#I have a 3.9 GPA I SWEAR

[monstersholygrail]

I just tried to microwave corn on the cob and it was the most terrifying experience of my life don’t make fun of me for worrying it might pop like a kernel if heated (it didn’t chat, we good. Twas delicious)

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 3 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake visits Jessica during her office hours again, and he's left wanting her even more than before. But when he hears that there may be more to her than meets the eye, he has to decide if his feelings are worth the potential risk.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"What are you doing?"

Jake glanced up from the scientific journal which was open on the cafeteria table next to his tray of lunch. 

"What does it look like I'm doing, Bradshaw? I'm reading."

"You're reading?"

"Yeah," Jake replied, smoothing out the glossy page as he rolled his eyes. "I know you were in a fraternity and all, but I still assumed you knew what reading was."

Bradley set his tray down on the opposite side of the table. "Joke's on you. I graduated with a 3.9 GPA."

Jake just snorted as he read the caption under the photo of an F/A-18 that had been taken on the deck of the USS Harry S. Truman. "And I had a perfect 4.0."

"Damn," Bradley remarked before biting into his sandwich. 

"Yeah, I liked school," Jake muttered, turning the journal page. "I still like school."

"Is this because of my wife's coworker? Professor Reed?"

Jake met his eyes before looking back down at the notebook he'd been scribbling some questions in. It was only Wednesday. Jessica didn't have office hours until tomorrow. He was nearly finished reading the stack of journals she gave him from cover to cover, and he actually did have some questions for her. Real questions about what he read, not just whether or not he could get her phone number yet. 

"Maybe," Jake replied cautiously. He had already looked up the cost of taking one of her night classes, but he wasn't about to admit to that. "I just like how smart she is. She wrote her thesis on military aircraft propulsion."

Bradley just laughed. "This has nothing to do with how she looks? Sugar told me she's hot."

Jake bristled a bit. "She is hot." He thought back to her mini lecture and how she seemed to be the only physics professor at the school who actually knew how to teach. Then he remembered how cute she was at Chippy's, talking about her subject of study with bright eyes and a smile. 

"Yeah," Bradley said, breaking into his thoughts. "I know how you operate. Each one is hotter than the last."

Jake closed the journal and set the notebook on top of it. "Doesn't matter. She still didn't give me her number. Probably thinks I'm ridiculous." He excused himself with his tray and the journals. 

And by Thursday evening, Jake thought he was pretty ridiculous, too. What was he doing here? He was really going back to her office hours with his notes on the articles like some pathetic puppy? Like he was actually a student with an assignment to turn in? But even though she didn't give him her number, she had invited him back when she wrote her office hours down. 

When Jake started up his truck, he had every intention of turning right at the gatehouse and heading home. But he turned left toward the bay bridge instead.

--------------------------

"Dr. Reed. I need help. These problems are hard."

The actual audacity that these students had was just impressive. They came to her office hours and whined about how hard the coursework was. And they did it all the time. 

"Physics is hard, Luca," Jessica replied, loosening her grip on her pencil so she didn't snap another one. "But it would be a lot easier if you attended all my lectures."

"Aww, come on, Dr. Reed," he moaned, sliding his notebook a little closer. "I had to go surfing on Tuesday. Hey, you should come next time. I'll give you lessons if you bump my grade up just a little bit."

"Luca."

"I was kidding," he mumbled, collecting his notebook and the packet of extra practice problems she had given him to work on. "See you next week."

"Bye, Luca," she replied, opening her office door for him. And then her heart started pounding as her eyes caught on the man who was leaning against the hallway wall opposite her door.

"Bye, Professor," Luca said before he set his skateboard down and pushed off with one foot. But Jessica was too distracted by Jake Seresin to remind Luca for the hundredth time that he wasn't allowed to skate in the academic buildings. 

"Reedy," Jake said softly with a tentative smile. She was honestly shocked he was here on campus again. For the third time this week. Apparently he took her note about office hours seriously.

"Jake. I'm surprised to see you here."

He just shook his head slightly and said, "You really shouldn't be."

Her blood felt too hot in her veins as he pushed away from the wall. He was all chiseled jaw, green eyes and immaculate hair, and she was once again left wondering what the catch was. The khaki uniform was back, just like Monday night, and she wondered once again if he came here straight from work instead of stopping home. 

"I'm here for your office hours," he added, taking a step closer to her. He was big and strong and a lot taller than her. And the way she just knew Jake would let her run her fingers along his pins just like she'd done with his patches was making her ears feel warm and fuzzy.

Well, this was embarrassing. She hadn't been gone for a guy this bad in over a year. Not since Brian Conley. But she couldn't even focus on anything else right now, because she was devoting all of her energy to trying to say something intelligent to Jake. Where were all of her quips and clever remarks? She must have left them at Chippy's on Monday night, because she hadn't heard from them since. 

"Come on in," she told him, and she left the note on the small whiteboard in the hallway letting anyone else who might show up know that her office was occupied. "What can I do for you?" 

She didn't mean for that sentence to sound so suggestive, but she noted the pink flush on Jake's cheeks as she closed her door and leaned back against it. He was close but not too close, and his eyes drifted down over her uninspired pantsuit in such an appreciative way that it made her feel like she was wearing a pretty cocktail dress. Or maybe even less than that. 

"You could give me your phone number." 

She smirked at his statement and at the soft Texas drawl. She went to A&M for four years. She could tell he was a homegrown Texas boy who had somehow ended up transplanted in southern California. Maybe a little out of his element, just like her. Maybe trying to forget and move on, just like her.

When her eyes drifted to what he was holding, she asked, "Did you read the article? In Propulsion Science?"

He glanced down at the stack of journals and the notebook in his big hand, and said, "I read them all. Cover to cover. I have some notes and a few questions."

When he glanced back up and met her eyes, she cocked her head to one side. "Seriously? You read all of them?"

"Yes," he replied immediately. 

She walked past him, letting her fingers brush the back of his hand longingly. When she took her seat, he was leaning on the opposite side of her desk with both hands and looking down at her. He already asked for her phone number. Twice. It was a bold move, playing hard to get with a man as handsome as Jake. But the steady rise and fall of his chest and his softly parted lips while he gave her his full attention was addicting. 

"Take a seat," she said softly. "Show me what you have."

He groaned quietly and pulled the other chair a bit closer, and Jessica soon found herself a little warm again. While he wasn't a PhD candidate, his notes on the journal articles were thoughtful and his questions were insightful.

"This journal of physical chemistry had the most interesting article on engine mechanics, but I must admit, I was a bit lost when they talked about the implementation of fuel combustion calculations," he said, holding out his notebook for her to take. "What's your opinion, Dr. Jessica?" 

This was clearly a man who gave great consideration to his aircraft and what he did all day at work. And that was hot. He was smart, and he thought she was smart. And he wasn't afraid to acknowledge either of those things. 

When she slowly stood, she could practically feel his eyes on her body. "It's my opinion that you should read this accompanying article." She turned toward her bookshelf and couldn't help but glance back at him over her shoulder. His gaze met hers right away, and she stumbled a bit in her high heels. She had to steady herself before she reached up to the top shelf on her tiptoes. 

"Allow me," Jake said, and the soft scrape of his chair on the floor was followed by his warm body just inches behind hers. "Which one is it?"

She thought about sliding out of his way. She considered that he'd have an easier time reaching the correct journal if she wasn't also standing in front of the shelf, but she didn't move an inch. "One with a blue spine," she whispered as he reached up past her head and ran his fingers along the journals.

"One of these ones?" he asked, moving his fingers very slowly along the spines from left to right. 

"Mmhmm," she hummed as his chest pressed against the back of her shoulder. He grabbed several journals with blue spines and gently took them down from the shelf and placed them in her hands. His voice was right there next to her ear. 

"There you go, Reedy." 

His big hand brushed her waist before he stepped away from her, and she turned to face him, ready to throw the journals across the room in favor of pulling him closer again. "But they're for you," she said, sounding a little bit out of breath. 

Jake was rubbing the back of his neck now, cheeks flushed as he reached out to take them back. "Right." His voice was rough, and Jessica plopped back down into her seat with very little grace. 

She cleared her throat twice before saying, "The one on the top of the stack has a great accompanying article that you should read. And if you really want to know about the calculations, I can show you sometime."

"I'll read all of them," he replied, eyes soft on her face as she awkwardly adjusted her glasses with the backs of her fingers. 

"I do appreciate a man who reads in his spare time," she whispered. It looked like Jake was ready to jump out of the chair again, and she kind of wished he would. Because she was currently thinking about crawling across the desk and onto his lap, and letting herself touch all of his pins while she tasted his lips. 

She jumped in her chair when there was a sharp knock on the door, and suddenly Jake looked even more flustered. "Come in!" she called out, but she couldn't seem to take her eyes off Jake. 

"Dr. Reed,'' came a gratingly annoying voice from her doorway. It was Dr. Leeland, and he was looking between Jessica and Jake like something deviously untoward was going on in here. But that's what everything thought about her, she supposed. 

"Dr. Leeland, how can I help?" she asked, smiling apologetically at Jake who was now rising out of his seat. Leeland was looking at him like he was trying to place who he was, and Jessica had to hide her smile. She kind of hoped he didn't recognize the man who called him out on his incorrect math during the mini lecture. 

"Need help with my printer," he growled, and Jessica was on her feet now, walking around her desk. 

"Sure," she replied as smoothly as she could with Jake standing right next to her. "I'll be right there."

She watched Leeland shuffle back out into the hallway before she looked up at Jake. "Damn," he whispered. "I thought maybe I'd be able to talk you into another three dollar beer and some peanuts."

She bit her lip and said, "He'll have me in there for at least an hour helping him, guaranteed. So maybe another time?"

"I'll be thinking about it all weekend, Jessica."

Then she reached up and ran her index finger along his name tag, tracing S E R E S I N before tapping his lieutenant insignia gently. And he just let her do it with the softest look in his eyes. 

"Yeah. Me too."

---------------------------

On Saturday night at the Hard Deck, Jake was happy to see that Bradshaw and his wife were both there. He knew what kind of beer she liked, so he flagged down Penny at the bar and ordered one along with his own glass of bourbon. Then he sipped his drink as he walked over to her. 

Jake smirked, because she never looked quite happy to see him, but she did accept the beer when he handed it to her. "Thanks," she told him, "but you're not usually this nice to me. What's up?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm.... nice."

She chuckled as Rooster walked back over to her after Nat kicked his ass at pool. "You're alright, Jake, but I'm not stupid. I know what you want."

"Sugar," Rooster whined. "You got another beer but didn't grab me one, too?"

"Jake got it for me," she said, pulling the bottle further away when he reached for it. "It's a bribe, but I want to hear him admit it."

She looked at Jake again with a knowing smile, and when she pressed the bottle to her lips, he said, "Fine. It's a bribe. I want you to tell me everything you know about Jessica Reed."

Bradley rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek. "I'll be with Nat."

"So?" Jake said when they were alone again. "Will you tell me? Because that woman is driving me insane, and she won't even give me her phone number."

"Yikes. You can usually seal the deal right away," she said, glancing around the always crowded bar. "I can count like four women here who you've hooked up with."

Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before he downed the rest of his bourbon. "Please?" he asked calmly.

She was quiet as she sipped her beer. "I actually don't know her very well," she said a little cautiously. "I eat lunch with her occasionally, because everyone else seems to avoid her. Especially everyone who works in the science departments."

This was puzzling to Jake. Jessica was the most interesting woman he'd met in a long time. She was even nice to Dr. Leeland when he asked her for help. He honestly couldn't imagine anyone wanting to avoid her on purpose. "You sure she's not just a bit of a loner by nature or something?"

But she just shrugged. "Come on, Sugar," Jake begged, using the name Rooster called her. "Be sweet, and just tell me what her deal is."

She laughed and said, "I like her just fine. I have no problem with her. But whether or not there is any truth behind them, Jessica is the subject of a lot of rumors."

"Rumors?" Jake's mind was immediately swirling. Jessica with her glasses and her high heels and nerdy journals and soft smiles. "What do you mean?"

"I try not to get involved, so I don't know too much. But something definitely went down between her and the head of the chemistry department. And I heard one of the other physics professors call her a slut behind her back."

Jake's grip tightened so hard and so fast on his empty glass, he was convinced he was going to break it. "She's fucking sweet," he growled. "And a damn better teacher than anyone else in her department. And nobody should be calling anyone a slut in a professional setting."

"I don't disagree with you," she said quickly. gently touching his hand. "But you asked. So I told you."

Jake nodded and said, "You're right. I asked. Thank you."

"Sure, Jake," she said softly, turning toward her husband. "And thanks for the beer."

He watched her walk into Rooster's welcome arms. He held her with a laugh while he juggled a pool cue, and Jake felt a pang of jealousy. He never used to mind being the one who was always single, but even he could admit that it would be nice to be around someone who was smart and funny and kind. And have them want to be around you.

By late Sunday morning, Jake decided he didn't actually care about any rumors where Jessica was concerned. He liked her. He could tell she liked him. He kept replaying the way her face looked as she traced his patches and pins with her gentle fingers. 

He couldn't tell if she was playing coy or toying with him, but he would stand there all day long in her office and let her do anything she wanted to him as long as she was looking up at him with that outwardly needy expression. And he wanted to touch her back, run his hands along her hips and pull her close, but he still didn't even have her number. 

But he did still have her San Diego State faculty profile open in his phone browser, and his thumb was hovering over her email address.

----------------------------

Jessica knew Monday morning was going to be a struggle. They always were. After a weekend of going out with friends and taking a luxurious Sunday afternoon nap, facing Brian for the weekly faculty meeting was going to be hell. But she got dressed, fixed her hair and put her glasses on. She made sure she was on time. She made sure there was nothing for anyone to complain about when it came to her. 

And just like always, she was sitting off toward the back of the small auditorium alone, sipping some coffee and counting down the minutes until the clock hit 9:00 and she could go up to her office. 

"Now, for those of you who are not on a tenure track yet," Brain Conley said, turning to glance at her, "make sure you pay close attention."

He was such an ass. Just such a handsome looking fucking asshole. Everyone knew that Dr. Nguyen and Jessica were the only two that statement applied to, and this was his first year out of grad school. He was like twenty four. But Jessica looked down the row of seats and smiled at Dr. Nguyen who smiled back while he blushed. And then she listened to Brian drone on and on about excellence in education and involvement on campus. 

By the time she made it up to her office, her coffee had soured in her stomach, and she felt like crying. But she had an hour to pull herself together before she had to teach Physics 103 to a bunch of lazy sophomores. While her computer started up, she opened the newest journal that had been delivered to her mailbox on campus and smiled. Maybe there was something in here that Jake would be interested in. Not that she really expected him to keep stopping by. He would lose interest.

She skimmed the journal index, checking out the article topics as she logged into her school email account. And the newest email right up at the top was from jake.seresin. She pushed the journal aside and squealed as she opened it up, shocked that he had found a way to contact her again.

Dear Dr. Reed,

Thank you again for your excellent journal suggestions. I've read them all cover to cover, and I'm a little nervous to tell you that I think I've become a bit addicted to the subject matter. I find it fascinating to learn more about military aircrafts in general, but visiting your office hours has really piqued my interest in many other things as well. 

I hope you don't mind that I plan on returning on Tuesday night. This time I'd like to try my hand at solving some of the physics equations with you. I'll bring a sharp pencil, but I'll probably skip the skateboard. You didn't seem too keen on that one, and I just find myself wanting you to be impressed by me.

Also, Jessica, this would be a lot easier over text, but I'll play along. For now. Looking forward to your office hours (and hopefully you are, too?).

Jake

P.S.- You should have seen how long it took me to actually type up this email. Your SDSU faculty photo has been continually distracting me for days, and I think I looked at it so long that my email timed out.

She screamed in delight. Jessica clapped her hands over her mouth, pushing her chair back from her desk, kicking her feet. She stared at the screen for a few seconds before she decided how she wanted to respond, and then she just went for it.

----------------------------

Dr. Jessica, we would all be kicking out feet, too! More than meets the eye with Jessica... Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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[eds6ngel]

I Will Always Love You

summary: this is the story of eddie munson. from the meeting of his parents, to the bonding with his mother, and much more. it's time to reveal what his life was like before hawkins, and why the term 'freak' has a deeper connotation than to just describe his appearance.

word count: 14.5k

warnings: fluff, flirting, pet names, make out session, allusions and mentions of sex (but no actual smut), unplanned pregnancy, mentions of birth control, mentions of religion (specifically christianity), virginity loss mention, self-doubt, arguing, mentions of contractions + giving birth, hospitals, emotional manipulation, swearing, criminal activities (stealing - hot-wiring cars), school struggles, physical abuse (to eddie and his mom), gaslighting, yelling, domestic violence, homophobic slurs, mentions of feminism, sexism and racism, mentions of leukaemia + symptoms, blood (cut on forehead), calling an ambulance/911, fainting, paramedics, mentions of IV + looking sick, death, grieving, panic attacks, allusions to autistic traits, bullying, trauma from experiencing death, mentions of drinking, police, social workers, arrest, jail, moving + travelling, 

authors note: hi everyone! this is my first ever fanfiction and i've decided to explore the backstory of eddie who's life got cut very short in season 4. there were multiple hints in the show such as having a bad relationship with his dad, living with his uncle, knowing how to hotwire, and having a lot of respect towards women that i decided to say 'you know what? this is never going to get explored canonically, so i'm going to develop this for the duffers!' there's a lot of heavy hitting themes in this which i've included in the warnings (i think i got them all but if i missed any, please do let me know!), so just keep that in mind whilst reading. i really hope you enjoy this, i tried my hardest to include a mix of both canon and non-canon (my own and others) ideas, so i hope it turned out okay! right, that's enough from me and onto the fic!

Evelyn Boyd: a woman in which was described as care-free, honest and kind-spirited by her friends. A country-loving girl one may say, her heart belong to the city of Nashville, Tennessee. Graduating with a 3.9 GPA, she continued her love for nature — working on a local farm just outside of the city, and doing her best to help anyone that needed it.

James Munson: your typical country boy from Mobile, Alabama. Growing up with his mom, dad and little brother (Wayne) in the heart of the county, he had a successful school life; his family was loving, creating a peaceful atmosphere when at home. In the summer of ‘65, he moved to Nashville, Tennessee to pursue the life of farming.

MAY 24TH 1965

It was a typical Nashville summer day; the birds were chirping, the sun shining and the crops growing beautifully. Most days on the farm were quiet for Evelyn, customers would come and go once in a while, but that was a rarity, once a week at most. But today was different. 9am on the dot, the bell rings, signalling the entrance of a customer, or so she thought.

“Hi, welcome to Greenfields Farm, how can I help you today?”

James stared at the woman with wide eyes, he had never seen such beauty in his life. Coming back to reality, he coughs and says “Uh, hi ma’am, I must’ve spoken to your colleague last week about working here, today is supposed to be my first day”.

She admires the way he talks, a thick country twang supporting his polite manner.

“Yes, John did mention you to me last week, I must’ve forgotten the day, excuse me! Come back here, I’ll show you around”. A wide smile graced her face as she led him to the back of the small barn, naturally making the young boy weak at the knees.

She has a spring to her step, her body language matching her bright personality: a ray of sunshine.

“Welcome to the farm!” she says as she outstretches her arms and displays the biggest smile, presenting her sparkling teeth. And at this moment, James thinks he’s died and gone to heaven as she lets out the most beautiful laugh he’s ever heard.

He chuckles, “It’s beautiful, everything is demonstrated so perfectly! I definitely chose the right place to work!”

She smiles once again, “Thank you, I try my hardest, but John makes everything look as neat as it does”.

He feels saddened by the girl’s lack of self-confidence, “Oh I’m sure that’s not true! A young lady like you should start giving yourself some more credit considering how hard it is to manage a place like this”.

She feels flattered. John would constantly belittle her with phrases such as “Pick up the pace lady!” and “Why do things always go wrong when you’re on the job?”, but with James, he made her feel welcome and appreciated on the farm.

A blush crept upon her cheeks, “As I said, I do try. Anyway, enough about me, how much about farming do you know?”.

The next few weeks at Greenfields Farm went amazingly. Word of mouth spread fast amongst the small town and they were getting more customers than ever asking about their fresh produce. Customers were not the only thing growing on the farm, James and Evelyn had hit it off almost immediately, the two sharing intimate memories from their childhood one moment before creating silly inside jokes only they would understand. But their mutual love for each other still remains a secret… until today.

The date is July 8th 1965, both Evelyn and James arrived at the farm bright and early to restock the barn. Today would be the day James asks Evelyn out on their first date.

“And over there you put the gree- yes, you’ve got it!” she beams, “You know, you’ve picked up things very quickly for someone who had little experience in this field — excuse the pun there”.

God, does she know how to make his heart flutter, “No need, and thank you, I learnt from the best!”

She lets out that gorgeous laughter than he’ll never get tired of hearing, “Oh stop it, you’re very easy to teach, great listener and communicator, say your girlfriend must love you!”

He froze. This was his shot, now or never. “Um.. I actually don’t have a girlfriend, well at least not yet. That’s what I was going to ask you actually”.

She looks up at him with the softest eyes, thinking: “No way is this about to happen”.

“Gosh, I didn’t think this was going to be so difficult”, he nervously chuckles, “Would you like to go out with me sometime? Like on a date?”. This is it, time for the stab of rejection from the prettiest girl in Nashville.

But the complete opposite happens, she beams, “I would love to! There’s this cool diner down in the centre of town if you’re interested in that sort of thing?”.

“She accepted?” he thought and shortly replied, “Sounds perfect! How does Saturday at 7pm sound? I’ll pick you up at your place”, he nervously awaits an answer.

“Sounds good to me! I’m not on shift tomorrow so after today, I’ll see you for our first official date?”

“I guess you will!”. Man, what was his life right now?

Saturday came and went, and so did the date, which was beautiful. 7pm on the dot, James picked Evelyn up and drove them to Danny’s Diner. Everything from the decor, to the food, to how they viewed each other was beyond perfect. Conversation came naturally to them thanks to their blossoming friendship and the date allowed for both to understand each other more intimately.

It became a routine for them; 7pm every Saturday, a dinner date, followed by some romantic gesture, and back home. Their first kiss came on the 3rd date. James took Evelyn to a local park in the centre of Nashville, secluded and quiet, it felt like it was them against the world. The birds chirping, the (frankly uncomfortable) picnic blanket scratching against their bare legs, and the taste of gorgeous fruits, picked freshly from their own farm. Their shared love language of physical touch was slowly becoming comfortable for the two of them; both laying their heads upon one another, the sounds of their breaths prominent in the air. Evelyn looks up at him, eyes pouring with love and admiration, thinking “How did I get so lucky?”.

James notices her staring and speaks up, “What are you looking at?”, a slight chuckle joining his question.

“Nothing, just admiring your beauty”, she says, a soft smile attaching itself to her face.

God, did she have a way with words. James stared back at her with an equal amount of adoration, but this time felt different than the others. Usually, there would be subtle flirting between them, typical compliments such as “You look beautiful” and “Looking handsome today”, but the physical closeness changed the atmosphere. His eyes divert to her lips, hoping this is the moment, something he’s been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on her two months ago.

“Can I kiss you?”, he asks, a wavering nervousness present in his voice.

She nods back, a one word answer that would change everything: “Yes”.

He leans in, one hand on her cheek, the other supporting her neck as he leans in. She copies his mannerisms as their lips connect. She thought that when people described kissing as “sparks” and “fireworks”, they were over-exaggerating, but oh how she was wrong. The feeling was indescribable, it felt like the world around her went silent, it was just her and him, the tall country boy who swept her off her feet just by existing. They bump noses as they part, a small giggle erupting from both of their mouths.

“Wow”, James lets out, a sigh escaping in relief of what just happened.

“Wow indeed”, she replies back, a gracious smile appearing once again, something he will never get tired of.

Both of them so caught up in the moment, they fail to notice the small droplets of rain landing on their respective cheeks. They look up to see the sky dawning a grey colour and a downpour beginning to start.

“I think that’s our sign to get going!” he shouts, as if the rain was a major blockage in their communication.

“I agree!”, she yells back, giggling at his loud demeanour.

OCTOBER 23RD 1965

Sex wasn’t something Evelyn had full expertise in, or any for that matter. Growing up in Nashville, Christianity was a religion that 80% of the community held, and very strictly. Her parents followed the faith too, which meant “No sex before marriage” was a value instilled in her throughout childhood and more prominently, her teenage years. Abstinence was taught alongside reproduction and conception, she still wears the purity ring her parents got her at 12 years old.

Evelyn wasn’t too sure where she lied on the religious spectrum. Sure, she believed in God and that sinning was wrong, but was everything that was written in scripture correct? If the core values of Christianity are love, compassion and respect, why were so many of the Bible verses judgemental of others behaviours?

“No sex before marriage” was one of the values she constantly contemplated. If she loved someone that much, why did a legal bonding and ceremony have to dictate when she decided to participate in sex? Was the mutual love and respect for each other before marriage not valid enough?

James on the other hand, was far from a virgin. He lost his virginity to Mary Rosenberg at his senior year graduation party. His parents still believe he was waiting until marriage, but James knew he was never going to live up to that belief.

Today was the first time James was coming over to Evelyn’s to stay the night. They’ve spent hours staying up late, talking about everything under the sun in the past, but James would always drive Evelyn back home before the clock struck midnight. But today… today was different, something new for their relationship, something Evelyn could’ve never imagined.

She ran to the door excitedly the second she heard the bell ring. Opening the door with great force, she leaps at him, pulling him in for a tight hug. Voice mushed by her face buried in his shoulder, she says:

“Hi darlin’, missed you”.

He wraps his arms around her waist, “Missed you too doll face”.

The night went like any other: Evelyn cooked a delicious spaghetti meal, sprinkled with cheese and fresh herbs from the farm. To follow, they sat on her green couch and watched “The Lawrence Welk Show”, but neither of them were paying attention, catching up on the week’s shenanigans.

“You know, I got to say you were my girlfriend publicly this week”, a proud smile plastering his face.

“Wait, why?”, she asks, confused on what situation that could’ve been brought up.

“Well, I was hanging out at the bar after work on Tuesday and some woman was trying to flirt with me, had to tell her I was taken by the wonderful girl sitting in front of me right now”, he replies, smirking.

She blushes in return, “Well, I’m glad you pushed her away, I know some of the women around here can be kind of… persuasive”.

“I would never have let her do anything, I love you too much for that-”. He freezes, not meaning for those three words to come out so casually.

“Wait, you love me?”, she says, a blush creeping onto her face.

“I, uhm, well of course I do, I just didn’t know when to say it. Like is now to early on or should I have said it earlier to reassure you-”

He never got to finish his sentence as her soft lips met his in a loving kiss. He falls into her motion as he grabs both sides of her face with his hands. They separate, both breathing heavily.

“I love you too darlin’” she says as she pulls him back in for another tender kiss. He places one hand behind her head, the other behind her back; her hands are placed delicately on his cheeks. The kiss begins to become more heated as James’ hand slides up the inside of her shirt whilst hers settle behind his neck, slightly pulling on his hair. He lays her down on the couch tenderly as he hovers over her small frame.

They both part for air, James breaking the heated silence by saying: “Sweetheart, if this is where I think it’s going, I don’t have any condoms on me”, looking at her lovingly.

She smiles back and reassures him, “Don’t worry my love, I’m on birth control, I trust you”.

Those last three words were all he needed to hear as he swept her up into his arms and took her to the bedroom.

NOVEMBER 13TH 1965

A week late.

Her period was never late.

Evelyn’s cycle was very regular thanks to her birth control. She’s never missed a day of taking her pill and was very aware of her menstrual cycle.

Which led to her one worry: pregnancy.

Although birth control has been widely accessible across the United States for nearly 15 years, it was still not fully reliable in preventing pregnancy.

A thousand questions began racing through her mind: “What if James doesn’t want a baby?”, “What if there are any complications?”, “How am I meant to financially support a child?”

James and Evelyn had not had sex since that night. It’s not that they didn’t want to, they were just more of a romantic gesture couple rather than a sex driven one. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have gotten pregnant from her first time.

She had no choice but to make a doctor’s appointment. Since James was staying around hers for the day, she left him a quick note telling him she was going into town, grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

They thankfully had an appointment free that afternoon. The doctor was very kind and instructed her through what to do and that she would hear back from them in two weeks with the results. Although thankful for the advances in medicine, two weeks was still a long time; much more time to overthink, and especially to blame herself for the situation.

NOVEMBER 27TH 1965

Ring, ring.

James picks up the phone whilst Evelyn is practicing guitar in her bedroom.

“Hello?”

“Hi sir, is Miss Boyd there to speak?”.

“She is, yes, I’m sorry, may I ask who this is?”.

“This is the doctors calling regarding her results from the pregnancy test she submitted two weeks ago”.

Pregnancy test. A fucking pregnancy test. A surge of anger rises in his body which he supresses as he calls to his girlfriend.

“Honey! There’s someone on the phone for you… says it’s the doctors!” he yells into the other room, teeth gritted with frustration.

Shit. She throws her guitar onto her bed and rushes into the living room, quickly grabbing the phone from his hand.

“Hi, yes, this is Evelyn!”, she speaks into the receiver, a slight tremble in her voice.

“Hello Miss Boyd, you’re expecting a call informing you about the results of the pregnancy test you conducted with us, yes?”.

“Uh, yes.. yes I am”. She avoids all eye contact with her boyfriend, who’s sitting on the couch, arms folded across his chest.

“Well I am delighted to inform you that the results came back positive, you are pregnant miss!”.

Pregnant. The word ringing around in her head like a deadly whisper.

“Um.. wow, well, thank you so much”.

“You are very welcome ma’am, I wish you a smooth pregnancy and pray that everything goes well for you!”

“Thank you once again, bye bye now”. She puts the phone down. A silence fills the air.

James breaks the uncomfortable nature with words she wished not to hear: “So, is it positive?”, showing an annoyed expression.

She take a large gulp before admitting the truth: “Yes”.

James stands up from his spot on the couch and makes his way over to Evelyn.

“’I trust you.’ That’s what you said to me! You promised you were on birth control and that everything would be completely fine, well look at you now, pregnant with a child neither of us want!”

Evelyn avoids his eyes as she spills out the sentence that she knew James would never want to hear: “What if I do want to raise them?”

He lets out a laugh, but not the one she came to love on their first day of meeting, no, this laugh had a much more sarcastic tone.

“You? Raising a child? At 19 years old? You’ve got to be joking! Evelyn, listen to me, you cannot raise a child. You do not have the strength in you to do that! You can barely lift 2 crates at the farm without asking for my help, let alone give birth and mother another human being!”.

Tears began to form in her eyes. This was not the James she grew to care and love. The James she knew would constantly congratulate and lift up her efforts at the farm, saying “You’re so strong!” and “You’ve got this!”. This James was an entirely different person. Someone she would not have associated herself with if he was like this the whole time.

“What did I do for you to suddenly belittle me like that? You’ve always told me how strong I was and how I was capable of anything I put my mind to. Why are you suddenly doubting my efforts as a mother?”, she says, tears starting to stream down her face.

“Well look at you right now! Crying your eyes out just because I admitted the truth! Do you think a good mother would do something like that? Did you ever think I was just being kind because there were customers around?”, he yells, towering over her small frame.

“So what you said was never true? It was all just an act to seem polite at work?”, she questions, the tears leaving stains.

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth!”, he sighs, “I’m going home, we can talk about this another time, when you’ve thought this through”. He grabs his coat before slamming the door behind him.

This was the reaction she hoped to have never happened; the self-doubt that kept re-playing over and over in her head, it was becoming a reality.

It took an entire week for James to even speak to Evelyn. Whilst working, the two ignored each other completely. Evelyn proved to him that she was capable; she didn’t ask for help when carrying crates or re-stocking the barn, she completed all of her tasks by herself.

Early one Saturday morning, Evelyn heard a knock at her door. As she cautiously opened it, outside stood James.

“Now before you say anything, I am so incredibly sorry. What I did was completely wrong, and there’s no excuse to justify my actions. You are strong, capable and beautiful, you always have been, ever since I met you 6 months ago. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in such a demeaning manner and I think I was just scared, scared of becoming a father. But I really do want this, I want to be in this baby’s life, I want to support them in any way I can and live up to the role model that my father was for me. I really hope you can forgive me Evelyn”.

She stood there in shock. After not even looking at her for a whole week, he visits her apartment to apologise. Self-doubt starts to run through her head again: “If you do turn him away, are you capable of raising a child all by yourself?”, “If he’s in the baby’s life, he could be an amazing father, just look at the way he’s treated you up until last week!”, “He said he was just scared, you’re scared too! His reaction to the news was just different to yours!”.

She takes a deep breath before breaking the silent atmosphere: “I forgive you James. I understand you were scared, hell, I’m terrified. But we need to get through this together, and if you’re in for this, you need to be in 100% of the time. I can’t have you walking out on me like you did last week”.

He nods, “I understand doll, I’m 100% in for this. I promise to not walk out on you again”.

She smiles in relief, “Okay, where do we go from here?”.

James followed through on his promise. Throughout her pregnancy, both of them continued working on the farm, and towards the end, James took on more of Evelyn’s shifts so she could rest in time for the delivery. At 6 months, James and Evelyn decided to move into a new place together: a 2 bedroom apartment, enough room for both them and the baby. James was a constant support; he took various trips into town to buy any food for her pregnancy cravings as well as buying all of the baby’s toys and furniture out of his own pocket.

On July 26th 1966 around 8pm, Evelyn started to feel contractions. These lasted mildly for 4 hours before James had to take her to the hospital in the centre of Nashville. Another 8 hours later and Evelyn was ready to push. After 10 minutes of pushing, a beautiful baby boy was welcomed into the world at 8:26am. He had a gorgeous set of curly brown hair, exactly like his mothers. He resembled her a lot, from his eyes to his rounded chin, the only striking resemblance from his father being his nose. They decided on the name Edward, Eddie for short, after Evelyn’s baby cousin who she admired dearly.

After two long days of recovery for his mother, Edward James Munson was brought back to the small plant-filled apartment on the outskirts of the city. His room was decorated with blue wallpaper, scattered with rocket ships and astronauts, with a wooden crib situated in the centre of the small room. A tiny bookshelf, a box full of toys and a playmat were also featured on display. It’s safe to say that Eddie would have a wonderful new life filled with love and care from his parents.

FEBRUARY 18TH 1967

Eddie was nicknamed by his mother “little rascal”, and quite suitably too. Ever since he learnt how to crawl 2 months ago, Eddie’s favourite pastime was to explore their single floored apartment, ignoring every toy that was in sight. Today, Eddie has decided to make his way into his parent’s room.

“Come back here you little rascal!”, she calming shouts as she runs after her small boy. She turns the corner and finds him mesmerised by her acoustic guitar perched in the corner of her and her boyfriend’s room.

“Have you found my guitar mister?”, she says softly. Eddie’s eyes are still fixated on the mysterious object as his hand begins to reach out towards the strings. “Oh, watch your fingers little guy, don’t want you hurting yourself. You wanna watch mommy play?”, she asks, a smile gracing her face in awe of the young boy. The way his eyes turn to her and glisten with excitement behind the chocolate orbs she gifted him give her confirmation on the answer. “Alright, let me play you a tune”.

She grabs the 7 month old and places him on the fluffy cream rug on the floor, thankful that her son can now sit up without her aid. She sits directly in front of him, guitar in lap. “My dear Eddie boy, today I’ll be performing a little song for you by the incredible Connie Smith called ��Then and Only Then’”, she announces in a presenter-like voice.

She begins to strum the chords to the song and an angelic voice escapes from her mouth as she sings along to the guitar.

“All that's left inside my heart is just your echo”

“And the tiny thread of hope to which I cling”

“But if I keep holding on maybe some day”

“You'll remember where you left me and come back for me again”

Eddie looks up at her in utter astonishment, he is so intrigued by the instrument and the sound of his mother’s voice. “Come closer my love, help me with the last verse”, she says, guiding the boy closer to her. She grabs his small hand in hers and guides it towards the strings. Holding the chord in place with her left, she pulls Eddie’s hand down the strings, making a beautiful sound. A small gasp comes out of his mouth, surprised at the beauty of the guitar.

“For then and only then will I stop crying”

“And this aching breaking heart of mind will mend”

“Not until I feel your arms around me”

“Will I be happy and I live for then and only then”

“And I live for then and only then”

As she finishes up the song, Eddie lets out a giggle, causing Evelyn to laugh along also. During this memorable activity, James had returned home from work and followed the sounds of the music. He was shocked to see his girlfriend and son playing the guitar together. But this was not a shock of happiness, more like a shock of irritation. He thought, “How dare she be teaching him guitar when there are toys such as trucks and cars which would much more beneficial to him”. He left the two of them be, deciding it would be easier to deal with the situation later on in private, away from the young boy.

It was 9pm that evening. Eddie had been well fed and gone to sleep for the night. James had to be up bright and early to work on the farm tomorrow, but he wasn’t letting an important conversation being left another day.

Evelyn was changing into her pyjamas when James began to question her.

“So, guitar huh?”.

She turned around and looked at him confused, “Yeah? You know I play guitar darlin’”.

He looks her dead in the eyes, “No, not you, OUR son”.

A confused expression remains on her face, “Yeah, he crawled up to it, so I thought I’d play him a song”.

He mumbles: “Looks like he was doing more of the playing than you”.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”.

He speaks more clearly, “I said: Looks like he was doing more of the playing than you”.

Evelyn begins to stand her ground, “And? Is that such a bad thing?”.

James can’t believe what he is hearing right now, “Such a bad thi- how is it not a bad thing? We bought him plenty of trucks, cars, boy’s toys to play with and not only does he completely ignore them all, but you enable that?”.

She begins to become agitated, “Because he doesn’t want to play with them James! I’ve tried over and over again, he just doesn’t look happy playing with them! Today was the first time in weeks I’ve seen him so excited to play with a “toy”. Could you not see how happy he was?”.

“You’re overreacting! He was mildly comfortable at best. I played with those cars with him last week and he was incredibly happy! You’re obviously not trying hard enough”, the words slipping out of his mouth easily.

Evelyn tried to keep her emotions in, but his personal insults hit her right in the gut. “I look after Eds five days a week. Every single day I try with those toys, every goddamn day, and not once has he looked happy. Today has been the first time in a long time that he has remained focused on something for more than 2 minutes. I can’t believe you’re doubting my efforts baby!”.

He scoffs as he sees tears begin to fall down her face, “And there’s the emotional woman again! You question why I doubt your efforts when any time I criticise anything slightly wrong with OUR parenting, because remember, it’s a joint effort, 100% you said, you start crying like a little girl. If we’re in this together like you stated almost 2 years ago, then I am allowed to make our son into a proper man, and damn well make sure you help with that too”.

The tears were flooding down her face now as she demanded: “Get out. I won’t have you insulting me, not again”.

He chuckles, “Fine, I’m off to the bar. Hopefully you’ll get yourself in check and be ready to properly raise our son tomorrow morning”.

He walks out of their room and slams the front door. She hears faint cries from the room next to her: Eddie. She clears her throat and wipes underneath her eyes before going to attend to her son.

SEPTEMBER 20TH 1967

Eddie had recently turned two, so James and Evelyn agreed it was a smart idea to upgrade to a bigger truck for their family of 3. This past week, Evelyn went and got a new key cut as an emergency spare in case one of them lost the original. She decided the best option was to store it in their safe. The two didn’t keep much in their safe, just some important documents such as prescriptions, Eddie’s birth certificate, and family heirlooms passed down through generations.

Eddie was pre-occupied in his playpen so Evelyn took the opportunity to leave her son for a few seconds to put this simple task out of the way. She typed in the code before opening up the silver door. However, something stored inside was very out of the ordinary.

Evelyn and James earned a decent wage between them. Enough to pay the bills each month and keep them alive and healthy. But not even a pay rise would equate to the thousands of dollars stored in their safe.

She began to take it out and count through the piles of cash: $5500. Her mouth spoke her mind, “What the fuck…”.

“Mama!”, she heard Eddie cry from his playpen, her two year old obviously unsatisfied from the lack of attention.

“Comin’ sweetheart!”, she yelled back shakily, piling the cash up as neatly as it was before and chucking in the key, before locking it back up and putting it back in its safe spot.

AUGUST 9TH 1970

As Eddie grew older, Evelyn knew that she was right to assume he was never going to be interested in trucks and cars like his father continued to persist.

Recently, Evelyn had started to notice James had been becoming more persistent in his parenting techniques, ignoring hers completely. He was so persistent that she agreed to take on some of his shifts at work, now spending 3 days at the farm instead of a mere 1.

Evelyn didn’t fully trust James’ suggestion to work more so he could “spend more time being present as a father”, but there had been no complaints from Eddie so far, who was naturally very open with his problems to her.

Today was Evelyn’s day to take care of Eddie. This upcoming year would be the final one before Eddie would be starting elementary school, something her mind could still not fathom.

Throughout the years, Eddie remained a curious and excitable kid, always “bouncing off the walls” she’d like to say. His father not so keen on this behaviour, the words “calm down!” being shouted a lot from him. Evelyn was much more open to his energetic manner, letting that side of his personality run free. Today was no different as she heard his tiny footsteps come running into her room.

“Mama! Mama!”, he yelled to her.

“Yes, my love”, she said, putting her book on her nightstand.

Suddenly, his demeanour became a lot more shy as he asked: “Can you teach me how to play guitar?”.

She beams with happiness, “Of course honey, I would love to! Why were you so nervous to ask sweetheart?”

He looks down to the floor, “Because daddy says it playing guitar is wrong”, a sad expression on his face.

She crouches down to his level and lifts his chin up so his eyes meet hers, “Hey, daddy doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about, this can be our little secret, okay? Daddy doesn’t need to know”.

He slowly nods, “Okay, mama”.

“That’s my boy! Okay, come sit on mama’s lap!”, she says as she pats her legs.

He jumps up onto her bed as she reaches over to grab the guitar off of its stand. He perches himself on her legs as she rests the guitar in front of the two of them.

“Okay baby, this guitar is slightly big for you now, but I’ll teach you the basics of what are called chords. I’ll teach you the chords to a song fresh in my mind called “Let It Be” by the Beatles, do you know them?”

He shakes his head, “No mama”.

She smiles, “That’s okay honey, the Beatles are an amazing rock band who use a lot of acoustic guitar in their songs, perfect for you!”.

Throughout the day, Evelyn teaches Eddie the basic chords to the song, checking on the time to make sure she can put everything back and pre-occupy her son with another “suitable” activity before James arrives home.

At 3:45pm, Evelyn and Eddie finish up for the day. Her boy is a fast learner, already managing to play some clean chords without duding a single string. Now her next job was to make sure Eddie didn’t spill their “little secret”, else she would be terrified of the outcome.

AUGUST 2ND 1971

“Alrighty son, put your shoes on, we’re going out!”, James exclaims as he ties up his own shoelaces.

“But why daddy?”, Eddie says looking disappointed as he stops playing with his toy truck.

“I have a very important lesson to teach you today Eddie boy which involves us heading into town. Although we do have to walk, so I hope those little feet of yours are ready for a trek!”

Eddie stands there, a forced smile appearing on his face, although his tone of voice still presenting as sad, “Okay, daddy”. He paddles into the porch as he puts on his sneakers before taking his dad’s hand and walking into town.

Evelyn was at work today, doing shifts on Monday through to Wednesday, leaving James to take care of Eddie at the beginning of each week, something he was very excited about.

However, in a few weeks time, Eddie would be starting elementary school, something the both of them couldn’t believe, but for very different reasons. For Evelyn, she couldn’t believe her baby boy had grown up so fast, but for James, he couldn’t believe that so much time had been wasted in his early years.

James took Eddie to the nearest grocery store, but stopped near one of the cars at the back of the parking lot. It was a bright, hot summers day, so many cars left their windows open to let in the cooler breeze.

“Alright son, I’m going to get in through the window and I’ll help you in afterwards okay?”.

Eddie felt this was wrong, this did not look like their big truck back home, and no car he’d ever seen in his life.

“But why are we getting in daddy? This isn’t our car”, he said, a worried expression gracing his face.

His son was smart, something he got off of his mother, he would have to lie through his teeth to get his 5 year old to believe him. “Don’t worry Eddie, this is cousin Carol’s car, she said to bring it to her as she left it at the store last night, now c’mon, jump in!”

Eddie reluctantly lifts his arms up so his dad can lift him in through the window. Now sat in front of his dad in the driver’s seat, his dad opens up the glove box and grabs a screwdriver situated there.

“Okay Eddie, grab onto my hand, and twist the screwdriver left”, he states to the younger boy.

He does as his father asks of him, but questions, “Can I tell mama we helped out cousin Carol with her car today?”.

James almost freezes as the plastic cover comes off, he takes a quick peak around the parking lot of the store, making sure the coast is clear before replying, “Oh no son, this will be our little secret”.

Eddie stopped as he had a flash of deja vu, his dad repeating the same phrase his mom once told him when he started to learn guitar:

“Our little secret”.

His father pulls him from his worries, “You with me boy? We don’t have all day!”, a slight agitation to his tone.

“Yes daddy, sorry”, he replies, snapping back to reality.

James ruffles his hair, “Good boy, now you want these two red wires here and what I’m going to do is strip some of what we call the insulation from these two wires okay? Just watch and learn for this part”.

Eddie watches his dad, still having a feeling of uneasiness in his stomach. “Okay, now twist these two orange end bits together very tight”. Eddie repeats his father’s commands, successfully tying the wires together.

“Good job son, now I’m going to strip this wire as well, this is called the starter wire”. Once again, Eddie watches his father strip the end of the wire, before he says “Okay now take the red wires in your right hand and the starter wire in your left, okay?”

“Okay daddy”, he says as he takes them in each of his hands.

“Now, lightly tap these two wires together, but be careful now, once you hear the engine start, immediately stop, okay?”

“Alright daddy”. Eddie pokes his tongue out as he lightly taps the wires together, however, he does not hear the engine start as he does this.

Five minutes later and Eddie has still not successfully started the engine. James is beginning to get worried, the longest he’s ever taken to do this, even as child, was a maximum of two minutes, not long enough to get him caught. “Hurry the hell up son, we don’t have all day!”, he says, beginning to raise his voice.

“I’m trying daddy, it’s difficult”, he says, a slight panic wavering in his voice, afraid of his father speaking louder than usual.

Another five minutes pass, still no sign of the car starting. In the distance, James sees a woman begin to walk in their direction, towards the very car they are perched in.

“Eddie, get out of the car”, he says, trying to keep his cool.

“But you said we needed to help-”, he asks worriedly.

“Get out the goddamn car!”, he yells into Eddie’s ear.

Scared for his life, Eddie drops the two wires and scrambles up to stand on the seat. James lifts him back onto the concrete floor before sliding back out the car window. He picks up his son and runs back home, hearing a voice in the distance yelling, “Hey! What the hell did you do to my car?”.

James unlocks the front door to their house. He steps into the front porch and puts Eddie on the ground. Before Eddie can run more than five feet in front of him, his father yells, “Get the hell back here!”. Eddie slowly turns around and walks back over to his dad, his eyes looking directly at the wooden floor.

James lifts Eddie’s head up, but it doesn’t feel like the same soft hand his mother uses, no, this felt rough. Before Eddie could even apologise, James lifts his hand up in the air before..

Slap.

Eddie felt a sharp sting on the side of his cheek. Before he could even process the pain, his father grabbed the collar of his jacket and brought him to his eye-line.

“What the fuck do you think you were doing back there?”, he screamed in his face.

Before he could even think, the words he would soon regret spill from his mouth, “I thought you said we were helping cousin Carol with her car!”. A few tears started to spill down his face, a mixture of sadness and pain.

“Oh man up boy, you really believed that? I’m teaching you how to be a real man, not some fairy like your mother is teaching you to be. Now next time, you’ll learn how to be faster, and not be some screw up like your mother’s side of the family”. He throws his son to the ground before storming past him into his bedroom.

Eddie sits there in shock. He slowly gets up, a pain shooting through the side of his body and his cheek. He walks towards his own room and closes the door softly behind him. Throwing his shoes onto the floor, he climbs into his bed and crawls under the covers. He lets out the loudest scream he could and balls his eyes out. How could his dad ever treat him like that for such a simple mistake?

APRIL 6TH 1972

It took Eddie a whole 7 months before he finally revealed the truth to his mom. He was off school for Spring Break, his dad taking him out to hot-wire another car the past weekend. His brain had sadly memorised the steps and he has successfully managed to hot-wire 3 cars in the past month. He knew at this point it was wrong, James took Eddie with him to trade in the stolen cars for thousands of dollars. He learnt how wrong it was when the teacher in school taught him the word “stealing”. Miss Dolly said stealing meant: “Taking something that wasn’t yours and not giving it back”. His dad did exactly this.

It was a lovely Thursday in spring when Eddie decided to tell his mother what had been going on, feeling it was a safe time since his father was at work.

“Mama, can I tell you someting?”, he asks shyly.

“Of course baby, you can always tell me anything”, she replies, a sweet smile gracing her face.

“Um.. when you’re working, daddy takes me to the stwore and he gets me to start cars”.

A confused look on her face, she says: “Start cars? What do you mean honey?”.

“I think it’s called steawing, taking someting that isn’t yours and not giving it back”.

James was taking him to steal cars? Before she can respond, Eddie continues, “And sometimes he takes tese cars to a guy and he gets lots of money for it”.

Her blood is now boiling. Her own boyfriend is not only stealing cars, but teaching their son how to steal them too? She keeps up a soft attitude for her son, not letting her anger towards James be brought onto Eddie, she knows this isn’t his fault.

“And how do you feel about all of this baby?”, she needed to ask him this, she needed to know whether Eddie thought it was right, whether he was told it was right.

“I don’t wike it, it feels wrong. I don’t wike steawing cars, but daddy tells me off if I don’t do it. I don’t wanna do it mama”.

Her anger for her boyfriend takes a backseat for a moment as a wave of sadness strikes her in regards to the 5 year old boy standing in front of her. He looks guilty, like he shouldn’t be telling her this. “Okay baby, I’ll talk to daddy later on okay? I’ll tell him you don’t like it and to do something else with you when I’m at work okay?”. She crouches down and takes his small frame into his arms, wrapping her arms around him. Evelyn hears quiet sniffles coming from her son, “Hey, hey, why are you crying my love?”, she asks as she strokes the boy’s hair and wipes the tears falling down his face.

“I-I’m scared mama, I-I don’t want daddy to hurt me again. He said it’s our secwet and n-not to tell you”.

“I won’t let him hurt you okay baby? Mama’s got you, I promise. You’re such a brave boy for me, so incredibly brave, like this brave”, she stretches her arms out as wide as they can go, making Eddie laugh.

“Now, wanna play some guitar before daddy gets home? You’ve almost mastered “Let It Be” baby!”, she suggests, trying to distract her son, and herself, before she lashed out her anger towards James later.

Later that night, Evelyn was storing her clothes fresh from the dryer as James walked out of the shower. She was going to wait for him to change before admitting to him what her son had told her a mere 6 hours ago. Eddie was pre-occupied in room with his toys, dragons becoming something that Evelyn found kept him entertained, a surprising approval from James.

“Honey, we need to talk about something”, she kept her nervousness to a minimum, avoiding to let herself becoming too emotional, she’s going to stand her ground this time, she’s going to do it for Eddie.

“Sure, what is it doll?”. Her favourite pet name, something she loved, but she was not going to let that get in the way of her goal: to get James to own up to his mistakes.

“Eddie told me earlier what you two have been up to whilst I’ve been working: stealing cars. He said he really doesn’t like it James. I know I can’t control what you do with your life, but I’d appreciate if you leave our son out of your hobby”.

He scoffs, “Oh so what? You can teach him how to braid girl’s hair and let him play with dolls? Let him act like a girl, become all soft, not learn any values of what it takes to become a man? Yeah, sounds exactly like your parenting”.

She keeps the tears in, she’s not letting him get to her this time. “I’m not letting you insult my parenting James, not again. This is what Eddie personally told me earlier today, this is not a result of me, he came to me. He told me he didn’t like it and wants you to stop taking him”.

“And why do you think he thinks that way? My father taught me as a kid how to hotwire cars and I never once complained. I realised what it took to be a man through that experience. You should be thankful it’s not something worse”.

Thankful? She couldn’t control her anger any longer, she was fed up of being the quiet housewife. “Is that why you’ve been hiding all that cash from me?”.

He looked her dead in the eyes, “What did you just say to me?”, he says with a stern expression on his face.

“I kept quiet for months, but I can’t hold it in any longer. I saw the stacks of cash in our safe. I wondered where you got all that money from in such a little amount of time, but I think you just gave me the answer”. She may regret saying this, but she had to tell the truth, her truth.

He towers over her, but she stands her ground, an angry look gracing her face. “You ungrateful little bitch! I’ve been earning that money through hard work so we could live in the city, away from this shithole and the first thing you do is complain about it?”. Evelyn remained as calm as possible, but the emotions could not stay in after what James did next.

Slap.

From the next room, Eddie sat up in his bed. He recognised that sound. The sound he had been hearing nearly every week for the past 7 months. His dad was hitting his mom. He jumped out of his bed and rushed into his parents room.

He could not believe the sight in front of him. James had one hand tightly gripping Evelyn’s chin and the other holding her hair with a strong grip. Tears began to roll down Eddie’s face.

“You think you own this house but you don’t! Everything I do with my son you complain about, but everything you do is apparently right! Now you have the fucking audacity to get angry at me for earning money that could get the three of us a better life!”

Slap.

“You speak about me like I treat my son like shit, but I don’t. I teach the ways of hard work and discipline, something that will get him much further in life than what you’re teaching him! You never take the fucking blame for anything and always pin it on me! Now you stop being an ungrateful brat and shut the hell up, or I’ll hurt you much worse than what I’m doing now!”.

James tugs harshly at Evelyn’s hair, a cry of pain escapes from her mouth. Eddie couldn’t stop the words that came out from seeing his mother in pain:

“STOP IT!”.

It’s as if you could see the fire burning in James’ eyes. He throws Evelyn out of his reach, her using her hands to stop her tumbling into the closet behind her, as he storms over to his son. Like before, he grabs him by his shirt collar, before raising his hand to deliver the hardest hit he’s ever thrown at Eddie.

“James stop, don’t hurt him-”, Evelyn cries out, the tears now streaming down her face.

But it was too late.

Slap.

“I told you this was our little secret, and you go spilling it to your mother! You should be ashamed of yourself boy! If I ever see you do one more thing out of line from what I’ve told you, I’ll hit you a lot harder, you understand me?”. Eddie is frozen in fear, he slowly nods, not wanting to upset his dad more.

James threw his son off of him and onto the ground, thankfully the landing being softened by the green rug on their floor. James walks out of their room and into the hallway, grabbing his jacket before spitting at them: “You’re both fucking disgraces”. A loud slam of the front door echoes through their small apartment.

Eddie and Evelyn make eye contact with each other before she rushes to her son’s side. He falls into her arms as she shushes him and kisses his brown curls.

“It’s okay baby, shh, it’s okay, mama’s here, mama’s here”, the tears still falling down her face despite putting on a brave and supportive attitude for her son who was screaming out in agony, a mixture of sadness and pain.

They both stayed in the middle of her bedroom hugging each other to death for what seemed like hours, recovering from the event that had just happened.

JUNE 14TH 1974

Evelyn really wanted to leave. If she could, she would. But with her only working 3 days a week, she didn’t have the money to just up and leave. As bad as it sounded, she relied too much on James.

It was currently summer break, Eddie finishing 2nd grade in May. He was having trouble fitting in with the boys, however, he had a few friends which were girls. Although, not many of the other moms were fond of this, trying to keep their daughters away from the curly haired boy. Eddie had talked to Evelyn about this, how he didn’t fit into school, only enjoying activities such as English and Art, struggling with Math and History. She had no idea whether James knew about this, but she highly doubted it, Eddie was fearful of his father, and rightfully so.

Now that it was summer, Eddie could spend a lot of time with his mom, something he enjoyed a lot, he was very attached to her.

“Eddie my love, I have a new song for you to learn!”, she shouts calmly from her bedroom.

“Coming mama!”. The boy was now a lot taller, reaching the height of her waist, and his curly brown hair reaching his shoulder.

“Hey baby, this new song came out recently called “I Will Always Love You” by Dolly Parton, do you remember me showing you her other song “Jolene” not too long ago?”, she asks politely.

“Yes mama, the one that goes ‘Jolene, I’m beggin’ of ya please don’t take my man’?”

“That’s the one honey! C’mon, I recently bought the vinyl of the album, take a listen to the song!”.

Evelyn recently discovered that not only did Eddie have a gift for playing the guitar, but also singing, two talents that fit together very nicely. Eddie was also learning how to play songs from listening to the song, rather than Evelyn telling him.

“I’m going to give you a helping hand to start, the capo goes on the 2nd fret”.

The boy smiles as she places the capo on the guitar, “Okay, thank you mama!”.

“You’re welcome honey”. Eddie was also a particularly fast learner, especially with songs like this that had a repetitive chord pattern throughout.

It took Eddie a mere hour to figure out the songs had a mere 4 chords, and only switched pattern during the chorus. He mastered the song pretty much instantly, and was learning the words also.

“I’m assuming you like the song baby?”.

“I love it mama! Can I listen to the whole album soon?”, he asks.

“Of course my love, we can listen to it tomorrow if you would like?”.

“Yes please mama!”, he exclaims, excitedly moving his body slightly up and down.

She giggles, “Okay, okay, we’ll do that. For now though, how about you play the chords and I sing, yeah?”.

“Okay mama!”, he gets comfortable and begins to play the intro of the song.

“If I should stay”

“Well I would only be in your way”

“And so I'll go, and yet I know”

“I'll think of you each step of the way”

Evelyn puts on the thickest country accent she can as the final verse hits.

“And I hope life, will treat you kind”

“And I hope that you have all

That you ever dreamed of”

“Oh I do wish you joy”

“And I wish you happiness”

“But above all this

I wish you love”

She addressed that entire verse to Eddie. Despite this being a love song, she felt it as familial love towards her son, her one and only.

“I will always love you”

Eddie strums the final chord as Evelyn begins clapping, cheering on her son for his achievement. This will always be her favourite bonding activity with her son, no matter what age he is. Whether it was when he was 7 months old, sitting on her lap listening to her play Connie Smith or when he’s 20, playing a future country superstar’s song on his own guitar she will eventually buy him.

MARCH 6TH 1975

Eddie had no choice but to tell his dad his school issues. His mom now working Saturday through to Wednesday, the only time he was alone with her was a mere 2 hours after school on Thursdays and Fridays. James did not take lightly to Eddie letting him know he was having trouble making friends, addressing the problem with a hit to the face and a classic “man up”.

Which led to James blaming this problem on Evelyn.

“So, wanna address why our son told me earlier today he has made a grand total of zero friends at school?”, he says with a monotone voice.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware that he hasn’t my love I’ll-”, she was cut off by him.

“I mean I wouldn’t want to be either if I saw what his mom looked like. I mean you’re not setting the greatest example for the kid are you? Between the way you present yourself and the way you’ve raised him no wonder he’s all alone”.

“Why is it always my fault?” she wondered before replying, “You do the school run most of the time James, so how is this my fault?”.

He huffs, “Disgusting looking people are more memorable than the neat ones, easier to remember your face than mine”.

Disgusting.

“You think I’m disgusting?”, she says softly. She’s been practicing to keep her emotions in check around James. She knows she shouldn’t have to, but the fear of what the outcome could be was worth it.

He chuckles, “Oh come on, you know I don’t mean it like that. I’m just sayin’ you arriving at the school covered in dirt and sweat, your hair sticking to your face, compared to me who goes home and showers before thinking of picking up the kid, it makes an everlasting impression of the young boy”.

That look was the one he fell in love with almost 10 years ago. Young farm girl Evelyn with a messy bun and overalls covered in soil. Now it was the main problem for her son’s happiness. Whatever she did, it was wrong in his books. It may have been correct at one point in time, but it would never be now.

“Just a thought sweetheart. How about you try it out and see if it makes the difference hmm?”. He may have posed it as a question, but it was a demand. She wasn’t going to do it. Not at all. She’d shower after she brought Eddie back home to present to James she was a fresh face picking him up. She’d give Eddie some advice herself. Some good advice.

NOVEMBER 9TH 1975

Being a mother and working 5 days a week was taking a great toll on Evelyn. Sure this was what most mothers did now, after the fight for feminism gave women more freedom to go out and work, but something felt off for her.

A couple hours of working a day and Evelyn would get the biggest headaches. She’d get really hot, even though the temperatures were currently dropping leading into the winter months. By the end of each day, she’d be exhausted, and yet she still took care of Eddie after school, made sure he was fed, put to sleep, his typical routine, before repeating the same actions for herself.

Speaking to James about her problems was a nightmare. All he told her was she was “being lazy” and to “work harder”. With both of them working together on the farm some days, she had no choice but to act healthier than she was, following the “advice” she just so wishes she could ignore. And even on the days he wasn’t with her, she had to make sure all the work was complete, else all she would get is complaints and harm from her boyfriend.

She went to the doctor one Thursday, telling him about her symptoms. The advice she was given was extremely counter-productive, the man just complaining that it was due to exhaustion, even throwing in a few of his viewpoints about women belonging in the home.

She realised she had no one to turn to. Her own boyfriend dismissing her issues, her doctor overlooking her worries in favour of his opinions on women’s role in society, and her main source of comfort being way too young to understand.

She was alone. Her only option was to pray to God it was nothing too serious, and that it would soon fade away.

FEBRUARY 26TH 1976

Everything seemed to get worse as the months went on. Even on the days she was able to rest, she felt exhausted. Like today.

Despite her restlessness, she kept up the energy to pick up her 9 year old son from school. Everything felt safer when he was around. Even if she wanted to just fall asleep, she wouldn’t dare miss the sound of her son’s excitement and laughter as he told her about what happened at school that day. Luckily, Eddie had managed to make some friends over the last year. Mostly girls, something James was not fond of, but as long as he was happy, Evelyn didn’t mind if they were girls or boys.

She was chopping up fresh vegetables from the farm for their soup as her son rambled about his day. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her head, one stronger than she’s ever felt before.

“Sorry to interrupt you baby, but can you take over for a second?”, she asks politely, trying to mask the immense amount of pain she was in.

“Sure mom, are you okay?”, he asks, a concerned expression on his face as he takes the sharp knife from her hand.

Her vision is starting to become blurry as she makes her way over to the table, “I’ll be fine baby, just give me a minute”.

Not even able to chop one tomato, he hears a loud thump on the floor. He quickly turns around to see his mom lying on the floor, eyes closed.

“MOM!”, he shouts as he rushes over to her side. He breaths heavily as she lays there lifeless. He puts his knowledge from health class to the test and finds her pulse.

It’s beating.

He thanks the Lord. However, a cut on her forehead begins to bleed. A lot. He knew his dad would most likely not come home for this, so his only other option was to call 911.

Reluctant to leave her side, he rushes to the other side of the kitchen and picks the phone up off its stand. He quickly dials the number and a voice immediately speaks through the other end.

“911, what’s your emergency?”.

Breathe, Eddie, breathe. “Hi, um, my mom just fell on the floor. She’s alive, I could feel her pulse, but she’s not waking up. Also there’s a cut on her head and it’s bleeding, like a lot. I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do”.

The man on the other end reassures him, “Don’t apologise son, you did the right thing. Now can you tell me your address? We’ll send an ambulance once you tell us, but we want you to stay on the phone okay? Tell me when you hear a knock on the door and that’ll be them. I’ll then let you go and the paramedics can take over okay? So again, what’s your address?”

Address, stay on the phone, knock on door, put phone down. “Uh yeah, it’s um, 24 **Ashland Lane, it’s kind of in the middle of nowhere, I know that’s probably not an issue, but uh, I’m just really scared”. His voice begins to quiver. “She’s been feeling more tired recently, been getting random nosebleeds and headaches. She went to the doctors but they just said it was exhaustion due to her working so much and being a mom, but it has to be more than that. Sorry, I’m rambling, it’s just I know something isn’t right, it hasn’t been right for months”. Tears are streaming down his face at this point.

“You’re okay son, take a deep breath for me. The ambulance is on its way, just keep talking to me okay? Now about the cut on her forehead, have you put anything on it to stop the bleeding?”.

He didn’t even think about that, he just left his mom to bleed out. His level of panic increases. “Uh, no, I forgot, I’m sorry! The phone is all the way over the other side of the kitchen from her so I can’t get to her without leaving you which I know you don’t want me to do!”.

“It’s alright son. What I want you to do is just put the phone to the side for me, don’t put it down, grab a cold washcloth and put it on her head okay? Come back to me once you’ve done that”.

Cold washcloth. “Yes, okay, I got it”, he says before gently putting the phone on the table and running over to the sink to get the washcloth. Once wet, he places it on her forehead. He applies a little bit of pressure, before attending back to the phone.

“Okay, I’ve put the cold cloth on her head”.

Another 10 minutes went by before he heard a knock on the door. Once the dispatcher let him go, he rushed over to the door and directed the paramedics to his mom, still laying still on their kitchen floor. They lifted her onto the stretcher and put her in the ambulance, Eddie joining her in the back.

He hopes everything is okay and that it is just exhaustion, but his mind is telling him it’s something much worse.

MARCH 11TH 1976

Leukaemia.

He shouldn’t be beating himself up over not recognising the symptoms, he was 9 for God’s sake, but it was eating him alive knowing something was wrong, and yet he did nothing.

Ring ring.

“Hello?”, James picked up the phone before Eddie could.

“Hi, Mr. Munson, it’s the hospital here. I’m afraid Evelyn’s health has rapidly declined over the last 24 hours and we are sad to say that we don’t think she’s going to make it another day. I would suggest you and whoever wishes to say their farewells do so in the next few hours”.

He looks over to his son who is reading a book, Lord of the Rings to be exact. If he wants his kid to somewhat behave, he couldn’t deny him seeing his own mother for the last time, no matter how much he wanted not to.

He sighs before replying, “Okay, thank you, our son and I will be right over”. He puts the phone down before making his way over to his son. This was going to be hard to break, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to do it, that’s the nurse’s job.

“Eddie my boy, we’re going to the hospital”, he said bluntly.

He looks up from the book he is engrossed in, putting the bookmark in its place, “What? Is everything okay with mom?”, he asks worriedly.

He has to get Eddie there before it’s too late, else everything will be a lot worse for him to handle.

“No time for questions son, get your shoes on”.

The drive to the hospital was silent, Eddie afraid if he asked anything about his mom, he could suffer the consequences.

They pulled up in the parking lot in their truck, Eddie hopping out before almost running to the front doors.

Once they enter the building, James states their names and relations to Evelyn.

“Room 205 sir, down the end of the hall”, the front desk assistant replies.

“Thank you ma’am”.

Eddie opens the front door into the room. His mom laying on a bed, multiple wires hooked into her arm, connected to different liquids flowing through her veins. Her skin was pale, like a ghost, much worse than when Eddie last visited her, a mere two days ago. He wishes he could’ve visited everyday, maybe he would’ve noticed her quick downfall if he saw how she was yesterday, but with James preventing that, he knew there was nothing he could do.

His voice immediately quivers. He expects a stern talking to later from his dad, probably a few hits to the face, but he couldn’t care less right now, all his attention was on his mom.

He crouches down beside her bed, grabbing onto her hand. It was no longer the soft hand that used to stroke his hair for the past 9 years of his life, now it was all dry and cracked. Her eyes were barely open, a huge scab across her forehead from where she fell over 2 weeks ago.

She croaks out, “Hey baby boy”.

Her voice is extremely weak. He notices the multiple empty water bottles on the side of the table, no amount of hydration was going to resolve any issues. This was it.

He chokes on his own tears, “Hi mom”, he lets out a weak smile.

“How was school today?”. The same four words she repeated almost every day she picked him up.

“It was good”, he replied. He kept it brief, not wanting to just speak about himself for her last moments.

She lifts her hand to cup his cheek, “No baby, tell me all about it”.

He swallowed and debated whether he should be completely honest, knowing he can ramble on for hours. “I-I played with Jennifer today at r-recess, w-we played tag, a-and then we did some art, I m-made a beautiful drawing mom, I’ll g-give it to you when I next visit okay?”. He knew there would be no other visit.

And so did she, but she replied sincerely, “I can’t wait to see it baby, I’m sure it’s amazing as always”.

He giggled and she hummed, the closest sound she could make to a genuine laugh.

“And now, on its 2 year anniversary, here’s Dolly Parton with ‘I Will Always Love You’”, the faint sound of the radio could be heard by the both of them. They locked eyes, Eddie taking the hint and moving the dial to raise the volume.

“Sing for me baby”. He could never deny his mom’s request.

“And I will always love you”

“I will always love you”

He sang softly, his mom weakly joining in.

“Bitter-sweet memories”

“That's all I'm taking with me”

“Good-bye, please don't cry”

Those lyrics hit differently for the both of them now, and they knew it. What was once a sweet country song now had the biggest metaphor for her life.

“And I hope life, will treat you kind”

“And I hope that you have all

That you ever dreamed of”

“Oh I do wish you joy”

“And I wish you happiness”

“But above all this

I wish you love”

His mind is transported back to 2 years ago, his mom repeating the same words, clear as day. He would’ve never thought his mom would have to wish him that as she lay there in hospital taking her last breaths.

“I will always love you”

She barely breathes out the final line of the song, the final chord of the song being strummed, as she announces:

“Goodbye baby boy”, a weak smile gracing her lips before she closes her eyes.

A long and loud beep could be heard throughout the entire room.

Everything flashed before his eyes: nurses rushing in checking her heartbeat and pulse, the screams ripping from his own mouth, his dad holding him back away from the bed, practically wrestling him. He continued fighting, ears feeling clogged up before he clearly heard the words:

“Evelyn Jane Boyd. Time of death: 18:24”.

“No!”, he screams, “Do something! Please!”, he knew it was no use, but he couldn’t stop the words pouring out.

“I’m so sorry for your loss sir”, the nurse turned and directed towards James.

He completely ignored her, wrestling the boy in his arms and dragging him out from behind the curtain.

“Let’s go son!”, he shouted right into Eddie’s ear.

Eddie continued to fight against his dad, and knowingly failed. His breathing was uneven, tears staining his round cheeks, arms punching his dad’s.

It felt like a blur, a bad nightmare, and all he needed was someone to wake him up.

He knew it would happen as soon as he got in the front door. Five hits to the face.

“Your mother is dead boy, DEAD, all because you have behaved like a little brat since the day you were born. Learning a useless fucking instrument instead of learning how to defend yourself, making friends with girls, probably playing dolls and dress up with them in class, ignoring every single fucking toy we bought you, making your mother waste her time and energy to buy you new ones. All of this, the tiredness, the headaches, the weakness, is because of you, and you should feel extremely ashamed to bring death on your own mother”.

He knew it wasn’t his fault. She raised him amazingly, made him feel safe, warm, loved, the complete opposite of what his father provided him. He should keep his mouth shut, but he wasn’t going to let his father blame his mother’s passing on him, no way in hell.

“This is not my fault! Mom was exhausted from caring for me and working, working way too much. I’m not going to let you blame this on me. Mom died less than an hour ago and you haven’t even let me mourn her before yelling and hitting me, trying to make me feel as if I’m the reason for this. I’m not, and I never will be”.

James was shocked at his son’s reply, stunned even. Never in his life had Eddie talked back to him with such force, he was at a loss for words.

“You continue thinking that son. I can’t be dealing with your disgusting behaviour and tone right now, not after what just happened. Just fuck off and go to your room”.

He should’ve fought back, he should gave him the biggest smack of his life for the attitude his son just gave to him, but he couldn’t. He was turning weak, letting his son tread all over him like a piece of meat. He’d have to bring it harsher punishments, restrictions. He won’t let his son speak to him that way again.

Eddie practically fell face first into his mattress, sobbing into the sheets. He threw his denim jacket over to the other side of his room, not caring that it knocked over his stack of books. He hit anything he could, his bed, his arms, his head, anything in reach. He had never felt so much pain in his life.

He cried himself to sleep that night. He couldn’t care about his routine, it brought back to many memories of his mom helping him. He did the only activity she was never there for: sleeping.

MARCH 18TH 1976

Freak.

It took one week before three boys in Eddie’s class started using that word on him. Word spreads fast around a small town, and between the lack of Eddie’s mother picking him up from school and various customers of the farm asking where Evelyn was, it was bound to be found out by everyone quickly, including kids.

He was just minding his own business during recess, his friend Jennifer hanging out with her girl friends today (not knowing that she was in fact ignoring him after she found out about his mom), so he was all alone. Perched on a bench at the side of the playground finishing up his copy of “Lord of the Rings”, feeling content, something he had not felt much of this past week, until those boys snatched the copy from his hand.

“Whatcha got there, freak?”, one of them aimed their comment at him.

“Look at how many words are in this thing! What a freakin’ nerd”, another remarked, the three of them laughing together.

A sad frown appeared on his face as he reached out to grab his book back, “Can you just give it back please?”, tears threatening to spill down his face. It didn’t take much to set him off these days.

“Aww, gonna go cry to your mommy? Oh wait, you don’t have one no more”, they hollered and sniggered at him. He was in so much shock. Sure, he never had many friends, but nobody treated him like this, let alone targeted him due to his mom’s passing.

They threw his book down onto the muddy floor and ran off laughing. Eddie picked it up, tears streaming down his face. The pages were redeemable, but not for a few hours, he have to let it dry first, unable to read the words at this moment. He left the page open next to him, brought his knees up to his chest, and sobbed violently.

JUNE 7TH 1978

Eddie hadn’t opened his report card yet, but he knew it would be bad. Middle school was not treating him lightly, and with grief still hitting him like a truck, his grades slipped, a lot. He was never the brighest student, struggling with Math and History; his mom used to help him with those two subjects, keeping his grades steady at a C+. But now even subjects he used to enjoy, such as English and Art, were slipping.

He couldn’t focus on anything, the trauma from his mom’s death still haunting him two years later. All of his teachers at the last parent-teacher conference repeated the same eight words to his dad: “Eddie just needs to try a little harder”. And boy did he try. He really did. But nothing in the world could make him focus on the boring words of his math teacher drowning on about algebra.

He knew he most likely flunked every class, the highest he probably got was a D in Art, and that was mainly due to the fact that he could draw, he just didn’t draw what the teacher wanted. Why would he wanna practice watercolour when he could do some detailed drawings of wizards and dragons?

He heard the front door slam, signalling his dad’s arrival home. The past two years had not been easy on Eddie, his dad still holding a grudge against him for apparently causing his mom’s death. He knew he was gonna get beat again in the next 10 minutes, but he had gotten used to the pain now. It wasn’t nice, he knew it was wrong, but no amount of fighting back would solve the issue, in fact, it would just make it ten times worse. So he let it happen.

“Um, dad? I received my report card today”, he looked up at him ready for his constant angry reaction. Eddie could not wash a plate properly at this point and a red mark would be on his face.

“Well, let’s see if it’s any better than when I last spoke to your teachers.. I highly doubt it”, he spat at him, another insult.

Not even two seconds later and his dad’s hands were holding him by the collar of his plaid shirt.

“What the fuck do you think this is?”, he yelled at him.

Eddie scanned the paper: an F in every subject.

“I-I’m sorry sir, I promise I tried my hardest!”, and that was a truthful answer. He did try his hardest, but he could not keep himself focused on anything, apart from his love of fantasy books and drawing mythical creatures.

Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap.

“That’s one hit for every subject you failed. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into that dumb brain of yours. I expect more from you son, your mother would too”. He was known to bring his mom up everytime he did something wrong, from spending too long reading to having a panic attack, always saying she would be disappointed in him. He knew she wouldn’t, but it still affected him.

He slowly walked to his room in silence. He felt like the whole world was against him. Maybe he deserved to live a shitty life, maybe that was his destiny. He was unplanned after all, it’s not like he was meant to be here in the first place.

DECEMBER 24TH 1978

Christmas Eve. Before his mom died, they used to have a tree that the two of them would decorate at the start of December. Now for a third year running, the house remains bare. Where every other house on the street had Christmas lights that lit up the outside, there’s remained in total darkness.

Eddie was making up the soup his mom taught him how to make. His dad never cooked for him, the only food he ever offered him was a box of fries from the McDonalds drive thru. His dad sat on the couch, bottle of tequila in hand, legs resting on the coffee table in front of him as he watched some boring evening comedy show consisting of the same racist and sexist jokes it had every week.

A knock on the door startled Eddie as he left the chopped vegetables and attended to the door. The people who stood outside were the furthest from what he had expected: 2 police offers and an older woman dressed in a black skirt and white button up.

One of the police officers spoke up first, “Hey kid, is your dad there?”

Before Eddie could answer, James was up off the couch and walking towards the door, “What the hell are you doing here?”.

“Perfect, Mr. Munson, you are under arrest for the theft of four vehicles, anything you say can and will be used against you in the Court of Law. Now turn around for us please”, the other officer announced.

The officers basically turned James around for him as they pinned his arms behind his back and handcuffed him. Eddie could hear the yelling of his dad as the officers took him to the police car. His eyes diverted to the woman standing in front of him as she spoke to him, “Hey Eddie, my name is Betty, your dad is gonna be locked away for a long time okay? He did some awful things that could not go unpunished”.

“Grand theft auto right?”, she sadly nodded at him. “Makes sense, taught me how to hotwire as a kid. I knew it was wrong, but he basically manipulated me into doing it, said it was part of “becoming a man” or something”.

She looks back at him with the same sad expression in her eyes, “I’m so sorry to hear that darlin’, but he’s gonna be locked away now, 10 years at least, probably more. Now, we contacted immediate family and your Uncle Wayne has agreed to take you in up in Indiana. I know this is all quite sudden and a shock to you, but I want you to go and grab as many things you feel suitable for the move, and then we’ll drive up to Hawkins okay? It’ll probably take around 5 hours so we should get there by 7 tonight. Sound good to you?”.

He stood there in shock before slowly nodding and saying, “Yeah, um, alright, I’ll go grab my things”.

He makes his way into his room and grabs as many things as he can: clothes, books, toys, sketchpads, posters from his wall. He begins to bring it out to the woman and apologises, “Sorry, I don’t have anything to store it in”.

She smiles, “That’s okay honey, we can just store it all in the trunk of the car and then when we get there, pile it all into your Uncle’s house”.

He nods again before making his way back to grab the final pieces from his room. He is about to make his way across the living room, but stops and takes a de-tour towards his parent’s room. His mom’s guitar is still perched in the corner of the room, exactly where he found it when he first located it at 7 months old. He picks it up and brings it out with him.

Once everything is stored in the trunk, him and Betty get in the front seats and she starts up the engine.

“Ready to go honey?”, she asks him politely.

“Yeah, I guess I am”, a wave of uncertainty joining his tone.

Most people would be saddened that they’re having to move across the country at 12, their dad is being locked up and their mom died when they were 9, but it felt weirdly freeing for Eddie. Despite moving to a whole new town in a whole new state with a family member he’s never even met, it’s the happiest moment he’s experienced in the last 3 years of his life.

Betty drove into a local trailer park and up to one of the small homes. An older man stood outside, who he assumed was his uncle. He could see the resemblance between his dad and him, similar facial features, with Wayne wearing a red plaid shirt and grey jeans, paired with some brown boots.

The two of them got out of the car, Betty walking up to Wayne and greeting him, before Wayne made his way over to him.

“Hey kid, sorry this is what my place looks like. Haven’t really got the money to be livin’ some place more fancy I ‘spose”, his voice was deeper than his father’s, but had the same strong Southern accent.

“It’s okay, would much rather live here with you than a big house with an asshole as a father”, he chuckled nervously.

Betty interrupted the awkwardness by saying, “Right, shall we move all your stuff inside Eddie?”. He nodded as the three of them unloaded the car.

As they brought Eddie’s belongings into the living room, Wayne apologised again and said, “This place is only a one bedroom, so I moved all my stuff from in there so you could have it. Can’t let a 12 year old boy be sleepin’ on the couch”.

Eddie wanted to offer to take the couch himself, but knew Wayne would deny it, he seemed like too good of a guy to take up Eddie’s suggestion.

Once all the stuff was brought in, Betty said her goodbyes to the two of them and wished him all the best, leaving Wayne and Eddie to themselves.

“Okay kid, I’m gonna leave you to decorate your room how you want. If you need any help, just give me a shout okay?”.

Help. He was offering help.

Eddie tried not to let the emotions get to him as he replied, “Thank you Wayne, but I think I’ll be fine”, he was not used to someone helping him.

“Okay, but if you do, I’m only a call away”, he says as he walks back towards the couch.

Eddie looks around the room. It’s small, but feels weirdly homely. He puts his books and sketchpads on the dresser and piles his clothes into the built-in wardrobe. A massive record player was left at the back, he’d have to build up his collection in the future. Finally, he balanced the acoustic guitar against the end of the bed.

Eddie then flopped onto the sheets. The tears once again began to form, but this time not from sadness, but instead happiness.

He felt happy. Happy he was away from his shitty dad who abused him every day, away from the kids who judged him for his mom passing away, away from the school teachers who picked on him for his lack of concentration. He never had to go back there. He was finally free, he finally felt he belonged here.

He was home.

authors note: thank you so much for reading! as i said before, this is my first ever fanfic i’ve written, i kinda got carried away :’) i just wanted this to be as fleshed out as possible as i had so many ideas!

[cithaerons]

i post something about my gpa on here then feel like i gotta explain how the grading system works so anonymous strangers on this anonymous fandom blogging website don’t think i’m dumb.

[ocpdzim]

potential employers looking at my handshake profile:

[missmonsters2]

I'm proud for both of us for getting through such a bad day! thankfully rain didn't ruin our coffee date and it actually took my mind off (both our minds since my friend had a horrible day too - I swear idk what it is about today). definitely a lesson to learn with my invisaligns and I'm going to be triple checking all the time now!

I would actually live a drabble (w Nat since I have a soft spot for her)! you're so sweet and amazing for suggesting it!! it could be anything you want (I would read literally anything from you because everything you write is pure gold).

message of the day is that we got through it today, we got it for tomorrow!! 💪

Yesterday was something else LOL today was even worse I will not lie LMFAO

Alright bestie, let's do a soft Nat drabble 🥺

I've chosen the prompt "What's one little kiss between friends?" set in a College AU.

What's One Little Kiss Between Friends

i: underneath the bleachers

Count: <1k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Where's Natasha?"

You look around the canteen to find the redhead missing. It was unlike her with today being tater tot day. You don't understand her obsession with the fried cylinder potato, but it makes the redhead happy, and who are you to say anything about that?

"Hm, I don't know. I didn't see her after having cognitive psych with her. She told me to go on without her because she got stopped outside of class by...fuck, what's his name again? That dude she's seeing." Bucky said after he swallowed his food and looked around.

You frowned.

Sometimes it was hard to keep up with who Natasha was seeing. She was a very popular girl on campus. Everyone wants to date the student council president, captain of the volleyball team, GPA of 3.9, and heiress to the Romanoff conglomerate.

But to you? She was just Natasha Romanoff, the girl you met when you were 15 and insisted on being your friend when your first words to her were, 'Fuck off.'

As you scanned the crowd, you noticed 'said dude' Natasha was dating sitting with his friends, laughing and getting claps on his back.

You sighed as you packed up your things. You wouldn't necessarily say you had a sixth sense of always knowing what was going on with Natasha, but your gut feelings about her were usually always right.

"Where you going?" Bucky asked

"To find Nat."

"She's not answering her phone. She could literally be anywhere on campus," Bucky crinkled his nose.

"I know where she is," you tell Bucky, snapping your bag close.

"What? How?"

"I just do!" You told him as you walked off with a wave.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Your gut feeling leads you to the football field. Since it was winter, the field was often empty except for a couple of people here and there spread out through the bleachers.

You found Natasha Romanoff under the bleacher, hidden from the world, and everyone else was none the wiser.

You sat down next to her silently, only letting her ignore you for five seconds before you bumped her shoulder with yours.

"How'd you find me?" She gruffed with a frown.

"Find My Friends App," you offer lamely, knowing full well Natasha doesn't have hers on.

"Technology has ruined the modern world," Natasha muttered before she sighed and slouched against your shoulder.

"What's wrong, Nat?" You asked her softly.

Natasha stayed silent for a moment as if debating to tell you, but when she felt you brush your pinky against hers.

"I'm just tired," Natasha sighs.

"Tired?" You repeated with a tilt of your head.

Natasha stares out into the hills that obscure her. "It's stupid, but I guess I just feel envious of others. Other people don't have to worry about if the person they're seeing really likes them for them. They don't have to worry if their kisses and other physical intimacies will be spread around like it's some award to be won."

You frowned because you immediately knew the guy Natasha was seeing had done just that, and that was why he was getting accolades earlier.

You wonder if you should trip him the next time you see him.

"It's dramatic, but I'm starting to feel like loving someone, even just having someone kiss me because I'm me—not the idea of me is something I won't get to have."

No, you'll trip him and then spit on him. It's only justice.

You're so lost in your own thoughts when Natasha starts to shuffle, starting to get up.

"C'mon, some of the classes are about to be let out and people are going to start passing by. We should head back," Natasha said, brushing off what she had just admitted to you.

You immediately pull Natasha back down, getting a yelp from her. It kind of reminds you of the days of high school when you skipped together and huddled in alleyways to avoid being caught.

"What are you—" Natasha started to say but was swiftly cut off by your lips against hers.

The kiss was chaste and quick, but Natasha could taste your chapstick and wondered if you could taste hers. The kiss was so warm that it made her toes curl and her fingers flex.

When you pulled back, you licked your lips as you said, "There. I feel like I'm a pretty solid choice since I never liked the idea of you, anyway. So, stop being all mopey and come to the canteen with me, okay?"

Natasha felt displaced as you helped her up and grabbed her hand to pull her along. How could you just kiss her and move on?

"Oh, uh, you taste like raspberry."

What the fuck was she saying.

You shrug. "Yeah, I stole your chapstick last week."

That brings Natasha out of it as she huffed at you. "Fucking—I was looking for that! I had to open the blueberry one and it's not as good."

You merely laughed, but Natasha was still nervous.

"Thank you," Natasha finally said, and you peer at her for a long moment.

It was rare to catch Natasha so awkward.

"No worries. What's one little kiss between friends?"

Part 2

[pentechnics]

Bestie, finals week at my university was kicking my ass, but I told myself if I finished everything I needed to do on time then my reward was going to be re-reading all of OLAT, newest chapter included. It was WORTH IT. I swear, you pluck heartstrings like you’re playing the most beautiful melody on the harp. The way you convey emotion through your writing is so vivid and colorful, AND you manage to keep everyone in-character?? It’s bonkers, dude! You are an icon, a legend, and you ARE the moment! You have the most well-paced, intriguing, and captivating writing styles I’ve ever come across period, not just in fics. The yearning always feels so genuine and the love you put into everything you write shows so clearly. I feel so blessed to be reading your work. I can’t WAIT for what you have next!! (P.S. I got my final grades and I’m graduating college with a 3.9 GPA! Woohoo!) Love always, 🍯❤️

^actual footage of me

Alright. This is gonna be a long one.

First things first -- 3.9 GPA??? IN UNI??

HOLY SHIT, I am so happy for and proud of you Honey!! That's absolutely amazing!! You deserve all the praise and all the fucking rest, that shit is not easy to pull off! Congratulations on not only getting through your finals (SO happy that OLAT helped you motivate!), but on graduating as well!! I hope you're feeling proud of yourself! Because again, that is not an easy thing to do and it deserves to be CELEBRATED!! YOU are the moment, my love! 🥳🥳🥳

About the rest of your beautiful commentary...

Do y'all ever see something so kind, so sweet, so unbelievably, genuinely filled with love that you just burst into tears?

Because that's what happened. I read this message and I legitimately started to bawl on the spot.

Seeing you give one of my most treasured pieces of writing so much love and genuine affection has my heart soaring! You have no idea! I'm so happy it was there for you while you were trucking through finals!

Y'know, I have been in a bit of a writing slump lately and was worried that anything I was doing wasn't as good as what came before it, especially that newest chapter of OLAT. This comment has me feeling confident in it again, and I feel all the more motivated to push forward with the next chapter!

I'm still in a state of shock and disbelief that someone feels so strongly about my writing. All those amazing compliments up there?? I never thought in a million years I'd have anyone talking about my work that way. It's just further solidifying what I want to spend my life doing! Because I love writing so much, I think about it all the time, and having readers like yourself interact with my things is what keeps that flame alive. Bringing you love through words brings me so much joy.

Honey, my love, you have no idea what all your beautiful words mean to me! This is one of those messages that I will carry with me for the rest of my life, that I will turn to when I feel shitty about my work, or when I stop believing I can get something published one day. Your words hold so much power and love in them and I am so incredibly honored and blessed that you took the time to come share them with me! Seriously, I cannot thank you enough!

You absolutely made my whole week. Month. Year. You've made my life so much brighter, Honey. 'Thank you' isn't strong enough to convey my gratitude to you!

All the love in the universe to you, my dear! Congrats again on finishing college!! ❤️❤️❤️

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Grilled Cheese & Cereal Deaths

Dean unlocks the door to his apartment, his forehead resting against the wood and eyes closed in a calculative fashion as he turns his key in the lock.

He’s opened this door thousands of times before, and has collected enough data to reach the conclusion that he does it better when he’s not looking at it. His fingers know exactly what to do, relying on muscle memory and the grooves of the key; but when he’s looking, it takes him a minute to figure out which key is for which, since he’s got every key he owns attached to his purple-pink, rubber ‘I want to break free’ keychain.

Having to not pay attention as he’s unlocking the door allows him to start thinking about Cas again, as if he hasn’t been doing it all four hours of his drive back from Kansas. Cas should be awake right now, it’s only ten, but then he knows this is Cas, infamous for sleeping the weirdest hours known to man. One day, he’s snoring by five pm without a trace of dinner in him, and the next, he’s nudging Dean awake at three am for pancakes.

The lock clicks, and Dean straightens.

It’s only been three days since he’s seen Cas, but he misses him. He considers surprising him, because their door has a silent lock, which Cas wouldn’t have heard unless he’s in the living room - which he never is, unless Dean barters cuddles on the couch in exchange for a Dr Sexy watching partner. Cas is more of a bedroom person. Occasionally, a balcony person. Or, weirdly, sometimes, a hallway person.

Dude just settles cross-legged on the floor, in the middle of the hallway, with his book on his thighs and elbows on his knees, and doesn’t move until Dean almost trips over him, hence finding him, and nagging at him to at least sit on something with a mattress.

Fuck, he misses him.

Dean swings open the door, deciding not to think anymore, and just get to his boyfriend and kiss him and - he steps in. 

“I’m back!” He sings exaggeratedly, hands on his hips, giant grin pulling the corners of his lips up.

“Dean!” Cas yelps, his voice the kind of heavy only sleep deprivation can cause. Dean takes a moment to scan his face, the bags under his eyes and his slightly unfocused eyes. 

Cas’s eyes blink wide and lips completely pursed, like the child who was caught with his hand in the candy jar. But here, the proverbial jar is a stack of books so high - they come all the way up to Cas’s hip, beginning from a two-feet-high table, and the proverbial child is a panicky IT major who knows exactly how long ago he should’ve taken a nap.

Dean sets down his bag next to the door.

“Come here.” Dean lifts his arms, beckoning with a soft voice.

“It isn’t as bad as it looks,” Cas starts to argue, from five feet away. The idiot is in the living room, after all. How could Dean forget? He can also be found at the living room when he’s having one of his truly bad, must-do-everything-at-once episodes. “I swear, I just took out all of these books an hour ago, there’s just this thing which came up -”

“Come here.” Dean says, his mouth a straight line.

“You’re wrong if you think I haven’t slept in 24 hours, Dean.” Cas whines, his resolve lessening. “But I just had so much to do, and there’s this deadline, and there’s not even -”

“Come here.” Dean repeats.

Cas yields, giving up with a little huff, and dragging his socked feet across their living room.

He tucks his head under Dean’s chin, once he’s wrapped his arms around his middle, and Dean’s arms automatically move up to hold him close.

Most times, Dean doesn’t think it’s fair that Cas gets to alternate between being the larger in the two of them, with his wide-ass shoulders and his frigging arms; and the next instant, the adorable little snuggler who’s burying his face in Dean’s shirt.

But at the moment, Dean doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, he doesn’t mind it so much, that he stops thinking about everything else and spontaneously decides he wouldn’t mind if Cas never pulled away.

He squeezes, exhaling happily.

Cas lets out a content little sigh, melting into him, and Dean stops smiling for a moment when he realizes Cas is leaning all of his weight on Dean. And it’s not the fact that Cas is six feet tall, and built completely of concentrated snark and runner’s muscles, and that he’s heavy - but that Dean suddenly remembers that Cas hasn’t slept in 24 hours.

As he conveniently just confessed to.

“You need to sleep.”

Cas makes a disgruntled sound, possibly scrunching up his nose.

“I need to shower.”

Dean sniffs the air dramatically, and shrugs. It’s nothing he can’t handle. He doesn’t really think Cas has been up to jogging lately, and staying holed up in your second floor room with two semester worth of books for a project doesn’t exactly make you sweat, it’s not too unpleasant. Sure, stale clothes have a smell, but this one’s mostly just Cas.

“You need to eat.” Dean counters, and it’s probably a strong point he makes, since Cas doesn’t have a retort to throw back at him within the first second.

“That reminds me. We’re out of coffee,” Cas mumbles, in a little voice. “Didn’t know how I could text you to buy Nescafe when you were driving home two hundred and fifty miles.”

“What about the emergency stack you keep in the bedroom?”

Cas shakes his head. “I forgot to replenish that after the Great Scare of Preponed Papers, in September.”

“You’re every inch the college boy my mama warned me to look out for.” Dean teases, wriggling out of the hug, so that he can stare at Cas.

“And yet you’ve been living with me for years.” Cas returns, turning around and walking towards the kitchen. He plops down on a dining table chair, facing Dean.

“What can I say? You make me a rebel.” Dean scoffs, following Cas’s tracks to the kitchen, after he’s taken off his jacket and deposited it on the couch.

“Ooh, I’m even worse than I thought.” Cas deadpans, crossing his arms. And that ends it. Because there’s more important things to do, right now.

Dean opens the fridge, and starts to rummage through it.

“We’re out of honey, too.” Cas tells him, his chin propped in his hands, as he stares at a busy Dean.

“I can see that.” Dean rolls his eyes, and the almost empty milk carton is the only thing which sympathizes with him. “What kind of meals did you even have since friday, Cas? Honey and coffee? Or maybe, coffee and honey?”

Cas nods. “And ramen.”

“Fucking dumbass, with a 3.9 GPA to show for it.” Dean rolls his eyes again, done with going through the fridge, and closing the door with his elbow as he holds bread and cheese in his hands. “Well, doesn’t matter. Point is, I’m back. What do you want now?”

And before Cas could answer, Dean went on in a typical five star restaurant voice. “We have grilled formaggio. And grilled queso. And the chef’s recommendation, the grilled cheese.”

“Could I have grilled syr?” Cas asks, innocent.

“Lemme guess, Russian for cheese?” Dean confirms, in a dramatic stage whisper.

Cas’s eyebrows dance. “I missed you.” He mockwhispers back.

“You know what, I’ll have to pull some strings, but I think the chef will be able to manage that.” Dean returns to his grand waiter voice. And starts to unwrap the bread and pick out plates from the drawers, while Cas surprises him by beginning to talk.

“It’s a group project.” He begins, not sounding a tenth of the pumped up and clever from before. “For Professor Naomi Novak.” He groans, his head falling on his arms folded on the table.

“Okay?” Dean urges him to go on.

“And Balthazar bailed on me.”

***

Dean listens, as Cas eats. He occasionally offers words of sympathy, or those of righteous annoyance. He stares at Cas, wolfing down the sandwiches like they’re the best thing on the planet, and looking more and more okay as he finishes what’s on his plate.

Dean had had his dinner during what was supposed to be a fuel stop, at a motel who advertised their pies on unmissable banners hannging on every surface of the gas station. He couldn’t resist the temptation.

Thinking about that reminds him that just about an hour ago, he’d been in the last quarter of his drive, tired, but excited to get home. To Cas, to his shower and of course, to his mattress. Now, he doesn’t feel exhausted at all. Or perhaps, there’s just more important things around him. All in all, he knows he isn’t going to bed himself until Cas is going with him.

“Dean.” Cas interrupts his reverie, and Dean looks up to see him pushing away his plate, completely clean.

“Yeah?”

“Everything in the world except you and this grilled cheese sucks.” Cas declares, solemnly.

Dean grins, refocusing all his attention on Cas. “Oh?”

“Definitely.” Cas nods. He licks his lips, and rests back in his chair. “I mean, I know this’ll come as a surprise, but I think I was hungry or something.” He adds, feigning innocence, and Dean snorts. “I don’t know. Must’ve been the stress of the project I’ll never be able to complete in time, that made me overlook it.”

“Cas, listen to me.” Dean begins, reassuring. “The project will be done, Novak will not freak out, and you’ll ace through her class too. Everything’s going to work out.”

“How?” Cas asks, not as much ridiculous as it is desperate.

“You see,” Dean answers, his tone smooth. Well, sarcasm’s always been their language. “I have a brother.”

“Congratulations?” Cas squints, in a confused monotone.

“Nah, he’s not a pleasure to have or anything,” Dean shrugs, a grin on his hips. “But he’s dating someone.”

“Congratulations to him?” Cas offers.

“You don’t get it, smartass. The guy my brother’s dating, is Balthazar’s flatmate.” Dean waits for Cas to catch up. “So, all I have to do is talk to a few people, and I’ll know where to go find this weird-name guy.”

“Fuck.” Cas exclaims, stunned.

“No, Balthazar.” Dean smirks, and Cas is starting to smile much wider. “So, I’m going to get this jackass do his part of the job. And I’m sure as hell going to make him call you.”

“Oh!” Cas squeaks, eyes wide again. His face lights up with a smile, and it’s one of those genuinely gummy ones which make his eyes shine. Sonuvabitch, Dean loves him so much.

“So, yeah. I’m going to go call Sam, and get Baby out.” Cas practically radiates relief at this point, and happiness, and Dean has never been prouder of himself. “But,” He adds, before he forgets. “I have a condition.”

“What?” Cas cuts him off, abruptly. “And please don’t say you want me to go sleep, because I won’t be able to sleep until this is done, I’m too restless, and -”

“Fine.” Dean folded his arms. “Then eat.”

“I just did?” Cas motioned to his empty plate.

“Those were two sandwiches, Cas.” Dean huffs. “I need you to promise me you’ll eat the entire time till I’m back.”

“I don’t want to cook right now, I have to revise -” Cas starts to whine, and on another day, this may have been the moment Dean shut him up with a kiss, because he was being too annoying about not doing things for himself, but right now? This is a different Cas - a sleep deprived, fretty Cas, who needs to be handled in a different manner.

“I’m not asking you to cook.” Dean stands up.

Cas follows. “Huh?”

“I was just in the kitchen. We have cereal.”

“No.”

“Come on, Cas.” Dean argues, indignant. This is where they always end up. Debating on cereal. Dean’s got his facts clear. “Cereal’s a snack.”

“No, Dean. You’re a snack. I’m a snack. Arguably, Dr Sexy is a snack. Cereal is not a snack.” Cas throws back.

Dean glares at Cas. “You’ll eat your goddamn cereal until I’m home, Cas, or I swear on your coffee-freaky, sleep-deprived ass -”

“Okay.” Cas gives up. He takes a step back, puts his hands in the air, and lets out a breath.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll eat it while I reread my notes.” Cas says, his eyebrows curved. There’s still a smile on his lips, though a more annoyed one.

Dean hums, unsatisfied.

“What?”

“Cereal needs your attention.” Dean postulates, tongue in cheek. “I really can’t have you choking on Honey Nut Cheerios.”

Cas levels him with a look, which would’ve been more effective if it wasn’t leveled at him through dark-circled eyes.

“That’s the opposite of an honorable death.” Dean goes on, sweet.

“Then in the obituary, let it be said that it was Cap'n Crunch.” Cas scowls, and Dean breaks into a laugh without meaning to. “And eating cereal isn’t a singleminded task, believe it or not.”

“Fine.” Dean lets it go, knowing it’s the best deal he’s going to get.

“Fine?” Cas says, like Dean had before.

“Fine. One for me, one for you.” And with that Dean throws his jacket on again, and starts to walk out, with a pleased smile. He’s going to make this work. And as he deals with Balthazar, Cas will keep eating. Two birds with one stone.

“Though,” Cas starts speaking, and Dean looks back, surprised at how soft his voice is. Cas is looking down at his feet. “This is more like, all for me, none for you.”

“Cas.” Dean shakes his head, returning to the dining table, and putting his hand on Cas’s.

“I mean,” Cas goes on, his voice shaky. “You literally came home after three days. And instead of talking about your trip, and your family, and taking a shower and getting in bed and resting after your four hour drive - you’re already completely immersed in solving my problems for me. I’m - I’m sorry.”

Dean purses his lips. He has not thought about it like this at all, and doesn’t want Cas to, either. “Cas, no -”

“No. I’m selfish and horrible, and I didn’t even stop you when you offered to cook for me and go get Balthazar to get in touch with me, or any of it - I’m just -”

“Cas.” Dean repeats, sterner. “That is not the case. I’m fine, okay? I’m absolutely fine. And you needed to eat, and you need this now, and I want to do it for you. You aren’t making me do this! And what the hell am I here for if not to be there for you, when you need it, Cas?”

“But -”

“And do you really think you telling me to not go would’ve stopped me from wanting to help you out?” Dean cocks his head, challenging Cas to agree.

Cas shakes his head.

“Exactly. In fact, you’re showing that you trust me enough to let you know when I’m tired and pushing my limits. You’re showing that our relationship has come to that kind of level, where though we mean the gratitude, concern and appreciation entirely, we aren’t always required to keep repeating it, and that’s growth, Cas, and I’m -”

Cas waits, his eyes starting to haze.

“I’m proud of us.” Dean finishes, swallowing. He feels his own throat start to clog up. Must be from watching Cas get teary, because they don’t usually end up crying every time one of them does something nice for the other.

“You’re everything I’ve ever needed.” Cas tells him, matter-of-factly, like it doesn’t pierce Dean through the heart in the best way to hear it.

“You’re pretty perfect, too.” Dean says, trying to avoid getting as sappy as Cas has already gotten. Cas gets to blame the lack of sleep later, what does Dean do then? “And please, please don’t feel guilty about me trying to be a good boyfriend, next time?”

“I’ll try?”

“We’ve come a long way.” Dean teases. “And if it makes you feel better, I’ll try to stop feeling guilty about it too, whenever you help me out with, I dunno, professors, college papers, buying durable things online, choosing gifts for friends, ice cream flavours I don’t like -”

“That’s enough.” Cas grins. “And, thank you.”

Dean slid his arm down from Cas’s forearm, to rest on his hip. His other hand snaked around Cas’s waist.

“Thank you for everything.” Cas says, like he’s tried to soak the meaning out of all the words into his voice, and it works.

“Yeah, yeah.” They just had a chick-flick moment, and Dean isn’t prepared for another one, so soon. So he does what he does best, and deflects, rolling his eyes dramatically. “People don’t call me the awesomest-roomate-ever-slash-ideal-bestfriend-slash-your-knight-in-shining-armor for nothing.”

“Nobody calls you that.” Cas snickers, putting his arms loosely around Dean’s neck. He’s doing that thing again, like the flipping of a switch, and now it’s Dean who’s probably going to end up with his face in Cas’s neck. Kissing him, though, this time.

“Hey!” He pouts, pulling Cas in closer from the waist. “I call myself that.”

“Yeah, I have no idea why you do that.”

Remember how before it wasn’t the moment to shut him up with a kiss? Dean repeals that statement now. It’s no longer valid, because Cas is being a little shit again. Plus, he’s being a little shit who doesn’t kiss Dean yet, just teases around it, and that’s not fair, right after they’ve had such a romantic moment, is it?

So Dean takes matters into his own hands.

“Shuddup, you overworked little asshole.” And leans in to capture Cas’s lips with his, and straightens with Cas following him, planting breathy kisses on every inch of Dean’s lips, while Dean tries to return the equivalent of the favor by running his hands over Cas, under his shirt.

Cas tastes like grilled, uh, keso - ignore them, that’s a game they’ve been playing for years - and love, though knowing Cas, that’s probably just honey - and in that moment, everything is exactly as it should be.

In that moment, Dean thinks to himself, kissing Cas with every fibre of his being; everything is perfect.

[bangtanfancamp]

Of Dusk and Summer

✨ Teaser ✨

Sneak peak at my upcoming one shot!!!

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∴ one shot

∴ playlist/ soundtrack

∴ pairing : Park Jimin x reader

∴ teaser length: 1.8k words

∴ final length: at least 25k + words

∴ rating: Mature (is very soft. And probably doesn’t need one this high but just in case. I’ll amend if need be once story is complete)

∴ genre : coming of age, angst, fluff, romance, bf2l (best friends to lovers), high school au

∴warnings: mentions of emotional abuse and dysfunctional family dynamics, light smut? Sort of? (Intense makeout-still SFW)

Graduation and academic excellence is all Jimin has had his eyes fixed on for as long as he can remember. Today, it finally happens. Today, he finally walks the stage and graduates. Today, his goals finally become reality. Or at least, that’s what he thought-until the best friend he thought he knew inside and out shows up in his window while he’s getting ready, and his life is never quite the same.

Alt: Park Jimin and his best friend have one incredible night that changes what they are to each other forever.

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There it is again- that clattering sound.

That’s at least the fifth time he’s heard it. It’s almost like fingernails tapping against the glass behind him, but that can’t be possible- he’s on the second floor. Every time Jimin looks back at his bedroom window, there’s nothing there.

Not even a pollen drunk honeybee bumping against the glass- nothing. He’s beginning to feel like he’s losing his mind. Turning his attention back to his mirror, he chooses to ignore it this time- he’s finally almost got the knot right in his tie. It’s taken him the better part of twenty minutes to even get this close.

But there it is again.

That sound- the tinkling against the glass.

Before he can stop himself, he’s whipping his head back to look and...there goes the knot. Dang it. Brow furrowed, he frowns down at his tie before giving up completely, sliding it from beneath his collar to chuck it on the floor. Agitated and swearing under his breath, he stomps, disgruntled, toward the accursed window and flings it open.

“For the love of God, what is — Y/n??” Jimin looks positively gobsmacked, because there you are- your palm full of rocks, arm cocked mid-throw as your silky red graduation robes flutter in the breeze.

“There you are! Took you long enough.” You taunt him from the lawn.

“What the heck are you doing here? Graduation’s in less than an hour!” Jimin is a patient man, but this is not remotely the time for shenanigans.

“Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I’m here?” You roll your eyes, striding across the lawn before hiking up your robe to reveal denim shorts and hoisting yourself up the ivy trellis on the front of the house.

“I don’t know why you’re here! That’s why I’m asking- y/n, what are you doing? My mom just fixed that trellis! You know she hates when you stomp through her garden! Why can’t you just use the front door like a normal person?” Jimin tips his head to the side in frustration, strands of his silky black hair falling into his eyes before he can push them away.

‘Because, Chim, I don’t need to go through the rest of the house when I have a direct route to the person i'm here to see. Now move- let me through.” You dip your head and crouch as Jimin resignedly steps back to give you room to slip through the window.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here, y/n, or why you couldn’t just call to say whatever it was. We’ve got to get ready to go.” Turning back to his dresser, he begins to hunt for his black bow tie from Prom- maybe he’ll have better luck with that.

“That’s just it, Chim. That’s why I’m here.” You’re still standing resolute in front of the window, dodging as a pair of Jimin’s swim shorts fly past your face in his hunt for his bow tie.

“Do you need a ride to graduation?” His confusion is apparent in his tone as he moves to ransack his closet. “Goddamn it, where is my bow tie?! I don’t have time for thi-

“No, because I’m not going, Chim.” Your voice is so quiet, he almost misses it.

“I know i put it right— wait. You’re what?” His face goes slack as he turns back to face you. “What do you mean?”

Sighing, you cross the room to grip his shoulders. “I mean- I can't do this. I’m not going to graduation today, Jimin.”

“Are you crazy? You have to go!” He searches your eyes for some sign that this is a joke but doesn’t find one.

“No actually- we don’t have to go. It’s optional,” you say softly as Jimin frowns.

“I don’t think that means what you think it means, Y/n.”

“If you’ve completed all your finals and have a high enough GPA, you don’t actually have to walk. Pietro Salazar got strep last year the day before and didn’t attend and still got a diploma,” you shrug.

“Because he had strep! Do you? Are you ill?” He questions as he presses the back of his hand to your forehead. You swat it away and frown at him.

“No, I don’t have a fever! I’m serious.” There’s a grit in your tone that he’s not used to and doesn’t understand.

“Are you sure? Because you’re clearly either mad with fever or just plain lost your mind because this is crazy! You’re being crazy,” he huffs. He doesn’t mean to sound so belligerent- really, he doesn’t- but he doesn’t understand. The clock to graduation is ticking down, and you’re standing in front of him like a lost sheep while he has an aneurysm over the fact that he can maintain a 3.9 GPA but can’t manage to tie a goddamn tie. He loves you, he does, but he just doesn’t have the patience for whatever this is right now. Still, he thinks, She’s your best friend: word it better than that. He sighs and tries again when he realizes his frustration isn’t going to get through to you.

“Y/n, we’ve been looking forward to today for years. You can’t just decide to not go half an hour before-“ he glances at the wall clock behind you as his throat suddenly seizes up.” Oh my god, it’s only half an hour til four?? Y/n, we can talk about whatever alien tried to do a biopsy on your brain later, but we have got to go!” He tries to slip out of your grasp, but your grip around his biceps only tightens.

“I’m serious, Jimin. I’m not going.” You look more resolute than he’s ever seen you before- much too focused, with much too much clarity for a woman who’s clearly lost her mind.

“B-but you’re Valedictorian! I would’ve killed to make valedictorian. You know how hard I tried. Why in the world would you just not show up?” He looks at you like you’ve grown an extra head.

“Because! I’m just not. That’s all there is to it. I’ve got to get out of here, Chim. And I... came to see if you’d come with me.” Your eyes are softer then as you brace for his reaction.

“Come with you?” The words feel strange leaving his mouth.

“Yeah, I took the truck. It’s got a full tank of gas. I’ve got a backpack full of everything we’ll need- I just... need my best friend.” Your eyes meet his, and he realizes you’re serious.

“I - Y/n, what's really going on?” Brows pinched, his dark eyes search your face for a reason you aren’t ready to give him.

“Look, I know today is a big deal for you. I’m not a complete jerk. You know I know that. I just- I need to do this. And if you can’t come, I at least wanted you to hear it from me so-“

“Y/n where are you even gonna go?” He cuts you off. Breaking out of your grip to card his fingers through his hair, he studies you as he waits for your response.

“I don’t know for sure,” you say honestly. Jimin is not amused by how little you’ve prepared for this.

“ Are you leaving- like permanently? Or just like, going to hide out down at the froyo spot?” He frowns, wincing at how caustic his stress is making his tone. You look a bit hurt, and he tries to soften his voice to hide his impending hysteria as the clock ticks behind you.

“Cause if you’re asking me to run away with you indefinitely, I can’t leave my cat behind. You know my mom can’t stand her. Do I need to bring her? Cause if you’re thinking this is long term and I don’t bring her, I won't have a pet to come home to when we come galavanting back from Narnia.” His eyes are far off, detached as he rambles over the semantics of it all. That’s what he does. He’s the thinker. You’re the dreamer. He’s just doing his best to get a grasp on it all.

“What? No, Jimin- Calico’s gonna be fine. I have a couple of ideas- I just... know I need to get out of here, at least for today.” There’s something off. About all of this. This isn’t like you. You don’t do things like this. What is going on with you?

There’s a look in your eyes he’s never seen before. Five years of friendship and somehow there’s a panicked terror in your gaze that’s entirely brand new to him. Except, it’s not. Somehow, it’s strangely familiar. It’s just never been this bad. It makes him wonder…

“Y/n...is it your mom again?” His face is soft with concern and the second he sees your features shift he knows he has his answer. He catches the way your eyes harden, the way you swallow, the way it looks like you’re about to crawl out of your skin. There it is. Dang it. He can’t leave you like this. Not again.

Shaking your head, you plant your feet and try one more time to meet his eyes. Sniffling, you tell him in a voice laced with conviction, “It doesn’t matter. Chim, I’m leaving- are you coming or not?” You palm your keys in your hand as you pin him with a look.

A heavy sigh tumbles from his chest as he realizes what he’s about to do. “I know there’s something more to this that you’re not telling me…” he states calmly as your eyes fall away from his. “But I’m not gonna leave you alone with whatever this is.”

Your face snaps up to his, relief flooding you as you crash into him, embracing him in an excruciatingly tight hug. “Oh my god, thank you.”

He holds you back, arms firm around your waist, and gives himself a minute to realize what he’s committing to. No official cap and gown. No cheesy pictures with his parents. No walking with his classmates to receive the paper declaring that he’s finally, officially an adult. No final milestone of high school.

But there’ll be you….

And as he feels the warmth of you melt against his neck, maybe that’s all he needs.

His mother will probably kill him. No, she’ll definitely kill him. But if today is supposed to signify his transition into adulthood, then maybe it’s time he makes his first real stance in what kind of man he’s going to be.

To make his first proper adult decision.

Figures it would somehow be tied to you.

“All right, all right,” pulling himself out of your grip, Jimin tries to ignore the way your relieved smile and watery eyes tug at something in his chest. He’s never been able to explain his irrational soft spot for you, least of all right now. “If we’re gonna do this, then we’ve gotta go now. Just let me grab a few things,” he sighs.

(to be continued)

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Author’s note: hey guys!!! Hope you enjoyed. This piece is incredibly special to me. And I can’t wait to share the rest with you. The story will be told from both Jimin and Y/N’s perspectives and will hopefully be going through final revisions in the coming week. - christiana ✨

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!!!!

[iwritesickfic]

boy who cried flu

(yes I am aware of how stupid this title is leave me alone)

Peter rarely - if ever - got sick. Nobody who didn’t know him well would believe it though - he had a long track record of absences and missed assignments, despite being a 3.9 GPA student. He’s flaked from social events and parties countless times, always citing he’s not “feeling well.” It’s not technically a lie, though he does lie sometimes. 

People understand physical illness - they know what it feels like to be stuck in bed with a bad cold - but mental illness? Not so much. So...he bends the truth. A professor won’t be very forgiving if you say you spent all weekend in bed because you couldn’t find the motivation to move, but say you had a bad cough? No one bats an eye.

So most people assume Peter has an awful immune system. That or he’s just a pussy who won’t leave the house with so much as a sore throat. Everyone except a select few - Simon, Ashlynn, and Alex. 

Simon’d been his friend since undergrad, and they’d been roommates for a time, so he knows exactly what Peter means when he says he “doesn’t feel well.” Ashlynn is the type to show up unannounced with a quart of homemade soup. And Alex...Alex was there when things had gotten out of hand. 

But just because they knew he was lying when he said he was sick didn’t mean he stopped using it as an excuse. Ashlynn, despite herself, would usually not question it. Simon wouldn’t think twice about the lie, almost taking it as a direct confession. Alex would usually get pissed off and demand some kind of proof.

They were supposed to go to the beach tomorrow - get up early and take the train together to rockaway. But somehow, for the first time in years, Peter has something more than some congestion. Something way more.

It started a few days ago, a runny nose and swollen sinuses. He slept like shit, and the next morning his throat was raw and he absolutely could not breathe through his nose. But he had class, so he took the train in and sat in his lecture and tried to keep his sniffling to a minimum. By the time he was headed home, he’d long since run out of clean tissues, so he tends to his nose with a damp scrap of napkin he found buried in his bag, his nostrils red and irritated from the abuse. 

By the time he gets home, his congestion has gone from a clogged, static brick in his head to leaky, runny mess, but he’s well aware he can’t take a day off from work on his thesis, so he sits in bed working until 2 AM, one hand wiping the mess from his upper lip, the other scribbling notes in his worn out pad. 

He wakes the next morning not sure when he fell asleep, his head pounding heavily behind his eyes, sinuses throbbing and inflamed. His throat feels swollen and hot, and the relentless sneezing that started the night before isn’t helping any. The two days prior, everything seemed to be concentrated in his head, but now it’s clear it’s migrating into his chest as well. Halfway through his day at work in the library, he starts to cough, wet and harsh. 

It doesn’t help that his body aches like he ran a marathon, and chills are coursing through him like ice water in his veins. By the end of the day he can’t wait to finally sit down and rest. His body’s been screaming for it since the moment he got out of bed, and all day shelving books has really taken its toll.

Unfortunately, he’s got an hour long commute and lucky for him, it’s standing room only. He grips the subway pole like a lifeline, his head spins every time the train rocks. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the darkened window - he looks awful. Bags like bruises under his eyes that are rimmed in pink and half lidded, his nose irritated and red. A coughing fit tears through him, and he tries his best to catch it in his sleeve. His knees start to tremble as he tries to take deep breaths, and he’s startled when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“You wanna sit?” the woman asks, and it takes him a minute to realize she’s offering her seat. Normally, he’d suck it up, but he’s too miserable to refuse. He mumbles a thanks, and sinks down.

It takes all his self control not to fall asleep then and there.

By the time he’s back at his building, he’s seriously doubting he can climb four flights to get to the apartment. Part of him would rather just lay down in the lobby but he knows this is the final stretch before he can climb into bed and sleep.

He’s interrupted by several fits of coughs, and by the time he’s reached the fourth floor he’s practically gasping for air, and soaked in sweat. The chills he had all day have swapped with an oppressive heat that makes him feel almost lightheaded. 

Somehow, he’s quite sure, he manages to stumble to bed, stripping off his damp clothes, the cool air on his slick skin throwing him back into shaking chills. Just as he’s about to let himself be sucked into sleep, his eyes fly open. Tomorrow. 6 AM. He’s supposed to go to the beach. There is no fucking way he is going to the beach.

He texts their group chat with trembling fingers.

hey im real sick i cant go tomorrow

There’s an immediate reply from Alex.

don’t fuckin do this man. we’re going.

A text from Simon.

you’ll feel better if you leave the house, you always do.

He sighs, cursing himself for using this shitty excuse so much now no one will take him seriously.

im serious i feel like trash

Alex answers immediately.

PETER. youre not sick youre being a pussy. we’re going to the fucking beach and we’re having a good time.

Simon responds.

chill alex.

if youre depressed thats fine but maybe consider coming still it might help.

i mean i’d feel better if you came

Peter groans.

im sick. like sick sick. like flu sick.

Alex shoots back quickly.

ok then what are your symptoms?

Peter rubs his eyes, trying to relieve some of the throbbing. 

fever, chills, aches, cough, runny nose, headache, tired.

There’s a moment of silence and he places his phone on his bedside table with a sigh. He’s about to go under when his phone starts to buzz. Once. Twice. Three times. He swears, grabbing it. Three texts from Alex. The first is a screenshot of the symptom list that appears when you google “flu” which just happens to be in identical order.

you need to be more creative

seriously man im not letting you miss this. we planned this months ago. dont be a dick.

Finally, Ashlynn chimes in.

you dont need to lie p, its ok if you dont wanna come.

While Peter would like to further argue that he’s not in fact lying, he just doesn’t have the energy. At this point, it doesn’t matter what they think. He’s not going - who gives a shit why? He’s able to fall asleep almost immediately, but unfortunately, he doesn’t really stay asleep.

He wakes up about every 45 minutes, coughing or shivering or burning or all three. After his fourth or fifth jolt awake he can’t for the life of him seem to get any rest. Every time he’s about to drift off, another coughing fit explodes from his chest and leaves him trembling. He’s hot, but he’s not sweating, which he realizes vaguely must mean he’s dehydrated. As the night wears on and his condition continues to worsen, he wonders if he should call an uber to take him to the ER. He can’t afford it, not in the slightest, but he’s not sure he’s ever felt this terrible before. Somehow, he remembers there’s an old thermometer in the kitchen. An old roommate had bought it thinking it would work for deep frying but didn’t realize the range only spanned from 95 to 107.

He needs to take his temperature. See how serious this actually is. He can’t remember the last time he actually ran a fever, so he’s not sure if this is just par for the course or whether this level of misery is cause for alarm.

He stumbles into the kitchen, and for once he’s glad to live in such a god-awfully tiny studio. He lands heavily against the counter, and rummages through the drawer to find the small device. After what feels like an eternity, he manages to grab it with shaking hands, fumbling with the buttons for a moment before flipping on the small kitchen light. 

He sticks it under his tongue, it feels like ice. He tries to coach himself on what he’s going to do. If it’s over 100, he’ll go to the hospital. No, that’s too low. 102?Still maybe too ambitious of a goal. It’s then he realizes he’s really just trying to justify what he’s going to do anyway - save himself an ER bill and stay in bed. He’s jerked out of his thoughts when the small device beeps and he removes it carefully from under his tongue. 

The display flashes 103.2. He doesn’t really know what that means but after a quick google search it’s not exactly any clearer. It’s bad, but not bad enough to cause brain damage, supposedly. Fuck it, that’s good enough for him. He climbs shakily back into bed, the small excursion has left him absolutely exhausted. 

He needs medicine. He knows that. Some tylenol at the very least, but if he can barely walk to the kitchen he doesn’t know how in hell he’s getting out the door, down the stairs, to the pharmacy, and back again. So, he’ll just have to live with it. 

He spends the rest of the night in and out of half-sleep, each coughing fit seeming to drive the illness deeper into his lungs. His nose has started to run again, and each rub with the already-used tissue makes his poor sensitive nostrils burn in protest.

The next morning he wakes to the harsh, deafening drone of his apartment’s buzzer system. He cracks his eyes and checks the time. 6:42 AM. Whoever the fuck it is can wait, he’d like to suffer in peace. Still, as he tries to slip back into the sleep the buzzer continues to go off and after about five minutes, he sits up in bed, fighting the wave of dizziness that washes over him. He stumbles to the keypad and presses the button that opens the lobby door, and the buzzing finally - mercifully - ceases. 

He grabs a t shirt from a pile on the floor and pulls on a pair of boxers - he doesn’t know if he’d be able to stand anything more with the way his fever is raging. He sits on the edge of his bed, trying to catch his breath, quickly breaking down into another awful fit of coughs. Just as he’s finished, he hears a heavy knock on the door. Sighing, he forces himself up, padding slowly over to the door, trying not to aggravate the dizziness any further. He pulls open the door and is confused to see not an overzealous delivery person, but his three friends. 

He stares dumbly for a moment before a breath catches in his throat and he breaks into thick, wet coughs. He sniffles, wiping his nose with his wrist, before looking back up at them.

“What?” he mumbles, and there’s an awkward silence. 

“Shit,” Alex finally says and Peter sniffles.

“What do you want?” he repeats, surprised at the hoarse, broken quality of his voice. Does he really sound that bad? Ashlynn pushes forward, wrapping him in a tight hug. She’s short, so her face is pressed into his chest, and he stumbles back slightly.

“Oh Peter,” she whispers, and he swallows, closing his eyes. She pulls away, and he has to force them open again. She she presses a hand to his forehead. Her palm feels cool but uncomfortable against his oversensitive skin. “You’re burning up.”

“I know,” he murmurs, wishing the conversation could be over so he can go lie down and not have to explain himself to his friends. He sighs, and narrowly avoids another coughing fit. “Are you gonna come in or you just all gonna stand there?” They exchange looks. “Well?”

Ashlynn pushes past him, followed by Simon and finally Alex. Peter shuts the door and tries his best not to look as fucked up as he feels walking to sit in one of his kitchen chairs. 

“What do ya’ll want?” he asks Simon and Alex, Ashlynn already digging through the medicine cabinet.

“We don’t want anything we were just concerned,” Simon says.

“Then why do you look so fucking shocked?” Peter snaps, even though he knows Simon is only telling the truth.

“Because I was 100% sure you were bullshitting,” Alex says. Peter is far too tired to get into a verbal sparring match with Alex, but he tries halfheartedly anyway.

“Still sure?” before Alex can reply Ashlynn is back with a damp washcloth and the thermometer he’d used the night before. She lays the cloth on the back of his neck, and he can’t help the small whine that escapes. 

“Open,” she says, and he does. She places the thermometer under his tongue gingerly, and strokes some of his hair off his forehead. “You don’t have anything? For this?” Peter shakes his head. She presses her lips into a line. “Simon and me are gonna go out and grab some stuff, ok?”

“That’s not necessary.” His voice is almost slurred with the fever, and as if on cue the thermometer beeps. Ashlynn frowns at the reading. She shakes her head.

“Christ, Peter.” She touches his forehead again, this time with the back of her hand. “103.6 and it’s not necessary?”

“I don’wanna be lectured.”

“I’m not lecturing.” She spends another moment fussing with his hair before getting up, grabbing Simon. “We’re going to get some stuff, we’ll be back. Alex, make sure he doesn’t die, ok?” It’s clear Alex is about to protest, but Ashlynn levels him with a glare. They leave, and then it’s just Peter and Alex.

Alex stands by the door, hands in his pockets. It’s a while before either of them speaks.

“What was I supposed to think?” he finally says, and Peter tries to swallow his anger.

“I don’t know, man.” He runs a hand through his greasy, sweat damp hair. He starts to shiver again, wrapping his arms around his torso. Alex takes a careful step forward.

“You get why I wouldn’t believe you, right?”

“Yes, Alex.” The chills are now back in full force, he’s sure he must be shaking like a leaf. He wants nothing more than this conversation to be over, but Alex doesn’t seem to be getting to message.

“You never get sick. Ever. So what am I-”

“I get it. It’s fine. Just...stop talking. Please.” He’s shaking so bad he can feel his teeth chattering. He pulls his knees to his chest. He closes his eyes, praying something - anything - will warm him up. He hears footsteps and fumbling, then feels a dry, warm blanket being tucked around his shoulders. He looks up, and Alex is standing there, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Do you wanna lay down or something?” The thought of climbing back into his sweat damp sheets makes him cringe, so he shakes his head. “Why not?”

“S’gross, I sweat a ton.” 

Alex nods.

“Right. What about the couch? You can lay on the couch and I can do your laundry.” 

Getting horizontal sounds heavenly, so he nods, and Alex touches his shoulder, quickly pulling his hand back.

“What the fuck - dude, you’re like...on fire. Shit.” He tests the side of his neck and winces. “Fuck.”

“Can you just help me?” Peter is embarrassed at how small and sick his voice sounds, and the fact he’s asking Alex of all people for help, but he knows if he tries to do it on his own he’s going to fall and crack his skull.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He wraps an arm around Peter’s waist, and supports him the few feet to the couch. It’s not very far but his knees go weak about halfway there and he’s glad Alex is holding him. As soon as he gets onto the couch, he curls on his side and closes his eyes. “You’re ok?” Peter nods, and Alex pats his shoulder awkwardly. “Ok. Cool. Just...stay there, I guess.” Peter can hear him starting to strip the bed.

“I was maybe gonna go for a run,” he mumbles, and Alex laughs softly. 

“Definitely. Then I’ll enroll at NYU for my bachelor’s.”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have all my debt.”

“You’re right. I’ve been trying to rack up some credit card bills but so far no luck.”

Peter opens his eyes to see Alex with the bundle of sheets in his arms and the bottle of detergent. He pauses for a second, shifting from foot to foot.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Peter swallows hard.

“I know man, it’s ok.” Alex smirks.

“Alright. Don’t die while I’m gone.”

[brooklynbroke13]

Hi Taylor!

I wanted to give you a little update on my life! I am 21 (it was just my half birthday too so I’m almost 22!), I am a second semester junior in college, I’m studying business with a focus in I don’t know what yet, I’m getting a minor in psychology, also a designation in the honors college, my gpa is a 3.9, and I might have a really cool internship this summer!

I’ve been a fan of yours since teardrops on my guitar and I’ll never leave you. I went to opening night of the rep tour in Glendale (I was like 5 rows back I swear you saw me) and I went to closing night in the US (Arlington night 2)! I’m so grateful to be able to relive that experience forever on Netflix btw thank you! You mean soooooooo much to me I can’t even tell you all the ways you help me. You are there for me when no one else is. Your music gets me through tough times and it has been since middle school. I am always in awe of your intelligence and your humor, I look up to it everyday. I remember when I first heard You Belong With Me on the radio, I couldn’t believe how smart the lyrics were I absolutely fell in love with them. Thank you for sharing your art with the world and also thank you for giving up so much in order to do so. I always wish you happiness and love and I’m so happy you are surrounded by people who give you those things. You can always message me too you know, lol. I can’t wait to see what you have in store next, I know it’ll be amazing. Ily!

Love,

Brooklyn ❤️

@taylorswift

[littlemisscallahan]

[ MUSE #78 ] ●● is that MOLLY GORDON? no, that’s just QUINN CALLAHAN, the 19 year old FEMALE who is a RESIDENT ASSISTANT/COLLEGE SOPHOMORE. some say they’re SASSY & NEEDY, but their family and friends will swear they’re ENDEARING & POLITE. when i think of them, i think of pleated skirts, fully stocked bookshelves, and perfectly manicured nails. i wonder if HER family knows that SHE CAN'T DRIVE, & THEREFORE STILL DOESN'T HAVE HER DRIVER'S LICENSE . ●● (LOU && 26 && EST && she/her )

BEGINNINGS: From an Outsider's point of view, one might have seen the Callahan's upbringing as strict. While they wouldn't necessarily be wrong, Quinn never saw it that way. It was normal, anything else would've seemed weird. But, being the youngest child, Quinn was desperate to hog as much attention as possible. She hated everything about playing by herself, refusing to do so until she was old enough to read. Then reading became the one activity she'd do on her own, and god forbid you interrupt her while she was in the middle of it. Quinn often latched on to whatever activities her brother's were involved in, which seemed to others like she was needing to one up them, but actually, she just wanted to be like them. Not that she'd ever take the time to admit it. Though Quinn was the only girl, she did her best to stray from the potential tomboyhood that she could've fallen into. She was a lady, and she would be treated as such.

NOWADAYS: While Quinn still like to be the center of attention, she's far more comfortable doing her own thing. At least most of them time. She's quite extroverted, but finds that reading her books still energizes her to get right back out there with the people. Being an RA at her college has also suited her perfectly. Quinn loves planning the floor events, and meeting all of her residents and their friends. While she might be a bit of a stickler for the rules, thanks to her upbringing, most of her residents really like and respect her. Quinn is intelligent. She’s got a 3.9 GPA, but she isn’t necessarily the most “street smart” and can be a bit naive. But in any and every situation, she's still a lady, and expects to be treated that way.

PERSONALITY: + endearing: "inspiring love or affection." to some, Quinn can come across as a little much, but her intentions are as golden as her heart. she's lovable, and so her extreme desire for attention is pretty achievable. + polite: "having or showing behavior that is respectful and considerate of other people." due to Quinn's upbringing, she learned very quickly that people deserve to be respected, and she is a proud proponent of making sure that happens. Treat others as you'd want to be treated, right? - sassy: "lively, bold, and full of spirit; cheeky." Quinn is an extrovert in every sense of the word, but it can sometimes come back to bite her. The moment she feels "comfortable" with someone, she turns on the sass, and it's not always to her benefit. - needy: "wanting or needing affection, attention, or reassurance, especially to an excessive degree." Quinn can be kind of a princess. She very much appreciates being the center of attention, and needs reassured quite often that she's not being annoying, or that she's still loved.

[lukeysgirl]

The Note Tree ❋ L.H. Pt.9

Part N I N E 

Summary: A cherry blossom tree, residing at the farthest part of the schools courtyard. Nobody dwelled there, and you didn’t care much for it. Until you kept hearing one song played over and over, with lyrics changed to touch at your curiosity. They knew you were listening, and one day you gave in and made your way to the pink tree. Waiting for you, a series of notes tied to a single strand of string.

Word Count: 4k+

AN: hi hi, im so sorry i died! motivation has been depleted up the ass, and i was just feeling really down. after the loss in my family, ive kinda been moping around but im back and im alright! everything is much better with me now and im more than prepared to write for you all again! so as usual, 100 notes and ill see yall soon x x

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

I M A G I N E 

Tuesday

“Please tutor Luke after school today.” 

A request, a mere 6-word request that erupted too many in your head. Ms. Lee had looked up to you, desperation pooling her obsidian eyes. You listened as students shuffled out of the class, filing out of your current nightmare. You could tell solely Luke remained, probably owning a smug face as the  anatomy teacher looked at you pleadingly. 

“As much as I would love to for you, Ms. Lee,” you began with a low tone. “That is too big of a request for me.”

“Y/N, you’re so exceptional that your GPA has been boosted to a 3.9 since Friday,” Ms. Lee hummed beautifully, having you grin from your accomplishment. But it still didn’t diminish the reluctance you had to teach Hemmings. “You are a fine student and a great model for Luke to follow.”

“You’re speaking about him like he’s still a 3rd grader, Ms. Lee,” you announced, glancing behind you to see Luke smiling goofily at you. His gold wisps of hair were pulled back by his rough fingers weaving them through. His ocean eyes glimmered, his pupils dilating from the shear sight of you and attempted to steal your gaze. But you looked back at the professor before allowing that. “I just don’t think I’m the right person for it.” 

“He only responds to you, Y/N,” Ms. Lee urged quietly. “I’ve only seen him react to you with some sort of serious demeanor and actually takes you seriously. Only you can be the one to do this.” 

The annoying feeling of guilt was probably something that got to you with ease. You try not to feel guilty, considering you had bigger things to deal with than such a useless emotional that only led to your probable downfall. But as you looked into your teachers eyes, seeing the pure desperation in them vexed you too hard. You sighed before nodding reticently. 

“God bless!” Your teacher exclaimed in a gushing whisper. You shook your head, turning around to find Luke giving you a toothy smirk. You rolled your eyes at the boy, trudging towards your desk before returning to your seat. Ms. Lee approached your desk and passed you a very small handful of papers. “These are a few worksheets you can work on with him as well as a few of his tests to get a feel of where he’s at.” 

“Will do,” you breathed, taking the papers uneasily as you shifted through them. You saw the low markings on all his tests in crimson red, feeling regret overcome you. But, of course, you succumbed so easily seeing as your teacher thought so highly of you. 

“I’ll be seeing you two tomorrow, yes?” Ms. Lee pondered as she grabbed her leather Michael Kors bag from underneath her desk. The two of you nodded, having you pay little to no attention to Luke as you sifted through his poor examinations. “Thank you so much for this, Y/N.” 

“No, thank you, Ms. Lee,” Luke praised before you could dare respond, having you sigh from his respond. You could already feel a cheeky smile snake up his lips as he glanced at you happily. Ms. Lee even scoffed a bit before escaping the classroom and shutting the door behind her. 

“Man, why did I let her do this to me?” You whispered to yourself, slightly agitated with yourself. But Luke had been eating this up, raising from his chair to stand in front of your desk. He crossed his arms over the table left before you, planting his head in it as his icy eyes studied you. You huffed. “Yes?” 

“Why don’t you want to tutor me?” Luke asked, his rouge lips parted slightly with ponder sparkling his eyes. You blinked a few times, your eyes now forced on his as you held his exam stiffly in your hands. You studied him briefly. wondering if he was actually serious. 

“Because you don’t actually need tutoring,” you scolded, gently flicking his forehead as you continued reading down his exam. You looked at all the red markings to indicate incorrectness on various questions. It bothered you how little Luke truly tried. “You don’t try in the class, so why the hell should I tutor you?” 

“Because I’ll listen and try if you’re asking me to,” Luke mumbled, having you roll your eyes. You place your hand on his face and push him away, forcing him to stand straight once more. He grinned at your gesture, giving you a quick warm look before wandering over to the closets of the room in which people stored the equipment after being used. You raised an eyebrow at this, curious as to what he was doing. 

“Luke,” you began, hoping he wasn’t going to tamper with things and potentially break a beaker or two. But Luke swiftly opened one to reveal a large, black guitar case. You kept your eyebrow up, curious over his intentions. But you knew for sure this guy was going to start strumming right in the middle of your study session you didn’t want to do. “Luke I swear--” 

“I’m not gonna start playing, promise,” Luke began as he took the guitar and walked over to Ms. Lee’s desk to let it lean. He then leaned on the desk himself, his hands planted on it to keep him up as he shot you a smug smile. “Wanna get started?” 

“Sure,” you said with a shrug, shuffling through the papers to see where you should start. “So maybe we should start here where you--.” 

“I can’t learn that way, Y/N,” Luke stated, having you look up to meet the ocean eyes before you. You blinked a few times, feeling your right eye twitch a little from his words. 

“Then how the hell would you prefer I teach you?” You huffed, dropping the papers to stare stupidly at him. 

“I,” Luke began, his large hands crawling down his torso and to the hem of his shirt. You glared at him, seeing a mischievous smirk crawl at his lips with incredible ease. “Am a visual learner.” 

As he finishes, Luke tugs the hem of his shirt upward, slowly peeling off the garment from his torso. You quickly looked away, but your eyes glanced over as he tugged the shirt overhead and tossed it to the side. You got an eyeful of his pale body, incredibly thin yet defined. You could see the mere abs he attempted to build, evident but not quite there. His rosewood-like nipples splotched his upper chest, having you divert your eyes downward on the table to avoid awkwardness. You could feel your cheeks heat up from such a stupid, small act and you still despised the fact that Luke was the cause. 

“Luke, why the hell did you strip if we could’ve used a mannequin?” You hummed in frustration, raising your hand to your eyes to keep avoiding the view. Luke chuckled at this, evidently amused by your semi-discomfort. 

“I thought this would be more fun,” Luke responded bluntly, listening to another stream of laughter as you let out a heavy sigh. “C’mon, teacher. Use my body.” 

“Don’t say it like that!” You exclaimed, using your scolding tone as you reticently looked back at him. The asshole had been biting his lip teasingly, his torso now arched a bit as he stared at you. There was a brilliance in his eyes, eagerness flowing while staring at you. “Are you serious, Hemmings?” 

“Completely,” Luke hummed, looking back to grab a washable marker from the desk to wiggle it around. “Let’s do it.” 

“God, please stop,” you groaned, reluctantly rising from your seat to trot over to Luke. You kept your eyes diverted to the ground, attempting to avoid all eye and body contact with the lanky, shirtless boy before you. Luke was eating this up, as every time you sneaked a peek at his face, you saw a childish grin play at his lips. “I assume you want me to circle certain parts of your body and you tell me the name of the bone or muscle I request and their purpose.” 

“That’s one way to put it, yes,” Luke hummed, having you let out yet another heavy sigh before allowing your eyes to crawl up his body. You decide not to start with the torso and quickly grabbed his arm, having him flinch in shock. You then drew a very narrow oval on his arm, where the humerus bone resided. 

“What bone is this?” You asked firmly. 

“The humerus,” Luke announced with ease, staring down at you wistfully. “It connects to the ulna and is attached to the forearm. It’s quite a long bone.” He indicates this by flailing his long arm around. 

“Not bad, Hemmings,” you said simply, quickly taking his under arm to squeeze the muscle. “What’s this muscle called?” 

“Ah, Y/N, that hurts!” Luke yelped, chuckling as he playfully slapped your hand to let go. But you weren’t keen to doing so, forcing Luke to think quick before replying. “My bicep! It flexes and supinates the forearm-- Y/N!” 

“Good,” you approved, releasing his bicep quickly. He brought his other hand to rub it, chuckling as he looked at you. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” You began with fake concern, flashing him a dosage of condescension. 

“You enjoyed that, huh?” Luke began, having you emit a small laugh. 

“Very much, yes.” 

“God, you’re aggressive,” Luke mumbled, soothing his muscle before quickly snapping his neck to face you once more. His ocean eyes glistened, looking incredibly warm and strangely inviting as you studied them. You then caught yourself off-guard with how fixed you became on those blue orbs. So you quickly diverted your eyes down and let out a shaky sigh. 

“Okay,” you hummed, tapping upon the marker with your fingers as you lifted it up once more. “Shall we continue?” 

“How about we stop using the marker?” Luke suggested nervously as you held up the writing utensil. His hands were in front of you, threatening to hold you back by the shoulders as you lowered the marker in puzzlement. “I know I suggested it, but I kind’ve don’t want to look like a different species right now.” 

“Oh har har,” you emit sarcastically. You tossed the washable marker on the desk, having it hit the pen holder, rolling away from it before going completely still. You cross your arms before your chest, looking at Luke ponderously. “So what’s your next bizarre antic?” 

“How about you just sit down over here,” Luke hummed suggestively, his hands clinging onto your shoulders as he backed you up. You cautiously looked back, feeling your upper rear hit the edge of your table as he gestures to the flat side of the table. You eye him for a moment before lifting yourself up on the cool black desk. “And I’ll point out to parts, muscle and bone, and tell you the names and their functions. All you have to do is watch and scold me if I say something wrong. That sound alright to you?” 

You stared dubiously at the boy, having his words sit unwell as he smiled widely at you. But you quickly gave in, as all you wanted to do was to resign this idiotic teaching role and get out of the jail-like institution. You watch as Luke gives you a menacing smirk before slowly twirling to present his back. It was just as pale as his front, but smooth with very small, light freckles ornate on it. He then flexed his shoulder blades, having you raise a brow at how prominent they were as he expressed them to you. 

“My scapula,” Luke hummed, having him cockily flex his arms as he posed like Hercules. “Connects the upper arms to the thorax.” You crinkled your nose before clapping a bit, confirming his words correct as he snickered and turned back to face you. 

Luke’s ocean eyes glistened momentarily, having you stare skeptically as his large hands quickly latch on his sides. His thin, bony fingers begin to crawl on his stomach, slowly going down for his thumbs to dig down between his body and the hems of his underwear and pants. Your lips part slightly, a little frightened by the boys’ audacity. 

“Luke, you have to be fucking kidding me,” you growled, looking away to hear him mess with his lower garments a bit more. But no mischievous laughter or snickers ensued. Just silence, until the blonde boy began his sentence. 

“The pelvis bone,” Luke chimed, having you leer over to see Luke brush the tip of his index fingers down the dents of his V-line. You were vexed, but you couldn’t help and actually admire how fairly evident the lines were. For fucks sake, you scolded yourself, rolling your eyes as Luke chuckled. “Connected to the lower spine to connect the legs to the rest of the body.” 

“You’re a dirty dick, d’you know that?” You huffed, aggravated that you were the real pervert anticipating something Luke hadn’t done. But you should’ve known that, knowing Luke. He was a pretty ballsy man, but too silly to go that far. Especially with you. 

“And yet you’re still here,” Luke hummed happily. 

“By obligation.” 

“This wasn’t mandatory,” Luke started, his voice emitting a taunt-like tone as you glared at him. “You could’ve left right now, knowing as fact that I’ll pass future exams with flying colors and tell Ms. Lee how outstanding of a teacher you were.” 

You scoffed, having Luke chuckle from you succumbing. 

“Alright, keep going,” you demanded, feeling your cheeks heat up from Luke’s words. You hadn’t understood this boy at all. He’d cover for you, fight for you, and even lie for you. You have been nothing but a little cold to him and yet he still remains, more than happy to stay around you. What a weirdo. 

“Okay,” Luke groaned, turning around once again. You eyed him up and down as his thumbs reached the hem of his pants again and lowered it all the way down to his under ass cheeks. You were so off-guard from his quick motion that you got an eyeful of his pale ass and his evident crack between his small cheeks. “The gluteus maximus!” Luke cheered through laughter. 

“Luke!” 

A few more body parts later, you called for a break. 

“Aw c’mon, didn’t you enjoy teaching me?” Luke teased, snatching his Green Day shirt from the floor. He fixed the black garment a bit before slipping it overhead and thankfully covering his torso once again.

“I need a break before my head explodes,” you hummed, bringing your fingers up to rub your temples as you loosely swung your legs off your table. “You are a piece of work, Hemmings.” 

“But you can handle it, as usual,” Luke hummed. “3.9 Gee Pee Aye.” You rolled your eyes, finding annoyance in his blue pools as you twisted your torso to grab your back. Bringing it on your lap, you unzipped it to fish out a few cookies and some iced tea. “You hungry? I can take you out after this if you--” 

“I evidently have cookies right here, like, in my hand,” you spewed sarcastically, holding the plastic bag filled with the sweet treat. Luke stuck his tongue out, having you shrug him off as you opened the plastic and took out a cookie to snag a bite. You eyed the boy, seeing him divert his gaze over to his guitar. You held the bag out, looking towards the opened windows. “You want?” 

“Nah, I’m good,” Luke said in a hush tone, waving his hand as you greedily reeled the treat back to you. Luke smiled at this, enjoying all the small, kind gestures you do while still keeping up the cold facade you own. “Hey, mind if I play you a tune or two?” 

“Pawdon?” You said in a muffled tone, your mouth drying out from the cookie crumbs. You put the bag down to snap open the ice tea and take a few sips from it. “Songs? Why?” 

“I’ve been meaning to practice these songs, but I haven’t had the crowd to practice it to,” Luke spoke, taking out his guitar at the same time from the large, black case. You watched as he swung it overhead and allowed the leather strap to hang from the space between his neck and his shoulder. “The boys have been busy practicing our original songs, but they’re already installed in my head.” 

“Ooo, Mr. Confident,” you teased, rolling your eyes at the boys fair amount of cockiness. You only say fair because he was actually musically inclined both instrumentally and vocally, so you couldn’t say shit. “I mean, I guess since we’re on break, a few songs is fine.” 

“Rad,” Luke said gently, having your heart pause for a second. The way he said that one, small term was actually rather adorable, but you wouldn’t dare admit that. He’d go over the moon if he heard that, and find more confidence to do audaciously romantic moves on you. “Alright, here’s the first one...” 

Luke moves a little forward, away from Ms. Lee’s desk as he rubs his calloused fingers a bit. His icy blue eyes look at the neck of the guitar, placing his long fingers on specified strings before dropping his gaze down to his other hands where the sounds would be emitted. The black orbs worth of his pupils dilate, having you watch as he begins to strum vigorously with ease. It was a nice tune, quick yet gentle, still a bop many could dance to. 

“Ooo, girl, you’re shinin���, like a 5th avenue diamond,” Luke sung, his eyes raised to lock in to yours. You smiled widely, surprised to hear him singing and playing Classic by MKTO. “They don’t make you like they used to, you’re never going out of style.” 

You couldn’t help the smile that printed on your lips, watching as Luke bobbed his head happily to the beat. He moved his feet so silly as he strummed carelessly but perfectly on his guitar. He moved closer to you with each beat he hit, having you shake your head as he flashed a constant smile that seemed permanent. 

“You’re over my head, I’m out of my mind-- thinking I was born in the wrong time,” Luke sang, raising his voice as his hands looked like blurs every time he strummed up and down the strings. “One of a kind, living it a world gone plastic. Baby, you’re so classic.” 

“You’re such a loser,” you spoke softly, having Luke reveal a more toothy grin while strumming a bit more rigorously. 

“Four dozen roses, anything for you to notice,” Luke continued, walking to your left to go to the end of the classroom. You twisted your torso to look behind you, seeing Luke roll his hips as he played contently. “All the way to serenade you, doing it Sinatra style.” 

You watched as he marched over on the right side of the classroom, passing by all the dull sicence tables as he returned back to his place in front of you. He kept singing, his rouge lips moving so easily with his voice coming out loud yet sweet and gentle. You couldn’t help but smile. seeing as not only Luke was talented, but also genuinely enjoyed what he did. Anyone would guess that he’d want to do this as a living. 

“I wanna thrill ya like Michael-- hee hee!” Luke shrieked, spinning and thrusting his pelvis like Michael Jackson used to do. You snorted, covering your mouth to express the shock you had over this boy. “I wanna kiss you like Prince--” he sung that line with a dirty wink. “Let’s get it on like Marvin Gaye, like Hathaway-- write a song for you like this!” 

You pursed your lips, attempting to wipe away the smile you had as Luke danced around. Although this boy could be a pest, you had to admit: it was nice to see someone be genuinely silly like this. He swung his hips all around, as if there was an electricity coursing through his body. His head bobbed like everything else was muted and the only thing he could truly hear was you and his music. He skipped around and hopped, seeming like he could jump right off the earth even though he knew he damn well couldn’t. Seeing a boy seem so free like that made you almost jealous of him. 

“Baby, you’re so classic,” Luke finished, strumming the strings crazily as he broke the rhythm with ease. You giggled, watching Luke get on his knees, slowly lowering his back to the floor while still beating the strings with his fingers. His eyes were closed, bottom lip chewed between his teeth as the lousy playing slowly came to an end. He dropped his hands off the guitar, letting them splat to the ground as his chest heaved. 

“You’re something else, Hemmings,” you spewed, having Luke stare at you blankly from the words he didn’t expect. You giggled, shaking your head as you bounced off the desk. “But you’re really good. That was really good.” 

“Ah thanks!” He mewled as you offered him your hand to help him up. Taking the offer, you felt his calloused hands wrap around yours and pulled him up with some unease. He was pretty heavy for such a skinny, lanky boy. 

“I assume this is how you get all the women, aye?” You taunted, watching as Luke stood his stance and wiggled his shoulders to fix the strap with ease. Luke just stood there, looking at you with this weird wistful gaze. 

“Ah, not necessarily,” Luke began, watching as his tongue swiped along the top row of his teeth. He looked away from you for a moment, his eyes watching the glass window that was on the classroom’s door. “It does tend to sway the ladies, yes, but I don’t play to get digits.” 

“No?” You pondered, finding it difficult to believe his words to be true. “Then why do you play?” 

“Because I already have my heart set on one girl,” Luke said with ease, bringing his blue eyes back to you. You flinched slightly, still unable to adapt to his audacious, abrupt saccharine words. “I wouldn’t have the desire and passion for playing if it weren’t for that lovely girl. Who, coincidentally, is standing before me, holding my hands.” 

You noticed this and quickly slipped out of his grip, having him chuckle at you. 

“When will you forget about August?” You huffed, turning away to go over to the desk. You begin closing the bag of treats and spinning the cap back on your slightly warm drink. Shoving them back in your bag, you take a bit of time to slowly zip the bag closed. You didn’t want to meet Luke’s face again, or his eyes. 

“Never, if I’m being frank,” Luke said simply, having you shake your head. Zipping the bag closed, you turn around and lean your upper rear against the desk. Your gaze was captured by the ugly beige tiles below you, with your feet popping up at the lower area of your periphery. “You’ll never understand how important that day means to me, and how important you’ve become to me.” 

“I didn’t do a single thing,” you uttered quickly. 

“Au contraire, you’ve done everything,” Luke hummed. You listened to him lift the guitar from his body and leaning the neck beside you, flinching a bit from his actions. He then bent his knees, his feet still on the ground, before coming into your periphery with his head tilted up, eyes wide open, and blue orbs burning into yours. “You’ve become the centre of my feelings, Y/N. As much as I could try to pull away, and you can try to push me away, your gravity just keeps me coming back.” 

Your heart stopped right then, and all of a sudden, you couldn’t stop blushing, too. 

yiKES late, i know ! ! but do tell me what you think here and ill see you at part 10 xx 

[quccnvictoria-blog]

@chaosthecry

             three bottles of chardonnay and an email from her parents,              reaming her for getting a 3.9 gpa. that was how the idea for              the ad came about, more or less. to see what would really              happen if she set out to anger them instead of impress them.              more drunk than she wanted to admit and barely paying atten-              tion, victoria found herself typing up an ad on arcadia bay’s              local ad page. 

             THANKSGIVING BREAK DATE WANTED TO              UPSET SNOTTY PARENTS. MUST BE AT LE-              AST EIGHTEEN, MAX AGE FIFTY. CRIMINAL              RECORD PREFERRED EXCLUDING MURDER              OR ASSAULT. FOOD, TRANSPORTATION AND              BOARD INCLUDED. 100$/PER DAY IF YOU STAY              ALL BREAK PLUS AN EXTRA $100 FOR THANKS-              GIVING DAY. NO PDA ASIDE FROM IN FRONT OF              PARENTS. NOT LOOKING FOR A HOOKUP, JUST              A WAY TO PISS OFF MY PARENTS.              TEXT (555) 426-8395 IF INTERESTED.

             without really thinking it through, she hit submit before closing              out of everything on her computer and turning on ‘breakfast at              tiffany’s’, to watch until she finished off her last bottle of wine.              when her phone went off nearly an hour later inquiring about              the ad, she’d almost forgotten what this rando was texting her              about. giving them instructions to meet her at two whales to-              morrow, she fell asleep during the movie shortly after. 

             woken up the next morning from her phone buzzing incess-              antly, she realized she’d missed a slew of texts from the number,              and managed to sleep through her alarm. swearing loudly, she              thew on her clothes at least twice as fast as usual, doing her              makeup at the same speed, and rushing out the door. 

             she reached two whales in a record five minutes, forcing herself              to walk casually into the diner. her eyes scanned the booths,              realizing she hadn’t even asked any questions about them before              agreeing to meet. her eyes passed right over chloe, whom she hadn’t              spoken to since Rachel disappeared, until she felt another buzz in her              pocket. digging out her phone, she asked where they are before looking              around again, only to see chloe typing out a text, and putting her phone              away as victoria’s went off. 

             no.

             victoria pursed her lips and all but stalked over to chloe, throwing her purse              down into the booth across from chloe before following suit, arms crossed              and brows furrowed. 

              ❛ price, i do not have time for this. i thought that site was anonymous.               did you really come here just to waste my time? because i swear to god– ❜              victoria huffed, too worked up to speak for a minute. “are you fucking seri-              ous right now? ❜

[unfortunatelysirius]

Story Time

So, I know that this is a Harry Potter writing blog and all, but I just wanted to talk about something with you all. Something serious and something that might affect my activeness on here. I went through something rough at the end of last semester. I was in a constant mood of disarray and stress, and I was trying for all these different things that could help my chances at leaving college without any debt. And I thought I had a good chance, you know? I was feeling good. I was doing so well in my classes and was managing to keep my GPA a 3.9-4.0. How was I to know that it would all just end poorly? Well, I entered some of my writing in for a three-week art camp. It was a stressful audition and an even more stressful manuscript-submission. I was so anxious about it, and I knew there was hardly a chance in hell that I was talented enough to get in, but I tried anyway. And guess what? I didn't get in. I wasn't even on the list for alternatives. It broke my writing spirit quite a bit. For a month, I couldn't even look at a sheet of paper and a pencil without thinking about how I'd got my hopes up for fucking nothing. I thought I was a good writer, but that all turned out to be complete shit. Maybe I was just gullible or ignorant to my own lack of skill—maybe I wasn't realistic enough. But it affected my writing. It STILL affects my writing. I just want you all to know that it isn't just chores and summer work that have been preoccupying my life. Sometimes, it's just me feeling broken and thinking that my writing is mediocre at best and that no one here enjoys what I write. Believe me, your requests and your compliments mean more than you will ever know. Sometimes, they're the only things that keep me from giving up on my writing dreams. Don't think I don't appreciate every single one of you. I'm trying to mend my writing spirit, but it might take a while to do that. I love to write and I want to write for you all, but sometimes I just look at my keyboard and want to smash in my computer screen because I know I will never be as good as Ernest Hemingway, Oscar Wilde, or J.K. Rowling. Maybe it's just me being tremendously pessimistic and having little-to-no self-esteem, but I digress. I'm trying, alright? I want to be really active and engaging, but everyone has those moments of utter demotivation. Sometimes my own mind gets to me, and that causes me to turn away from my keyboard and to get held up on requests. I was meant to post a new chapter of Not Your Girlfriend two days ago, yet I still haven't. I'm not inconsiderate; I swear I'm not. Sometimes I just honestly feel I can't write for shit. I'm not depressed. The only sort of mental disorder I have is anxiety; I'm on medication for it. Depression, though? Everyone feels sad occasionally, but I've never been depressed. So don't worry about that. Honestly, I'm always here to talk to you guys. If you just need a friend, I'm here. I love you all and I don't you to feel awkward or nervous about messaging me. I would never ignore you. And if you feel like I'm neglecting your request, I'm not. Sometimes I just take longer to make sure I haven't completely fucked up on the storyline. So please, don't feel like that. I would never deliberately push aside a request. I'm not that kind of person. Anyway, I think that's enough of me ranting. Stay tuned for a couple more requests going up tomorrow. If y'all want Part 7 (Is it Part 7? Idk anymore) of Not Your Girlfriend or Part 2 of my new Tom Riddle series uploaded tomorrow/the next day as well, then just go ahead and message my inbox! I'll try to get right on it, but I can't promise you anything. I can only promise that I'll get it done before the week ends :) Goodnight, lovelies! Thank you for your love and support 💕🙅🏽

[alessiastylesmalik]

so, this old rp i was in had this whole big questionnaire for a task and i left for personal reasons before i could post it so i decided why not do it on Less. it’s long so i’m putting it under a read more so you don’t have to be subjected to it! it was more for me to develop her a bit more

the basics: full name: Alessia Isabel Styles-Malik birthday: March 3rd place of birth: London, England ethnicity: she’s quite a mix tbh. I’ll have to update this eventually with specifics nicknames: Less, Lessy & a few other randoms astrological sign: pisces preferred pronouns: she/her sexual orientation: bisexual romantic orientation: biromantic

the body: height: 5’7” weight: she usually falls in the 115-120 range hair color: brown eye color: brown any special scars: just a few random little ones from injuries she got as a child tattoos: 3. the outline of a heart on her collarbone, love in arabic on her ring finger and a tiny crescent moon on the inside of her wrist right or left handed: left

style: (for these questions, you can describe the style, add an example image, or link to a pinterest board. let your creative freedom fly!)

sleeping attire: here every day attire: here gym attire: here lazy attire: here formal attire: here

the brain: highest level of schooling completed: she’s currently in the midst of studying at London Metropolitan University languages spoken: English, a little French and she’s fluent in sign language do they have a high or low iq: a bit higher than average but nowhere near genius what was their gpa on a 4.0 scale in high school/college: a 4.0 in college so far but more like a 3.8/3.9 in high school special skills/training: she’s cpr certified, good with kids and has been published a few times mental health issues: she had separation anxiety as a kid and when she grew out of that, she’s dealt with panic attacks on and off. lately, she feels like the panic attacks are back a bit more often and she thinks she might have developed anxiety in another form. street smart or book smart: both pretty equally.

favorites: movie: Aladdin. Disney movies are her very favorite. tv show: Gossip Girl fictional characters: Serena van der Woodsen book: Paper Towns magazine: Vogue, Elle, Vanity Fair, Cosmo … she’s a magazine girl cell phone game: she’s not a huge game on her phone kinda gal but she loves best fiends when she’s waiting somewhere or covet fashion cause she’s always wanting to style looks food: pasta or any kind of mexican food dessert: ice cream color: mint, blush and lavender drink (non-alcoholic): bubbly water w/ lemon drink (alcoholic): margaritas and mojitos but she loves a cheeky glass of wine or prosecco, too. day of the week: Friday month of the year: September or March season of the year: fall holiday: Easter weather: she’s an English girl through and through and loves a good cloudy, chilly day. sport: she was a dancer from a young age but other than that, she’s not super athletic or into sports. sports team: she doesn’t really follow sports. scent: she likes fall scents and fruity scents. swear word: fuck, probably.

this or that: coffee or tea: both, but she drinks coffee more showering in the day or night: night taking baths or taking showers: baths if she has the time tv or movies: tv writing or reading: writing platonic or romantic love: both, the girl loves love iced tea or lemonade: lemonade ice cream or smoothies: ice cream cupcakes or cake: cupcakes beach or mountains: beach morning person or night owl: morning dogs or cats: both Netflix or youtube: netflix phone call or text: text big party or small gathering: small gathering indoors or outdoors: outdoors jogging or hiking: she loves both pizza or tacos: tacos saving money or spending money: spending

other questions: the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep — where they’re not supposed to: at her laptop working the emoticon they use most often: the heart eyes, the peach or the dancing girl in the red dress what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep: she gets super quiet and closed off how they act when they are sick: more cuddly than usual and wants to be taken care of  do they have any allergies? if so what are they: none that she knows of. did they have a good childhood: for the most part, yes do they have any pets: she doesn’t have any pets of her own but she really wants a puppy. are they good at cooking? if so, what is their favorite food to make: she’s decent. her favorite thing to make is tacos or spaghetti cause she’s best at it. what is a sure way to make them laugh: she laughs when she hears other people laugh. It always makes her happy. what is their guilty pleasure: her guilty pleasure is watching a ton of crappy reality tv while eating nachos in bed. can they use chopsticks: yes what do they do when they can’t sleep: write what would they impulse buy at the grocery store: magazines or candy at the checkout if they went on a shopping spree, where would they go and what would they buy: probably somewhere like Nordstrom and she’d buy shoes/sunglasses/clothes/makeup/all the things. what is their dream car: she’s not too particular about cars but she drives a white ranger rover that she loves. what do they think of little kids: LOVES them what are three Netflix shows that they’ve rated five stars? Gossip Girl, Parenthood and Hart of Dixie what sort of toys did they play with as a child? Barbies and baby dolls mostly do they eat breakfast? if so what’s a typical breakfast look like for them: she does. It’s usually a smoothie/juice or yogurt with granola and fruit do they like to go swimming? if so, where do they prefer to swim, nature or pool: she loves to swim just about anywhere but prefers the pool  what does their bedroom look like: (feel free to add an image or a pintrest board or something if you’d like!) her room at Harry & Louis’ is pretty different from the one at Zayn and Liam’s. They’ve both got super girly touches of blush and pink and gold but the walls are dark grey at Zayn’s and light at Harry’s. You can see her rooms here.