle to let go. More, I hope, next week.

#3

Album most listened to this week: Cassandra Jenkins, An Overview on Phenomenal Nature. Soothing, unsettling. And too short.

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[theleftovertaco]

Love Languages

Had a though about which love languages each of the boys would subscribe to (receiving, not giving, if you want me to make that one I probably can)

People mentioned: Harry, Fred, George, Neville, Ron, Oliver, Draco

Harry

Harry likes physical touch.

As a child he barely got any affection from people, and he was initially uncomfortable showing much of any physical affection

However, once you openly showed him said affection, the two of you were attached at the hip.

It does not matter where you are, if your in the same room, your probably touching in some way.

If it’s a large public setting, it’s likely just pinkies, hands, or arms that are linked. But in the presence of close friends he’ll gladly return a hug, and when you’re alone it’s an entirely different story.

He will literally flop on top of you, hold onto you, and hold you until you’ve both fallen asleep.

He also enjoys sitting on your lap or you sitting on his lap.

Stroke his hair or run your fingers on his face or over his eyes and he will melt

Anyways yea Harry is a cuddle whore

Fred

Fred likes quality time

You don’t always spend every moment next to each other, boundaries are really important to both of you and you both respect those boundaries.

But when you are together, it is the best time either of you could have.

Sneaking into the kitchens at 3 am to eat sweets.

Shopping at Hogsmeade, getting butterbeer, watching muggle movies

If you like practical jokes you gladly take part in them, if not then he respects that.

Sometimes he just wants someone to listen to him.

So he’ll lay next to you and just talk, for hours.

About school, about his latest pranks, about family.

If you can use the time you have together in a way that makes you both happy, then he will love you forever.

To him, it’s not about the amount of time you spend with him, it’s about what you both do with it.

George

George likes words of affirmation- he always feels like he lives in his siblings shadow

Occasionally that means living in Fred’s shadow too.

People never really acknowledge them as separate people, and sometimes he needs reassurance that someone sees him as an individual.

Telling him on a daily basis, that you see him as a separate person, even if you don’t have to say those exact words, is important to him.

He also just really likes hearing that you believe in and love him

Within 2 weeks of you dating he greets you with an “I love you.”

And at first he freezes when he realizes what it is that he said.

But when you reply with reciprocation he melts.

The first time you tell him you love him, he practically combusts with happiness.

This could also translate to a praise kink but we’re not gonna talk about that rn ;)

Neville

Neville prefers gifts

Not necessarily expensive ones, just small little things, trinkets and such

If you just hand him a shiny rock he lets out this little trill of happiness and adds it to his collection alongside his plants

If you give him a plant he'll fucking collapse.

Once when you came back from a trip over Christmas, you gave him seeds to a rare plant that wasn't found in Europe, he nearly burst from excitement

That was the first time he kissed you in public

He also really likes candy and once when you brought him these little rock candies that were only found in muggle stores he practically ripped the wrapper off and shoved them into his mouth.

(He shared of course)

Neville often gets his fathers hand-me-downs, and while he enjoys them, it sucks that his grandmother refuses to buy him anything of his own

So when you buy him a sweater and a pair of slacks he almost cries

Sugar baby Neville au i said what i said

Ron

Ron likes acts of service

A lot of it is when you help him with things like homework

Sometimes Hermione is too tired or unwilling to and when you step in to help where you can, its like a little piece of him falls in love with you all over again

But part of it is other forms of service

A few months before you were together, Ron had a really bad day and returned to the common room with a huge headache, and when you offered to give him a head massage he decided he was gonna ask you out

Sometimes just running your hands through his hair after a long day makes him absolutely melt into the couch cushions

He also often gets homesick, especially when it comes to food, and if you cook or bake for him, he practically jumps in the fucking air

You called his mom once to get a recipe for these Christmas cookies that he missed since he couldn’t go home for Christmas one year and if you both hadn’t been in public he would have cried

When you brought him homemade candies he did cry (he’d had a long day, let him live)

But yea sometimes he just needs someone to take care of him nothing wrong with that my dudes

Oliver

Oliver likes an even mix of gifts and and acts of service tbh

Often for Christmas or his birthday you’ll get him a new broom servicing kit or a book about Puddlemere United

One year you managed to get one of his favorite books signed by some of Puddlemere’s players

When you presented it to him he tackled you in a hug so tight you thought your lungs would pop.

He also really likes trying new candies so you get him a subscription box where he can try new ones from around the world and the two of you spend a few days every month trying new candies together for a year.

When it comes to acts of service its a little more physical

Quidditch takes a toll on a person's body so often he'll come back from a game or a practice and just collapse.

So if you give him a massage he'll practically sink into the bed.

Dude is just tired sometimes give him a break

Draco

Draco is probably into words of affirmation

I think people would assume it's gifts but that's actually how he shows love to other people because that's how his parents showed love to him even though it's not necessarily what he wants

But yeah I think Draco sometimes deals with a lot of shit especially during 6-7 year and so he's probably stressed as shit

And feeling really guilty about what he's having to do

But he feels like he has no choice or else he and his parents are going to die.

So sometimes he just needs reassurance that he's not a terrible person

Occasionally after working on the cabinet in the ROR he'll just go to you and collapse on your shoulder and start sobbing

Sometimes just making sure he knows that he's okay and that he's loved will make him want to cry

Anyways Draco Malfoy redemption arc

[chemicalpink]

Young Gods ❈ KNJ, JJK

❈ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader x Jungkook

❈ Genre: smut, f2l kinda, but also s2l, fantasy!au, fluff if you squint, gods!au, wizard/witch!au

➛ Part of the Namkook Moonrise Masquerade hosted by @jamaisjoons

❈ Rating: 18+

❈ Wordcount: 4.2k

❈ Warnings: it is jungkook centric, it does have a somewhat heavy plot, double penetrative sex, magical sex, teasing, slightest corruption kink.

❈ Summary: Legend has it that if you were to walk all the way up to Hallasan, and if the land is welcoming enough, you should be able to see the most beautiful lake where it is rumoured to home the most powerful being the world has ever had the pleasure to meet, so when young warlock Jungkook starts having trouble with his magic, who could blame him for travelling all the way there in hopes of finding answers only to be met with the hottest man he’s ever seen. and really,  who could blame him for fostering the biggest crush on him without saying a word for ages? that is, until y/n, a long lost friend of Namjoon shows up. so really, who is he to blame if he lets the two greatest beings in existence use him for their pleasure?

❈A/N: SHE'S HERE. GOD THIS TOOK A WHILE. Please enjoy! ALSO, banner by @jamaisjoons, I do believe the only thing that keep me writing this was the banner lol. Do tell your thoughts on this bad baby, I was heading towards a larger fic but I didn't have time yet magical au is most definitely there for future fics.

The first time Jungkook realised just how powerful he was, he was fifteen years old, although his mother can recall him being around four and being able to master a potion that most common-born non-royal witches could only hope to get mediocre at once trained at their young twenties. Of course, his magic had soon become taboo around the village, having to hide himself behind years of his father’s training, his lineage a bit closer to royalty, not quite, but just enough for his son’s magic to pass as his own. If his customers notice how better his spell jars or potions get once Jungkook turns eighteen, they sure don’t comment on it. Not that they would be able to tell that the family was hiding a master of the magical arts that could rival the country’s most powerful witch in the blink of an eye. Those were just rumours going around, as far as the Jeon’s were concerned.

“Son, I believe it is about time you get some proper practice on your magic” his father mentioned bypassing one Sunday night as they both locked up the store. He turned to hi, somewhat confused.

“Look if this is about Seojun noona’s elixir being more powerful than it usually is I swear it was a rightful mixture, my trial was right beside her actual one and she entered the shop sooner and-”

His dad shakes a hand dismissively at him, rounding the counter into the small storage room, coming back in sight with a leather-bound book in between his hands, calloused fingers roaming the antique-looking pages “I am not quite sure how much truth an old man like your grandfather could hold, but it wouldn’t hurt to try” he turned the yellowing book towards him, fast and almost undescribable scribbles decorating the paper as he squinted down at it, his father handling the energy in it to make the content quite literally come to life, a storytelling spell all too familiar to him from his young age.

“Dad, you know I absolutely love bedtime stories, but I’d say I’m quite a bit too old now for-” before he can even think about finishing the sentence, a mountain comes into view, alive straight from the book’s pages, standing tall and proud dressed in green, almost touching the sky, a magical aura surrounding it, one that he could even feel just by looking at it “What’s that?”

“The old man used to tell me stories about an ancient being, the most powerful of them all, living on top of Hallasan” the pages turn by themselves, the image changing to a faceless man, standing almost as tall and proud as the mountain itself, performing all types of magic, some of them Jungkook himself hadn’t even heard of “Legend says he was outcasted by royalty in fear of revolution, wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for he is a child of Earth herself”

“I-I don’t think I’m following”

His father sighs loudly before his magic shuts the book closed, all magic gone on a whim “Jungkook, whatever this man was, if my father was right and he really did exist, you might be like him”

“But-but I was born of both you and mum” he couldn’t quite yet fathom the extension of his own magic, much less think about the probability of being more powerful than any other being that had walked the Earth in millennia. Even if the man was real, would he even be alive still? If he was as powerful as he was presumed to be, would he even take Jungkook under his wing? What if he wasn’t as lucky as the man from the book and word got out and his life was endangered?

“Jungkook just think about it, you might be a child of the Earth”

“What if I don’t want to be” he couldn’t quite face his father, feeling his own heartbreak as the older man deflated. Jungkook knew that perhaps his dad had entertained the idea of his only son being a creature out of a legendary book, could feel how proud it would make him, for Jungkook to be a hero, make history with the power he presumably held within, yet he couldn’t help but feel like a small child again, afraid at the uncertainty that the future could hold. “I- I’m good with just running the shop and helping you and mother out with stuff”

His father sighed before placing a gentle hand on his shoulders, a small act that made him feel even more like a child, one getting subtly scolded by his parents as they prepare him for his inevitable future. “Jungkook-ah, your mother and I- all we really want for you is to live your own life”

His ears perk up, gaze facing forward as he catches his mother standing with her arms crossed over her body, the softest motherly look on her face “And if that means for my baby to go find himself at some faraway place, then so be it” she comes to join his father by his side, both of them bracing each other as the thought of their child growing up simmers down on them. “We just want you to grow up to your full potential Kookie”

.-.-

It had taken quite some convincing for him to completely make up his mind, the negging looks from his father as he helped around the shop, the longing yet scolding gaze his mother held over dinner until he found himself preparing a small bag for the long trip– almost burning inside his mind the map contained in his grandfather’s grimoire from the many times he had read over what he once thought to be a legend out of a children’s storybook.

The trip itself wasn’t as difficult as it was troublesome, having to hike up the highest mountain in the land, the difficult part–if the Jeon’s memories were anything to go by– was having the Hallassan land spirit to like you enough to show itself, even a step further to have the legendary witch to show his home.

For quite some time Jungkook entertained the idea of the immense possibilities on how the wizard could look, every possible image popping up in his head some variation of a wrinkly old man hunched over himself, staff in hand and he couldn’t help but laugh soundly at it, picturing himself getting nagged at by such a figure, perhaps he would end up looking like one of those old scholars that came to his village from time to time. But how wrong was he.

It took him three days, two cold sleepless nights in the woods and running in circles for at least two hours in the nothingness that was the top of the mountain for the valley to show up right where he had started to venture– he could almost hear the forest spirits snickering at him. He really tried to be angry at it, almost went back down just out of spite, yet the clearing before him had him doing a double-take, the space was bright and clear, none of the trees from before on sight, the small dipping in the middle of it leading to a sort of entrance– this was what he came for.

Jungkook had been raised better than what he found himself doing– walking into a stranger’s house uninvited. Was it really uninvited if after knocking for a few minutes the door opened on its own?

He walks inside, small steps, unsure of himself, his past resolve crumbling down completely as he walks further in where he listens to a hushed voice coming from his left, a mop of silvery hair turned away from him, green warm clothes cradling the figure, Jungkook entertains the idea of an old man still, yet not so much hunched over himself if the deep hushed voice and the hair colour was anything to go by. “...Now where did I last see-”

"Hello-"

"Oh! great timing! the pay is where it always is" broad shoulders are still facing him as the man moved around, a couple of won bills on the counter where he had waved his hand dismissively, not even bothering to turn around, for a legendary creature perhaps leaving his home door open was a recurrent thing, what with the whole clearing hidden from the public eye and all.

"Oh I'm not-" he had tried to make himself knows as definitely not the person he was expecting yet the man kept mumbling to himself, apparently in deep thought at whatever it was

""—So then if we are able to move this around we should -" he had started moving around the room, still not facing Jungkook directly, just pointing to places around the spacious room as his free hand busied itself with picking books from the humongous shelf against the wall

"I'm- uh" his hands couldn’t be still, grasping at the bag over his shoulder, knuckles almost white as he clears his throat "I'm not-"

"Did you forget where-" the man turns around and Jungkook feels whatever little poise he had gained leave him in the spot, right in front of him is the most legendary creature in existence, recorded alive for millennia, a god in more ways than one, no old man in sight but the prettiest human he had laid eyes on, fierce sight set on him awkwardly hanging at the entrance as the man keeps blinking at him "uh"

He bows down almost instinctively, 90 degrees, hair falling onto his eyes as he does so "Mister sir- uh keeper of Hallasan"

"You aren't Soobin"

"Uh.. no I'm not"

The man doesn’t even flinch at the information of a stranger setting a foot inside his house, deep voice calm as ever as he asks "How did you even get in?"

"Uh the door was open" he points to the door in a futile attempt for it to not make it seem like he was the weirdo picking locks or something at a magical creature’s home

"No it wasn't" he moves to the door in the most graciously way he has ever seen someone do it, almost gliding across the floor, eyes never leave him except for the brief second where his hand tries the doorknob "huh it was. Weird"

It took the man less than a minute after his initial shock to turn to Jungkook and invite him in, a pair of teacups resting against the table as they seated parallel to each other, him crossing his legs in a nonchalant manner as Jungkook couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat– he certainly never thought he could come this far.

“So what can I do for you, Jeon Jungkook?” if he absolutely preened at the way that his name sounded in the stranger’s mouth, that was certainly something only for him to know.

The words died right on his tongue. There were certainly a lot of things the beautiful man seating across from him could do, none of them necessarily involving what he had initially come for, yet as the words take meaning inside his mind, he seems to short circuit yet again “I uh- you know- you know my name?”

He smiles a big smile, eyes crinkling into crescents, dimples showing and a heat simmering inside Jungkook’s belly “I know a lot of things, Jungkook” he stares off into space “Social skills are rusty, but they come back after getting a good look at you” Jungkook’s eyes must widen at the implication of his words. Could he read minds? Could he take a look into souls? “Just general stuff about you, don’t worry about it”

The man could definitely read minds.

Blink if you’re hearing this. The man blinks and Jungkook feels like fleeing. Wait. Everyone blinks, stupid. Perhaps some other time.

He somehow finds his voice, remembering the lingering question, the sole reason for him to be there “Mister Hallasan keeper, sir”

“Namjoon is fine”

“Mister Namjoon-ssi”

“Namjoon hyung”

Jungkook is sure this time his brain shortcircuits for real, for this complete stranger. Namjoon he corrects himself, to give him permission to call him so affectionately after only a few minutes of knowing him. After technically breaking- not breaking into his home.

Smile if you’re reading my mind. Namjoon smiles, something doesn’t sit right with him, he could very well be reading his mind, or simply smiling out of politeness at the extended silence Jungkook had caused, again. I’m onto you Mister Hallasan Keeper. Namjoon just smiles more fondly at him.

Jungkook goes on explaining his situation, from his rapid magic learning to being unable to wield his magic, to his father even suggesting that he could have been born from the Earth herself, just like Namjoon did all those millennia ago. The blond man restricts himself to listen to Jungkook speak, gaining a serious pose when he drops the reason for his visit, asking him for help. Jungkook’s almost sure he will deny it as he goes on to explain how his last magical apprentice had been there almost sixty years ago, going on about how he is pretty much a loner, no reason more than a brief excuse of being an outcast for practice differences with the village where Jungkook comes from, giving it a few seconds of thought before he accepts to have Jungkook under his wing, going as far as to give him a spare bedroom to sleep in along with the longest set of rules he had ever heard of.

Months with Namjoon look something more or less like this: waking up at 6 am sharp– something Jungkook had never done in his life, the first few times he had woken up later than that, it was almost impossible to know where his teacher had gone to. Have a rundown on the day’s activities and breakfast until 7. Jungkook was in charge of gardening on the 30-minute window of Namjoon harvesting for the spells he was due to make for the day. An hour of light reading– he knew better than to comment on how a thousand pages book was most definitely not light reading, but he did it anyway. He would then shadow Namjoon on whatever mystical task he had to do for the day before finishing up with him running basic high-level training with Namjoon’s guidance in the clearing– Namjoon had said that the Hallasan spirit would keep him safe and sound if he were to screw up, although so far all the spirit and her friends in the forest had done was laugh at his mistakes.

Five months in it, the whole routine came as second nature, he couldn’t even picture a day without Namjoon on it, not that there was anyone else that could pick up on the energy shift within it, Jungkook had learnt a lot from his teacher, not only in the magic department but about him as a person, couldn’t hide the lingering eyes, the curious touches of skin, every bit of information about Namjoon expanding that fondness feeling inside his heart, Namjoon was a man of habit, a powerful one at that, yet all those millennia living couldn’t hide the fact that Jungkook could see right through him, a lonely soul, as powerful as none other, yet so inherently say. Not even the whole power in the universe could keep him away from his own greatest danger: himself.

If you can read minds, kiss me. The kiss never came so perhaps Namjoon could never even read minds in the first place.

Now here’s the thing, Jungkook might be a mess when it comes to magic, but not so much at hiding his feelings, at least the best he could, Namjoon was as intelligent as men come and he had yet to notice. Namjoon’s friend that just happens to show up on a particularly lazy day– his teacher had said his magic tends to run out from time to time and would rather rest it; perhaps not so much.

Jeon Jungkook is a weak man. A weak man for beautiful things, like Namjoon, or you. Who just happened to walk inside Namjoon’s home like you owned the place– could he count it as his home too yet?

He could feel his heart wanting to leap out of him as soon as you introduced yourself, and perhaps he was imagining the way your eyes grazed over his figure before going to tease Namjoon, not that he stopped having heart eyes for the man when you walked in, he had enough heart eyes for the both of you, even if he had to keep them to himself. You were easier to warm up to than Namjoon if it was anything to go by, smoothly falling into conversation after you three had sat down for tea, walking up to Namjoon’s massive library, picking out books from their shelves as you asked him about his upbringings.

“The Jeon family? Oh, dearest, your grandfather was as good as wizards come” his brain cuts short as soon as the words leave your mouth, just how exactly could you have known the old man? The old wizard was presumably thrown out of the royal house for being unfit for ruling over the land. You playfully push your elbow against Namjoon “And I say this while knowing Joonie”

The blond man groans at your teasing.

“You-you knew my grandpa?”

“Yeh, such a shame he decided to be a mortal” Your initial interest seems to diminish as you turn to face the books yet again, a particular red cover catching your attention.

“What”

Jungkook faintly hears Namjoon standing up from his chair to try and get in between his conversation with you, although all he hears seems to come as if the voices were kept under cotton inside his ears “Y/N you’re overwhelming the kid”

For such a calm and collected posture, he had maintained not only while learning with Namjoon but back at home too, hearing such a word coming out of him really tips the glass “I’m not a kid! Why is everyone always treating me like a child!” surely it did seem rather childish to have an outburst like that, yet his mind couldn’t help but reel in all those other times in his stay where Namjoon had dismissed him from helping, saying it was a rather complicated spell you should wait this one out Jungkook. Or something along the lines of when you get stronger. It did seem the type of things one would say to their petulant child.

“Jungkook waits” Namjoon groans as he retreats to his assigned room, you can’t help the softness inside you at the way that strong independent loner Namjoon reacts to his apprentice being pissed off, certainly a first.

“You pissed off the kid” your remark isn’t that much well digested as Namjoon throws a dagger-like glare your way, groaning as he throws his head back against the couch

“Why am I parenting again?”

You shrug your shoulders as you offer him a tight lip smile, you had heard a lot about Jungkook even before you had walked inside the wizard’s home, like a reader of a slow-burning love story, you knew that ‘parenting’ was most definitely not the dynamic in his relationship with the younger, not with the way Namjoon had described the little mannerisms of his apprentice, or the way that he described his figure as the strongest back I’ve ever seen with such a tiny waist when he sent you a letter asking you to visit him.

The thing with the dynamic you had with Namjoon had been one going on for hundreds of years, feeding off of the magic that only such powerful creatures like you and him could conjure, effective yet dependent as when either of you two was in dire need of a boost, you would have to pay him a visit to work your magic. Jungkook hadn’t appeared after his little outburst, probably hidden in his room, taking only a few minutes of Namjoon glancing expectantly at the place where the younger had disappeared before you dragged him towards his room in an all too practised manner.

The whole environment was always on the calm side whenever you two get to it, something along the lines of strictly business, yet an undeniable connection between the two. Namjoon had you against his door, a dimly lit lamp on his desk, strong hands holding you in place at your waist as he leaned down to connect both of your mouths, eyes fluttering shut as he did so. Your hands found themselves tangled in his blond tousled hair in no time as he deepened the kiss, moving the both of you towards the bed as magic started glowing dimly within you two, connecting and feeding off of the spark of the situation, magic so profound and delicate that only immortal beings could hope to master. Namjoon placed himself against his elbows as you straddled his hips, your figure teasingly humping his growing bulge inside his pants as his breath started to become ragged, his own magic reaching forward to yours, just the way his lips chased yours. Yet there was only so much ominous Namjoon could handle. His hands were quick to undress both of you in between hot caresses and messy kisses as both of your bodies seem to move on their own accord, the magic itself doing the most out of the tantric experience, moans slowly but surely filling up the room as Namjoon positioned the tip of his hard cock on your entrance, teasing your folds for a few seconds before you settled on top of him in a familiar manner, sinking down on him as he throws his head back, letting out a groan. You are almost sure Jungkook could hear you both, yet your mind so clouded you wouldn’t have given it a second thought with Namjoon’s cock filling you up so nicely as you moved up and down on his length, that is until out of the corner of your eye you catch the casted shadow outside the dimly lit room.

"Your puppy is outside," You say as you stop moving on him, not quite removing yourself from the situation, yet you feel the magic in the room flickering faintly as if going dormant.

"What" Namjoon’s eyes are surprised as he lets reality sink in, his magic safely sated from the small act

"The kid that has an obvious crush on both you and me?” you state matter of factly as Namjoon’s jaw goes slack “He's watching us from behind the door"

As if on cue, there’s a rustling behind the door, feet rapidly resounding against the floor "No I'm not!"

Namjoon sighs loudly "JK just come in, I know this might seem.." the door opens and you could swear Jungkook’s eyes are about to leave his skull at the image he’s present with "weird"

"incredibly hot," they say at the same time, rendering both of them speechless

"huh kid's horny" you start removing yourself from Namjoon’s cock as your magic starts tingling, now reaching out for the younger "i like it"

"Y/N please"

You gesture by raising your hands as if surrendering, yet you know just how the night had taken a turn, willing to satiate your magic’s needs “He doesn’t like your PG training, let me handle this”

Jungkook is still sporting his Bambi eyes as he feels himself pulled into the room, closing the door softly behind him as he can only stare at you as you make your way towards him, lips ghosting over his “So tell me Jungkookie” your hand trails down to bring him closer to your naked body, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to your ass “Just how much are you willing to render of yourself for me and Joon?”

“All of me”

Jeon Jungkook might as well had been an erotic wizard like yourself if by the way he manhandles you and surrenders you to Namjoon like a loyal apprentice would to his master was anything to go by. Namjoon’s stare alone has the young man pliant as he caresses tan skin under his fingers, achingly curious as the youngest takes turns to kiss the eldest and yourself, Namjoon’s fingers playing with his nipples, your own hands working his length to life after your magic had completely undressed him, feeling both your and Namjoon’s magic reaching for Jungkook’s in a way you didn’t know was possible. A few kisses and lingering touches in, minds clouded with lust, kissing noises and moans taking over the space, Jungkook takes no time in positioning you on top of him, back to his chest as his length stretches you deliciously, long fingers playing with your clit as his own legs separate your thighs as if offering you up to his master, Namjoon looking like a man starved as he positions himself against Jungkook’s cock, his tip meeting no resistance as he glides in and nestles next to Jungkook, stretching you like no other time you could fathom, groans and ragged breaths of the men under and above you working you to your own climax, babbled words coming out of the youngest’s lips along with a promise of becoming yet another young god under your spell.

[whxreforsvkvna]

mirage errone pt. 1 || bakugou x reader

genre: Princess!reader x bandit!Bakugo, ft. Bakusquad, quirkless!au

warnings: all bnha characters are above 18+ (unless otherwise mentioned), multi-chapter, minor (and some major) swear words here and there throughout fic thanks to Bakugo

word count: 1.3k

prompts: in which a self-proclaimed good-hearted bandit group kidnaps the wrong princess

next

There were many things that drove you to be against your kingdom’s ruler. He allowed his people to suffer in the throes of hunger whilst he dined on the richest of foods with neighboring authoritative figures. He had raised the tax rates by another two percent at the end of last year, driving many into debt and despair.

There was one thing you despise most of all when it came to the king. Being in the same bloodline as him was enough to make the thought of ceasing her existence seem enticing. Being related to the royal family was one matter, but being the illegitimate daughter of your kingdom’s ruler was another, more forsaken, one.

This title given to you from the moment you were born was like a witch’s curse. You were bound to living behind these colorful, gold-rimmed walls with outsiders not knowing of your very existence.

Yet at this very moment, you couldn’t help but allow the corners of your lips to curl in the smallest of smirks as you witness Princess Bibimi’s current outburst. This had been the pot of gold you had been waiting for in your nineteen years of living in this forsaken palace. If the redness in your sister’s face wasn’t an indication for her rage, then the entirety of her bedraggled appearance made up for it.

“For my twenty-first birthday, I am obtaining a husband?” she scornfully spat out, despite the warning look her mother sent her way. “A husband? From one of our rivaling lands, no less!”

“It’s a proposition that is too beneficial for our country to not proceed with.” The king sighed for the umpteenth time. From your seat near one of the frontal pillars, you could tell he was beginning to form yet another wrinkle upon his whitening brow. “You should be aware of this more than anyone else, Bibimi. You excelled in your political studies.”

You were on the verge of drowning out the remainder of the conversation, seeing as it was going nowhere in favor of your sister. The king’s word was final in every situation he placed himself in, and he had no exceptions, even for his own family.

The princess pointed an accusing finger towards you, “Why can’t you give her away, instead?”

Your breath stilled for a moment, the fire in your sister’s eyes brought a cold shiver in its wake. Nineteen was too young to be married off in the eyes of the royals, and Bibimi was well aware of the advantage the younger had on her.

“Now, now,” His Majesty waved a hand in dismissal, “you know how useless that would be.”

Ah, that’s right. There was one other advantage you had over your sister.

No one in their right mind would want a bastard royal as the next ruler on their throne. This taboo of a situation allowed you to slip away from arranged marriages, and other political affairs.

Clutching tightly at the skirts of her dress, Bibimi begged for her early dismissal from their king. He agreed with little resistance, tiredly shaking his head as he watched her storm off. He looked towards your direction, taking note of you fixing your slouched posture.

“Have you any objections to the upcoming arrangements?”

“None, Your Majesty.” You replied in a small voice, avoiding his beady stare.

“At least one daughter is happy.” He mused as he waved his hand, signalling for your own dismissal.

You stood from your seat and curtsied before hastily leaving the throne room.

♛♕♛♕

You decided to reside in the privacy of your chambers that night, quizzing yourself with neighboring countries’ former hierarchies. Your time alone was shortly lived when knocking resonated throughout the silence.

“Your Highness, please pardon the intrusion but Princess Bibimi wishes to speak with you.” Your personal maid announced upon opening the door, her face contorted into one of fear as your sister loomed behind her.

Bibimi pushed past the maid and ushered her away from the door only to promptly slam it shut.

“What brings you to this side of the palace, sister?” you greeted her, marking the page of your book before gently shutting it.

“Don’t ‘sister’ me,” she huffed out, elegantly sitting on your vanity’s chair. She pauses for a moment as she picks up one of your many combs to examine its design. “I cannot believe he is doing this.”

Here we go, again. You internally heaved a large sigh.

You stop yourself from correcting her misused address to your father. Instead, you offer a gentle smile, “You’ll have two lands under your disposal once both Kings pass on.”

“I don’t want any of that,” she whined, setting the comb down. Her long lashes fluttered as she feigned a pout, “Not at the cost of my own happiness.”

“I’m sure you will grow to be happy with the Prince,” you offered., only to be taken aback by the harsh scowl directed at you.

“Have you no clue of what’s going on? I’ve just heard the first prince is missing. I’m being wedded to the second eldest. He is merely a man in this situation.” This was also news to you. You wondered if this information was being kept hidden from the public. “If the older one was to suddenly emerge, I will have only one kingdom under my command.” Bibimi went on for a final comment, “The second son is not as handsome as the first, as well. I would have been more content if it were a different situation.”

You felt disgust grip at you upon hearing her words. Rather than replying to the materialistic words, you stayed quiet and continued to listen to her rant.

“For the King’s sake, why couldn’t we have the arrangement with Mirio’s kingdom instead?”

“Prince Mirio Togata?” you echoed.

“Who else, you dimwit.” She snapped, seemingly annoyed. “He’s the only prince I’d willingly bed with.”

“Bibimi!” You gasped, taken aback by the vulgar phrase.

“Oh, shut up. We can’t all be saints in this stupid palace.” She rose from her seat, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on her dress. “I’ll take my leave now as it is no use speaking with you and that fake innocence of yours.”

“Take care,” you weakly called out to her as she stepped out the door.

Mere seconds pass before Bibimi is reeling herself back into your room, slamming the door shut behind her as she looks back at you with widened eyes. The shoutings of guards as they scrambled out in the hallway caught your attention.

“Bibimi? What’s the matter?” you slipped off the bed, stepping towards her. “What’s going on?”

“Stay back.” She hissed, fiddling with the knob’s lock. “There’s an intruder in the castle.”

“What? Will father be okay?”

“Idiot, this is no time to think about that man. Help me find some place to hide.” Bibimi left the door to start pacing around your room, scrutinizing places to hide in or under.

With your fast-thinking, you guided her towards your large wardrobe, “Quick, hide in here.”

You aided her in stepping into the wooden furniture and tried to follow suit but felt her hands press against your shoulders. “No, you can’t come in here! Go somewhere else.”

Her forcefulness sent you to the floor and you watched in a daze as she closed the wardrobe doors, sealing herself fully from the public eye.

You mentally cursed at her, wanting nothing more than to grab her out of there and slap some sense into her. But doing so would waste precious time you needed for hiding away.

You’re in the process of crawling under your bed when arms are pulling you upright and a hand is cascading itself over your eyes to conceal your vision. You’re thrown into panic upon hearing a gruff voice whisper in your ear.

“I’ve got you now, Princess.”

[6rookie-writer0110]

The stars are our safe haven

Lena Luthor x Reader

Summary - Lena and Reader for the first time in real life.

Lena is in her office and it's been a long day. She has been dealing with a lot and she is feeling stressed out. She looks at the time and it's late, Lena grabbed the Obsidian North's contact lenses and puts them on. She looks around and she is in the same location... She is at a cabin by the lake and she starts to set the chessboard.

“You are on time,” Lena said.

“It's rude to be late for our game. Should we start?” You said.

You and Lena never met in real life, you met her through Obsidian North online. You never played chess in real life because it didn't interest you. But when you met Lena that changed. She always beat you in chess and she would explain how she won.

Lena never saw your face because you have a mask on, she doesn't. Every night and on the weekends, you meet up with Lena to play chess and just talk. You never once took off the mask and she doesn't pressure you but she is curious how you look.

“You weren't online for long yesterday. Is everything okay?” You said.

Lena sighed “Too much is going on. I needed a break and I came here”

“We don't have to play chess if you don't want to. I know you would be scared to play against me” You said.

You made Lena laugh and she rolled her eyes at you.

“Y/n, you do know I beat you 59 times and you haven't won one game,” Lena said.

“That's not how I remember,” You said.

She laughed again.

“Let's start the game, y/n,” Lena said.

You only told Lena your first name. She does know that you know about her family drama, but you never once asked for a favor or blackmailed her. You and Lena feel comfortable around each other and have deep conversations with each other. Lena hasn't opened up to anyone in a long time.

You and Lena start to play chess, and she won the first game. Lena does know about your family and your life. Lena has developed feelings for you, she does wonder now and then if you would feel the same way as her. Sometimes she would doubt that you won't like her because of family and other things.

“How’s your work,” Lena said.

“They cut my hours... So I'm learning less and my rent went up” You said.

“Oh... That must be rough” Lena said.

“It’s life. It was my mom’s birthday so we bought her gifts and a cake” You said.

“Last time, I celebrated my birthday was when I six years ago when my mother passed away. The Luthors are not really into celebrating together as a family unless it's an evil plan” Lena said.

Lena won the game the second time. You and Lena play again, but this time you set the board.

“Wow, now that's rough,” You said.

“We can play one more game. So... Um dating anyone?” Lena said.

“Nope. I was interested in someone but it wouldn't have worked out. You?” You said.

You look at the board and you think about what to do.

“I am interested in someone... But I don't know” Lena said.

Lena beat you in three moves.

“How the hell did you win?” You asked.

She laughed and she starts to explain.

---

A couple of days later...

You had a rough day and you put on the contact lenses. Lena is there, she can sense something is wrong by the look of your eyes. Lena hugged you and waited for you to say something. You like Lena’s arms around you, you felt safe.

“I won't pressure you to talk about it. When you want to talk about it, I will listen” Lena said.

“Thanks. I'm not ready to talk about it but yeah, I had a rough day” You said.

She kissed your head, she isn't sure why she did it. But she thought you would get angry about it but you didn't. After the hug, you and Lena talked about something else.

“Y/n, I was thinking maybe we can meet in real life?” Lena asked.

“Are you serious?” You asked.

“Yes. But only if you want to, I don't want to force you into something that you're uncomfortable with” Lena said.

“Can I think about it?” You asked.

“Of course,” Lena said.

You nod and she gave you a small smile.

✬ ✫ ✯ ✫

You have been thinking about what Lena said about meeting in person. You start to get ready for work, put on your headphones, and left your apartment. You start to listen to a podcast on how to get better at chess. You have strong feelings for Lena, but you doubt yourself and think you're not good enough for her. You always feel comfortable around her. You are having a hard time, thinking about meeting Lena in person.

You put on the contact lenses, she smiled. You asked Lena about her day and she asked about yours.

“Lena, I think we should meet in person,” You said.

“Are you sure, y/n?” Lena asked.

“Yeah, I'm sure. We have been friends online for almost five years. Maybe... We can meet somewhere in public at a cafe shop?” You said.

Lena smiled “yes, we can meet at a cafe shop. How I will know it's you?”

“I will wear a plain blue shirt,” You said.

“Okay, we will meet at The Jolly Goat Coffee Bar, tomorrow at four?” Lena said.

“Sounds good to me, Lena,” You said.

You and Lena smiled at each other.

---

The next day...

You are at the cafe shop. You're freaking out and Lena hasn't arrived yet. You keep looking at the time on your phone over and over. A few minutes later, you felt a hand on your shoulder and you looked up.

“Y/n?” Lena asked.

“Hey L-Lena,” You said.

She sits across from you. She is feeling nervous and she bites her bottom lip.

“Sorry, I'm late the meeting went longer than expected,” Lena said.

“It's okay. I'm feeling really nervous right now” You said.

“Me too. But I'm happy that you wanted to meet and I got to see how you look” Lena said.

“I knew eventually the mystery wasn't going to last long,” You said nervously.

She nods.

“Should we order? My treat” Lena said.

“Yeah, let's order,” You said.

You and Lena are starting to feel less nervous. You love her green eyes and she can't stop smiling at you. You and Lena stayed at the cafe shop for a while, then left and walked around the park for a little bit.

✬ ✫ ✯ ✫

Since that day, you and Lena did meet up in person now and then. But other days, you meet her online. You and Lena still play chess together. Tonight changed everything

“Wow, y/n I can't believe you finally won a game,” Lena said.

You have a big smile on your face.

“To be honest, I have been reading books about chess, listening to podcasts about chess and I wanted to impress you,” You said.

“You wanted to impress me by getting better at chess? That is cute. Well, I'm glad I lost to you” Lena said.

“We will keep playing chess?” You asked.

“We would still keep playing, y/n,” Lena said.

You smiled but the next game you lost again. But you are still feeling hyped about the game you won.

----

Today is Lena’s birthday and you wanted to do something special for her. For her, it's just another normal day and she only told you when is her birthday. You bought a small cake, a cute gift and you surprise Lena at her loft.

You have been to her loft before, she gave you the code to the keypad. She didn't know that you were coming over but she is happy to see you. You follow Lena to the kitchen, she is drinking wine and working on her laptop.

“Close your eyes, Lena,” You said.

“Okay,” Lena said.

Lena closed her eyes. You take out the cake, place the candles then light the candles with a lighter.

“Okay, Lena open your eyes,” You said.

Lena is surprised by what you just did for her.

“Oh y/n, you shouldn't have,” Lena said.

“Lena happy birthday. I wanted to surprise you, hope you like it” You said.

“I love it. Nobody has ever done this for me” Lena said.

Lena hugged you tight and she can't stop smiling. She stares into your eyes and you feel her lips on yours. You kiss her back, she pulls away and she apologized.

“Y/n, I am so sorry I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Y/n, I like you as more than a friend... I have liked you for a while and if you don't feel the same, I hope we can be friends I don't want you out of my life” Lena said.

You are speechless about what she said. You try to say something but you just stutter.

“Lena... Lena, I do feel the same way I like you so much. But I feel I'm not good enough for you. I have a dead-end job, I can't take you to a expensive restaurant and I still live with my family... I can't afford to live on my own and I have two jobs” You said.

She gently grabs your hand.

“Y/n, I like you for who you are. What you did right now, I love it that you surprised me with a cake for my birthday. It doesn't bother me that you live with your family” Lena said.

You gave her a small smile.

“You should blow out the candles before the wax gets on the cake,” You said.

Lena kissed your cheek and she blows out the candles. You and Lena sit on the couch and eat cake together.

“Do you want to make it official?” Lena asked.

“Yes, I want to make it official. Like the cake?” You said.

She nods “its really good cake. Thank you, y/n”

You stay the night, later you and Lena cuddle in bed and watch Disney movies. During the movie, you and Lena start to make out but it doesn't go further. You feel her hand under your shirt on your lower back, she smiled and she keeps kissing you.

[yurimother]

LGBTQ Light Novel Review — I'm in Love with the Villainess

A stunningly profound, entertaining, and queer title that eclipses other isekai and Yuri series

There are few titles the general public seems to be as excited about as Inori and Hanagata's I'm in Love with the Villainess, as it has been sitting at or near the top of Amazon's LGBT Manga list for months and Twitter is consistently abuzz with the latest news on this isekai Yuri series. I was somewhat more skeptical, as I have had relatively poor experiences with isekai and fantasy Yuri. Still, my excitement went through the room, and I eagerly boarded the "hype train" upon the cover reveal for the third volume. Yuri families, where two women raise children together, are one of my greatest desires and something I rarely see portrayed in the genre. However, I still had mostly low expectations for the series going into the first volume. I looked forward to some light meandering comedy and typical boring trope-filled isekai shenanigans. However, I'm in Love with the Villainess more than exceeded my expectations. No, even this statement is far too moderate to describe how utterly stunned and blown away I was by Inori's creation. I'm in Love with the Villainess is completely shattering and easily one of the greatest light novels I have ever read. Thus, I have no choice to award a perfect 10/10 score, my first ever for a light novel.

After waking up in the world of her favorite otome game, Revolution, protagonist Rae is ecstatic to be faced to face with Claire Francois, the game's villainous rival. However, Rae never played Revolution for the thrill of romancing any of the three attractive young princes. She was always in love with Claire. She attends the academy and studies magic in the fantasy world alongside Claire, the princes, and various other supporting characters. Using her skills from the modern world and her encyclopedic knowledge of Revolution, Rae manipulates the situation to be close to Claire, becoming her maid, and garnering status and money along the way. As an inevitable conflict looms closer, Rea begins to enact plans to protect herself and Claire, many of which are not fully understood or explained until the finale fantastically reveals the reasons for her actions. There is a natural and steady pace to the narrative that awards readers’  predictions and attention to detail.

I'm in Love with the Villainess has some excellent supporting characters, all of whom have unique personalities, histories, and abilities, some of which are revealed by Rae's exposition and others naturally throughout the novel. However, the stars of the show are the central couple, Rae and Claire. Claire is an elite aristocrat and extremely bratty. She often sneers at commoners and makes her disdain of Rae very clear from early on. On paper, she sounds like the perfect villain and someone all readers would despise. However, Rae's utter devotion and infatuation with Claire is so sincere that we cannot help but be pulled in and adore Claire and all her tantrums. Rae is a delight herself, continually flirting and poking fun at Claire, which gets her verbally berated, much to her masochistic pleasure. However, she is also exceptionally cunning and intelligent, and some of the light novel's greatest joys are listening to her analyze a situation or watching one of her plans fall into place.

“Ah, I’m… Well, it doesn’t matter. I mean, it’s irrelevant to cuteness—because, Miss Claire, you are cute.” “Huh?!” She pulled away. It was perfect—such a pure reaction. “Miss Claire, you hate me, right?” “Of course!” “That’s fine. Please keep teasing me. I love it.”

The beginning of the book does not immediately clue one into its brilliance. Sure, Claire and Rea get some great one-liners as they bully each other, and the scenarios are authentic and fun, but it is nothing shattering. I was feeling pretty relaxed and having a lot of fun with the characters, their relationship, and the various slice-of-life style scenarios they encountered until one section, I remember the exact page, 81, as it stopped me dead in my tracks. I was flabbergasted and briefly frozen before shooting up out of bed, shouting expletives as I ran to my office to immediately record what I had just experienced. It all begins with the line, "Hey, Rae. Are you what they call gay?" What followed was one of the most thoughtful, condensed, informative, and nuanced discussions of gay and queer identity (both terms used in this scene) I have ever seen in Yuri. Everything from representation in media, the perceptions of and prejudices against gay people, and the role gender plays in romance for bisexual and gay people are analyzed. Its commentary is succinct yet so respectful and forthright that it could have only come from genuine experience, thus selling the book and its characters so much more.

"Queer people were still overwhelmingly closeted in this world, which was rife with prejudice and nurtured little understanding. As I noted, the queer people depicted in the story were either the sex fiends Claire imagined or the free-loving sort Lene had in mind. Diversity and acceptance were a long way off.”

Thus, Inori's writing's beauty exposed itself, and the book opened itself up to a delightful cycle. The narrative masterfully integrates isekai slice-of-life hijinks, like running a cross-dressing café or battling a giant slime with nuanced and challenging moments that dissect complicated topics. The latter mainly consists of a growing rift between the aristocracy and common people, mirroring real-world wealth gap issues, but the novel also touch on matters such as unequal prison sentencing and segregation. Every scene helped further the complexity of the characters and their relationships or else built onto the world of Revolution. Speaking of which, I'm in Love with the Villainess has some of the best worldbuilding ever seen in a light novel.

Initially, brief exposition establishes much of the world, which is adequate if not exciting. I will mark up to a casualty of the light novel's serialized nature, as it must present readers its setting immediately. However, Inori does not stop here. Through the narrative, new elements are established, such as a magic system and the kingdom's politics. Rea notes and describes how the world, while clearly based on medieval Europe, has many modern Japanese attributes, as Japanese game developers created it. Her pointing out the intersection of the two is fascinating. Furthermore, A great deal of time is spent establishing characters and organizations all have their own wants, agendas, and methods, many of which are not even directly involved with the story. Instead, they act as a background and help further contextualize others. For example, the Church publicly appears to lean towards supporting the commoners in their efforts for equality but has its own agenda of superseding the nobility. While they play little role in Rea and Claire’s adventure, they are one of numerous factors contributing to the unrest of the lower class. All these additions are interesting, and it never feels like the story or characters suffer for their inclusion, quite the opposite.

“The Bauer Kingdom had started a step behind other countries when it came to magical research. They dominated the surrounding countries in military strength, and this had made them complacent, leading them to underestimate the value of new magic technology until the best researchers had all been enticed to other countries. Even after the king came up with his magic-focused meritocratic policy, Bauer lagged behind.”

I can only make complaints by scraping the very bottom of the barrel. Hanagata's beautiful art is too infrequent to add much to the light novel, and many scenes crying for illustrations are left to the readers' imagination. However, Inori so wonderful writes the story that one hardly cares and can easily picture every moment with delight. Besides, the manga adaption will nullify this issue. Where I cannot complain at all is the spectacular translation by Jenn Yamazaki and Nibedita Sen, one of Seven Seas best (which is high praise considering the competition). Sure, I was slightly disappointed at first to see the adaptation left off honorifics, but the more I thought about the setting, the more sense it made. I am sure people much smarter than I gave the issue much more consideration, and I am happy with their decisions.

I'm in Love with the Villainess left me reeling with how pleasurable and powerful it was. The story and characters are such a joy, and I cannot wait to see Rea and Claire bully each other again in the next volume. Astounding worldbuilding and powerful, thought-provoking politics surround their antics and the high stakes plot. Every moment of their journey will enthrall readers as they squeal with glee at its hilarious set pieces or are shocked by its commentary of society's most significant challenges. Inori has created one of the most delightful, heartfelt, complex, profound, and genuinely queer light novel series ever. If you only read one thing I recommend this year, let it be I'm in Love with the Villainess.

Ratings: Story — 9 Characters — 10 Art — 5 LGBTQ — 10 Sexual Content — 2 Final — 10

Review copy provided by Seven Seas Entertainment

Purchase I’m in Love with the Villainess in digitally (9/23) and in print (11/10) today: https://amzn.to/32NEyG1

Supports creators by purchasing official releases.